Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or JKR.

Okay. This story takes place in the Marauders Era and focuses on my OFC. I have a pretty good idea where I want this story to go, and hopefully I won't be one of those authors that doesn't update for months at a time.

I've been reading fanfiction on this site for a little over five years. I've tried my hand at countless stories, and hopefully this time I can keep it up.

The prologue is extremely short, and the other chapters will be nowhere near as short. There will be interludes, and they will probably be as short as the prologue.

With that said (or written), onwards!

***

Dear Diary,

I really don't like the sound of 'Dear Diary'. Diary sounds so juvenile, doesn't it? So childlike, so young and innocent and carefree. I could say 'Dear Journal', but that makes it seem almost impersonal. I'll think on it, but until then I guess I will have to settle for 'Dear Diary'. Hmm.

But enough rambling on about my little talent in naming things. I'm here to tell a story. Specifically my story. Now what makes me important enough that I get my own story? I'm not sure. But there have been enough people in my life that were important enough to warrant their own story, so why not tell all of theirs and my story at once? I'm not sure.

This is my story.

I was born to the name Danica Estelle Elddir. Before my first birthday I had lost both of my parents due to the universe setting itself against me early. It seems that I was not allowed even a happy childhood. From there I was sent to an orphanage, growing up not knowing my heritage or the world that I was born into.

Saint Mary's Orphanage wasn't all bad. I lived in a room with 6 other girls. We all had enough food, water, and shelter. The clothes were much to be desired for, but beggars can't be choosers, right? And in our case, we were one step above a beggar. So, yes, beggars can't be choosers.

I do not believe my life started the day I was born. Living in so many different places and with different people led me to live a half-life. There was no love, laughter, or living. There were bitter tears, bullying, and save for one person, loneliness.

I had one true friend before my life began, and her name was Adira. But she, too, was taken from me on my tenth birthday. She was adopted, but I wasn't mad. I was happy for her, but I was also envious that she got to leave that hellhole. I promised myself that my child would never know the horrors I witnessed at Saint Mary's.

No, my life began the summer after I turned eleven. That morning, I awoke to a large brown owl tapping on my window with a letter tied to its leg. That was when my life took a turn for the better, and truly began…

***

The woman closed the leather bound journal with a sigh. She knew it would be hard to write her story and the story of her friends. She knew that opening up the old wounds that had long been healed and forgotten would be hard, as well as remembering the good times with people who were long since departed. But it needed to be done.

The truth needed to be told.

***

And there is the prologue. Very short like I mentioned but it's served its purpose. Hopefully it wasn't complete garbage. If you would like to give me ideas for the story or anything, leave a review. If I get reviews, great. If I don't, well then I don't. I'm writing this for my pleasure and if you get pleasure out of reading it then I'm glad.

-Elwing Seregon