Harry Potter found himself in front of Albus Dumbledore's office entrance before he even realized it; his mind had once again been clouded by thoughts and curiosities surrounding what lay beneath the rough packaging of his parcel. It was a fortunate thing for him, then, that his feet knew the path to the headmaster's office so well; after all, getting lost in Hogwarts castle was not fun, and there was never any certainty how long it would take to find your way back to familiar territory.

The famous wizard must have been standing outside the office door for a little longer than the usual time, because Dumbledore's knocker started to become impatient. "The password, please. If not, kindly remove yourself from my view. You're blocking the sunlight." Startled by the abrupt rough voice disturbing the quiet, Harry jumped.

"S-sorry." He mumbled. Clearing his throat, he uttered a password. The doors to Dumbledore's office opened, but not before the knocker made a resounded 'hmmph' of disgust at the Hogwarts' student.

Stepping cautiously into the office, Harry felt his throat clam up with nerves. He had visited Dumbledore various times before, but each time he entered the office, the same emotions returned. Despite the very homey feel of the area, any visitor was well aware that that same room had been used by all the Hogwarts headmasters throughout history.

It was intimidating.

Harry stepped softly into the office, but his presence was picked up by Albus Dumbledore almost immediately. Nothing escaped the powers of observance of the only man Voldemort feared.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter."

For the second time that afternoon, Harry found himself jumping as he was caught off-guard by a voice. Looking in the direction of the sound, Harry's emerald eyes set on the magnificent figure of the current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dawning his own signature loud robes, Dumbledore's eyes sparkled a little brighter as a smile descended upon his lips. "How are you doing today, Harry?"

"Fi-fine." Harry stammered. Regaining his compsure from being surprised, Harry admitted the reason behind his visitation. "Uhm, Professor Dumbledore," As he spoke, the highly acclaimed wizard made his way gracefully dorn the circular staircase. "I received something in the post this morning-"

"Mhm-hmm." Dumbledore curtly nodded his head, showing he was listening. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he walked over to his desk and took a seat behind it.

"And it had no return on it. Hermione and Ron suggested I take it to you and you can try to bespell it." Then, because he felt he was giving the headmaster reason to worry, Harry added quickly: "Not that I really think there is anything wrong with it."

Dumbledore smiled softly. With his elbows resting gently on the top of his desk and folded beneath his chin, he fixed one of his favorite pupils with his inquiring gaze. After allowing the silence to set in for a few moments, Dumbledore spoke. "If you really think there is nothing wrong with it, Harry, why are you here? Why not convince Ms Granger and Mr. Weasley that there is nothing to be worried about?" Fidgetting a little beneath the question, it was evident that Harry felt uncomfortable.

"Well," he muttered, averting his gaze from the headmaster's eyes. "I... I have this feeling that there is nothing wrong..." His voice faded off into silence, only to be drawn out again by Dumbledore's patient: "And...?"

"And," Harry continued. "I think Hermione has a point. I mean, it is not like it is impossible. And Voldemort has tried before."

Smiling approvingly at Harry, the black-haired Gryffindor felt his heart swell in pride. "I'm glad you listen to your friends, Harry. And although I am sure the Ministry of Magic would check every owl that flies in the airways (especially towards Hogwarts school), I will take a chance in saying that one owl could have escaped their powers of detection." Harry stood in silence, trying to determine if the headmaster was sarcastically poking fun at how the ministry works, or was being genuinely serious. Holding out his right hand, Dumbledore stated, "Give me the package, Harry." Retrieving the brown parcel from his bookbag, Harry handed it to the older wizard.

Dumbledore took the package and set it flat out on his desk. Examining it from all angles, he made a few mumbles of, "Oh, yes..." and "I see..." and "Hmm..." With each one, Harry's curiosity grew even further until he could not stand to stay quiet.

"What is it, professor?"

"Uh-huh..." Dumbledore seemed not to hear him, so Harry tried again.

"Professor, is there something dangerous inside?" Still not responding, Dumbledore examined it a little while longer. Finally reaching out, he picked it up off the desktop, raised it half a foot above the surface and dropped it. Harry instinctively cringed, as if expecting it to explode.

Nothing happened.

Cautiously looking up again, Harry saw his headmaster smiling at him. "It's perfectly alright, Mr. Potter." Harry was confused.

"But... you didn't do anything to it."

"It did not blow up when I dropped it on the desk, that is good enough for me." The expression on the younger one's face must have been a clear indicator of his confusion, for Dumbledore let out a laugh. "I apologize, Harry. I should have told you as soon as I saw it. I know what is inside. It's perfectly safe."

"How do you know...?"

"I sent it to you."

Harry was even more confused. "You sent it?"

"Well," Dumbledore corrected himself. "If we must get technical, Molly was actually the one to send it to you. I was the person who gave it to her in the first place. I must say, however, I would have thought she would send it sooner. I suppose she's still angry with him a bit. They didn't seem to get along very well, did they?"

"Who?"

"Sirius."

Harry froze. It had been a while since he heard the name of his deceased godfather, and it was even more of a shock to hear it uttered from Dumbledore's lips; though Harry was not sure why that would be. "Si-Sirius?"

"Yes. The package contains your godfather's journal. It was found some time ago in Filch's office. Probably confiscated it to get back at him or your father. He never did like either of them much. Though," Dumbledore muttered as an afterthought: "He does not seem to get along with many of the students, does he?" Harry could not supress the smile that spread across his lips at that statement. "Either way, I sent it back to Sirius' house- this was at least a few years ago, you realize. Just after Sirius escaped from Azkaban. Molly found it and asked me what I should do with it. Seeing as how you have, unfortunately, had little time to spend with your godfather, I thought this was something you should have. He did, after all, leave you all his posessions. I'm not sure if there is anything in this journal at all, really. But it is yours, if you want it."

"I do." Harry responded so quickly that Dumbledore smiled broadly.

"Good." He nodded his head. "It is your property. And I can assure you that it's safe; at least from spells and hexes. The information inside might not be, but that is your responsibility now, I think." Lifting up the parcel again, the headmaster of Hogwarts handed it over to Harry. "There you go, Mr. Potter. Enjoy."

(That evening)

It was not until later that night that Harry was able to open the parcel properly. After having been told what it was, his curiosity for it increased exponentially, but he wanted to be alone when he read it. When Harry came into the dining hall for the last few minutes of lunch before his next class, Hermione and Ron inquired on what had happened in seeing Dumbledore.

"Was there anything wrong with it?" Ron asked.

"Did he take it with him, Harry? I don't see it on you." Hermione remarked. Harry responded to little of their questions. All he did supply was that Dumbledore had looked at it and had told him there was nothing to worry about. But Harry did not tell them what was inside the packaging. He felt a strain of guilt tugging at his conscience because he did not share this information with his best friends. He always told both of them everything. Yet he also knew that it was something of his godfather's, and he wanted to keep it to himself; so just he and his dad's best friend would share something Hermione and Ron were not also in on.

That did not stop the two from asking about the contents of the item, however.

"Come on, Harry," Ron whispered, leaning closer to him in the main area in Gryffindor tower. It was a little before nine o' clock and the three of them were sitting around the table trying to put a dent in some of their homework before the long weekend ahead. Hermione was otherwise engaged trying to explain the details of a charm to Pavarti. "You can trust me, Harry. We're best friends, right? You still have the parcel, so what's inside? Don't tell me you haven't opened it already."

Harry shrugged and shook his head. "I really haven't, Ron." Harry replied truthfully; not adding in that, although he had not yet held Sirius' diary without the paper wrapping, he knew what was inside. Ron pulled away slightly, fixing his best friend with a calculating stare for several moments.

"Are you sure it's not something you don't want to tell me?"

"Ron," Harry tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, but he knew that he had failed when even saying his friend's name. Turning to face him, he asked, "Would you please leave me alone about this? I'll tell you if I want to. We don't need to tell each other everything." Ron looked shocked. Harry was also surprised to find him looking rather crushed by his last statement. Before turning back to his work and ending any further conversation, Ron mumbled,

"I tell you everything." Harry felt another pang of guilt around his heart, but he did not give in.

"What did I miss?" Hermione asked, chosing that moment to have finished helping a fellow classmate and turn back to her best friends. Seeing Harry's guilty expression and Ron's heartbroken demeanor, she pressed: "What were you two talking about? What's wrong, Ron?" Neither of them supplied any information, and Hermione soon shrugged it off and got back to her homework.

It was not until Harry was sure everyone was asleep in the dormitory that he removed the package again from his bag. Sliding it out quietly, he crept out of his bed to sneak down to the main hall. Walking over to one of the big poofy armchairs near the fire, Harry sat in the chair and, as silently as he could, eased off the wrapping. His heart thumping louder and heavier against the bones of his ribcage, Harry was astonished no one heard that noise alone and came to investigate. What would his godfather's diary look like? He wondered. What would it contain? What would Sirius have written about when he thought no one was watching? As the diary fell free from it's brown paper cage, Harry examined it closely. It looked like nothing too special; a simple black leather-bound journal with the name of Sirius Black scribbled magically on the cover in a faded and tarnished silver colour. Lifting it to his face, Harry traced every inch of the cover; hoping to discover some secret from his godfather before even opening the book and reading what lay beneath the pages. The smells that came from the journal were a lot of the scents he knew himself; like the Gryffindor tower (he could smell the tower's scent, since he was sitting in it, but he could also detect the scent from the journal. Although a little musty from all the wear-and-tear it had come from). The rancid scent of Filch's office was on the pages, which was also something Harry expected. But there was something else... something that was also present on the book; a smell that jolted Harry Potter's heart.

It was the scent of his godfather.

The unkempt, dusty smell of his robes, the trace of sweat from his skin and the dab of cologne that he wore every now and then... it was all there. There were minute traces of it along the journal's surface, but it was present. Harry felt a tug at his heartstrings as the arouma intoxicated his nostrils. He had missed that scent so much; especially since Sirius' disappearance. Getting lost in the moment, Harry had almost forgotten the best part of having his godfather's journal: to open it and read it. These were the memoirs of a fellow Hogwarts student; the best friend of his father. It was not the once-convicted-of-a-murder-he-did-not-commit-and-running-from-the-law-fugitive Sirius; it was the diary of a fellow-Hogwarts-student-and-fun-to-be-with-troublemaker. Unable to contain his excitement and curiosity any further, Harry held the diary in one shaking hand while opening the cover of it with the other. Inside was scribbled in his more-kept-than-later-in-life penmenship his name, age, address and his house. Harry noted with some fondness that, for his address, he put "Hogwarts Castle"; not the delapidated home at number twelve Grimmauld Place, London.

Turning the page to venture further into the book, Harry was shocked to see the younger and happier faces of three teenagers he instantly recognized: Remus, Sirius himself and, Harry noticed instantly, the face of an alive and merry James Potter. All three of them were moving joyfully around the picture, poking at each other playfully and laughing. Harry smiled broadly at this photograph, feeling joy seep into his every pore. Lifting up the moving picture, he was even more surprised to find another beneath it. This also contained the images of three teenagers laughing and enjoying themselves; but they were not James, Remus or Sirius. The photo contained himself, Ron and Hermione. Judging from the clue in the background, he recognized the place as being the track of nine and three-quarters. Seeing himself and his friends waving back at him made Harry laugh. Perhaps Sirius had gotten a hold of a copy of this picture (from Mrs. Weasley, Harry suspected) and kept it in his diary.

The thought of that possibility made Harry's heart swell with pride.

Looking to see if there were any more pictures laying dorment beneath his own, Harry was mildly disappointed to see there was nothing. Shrugging it off, however, he turned to the first lined page in the diary and settled himself out to read.

I have a confession to make, the diary began. I am in love with another man.

Harry read and re-read this statement a total of seven times, and each time he read it, he found himself still surprised. Thinking it was a joke, Harry continued reading.

It has been a while since I felt this way and it took me a long time to realize why I had these emotions; why I was always more excited and happy to be around him than anyone else. It is not as if I am seeking to be with a man because girls have no interest in me. This happened out of the blue, really.

Harry could not believe it. His godfather... was gay? When had it happened? Why didn't he ever say anything about it? Had he been in love with anyone when he died? Had anyone cried tears of a lost love when Sirius left them? Who was he in love with? Harry found himself fueled with so many questions, he felt his head spinning. How had he not known? Had there been a sign that Sirius was gay? Had his godfather ever tried to tell him? Seeking some solace on even a single answer to his many inquiries, Harry's eyes read onward.

I don't know what I should do about this. He is my best friend and looks out for me. He's very popular with the girls, too, so I doubt he would even look to me for companionship. I still don't know how or when I fell in love with him, but before I knew it, it had happened. I was in love with the seeker of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

"Oh my god..." Harry mumbled, his eyes bugging out of his head. He was sure he had not been so shocked in his life. "Sirius was in love with my dad..."