Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine.
How They Were
Harry was not prepared for his upcoming Occlumency lesson. He had not once thought about "clearing his mind of all emotion", and was sure that Snape would be able to tell. Hermione's pestering him did not help much either. "Have you been practicing, Harry?" "No, Hermione." "Well, I think that Occlumency is a really important thing for you, especially you Harry, to learn." "I know, Hermione." It went on and on. Harry couldn't help but grin at the fact that Hermione really looked out for him. Reluctantly, Harry turned his attentions back to the hallway and trudged toward the dungeons, feet dragging, imagining the horror that was to come.
The boy with the knobby knees walked at a steady pace, not too slow, but not hurried, to ensure that he would be only slightly tardy. It was that constant steady pace that caused him to perceive a bit of white in contrast with the cold, gray, stone floor. He walked closer and realized that the flash of white he had seen was a diary, shoved into a small crevice at the spot where the wall met the ground. Removing it from its spot, he noticed that the small book had been there for a while, as the pages were torn, faded and slightly wet.
Harry had had his experience with diaries—or one diary, really. An enchanted diary that changed his life forever—the diary of Tom Riddle—Voldemort. Harry opened to the first page and saw that it was blank. He flipped to the second, the third, the fourth, and saw that they, likewise, were blank. He came to the conclusion that this blank book was also an enchanted diary. This could get interesting, he thought as he retrieved a quill from his sack.
To make sure the book was in fact enchanted and not just blank, Harry drenched his quill with ink and let a couple of drops fall on the page. Just as he expected, the drops glowed for a moment and then sank, disappearing into the page. Harry wet his quill again and wrote, "Hello."
"Why hello, there," the newly formed words on the page read, "My, it has been a long time since anyone has written me. How do you do?"
"I'm fine thank you. And you?"
"Oh, I could be much better. If it weren't for that dreaded Transfigurations essay about the risks of turning humans into inanimate objects. I never understand anything in Professor McGonagall's class. But that's the least of my worries. I'm also developing an ugly spot on my nose…" Harry noted that whoever owned this diary was gregarious, female and a Hogwarts student. He wandered if he could coax the enchanted book of memories to reveal its identity. He wouldn't mind learning some of the recent gossip.
"What house do you live in?" The letters he had just written glowed and then were absorbed by the page.
"I am a seventh-year Gryffindor," appeared on the sheet of paper, "Nothing special. Not prefect or anything. Not Head Girl. Just your regular old schoolgirl." Seventh year. That meant that this mysterious character was two years above him. Harry didn't know much people in the other years, let alone in the other houses of his own year. Yet, he still yearned to know the beholder of these memories. Harry knew that he wasn't going to make it to his Occlumency lesson, and he was actually glad about it. He gathered his school supplies and headed back to the Gryffindor common room.
On entering the common room, Harry noticed that it was almost empty. Must be later that I thought, he thought as he walked up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory, palms sweating in anticipation of the conversation he was about to have with the memories of the mystifying seventh-year Gryffindor. Harry eagerly walked over to his bed as he took out his quill, ink, and the white diary. He opened the snow colored book to the first page and wrote,
"What is your name?"
"What is my name? Maybe I should be asking you what's your name. What is your name?" Harry knew that answering that question could get him into a lot of trouble. He remembered that the last time he told an enchanted diary his name, and the result was not to his advantage.
"I am not at liberty to tell."
"Oh, don't be such a prat." The enchanted ink filled the page. "Not that there are any boys that aren't prats these days. Like that wretched James Potter—oh he gets on my nerves!" Harry felt his mouth fall slack; all he could do was stare at the blank page and the words that had just appeared. James Potter—his father—got on this person's nerves? This girl must have known James personally at the time she was writing in her diary. That means she must have known his mother too, along with Sirius and Lupin.
"You know James Potter?"
"What kind of question is that? Of course I know him. Everyone in this school knows him. He's a Marauder, for Christ's sake! The name of every Marauder is known in this school. They're famous names to the students, infamous to the teachers." Harry realized that this diary could be the diary of his mother—Lily Potter. It made perfect sense, a Gryffindor seventh year that knew James and the Marauders. Excited, Harry dipped his quill into the bottle and wrote,
"Do you know Lily Potter?"
"Lily Potter? Hm…no. But I do know a Lily Evans." Of course! Harry should have used his mother's maiden name. She wasn't married to James Potter at the age of seventeen. "As a matter of fact, Lily Evans happens to be my very best friend in the whole wide world. We do everything together, from homework to gossiping—she's like my long lost twin!" Harry was nearly falling off his bed with exhilaration. This person was best friends with his mother and knew his father! "Now, since I've told you who I am, it's only fair that you return the favor." Harry was still in shock over the fact that he had found something that linked him to the parents he never knew. Even if it was the 17 year-old version of their friend.
"My name is Harry Potter. I am the son of Lily Evans and James Potter."
"Harry Potter? The son of Lily and James? Are you serious? They wind up having kids? They only just started dating! I remember the day when Lily finally accepted his request to go to Hogsmeade with him. Would you like me to show you?" Harry was intrigued. This book of memories was going to show him his parent's first date.
"OK." Immediately, the pages of the white book started turning until they stopped on a blank page near the end. The page turned into what appeared to be a television screen showing the Gryffindor common room. Harry knew what was to come next. He leaned in toward the book and instantaneously felt himself fall forward. He was spinning, drifting through images of food, people, parchment… until he hit the ground in front of the fire place.
Glancing around as he stood up, Harry knew that he was in the Gryffindor common room. It was amazing that it looked the same all those years ago. He recognized the stairs to the Girls and Boys Dormitories and saw the notice board filled with announcements of upcoming events. He saw the arrangement of furniture that surrounded the table on which a Wizard's Chess game was set up. Although he was aware that the people this memory couldn't see or feel him, it was still a little weird because the scene was so real. He noticed a girl with a curvaceous, yet petite frame sitting on a lounge chair studiously working on—Harry craned his neck to see— a Transfigurations essay. She let out a sigh of frustration and looked directly at Harry, but did not see him.
"Why can't understand this stupid subject?" the girl mumbled to herself as she brushed a strand of reddish-brown hair from her eyes, "Why can't I be more like Lily?" She propped the Trasfigurations book on her knee and continued to look at her nearly blank parchment. Harry took a few steps nearer to the girl and saw that she was working on an essay about transfiguring humans into inanimate objects. She's the owner of the diary. This is her memory. Harry looked in awe at his mother's best friend from Hogwarts. At the same moment, he felt a twinge of jealousy. This girl had spent seven years, probably more, of her life with Lily Potter and Harry had only spent months; none of which he can remember. Harry was jerked from his train of thought with the sudden movement of the girl's head at the sound of the portrait hole. She looked up, straight though the messy haired boy, and a smile formed on her lips as her eyes lit up. Harry turned around, wondering what could make this girl so happy and saw one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her long auburn hair flowed behind her, with small wisps framing her unique features, her emerald eyes shone with an intensity that Harry had never seen before. Harry instantly knew who it was.
"Mum," Harry murmured as Lily Evans greeted her friend and began chatting animatedly.
"You won't believe what just happened," Lily said, eyes twinkling. "James—"
She was interrupted by the sound of the portrait hole bursting open. In stepped a tall boy, with jet-black hair and hazel eyes rimmed with circular glasses, followed by a handsome boy of the same height with alluring blue eyes. Harry knew at once who the blue eyed boy was and didn't take any time in working out who his companion must be. He was delighted to see that his father was indeed very handsome, and hoped that he too would someday look the same.
"I'm so happy, Padfoot," James was saying, "I knew that Lily Evans would finally come around." He smiled at his friend as he walked toward the Boys Dormitories.
"Yes, Prongs. I'm quite sure that it was she who needed to do the coming around," Sirius glanced about the common room, found Lily's eyes, and winked. "Shame on her, never wanting to enjoy the company of James Potter! It surely was never James Potter who had to do the changing." James just rolled his eyes and continued walking until he caught sight of Lily. James stopped, awkwardly ran his hand through his hair and said,
"So, erm, Lily. We're still on for this weekend?" Lily could only smile at James' obvious discomfort.
"Of course, James. How could I have changed my mind in only ten minutes." She glanced at her friend and they both giggled.
"Right," And giving her that boyish grin and wink that she would soon come to love, James started up the stairs to the Boys Dormitories as the scene began to dissolve and spin into blackness.
Harry landed on his bed with a small thud and looked around. The boys' dormitory was dark and it seemed that everyone had already gone to sleep. After changing into his pajamas, Harry placed the white book into his schoolbag, got into bed and reflected on what he had witnessed. He had gotten a glimpse of what his parents were like, and he desired to learn more at that very moment. But fatigue was taking its toll and as Harry drifted off to sleep, he decided that he would entertain himself with another memory some other time.
A/N: So there it is: my first fanfic ever. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and even if you didn't, please review!