DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters of the honourable J.K Rowling

The Truth

Saturday 12th August

James Potter is in the hospital wing. Louisa Sarb says he has gone suicidal after the death of his parents, but what would that cow know. You don't think he has, do you? God, what if he is? What if he dies?

Sunday 13th August – early in the morning

I don't care about James Potter.

Monday 14th August – late at night

I've just spent the last two days thinking about James Potter (still in the hospital wing), and even though I don't give a toss about him I was forced to go up and see him (natural curiosity and guilt over failure to notice his demise so far this term, you understand). Also I had to prove that Louisa Sarb was wrong. I had to get it off my chest. What if James Potter was suicidal?

So late on Sunday afternoon, when I'd at last finished all my homework, I attempted to make it out of the common room undetected. Celine was immersed in her divination homework (a nasty subject I don't take, but Celine reckons she has a real flare for it), Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin were playing chess, and the rest of Gryffindor not weighed down with an unmanageable amount of homework were watching Sirius Black (who's outwardly over his grieving) perform astonishing 'improvements' on some cute little white rabbits. I hadn't counted on my most kindred of bosom friends.

"Where you off to, Lily?" asked Tory, as she passed me in a corridor.

"Oh, just getting a book I forgot at the library," I said. Did I mention that I am a very bad liar? She saw through me like I was a plate of glass. She smiled her sweet Tory-smile and said,

"Oh, good, you can tell me what's really wrong with him," I stared at her and must have opened and shut my mouth at least five times before I put my nose in the air and marched past her and out through the portrait opening. What did I care if she thought I had secret feelings for the Potter boy? She is wrong, and she'll realise it someday.

I reached the hospital wing (presided over by the matronly nurse, Madame Pomfrey) and strolled nonchalantly in. I was gratified (although I don't know why I should have been) to find that no one else was about except for Potter, who was lying in the farthest white bed, leaning on his white pillows, and staring moodily out through the white frames of the his window. He didn't see me until I was close enough to see the white pyjamas he was wearing.

"Hello, Potter," I said in what I imagined to be a casual voice. He looked startled to say the least. (After he'd worked out who I was, that is. His eyes don't seem too good without his glasses. Actually, that means he probably wasn't staring out the window. He was probably just staring moodily into blurry space).

"Evans!" he said. He looked very pale, and very thin, even for him. His black hair was messed up, but not in the deliberate I-just-got-off-my-broom-aren't-I-dashing sort of way it usually is.

"To what do I owe the honour?" he grinned, almost succeeding in looking like his old flirtatious self. Strangely enough, I did not feel the urge to throw something large and solid at his head.

"I just thought I come to see what was really wrong with you," I said, cringing at my somewhat aggressive tone, "There's been some amazing rumours going around," I added,

"Oh, well, that was nice of you," said Potter, staring at me wonderingly,

"But it's not because I've changed my mind about you or anything," I said quickly, "It's just that I've been feeling somewhat guilty, because I treated you the same as always, even though your – your – parents-"

"Are dead," he finished gravely. I sucked in a breath and nodded,

"Yes-"

"It's not that I'm not grateful, Evans, but I'm at a loss. Why the sudden change? I'm mean, I'm glad you're acknowledging my existence and all – and don't stop – but I wonder -"

"Well you haven't been as horrible lately-"

"Thanks!"

"And Potter – I mean – I know you're really sad and all – but, I mean, it's no need to throw you're life away or anything," I blurted it all out quickly, and stared at him anxiously. I just had to know. And he began to laugh. Laugh. Slightly hollow laugh, true, but a laugh, and he was laughing at me,

"You – you thought I tried to kill myself?" he asked, his eyes wide. I stared at him numbly, "Miss Evans – I mean – I just got a bad does of the flu – I mean to say – I wouldn't do something like that…" I stared at his smiling face, the blood pumping through my veins to my face. Awful, gut-wrenching embarrassment settled on my stomach like a stone. I was so completely and utterly mortified that I lost all the composure I so prided myself in and stupidly saw no other option than to flee from the hospital wing, my face literally radiating heat, and sit under a tree my the lake for the next two hours dwelling on my foolishness.

When I finally returned to the great hall for tea, having talked myself into believing that, after all, it hadn't been that bad, and that after all, it was only James Potter, I was calm and collected and ready to face any immature little comments anyone chose to hurl at me. Ducks and water, I thought to myself, ducks and water.

"And, two hours later, the adventurer emerges from her quest. The same, but perhaps different? What secret dealings did she have with-"

"Shut up, Celine," I said tranquilly,

"She'll tell us in her own time, won't you Lily?" said Tor (argh. Maybe's she's not so kindred)

"You'll both know that there's nothing to tell, if you have half a brain between you," I said snappily, causing them to smile conspiratorially at each other. I tiredly informed them of Potter's terrible bout of influenza and went up to the dormitory, not feeling up for a night of speculating about my future love life.

Why must people always read into things so deeply? I mean, I go to see how Potter is, and suddenly we're married with five kids. Honestly.

Wednesday 16th of August

A list of things that happened today:

* James Potter got out of the hospital wing (I've been avoiding him ever since)

* Louisa Sarb fell off her broomstick at Quidditch practise and James Potter (the captain) yelled at her

* Queen Celine was given detention for doing an air guitar solo in Transfiguration

* Remus Lupin was given detention because Sirius Black told Professor Lalli (a very impressionable young women) that he had thrown a dung bomb into Severus Snape's cauldron.

* Tor remembered that she hadn't done her Charms Essay and had a panic attack

* Dumbledore (the headmaster) told me that I had to organise some kind of fundraiser for the war effort. (The war against the dark lord. Obviously)

* I realised that taking the following NEWT subjects was just plain idiocy on my part: Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy.

* The entire class realised that our Arithmancy teacher, Professor George, is in fact Gay.

* Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had an all out brawl in Defense Against the Dark Arts

* Lina Matherson told Rebecca Scarlet (Ravenclaw) that she had a cauliflower nose, and it wasn't in all fun, for obvious reasons.

* All in all, tension was running high in the seventh year as we grasped the vastness of our homework crisis.

Friday 18th of August

The end of the week, at last. We get to spend the next two days catching up on what we couldn't possibly have done during the week! Yay!  Diary, I'm going to give you the privilege of seeing exactly what I have to do this weekend.

* Not one, but two transfiguration essays on large-scale transfigurations: one theory and one practical method

* Master the basics of charming your own quill to write what you're thinking (useful, but terribly difficult)

* A detailed history of the truth potion Veritaserum

* A diagram of the anatomy of a werewolf (we couldn't do that in class because that was when bloody Lupin decided to lose control and hurl himself bodily at Black. Very out of character if you ask me)

* Research the life of Bugbert Greeling, last commander of the 1278 Goblin Revolt

 Obviously, I won't have time to think. On the upside, James Potter won't have time to think either, or confront me on my embarrassing behaviour last Sunday afternoon. Thankfully, Celine is more interested in who Professor George's boyfriend is than my imminent marriage to Potter.

Potter

He's turning my life into a nightmare. He's been doing it since fourth year, in one way or another. Or even before that. Before that, I could cope with it, I mean the only thing he was doing was getting higher marks than I was. (I've always unconsciously aimed to beat him in everything, but it's not possible. He and his friends do well in everything. How? It is a mystery. They just don't deserve that kind of intelligence). But then he began to take an interest in girls.

I'm going to tell you a disgraceful secret, dear Diary, one that I haven't even told Tor or Celine.

James Potter is the only boy I've ever been kissed by

Wait a second. I have to let the shame of it wash over me.

Ok. It happened at the end of the fourth year, when Gryffindor had won the house quidditch tournament, and Potter was the Hero of the hour. He'd been carried around on people's shoulders for ages after the game, so I suppose even he needed a little relief afterward. He was slinking along a little used corridor (I was only there because Professor McGonagall had asked me to deliver a message to Lallie in the dungeons, and I had become somewhat lost), and I suppose he was just getting his breath back so he could join the festivities in the common room. He must have seen me before I saw him, because he was as cocky as ever and grinning widely, obviously thinking he was God's skinny, bespectacled gift to women. As usual he ran his hand through his hair to mess it up, and leaned invitingly on his broomstick. I was well known for my disgust of Potter's behaviour (especially in the Severus Snape-cursing department), so I just pretended he wasn't there.

"Hi Evans," he said, trying to make his fourteen-year-old voice sound deeper than it was,

"Hello Potter," I said stiffly,

"You coming to the party?"

"No," I said, just to spite him.

"Aw," he said, stepping towards me, "Why not? Aren't you pleased we won?" I then made the mistake of looking into his face, and failed to notice it was slightly flushed. I just glared at him, unaware of the danger in my being so close. And then he just leaned across and did it. It wasn't wet or slobbery, or particularly violent, but the principle of the thing was horrible. To my shame, I stood frozen for a full second before I pulled away and hit him across the face with all the anger-power I had in me.

He raised his hand to his face and stared at me, slightly dazed. Then he scowled and stormed off down the corridor, to repair his injured pride in the common room, no doubt.

That was only the beginning. From then on in, Potter seemed to make me his special conquest. I couldn't go a week without being asked out by him, and everyone but Celine thought I was mad to refuse.

"Lily," said Celine, "If you think he's an arrogant pig, then he probably is an arrogant pig." And so with the support from her majesty herself, I found it easy to turn down the insufferable big-head that circumstances had made Potter, and even found myself standing up for whiny young Slytherin Severus Snape who the Marauders had nick-name 'Snivellus', for obvious but quite vicious reasons.

Severus Snape is to this day Potter's sworn enemy, and even I can't say much for him. Back in fifth year I though him a poor, misunderstood wretch without much hope, and I was right. At least now he has grown taller, and more able to stick up for himself, but he still has greasy black hair, a sallow face, and a temper to match. He is quite clever, but you can see from the way he hangs around with Slytherin's evilest (for want of a better word), that he's gone down the dark road and isn't likely to return. He certainly shares the Dark Lord's views, anyhow, and won't miss an opportunity to call me a mud blood (muggle born, you understand), and insult which seems to be, in the wizarding world, the lowest of the low. But since Snivellus is the lowest of the low, it doesn't bother me unduly.

So, after that little flashback into the past, have I realised any great truths? Nope, I don't think I have. I still have an inexplicable fear of facing Potter, and I still have a repulsive amount of homework.

Yours Sincerely

Lily Evans

Monday 21st of August

I'm quite proud of myself. By working steadily for all of Saturday and half of Sunday, I managed to get every single piece of homework done (the quality of it all remains to be seen, of course). Talk about will power! Celine had to take short walks around the castle every half hour, claiming that she had very poor circulation and her legs would go to sleep, and possibly fall off, if she was to sit down for extended periods of time. Tor doesn't take as many subjects as me, but she still had a hefty quota, so she and I and Celine (at times) spent the day in the library, as it's against the rules for Tor to be in our common room. To be fair, we did take some breaks, in which Tory told us her dorm mate Rebecca Scarlet's side of the whole Lina Matherson/Rebecca Scarlet ongoing feud. It appeared that Miss Scarlet was planning to send a an accomplice (Eliane, I was willing to bet) into our dormitory and plant a foul smelling green hair dye in Lina's Cat Carvel's Hair Conditioner bottle which was always lying conveniently on her bedside table. Another interesting piece of Ravenclaw news was that sixth year Elizabeth-Charlotte Teanly and seventh year Matthew Hindle had announced their engagement.

"He's even got her a ring," said Tor in hushed tones.

Maybe I am cut out for this head girl lark, for I managed to suggest a chocolate drive (or a chocolate frog drive, to be exact) to Dumbledore yesterday as a way of making money for the aurors without involving Potter at all. (Hopefully he won't mind that I presented the chocolate idea in his name as well as mine). I'm going to organise for Honey Dukes in the wizarding town of Hogsmeade to deliver the chocolate (at half price!) nearing the end of term, and each person will take a box or two home to sell in the holidays. Dumbledore readily agreed, (he's rather fond of his lollies) and thanked me for showing such initiative. I fairly beamed with pleasure.  

Monday 28th of August

Sorry I'm so busy I can't find the time to write in my diary. Luckily I've managed to avoid Potter for another week, Professor George's boyfriend is called Douglas Winterton (?), Elizabeth-Charlotte and Matthew are still engaged, Sirius Black's brother Regulus Black (sixth year) ran away yesterday and there's a huge search on…

Yours Sincerely

Lily Evans

Tuesday 30th of August

Regulus Black still hasn't been found. His Slytherin friends are saying they don't know anything about it, but when Potter publicly asked them in Astronomy yesterday, I could tell by the closed faces that they were lying. Sirius Black isn't worried, it's a well known fact that he hates his brother, and the other day I heard him whisper to Potter,

"He's probably gone to join them. I knew it'd happen soon enough. He's such a little idiot – would have been no point in finishing school…"

I tried not to think about the implications of this overheard conversation. Of course, the Black family are notorious for being conservative, and have links with the Malfoys, who are of course suspected deatheaters. It wouldn't surprise me if Regulus had gone away to work for the Dark Lord. This is obviously what Sirius is thinking.

The threat of the Dark Lord is becoming more and more apparent as the school year goes by. He's always been there, of course, a looming threat, murdering people – mainly muggleborns and pure bloods who stood in his way – but since the death of the Potters, people have been more jittery about it than usual. I vaguely thought of making some encouraging speech, as Head Girl, but then I remembered that I'd have to ask Potter to join me, and I've got this irrational fear of doing that. It doesn't make any sense. I see Potter everyday, pretty much back to his own self, being loud and flirting, yet I can't bring myself to be my usual snappy self when it comes to him. So I make sure it doesn't come to him. I wonder if he's noticed I've been avoiding him? Probably not, it looks like he's given up on me, really…

Friday 2nd of September

Regulus hasn't turned up, and search seems to have died down a bit. It's the general consensus that he's run away to join the Dark Lord's legions, and the Ministry of Magic doesn't want to waste any more time on  him.

Potter has a girlfriend. Her name's Shirley Rookwood. Why do I feel so empty?

Saturday 3rd of September

Today was the first quidditch game of the season. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Inevitably it was a rough match. To say the least. Louisa Sarb was knocked off her broom by the Slytherin chaser Steven Grotchen – and I actually felt sorry for her. Its amazing what a bit of house rivalry can make you feel for your fellow classmates. I've never experienced so much emotion at a quidditch match. By the end of it was screaming with the best of them, and when I yelled,

"Foul," because Jonathan Rick blatantly punched our Joseph Michael in the face, Tory's eyes grew wide as saucers and Celine put her arm around my shoulders and welcomed me into the world of the sports fan.  

When Gryffindor finally caught the snitch, after nearly three hours of battling it out, the crowd went wild, as if it were the grand final or something. Because the general populace weren't feeling all that kindly towards the Slytherins, three quarters of the Stadium lost their heads and began to do victory dances. Professor McGonagall only stopped when she caught Sirius Black watching her with a huge grin plastered across his face. I was so unnaturally charged up, I almost joined the pitch invasion with Celine and the others, only stopping when I caught sigh of James Potter, standing a little apart from the throng  - and holding Shirley Rookwood of Ravenclaw in his arms. His face was alight from the excitement of the game, and Shirley, (tall (almost taller than him), blonde, and willowy) was clutching at him like he might float away. For some reason, as I watched them kiss, I felt suddenly sick. I couldn't think why, I mean, I should be glad he's stopped paying attention to me…