DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of the honourable J.K Rowling

The Truth

LOOMING DARKNESS

Saturday 17th of January

Dear Diary,

How goes it with you? Is life tucked under my duvet as stimulating as shivering inside a classroom is? Is your head filled with inane bits of information about obscure topics of learning? Did a juvenile delinquent with black hair and a crush on one of your best friends instruct a poltergeist to pour a gallon of freezing cold milk down the back of your robes?

No?

Didn't think so.

Sorry if I'm being sarcastic and mean, but really, you do have a better time of it. You don't even have to worry if you're insane or not because you're talking to your diary as if it is a real person. In fact, you don't have to worry about anything. You're just a few sheets of paper stuck between a few thicker sheets of paper. Oh how I envy you at this moment.

The first week back after Christmas was absotively posolutely super. Among other things (as I have hinted at above), Black has begun stalking Tory around the castle and trying to impress her with ingenious plan after ingenious plan (according to him anyway) to get into the Ravenclaw common room. Tory (to appease me more than anything else I fear), has been steadfastly ignoring most of his advances, but it's only a matter of time I think. For example, this morning in Charms we were revising cheering charms from fourth year and Black wriggled his way into partnering Tor (I had tried to get Toby to intervene and claim Black as his partner by sign language but being the utter fool that he is he didn't see me). As you can imagine, a charm that can reduce many to a state of giggling idiocy is an ideal way to get someone to laugh at just about anything you say. The first weakening of Tor's guard, mark my words.

Another thing to add to my week of miseries is, in two words, Eggy Crilmer. You see, I had completely forgotten the promise I had made to him late last term.

"Lily!," he exclaimed as he first sighted me making a quick exit from the great hall on Tuesday morning.

"Eggy," I said, with somewhat less enthusiasm.

"We have to make the presentation today!" I was completely nonplussed, and I must have looked it, "You know, the one on how the ability to perform Travelling Charms is beneficial to all?"

"Oh yes," I sighed, remembering all too clearly how Eggy had roped me in with small guilt-trips about my not contributing to the Charms club enough. Looking at his bright, enthusiastic face you would not guess at the devious mind beneath.

"Indeed. I'm sorry to say that since you weren't at yesterday's meeting (who does he think he is scheduling a meeting on the first day of school?) most of the big speaking parts in the presentation have been taken," he said importantly, and I gazed at him in dull horror, wondering exactly what kind of 'presentation' this was going to be. He was describing it as if it was a play.

"So I'm afraid you'll have to help hold the posters and perhaps read out a few of the headings," he continued. I was somewhat relieved but I still did not relish the thought of standing up in front of the entire school with Eggy and his gang.

"So we'll meet outside the great hall half an hour before dinner?" he concluded, grinning excitedly. I nodded numbly and went to class with a sinking feeling in my stomach. The feeling turned into a lump of lead when Sirius began to shoot spitballs at the back of my head.

And so it was that at half-past six on Tuesday night I was to be found standing next to Eggy and five other charms fanatics in front of the teacher's table, facing the whole school, and sporting a large piece of cardboard which read, 'Get In With The Travelling Frenzy Now!" I hardly remember anything about what was said, or even what I said (some rubbish about Fabulous Shrinking Carry Cases no doubt). All I was aware of was the thousand or so faces staring directly at me (or so I felt), some looking bewildered, some bored, but for the most part wearing the traditional oh-what-losers smirk. This was especially apparent at the Slytherin table (no Slytherins in the Charms Club obviously), where I could see Bellatrix Black (Sirius' sinisterly beautiful cousin who has a strange and disconcerting dislike for me) looking on in distaste. But it was no better to look at the Gryffindor table, where James Potter sat staring straight at me with a peculiarly blank look on his face, and Remus Lupin sat beside him, his sickly face even more unsettling than ever. Thankfully the Gryffindor half of Clan Black was not present – I hoped he was on detention or something. Curiously, Celine wasn't there either so I couldn't catch anyone's eye. I instead settled for the Ravenclaw table where I am quite well liked and was able to meet Tory's sympathetic gaze.

Finally the embarrassment was over and Dumbledore thanked us and made some enthusiastic little comment about how useful the talk had been, all the while with one of those infuriating little twinkles in his eye. Feeling that this was too much, I dared to glare at him, earning myself a benign smile and a wink. I trudged out of the Great Hall last, so as to avoid talking to anyone.

Monday 19th of January

I've been having yet another depressing day. Do you know it's only just hit home to me really seriously that it's my last year at Hogwarts? I've only half a year and then its out to the real world for me. And I'm starting to wonder if there's much hope for even that, because the Dark Lord Voldemort seems to be more in control than ever. The more fearful among us dare not even utter his name anymore. It is strange that a thing like an ongoing war can so little affect a person who is not personally involved. We are so sheltered here at Hogwarts – we hear titbits from the newspapers and that's it. It's not like a muggle war – with armies and guns, it's kind of separate. But it is a war. The auror's are trying to defeat the darkwizards, and the darkwizards are trying to take over the world. I really should be more afraid of that thought. I suppose I should be worried about my parents – all the other muggleborns are. The deaths of twenty muggles due to their being in the way of a deatheater's pursuit of an auror can do that to people, let alone the fact that Voldemort has been killing off muggle relatives of those he despises for years – along with those he despises of course. And the growing feeling is that he despises everyone. But I can't really get my head around it, even after seven years. It hasn't affected me directly, and even with the deaths of the Potters hanging over us, I can't even begin to accept that I might die, or someone I love might die, very soon. So I'm numb. Or heartless, as Lina Matherson remarked last night when I wasn't reduced to tears by the reading out of a newspaper article about auror Frank Longbottom's discovery of torture victims in the underground basement of a suspected deatheater. Perhaps I've never been in to public displays of emotion. Or perhaps I am heartless.

Monday 26th of January

Professor Lallie told us today that we would need to concoct our very own non-dangerous potion as an assessment task for our NEWT levels. I'm feeling about as unimaginative as I can get, so I've no idea what I'm going to do. All I can hear is Professor McGonagall's voice saying "The key to the large-scale transfiguration is all in the decisiveness of your wand movement…" Over and over again. I think Professor McGonagall has a serious problem, actually. I decided this last Friday when she gave us double the homework because we had missed out on a lesson due to an information assembly about what to do in the event of a deatheater attack on the school. This put most of the student body into a state of highly strung, barely-suppressed fear, so even if they wanted to do homework they were too jittery to do it. The famous four have been doing their utmost to cheer everyone up, but most people don't want to be cheered up and have been taking it as disrespect towards the dead, so it hasn't been working.

"I've never been so unpopular in my life," said Potter, coming over to where I was attempting homework.

"Do you good," I said shortly. The invading of my house incident was still fresh in my mind, as was my alarming attraction to him.

"Unfortunately Sirius doesn't know when to stop," he continued as if I hadn't spoken. I looked over to where Black was still doing a remarkable impression of Snape in potions class.

"I think he knows perfectly well but goes on anyway," I said sourly, admiring his right hand index fingernail (the only part of him I could see because I had my eyes fixed on my work).

"Sorry, forgot you were soft on old Snivellus," he joked feebly. I rolled my eyes, but didn't rise (I'm not in the mood for another raging argument),

"Don't suppose you know who first discovered how to become an animagus?" I asked doubtfully, trying to glean something useful from the conversation.

"John Murphy, 1278," he said promptly,

"JohnMurphy?"

"That was his name." I stared at him,

"How d'you know that? You haven't done your homework yet!"

"If weren't expecting and answer, why did you ask?" he smiled ambiguously, "I know many things…,"

"Alright, alright, thanks I suppose," I said grudgingly, carefully writing 'John Murphy' onto my parchment and trying not to feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"That's ok," he said, wandering away to join Lupin and Pettigrew, who were watching Black and looking slightly ill. Celine flopped down beside me,

"Toby's got a boil behind his ear," she said. I sighed.

Saturday 31st of January

Sirius Black has laid off on Tory finally. Unfortunately I've been observing a slightly wistful look in Tor's eyes when I jubilantly remind her of this fact, so I'm sure this is not the end of it. Anyway, there's less than two weeks until Petunia's wedding. To think, soon I could well be an Aunt. I know it sounds horrible, but God help any child of theirs. I got a letter from Petunia today. The first one ever. It said,

Lily,

Mother made me write. Don't feel as if I'm concerning myself over you. I'm not. The Wedding's been moved forward a fortnight – so it's the Wednesday after next. Mother says she'll pick you up at station whatever it is on Tuesday afternoon. As she's dictating most of this to me, I have to ask you to invite a friend (Mother says Celine Varaten), but only if your school  will let you – which I'm sure they won't. And you can't be late because the rehearsal is on Tuesday night, and you are not going to be the one to who is going to ruin my wedding.

Petunia 

P.S If you bring Celine Varaten I will personally make your life a living hell

Obviously mother has forgotten that the Hogwart's express does not run all through the term. I shall have to inform her of her error and ask Dumbledore to organise a port key. I wonder if its legal for him to do that. Why didn't I take that apparation test in the holidays? I'm sure I could do it, I know all the theory. Damn. The letter was delightful, no? Sometimes I wish I was friends with my big sister, but only when I'm really losing a grip on my sanity.

Sunday 8th of February

Alright Diary. I didn't actually think I was going to write all this down. But I will, because I'm dogged, and I need to think about something.

Well, it's happened. That information assembly two weeks ago was no joke. The fear that generated had all but worn off until tonight (or yesterday night as it's just turned one minute past twelve and is therefore Monday the 9th of February). In fact, Sunday morning's news about Regulus Black had the opposite affect to what I would have thought. Perhaps I was wrong to the think that the news of the death of a fellow student, no matter how offensive he was, would strike fear and sadness into the hearts of all. Rumours flew of course, but they were the kind of rumours that people like Lina Matherson talk about in loud matter-of-fact tones and which often get the response, "Served him right if you ask me," and "Always knew he was a creep." More often than not in this case, comments like, "Oh well, this'll be a blow to the Blacks all right!" and "Don't know how Sirius stood him." Typically, the only people who kept silent about the whole affair were his Slytherin friends and relatives, who, I suppose, knew a thing or two about it all along.

Dumbledore told us about it at breakfast. Looking unusually grave, he stood up in his place at the table and called for silence. Tory, Celine and I looked at each other.

"I feel it is my duty to inform you of the fate of one of our former students," he began, speaking slowly and clearly. Sirius Black, who was sitting across from me, gave a sudden and involuntary movement. That was how I got an inkling of what was to come.

"I have no wish to make this harder for his friends and relatives," said Dumbledore, "So I shall be brief. As you already know, Regulus Black of sixth year disappeared earlier in the semester," At once there was an outbreak of murmuring, but Dumbledore held up his hand,

"It greatly pains me to say that we now know that his intent was to join the ranks of Lord Voldemort," there was a collective shudder at the name, "And now he has perished at the hands of his master. I shall not go into details but let it suffice to say that he did not like what he found in the ring of deatheaters and attempted to escape. And there is no escape except death from that particular order, I am afraid," he said somewhat imperiously, and I fancied he stole a glance at the Slytherins as he said it. "I think we can say that although severely misguided, poor Regulus had no full knowledge of what he was getting himself into. We must persevere to prevent others like him from succumbing to the same fate." With that Dumbledore sat down, and the room was completely silent for some minutes. Sirius Black sat straight backed and completely still with a strange, twisted grimace on his face. Potter had one hand on his shoulder and Lupin looked terribly anxious. Everyone else was staring at them, half-curious half in horror. Across at the Slytherin table I saw Bellatrix Black whisper something to her boyfriend Lestrange. Apparently Sirius saw it too, and was enraged by it, because he stood up and bellowed,

"Why don't you go die in a hole, you little cow-" Potter cut him off by dragging him back into his seat, whispering urgently in his ear. By now the whole school was staring at them, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Professor McGonagall advancing on us. Bellatrix had obviously found another way to incense her cousin, for he leapt up again,

"Manipulative bitch! Like controlling idiots do you? Can't imagine they're so good for a shag though," He added loudly, glaring pointedly at Lestrange.

"Enough!" said Professor McGonagall said piercingly, "Mr Black, come with me!"

"Old hag," hissed Tory astonishingly, "He's just lost his brother and-"

"Shutup Tory," Celine hissed, elbowing her,

"Hey-"

"Shh,"

McGonagall and Black strode out of the great hall, leaving everyone to ponder (in loud voices) the significance of the recent news.

"But I thought he hated Regulus," said someone,

"Wow, that sure showed Bellatrix," said someone else. I thought it was all rather gross, so I left the great hall fifteen minutes early to collect my books.

I was halfway there by the time I realised Potter had followed me.

"Hello Evans," he said gloomily, falling into step with me,

"Hello," I said shortly, willing him to go away so I could think about the imminent threat of Lord Voldemort instead of his unhealthily attractive face.

"Before this all happened Sirius and I were talking about formally apologising for coming to your house in the holidays," he continued

"Yeah?" I said incredulously, "How charitable of you,"

"Yeah," he blushed, "So I'm sorry,"

"Ah good. Maybe next time you could bring yourself to apologise, say, within two to three weeks? If it's not too much trouble for you," my voice literally dripped sarcasm (I find anger keeps the soppy emotions under wraps)

 "Wasn't all that polite in retrospect," he said in a small voice.

"No it wasn't," suddenly we were both speaking in monotone and it would have been comical if the mood wasn't so terrible.

"Sirius is sorry too,"

"Yes, and Professor McGonagall is a cross dresser who goes to parties held by Lucius Malfoy," I kicked myself. Had I just spoken with the intent of making James Potter laugh?

"How do you know about those? No, really he is sorry," He half-laughed,

"Oh yes, racked with guilt is he? Suppose those worms on the first day back were his idea of an apology? Find time to fret about my state of mind while grieving for his brother, did-" I broke off, embarrassed, "Sorry. That was insensitive." My sarcasm had run away with me, and I felt perfectly awful for some reason.

"It takes quite a lot to make Sirius feel guilty," he said, in a slightly dark tone of voice. For some reason, I shivered. Unfortunately I knew the shivery feeling hadn't had everything to do with Potter's implication about Sirius' character. I didn't say anything for a while, but he still kept walking with me. I glanced around, regretting my decision to stay behind from everyone else.

"I'm sorry about Regulus," I said quietly. This seemed to spark something in Potter.

"Why should you be sorry?" he asked, "Regulus is the one who should be sorry!" he said vehemently. I felt slightly sick. The whole business was horrible.

"Dumbledore did say he didn't know what he was getting into-"

"Oh, I'd say he had a bloody good idea of it. Joining Voldemort isn't something you'd take on lightly, even if you were a stupid little prick," he said, "And even if Bella-the-bitch was psyching you up for it," he added, his face twisted in disgust. I felt a chill run down my spine, and the dark-haired girl's face rose in my mind, pale and serene and smiling ambiguously. Was this confirmation that she is a deatheater?

"Oh, we don't think she's one of them yet – wouldn't be safe for her here, would it? But give her a year or two…" Potter waved his arms, answering my unspoken question.

"But he was still so young," I said after a while, "No one deserves…"

"Death? Then what do they deserve, Evans? Life, when other good people suffer?" he said, incensed.

"I don't know…"

"He made his choice. His parents put their money on the wrong son!"

"What are you talking about…Oh, never mind," Why was I arguing? It was not by business what he thought.

"Sirius is a good person," continuing Potter, half ranting, "And look at the crap he gets from his family. My parents were good people, and they're dead!" I was touched by what he was saying, but I also thought he wasn't himself.

"Yeah, look, I'm sorry Potter. I didn't mean to offend you, I'm probably not a good person for you to talk to. Was there anything else you wanted?" I said it in a rush, feeling disturbed by his presence.

"I didn't want anything."

"Well then why are you following me?"

"Not following you. Going to our common room," he said tonelessly. I gave him an odd look,

"There's something wrong with you," I stated impulsively.

"Of course there isn't! Don't you just hate school?" he said, randomly changing the subject. I wondered if someone had put a bit of something in his drink.

"I think you're off you're head," I said somewhat tentatively, wanting to get rid of him but at the same time savour his presence (it's awful I know).

"Could be," he replied, still downcast.

"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey,"

"Worried about my health again are we?" he said suddenly, in a strange, high-pitched voice, a glint in his eye.

"Oh-"

"Maybe you do actually adore me?" he said loudly, "And all this stuffing around over the years has been a façade to hide you're true feelings!" he cried madly, "You've been rejecting me all this time, but really it was because you knew what people would say if you gave in! You're in it for the reputation aren't you? I knew it! I knew you couldn't resist-"

"That's shit," I interrupted quietly, shocking myself (I don't usually swear), and at the same time gaining confidence,

"And you know it, I think," I added boldly, for I suddenly new with a great conviction that he did know. He knew exactly how much rubbish had come out of his mouth over the last few years. He was the one with the façade. I felt suddenly calm, and I stared him right in the face (fatal attraction and all).

"You're right," he said miserably, "It is shit. I'm a shit head." I cringed. I was not used to people like him talking like this. It was disturbing.

"If you're looking for sympathy, I'm not really the right person-"

"Argh! See, now you pity me! I, who have been the epitome of popularity, and I still am, but it's not worth anything. Nothing at all! I've known for a long time now." I did not know what to say. I felt I shouldn't have had to deal with this. Lupin or someone should be here instead of me. I began desperately,

"Well I think you're depressed  - I mean even I'll admit you're not as bad as you're making yourself out to be, I mean, you do have three true friends, even if they wouldn't be my first choice…" I trailed off and he suddenly laughed,

"I'm going to keep quiet now, Lily Evans, for I seem to have won some favour with you. Maybe I should try this wallowing in self pity thing more often!" and with that he wandered of down a set of stairs leading off from the main corridor,

"I'll just go make sure Sirius doesn't blame himself for Regulus' death or start mourning for him or anything," he called over his shoulder, as if his maniacal outburst had never been, "And thanks," he added as an afterthought. He was obviously out of his mind. I wondered if I should inform someone. But then I brushed it off, somewhat irresponsibly, thinking that it was probably depression caused by too much death and would pass by tomorrow.

"Bastard," I whispered confusedly to myself, feeling the need to add to the steady stream of profanity that seemed to have been rampant all morning. Problem was, I knew I didn't really mean it.

The rest of the day went by quite peacefully. No one could bring themselves to be truly horrified at Regulus' death, as it seemed so far removed from the present; he had disappeared weeks ago. Sirius Black came back to classes after lunch and behaved fairly normally the whole time.

"He did have it coming to him," I heard Sirius say casually to Lupin, "The parents will be proud of him," he added,

"It's terrible," replied Lupin.

"Yeah it is. But it's hardly got anything to do with me anymore. It's not like he was really a brother to me. If only he wasn't such a stupid idiot."

"Will you go to the funeral if they have one?"

"Might do. Depends who goes,"

I didn't want to hear any more after that. Suddenly I wondered how I would feel if Petunia died. A morbid thought, I know, but seriously, would I cry at her funeral? I felt utterly disgusted at myself for the rest of the lesson.

As usual at dinnertime, everyone was in the great hall at the same time. For some reason, Lina Matherson was playing cards with Eliane. They were flinging cards every which way at high speeds and concentrating furiously, and I quickly decided that I didn't want to know what was going on. Tory, who had  been quiet all day, was staring up at the enchanted ceiling, a blank look in her eyes, and Celine and Toby, silent as well, had their arms around each other and were earning the occasional disapproving glare from Professor McGonagall. The Marauders were sitting apart for a change. Pettigrew sat with Louisa and Theresa, whispering quietly, Lupin wasn't there, and Potter sat alone. Sirius had taken himself to the Slytherin table and was sitting with his other cousin, Andromeda Black of fifth year. He had a burning look in his eye that was practically daring anyone, including Bellatrix and McGonagall, to protest.

I was helping myself to some steak and kidney pie, when there was a thump and the great wooden doors of the hall were flung open, and Remus Lupin came hurtling in, white faced and tripping over his own feet, and dashed towards the teacher's table.