Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

/A.N. Takes place just after Sirius died. After the chat with Luna

He walked the corridors not really looking around, bumping occasionally into students. He was glad they didn't talk to him. Even if they tried asking Harry Potter about the recent trip to the Ministry he didn't answer.. just ignored them. The loss of Sirius was just too fresh, the wound too sore, the guilt overwhelming. Even the knowledge of the prophecy wasn't that much of weight on his shoulders compared to that. He wandered the castle alone. Ron and Hermione were still in the hospital wing and frankly he was glad he was left alone. It was June, but it was pouring so the school was full of people. Harry looked around and found himself in a quite familiar corridor on 7th floor. A group of first-years was leaving laughing in the opposite direction but he was sure he won't stay alone for long and he just so yearned for solitude now. He saw two girls turning the corner and walking towards him from where the group has just disappeared and turned back only to make a few steps to see Malfoy coming from the other side. Still quite far away. Harry turned again started to move in the first direction again. But after a few paces he saw the wall on his right shimmer and a little door appeared just behind him. The Room of Requirement. Why didn't he think about it earlier? He turned to see that Malfoy saw the entrance too and was now speeding up with such a loathing in his eyes that his face looked even paler. Harry wasn't up to that now. Not so soon, so he just entered to room swiftly and closed the door behind him. He heard the Slytherin bang on it a few times on the other side but he really didn't care.

There was a coach with a little table beside it; a pile of books lay neatly on it. Harry moved slowly to have a closer look and gasped at the first page of the top book. It was a diary, a little notebook with colorful covers so out of place at Hogwarts. But what really struck him was that it wasn't written in ink, it was in pencil with little pictures on nearly every page. The handwriting was vaguely familiar, but Harry thought that the girl, and it definitely was a girl, should be quite young, as it was. Rather shaky.

"Tuney still doesn't write to me. Of course Mum and Dad always say "hello" from her but I don't think she really asks them to and it hurts. I miss her so much!!!! With all these new people and things to learn here it's wonderful, but sometimes I really feel alone. I'm still mad at Sev for reading that letter, but still it's good he's here…"

Harry sat on the coach and continued reading. He had no idea whom was the girl pouring her soul onto these pages, but it was somehow nice to forget his own problems for a while. It stopped abruptly with a long pencil line to the corner as if snatched from the writer and Harry put it back on the table only to pick the next book. Again it was definitely a muggle-made notebook. This time it wasn't a diary though. The pages were full of sketches of creatures and plants, people and rooms. Under every picture there was a little note in the same writing he saw in the diary. "Professor Torp, DADA teacher" was written under the drawing of a tall lanky man in robes with little square spectacles. A very good sketch of McGonagall was on the next page with a caption reading "Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher." So the previous one must have been Defense against the Dark arts then. He flicked through the book noticing familiar faces of Dumbledore and Hagrid, the little Flitwick standing on his chair. It seemed the unknown girl was trying to capture every aspect of her new life and her new worlds—it was so obvious she was muggleborn. He wasn't even in the middle of the thick pad when he found an unfinished sketch of a boy again with a long pencil line to the side of the sheet. It seemed the girl was once again interrupted.

Harry wondered how these things happened to be here and who was this girl. Somehow he couldn't picture a boy doing all these things.

He picked the next pad from the table and frowned—it was empty but still muggle-made. He put it back and moved to lie on the coach. There were still plenty of pads and books left, but he somehow didn't want to continue reading. So he just lay there watching the sealing. It was low and dark. Lit only by the candles on the table. No sound penetrated the silence and it was somehow peaceful. He thought that he hasn't slept since the Ministry… He couldn't even think the name Sirius. The Ministry. It was dark there too. And quiet. And deadly. Images of the rooms and corridors flashed through his mind, Death Eaters chasing them, cursing them. Killing … him. He was so brave, so full of life… even after all those years in Azkaban. So full of love and hope. And now he was gone. Just like that. And he'll never write… never speak to him. Never… He'll just never see his face. Tears were prickling in Harry's eyes and he was glad he was alone and didn't have to pretend or hide it from anyone. Didn't need to be strong. Could be just a boy who lost his … friend? … father? …brother? He couldn't find a suitable word. His godfather was just so much more to him than just that. He felt grief and pain engulf him again and stretched to pick the next book from the table. This one seemed to be a diary too. The handwriting was a bit stronger here, but still unmistakably belonged to the same person who used the previous books. He opened it a t random and started reading again.

"It's been two weeks since that day and I haven't spoken to Sev once. That hurt. But still, as I said, I made my choice, he made his. I just hope it won't come to fighting with all Voldemort thing. It's nice how distant it all seems from here. Only to think that only two more years and we'll have to join the fight… It terrifies me. Though I wouldn't stay at home and do nothing either. Just reading all these terrible things in the Prophet every morning… all those people dead. Just for fun… I'd never understand that. How can he be friends with such people? That's just beyond me… His choice.

We're leaving tomorrow morning… going home for the summer and I've never wanted to leave Hogwarts less than I do now. Tuney won't speak to me again. Mum tells me she met a bloke at college. Good for her. James asked me out again last Saturday (there was a Hogsmeade day) but I turned him down… as usual. He's still an arrogant git, but somehow he's much nicer to me after that day. If he keeps improving, I might agree if he asks me again when we get back here. I really hope he does. With all this terror and gloom around we really need hope and happiness. It's not the reason though—I really like him.

Never thought I'd say this."

Harry's heart was racing as he flipped some pages and read again.

"Next time will be my last year in Hogwarts and I'm sad. Is it always like this? It's been five years (or six?) but it feels like I got the letter yesterday. It was sad watching the sorting. We've got a new dada teacher again (this job is jinxed, that's for sure!) and he's mad. Had his lesson today. I really have no idea how we're going to pass N.E.W.T.s next year, let alone fight Voldemort, if he's teaching us! It seems he's never raised his wand to defend himself against anything at all! He's been telling silly unbelievable stories about Vampires all lessons! Couldn't they get someone qualified??? But probably they couldn't. Everyone with enough skill is busy keeping the world safe… well.. As safe as possible. Remus suggested we start a club learning defense ourselves, but I doubt it'll work—it's too advanced to learn by books. We really would need a teacher. Sirius being Sirius suggested asking Dumbledore, but that's just a joke, I'm sure. If he had time to teach, we wouldn't have got professor Thomas. Anyway. It all seems bad at the moment, but probably it's just me being my pessimistic self. It's been a week since the term started and nothing really happened. Even the Marauders haven't pulled any pranks yet. It would be sad if they stopped altogether. I do think we need a laugh and they're the best in that stuff. James is real nice too. Still hasn't asked me out though and it's frustrating. What's up with me? He was really annoying last year. I think I'd better go to bed now though, it's nearly nine and I still need to get to Griffindor Tower from here without Filch noticing me. I'm in no mood for that."

It was impossible, brilliant, but absolutely improbable that he found this diary. Harry had next to none doubt left that this girl was indeed his mum. He laughed as he hasn't laughed for a long time now. Even the pain he felt for Sirius lifted a little. He flipped through the pages reading quickly smiling at every mention of the people he knew. She wrote nearly every day! Harry's never had so much information on his parents. He read and reread until he fell asleep.