Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't even come close to J.K. Rowling as a relative!
Prologue:
The hinge creaked as he pushed the door open. A bespectacled sixteen-year-old with an untidy mop of jet-black hair stepped out of the bedroom. The old floorboard groaned in protest under Harry Potter’s weight. He can hear his friend Ron Weasley’s snores going fainter and fainter as he walked away.
He needed to get out of the room. His grief was still fresh; he did not want to think about his late godfather now. Stop thinking about him, he thought and the moment the thought entered his mind, he felt like a traitor. All his memories came flooding back: the dream, their flight to the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix Lestrange, the veil, and -
“Professor?” He asked in surprise as he opened the kitchen door. Remus Lupin was hunched on the kitchen table, writing. At this he looked up.
“Harry,” he said. “Can’t sleep?”
“No.” Harry sat down across from him.
“I know how you feel.” He gave him a sad smile and continued writing.
“Er - Professor? Do you have anything on Voldemort?” Harry asked, half-caring about the answer. He just wanted conversation to get his mind off Sirius Black.
Lupin looked up. “Dumbledore has some hunches, and, as you know, they almost always turn out to be right.” He scribbled a few more words, and then, to Harry surprise, closed what seemed to be like a notebook, and handed it to Harry.
“Professor?” Harry stammered. “What’s this?”
“I apologize for not wrapping it. I was planning to give it to you earlier, during your birthday celebrations, but I have not had the time to.” Harry hesitated. What was he supposed to do with a notebook? “Take it, Harry, as a birthday present. You might find it interesting.” Lupin smiled as Harry took it reluctantly. “Good night, Harry.” He stood up and left. Harry stared at the notebook at his hand, and then went upstairs to bed. He tossed it in his open trunk, fell into bed, and promptly forgot about it for the rest of his summer.
The train rumbled as it left the station. Harry looked out his window. His friends Ron and Hermione Granger in the prefects compartment for a meeting, Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, went looking for her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, and he was now sharing a compartment with Neville Longbottom, a fellow sixth year who was once again chasing his elusive toad, Trevor outside, and Luna Lovegood, who was busy reading The Quibbler through a pair of Spectrespects.
He took down his trunk and rummaged around it for his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, but instead of taking out Quidditch Through the Ages like he thought, he was gripping a notebook “ the notebook Lupin gave him during the summer for his birthday. He opened it to find its creamy white pages blank. But Lupin had been writing on it, why would it be blank? He flipped through the book. Nothing.
Unless…. He took out a quill and an ink bottle, and a let a drop of ink quivering at the end of his quill splatter into the first page. It disappeared as though absorbed. His suspicions not yet fully confirmed, he wrote, (if he was right) like he did once before on an object similarly like this, “This is Harry Potter.”
He was not completely surprised when a sentence appeared, as though written by a hand, “Hi, Harry.”
He wrote back, “Who are you?”
He waited, then: “Lily. I'm Lily Evans. Or should I say Lily Potter, which I have been for a while now.”
Harry dropped his quill, ink bottle, and the notebook and stared at it in shock.
“Mum?”
Author's Note: Please read and review! This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. I'd greatly appreciate constructive critisicm. Chapter One is coming soon.