Harry Potter had found a book. It was tattered and brown and looked slightly like Riddle's diary. But, it was in Godric's Hollow. It couldn't possibly be a horcrux. Lying there, still on the ground, under a pile of rubbish it looked almost as though it shouldn't have been there at all. And yet, almost as though it had been left there on purpose.

Voldemort valued his soul too much to just leave it there. He opened it, mostly on a whim. Curiosity had always been a weakness of Harry Potter's. The first four pages were blank, but as he flipped through it he realised the rest of it was very, very full. He began to read at the first full page.

My name is Libby Doyle. If you are reading this, I am dead. Obviously if I were still alive you wouldn't be reading this because I would hex you if you even set your filthy little hands on it. Sorry, I don't know that your hands are filthy. They probably aren't. You're probably really rich and a collector of artefacts from the first wizarding war. Oh bugger what if you're a muggle and now you're wondering what the wizarding war is.

Good going Libby, with a single sentence you have blown an entire millennium's worth of cover-up. But this is just like you, you know.

Now you, your muggle self is going to run and either ask all the crazy-houses about a resident named Libby Doyle, or you're going to believe me and tell everyone wizard's exist and that they had a war and then you'll be admitted to the crazy-house.

Which, quite honestly, would be very hilarious in the extreme, wouldn't it?

But, I don't see you as a muggle. No, more so a wizard. Curious, of course, as to whom I am, and why I'm so self-detrimental. You probably fancy you know everything there is to know about the first war and yet, you wish to know more.

What was it like?

Was I good or evil?

Was it really that black and white?

Is there a grey area?

Did Voldemort really sleep in Care Bear pyjamas?

Sadly, I can't answer that last as, although I am sadistic, twisted and most likely certifiably insane, I am not fighting for Voldemort, but against him.

Now you're excited. For one of two reasons, I'm guessing.

One: You're good and you get to read about what it was like for the good side and the wonderful people and everything.

Two: You're bad and now you get to find out our tactics from the first war and if there is a second war, or if the first war is still going on, you can try and use them against us.

You're eyes are glinting with greed and you stir your tea by swirling the cup. I bet you're sitting in a cozy armchair (red or purple plush most likely) in front of a blazing fire. You're wearing a purple of red smoking jacket, probably silk. And I see you. Clever looking, but really rich and fat, like Slughorn. Oh bugger, and then it's going to be Old Sluggy reading this and he's going to get angry and wonder how the hell I passed Potions and remind him that I am his least favourite student of all time.

I really was you know. I always harassed his favourites and crashed a 'Slug Club' party once, only to be thrown out on my ear for snogging Bertram Aubrey. But he came at me but Slugbug would never believe such an excellent student would be so rude.

Don't worry though; the boys used a hex on him that made his head swell to twice its normal size. Very funny of course, but they earned a double detention.

But again, I am off topic. This is a story, told in random outbursts of interest that grow steadily stranger and steadily less/more interesting (depending on how humourless you are). My story/diary/account of madness isn't about me, really. But about my life and five other lives that were alarming intertwined with mine.

These five people were my best friends in the whole world. At least I thought they were until very recently I discovered what a prat the one was. These five people are as follows: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Lily Evans and Peter Pettigrew.

Harry felt a shock course through him at these words. This girl knew his parents. Not only knew them, but was a friend to them. This was strange, how had he never known about her before? How had it (the diary) survived, was a crucial question. But he didn't really care; if this girl really knew his parents, he could read about them. And get to know them. He decided to continue reading.

Believe me, none of are normal in any sense of any world/word. Believe me; even I don't know what I've just written, that's how mad I am. And James is even madder. Oh dear I can hear Lily scolding me about grammar.

She always did that you, dot the i cross the t and yadda blah back at school. James would shut her up by snogging her. Even before he was her official and proper snogging partner in crime.

She hated it when he did it before then, but she didn't hate him. Just his cheek. When she told me that, I remember asking her what exactly was wrong with James's cheekbones and she hurled a book at my head.

She was vair, vair violent when it came to James.

Especially the one time he had to piggy-back me 'round the school in sixth year because I was being lazy. She got angry and beat me for it, telling me it was because I shouldn't trust him and she was worried he'd drop me.

But we all knew it was because she was insanely jealous of me.

Nobody's ever really been jealous of me; I'm very much a mouse of a person. Quiet and shy. (If you don't understand the sarcasm there, and if after the ages I've been rambling on for and you actually do think I sound like a quiet person, you really, really have nothing to hope for.)

Oh sod, that was mean. What if I hadn't made it obvious and I just insulted you without reason or excuse.

I am a terrible, terrible person and don't deserve to breathe.

Don't worry; I'm not going to go off myself anytime soon.

I haven't finished spreading love and happiness and chaos to the world.

Sirius once said that the world was possibly better off without me spreading love and whatnot as usually I just end up making people cry.

Which is very unfair.

But alarmingly true.

I must admit, I am sorry, you know, for being so damn clumsy and falling all over the place and breaking more bones in my body than Sirius has brain cells.

I bet you that if he ever reads this, he'll be so angry it's not even funny. However, he probably won't read this until I'm dead.

Which I probably am now.

So he's probably too depressed to be angry at me.

At least, I hope so.

It would be really sad if he got mad at me when I'm dead.

Oh God, I hope he doesn't do anything insane like kill himself now that I'm dead. It would be very Shakespeare of him. But he doesn't know who that is.

As you might have figured out, this intro was written after the diary filled/ended. I never actually filled the damn thing, but you never know. To be quite honest, I don't care. This diary was for me and then I'm hoping that the git Sirius will read it and take comfort in it. Then pass it along to Remus and the lot. I can hope, can't I?

If they do read this, I very badly want them all to know that I love them loads and that they're more of my family then Dad is, wherever he is. And that even though I'm dead, they should carry on and stuff because if they come to Deadland in the next little while, I shall have to kill them again. Especially not Lily and James, they can't kill themselves because they had the very mad Harry, who needs them.

Even though he's a naughty attention-whore.

But now I have nothing left to say, so continue on….if you dare.

I'm totally kidding. I'm not evil or anything.

"I'm an attention-whore?" Harry spoke aloud, grinning. Well, she didn't sound insane or anything in the little intro.

"So she'll fit right in with my parents." He spoke again. And then grinned because he realised no one could hear him but himself. He glanced at the book and wondered if possibly Remus had come and recently left it here for him.

But that didn't seem very plausible.

Harry stared at it a little longer and then, he sat down, cross-legged in the rubble, turned to the very first entry of 1978 (he knew it was 1978 from the page before the entry exclaiming 1978 LOSERS!) and began to read.