Authors Note: I'd like to take this time to apologize for being such a pain. I know it took me a really really long time to update, but better late than never right? So I would like to thank my friend Got2BMione for telling me to stop being lazy, and a very special thanks to all the reviewers, for having patience and taking the time to review. And now, without further adue, I give you Chapter Two.

Chapter 2

Taking a seat in my cozy green chair I take a moment to breathe. After all, this isn't just anyone's journal, it's Potters for goodness sake! Who would have ever guessed that of all students, his journal would end up in my hands? ...Oh well. With a shrug of my shoulders my eyes move down to the first page dated back to July of his first year starting school.

Journal: I'm glad I finally have something to fill with my feelings. You wouldn't believe how hard things have been lately. My Uncle Vernon locked me in the cupboard again, only this time I didn't mean to do anything. It was Dudley's birthday so we had gone to the zoo and stopped at the snake display. It was quite amazing really, the snake could actually understand me. But then Dudley was pounding his chubby fingers on the glass. I got really upset and suddenly the glass disappeared! My uncle got really upset and tossed me in here, locking the door. I got this when no one was watching with change I've been saving as I cleaned. I'm glad. But what happened to the glass? I don't understand...and now I can talk to snakes? The only thing I could tell my uncle was that it was like magic. He didn't like that though, so now I'm here. Ugh! Someone's coming, have to go. -Harry

Odd...his uncle locked him up?! Why in Merlin's name didn't the boy telling anyone of his treatment? At least then we would have been able to threaten his poor excuse of an uncle into treating him with a bit more decency. One thing is for certain, that man had better hope he doe not cross MY path. ...Wait a minute. Why do I care what he does to the Potter boy? So what if his uncle is an idiotic muggle who kept him locked in a cupboard like he was some sort of animal? I am not even that cruel, however, I bet I could come up with some pretty interesting hexes to teach that man a lesson.

Sighing to myself I decide it is too late to stop reading the boy's journal now. Just the first entry was enough to get me hooked. Who knows, perhaps some of my thoughts on him will eve change, though I highly doubt that. I am sure once he gets to school and discovers he is famous his entries will change...right? Of course, why would they not? Him and his money, fame, and friends, everything he could ask for he has at his finger tips. Then again...perhaps there is more to him than I originally believed. Perhaps instead of playing this horrid mind trivia I should just continue to read. Yes, I turn the page and begin reading again, when I reach one particular entry that catches my eye.

Journal: Do you remember 4 years back when I wrote about all my teachers? There was one person that I skipped, my potions professor, Professor Snape. I honestly wasn't sure what to think of him. Now, however, I think I have a pretty good idea about what I think now. At first I honestly thought he was the coldest person on earth, next to Voldemort. All the comments about my stupid scar and undeserved attention. Fame, which I might add, is for something I don't even remember :-/. Anyway, slowly my thoughts began to change and now I finally know. Professor Snape is truly one of the most brave and respectable men I know. That probably sounds inconceivable considering the things I wrote about his classes. I suppose I didn't take to him at first. He always tries to get me in trouble and scaring Neville to death. Thankfully Neville was able to drop potions for good our 6th year, I however am in the NEWT class. Anyway, back to brave and respectable. He has been doing some things that have been truly admirable. I'm sure that there are those who would despise him for it, but not me. He's just so...he's like a puzzle that I'm trying to solve. I haven't gotten all the pieces yet but I am trying. The only thing I wish is that I could tell him all this, to make him understand that I'm not my father. He'd never listen to me though...not after my rudeness and idiocy last year. Though, he'd never believe me anyway. Heh, he'd most likely sneer and take 50 points from Gryffindor for harassing him. I can hear people coming now though so I must stop. Goodnight.-Harry

For a moment I could not tear my eyes away from Harry's writing. There was just no way any of it could be true, it was impossible...wasn't it? How could Harry think that I am...am admirable? Or brave? Or respectable? This simply did not make any logical sense. I mean...I do not consider what I have done any of those...well, except a bit brave. After all, how many people can say that they are spies for the Order against Voldemort, who could easily kill me with two simple words.

Moving on, the choice to become a spy in my opinion was neither admirable nor respectful. It was no more and no less than the right decision. Confessing to Albus was the greatest thing I have ever done. Although it has left me with unwanted danger, never do I regret the decision I made in changing sides. Potter was correct in his beliefs though. Had he ever approached me to tell me this I would have undoubtedly told him to stop trying to kiss up and take 100 points, perhaps more. I allowed a small smirk to spread across my lips. Perhaps Potter is a bit more observant than I first thought.

Though, I am very curious about what I had just read I force myself to move on to more recent times and perhaps discover what has brought about his sudden lack of effort. That is to say...he was never very skilled in potions at all, but now it was just getting ridiculous. My fingers brush through the pages as I continue to read. What I read about this past summer however, leaves my stomach in knots. There is no way all of this could be true, yet, I also know it can not be a lie. These would explain the way Har...Potter has been acting.

I am not even sure I completely grasp everything. From what he has written, his cousin discovered and stole his journal. His aunt, uncle, and cousin found out and taunted him with both Diggory and Black's deaths, blaming him for them. It is outrageous! He had no part in the boy's death, he could not have known that the trophy was a portkey. Also, though it was very foolish to run off the way he and a few others did in his 5th year, he cannot be blamed for Black's death...though I do not agree that I was to blame either. But to use such events against the boy is terrible. Though...it would seem like nothing compared to what happened later. At some point his journal had revealed the fact that he was of the homosexual orientation. Something his cousin thought would be fun to experiment with. I can feel myself shudder as the words of his latest entry come to mind.

Journal: I don't know what to do anymore. It's so hard to be here, surrounded by so many people. People my age who admire me and think about one day I will save them from Voldemort. I just want to get away from it all...from everything. My dreams, or memories rather have gotten worse recently, and my grades are proof of that. I hear my cousin's laughter as I scream and struggle to get away, but I'm not strong enough. I'm afraid the pain from that night will never go away. It hurts so much...I feel unclean and used...how can people stand to be near me?! Sometimes it seems like things would be better if I were gone...but that would be selfish of me. I have to be the "wizarding world savior," the "golden boy." I would have anything to just b

I silently curse myself for making noise when I did. If only I had arrived a minute later so I could find out what he had meant to write. Though, if I had waited, the boy may have decided to leave, or not dropped the journal at all and then I would know none of this. There is most definitely more to Harry Potter than I first thought, more than most likely anyone thought. To have gone through so much and never allow another soul to know must be terribly hard...I mean, even I can't tolerate that amount of cruelty, and towards a child. Now I may be a bastard professor, but I would never physically harm one of my students. If it were up to me the boy's uncle and family would be cursed into oblivion.

When I glance at the clock it reads 3:30am and my eyes widen slightly at the amount of time I have devoted to my thoughts on Potter. I've got to wake up in another 3 hours and get through a day of teaching those annoying brats on that small amount of rest. Even more important I have to figure out what I am going to do about Potter because I really have no idea, but now it is time for sleep. I quickly change into a pair of pajamas and slide in between the soft, silk sheets on my bed, drifting to sleep instantly.

The three hours of sleep were definitely not enough for the day I knew was coming and for that reason I decided to steal another hour and a half. Skipping breakfast after all is no giant loss. Yet, for some reason I find myself cursed and cannot bring myself to fall back asleep. Half of it probably being because I am so used to my daily routine, and the other half being that my mind seems uncapable of concentrating on Har...Potter. I curse quietly, my voice not moving about a whisper. There will be none of this, no calling the boy by his first name. If not only because I hate him then because I have my nasty reputation to uphold.

By the time I get out of bed it is 7:30am, my first class starts in half an hour, and I wish for nothing more than to cancel it. But my responsible part berates me and I give in, jumping into the shower and quickly soaping myself down, which takes about ten minutes. I have 15 minutes to get dressed and get to the classroom. Fifteen minutes before I am surrounded by annoying 3rd year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. As I throw on a set of my usual black robes I can't help but wonder how I will ever make it through the day, especially when it is time for Potter's class...which I still need to figure out.

I make my way Into the classroom with 5 minutes to spare until the little brats arrive. Since I'm still feeling drowsy and my mind is a bit preoccupied a settle to have the students write on essay on the qualities of yesterday's potion as well as the correct way for it to be used. I write this on the board and then settle down at my desk to wait for everyone to arrive, which they do momentary. "Your instructions are on the board. I trust you all are capable of understanding them so get to work." I am not in a good mood.

The class goes by smoothly for the most part, I don't get up at any time to check how accurate they are on their essays. I tell myself that to make up for not taking points I shall just be extra harsh while I am grading them. While they are working I try to grade any papers I can find, mostly in a futile attempt to keep my mind from wondering to a certain green eyes idol. The journal must be returned to him, but really, how would it look if he received it from me? Or perhaps I should just wait and not return it just yet. However, it was the state of Harry as he walked into class later that told me I had to.

It was just 3:00[, as the 6th year Gryffindor and Slytherins walked into the room. I did not look at first, I wait until the room is in silence and as I stand up about to give the orders for todays lesson I see him. Potter is sitting next to Granger as usual, on he looks terrible, like he hadn't slept at all, as if he had lost something...his journal. I quickly shot my eyes and open them again to get myself together and at the last minute assign another essay. Everyone in my NEWT class looks a bit surprised but quickly take out their supplies and start working.

The class goes by slower than I thought possible. It is as if time slowed just to prolong the feeling of dread I have. Finally, after 2 long hours, I am able to dismiss the class. "Mr. Potter, you will stay behind," I say as icily as possible, getting in response a nervous glance and a slight nod. After everyone ie gone we are left in silence. I have the book in my right hand, my fingers grip it tighter if at all possible. With a quick movement and the best smirk I can muster I hold out the journal. "I believe this is yours."

Potter stares, his emerald eyes wide in shock, and a bit of fear. His want hit's the ground, the only sound in the room is it clattering. "Oh no..."