As for the disclaimer to avoid getting sued and ending in the poorhouse, here we go. JK, Warner, and pals, PLEASE leave me alone. I am fucking broke. I mean no harm. I don't make any money from this, I just like fucking with other characters. You own everything (well, everything but Socrates and Fachtna, they're my creations). Me no steal, you no sue. Me just borrow, you just chuckle.

Here's the actual fic:

Chapter 1

Harry looked at the diary that had just been delivered to him by owl - he was out in the backyard of a currently empty Number Four Privet Drive, waiting the mere moments until he turned sixteen years of age. As was not unexpected, he was quite cautious when it came to strange diaries, given the Tom Riddle catastrophe that had occured back in his second year. The owl that had delivered the package looked him over as he waited for Harry to at least read the letter attached to the front of the diary.

"I'm not sure about this," Harry said to himself as a warm breeze drifted over him, but he decided to allow his curiosity to take control and he opened the letter. Hopefully Dumbledore had spoken true when it came to his promises to re-enforce the wards around his house and this letter held nothing that would cause him harm.

It seemed like a rather innocent letter when he read it over, as it were.

Young Mister Potter,

Your perception of James Harold Potter, your father, has been deliberately skewed and certain facts about him have been hidden from you that should have been known to you (and one other person) since at least your birth, if not before. All will be explained in good time, though.

While I insist on remaining anonymous at the moment, I assure you I mean you no harm.

The diary enclosed in this package belonged to your father and I think it best you have it before certain … nefarious individuals get their hands on it. I have not tampered it in any way, other than re-enforcing the wards in place - no one but the relatives of James Harold Potter can decipher the words written therein. I trust you will know enough to keep it secret from all - there are those in power who would like nothing more than to make sure this diary is not read and the truth remains hidden.

My owl may stay with you for quite some time, though he will not act as a mail owl for you. Please allow him to stay with you, as he means you no harm.

Please keep this letter to yourself. Merely having it in your possession, along with the diary, is enough for certain authorities to 'Obliviate' you.

You must learn the truth. I will not allow this truth to be hidden any longer.

Until my next post to you,

Consider me a friend.

It was quite a shock, and at first Harry thought it was someone's sick idea of a joke, but his curiosity passed up to the diary. Just as he was about to open the diary, a shifting in the grass off to his left side caught him by surprise. He let out a loud hiss and jumped, startling the owl into the tree nearby.

"Calm yourself, young one. I am not here to harm you," a small, quiet voice said with a hissing chuckle. It was a small black snake that seemed to know Harry was a Parseltongue, though he was unsure as to how.

"Then why are you here?" Harry asked, keeping his voice quiet bow.

"I was sent to investigate the child who smells lightly of Dark magic." It looked up at Harry with tell-tale red eyes and Harry felt a sharp tang in his head when he met the gaze of the snake. It was a basilisk.

"Who sent you? And what do you want with me?" Harry asked, not addressing the fact that the snake had mentioned him smelling at all of Dark magic. He tensed when the snake made itself comfortable on his stomach and regarded him with the red eyes.

"I am not here to harm you, though I was sent by another snake, hidden in the forest. It was not a Basilisk like myself, it was rather quite powerless. I want to be your companion."

"I thought Basilisks were almost invincible," Harry retorted. He closed his eyes and layed back, not complaining when the Basilisk settled in and closed his eyes, as if it were about to go to sleep.

"I have no doubt that grown Basilisks are incredibly powerful, but I was born a mere fortnight ago." It hissed something incomprehesible before shifting in position. "You can protect me, as the boy who smells of Dark magic and speaks to serpents must be willing to understand the delicacy of my situation. There are those who wish to exterminate me simply because I was born. Perhaps I may offer some sort of assistance to you in return for your protection?"

"Who says I am offering you my protection? And what could you offer me?"

"Companionship, trust, and when I am older, my protection. I would be indebted to you for the rest of my life should you choose to protect me from the ones who would wish death upon me."

Harry was silent for a long moment before he allowed himself to speak to the snake again. He had to keep some constraint in himself before he either accepted or dismissed the not-yet-deadly Basilisk's offer. "What is your name, snake?" he asked.

"I am called Fachtna."

Without another word, though an apathetic hum responded to Fachtna, Harry closed his eyes and let everything that had recently happened wash over him.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up as the sun was rising over the fence, telling him he had slept much longer than h probably should have. He opened his eyes but did not sit up - the diary and the letter were clutched quite tightly in his left hand and the Basilisk - Fachtna - was asleep on his chest at the moment. The snake was likely more of a nocturnal creature, but he still found it strange to find that the snake seemed comfortable enough with him to curl up and go to sleep right in front of Harry.

He sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb the volatile creature, and held it in his free hand as he walked back into the house. Once again he was unsettled by how eerie the house was without the Dursleys there, though their lingering presence may well have contributed to the uncomfortable feeling he got from simply standing as he was. Fachtna shifted a bit but did not seem to wake as Harry headed over to the couch and opened the diary to the first page. Looking over at the young Basilisk and ensuring it would remain out of direct harm's way while he read, he turned his full attention to the diary.

Hello. My name is James Harold Potter.

"I am more than what I seem." I hear that statement everywhere and yet I fear it cannot, will not, ever apply to me. I am what is seen - Gryffindor, prankster, almost an idiot, and a whore. It depresses me, really.

I have slept with almost every student in my year, and many of the students in higher years. Everyone knows that I am the Gryffindor Whore, and only a few of them know that I prefer Slytherins in bed. The bad stigma they have accrued from the Dark Lords that have sprung from thier midst gives them quite a bit of repressed tension that makes them great in the sack.

The only one I refuse to sleep with is Severus Snape. He seems far too willing to slit my throat rather than to accept what I have to offer.

I am merely what I seem.

Sirius has things he hides, things that make him more than what he seems. His love for Remus, for instance. Perhaps a badly hidden secret - the only reason I have yet to extend my offers to either of them is because they are already going at it almost nightly in our dorm room, and being able to watch them is the only consolation I get. They make each other happy, and that is not something I particularly care to disrupt. They are my friends, after all.

Harry read through the entire diary, not stopping unless he needed to relieve himself - which only happened once. The diary was interesting, though Harry wasn't particularly keen on reading about his father's various sexual conquests, nor his frustrations with Lily Evans for not being willing to take him up on his offer.

The entries near the end of the diary were what made him the most suspicious about the authenticity of this journal.

December 3

Lucius Malfoy has become an obsession to me. I am unable to escape him, even in my dreams. Speaking of which, they have become increasingly more vulgar, even by my standards.

We have recently been studying non-human creatures who have mates pre-destined for them, such as Veelas and werewolves - which has made me wonder quite a bit about how deep the relationship between Siri and Remy really is.

Anyway, my obsession has led me to start thinking that perhaps, in some twisted form of the idea, that I may Lucius Malfoy's mate. It isn't the least bit surprising to think that Lucius is not a human creature. I rather find it … arousing … to think that I may be entitled to the exquisite creature that is Lucius Malfoy. He has been acting a bit odd around me. Whenever I find myself around him - or he around me, for that matter - he has been acting quite possessive and almost affectionate towards me.

December 15

He came to me, Lucius did. On the train home for winter holidays, he came into my compartment and we had a rather serious, private conversation between the two of us.

Lucius Malfoy, like all other Malfoys before him, is a Wood Elf.

As far as knowledge of these creatures go, which is really not much at all, Wood Elves are one of the rarest of their species and they never reveal themselves to humans, unless their mate is such. They are completely Pureblood, in the highest meaning of the word, and the few who have been revealed to the public as Elves by traitorous Mates have been held in the highest regard - likened to royalty.

He told me this and much more, though he did promise he would give me time to digest the information he just layed upon me.

It is quite strange.

The dreams were to alert me of my mate's identity, and the positions I found myself in revealed, unsurprisingly, that I was to be the submissive and Lucius was the dominant. Honestly, though, I cannot see Lucius taking dick up the ass - he's far too composed and in control to allow something like that to happen.

I have agreed to join him at the Estate he has been given by his father - also a Wood Elf - to get acquainted with his new mate. My father won't mind. Hell, we haven't spoken since he found out I sucked Longbottom off in the hallway outside the Great Hall at midnight. I haven't promised him anything but my silence. I am not going to tell anyone Lucius' secret.

I do not know what to expect from this.

It grew more and more disturbing. The one thing that sent shivers down Harry's spine was the entry dated November 13, the next year.

November 13

I realize that Lucius loves me.

I also know that I am not willing to follow him to the Dark side of the war. He knows this, but he cannot stand Headmaster Dumbledore meddling in his life any longer. I know what he plans to do and I know I would rather stay neutral than fight at all, especially given what I have just learned.

I am with child.

I do not know how it happened, but I could not be happier. I carry with me the child of my mate.

I am in my second of eleven months and only I know. No one other than me knows about this pregnancy, not even Lucius. I cannot tell him. I cannot jeopardize his future.

What am I to do now? I don't know where to go from here.

I feel lost.

Lily has been hounding me for a date, says I have been spending too much time alone - which is rich coming from the little loner Muggleborn that she is. Dumbledore seems to enjoy the idea of Lily and me ending up together, but I want with all my heart to be able to spend eternity with my mate.

I don't know what to do.

How am I supposed to get through this all on my own?

He stared at the page in front of him, lost when the meaning sunk in and he didn't know what to think. He wasn't exactly sure that the diary was authentic, but he still wanted to know what had really happened to this James Harold Potter, the Gryffindor Whore who was the mate of an Elf.

Once again checking on Fachtna, he allowed himself to return to the diary and continued reading.

And there you go. Chapter 1. Chapter 2 is on its way, but any comments are both helpful and greatly appreciated.

An official title request will get sent out when things get to be more clear, unless I get an idea for the title that works.