"Where are you going, Hermione?" Harry asked me as I was about to sneak out the door.

I looked around, worried that someone else had noticed my attempted escape. Seeing no one, I decided there was no harm in telling Harry, at least.

"I have to go look for something, Harry," I looked up at him, trying to make my eyes as big, soft, and round as I could, "Could you please keep this between us?"

Harry looked at me with worry in his face. It reminded me of a look someone had given me once, but I couldn't put my finger on who it had been. He seemed to gaze at me for hours. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.

"All right," he said, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief, "But please hurry back," he added, as I was practically out the door.

"I promise I will," I answered sweetly, and then rushed out into the cool August night.

It seemed silly to be going out like this, but I simply had to. I had to figure out where these memories were coming from. It all started on that night, that night about a month ago.



I was sitting at the table eating a lovely dinner. Harry had just arrived, and he and Ron were catching up while I tried to make some progress on my huge piece of ham.

It was quite sudden when it happened, and quite unexplained, but all the sudden, I felt something. Not an ordinary something, a spiritual something. It felt like a part of me that had been missing was returned.

I quickly excused myself, after glancing at Professor Lupin. Out in the hall, I began to pace, wondering what had happened. A moment later, Lupin joined me.

“Did you feel it too?” he asked, stopping me in mid-pace.

“Oh yeah, I felt it. But there was someone else, someone else should’ve felt it,” I said, half to myself and half to Professor Lupin. Suddenly, comprehension dawned upon me.
“What did you and Sirius do that night?”

“Honestly,” he said, “I can’t remember. It seems to be fading. It all seems to be fading. Like it never even happened.”



But after the night, the little understanding I had gained began to fade once more. I knew it had something to do with Sirius, but my own comments no longer made sense to me. What did they what night? I had to know the truth.

And that’s why I was going out that night. I knew it was stupid, and I knew Harry had reason to worry, but I just needed to get some kind of closure on that strange event.

I had a thought in my head, one of those strange memories; a hidden house, under a tall building, invisible to those who don't know where it is. My feet seemed to lead me to it as I walked that night, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of a safe house, a hide-out from a totalitarian government.

I took the stairs three at a time, my heart beating faster than it ever had before. Cautiously, I opened the door, and stared at a familiar looking home. It was familiar looking, I knew, because it had once been my home; once, not so long ago, when the world was not right.

I walked into the tiny three room apartment, my fingers gracing dust-ridden tables and chairs. I saw a familiar wood-burning stove, and as I looked into one of the bedrooms, I saw a soft bed I seemed to remember. It was all too much. Rushing into that room and onto the bed, I broke into tears. I lay there, wrapping my hands around the pillow, when I felt something underneath it. A book. I pulled it out, wiped my eyes, and looked at it. I opened it to the first page and gasped, open-mouthed. There, in front of me, was a picture of four boys. Four happy, friendly looking boys. One with messy hair that wouldn’t stay down, one who looked a bit ragged, one fat, ratty looking boy, and one with eyes black as night. I recognized all of them. The Marauders: James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black, were right in front of me. I turned the pages and saw pictures that struck my heart. One was a wedding photo of James and Lily, Harry’s parents. The next was a picture of Sirius holding baby Harry. My mind was moving about one hundred miles an hour. I remembered these pictures, and yet I had never seen them before. What was going on? As I gazed at the pictures, memories of two men started to float into my head. Not my two men, not the one with beautiful green eyes or the one with flaming red hair, not, they were of two different men. One with eyes black as night, and one who always looked slightly disheveled. And I knew their names. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. ‘“Sirius Black, one of the last surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix,” he said, holding out his hand to me.’ ‘“I brought you a present, Hermy,” Lupin said, after a warm embrace with Sirius. I almost laughed out loud when he handed me a new pair of jeans, exactly my size.’ These memories baffled me. Sirius wasn’t one of the last surviving memories of the Order of the Phoenix, he was dead! And why would Lupin bring me jeans and call me Hermy? The only person, if you could even call him that, who called me Hermy was Hagrid’s, shall we say charming, half brother Grawp. More memories were pushing forward, but I blocked them out as best I could, and began to search the rooms again. I went into the other bedroom, and noticed a slightly lumpier bed. I looked under its pillow, and found another book. This one nearly stopped my heart. The cover read: The Diary of Sirius Black Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love…..Something I couldn’t help myself. I plopped down on the lumpy bed, tucked my hair behind my ears, and began to flip through the book. The first few entries dealt with the goings-on in Sirius’s seventh year at Hogwarts. I was able to gather that some love-struck girl had given it to him as a Christmas present. A few weeks later, I noticed, he name stopped appearing in the diary. I saw the entry for James and Lily’s wedding day, the one for the day Harry was born. I flipped past a few others, Harry’s christening, his first birthday party, when I finally came to an entry that helped me on my search for truth. It was dated November 10. Dear Diary, I haven’t been able to write in you since Harry’s first birthday. It isn’t for wont of things to write though. Through the past two months, my life has changed more than I ever thought possible. I lost my best friend because of betrayal by another friend, I saw the rise of the most evil wizard ever, I was forced to go into hiding, and everything culminated last night with the death of, quite possibly, the greatest wizard ever, Albus Dumbledore. I won’t fill you in on the gory details, for they are too depressing to recount again. Remus and I have both found safe hiding place, and with a little luck we’ll get to that creep Wormtail before he can get to us.

I laughed for the first time in weeks when I pulled out this diary. I remember when Susan gave it to me; she thought she had found me the perfect gift. The title was already inscribed with everything but what I learned to love. I suppose she expected me to add her name, instead of.....Something, but I couldn’t resist.

And now that title seems more appropriate than anything. There is only one person left who I truly care about, and he is in just as much danger as I. The chance of both of us surviving the wicked power-hungriness of our “old friend” is slim, if none. So, what do I have left to love? There must be something, but I just don’t know what. Maybe this diary can show me.

I wiped a tear away from my face. This was a different Sirius then the one who had spent twelve years wrongly imprisoned. He was no longer bitter and cynical, but hopeful. Despite his realization at the end, he was still searching for something to love. I felt, at that moment more than ever, immense regret for the unfortunate events leading to Sirius’s wrongful imprisonment. I continued to flip through the diary, hoping to find some more important entries. Most of the entries following the November 10 one were interesting, but game me little helpful information. In them, Sirius voiced his fears, his regrets, and his hopes. He feared for his and Lupin’s safety and the fate of the world, he regretted not telling James how much he really cared about him, and he hoped to, someday, find something to love. He repeated that theme at the end of every entry. It seemed like the diary was not helping, and he was beginning to despair. That is, until an entry dated September 1. Dear Diary,

I knew it was stupid and reckless and silly, but I still did it. I’d heard about the Weasleys, and I needed to see for myself. I couldn’t believe that anyone, no matter how evil, could be so cruel to murder such a large group and leave them in the street for everyone to see.

But someone had. As I stared at their bodies, I noticed a girl with bushy brown hair staring at them, specifically at Ron, the boy Harry’s age. As I glanced at her, a name came to me. “Hermione,” I whispered, and felt a rush of some strange feeling. I knew, at that moment, that there was magic in her, and suddenly, a voice told me, “You have to save her.”

"All right, Harry,” I said to myself. I noticed the girl was about to break down, and I knew it was now or never. I ran out and grabbed her, praying that she wouldn’t scream. She didn’t, and within ten minutes we were safe at my little hide-away.

After I told her who I was and that I belonged to the Order of the Phoenix, she passed out into a deep sleep. I moved her to my bed and conjured a slightly lumpier one for myself in the other bedroom.

Lupin thought I was foolish. When he came over that night, he could not believe what I had done. But by the end of our discussion, I convinced him that I had to do it. How I convinced him is a story for another night, for it requires a bit more explaining than I am up to tonight.

I hope so much that Hermione is the something I’ve been looking for. And you know what, diary, I’m pretty sure she will be. Why would Harry lie to me?

If someone had been with me at the moment, they would’ve thought that my parents had just died or something. My tears fell freely for what seemed like eternity. Because I remembered then, I remembered it all. After crying for a good while, I glanced at my watch. "Oh my goodness," I said to myself, "I've been going for almost two hours!" I jumped up, securing the diary and the photo album tightly under my coat, and rushed out the door. Finding my way back to 12 Grimmuald Place proved to be much harder than finding my way away from it had been. Soon, however, I found myself in font of the large, stately manor, nervous and wondering if Harry had kept his promise. And even then, I knew he, at least, would be worried about me. I silently slipped in the door, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw no one. But then, I realized, seeing no one didn't mean that no one was waiting for me. I glanced at the stairs, and sure enough, I saw Harry pull off his invisibility cloak. "Harry," I whispered, reading the anxiety, confusion, and anger in his face, "Harry, I'm sorry I was out for so long. I can explain everything, if you want me to." "No, Hermione," he said, meeting my eyes with a deeply hurt look, "If you've kept whatever you were looking for a secret this long, its obvious you don't want to tell anyone. Even your best friend." And with those cold words, Harry turned his back on me and left me alone with my feelings.

The next few days were a blur to me. Harry was slightly colder when he spoke to me, but no one else seemed to notice. I didn’t read any more in the diary for nearly a week, for a couple reasons.

First, I just didn’t have time. The past summer we had managed to get the house into a livable condition, but there was still more to do. We now had to make it a bit more welcoming, we had to cheer it up a bit. And we also had to go thru Sirius’s few possessions, a chore none of us enjoyed.

But there was another reason I didn’t read the diary. I was afraid. The story was basically completed in my mind, except for the end. I still didn’t know what Sirius and Lupin did to fix the world. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. My life was normal and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be burdened with the knowledge of whatever sacrifice or horrific experience the two of them had to go thru to free that trapped, alternate existence.

Finally, though, a week before we had to go to Hogwarts, I knew I had to finish the diary. But I wanted to do it by myself, with no one else around to pry into my affairs. The only truly private place I knew of was the room where Buckbeak was being kept. And so, one night, after Ginny had fallen asleep, I slipped out of our room and climbed the stairs to Buckbeak’s little room.

I cautiously opened the door, trying not to make too much noise. I was shocked, shocked, to find that I was not the only one seeking sanctuary up there, away from the rest of the Order.

“Professor Lupin!” I said, surprised. I barely ever saw Lupin around the house, and finding him in Buckbeak’s room in the middle of the night seemed very odd. “What are you doing here?”

He, however, didn’t seem fazed to see me. “Just thinking, Hermione,” he said, closing his eyes as he sat leaning against the wall. Suddenly, he perked up. “Hermione,” he began intently, turning to look into my eyes, “Do you remember that night about a month ago? Do you know what I’m talking about?”

I walked across the room and slid down next to him before I answered him. “Of course I know what you’re talking about,” I sighed and continued, “I’ve been remembering that night every moment of every day.”

He didn’t seem surprised, he just continued, “Do you understand it at all, Hermione? It seems silly that I don’t have any clue. James and Sirius”- here he allowed himself a momentary shudder-“may have been the smartest kids in the year, but, I mean, I was no slouch. And, I was a professor for goodness sakes! But I just don’t understand it, not at all.” He looked like he so forlorn at that moment, I almost started crying again.

But I managed to control myself, and decided to tell Lupin everything I had discovered. After my brief account of my search that night, and what I had discovered, I took out the diary and handed it to him.

“I remember this,” he said, running his hand over it, “I remember the day he got it. James said it was stupid gift, but Sirius argued that James was just jealous because Lily had never given him as much as a smile,” Lupin sighed here, remembering his friends for a moment. Then he continued, “As far as I knew, he stopped writing in it when we discovered that Lily and James were in danger,” he began to flip through the book, “but there are entries in here from after he was sent to Azkaban……oh my goodness,” he said, as he read through one of the later entries. “I remember now, I remember.”

“Do you remember what you did, you and Sirius,” I began shakily, horribly aware that I was about to find out, like it or not, what exactly had been done to bridge the gap between worlds, “Do you remember what you did that night?”

Lupin looked at me very seriously. “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” he said, and my heart dropped. I had to know, I realized at that moment, I had to know had happened or I would never be fully complete.

“But maybe Sirius wrote something,” he said, opening the diary to the last entry. I looked up hopefully, watching as his eyes searched the page. “Yes, there’s definitely something here,” he continued to read as he spoke, and when he had finished, he looked up and said, “I’m not sure if you want to hear this, Hermione.”

“Sir,” I implored him, in much the same way I had Harry, “I need to hear it. Read it, please.” He sighed once more, and began to read.

Dear Diary,

I wish he had thought I was crazy. I wish he hadn’t taken me seriously. If only, if only my dear friend had not believed me, I would not have to do what I am about to do.

When I told him that Harry told me to pick up Hermione, when I brought up the fact that sometimes it felt like the world wasn’t right, I didn’t expect him to agree. I wanted to take care of Hermione; there is no doubt about that. But the ramifications of what I said that night were definitely not foreseen.

Tonight, Remus wants to do it. We are going to fix this broken world. At least, we’re going to try to. The plan is crazy and there is no way of knowing it will work. But it’s the best we can do. And we need to do something.

Hermione once asked me why I even bother to fight back. She has obviously realized what I realized on that Halloween night all those years ago; there is no hope for the side of light to reign again. We are forever destined to be under the control of evil. And nothing we can do will change that. But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying. We should never stop trying.

So, why am I going through with Moony’s crazy scheme, which will probably get one or both of us killed? Sometimes I tell myself it’s for James. Sometimes it’s for Lily, and other times it’s for Harry. It’s often for Harry. Then there are the times it’s for Remus, and for me. But most of the time, I fight for Hermione. She is the ….something I have been looking for. Without a doubt.

I feel something right now, a feeling I have experienced once before. The night that Wormtail turned over Lily and James, I felt the same way. The whole day I was nervous, and even as I was on my way to check on him, I knew that he had done something terrible. And now, I feel something similar. I know I am not going to make it through the night. But I also know the plan will not fail. How do I know, you wonder? I do too. It’s as thought someone is telling me, a voice on the wind, warning and yet urging me on.

I won’t bore you, Diary, with the details of the plan. Just a basic outline for anyone who might be curious. We have to use all the resistance we’ve managed to gather, everyone from Severus Snape to my young cousin Andromeda. Each and every one of the twenty or so of us have an important role to play.

Mine is the most dangerous. I have to secure the arch and the Death Room in the old Department of Mysteries at the now Voldemort-controlled Ministry of Magic. Someone will be guarding it, I am sure. Good old Voldy may not understand the big picture of multiple worlds, but I’m sure he knows that arch is important.

The other members will be spread throughout the building, squaring off with Death Eaters and allowing us to gain control of the Death Room. Once we have control and the arch is in place, all we need is Voldemort. Haha, what a silly thought. And yet, it’s true. Once he sees the extent of our takeover, he will come running, well, apparating, to look after one of the most important articles in the whole building.

And then comes the important part. Voldemort must go through the arch. Lupin has explained why to me a million times, but it always seems to get blocked out of my mind. All I care about is how. And, as Moony has told me a billion times, it doesn’t matter how, he can be pushed through, fall into it, forced in by a curse, or pulled through by someone going with him. The last option, for some reason, sends a shiver down my spine every time I think of it. And then I hear the voice on the wind.

So now, I must bid adieu to you, sweet Diary. You’ve come quite far from a silly gift by a love-struck girl. You have served your purpose admirably. I have found my …..something, it is Hermione, and everything Hermione stands for. Freedom, light, love, everything that was once good in the world. And I am willing to give my life to save her, and to save those ideals. (A little melo-dramatic, don’t you think? Oh well, I live in such dramatic times, why not have a dramatic ending?)



Lupin solemnly closed the diary. ‘The arch,’ I thought, ‘Sirius pulled him through the arch! His death was the same in both worlds!’ Surprisingly, that thought brought me comfort.

“Well,” Professor Lupin said, running his hand over the book’s old cover and sighing, “In that world, Sirius died for a purpose. I’m sure it is the same here.” I nearly laughed at the fact that he had just put my very thought into words. I found comfort, because I realized his death could not be meaningless.

Lupin looked at me expectantly. “Well,” I said, trying to think of something to say. It really was too much. I broke down into tears, the near laugh of a moment before completely lost.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, and it wasn’t Lupin’s. I looked up, wiping my eyes as I turned, to see Harry Potter standing behind me, pulling off his invisibility cloak. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” was all he said, as he sank to his knees next to me.

I flung myself into his open arms, letting the tears flow. After a short while, though, I remembered Professor Lupin. I turned to him, and was surprised to see him studying the diary with a look of consternation.

“What is it, Professor?” I asked, wiping my eyes again.

“Well,” he answered, flipping through the pages as he spoke, “A moment ago, practically this whole diary was filled with entries. Now, all the entries after Harry’s first birthday seem to be fading. They all seem to be fading. Like they never even existed. Like it never even happened.”


A/N: Well, there ya go. Thanks a bunch to everyone who read and reviewed my two stories here. I tried my best to make up for the cliffhanger that my friends kept complaining about, i hope it was satisfying.
I'd like to give a shoutout to my non-registered but still supportive friends for reading, and i hope u liked it!
Well, once again, thanks for the supportive reviews and to everyone who read and didn't review, you are still awesome
(btw, isn't awesome an awesome word?)