The Diary of Lily Evans by Phoenix

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 4
Published: 18/07/2003
Last Updated: 20/06/2004
Status: In Progress

AU: In a world that has been taken over by an evil force, there is no hope for a future or for
love. A boy, forced into the ranks of Death eater. A girl, shunned for her blood, on the run,
fighting for her life.




1. September
------------

A/N- This author's note goes for all chapters. This is an AU L/J story. I don't know if
that many people will actually comprehend why I am trying to write it this way or what feelings
I'm having Lily express. I will warn you now that this will get disturbing and truthfully this
isn't fluff, not in the least bit. Flames are more than welcome and I hope to those that do
understand the meaning of this story can appreciate it. I will say right now that I am proud of
this story and it's style. That is all.

DISCLAIMER- This goes for all chapters. The only thing that is mine is the plot, for once I am
claiming this.

**September 7, 1980**

I fear that dark days are coming for us muggle-borns. My name is Liliaña Marie Evans and I
attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yesterday was my birthday and my dear friend
Katie Lee gave me this diary. She says that it will help me on my quest for great things. I always
dreamed of making a difference but now as the Dark Lord is rising I know there is little hope for
me, a muggle-born from Ravenclaw. I know that I am safe as long as I am in the walls of Hogwarts
but this is my last year of sanctuary as I am now seventeen and entering my seventh year. Maybe I
am paranoid and Andrew is right about how we have nothing to worry about. Oh poor sweet Andrew! He
has nothing to worry about after all he is pureblood. He is trying ever so hard to make sure
I'm not down. How I love him so much! I am right to guess that in every dark cloud there is a
silver lining and he is my silver lining.

**September 11, 1980**

Should I be naïve to believe everything Andrew says? All these promises of things getting
better, us staying together, and then getting married! It's hard not to believe them.
Everything that comes out of his mouth is full of love. Katie had the silliest idea that my dear
journal would some day be famous! How absurd. The thought cheers me so though! Silly Katie. She has
such little faith in herself but all the faith in the world invested in me. She truly has a heart
of gold. Her description of me makes me sound beautiful but in truth I am just another lost soul
wandering this earth in search of who I am.

"Her hair is red, the color of love,

and her eyes sparkle with emerald fire.

Her skin glows with the rays of heaven."

Whatever. I mean I just have plain red hair, pale skin, and green eyes. I miss the carefree days
of first and second year when everything was perfect. Times like these make me reflect upon my
family who I love dearly. There is my dad who is my other light in this dark world. He loves me
ever so much and always has pride in me. I remember all his words of wisdom that he gave to me when
we sat out on the porch on cloudless nights and stars shining brightly. My mother. We haven't
always gotten along but I love her dearly. I was always to practical for her but no matter how many
times we fought I know she still loved me. Petunia on the other hand has always despised me. She is
my sister, my own flesh and blood, and I love her but sometimes she just is so selfish. I just wish
she could look outside of her own world and see the dangers she is putting herself in. If only we
could share a bond most sisters share…

**September 14, 1980**

Dumbledore has been taken! The school is in an uproar. I knew dark times would come. Someone by
the name of Malfoy has taken over and now I fear for the worst. He is one of the Dark Lord
supporters. I think they are called Death Eaters. I know it's a funny name. Well it's true
but I shan't utter a word like that around here anymore or I'll be killed. Things have
changed so much and us muggle-borns are being treated badly. A girl in fourth year was attacked by
some Slytherins because she was muggle-born. It's just so horrible! I have heard of some
Gryffindors and Ravenclaws creating some escape plan but it's only for the younger students. I
must go now for muggle-borns are required to clean the kitchen now…

**September 16, 1980**

Ok so I lied. Things have gotten worst. I hate to get angry but the Dark Lord has not right
doing these things to muggle-borns. We are just as powerful in magic as they are or maybe even more
powerful! The name mudblood is just vile and disgusting. The blood that flows through our veins is
not polluted! We have magic in us! I used to think Hogwarts was the safest place on Earth from the
dark uprising. But now…I am not sure that is so. We have been branded! That nefarious Malfoy
character has had us muggle-borns branded for easier identification. Not only have they sewed the
sign of mudblood onto our robes but also they have branded our skins. The sign is just wrong. It is
a "M" that is dark brown with blood dripping off of it and a knife stabbed into it. I
shall forever have a reminder of what I am on my back. For they have tattooed my skin with the word
mudblood and my ID number 13. I am the 13th muggle-born student going down in year and
alphabetical order. It is sick that I know their system but I despise them so much now. Andrew is
furious but he is still the same loving man he has always been. I just hope he never changes and
his promise to stay together stays true. How I love him so!

**September 21, 1980**

How I'd love for me to be able to write that everything has turned out fine and we are all
doing well. I'd even give for one chance to write some senseless girl talk in this diary but it
seems reality is to harsh for that! Today at dinner they made an announcement that I shall forever
hate. The Dark Lord is using male students from Hogwarts as his new soldiers. Today all male
pureblooded Slytherins and Ravenclaws from years 3rd to 7th were taken away.
My dear Andrew has been taken and I can't stop these tears of sorrow. So many of us have been
separated from loved ones. Why he takes from the side of good I shan't understand but I will
always hope that my dearest Andrew will be save and not forced to do any deeds of evil. His heart
is so pure that I would simply die if he was corrupted. I must forget about my troubles in life now
and focus on helping everyone else. Sweet Katie's four brothers were taken and I have heard
that the Dark Lord is also taking the men in pureblooded families. I never thought I would see such
dark times in my life but I must be brave for others who need my loving care. I do hope my family
is ok and that no harm comes to them. The common room seems empty for most of Ravenclaw was made up
of male purebloods. Most of the first and second years don't comprehend the dangers that lie in
store for us but I do hope they make it out ok. Poor Katie is on her bed crying. I must write more
later but for now she needs my companionship.

**September 22, 1980**

Today the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff male purebloods were taken. The halls are almost empty and
only now am I realizing just how big of a minority the muggle-borns are. That horrid Malfoy
character is training the first and second year purebloods, of both sexes, non-stop so they to can
be drafted into the dark army. I spent last night recalling an old history lesson in my old
muggle-school about the Holocaust. The resemblance between these two events is astounding. It makes
me think that the Dark Lord was once in Hitler's army and gets his ideas from there. In truth
my theory makes perfect sense but I shan't tell anyone for there is no one to talk to besides
Katie and Bella. They are both the only purebloods in my dorm who haven't turned against me
because of my origins. The other three Stephanie, Caitlin, and Rose are a shame to Ravenclaws.
Their hearts are cold and black as night. Stephanie's brother and dad were both killed by the
Dark Lord and she praised him for it. The thought of people worshipping him sickens me just like
the cold heartless acts they do against their own families. I miss Andrew greatly and I hope he is
fine. I still love him and I know we'll end up together…..

**September 25, 1980**

It has gone too far. The Dark Lord has ordered all the muggle-borns to be taken out of Hogwarts!
Tomorrow we shall all be sent away on a train to some camp outside of Thurso. You know in the
northern part of Scotland? I must think of a way to get out of this. I know what fate would await
me at that kind of camp. Starvation, cruelty, loneliness, and worst of all death. If I can figure
out how to escape them, then I shall be able to be alive and find Andrew. The morn of tomorrow
won't shine brightly but for tonight I must plan my escape and say my good byes for tonight may
be my last night here with my family of friends. Those who remain at least. Maybe doing what I do
best in a time of crisis would help.

**Ways to escape**


Runaway right now- won't get very far. Can be found easily by mark on neck and killed.
Hide in the castle- can't Malfoy surely knows every hiding place here.
Kill myself- not enough guts and I still have Andrew to live for.
Disguise myself and make new life- Might work but I'd have to blend in with the purebloods
and hide the mark on my neck. Change appearance and borrow some of Stephanie, Caitlin, and
Rose's clothes so I look like a rich pureblood.
Use other idea and move to muggle world- can't, stopped education to young to know anything
to succeed in life.


I'm brilliant! Everything is perfect! I'll just dye my hair blonde, find some contacts
that change my eye color, and use some muggle makeup to hide the hideous mark. If I use muggle
products they shan't be able to see through it to my real appearance like they could with
magic. I must go prepare for my escape but as always I hope Andrew can hear my prayers for his
safety and know that I still love him…

**September 26, 1980**

I must say I am really proud of myself. It worked very well. As I sit here near the stables
writing before I start out on my journey I would like very much to count my blessings because what
I just accomplished has put my life up for stake. At 5 'o-clock they came around collecting the
muggle-born students. By then I had already hidden in the Hufflepuff 7th year's
closet. I chose there because most of the Hufflepuffs' can't remember their own names and
surely wouldn't notice a new person in the room. So at seven 'o-clock this morning I
officially became Samantha Briers a Hufflepuff seventh year. The stupid Death Eaters believed me. I
do hope my disappearing doesn't harm a soul. I told no one. Not even Katie. She must be
miserable thinking that I was herded off with the others. I am safe for now and tonight I will
begin my journey to the outskirts of Plymouth. So far there have been no attacks there and I feel
that I will be safe there. That and Andrew is station nearby. I am acting like a silly love sick
girl but I love him so much! I know my name is on the death list now so I must be careful. Oh no! I
hear noises! I must stop writing and hide!

**September 30, 1980**

I've been caught…by Malfoy…



2. October
----------

**October 1, 1980**

I shouldn't be so jumpy about this. Eventually it shall blow my cover. Indeed Malfoy caught
me. But not the real me, the Samantha Briers me he caught. I told him some silly fib about me
secretly meeting some lad from Hogsmede and he sent me back to the school with detention personally
with him. My poor perfect record…ruined! I know I shouldn't worry about some so insignificant
but still…Ugh! I still am disgusted by the remark that Malfoy made. "It hurts me to punish you
this way. You're such a pretty Hufflepuff and would be very useful to me. Now go get in some
more trouble so I can punish you my way." At that he started to pull down his pants but I ran
away. The disgusting excuse for a creature! I really need to get out of here.

**October 5, 1980**

I AM FREE! Well I hope I am. I cannot truly say that I am free until this horror is over.
Currently I am hiding in a small cave that is near Hogsmede. It is the furthest I dare venture this
evening. No one will notice this cave unless they climb the side of this rocky mountain like thing.
It hurts, all of this hurts. It's cold, I'm hungry, and I'm scared. Never in my life
have I been forced to face these types of challenges. Up here in this stony hideout it's cold
from the wind's breeze, I couldn't bring myself to steal food as I made my way up here. The
cuts on my body have stopped bleeding. I have no regrets though, in a way I suppose I am standing
up for all the muggle-borns by escaping. If only I could do more to stop the horror that I know
will come. If only. . .

**October 12, 1980**

I haven't had the time to write in this lately. The journey has been rather difficult so far
but I do know that it will get harder. Already I have made my way to Inverness. Sadly enough I have
made myself steal food. I already know that I will be forced to do some sinful things. Thankfully
Inverness is a muggle town, but I have already spotted signs of the war going on in the magical
world. I found some money in the street and used it to buy a Daily Prophet earlier. The headlines
are horrible, it seems the newspaper hasn't been taken over yet and the Ministry is still
standing. I found out yesterday that the Dark Lord has his own newspaper. My name was in there,
along with a picture. . . I couldn't find anything in the area to stick it to this page so
I'll simply write it now.

Death to Runaway Mudbloods

After the takeover at Hogwarts, the first wave of mudbloods

were to be sent over to the concentration camp near Thurso.

All Death Eaters are to be on the look out for the following

Mudbloods who some how managed to escape.

¤ MB13- Liliaña Evans: seventeen years old, red hair, 5'6,

green eyes. To be killed if seen.

It went on to list most of the first and second year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw muggle-borns. I
was one of the few older ones who managed to escape. No one from Hufflepuff escaped though.
Tomorrow I leave for Aberdeen. My ultimate goal is still to find Andrew at the base near Plymouth
but for now I wish to stop by Newcastle in order to check that my family is all right. Hopefully I
will reach them by November 29th. I dare not use magic or travel some other way then
walking. I shan't have the money for muggle coach or train. No one should be forced to endure
these struggles that the magical world is facing. It isn't humane.

**October 20, 1980**

Aberdeen is near! Though I rarely venture into these areas I suppose that the names are all I
can go by. Trudging through unknown terrain is rather weary. I'll admit the land is so
beautiful but the rain and harshness of the environment put a damper on the whole experience. My
feet have made quite the journey, traveling in the night and resting in the daylight. I've been
planning out my course of action or rather travel plans. Right now I am located near Kinnairds
Head, 50 km from Aberdeen and still in Scotland. I wish I had something exciting to write about but
this trip has been tiresome and boring, not that I'm complaining . . .

**October** **31, 1980**

Be careful what you wish for. I wished for something exciting but I never wished for me to
almost be raped. I have always disliked cities and Aberdeen has been no different. I arrived late
last night and was searching for a place to rest when this sorry excuse for a *man* came over
to me and attacked. He said he knew I wanted him and *UGH!* I wish - wait no, I hope that
something like that doesn't happen again. I fear for my life, I fear for those around me.
Tomorrow, at first star in sight, I will begin to make my way through the Grampian Mountains. I
suppose the smart thing would be to find some muggle transportation but I haven't the money and
it isn't safe for me to settle down in one place. I suppose once I arrive at home I may be able
to get an auto but for now it is by foot through this land. I suppose that things will get worse
but I shall be able to deal with it right? Right now, more then ever before, I wish I was Peter
Pan. I just want to go away to Never Land and stay young forever, being the mother of Peter and the
Lost Boys. That or be a Lost Girl myself. *Second star to the right, and straight on till
morning.* Silly me! I should know better and grow up, after all this current situation needs to
be looked at as an adult and not some asinine child. Yes, that's how I was acting, a frivolous
little child who was baffled. It's for the better that I grow up, no more laughter, and no more
smiles. That is for children and I must be grown up and sedate.



3. November
-----------

**November 3, 1980**

I'm in the mountains now, alone and scared. Is it ok for me to cry? I wish I could cry but
it seems so wrong that I do. I have so many questions running through my head, but no answers. All
I want is a simple answer to any of them. Will I die? Is it ok for me to be afraid? Why is this
happening? Positive, yes! That's what I need to be, positive. Nothing is going to turn out bad,
my morale will continue to stay good and I shall get more faith. Winter is coming, it's getting
colder around here. I miss my dear Andrew. Oh how I wish he was here with me right now. Sweet
Andrew, I do hope he is doing fine down in Plymouth and not being hurt.

**November 10, 1980**

What do I want to be when I get out of this situation? I don't really know. I always thought
I would go into psychology for the magic world or something like that. I could never be an auror,
too dangerous for my liking. I'm just a muggle-born so there is no chance in politics for me.
Me, I could never become a teacher, the kids would walk all over me. I want to make a difference
though, help someone's life. One person would do, that's all I ask for, to many a tiny
difference in the world. Not that it's possible - wait, I cannot say that any more, I am being
positive. Now days I have been thinking of becoming a writer of children's stories. I could
never do the news, it's to cruel. Oh dear, look at me, I'm rambling on again about things
that don't matter. What matters is the fact that I am sitting here under a tree, somewhere in
the Grampian Mountains, running away for the Dark Lord who is in fact out to kill me and the rest
of the muggle-born people. Reality is too harsh for me, I would prefer to live in a world where
everything is perfect. Actually, now that I think about it, I wouldn't want to live in a world
that is perfect. It would be to dull and it is not possible. No it is not. I miss my mother,
father, sister, owl, dog, and most of all I miss Andrew. He is my love, my light, and right now I
am without him. We both knew in the end we would be separated, but I thought it would only be for
the summer months. Only now am I realizing what I have lost, maybe I did take things for granted. I
never hurt Andrew but never fully appreciated him. Being out here in the darkness, all alone, it
makes you think about your sins and what you have done to others.

**November 16, 1980**

The mountains were scary, strange creatures were all around me. I even saw a vampire! Oh how I
have never been more scared in my life. I am writing this as I sit outside of the Silver Rose Inn.
Civilization is so grand even if it is only Dundee. Soon though I will be crossing magic territory.
Godic's Hollow is coming up and past Dundee is a magical reserve one could say, not a muggle in
sight for two week's worth of travel. These travels have worn me down greatly no matter the
time. I sit here day after day, running from a world that I once loved and cherished, is it my
fault that I was born into a muggle family? If so than I still do not care, my family is above
everything, right alongside Andrew. Right now though, I cannot think about them, my life is in
peril as I dare to cross the magical land. Maybe I should have picked another route to take, but
this one seemed so safe. Until I dared to think of course, thinking has always been my crime, my
sin. Tomorrow I start another leg of the journey. With these tears of sorrow I put down the pen and
go to sleep, I only hope that sweet dreams of Andrew will come to my head.

**November 21, 2002**

I passed through Godic's Hollow last eve. Death Eaters swarmed the area and oh the sights I
saw shall forever plague my mind. There were innocent women, of all bloodlines, being made to stand
in the street with no clothes, the degrading horror. I managed to get by the guards in my disguise,
pretending to be a Death Eater whore. I felt them, I felt those eyes, roaming my body, taking in
everything. Never in my life have I felt to naked and used, yet my clothes were on. These people
live in terror yet no one will rise against this group to regain control. From what I saw, I fear
all order has been lost. I fear I must cut this entry short, for the Death Eaters and doing their
rounds, checking to make sure everyone is in their proper places. I can only pray that I do not get
discovered, I wish to live, I know I do.

**November 30, 2002**

My worst nightmare has come true. The walls seem to be closing in on me, so cold and bleak. Will
the stone walls never leave my mind? I was caught no more than three days ago, digging through the
trash for food, of all things. I fear that in this cell I must rot. Oh how I hate to think of what
will happen to me, locked away like a bird. The Death Eaters here are cruel, wandering around
gloating that they've captured *another* runaway. I was placed into this cell late last
night. This afternoon I shall be taken of all identity, I fear. However they do not know of this
journal, hidden under the loose stones that line the wall. I can only sit here now and wonder what
I ever did in my life that was so horrid that I deserve this. I regret having taken things for
granted yet in all my heart I cannot make myself regret my heritage and what I am. They may be able
to take everything away from me but I doubt they can take my spirit. I am in a cell, both in my
mind and outside. I feel the pain radiating from this building yet I cannot see anything. The only
source of light is a small hole in the door that let's air in. I'm already suffocating
though, in my mind as I wallow in misery. The Death Eater who brought me my food was haunting. He
couldn't have been a year older than me but he was sucked into this world, destroyed by evil.
All I want to know is how a man such as Voldemort can wake up in the morning and be able to go on
with a clear conscious. Doesn't he know the horror he causes, the pain, the suffering?



4. December
-----------

**December 2, 1980**

It happened yesterday. I am no longer Lily Evans for as of yesterday afternoon I became H13X17.
I don't know what the numbers or letters mean yet but I am determined to figure out. Sleep
doesn't come easy to me anymore, the cries of agony and morose fill the night air as death
lingers near. I'm worried about my future but at this moment in time I cannot see far enough
ahead in time to find out if anything lies in store. I've heard rumors about muggle-borns being
shipped off to these deserted forests and forced to work until they either pass on from exhaustion
or are killed by the abominable killing curse. Even here I see the livid flashes of brilliant green
that filter in through my cell door. The young man in charge of this cell block is without a doubt
out of place here, he didn't curse me or hit me like the others who brought me in did. Faith
remains my strong point at this moment but even that is beginning to deteriorate. I haven't
heard much news from the outside world and I do not dare ask — a simple question could be taken the
wrong way. The curiosity is rather overwhelming though and I just need to know, but the question is
. . . do I dare ask?

**December 10, 1980**

Each morning I hear the cries die down and the sound of dead bodies being dragged down past my
cell is oppressive, how long will it be before mine joins that train of death? They flaunt the
deceased bodies in front of us, giving us a warning of what is to come. Maybe it gives them a sense
of horrid power that I cannot fathom in my mind. Sadly enough I am becoming accustomed to the way
things are run around this place. At daybreak the bodies of those who did not survive the night are
disposed of. An hour or so later we are forced from our cells and sent to the showers where the men
strip our clothes off and hose us down, taking pleasure in our discomfort. Once dressed again we
are split up and forced to do various assignments. The majority of the muggle-borns are used as lab
rats for new potions and enchantments. I have been spared that torture so far; being made to work
in the library and potions lab. How stupid could I have been to forget that my roots would grow out
and that I'd run out of make-up? Stupidity got me into this mess but it might get me out. They
of course know my true identity, but with that they know my academic achievement record. That has
been why I was spared from becoming a guinea pig for them. Instead they use my intellect to
research potions and numerous spells that may harm some poor soul.

Does that make me a bad person? Will He turn his back on me because I am helping the Death
Eaters in order to save myself? I should follow the path of righteousness and not help them, it
would save lives and I know that, but my hope for staying alive corrupts my soul. I don't mean
to be greedy but what am I to do? Human nature is taking over and I know I am not generally like
this but in a time of extreme crisis we are all forced to fend for ourselves, survival of the
fittest. The phase of the moon is changing, soon it will be full and the werewolves will be
unleashed onto the muggle communities, I head two guards talking about it on their way to the Mess
Hall.

**December 15, 1980**

Once more I have escaped the threat of death. My number was pulled out of the lottery to be sent
to one of those *camps* but somehow I was spared. I need to figure out whom or what saved me
and I can only hope that I do not get pulled again. I do believe though that I'm beginning to
wish that I was sent to my death, it would have spared another person's life but in return they
would be forced to stay here in torture. Is it really worth it anymore?

**December 19, 1980**

That boy in charge of this block is the one who saved me. His name is James and he must be my
guardian angel or a blessing sent from above. Last night he was bringing me my meager rations and I
was crying again, just like the rest. He asked me what was wrong; I thought he'd hurt me but I
had to tell, it was that or get beaten. I explained to him that I was lonely and scared and that I
wanted to die.

He didn't laugh or get mad though; instead he sat down next to me, not touching me or
anything. I still remember his words and they will forever remain engraved in my mind.

"Lily is it? Don't ever wish to die, it's a pain worse then life. As much as you
may wish to die, it is not your time to go until Death comes for you, only then will you be able to
pass on. I know you were chosen to go to the Camps, it wasn't your time to go though. If it
were your time to be taken by Death then I wouldn't have been able to get you out of that
torment. Dry those tears and keep hope in your heart."

This young man who didn't even know me put his life on the line by saving me. What had I
done in my life that let me deserve such a blessing as this, I had someone to watch after me in my
time of need, even if he didn't know about how much he meant to me at that moment. Things work
in strange ways. My reply was simple, ordinary, and it didn't give the boy enough credit or
gratitude for what he had done for me.

"Thank you Sir. I don't wish to cry nor do I wish to tempt fate yet in a time like this
what does one such as myself have to hope for? Death is only around the corner for my
people."

Once more I will remember his reply, simply because it was so cryptic.

"Freedom from Death, freedom from this — that is what your people should hope
for."

How do you talk to an angel? That was the only thought going through my head, it was almost like
trying to catch a falling star. Delirium must have taken over at that point, sleep was overpowering
me but I couldn't let it win. It affected my speech and I knew at that moment after I opened my
mouth that I had just sent myself to my death.

"Are you an angel?"

I don't remember anything else after that though, the losing battle with sleep must have
been ended — with me losing and finally falling asleep.

I wasn't dragged out of my cell and sent to my death this morning, but I can only hope that
it does not happen. I need to pray for freedom.

**December 25, 1980**

Today is Christmas. I remember the holiday from my days of innocence and youth. Our family
gathered 'round the beautiful tree, laughing and smiling. We'd stay up late on Christmas
Eve telling stories about Santa and other myths that go along with the joyous holiday. On Christmas
morning Petunia and I would race out of our rooms and into our parents, where we'd jump on
their beds and dance around holding hands — after all it was Christmas. After my parents awoke
we'd all go downstairs and go to see what Santa brought us. Santa always gave us the best gifts
and I treasured each one of them. Presents never did keep their exquisite wrappings on long, two
young girls never took the time to appreciate the work that went into the decorations. After
presents came the fun part, going outside to frolic about in the snow. Petunia and I always made
this extravagant snow people and she made the most beautiful snow angels that I used to visit day
after day, just to get lost in their beauty. Father was the one who always got the snow ball fight
going and once that was in motion we'd run about the yard, foot prints giving away our hiding
spots. A giggle could always be heard from the bushes where we thought we were safe from the cold
balls of snow. My dad was a good sport though, he always let us win. An hour later Mother would
come out onto the front porch and call us inside for some hot chocolate and breakfast. She said we
were her precious snowbirds. Christmas breakfast was always fun. She'd make us waffles and
decorate them with whip cream and strawberries, a real treat back then. After breakfast we'd
get dressed in our Sunday best and off to church we went. Mother always made sure that we went to
the ten o'clock service, that way we'd have time to play before and time to play after. The
Christmas church service was a joyous time, unlike the night before where we'd hold candles and
listen to somber songs. On Christmas morning though the music as well as the sermons where a cheery
event and they were filled with laughter and joy — a large birthday party for the man that we
worshipped. Once church was over we'd go home and clean up before getting ready and driving
over to Grandmother and Grandfather's house. There the entire family would gather and have a
delightful feast with ham, cranberry sauce, pecan pie, and mashed yams with marshmallows on top.
Christmas with my family was always a time of merriment and I miss those days of carefree
innocence.

James came to visit me today and to wish me a happy Christmas, he didn't stay long though —
he had a family to go home to. I spent the entire day praying and reciting old songs and parts of
the bible that I remember from my youth and days of dedication to my faith. Never in my life have I
missed my family, friends, or Andrew so much.

**December 31, 1980**

My innocence . . . it's been taken.



5. January
----------

**January 1, 1981**

Happy New Years! It should be a time for great beginnings, a time of happiness, and a time to
start anew. It shouldn't be a time to have great remorse over the past couple of months, it
shouldn't be a time for tears, and it shouldn't be a time to lose something very dear to
you. Foul, that is all I can do to describe what has happened to me. Why me? Haven't I suffered
enough torture these past months? I've felt the days pass by, each sunrise burning a new hole
in my heart, each sunset filling the hole with despair. Thoughts of freedom, hope, and angels have
long since fled my mind. The darkness is said to drive someone to the brink of insanity and
back.

But why me? I had promised myself that I'd wait for marriage, I'd do it right. It was
supposed to be Andrew, not some vile creature who dares calls themselves human. Malfoy was his
name. He was a year or two above me in the Slytherin house. It was forced; I'm not pure
anymore. A flower shed it's petals last night, another star in the sky died, and the sun
finally set over my hopes. The blood was too much though and I feel weak. My legs won't move
and bruises are coming to appear all over my body. Why me? I never did anything to deserve this.
Why me?

**January 3, 1981**

He keeps coming back for more. I'm not a dirty woman - I'm clean, not dirty. Him and his
friends, those dirty people. Their venom snaking through my body, causing pain to spring up
everywhere. How long till I'm with unwanted child? How long before they kill me? How long
before my time leaves and they get bored? It isn't long enough, that much I know. Life means
nothing anymore, not since they destroyed me, not since they broke me down.

Oh what would sweet Andrew think of me now? Dirty and diseased, a tramp for those disgusting
Death Eaters. I look in their eyes and I see nothing, nothing at all, not even a soul or a hint of
remorse for what they are destroying. Each night I fall asleep, body bleeding, heart full of pain,
and battered to pieces, and all I can think is that my worst fear will be to wake up in the
morning. Each morning I wake up, screaming inside and cursing my beloved God for sending me through
this torture. I was a good girl, I never disobeyed his or anyone else's laws. I was a sinner
yes, but never worse then anyone else. Why me?

What once was pale delicate skin on my legs has turned black and blue, shades of yellow, and
rough with scabs and bruises. I've fallen from my spot on top; I've fallen apart at the
seams. Life no longer seems to be worth living. Life isn't anything at all. Tears don't
fall and thoughts of my family have stopped coming to my mind. All I can think about is the pain,
the suffering, my sins, and what tomorrow will bring.

**January 6, 1981**

Let me die God, just let me die and ascend to the heavens. Please take my soul away from this
place and let me die. It's my time, come take me. It's my time, come kill me. Let me die.
Let me live in another place. Please just take me away from them, their hands, their prying eyes,
and their venomous touches. Just let me die!

**January 10, 1981**

Wake up, take a shower, work for their side, eat, and stay up all night listening to the
neighboring screams of the innocence that is tortured. That is the day now. Never is my name called
to be sent to camp, never am I doing something out of this order. James still delivers my meals and
I still see him as an angel. A cursed angel. He won't let me die; he is the worst of all
tortures. I know he has the power to kill me, and no matter how much I beg of him to end the pain,
he won't. He says I have hope, he says I have a chance. But then again, what does he know? He
isn't the one in the cage, he isn't the one being violated and raped day after day. He
isn't the one being persecuted for their blood.

What would he know? Damn the angel, the gift I should love, damn the one who saves me. I just
want to die.

**January 11, 1981**

The screams are getting so loud. Winter is here and the snow blows in through the cell window,
covering my stone box with flurry and numbing my insides. People are dropping dead so quickly,
freezing as the sun goes down, starving, and catching so many diseases. The rats scurry about,
stealing out food and bringing us presents in the form of death. You hear the cries as people are
bitten by those furry demons, the sickness spreading into their system and corrupting the mind and
body. It's getting cold, the darkness is almost completely won over this place, and the walls
are closing in. I'm cold.

**January 15, 1981**

Is it my time yet?

**January 20, 1981**

I've had a significant break-through on the truth potion they have me working on. If brewed
correctly, it is the most powerful one out there. Nothing can be hidden, nothing can be kept a
secret, one-drop and your heart's desires, pains, and secrets are spilling out of your mouth.
It's so potent that only one drop in any liquid will last for hours upon hours, the perfect
tool for an interrogation. I'm not sure what they will call it yet, but all I know is that for
this creation I deserve to die. I provided them with a weapon in order to save my own life. What
could be a greater sin?

I helped kill people, and my conscious wants to cry out in shame. They made me though; they made
me help them under the threat of death. I know I want to die, but taking that step seems so scary.
The pain is too much, but am I really ready to give up my life? It's something precious I
understand, but it's something that is suffering right now. I'm scared to die, I'm
afraid of what will happen if I die. What comes next? It's the unexplainable, and maybe I
shouldn't be scared, maybe I should.

James is right, I won't be scared to die when it is my time, and it isn't my time yet.
My time will come, soon I hope, but until then I have to keep on suffering, I have to keep on
breathing and living in this pain and hell.

**January 26, 1981**

They called it Veritaserum, my potion. Oh how I wish I'd spent more time on it, making more
ways for it go faulty, but no. The Ravenclaw child in me had to come out and prove to those bloody
Death Eaters that a muggle-born can come up with something great. I did come up with an outstanding
discovery, though they do not credit it to me. My discovery will kill innocents, it will torture
the side of good, and it will bring down all chances of winning this fight. My discovery ruined my
dreams of being free.

Why? Why did I feel the need to prove myself? They’re using it already and raids have been made
on aurors and their families. The Prewetts died last night, because Voldemort captured their Secret
Keeper and used my potion on him. I killed the family; it was I who killed them not Voldemort.

**January 30, 1981**

God help me, the Bones are dead. An entire family line almost completely obliterated because of
my potion. I want to speak up and tell them that it has faults, but what would I do? I made it
foolproof. My only hope is that some how, the recipe gets to the side of good and they can use it
against Voldemort. No, I'm not afraid to write or speak his name. He has no meaning to me,
besides the fact that he is a sad man, who is in desperate need of help. Never in my years will I
be able to comprehend the way he does this, how he lives with himself.

More people are dying here. The girl in the cell next to me froze to death last night. She was
two years younger then me and I had to stay up and listen to her last breaths, her last tears, her
last cries, and her last prayers. This is hell, a place I dreamed of never being, and a place I
want to spread wings and fly away from. God help us all, help the innocents, help us survive.



6. February
-----------

**February 8, 1981**

It has been deathly quiet here lately. If it weren’t for the constant bringing of my meals by
James, I’d think that everyone had left me alone in this desolate stone hell. But, they are there.
I haven’t the courage to ask what is going on out in the world anymore, but the side of good must
be making headway.

Otherwise they wouldn’t have locked us away in our cells. We are not allowed to leave these
cages, not even to aid the side of evil. The lottery for who is to die has been halted, as it is no
longer safe to transfer us to the camps. But that isn’t stopping them from continuing their death
raids.

I heard from the boy across from me, when he had enough courage to open his mouth, that a few of
the Death Eaters went and killed off an entire ward. That’s at least a hundred muggle-born
innocents. Maybe Dumbledore has found out about this particular camp and he is on his way to save
us. And maybe then, pigs will fly.

As heartless as this sounds, I dearly hope that no one is on their way to save us, and if they
are, that Voldemort never finds out. What is to stop him from taking us all out at once, to commit
the murders and still save himself from the wrath of the great wizard, Dumbledore?

Nothing. I know, with all the logic I can possibly muster up, that we would all die if word got
out that a savior was on the way. So whomever this savior is, stay away from me. I don’t wish to
die yet, not when I’ve worked so hard to gather up my own strands of hope. They’re fragile and
already the news of the genocide of an entire ward has them breaking down.

The time for dinner draws near and I think that tonight will be the night I try to ask James
about all of this. I’m hoping that he’ll at least hint to what is going around this place, but I
have to be careful. As humane as he seems, James is still the enemy, the one born with blessed
blood. But he is still the enemy, and I do not know how he really is.

Maybe it is only a matter of time before he too takes advantage and tries to end my life.

**February 12, 1981**

James hasn’t been bringing me meals for at least five days, nor have I seen him walking past the
iron bars. Even though he is the enemy, I do wish that no harm has come to him.

No word on the happenings and why the tides have changed, but another killing spree occurred. No
one told me this time . . . but I heard the screams from the ward next to mine. The screams, they
sounded so much like the dead, yet they came from the living. Has being subjected to this torture
taken our souls and left us as empty shells.

**February 16, 1981**

Still no James. The witch who brings me my meals is absolutely horrid. Bellatrix, as many have
called her in passing, seems to be particularly hateful of me, far exceeding her hatred of the
others. A single scrap of food is constantly delivered with a curse, any breath I wish to take is
paid for with a slice to my skin.

Dear Andrew, my love, if you saw me now, after all this pain, would you recognize me? I fear the
person I’m becoming, the anger that seems to constantly boil in the pit of my stomach. No longer
does the real pain matter, for I fear a deadlier thing has occurred. I’m losing myself, who I once
was. And I’m becoming a hateful monster, no longer the naïve shell I once was.

What once as sweet and caring, now spites the entire world. And I don’t wish to feel this way, I
wish the hate I feel would leave, but it doesn’t. They still torture me, and they still breed
hatred inside of me.

**February 19, 1981**

Bellatrix has killed five of our ward already, and from what I gather, through the hushed
whisperings, she is merely stepping in until James returns. The hope I hold, while bright in some
areas, has diminished when it deals with me surviving her. It is only a matter of time until she
turns that wand upon myself.

Fate, how could ye be so cruel? I thought I lived my life by a good code, always trying to do
the right thing. So why this? Why this imprisonment in a hell that exists above the land. Why the
red hot pain that has been inflicted upon my defeated frame? Why, oh why, have I been selected to
go through this torture?

I thought I was living my life well enough to stay out of this trouble. What could I have
possibly done to deserve this degree of pain. If what comes around, goes around, then why hasn’t my
hair been pulled or my pencils broken, instead of me being locked away with no light, no hope, no
life.

**February 23, 1981**

James has returned! This morning, which I had a feeling would be my last, he appeared with
breakfast. It was such a wonderful appearing, to see my guardian angel walk into the cell, instead
of that foul creature, Bellatrix.

I thought today would have been my last, as she promised the day before that today was the day I
died. Already she had killed almost twenty people in our ward. But joys of joys! The nice James has
returned, though something was different.

At first, I paid no attention to the entrance of him, assuming that Bellatrix would merely walk
in and kill me off, but moments later when he cleared his throat, I nearly jumped him in relief. In
a world so dark, without your family and love, it is wonderful to see a sight such as James, who
has helped me in small, yet meaningful ways.

I owe my life to him on numerous occasions, and I believe some of that relief was knowing that
I’d be somewhat safe with him around. It was well-known that James had the most humane ward, though
he had to allow some of the prisoners to be killed and tortured, or else Voldemort would have
noticed.

Something was wrong with him though, I noticed it from the start, yet I couldn’t fathom what
could possibly be wrong for a Death Eater, who was on the other side of the bars and had a higher
level of safety than I, who trembled in fear with each passing shadow.

What could possibly be wrong from someone with it so lucky? A lot more than I could have
imagined, apparently. As usual, James had delivered my food last, which allowed him to linger and
talk. In the midst of shoveling food down my throat, I had to ask. I just had to ask as to what was
wrong.

I never meant to come across as hateful or cynical, but these walls have made me loose myself.
My words nearly sent him stumbling backwards by the bitterness, but I couldn’t imagine how he could
possibly be feeling that something wrong had happened to him. He was the lucky one and I the cursed
one, not the other way around.

For a moment, he simply stood there watching me, and I feared that I had just angered my one
chance for salvation, and that the moment of my death was finally at hand. But death never came at
that time, instead I was thrown into a story about a boy who was forced into killing innocents to
simply save his family. A family that, for the most part, he had been forced to murder. The core
family, his parents and siblings, still remained alive, but the others, the cousins and such, had
been killed by his hand.

Had it not been for the chains, I would have hugged him, as he appeared to be so lost in this
war of good and evil. How could someone be forced to choose between their various family members?
How could Voldemort resort to such means of gaining followers? Poor James, who still appeared as if
he was reliving the moment in all his dreams and waking moments.

That is what this world has come to, hasn’t it? Forcing people to spill their own blood lines,
pitting them against one another, and taking away free will. I thought those type of times were
left behind as society advanced, but we’re still the cruel creatures, the primitive barbarians
against our own will. We’ll always be those creatures.

Author’s Note- *It’s been awhile, ‘eh? With the boredom of summer setting in, I’ve somewhat
returned to the world of Harry Potter fanfiction. The original notes for this story were lost, so
I’m rethinking the path that I’ll take with it. Enjoy! — gina*