Cover art and betaing by the lovely AlmostElectric!

Chapter One
The Diary

Harry was really quite impressed - she'd thought that Uncle Vernon was the only one capable of turning that horrible shade of red, but apparently, Ginny Weasley also had significant powers of facial discoloration.

"Just take it," Ginny urged.

"I really don't-"

"Take it, or I'll hex you." With her other hand, Ginny pulled out her wand. "I don't know many, but Fred and George taught me the Bat-Bogey Hex."

Harry didn't want to argue, so she took the book. It was black, and looked very old. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's an old diary, that Mum must have gotten. I've still got one, that Luna gave me for my birthday last year," Ginny explained. She got even redder - before today, Harry would have said it was impossible for your face to get more red than your hair, but she was disproven. "It's the least I can do, after all the Lockhart books."

"Er...thanks, Ginny," Harry said.

Ginny seemed to have used up all her determination to speak, so she just nodded, and bustled off.

Harry had never had a diary before. The Dursleys certainly wouldn't have bought her one, and by the time she had been old enough for Hogwarts, the thought just didn't occur to her. Still, Ginny seemed insistent on giving it to her, so the least she could do was give it a shot, sometime.

She opened it up - it was blank, on every page, except the inside cover, which only held a name: C. M. Riddle. Mrs. Weasley must have gotten it secondhand, and whoever C. M. Riddle was, they'd just never written in their diary.

It was strange, but Harry didn't think much of it.

A few days later, Harry tried to write in her diary for the first time. She'd found a secluded corner of the Weasley's yards, underneath a particularly impressive oak tree. Hedwig nestled in the branches above her, sitting softly, and keeping an eye on her human with warm orange eyes.

Harry left C. M. Riddle's name on her own page. It didn't feel quite right, so she moved to the next page.

Harry Potter, she wrote. She stared at it for a second, before she decided to use her full name, Harriet Potter. When she went to cross out the first name, however, she found it had disappeared into the diary. She wondered if Ginny knew this diary was useless, if it just absorbed everything you wrote in it.

She watched her full name disappear into the page, too, and was just about to check to see if all the pages did that, when the diary wrote back.

Hello, Harriet Potter, it said, in a thin, spidery script that Harry only dreamed of being capable of replicating.

Harry stared at it.

Hello? she scrawled back. Are you alive?

I am alive, at least in the sense that I think you mean, it wrote. I am a diary that writes back.

Harry was fascinated.

How? Why? What do I call you? Are you C. M. Riddle? Her writing was cramped, and hurried, but she was very curious.

I am C. M. Riddle. I am not, perhaps, the original C. M. Riddle, but, she was my creator. I would be honored if you wished to call me by her name - Cecilia.

Okay, Harry wrote. What's the point of a talking diary?

That's a complicated question, the diary explained. The how of it is even more complicated, but the why - how much do you know about the Second World War - the one that the Muggles fought in, that is?

Not very much, Harry admitted. We learned a bit in primary. There were some not-very-nice Germans, and they attacked France, and Britain.

Yes, that's true. The relevant detail here is that the Germans bombed London, for a period in 1940 and 1941. Cecilia was living in London, then, at an orphanage - she was able to stay at Hogwarts, safe, for most of the year, but she still had to return, every summer. The children and staff of the orphanage had to sleep in the Underground, at one of the tube stations, for fear of being killed by the bombs. It was hot, sweaty, and cramped, and it affected Cecilia quite a bit.

She was an orphan, you see, and she believed that if she was killed, no one would remember her. This diary was a way of living on - it cannot be destroyed by normal means, only by powerful magic.

The diary stopped, then. Harry wasn't totally sure what to say, because that sounded like a very sad way to live, hiding underground with other orphans. Harry knew, on some level, that the Dursleys didn't treat her right, but she might have picked going there, instead of sleeping in a subway station.

I'm sorry, she wrote. I'm an orphan too. That sounds much worse than where I live, though. I suppose I don't have to worry about being forgotten, at least. I'm famous, you see.

Cecilia survived, the diary explained. She graduated as Head Girl from Hogwarts, and eventually got a job she enjoyed - working at a shop for old artifacts. She had something of an interest in enchanting, and she worked there for a few years, still writing in me from time to time to update me with new things she had learned, or new events in her life. She disappeared one day, though, many years later. I'm telling you this because she was happy, I think. She got away from there.

I've talked a lot about my creator, and myself, though. It's terribly rude, and I'm sorry for that. Why are you famous, Harriet Potter?

Harry frowned, and explained, I defeated a famous Dark witch, that everyone feared. Now I'm a celebrity. It's annoying.

I hope you fade into obscurity soon, then. Cecilia paused, for a second, and then continued, forgive me, Harriet, if I might have been incorrect in assuming how old you were. How old are you?

Twelve.

That's very impressive, then. I don't want to accuse you of lying, but I find it hard to believe that you defeated someone like that when you were so young. I doubt my creator could have done it, and she was exceptionally talented.

Harry bit her lip. I defeated her when I was just a baby. Maybe 'defeat' is the wrong word. She killed my parents, and then tried to kill me, but the curse didn't work, for some reason, and she died instead. They call me the Girl-Who-Lived. I don't like that name, much at all. I'm just lucky. There's nothing special about me.

I don't mean to be rude, the diary wrote. But that doesn't seem to have much to do with you. If she couldn't kill you, it was likely something your parents did - maybe they dueled, and one of them weakened her, or something. But I don't think it's possible for a baby to just survive the Killing Curse, all on their own.

Harry nodded, before realizing that the diary couldn't see that. Professor Dumbledore said that it was my mother's love that saved me. She died to protect me, and that's what stopped Voldemort.

The diary paused. Voldemort being the dark witch, yes?

Yes.

I think it's very possible that your mother stopped her, and saved you. I don't think I that's how I would describe that protection, but if your mother gave her life for yours, there's lots of power in that. It sounds like your mother defeated this Voldemort, not you - no offense, of course.

I think I like the sound of that, Harry wrote. My mum must have loved me a whole lot, then.

Yes, the diary wrote, and for the first time, Cecilia's impeccable penmanship faltered. The next words were rushed, and cramped. I think she must have, to have made you protection that would help you survive that. As far as I am aware - and I should know, since Cecilia made sure I was updated on the many things she studied since she made me - simply dying for you might not have been enough. If I had to guess, I think it might have been something she planned for - a ritual, for your protection. She must have known that Voldemort was coming for her, and planned to destroy her in such a way.

Harry could feel her eyes growing hot. My mum sounds pretty awesome, doesn't she?

She does. Cecilia's mother died giving birth to her, at the orphanage. I don't think we ever quite forgave her for that. That's why she never liked her middle name - Merope, after her mother.

Harry smiled. I think, if she brought her child to the orphanage, she must have loved Cecilia. She wanted her to survive, after all. Maybe that was the only thing she could do.

The diary didn't reply for a while after that, so Harry just shifted against the tree, relaxing. Ron and Fred and George and Ginny must still be out playing Quidditch - Harry had lent Ginny her broom, because she wasn't allowed to have her own, and insisted that she play. Ron hadn't been happy with that decision, but Harry didn't care. Mrs. Weasley, too, was likely to object, but what she didn't know wasn't going to hurt her.

She'd never say anything about it to Mrs. Weasley directly, but it was dumb that Ginny wasn't allowed to play. If Harry insisted that Ginny use her broom, there was no way for them to refuse. Harry would have liked to play, too, but she'd always have time later, at Hogwarts.

She looked back at the diary, and saw that Cecilia had written her back.

If she loved us, she wouldn't have died. The words were thick, and deliberate, as if Cecilia had been angry while writing them.

Underneath, however, was added, I'm sorry. It's a bit of a sore topic, with us. It's very sweet of you to say, however.

It's no problem, Harry replied. I understand. I would much rather have parents, than all the recognition in the world. I can't even go to Diagon Alley without being swarmed by a crowd of people.

My condolences, Harry.

Thanks, Cecilia.

Let's talk about something else. What's your favorite subject at Hogwarts?

Harry had to think about that. She didn't really like Potions, or History of Magic, or Astronomy, for various reasons. Herbology wasn't bad, but it wasn't really her thing. Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense were alright, but Flitwick made Charms fun.

Charms, I suppose. I don't mind Transfiguration, either, but I always feel like I'm not getting something about it. Defense Against the Dark Arts seems promising, too, but we had a pretty awful teacher, this past year. He didn't teach us much, mostly just stuttered and jumped at shadows.

The diary replied, That seems fair. The teacher can really make or a break a subject, sometimes. I might have enjoyed Transfiguration the most, but I think Defense beat it out, because of the professor. Does Professor Dumbledore still teach Transfiguration?

No, Harry wrote. He's the Headmaster now. Professor McGonagall teaches Transfiguration. Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by a man named Quirrell, but he's dead now.

One of your professors died?

Well, yes. Harry felt awkward explaining this. He had Voldemort inside of him, so when I touched him, it hurt him. He came after me, to try and get the Philosopher's Stone, but I didn't let him have it. Either that, or he was a pedophile.

My time at Hogwarts was never this exciting, the diary wrote. Voldemort is still alive, then?

Yes, Harry wrote. She was a weird ghost thing, though. A spirit? She had to possess Quirrell, and she wanted to get her body back.

I think it might be best if you told me more about her, Cecilia said. What was she like?

I dunno, Harry said. She told me, 'there is only power, and those too weak to seek it.' And then she tried to get me to give her the Stone, but I didn't. And then Quirrell grabbed me, but it hurt him, so he died, and then that was that.

Interesting. I think it might be best if you learned something about defending yourself, with me.

Why? Harry asked. It's the summer.

Well, if you had a bad teacher in Defense, you're likely not to know very much. And it doesn't sound like this Voldemort is going to leave you alone, if you defeated her twice already. It might be prudent to be prepared, in case she does come back.

I meant that I can't do magic, in the summer, Harry said.

How long do you have until you go back to Hogwarts?

A week.

Then, I suppose it won't be the end of the world if we wait a week. I can show you a bit more than just spells, however. Cecilia meant this diary as a teaching tool - she wanted to be a teacher at Hogwarts, teaching Defense, but she was turned down, both times she applied. She wanted very much to teach someone, so it would make me very happy to teach you something, while you have this diary. If you're interested in dueling, she built a small enchantment that will allow me to demonstrate spells for you.

That sounds brilliant, Harry wrote.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley's voice echoed out across the yard. "Dinner!"

I have to go eat dinner now, though.

By September 1st, Harry had written Cecilia in the diary a few more times, mostly talking about inconsequential things. Harry figured that a talking diary wasn't really all that interested in the small stuff, so she mostly stuck to catching Cecilia up about the Wizarding World in the time since the original Cecilia had disappeared.

Cecilia - the diary version, that was - was funny, clever, and she always seemed interested in Harry. Harry had never really had someone who was so invested in her before - except maybe Hagrid, but Hagrid was different, from Cecilia. Harry imagined that it was a bit like having an older sister.

He was a perfectly nice man, but still an older man. He didn't quite get it like Cecilia did.

Mr. Weasley drove the whole family to King's Cross in his enchanted Ford Anglia. Harry had a wonderful time, mostly because of all the empty space. Mrs. Weasley, however, kept a tight grip on both her and Ginny on the entire way. Ginny shared a commiserating look, obviously used to this kind of behavior.

Harry had never really had anyone treat her differently for being a girl before - that was new, too. Mrs. Weasley seemed to really enjoy having her around, even if she seemed to think that Harry was some sort of delicate wilting flower. Harry was a lot of things, but she wasn't delicate - she'd spent ten years taking care of herself.

It also gave her some interesting insight into Ginny, and why she was so scrappy. She certainly didn't seem the type to welcome that kind of coddling. There was apparently a limit to her rebellion, though - no escaping Mrs. Weasley's vice grip on her shoulder the entire way through King's cross.

Percy went first, followed by Mr. Weasley, and then Fred and George.

Mrs. Weasley, still gripping Harry and Ginny as if they were about to turn and bolt at any given moment, steered them through the barrier. Harry was pushing her trunk, with both hands, Hedwig on top.

Mrs. Weasley had Ginny's trunk. The went to step through, and -

Thud. There was no give in the barrier, and Harry's trolley hit it dead on. Hedwig screeched, and her cage slowly began to topple. Harry tried to lunge forward and grab it, but the trolley was in the way.

Ginny smoothly snatched Hedwig's cage, saving her from clattering to the floor in a heap.

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said.

She grinned.

Mrs. Weasley was muttering to herself, even as she let go of Harry and stepped to the barrier, putting her hands against it. It stayed solid.

"Why can't we get through, Mum?" Ginny asked.

"I've never seen this before," Mrs. Weasley admitted.

Ron stepped up from behind them, next to Harry. "The guy's noticed us," he said. Harry looked around, and one of the security guards was bustling over.

"Need help, ma'am?" he asked.

"No, thank you," Mrs. Weasley said, smile fixed on her face.

The security guard didn't look pleased, but he nodded anyway.

"The train's leaving," said Harry, eyeing the large clock, overlooking the platform. "It's almost eleven now."

"Alright," Mrs. Weasley declared. "We're going to wait for Arthur. Girls, Ron, get your stuff, and we'll stay here for now."

Harry wheeled her trolley around, and leaned against the wall. Ginny was right next to her, and Ron slouched down onto the floor.

"We're gonna be in so much trouble," he said, glum.

"They'll do no such thing," Mrs. Weasley said, eyes narrow, glaring around as if looking for someone to yell at. "The barrier closed early. Absolutely outrageous, if you ask me."

"Should I… er… write to them?"

"Write to them?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Tell Professor McGonagall that we missed the train, or something. Let them know that the barrier wasn't working." It seemed like a solid plan to Harry, honestly, because the train had just gone - they had cut it very close, but there had been enough time to barely make it if the barrier hadn't closed.

"Let me," Mrs. Weasley said, and Harry provided her with a quill and a bit of parchment. Soon, Hedwig was winging along, with a note to Mr. Weasley, and, then, a note to McGonagall.

"Alright." She visibly gathered herself, and then turned to the group. "I'm going to Apparate, but I'm not good enough to bring all of you at once. So, I'll take Ginny, and then I'll come back for you two."

Harry nodded, and Ron looked ill. She could tell that he was very relieved that they weren't in trouble. Mrs. Weasley disappeared with Ginny and her luggage, and it was only a quick minute before she reappeared, grabbing Harry.

There was a terrifying whirl of color, sound, and motion, and then she was lying on the floor of the Weasley's kitchen, head spinning, trying desperately not to vomit. Soft hands corded themselves into her hair, and she heard Mrs. Weasley murmuring soothing things. Harry promptly felt guilty for all the frustrations she'd had in the past month or so, because Mrs. Weasley was very nice and clearly a very good mother, even if she sometimes had annoying ideas about what was proper for girls.

Then, Mrs. Weasley had popped away again to get Ron, and Ginny was sitting on the floor with Harry. Soon enough, all four of them were there, sitting at the table, nursing cups of tea, and waiting for Hedwig and Mr. Weasley.

He popped in a few minutes later. "Molly!" he exclaimed. "What happened?"

"The barrier wouldn't let us in, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said, hands already busy working on sandwiches, since they'd missed the train. "We've sent a letter to McGonagall - maybe we can floo there, or Apparate."

"I examined it from my end," Mr. Weasley said. "Amos was there, too, to help me out, bless him. I've never seen anything like it - it had to be some powerful enchantment, for what seems like a prank." He rubbed his head, glancing over them. "And whoever did it, they only got you three. Fred and George would have done it earlier, made half the school late."

Mrs. Weasley glanced over them, her eyes lingering on Harry. "Maybe they were hoping for one person," she said.

Harry looked at Ron. 'Dobby,' she mouthed. He scrunched his face up, in confusion. Harry figured that if the barrier had really closed for just her, that was the exact kind of hare-brained scheme Dobby might have cooked up. Maybe, if the Weasleys had been earlier, Mr. Weasley might have been right, and the barrier would have closed much earlier.

Either way, there wasn't much she could do about it, so they were resigned to sit and wait and read their school books until lunch. Harry considered taking out the diary, but she figured it might be awkward to explain Cecilia, particularly if Mrs. Weasley saw that Ginny had given away the diary that she'd bought her.

By half eleven, Hedwig had returned, with a note from Professor McGonagall. They were to floo to Hogwarts at one, where they would wait in her office until the Feast. It was, Harry thought, a simple solution, which seemed to be something of a rarity at Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall's influence, no doubt.

Still, Harry couldn't help but wonder - what did happen? Dobby seemed to be the most reasonable answer, but what could be so bad that he was willing to actively sabotage her to get her to stay?

She'd asked Cecilia about him, who had told Harry that she was right to stay at Hogwarts, because even if there was danger, at Hogwarts, she'd learn to do more magic, which, in turn, would mean she could protect herself better. Hogwarts, too, wasn't something you could just opt out of for a year, with no consequences, so it would really be throwing away her entire future for safety against a vague threat.

This, of course, was logical and well-reasoned, and like many of the things Cecilia said, Harry could find no reason to disagree.

By the time that it was time for the feast, Harry had made her way through Voyages with Vampires, lost to Ron four times in Wizard's Chess, had traded wins with Ginny, and fallen asleep halfway through Year with the Yeti before Ginny was prodding her awake, tossing her school uniform and robes at her.

Five minutes later, Harry and Ron were sitting down at the Gryffindor table waiting for the feast to start, while Ginny had trailed along after Professor McGonagall to meet with the other first-years.

Harry and Ron fielded excited questions from Hermione and the rest of their housemates about why they'd missed the train - "But the train's not failed anyone, not since the school was founded," Hermione had insisted. Harry seriously doubted that, but she didn't think it was worth arguing.

Sitting there, in the Great Hall, underneath the hundreds of floating candles and the inky-black ceiling, peppered with stars, like sweets spilled across the floor, Harry felt comfortable for the first time since the barrier had stopped them from entering, back at King's Cross.

She watched with interest as Professor McGonagall set the shabby wooden stool at the front of the room, and put the equally shabby Sorting Hat on top. The first years stood in a line, staring around wildly. Harry was short for her age, but some of these kids were positively tiny.

The hat opened up into song - Harry wondered how long it took the thing to come up with them, and figured it probably didn't take the entire year. It had to do something else with its time.

Harry watched the Sorting with a curious kind of curiosity - the only person here that she had an investment in was Ginny, who seemed like a pretty solid bet for Gryffindor. Still, she clapped for everyone - even the Slytherins, who probably didn't deserve it.

Finally, McGonagall called, "Weasley, Ginevra!" The girl in question went red, stepping gingerly up to the hat. It slipped low over her eyes. Ron, next to Harry, was muttering to himself under his breath.

After what must have been a minute, even if it did feel much longer, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" and then the entire house was cheering, Fred and George particularly loud.

Ginny grinned, and dropped the hat back onto the chair, and rushed over to the Gryffindor table. Harry clapped, and Ron grinned, next to her.

Dumbledore got up, and announced the feast, and then the table was filled with all kinds of food - Harry wasn't particularly hungry, but she made an effort to have at least some mash, and roast.

"How was your summer, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged, unsure how to explain the padlock on her room, so she just said, "Fine. Yours?"

Neville smiled back, the expression weak. "Mine was alright, too."

"Hopeless, both of you," Ron said. "Harry came and visited me for a while. That was nice."

"It was," Harry agreed. "I should write to your mum, thank her again."

"Yeah. She loves having you around, though. You're skinny. Mum loves feeding skinny people."

Harry chuckled. No matter how much she tried to eat, she never seemed to gain any weight. She rubbed her eyes. It had been a long day, and the adventures with the barrier had been very stressful.

"Blimey," she said. "I'm tired. They probably won't let me skip out early, will they?"

"You won't be able to get in the dormitory," Hermione supplied. "No password."

"Right," Harry said. "No luck, then."

Ron shrugged his shoulder - sitting down, he was still much taller than her. "You can take a nap on me, if you like. Mum and McGonagall both fed us today, so I'm about done. I'll wake you up when the feast's over."

Harry eyed him. "Alright, then." She sidled over, and gingerly placed her head against his arm. It was comfier than she expected, and the Great hall was so warm.

It was no surprise that she fell asleep.

AN: This has some definite AU elements, mostly around Harry's femaleness, and Tom being replaced by Cecilia. Voldemort is very similar to canon - more on her later - and first year and the summer between first and second went mostly the same. Other than these obvious things, there are a decent amount of background changes, mostly to avoid rehashing canon too hard. I'm also skimming or indirectly referencing stuff from the books, that's remained unchanged, mostly because again, I don't want to re-hash too much. There is also a decent amount of headcanon and worldbuilding, mostly because Pottermore can be generously called a steaming turd, and some of the new things introduced in the Fantastic Beasts movies annoy me.

In some ways, this story is reactionary to those things. In others, it's inspired by stories I've read and enjoyed. There are definite concepts that I've really enjoyed, and decided to emulate - consciously or unconsciously. The works of Inwardtransience and Silently Watches come to mind, but it's very likely that there's more. And Cecilia's name comes from Descent, because it's wonderful, and I found the reasoning for it charming.