"This," Dumbledore said, "is for you Harry. I believe you've come to the age where you are mature enough to read it."
Harry held out his hand, silently excepting the gift of his mother's diary. The cool material put a calming sense over him, looking down at the small book his mother had written for him when he was a child. The diary's excess pages were torn out by someone, Harry suspected Dumbledore. With the pages gone the diary seemed terribly thin. Flipping through, it was as though the story it told had been cut short-- just like his mother's life.
This diary is for you, my sweet darling little boy. You, who lay so un-knowing in dreams. Your sleep goes un-tampered as I write these thoughts out on paper, watching you. My heart can't help but swell with love, as I stare down at your small body. You... who came from me. This miracle astounds me everyday, even though you are now a month old, and I should be used to it. You are growing, right underneath my eyes, little darling. Don't grow up too fast. I want to cherish every moment I have here, with you. A smile comes across your face, and I know that somehow, you know that I'm writing about us.
I should start at the beginning, I suppose. Your father won my heart before you could (and did!). I remember the first moment I'd laid eyes on your father; it was when I was still at Hogwarts School of Witch-craft and Wizadry. You'll go there someday, and I hope you'll be just like your father was. Headboy of Gryffindor, prideful seeker, and sometimes a bit of a.. trouble maker. But if you ever get into any trouble, I will understand and blame your father. No matter how bad it is remember I'll always be here for you, because I love you. Remember that, darling. Your father loves you too, and there is nothing that could ever diminish our love for you. Not even the love your father and I share between each other. I don't know how that particular love really started, to tell you the truth, dearest. I saw him and somehow, I'd just known I'd love him for the rest of my life. My heart beat faster, just like it did when I first saw you. I didn't tell your father how I felt at first, not like I tell you every single day that your father and I are so blessed to be with you. I love you. It's almost an understatement, but it comes closest to express how I feel for you, my darling, my light.
He was the one who first spoke of that feeling. He didn't say it out-right, he simply showed it to me. Actions will forever speak louder than words, remember that, dearest. A simple note he gave to me after graduation, before leaving for training at the Ministry of Magic. Your father was going to be an Auror! I wish you'd like to become that as well, but wherever your little heart takes you, I will follow and help you in any way I can. Your father left me this note, which I have kept after all these years. A simple poem, but touching, none the less.
L is for learning of my heart
I is for wishes I made on stars
L is for love of you
Y is for the years I never said this.
Your father could write poetry better than anyone I'd ever known darling. It took not only my breath away, but my heart, as well. I hope you take after him that way. I, on the other hand, have absolutely no creative writing gift at all in poetry. I can only listen to the words poured out on paper from the hearts of people. There's a certain beauty to it, listening to a heart. Like, my darling, I listen to my own now, and I strain to listen to yours. It is to no avail, your heartbeat is too soft for all human ears except your own. Do you realize what that is, love? That steady beating that thumps inside of you? It's your life. It is the most precious of gifts, besides love, that I have given you.
Your father and I had one of those long-distance relationships. We had been communicating through owls for four years. That's right, darling, I didn't see your father for four whole years. Good thing it was your father, and not you. I don't know what I would've done if I'd had you, and then not been able to see you for four whole years. How many things would I miss? Your first word, step, tooth, haircut... so many things, but most of all, you. I couldn't imagine not being there with you, watching over you, writing about those exact things in this book.
When I first saw your father again, he had proposed to me. I fear I'll have to write about this sometime later, love-- you're awake. And you, darling, are always first in my heart. You are so well behaved, no crying and screaming, no waking up your father. I'm so proud of you, sunshine.