A/N: This is really my first stab at a Harry Potter fanfiction. I've read plenty of them though. My inspiration for this story came from a few of the lyrics from "Made of Steel" and "Not Enough" which are both by Our Lady Peace. If you haven't listened to them before, you really should. I'm not too fond of the ending; it seemed a little rushed to me, but I wanted to post this anyway. What does everyone else think about it? Please review and tell me what I have done wrong/right. Hopefully, I will become a better writer. Thanks for reading!
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When I first started Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I was innocent and naive. I guess that is to be expected though, when you're only eleven years old. Everything was so new to me. It was all amazing, and I soaked the experience in like a sponge.
I was sorted into Gryffindor house, which I read was for the brave. It made me proud; I considered Gryffindor to be the best out of all the houses. But then, in my very first lesson, I encountered outright hostility. Mudblood was hissed at me as I walked into the Potions classroom.
I didn't know that it meant "dirty blood." I didn't realize that it was such a foul word. Until I asked, that is. When I found out, it shocked me. Why would anyone say something so cruel? They didn't even know me. It made me so upset to know that there were prejudices against me, just because of my heritage. I seriously considered going home. I considered denying who I really am.
But I didn't.
The first day of insults, made me cry. The second, made me scorn. Why would I leave just because some worthless, pathetic person wanted me to? I was never one to take orders from someone whom I had no respect for, even at that age. Why would I start then?
So I pushed myself into my studies. I would prove to them, all of them, that I was indeed a witch. And I was good one as well. I ignored the taunts directed at me; I ignored the little looks that people sent me. The looks that just screamed, "Why are you even here? You will never be one of us, so don't even try. You can't even compare to us."
After the year was finished, and the final exams taken, I found out that I was first in the year. I beat them all. All the people that criticized me, lost to me. I was proud of myself. I proved to them and myself that I could do anything just as well as a pure-blooded wizard. I could even do it better.
Then I went home for the summer holidays and faced a nasty shock. My own sister hated me. My own flesh and blood despised me. She hated me because I was abnormal; a freak, if you will. She hated me because I was a witch.
I worked so hard that first year so that I could prove to wizards that I could succeed in their world. I worked so hard so that my family would be proud of me…and they weren't. Not all of them.
"Maybe I really am a freak," I told myself. I couldn't and wouldn't be accepted anywhere. I didn't belong. Not in the non-magical or magical world. It just seemed that I was never enough for anyone; I would never be the person that people wanted me to be.
But I pushed on. I couldn't just give up. What would that do? Nothing, absolutely nothing.
As the years continued to roll by, I came to a realization. Although I would seemingly never be enough for anyone, I wasn't working so hard for them anymore. I was doing it for me. I was doing it so I would be proud of myself.
I finally accepted the fact that I was connected to both the Muggle world and the wizarding world. Both were important to me, and that fact wouldn't change. I belonged to both.
Around fifth year, I finally started to make friends. My best friend was Megan. She was really quiet and somewhat of a loner, but when we were forced into a group for a Charms project, we became friends. Slowly, we started to help each other out of our shells. Both of us started to make more friends. By the end of the year, I became truly happy for the first time since I started Hogwarts.
And for some reason, James Potter took notice of me that year. Why? I have no idea. I think I might have intrigued him. There must have been a bet going to see if he could date every single girl in our year, and I was the only one to not agree to it. Even Megan did, for Merlin's sake.
So he pestered me constantly until seventh year. He became the Head Boy while I was the Head Girl. After asking me out a total of 327 times (Megan counted) he stopped. I was confused. Why would he stop? It wasn't in Potter's nature to just stop. It was unnatural and it put me on edge. The first few weeks of school I was incredibly wary around Potter. He must have had some big plan, but he didn't. I waited and waited for something to happen, but it never did.
After a while of working with him, I started to like him, which in itself was just plain weird. James Potter was definitely the biggest prat to ever live, right? I guess I was wrong.
By the middle of seventh year, I not only liked him…I may have loved him. It sounds stupid, now that I think about it; to be able to love him at such a young age, even though I denied him every time he asked me out on a date. I guess I really don't realize things until they smack me in the face.
On my last day of Hogwarts, ever, I asked James Potter out. It's so ironic because he spent all these years asking me on dates, and then, finally, I'm the one to ask him out on a date. He said yes.
We dated for a year until we got married. That must have been the happiest day of my life. It was such a beautiful wedding. By the end of it, I felt that I belonged in the wizarding world forever. I was finally enough for someone. After struggling to be someone I wasn't for years, I became who I truly was -Lily Potter; witch.
I wasn't trying to be what someone wanted me to be anymore. I was finally what I wanted to be.