Glancing out at the rolling green hills as they flew past with great speed only made me all the more sadder. They reminded me of what used to be my home. And that's not what I wanted to be thinking about. I wanted to forget about it as best I could.
Back home was once a loving family with a beautiful home in a great neighborhood. That quickly changed with the premature death of my father. I was only six, my older sister, Petunia, nine. It hit our family like blizzard in May: completely and utterly unexpected. My father was on his way home from work when he was blindsided by another car. His car spun out of control, jumping the curb and landing on its roof twenty feet away in a ditch. Apparently he died on impact. When you're six years old, you don't fully comprehend the fact that you're daddy is gone forever. For a short while, our mother insisted that he had gone on a business trip, but soon, she let her emotions get the best of her, and we found out what had actually happened our father.
As our father was the only income our family received, his death impacted more than just our emotions. Within two months of his death, our mother had spent most of his savings on booze, dragging herself home in the wee hours of the morning, and we had to move.
Our home was amazing. More than any kid, or anyone for that matter, could ask for. Let's just say the place we moved into was a little less than "homey". Our original home was a massive three floor Tudor in northern London. The neighborhood was full of businessmen and their families. It was perfect. Our new "home" was a broken-down apartment on the decrepit old Hunter Street in the dodgy part of London. It was in shackles, but our mother told us we couldn't afford anymore. Only a few months in could tell us that was a lie. She kept up her boozing ways and soon found herself in financial trouble. She would do anything to get money, including selling herself to men. It was nothing new to come down the stairs in the morning and find another creepy man sitting at the kitchen table, eating up whatever little food we had in the refrigerator.
Petunia and I shared a room in our tiny apartment. The carpet was graying, the wallpaper had come loose, the floor squeaked with even the slightest of steps, but we still had each other. That's all we could have asked for at that time. She was more of a mum to me than our own mum. She walked me to school in morning and waited for me afterwards. She helped me with my homework and made me meals to eat. To say the least, she was the one to keep me alive.
A few years later, when I was ten and she was thirteen, our mum didn't come home one night. Though it was nothing unusual, she usually came in contact with us at one point during the night, even if she was drunk. But that night, there was nothing. Not even her familiar stumble through the hallway at 3 am. Or her incessant moaning and groaning when she finally reached her lumpy mattress. We tried to ignore the fact that she wasn't there, carrying on with the day. But when we arrived home from school and she still wasn't there, we started to worry. I was doing my homework and Petunia was cooking one of her odd concoctions of anything that was left in the fridge when they arrived. There was a knock on the door and two men in suits showed their badges and walked in. After noticing that we were merely children, they looked apprehensive, but charged on.
"Hello, my name is Kenneth Iverrs. I'm a detective with the London Police Department. Is this the home of Margaret Evans?" the taller one asked Petunia.
"Yes," Petunia answered, sounding much wiser than her age would imply.
"Is there anyone else living here? Another adult, perhaps?" he asked kindly.
"No, just me, Lily here, and our mum," Petunia replied, nodding in my direction when she spoke.
"Your mother was just found in an apartment on North Street, a few blocks from here," the other detective began, "We're sorry to inform you that your mother was passed away early this morning."
Not even he could have expected our reaction. It wasn't sadness, though it was obviously not joy. We didn't look as shocked as he seemingly expected.
"We're going to have to take you down to the department, until we contact any relatives of yours. Are there any we could contact?" Detective Iverrs said.
"We have an aunt here in London," Petunia said hesitantly. Right as she said that, my face dropped. I knew exactly which aunt she was talking about. Auntie Joy. And don't let her name fool you. She was anything but joyous. She was a wretched woman in her fifties, fast approaching sixty by now. She was as interesting as a brick and had the sense of humor of a block of wood. Her fortune was an inheritance from her late second husband, Walter Cummings, and she lived very lavishly. Maybe her living quarters would make up for her apparent lack of emotions.
A month later, we were completely moved in. She wasn't any more excited to have us in her house as we were to be there. We rarely saw her as she spent most of the day in her parlor doing God knows what. We still walked to school everyday, though her maids did the cooking and cleaning. I could almost say I was more miserable there than I was at our shack on Hunter Street.
It was on my eleventh birthday that my life changed, for what I could say was the better. It was early in the morning and I was still lying in bed, in that state of being where you're completely aware of what's going on around you but you're still sound asleep. I was soon fully awoken by the gentle tapping on my glass pane window. I slowly pushed myself out of bed and tip-toed to the window, which was an old habit I still had from living on Hunter Street, where making one little floor squeak would wake the entire house, and nothing good would ever come of that. I gingerly pushed back the lacey curtains to find a large owl perched in my window. I screeched and flew back from the window, landing on my bum a few feet back. Still shocked, I stood up, rubbed my now aching bum and walked back to the window. I cautiously unlatched the window and opened it up. The warm July air blew in as I pushed the window wide enough for the owl to walk in. I noticed a small piece of parchment tied to its leg that I hadn't noticed before. I gently untied it and let it fall into my hand. The owl hooted proudly before swooping back out and flying west. I watched it fly until I could no longer see it, before realizing that I had the parchment in my hand. Bringing my attention back to the small envelope, I slipped my finger under the flap and broke the seal. Before opening it, I examined the scarlet seal and in small letters it read Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 'Witchcraft and Wizardry?' I thought quickly, but continued on. I slid the letter out from inside of it and read it to myself:
Dear Miss Evans,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy
Headmistress
'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? I'm a witch? That can't be! Never. It's not even possible. Not at all possible. I'm crazy. This isn't happening. I'm still sleeping,' I though rapidly, as I began pinching my arms and shaking my head violently. I was wishing so hard that I'd just wake up and it would all be a dream. I couldn't actually be a witch. Witches didn't exist. They were myths. I'd learned that my whole life. Magic didn't exist. Witches didn't exist. And I'd never even heard of this supposed Hogwarts. But that owl sure looked real, didn't it?
It took me a few minutes to really comprehend what just happened. A huge barn owl had actually swooped into my room, dropped me off a letter explaining that I'd been accepted into a school for witches and wizards, and flown away again. Hands shaking, I placed the letter on my night table and made my bed, thinking all the more about my predicament. After finishing making my bed, I continued to neaten up everything all the way to the bathroom. That was my nervous habit: cleaning. I went into the bathroom and turned on the sink faucet. I didn't allow the water any time to warm up before splashing a hand full on to my face. I could feel a shiver go down my spine and a nice refreshing feeling in my entire body. Turning off the sink, I looked into the mirror. God, I looked like hell. That's all I can remember thinking. My thick red hair was frizzy and messy and my emerald green eyes looked almost sunken into my head. I could see my collar bones clear through my fair skin and my holey tee shirt barely touched my skin as it was so loose. Living in a crap hole of a house with no nutritious food could do that to a person. It had only been a month since my mother died, so I'd only been eating good food in good conditions for that long. I was gradually gaining weight and looking better. But I still looked death warmed over (A/N: My mom always uses that line and I think it's funny. I guess it's supposed to mean you look like hell).
I took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom, grabbing the letter from Hogwarts and starting downstairs. I was halfway down the hall when I could hear Petunia's voice.
"Good morning, birthday girl. Look who's eleven today," she said cheerfully, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. Noticing the oddly disgruntled look on my face, she spoke again. "What's the matter?"
"Petunia, can I ask you something?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"What would you say if I told you that I just got a letter from a school for witches and wizards delivered by an owl telling me I was accepted there?"
"Well, it would explain a few things," she said sarcastically, smiling genuinely.
"Petunia, I'm serious."
"Honestly? I'd say you were crazy."
"I expected that."
"Why are asking anyways? And what is that envelope you're holding?"
"Nothing," I said, clearly not fooling her, as she immediately made a grab for it. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough and she got a hold of it with only one attempt. She laughed as I crossed my arms uncomfortably and paced the space around us while she opened it. She slid the letter out in a similar fashion as myself and read it over carefully.
Her first reaction was to laugh, but when she noticed the completely serious look on my face, she stopped.
"Lil, are you kidding? This has got to be a prank."
"Petunia, it's not a prank. An owl just landed on my window and that letter was tied to its leg."
"That is so unbelievable that it's almost believable," she said in awe, slipping the letter back in. "How do I know that you're not just playing around? This could all be a big joke. I wouldn't put that past you."
"Petunia, seriously. Does this look like I'm kidding?" I asked, pointing to my dead-serious facial expression.
"That'd be a no," she replied, handing me the envelope. "Okay. I may believe you, but how are you going to get Auntie Joy to?"
"That's the problem. I don't know."
"Fantastic. Let's just think of a plan."
We spent the following half hour coming up with a genius plan. Well, maybe not genius, but, well, okay, not very good at all. We were simply going to tell her and hope for the best. That's all we could come up with.
We cautiously went downstairs and entered the dining room together. Auntie Joy was at the other end of table, eating her breakfast in silence. Next to her plate was the daily newspaper and she was reading it between bites.
"Good morning, Auntie Joy," Petunia said, walking over to her seat next to Auntie Joy. I sat down next to her in my usual seat.
"Good morning, girls," was her only response.
"Auntie, Lily has something important to tell you. Something very important to the future of her life," Petunia said, exaggerating the words 'future' and 'life'. Auntie Joy immediately put down her fork and turned completely towards us. I was expecting a very stern look and a scolding for interrupting her morning routine, but instead her face was soft and she looked, almost, nice.
"Yes, dear?" she asked anxiously. My face went pale and I felt almost nauseous at that very moment. The moment that we locked eyes. I'd never looked into her eyes before. They reminded me so much of my mother's it frightened me. "Dear, are you all right?"
"Yeah, Lils, you okay?" Petunia asked, waving her hand in front of my eyes.
"Huh? Oh, yes, I'm fine," I answered, regaining my composure and telling her straight out. "Auntie Joy, I just got a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry informing me that I was accepted."
At first, she just looked at me. Then she smiled. That I didn't expect.
"Oh, dear. That's wonderful!" Wonderful? That's not exactly the reaction I expected.
"Wonderful?" Petunia asked in disbelief. She was happy for me, yes, but she didn't expect that reaction from Auntie Joy either.
"Yes, you're a young witch, Lily Evans. 'Tis wonderful news. We'll have to go to Diagon Alley to get all of your supplies and then I'll bring to King's Cross so you can get on the train on September 1 and be on your way to school!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly, smiling from ear to ear.
"Diagon what?" was all I could ask.
"Oh, dear, I apologize. I completely forgot. You didn't know, did you? Your uncle Walter was a wizard. Unfortunately, he passed away. He would have loved to see you receive your letter."
"Uncle Walter was a wizard?"
"Yes."
"Wow, this is creepy," Petunia said. "I've got to go upstairs and shower anyways. I'm going to the mall with Tiffany. Happy birthday, little sis. I'll see you later. Oh, and, uh, congratulations on your acceptance."
"Thanks, Petunia," I said awkwardly as she hurried past me and out of the dining room.
"We've got so much to do," Auntie Joy said cheerfully, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the dining room as well. I'd known her my whole life and I'd never seen her smile nor hold anyone's hand.
A few weeks later, it was September 1. Today. And now I'm on the Hogwarts Express on my way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To a world where I know nothing, nor anybody, for that matter. But, with everything that has happened in my life, this was just another move. Though, this time, I didn't have my big sister, Petunia, to protect me.
Just then, the door to my compartment burst open and rather pudgy little boy ran in, slamming it behind him.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone was in here," he said, ducking below the glass of the door. A moment later, four older boys ran by, looking around conspicuously.
"I'm guessing they're the reason you're in here?"
"Yes," he replied, in his high squeaky voice.
"I'm Lily," I said.
"Peter," he replied, taking a seat across from me. Now that I could get a good look at him, he was much pudgier than I first thought. And he was very short. He had sandy blond hair and nervous-looking brown eyes.
"Nice to meet you, Peter." And that the last thing that was said for the entire train ride. I'd always been a rather talkative child, so sitting quietly for that length of time was a challenge. But I did it. As did he.
When we finally arrived at Hogsmeade Station, Peter and I had both changed into our robes and were ready to exit. I left the compartment first and let myself by dragged along with the crowd. Finally, I found myself in a mass of students outside the train. Above all the heads, I could see a large burly man shouting friendly orders to everyone.
"Firs' years this way," he said loudly, waving his arm towards a narrow path through a thicket of trees and bushes. I pushed my way through the throng of chatty students and finally arrived at the path. I stepped cautiously onto the soft dirt and made my way down behind a group of chatty first years. When I arrived there, a man, whom I assumed to be a professor there, told me to get into a boat with only three people in it. I gently got in and sat down quietly. The other three in the boat seemed to be friends already and were talking animatedly with each other, not really noticing my arrival.
"Oh, there's someone else here," one of them said.
"Oh my, I didn't even see you," another said.
"Hi, welcome to our boat," the last said.
Wow, this was going to be an adventure.
Throughout the boat ride, I found out their names and where they were from and what their parents did and what they did for fun and any other thing I could possibly not want to know.
The girl who welcomed me to the boat earlier turned out to be called Kelly Vanders. She had long blond hair and blue eyes and seemed to have a permanent smile plastered on her face. She was from Leeds and her parents were both purebloods, which made her a pureblood. I later found out that a pureblood was someone who's parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and, well you get the point, were all witches or wizards. Kelly loved to swim and go shopping with her friends. The girl who spoke first when I got in the boat was named Dina Cooper. She had short, curly brown hair and hazel eyes. She was also from Leeds and her dad was a wizard and her mum was a Muggle and she referred to herself as a halfblood. Like Kelly, Dina liked to shop with her friends and watch romantic movies. The other girl, named Meredith Stone, seemed to be the odd one out. She had jet black hair and piercing gray eyes. She was much less beautiful than the other two girls, but her smile was bright and cheery and, like Kelly's, permanently glued to her face. She turned out to be Kelly's cousin, so she was also a pureblood. Again, she was from Leeds, and in her free time, she liked to shop, swim, and watch romantic movies.
Boy, I don't think that boat ride could have gotten anymore boring. I never even got to say my name, let alone my life story.
When we reached land, I quickly got out of the boat and ran up towards the front of the group of first years. I was right in front of the large man who had greeted us off the train earlier.
"'Ello there, everyone. My name is Rebeus Hagrid. I am the Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts. I'd let to welcome yeh all here to Hogwarts. Now, in a couple of moments, we'll enter the school through those there doors and you'll be led to the Great Hall by the great Professor McGonagall. Now, will yeh please follow me," he said in a husky voice, waving everyone one to follow him. I smiled and followed him up the large stone steps and in through the enormous wooden doors to be greeted by a stern looking woman, very similar to Auntie Joy before her finding out of my acceptance to Hogwarts.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points," Professor McGonagall explained, receiving two rather loud annoyed sighs from the back of the crowd with her last statement. "At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
The room remained silent as she glanced around the crowd of students.
"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." With that, she turned around quickly, causing her robe to flare out, and walked into the Great Hall.
Almost immediately, the crowd erupted in chatting and laughing and other forms of immature communication, though I remained quiet.
"Hi, Lily," I heard a familiar squeaky voice from behind me. I turned around to see Peter standing, holding his hands behind his back nervously.
"Hello, Peter," I said happily, smiling at the sight of someone somewhat familiar. "Rather large crowd, eh?"
"Very," he replied.
He wasn't a very talkative young boy and, for some reason, I wasn't in the talkative mood, so we spent the next few minutes in silence.
"We're ready for you," came Professor McGonagall's voice over everyone. I heard gasps and shrieks of excitement as we followed her in, traipsing past long tables full of the prying eyes of the older students to a small stool with a dodgy looking hat resting on it. We stood in silence for a few agonizing moments before the brim of the hat opened widely and a glorious tune erupted from insideā¦
