Pranks Abound
Disclaimer: if I owned anything you recognize here, I'd be writing my last book by now… *hint hint*
Note: this is set in Lily's POV. She'll explain her situation aptly, so I don't have to brief you here. :)
I still remember the first day I set foot on Platform 9¾. Only my parents accompanied me. Petunia, naturally, thought too highly of herself to be caught dead at Kings' Cross. But, I guess the fact that she was jealous of all the attention given to me aided her decision to stay at home and mope. Six years later, and about to enter Platform 9¾ for the last time, I can't help but become nostalgic.
My parents, especially dad, were so proud. I was a witch! I could change things, really change things. In primary school, I was always a shaker, so I thought I'd continue the tradition in secondary school. When I got my letter, I wouldn't dare open it for days! I placed it on my dresser, stare at the intricate border of the envelope, and trace the familiar words with my fingers. I had never heard of Hogwarts before… For all I knew, it was a government organization planning to take me away from my parents! I wouldn't mind so much if I didn't have to see Petunia, but I'd miss mum and dad terribly, I thought.
On the third day, I finally opened the letter, taking care not to rip it, because the parchment was wonderfully fine and the ink was wonderfully dark, certainly heirloom material. Reading through my letter, I saw what materials I needed, and I was at a loss at where to find them! Where could one find a wand, a cauldron, school *robes* for bloody hell? As far as I knew, the term used for secondary school uniforms was just that. Uniforms! Searching the contents of my envelope, I saw a note scrawled on the back of my booklist. It read:
Dear Ms. Evans,
Considering your Muggle history, I am sending over a trusted advisor to help you procure your materials for the coming school year. Mr. Potter and his son will arrive promptly at your house on July 29 and bring you to London.
Kindest Regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Fascinated by the note, I ran to my parent's room, brandishing my letter. Reading it over, my mum asked me, rather apprehensively, "Are these people normal?" I told her plainly that if they were normal and they knew where to find all this stuff in London, that either made *us* country bumpkins or abnormal. My mum disliked the choices given to her, and kept her mouth shut.
So I passed the days, waiting, waiting, waiting… Nothing my family could do would get me away from the window. I'd tell Petunia I'd hex her if she didn't bring me my meals. Snottily she told me that I didn't know any spells yet and I told her—just as snottily, mind you—that I had to have some sort of magic, otherwise they wouldn't have picked me.
July 29 came and nearly went. At six o'clock in the evening, I gave up my post and ran up to my room, thinking it was a horrible, cruel joke set up by Petunia. Taking my dinner in the dining room for the first time in weeks, I moped around until about eleven, when I decided to sleep. Lying awake, I threw my tennis ball up to the ceiling, delighted to hear the sound it made. Then, unexpectedly, I heard knocking on my window. Sitting up abruptly in bed, I gaped at the window, for it showed the smiling face of a little boy—a boy I've never seen before! My stomach turning, I headed carefully towards the window, grabbing a baseball bat on the way over.
"Hi! You must be Lily!" said a high, shrill voice, typical of an eleven- year-old.
"And you are?"
"Hi! I'm James Potter! My dad and I were supposed to pick you up this morning, but we forgot. Are you mad?"
"Mad? Yes, I'm mad! I've been sitting by that bloody window for three weeks now!" I whispered tersely, waving my bat around my head. The lampshade fell of my lamp and onto my head, resulting in James snorting and pointing at me rudely. Thrusting it off and leveling my bat like a lance I asked him,
"Well? Are you bringing me to London or not? Answer right, and you won't have a dent in your already damaged head!"
"No need to get upset. We're bringing you to London, you'll be staying with our friends, the Bones'. Do you mind?"
"Haven't you learned by now not to ask stupid questions?"
"Wha-? That was a legitimate question!"
"What was your name again, John?"
"James." The smile slipping slightly.
"James, right. Now, James, do you really know where to get all this stuff, or are you just fooling around?"
"I resent that. Dumbledore himself wrote to you, telling you that we were going to help out! If you'd rather show up to class unprepared, or not show up at all, it's fine with me."
"James!" Warned a deep voice, somewhere near the front of our bungalow.
"That's my dad." He smiled, all aggression forgotten. "Isn't he cool?"
Sticking my head out of my window and craning my head around, I saw what appeared to be a tall man with unruly black hair, a fit black leather jacket, and black slacks leaning against our wall, smoking a cigarette. A regular beatnik!
"Yeah, he's wicked awesome!" I admitted, unable to hide the awe in my voice.
Mr. Potter sauntered over to my window and extended his hand, offering me his thousand-watt smile.
"So you're Lily, I take it. Now dear, have you packed your trunk?"
"Oh no sir, Mr. Potter. I only found out now that I was supposed to be staying in London for the rest of my summer hols. I run and pack now. Would you like to come in?"
"That would be lovely, dear."
Rushing to the front door, I debated whether or not to tell my parents that my ride to London was here. I decided to let them the Potter's in first so my parents couldn't yell at me without getting embarrassed. Showing the Potters to the living room, I dashed off to my parent's room, announcing proudly that we had guests and they had better wake up, because the guests were bloody well important.
Too tired and sleepy to reprimand me for my language, my parent's got dressed without a murmur and slouched off to the living room. James and his father were playing with the knobs on the television. They both stood up when my parents walked in, and took a deep bow. I heard Mr. Potter mutter to James,
"Muggles, son. Must be polite. They might prattle to the ministry." James knowingly nodded his head and stood to attention.
Summarily, Mr. Potter explained to my parents that he was bringing me to London and bringing me back safely when the school year was over. When given the go-ahead, James dashed to my room to help me pack.
"So, how many pairs of knickers do you need?" He asked with a grin, holding up my pink lacies.
"Put those down!"
"Fine, fine. So, what do I do?"
"Go back downstairs to your dad and try not to break anything!"
"Aw Lil, you're no fun."
"Just because I won't let you scrounge around in my room doesn't mean that I'm no fun. Oh alright, you can sit on my bed and talk to me."
"Yes ma'am!" He saluted, then bounced over to my bed.
Packing all my underwear, all my clothes, and some of my books, I yelled through the doorway,
"Can somebody out there help me with my trunk?"
I heard footsteps on the hardwood floor and was surprised to see Mr. Potter smiling at me. My parents *never* let anyone past the living room. This Mr. Potter must be a real charmer, I thought. Boy, I didn't know the half of it.
Pulling my trunk out of the house, he gave my parents a goodbye nod and a smile and yelled for James to come along. Kissing my mum and dad goodbye, I ran after the Potters and out into the night.
Disclaimer: if I owned anything you recognize here, I'd be writing my last book by now… *hint hint*
Note: this is set in Lily's POV. She'll explain her situation aptly, so I don't have to brief you here. :)
I still remember the first day I set foot on Platform 9¾. Only my parents accompanied me. Petunia, naturally, thought too highly of herself to be caught dead at Kings' Cross. But, I guess the fact that she was jealous of all the attention given to me aided her decision to stay at home and mope. Six years later, and about to enter Platform 9¾ for the last time, I can't help but become nostalgic.
My parents, especially dad, were so proud. I was a witch! I could change things, really change things. In primary school, I was always a shaker, so I thought I'd continue the tradition in secondary school. When I got my letter, I wouldn't dare open it for days! I placed it on my dresser, stare at the intricate border of the envelope, and trace the familiar words with my fingers. I had never heard of Hogwarts before… For all I knew, it was a government organization planning to take me away from my parents! I wouldn't mind so much if I didn't have to see Petunia, but I'd miss mum and dad terribly, I thought.
On the third day, I finally opened the letter, taking care not to rip it, because the parchment was wonderfully fine and the ink was wonderfully dark, certainly heirloom material. Reading through my letter, I saw what materials I needed, and I was at a loss at where to find them! Where could one find a wand, a cauldron, school *robes* for bloody hell? As far as I knew, the term used for secondary school uniforms was just that. Uniforms! Searching the contents of my envelope, I saw a note scrawled on the back of my booklist. It read:
Dear Ms. Evans,
Considering your Muggle history, I am sending over a trusted advisor to help you procure your materials for the coming school year. Mr. Potter and his son will arrive promptly at your house on July 29 and bring you to London.
Kindest Regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Fascinated by the note, I ran to my parent's room, brandishing my letter. Reading it over, my mum asked me, rather apprehensively, "Are these people normal?" I told her plainly that if they were normal and they knew where to find all this stuff in London, that either made *us* country bumpkins or abnormal. My mum disliked the choices given to her, and kept her mouth shut.
So I passed the days, waiting, waiting, waiting… Nothing my family could do would get me away from the window. I'd tell Petunia I'd hex her if she didn't bring me my meals. Snottily she told me that I didn't know any spells yet and I told her—just as snottily, mind you—that I had to have some sort of magic, otherwise they wouldn't have picked me.
July 29 came and nearly went. At six o'clock in the evening, I gave up my post and ran up to my room, thinking it was a horrible, cruel joke set up by Petunia. Taking my dinner in the dining room for the first time in weeks, I moped around until about eleven, when I decided to sleep. Lying awake, I threw my tennis ball up to the ceiling, delighted to hear the sound it made. Then, unexpectedly, I heard knocking on my window. Sitting up abruptly in bed, I gaped at the window, for it showed the smiling face of a little boy—a boy I've never seen before! My stomach turning, I headed carefully towards the window, grabbing a baseball bat on the way over.
"Hi! You must be Lily!" said a high, shrill voice, typical of an eleven- year-old.
"And you are?"
"Hi! I'm James Potter! My dad and I were supposed to pick you up this morning, but we forgot. Are you mad?"
"Mad? Yes, I'm mad! I've been sitting by that bloody window for three weeks now!" I whispered tersely, waving my bat around my head. The lampshade fell of my lamp and onto my head, resulting in James snorting and pointing at me rudely. Thrusting it off and leveling my bat like a lance I asked him,
"Well? Are you bringing me to London or not? Answer right, and you won't have a dent in your already damaged head!"
"No need to get upset. We're bringing you to London, you'll be staying with our friends, the Bones'. Do you mind?"
"Haven't you learned by now not to ask stupid questions?"
"Wha-? That was a legitimate question!"
"What was your name again, John?"
"James." The smile slipping slightly.
"James, right. Now, James, do you really know where to get all this stuff, or are you just fooling around?"
"I resent that. Dumbledore himself wrote to you, telling you that we were going to help out! If you'd rather show up to class unprepared, or not show up at all, it's fine with me."
"James!" Warned a deep voice, somewhere near the front of our bungalow.
"That's my dad." He smiled, all aggression forgotten. "Isn't he cool?"
Sticking my head out of my window and craning my head around, I saw what appeared to be a tall man with unruly black hair, a fit black leather jacket, and black slacks leaning against our wall, smoking a cigarette. A regular beatnik!
"Yeah, he's wicked awesome!" I admitted, unable to hide the awe in my voice.
Mr. Potter sauntered over to my window and extended his hand, offering me his thousand-watt smile.
"So you're Lily, I take it. Now dear, have you packed your trunk?"
"Oh no sir, Mr. Potter. I only found out now that I was supposed to be staying in London for the rest of my summer hols. I run and pack now. Would you like to come in?"
"That would be lovely, dear."
Rushing to the front door, I debated whether or not to tell my parents that my ride to London was here. I decided to let them the Potter's in first so my parents couldn't yell at me without getting embarrassed. Showing the Potters to the living room, I dashed off to my parent's room, announcing proudly that we had guests and they had better wake up, because the guests were bloody well important.
Too tired and sleepy to reprimand me for my language, my parent's got dressed without a murmur and slouched off to the living room. James and his father were playing with the knobs on the television. They both stood up when my parents walked in, and took a deep bow. I heard Mr. Potter mutter to James,
"Muggles, son. Must be polite. They might prattle to the ministry." James knowingly nodded his head and stood to attention.
Summarily, Mr. Potter explained to my parents that he was bringing me to London and bringing me back safely when the school year was over. When given the go-ahead, James dashed to my room to help me pack.
"So, how many pairs of knickers do you need?" He asked with a grin, holding up my pink lacies.
"Put those down!"
"Fine, fine. So, what do I do?"
"Go back downstairs to your dad and try not to break anything!"
"Aw Lil, you're no fun."
"Just because I won't let you scrounge around in my room doesn't mean that I'm no fun. Oh alright, you can sit on my bed and talk to me."
"Yes ma'am!" He saluted, then bounced over to my bed.
Packing all my underwear, all my clothes, and some of my books, I yelled through the doorway,
"Can somebody out there help me with my trunk?"
I heard footsteps on the hardwood floor and was surprised to see Mr. Potter smiling at me. My parents *never* let anyone past the living room. This Mr. Potter must be a real charmer, I thought. Boy, I didn't know the half of it.
Pulling my trunk out of the house, he gave my parents a goodbye nod and a smile and yelled for James to come along. Kissing my mum and dad goodbye, I ran after the Potters and out into the night.