It was raining. It was the kind of rain that starts up so suddenly that you don't really know what's happening...and then stops as quickly as it comes, before your mind quite registers the fact of rain. One person, however, was registering this fact very well. She was a 15-year old girl, with long auburn hair cascading down her shoulders in little waves. Her eyes were a brilliant green color; so bright and shiny that one might mistake them for emeralds. But right now, tears the sizes of coins were pouring out of those amazing green eyes.
The girl looked out from the window, her vision blurring because of her crying. She saw the rain, pounding hard on the sidewalks, trickling down the windows, making muddy puddles in the middle of the road. It had been raining on the day that...it happened, too. On that fateful day that her life had taken such an unexpected, dreadful twist. On that day that...no, the girl told herself fiercely. I will not remember it. I will forget. Remembering only causes pain...
And with that, the girl wiped off all the tears from her cheeks, plastered the fakest smile she could muster on her face, and walked off.
The girl's name was Lily Mariko Rose Evans. It was a name that her father had thought up of the second she was born, and it was a name that Lily had hated all her life. It was bad enough to be named after a flower, but to also have "rose" as her middle name was unbearable. However, this girl hardly acted like a sweet rose at all.
Lily walked over to the mirror and looked at herself. If, at this moment, Lily had been wearing a tube top and skirt, and had her hair up in a perfect bun and applied all her make-up, she would have looked like a human Barbie-doll. However, that was not the case. The image shown in the mirror was a 15-year old girl dressed in baggy black cargos and a blood red shirt that said in wispy letters, "Are you afraid of me?" There was absolutely no make-up on her face, and her hair was not exactly...combed. Instead of human Barbie-doll, she looked like a punk.
And that was exactly what she was.
Lily looked around her room, slowly taking in every detail. It was a gorgeous room, one that any 15-year old girl would have given anything to live in. It had an antique chest with a large, gold-plated mirror sitting on it, with every drawer of the chest filled with different make-up. Her bed was made covered with royal blue hangings and the mattress was as soft as clouds. Lily had 3 private phone-lines, one to call servants up to her room, one to call her friends, and one to call for take-out. 3 different colored, deluxe phones sat lazily on a beautiful mahogany desk sitting next to her bed. Her closet was absolutely filled with popular clothes and about 50 dresses. It was a teenage paradise.
However, there was one problem. Lily Evans happened to hate her room. She hated her whole house, which was a quasi-European mansion, probably the biggest mansion in all of England. She hated her life, her clothes, her shoes, her family...she was going through a life-sucks-and-you-do-too phase that didn't seem likely to pass anytime soon.
The redhead sighed and plopped herself onto her bed when the phone rang. The friends phone line.
Lily picked up her blue phone lazily, knowing that there could be only one person calling her on this phone line. That was because Lily had only one friend. Carrie.
"Hey Carrie," she said through a yawn.
"Morning Lils!" Came the excited voice of her best friend through the phone. "OK...I was thinking, maybe tomorrow, we could go shopping in Diagon Alley!"
"Uh...I don't know. I mean, you know Grandmother is about letting me out with...you know..."
"Magical folk? Yeah, I get that. I know your gran is all...against magic. But that hasn't stopped you from going to Hogwarts the past 4 years has it?"
"Yeah, I guess..."
"So, you're coming?"
"Fine."
"Good. Now, let's talk about...him."
Lily rolled her eyes, and tuned out her best friend's droning about her all-time favorite subject. James Potter.
Carrie was usually a punk, but when it came to James Potter, she sounded like one of those preppy girls who spent all their time at salons, doing their make up and talking about guys. Her best friend would just melt when she saw James Potter, and Lily always had to make sure she wouldn't actually drool in public.
Lily couldn't see why though. To her, James Potter was an arrogant, conceited, egotistical, jerk. It wasn't like she had actually talked to the guy, but everyone knew him. He was star of the Quidditch team, the guy with the "totally cute messed-up black hair and warm hazel eyes," the guy who dated every girl who he labeled as "easy," the guy who bullied everyone he felt like bullying...
And Carrie did not match as one of those girls who James Potter and his best friend, Sirius Black, labeled as "easy." Carrie was a hard core punk, who had, like Lily, never picked up a tube of lipstick before. The only make-up she owned was a bottle of black eyeliner, which she hadn't ever opened. She wore either black or red, like Lily, and chewed gum all the time, and never really took her homework that seriously. She used to have soft brown hair, but since she'd dyed it so many colors, it looked a crazy mixture of reddish mud with yellow streaks right now. Her eyes were mysterious and midnight blue, but Carrie sometimes wore purple color contacts, just to freak everyone out.
Lily and Carrie had been friends since their first year at their school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Like the school's name shows, Lily and Carrie were witches. They didn't have green, mottled skin and warty noses, but they used wands and cauldrons and flew on actual brooms. They were full-fledged, wonderful witches.
But Lily and Carrie were also outcasts. They barely spoke to anyone but each other, and usually spent their time scheming pranks and never playing them. That was because whenever the two girls played pranks, everyone thought that the Marauders, the four most popular guys in school (including Potter) had played them instead. So, the girls would just huddle in their own private corners, talk about pranks, backbite the preps, and have fun together. Lily enjoyed this kind of life though, without having any kind of contact with the "accepted" world and getting to spend all her time with her best friend.
"So, anyway, I saw James on the street...and I think he actually looked at me. I think we had a second of eye contact there. Oh my gosh, I love his hazel eyes..."
Lily sighed, told her best friend she had to go, and hung up. James Potter. God, I hate him. She thought.
The girl looked out from the window, her vision blurring because of her crying. She saw the rain, pounding hard on the sidewalks, trickling down the windows, making muddy puddles in the middle of the road. It had been raining on the day that...it happened, too. On that fateful day that her life had taken such an unexpected, dreadful twist. On that day that...no, the girl told herself fiercely. I will not remember it. I will forget. Remembering only causes pain...
And with that, the girl wiped off all the tears from her cheeks, plastered the fakest smile she could muster on her face, and walked off.
The girl's name was Lily Mariko Rose Evans. It was a name that her father had thought up of the second she was born, and it was a name that Lily had hated all her life. It was bad enough to be named after a flower, but to also have "rose" as her middle name was unbearable. However, this girl hardly acted like a sweet rose at all.
Lily walked over to the mirror and looked at herself. If, at this moment, Lily had been wearing a tube top and skirt, and had her hair up in a perfect bun and applied all her make-up, she would have looked like a human Barbie-doll. However, that was not the case. The image shown in the mirror was a 15-year old girl dressed in baggy black cargos and a blood red shirt that said in wispy letters, "Are you afraid of me?" There was absolutely no make-up on her face, and her hair was not exactly...combed. Instead of human Barbie-doll, she looked like a punk.
And that was exactly what she was.
Lily looked around her room, slowly taking in every detail. It was a gorgeous room, one that any 15-year old girl would have given anything to live in. It had an antique chest with a large, gold-plated mirror sitting on it, with every drawer of the chest filled with different make-up. Her bed was made covered with royal blue hangings and the mattress was as soft as clouds. Lily had 3 private phone-lines, one to call servants up to her room, one to call her friends, and one to call for take-out. 3 different colored, deluxe phones sat lazily on a beautiful mahogany desk sitting next to her bed. Her closet was absolutely filled with popular clothes and about 50 dresses. It was a teenage paradise.
However, there was one problem. Lily Evans happened to hate her room. She hated her whole house, which was a quasi-European mansion, probably the biggest mansion in all of England. She hated her life, her clothes, her shoes, her family...she was going through a life-sucks-and-you-do-too phase that didn't seem likely to pass anytime soon.
The redhead sighed and plopped herself onto her bed when the phone rang. The friends phone line.
Lily picked up her blue phone lazily, knowing that there could be only one person calling her on this phone line. That was because Lily had only one friend. Carrie.
"Hey Carrie," she said through a yawn.
"Morning Lils!" Came the excited voice of her best friend through the phone. "OK...I was thinking, maybe tomorrow, we could go shopping in Diagon Alley!"
"Uh...I don't know. I mean, you know Grandmother is about letting me out with...you know..."
"Magical folk? Yeah, I get that. I know your gran is all...against magic. But that hasn't stopped you from going to Hogwarts the past 4 years has it?"
"Yeah, I guess..."
"So, you're coming?"
"Fine."
"Good. Now, let's talk about...him."
Lily rolled her eyes, and tuned out her best friend's droning about her all-time favorite subject. James Potter.
Carrie was usually a punk, but when it came to James Potter, she sounded like one of those preppy girls who spent all their time at salons, doing their make up and talking about guys. Her best friend would just melt when she saw James Potter, and Lily always had to make sure she wouldn't actually drool in public.
Lily couldn't see why though. To her, James Potter was an arrogant, conceited, egotistical, jerk. It wasn't like she had actually talked to the guy, but everyone knew him. He was star of the Quidditch team, the guy with the "totally cute messed-up black hair and warm hazel eyes," the guy who dated every girl who he labeled as "easy," the guy who bullied everyone he felt like bullying...
And Carrie did not match as one of those girls who James Potter and his best friend, Sirius Black, labeled as "easy." Carrie was a hard core punk, who had, like Lily, never picked up a tube of lipstick before. The only make-up she owned was a bottle of black eyeliner, which she hadn't ever opened. She wore either black or red, like Lily, and chewed gum all the time, and never really took her homework that seriously. She used to have soft brown hair, but since she'd dyed it so many colors, it looked a crazy mixture of reddish mud with yellow streaks right now. Her eyes were mysterious and midnight blue, but Carrie sometimes wore purple color contacts, just to freak everyone out.
Lily and Carrie had been friends since their first year at their school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Like the school's name shows, Lily and Carrie were witches. They didn't have green, mottled skin and warty noses, but they used wands and cauldrons and flew on actual brooms. They were full-fledged, wonderful witches.
But Lily and Carrie were also outcasts. They barely spoke to anyone but each other, and usually spent their time scheming pranks and never playing them. That was because whenever the two girls played pranks, everyone thought that the Marauders, the four most popular guys in school (including Potter) had played them instead. So, the girls would just huddle in their own private corners, talk about pranks, backbite the preps, and have fun together. Lily enjoyed this kind of life though, without having any kind of contact with the "accepted" world and getting to spend all her time with her best friend.
"So, anyway, I saw James on the street...and I think he actually looked at me. I think we had a second of eye contact there. Oh my gosh, I love his hazel eyes..."
Lily sighed, told her best friend she had to go, and hung up. James Potter. God, I hate him. She thought.