A/N: While sitting in front of my computer one day, I decided that OASA chapter one needed rewriting. And then I decided that OASA chapter two needed rewriting. And suddenly, I figured out that I wanted to rewrite all the current chapters of OASA… except maybe chapter 5. It seems horribly clichéd, and I didn't want it to be horribly clichéd, so I decided to rewrite. I have a feeling that it's gonna turn out horribly clichéd anyway. -.-;;
Anyway, as a result, the story is taken down… and chapter one is the only one up at the moment. This chapter was longer than I initially thought it was going to be .O. Took much longer to write as well… but whatcha gonna do about it? ^.^ Hahaha. More scenes added in… more details… a lot more nonsense that has no relevant importance to the story. Oh well.
see you the next time I'm bored outta my mind and decide to write… that is if anyone actually still reads this o.O
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters that you recognize from the Harry Potter realm. I do, however, own everyone else that you don't recognize. Like Chloe. And Alexa. And Joey. And… yeah. That's it. ^.~
Only A Step Awayi. my first magical experience
ii. moving
iii. meeting james potter
iv. my second magical experience
v. broomsticks
vi. diagon alley
vii. new friends
viii. sisters
ix. rekindling friendships, losing sisters
x. back to the present
i. my first magical experience
My first magical experience was when I was only six years old. My mum insisted to have one of her parties in our overly large house. Petunia and I, of course, had to be there and act like the good daughters we were. We dressed up in our little fancy, frilly dresses with our little black dress shoes, and were pushed down into admiring group of adults.
Petunia loved the attention. She would curtsey, and answer questions with thought, and cuteness. They adored Petunia. I, however, was terrified of them. Especially Aunt Theresa who insists on pinching my cheeks rather hard every time she sees me. Hiding behind Petunia, I only evaded capture for so long. Aunt Theresa soon spotted me behind Petunia's thin frame, and I was hugged and kissed until my head was silly.
Later, I nursed my injuries in an empty room. I clutched a small necklace to me—a delicate crystal lily hanging off a silver chain which Aunt Theresa had given me. I was happy that all my suffering at least got me a new gift. Petunia came then, her thin blond hair hanging around her face, plaited in two braids.
"Hey," she snapped rather forcefully. Petunia didn't really like me back then. She never liked me, period. "Whatcha got there?"
"It's mine," I had sniffled, clutching it more tightly. "You can't have it."
"Give it here," she ordered, hands out, eyes greedy as she caught sight of the necklace.
"No."
"Listen, Lillian," Petunia snapped, her bony face thrust right into mine, "you better give me that necklace if you know what's good for you."
"I won't," I said defiantly, but quivering under her glare. "It's mine. Auntie gave it to me. It even has a lily on it… not a petunia."
She grabbed me roughly, nearly biting my hands to force it to open. I struggled, trying to hit her with my other fist, but my older sister was too strong. She was two years older, and had two extra years to grow strong. Triumphantly, Petunia stepped back once my grip gave, holding the necklace in her hands.
"Give that back," I demanded hotly, tears pouring out of my eyes. Petunia just laughed nastily, and held it out of reach.
"It's mine now, little sister. You ought to know by now that the older one always gets the better things. And if you tell mum, I swear you'll be in so much trouble that you'll regret even being born."
My tears dripped off my chain, and I felt a hot white flash of anger rush through me. Rubbing my eyes, I stomped my feet, glaring at that necklace Petunia was dangling right in front of my face. It swung right to left, right to left, and I concentrated all my hate for my sister into that tiny little crystal lily. My sister's cruel laughter ringing in my ears. In the next moment, it burst. The explosion was too small to hurt anyone, but my sister dropped the chain like fire. She stared in shock at the chain—the only thing that was left of the necklace. I glared at her, fists clenched tightly.
Petunia picked it up, and yelped, dropping her hand. She looked at the hand and it had a small snaking band of red where the chain had been. The chain had burned her. Petunia's eyebrows furrowed together, and she backed away from me. "You stay away from me… you freak!"
She rushed away, leaving me alone in the room. Wiping the tears away from my face, I picked up the necklace, wondering what had happened. The lily was back on the chain now, whole and glittering under the dim light. It was like the whole episode had never happened. I picked it up, and tucked it in my pocket, returning to the party.
I threw the necklace out later that night.
My sister was never the same after that. Her hatred for me grew, and she muttered freak every time I was close enough. I soon learned to ignore her insults, but I always felt a twinge of hurt whenever she talked at me like that.
~*~
ii. moving
I moved from the house when I was eight-turning-nine. I lived in that house since I was born, and knew it inside out. All of it's rooms, it's nooks and crannies—especially the nooks, and the memories of everything that happened in that spacious place.
The porch where my mum's tea friends always sat out on when it was sunny. They chattered over the latest fashions, and those awful teenagers rampaging about half-dressed.
The dining room where the main part of my mum's parties were centred. Everyone always mingled there, laughing and catching up on old times.
The backyard apple tree which I always climbed to my mum's horror.
The secret attic room which I only know about. That was my favourite place to hide whenever my sister was feeling particularly nasty towards me.
My parents were all muggle. They had no clue about unicorns, wands, magic. My mum, however, inadvertently introduced me to magic really. She was fluttering around our house, restless, looking for adventure. My father liked our place just as it was. He liked normality, and yet, my mother preferred great adventures. She was curious, he was not, but they were so in love with each other. My father would do anything for her to make her happy, and he did.
He took her by the hand, and led her into another room. Petunia and I scrambled to the door to listen in on their conversation. She hissed freak at me before pushing me away with her long arms. I scrambled angrily back, muttering freak right back at her. We soon quieted to listen to my parents' hushed voices.
"—adventure, that's all, Harold. It's getting dull around here. The same old house. Same old neighbourhood. Same old people. I want to move. Look for some adventure… something to keep me occupied," my mum had said, sounding distressed. "There's nothing to do here anymore!"
My father was probably very deep in thought, for he didn't say a word for a minute or two. My mum grew worried, "Oh, I know you like it here. Forget I even mentioned it, Harry. It was a silly idea…"
"Meg, if you really want to move… we'll move. I can always get used to new surroundings. I hate seeing you so listless. We'll move then."
There was a scrape of chairs, and the door flung open too quick for us to react. Petunia and I tumbled into the room. I fell on top of my disgruntled sister. My parents stared at us, amused, and then my mum said what we all knew already, "Girls… we're moving!"
~*~
iii. meeting james potter
In five months time, my parents found the perfect house. I agreed… Petunia didn't. She didn't want to move. She had friends in our old neighbourhood. Decent grades, teachers she liked well enough, and, I was beginning to suspect, a very unhealthy crush on a certain two year elder boy by the name of Vernon Dursley. Heck, she even made friends with his sister, Marge, who was the most horrid girl I had ever met.
The house was old and rickety, but strong. It was built on top of a small hill. Stone steps led up to the large house, which had a wrap around porch. The house had a large backyard, and beyond the yard was a thick forest of evergreens, and a lone twisted oak in the middle of the yard. It was painted a buttery yellow on the outside, with three floors and six bedrooms.
It was wonderful—bigger than our old house and cheap as well. The owner was in a hurry to sell. He muttered something about abnormal neighbours, and explosions. My mum was delighted to have found such a wonderful house, and with eccentric neighbours, she would never get bored.
We moved in a month later. It was July, and I turned nine, and Petunia turned eleven. It was some strange joke between us that we were only born a week apart. We would always celebrate on my birthday, for it came first. Petunia often whined about this, saying they should celebrate on the older one's birthday. When she heard about the 'abnormal strangers', she was terrified. She refused to go out and meet them.
We had to do nothing of the sort. The Potters came over to our house, all smiles. It was almost an exact mirror of my family. Well, not exactly. They had a boy, my age with them. He told me he was eight-going-on nine, and I proudly said that I was already nine. He scowled, and said, "You're no better cos you're older than me."
I agreed, and told him that my sister often thought herself better than me because she was older. His sister was a year older than him. Tresya and James didn't like each other that much, but still tolerated each other. Petunia and her became quick friends. They absolutely refused to let me join in on their conversation. That was fine with me… anyone who liked Petunia was certainly not my friend. Instead, I took to hanging around James, who didn't mind my company.
I remember our first conversation very clearly. He had grinned, his glasses slipping further down on his nose. He pushed it back up to the bridge of his nose, and then, "Hiya. My name's James Potter and I live right across the street."
"I'm Lily," I said mistrustfully. He had wild black hair that was sticking up everywhere, and his glasses looked too big for his face.
He grinned, and then, "You want to play a game?"
"What game?"
He tagged me, "You're it!" He ran away, leaving me staring after him in shock. It took me a second before I reacted. I raced after him—out the front door and around the porch. He jumped off it, and I followed, landing on the grass with a thump. I got up, and went right after him into our backyard. He circled the oak tree twice, leaving me kind of dizzy before dashing into the forest.
He certainly knew his way around that was for sure. But he had lived here for six years, while I only lived here for six days. We ran through trees, under logs, through streams, mud, leaves, until we finally emerged in another backyard. He raced up the porch and through the French doors of the new house. I didn't give a thought about it, and raced after him.
James bumped into someone, and I screeched to a stop. Standing in front of us, looking slightly amused, was a man who looked nearly exactly like James. He picked up his son, and looked at me, eyeing my matted red hair, my smudged cheeks, torn jeans, muddy shirt and shoes. He grinned at us, sent James off to clean up, and led me by the hand back across the street to my house.
My mum answered the door, and stared in shock at me. She thanked Mr. Potter for bringing me back. Father appeared then, weary from the move, and even more weary as he stared at my messy look. I was guilty then, for making my father worry more. Mum invited Mr. Potter in for tea, but he refused.
"James is not a very… calm. I do not think that the house el—" he stumbled then, and changed his words. "Servants… yes, house servants would be very safe with him loose." Mother chuckled, letting him go, and Mrs. Potter went as well, along with Tresya. I, however, was pondering the stumble of his words.
Mother directed me to the baths, Petunia staring scornfully at me. I glared back, and she sniffed, turning to go watch the television. Father just sighed, exasperated, and left to go finish unpacking. Mother just looked at me with a knowing look in her eyes, along with that familiar sparkle. At least she understood me.
Needless to say, James and I became close friends.
~*~
iv. my second magical experience
When I was ten, James and I were playing in the forest. He was telling me once of this amazing animal he saw here, and was eagerly looking for it again. I asked him what it was, and his eyes screwed up in confusion as he tried to explain. He couldn't remember the name and just called it a 'horned horse'.
"You mean a unicorn?" I asked curiously, "But unicorns don't exist."
"Of course they do, Lily," he had said impatiently, "They live in forests and don't like humans very much. Although, I heard my dad say to my mum that they liked girls better. That's why you're here."
"Are you pulling my strings James Potter?" I demanded hotly, "I'm not stupid. Unicorns don't exist. They're only animals from story books, and stuff. I read them, and asked mum, and she said there was no such thing…"
He didn't answer, and we spent the day wandering through the forest, looking behind trees and shrubs. He even poked at a rather large rock, and looked under it. All we found were some interesting bugs, and a fat frog in a pond.
"Oh well. You wouldn't have been able to see it anyway," James scoffed. "Muggles can't see unicorns in some sense. They always know when they're around and run far away."
"What's a muggle?" I asked suspiciously.
We arrived in the backyard then, and Mrs. Potter overheard us. She shot a look at James who quieted, and didn't answer me. I asked him the question again, and he effectively changed the subject. After that, he never took me to look for unicorns again, and didn't even mention the word muggle anymore.
A few months later, I wandered into the forest by myself. I was walking along a small bubbling brook when a flash of gold caught my eye. I shot a look to my left, and crossed the brook, looking around for the gold. I thought, perhaps, that someone had lost their gold chain necklace. What I found, instead, was a quiet gold horse peering out at me with doleful eyes. It had a short horn sprouting from it's forehead. My eyes widened, and I trotted forward a few steps.
The unicorn snorted, and took off in a flash. I turned, disappointed, and rushed to the Potters to tell James what I saw. James looked uncomfortable when I told him I saw a unicorn, and said in a nasty voice, "Unicorns don't exist, Lily. You're a big baby if you think they do."
"But you said that they do exist!" I protested, "You said so yourself. Remember?"
"No," he said flatly, "Unicorns don't exist. You must've been imagining things."
I walked away from his house, thoroughly confused. I thought for sure I saw the unicorn. I spent the night pondering over this, and began to doubt myself. Perhaps I hadn't seen the one-horned beast. Maybe it was just my imagination running away from me. It had been a hot day, and I thought I had seen a small person with wings earlier.
Deciding that James was right, I discarded the idea of unicorns for good and went on with my life.
~*~
v. broomsticks
The night before my eleventh birthday, my mum came into my room. She patted down my covers, and told me to sit down with her. She grinned at me, "It's time for a nice little chat with my little girl. I haven't talked to you by yourself for ages. You're always hanging around James."
"I guess," I said, putting down my book, and sitting on my bed with my mom. Truth was, I always avoided hanging out with Petunia as much as possible. She was going to turn thirteen next week, and being a near teenager made her think that hanging out with her little sister was even more un-cool. She was being as nasty to me as possible.
"Lily, dear, I really think you ought to find new friends instead of James. Ms. Kensington says that you only hang out with James and no one else. I hear there are some nice girls in your class that you refuse to talk to…"
"Mum," I whined, "I don't like them! They only act like Petunia! It's horrible."
"Now, Lily. Your sister doesn't act horrible. I just really think that you should learn to make new friends. James isn't going to be going to Atwood all his life you know."
"Mum," I said, "Is James moving or something?"
"No, his mum just told me that he was going to boarding school instead of Atwood. Somewhere far away, she said. I'm just worried that you won't have anyone else to hang out with next year."
"Boarding school? Can I go to mum?" I must've looked pretty eager then, "I wouldn't have to see Petunia all year until the summer. It'll be fantastic!"
"Flower," my mom said gently, "You can't go to his school. Mrs. Potter said that it was extremely difficult to get James in, and they've just closed applications…"
My face fell, and my mum sighed again, "Don't worry, flower. You and James will still be friends. It's just that you'll only see him in the summer, not in school anymore."
I nodded glumly, and she left me quietly after kissing me good night. The next day, I sneaked over to James's house. He was carrying a broom with him, whistling cheerfully. I scrambled to my feet, and tackled him forcefully onto the ground. With an grunt, James fell, and I sat on top of him, arms crossed.
"Lily!" He snapped, wheezing, "Geroff! You're too heavy."
"Not until I get some answers, Mr. Potter," I snapped childishly.
"About what?" He grumbled, trying unsuccessfully to push me off him.
"My mum says that you're going to a boarding school. Is it true?"
"Well, yes," he said, beaming, "It's a very private school. I got my acceptance letter last week, you know."
"What's the name of this school?" I demanded.
"Err… St. Homer's School for Boys?" he said weakly.
"That's sexist," I said, repeating the word I learnt. It was my word of the week. "Girls should get to attend too."
"Sexist? What in the world does that mean?"
"It means that you think boys are better than girls," I said slowly, and then recited from my dictionary, "it's discrimination against the other gender."
He must've caught the general meaning of it. James muttered under his breath about large words, and smart girls who were too heavy for their own good. I resisted the urge to jab him in the eyes with a stick.
"Well, you girls have all girls schools too," James had grumbled, turning a shade paler, "now get off me before I suffocate!"
I got off him, and helped him to his feet. My eyes suddenly gazed at his broomstick, and I wondered, 'why in the world would James Potter carry around a broomstick?'
He followed my gaze, and cringed. He snatched the broom, holding it tight to him, and tried to walk past me and back into the house. I blocked his path, "What's that?"
"A broom, Lily," he said, clearly agitated. "Now, please, let me go back into my house."
"What for?"
"To clean, what else? You think it can fly or something?" he smirked.
"Let me see," I demanded, determined to see what's so special about it.
"No," he said, his voice edging on to being frantic, "mum loves this broom. She'll hate it if someone breaks it or anything…"
"I won't hurt it! It's my birthday. You haveta do everything I say, James Potter."
"Do not," he argued back, his grip loosening on the broom. Spying my chance, I reached out and snatched it out of his hands before he could do anything. A trick I'd learn from Petunia—she wasn't useless after all.
My eyes widened in shock as the broom began vibrating wildly in my grasp. James frowned, and I could see that he wasn't expecting that to happen either, but with an entirely different reason why it shouldn't have happened. I bit down on my tongue to stop my oncoming scream. I let go of the broom, and stepped back.
The broom seemed to have a mind of it's own. It hung in mid-air, the perfect height for me to climb on. I tentatively swiped the air above it and below it. There were no strings attached to it, and it seemed like magic of some sort. I snorted at that, and then, the broom bucked wildly. My eyes and James's stared as it shot up straight into the sky, and nearly de-feathered an owl.
My eyes focused on the barn owl. It was carrying a message. I looked at it in confusion. Weren't owls nocturnal? (nocturnal was my word of the week two weeks ago). It squawked indignantly as the broom came after it again, and dropped the message in the grass in front of me. It lighted out of there, clearly having enough of the crazy broom.
Trembling, I grabbed the note off the ground. It was a thick envelope, made out of a heavy sort of paper. Written on the front, in spidery writing in green ink…
Ms. Lily Evans
Beside the Cherry Tree
On the GrassPotter Residence's Backyard
I didn't utter a sound. Instead, a black haze suddenly clouded my eyes as someone nearby yelled 'stupefy' and I collapsed. I welcomed the darkness, and fell asleep happily.
I awoke the Potter's guestroom. My eyes were still hazy, and the bright light rushing in from the windows made them hurt. I screwed them up tightly and sighed, burrowing deeper into the comforters. The slamming of the door made me jump up out of bed. Frowning, I eyed the clock to my right, which pointed to 'time to get up you lazy slug'.
I blinked, and it said 2:54. Nodding in satisfaction, I crept from my bed, pressing my ear right up against the door, trying desperately to figure out all that I've seen before I blacked out. In fact, I wasn't entirely sure why I blacked out. I've never fainted in my life…
"—didn't have to stupefy her…"
"Of course I had to Michael," Mrs. Potter's voice sounded harsh, "I didn't know what in the world to do. But I've found the letter now and…"
"Well, in any case, the girl will have to be obliviated."
"We can't do that," she said impatiently, "she's…"
"Why can't we obliviate her, Eve? She's a muggle—"
They kept cutting each other off, and I was getting a tad impatient. What in the world was a muggle? Why would they have to 'obliviate' me? It sounded painful whatever it was.
"She's a witch, dammit!" Mrs. Potter's voice rang out through the house, and I had cracked the door open a slither so I could peer out. Mr. Potter looked shocked at this, and then lowered his voice as they began to whisper together. A pair of legs suddenly blocked her view, and the door flung open. I had scrambled back, and James stood in front of me, staring at me weirdly.
He demanded, "You're a witch?"
"I don't know," I wailed, "Why in the heck would I be a witch for?"
"I dunno either," James shrugged. "But you got your letter, so that means you're magical… like us, ya know?"
"Magic doesn't exist," I sniffed, rubbing my hand across my eyes.
"That's what you said about unicorns, and look how wrong you were there," he answered back cheekily.
"Stuff a sock in it, James Potter. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes I do."
"You're magical too then?"
"Yup… and we're both going to go to Hogwarts together, and we're going to learn magic together," he said promptly.
"Wonderful," I had said weakly, and slumped, amazed, against the bed.
~*~
vi. diagon alley
Things didn't turn out exactly as James's wished. When my the Potters finally explained everything to my parents, they were delighted. My mum beamed, "A witch! Can you imagine? Being able to do magic sounds fascinating."
"Our own little magical daughter," my father said gruffly, fluffing up my hair fondly. "You'll make us very proud, tiger-lily."
My sister stared angrily at me. When my parents had left to talk to the Potters about where to get my school things, and the wizarding world, my sister slithered up to me. She glowered.
"I always knew there was something nasty and wrong about you freak," Petunia taunted, blond hair hanging around her. Her face was painted in the muggle make-up. Her lips were an ugly shade of bright red, and she had too much mascara and eye shadow on. "You and that freak family are going to that freak school so you can become more freakier. Well, I'll tell you what Lillian Victoria Evans, you are no sister of mine!"
She tossed her hair, sneered one more time, and trotted out of the room, leaving me staring in shock after her. My sister and I were never the same after that little episode. Petunia refused to acknowledge my existence at all. When dad would finally breathe his last a few years later, she would become even more distant with me because I couldn't save him.
The Potters brought me and James to Diagon Alley the very next day. We arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, and my mum and dad stared anxiously at it. "Is it really there, Lily? We can't see anything at all…"
"It's there, mum. Look. Right beside that old record shop there."
Indeed, the dingy pub seemed to bring no notice to any of the people walking down the street. The Potters beamed, and ushered us inside, James grinning eagerly. Pushing us out into the back, after waving at the young bartender, Tom, Mrs. Potter whipped out a stick. Fascinated, I stared at it, and blurted out, "Is that a wand?"
"Why, yes it is, Lily dear," she said proudly, "Twelve and three quarters, made of ash with a griffon tail hair. You'll be getting one too."
"Oh," I breathed, staring, "Can we get that first?"
"Sure thing," she smiled.
Mrs. Potter then returned to what she was doing when James made a little noise of impatience. She tapped a brick, and stepped back with a flourish. The bricks shifted until they formed a gate, and I stared in amazement. James didn't look on in awe—he had already seen this done plenty of time. Instead he pelted in.
"C'mon Lils. Gringotts is right over there."
"Gringotts?" I shouted back, confused.
"Wizarding bank," Mr. Potter supplied, "You can change your muggle pounds for knuts, sickles, and galleons of course."
"Oh," I said. This was all too much to take in for an eleven year old.
After a nauseating trip down into the Gringott's depths, the Evans exchanged their pounds for wizarding money. They also opened an account for Lily, and said when their daughter protested, "You'll need it when you're out of school, dear. It's not too much trouble at all…"
The Potters then swept us out of the large building. Mrs. Potter grinned, "Off to get your wands then, I suppose. Come on now, dears. To Ollivanders."
The dingy shop looked very old, and quite frightening to me. Mrs. Potter just ushered us inside, and my parents and I stood off to the side, uncertainly. The room was piled with narrowed boxes from floor to ceiling. They looked like shoe boxes, but, I reasoned, they were probably wand boxes.
A short creepy man wandered in then, eyes misty and in an half-moon shape. He didn't look at all surprised to see us, instead he smiled cheerily, "Customers!"
Mrs. Potter grinned, "Hullo there, Mr. Ollivander."
"Aye, Eve Mardon! I remember you quite well. Twelve and three quarters, ash, and a single griffon hair, am I not mistaken? Very nice wand that was, but I suspect was very difficult to work."
"Yessir," she smiled, "but it's Potter now, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, Eve Potter," he muttered, and then spied Mr. Potter. "Michael Potter! Eleven and a half inches, walnut, and a dragon claw! A very strange combination, I say. Very strange. But a powerful wand… excellent for duelling."
"It is," Mr. Potter grinned fingering his wand, "I won many duels with my trusty wand."
"And this must be young Mr. Potter. You look very much like your father, son. What's your name?"
"James Potter," he answered, blinking up at him. "My parents told me about you."
"Did they now?" Mr. Ollivander mused, and then turned his eyes on me. "Now, what's this? A new witch! What's your name, dear?"
"Lily Evans," I replied confidently, although inward my insides twisted in nervousness. What if I didn't find a wand fit for me, and they sent me away saying it was all a mistake? What if they obliviated me? Whatever that means…
He nodded unnecessarily, and took out two measuring tapes. "Now hold out your wand arms…"
"Wand arms?" I asked, but held up my right arm. The tapes got to work measuring my wrist, my fingers, my nose…
Mr. Ollivander didn't answer. Instead, he was muttering something to himself, and pulling boxes from their various spots off the wall. I was watching this, fascinated, for when one box would be pulled out, another would fill it's place instantly. He handed James a wand. "Eight and three quarter inches long, elm with a hair from a unicorn's mane. Very flexible. Go on now… give it a wave."
He did, and I watched on eagerly. Nothing happened. He snatched the wand back, throwing it over his shoulder, and muttering 'that won't do'. The wand put itself back into it's box and piled itself back onto the stack of boxes. Instantly, he thrust another wand at James. "Cottonwood wand, seven and a half inches with a hippocampus heartstring."
Nothing happened again, and again he threw it over his shoulder, the wand putting itself back on the stacks. "Larch, just over ten inches with merfolk hair."
We went through about a dozen wands before he finally handed him his wand. "Mahogany, eleven inches, with dragon heartstring. Pliable and excellent for transfiguration. Go on then."
James waved the wand about, and unbreakable bubbles sprouted out of the end of his wand. Mr. Ollivander looked delighted, and packed the wand away, handing it to James. "Very good Mr. Potter. Now… Ms. Evans… Lets see."
But I was distracted. I had felt a sort of vibration from the back of the room, and was now poking at one of the boxes. I took it out, and Mr. Ollivander peered from behind my shoulder, "Excellent choice, Ms. Evans. Willow, ten and a quarter inches with a centaur mane hair. Swishy and wonderful for charm work. Go on, give it a swish."
I picked it up, and immediately felt the warm vibration flow through my fingers. I flicked the wand, and sent the box skittering across the floor. Mr. Ollivander packed my wand as well, and set them on the counter. "Very good indeed. And yet, very interesting…"
"What's interesting?" mum asked, confused as she tried to pick out enough wizarding money for my wand.
"Nothing that needs to be brought to attention, Ms. Evans," he said mystically, and then, "Those are galleons over there. The gold ones. The wand's seven galleons and six sickles."
Smiling her thanks, she pushed the money towards Mr. Ollivander. Mrs. Potter paid for James's wand, and we were off on our way once again. We visited all the spots where we would need my school supplies—the book shop, the apothecary, Madam Milkin's robe shop, the cauldron shop. Finally, needing a break, Mrs. Potter led us to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and made us sit outside underneath the bright umbrellas.
"What's your orders now, then?" Mrs. Potter smiled kindly, "It'll be my treat."
"A sundae for me, Evy," Mr. Potter said, grinning. "You know what I like."
"I want chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts, mum."
"Um… just a vanilla cone for me, Mrs. Potter. Thank you," I said politely.
She beamed, and pushed my parents and Mr. Potter into the shop, "Come now. Leave the kids be for a minute."
They got out of sight, and I fingered my new wand, unable to put it down. James was muttering words under his breath, and then someone sat down in an empty seat. "Hi there!"
I looked up. There was a boy our age sitting there. He had twinkling blue eyes, and messy black hair. He reminded me strongly of James. "I'm Sirius Black. Nice to meet you."
And thus began the friendship of the famous James Potter and Sirius Black.
~*~
vii. new friends
We grew apart after that summer. And it was because of an argument. A small one. Not very large, and I don't know what had happened before to make him blow up at me. It was very unusual for James and I to fight. We rarely did, and when we do, it would last forever until our mothers pushed us to make up again. But this time, there was no mothers to push us together again. It happened on the train.
We got on it, and James immediately separated from me, dragging his trunk elsewhere. I followed, a frown marring my face. Dragging a heavy trunk behind me was a very hard thing to do, "Where are you going, James Potter?"
He didn't answer me, and finally entered a compartment, shutting it firmly behind him. I stared in shock, and fumed. I forgot about my trunk, and left it right in the middle of the hallway. I opened the door rather hard, and glared forcefully at James. He sat there with Sirius Black, a sandy haired boy I didn't know, and a short pudgy one.
"James Potter," I started hotly, "Who do you think you are closing that door on me?"
He didn't say anything. Instead, he stared up at me like he didn't know anything that I was saying. I grew more angry. "You act like we haven't been friends for the past two years! You act like you don't even know me! What in the heck is wrong with you?"
"Look Lily," he snapped, finally annoyed, "I have my own friends now, alright? I don't need any girl to be hanging around me anymore. Go find your own friends and leave me alone for once!"
Thoroughly angry now, my eyes narrowed into slits. "Fine. Fine. James Potter, you are one slimy git and I never want to see or talk to you again, arsehole."
I stormed out of the compartment, and I heard him shouting after me, "I don't want to see or talk to you again either."
I dragged my trunk huffily behind me as I walked several compartments over, and opened the door to reveal three girls. One had impossibly curly hair, and smiling blue eyes. The other had long brownish black hair, and chestnut eyes. The third one had sleek blond hair tied up in a complicated knot. I smiled hesitantly, "Hi. I'm Lily Evans."
"Alexandra Daye," the brunette said, "But most just call me Alexa. Don't call me Alex, though. That's my brother's name, and it annoys me to death when people call me that."
"Josephine Ives," said the blond, and she gave a bright smile, "You can call me Joey."
"I'm Chloe. Chloe Shires." They smiled. "You can join us if you want."
"I want too," I said, dragging my trunk to the corner where the others were, and sat down next to them happily. 'There,' I thought angrily. 'I made some new friends. I'll show James Potter. Good for nothing twit.'
And that would be the end of our friendship for four years.
~*~
viii. sisters
James Potter and I would not say a word to each other for four years. Our parents were slightly confused at our behaviour. Even their gentle pushing towards each other haven't worked anymore. We refused to stay in the same room with each other anymore, and sadly, it had taken a slight effect on their friendship.
My mum and Mrs. Potter no longer had their long chats by the fire anymore. At first they did, but when they found out the complications between us, and couldn't fix it, they weren't spending as much time together anymore. In second year summer, their long talks were now just an hour or two talking over a cup of tea. In third year summer, it was only half an hour standing in front of their gardens and admiring. In fourth year summer, it dwindled down to an occasional hello whenever they passed each other.
I felt a slight twinge of guilt whenever I saw Mrs. Potter. I couldn't help but feel responsible for their, now nonexistent, friendship. But, whenever I felt too guilty, I would shut my mind up with the firm thought of, 'James Potter started it. Not me.'
Our fight was childish, I had to admit though. I didn't even know why in the world James snapped at me in the first place. When we both made it into Gryffindor, James looked disappointed. That made me even more angrier, and pushed me over the edge. Before, I thought I could forgive him. Now, I knew it had to be something major to make me forgive and forget.
And that something major happened in my fourth year. My father had gone for his routine check up with his doctor in my third year summer, and came back, slightly confused. When my mum asked what was the matter, he had answered that the doctor found something wrong with his lungs and would have to 'investigate further'. They would get back to him in a few days.
The call came about a week later. My father wasn't home, so my mum talked to the doctor, and when she was finished, she was a pasty white. I went and asked her what was wrong. Petunia wasn't home. Instead, she was spending the night over at Marge's.
"Oh, honey," my mum had said sadly, and threw her arms around me in a hug, "I won't tell you right this moment, but it's very serious. Your father and I have to discuss it…"
The next day, my mum sat me and Petunia down at the kitchen table. My father had went for another check up with the doctor. She looked at us in the eye, "Lillian… Petunia… we need to talk."
I knew it was serious then, because she rarely called us by our full names. It was always, Lily and Petty. Never our full names. I never once heard her call us that, even when she was mad. Petunia knew something was seriously wrong too, for she shot a concerned look at mum. Normally, she wouldn't even pay attention.
"What is it, mum?" she asked anxiously. "Did something happen to Bebe?"
Bebe was her overweight tabby cat which hated anyone except Petunia. My mum shook her head, and I was slightly disappointed. I hoped the old cat had finally croaked.
"It's about your dad," she said sadly. "The doctors found an… irregularity. They think it might be lung cancer…"
"Cancer?" I asked, my voice edging on panic. Cancer was serious. Very serious.
"Y-yes," mum choked out, and me and Petunia and I rushed over to comfort her. In another two weeks, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer, and put on treatment in the hospital. Me and Petunia pulled together and comforted mum the best we could.
I still couldn't believe it. My father—who never once smoked a fag in his life, had lung cancer. Lung cancer. I felt like choking every smoker out there to death, because my dad had it. But I was gently reminded that smoking was not the only cause of lung cancer. A major cause, maybe, but not the only. I still felt like bashing every smoker over the head several times with a mallet… or at least, hit them with a few nasty hexes.
One night, Petunia entered my room, knocking softly. I opened it, and gestured her in. She sat in a chair by the window and we stared at each other. She finally blurted out, "Dad can't die."
"I know," I said sadly, but the possibilities of him surviving were so thin…
"Listen, Lily, I've been thinking," she said anxiously, "that we should stop being so hostile to each other. Dad doesn't need to see us fighting anymore, and mum's so distressed nowadays…"
"I know," I repeated. "I don't think we should fight anymore either. Dad needs all the support he can get to survive this."
"So… we're on okay grounds now?"
"I guess," I said slowly. Me and Petunia had never been on okay grounds.
"Good," she got up, and opened the door. She was half outside my room, when she stopped, and said, "And I've been thinking… it's not so bad having a magical sister."
Forcing a grin, Petunia left, and I stared at her amazed. That was a side of her I've never seen before. Dad's treatment didn't seem to have any positive effects. He seemed the same as always—with a little less hair I guess. He cracked jokes with us about the hospital food, and how he missed the couch at home. When I returned to Hogwarts for my fourth year, dad was still cracking his jokes… and we were still laughing.
~*~
ix. rekindling friendships, losing sisters
My fourth year wasn't much different than all my other years. Albeit my mum was a little sniffy when I was at the station, and my sister was actually nice to me when I left. Petunia patted me on the back, and said that dad would be fine. She told me to have a good year, and when I came back, dad would tell me his witch joke. I grinned back at her, and told them both goodbye. I was actually sad to go this time. A feeling unknown to me—I was always happy to leave for Hogwarts. I promised to be back for Christmas.
I met Alexa, Chloe at the station. Joey was put into Ravenclaw. We still hung around, but she was usually with her Ravenclaw friends. I ignored James who brushed past me. I watched him inconspicuously as he greeted Sirius with a jolly hard slap on the back. He returned the favour, and James tumbled forward slightly, glasses sliding a few inches down his nose. Remus Lupin came to join them in his quiet manner, and shy Peter Pettigrew trailed Remus. Chloe asked me a question, and I muttered a vague, "What?"
"I asked," she said impatiently, "if anything bad happened to you over the summer. You didn't return our owls in August, and we had to go to Diagon Alley without you. It was a sad thing to break our two year tradition."
I snorted, "It's nothing really. Something happened to dad that's all."
"What?" Alexa asked panting as she hauled her trunk onto the train. She gave a hand to Chloe for hers. "What's so bad that you ignored your best friends, Evans?"
I grinned at her, grunting as I brought my trunk up onto the train with some help from my friends. We found an empty compartment, and they pestered me again. I just finally said, "My dad… he just got really sick that's all."
Chloe exchanged an meaningful look with Alexa and they both dropped the subject. I felt lucky to have such good friends. Unlike know-it-all Potter who ditched me in first year for a bunch of rowdy boys. I scowled at that thought, but pushed it away. Mum and Mrs. Potter had met at King's Cross, and it looked like mum had told her about dad. Last I saw of them, Mrs. Potter was trying to do her best to comfort my worried mum.
The year passed uneventfully, except for the pranks that the Marauders pulled off successfully. Especially those on Snape, and the Slytherins. But they weren't much new, for they had pulled pranks on them since first year. Pollock gave them plenty of homework, and took off plenty of points, as did McGonagall. Flitwick showed me some new charms, Vector taught more complicating equations, and Binns bored us to death. It was all the same.
Christmas rolled around in no time, and I jumped back on the Hogwarts Express, eager to get back to my family. Alexa, Chloe, Joey, and the Marauders decided to stay at Hogwarts, so I was in a blissful peace for the ride back home. I hadn't gotten any owls with news about dad the last two weeks, and I was desperately worried, and desperately excited. Maybe dad had gotten better.
I arrived, looking on eagerly for my mum, but instead, Mrs. Potter strode forward, smiling. I pushed my trunk over to her, very worried now. "Hullo. Where's mum and Petunia?"
"Oh, Lily," she said hugging me, "It must be awful for you. They're at the hospital right now, you know. Told me to pick you up because they wanted to be beside Harry at all times."
"Is he that bad?" I asked horrified.
Mrs. Potter looked at me sympathetically, and magicked my trunk to be feather-light, "Come dear. You'll see for yourself soon enough. Don't be so distressed though. He may look bad, but the muggle doctors say he's got a fifty-fifty chance of surviving his cancer."
I felt worse. Fifty-fifty? That usually meant the patient was going to die, didn't it. Mrs. Potter must've noticed the look on my face, because she patted my back comfortingly. "I haven't told James yet. I thought you should be the one too. I honestly don't know what's gotten into you two. You were both great friends."
"I'm sorry Mrs. Potter, but your son is a git," I declared angrily, forgetting my dad for a moment.
She laughed, "I sometimes feel that way too. When him and Sirius gang up together, merlin watch out. They'll turn my hair white in no time now." She sighed meaningfully, and led me to the taxi. We drove back to my house, and I dropped my things off in my room, and hurried back to downstairs were James's mum was waiting for me.
"We're going to fly to the hospital together. It's much easier," she said, noticing the look on my face, "I asked to borrow James's invisibility cloak so we wouldn't be seen. I can't drive, and you obviously can't either, and it's rather cold outside, so this is the best solution."
"James has an invisibility cloak?"
"Yes, he does," she laughed. "He hasn't told you? I told Michael not to give it to him, but he has anyway, and now owls every week from Minvera about him getting in all sorts of trouble. He complained clearly in his letter about giving this to me on Christmas holidays, nonetheless. Thinks I owe him a favour, but if it wasn't for me, he would have gotten half more of his detentions than he has now."
I grinned, and mounted the broom outside uncertainly. Mrs. Potter smiled gently, and told me that we'd have to double. "Do you want to steer, or perhaps you would like me to?"
I quickly got off, and she gave a chuckle. "Don't worry one bit, Lils. I'm a great flyer—captain of the quidditch team in fact, when I was at Hogwarts. James's gets his talent from me… Michael is horrible at flying."
She winked, and I got on the back, my fear of flying dashing from my mind when I thought of my father. She flung the cloak over us… and it was the strangest sensation knowing that I was invisible. We quickly flew over to the hospital in silence. I hurried away to my father's side. He looked a lot worse than when I had left him.
He was weaker, and nearly completely bald from the chemo. Petunia was standing by quietly, reading him a book. When I entered, my father looked up from his bed and cracked a smile. Petunia also gave me a smile.
"Hey, tiger-lily," he croaked, motioning me closer. I inched closer, and hugged him gently. He patted my back reassuringly, and let me go. My father smiled weakly at me.
"I must look like such a weak, huh, baby? Don't worry about your ole dad, Lils. Us Evans are as strong as rocks, we are. I told you about my Uncle Patrick, didn't I?"
"Yes, dad, you did," I say, sitting down a chair next to Petunia. "He was the one that saved the horses from the flood, and got a nasty case of pneumonia which no one detected until it was too late."
"That's right, tiger-lily, and Uncle Patrick fought that disease, and he won, didn't he? And now he's sitting at home, witch his horses, and enjoying life," my dad beamed. "I'm going to be just fine… now, did I ever tell you the one about the witch who got lost in Alabama?"
"Yes," I said, smiling through my nervousness. "But tell me it again… it was funny."
When I returned back to school, dad wasn't getting any worse. But he wasn't getting any better either. Chloe and Alexa jumped on me the moment I came into the common room.
"Lily!" Alexa squealed. "Don't ever leave us with the Marauders again!"
"What?" I asked, confused.
"Tricks every day," Chloe moaned, "it was horrible. My hair suffered major damages because it was dyed a different colour every single day!"
I laughed, "Well, that's what you get for not having the sense to go home for Christmas."
They both fell quiet. Chloe inquired, "How's your dad then?"
"He's all right," I said quietly, and shrugged. "We hope he can make it through. Look, I have to talk to James…"
"What for?"
"Err… just something." I walked away and up to the boy's dorm rooms. Alexa said something about us not being allowed up there, but I shook it off. I knocked on the door to the fourth year dorms. There was a scramble behind the door, and a large thump.
"Who is it?"
"Lily," I said in a clipped tone.
The door flung open to reveal James, looking slight dishevelled. He glowered at me, "What do you want, Evans?"
I rolled my eyes, and shoved the cloak back at him, "Thanks."
I turned to walk away, but James wouldn't let me go, "So, what'd mum need this for? And why do you have it?"
"It's none of your business, Potter," I snap wearily, not stopping to turn around.
"So what's up your arse, Evans?"
"Nothing. Can't you just leave me the hell alone?"
"No," he said bluntly and leaned against the doorpost. "You're very touchy today."
"So?" I finally turned around.
"Nothing," he shrugged, "what happened? Did mummy and daddy finally find out you're a total tart, and you needed the invisibility cloak to get away from them?"
"Go. To. Hell. Potter," I said scathingly, and stormed down the stairs.
"Great comeback Evans! I'm shaking in my socks…"
I hated him right at the very moment. I hated him with all my guts and I hoped that he would just drop off a cliff and die. Or maybe I'd feel better if I pushed him off myself. Nevertheless, our feud continued for quite some time. Alexa and Chloe didn't know that we used to be friends, and they couldn't understand why in the world I would hate James Potter, quidditch player extraordinaire.
The year began to pass more slowly. Each day was like a drag to me, and I couldn't wait until summer so I could see dad again. In May, a letter came to me from Petunia. The owl clicked it's beak efficiently, and I wondered where in the world she got hold of an owl. She was terrified of the things. It was a short note.
Lily,
Dad's not getting any better. I thought maybe that you could find someone in your wizarding world that might be able to cure dad? Mum sends her best.
Petunia.
Frowning, and reprimanding myself (why didn't I think of that?), I hurry away from the breakfast table. I sprinted up several corridors, and crashed into prefect who gave me a detention for running in the halls. I glowered at the prefect when I walked past her. The sixth year rolled her eyes at me, and once I was out of sight, I started running again. I finally reached the Hospital Wing.
"Madam Promfrey?" I called out.
"Ms. Evans? Goodness. What brings you here?" she stepped out from behind a curtain, and stared at me, "Are you sick or something? Would you like some of my Pepper-Up potion?"
"No, no, I'm fine," I reassured her, "I just need to ask you a question."
"Well, go on then, Ms. Evans. I am a busy nurse," she walked closer, wiping her hands on a towel which she banished to a basin. "Well?"
"Well, my father has lung cancer, and I was wondering if there was a potion of some sort that could cure him or something," I blurted out quickly.
"Cancer, you say? Well, that's easy enough. I do indeed have a potion, but I must warn you, Ms. Evans, this potion only works for wizards and witches."
My face must've fell, for she looked at me sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I assume your father is a muggle then?"
I nodded, and Madam Promfrey went into another room, coming out with a small vial. "Give him this. It will ease his pain, but that's the best I can do, Ms. Evans. We have not invented a potion that can help muggles with cancer yet."
"Thanks anyways," I whispered, tucking the vial in my book bag. She sent me on my way to class. I never owled Petunia back. I didn't want to disappoint her.
When I returned for summer, dad was worse than ever. He was very weak, and the doctors had told my mum he had only a month or so to live. We all lost hope then, except for Petunia. She refused to acknowledge the fact that he could die.
"He'll keep fighting," she said fiercely, "dad would never give up. And I won't either. I'm ashamed at all of you for thinking that he might die!"
He passed away on July 31.
My sister was distressed, and I was sorry to see, thinks that I was the cause of his death. When he passed away, she turned on me, looking like a rabid dog. Her voice quivered as she screamed at me, "Freak! Even your precious magic couldn't cure him. You're the cause of his death! I bet you put a-a curse on him or something! You killed him! That thing you gave to him probably caused him to die!"
"It was to help his pain," I screamed back. "I didn't kill him! I didn't!"
She sneered, "You'll always be the freak of the family, Lillian. No one ever liked you. You're the cause of father's death. I know you are!"
Petunia refused to look at me for the rest of the summer. The loss of my sister and my father in the same day was too much. I hurried from the hospital, and flung myself up the oak tree in my backyard. I laid there, blubbering my head off, when a faint whoosh passed by the tree. The leaves rustled, and I ignored it.
"Lil-lee," a soft voice said underneath the tree. "Why are you crying?"
I looked down. There was James Potter, broom in one hand, and invisibility cloak in the other hand. I sniffled, and yelled at him, voice hoarse, "Leave me alone, James Potter! I don't need your teasing now."
He didn't leave me alone. He put the broom underneath the tree, wrapping it with the invisibility cloak. James clambered up the tree, and sat opposite of me. I stared at him, eyes red as he looked at me. I started crying again, and he put a soothing arm around me, patting my back gently. When I stopped crying, he asked me again, "What's wrong, Lils?"
"Dad died," I said, my voice quiet. I buried my face in his robes, my tears coming out again.
James started comforting me again. I looked up, and he was crying too. I remember him and dad used to be really close before the whole fight. He called dad Uncle Harry. James didn't have any uncles… only a lot of aunts. I hugged him, and we cried together in that old oak tree in my backyard.
When we both stopped, and my sobs reduced to sniffles, we climbed down from the tree. James hunted around for his broom, and invisibility cloak. When he found it, he straightened, and we stared at each other again. We looked at each other for around a minute before we both blurted out, "I'm sorry."
We laughed, and calmed down quickly. James started, "I'm sorry, Lils. For being such a prat to you for the past four years."
"I'm sorry too," I said earnestly. I flung my arms around him and gave him a big hug. We said our goodbyes, and he left. I wandered back into my house, feeling a little lost. It was going to be so different without dad around the house. No one to keep mum from doing anything rash. No one to tell the corny jokes. No one to spill our problems too, and getting the best advice.
I curled up in my bed, remembering everything my father had been about. And I cried myself to sleep for the man that we lost.
~*~
x. back to the present
The funeral was beautiful. Everything dad had wanted it to be. It had been three years since he had passed away. Today was his death anniversary, and we all headed to his grave to remember him. Petunia had gotten engaged in May, and, unfortunately, she still hates my guts. I have a feeling I won't even be invited to the wedding. Not like I care much anymore. She was marrying Vernon Dursley, and when he found out about me being a witch, he treated me like a nasty stain on a new white carpet. In other words… he treated me like Petunia treated me. I know they're perfect for each other.
James and I haven't talked at all since the funeral. It was held on August 25, and I returned to school six days later. At the funeral, I told him that we should go to school like nothing happened between us. We had both changed so much in four years… we didn't know each other as well anymore. I felt it was for the better. We grown apart over the years again, but we still exchanged the few insults when we passed each other. We both didn't take them too seriously. Both of us know better now, and most of them were in jest.
I had just gotten back from dad's grave. We all brought flowers. Mum brought roses, Petunia daisies, and I brought lilies. I love my namesakes… even if they are the death flowers. Mum often made jokes about this. My father had named me, while my mother had named Petunia. My sister and I started squabbling on the way home, and I still had the headache from all her screeches.
When I arrived home, my sister stormed into the house, and then screamed and ran back out. She pointed a shaky finger into the house and in a cold voice, "There's one of your damned owls in there, Lillian. Get it out of the house before Vernon gets here!"
I rolled my eyes, stormed into the house, and coaxed the Hogwarts school owl upstairs into my room. I could hear my sister start a debate with mum about letting one of those pests into the house. It was my Hogwarts letter. I joyfully took the message from the bird, gave it some water, and let it out from my bedroom window. I ripped the envelope open, and screeched in happiness.
My mum flew up the stairs and opened the door. Petunia was following more slowly, muttering obscenities under her breath. I ignored her as I showed my mum my badge. "Mum, mum! I made Head Girl!"
She clapped happily and hugged me, "That's wonderful Lily! Isn't it wonderful, Petty? Aren't you happy for your sister?"
"Very," my sister said in a sarcastic tone, "I'm off to change now. Vernon's going to be here any moment. And I'm bringing a couple of my friends over."
Mum stared disapprovingly at her, but nodded, "Alright then, honey. Don't stay out too late, okay?"
"Mum, I'm nineteen," Petunia said, rather annoyed, "I'm getting married soon. I'm an adult already! I don't need a curfew."
"I just worry about you, that's all, Petty," mum said truthfully. Petunia's face softened, and she mumbled something about being home at eleven. She then walked out of my room, and into hers across the hall, slamming the door. Mum turned back to me.
"Perfect timing too," my mum said happily, a glint in her eyes. My own eyes narrowed is suspicion. What was she up to now?
"Perfect timing for what, mum?"
"Well, the Howlands are having a party tomorrow," she said casually, "and we're invited along with the Potters. We can celebrate there… and I got a date for you."
"Mum! I'm not going on a blind date! Those things always goes terribly wrong, and I can't date a muggle boy. If I tell him I'm a witch, he's going to freak!"
"It's not a 'muggle', as you say, Lily. He's a wizard. Magical too. And it's not a blind date if you know him already," my mother smiled wolfishly. Something in my mind clicked, and I stomped my foot angrily.
"Absolutely not! I'm not going to the Howlands' party with James Potter!"
"Now, honey," my mum said soothingly, "all you have to do is arrive with him. You don't have to stay with him all through the night. Eve and I thought it would be fun to let you go into the room together, and you both used to be such good friends."
"M-um," I whined.
"Lily, I don't ask for much," my mum said sternly, "but I'm insisting that you go to the Howlands' with James. Petunia's going to be there with Vernon."
"Petunia's engaged to Vernon," I said huffily flopping down on my bed.
"I tell you what… you go to this party with James and I'll let you have an owl."
"Are you bribing me?"
"It seems like the only way to get you to go to this party with James Potter."
My mum could be very manipulative and devious when she wants to be. She knew I had been begging for an owl every summer since second year, and she wouldn't allow one to come into the house because of Petunia. One night with James Potter… or a month torturing Petunia with an owl. The Petunia torturing was too tempting. I nodded grudgingly.
Mum smiled, ecstatic, "I knew you'd see it my way."
"Right," I rolled my eyes.
"In any case, you'll have to go to the Potters today, anyway."
"Why?"
"I just baked a whole batch of cookies that need to be sent over, that's all, Lily honey. You can do this one errand for your tired old mother can't you? You can even talk to Alexa and Chloe in their fireplace, and see if they can go to Diagon Alley today."
I stared at her, "I can get my owl today?"
"Sure, why not?"
I jumped up enthusiastically, and hugged mum tightly. She laughed, and hugged back. "Now, go on and change. The cookies are downstairs, and I'm pretty sure the Potters are home."
"Okay mum," I said hurriedly. In five minutes, I was down the stairs. I grabbed the plate of cookies, and hopped out the door, hair streaming behind me. My mum's laughter followed me as I crossed the street to the Potter's house.
I couldn't help but get this feeling that my seventh year at Hogwarts is going to be much different than my previous years.
TBC