Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Author's Note: Yes, I know I've been lazy and I haven't updated my other stories. And that I shouldn't have started this new story. It just started to bug me so much that U had to finally write it! Hope you like it...

Chapter One

Lily's POV

I was in a peaceful world where nothing existed. Just complete utter darkness. No worries, no strife, no idiotic parents, no stuck-up classmates. No sisters jealous of your every moment and no mother's watchful eye. Just me, myself and I. The darkness wasn't evil – it was comp-letely neutral, but oh so wonderful and stress-free. It welcomed me with open arms as I fell deep into this world, only to resurface to the ever demanding grip of reality.

"Lily, wake up. Wake up!" screamed a high, shrill voice. I cracked one eye open as my windows were shoved wide open and my covers yanked onto the ground. A bony face with a long neck came into view, followed by the ever superior glint of my older sister. "Petunia, what time is it?" It was my birthday, for heaven's sakes. Doesn't that mean I get to at least rest for a while?

"No sleeping in, Lily. Mother wants you downstairs to cook breakfast. Come on, lazy," said Petunia primly before flouncing out the room. I groaned, sighed weakly, and got up.

It wasn't that I was being abused. Not physically, at least. But emotionally I was… scarred, you could say. My sister hated me for reasons unknown to me, and my mother blamed me for my father's death. That, and there was always a glint of something else in her eyes. I think the coldness in her voice and in her eyes was something a little deeper than just my father's death.

The only member of my family I adored was my Aunt Violet. Everyone said I looked like her, and everyone said Petunia looked like my mother. And it was true – I had Aunt Violet's red hair and green eyes. Grandmother had it too – guess that was where Aunt Violet got her looks from.

"Good morning Lily," was the stiff greeting I got from my mother. I nodded silently and went towards the stove. "Lily, a nod is hardly a proper greeting to your mother," said my mother sharply. I murmured, "Good morning, mother," softly and began to scramble the eggs.

I stared miserably at the yellow and white swirling together in the pan. It was my birthday, and no one even noticed it. I received no presents either.

I had often wondered why my mother hated me so. It all started the day my father died. Yes, that was it. I remembered the day just like yesterday:

It was a cold winter's day, and I was only eight years old. I tugged on my father's hands and said, "Daddy. Daddy, why does that funny man have on a bathroom robe?" I had just noticed a 'funny man' that had black robes with a thin stick in his hands. He looked very starnge and very frightening.

My dad paused in his step and looked to the person I was pointing at. He drew a quick breath in and took out a thin stick that looked exactly like the one inside the stranger's hands and whispered softly, "Run, Lily, run. Run home as fast as you can and tell your mother I love her. Go!"

By the time I reached home, I was sweating from running the fastest I had ever run my entire life. I hurtled through the front door and broke down in front of my mother in tears. She cradled me like she used to and whispered comforting things to me. "Daddy… daddy," I managed to choke out, "I saw a s-strange man. Daddy… he told m-me to r-run home. He said he l-loved you, mummy. He l-loves you,"

My mother knew what I meant, because when I said that, she suddenly stiffened. "What do you mean, dear? I thought you scraped your knee,"

"Daddy told me to run! I saw someone with something funny… a-a stick. Daddy has one t-too. I d-don't know w-what happened t-to him!" the moment I said that, my mother had ordered me into my room and she ran out of the house herself.

The next day, she came home and told me my father was dead. She didn't say it herself, but from that moment on she grew to hate me. To hate the daughter she had treasured above all for eight years. The day my best friend, my protector, my father died, my mother became a stranger to me. My sister scorned me, and she and my mother became as thick as thieves.

My mother's oddities had not stopped since the moment she started becoming distant to me. She made me drink vile things, and she drew runes around me. I often wondered what she was doing, but when I asked her she merely replied, "Do as you're told," and that was the end of the discussion.

"Lily, are you done? I have a… present for you," said my mother a little too sweetly. Just then, Petunia came down the stairs. "Here you go, Lily. It's from both of us," said Petunia with a nasty growl behind her kind words, and presented me with a bottle.

It was tiny, and it fit inside my palm. A little bottle filled with liquid of the darkest red.

"What is it?" I asked. I felt a little shiver run down my spine as I stared at the vial inside my hands.

"Don't question me, Lily. I know what's best for you. Everyone in my family on their eleventh birthday drinks it, and so did Petty. Didn't you, dear?" said my mother sharply, her voice warming considerably when she turned to Petunia.

Petunia nodded a bit too slyly for my comfort. "It's a marvellous potion. I can't tell you what it does. I can only tell you if you drink it, mother and I will be able to include you in our little 'talks',"

More than anything I wanted to fit in. More than anything I yearned for my mother and sister, for my dead father, for everything to be back to how it used to be. Besides, I was curious. And as we all know, curiosity killed the cat. Let's just hope I don't actually die in this case…

I slowly took the cork out of the vial, and I raised the glass bottle to my lips. I slowly tilted it back, always wondering, hesitant at the vulture-like looks on my sister and mother's face.

Just as I tipped it back, the front door opened, and a voice screamed, "STOP!" I was so startled I dropped the bottle, and the vial crashed onto the floor. "NO!" screamed my mother. Petunia only stared at the dark red liquid on the floor.

I whirled around, surprised at whoever had entered the house. I stared in shock at the person in front me. She was my exact replica. Which meant only one thing: Aunt Violet.

"Aunt Violet, what are you doing here?" I asked her hesitantly. For upon her face was anger and hatred in a magnitude I had never imagined possible directed at my mother and my sister.

"What were you doing, Rose? Have you sunk so low as to do this? How dare you brainwash Petunia! How dare you try and harm Lily! Your own flesh and blood!" yelled Aunt Violet. I stared at my mother in shock. What was going on? According to Aunt Violet, the liquid would have harmed me…?

"She is no daughter of mine! I only have daughter, and that is Petty. This… girl ceased to be part of my family the day she murdered her own father!" said my mother in a deadly voice. I gasped. That was the reason why my mother hated me?

The thought had never entered my head, but in some twisted way it started to make sense. I did not have time to dwell on this, though, because Aunt Violet was now red with rage. "STUPEFY!" she yelled, a stick in her hand just like the one in my father's so many years ago. I watched in amazement and horror as a beam of light shot towards my mother and Petunia. They crumpled unto the ground, unconscious.

Then Aunt Violet turned to face me, and her gaze softened. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Lily. I'm so sorry I didn't rescue you out of this mad house so many years ago. I should have taken you in the day your father died, but your mother resisted. I had not known why for so many years, but I guess I found my answer now,"

I stood there, tongue-tied. "W-what did you do to mother and Petunia?" I asked, finally finding my voice. Did Aunt Violet kill them?

As if reading my thought, she laughed. "No, I only stunned them. Your mother, in all probability, will be sent to Azkaban and your sister to the closest relative able to take her in,"

I had so many questions in my mind that I just burst forth from order of importance, "What did my mother try to do to me? What did you just do to them? Is it some sort of chemical? Why do you need a stick? Why did my dad have a stick too? Why are you here?" I grew quieter at the mention of my dad.

Aunt Violet seemed to sense my feelings and talked to me gently, "I'm a witch, Lily – a good witch, like Cinderella's fairy godmother. Every good witch needs a wand to channel her magic, Lily. Your father was a wizard, actually. I was here to take you somewhere else away from your mother, and to tell you a story. I knew your mother became depressed after your father died, but I never knew she would try that!"

"You're a witch? If my dad was a wizard, then that means the stranger who killed him was…"

"Was also a wizard. Here, let me show you a handy spell," said Aunt Violet a little gravely.

As my mother started to stir, Aunt Violet bound the two of them in ropes and put a full body bind on them.

"Why don't you sit down, Lily. This will come as quite a shock," said Aunt Violet quietly. I mutely took the closest chair and sat.

Aunt Violet then began her story, "Once upon a time, there was old, ancient, powerful family called Lionheart. They were a good family, very influential, and so a duty, and a curse, was bestowed upon them. One child in every generation blessed with emerald eyes would be given a great power and responsibility. With me so far?" I nodded, and Aunt Violet continued.

"The emerald eyed child would absorb all the power of their siblings the moment they turned eleven. By power, I mean magical power. So the child would have a magnified power reserve, but their siblings would become Squibs. People with knowledge of the magical world, but possessed little or no magical ability themselves. As I said before, it was a great but terrible thing,"

"Of course, the Lionheart line died out eventually, but every emerald eyed child could have the choice to take up the Lionheart name. When the child turned eleven, they would be sent to the child in the generation before and study from them. Learn from them. That is why I am here today,"

"How does this concern me?"

"You are the emerald eyed child, Lily. I was, and now it is your turn. Should you choose to be, your name would be Lily Evans Lionheart,"

I had just found out I was the last living descendant of the ancient line of Lionheart. Also, I found out I was a witch.

"Let me get this straight. I am now a Lionheart. I am also a witch. In addition, I have just stripped Petunia of her magical powers. Am I correct?" I asked my aunt, stunned. My hadn't my mother told me this before?

"Yes, and now this brings me to the darker side of my story. You see, your mother was a witch too. Oh, how she loved magic. But she didn't have emerald eyes, and so the day I turned eleven and the day our mother sat us down to tell us the very same story I told you, she literally tried to rip my eyes out," said my aunt, laughing humourlessly.

My mother… was a witch? I can just imagine she had felt when she learned she couldn't fulfill her destiny because of her younger sister.

"No wonder my mother hated me. She saw you in me, didn't she? She hated my magical powers. She hated the fact that I was a witch and Petunia, who looks exactly like her, wasn't," I said softly, unbelieving.

Aunt Violet nodded sadly and I sighed. "It's a curse, Lily, because of that. Whoever did this ancient spell on us was wrong to do so. Whatever powers we may gain because of this is useless without our family's love and protection. In essence, this curse destroyed the Lionheart family. So many family feuds, so many dead," finished Aunt Violet.

"Why though? Why do we have this curse?"

"I just told you I am a good witch, right? That doesn't mean that there aren't dark witches and wizards out there. The emerald eyed child is, essentially, the protector of the magical world against the forces of evil,"

I suddenly felt very afraid. I couldn't protect a world I knew nothing about, not when I was so defenceless myself. I didn't want to, anyways.

"I don't want to," I voiced my thought out loud.

"My dear child, you have no choice. None of us did. The curse just chose the person who was the strongest, bravest, wittiest, and most powerful out of the generation. You can't back down, Lily. It's the curse that does not allow you to,"

"That still doesn't explain what my mother tried to do to me. Whatever she did,"

"That is the saddest part of the story. Do you remember I told you about Dark wizards and witches? Well, they practice the Dark Arts. The darkest forms of the Dark Arts can be made without using magic, and I believe your mother just tried one of the ancient potions on you. It's a terrible thing. You don't need to learn how to make it, Lily dearest. All you need to know is that your mother just tried to strip you of all your powers and give them to Petunia,"

"That doesn't seem so bad. I mean, I wouldn't have liked it, but given the choice I might go through with it if they asked me to. I don't really want to have this power, whatever it is. I just want to… be normal,"

"Lily, if they had succeeded in stripping you of your powers, the magical backlash and the fact that is one of the Darkest potions would have killed you instantly. If it hadn't, it would have rendered you a soulless, mindless creature, doomed to roam the earth,"

I gasped. What had my mother tried to do to me? Why would she do that?! I just sat there in shock, I was so confused.

"Mother! Mother, what have you done? Why would you do it to me?" I whispered in anguish.

I didn't even notice that tears had been sliding down my cheeks until my Aunt Violet reached over and wiped them away before drawing me into a hug. It wasn't until I felt something wet on my head that I realized she was crying too.

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