Disclaimer: The Wonderful World of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and Lily Evans' literary voice and attitude.
A Look At Wonderland
byWired Dragonfli
Chapter One - I, Lily the Freak
"You're just disgusting!"
"Don't point that stick at me!"
"Are you still mooning over that Potter boy? Don't lie, I heard you talking with your odd friend in the fireplace!"
"I bet you don't have real friends anyway..."
"Why would I want to have weird hair like you?"
"Mum! She can't go to my birthday, people will think I'm strange like her."
"Get out of my room, you freak."
"Vernon, this is... a deeply disturbed charity case, our family is housing her until she's sent off to boarding school."
"What the bloody hell? What is this? Lily! Tell me what this right now you repugnant brat!"
There must have been a million things I could have said in response to her idiocy (but I wasn't about to tell her the mysterious green mass in her hair was frogspawn...). There must have been a million times I would have given anything to hex her into October. There were also a million more times I had told myself that I shouldn't give a damn about what she said. I guess eventually I made myself believe this, but it still didn't change the fact that I did care.
If there was one thing that could ruin my day it was the word "freak" muttered under the breath of my darling sister Petunia. I never could understand why she hated me being a witch so much, but I bet a large part of it was due to jealously. Petunia was a bit of a nitwit (C'mon...somebody has to say it!), so all the attention Mum and Dad gave me must have really hit a nerve. She rarely had them fondling over some achievement of hers, and me coming along as a witch must have just been another one Lily's first-prize ribbons to her.
I never asked mum and dad to fall all over themselves when I got my Hogwarts letter. They went on for days about how I was a witch this, how I would be studying magic that. At ten, I accepted it readily, sucking up the spotlight like a solar panel.
Now...it was just getting bothersome each time they asked me to explain something over dinner. "Lily, tell us some more about those hinkywhatsits." or my favorite "So the ceiling in the great hall is enchanted to look exactly like the sky outside?" Really, you'd think they'd have gotten it the first two hundred and seventy two times.
Petunia only sniffed and stuck her nose in the air as though we were discussing some sort of food that she found distasteful. She acted as though I'd magiked the words "LOOK AT ME" onto my forehead and skipped around the house making poptarts float and microwaves sparkle and shudder and glow. Which I wouldn't even is I could. After all, no magic out side of school, right?
Tunia used to be wonderfull. The best sister I could ask for. I remember how instead of reguarding me as a tag-along, she'd bring me to show off to her friends. "Look at my pretty sister!" she'd say, as if I were a doll Petunia was proud of having in her possesion. In the end all the credit came back to her. Now that I think back on it, the whole thing wasn't that great, but at least she looked at me with that fond sort of look only sisters can pass back and forth. I had always felt so loved by her, but I guess it really was showing off to such a great extent no one would have guessed. After all, if she could just thrust me aside like some doll that had lost an eye or perhaps a foot...
If becoming abnormal, a "freak", could turn her against me that swiftly, then what the hell was I doing clinging on to those memories. I was trying to hold on to a relationship with my sister that had been so sheer and translucent that I can't believe I couldn't see through her right away.
But hey, I was ten. Young and stupid; naive and ignorant. That's all in the past now, isn't it? Hakuna Matata or whatever.
I guess I could be mature about the whole matter and pretend what she says doesn't affect me, and for the most part, I've been able to keep that facade up. But sometimes, I can't help but kick her in the shins with only "Shut Up, Tuna!" as an explanation and a whiney emphasis on my sister's most hated meat.
I've even gone so far as to wonder if she hates tuna because of it's foul taste, or for the fact that it's a nickname that I, Lily the Freak, thought up. Knowing the vile excuse of a human, I would go with the latter. I swear, God put her on earth to torture me.
Okay...so now I'm ranting and raving and whining like some sniveling ten year old. But hey, isn't that how memoirs get started? No one ever actually writes these things on a regular boring day where the single highlight of said day is going to the store to buy a journal to write in to relieve themselves of aforementioned boredom. I'm sure that was a odd run on sentence that made no sense, but hey, poo to you on that.
For the record of anyone who finds this and is reading at this precise moment, I, Lily Evans, soon to be 5th year Gryffie at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry am not the kind of girl that does anything like buying diaries for themselves gossip in. I'm the kind of girl that is bugged by various maggots on a day to day basis and find that the only way I'll keep from sticking my wand in their ears and shouting "Expelliarmus" is by venting in one of these magic journal type diary things.
I have always been against diaries for many reasons. I could never grasp why a person would want to spend so much time writing to a notebook that could not, beyond their wildest dreams respond in any way, shape, or form. I was always more comfortable discussing my problems with people. After all, people can listen and give answers and offer advice. To top that off, they can cheer you up and comfort you.
Even post-Hogwarts-letter I retained this belief, and never quite realized that in this world, journals could do exactly what people go do, give or take a few things. I never gave the subject much thought until I found this book beneath layers of wrapping paper at the foot of my bed on Christmas morning. It was a gift from Samantha Daniels, a firstie I tutor in Charms. Of course, Sam was never able to pick up on my "unique" outlook on life if she thinks a diary is at all a suitable gift.
The irony would have to be that I'm using something I once considered taboo to have in my possession, kept out of politeness, and am now writing in with a pen Tuna chucked at my head when she passed by my door.
Alas, there goes my free will. Soon I will be join the hoards of teenage girls who journal at any given moment and always have shrunken versions of their precious books tucked into their knickers and what not. I predict that before the end of summer I will dye my hair blonde and start dressing like Barbie.
I truthfully hope you know me well enough by now to also know that the above is something that I would never consider doing. I will never become a hair-dying-scrap-wearing thing. My god.
I've just described Petunia.
My sister is mad. She just attempted to decapitate Napkin with a clothes hanger when he tried to deliver my supply list. Honestly, the bird didn't even come near her. The poor thing mistook her room for mine again. Though how he would make such an error after nearly losing an eye last time ... I don't know.
Luckily, I'd heard Tuna's deranged shrieks from down the hall and called Napkin to safety. Sadly, my owl was named on a suggestion the despicably foul Petunia Evan gave me.
"Tunia!Tunia! Look at my new owl!" a bright eyed Lily had said.
"Keep that thing away from me!" old shit-for-brains had screeched.
The ten year old me frowned, crest fallen.
Petunia, who might still have cared for me at this point, softened her expression. Lily took this as an opportunity to reconcile.
"What should I name him? He's white? What reminds you of white?" I had said, hoping to show my dear sister that although I was now a freak, I still wanted her to be in my life, and I still cared about her enough to ask her opinion.
A grin spread across her face, on of malice as a I recall now.
"Napkins!" she spat, "Name it Napkin!"
"Oh, okay," I had said, not liking the name one bit, "Thanks Tunia!"
Nevertheless, I took her stupid suggestion. My parents for the life of themselves could not figure out why I had named my owl after a piece of pressed paper. When I finally told them and grew to understand that Tuna had only humored me out of spite, both Napkin and I had grown to fond of his name to change it.
To this day, I get ridiculous looks from old and young students alike when I come into the owlery yelling "Napkin!"
Napkins restless hooting brought me out of my reverie. I seem to zone out a lot these days, drifting off on pointless flashbacks and all. Grimly, I realize how, despite my effort, my thoughts all summer focus mainly on the vile potato sack that is my sister. For someone who claims not to care for that horse's opinion, I sure do think of her a lot.
Who can blame me though? Left at home all summer with that hag. At least she takes the liberty to drive off with Vernon in his cherry red pickup truck, leaving me a few hours of peace.
Stupid, stupid, man. Talking about his silly drills all day. Really, can we get any more droll? And Tuna is head over heels in love with him. Stupid, stupid, girl. I'd think she'd chose just a bit better, but who am I to complain? They truly deserve each other.
They could go off an have their children right now. Silly little children that are half tuna fish and half drills. I could see it now; her running about, breathing down their necks and spoiling them rotten. I'd bet she'd give them all the attention our parents never gave her.
I even went as far as to grind my teeth at that point, which Napkin noticed as well since he hooted and gave me a startled look.
Breath Evans. Calm down.
Looking down his extended foot, I unfastened three letters. One from Hogwarts, one from Emmy Vance, and one, surprisingly, from Remus Lupin.
The first, being a standard Hogwarts letter, was quickly thrust onto the top of a pile of clothing in my open trunk. I am one of those people who takes dreadfully long to pack(I always pack much more than I need) and takes even longer to unpack once she returns from where she's been.
Therefore, I thought it best to leave the bloody trunk open all summer, and do both packing and unpacking at the same time. This method was quickly introduced after first year where I was driven insane opening and reopening my trunk so much. I shook my head at the mess and took up Em's letter.
Lily, Darling
Summer has been horribly interesting without you, (Hope you caught the sarcasm there) and I'm sure I'd be glad to complain about my disconfigured family and wast both of our time, but alack, that's your forte, isn't it?
Besides, the day Emmeline Vance admits, in writing, that her family gets to her (which it doesn't) is the day my mother leaves my father for a muggle.
Meh, what to say...surprisingly, my dear old mum actually agreed to let you stay for the last two weeks of summer. What a shame, you'll have only one more week with Petty.
Emmeline Vance shared, to some extent, sympathy for my family problems. She was pureblooded, which her parents held in high regard. Of course, they were not crazy-bonkers like the Blacks, but then again, no one was crazy-bonkers like the Blacks. It wasn't that the Vances hated muggle-borns. They just wanted to keep the family line clean, and insisted Em marry pure. Em of course, opposed their views as the prospect of keeping her family inbred disgusted her. Many people said she was the girlified Sirius Black, but if anything, Sirius was Em with slightly less passion and a bit more testosterone. Okay, maybe not passion, more like temper.
Did you know I had to go to another bleeding family wedding? This time I KNOW my parents didn't know ANYONE at the party. Merlin's beard, WE WERE IN HONG KONG! As in China; as in "you've-only-been-invited-to-this-wedding-cuz-my-parents-are-nutcases-like-yours-and-we-had-to-invite-everyone-in-the-whole-friggin-family-tree"! I liked the rice though, but that's besides the point. This is all so bloody ludicrous.
Promise me, Lily, that you will NEVER let me go after anyone more than half magical, because if I am forced to use a twenty tome family tree to compile my wedding list thing. . .I will combust into tiny little mutilated Em pieces I will send them (or have them sent, since I'll be dead and all) to you in a small box so you can look at it every day and feel guilt and shame.
On a lighter note, I've heard from Marls and she'll be joining out rendevous. Madam Malkin's on August 16th, noon.
Toodles,
Em
Emmy is an enigma. A small, wiry, tempered, powerful, if a bit eccentric, witch.The eccentricity comes from her father, she says. Once I had met Mr. Vance, I couldn't help but agree and add bipolarity to the list of traits they shared.
However, this letter puts me into a much better mood. Em always brightens the day. Whether through her muggle item experimentation, ("Well, I'm going to marry a man at least half related to some muggle, so I have to know how this stuff works. I'll figure out Kleenex, and I definately won't be setting it on fire anymore.")
A bit quirky, and a pyro to boot...but Em was Em. Em was sunflowers and sparkly quills and the color orange and citrus mixed with black coffee. Spunky, eccentric, mad. But we're all mad...haven't I gone over this before?
Marlene is mad too. She's her own special brand of mad. She'd have to be the mature, opinionated sort of patient person who could make us shift our feet in embarrassment after a deed of dirty revenge was pulled. Then the next moment, she would grin like a maniac and crack up.
Now don't get me wrong, she's not strict or anything. Not even close. The silly girl is prone to flights of fancy and is the greatest procrastinator I know. But sometimes she has this kind of insight...I don't know. I've always thought she was forced to grow up too fast. She's like the older sister I never had. (Yes, I'm aware I have a sister, if you'd call her that, but hush.)
She's my pillar of strength if you want to got as far as labeling her. Sensible and once again: patient. Bit her temper is HELL to deal with. She's lost it so rarely that when she does. . .the flares of her raw rage burn and lash out. It's wicked awesome but also very scary, especially when she has a wand at hand...If Em is citrus and coffee, Marlene would have to be vanilla and blueberries.
Listen to me, making scent and fruit analogies. But I told you...we're all off our rockers. Me the most if you insist, but I have long since learnt to deal with it.
Lastly, I was left with a letter from Remus in my hand. Remus, Remus, Remus. Godric, I can't think of anything that describes him, but hey, I've rarely spoken eight words to him in the four years I've known him. (Hmm...two words per year..."hello" and "goodbye" I suppose.)
So why was holding in my hand, a thick letter, from none other than Remus Lupin? Hey...there's something bulky in here!
Upon opening, I find my prefect badge as well as a letter from Hogwarts regarding my prefect-ness. Why does Remus have this? Gasp! Unless! He's really McGonagall in disguise...but that's stupid. Nevermind, I just found a short letter from Lupin. It can't even be considered a letter...more like a note, really.
Hello Lily,
It seems Dumbledore accidentally sent me your letter as well. Congrats on getting elected prefect. I did too.
-Remus
See? That is completely note-like. Well, that explains it. I'm a prefect! I could kiss someone I'm so happy. In fact...I just kissed Napkin. Poor own, now he's just much more confused. He pecked me sharply and flew to the top of my closet. I suppose it reminds him of the owlery up there.
AN: So, what do you think? Good, bad, horrible? Do you suddenly feel an urge to pick up you pitchforks, or perhaps...review?
This is my first fanfic in a long time, so, don't be unnecessarily brutal. I'm not sure if and when this will be updated again. This was a sort of spur of the moment thing, but I like it. It seems much easier to write that my past big fanfiction, so I might not give up on it. Review, please, the reviews really do help. They keep me going.
I do not have a beta reader yet (hint hint)so please bare with me and my spell checker. If anyone has ideas or suggestion, don't hesitate to contact me. Email and aim listed in my profile.
-Wired