This is my first fan-fiction- I really hope you like it! Please R/R!
Chapter 1: Owl Deliveries, and James PotterOn a crisp morning in early July, I woke to the twittering of birds and looked outside to see three birds, two of them fighting and the other watching and singing from a nearby tree branch. I got out of bed and leaned out of the window to watch the battle. The larger of the two fighting pecked violently at the other's feet, causing his opponent to flap his wings angrily at his head. Soon another bird appeared in the sky. As it came closer I saw, to my surprise, that it was an owl, and it was carrying something. To my further shock, it was headed toward our house. It looked, at first, like it was going to come in my window, but then dived down toward the kitchen.
I rushed downstairs, bumping into my older sister, Petunia, as I hurried into the kitchen and didn't bother to apologize. I could see no owl, but there was a yellowish envelope sitting next to the sink I was sure hadn't been there when I had eaten my midnight snack the previous evening. I strode forward to take it, but my sister was faster. She snatched it a second before I did and read the address aloud. "Miss Lily Evans, First Room on the Right, Second Floor, fourteen Little Lane. Hmm…" she gazed mockingly at me and began opening it slowly.
"Petunia, give it to me, please," I said quietly, almost dangerously. I could feel blood beginning to pound in my head and a curious throb in my right hand began as it always did when I was irritated.
"What? This?" she waved the nearly open letter. "Oh, I don't think I will. Not until after I've read it, at least. It must be someone who knows you very well… they even know where your room is…" she finished slitting the seal and let the envelope drop to the floor as she began reading the letter. In a matter of seconds her eyebrows shot up. She looked from me to the letter, then back at me. "Do you know this McGonagall person? Do you have some kind of ridicules code or something? Some secret correspondence you haven't told Mum and Dad about?" I tried to grab the piece of parchment from her hands, but she whipped it away.
"Give it to me," I said again, this time even quieter.
Her horse-like face broke into a grin and she shook her head, ripping the letter in two.
"Petunia!" I cried, leaping forward. My sister made a big act of dropping the letter in the sink while falling and "accidentally" hitting the knob that turned on the water with her elbow. I angrily pushed her out of the way, but I was too late. The letter was soaked through and the words illegible. My jaw clenched and I stocked past Petunia back up to my room without so much as a glance at Petunia.
I turned to the window, wanting to get my thoughts off my sister and curious to see if the Great Bird Battle, as I had christened it in my mind, was still going on, but was disappointed. All was silent except for the faint sizzling of the sausage Petunia was cooking. My hand pulsed again at the thought of my sister, but I ignored it and turned my mind away from her. Why had that owl brought a letter to me, as I assumed it had? How did the mysterious person who sent it know where my room was? And, most mind-boggling of all, what did the letter say? I wished that I had been able to read it.
A little while later, I was back downstairs, showered and dressed, and ready to eat. To my discomfort and disappointment, Petunia was still seated at the table, chewing slowly on a piece of toast and reading a magazine. She glanced up when I entered the room and idly returned to her article. I opened the cupboard, searching for bread to make my own toast. After a few frustrating minutes, Petunia, without looking up, said, "There's no more bread, just so you know. I'm eating the last piece."
I shut the cupboard door and mumbled, rather sarcastically, "Thank you for telling me."
As I could not make toast like I had planned, I poured myself a bowl of cereal and began eating, watching my sister with a bit of contempt. After a few bites I set down my spoon. "What did my letter say, Petunia?"
She took her time finishing her last bite of toast before answering. "I'm not going to tell you. It was a bunch of rubbish."
"Was it?"
"Yes, it was."
I felt my temper starting to rise, and I fought to keep it under control. Curse my red hair! "Petunia!"
"That's my name, Lily."
"For the last time, what was it about? What did my letter say? Tell me!"
Calm as you please, she took a bite of her sausage and, while chewing, said distinctly (as distinct as talking through food can be, that is) "No."
I felt my face heating and my hands clenching into fists. I wished her food would fly up in her face or get caught in her throat. To my great surprise, it did both. Choking and sputtering, my older sister started and ran to the sink, trying unsuccessfully to cough the breakfast up. After a few minutes of this, I started getting worried, and hoped that it would come out soon-I didn't want to see the looks on my parents' faces when they saw her. At the instant that thought crossed my mind, out the meat came, falling straight into the sink. Slowly, Petunia turned around, revealing a sausage-covered face. I immediately burst out laughing. "It's not funny, Lily!" she screeched as someone knocked on the door. "Answer it, Lily!"
Still laughing, I opened the front door to see Petunia's close friend, (her boyfriend, I called him) the plump and obnoxious Vernon Dursley. "P-petunia!" I called, "Vernon's here!"
"Vernon? Oh-oh my gosh, don't let him see me like this!" she cried frantically and then in a softer, even higher voice: "Vernon? I'll be ready in a minute!" The sound of water running and splashing made it known that she was trying to wash her breakfast off her face, and from the grunts of frustration, I gathered she wasn't having too easy of a time doing it.
Vernon looked at me as if I was responsible for my sister's disaster. I was doubled over and almost in pain I was laughing so hard. "A-all right, Tunia..." Vernon answered warily, still staring at my bent and shaking figure.
Within a couple minutes, Petunia strode quickly into the room, swinging a purse, glaring at me (I was still captive to giggles- I spotted a few pieces of food still stuck onto her face), and flashing a smile at that pig-of-a-boy Vernon Dursley. "Lily," she spat my name out as if it were dirt, "Vernon and I are going to the movies. If Mum comes home, tell her I'll be home around noon. As they walked out the door, I heard my sister whisper, "She is so annoying!" I stopped laughing.
Turning towards the newly closed door, I recalled that the movie theater didn't open for another three hours. Moments later, a dark barn owl glided in through the open window above my head. It dropped a package on my lap and flew speedily out the window again. Startled, I looked at what had fallen from its talons. It was an envelope of yellow parchment, and written on the front were the following words:
"Miss Lily Evans,
Floor by Window
14 Little Lane"
Numb with shock, I slowly managed to open the envelope and read the first part of the letter inside. "Dear Miss Evans, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
As I read, I became more and more confused. Wizards? Witches? Hogwarts? It sounded like a pig school; absolutely ridicules. I couldn't be a witch... or could I? I had never believed in such things, but for some reason even I didn't know, I knew this wasn't a hoax.
In mid August, my dad and I managed to find the pub mentioned in the letter, where we could find more information and reach the place where we would buy my school supplies. Entering an old part of London, we found a sign above a black-painted building that read: "The Leaky Cauldron." "Well," my dad said, matching the name in the letter to the one on the pub, "This looks like the place." I managed a stiff nod, and we entered the place.
It was loud and crowded with odd-looking people, many in cloaks. Almost everyone ignored us, but a few glanced and chuckled at our stunned and nervous faces. Behind the counter was a middle-aged man with a flaming color of red hair (even brighter than mine).
"Are you Tom?" I asked, stepping forward.
He nodded. "Can I 'elp you?" he returned.
"Er-yes," said my dad, stepping forward, "We need to get to a certain-um- Diagon Alley. Do you know where that is?"
"Sure thing," replied Tom, "Follow me." He led us out into an alley and walked to a brick wall. After he tapped a few bricks with a something that looked like a stick, the wall started moving. Its bricks turned and twisted until they had formed a sort of archway. Through that opening I first saw the amazing Diagon Alley.
"Will that be all?" Tom asked.
"Actually, can you tell me how to exchange money for Wizard money?" Dad asked.
"You're muggles, then, eh?"
"Er-muggles?"
"Non-magic folk."
"Oh. Yes. Well, at least I am. My daughter is a witch." I noticed a spark of pride in my dad's voice now, and I smiled. While the bartender explained Wizard money to him, I stepped into Diagon Alley and started looking around. I walked slowly down a street crowded with strange people- some not human- and lined with dozens of shops. A store that sold robes was called Madam Milkins Robes for All Occasions, one that advertised equipment for something called "Quidditch", and there were several where stylish hats and dressy robes were posted. Flourish and Blotts was where I would be finding my books, there was a shop that held available every color of ink and parchment, and the shop nearest to the entrance sold cauldrons of every metal, shape and size. I had stopped in front of a wand store whose door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. when I felt someone run into me. I fell to the ground with a small grunt.
"I-I'm sorry," came a laughing voice as I struggled to get up, "Here, let me help you." The boy who was speaking held out his hand and I grasped it firmly until I was on my feet again. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yea, except for a skimmed elbow," I answered, inspecting it and brushing it off.
"I'm really sorry about that," the boy said, "I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm James-James Potter. Nice to meet you."
"That's not the way I would prefer of meeting people, being knocked down, I mean, but I guess it's nice to meet you, too. I'm Lily Evans," I replied and shook the hand that he extended. He smiled. We stood there, just looking at each other and not knowing what to say. "So…"I ventured, "Are you going to Hogwarts?"
"Yeah," he replied with a nod, "This is going to be my second year. You?"
"I'm a first year."
"James!" a boy ran over to where we were standing. He saw me, looked me up and down, grinned mischievously, and asked, with an arched eyebrow, "Who is this, may I ask?"
"Sirius, this is Lily Evans; Lily, this is Sirius Black."
"Don't hold me to my name," Sirius said, giving a dramatic bow. I smiled. "Well, Lily-flower, sorry to say that we've gotta go. We have to be at James's house for a Quidditch game."
"Oh-that's right! -I forgot," James said, hitting his forehead, "Sorry, Lily. See you at Hogwarts!" Sirius ran into the crowd with wave and a grin, and James followed suit. I watched them go and smiled. Against my better judgment, I liked them. They both had great eyes-James's eyes were bright hazel and shone out behind his glasses and Sirius's almost black- both pairs were full of laughter. One-of-a-kind black hair belonged to James, and though normally I would have been disgusted by how messy it was, its untidiness added considerably to his looks. Sirius's hair was different- it was dark and fell slightly over his forehead with a casual elegance. I let out a little sigh.
"Lily! Lily Evans! Lily! Where are you?" I heard my dad over the crowd.
"Over here, Dad!" I called.
My dad squeezed his way through the crowd and reached me. "There you are! Why'd you leave?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. I just wanted to explore."
"Oh. Well, I've already exchanged some money and you've got an account at Gringotts."
"Gringotts?" I asked.
"The bank here. The workers are really a bit creepy- goblins or ghouls or something like that. Anyway, here's your money- the- er- thing helping me said that the gold ones are Galleons, the silver are Sickles, and the bronze are Knuts." He handed me a heavy bag full of the coins and I nodded.
"Well, better get started, then. I want to get an owl first."
"An owl, did you say?"
"Yep," I said, with a grin. It was fun being a witch. My family would never know what to expect.
By late afternoon all I had to get was a wand. I entered Ollivander's shop alone; Dad had gone to get ice cream. Looking around, I didn't see anyone. "H-hello?" I called, "Anyone here?"
Out of nowhere, it seemed came an old man. "May I help you?" he asked.
"Yes, please- I need a wand."
"Hogwarts this year, missy?" I nodded excitedly. "Well, let's get started." Whipping out a tape measure, Mr. Ollivander watched as it measured my right arm. "Right then," he said when it had finished, "Let us see which wand will be best for you. Of course you know that it's not really the witch or wizard that chooses the wand."
"Er-it isn't?"
"Yes, miss. One of the many mysteries of magic." After measuring my wand arm (my right) and such, he began walking around, taking a box from a shelf every once in a while. Soon he returned with no less than eight wand boxes. Mr. Ollivander opened the first one. "Birchwood, ten inches, with a core of dragon string. Wave it a bit."
Grasping it carefully, I swirled it a bit, and nothing happened. "I guess you're not the right one for this wand, then." I tried the next six, and with each one a different disaster happened. Finally, I took hold of the last one. "Ten and a quarter inches, willow, swishy- good for charms." With a flick of my wrist, the wand sent out a beautiful shower of blue sparks. "There, now. You've found one that will take you. That will be six galleons, and six knuts, please."
I paid quickly for my wand and left the shop. I didn't really like that man very much; I don't think those cold eyes of his blinked once.
When I returned home that night, I sat on my bed, watching Ebony, my owl and thinking about Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. Ebony was lovely, with black feathers, a silver streak on her right wing, and clear blue eyes. I was taken with her, and it seemed that she was also taken with me. She nipped my finger affectionately and stood on my shoulder, and when she was in her cage she stood still as a statue.
I felt very proud just then. I was proud to be Ebony's owner, proud to be going to Hogwarts, proud to be a witch- and also proud to have caught the attention of James Potter. I wasn't all that boy crazy, but even I had to admit that he was good-looking- probably the best-looking boy I had ever met. His friend-what was his name again? –oh yeah-Sirius Black- wasn't ugly either. I was glad they had even acknowledged my existence. Little did I know that Hogwarts (along with certain hot guys) was not what I expected- not what I expected at all.
Before I even woke up on the morning of September 1, I felt excitement from my head to my toes-and for some reason I felt a tickling sensation too, particularly near my feet. I opened my eyes and looked to the foot of my bed. My puppy (ironically named Kitty) was free to lick to death my feet, as they were outside of my covers, and he was doing so with satisfaction glowing in his adorable eyes. "Kitty," I said, yawning and sitting up, "Kitty! Stop it!" It was starting to make me laugh. I reached down to pick her up. "Who let you in my room, anyways?" I asked, kissing her nose.
"That would have been me," came my mum's voice entering the room. She carried a tray piled with muffins and hash browns and almost everything else good for breakfast.
"Mum!" I exclaimed, spying the food, "You can't expect me to eat all that!"
"Well, why not?" I just stared at her. She laughed lightly. "I'm just kidding, Lily! No, I'm going to help you in the attempt to digest this mountain, but don't tell your father-I told him it was just for you and that he would have to find something else for breakfast."
"Don't tell me what?" Dad said upon entering.
"Er-nothing," I answered for Mum as she set down the tray.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really," my mum said as kissed his cheek. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist. All I could do was wrinkle my nose and leave them laughing at my reaction.
"Come now, Lily. You don't really think that I believed your mother when she tried to convince me you could eat all that by yourself. I knew something was up."
Mum sighed. "I guess I'll just have to get another fork and plate." Dad grinned. When she came back from the kitchen a few minutes later, he grabbed the fork from her and savagely scooped enormous amounts of the food onto his plate. My mum and I just looked at each other and smiled, calmly serving ourselves to portions of the food it was humanly possible to eat. I still don't, to this day, know how my dad could manage to eat as much as he did and keep it down.
When Mum and I were finished with our breakfast, unable to eat anymore (Dad was still eating), I said, "Well, I should start packing."
"You mean you haven't packed already?" Mum exclaimed. When I shook my head (a bit sheepishly, I might add- I never was really good at planning things) she practically fainted. "Merlin! I'd better help you then. Let's get going."
"It's not all that bad, Mum," I protested, "Everything is ready to be packed… I just haven't packed it yet. And…Merlin?" It was her turn to feel embarrassed.
"Well, if I have a witch for a daughter, I might as well speak her language, right?" she said, turning a bit red.
"Sure, Mum…sure," I answered, grinning.
"Lily!" Mum called up the stairs, "It's past ten-thirty!"
"Be right down!" I shouted back, hurriedly grabbing my trunk and Ebony's cage. I attempted to run with both of these, dragging my trunk behind me, but I ended up on the floor with an "oof!" "On second thought, can you help me with my trunk? It's-er- a bit too heavy for me to carry by myself." Mum was at the door in seconds and with her help I was able to get my trunk to our car. As soon as we got to Kingsport Station we ran frantically around, trying unsuccessfully to find the platform written on my ticket- platform 9 ¾. Finally I spotted two people who I knew to be wizards- James Potter and Sirius Black. "James!" I called, waving. He and Sirius looked over.
"Hi, Lily!" they called, running over with their trolleys.
"How're you?" James asked, "Excited for Hogwarts?"
"Yeah," I replied, "Very. But I need help. Where's the platform, do you know?"
"They didn't tell you how to get through? Oh, that's real convenient. Well, come with us and we'll show you."
"Okay. Just a minute, though, I've got to tell my mum."
"'Kay."
I ran to Mum and told her that I knew how to get to the train. "How?" she asked, "and how did you find out?"
"Well, I don't actually know myself how to get through, but someone I met in Diagon Alley is going to help me. I'd better hurry- he's waiting for me."
"He?"
I blushed, and before she could ask questions, I said, "Bye Mum!", kissed her cheek, and told her I'd write as often as I could. I walked towards James as fast as I could to still be considered walking. With a smile, he and his friend led me between platforms 3 and 4.
So? How was it? Not too bad, or horrible? Please tell me what you think so that I can improve it! R/R!
