Hello. Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Amelia Abigail Grace Creston. Well, no, it's not. Actually, though, that's a rather pretty name. A bit long, however. Can you imagine trying to fit a name like Amelia Abigail Grace Creston on a library card? It would probably take ages, and in the end it would look all cramped and sloppy.
My name is really Lily Desiree Evans. I'm thirteen years old, in my third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Yes, that's right. I'm a witch, which is astonishing, really, because I come from a family of completely normal, non-magical (commonly referred to as "Muggles" in the wizarding world) people.
I'm really happy to be a witch, at least most of the time. Doing magic is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. When I learn a new spell or potion, I can help but feel proud. I mean, I come from a family that has no magical background whatsoever, and yet here I am, studying at the best wizarding school in all of England.
On the other hand—and this is a complete secret that I have told no one, not even my two best friends—sometimes I feel like I am stuck between two worlds that don't think I really belong. My parents were really ecstatic when I got my acceptance letter for Hogwarts (after we all got over the shock, of course), but my older and only sister, Petunia, was disgusted. She took every opportunity she could while my parents were out of earshot to let me know that I was a freak. No one else in my family knows that I'm a witch, however. Not even my favourite aunt Chloe. My parents, for some reason unbeknownst to me, keep telling everyone that I was accepted to a highly selective boarding school out in the country when anyone asks where I spend most of my year. This makes me feel very awkward. If they're so proud to have a witch in the family, why keep it secret?
I thought things would be better here at Hogwarts, or in the wizarding world in general. However, things are perhaps even worse. I found that most wizards believe Muggle-borns (people like me who come from Muggle families) are somehow unworthy to be practicing magic. There are even some so low as to call me a Mudblood, which is a really foul word essentially meaning that I have dirty blood because I don't come from an all-wizarding family. Sometimes it can be really hard. People are always teasing me about it, especially the stupid Slytherins. That's why I don't tell many people about my heritage.
I try not to let it get to me, but it's hard. Sometimes I wonder where it is then that I fit in. Certainly not in the Muggle world, because I am not a Muggle. But there are those in the wizarding world that would have me believe I am not a true witch, either.
I'm what a lot of people call a know-it-all. I love to answer questions in class, and I often have the right answers, because I love to read. I get my school supplies early every summer and spend many bright summer days reading ahead. I often end up reading each of my school books twice before school even starts; then I read them again several times throughout the year.
I'm also a bit of a loser. I have only two close friends, both in my year and in the same house as I am in, Gryffindor. Annabelle Jones, who I have considered my friend since the very first journey to Hogwarts, was actually the one to give me this diary. My other best friend is Abigail Prewitt.
The only thing Abby and Annabelle have in common is me. Other than that, they are complete and total opposites. Abby is really outgoing and athletic. She's only a little shorter than I am, with sleek, shiny black hair down to the middle of her back. Her eyes are a deep coffee-coloured brown, and she's rather skinny. She plays Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and she's quite good. She is also on a Muggle soccer team during the summer, as she is half and half (her dad's a wizard, her mum a Muggle).
Annabelle, on the other hand, is what I call the social butterfly of Hogwarts. She has short, glossy blonde curls to her shoulders and beautiful baby blue eyes. She also happens to be a bit on the short and chubby side. She's got loads of friends outside of Abby and me but we're her best friends. Annabelle loves to gossip, and so coincidentally, she always knows what's going on around the castle. Sometimes this can come in handy. Other times, it's humiliating.
"Omigosh, omigosh, omigosh!" squealed a voice at breakfast loudly, and Abby and I turned to look at one another.
Abby looked positively dismayed, her mouth open and her fork poised just in front of it full of scrambled eggs. I tried to bite back my giggle as I glanced at her over my copy of the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper. "Here we go," Abby groaned, rolling her eyes.
Suddenly Annabelle appeared in the empty seat across from me, panting. "Guess what?" she asked excitedly, grinning widely at us.
Abby still had a forkful of eggs near her mouth. "You finally got detention from McGonagall for 'not using your inside voice,'" she guessed sarcastically, and I had to bite my lip and hide my face behind the paper to keep Annabelle from seeing my struggle to keep from laughing.
When I had finally regained control of myself, I peered across the table over the top of the paper again at Annabelle, who was scowling at Abby, who was finally chewing her eggs. "No," Annabelle said huffily.
"What is it then?" I asked.
Instantly she perked up. "Missy Platt and Jared Hornsby are going out!" she declared with triumph, staring at us expectantly, as if we were supposed to jump out of our seats with joy or something.
I blinked. "Well, that's…good," I said uncertainly.
Annabelle's face fell. "That's it?" she asked. "That's all you're going to say about it?"
Abby raised an eyebrow. "What do you expect us to do, throw a parade or something?"
"Well of course not," Annabelle snapped back irritably. "I just thought you'd be at least a little bit excited!"
"Oh, Annabelle," I sighed, shaking my head. "It's not like it'll last anyway."
"What do you mean?" she asked, starting to get huffy again. "How would you know anyway?"
"Because," I said exasperatedly, "we're only thirteen, for heaven's sake. We don't know anything about love yet; we're simply too young. Besides, they should be focused more on their studies and less on their social lives."
Simultaneously both Annabelle and Abby rolled their eyes. "No wonder," Annabelle muttered crossly, starting to put eggs and bacon onto the plate in front of her.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing," they both replied quickly, and dropped their eyes to their plates to avoid looking at me.
"What do you mean by that, Annabelle?" I pressed, setting my paper down.
"Nothing," she repeated innocently. "Honestly. It's not important. You wouldn't want to know anyway."
"Yes I do," I said instantly. "Tell me."
Abby and Annabelle exchanged worried glances, still not looking at me. Finally Annabelle sighed. "It's really not important, Lily," she said finally, as I reached for my goblet of orange juice. "It's just that…well, you've sort of gained the reputation for being prude, that's all."