The noontime sun shone down from the sky. Underneath it, many students sat outside on the lawn. Some ran and played, while others sat and talked. The general feeling was carefree; after all, school had just started, and there wasn't that much homework as of yet. The lethargy and playfulness of summer had yet to wear off.
Lily Evans made her way down to the lake. As she trudged across the lawn, she could feel the sun beat down on her. She hated it; it was too hot, too bright. She was grateful when she reached the trees, as the heat was rather intense.
Under the shade, it was cool and dim. Lily loved to sit there and just think. She never thought about anything specific, but let her thoughts ramble from boys to her studies to whatever book she was reading this week. Sometimes her contemplations would go deeper, and she would think about such basic things as death, pain, and the difference between good and evil.
Lily didn't sit with anyone. She didn't really have friends. Sure, she had people she hung out with, but not a friend in the real sense of the word. She often wondered why this was so, and on many accounts had tried to psychoanalyze herself. This is never an easy task. In fact, it is almost impossible to do an unbiased analyzation of one's self. But she had tried, as she had nothing else that could pass for a hobby.
Except for reading. Reading was her life, her world. With reading, she could escape into an alternate reality, one much nicer than her own. Lily's books were the most precious things she owned. She had cried when, as a prank, James had tried to curse one and accidentally set fire to it. Lily had waited till she was in a deserted classroom before letting the tears fall; it would not do to cry in front of others. She had instilled a very firm belief in herself that crying in public was not acceptable. It made for the humiliating experience of people staring and asking what was wrong.
No one knew that Lily Evans had cried when that fateful event occurred, but they did know that afterwards, she hated James Potter with a passion. They had tried to reason with her, saying it was just a book, but Lily would not be deterred. It was more, so much more than a book. It was like James had destroyed a part of her, a part of her reality.
Perhaps it says a lot that Lily considered books more real than the real world. However, he hadn't destroyed just any book, he had destroyed a book given to her by her grandmother before her death.
Lily and her grandmother had been very close, and had taken the death rather hard. The book, it seemed, was all that was left to her of her grandmother. It had been given to her the last time Lily had seen her grandmother alive.
And James had burned it.
Lily shifted. Her leg had fallen asleep, and was now prickling. She shook it, then turned to reach into her bag. Her current book she was reading was in there. The Fellowship of the Ring, it was called. It had been hideously expensive, as it was a big, beautiful leather bound tome with pictures spelled to show movement. Lily loved it.
She had opened the book to where her bookmark was and had started reading when she got the creepy sensation of being stared at. Looking up, she saw no one, but years of avoiding James and his friends had taught her something. Lily looked around, then up.
Then she gasped.