Hello, my dear readers! I am super, duper excited to present . . . (drumroll please)

My very own Lily Luna Potter series! Yay!

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the Harry Potter series or the characters in this (except for my OCs, which I'll introduce soon). These events are simply created by me and are by no means official.

I've been planning this for a while now, so I'd really appreciate some reviews, because I really want to know your opinions on this series. Hopefully this story gains readers, because I'd love for there to be some sort of story for Lily!

Side note: This story is set in 2019. By the end of this series, Lily and her friends shall be in 2026.

This story will also have some spoilers for the series, so if you have not finished the books/movies, be warned!

I have also made up the "Miraculous Mirrors", they don't exist in the Potterverse.

Now let us begin!

Prologue:

Every single second of Monday night in the iconic Potter's Nest was miserable and painfully slow. Time ticked and taunted. The usual buzz was misty and cold. Tension hung in the air like a lingering spirit. Faces were solemn and intense. Whispers did not dare find their way across the dinner table. Although that may have been because of that ghastly omelette—Harry Potter may have been a cherished hero, but he did not know how to cook a decent omelette.

Twenty one years after the war. Twenty one years after the war—and Harry Potter still could not cook an omelette.

Lily Luna Potter could see her brothers raising their eyebrows at her in what they perhaps thought was a surreptitious manner. They were stupid; they were incredibly stupid. James was always trying to make her laugh; Albus was merely being his inquiring self. But she could barely suppress her grin.

Monday night was the very much awaited night of Diagon Alley Eve, a grand festivity available exclusively only to the Weasley-Potter offspring and their honourary second-family, namely the Lovegoods and Longbottoms. Only the young students knew that it was Diagon Alley Eve. The parents, however, hadn't a single clue. And Merlin forbid they ever discover the secrets of Diagon Alley Eve. The Weasley-Potter clan hoped very much to keep their celebration a private affair. Partially because they wanted to avoid trouble, and partially because Uncle George was sure to add his own twist that would surely end in absolute disaster.

The legend of this fateful celebration was (not) a "sob" story. It began when the first of the family were of the Hogwarts age: Victoire, Teddy, Dominique, Alice and James were a handful of wild children that so happened to be put in a poor, unsuspecting family. (Ah, was it already making sense?) And whatever could wild children do the night prior to visiting Diagon Alley? Throw a celebratory meeting that night without the parents' consent, of course! Hogwarts was home. But a contributing benefactor as to what made it home may or may not have been the company of cousins and siblings. Diagon Alley was a beauty by itself; the bonus of attending Hogwarts. Diagon Alley Eve was simply an "added bonus on top of another bonus," as stated by an excitable James. (It was a wonder they did not leave the houses in states like that of bombsites, but Colloportus and Muffliato did wonders. Especially if you happened to be blessed with the enviable Granger brains.)

This glorious night was a very first Diagon Alley Eve for the youngest of the Potter children: sweet, young, naive Lily. Minus the "sweet". Lily Luna Potter had inherited the iconic wild child genes. Mischief flowed in her veins. You could not blame her with Weasley and Potter blood. You could, however, blame those Weasleys for allowing such a preposterous blood conversion. (And then prepare for a duel with the Weasley-Potter clan and without doubt the Longbottoms and Lovegoods.)

A basic summary of the present scenario: Lily Luna Potter was set to begin her education at Hogwarts this year (according to the latest gossip in Witch Weekly).

Hogwarts was raved about. Truly raved about. Maybe Lily would see for herself. Perhaps Hogwarts wasn't really the school it was made out to be. Perhaps it was. Perhaps Lily would join the ravers. Whatever would happen, it was real and it wasn't a photo or a description. It was tangible and it was going to happen. It wasn't going to be where all of her jealousy was directed; it would be a place and a home and an experience.

Life was beautiful indeed—unless you were a professor at Hogwarts. Then life would be beautiful after some therapy.

OOO

The four Potters (Harry was too busy preparing that disgusting omelette of his) and the odd Lupin sat at the dinner table, anxiously awaiting their dinner. Anxiously because of no angst, just the fear of what havoc the omelette wreck in their protesting stomachs.

Lily sat beside Albus (her pesky thirteen-year-old brother), who was plonked beside James (her awful soon-to-be-fifth-year brother) who was dropped next to Teddy (her twenty-one-year-old metamorphmagus older brother, and the only Lupin to be in the dining room and to be alive), the table resolving in a somewhat crude line of youngest-to-oldest.

One simply had to get a good look at Lily. She had been bestowed upon a fiery head of red locks that were silky, yet simply untameable. She'd pulled back her curls in a ponytail, but her hair-tie was almost snapping due to the frizz. She had inherited the legendary Weasley hair. Lily was the shortest of the clan ("a constant annoyance!" as she put it) and was also the fourth-freckliest (Fred had the most freckles). A spray of freckles were splayed across her nose. She was admittedly pale, though she wished her skin was a deep caramel like her cousin Roxanne's. Her eyes were the colour of melting caramel chocolate, and they crinkled when she smiled, which was quite often. And the most dire of warnings: her innocence was not to be believed, for she was a fizzing bundle of mischief and sass. One just did not cross her at all.

As Harry arrived at the table, arms laden with horrible platters of omelette, Teddy's normally turquoise hair flushed a fluorescent shade of Weasley red. It was vibrant enough to make him pass for Uncle Ron's younger self. Performing a quick mental headcount, Harry paused. The last time he'd checked, he had only one child with the signature Weasley hair.

James flashed that grin of his—the very one that made teachers weep with exhaustion. "C'mon, dad, it's Teddy!"

Teddy nodded earnestly. "Next you'll be telling us you don't remember Vincent."

"Or Melania," Albus chipped in.

"Or Lucy," James added, "or the capital of Belgium!"

Lily smiled—a bright grin that would've rivalled James's. "Or the recipe for egg omelettes!"

Teddy leaned over the silver platter gingerly, caution and remorse burning in his eyes, and sniffed, taking a mighty risk. He slumped back, grimacing. "He never did."

Harry pouted in mock disappointment. He gently ruffled Teddy's hair in the way he usually did. "Come on now, kids; my omelette isn't that bad, surely?" He raised his eyebrows at Ginny. "Are they?"

"Unfortunately," Ginny cringed. "But your lasagna is godly." She leaned across the table and pecked smoothly him on the lips. There was a disgusted silence before a chorus of complaints rang around the table.

"Get a room, please," Albus whined.

Harry and Ginny smirked. "Now, now," Ginny warned, "if you want to hear our whole love story ..."

"No!" Lily jumped in. They'd already heard a torturous three quarters of it. "No, we don't!"

Harry smiled like the cat with the cream. He had, as a matter of fact, spilled a bowl full of cream on him in the kitchen. Ginny sighed. "It was a beautiful story ..."

"Another time, Gin," Harry said wistfully. He snapped out of his fit of daze and passed the silver platter around.

The vegetable salad was attacked immediately (with frantic utensils, at that), and the egg omelette remained untouched.

The clinking of cutlery announced the beginning of supper. Tonight, dinner was an unusually quiet affair.

Lily wolfed down her very last bite of lettuce with ravenous glory. "Finished," she said with satisfaction. "Um ... thanks, dad. For the salad—not the omelette." Harry grinned an untrustworthy grin at this. With a small nod of the head, she rose from the table and slowly pushed her chair beneath the table, plate balanced in her hand.

Bounding, she made her way to the kitchen. Potter's Nest was a homely estate, with cherry-coloured wood and a forever-burning fireplace. And usual visits from cousins. And the scrumptious packages of food delivered weekly from Grandma Molly. Gosh, no-one could forget the food.

The hallway walls were almost fully covered with framed pictures. Baby Lily, baby Albus, baby James, baby Teddy, even baby cousins and family friends adorned the walls. Family photos and photos of proud moments and houses and anything that had to do with their family was hanging on the walls. The Potters/Weasleys loved their family more than anything. Absolutely anything—more than Hogwarts and Quidditch and Firewhiskey and Butterbeer. It ran deep in their blood and dominated their minds. The love and longing for family was ingrained in their hearts. They couldn't resist an opportunity to show off their marvellous family—whether they were related by blood or bond. Family was family all the same.

Lily smiled at a photo of Albus and Rose at a Quidditch match set on the counter. They were beaming and waving at the camera as a battered Quaffle streaked across the sky. It was a pity their bond had broken. Her smirk was replaced with a frown. The photo seemed so much gloomier now. Albus and Rose looked almost tired suddenly, as if they wanted to drop their arms and storm off.

The pitiful reminder of Albus and Rose's former friendship was not the only thing present. A snowy owl was perched on the counter. Marigold, the family owl, had arrived.

"Hello, Marigold," Lily cooed. "You're looking elegant today."

Marigold spread her wings as if to agree and made an arrogant clicking sound. She nuzzled Lily flung herself off the counter, soaring through the house. With a clang, Marigold dropped a bundle of violent purple letters from the Ministry.

Lily frowned at the titanic mountain. The Ministry was always pestering her father at this time of night. She supposed she should be used to it. She slid her pristine plate in the metal sink, between the stacks of trays that James had wasted. The world just seemed much more happier now.

The weight of all the excitement was bearing down on her. Almost everything seemed at peace. It all seemed practically perfect.

Ecstasy flying, she frolicked over to the staircase. "Goodnight!" she called over the thumping of her footsteps. She twisted over the edge of the stairwell and dragged across the carpeted hallway.

She located her room; a decent-sized room painted sky-blue, adorned with miniature Quaffles and sketches—she loved to sketch and paint very much. It was truly a joy to create rolling hills with only the tip of a quill. Sky-blue had always been her favourite colour—it was for some reason pleasing to her eyesight.

Lily pulled her woolly pyjamas over her head and set off to the bathroom. A cracked bottle of Lucy's perfume was rolling on the tiles. An overpowering and—dare she say—slightly pungent fragrance of roses and lavender wafted from it. Lily recalled the day's events that involved Lucy torturing James with the vile scent. She skipped over the tiles and began brushing her teeth. It was times like this that Lily Luna Potter had a good look at herself in the mirror. It was times like this that she realised she was eleven.

Oh, how clever! So suddenly now I realise I'm eleven! Lily scolded herself.

But what if she wasn't "eleven-ish" enough for Hogwarts? What if she was expected to be special or smart because of her heritage? What if Hogwarts was just plain old Hogwarts? And what if it was dangerous as it was when her father was eleven? What if she wanted a plain experience? And what if she didn't?

Make up your mind, the rational part of her brain screamed, How will you have it?

I don't know ... she pondered, It would be great for some excitement.

Oh, the rational part quipped, You want half of Hogwarts to die in a battle? You want students and families to suffer?

Stop it, she scolded herself again. You're not helping me, brain. Stop being stupid. Stupid, stupid brain.

Lily pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind. It was Diagon Alley Eve. That was all that mattered.

And so with this beautiful thought motivating her, she exited the bathroom, extinguished the quivering light in her room and buried herself in blankets. It was ten-o'-clock. That meant two more hours until midnight—or otherwise, Diagon Alley Eve.

Unfortunately, time was being very stubborn. The celebration was haunting her, mocking her, freezing time in dreadful suspense. The seconds were a taunting maniac. If only Lily could find Kronos and modify time. And she only knew that the weird Titan guy could modify time because her cousin Rose, rapt with amazement, had blurted that fact out to her during lunchtime.

That only made her longing worse.

Time was slowing down and melting to mush. Lily's brain was ticking and her heart was beating wildly against her ribcage. She was going into overdrive.

She was no longer "young Lily Luna," as she was always referred to. She was somebody. She could be anybody. She wasn't a stay-at-home baby. Lily Luna Potter, for the first time in her life, could do something; she could do anything. Maybe she'd live up to her name. Maybe she'd crush the perfect Potter stereotype like a twig beneath her feet.

For once, she wasn't on the sidelines. Lily was up and in action, just as she was born to do; just as she was meant to do; just as she'd planned to do; just as she would do.

It wouldn't be all sunshine and daisies, blah blah blah, Rose had lectured her. But it didn't have to be: it could be thunderstorms and bluebells—same difference.

She satisfied herself with the thought that midnight would come soon.

Soon.

(what even was "soon"?)

"Soon."

(when even was "soon"?)

Soon.

(it was all "soon"!)

Soon ...

(of course it was soon)

... Soon ...

(everything was soon)

Soon—

Now! The clock on her wall read 12:00. It was 12:00, midnight, party time, horror time, twilight, whatever.

Midnight was now. As if in right now. Lily Luna Potter was going to attend the celebration of Diagon Alley Eve right now. Her very first one.

Lily Luna Potter was about to jump off the sidelines and get ready for the game.

And so she crept out of the covers, careful not to trip over a foam Quaffle. She fizzling like fresh Firewhiskey, bubbling like warm Butterbeer. Lily reached behind her desk for her particular method of transportation.

Aunt Fleur was a "cool aunt." She was French, and very regal at that. Gorgeous Fleur Weasley, the press would rave. Amazing, beautiful, miraculous, amazing, amazing, perfect Fleur Weasley. But the press hadn't seen her competitive streak—she lost all composure when challenged, and was no more a princess than the next person. And as far as basic knowledge went, even the most oblivious knew that "Perfect" Fleur Weasley could not resist spoiling her loved ones. So from France, Lily's Aunt Fleur had brought each of her children, nieces, nephews, and second-family two Miraculous Mirrors (one for home and one for, as she called it, "ze 'Ogwarts"). Miraculous Mirrors were mirrors that were as their namesake, simply and utterly miraculous. Along the top half of the silver mirror frames were intricate jewels carved as symbols, each for a child (a lily for Lily, much to her chagrin). The carvings and intricacies of the bottom half mirrored the top perfectly.

If a child wanted to talk to another child, they would simply tap the other's symbol, and the other child would be alerted by a flashing symbol. Both would chat through the mirror. If one child wanted to make another child's acquaintance, they would tap their own symbol and press the symbol of the other, and they would be transported. And another bonus: this cheeky method of travel was unknown by the parents (except for Fleur, of course).

Lily felt the cool, metallic frame of the mirror slide against her skin. She deposited it on her desk and lit a candle lying on her bedside.

In the twinkling firelight, the silver shimmered and the sky-blue lily appeared to be almost made of magic. She rapped her forefinger on the lily and then pressed it on a topaz trophy: her older cousin Victoire's symbol. It had already been arranged between the cousins to meet in Victoire's bedroom at the break of midnight.

She sucked in a shivery breath and watched as the soft, fading colours of the world swirled into a curious whirlpool of sky-blue, darkness, and shimmering twilight.

Diagon Alley Eve had arrived. And Lily hadn't gone knocking on its doorstep; the door had just opened by itself.

So ... did you like my Prologue? I hope so, because it did take me a while to write. I will continue this story, and hopefully write the rest of the series. Please tell me what you thought by reviewing! I'll see you in the next chapter!

Yours in awesomeness,

xxxgryffinclawxxx