A/N: Before this story starts, I have an explanation. This story had been posted before. I had 11 chapters up. But I think someone complained, and FanFiction took it down. So I took the opportunity to edit scenes I didn't like, and revise some things (because I hate revising and normally don't do it. Bad tink). I'm much happier with it, and I now have time to work on it. And I have some fresh new ideas. So to prevent it from being taken down again, I need to say something. This story has mild swearing (nothing too scandalous), violence, and mild suggestive themes. If this were a movie, it would probably be rated PG-13. If you're not comfortable with that, I would suggest not reading this. Or at least don't report it. Because I did warn you. For those of you who don't care, please, read on and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K Rowling does.

Beep…Beep…Beep.

Shut up.

Beep…BEEP…BEEP!

Damn to the depths of hell whoever invented alarm clocks.

I reached out a hand blindly and swatted at the infernal contraption on my night table. Unfortunately, it went flying across the room and hit a wall, exploding into a million pieces. There went my second clock in as many weeks. I should really find a better way to wake myself up.

"Lily! Aren't you awake yet?" The nasally voice of my sister, Petunia, floated through my door, making me feel like I was being stabbed in the eardrums.

Her voice would not be my first choice for returning to consciousness.

"Go 'way, Tuney," I groaned, burrowing deeper into my pillows.

"Okay," she said quickly. Her footsteps faded as she clomped down the stairs.

Wait a second. Petunia never did anything that I asked. I lifted my head from my sheets and squinted at the light filtering through my curtains. If Petunia didn't want to get up, it probably was in my best interest to do so. I dragged myself from the comfort of my bed and immediately stubbed my toe on a leg of my desk.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger," I swore as I righted myself. My eyes landed on the calendar sitting on the corner. Why was today circled in red?

Oh yeah. It was September 1st. I needed to be in King's Cross to catch the Hogwarts Express. No wonder Petunia didn't want me to get up. She'd think it was hilarious if I missed the train taking me to my last year at Hogwarts.

Her inquiry had probably been forced from our mother, who, thankfully, had excellent timing. I wouldn't miss the train today.

I carefully picked my way to my bathroom, avoiding all sharp corners. I squeaked in horror when I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror. My red hair was a complete disaster. It looked like a particularly sloppy bird had tried to make its nest on top of my head. I snatched a brush from my counter and commenced attack.

Ten minutes later, after much pain and hair product, my hair lay in soft waves descending past my shoulders. I inspected my reflection in the mirror. Hair tamed, green eyes sparkling, slightly-too-skinny frame dressed in jeans and a sweater. I was always a skinny beanpole. I'd never managed to grow those womanly curves that Hestia, one of my friends, managed to pull off so well. I was sort of lacking in the feminine department. I was convinced that if I cut my hair short I'd look like a boy. Emmeline always tried to convince me otherwise, but she didn't actually have a body like mine. But I didn't really stress over it (unless Dorcas Meadowes was feeling particularly vicious). I snuck a glance at the clock and realized that if I wanted to arrive early, I needed to leave five minutes ago.

"Mum!" I called as I hurried down the stairs, trunk thumping behind me. I'd packed a week ago, so there was no stressing about having everything together this morning. "We need to go!"

"Right behind you dear," she said calmly, holding to door open for me. I felt a sadness pass over me as I passed her. This was the first year that I'd be leaving without saying good-bye to my father. He'd died of cancer the year before, while I was at school. I'd gotten permission to leave and spend his last few days with him. His death still smarted, but he was in a lot of pain at the end. At least now I knew he was in a better place. I pushed my unhappiness aside; I knew my daddy wouldn't want me to dwell on unhappy thoughts. If he were here, he'd smile and say, "Cheer up, kiddo! You're off to your last year! Shouldn't you at least try to look excited?" I smiled at the thought and took his advice. I was going to make my father proud this year.

Before Mum left the house, she called back, "Petunia! Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Very sure, Mum."

Her condescending voice flared my all-too-accessible temper. "What, you don't want to see the freak off to her last year at freak school?"

Mum shot me a warning glare. "Lily…"

"What? She started it!"

"And I'm ending it," she said, pulling out the most used line in her arsenal. "Why can't you be the bigger person?"

"She's the one who disowned me because of something I can't control," I said stubbornly, throwing my trunk into the boot of the car. "I don't see why I should be apologizing."

And I honestly didn't. She hated me because I was a witch. She hated me because of who I was. If anyone needed to apologize, it would be her.

Mum didn't say anything, just started the car and pulled out of the driveway. I twisted in my seat and turned to look at the house that I most likely wouldn't see ever again. The cozy little place where I'd grown up and become increasingly smaller and more confining as I'd matured. I now knew that there was this whole other world out there, and I wanted to explore it. I wanted to leave the Muggle world behind and start exploring the depths of this wizard one, a world I'd only been aware of for seven years.

But while I was ready to start my life, I felt a constricting in my chest as my childhood home drew farther and farther away. That was the house my parents had brought me home to when I was born. That was the house where I'd learned to walk and talk. That was the house where I'd spent my days playing with Petunia, before we'd become so estranged. That was the house that McGonagall had entered to explain about who I was. I smiled as I remembered how out-of-place she looked, sitting on my parent's couch wearing her emerald green robes, her black hair pulled back into a severe bun. That was the house I'd come home to every summer. And now, a year from now I would be searching for a place to live on my own, a place to start making my own memories. But, for now, I didn't really want to let the old ones go. I watched my house grow smaller and smaller, until finally, we turned and corner and it disappeared from view.

The drive to King's Cross station was a boring and familiar one. I busied myself with checking over my summer homework. I'd completed the Potions assignment almost immediately, and I knew without looking back at it that it was perfect. Potions was a subject that I'd never had trouble with. I'd always been fascinated by chemistry in school, and felt that Potions was just a slightly more complicated version.

Charms was next, and I only needed to give that one a quick once-over. I was also very good at Charms. I thought the spells we learned were interesting and dead useful.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a class I was interested in, but not as skilled at. I made one correction before switching to Herbology.

Herbology was a class that I didn't like or hate. It was just…there. I actually thought that it was sort of like Muggle gardening on steroids. Gardening, which I strongly disliked at the best of times, that was made up for by containing sentient vegetation. I quickly skimmed my essay on flesh-eating plants, shuddering as I did so. The thought of a vegetable craving me for dinner was creepy, to say the least.

History of Magic came next, a boring and dry class that didn't capture my interest at all. I suppose that if a living teacher taught it, I'd be a little more keen on the subject, but the scratchy monotone of the ghostly Professor Binns was a certified sleep aid. The teacher could make bloody goblin revolutions sound as interesting as an old pair of socks. I really wasn't sure about my dates for the mermaid peace agreements (1673 or 1678?), so I just left what I'd written.

I reached for my Transfiguration assignment, grimacing as I did so. This subject was by far my worst. There was something about it that just flew over my head. I could understand Galpalott's Laws, but quiz me on Gamp's Elemental Laws of Transfiguration and I would soon be reduced to a gibbering wreck. No matter how hard I tried, I could not understand it. And this was a problem, since Transfiguration was a staple skill in just about every job in the wizarding world. Not that I really knew what I wanted to do.

Sure, I was skilled in a few areas. But that didn't mean I wanted to be brewing potions for the rest of my life. I wanted my work to make a difference in the world. I wanted to see that what I was accomplishing was helping people. I just didn't know what job specifically. I'd received a few warnings from Professor McGonagall, my Head of House. She'd told me that I needed to figure out what I wanted to do, and fast. I only had a year left, then I would need to find a career. Every time I thought about this, I would panic. What if I never found anything? What if I was stuck in a job I hated? What if I came home every night thinking, "I wish I'd figured it out sooner?" I didn't want to end up stuck in a rut. But I didn't know how to avoid that future. So I just went to classes, did my work, and hoped inspiration would strike.

"Honey? We're here." My mother's soft voice cut through my reverie. I stuffed my essay away and climbed out of that car, swinging my shoulder bag across my body. I hoisted my trunk out of the car and dragged it across the lot, toward King's Cross station.

"I just can't believe we're at this day," said my mother tearfully. I glanced at her in surprise.

"I'm just leaving for school again. This won't be the last time you'll ever see me."

"I know that," she sighed. "But this is your last year. After this, you'll be leaving the nest. You'll be all grown up."

"Technically, I'm of age in the wizard world," I pointed out. "So I'm already grown up."

Mum laid a hand over her heart. "Don't say things like that. It takes us old folk a while to get used to the idea." She stopped suddenly when we reached the barrier. "Your father would be so proud of you," she said, a fierce look in her eyes. "Making Head Girl (I fingered the badge in my pocket), all those good grades…I know he's smiling down at you from somewhere." Mum rarely got weepy. She'd cried at Daddy's funeral, of course. But after that she'd told us that he wouldn't want us to grieve. She put on a happy face and continued with her life. Underneath that tough exterior, thought, I knew she was still hurting. She'd loved my dad so much, and losing him hurt her more than she let on.

"He'd be proud of you too," I whispered, wrapping her in a hug. I buried my face in her wild red hair (which I'd inherited) and inhaled her scent of lemon and sage. She'd always smelled of home to me, and being enveloped in her arms brought my nostalgia back. All those days spent helping in the kitchen, all those hugs I'd gotten when I'd scraped a knee, those bedtime kisses…I couldn't reclaim them. I was growing up, and I was about to move on. I gave her an extra squeeze and stepped back. I thought I saw a glimmer of a tear near the corner of Mum's eyes, but she blinked and it was gone.

"Now be sure to write," she ordered.

I rolled my eyes. "Like I ever forget."

She winked. "You can tell me all about what James Potter's up to."

I groaned. "I don't want to spend any more time thinking about him than is absolutely necessary."

"Mm-hm," she replied cynically, hiding a grin.

"Good-bye, Mum," I said, waving as I turned toward the barrier.

"Be good!' she called, waving back.

I grinned. "Aren't I always?" The last sight of my Mum was of her rolling her eyes and smiling at me, her eyes twinkling. Then I plunged through the barrier, surrounded by darkness and silence for a split second before being spat out on the other side. I quickly moved out of the way, knowing that if I didn't I would most likely be barreled down (and trust me, I speak from experience). A train attendant helped me slide my trunk into the luggage car. I took my shoulder bag and left to find a compartment.

While I wasn't here as early as I'd have liked to be, the platform was not that crowded. I claimed a compartment and waited in the doorway for my friends.

"Dammit, Roberts! Watch where you're going!" I heard an indignant voice call. "And don't think I didn't know what you were doing!"

I smiled. A curvy, petite girl with raven black hair was heading this way. Her blue eyes spat fire and she strode with purpose. She was the kind of girl you got out of the way for. Hestia Jones.

"Trouble?" I asked, beckoning her into the car.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she said airily, waving her hand in the air.

"I know. I heard,"

She grinned, then her expression soured. "Roberts was trying to sneak a grope again."

I pulled a face. "Is he ever going to give up?"

She snorted, "Not likely. If he was cute, I'd be flattered. But he sort of looks like he's taken a brick to his face."

I thought for a moment. Roberts did, indeed, resemble a pug in most ways. Short, squashed face, followed you everywhere… "Maybe we should start calling him The Pug."

Her eyes lit up. "I love it! The Pug."

"What about a pug?" asked a confused voice. A sandy brunette stood in the doorway, her nose wrinkled in puzzlement. Her brown eyes looked around curiously, soaking in every detail. Thin, wire-framed glasses balanced on her thin nose, constantly in danger of sliding off. She pushed then up and took a seat next to me. Emmeline Vance had arrived.

"Roberts," Hestia explained. "We're calling him The Pug."

"That's not very nice," said Emmeline softly.

"Aw, c'mon Em," drawled Hestia. "He's a pervert. He was trying to grope me when he tripped in the hall five minutes ago."

Emmaline's eyebrows bunched. "Never mind, then."

"So," I said, "How were your summers?"

"Amazing!" cried Hestia, leaning toward me in excitement. "My family went to Italy. I got to spend my days on the prettiest beaches!"

"I thought you looked tanner," said Emmeline.

"Yup," grinned Hestia. "I spent most of my summer perfecting it."

"What about you Em? What did you do?" I asked.

She shrugged. "You know. The usual. Staying at home, doing homework, reading. That sort of stuff."

"Anything new I'd like?"

"I did pick up a good Muggle classic," she said, her eyes lighting up. Emmeline loved books with a passion. She visibly brightened whenever they came up in conversation. "Ever read Pride and Prejudice?"

"I've heard of it, but I haven't read it."

She pulled a novel out of her bag and passed it over. I tucked it into my bag and vowed to start it later tonight.

"What about you, Lily? What did you do?"

I grinned and pulled something out of my pocket. "Just argued with Petunia, did homework, avoided Snape," I faltered a little at the last statement. "Anyway," I said, clearing my throat and shaking my head, "I also got this." I opened my hand to reveal a shiny badge inscribed with the school crest. On top of that lay the letters "HG". It was my Head Girl badge.

Squeals erupted in the compartment. "We knew you'd get it!" cried Hestia, beaming at me.

"Congratulations," said Emmeline, smiling brightly. They'd both insisted that I'd receive the badge, but I hadn't really believed them.

"You were right," I admitted, knowing this moment would come eventually.

Hestia brought a hand up to ear and leaned closer. "I'm sorry? I didn't hear you."

I rolled my eyes. "You were right," I called into her ear, a little louder than necessary.

She winced and pulled back. "No need to yell," she said in an injured tone, but her eyes twinkled, letting me know that she wasn't really serious.

Emmeline broke in. "Don't you have to be at the prefects meeting soon?"

"You're right," I said, checking my watch. "I should probably go, though."

"Good luck!" they called, waving me out of the compartment. I checked my bearings, then turned left to get to the front compartment. As I walked, I wondered who the Head Boy was. Remus Lupin probably wouldn't be the best choice; he really couldn't control his friends. No Slytherins, hopefully. They tended to abuse their positions, plus, they were just unpleasant to be around. My bet was on a Ravenclaw. Hufflepuffs tended to be too nice to their friends when they were caught. Maybe Howard Boot? He was smart, tough, and I knew he would take the job seriously. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd gotten the position.

I walked right past the Head's compartment as I thought. I nearly bumped into the door leading to the very front of the train before I realized my mistake. I doubled back and stopped in front of the sliding doors.

Well, this was it. The moment of truth. I pulled the doors open…

And froze.

No. Hell no.

"Are you effing kidding me?"

A/N: Please review! It makes my day when I receive feedback.