Excerpt from the diary of Lily Potter nee Evans. October 30th, 1981.
If there is one thing that I have learned in my admittedly brief life, it is that people are content with what they see on the surface. Rare is the man who wants to look closely at his neighbor and seek to understand the motives; the woman is even rarer.
I grew up in the sort of neighborhood where, as long as your lawn was mowed and you waved to the neighbors when getting the paper, everyone dismissed the truth as pointless. What does it matter as long as everyone around you fits in your happy little reality?
It doesn't concern you that the man in number 6 beats his wife because they always invite you to neighborhood cookouts.
It doesn't concern you that the woman in number 3 is a reformed alcoholic and former stripper because she brings your son home from football practice every Tuesday and Thursday, holidays excluded.
It doesn't concern you the girl in number 7 is a witch because she made such an adorable angel years earlier at a holiday party.
With Hogwarts, I thought I had escaped that world. I should have known better.
Last I heard, my sister Petunia had moved into one of those neighborhoods. You know, the type I was talking about earlier - the ones with the manicured lawns, freshly painted picket fences, and a company car in every driveway. She had married a man working his way up in the company, and was bearing a child, a boy, who would surely become the apple of her eye.
At the same time, I had just moved into a charming new home in a charming small town with a charming new husband at my side as we awaited the birth of our own bundle of joy.
As a side note, don't let my tone confuse you. I love that boy, my baby Harry, with all my heart and soul. He is my world.
However, our stories differed there, my sister's and mine.
While she was hoping for her husband to earn a promotion and her son to be a handsome athlete, I was hoping my family would survive until baby's first Christmas.
And thus it circles back. No one cares about the reasons. No one wants to know the wherefores and whys. No one likes to look beyond the happy young couple with a baby and see the shadows looming in the background.
No one wants to see Petunia struggling to control her husband's temper as the baby starts to cry in the night. No one wants to see the way her diligent eyes watch her child for any sign of the freakishness she so resents in her sister. No one wants to see how she bleaches the floor in an attempt to remove the perceived stains on her life.
No one wants to see me arguing with my husband about the sacrifices we must make. No one wants to see the way my hands shake as I put my baby to bed with a prayer for another safe night. No one wants to see how I awaken in the night at every creak in the window, certain that the dark lord stands just beyond it.
No one wants to see the flaws in our lives.
I am rambling, and I know it. I am sorry, but
I have the feeling that something is going to happen soon. I don't know what, but I know it won't be good.
James laughed when I told him my fears; he always does. He has convinced himself that despite the prophecy, despite the fact that we are in hiding for our lives, we are a safe and happy family. Nothing I say can convince him otherwise.
Oh well. Let him be happy. He will know soon enough.
Soon enough the man in number 6 will go too far and others will be forced to pay attention.
Soon enough the husband of the woman in number 3 will decide he can't forgive her for her past and will walk out of their life.
Soon enough the girl who grew up in number 7 will die and become another tally in the count of mysterious deaths.
I will not force anyone to look deeper than they desire. At the end of it all, the truth will out.
In eternity,
Lily
