Strange, the things one thinks of when she comes to the end of her life. Some people can only focus on the bad occurrences, others the good. There are the few who tend to go back to the beginning... as though they're simply trying to make sense of it all. I suppose I can be lumped in with the latter. I too wish I could understand how it came to this. Or at least find some way to validate this short life of mine. What have I learned? What have I contributed to this world? How will I be remembered? Will any piece of me carry on?
My name is Lily and I'm a muggle-born witch. This of course was a fact kept from me and my unsuspecting family. We always knew I was different but we hadn't a clue as to why. Mum and Dad just called me their special girl. My elder sister Petunia was determined to find a name for my unique condition. Four years ahead, Pet was my idol and confidante. As a child she was everything I strived to be: intelligent, level headed, practical, charming and most of all normal. She had the prettiest blond hair and the most elegant stature. 'The neck of a swan', my Mum used to say.
With a head full of stick straight, fiery red hair, a face of scattered freckles and the most attention grabbing, sour apple green eyes, I was as awkward as a platypus. Pet did her best to make up for the teasing I received at school. Always comforting me by twisting my hair into pretty plaits and promising I would grow out of my knobby limbs. Late at night I would crawl into bed with her and we would giggle about the boys who circled her at school. She was my one true comfort.
By the time I was eight my accidental magic was extraordinary and Pet was convinced it must be some form of telekinesis. She tried to talk our parents into sending me to a specialist. But I think it was easier for them to believe I was simply different. The last thing they wanted was for their youngest child to become some experiment in a government lab.
I came home from school crying many times and after Mum and Dad promised me it was nothing to be ashamed of, I would seek out my sister's comforting arms.
"I turned her hair blue Pet! blue! No one can prove it was me but I know I did it. She wouldn't let me go to the ladies. Some of the boys are calling me a witch!"
"Shhh, shhh." She smoothed my hair. "Don't think on it. You're not anything as demonic as a witch. Not with your sweet disposition. Don't you pay those ill-mannered boys any mind. I've been reading about this and what you've got is no different than those people who can see the future, or start fires spontaneously. It's a mental condition that can be cured through proper therapy. You simply need the right training and it will go away. I'm sure of it."
Oh how I wanted her to be right.
The arrival of my Hogwarts letter brought very mixed emotions. Pet near screamed the house down when the owl who delivered it pecked at her hair for a treat. My parents whom I expected to be disappointed or at the very least, shocked, were delighted. My rare childhood condition had a name and their suspicions of my being some rare breed were confirmed. To them I was an even more precious jewel.
Pet, on the other hand, was shocked and near disgusted. Of all the things I could be, a witch apparently ranked the worst and lowest in her eyes. I suppose I never got over the fear and disillusionment in her pretty blue eyes. That was the beginning of an impassable gap in our relationship.
My first year at Hogwarts was more than an eye opener. I knew even less about the wizarding world than the average muggle-born. Lucky for me I was a quick learner and what I learned was that this world wasn't much different than the one I'd come from. Only now the prejudices were different. I was no longer teased about my odd abilities but of my parentage. My carrot red tresses and blotchy freckles still called negative attention. Now that I was learning the skills, I considered changing them. But my instilled pride wouldn't allow it.
My determination to prove others wrong in their unfair judgements of me proved to my benefit. I was a talented little witch. My thirst for knowledge not only got me sorted into Ravenclaw but it quickly put me at the top of my class... grade wise. My first and best friend in the wizarding world was Alice Cloverwood. A pretty little Hufflepuff with dark curls and round flushed cheeks that reminded me of tomatoes. We bonded in History of Magic. Though she wasn't a pure blood, Alice knew little of the muggle world and found me fascinating in a sense. I must say she was one of the most adventurous Hufflepuffs I'd ever meet. A truer friend one couldn't have.
I'll never forget the first time I laid eyes on Severus Snape. A more surly looking boy you'd never see. His lanky hair fell just above his ears and his little mouth wore a practiced expression caught between irritated and yet amused. His skin was paler than mine as though he never spent a moment outside. From far away it resembled parchment but up close I found it to be quite fair. He regarded everything with a mild disdain and but in those days there was a bit of hope there as well. And his eyes... darker eyes I never did see. I suppose it's safe to say that I liked Severus Snape right away. Not that he ever shared a kind word with me. As a Slytherin he was expected to feud with the Gryffindors... a tradition I guess. Being in Ravenclaw kept me off his radar for the most part. But being a muggle-born left me open to public scorn from the Slytherins. Since it was common knowledge that most of them were pure bloods themselves.
My first crush was Remus Lupin. Gryffindor and patron saint of patience. He wasn't bothered by petty house rivalries like the others. Our friendship began after I found him crying in the green houses one afternoon. I thought he'd been beaten up since he was covered in fresh scratches and seemed to be in pain. It wasn't rare for first years (even the Gryffindor ones) to be used as punching bags. He had other scars that made me believe the abuse was chronic. He wouldn't tell me who had done it, only that he hated the way they made him look. Which was absurd since he was one of the handsomest boys I'd ever seen. Dirty blond locks that fell over amber eyes in the most becoming way with a lovely smile to match. Many afternoons were spent just the two of us talking about everything and nothing. Most of his crying was done after the full moon though it would be another few years before I noticed.
My first few holidays away from Hogwarts were a bit of a culture shock. Pet would have little to do with me, something I wouldn't stop crying about until third year. My parents, though still encouraging and loving, began to feel like strangers. For the next six years I would spend a total of 13 months with my family. I was at school ten months of the year learning to master something they couldn't even comprehend. I would spend fewer and fewer holidays home with my family as time went on choosing instead to board at school or with friends.