The day I turned six signaled the beginning of year one education in the public school system. It was nice, to be away from my parents. They were kind and all but it got annoying. Annoying how they treated me like I was a child.

But we are a child.

The downside was being surrounded by children of my own age spotlighted my differences. Differences that were more than my handy down clothing compared to their pristine ones. It was a fundamental difference that was impossible to hide, no matter how hard I tried. At first, I tried to talk to my classmates, yet I found it was frustrating trying to make conversation. It was like I was unable to connect with them like I was alien to them. I even tried talking to the upperclassmen, which was more tolerable but I think they thought me odd. Besides, why would they want a six-year-old with them. I also don't think Petunia would want me around as well.

Things took a turn several months into the school year when my teacher, Miss Davies, called in my parents for a meeting. It was uncomfortable sitting there, in between your parents that aren't really your parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Evans, I'm sure you are wondering why I brought you two in today," Miss Davies began before explaining my social interaction with my classmates, well more like my lack of social interaction with them. As she rambled on, I turned my head towards the glass windows. My young face staring back at me before morphing into one much older. Instead of my auburn locks, it was a dark strawberry blonde. Sea green eyes protected by cat-eyes glasses instead of emerald that looked tired and weary. A confused frown appeared on my face as I continue to stare at the women who have taken my place. A strong sense of familiarity overwhelmed my sense.

Who are you? Who am I?

"Lily. Lily," my mother's voice snapped me out of it. My reflection was back to normal. Auburn hair, green eyes, buttoned nose, rosy and freckled cheeks.

"I'm sorry mother, I was just thinking," the apology left my mouth quickly like a reflex.

Miss Davies gave us a small smile. "This is what I was talking about. However, despite the constant daydreaming and lack of social awareness, it seems your daughter is potentially a genius."

I blinked harshly at her statement. A genius? The work was just simple. I wasn't a genius by any means. It seemed I wasn't the only one thinking that as my mother exclaimed, "A genius? Oh Miss Davies, you must be mistaken. Mature for her age, yes. But, a genius?"

"Well Miss Evans, I can't be sure," Miss Davies blushed before laying out a small stack of papers on her desk and shoving them toward us. "These are your daughter's test and assignment scores. As well as watching her in class, I must say I would suggest having us test her. Just to be sure."

That is how I found myself even more in the center of my parents' world. When the test came back, I was now a certified intellectual genius. I never saw my parents so proud. A small part of me felt guilty like this whole thing was an elaborate sham. Another part of me felt guilty for an entirely different reason. A reason named Petunia.

While my parents rejoiced in having a genius daughter who was extremely easy to care for, Petunia, on the other hand, despised it. She had begun acting out, in multiple ways, in any way to regain her parents' attention towards her instead of me. It worked at times, but not in the way she wanted. One day she purposely shattered mother's favorite platter set and was sent to her room with no supper and two months of being grounded. That was the first time I saw our mother's temper.

Later that night, I crept to her room and slowly opened her bedroom door. There she was laying on her bed. Her bright blonde curls in a tangled mess as she shoved her face into her pillow. I stood there and watched her body tremble. The only noise was her muffled sobs. Slowly I walked towards her.

A girl no older than 7 was curled up on her side. Loud sobs filled the room. Her glasses laid on her pillow as she gripped and yanked on her messy curly hair. No adult was in sight.

I rubbed my head which now had a stinging throbbing pain. I wasn't sure what that scene was but I had time to ponder it later. I walked to my sister's bed and sat next to her, patting her back. Quickly her head popped up, her bloodshot eyes hopeful. That hopefulness faded into anger and hatred when she realized it was me who was with her.

"Go away Lily," she snapped. Turning away from me and laying her head back in her tear soaked pillow. I didn't.

"Tunie," I whispered, rubbing her back.

"I said GO AWAY," she snapped, shoving me away from her.

"I'm sorry Tunie," I said, crawling on her bed towards her. I kneeled next to her, my fingers twirling her hair. Petunia pushed herself back up and turned towards me, her lips quivering. Her opened her mouth again, probably about to chew me out, but before she could I pulled her in a hug.

It would be so easy to storm away from her. To pout and cry from her harshness then tell mum about what she did. However, that didn't seem right. Her feeling of loneliness rubbed me the wrong way, as if it hit too close to home. She didn't need me to storm off, she needed a sister.

At first, Petunia was stiff before she hugged me back. Her face laying on top of my head as she squeezed me tightly. We stayed like that for a bit until Petunia pulled away. I stared at her as she rubbed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

"It isn't fair," Petunia mumbled, several tears escaping her eyes. I gave her a small frown and nodded my head.

"It isn't," I agreed.

"I-" Petunia sniffled, "I just want them to notice me again. It is always about you," she sneered. It was odd hearing an eight-year-old sneer with such resentment. "Our perfect little Lily flower. Smart little Lily, mature little Lily." Petunia slammed her fist on her bed, her face turning a deep red. "Why can't they love me? Why is it always you?" With that shriek, she began to cry again. Flopping her body back towards her pillows.

I gave her a crushing hug. "We all love you, Tunie. You don't need to be me, that wouldn't make you," I mumbled. Realizing that I would be unable to console her further, I pushed myself back up and headed towards the door. I looked back towards my sobbing older sister, my eyes focusing on a solo petunia flower resting on her bedside drawer. I furrowed my brows. Was that always there? Shaking my head I headed back to my parents.

When I arrived, my mother seemed to be in a deep conversation with father. Walking closer to them I noticed how her face was blotchy. "Mother?" Her and my father turned around sharply towards my voice. My mother forced a smile on her face while my father just sighed. "Is everything okay my little Lilypad?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. I gave her a blank look, biting my lip.

"Talk to Tunie," and with that, I turned around and head to the living room. When I didn't hear any movement, I turned around to see them standing there. My mum's mouth was gaping. My dad just watching. With a sigh, I gave them my best disapproving look.

"She needs you. Go talk to her."

I laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling, as my parents' footsteps headed towards Petunia's room. Slowly I closed my eyes, trying to block out the world, as my mind wandered back to the sight of the strange girl crying on a bed.

Why did she seem so familiar? Why did that make me want to cry? These questions swirled in my mind, my own confusion creating a headache. It was all put aside when a familiar child voice echoed in my mind, my voice.

When are you leaving? Why have you stayed?


I hope yall enjoyed this chapter and sorry for any missed typos. The inspiration is hitting me. The length of these chapters are going to vary, so shorter than others. Right now I am debating how AU this story will end up being. Thanks for reading and if you want to can check out my two other harry potter stories. That totally wasn't a shameless plug.