Disclaimer: I did not write the Harry Potter series, nor did I publish the books. I am not making any profit whatsoever off of this. I am merely borrowing JK Rowling's ideas and spinning them into something someone else has probably done before. Anything that resembles someone from real life in name or personality is completely coincidental.
A/N- Apologies for the repetition in some of this chapter. It's an introduction to the rest of the story, and as such, deals a lot with Lily's past and with laying down the setting of the story. YES! This means that you will be briefed YET AGAIN on what the wizarding world is. But, assuming you've read all the books thus far, you've put up with it four times already so once more won't hurt you. Skip it if you wish, it won't hurt my feelings, but please try to read the rest, which is setting the framework for an actual plot. ~Nemerte
My Thoughts, My Life, My Story: The Journal of Lily EvansAugust 2nd, 1976
People are always telling me I live a fairy tale. My mother and father talk about me, only to themselves and never anyone else, as though I live the perfect life with the perfect friends in the perfect situations. My twin sister stares after me enviously, and grows angry when I try and point out all the difficulties that I go through too. The girls at school think I'm too lucky to be sooooooooo smart and soooooooooo pretty and soooooooo nice. It's flattering, but it's sickening. Good morning, world! My name is Lily Evans and I'm just another normal girl!
Today, in honor of "her royal highness's seventeenth birthday!" my parents bestowed upon me a journal, pink, and complete with little gold sparkles and faux fur lining. "It's so you can record everything that happens in your magnificent life, and later read your children your very own fairy tale story," they told me. Well, to hell with that. If my children ever read this, they'll know the truth.
And let me tell you, the truth begins with knowing that the instant I am back on the Hogwarts Express and fully authorized to use my wand once more, this journal is getting a major makeover. I'm thinking something along the lines of navy on light blue swirls with my name engraved in silver on the cover and a charm preventing anyone other than me from opening it.
AND NO, WHOEVER DARES TO READ THIS BEFORE ABOVE ALTERATION CAN BE COMPLETED, I WILL NOT WRITE WHICH CHARM SO YOU CAN LOOK UP ITS COUNTER! James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, I will have you know that YES I know you will probably at some point get your hands on this, and let me tell you the instant I find out about it, and I will find out, there will be a nice long series of hexes with your names written all over them. It's high time you learned the hard way to keep your noses out of other people's business.
With that firmly established, I shall now proceed to tell you a little about myself. As previously mentioned, my name is Lily Rachelle Evans. I was born on August 2nd seventeen years ago approximately five minutes after my sister Petunia. We are quite literally flower children, although I do not generally associate myself with that movement.
I love, and have always loved my family to bits and pieces, but they drive me up a wall sometimes. My sister can be incredibly jealous of me, although I don't understand way, and takes out her anger by holding my owl, Jasmine, hostage for days at a time. (The owl was my eleventh birthday present so my parents named her; they have quite a fetish with flower names.) Contrarily, my parents are so overwhelmingly proud of me that sometimes I fear they will kill me with all their happy-go-lucky conceptions of my hormone-terrorized teenage life. On top of that, while pestering me endlessly about my beaus and terribly interesting schoolwork, they still think I'm five. Hence, the pink fluffy diary. Yet, those are the people I've grown up with. Bizarre as they can be, I can't quite imagine a life devoid of them.
Real life, however, comes dangerously close to that at times. See, the summer I turned eleven, around the beginning of July, I received notice that I was a witch. Petunia did not, and she will never let me forget that. After a bit of speculation, my parents and I did manage to find Diagon Alley, a magical shopping mall of sorts, and we were finally presented with an explanation for why all the water in the house was a greenish color when I was upset, along with the deduction that occasionally, when I really did not want to clean my room, my possessions actually grew legs and walked themselves away.
Magic is a fascinating thing, really.
My being a witch, however, meant that I would attend boarding school at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry in an undisclosed location. Not only does my family not have the faintest idea where I spend my time, but they also haven't the faintest perception of what it is I'm learning there. Additionally, I'm incapable of demonstrating when I go home for the summer because of legal complications (underage wizard laws and muggle protection acts mainly.) It's incredibly bizarre to practically live in an entirely different world from your closest relations.
School is wonderful, though. I'm in Gryffindor house, which supposedly means I'm brave, honorable, and quick to think, although I really have little tangible evidence of it. Still, the Sorting Hat knows so much more than the rest of us…
Perhaps I ought to explain myself a bit. You never know. I might very well end up marrying a muggle, and it's good practice to sort out the simple definitions of everything now.
Alright. A witch or a wizard is a person capable of doing magic. Some are better at it than others, and most people show particular aptitude in one area or another. It's just like anything else though; some people are better at arithmetic, while others excel in writing, and yet more find their calling to be a musician. A muggle is the opposite of a wizard, someone who can't practice magic. That doesn't mean they can't be affected by it, or know about it. Some muggles are very much a part of wizarding life. In general, though, they're rather ignorant of magic, and rightfully afraid of it when they do encounter it. Some wizards view muggles as detestable, trying to force them into servitude, but they are a minority. The wizarding world has passed many laws to protect muggles from harms they don't even know they're at risk for.
Hogwarts is a school were magic is taught. Classes offered there include history, transfiguration, charms, potions, defense against the dark arts, herbology, flying, divination, arithmancy, ancient runes, care of magical creatures, and muggle studies. Students are divided into four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw. Your house determines your living quarters, who else is in your classes, and quidditch teams. There's always a good deal of house rivalry because of competition for the House Cup.
Quidditch is a sport played on broomsticks. It can be quite dangerous, and is really easier to understand once you've seen it played. It's not a very big part of my life, so I'll spare you the details.
Most everything else should be rather self-explanatory. At any rate, most likely I'll be the only person to ever read this. (This is your hint to stop reading if you aren't me.) So, I shouldn't really require such a detailed explanation. Unless, of course, I develop amnesia, which is rather unlikely, all things considered.
That is the environment in which I've grown up. This will be my seventh and final year at Hogwarts, starting September 1st when I take the train back to school for the last time. I'll be head girl this year, alongside James Potter, much to my chagrin, and his as well if he still wants to pull his infamous pranks. If he doesn't give them up, well, there will still be one decent role model for the students, and I'll take that responsibility with pride.
And for now, I believe that is my life. See, nothing exciting. No Prince Charming, fire-breathing dragons, enchanted sleep, and certainly no happily ever after. Just a lot of hard work, which begins again as soon as my summer vacation is over.
I do wonder how Karin's doing though. I suppose I ought to owl her tomorrow.