Author's Note: Here ya go, Cornishxxxpixie! Wow, what's wrong with me? Fixed the spelling in this chapter.

Chapter Three: A New Friend

Lily burst into her dorm room, completely disregarding the presence of the fourth seventh year and dorm-mate. She collapsed on her bed, a muffled scream escaping on the impact. Lily sounded much like her pet. Her screech owl was skittering on her dresser, trying to balance the extra weight of the package that was tied to its leg. Tilney hooted softly, trying to communicate his predicament to his oblivious owner. He ruffled his chocolate plumage in discomfort, looking much like a fluffed pillow. Coincidentally, his owner was at that moment acting upon such an object, but with much more a violent intent.

"Lily?" ventured the other occupant of the room. Eleanor popped her noise out of her book, making her concerned look more visible. Although like Lily, Eleanor was bookish and quiet, while also possessing a reasonable degree of intelligence, they had never been close. Eleanor was simply a bit too easy to pass by, and Lily was ignoring her now.

"I hate him!" Lily roared as she stopped her torture of the poor pillow which looked like it would need to call in a replacement if her pulverization of it went on any longer.

Eleanor was extremely shocked. She associated Lily with calm and books. Perhaps Lily could be raised to passion due to her overzealous concern about rules, but assaulting pillows and screaming were not her style. Eleanor seriously considered returning to her book and pretending that an enraged Head Girl had not broken her solitude. Unluckily for her, Eleanor was endowed with such possibly hazardous virtues as concern for friends and a talent for pacification.

"Um, who do you hate?" Eleanor tried, hoping this would vent some of Lily's alarming anger.

"Potter!" Lilly snarled. She sat up and began to bounce on her bed in an extremely angry fashion.

Eleanor found that such a statement was not conducive to calming Lily down, despite its intent. Her fear of conflict and desire for self preservation over-riding the demands of friendship, Eleanor began to make a retreat back to her book.

However, she found that today she was to be another Pandora opening the box of James Potter and releasing Lily on the world and herself. Lily pounced on the subject with a decided lack of pleasure, as she had taken in the situation presented in disciplining James when as a prefect she had walked in on him and a random girl kissing. Except that situation did not have the hint of a starved polar bear ripping into a seal.

"Please tell me you can understand how I feel," Lily sneered in a way that would make any condescending evil ruler proud.

All Eleanor could do was shake her head no in the manner of someone who knows they are going to be rewarded in pain for their honesty. Lily most promptly took the opportunity to play executioner.

"Do not tell me you like that bastard." Lily's voice had acquired a hard edge that no one, especially Eleanor, had heard before. The poor girl was frightened. She didn't know the crazed creature occupying the bed across from her. The normal Lily had once happily engaged Eleanor in discussion on how they both thought, in Lily's words; it was so common to indulge the disease of the vernacular. That is to say, Lily Evans never swore.

Eleanor was too stunned to answer, but Lily didn't need her input. "I cannot understand how anyone can," she continued, eyes narrowed to slits.

Her audience made a sort of squeak, blue eyes bulging as if they would fall out and roll along the floor. This brought Lily's attention back to the fact that she was participating in a one-sided conversation. "Well?" she viciously queried.

"He's not that bad," attempted Eleanor at warp nine, "He is sort of gallant and oddly courteous if he likes you, not to consider the fact that he's almost universally considered the most handsome boy in the school." Lily was looking at Eleanor like she was the despised Potter himself, so under her concern for her friend's blood pressure Eleanor was proud of making such a statement.

Lily made a draw out noise, half a groan and half a scream. "So you're part of the Potter Rules the World delegation too?"

"No. I just don't see what's really wrong with him."

"Then you are blind." With that Lily most rudely turned her attention away from her friend and caught sight of her neglected owl, who had been hopping around, deeply uncomfortable, during the conversation. Even the sight of her beloved pet could not rain on her anger parade. Huffily, she relieved Tilney of his burden. He hooted pathetically, begging for affection, but she let him fly off to the owlery without even one pat for reward.

Lily inspected the delivery. It was a package, which was unusual. No wonder Tilney had missed the breakfast delivery time. It was plainly from her parents. No one but her father would wrap something in Christmas wrapping paper with cartoon reindeer when it was only the end of September.

Lily was intrigued now. This squarish parcel was unusual. Her parents usually did not send her many packages, and this was a bit early to receive anything from them. It was not possible that she had forgotten anything; no one else could have agonized over every article in their trunk more than Lily had. She ripped off the attached card. It was the same yellowed parchment that had run over her desk. Her parents had enthusiastically taken up some wizard customs when it first came out that Lily was a witch. It was rather humorous to see that plain black fountain pen ink laid down against the reedy wizarding paper that was accustomed to the touch of a quill.

Dear Lily, said her father's lazy scrawl.

Hope school is going well. I hope your Head Girl duties are not too taxing. Don't over work yourself like last year. Your mother sends her love, worries, and apologizes for me. I picked this up for you so you could not have to remember all the things you somehow store in that amazing memory of yours. I was going to give it to you before you left, but you know me. I can't remember my name some days! Your mother is berating me for it as we speak. Well, I hope that now you have it, you can make good use of it.

Love,

Your Father

Lily smiled, absently tucking a stray strand of her deep red hair behind her ear as she perused the note. Yes, her father was absent-minded. It was one of the most endearing things about him. He never seemed to forget about things directly connected to her, though. She untied the festive red string that was rough between her fingers. The knot turned out to be a sticky one, forcing Lily to whip out her wand with a sigh and magically untangle it.

The paper fell open and the dark leather gleamed in the candle light. Lily softly touched the package and ran her fingers down the soft animal skin. Reverently, she took it out of the packaging. It was beautiful.

Marveling at the glossy softness of the cover she opened the cover. It made the delightful crack as the bindings stretched for the first time. The fibers snapped crisply, bringing a smile to Lily's face. She let the book fall open, the stiff linen sheets separating into groups. The pages were a soft white that that was not the harsh chemically treated snow-blinding color of muggle paper. Lily stroked a page, feeling the texture that was a cobblestone road for her finger tip, yet would not interfere with the strokes of a quill.

Lily's mind thrilled at the thought. The pages were unlined, crisp and blank and just ready for the ink of her quill. Her handwriting was unfailingly neat, so she would have no problem making her writing straight. The idea of her words; the writing small, letters stretching up like trees searching for light because of horizontal cramping yet not unbeautiful due to the long fluid strokes; was one not to be toyed with for long. All acknowledgement of another girl in the room were utterly replaced. Lily raced for her study.

Inside, she selected her favorite bottle from the left drawer where her ink was neatly stacked. Although she despised spending money on frivolous things, Lily had been too taken with this ink to resist. Even the bottle was beautiful. It was crystal, short and squat, with cutting like a diamond almost forming an inverted rain drop. Lily studied it, half smiling. She really did have a passion for writing implements. She always had her quills expertly mended and inks of many colors to organize her notes with. Occasionally she wasn't above letting go and indulging in luxury.

The liquid contained inside the bottle was bright against the dark wood of her desk. It was pink. It had the brilliancy the red couches of the common room must have had in their youth, but it was softened to a softer level. It reminded Lily of the raspberries that grew in her mother's garden closely in color, yet not in shade. Lily was convinced it was the perfect color and had been waiting for the opportune moment to put it to use. Now, it had a place in her…

Lily stopped. She had been so caught up in her obsession with her writing implements and the lovely newness she hadn't formal defined what her present was. Diary? No, that wouldn't do. Lily might have a secret love of pinks (a love most certainly tempered by the use of the color) but she had a detestation of the connotations the word diary brought to mind. In Lily's mind, it was a vulgar word, denoting the owner as possession less brain than needed, or at least applying it wrong.

Her sunny mood was further dampened as she unwilling followed her thought process from diary to a certain group of first years in Gryffindor who had taken it upon themselves to devote their time to adoration of James Potter. Lily could not repress a shudder. It was against her personal make up, but if Lily was the gagging type she would have involuntarily contracted a fit of it.

That brought back all the betrayals of the afternoon. What was she to do about her friends? There would have to be some sort of apology or retreat from their positions on her and James.

In the mean time, she would make use of her present. There was obviously much to write about in her journal. No, that was not right either. Ah, the book would be her friend. Lily was quite aware of the antisocial implications of naming an inanimate object a friend, but she considered that quite suitable for the situation. She was temporarily on the outs with her closest friends- at least until she calmed down pointed out the tiny rational corner of her mind- which left her no one to talk to. And with the book, there would be no disagreement on any of the precepts Lily considered unshakable, especially those regarding… Potter.

Approaching as close to sadism as ever, Lily sat at her desk with great deliberation and carefully drew out a box from a desk drawer. Inside was a peacock feather quill, one Lily had always considered much too showy. The luster of the features contrasted nicely with her ink, which she uncapped. With a great show of dignity, Lily dipped the quill and opened the precious friend. In her usual precise way, the head girl inscribed the date at the top of the page. Then with a passion to a degree that would obviously never be released in her school work, Lily felt her quill fly. "I hate James Potter," were the first words to be put to paper.