-8-
A big stone castle. Sweeping meadows. Jade hills. Several thousands of students in flowing, dark uniforms.
Among them, a young redhead and her dark-haired friend. Both twirling wands.
Suddenly, the iron gates shut with a clang. The sky covers with velvety black clouds, and I see someone. A thin, tall man, his eyes glowing an eerie ruby color. He reaches out and then I see his hands…skeletal, pearly white and thin.
"I'll save you for the end…" he rasps. He lowers his hood.
I woke up, with the taste of blood on my tongue. The calendar fluttered over Petunia's head.
It was September 1st.
"You'll be alright."
I was shivering. From the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair, I was an unhealthy blue-gray, like a drowned person.
Maman was standing beside me. Her hand was encased in my own, the latter being covered in a sweaty mess.
"We have to run through that pillar. On the count of three, okay Lily?"
My nod came out more like a shiver. My nerves were as frazzled as the loose threads on my fur coat, now safely packed within my trunk, along with wand, robes, books, cauldrons, and all that was needed to keep an eleven year-old witch happy at Hogwarts.
Witch. I am a witch.
Petunia was standing further away. Her face was about as ill-colored as mine.
"Beware the freak, mother," she called, sneering at me. I looked away.
My sister, ever since that trip, that fateful trip to Diagon…treated me like a pest. She shut me out from her world, refusing to talk to me or even pass me the bread or the salt at suppertime. I tried to talk to her. Pretended to not care. Cried. But nothing seemed to matter to her. She enjoyed making me feel miserable for something I was born with. Something that I would have been proud of, a beautiful gift-had it not acquired a monstrous shape and size through her words and expressions. I hated my sister. And it was not the momentary loathing I felt during our silly spats. It was beyond that. It was a white-hot rage that made me bite my tongue and hope she left before I hurt her. My reasoning, patience, and conciliatory efforts had all come to this. I wanted to slap her like she often hit me-when I touched her precious dolls, when I tried to swing a bit higher than her, when I waded into forest-streams, when I held out the lily on my palm.
When I tried to live life my own way.
It took me all my patience to swallow my rage, and turn back to face Maman. She was looking worried. "Tuney, darling come here. We're about to go in!"
Petunia walked up slowly, deliberately kicking up dust bunnies from the murky tiles of King's Cross Station. "Huh. Betcha I had other things to do. Better things."
"You know what?" I spat at her. "Why don't you just go squeak your silly doll? Or play with the tea-party group i.e. Leave me alone."
"Lily!" Maman was shocked. Not expected from her baby.
Petunia walked forward slowly, deliberately, till her nose was an inch from my own. "I hate freaks."
"So do I," I retorted. Trying bravely not to cry. "Selfish ones."
"Girls." Maman begged. "Please."
All this time Father had been standing a little way apart from us. He came to us now. "Look," he said.
We followed his finger to a young, nervous looking-couple standing by the pillar we were supposed to run into. They had a girl-my age- with them. The father was tall, probably taller than Father-who was the tallest man I'd ever seen. He was really handsome, with curly black hair, pale skin and light, milky green eyes. (Those cloudy green orbs now fixed upon me and I turned away) The mother was also very beautiful-with silky straight brown hair and water-blue eyes. But what really marked them out from the rest of the crowd was….they were carrying a bronze cage, and within the cage were the same cuddlesome balls of fur I had seen at Diagon, on that fateful day. Puffskeins. Also, I could see the tip of something like a wand, sticking out from the girl's pocket.
"They're…"my father whispered. "…that."
"Yup." Petunia whispered. "Freak family."
"Let me catch you saying that one more time, young lady," Maman began. I simply ignored my sister. Crabby idiot, I felt, and almost immediately felt guilt sting me.
The family looked left, right, and then left again. They drew in their breaths, so did we. We followed them to the pillar.
"Oh dear," Maman said. "I feel like a spy."
And then suddenly, suddenly, the family ran straight into the pillar. Into it! And lo! They were gone.
"Whoa."
I turned to face Father. "Are you ready, Lily?" he asked.
"You bet I am," I said.
We stood before the pillar. Father took my hand tightly. Behind us, Maman did the same with Petunia. I felt the nerves again.
"Okay," Father said. "On the count of three. One….."
This is a dream….wake up…..wake up….
"Two…."
Futile, wild dream…Lily, your imagination's wild. Wake up….wake up….
Wake up…
Wake up…
"Freak," Petunia whispered.
This is not a dream…this is my destiny. I was made for this.
"Three!" I cried and drove into the pillar. And when it shimmered and opened for me, I was absolutely ready. Ready because I knew. I knew that it would. I remembered someone saying once magic enters your blood, it never leaves.
I also remembered, with a pang of pain, who the speaker was.
But not ready enough for the sight that greeted my eyes.
The station was huge. HUGE. Along the squeaky-clean platform were assembled children, parents, old, wrinkled-looking men, a few men and women wearing purple and gold robes. The air had a light, pleasant, flowery smell about it. I counted about a hundred and thirty owls hovering above my heads. (Where did their droppings go? Collected and cleaned regularly? By magic, perhaps?)Plus, any number of well-fed cats and toads with lovely, coppery eyes. In her silk-tissue lined kingdom, Mimi eyed everyone warily. I pushed my fingers within and stroked her pretty fur.
"Would you look at that now?" enquired Father. Maman was speechless, simply swallowing in the beauty of it all.
The train that was meant to take us was huge, spotless and scarlet with silver decorations. Even from outside, I could guess it was luxurious- chandeliers, a sumptuous bar-car kind of thing, plus a lady billing food along the length of the train. I saw Petunia give it a listless glance, then pull away.
"See, isn't it nice, honey?" Maman asked her. Little did she know it added fat to the fire.
"Weird and extravagant. I'd rather a normal train."
"Tuney," I kept my voice flat, but she was sparking a fire of the dangerous type within me. I remembered the walnut on her head, the piercing feeling in my own eyes. I needed to be calm. "Tuney, I think we need a second together."
"Huh?"She was taken by surprise.
"We should talk."
But before I got a word out, a big-make that gigantic-man came bumbling towards us, long shaggy beard and beetle-black eyes.
"Ye be Evans?"He asked.
"Yes."
"Then come along," he bumbled and walked along. Petunia bit her lip.
"Look," Maman said, her eyes flashing jewel-blue as she gazed up at the orbs of shimmering light above our head. We did, and gasped in reflex pleasure. The orbs were actually clusters of fairy-like creatures with extremely thin, beautiful bodies. They were playing musical instruments of gold, and scattering little crystal petals around the platform-the cause of the fragrance, I realized.
When I looked down, I saw Petunia's eyes were glimmering with tears. "Tuney…" I begged.
But it sounded like self-pity. And however I tried, that wouldn't be corrected.
Lugging in three trunks and one basket into the near-empty compartment, I slumped down by the window, looking out to the platform. My vision was blurred with tears.
My sister hated me. My fault. It was always my fault.
"Lily?"
My breath felt raspy, and my heart plummeted wildly. With stone-hard will, I turned to face him.
"Hi, Severus," I said.
I may have smiled through my tears that day.