II:
Scar and Soul

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"Is this a book that belongs to you?" said the voice from the book again. I assumed that this was the voice of Lily Potters, my grandmother. In awe and fascination I listened to the voice filling the small room we were in and James Potter, the fool had opened the book that challenged him with a mix of desire and dishonesty.

"Yes" James said grinning. This was a bad idea; I knew by Horsias warnings that lying wouldn't take him far but James epic stupidity wasn't put aside.

"Lie again and you will see. What is your name? "

"James Potter" James said proudly and got interrupted by a change in the warm voice of Lily Potters.

"These are not your secrets to read enemy, do you agree?"

"Well…" James said too cocky according to me and proceeded with the same tone. "No"

"Lily Potter gives the James Potter an early apology and wishes the toerag less pain than he deserves"

The book blazed loudly and both James and my questioning voices drowned in the sound. The room turned dark and somewhere through the black fog that spread in the room was a scream from James that sounded petrified and heart wrenching. I grabbed my wand, mumbling spells that made me quickly to locate James but finding the source of the scream didn't do much in the fog. What felt like an hour was only a stair away obviously because Horsia busted the door open and shrieked somewhere in the dark. Horsias panicking mumbled a wave of spells without any second thoughts and the disappearing darkness revealed a hurt James on the floor with eyes wide open.

"James!" Horsia and I echoed but me with fear in my voice and Horsia with rage.

The tiny cuts across James pale face and tensed arms started to bleed slowly. The different healing spells both Horsia and I mumbled didn't make anything better; to be honest somehow we made it worse. James looked horrified at the book only a meter away from him and then at Horsia that understood in an instance.

"It's not like your diary. This hurts badly Horsia" James moaned to Horsia with eyes shut to block out my frightened expression.

"Throw it away Lily. Do you understand?" Horsia told me and took James into her arms.

I understood and knew that this was dark magic; I had been a training Auror and the daughter of Harry Potter long enough to spot what was dark and what was mean magic. But somehow I couldn't understand why Lily Potter, the mother of the wizard world hero Harry Potter would use any dark magic – especially on her own grandson James. I shoved the book displeased and nodded sympathetically towards Horsia but when I met James eyes I knew that he thought the same about the pain and the confusion of our grandmother knowing dark magic.

"Don't tell dad that granny... Just don't tell dad" James moaned again, still bleeding through the small cuts that seemed to appear closer to each other.

"Granny? Oh, Merlin James, you're about to lose it and go loony!" Horsia let out desperately. "I agree, go Lily. I will summon Harry. He might know what to do… oh, James."

"Lily, please destroy it" was all James said before I Apparated away to the first place I could think off.

I was in a sterile white flat with a lot of boxes and a few pieces of furniture, I was home.

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The night fell outside and around me but I sat still in my sofa consumed by thoughts about James, Albus, my mother and

About family.

If it was an ordinary night I would be down at the local pub and listen to the drunken muggles stories about love, war, choices and redemption. Like in the muggle movies I would sip slowly from a bottle of muggle-beer while a lonely soul confined me in the darkest stories and secrets they had and all thanks to the mix of the security of a stranger and the buzz of the numerous drinks consumed that same night. I didn't admit my muggle bar habits because no one would ever believe me if I said that I was only sipping muggle beer to listen to stories.

The truth was that I loved to listen to their tragedies and their successes even if I didn't know who the person was, this was a trait that I had inherit from my granddad Arthur Weasley who always took time to listen even if it was unreasonable. The things I wouldn't do right now for a cold beer in my hand, the weight of muggle problems and the occasional glances from the cute boy with the French accent that served the alcohol. The only reason that I stayed put in my flat, almost frozen to the spot was the guilt I felt towards James and the events that occurred earlier that day. That, and the appealing feeling I felt towards the book and the owner of that soft voice.

Lily, please destroy it.
Lily, please destroy it.
Lily, please destroy it.

James voice echoed in the small flat but I couldn't simply destroy the book, it was not right. There was something about that small, beaten book that intrigued me and in some weird way it belonged with me. Well, it was actually mine to keep now, wasn't it?

Lily, please destroy it.
No, I couldn't do that – destroy an item from the past – it was wrong. I could try to open it; not lying foolishly of course but telling the book that I was indeed Lily Luna, the granddaughter of the owner. I would be successful in one out of three questions at least but if the same thing happened to me as to James. James.

Lily, please destroy it.

I ignored the voice of pleading that echoed and decided that a Gryffindor had more braveness in her than this. I was going to find out why the book was drawn to me and that was final. That was final.

Lily, please destroy it.

"Oh, shut up you – I won't!" I yelled to an invisible James and all the sudden I left my living room to grab the bag from the hall and went to my bedroom.

The bedroom was the only thing in the flat that had been slightest decorative, it held a bed with white linen, a desk where I did most of my studying and dreaming in front of the window, a small bookshelf next to the desk and a wardrobe with all my clothes. My odd fascination with muggle stories showed on the various children and muggle books stacked at bookshelf and my messiness displayed itself on all the pieces of clothing on the floor instead of being safe and sound in my wardrobe. The only thing that was the slightly tidy in this room was the cage on the bedroom floor that belonged to my absent owl Noctua. Insensitively enough I turned my bag upside-down to find Lily Potters book in a mess of mascaras, joke shop items and Knots and then shoved the papers that covered my desk to put it in the middle. The light from the lamppost outside shined through the window enough to lit the book up for me so I could examine what I was so drawn to.

It looked like any small diary or journal, somewhat thinner in size and somehow more beaten than it should have been. There was nothing extraordinary with it except the fact that it was Lily Potters, my namesakes and also my grandmothers and that earlier that day it had hexed James beyond any hex I've ever seen.

Lily, please destroy it.

I grabbed my wand and followed Horsias example, slowly letting my fingers run across the writing on the book and waiting for the sound of warmth that swooped my off my feets.
"Is this a book that belongs to you?" said the voice I had been waiting for. I considered my answer carefully before replying. There was no place for errors without James or Horsia nearby.

"No"

"What is your name?"

"Lily Luna" told the book by habit.

"These are not your secrets to read, do you agree?"

"Yes" I admitted and the book left its secrets unrevealed.

Bugger I thought and stood up in my room with the book on my desk teasing me with its calm look. This might help, I thought when walked in circles trying to decide what to do with the book when my eyes gazed longingly at a photo I had forgotten to put up on the window sill.

There we were next to the tree one Christmas not too long ago, Photo-James – tall, dark and handsome if he could describe himself by his own words next to Albus Potter with the knitted sweater with the initials "AP" to mark him out. Photo-Albus was pulling on his sweater and beamed with his famous green eyes. Our mother, my mother Ginny Potter hugged James tightly when he tore the gift-wrap around his new broom. The Holly Head Harpie superstar and the youngest surviving fighter in the Battle of Hogwarts recorded shoved a "JP" sweater at photo-James to his big disappointment and started to examine Photo-James new broom. Ginnys fame as the savior of woman Quiddich spread over seas but if there was a name that beat Ginny Potters I knew that it was my fathers. There, next to a jealous photo-Albus was the famous Harry Potter, the chosen one, the boy who lived, the savior of the wizard society and without the muggles knowing it my father, Harry Potter was the savior of the world. I looked at the photo-Harry comforting photo-Albus with such and ease and then handing my photo-self a package that I knew contained one knitted sweater just like the one Albus got. Even if James, Albus and I fought daily to live under the shadow of Harry we knew that he didn't chose it and he didn't deserve all those things he had to suffer, still I hated to be the daughter of the famous Potter, not my father but the greatness that came with it. The little photo-Lily opened a lilac sweater with the initials"LL" and hugged her little photo-Dad tightly; this photo was my absolute favorite because this was a capture of my independence day.

"You are fine as just Lily" had Dad whispered in my ear during our tight hug.

I remembered that Christmas to be the one where I finally realized that I was fine being nothing more than just Lily.

These were the Potters; solid, loyal, brave, special and togetmy. It was hard to be anything but a mark of a man that cheated death but as my whole family smiled in the frame I admitted that they all looked heroic to me; James Potter, Albus Potter, Ginny Potter, Harry Potter and I, Lily Luna.

The hours lost in memories of a photo and lonely stars appearing on the midnight blue sky was the amount of time it took before I realized how I was thinking, it was so foolish.

I was fine as just Lily but I was and had always been a Potter, I was Lily Potter.

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"Is this a book that belongs to you?"

"No"

"What is your name? "

"Lily Potter"

"These are your secrets to read, do you agree?"

"Y-yes"

The book stung my index finger and I drew it away quickly to suck on it when I realized that the blood that left my finger wasn't leaving a trace on the book but somehow got sucked into the mix of black and gold. Seconds later I gasped just like I did the first time I saw the book in the attic a week ago. The cover of the book flung open and revealed letters from a different type of hand than the writing on the cover. The ink that the words were written by was a mix of blood red and poison green but somehow mixed as good and as bad as Slytherins and Gryffindors did.

"This Contains fractions of Lily Evans soul" I read out loud from the tidy written sentence that didn't have the feminine touch as the sentence on the cover of the book.

"Lily Evans soul" I repeated.

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How would our little story teller know that the poison green of Slytherin with the blood red from Gryffindor has been a natural blend from the start, it was inked in timelessly against the beige page in the little black book and was everlasting like the rivalry that defined those houses. She might never understand that Slytherins passion and Gryffindors boldness was how a woman, long before her age defined the reasons to live. It was only natural that the poison green of Slytherin and the blood red of Gryffindor would forever hold and contain fractions of Lily Evans Potters soul.

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