As The Hogwarts Express rolled through the countryside, my thoughts turned to Gwyneth Sands, a muggle girl who lived in Godric's Hollow next to me and my family. Her Mother ran a pastry shop and her father owned a small bar. She had dark blond hair that fell to her shoulders, and bright blue, inquisitive eyes. She was the same age as I was and for as long as I could remember, we had been friends. Up until I went to Hogwarts, she was the only friend I had and I was the only one of her's. She was very shy and had a difficulty talking to new people. But once you dug past the thick, fragile layer of silence, you found a curious, outspoken, determined, lively, affable, interesting, imaginative, and extraordinary human being. I couldn't ever remember when our friendship had struck up. It just seemed to be a natural part of my life. As natural as my brothers and our garden.
Gwyneth also knew that I was a wizard and so were my family. The reason for this was because when we were seven, my parents made the mistake of bringing her on a family outing to the burrow. Grandad Weasley nearly fainted from excitement and before he could stop him, he had began firing a series of questions about muggle lifestyle at her. Gwyneth would have had to have been a very very thick girl in order to believe that my family was normal after hearing my Grandfather's questions. My parents told her that my Granddad's mind was going and she seemed to be satisfied. However, the next time we were alone, she quietly asked me if my family was magical. My heart stopped. Even at seven years old, I was terrified that she would have found out and that the ministry of magic would come and cart my family off to Azkaban. I begged her not to tell anybody to the point where I was on the verge of tears. Gwyneth calmly agreed that it would be secret that she would take to the grave. More so, I was more concerned that I would lose my best friend because she thought I was a freak just like how my Great-Aunt Petunia shunned my Grandmum when she learned that she was a witch. But I was yet to realize that not all muggles were my Great-Aunt Petunia. Gwyneth merely laughed and said "Why would I want to stop being your friend? I would be really stupid to give up a wizard's friendship!" from that day onwards, our friendship became stronger. I could now confide to her everything about myself. We made sure not to tell my parents or brothers, although we have had some close calls.
Gwyneth was fascinated by the wizard world. She would listen for hours on end to my explanations about the Ministry of Magic and Wandlore and Currency. Even the most soul-sucking subjects like My Uncle Percy's Broomstick regulations were enough to make Gwyneth go dewy-eyed. It partly amused me,and partly annoyed me.
Most of all, Gwyneth was fascinated by Hogwarts. She was amazed of the idea of a school full of wizards and witches. I could tell her stories about it for hours on end, with her hanging onto every single word. She made very clear that I left out no detail of my parent's and brother's stories and everytime I learned something new about it, I'd rush to tell her. "
"Is this why you don't go to the local school?" she asked me. She had more than once inquired about my absence there, too which I'd murmer gibberish under my breath and change the subject.
"Because you go to Hogwarts when you are older?"
I nodded. Eventually, I became close enough to Gwyneth to reveal to her my biggest fear: that I would become a squib. A muggle born to a wizard family. When I told her this, she snorted and cried out
"Don't be silly Lily! You are magical! I know you are! I can feel it!"
"But I'm nine years old and I haven't shown any signs of magic at all!"
" Well then let's see if we can start coaxing some magic out of you!" she cried.
And so began our daily training and exercises in order to bring my magic to the surface. Every day when Gwyneth returned from school, she'd run over to my house and we'd go to the backyard. Gwyneth would try and make me do simple tricks such as moving a rock some feet away from me. We'd sit, cross kneed like little statues, with me concentrating on a rock as hard as I could and Gwyneth positively goading me on. Sometimes we'd spend hours on end participating in this ritual without the rock moving so much as a smidgit. But unlike the moon, Gwyneth's confidence never waned once. As night fell, she'd help me to my feet, and tell me enthusiastically that it was alright that I had not done it but that I would soon. She could feel it deep inside her bones. And on that fateful day when I finally made the rock fly three feet away from me in a motion not unlike that of a frog hopping, she shrieked with glee, danced around in a circle, and threw her arms around me all while shrieking "I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT LILY I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT!"
But I would not have been able to do so without her. Had she not been pushing me to my limit, forcing me to practice, encouraging me hopefully and optimistically I do not thinking that I would have shown signs of magic as quickly. "How peculiar is it that I needed a muggle to help me use magic!" I had thought then and I told her so.
It was only in later years that I realized how inconsiderate I was to poor Gwyneth. Although my family wasn't one of those conceited ones who praise themselves on their blood ancestry and refuse to have anything to do with muggles, I have come to see over the years that there is more than one way to look down on muggles. I gradually developed a false sense of self-righteousness about being a wizard with a muggle friend and began to act as though I was her superior (although this was an act of self-consciousness) Whenever I was in her presence I would make it very clear to her how fortunate she was to have a wizard friend and how very few wizards associated with muggles. I was always talking about how wonderful wizarding life would be, not even once stopping to consider how she felt knowing that she was not like that. In the metaphorical sense, I was always painting a beautiful picture above her head that she could never even hope to reach. Many a time I would just sit there and wave the image above her head while she stared on wistfully. Whenever she tried to talk to me about her own life I would more often than not say "Oh really, do all muggles do that or just your family?" I made it seem as though she was inferior to me, behaving in a condescending manner. I never once considered that I was making her feel bad, telling her about how wonderful wizarding life was and how she'd never experience it for herself, how boring her life would be in comparison to mine. When I finally arrieved at Hogwarts, one of the many things that I'd learn there besides Transfiguration and Potions, was that magic is not a guarantee of character and that Gwyneth was more deserving of it than many of my classmates. And of all the things I said to her, what I regret the most is my declaration of how cool my friends at Hogwarts would think of me when I went to Hogwarts (whenever I gained enough self-confidence to imagine the possibility that I would go) This probably made her feel as though I didn't value her friendship half as much as I should have and that I considered her as nothing more that a souvenir from my life before Hogwarts. For of all the notions I may have put into Gwyneth's head, never once did I give her one that I would miss her when I was gone.
I'll never forget as long as I live Gwyneth's reaction when I showed her my Hogwarts letter. She burst into tears and flung her arms around me like a lasso. She buried her face into my shoulder like a shovel and sobbed so heavily, that I could feel the entire weight of her body collapsing on me every time she heaved. She stopped crying long enough to let out a long, breathless barrage of words that tumbled out of her mouth (which she seemed more desperate of getting out of than making sure I understood). "I knew you would get in, Lily. I new you would! I told you that you'd go to Hogwarts and you didn't believe me and now you are! I bet you are feeling silly about all your worrying because you were all wrong! I knew it! I'm going to miss you so much but you are going to become the greatest witch Hogwarts will ever teach!". I was surprised, startled, and puzzled. Nobody in my family had reacted like that when I'd gotten my letter. My Mum and Dad had beamed like mad and my brothers affectionately clamped me on the shoulder, a rare moment in which they treated me as an equal member of their secret society composed only of Potter brothers. My Aunts and Uncles had given me hugs and said congratulations, while reminiscing about their own reactions to getting their letters and celebrated by treating me and Cousin Hugo (who got his letter at around the same time) to ice cream. Even Granny Weasley, who's emotions were as wild and unpredictable as the weather pushed me into a bear crushing hug, but never actually cried. The only person who ever cried when she learned about my letter was Gwyneth. It was only through my reflecting on the train as I watched the fields and streams whiz by in a blur of color, that I finally came to the dim, vague understanding that Gwyneth was not just crying out of joy that I was accepted, happiness on my behalf, and because she would miss me. She was also crying out of envy. That was the first time I realized just how cruel I had been to her. That wonderful human being never once before that, objected to my treatment of her, nor did she give me any reason to believe that she was unsatisfied with my friendship.
*Gwyneth died in a car crash along with her parents in my seventh year. Thinking about her reactivates a wound on my heart. It is an old wound and has been there for a considerable amount of years The sharp intense pain that I once felt has dulled to a slow, dull, pounding monotonous ache, slowing me down, distracting me from my daily routine, forcing me to find a way to live with it. Just when I start to think of her, believing that the wound has healed, I can feel jolting pains racing up and down and my heart feels like it will burst. That's when I know that it's still there. It will always be there.