Disclaimer: You know the drill: the plot's mine and so are the original characters, but everything else is J.K. Rowling's.
Chapter Two: About the Author
(Chapter's Song: 'Daughters' by John Mayer)
I guess that before I continue telling my story, you'd have to know a couple of important things about the star of it, namely me.
So, like I said before, my name is Lily Marie Evans and it all started 16 years ago on March 24th, 1964. My mother, Elizabeth actually went through an easy birth. She was only in labor for three hours, which was like a millisecond compared to when she birthed Petunia. She was in labor with my sister for a whopping 29 hours so you see, even from the beginning, my sister was a bitch.
Anyway, my mother was a lady. A true lady, lineage and all. Her father had been a Lord and his before him, and actually, my father's one as well. My mother, Elizabeth Coates-Evans had all the grace, beauty and composure as the Queen, if not more. Despite the importance of my family's status, Mum raised Petunia and I, teaching us that no matter who you are in life, you must always be humble. While I never had to wash the dishes, clean my room or do the laundry, I had little chores to do and my mother always saw to it that they were completed before I could run off and play with my dolls. I wasn't raised like a little princess, as it was Mum's adamant belief that if Petunia and I were raised as such, we'd be as insufferable as those snooty high society ladies that our family hates so much.
Mum had a passion for flowers. I guess that it's obvious considering the names that she gave her daughters (she even used to call us her little garden), but flowers were one of the things that made her world go round. Her rose garden was featured in several national home and garden magazines a number of times and her tulips grew in such abundance that even when they got to their sagging point and their petals began to fall off, they were still beautiful. Every room in our house always has a vase or two of flowers. Mum insisted that they give a room life and color. In some ways, Mum's penchant for flowers was what sparked my interest in art. She'd encourage me to try drawing them and even had teachers come in when I was little to hone and sharpen my skills as a painter.
But my passion for writing and music came from my father.
My father is an exceptional pianist and he extended his love for music to his two daughters. While my mum insisted on the ever-there presence of flowers, my father insisted on always having music playing wherever he was. When we were eating dinner, when we were reading and especially when he was in his study, we'd be listening to Mozart's concertos or Handel's arias. He believed, and still does, that music is what keeps you young. I can't even begin to count the number of times that Dad had spontaneously pulled any of his family up to join him in a waltz or the number of times that I'd caught my parents lovingly dancing cheek-to-cheek in any room of the house.
As for his writing, well, that's one of the ways that he makes his money. His official job is dealing with international affairs between England and other countries (I guess that you would call him a diplomat, but it's a little more complicated than that), but in his spare time he writes novels. He's written novels about the French revolution, or a lovelorn Spaniard, or an Englishman's journey to unlock the secrets of his past. He's even written children's books, but those were just for the enjoyment of Petunia and I.
Anyway, if you haven't been able to tell by now, my family is my backbone; they're what helps me keep my head held high. Of course, there's Petunia who would rather marry a toad than consort with the likes of me, but that's beside the point. What is important, however, is the fact that my parents couldn't have been more proud when I received my Hogwarts letter at the breakfast table. It didn't matter that my mother's plans to send me to the finest school England could offer were crushed; we had a witch in the family and there was nothing more exceptional than that. My parents were always there with a shoulder to cry on when I came home from the holidays and I was homesick, or to remind me that Petunia's hateful words shouldn't have an effect on me because she just doesn't understand what I am.
Unfortunately, my mother, my idol and hero was savagely ripped away from our close-knit family. When I was barely 12 years old, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and it had quickly spread to her lungs and kidneys. Her once lively health rapidly deteriorated, leaving my mother's beautiful body an empty shell. I was at Hogwarts when it finally happened, when my mother left the world 10 months after the diagnosis. Professor Dumbledore was sympathetic enough to let me return home for a month to help my family sort things out and deal with my grief. My friends also helped me through that time and if it weren't for them, I wouldn't be the way I am today.
My best friend in the whole wide world is Kate von Strassberg, a fellow Muggleborn Gryffindor with a sweet disposition and a passion for romance that rivals my own. She's one of the only people that can zap me out of a bad mood just like that. When I was down after my mother's death, Kate rose magnificently to the challenge of consoling me and helping me with my grief. She helped me to see the silver lining and to brighten up, reminding me about the better and brighter side of life.
My other best friend is Georgina Vance, but we like to call her Georgie. Unlike Kate and myself, Georgie comes from a wizarding family, so she's more worldly and knowledgeable in the ways of magic, especially when you compared her to us two dunderheads. Georgie is one of those people who is never ever down in life. She's always laughing about something and she always has to be moving. You can't even begin to imagine how many times Georgie's been reprimanded in class for squirming too much. Especially in History of Magic.
Kate and Georgie together made it clear to me that if I was going to wallow in self-pity after Mum died, they were going to throw me into a tub full of ice cold water with very large spiders crawling about and we once came very near to doing just that. I still shiver at the memory of seeing that tub. You see, I have terrible arachnophobia.
Anyway, I think that I might have dallied long enough and it's time to talk about myself and not my family and friends.
I guess you can say that I've had myself figured out since I was twelve. After my beloved mother died, I had spent a lot of time on my own, pondering the things in life. I've also been able to add to my personal description as the years went on and things happened that made me learn more about myself.
One of the things that I can tell you without hesitation is that I'm a hopeless romantic. I was raised in a household with parents who are/were over-the-moon in love with each other and I constantly had a Jane Austen book in my hand. You don't know how it tore me to pieces when Elizabeth Bennet first said no to Mr. Darcy and my stomach was twisted in knots as she read the contents of his letter. Anyway, that's beside the point. I jump at any opportunity and chance at experiencing romance first-hand, but so far true love has avoided me. I've learned that I can be a little too trusting sometimes, which has led me to sticky situations on more occasions than one. You see, I'm one of those poor unfortunate souls who doesn't really think before diving into something, trusting the person that I'm with with a trust so complete that I never suspect that they would have ulterior motives or that they were just the wrong type of person that I should be with. I always create this image of the current significant other for myself, putting that special person up on a golden pedestal, trying to make them happy even if I, myself, am miserable.
You know, I realize that it may seem very strange to think that me, a girl of sixteen years, has herself so figured out. I can only respond by saying that when you live in a world so full of deceit and lies, the very least that you can do is to figure out who you yourself is. I figure that it's one of my contributions to society. By me knowing exactly who I am, I'm one less person who has to take a major detour in life just to figure out what I want. I also just happen to be the type of person who likes to think a lot and I've had more than enough time and painful experiences to make myself pause and wonder why certain things happen to me, or what it is that makes me me.
Anyway, another thing about me is that I'm either overly passionate about something, or just too jaded to care and thus look at things with a blasé attitude. It's almost like I'm bipolar, except that instead of me being either depressed or happy, I either care a lot or don't care at all. It's a tricky thing, you see… My family, friends, romance, writing, music and my grades all fit into the 'care' category, but certain things such as new gadgets, the latest fashions, and mean people fit into the 'don't care' category. Of course, I care about these things at least a little bit, enough to be properly dressed or feel slight resentment towards those grumpies, as I like to call them, but not enough to be fanatic over it.
There's one more side of me that comes to mind and that's my appreciation for things. I've always, well, almost always, been one to notice things such as color, texture, balance and rhythm and appreciate them for what they are. Nature has been good to me by letting me have the eye to take in my surroundings and permanently feel in awe of the beauty and grace of the world. That's another reason why I like the Quidditch pitch so much-when I sit there alone and stare out at the treetops straining for the familiar sounds of a flute, I realize how small I am in the elephantine pitch. I feel humbled in the way that only magnificent things can accomplish and I'm grateful for it. Whenever I feel stressed or choked up with emotion, I like to lose myself in the immense labyrinth that is the castle, discovering priceless paintings, hidden passageways and forgotten courtyards. If something's really bothering me, my travels extend out to the surrounding grounds where I lose myself for hours at a time, only coming back when the sun begins to splash vivid colors on the sky, God's expansive canvas.
Despite everything that I've just said, there's one last thing about me that is absolutely crucial information:
I'm completely terrified of falling in love.
….
I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
She's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
…..