Rainbow Thoughts by Mischief Managed

Rating: G
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 6
Published: 26/03/2006
Last Updated: 24/05/2006
Status: In Progress

This switches on and off from Lily's and James's POV. Lily is not your ordinary
red-haired, green-eyed, fiery-tempered witch. Oh, no. She has a secret, which shows how she views
people. But she soon discovers another secret, one she shares with her new friend James. Together
they go to Hogwarts, and as their secret strengthens, Lily is finding it harder and harder to
conceal her other one. This will be a few chapters, and will have one sequel. Ch. 1 (The other was
the Prologue) is up.




1. Prologue
-----------



**A/N: This is ONLY the prologue. Yes, I know it is short. That's what a prologue
IS.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own A Mango Shaped Space, which is an
extremely good book if you haven't read it. I only got synesthesia from A Mango Shaped Space.
NOTHING ELSE.**

The earth is an amazing place. Billions of years ago, the first cell formed. It reproduced, and
soon we had many one-celled organisms. These eventually evolved into complicated, more advanced
beings, until the first animal walked upon earth. We began to have many prehistoric animals.

Sometimes, however, when the cells reproduced, a mutation was made. Usually, these mutations did
not live very long, but sometimes, a change in a cell would be for the better, making it live
longer than the others of its kind. Charles Darwin showed us this, and it has been proved many
times: the pterodactyl, being out-lived by the bird, the saber-toothed-tiger, improved by the
wildcat, and many more besides. Humans are closely related to apes, and are no exception to
mutations. Some are born disfigured; some are born with dyslexia or another reading disability, and
some are born with synesthesia. Lily Evans was one of those people. Synesthesia is a disability
where you see colors for words, sounds and numbers. Sometimes, your numbers have personalities.
But, colors for sound, words, and numbers is most common. Lily did not know what her disability was
called, just that she had it and no one else did. Actually, to her, it was not much of a
disability. She could always keep track of dates and words; she just remembered the combinations of
color. This story is about her journey into the world of the unknown, starting from the moment she
gets her Hogwarts letter, to the second she graduates from Hogwarts with her friends and her true
love. This is her story.

-->



2. New Relevations and (possible) Cuteness in Boys
--------------------------------------------------



**A/N****:** **This is Lily's POV.**

**Disclaimer: Hmm… lemme check…. No, still don't own Harry Potter. Ask me tomorrow.**

**Chapter 1****:** **New** **Revelations** **and (Possible) Cuteness in
Boys**

“I” Petunia screams at me. “WILL” She looks funny when she's mad. Is her eye twitching?
“KILL” If I could, I'd tell her what color her name is: A poisonous orange. “YOU!” It's
usually sort of a soft red, but the way she screams it made it another shade of violent orange.
Maybe that's because of her voice. I am interrupted in my pensive moment by a pair of skeleton
hands closing around my throat, threatening to cut off my air supply. I don't even flinch; this
has happened too many times to count.

“Um,” I say politely. “May I kindly have my neck back?” Petunia screams a wordless roar in my
ear, a neon orange that nearly blinds me, it is so bright.

“Petunia!” Good ol' mum. Mum. A comforting off-white, nearly ivory. Her name is quite close.
Marie. It's a butter-cream, and I can nearly taste it. “Get your hands off of Lily!” Ah, my
name. Deep purple, a beautiful color, if I do say so myself. And I do. Petunia (Or Mushroom, as I
like to call her, after an orange mushroom my father and I found one summer. That was two summers
ago. Before my father died. He had just been diagnosed with cancer, and was trying to get in as
much family time as he could before- No! I can't think about that. My grandma, who also
recently died, said that dwelling on the past was good when you were bored. But now, I was not
bored.) obliged. She let go of my neck, and stood up to leave, but not before hissing, “I'll
get you later, midget!”

Unfortunately for her, Mum heard. “Petunia!” Well, really. It is *not* fair to call me a
midget. I may be a little short, but at least I am proportioned well. Unlike *some* people I
know (Cough, cough, PETUNIA cough!) I am beginning to get curves. My sister is fourteen, and I am
eleven, but I am still getting curves before her. Behind her back, everyone says I'll grow up
to be the pretty one. But I honestly don't care. Petunia always dyes her hair. Blonde,
brunette, you name it. I don't even remember her natural color. I think it was sort of mousy
brown. Oh well. Does it matter?

I walk downstairs to the kitchen, but Mushroom is already there. I spin on my heel, marching
back up the stairs.

“Lily…” My mother says warningly. She does not fall for a thing, I tell you.

“What?” I am the perfect picture of innocence.

“Aren't you going to eat?”

“I think I'll take a shower, thanks.” I squeeze past her, mentally crossing my fingers.

“Not so fast.” No such luck. “It's Sunday, girls. We are having a family breakfast. We have
since your f-father and I were married. We will continue to do so, come rain or shine. Sit.” I did
as I was told. We sat in silence, eating our toast and kippers, until there was a sharp rapping at
the window. My head snaps toward the green-blue sound. A grey owl, its color true to its name and
sounds, is perched outside the kitchen window. I quickly stand up, wincing as my chair scrapes a
ragged black flash. I struggle with the window, because it has a strange tendency to stick. The
bird flaps in and sticks out its foot. I check it, thinking it may be hurt, when I notice a small
note tied to its leg.

“What's that, Lily?” I love my mother's voice. It is a paper color, like the first page
of a brand-new book, or a fresh page on an easel. When she's happy, it's seems more like
tiny silver bells, and when she's mad, it's like a deep, vibrant red, bursting out in angry
tones.

“It's a……… letter,” I tell her.

“Oh, gee! A letter! Now, children, what do we do with letters?” I send a death glare
Petunia's way.

“We shove them up our sisters' -” I begin to mutter, but quickly stop at the look Mum gives
me. I tear the letter open. A sheaf of parchment falls out. I have only ever seen parchment once,
when my dad took me to the London Museum. I open the folded parchment, and read aloud: “`Dear Miss
Evans, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft
and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of all the things you will need for the school term. You will get
these at Diagon Alley, in London. To get there, you must go to the Leakey Cauldron, pass through it
and into the back yard area. You will see a brick wall. Tap the brick in this location: three up,
two across. You will go through the arch, and can do your shopping from there. Good luck! Minerva
McGonagall, Dept. Headmistress.'” Mum is looking at me in shock. Petunia looks as though I will
grow horns at any moment.

“Freak!” Petunia screams, before tearing away from the table to run up to her room and have a
good cry. I have no idea why *she's* crying; it's not as if someone's playing an
elaborate joke on her. If she only knew the half of my freakishness. I wonder what would happen if
they found out about my colors.

“But…” Mum begins feebly, “Why would someone play such a cruel trick?”

A strange thought occurs to me. “Mum,” I say carefully, “What if, well, what if it's not
really a… trick?”

The disbelief in her eyes is eminent. “How could it be real? Lily, use your common sense.
There's no such thing as magic! Why would this-” she checks the letter “Minerva McGonagall want
you, if there was such a thing, at her magic school? We're *normal*, Lily!”

I feel my anger swelling up inside me. “Use *your* common sense, mum! Do we have any proof
that there's no such thing as magic? And what about those not-so-normal things I've been
doing all along? Remember Bobby Jean? Her purple hair? She had been making me mad. I remember
thinking, `Gee, she wouldn't be so perky if she had purple hair!' and it just
*happened*! And that boy at the park two years ago? Said my hair looked like it had caught
fire? I think I *made* his shoes catch fire. I don't really think it was the chemical in
them that made them spontaneously combust, do you?” I can see the shock written plainly across her
face at my outburst.

“Well,” she says shakily, “I suppose- I'll come with you today to this-” she checks the
parchment again “Leakey Cauldron, and make sure you get to, er, Diagon Alley. If it's all a
hoax, well, we'll go home. But I need to take Petunia to her dance lessons at one, alright?” I
nod, feeling slightly guilty about my anger. I run up to my room, and begin to pace, waiting for
twelve-thirty, when we would leave. I can't calm myself, so I curl up with a drawing pad and
listen to soft classical music with my headphones. The music inspires me: the deep burgundy of the
violin, the light green of the piano, and the gold-yellow of the trumpet. It varies in shape: A
long, high note on the violin would be a straight line, lengthening as the note went on. The piano,
when playing an octave, is more like a green staircase, moving up and up somewhat disconnectedly.
Before I know it, Mum is calling me, telling me to eat quickly so we can leave. I look at the
finished product of my labors: A calla lily, bursting with color, stands in a blue vase on an old
furnished dresser. Calla lilies are my favorite flower, and not just because of my name. I love
their shape and texture, and their colors amaze me. I usually only like the white ones, but I
colored in this one with my nearly dull purple pastel. It looks so realistic that I just stare at
it for a moment, completely forgetting about my newfound magic. I remember, eventually, and run
downstairs to eat. We all eat quietly, Petunia trying very hard not to look at me, but if she must,
she turns those red-rimmed eyes on me in a glare *she* obviously thinks is scary. She is very
bad at her withering stare. I have nearly got it down. The only person I can't get is Mum. Not
that I'd want to, but still. I sweetly smile back, and twiddle my thumbs menacingly (I know,
how is that menacing, but you should see her face right now. I am fighting not to crack up.) All
this goes unnoticed (I think) by Mum; she just keeps eating her egg salad. I stab a piece of
lettuce, and I swear I can see a vein throbbing in her forehead. I stand by what I said earlier:
she looks really funny when she's mad. She twirls her fork around, and we seem to be having a
staring contest. I always win. Sure enough, after only thirty seconds she blinks and looks
away.

“Well,” Mum says briskly, clearing our plates away. “We should get going.”

I nod prettily, letting Petunia glower. Mum frowns at her, because *obviously* she is being
rude for no reason. As we stand up to go to the car, Petunia mutters to me, “Freak!”

I think this is the third time she's said that in the last two hours. I jump at the chance:
“Missing link.” Petunia looks confused, and I can see her trying to work it out. I'd forgotten
Petunia is not a fan of science. She is still working it in her head when we reach the car parked
outside, so I jump into the front seat without her noticing.

Five minutes into the drive, she exclaims, “Hey!” I guess she's not as much of an ignoramus
as I thought. Although, it took her long enough to figure it out.

The two of us sit moodily, all the way to London, which is not very far. We travel through the
streets, not stopping until I say, “There!” Mum has to look for a bit until she spots it: An old
sign reading The Leakey Cauldron. We park our car, and Mum and I (Petunia refusing to go within
twenty feet of the place) walk in there. We pass several old men playing cards, by an old bar with
a man that had almost no teeth behind it, and out through another door. We come up to a brick wall.
We stare at it for a moment, before I nervously tap the brick that is three bricks up from the
bottom and two bricks across. Instantly a small hole appears in the wall, growing larger and larger
until a huge brick arch stands in front of us.

Mum appears speechless. “Well,” she finally says, “I suppose I'll see you at four,
then?”

I don't really want her to go, but I nod. I step through the arch and pull out my book list.
I search around for a bit, and spot a store titled *Flourish and Blotts Bookstore*. It looks
pretty tiny, but I suppose starting anywhere would be best. I weave in out of the crowd before
reaching the door. As I step in, the place seems to grow in size. It is now seven times as large as
it looked, and it has two stories. I go to the center table, where there are some people around my
age. There is a sign on it, saying, *Buy all your Hogwarts' books now, before the prices go
up!* I pick out the ones that are for my level.

I go up to the check-out area, and fish some money out of my pocket. The lady behind the desk
eyes my English notes and shakes her head. “You'll want to exchange your Muggle money for
Wizarding money, dear. That's Gringotts, on the left. Big white building. You can't miss
it. Would you like me to hold those for you until you get back?” I nod and hand her my new books.
Exiting the store, I search around until I see it: A white marble building, with a huge sign that
says Gringotts. I nervously make my way toward it, and nearly jump when I enter. A huge desk, with
fifteen or twenty little men lined up in a row behind it. Most were helping others, so I walk up to
one and clear my throat anxiously.

The goblin (?) peers down at me reprovingly, and I say in very small voice, “Um, I'd like to
exchange this for wizard money?” and hold out my bills. He snatches them, and puts them in a very
old cash register. The machine whirs and beeps for a moment, before spitting out several gold coins
and about twenty silver ones, along with thirty brass coins.

The goblin (As I have decided to call them, strange little gremlins that they are.) says, “Would
you like to store some of these in an account, or will you keep them all?”

“Um,” I respond, still slightly nervously. “I'll put some in an account, please.”

“Name?” The goblin-thing (Goblins have a sort of sickly-yellow aura about them, enough to make
me want to look away) says in a bored voice. He has clearly done this before.

“Lily Evans.”

“Occupation?”

“Er, student?”

“Type of interest?”

“Simple? For now, at least.”

“Right,” the midget says, “Your bank account is number three-hundred and forty-two. Here is your
key. Do not lose it.”

I take the tiny gold key and a bag full of the coins and run back to the bookstore. The lady
takes four of my gold coins and five of my silver ones. I take the books and set off for my next
destination: The apothecary. Unfortunately, this is very hard to spot, so I spend a very long time
looking for the thing. “You'd think they'd send a wizard or something, but oh no, they
leave me to fend on my own.” I mutter furiously, still scouring the streets for the apothecary.

“Well, they probably thought you'd bring a parent of some sort with you,” a pleasant voice
says from behind me. I spin on my heel, turning to face a boy, a bit taller than me, with messy
black hair, and glasses that covered penetrating hazel eyes. “James Potter,” he says cordially,
sticking his hand out for me to shake. *James*. A light aqua color, which happens to be my
favorite color. For some reason, it being his name makes me like it all the better.

“Lily Evans,” I say smilingly. “Er, do you know where the apothecary is?”

He laughs. “You're a Muggle, aren't you?” at my confused look, he says, “Non-magic
person. Well, Mum and I were about to head over to it. Only she's chatting with
*Dorianne*.” He makes an ugly face. “Mum and Dorianne both want me to get together with Stacy,
Dorianne's daughter. Only problem is she can't form a coherent sentence around me. Even if
she could, there wouldn't be any substance to her talking. She only cares about herself and
boys and boring girl stuff. Not that girls are bad, mind you” he says hurriedly, “It's just
sometimes all they can talk about is shopping.”

I nod. “I hate that. The girls at my school, well, they're just annoying. They turn into
giggling puddles of mush whenever a boy comes within ten feet. Especially Hot William.” Now
it's my turn to make a face. “All he cares about is his football team. It's so annoying!” I
hadn't noticed we had been walking, but now he held the apothecary door open for me.

I step in, and he follows, after yelling, “Mum! Come ON!” Mrs. Potter kisses each of her
friend's cheeks (Her facial ones, you sick-minded people!!) and sends a glare at James. She
doesn't notice me until she has stalked up to the apothecary. Her hazel eyes, the same color as
James's, only a bit more evil-looking, narrowed distastefully in my direction. “Who,” she asks
icily, “is this?”

James grins, a swoon-worthy smile (Whoa! Where did that random thought come from?) and says
easily, “Oh, hey Mum. This is Lily Evans. Lily, this is my mum, Jenna Potter.”

I stick out my hand for her to shake. She takes it, and says, practically sneering, “I
haven't heard of you. Are you a Pureblood? Of the *noble* kind, naturally.”

James says quickly, grinding his teeth, “*No*, Mum. She's- she's Muggleborn.” Mrs.
Potter's lip curls.

“I see,” she says, glaring at me. “Well, dah-ling-” (I swear that's how she pronounced it)
“Well, we've been discussing it, Dorianne and I, and we've decided that you are to be
engaged. When you're seventeen, during the summer after you graduate, you and Stacy will be
married.” She's still glaring at me.

I feel my fists clench, and James steps on my foot slightly. “…Right…” he says in a bored tone.
“Come on, Lily. Let's go and get our potions things.”

Leaving a fuming Mrs. Potter behind, we begin scooping the necessary materials into bags. “What
the-” I begin hotly, but James talks over me.

“It's okay. She does this all the time. When it comes time to tell her, I will. If she tries
to make me, I have it all figured out.”

“Why does she hate me, though?” I ask.

James laughs mirthlessly. “Partly because you're Muggleborn. She doesn't think Muggles
should be witches and wizards.”

“And the other part?” I ask as I scoop dried beetles into a sack.

James won't look at me. “Because,” he says carefully, “She thinks that if I have any female
friends, especially ones that are less than noble Purebloods, they'll interfere with her plans
for my `Happily Ever After', which is weird.”

“But that's ridiculous!” I exclaim, although I feel as though I'm lying to him as well
as myself. “How does she get off- I mean that doesn't make any-”

“I know,” James says, with a hint of disappointment in his voice. “She's batty. Come on,
lets go pay.”

“James, what?” I ask, feeling guilty for no reason. “Did I… say something?”

James smiles, a bit forced in my opinion. “No. She's just beginning to irritate me, is
all.”

I nod understandingly, and we pay for our things. Mrs. Potter stands near the doorway, glaring a
hole in my head as James offers to carry some of my things. She forces her way between us, and
James says, “Let's go get our robes, Lily.” We ignore Mrs. Potter and set off, running through
the crowds of witches and wizards, until we finally come to rest at a shop called Madam
Malkin's Robes for all Occasions.

We enter the shop, and a slightly plump, maroon-clad witch bustles over to us. “Hogwarts?” she
asks, surveying us. Without waiting for an answer, she drags me over to an old stool, and flicks
her wand at a measuring tape. It instantly begins measuring me, and with another flick of her wand,
a quill begins scrawling the measurements. By now Mrs. Potter has caught up with us, and she
settles on glaring at me from across the room.

I pay her no attention, except for smiling angelically at James, who instantly saw what I was
doing and smiled back. We remained like that, and though I knew we were just pretending, I
couldn't help but notice that he was kind of cute. But I'm sure it's just happiness at
having found a friend so quickly. We finally break our eye contact, and I pretend to be pretending
to be blushing furiously—even though I *am*. Stupid red hair! It makes me blush, I have a bad
reputation for having a fiery temper, the possibilities go on and on. Although, James is looking
impressed, so I doubt he suspects a thing, and Mrs. Potter is looking livid, so she also probably
suspects nothing—except that I looooove her son. Ack! Bad thoughts! Now that possibility is
imprinted into my brain, and it will stick fast. Stupid brain that happens to work intelligently.
The robes are quickly finished, and James says quickly, before his mother can intervene, “I need to
get an owl. Want to come, Lily?” I nod, and we look at Mrs. Potter.

“Fine,” she snaps, “But we simply *can't* go to Eyelops. Filthy place. We'll go to
the Magical Menagerie. Lola-”

“It's *Lily*, Mum.” James says through gritted teeth.

“Of course dear, of course. Keep quiet, then *Lily*.” Without waiting for a response, she
swept out of the shop, us trailing behind.

“She *really* hates me,” I say in an undertone to James.

He grins. “I know. Isn't it great?” He laughs at my incredulity. “Come on, you can get an
owl or a cat or something.”

“I don't think I have the money,” I say doubtfully.

“Don't worry,” he says easily. “My gift to you.” I blush again, and he asks, “How do you do
that?”

“Magic,” I respond happily, entering the Menagerie. I am rewarded with an amazing sight: Owls,
sitting in luxurious gold cages near the ceiling, cats, prowling in their confinements, an odd
assortment of poisonous-looking toads, and a few sleek black rats. I hear a meowing, so I walk over
to the cage in the very corner. In it is a black cat with one eye, looking slightly put-out. I
reach into its cage and pull it out, scratching it behind the ears. It purrs contentedly, and I am
suddenly bombarded by a soft, yet deep red, wafting across my mind's eye. I try and put it back
in its cage, but it lets out a forlorn yowl, and again I have another shade of red drifting across
my mind. I can tell that this one-eyed cat is the one for me. I pick up its cage, and walk over to
James and his mother.

“You want to get that- that *thing*?” she asks incredulously.

I stick out my chin defiantly. “Yes.”

I can see her grip tighten on James's shoulder. He winces slightly, and says, “What'll
you name it, Lily?”

“I don't know,” I confess, “But if it's a girl, I'll name it Ruby.”

“Why?” he asks curiously.

I hesitate to answer. I would name her Ruby because everything she does is a shade of red. But I
can't tell him that. “I really like the name,” I lie. His mother steers us over to the counter,
and James slips me a few galleons, because we both know his mother wouldn't let him buy me a
cat.

“Is this a boy or a girl?” I ask the witch behind the counter.

“That old thing?” she says haughtily. “I think it's a girl, but I don't know. Are you
sure that's the animal you want?” I glare at her. I hand over the galleons, and James hands
over his before taking his brand-new barn owl away from the counter. I follow his lead, and for the
fourth time this afternoon, we completely ignore his mother.

“What're you naming him?” I inquire about James's owl.

“Harry,” He replies. Seeing my inquisitive look, he elaborates. “I really like the name, and my
great-uncle was named Harry. Uncle Harry had been everywhere, and liked to tell funny stories about
the places he'd been. Not, `Oh, when I was a little boy…' stories, but really funny ones.
He died four years ago.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. My grandma died a while ago, too. She also had good stories.” I say
sadly.

“It's okay,” he says, before changing the subject. “What about the rest of your family?”

“My mum works as an animal emergency veterinarian. My sister Petunia is the biggest snot ever. I
swear, her head's going to explode one of these days, it's so big. And not just in the
metaphorical sense, either.” I add as an afterthought.

He laughs. “My mum—well, you saw her. Mostly a stay-at-home, planning-big-functions,
straighten-your-tie-or-you'll-ruin-the-party kind of mum. I have one brother, named Georgie,
he's five. He's bloody annoying. Always stealing my stuff, or getting me into trouble.”

“At least he's not dyeing his hair every week to try and imitate yours,” I point out.

“You're right. He has the same hair as me. Mum hates it. She thinks all her friends will
`think us common ruffians,' in her words. My dad works in an office at the ministry of magic.
He has good connections with the minister, so we always have to go to fancy parties and things.
Wait, what about your dad?”

I look down. “Um. He- he died. Two years ago. He had cancer.”

“Lily,” he says, taking my hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. “I'm sorry. I
shouldn't have asked. I should've assumed when-”

“No,” I say gently. “You didn't know. It doesn't matter. Well, it does,” I correct
myself. “But it doesn't matter that you were curious.” Mrs. Potter clears her throat loudly
from behind us. I close my eyes in controlled irritation, and take my hand off of his shoulder. I
open them and see a tiny shop labeled *Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands Since 382 b.c.*
We enter and look around nervously.

“Hello,” a wispy voice calls from behind us. James and I jump and spin around, but there is no
one there. Since the voice was very quiet, and Mrs. Potter was looking at us curiously, we turn
around to face her. The person—or thing, whatever it was—clears its throat. At least, I *hope*
it was the throat. James and I turn around. “Up here,” I think of cotton, blowing off of—something,
I guess, but nonetheless, cotton blowing, because the voice was so wispy. We look up. A man,
slightly creepy, I would say, is peering closely at us from on top of a ladder. His eyes roll
madly, his hair, grey and frizzy, stands on end, he drools slightly—no. Just kidding!! He has fine
white hair, is balding, and though he looks nice enough, he gives off a bit of a sinister aura. Not
really a color, but just an impression. It's hard to explain. He climbs down from the ladder,
and he gets this strange look in his eyes as he looks from me to James. “Hogwarts, then?” he
surveys us, and I feel like he can see right through me. I involuntarily step back a bit and stand
almost behind James—not that I'm hiding, mind you; I just don't want to be attacked first,
and since James is such a big strong man, he can surely defend us all from this possible molester.
Okay, I'm hiding. He's really, really scary, though! James lightly steps on my foot, and I
stand next to him, foot now throbbing somewhat. I smile nervously, but Mr. Ollivander (I suppose
that must be who he is) takes no notice of us. His gaze is focused somewhat longingly on Mrs.
Potter. James and I grin obnoxiously at each other.

“George! Er, Mister Ollivander, I should say.” Mrs. Potter's voice is high and breathy. I
make a revolted face, and James sniggers. Neither of the adults notice.

“Genevieve,” Mr. Ollivander's voice has lost all of its wispiness, and was now a deep,
throaty growl. It sounds painful, and he stops to gag on a bit of spit for a moment. Ew. Wait. Mrs.
Potter's real name is Genevieve?

“I know,” James says. I swear he can read my mind. “And, no I can't,” *Stop it!!!* I
think frantically. “Never!” he grins. I am really freaked out now. “Don't worry,” he's
doing it again!!! Maybe I should try not to give away my emotions through facial expression. “You
know, you really shouldn't give away your emotions through facial expressions.” I glare at him,
then remember. I am utterly expressionless. I am a blank canvas, ready for painting. “You are a
blank canvas, ready for painting,” James says sarcastically. Ha! He'll never know what I'm
thinking of. It's not in the magical world…

“What on earth is a `Telerfoon'?” he asks bemusedly. I stare at him in shock.

God he's weird.

I ignore him. I am once again blank. I decide to watch Mrs. Potter (Not for long, I'm
guessing…) and Mr. Ollivander flirt outrageously.

“Oh, Hugo!” she squeals. I make a gagging noise, forgetting my resolve. “It's been years!
Just years!”

“Too long, Jenna- may I call you that?” He has taken on a sort of German-Italian-French-British
accent (A/N: If you've ever seen the movie *Some Like it Hot*, then you'll know what
I'm talking about. The sailor guy who wants to marry Sugar, with his `tragic' little
`sickness' of `not being able to love'. A very good movie, highly recommended by yours
truly) and is making me feel my breakfast come up.

“Why, yes, Victor!” Wait. Wasn't his name Hugo two minutes ago? I suppose she's just
trying on different names, seeing which suits her. “You know, we've got some catching up to
do,” she said airily.

“I'll bet you do,” I mutter quietly. James stifles a laugh, but none of the adults
notice.

But wait!!! Isn't it socially unacceptable to be flirting with another man while out
shopping?

“So you think it would be socially acceptable to flirt with someone when, say, you are in a
doctor's office? Perhaps in a zoo. Would that be acceptable?” He's really starting to scare
me. “Maybe, Lily, you should stop voicing your opinions aloud, then.”

I shake my head, trying to clear it of an imaginary fly. James laughs, so I send him a death
glare. He pretends to keel over sideways, and makes a great show of choking, then wheezing, and
finally falling to the ground and kicking his feet around, moving them comfortably, then deciding
that since they're dead, dead people don't much care how gruesomely or uncomfortably they
are positioned. I can't help it. I giggle. At my giggle, however, Mrs. `Genevieve' Potter
stops flirting shamelessly with Mr. Ollivander, and glares at me. I think my giggle is some sort of
warning signal to her to: Drop Everything And Kill. DEAK. Hmm…

“May Jamesies please get his wand?” she asks, sugary sweetness coating her poison glare. James,
I can see, is clenching his fists at being called `Jamesies'.

I can almost hear him in my head. **Eurg. I hate it when she calls me that. Probably to impress
Ollie.**

I smirk. *Ollie?* I wonder.

**Ollivander***.* He would say.

*Okay, this is slightly creepy.* I am beginning to think.

**Lily! I think…I think we're really talking through our minds!** I can see his eyes
widen at me and my mouth is gaping.

*No! Make it stop! Please, James!* I plead silently.

**I can't. I'm sorry!** He looks genuinely sorry.

Mrs. Potter is looking curiously from James to me, and says, “What?”

James and I snap our attention back to her, smiling innocently. “Nothing,” we say hastily, at
the same time. We continue to grin innocuously until she turns away from us, flutters her eyelashes
at Ollie, and pushes James toward him. I wonder if we need eye contact to do our
brain-conversations.

**Brain-conversations?** His thoughts are deep purple. Slightly amused. Well. This is odd. My
colors show up here, too. In my brain, that is.

**Your colors?** Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no…

*Um… Nothing! Well, you know how when the sun shines in your eyes you get stars?*

**Yeah…?**

*I just got it.*

**Oh. Right. Ugh, he's measuring me. That tickles!**

I giggle. Mrs. Potter looks at me, and I look behind me, trying to look as though I'm
searching for the `mysterious' laughter. *Is she still looking?*

**No, she's gazing fondly at Sebastian.**

*Sebastian?*

**His new name. Tell me when one of them suits him.**

*I think Wispil would be very good. Or maybe Cottonhead.*

**Why?**

*Because his voice is like cotton, it's so wispy.*

**That's an interesting analogy.**

*I have a lot of interesting analogies.*

“No, no, won't do at all…” Mr. Ollivander is on a ladder, pulling out small, thin boxes, and
replacing most. He finally pulls seven boxes from a few different shelves down. James and I decide
to break our connection, so I don't mess up his magic abilities or whatever. I watch as James
takes a wand, only to have Mr. Ollivander take it back immediately. He tries to twirl it, but fails
miserably. The wand clatters to the ground, and rolls under a chair. Mr. Ollivander crawls on his
hands and knees, clumsily trying to reach the wand. I press my lips together, willing myself
silently not to laugh. Mr. Ollivander, having relocated the wand, straightens up, flashes a winning
(or so he thinks; really there's a piece of spinach stuck in his teeth, but Mrs. Potter
doesn't notice.) smile, and climbs seductively (if it's possible, but he managed to do it,
sort of…) up the ladder. He grabs a few boxes and climbs down again, shoving the boxes on a
conveniently placed table. He gingerly, almost lovingly, hands one to James, and as James pulls it
out of the box, his color—a light aquamarine-ish blue—suddenly surrounds him. I suppose that's
an aura. It's funny, but I've only ever seen them when I'm really tired, usually late
at night or *very* early in the morning. The aura-thing swirls around him, and Mr. Ollivander
looks positively delighted. Poor guy. He'll never get a woman if he's in love with all the
wands in this shop. I'll bet he sings them lullabies, or maybe even names them. That would be a
laugh.

“Oh, Charles! I am just ther-rilled!!” he says, pronouncing the word *thrilled* funny. He
realizes he is not alone, and looks embarrassed. James steps back, wand in hand, inspecting it. I
hardly notice as Mr. Ollivander steers me over to his desk, where he starts measuring me.

*James!*

**Yes?**

*Why are your mother and Pierre allowed to flirt shamelessly?? Won't someone find
out??*

**No, and even if they did, why would it matter?**

*Well, first of all, it's MORALLY wrong, and second of all, WHY Mr. Ollivander?? He's,
like, fifty!!*

**So?**

*What do you mean, so??!!*

**So is a conjunction indicating the reason for an action-**

*Ugh, I KNOW what the word so means, James!*

**Sor-ry! You're the one who asked. Sheesh. Women…**

*But what about your `family name'?*

**What do you mean?**

*Don't `What do you mean' me, James. Won't it ruin your family's
honor?*

**No…**

*Okay…*

**What now?**

*But it doesn't it kind of freak you out?*

**No. She does it all the time.**

*SHE DOES THIS ALL THE TIME??????*

**On all of our shopping trips.**

*Ew. With random strangers?*

**Ew! NO!!! With her old boyfriends, mainly.**

*She must have had a LOT of old boyfriends.*

**Yeah, well…**

*She must have been the school slut!*

**I'd be laughing if I could in your brain. Let me try: HAHAHAHAHA.**

*Not that I think she's a slut, but THAT MANY BOYFRIENDS!!??*

**Well… seven years, many boys go to that school, Lily Darling.**

*Shut up. Well, it doesn't bug your dad??*

**No. He does it too. Mum gets mad at him, though. Don't know why.**

*Oh. Hey, Leonardo's pulling down a couple of boxes. Don't mess up my wand selection,
okay?*

**Righto.**

I take a wand that Mr. Ollivander offers me. He snatches it back, rather rudely, I'd say,
and hands me another one. We have a sort of cycle of handing, holding for two seconds, and
snatching for about twenty wands, before he hands me one. I am about to hand it back—wood burns a
bit when pulled through your hand excessively, you see—when I feel a slight tingling in my arm. I
am blinded by my own aura, deep purple, interrupted by bits of lighter and darker purples,
until—

“Francine!” Mario cries, unaware of his audience. “I will miss you most of all!” He gulps and
smiles nervously, so Mrs. Potter smiles adoringly, almost as if to say, *`Don't worry;
I'll love you no matter HOW weird you get!'* I make a point of not looking over at
James, so as not to start giggling uncontrollably.

*Well. That was certainly… Interesting…* I think to James as we walk out of the shop,
ignoring the “Ta-ta! I'll see you, dah-ling Fabio!” of Mrs. Potter.

**I'll say. It's a good thing both of us are good actors, because otherwise I'd
probably have died from laughing so hard.**

*What time is it?*

**About three.**

*Good. Enough time to get my other things before my mum picks me up.*

**When's that?**

*At four. What else do we need?*

**Our potions' things, like the cauldron, scales, and the phials. We also need a
telescope.**

*That should be fine.*

We set off toward Percival's Caldrons and Other Potion Accessories, which is apparently the
store we want. We quickly buy our things, and then James and I joke for a bit, and run around
Diagon Alley, away from James's mum. She tries to follow, but we weave in and out of the crowd
to lose her. James makes me follow him into a prank shop, where I learn all about wizarding
pranking materials. Though I am not usually one for stupid games, we both stock up on the many joke
objects, with James promising to help me out and take all the blame if we're caught. But he
promises we won't be, and I'm not very worried. By now it is nearly four, so we exit the
shop, soon coming upon a fuming Mrs. Potter. I bid James goodbye, promising news by owl, and
flounce back towards the Leakey Cauldron. Stepping out of the small bar, I spot my mum instantly. I
run over to her, and she envelopes me in a he hug.

“How was it, honey?” she asks curiously.

“It was fun,” I say happily. I try and listen to my mum about whatever she's talking about,
but I really can't concentrate. I am trying to find James with my mind. After a few tries and
no answer, I decide that our powers are either not strong enough right now, or he's ignoring
me. I settle for murmuring my replies to my mum, not really paying attention, but not completely
ignoring her. When we get home, I play the first part of “Carol of the Bells” on our ancient piano.
I've been meaning to learn something other than, “Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all
seem to say, throw cares away,” but I haven't gotten around to it. Oh, well. I only play “Carol
of the Bells” when I'm really thinking, so my mum knew better than to disturb me. I watch as my
fingers move effortlessly over the keys, my middle finger hitting the E flat, then my pointer on D,
back to E flat, and down to C, over and over again. And that's what my brain was doing. Going
over the same idea over and over. Only I'm too scared to admit what it was.

-->



3. Author's Note
----------------



As I said in my other one, I suck. I promise I will update this weekend. *Pinky swear*

I have ch. 2 somewhere (I think it's being beta-ed…) and I started ch. 3, but then my
computer erased it, God bless its retarded soul…….

-->



4. Ch. 2: The Meeting in The Park, Little Brothers, and a New G
---------------------------------------------------------------



Chapter 2: The Meeting in the Park, Little Brothers, and A New Girl

The days go by so fast. All I can think about is her. It's odd. I've never laughed with
anyone like that. I don't think I've had so much fun in a single afternoon since… ever! Mum
was so mad when we got home. She could barely even talk to me, she was so full of rage. I think
that she thinks that Lily will interfere with her plans for me. I hope so. I really don't want
to have anything to do with Stacy Greyhouse. At least I won't have to talk to her or even
acknowledge her presence until around sixth year. But even then, I will avoid her by any means
possible. And, I will get out of the marriage. I don't know how, but I have at least four years
of careful planning ahead of me. I hope our connection is strong enough for us to talk. I have
tried countless times to get in touch with Lily. Lately, we've been able to talk, but the
connections are pretty bad.

**Liiiiiiiiiiiiily!!!**

*Yes, James.*

**Hey!**

*Yup. I guess it works.*

**Cool!! So, how's your dah-ling sister?**

*Ugh.*

**Georgie's being a little retardant.**

*James! You're so mean!*

**He's stealing my stuff!**

*Aw. He sounds cute.*

**Oh yeah? Well I think your sister sounds hot.**

*Who, Horse Face?*

**Does she have a boyfriend?**

*Ew. Who'd want her? And you're not serious, are you, James?* She sounds kind of…
anxious.

**Nah. Maybe we can get together, you know, before school starts?**

*What about your mum?*

**Hmm… I could tell my mum that, I dunno, I'm going over to Sirius's house?**

*Who?*

**Oh. He's my best friend. You'd like him. Hey! We should all get together!**

*Oh, no, thanks.*

**C****ome on! He's really funny! We can meet at the state park near my house.**

*Fine…* She sounds exasperated, but in her thoughts I can hear amusement.

**Really? I'll owl him and see when we can get together.**

*Right. '**Bye, James.*

I hope she's not too mad about this. I just think she'd like Sirius, is all. Oh, no.
What have I done? Now, with Sirius as competition (Wait—competition for what?) Lily'll take one
look at him, look back at me, and jump into Sirius's arms. NO!! I. AM. BEING. SILLY!!!! Okay.
Breathe in… breathe out… Now. Go and write letter to Sirius. And stop ordering self around.

I run up to my room and grab a piece of parchment and a quill.

*Sirius—*

*Let's get together in the park, okay? I want to introduce you to someone. Only Mum hates
her, so we have to meet in the park. When are you available?*

*--James*

I wait an hour before the owl comes back. I rip off Sirius's letter, so it bites me angrily.
I sort of brush the bird off, before opening the letter and reading quickly:

*Jamers—*

*A girl, eh?* *An* *unapproved* *girl!* *Can't wait to sweep her off
her feet. Saturday's good. You? Her?*

*--Sirius*

I groan. I hadn't been silly! Sirius loves women. He likes to flirt with every woman he
meets. Naturally Lily too! I decide to ask Lily about Saturday.

**Hello, Lily. Is Saturday okay?**

*Saturday's fine.* She replies.

**Good. I'm just going to write him back.**

I hastily scrawl on a bit of parchment:

*No. Don't even think about it. I know you're obsessed with women, but please, not
this one. And before you even think about making fun of me, it's* *because*
*she's—*I try to think of what to say—*different.* *I don't want you to lead
her on, only for her to get left behind once we find all the gorgeous Ho**gwarts* *girls.
She doesn't deserve that. Saturday it is, then.*

*—James*

That should work. I mail the letter and sit down to wait for tomorrow, the day I get to see Lily
again. I'm not a very good waiter. I go outside and fetch my quidditch things from the shed. We
have a practice quidditch pitch outside our house, completely protected from Muggle sight, of
course. I fly around a bit, throwing and catching apples for myself (a snitch would fly away, and
then the Muggles might see it.) I like to think a lot when I'm playing quidditch. Lately,
I've been thinking about Lily. She seems to be hiding something. But what? I keep trying to
figure that out. Unfortunately for me, there are so many things she could be hiding! She could be a
guy, for all I know! But I know she's not. She has that weird little step, and how she quirks
her eyebrows is *definitely* feminine. She could be a robot. But I highly doubt that. Maybe
she's really the daughter of a famous sorcerer, and has to pretend not to be so the Prophet
isn't swarming all over her. But if so, she was a pretty good actor. Speaking of which, back in
Diagon Alley, I kept hoping that whenever she `pretended' to blush, she wasn't really
pretending. But then we kind of both made a big deal about it. Her pretending, that is. But I
really can't figure her secret out. And it's annoying me, because whenever I try and figure
something out, my brain clamps onto it and won't let go. Maybe she has some sort of illness. I
doubt it. We ran around a lot that day. Wait. I remember her thinking something, like her… colors?
Yes, that was it. But what could that mean?

I was pulled out of my deep thoughts by the house elf running over and telling me it was time to
eat. I sigh. Just once, I would like for my mum to call me, and then my dad would have just gotten
home, and we could eat dinner like a normal family. My parents hold parties most nights of the
summer, so my brother and I usually eat early. Mum doesn't want us `embarrassing her'.
Please. More like she'd embarrass us, with all her cheek-kissing (the facial ones!!) and
“Dah-ling!”s. I will get sick of that woman one of these days. I follow our house elf, Hazel, up to
our house to eat dinner. We eat in the smaller dining room today, and I can see my little brother
sitting in there, hands folded neatly on his lap. I pull a disgusted face. I hate that my brother
is so… preppy. It annoys me to no end. I think that's why he does it.

“James!” Georgie squeals, as though he's happy to see me.

“Georgie!” I squeal back sarcastically. Georgie's grin widens in admiration. He's pretty
clever for a little kid. Pretending that he looks up to me when he really hates my guts and wants
to irritate me till I'm just a nub, and all. I take a seat, sweeping my hair out of my eyes.
Kessie, our other house elf, reaches up to spoon some soup into my bowl. I say, “No, that's
okay, Kessie,” and she bows before hurrying out of the room.

“Hey James!” my brother says excitedly. “Wanna play quidditch tomorrow?”

“No,” I say shortly. “I have plans.”

“What're you gonna do?” Stupid little sugar-ball.

“I'm meeting friends in the park,” I say, growing more and more irritated by the second.

“Who?” Peppy little Corn Puff.

“Sirius and another friend.” I say, glaring a whole through his brain. Oh, wait… What brain?

“Sirius? Really? Can I go? And who else is going?”

“No, I'm joking, Georgie,” I roll my eyes. “Relax! Sirius is coming, you're not, and
Lily is!” It fell out of my mouth. Oops…

“Oooh… Who's Li-ly?” I hate the way he says it. It's so annoying!!

I feel my ears heat up “She's no one.” I mutter.

“She's not *no one,* James! Otherwise, why would she make you blush? Can I meet her,
then?”

“No” I say quickly.

“B- but I w-want to!” He screws up his face. I know he's going to cry, and blame it all on
me. It's happened before.

“*Fine*!!” I hiss before leaving my soup uneaten and stomping upstairs. I flop onto my bed,
bury my head in the pillows, and remain there for a few minutes. Finally, I raise my head up
slightly, enough to see my headboard. I roll over onto my back, and stare at all my quidditch
posters. Suddenly, I feel this weird urge for a little feng shui. I pull my bed to the opposite
wall—it's bewitched to be light enough to move, but heavy enough to stay in place—and move my
puff chair to where the bed used to be. My desk will go under the widow, and—whoa. Martha Stewart
moment there… I sit back on my bed, heaving a sigh. I need a life…

It is almost nine (could I really have spent that much time in my feng shui moment?) and I need
to get up early so I can talk to Lily about the time. And then I need to get ready… look nice… be
smart… Lily likes smart… God, she's pretty… I like flowers… they smell good… need to smell good
tomorrow… I fall into a deep sleep, interrupted by calla lilies covered by old smelly socks, and
the tune of The Carol of The Bells.

.:*:.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake- augh!!!!!!”

“Ngh!”

“Oh Jaaaaaaaaaaaames! Your girlfriend Li-ly is here!”

“GO AWAY, GEORGIE!”

“Fine. But it's nine fifteen, just so you know,”

“OUT!” It takes me a few minutes to figure out what he'd said. Nine… fifteen… CRAP. I jump
out of bed, do a sort of somersault into the hall, and race into the bathroom. I take a *very*
fast shower.

.:*:.

I get dressed, dry my hair, and race downstairs for breakfast. The kitchen is empty. This is
odd, since the house-elves are usually in here, preparing breakfast. Unless…

“GEORGE BERNARD POTTER!” I bawl. “GET IN HERE NOW!”

Georgie bounds in. “James! Watcha doin'?”

“I am wondering,” I say, gritting my teeth, “why you decided to wake me up at,” I check the
time, “*Four in the morning?!*”

“Oooooooohh!! I thought the clock said nine fifteen! I guess the little hand was actually on the
three, huh? James?” he calls after me. I am going into my room to have a nice little breakdown. I
kick the wall. I throw my puff chair. I mess up my bed covers. I am not happy. Oh, no. I want to
strangle something. I want to strangle my brother. I want sleep… I slump onto my lumpy bed, and
fall asleep.

I wake up at about seven, completely refreshed. I have nearly forgotten Georgie and his
`innocence'. *Nearly*.

“You,” I growl, seeing him skipping down to breakfast.

“James!”

“Don't `James!' me, midget.”

“What?”

“YOU FREAKING WOKE ME UP AT FREAKING THREE IN THE MORNING—”

“Actually, it was three forty-five, James.” I glare at him.

“TO TELL ME THAT YOU CAN'T READ TIME!”

“But I'm only six!”

“I DON'T FREAKING CARE HOW FREAKING OLD YOU FREAKING ARE, GEORGIE! DON'T LOOK AT THE
CLOCK IF YOU CAN'T READ IT!”

“I'm sorry!” he cowers.

“Whatever,” I push roughly past him and go into the kitchen. From there I moodily open the
fridge and pull out some jam. I violently tear open the bread bag and stab a knife into the jam. I
spread it hastily over the bread and relish the drop that falls onto the ground. I mash it in
further with my foot, knowing full well that everywhere I walked, a bit of jam would stick to the
floor. I stuff half of the toast into my mouth and munch on it as I go to sit at the kitchen table.
I eat the rest, give a tremendous swallow, stomp back to the fridge, forcefully pull it open, and
grab the jug of orange juice. I drink straight from the gallon, ignoring my conscience. **To hell
with it all,** I think irritably.

*Well, good morning to you, too.*

**Lily! Sorry. Bad morning…**

*That's alright.*

**Sorry.**

*What time are we meeting?*

**Um… ten?**

*Where?*

**The park.**

*And where is the park again?*

**By my house.**

*Well, duh, it's by your house, but seeing as how I don't know where that is…*

**…Right… It's in the outskirts of London. The only park there.**

*Got it. I'll tell my mum.*

**See ya.**

Stupid James. Had to go and yell at Lily, didn't I?

I didn't mean to! And now I'm talking to myself again. Oh, joy…

*DING DONG DONG DONG, DONG DING DING DONG…* I hate our doorbell. It's so annoying.
Wait, That must mean Sirius is here!

“SIRIUS!”

“OH MY GOD! THE GREMLINS HAVE FINALLY TAKEN OVER! Oh, it's just you, Georgie!”

I make my way into the front hall, where Sirius, his mother, and Georgie are all gathered.
Sirius's mother sniffs disapprovingly at Georgie. He bows like a perfect little gentleman, and
straightens, grinning obnoxiously. I have taught him well.

“Goodbye, dah-ling,” she says kissing Sirius on both cheeks. It's not just my mom who does
that. I think all the pureblood snots do. She steps outside after Kessie opens the door for her. We
wait until she's gone, then peek outside. She is nowhere in sight.

“Let's go,” I say, and Sirius nods.

“Me too! Me too!” Georgie cries.

“Oh, joy…” I mumble. “Fine, you can come…” I say exasperatedly.

“Hooray!” Georgie is too hyper for his own good.

Sirius smiles kindly at him, and I yell to anyone listening, “We're going to the park!” so
that no one can say that we left without telling anyone. We step out of the house and walk toward
the normal entrance—our house has another separate entrance, but Lily would becoming in the public
way—and wait at the gate. In a matter of minutes, a car pulls up. I can see Lily's vibrant red
hair in the front seat. I wave at her and she bids her mother goodbye.

“Hi,” she says, upon reaching us. “I'm Lily,” she sticks her hand out to Sirius, and then to
Georgie.

“Sirius Black,” Sirius introduces himself, taking her hand.

“George Potter,” Georgie says in a deep voice, taking her hand (she had to bend down a bit to
reach him) and kissing it. “Ah, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” I roll my eyes
disgustedly, but Lily giggles.

“Why, thank you, sir!” she says, playing along. “It is so lovely to see Your Grace's
land.”

“Yes,” Georgie says, puffing out his chest. I have no idea where he got to be such a
lady-killer. “Well, m'dear, don't be too frightened of the wild beasts. We'll save you.
You've met my honorable knights?”

“Er, right…” Lily is beginning to get creeped out. “So, why the forest?” she asks, waving a hand
at the trees ahead of us.

“I have a cool place I want to show you,” I say. “Well, Sirius and Georgie have already seen it,
but I think you'll like it.”

“She has to close her eyes!” Sirius says, pouting. “Otherwise it's no fun!”

“He's right, you know,” I tell Lily, who does not look all that thrilled about our idea.
“Don't worry; we won't let you trip,” I assure her.

“Fine,” Lily says exasperatedly.

“We'll use this!” Georgie says brightly, conveniently pulling out a red handkerchief.

“Um, Georgie? Why do you randomly have a handkerchief in your pocket?” Sirius asks, eyeing the
handkerchief suspiciously.

“You never know when it might come in handy. Get it? Handy?”

“Ha ha,” I say sarcastically, taking the handkerchief from him and tying it around Lily's
eyes.

“I'll tell you whether there's a root or something she could trip over,” Sirius
offers.

“Right. Georgie, take her other hand,” I command my little brother. I take Lily's right hand
and give it a comforting squeeze. She squeezes it back, and we begin walking towards the center of
the forest.

“ROOT!” Sirius yells. Lily nimbly steps over it. “TREE!” We lead Lily around it. “BIRD!” We all
duck. We walk on in silence, admiring the sounds of the forest. Suddenly Lily stumbles and nearly
falls, but I catch her.

“Sirius!”

“Wha-” he asks dazedly, turning to look at me. “Oh. Sorry. Just looking at the clouds,” he
shrugs. I roll my eyes at him. We carry on, being a bit more careful. “ROCK!” Lily tries to step
around an imaginary rock, but Sirius trips her.

“Ow…” Lily moans piteously. I help her up, glaring at Sirius. He whistles innocently.

“We're almost there,” I tell no one in particular. Once more we walk through the woods, me
watching for anything that Sirius missed. “Here!” I say excitedly. I untie Lily's mask, and she
takes in the beauty of our place.

“Wow,” she says softly, gazing around. Georgie and I found this place last year. It's in a
clearing, and there's a very small lake, with lots of flowers and trees and cattails. There are
tons of places to hide there, too. It has ducks and geese and sometimes rabbits, and in the pond
are fish. Gracefully overhanging the water is a weeping willow.

“Tag!” Georgie says, tagging Lily. “You're it!” We all run around the clearing, hiding in
the rushes, scattering ducklings, laughing and having a good time.

Lily chases after Georgie, then Sirius, and finally me. We run around and around the willow
until Lily trips. I rush over to her. “Are you okay?” I ask, helping her up.

She winces. “Tag!” she says, tagging me and smiling satisfactorily. She runs off, weaving in and
out of trees.

I chase her, but I soon lose sight of her. “Ugh!” I exclaim, annoyed. I hear giggling above me.
I glance up, and there is Lily, sitting in a tree. I begin to climb up after her, but she nimbly
jumps to another close by tree. I try to follow, but she keeps jumping ahead of me. Finally, I
corner her. I grin evilly, and she mirrors my look. Wait. That's not supposed to happen!
She's supposed to be scared out of her wits! She's supposed to—be jumping out of the tree.
Stupid, stupid, stupid…

She snickers. I realize that I was banging my head on a branch, and jump down, trying to look
somewhat dignified. I am dimly aware of Georgie and Sirius laughing, but I ignore them. Instead, I
narrow my eyes at Lily, who maintains eye contact coolly. I take a step forward, she takes a step
back. This continues until I have her cornered against a tree. But this time, I am watching for
sign of escape. Then, suddenly, I lunge forward, and begin tickling her. She gasps, surprised at my
sudden move, and tries to writhe away. She is laughing so hard, she is nearly crying. But she gets
her revenge. In the second I stop, she begins tickling me. I can hear Sirius and Georgie laughing
and whooping. We both tickle each other, but we are dimly aware of something wrong. Sirius and
Georgie stop laughing. Lily and I cease tickling one another, and look up. It grows very cold, and
I can see dark clouds boiling overhead.

“Run!” I yell. Lily and I scramble up and run over to Georgie and Sirius. I scoop Georgie up
because I know he can't run very fast on his short midgety legs. We run away from our clearing,
away from the unknown force that was causing this. All of a sudden, Lily trips for real. Sirius
drags her up, and we all run to a small hollowed out tree. I can hear my heart thudding against my
ribcage, and though I was just running, I'm shivering with cold and fright. Georgie looks
petrified, as does Lily. Sirius looks as though he is doing some deep thinking. I peer out through
a hole in the trunk, and I can see a shadow. I don't know of what, but it's very ominous,
and it's heading our way. “Keep quiet,” I whisper to the others, and they nod. I continue
looking through the peephole, and the shadow grows stronger. It's now taking on a shape, like
an extremely tall person. I hear a rattling breath, and I feel my heart sink. *Dementors*. In
the park!

“Don't worry,” I tell the others. “Try to think of the happiest thing you can! And stay
*quiet*.” I grip Georgie tighter, and I can see Lily's eyes closed in concentration.

*Memory… When my dad and I went to France together…*

**Lily?**

*What? Oh, I'm sorry, James! I forgot…*

**It's okay.**

*Maybe our connection will help?*

**Maybe…**

*What is it, James?*

**A dementor.**

*A… what?*

**A dementor. They suck all the happiness out of you.**

*They suck the happiness out of you?*

**It's horrible. Dad was talking about them the other day. He had to go to the prison for
the minister.**

*Georgie's crying!*

**Probably because of the dementor.**

*Here. Let me hold him.*

**Okay.** I hand Georgie to her, and she hugs him. He begins to calm down. Lily shivers.

My heart feels heavy. I remember the day Uncle Harry died. I was seven. All I remember was Mum
waking me up and telling me to get ready.

*“Ready for what?” I ask.*

*“Oh, that silly old man passed away yesterday. Didn't anyone tell you?” She says, pulling
a black coat and some black trousers out of my drawer.*

*“No,” I say, slightly annoyed. “Who?”*

*“Mad Old Harry. Your great-uncle, remember?”*

*“He—died?” I choke out. “Uncle Harry DIED??”*

*“What did you think, he was immortal? Come on, out of bed. Comb your hair and brush your
teeth, and hurry, darling! Your father is making us go, and Merlin knows how we'll look if we
don't go to the old man's funeral.” I shiver. “Are you ill? Please say yes; it'll give
me an excuse to stay home.”*

*“No, mum. I'm perfectly fine.” I lie.* **My favorite uncle died, idiot****! Of
course I'm not fine!** *I want to scream in her face.*

*“Alright. Well, put on your coat, dear, it's raining outside,” She's in a bossy mood.
That usually happens just before a party. I'm glad it's raining. It means the sky is
crying. At the funeral I can cry. Not now, though. Even with my seven-year-old mind I can tell
that's not an option.*

CRACK!

We all jump, and I hope the apparator is on our side.

“*EXPECTO PATRONUM!*” A voice cries, strong and steady, through the forest. I feel
something warm brush past. Through my peephole, I can see what looks like a giant silver bird, with
piercing grey eyes, and a magnificent plume on its tail. It soars past and flies at the dementor,
clawing and screeching at it until it glides upward and out of sight. The bird dissolves into
nothingness, and I can hear a twig crack as our unseen ally (or enemy) approaches.

“Hello?” the voice says cautiously. I gasp. I recognize that voice! I scramble out of the
hollow, and help the others up.

“Professor Dumbledore!” I say, breathless with relief.

“James. Are you all alright? Sirius? George? And Lily Evans. We haven't met. I am Professor
Dumbledore. I'm Headmaster at Hogwarts.” He extends his hand to Lily.

She takes it, saying politely, but with a slight tremor in her voice, “Nice to meet you,”

*How can he be so calm about this!!??* Her incredulous voice explodes in my head, causing
me to wince slightly.

**He's mad.** I assure her.

*You're so mean! How can you say that? He seems… sweet.* Lily's voice trails off as
we both notice the others staring at us. We grin innocently and both say at the same time, “What?”
Making the others raise their eyebrows. I swear Dumbledore's beginning to smile. “Professor,” I
say quickly, “Professor, why was there a dementor *here*?”

His features go from mildly amused to dark and secretive. “I cannot tell you that, James,” he
says gravely. “Only caution you: Dark times are heading our way. Stick together; make many friends;
be *united*, else these times will overcome us. Do not forget that; whatever happens.” He
begins walking out of the forest, and we have to jog to keep up with his long strides.

*What does he mean by that?*

**He's ma-ad…** I think in a sing-song way.

*No, he's NOT. He's just… old.*

**Sure… Whatever you say, Lily.** She steps on my foot. **Ouch! What was that for??
Honestly… women…** I receive another stamp. Sirius is making kissy faces at me. I glare at him.
He puts a hand to his forehead in a very feminine fashion, and looks upwards. I look up there, too,
but all I see is trees. I shake my head to clear it of the annoying little bugs flying around, and
then I remember that there aren't any. Sirius smirks. I glare at him. He puts a hand to his
forehead in a very feminine fashion, and looks upwards. I look up there, too, but all I see is
trees. I shake my head to clear it of the annoying little bugs flying around, and then I remember
that there aren't any. Sirius smirks. I glare. We seem to be having a roundabout of swooning,
upward glances, fly swatting, and glares. This continues until we both grow bored. We are now
nearly out of the forest. Suddenly Lily stops.

“What?” Sirius asks curiously. She waves a hand at him, indicating for everyone to be quiet, and
closes her eyes, listening hard. Dumbledore looks on, mildly interested. Sirius doesn't get the
message. “Hi!” He says, waving back. When Lily ignores him, he turns to me. “What? What did I do??
Hey! Look at that cloud, James! If you stand on your head,” he tries and fails miserably to do so,
“maybe it'll look like a dog!” Lily's eyes snap open. At first I think she's going to
cause Sirius severe bodily harm, but then she gets this really weird look in her eye. She's
deathly pale, and I can see individual freckles standing out against her normally rosy cheeks.

“Lily?” I ask worriedly, but Dumbledore stops me. He is gazing intently at Lily, and at first I
think, you know, ew, because it's a little wrong for a five-hundred-something old man to be
looking at an eleven-year old girl like that, but then I wonder why on earth a psycho pervert would
be the head of a school. I shake myself out of my little reverie in time to see Lily looking
pleadingly at me. Then her eyes turn blank, and I feel awful, like it's entirely my fault. I
instantly reach into her mind.

**LILY!!**

*Help…* Her thoughts drift weakly across mine, and I know that she's gone. Even so,

**NO!! Fight it, Lily! Come back!! Hold on!! Don't let it—whatever it is—take over
you!!** I think frantically.

*James,* Her thoughts are completely different now, like someone sucked all the life and
happiness out and instead filled it with mud and mold and maggots, and all the other foul things
you can think of. *James, come. Touch my hand, James.* I shrink back from her eyes, normally
happy, but now overcome by shadow and darkness. *James! Touch my hand!*

She begins reaching toward me, and I scramble back. “Don't touch her!” I yell. Her eyes
flash with burning, fiery anger. The others, including Dumbledore, back away from her. But
she's only focused on me.

*You and I…* she begins, *We can be great together. Take my hand, and we can
rule—*

“NO!” I yell. She looks taken aback, and then glances over at Georgie. “No,” I whisper. I know
what's going to happen, and there's nothing I can do about it. Before anyone can stop her,
she runs full speed at Georgie, tackling him to the ground. He gives a small shriek of surprise and
hurt, and is gone. Instead is the fake-Georgie, eyes vacant and expressionless, so unlike the eyes
I knew.

“STUPEFY!” Dumbledore cries in his deep voice. Well, it's about time he did something! The
two simultaneously fall to the ground.

“Don't touch them!” I warn, and Dumbledore smiles at me. He conjures up two
comfortable-looking stretchers, and levitates Lily and Georgie onto the stretchers. They hover and
follow us as we walk out of the woods.

“James,” Dumbledore orders me. “Tell your mother what has happened. Give her—” he swishes his
wand once, producing a sealed piece of parchment. “this. Tell her Georgie's at St. Mungo's.
Sirius, I want you to owl Mrs. Evans. Tell her to wait in her home. Georgie, Lily, and I are
apparating to St. Mungo's. I will send a ministry official to take you boys first to the
Evans's residence, and then to the hospital. Understood?” We nod, and with a CRACK! he
disappears. Sirius and I run inside, Sirius running up to my room to write the letter, and me going
to my mum's room. “Mum!” I call, pounding on her door. “Mum! Come out! Something dreadful's
happened!!” She appears at the door, quite miffed.

“Really, dah-ling, what is it? You look ill, dear! Are you quite alright?”

“I'm fine,” I hasten. “It's Georgie who's not!”

Her face pales. “Georgie? What's happened, James? Where is my pookie-wookie-kins?”

“At Mungo's,” I explain. She puts a hand to her mouth in horror. “Something funny happened
in the park. Dumbledore showed up, and somehow Georgie and Lily got cursed—”

“Oh, *Lily* was there, was she?” She sweeps past me and disapparates with a soft pop. I
suppose different people have different sounds when they apparate. But never mind that.

“Sirius?” I yell, thundering up the stairs.

“I just sent it,” Sirius says, oddly calm. “I wrote that Lily had gotten hurt, we were taking
care of it, and to wait at her house until we come to fetch her.”

“Good,” I say wearily. “Come on, let's go wait. It shouldn't be long, now…” We walk down
to the sitting room in our house, and wait. We've been waiting for about five minutes when the
crackling fire suddenly turns green and out pops Mr. Lupin, a well-respected Ministry official. He
and his son Remus sometimes some to our parties, so I know him a little.

“Ready?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he scoops out a bit of Floo Powder from our stock
and says, “The Evans's residence!” He disappears in a swirl of emerald flame, and I am suddenly
reminded of Lily's eyes. I gulp back a wave of fear for her and Georgie. The situation seems
all the more dire. It's my turn to floo; Sirius and Mr. Lupin have already gone to Lily's
house.

I toss in the powder, step into the fire, and say, “Lily's house!” I am transported (not
very comfortably, mind you) past several other fireplaces and into a white-marble grate. I look
around and see a deep red couch, a few lounge chairs the same color, and a light green carpet. I am
once again reminded of Lily and my heart gives a little twinge of sadness. A woman with Lily's
red hair and green eyes rushes over to help me up.

“Hello,” the woman says warmly. “I'm Marie, Lily's mum? Mr. Lupin was just telling me
how to Floo…” She turns her attention back to Mr. Lupin. “So you just throw a bit in and say the
name of where you're going? That's all? And then step in and you just… *whoosh?*” She
swishes her hand from side to side to illustrate her point.

“And keep your elbows tucked in,” I add. She looks at me and smiles in gratitude.

“Alright,” she says nervously, and I know she is very upset about Lily, although she hides it
well. “I've told me daughter, Petunia,” I discreetly make a face, “That I'll be gone for a
while, and where to reach me. Er, they *do* take owls there, don't they?” Mr. Lupin nods
reassuringly. “Well, I hope you don't mind, James, but may I borrow your owl? Just until I get
back? In case Petunia needs me.” She asks. I nod, and she smiles graciously.

Mr. Lupin clears his throat and scoops out a pinch of Floo powder from his pocket jar. “St.
Mungo's,” he says, and he's gone in a swish of emerald. Mrs. Evans looks surprised, but
nonetheless takes a pinch from the jar (he left it so we can take some) and tosses it in the fire.
“St. Mungo's,” she says clearly, and steps into the fire. She is gone in a flash, and now
it's Sirius's turn.

I wait until he's gone, then I run into the room downstairs which I know must be Lily's.
I only mean to look around a bit. I see paintings that, upon closer inspection, all have the
initials L.E. I take that to mean Lily did them all. They're really good. I see a bed with a
white bedspread, and I know it sounds kind of corny and maybe a little disturbing, but the room
smells like her. I suddenly remember what I am supposed to be doing, so I take one look around the
room, memorizing it forever, and dash out of the room at full speed. I run up to the fireplace and
take a pinch of the lime powder. I chuck it into the flames and step in after saying, “St.
Mungo's!” I am instantly transported into a small room filled with other fireplaces. A door
stands to one side, reading WAITING ROOM THIS WAY. I follow it out into a semi-crowded waiting
room. I spot my group and hurry over to them.

“What took you so long?” Sirius hisses.

I am saved from answering as Mr. Lupin asks the witch behind the desk, “Lily Evans and George
Potter, please,”

The witch looks bored and flicks an eye over a long list. “Fourth floor, room ten,” the witch
says in a monotone. I can tell she's been doing this a looooong time.

“Thank you…” I say, squinting at the badge on her chest, “Romilda. Thank you very much, Romilda.
God bless your soul.” Romilda looks affronted as Sirius snickers. We sweep past her and head into a
stairwell. After climbing three sets of stairs (which is no small task, let me tell you) we open
the double doors that lead us into the corridor of the fourth floor.

“Seven… eight… nine… ten!” Mrs. Evans counts the doors leading up to Lily's. And
Georgie's. At the door I hesitate. It's Mrs. Evans's time with her daughter. But
it's my time with Georgie, too! I step in, followed by Sirius. Apparently he has no worries
about my time with Georgie. But then I realize that Georgie is more of a brother to Sirius than
Regulus, who is his real brother. Once inside, I see two occupied bed: Georgie's and
Lily's. I rush over to Georgie's and, seeing him breathing and not dead, I head over to
Lily's. Her red hair is fanned across her pillow, and her mouth is barely curved into a slight
smile. I look over at her mother, and for the first time I see lines of worry and sadness crease
her forehead. I also notice their resemblance to each other. I slump into a chair by Lily's bed
and rest my head on my palms, thinking. Perhaps… But no. I sincerely doubted it work when one
person was unconscious. But maybe… My mind refused to let go. Sighing inwardly, I decide to try. It
can't hurt, can it?

**Lily?**

*Ngh…*

**Um, Lily?**

*Daddy?*

**No, it's James, Lily.**

*Ngh…*

**Can you wake up?**

*I'm not sleepy! But your colors are so pretty, I will…*

**Colors?**

*Of your voice, silly…*

**Er, right…**

*S'matter?*

**Lily. Come ON.**

*Where're we goin'?*

**They'll keep you here forever if you're mad!**

*I'm NOT mad!!!*

**And you can't stay here forever, Lily!**

*I won't! I'll come back home soon, Daddy…*

**What about Hogwarts?**

*Ew, Daddy! Pigs have warts? I thought that was froggies…*

**Your mum looks really sad right now.**

*Why, Daddy? Is it because she can't see you? I can see you, even though you're gone…
Everyone says you're gone, Daddy, but I know you're still here.*

**Where?**

*In my heart.*

Sighing, I break our connection. She thinks she's talking to her father. I think she's
dreaming. I must have been mad to think that would work.

*Daddy!*

**Huh?**

*Don't leave, Daddy, please don't leave!*

**I won't go. Well, I have to go in a bit, but not right now.**

*Okay.* *Let's* *just talk.*

**What do you want to talk about?**

*I met a nice boy.*

**Really? What's his name?**

*James*

**James? How, um, nice.**

*He's very nice.*

**Is he?**

*Don't you believe me?*

**No, I believe you. I just didn't know what to say right then. So, why are you in this
bed?**

*What do you mean?*

**Well, can you tell me what you and James did today?**

*We went to the woods by his house.*

**Did you have fun?**

*Yes.*

**What happened after you played tag?**

*All I remember is a nice old man with a longish beard coming and saving us from the darkness.
James said that the darkness was Demendies, or something like that.*

**What happened with the Dementors?**

*I remember the day you left, Daddy. It was awful. I felt like I'd never ever be happy
again. And then I remembered about Grandma, and how we used to dance to the colors.*

**The colors?**

*Of her music.*

**Right…**

*But after the old guy came, I forget what happened. But…*

**What?**

*Well, I felt… funny, for a second. I had a tingly feeling in my ears, and my fingers were
vibrating. I felt them. And then I felt like my head got dunked in a big icy pool, and like I hated
everything. But only for a second, Daddy. It went away soon.*

**I'm sorry that happened to you, Lily. Are you feeling okay now?**

*Well, I feel a little sick…*

**Like how?**

*My stomach is kind of growly, only in a bad way, and my head feels really hot, but my body is
freezing.* Sure enough, she's shivering. Mrs. Evans rearranges the covers on the bed.

**Hmm…** I look at the others and they are all clambering around to get some food. **I have
to go now. While I'm gone, get some rest, okay?**

*Okay, Daddy…*

I can't believe it's nearly four. It seems like much earlier than that. I follow the
others up to the tearoom. I just get a crumpet, and sit, nibbling it nervously, at one of the small
tables on spindly silver legs.

“What?” Sirius asks, and I realize that I've been subconsciously staring at the same spot on
his forehead for the past five minutes.

“Oh,” I say, shaking out of my space-out session, “Nothing. I hope they're okay, don't
you?”

“You only want Li-ly to be okay,” Sirius teases. He says it just like Georgie.

“Shut up,” I mutter, glancing over at Mrs. Evans and Mr. Lupin, who are both laughing happily. I
raise an eyebrow at the tow.

“*Can you feel, the loooooove toniiiiiiihgt…?*" Sirius sings, completely off-key. I
stifle a laugh.

“*The peace the eeeeeeeveniiiiiiiiing briiiiiiiiiiings…*” I sing, equally off-key.

“*The world for once, in peeeeeerfeeeeeeect harmony, with aaaaall its liiiiiiiiving
thiiiiiiings…*” We sing together, earning disturbed looks from other customers. And it's
even okay, because Mr. Lupin's wife died a long time ago. This is *perfect*. Sirius and I
look evilly at each other. We both have identical mischievous grins spread across our faces.

“Let's be weird!” Sirius says excitedly. I nod my head vigorously.

“So he says,” I gasp, pretending to shake with laughter, “If you'll believe it, he says,
`An' what're you doing wit all dem toadstools, Jamie?' and then, haha, I says, `Who?
Me? Why, I's is jus' puttin' 'em down, cuz some nasty bugger's went an'
tried to steal 'em,' and he says, `Really? 'O was it, then?'” I am cracking up like
a drunken bum.

“And so I'm all like, `No way!' and she's all `Way!' and so then I go, `Like,
squee!' and she's like, `I know, right?' and then we were like in the mall except this
like old guy totally came up to us, and then he was all flirting with us, like `You pretty little
ladies sure are pretty,' and so we're all like, `Ew, dude, like, totally perving on
us!'” Sirius is talking animatedly, waving his hands around and nearly hitting the other people
in the café. “And then this one time, we were, like, um, somewhere? And like, this hot guy,
he's all like, `You girls need to come with me,' and we're all like, `Squee! Hot guy
alert! Hot guy alert!' and then, he's like, `I need to do some tests,' and we're
like, `That's totally like secret guy language for I love you let's go and make out,'
and so then, he took us to this huge building, and we're like, `Ooh, I bet he has, like,
parties in here,' and so he's like, `Follow me,' and then he took us up this huge
flight of stairs, and then there was, like, this huge room with all these guys? And so he totally
took us in there, and then we realized they were all wearing matching outfits, so we're all
like, `Um, okay…' and then he told us he was a pleezman, like those Muggle dudes, so then
we're like, `Ooh, that's even hotter… He's an authority figure! Squee! That is, like,
so totally in right now!' and then he's all like, `Right…' and then another guy, who
was even HOTTER, was like, `You girls just broke a law,' and so we're like, `Huh?' and
then they totally called our parents and we got into, like, mondo trouble. It sucked.” He says
girlishly. I am staring at him in awe. He nudges me to start talking, but I notice a girl looking
at us strangely. She is very pretty, with sleek blonde hair and hazel eyes. Even so, I feel an
involuntary chill… But it's soon gone, and I can't stop looking at her. She takes this as
cue to walk over to our table, her long hair swung over her shoulder.

“Hello,” she says angelically. “I'm Danielle Hurston. Are you going to Hogwarts this
year?”

“Erm,” I say nervously. “Yes. I'm James Potter, and this is Sirius Black.”
She smiles charmingly.

“So, what are you doing here?” Sirius asks, obviously wanting to talk to her, too.

She looks him up and down. Clearly she hasn't forgotten his like's and squee's.
“I'm visiting my sick uncle,” she says, rolling her eyes distastefully. “He's gross.
What're you doing here?”

“Oh,” I say quickly. “We're just visiting a family friend. So boring.” I yawn. Sirius looks
at me strangely, and opens his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Evans walks over to us, accompanied by Mr.
Lupin.

“You children ready to go?” she asks. “Who's this?”

“I'm Danielle Thurston,” Danielle says. “My father's the Minister's Personal
Assistant.”

“You have a Minister?” Mrs. Evans asks Mr. Lupin incredulously. He nods.

“Are you a Muggle?” Danielle asks.

Mrs. Evans looks confused. “A what?”

“Obviously…” Danielle says, and I can see a glint in her eye, one that doesn't seem at all
good.

Fortunately, Mr. Lupin sees this, and says quickly, “Well, it's lovely to chat, but really,
we must be going.”

“Oh, I'll come with you,” Danielle says sweetly, and I can definitely see an evil glint in
her eye now.

“Really, that won't be neces-” Mr. Lupin begins, but Mrs. Evans waves a hand at him,
stopping him from speaking.

“Of course you may, dear,” she says kindly. Danielle looks affronted and disgusted at being
called `dear' by Mrs. Evans, but she soon wipes the look off her face and smiles
angelically.

“Oh, *thank* you, Mrs. … What did you say your name was again?”

“Marie Evans, dear.” She replies.

“…Right…” Danielle says disdainfully. “Well, let's go…” and we set off. I can feel my heart
beating loudly in my throat, but I try to ignore it and to not focus on what Danielle would say, or
think, or do, once she saw Lily. I doubted Danielle would do anything, really. She was so pretty,
with her blonde hair, her blue eyes that seemed to go on forever, and she seemed really nice,
except for maybe towards Lily's mum, but that probably wasn't even her fault; she had
prejudiced parents, and overall I didn't think she'd do much when she saw Lily. Lily, with
her beautiful red hair, her emerald eyes that sparkled and danced when she laughed, Lily with her
funny and quirky nature, Lily the girl I had met earlier this summer, who was so new to this world,
Lily who had made my life so much happier, made me want to get up in the morning… And then I
realized that while Danielle was pretty in the clichéd way (blonde hair, blue eyes), Lily was
beautiful in her own unique way, and though Danielle was nice, Lily was sweet, and smart, and she
made me laugh. I'd known Danielle from the many parties my parents threw, but I'd never
known her very well. I knew Lily better from two days than I knew Danielle from countless hours of
being shoved together as the grown-ups had their sophisticated discussions about Muggle-hunting. By
now, we had reached Lily and Georgie's door, and I watch in revulsion as Sirius opens the door
gentlemanly for Danielle, and then cringe internally as he gazes longingly at her long after
she's passed through the doorway.

“Oh, Sirius,” I say girlishly, fluttering my eyelashes and clasping my hands to my heart. “Thank
you *ever* so much!”

He doesn't even notice me. I snicker before going over to Georgie's bed. His face, which
was extremely pale and sickly when we had first arrived, was now gaining some of its original
color. I silently pray for him to get better. I can't imagine a life without my annoying little
brother. I guess I just took him for granted before, with his sweet and clumsy nature, always
trying to make me proud. I feel so guilty, always making him go farther and farther to fit in with
me, then raising my expectations so he wouldn't fit in, and how, well, I guess I kind of made
him feel like he has to earn my love, which he doesn't. And I am so sorry if I ever did that.
While I am thinking these unusually deep things, Danielle comes up to me.

“Whoa! His ears are, like, really big!” she says. “Who is he, anyway?”

“He's my little brother,” I say shortly, turning to glare at her.

“Oh my gosh, James! That totally sucks! I didn't mean his ears were big in a bad way, James.
I think his ears are cute!”

“Yeah,” I say grudgingly. “Whatever.” I try and walk away from her, over to Lily's bed, but
she just follows me.

She giggles. “Her hair! It looks like it caught fire, or something!”

“I think it's pretty.” I say angrily.

She decides to ignore this last statement of mine. “And her freckles! Oh, god, if I were her,
I'd *die* if I had that many freckles.”

“I think they're cute.”

“And she's so pale! Her complexion looks like she just came out of a coffin!”

“It's called peaches-and-cream complexion,” I say through gritted teeth, remembering
something from a make-up section of one of my mother's magazines. “And it's perfect.”

“But seriously,” she says, waving a hand at my reply. “What is with her ears? They're not
even pierced! And her eyelashes are all pale! Plus, her eyelids are the same color as the rest of
her face! Her lips don't shine, her eyebrows have hairs, her face doesn't look the same all
over, what on earth is with her??”

“That's because, Danielle,” I say, and I can feel my anger at Lily for not waking up, my
anger at myself for putting her and Georgie in danger, my frustration at Danielle for being so dumb
and annoying, and every other emotion boiling up inside off me. “It's because she doesn't
wear tons of makeup! Her ears aren't pierced because she doesn't like them like that, her
eyelids aren't smothered in eye shadow, she doesn't like lip gloss, she has real eyebrows,
and her face isn't hidden by seven layers of foundation. Know why it's not hidden? Because
she doesn't need to hide anything! She doesn't need makeup to make her beautiful, Danielle.
She's not ugly underneath.” I turn away from Danielle and burst into Lily's thoughts.

**GRRR!!!**

*Hello to you, too!*

**Are you…**

*Talking? Obviously.*

**But you're not awake.**

*Astute observation. Bravo.*

**Okay, Lily. True or False: This is James, not your father.**

*Hmm… This is* ever *so hard, JAMES. Why on earth would you be my father?*

**Well, um, never mind…**

*What?*

**Nothing!**

*Okay. What was the grr-ing for?*

**What grr-ing?**

*The way you greeted me. Honestly, attention span of a fly…*

**Oh. I have made a new… friend? No that's not what I'd call her…**

*Her?*

**Yes, her. No need to get jealous, Lily Darling, she annoys the hell out of me.**

*Good.*

**Why is it good?**

*No reason.*

**Right…**

*Why isn't she a friend?*

**Because, first of all, she insulted Georgie…**

*I thought you didn't like your brother.*

**I did a little deep thinking…**

*Bravo. You should get a medal. Did you follow the doctor's orders, and massage your
head?*

**Shut up.**

*What was the other reason?*

**Other reason?**

*`**Because, first of all, she insulted Georgie…**'*

**Oh. Um, she wasn't being very… nice to you.**

*Oh?*

**It was actually pretty funny.**

*How so?*

**She was going on and on about how strange and unattractive your freckles, unpierced ears,
un-foundationed face, real eyebrows, your red hair, everything natural about you! Which was
everything. Unless, of course, there was a nose job I don't know about…**

*I DON'T LIKE BEING GIRLY AND COVERING MY FACE IN MAKEUP!!! Is that unnaturally freakish?
Do you think I should?*

**No. She was wrong, Lily. You can't enhance what's already perfect.**

*Aww. I feel so loved. Who is she?*

**I doubt you know her. She's a pureblood. Her name's Danielle Thurston.**

*DANIELLE??*

**You know her??**

*Yeah. Summer Camp.*

**Whoa… she went to a Muggle summer camp?**

*No, James. I'm making it all up.*

**Hmm…**

*What? I was KIDDING. I do know her. Stupid…*

**What exactly did you guys argue about?**

*Oh. Well, she kept bragging about how her father bought her a chimpanzee to keep in a large
birdcage, and I told her it needed a bigger living space, otherwise it would die.*

**Seriously? When was that?**

*Early this summer, actually.*

**Oh. That's okay, then. I thought it would be a little weird for seven-year-old girls to
be arguing the rights of chimpanzees.**

*Don't you believe me?*

**No! I believe you! I think it's completely and totally cruel to keep chimpanzees in such
close quarters.**

*Good.*

**You should change your name.**

*To what?*

**Jane Goodall.**

“James! Dah-ling! There you are!! I've been looking everywhere!! Oh! Who's this?”

**I hafta go. Mum's having a cow. Again.**

*'Bye.*

“I'm Danielle Thurston, Mrs. Potter. We've met at parties.” Danielle says, smiling
prissily.

“Of course.” Mum knows the Thurstons are completely Pureblood, and they're one of the best
wizarding families, but still, Danielle is a *girl*. A girl who might get in the way of my
happily-ever-after. *This was perfect.* I would never have to acknowledge Danielle's
presence, and I kept myself away from my mum's wrath! Except for with Lily. But at least with
Danielle, I never had to worry about being forced into marriage.

“Well, James,” My mum says. “We really ought to be getting home.”

I nod. “Come on, Sirius. We should go. 'Bye, Mrs. Potter, 'bye Mr. Lupin.”

“Goodbye, James,” Danielle says. “I'll see you in school!!” I grunt in reply, and wave to
Mrs. Evans and Mr. Lupin before following my mother and Sirius out of the door and down a few
floors. We go back to the Floo Room and Floo back to our house. There Sirius gets picked up by his
evil mum, and I pace the afternoon away, hatching a plan.

.:*:.

*Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!*
Midnight.

And time to go. I hastily scrawl a quick note in case I'm not back before Mum wakes up, and
run into the living room, carrying a bag full of supplies. I take a pinch of Floo powder and toss
it in the fire, whispering the location I need to go to. I step in, and I'm gone.

I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY!!! I tried to update; I really did. Only my parents
decided to keep me away from the computer because I was bad. Honestly, it's not like I really
cared. My whole social life doesn't depend on that yellow phone cord, or anything! *shifty
eyes*

My beta refused to give me any constructive criticism, proclaiming it absolutely perfect, but if
you see ANYTHING wrong at all, PLEASE tell me.

Mischief Managed

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