December 2, 1980
It happened yesterday. I am no longer Lily Evans for as of yesterday afternoon I became H13X17. I don't know what the numbers or letters mean yet but I am determined to figure out. Sleep doesn't come easy to me anymore, the cries of agony and morose fill the night air as death lingers near. I'm worried about my future but at this moment in time I cannot see far enough ahead in time to find out if anything lies in store. I've heard rumors about muggle-borns being shipped off to these deserted forests and forced to work until they either pass on from exhaustion or are killed by the abominable killing curse. Even here I see the livid flashes of brilliant green that filter in through my cell door. The young man in charge of this cell block is without a doubt out of place here, he didn't curse me or hit me like the others who brought me in did. Faith remains my strong point at this moment but even that is beginning to deteriorate. I haven't heard much news from the outside world and I do not dare ask - a simple question could be taken the wrong way. The curiosity is rather overwhelming though and I just need to know, but the question is . . . do I dare ask?
December 10, 1980
Each morning I hear the cries die down and the sound of dead bodies being dragged down past my cell is oppressive, how long will it be before mine joins that train of death? They flaunt the deceased bodies in front of us, giving us a warning of what is to come. Maybe it gives them a sense of horrid power that I cannot fathom in my mind. Sadly enough I am becoming accustomed to the way things are run around this place. At daybreak the bodies of those who did not survive the night are disposed of. An hour or so later we are forced from our cells and sent to the showers where the men strip our clothes off and hose us down, taking pleasure in our discomfort. Once dressed again we are split up and forced to do various assignments. The majority of the muggle-borns are used as lab rats for new potions and enchantments. I have been spared that torture so far; being made to work in the library and potions lab. How stupid could I have been to forget that my roots would grow out and that I'd run out of make-up? Stupidity got me into this mess but it might get me out. They of course know my true identity, but with that they know my academic achievement record. That has been why I was spared from becoming a guinea pig for them. Instead they use my intellect to research potions and numerous spells that may harm some poor soul.
Does that make me a bad person? Will He turn his back on me because I am helping the Death Eaters in order to save myself? I should follow the path of righteousness and not help them, it would save lives and I know that, but my hope for staying alive corrupts my soul. I don't mean to be greedy but what am I to do? Human nature is taking over and I know I am not generally like this but in a time of extreme crisis we are all forced to fend for ourselves, survival of the fittest. The phase of the moon is changing, soon it will be full and the werewolves will be unleashed onto the muggle communities, I head two guards talking about it on their way to the Mess Hall.
December 15, 1980
Once more I have escaped the threat of death. My number was pulled out of the lottery to be sent to one of those camps but somehow I was spared. I need to figure out whom or what saved me and I can only hope that I do not get pulled again. I do believe though that I'm beginning to wish that I was sent to my death, it would have spared another person's life but in return they would be forced to stay here in torture. Is it really worth it anymore?
December 19, 1980
That boy in charge of this block is the one who saved me. His name is James and he must be my guardian angel or a blessing sent from above. Last night he was bringing me my meager rations and I was crying again, just like the rest. He asked me what was wrong; I thought he'd hurt me but I had to tell, it was that or get beaten. I explained to him that I was lonely and scared and that I wanted to die.
He didn't laugh or get mad though; instead he sat down next to me, not touching me or anything. I still remember his words and they will forever remain engraved in my mind.
"Lily is it? Don't ever wish to die, it's a pain worse then life. As much as you may wish to die, it is not your time to go until Death comes for you, only then will you be able to pass on. I know you were chosen to go to the Camps, it wasn't your time to go though. If it were your time to be taken by Death then I wouldn't have been able to get you out of that torment. Dry those tears and keep hope in your heart."
This young man who didn't even know me put his life on the line by saving me. What had I done in my life that let me deserve such a blessing as this, I had someone to watch after me in my time of need, even if he didn't know about how much he meant to me at that moment. Things work in strange ways. My reply was simple, ordinary, and it didn't give the boy enough credit or gratitude for what he had done for me.
"Thank you Sir. I don't wish to cry nor do I wish to tempt fate yet in a time like this what does one such as myself have to hope for? Death is only around the corner for my people."
Once more I will remember his reply, simply because it was so cryptic.
"Freedom from Death, freedom from this - that is what your people should hope for."
How do you talk to an angel? That was the only thought going through my head, it was almost like trying to catch a falling star. Delirium must have taken over at that point, sleep was overpowering me but I couldn't let it win. It affected my speech and I knew at that moment after I opened my mouth that I had just sent myself to my death.
"Are you an angel?"
I don't remember anything else after that though, the losing battle with sleep must have been ended - with me losing and finally falling asleep.
I wasn't dragged out of my cell and sent to my death this morning, but I can only hope that it does not happen. I need to pray for freedom.
December 25, 1980
Today is Christmas. I remember the holiday from my days of innocence and youth. Our family gathered 'round the beautiful tree, laughing and smiling. We'd stay up late on Christmas Eve telling stories about Santa and other myths that go along with the joyous holiday. On Christmas morning Petunia and I would race out of our rooms and into our parents, where we'd jump on their beds and dance around holding hands - after all it was Christmas. After my parents awoke we'd all go downstairs and go to see what Santa brought us. Santa always gave us the best gifts and I treasured each one of them. Presents never did keep their exquisite wrappings on long, two young girls never took the time to appreciate the work that went into the decorations. After presents came the fun part, going outside to frolic about in the snow. Petunia and I always made this extravagant snow people and she made the most beautiful snow angels that I used to visit day after day, just to get lost in their beauty. Father was the one who always got the snow ball fight going and once that was in motion we'd run about the yard, foot prints giving away our hiding spots. A giggle could always be heard from the bushes where we thought we were safe from the cold balls of snow. My dad was a good sport though, he always let us win. An hour later Mother would come out onto the front porch and call us inside for some hot chocolate and breakfast. She said we were her precious snowbirds. Christmas breakfast was always fun. She'd make us waffles and decorate them with whip cream and strawberries, a real treat back then. After breakfast we'd get dressed in our Sunday best and off to church we went. Mother always made sure that we went to the ten o'clock service, that way we'd have time to play before and time to play after. The Christmas church service was a joyous time, unlike the night before where we'd hold candles and listen to somber songs. On Christmas morning though the music as well as the sermons where a cheery event and they were filled with laughter and joy - a large birthday party for the man that we worshipped. Once church was over we'd go home and clean up before getting ready and driving over to Grandmother and Grandfather's house. There the entire family would gather and have a delightful feast with ham, cranberry sauce, pecan pie, and mashed yams with marshmallows on top. Christmas with my family was always a time of merriment and I miss those days of carefree innocence.
James came to visit me today and to wish me a happy Christmas, he didn't stay long though - he had a family to go home to. I spent the entire day praying and reciting old songs and parts of the bible that I remember from my youth and days of dedication to my faith. Never in my life have I missed my family, friends, or Andrew so much.
December 31, 1980
My innocence . . . it's been taken.