A/N: And the plot thickens…
Chapter Three
Everybody Hurts, Sometimes
For the next several years, the trio on the little playground in Northern England played a very peculiar game. Mothers watched from afar while a skinny dark-haired boy, accompanied by two girls-one with a shock of red hair, would brandish sticks about, shouting nonsense words and giggling like mad. A girl with honey-blonde hair that brushed her shoulders rarely joined in, and was usually seen stomping across the alley that separated the picturesque little playground from her place of residence. The two that remained would keep up the charade for hours, prancing about the wooden sandbox and whispering intensely behind the solemn oaks.
Severus convinced his mother to allow him to attend primary school, considering the Snape family didn't exactly live a traditional 'wizarding life'. Eileen, his mother, worked full-time at the local button factory and did not have the proper time for educating her son, anyway. Lily was ecstatic when she had heard the news and went so far as to kiss Severus' tiny olive-tinted cheek. As for his revelation concerning magic, Lily thought of it as more of a game. So that's what it became. The bright-eyed girl with the long fiery locks had quite an imagination, and ate up everything Severus told her with a spoon. The pair would sit for days on end discussing elements of this 'pretend magical realm', frolicking in the innocence of their youth. What Lily didn't know, however, was that everything her companion told her was not an image that sprang from his 'creative' mind- it was real.
"LILY! LILY! TIME TO COME HOME, DEAR," a kind woman's voice echoed through the pines and birches.
"Sorry, Sev, I've got to go. So what did we say a hiffogriff was?"
"HIP-o-griff," the boy corrected, placing emphasis on the 'hip' and annunciating each syllable.
"Oh, right! How silly of me," Lily rolled her eyes as she turned around with a grin. "See you tomorrow!"
"Bye, Lily," Severus called back softly, as he lazily scraped a stick through the dirt, slowly tracing miscellaneous shapes and patterns.
The young girl took off without a second glance and bobbed up the flowered walk to the quaint little home she belonged to. The siding was painted a bright buttery yellow and the shudders were a deep shade of fire-engine red. Begonias, pansies, irises, and daffodils lined the concrete path that led to the door, which sported a fresh coat of grass green paint. Daisies spilled out of the window boxes, accompanied by pink tulips and white roses. What the one story house lacked in spaciousness, it made up for in color.
Mrs. Evans greeted her youngest daughter at the door with a warm smile. She was a petite woman with dark blonde hair, worn in a bouffant. Her normally wide green eyes were crinkled due to her grin, and she motioned for Lily to come forward. Apron tied in front, she wore a sky blue knee-length dress adorned with a small flowered print. Her rosy cheeks were tinged with pink and her eyes twinkled with excitement.
"Oh, Lily, have you heard the news?"
"What news, Mum?" Lily asked, furrowing her brows.
"Goodness, Petunia hasn't told you yet? I'd figured you'd be the first to know-"
"MUM what is it??" her daughter's voice squeaked with impatience.
"Petunia was accepted to St. Edmund's! The postman said it was supposed to have been delivered ages ago but it got wedged between two parcels and ended up in eastern Bulgaria!" Mrs. Evans said with a chuckle. "At least the residents were kind enough to send it back to us. And just in time…"
Lily's mother continued to marvel at the kindness of strangers, but Lily wasn't listening. She kept mulling the words over in her head, 'Petunia was accepted to St. Edmund's'…'Petunia was accepted to St. Edmund's'…and then it dawned on her. Tuni was going away.
Why didn't Tuni come bursting out of the house to tell her she received the letter? Didn't she normally tell Lily everything? This wasn't just who was on the cover of Tiger Beat this week or that there was a new Davy Jones song on the radio- this was important. Something was definitely wrong.
"…I mean that thing could've ended up anywhere! And Bulgaria of all places, my heavens-"
Lily rushed past the slender woman on the porch- who was still talking, but to whom she no longer knew- and burst through the ripe green barrier in her path. The distraught red-head flew through the parlor and raced down the corridor to the second door on the left. She firmly placed one hand on the doorframe, the other on the brass handle, and jerked the door open with all the strength in her tiny little body.
"Tuniisittrueyou'regoingtoSt.Edmund'sandyoudidn'ttellme?????" the words tumbled out of Lily's mouth, releasing all the pent up energy inside her. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut she took in a deep breath and held it, waiting for an answer. The seconds ticked by, seeming like an eternity, and Lily couldn't take it anymore. One eye popped open to view the look on Petunia's evidently speechless face, but it was nowhere to be found. She unclenched her tiny fists and cocked her eyebrow in confusion. Where was Tuni?
"WHAT the HELL is this??" a high-pitched voice shrieked behind her.
Lily whipped around, red hair fanning out behind her, only to find Petunia's horrified face staring at her door in disgust.
"WELL???" the frail-looking blonde said with venom.
Her younger sister was immobilized with fear, mouth agape, as she saw to what Petunia was referring. Earlier that day, while Lily and Severus were running amuck in their beloved sandbox, Mr. Evans transformed the family's rickety front door from a murky brown to a charming spring green-and the evidence was plastered all over Lily's small and delicate hands.
And Petunia's door.
"MUM!!!!!"
Lily panicked as she heard Mrs. Evans' footsteps make their way down the tiny corridor. Her heart rate escalated tremendously and her emerald eyes rapidly flitted about the poster-covered walls. A familiar tingling sensation coursed through her fingertips and her stomach twisted in to an intricate knot. She clamped her eyes shut and felt her hands tremble at her sides. With each passing second certain doom lumbered closer and closer, and Lily lost herself in trepidation.
"What's the matter, Petunia, dear?" Mrs. Evans asked, voice laden with concern, as she bustled her way into the room.
"Look!" the older sister screeched as she stiffly pointed to the sheer animosity that covered her bedroom door.
"At what, dear?"
"At tha-" Petunia stopped short and stared open-mouthed at the entrance to which she was gesturing.
The green handprints were gone.
"Petunia, I don't see anything. Are you feeling alright, love?" her mother cooed as she pressed the back of her hand to her eldest daughter's forehead.
As Mrs. Evans examined the stunned girl in the doorway, Lily stayed rooted to the spot with eyes wide as saucers. How did she do that? Was it really she that made the green atrocity disappear? Wait, was it even there in the first place? The whole scene seemed to be erasing itself from her memory, melting from her mind and slipping away into nothingness.
The girls' mother waved a hand in front of her normally feisty daughter's horrorstruck face. "Lily? Lily, dear? I don't know what's going on between you two but I'm going to get the thermometer," the woman declared and she dashed out of the room- leaving the sisters in silence.
They stood like that a few moments- Petunia still glaring in Lily's direction, wearing an expression of utmost disdain, and Lily refusing to meet her predator's gaze. Lily's breaths were short and rapid, causing her tiny chest to pulsate. Her eyes had been fixated on a rather large placard of The Monkees positioned above her sister's bed, but she carefully decided to turn her gaze. Lily's bottle green orbs met Petunia's icy blue ones and she immediately regretted the decision.
"I don't know what you and that Snape prat are really up to, but I sure as Hell don't want any part of it. That stupid little game of yours is weird, Lily; people in the neighborhood are starting to talk. I'd up and quit it if I were you, or do you not want to disappoint your greasy little boyfriend?" Petunia finished with a sneer.
Lily tried with all her might to stop the tears that were flowing from the sparkling emeralds on her tiny freckled face. Her bottom lip quivered as her hands nervously fiddled with the hem of her sapphire blue pinafore. Petunia was still glowering at her sister, giving her the most contemptuous look she could muster. She had never been this harsh with Lily before, and apparently had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
The redheaded eight-year-old opened her mouth to apologize, or say something, anything, but she was cut off.
"And another thing-"Petunia added viciously, "find someone who gives a damn to pull your pranks on, because I sure don't anymore," and she turned on her heel and casually strolled down the hallway, muttering something that sounded like 'freaks' under her breath as she went.
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Today is the day! Today is the day! He never thought it would come, yet here it is, the Quidditch World Cup! A skinny boy with messy black hair bounded down four flights of crooked stairs, nearly knocking over poor Gilby the house elf, who was carrying clean linens to the eleventh bathroom on the sixth floor. Pure elation welled up in his chest like a balloon as a wide grin plastered itself on the young lad's face. Today was going to be the happiest day of his life! Nothing could get him down today.
Or so he thought.
James skidded into his immaculate kitchen hoping to find the aroma of bacon sizzling and eggs frying, like he expected every morning, but today he did not. Slightly perturbed, James knotted his brows and cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher why his normally punctual breakfast was not already waiting for him on the table. He was interrupted, however, by a muffled noise emitted by the drawing room. He leaned against the stained mahogany doors and cupped a hand to his ear, listening intently.
"OH, Harold! What are we going to do?" a woman wailed.
"I-I don't know, Winnie. I just don't know," said a man in a somber voice.
James couldn't figure out what the room's inhabitants were talking about right away, and his mind began to wander.
"I just can't believe he's GONE! He was so young…" the woman cried, on the verge of hysterics.
"Well, he wasn't that young, but still, it makes you think."
"Jokes? More jokes? Harold what is wrong with you? Your own brother DIES and you can't be serious for five bloody minutes?"
What!?! That got his attention.
James leapt into the room like an animal, startling its occupants, and began firing questions a mile a minute.
"WHAT HAPPENED TO UNCLE ALBERIC? IS HE DEAD? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME? WEREN'T WE SUPPOSED TO GO TO THE QUIDDITCH CUP TODAY? HOW DID HE DIE? CAN HE STILL COME? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE FIX MY BREAKFAST? WHERE'S UNCLE ALBERIC???" the scruffy-headed boy bellowed in an unusually high-pitched voice. His breathing was heavy and his hazel eyes were wide with fear and anger.
"James, calm down, son. We'll tell you everything, just take a seat, alright?" his father said calmly, gesturing to the large wing-backed chair beside him.
James' mother couldn't bear to meet his gaze, and she dabbed her sodden brown eyes with a silver handkerchief trimmed in lace. Mr. Potter looked directly into the eyes of his son, his wrinkled face plagued with sadness. Harold was an elderly wizard- a tall, once handsome man showing signs of age. His eyes were a light brown, speckled with violet, and his hair was exceedingly thin and gray. Horn-rimmed spectacles sat atop his elongated nose, and the grin that was usually present on the vibrant man's face had been replaced with an uncharacteristic frown.
"Where's Uncle Alberic," James stated through gritted teeth.
"He's gone, son," his father said gently, not tearing his gaze from his son's.
"Gone WHERE? Today is the ruddy cup! He knows better than to sod off-"
"No, James, he passed away."
"No he didn't," James said defiantly.
"Yes, son. I flooed to his flat this morning to give him his ticket and-"
"You're lying. He wouldn't do that. We have so much left to do- we never built the treehouse. We never flew to Austria. We never tamed that dragon. We never went down Knockturn Alley. We never- we- he- HE CAN'T GO! HE WOULDN'T DO THAT. HE LOVES ME! I'M HIS FAVORITE! HE LOVES ME, HE CAN'T GO! YOU'RE LYING-HE'S HERE! WHAT A CRUEL JOKE-YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!"
James was now standing on the edge of his chair, towering over his father. His young face had turned a deep shade of magenta as he shouted and pointed a tiny finger at the traitors below. Tears stung at the corners of his blazing eyes and he vaulted from the glazed wood underneath him, landing on the other side of the room with a 'thud'.
"James, wait!" the Potters called, but it was too late. His untidy hair was around the corner in a flash and the heartbroken boy was already halfway across the courtyard.
A/N: I forgot to add that I most unfortunately do not own Harry Potter or any of its entities, etc. in the previous chapter. I also want to warn you people, it's about to get sad…