Lives Intertwined- The Complete Story of Lily and James

lilymione1203

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 7
Published: 22/09/2009
Last Updated: 22/09/2009
Status: in_progress

Lily and James grow up in a changing world, lives intertwining from two completely different pasts. Their tale from beginning to fateful end. A/N: I'd like to add that I have not left out a chapter, I just combined the first two. So when you read chapter two, I will have written Chapter three at the top. Just letting you know I didn't leave anything out! : )

Chapters

1. In the Beginning, Young Hearts Run Free

2. Everybody Hurts, Sometimes

3. The Seeker's Lament

4. The Truth Revealed

1. In the Beginning, Young Hearts Run Free

A/N: Hi! This fanfic is likely to be very lengthy, but I DO wish to keep you interested! The Marauder era is my absolute FAVORITE from the Harry Potter series and I hope to do it justice! (I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters)

Chapter One

In the Beginning

“But- Harold-this can’t possibly be…”

“I’m afraid it is, love. You could fancy a bit more chipper face than that, poppet.”

“I’m fifty-seven, Harold. I’m past my prime for this sort of nonsense. I mean after ALL those years of anguish and heartache and sobbing and trying-“

“You didn’t have fun trying? Winnie, that’s the fun part, I’m surprised at y-”

“HAROLD! I MEANT that we’re simply too old! This must be a mistake; honestly, I can’t see this actually happening. This is complete and utter rubbish. I’m checking it again…”

“Well you seemed to be keen on ‘trying’ the other day after I was promoted at work, and last weekend after Muriel’s wedding, and after I de-gnomed the garden on Saturday, and-“

“ENOUGH! I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy the process, Harold. Merlin’s beard will you get off it?? You have no idea what I’m going through! We don’t even know for sure. What if fate’s just teasing us? And here you are acting like a bloody git when I’ve received the news I’ve always wanted twenty-plus years too late. You think it’s funny do you? How we’ve tried all our married lives-“

“And prior too, dear. Remember? You were stressed about your N.E.W.T.s and I had just lost the Cup and I was in the locker rooms sulking on my broom and you-“

“THAT’S IT! I am NOT putting up with your childish and insensitive behavior. You can fix your own bloody dinner, I’m going to Agatha’s.”

“Winnie, don’t- I’m sorry, love. I’m new to this, too. You know I act like a prat when I’m nervous-“

“Or tired, or happy, or bored, or grumpy, or excited,or…”

“Alright, alright! I deserved that. Winnefred, stay. Be happy. Better late than never, eh?”

“Oh, I suppose. I just don’t understand how this could’ve happened?”

“Well, after my celebration down at the ministry, we came home a little tipsy and one thing led to another and…”

“HAROLD!!!!!!!”

No less than nine months later, on March 27, 1960, a bouncing baby boy was delivered at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to a very happy Mr. and Mrs. Harold Potter.

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Nearly two months earlier, almost to the day, a bright-eyed little girl was playing in a sandbox, scooping heaps of sand into her palms and watching the grains trickle through her fingers down her plaid pink pinafore. Her light blonde hair was tied in neat little pigtails fastened with correlating ribbons. The tot’s baby blue eyes spotted snow on her wellies and she clambered on to her feet like a newborn deer. Just as she was about to dust them off a loud bang erupting from her drive-way kept her frozen on the spot. Across the alley her father’s chocolate brown Farina roared toward her in reverse, screeching on the pavement as it backed away from the cheery little house it called home. Her eyes widened in fear as the car took off at lightning speed down Holly Drive, appearing smaller and smaller with each passing second. A single tear slid down the girl’s cheek as she watched it go, and suddenly realization dawned on her- she was forgotten.

“Now, now, dear don’t worry. Your father just rang and I got here as quick as I could,” a woman cooed (slightly out of breath) as she laid a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. She had silky dark hair cut chin-length, and her crown was teased up making it appear shorter in the back. A wide green headband separated her hair from her forehead and she wore a smile that revealed her lovely white teeth. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and was seemingly attractive, with pale skin that beamed against her snowy surroundings.

“Come on, Petunia, dear, let’s get you out of this January cold. I know somebody who would just love to meet you!”

But the blonde little girl didn’t want to watch the lady’s baby sleep or eat or spit up or cry. She was about to get enough of that at home. But whether it was ickle Severus or the new baby on its way, she cared not as she slipped her tiny hand in Mrs. Snape’s and they made their way down the icy road to Spinner’s End.

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The sun shone brightly on a warm June day in Northern England. Three children could be seen scampering around a large wooden sandbox in their neighborhood park. Two little girls squealed with delight as a frog pounced on top of a young boy’s head. The younger of the two girls prodded the amphibian off with a stick while the older girl shrieked as it attempted to throw itself down her jumper. The boy doubled over with laughter as the younger girl called after her.

“Tuni!! Wait- TUNI!!!”

“Oh, let her go, Lily, I’m glad she’s gone,” the boy said still sniggering.

“But I didn’t mean to nearly shove it down her throat! Oh now she’ll hate me…” Lily said with a frown.

The boy rolled his eyes then looked deeply into hers. “As close as you two are I doubt something as trivial as a frog on her jumper would make her hate you.”

“I guess you’re right, Sev, but Tuni’s been acting rather strange around me lately. Mum and Dad have been really excited about my starting school, and I suppose they have been paying a little more attention to me. You know, buying my school things and testing me and such. I think she might be jealous.” Lily looked downward at this and repeatedly scuffed the toe of her Mary Janes on the sidewalk.

An awkward silence passed between the two as the boy stared intensely at a slug in the grass.

“Er- are you excited about Kindergarten, Severus?” Lily asked tentatively.

The boy slowly turned his gaze from the ground to her face. She was beautiful. Vibrant green eyes shaped like diamonds that shined twice as bright looked back at him, as if prompting him to answer. He focused on her strawberry locks that fell softly around her lightly freckled face. Her hair seemed never-ending as it cascaded over her tiny shoulders, accentuating just how petite her five-year-old frame truly was.

“I’m not going to Kindergarten.”

The girl was completely flustered at this response, but after several seconds of gaping and sputtering she was finally able to stammer out a meager “WHAT??”

“Sev, don’t poke fun, it’s not that bad. We’re best mates, I’m sure we’ll be in the same class-“

“I’m not going to Kindergarten, Lily.”

She stared at his stringy black hair that hung loosely about his milky-white face. His charcoal eyes appeared glued to the slug as he sniffed his rather large, hooked nose. The tension was palpable and a billion questions sprang into Lily’s mind.

“But, Severus, why!?! Don’t you want to learn- I don’t know- everything? How to finally read that ruddy Dick and Jane book- or, or to multiply as well as Tuni?” the redhead asked incredulously, her emerald eyes rapidly darting about her surroundings. She was scraping the bottom of the barrel for answers, and it was apparent by the bewildered look plastered on her young face.

“Lily…” he paused, deep in thought. You could almost see the gears turning inside his head. It was as if he was fighting a battle within himself, on the verge of revealing important information that only a select few had the privilege to know.

“Why, Sev?” the words escaped her lips barely above a whisper. Her big eyes drifted in slow motion from the sidewalk to his, before spilling silent tears at the prospect of leaving her one and only friend behind-for reasons unfathomable. She could read Severus like a book, and knew whatever he was holding back was haunting him inside.

Severus finally settled on an answer and croaked, “I’m different.”

“Sev everyone’s different and no you really aren’t-“

“And so are you.”

Lily was taken aback at the interruption and began to feel one of her infamous red-head tantrums flaring up within the pit of her stomach and spreading like wildfire through the rest of her body.

“I’m not DIFFERENT!!? What is that supposed to mea-“

“No, no, Lily, listen” Severus cupped her face in his hands and locked his eyes on to hers. “This is very important. It’s not a joke and you can’t tell a single soul-not your mum, not your dad, not even Petunia.”

“But Sev-“

“NO Lily.” He cut her off with an intense glare. Whatever it was he was hiding, it was big.

Lily sighed and finally met his gaze after determinedly looking everywhere but his eyes. “Okay then,” she admitted in defeat.

“Strange things happen around you sometimes, don’t they, Lily? Like when your temper gets the best of you or you’re really excited? Or scared, yeah?”

“Yes……” Lily’s breath intake quadrupled as her eyes returned to darting around the quiet park. He could hear her heart thump wildly inside her ribcage and her tiny palms were instantly laced with sweat.

“Well strange things happen to me as well. Remember when you accidentally broke the string on Petunia’s box kite of the Beatles?”

“I tore a hole in Ringo’s face…” she confessed quietly, her statement dripping with remorse.

“But it flew all by itself! Remember? It was as if invisible string was pulling it where we wanted it to go. And Ringo didn’t even need that eye-patch.”

“Yes, but-“

“And your third birthday when they showed your favorite episode of the Banana Splits seventeen times in a row on the telly and their bus just happened to break down on Holly Drive?”

“So, I don’t see h-“

“OR when your mum ran over your cat with the sweeper and it lost nearly all its fur and YOU petted it one time and all its hair grew back??”

“Twiggy! But Dad ran over her with the car last summer. I was so upset then, Sev, but she didn’t spring back to life!” Lily shot a contemptuous look at her male counterpart before crossing her arms to her chest and sticking her nose up in the air.

“Magic never does,” Severus replied in a subdued manner. His eyes searched the blades of grass but the slug was nowhere to be found.

“Magic? What does magic have to do with anything?” Lily retorted as she crinkled her nose.

“Magic,” he paused, “is everything.” He looked up at her with eyes so true that Lily knew this was not a hoax.

“What do you mean…” Her eyes were still skeptical but her face began to acquire a look of intrigue. That was one thing about Lily that started young and never changed- she always had a thirst for knowledge, for meaning, and gave every subject a chance before making the decision of whether it was worthy enough for memorization.

Severus took a deep breath and sighed, closing his eyes and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. It seems this had been the moment he was avoiding the entire time, and Lily waited on tenterhooks for an answer.

“I’m a wizard, alright? And if my calculations are correct, you’re one, too-or a witch rather-so we don’t even need to go to Kindergarten! There.” He shot her a look that said he wasn’t happy with himself for revealing such an intimate, personal secret, but immediately looked relieved as he released what seemed to be all the air in his body -deflating his small chest.

A smorgasbord of emotions ran across Lily’s face in approximately ten seconds, starting with shock and ending with contempt. She had a million reasons why this dark-haired loon was off his rocker and was not about to miss an opportunity to tell him so. (Little did she know what her future held in this department…) She opened her mouth to begin her energetic retort when she was cut short by the very being she was aiming to chastise.

“Before you say anything, let me explain a little further. I know that little red head of yours has a week’s worth of questions and I would be more than happy to bypass those and cut straight to the chase.”

Lily’s mouth went from fully open to an extremely thin line before she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, attempting to scald her opponent with her stare. This was an expression she’d seen Petunia wear almost daily; Severus recognized it immediately and hurried with a response.

“My mum is a pureblood witch- her parents were wizards, their parents were wizards, and the like. Wizards, and witches, go to a special school to learn spells and potions and plants and creatures and all sorts of things concerning magic. There’s a whole other world out there that’s completely different from our own, Lily. Anything can happen. And my mum told me I’m a part of it, and I know you are, too. Come to Hogwarts with me, Lily, and learn to wave a wand instead of boring Muggle things and hanging around with Petunia.” He said with disgust. “Learn magic with me, Lily.”

Severus was now standing on the edge of the sandbox, looking down at Lily with hopeful eyes. He reached out his tiny hand for her to take, his charcoal eyes filled with longing and desire, as if Lily redeeming his offer would bring a joy to his heart he had never known. The girl of his affections bit her lip in thought and slowly brought her gaze to meet his. Her hands were pulled back near her chest, and she tentatively stuck out her fingertips. The dainty little hand crept forward, easing its way towards his. It seeped closer and closer and just as their hands were about to touch-

“SEVERUS!!!!!!!!!” A man’s voice bellowed from beyond the extent of the park, bouncing off the majestic oaks.

The boy’s head snapped upward and his eyes widened in fear. With one last sorrowful look at Lily, Severus sprang from the plywood surrounding their desert and sprinted towards Spinner’s End as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving behind a very confused Lily with a hand still outstretched.

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The wind rushed through his jet black hair like an unstoppable force as he climbed the cloudless skies. Higher and higher he soared, filling his body with multitudes of restless butterflies, flapping their wings ferociously against the pit of his stomach. They boy’s palms of his hands and feet tingled with pleasure as he glided over his tranquil surroundings. The tops of his shoes brushed the weeping willows underneath him, enclosing a beautiful meadow. Wildflowers seemed like tiny pinpricks of color from his perspective, and the cricket chirps below were barely audible. A frog plopped in the pond directly beneath his dangling legs and he could see precise concentric circles formulating around the disturbance to the placid water. The sun was sinking behind the tops of the trees, emitting a beautiful glow that bounced off the young boy’s face. If anyone questioned if there was a heaven, he knew where to take them.

“JAMES LANCELOT POTTER!”

So much for peace and tranquility.

A harried looking woman came charging in to the clearing with a look of angst and determination on her aging face. She had chestnut brown hair whisped with gray and eyes to match. Her hair was thick and styled somewhat short; the ends were flipped outward, resting along her jaw line, and the rest stood perfectly in place with no movement what-so-ever. Her figure was a bit wider than it had been in previous years, but she was not a large woman by any means. She wore long scarlet robes that twinkled in the light of the sunset, a bit old-fashioned but very exuberant nonetheless. Her arms akimbo, she tapped her foot impatiently as she stared upward at her target.

“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing out here, may I ask? I have been searching all over the place for you and calling your name like a madwoman thinking you were still in the house-like you’re supposed to be, might I add-and here you go taking off on that sodding broomstick your uncle gave you…”

The boy rolled his eyes as the woman continued to drone on about this and that-none of which he cared to listen to, and therefore didn’t. He had the messiest black hair known to man-muggle and wizard alike-and no matter what he did to comb it, it always looked as if he just stepped off a broomstick. His hazel eyes sparkled behind his wire-rimmed spectacles, and his small and skinny body was slumped over the gnarled wooden handle of his Comet 140, hovering thirty feet in the air. Everyone his parents knew gushed that James Potter was the cutest little devil they’d ever seen, and he would flash them a cheeky grin capable of getting him out of whatever trouble he could muster- which happened to be a lot.

“…and out here of all places! When we just bought you that turquoise wizarding wireless you just had to have last week AND those new crystal gobstones after you blew up the last set- and yet here you are ferreting around with that dirty old broomstick that’s been around longer than Merlin. Honestly, James, I don’t know what I’m going to do with the likes of you! Now go on to the house and get washed up, your father and I are leaving in ten minutes for the-“

“AWW MUM! I don’t have to go to that do I?” James whined, his eyes wincing in pain.

The woman sighed. “No, dear, we’ve been over this dozens of times,” the elderly witch said flatly as she took a deep breath and blinked, bringing her eyes down from the tops of the trees to focus on her son.”You’re staying at the Fawcett’s this evening while your father and I attend Quintus Dearborn’s retirement party down at the ministry.”

The six-year-old groaned and faked lurching over the edge of his broomstick while his mother continued to tap her foot with impatience.

“We don’t have time for this, James. Get down here this instant and march yourself right in to that house, young man!”

“Can’t I just stay here with Gilby, or go to Uncle Alberic’s? Please, please, Mum, please?” James pleaded with large, rounded eyes, shining in the glow of the setting sun. The insides of his brows pointed skyward and his mouth was set in a small pout .

“Your uncle is going with us to the party,” his mother scoffed, clearly losing her patience with the messy-haired child towering three stories above.

“But, why?” he asked earnestly, trying to buy some time.

“Why couldn’t you have asked these questions earlier? Godric’s sword, you’re an ornery little bugger today. Your father and Alberic went to school with Quintus and they’re all dear friends. Your father has worked with him in the ministry for nearly half a century and your uncle-” she stopped suddenly, her eyes snapping open and searching the clearing-for what, she didn’t know-and her face slowly regained its composure, ”your uncle just knows his side of the family, we’ll put it that way,” she finished quickly, averting her eyes.

“How does he-“

“JAMES, ENOUGH! You are going to the Fawcett’s and that is final. You may ask all the questions your heart desires when we get home but you must do as I say and get ready to go NOW. Phaedra’s going to be watching you this evening and she’s new to the babysitting realm, so please, James, for the love of Quidditch be good.”

A wicked smile creeped on to James’ face and a blazing fire replaced the dull sheen in his hazel eyes. Whatever he had in store for poor Phaedra surely wasn’t under the category of ‘being good.’

“Oh, dear, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that…” Winnefred said to herself as she watched her son, faster than lightning, bolt from the outskirts of Seeker’s Landing back to the seven story manor where Gilby had dinner waiting.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I would absolutely LOVE feedback on this story!!! Let me know what you think. Thanks!!!! -lilymione1203

2. Everybody Hurts, Sometimes

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…

3. The Seeker's Lament

A/N: This was very difficult to write. I know this is about a “fictitious” fictitious character- but I didn’t see James’ life being all smiles and sunshine, despite his spoiled upbringing. Everyone has to have some sort of heartache in their lives, and Lily’s was already very apparent. James background, however, is pretty wide open- an author’s dream J I hope you like despite the tone…

Chapter Four

The Seeker’s Lament

A gentle breeze rustled through the trees as birds tweeted in the distance. Clouds obscured the piercing blue sky as rays of golden sunlight found their way through the darkness. Flowers blossomed among the weeping willows, emitting a delicate scent of lilac and honey. Blades of grass swayed underfoot as a crowd gathered on the outskirts of Seeker’s Landing.

The prestigious grounds had been passed down from generation to generation, beginning with the great Tarrant Potter. Tarrant was the greatest dragon slayer who ever lived, having conquered twenty-four breeds by the mere age of thirty. Before the establishment of Gringotts, Tarrant was approached by an assembly of goblins that offered a grueling task. They met in secret in the clearing at the edge of the landing, discussing arduous plans for a future wizarding bank. The goblins offered him the very ground beneath their feet, plus a quarter of their wealth if he agreed to an exceptionally dangerous assignment.

The diminutive creatures shoved a map under his nose, and an extraordinarily long finger pressed its tip to the crinkled parchment- Dragons. Gringotts was not going to be just any wizarding bank, it was going to be the wizarding bank. Considering all the theft and pillaging of the time, people were afraid to keep their galleons in reserves- over ninety-seven percent of banks had failed. During this dark period many wizarding families hoarded their money, where it was even more likely to be stolen. The goblins, however, had a plan to change all that.

With dragons guarding the vaults, offenders would think twice before prowling for gold; the only problem was getting them there. That’s where Tarrant came in. It took three years and seven months, but he was able to obtain no less than 21 Common Welsh Greens, 17 Catalonian Fireballs, 13 Swedish Short-Snouts, nine Ukrainian Ironbellies, three Norwegian Ridgebacks, and one Hungarian Horntail. He was paid handsomely for his work, and- along with the original agreement- was given a perpetual interest account to house his fortune. His wealth still grows to this day, and has been handed from Potter to Potter through the ages.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

James stared blankly at the vision before him, a bullion casket engraved with tiny fluttering snitches. The highly-polished handles gleamed in the sunlight and vermillion roses lined the quilted aperture. He stood from afar, zoning in on the golden vessel, void of all emotions. It felt as if all happiness was drained from his body, and he was left with nothing but grief and mourning.

The graven-faced boy slowly made his way to what he hoped he’d never have to face. The dark robes tailored precisely to his frame swirled around his skinny legs as a gust of cool air blew from behind him. James crept closer, shuffling his feet on the regal carpet strewn across the lawn. He dreaded what he was about to set eyes on, closing them tightly in apprehension.

Complete silence filled the clearing as James slowly inched his way towards the casket. He reached out a trembling hand and at long last came upon the edge of the exquisite coffin. His tiny fingers curled around the solid rim, carved in mahogany, and he pushed upward on the balls of his feet. The snitches glinted against the lids of his eyes, forcing them to pop open, and James gasped at what he saw.

There lay his beloved Uncle Alberic, not beaming down at his nephew saying, “Wotcher, James,” but wearing an expression of utmost serenity. He donned old-fashioned Quidditch robes of scarlet and onyx, a tiny wasp stitched on the left breast pocket. A flood of memories came rushing back to him, bursting forth from his mind like a broken dam. James saw his second birthday, where Alberic brought him a children’s racing broom. His mother smacked a hand to her face as Alberic and Harold beamed down at the zooming toddler, wearing nothing but a diaper and the widest grin you’ve ever seen.

The image jumped to James’ first Quidditch match, sitting atop his uncle’s shoulders. The messy haired three-year-old dripped Shifting Sherbet ice cream (changes colors as you eat it) all over Alberic’s thinning hair, but you could tell he didn’t mind. The pair screamed and shouted at the whizzing players on the field, and the crowd roared in triumph as Wimbourne caught the snitch to win the game.

Again the memory shifted. Now James was sitting cross-legged on the ginger rug in Alberic’s flat. The young boy hung on his uncle’s every word as he animatedly told the tale of all his Quidditch triumphs. Alberic was a professional seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps and retired before James was born. The elderly man cavorted around the room, causing James to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at his spectacular feats.

Suddenly the picture evolved in to the woods surrounding Seeker’s Landing. A muggle tent that jutted out at odd angles stood in front of an old man and a small boy, both looking pleased with their handiwork. The two crawled into their quarters but no later began howling with terror. The already deformed pergola was put through its paces as legs, heads, arms, and elbows protruded from the thin canvas. The occupants tumbled out of the tent as it crashed down behind them, and the pair hot-footed it out of the forest while a skunk wallowed in their wake.

Now it was Christmas, and little James was galloping about the common room, giddy with excitement. Their enormous fireplace crackled merrily, emitting emerald flames and scarlet embers. A puff of smoke burst from the chimney, shortly revealing Father Christmas stopping by for a visit. Mr. and Mrs. Potter shared a smile as their son ran to the jovial man, bouncing up and down in delight. Their guest of honor left a considerably large sack of presents under the tree, a majestic evergreen radiant with fluttering pixies, and gave James a familiar wink as he headed back to the North Pole. Thirty seconds later Uncle Alberic arrived, and James ecstatically told him he would not believe who he had just missed.

Tears began streaming down the boy’s face as he relived each moment in electrifying detail. His chest pounded and he tried to fight the uncontrollable sobs building up inside him. James’ whole world was spinning, as if he was drowning, and his head was swimming in a sea of despair. His breathing became erratic and he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to stand.

“Come on, dear, it’s alright, love,” a gentle voice cooed in his ear.

A woman’s hand delicately made its way into his and she guided the boy away from the casket. She steered James over to his father and stood behind him placing her comforting hands on his shoulders. James looked up through his lenses to find his mother smiling down at him sadly, her brown eyes wet with jewels of sorrow. He shifted his gaze to his father, who was doing the same. The three of them stood together, grievant but proud, facing the mass of witches and wizards before them, ready to take on whatever lies ahead.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A seemingly endless stream of mourners cascaded down the grand terrazzo, paying their last respects to the noble and gallant Alberic Potter. Many provided words of encouragement to James’ father, shaking his hand or gripping him into a hug. Witches offered their many condolences as they dabbed at their eyes or locked Winnefred’s frail arms in their own. Very few could bear to look at the disheveled James, either avoiding his eyes or simply patting his dark tousled head. One woman in a veiled pointed hat burst in to tears at the sight of him and darted from the clearing in tears.

Anyone fortunate enough to know Alberic knew that he and his nephew were inseparable. James was like the son he never had, not having any children of his own, and they shared a remarkable bond of love and friendship. The small and vulnerable James stood tall as his world crumbled down around him, and not one who came to grieve could grant him any words of comfort or understanding. Although their age difference was great, James had lost the only true friend he had ever come to know.

As the last of the crowd slowly meandered through the line, Harold pulled his son aside to the edge of the quiet pond. James fixed his deep hazel eyes on the sparkling water, watching the lily pads drift lazily along the surface. His father lightly placed the boy’s tiny chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned his son’s gaze to meet his own. Wet brown eyes flecked with jade stared up at the man before him, filled with hopelessness and sorrow.

“Here, son, I’ve got something for you,” the aged man said as he dug into the pocket of his robes.

James watched as his father tugged at his hip for something struggling under the black satin cloth. He pulled out a tiny golden ball, tinged with rust, flapping its miniscule wings against the wizard’s palm.

“This was your uncle’s- it was the first snitch he ever caught as a professional, way back in 1915. He was going to give it to you when you made the House Quidditch team, but I think he would have wanted you to have it now. You were like a son to him, James.”

With wide eyes the boy reached out a wavering hand and slowly grasped the lustrous winged treasure. The tips of his fingers delicately unfurled from the pocket-sized sphere and he watched as it gently glided away from his hand. Farther and farther it floated until James quickly snatched it back in to his palm.

His father chuckled and sported a genuine smile for the first time in days.

“Alberic and I used to do that all the time. Thought it would impress the ladies,” he said with a wink.

James flashed that Potter grin he thought he’d lost as he trailed behind his father, pocketing the coveted ball beating fiercely within his tiny clasped hand.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

A somber gathering took place in the churchyard near Ottery St. Catchpole. White birches rustled in the breeze as a small boy stood between his parents, clutching their withered hands. The trio was fixated on the marble tombstone that rose up from the ground before them, bearing the words:

ALBERIC RIMMEL POTTER

NOVEMBER 8, 1897 - MAY 13, 1968

An older gentleman softly treaded up the path, standing mere feet away from the grieving Potters. Hands in pockets, he hobbled over to the party in mourning, stopping next to Harold and letting out an audible sigh. Three heads swung sharply to the left and the man patted a hand to Mr. Potter’s back.

“Oh, Quintus…” Mrs. Potter said faintly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know, Winnie. I know.”

“At least they’re- they’re together now…” James’ mother croaked.

James knotted his brows together and tilted his head toward the mysterious conversation to his left. Why was Mr. Dearborn here? What were his parents talking about? It was as if they were speaking a secret language impossible to translate. He failed to notice, however, the gravestone sitting promptly to the right of his uncle’s:

ERIS CALEA DEARBORN

FEBRUARY 16, 1898 – DECEMBER 21, 1917

“Mum, who’s that?” James asked bluntly, tugging on the hem of his mother’s robes.

The woman gave a sorrowful sigh as her brown eyes, brimmed with tears, fell to the inquiring face of her son. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but abruptly turned away, giving her husband a lost and pleading look. Harold met her gaze with poignant eyes, searching her wizened face for an answer, but it was Mr. Dearborn who spoke first.

“Eris was my sister. She was several years older than I was- started Hogwarts when we were five,” Quintus said, glancing at Harold. “Excellent Quidditch player, taught me everything I knew…”

The man slowly turned his head skyward, lost in thought, and Mrs. Potter took up where he trailed off.

“She was a pretty little thing, silvery blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes. “

“Shined like sapphires,” Harold said softly, eyes fixated on Mr. Dearborn’s leather Oxford’s.

“Oh, she was beautiful. It’s no wonder Alberic was so taken with her.”

“She spent every summer at the Landing, her voice was like an angel.”

“Her death hit Alberic really hard-“

“He was never the same. If he didn’t have Quidditch I don’t know what he would’ve done-“

“Probably would have spent his life right here, where we’re standing…”

Silence fell over the group as thoughts of the couple danced through their minds like wind through the trees; they were finally reunited after countless years apart. Ominous clouds began to cover the sky and a thick fog settled in around them. Mrs. Potter shivered under the chill and the troupe turned to go, but James was still confused.

“Wait- what happened to her?” James asked fervently, dying to learn more about his uncle’s past.

His mother looked at him with tired eyes, hoping James wouldn’t press the matter further. Harold, however, understood where his son was coming from and felt he had a right to know.

“Your uncle Alberic and Eris went to Hogwarts together- in the same year. She was a Ravenlcaw, he a Gryffindor. They courted in fourth year, playing against one another on the House Quidditch teams. Apparently she caught his eye, because from then on they were joined at the hip. Eris and Alberic were betrothed at the age of seventeen, immediately after graduation. Eris was an extraordinarily talented witch, and although a force to be reckoned with on the Quidditch pitch, she didn’t devote her life to the sport.” He paused and took a deep breath, plunging forward.

“Alberic was drafted by the Wasps right out of Hogwarts, and signed a two-year magical contract committing to the team. Rookies back then weren’t allowed a lot of freedoms, and the patrons had to be sure their players would be loyal to their organization. He traveled with Wimbourne for two years, while Eris trained to become a Mediwitch. On the eve of his return, the couple planned to elope, and Eris waited for Alberic at King’s Cross. She-she was standing on-“ but he couldn’t continue. Harold croaked out the last words as the violet gleamed in his eyes, and he quickly turned his head.

“She stood on the platform and waited for Alberic, alone in darkness,” a hollow voice said from behind them. James whipped around to find Quintus staring at his sister’s grave, his face completely void of emotion.

“His train was late, and Eris became frightened. Although it was well past midnight, the lack of human contact was unnerving. She heard strange noises all around her, but continued to wait for Alberic. Heavy breathing came from behind her and she began to panic. Eris quickly tried to leave the platform but never got the chance. She was attacked in the train station by followers of Grindelwald. He was just beginning his rise to power, preying on the young and innocent. Her lifeless body fell limply to the solid concrete, and Alberic watched in horror from his compartment on the train. He lunged out of his seat and tore through the entry, but it was too late. Eris was gone.”

Silent tears streamed down the man’s hardened face, his gaze never leaving her immaculate headstone. Mr. Potter held his wife in his arms as she buried her head in the crook of his neck, muffling her sobs. James stood dumbfounded- he never knew. As he shared in the sadness of those around him, he clenched the struggling ball in his pocket; he would never let go.

A/N: I sincerely hope you liked it- I KNOW it was sad!!! I promise later chapters will contain a lighter tone- just wait ‘til the Marauders get together J

4. The Truth Revealed

A/N: Again I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form. Although I wish I did…sigh

Chapter Five

The Truth Revealed

A pair of rusty swings creaked in the moonlight on a cold January’s eve. A light snow blanketed the frozen ground, illuminating all that stood in the darkness. A merry-go-round squeaked in the distance as it slowly turned with the chilling breeze. A figure stood alone on the playground, his dark hair contrasting greatly with the snow around him. After brushing off the crystal powder, he plopped in to a swing and stared at the ground, his feet turned slightly inward. He swayed back and forth, sneakers never leaving the earth, and glanced upward every few seconds, as if waiting for someone.

That someone was Lily Evans.

Another figure came trotting across the snow-covered alley, crunching louder and louder as it made its way toward its destination. Lime green wellies clambered over a sandbox heaped with white dust and closed in on the inhabited swings. A petite girl stood before the dark-haired figure, wearing a plaid woolen cap over her long crimson locks. Her hair was stick straight and flowed down to her buttocks, which were sporting a pair of her sister’s old jeans- ripped in the knees and covered in flowers. Petunia had never worn them that way, but Lily wanted to make a statement of her own with the second hand trousers.

The girl landed in her swing with a thud, not bothering to wipe it off, and shivered at the wetness seeping through the denim. She rotated her head to look at the boy beside her, her olive green eyes filled with concern.

“I’m not going back to school.”

“I seem to remember having this conversation before, and I think it turned out alright,” the girl said matter-of-factly, a smirk forming on her lips.

“This time is different, Lily. You don’t even know what happened-“

“That’s because you won’t tell me what happened!” she snapped.

“Well it’s not like I want the whole world to know, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience.”

“Oh, so I’m the ‘whole world’ now am I? Geez, Sev, you’d think you could tell me.”

An uncomfortable silence passed between the two as the merry-go-round continued to screech in the background.

“People are going to find out anyway. You could just tell me first hand so I won’t have to decide on a rumor. I might make one up myself. And I’d pick the most far-fetched, absolutely jaw dropping-“

“No you wouldn’t,” the boy said quietly, his greasy strands falling in his face. His coal black eyes were still mesmerized with his sneakers and his hands gripped the chains beside him, as if they were the only things keeping him from falling.

“Ugh, yes I would!” Lily scoffed as she shot him a glance of utter distaste.

“You’re starting to act like Tuni, spreading rumors and such. Shut up in a house with her over the holidays hasn’t done you much good, has it?”

The redhead’s jade eyes turned scarlet as she jumped out of her seat and swelled up with anger. Her right hand clenched in a fist, she jabbed a pointed finger in her opponent’s face as her hair whipped wildly behind her.

“How DARE you compare me to Petunia!” she bellowed, her voice rebounding off the trees.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I just…” the boy finally looked up at her with saddened eyes. He looked a mess, and Lily immediately took her seat, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, too,” she muttered.

“You really want to know what happened? Fine. It happened on my birthday. My-“

“I noticed you didn’t have a party! I haven’t seen you in nearly three weeks, don’t think I’ve forgotten-“

“Lily, please,” Severus said in a serious tone. “It was my birthday, and my father had one of his…episodes…”

“Oh, Severus,” Lily’s emeralds sparkled in the moonlight and she touched a hand to Severus’ knee.

“He-he left us, Lily. He just couldn’t take it anymore, and he left. The man just exploded on us. He did bad things, horrible things, and he left,” he held back the tears as Lily’s mouth dropped to the floor.

“But why, Sev? Why on your birthday, of all days? Had he been drinki-“

“When wasn’t he drinking, Lily? But no, or I guess not, I don’t know- that wasn’t the main reason-“

“Well what was?” the girl’s eyes stared deeply into his, longing for a reply.

“You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t give me that, Severus, you know good and well I would. I know you better than anybody and if you think for one minu-“

“Stop, Lily, please. I’ve tried to tell you before, but…” he trailed off, shifting his eyes back towards the icy ground.

“But what?” she moved her head down in front of his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. Their eyes found one another and she whispered, “Tell me.”

“My letter came on my birthday. My mother says the first one always does. That’s how she kne-“

“Oh, Sev, where were you accepted? I got mine from St. Edmund’s on Christmas Eve, best present I ever got! Tuni was thrilled as you can guess, ha ha, but it’s not like we’ll be in the same dorm or any -what?”

“Will you let me finish?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” a blush creeped up Lily’s face and she hastily turned her head the opposite direction.

Severus stared straight ahead, as if working out how to phrase what he wanted to say. He’d been down this road before, and knew he’d have to be very delicate.

“Do you remember Hogwarts, Lily?” he asked in a light tone.

“Our game? Oh, Sev, we haven’t played that in ages! A bit old for that now, don’t you think?” she said with her brows lowered.

“But you do remember it?”

“Well, of course. We only played it every day for three or four years. How could I forget?”

“Do you remember when I told you about it the first time?”

Lily’s almond eyes crinkled and she looked to the sky with a smile.”Yeah, you told me you weren’t going to go to Kindergarten. Like you had a choice, Sev.”

“Well, I did.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“I already told you, Lily, but you didn’t take me seriously.”

“Codswallop! Sev, you just didn’t want to go to school so you made up a story. And to think I almost believed you! I’d like to think I’m not quite as gullible anymo-“

“LILY! It’s the truth! My letter was from Hogwarts and I’m a wizard! That’s why my father left- he thinks we’re barking. My mother was hiding it. She’s a witch- and you’re one too! I know it.”

“Severus, stop. If you didn’t want to tell me why then you should have just left. Any time you want to avoid something you just use that childish story! I’m not five anymore, Sev, I’m not going to fall for it. It was a stupid game, nothing more. It’s not the answer to all your problems.”

“NO, it’s the reason for them-“

“I’ll concur. So drop the story and face reality, Sev-“

“This IS reality! I knew you wouldn’t understa-“

“NO, I won’t ever understand, because you continue to lie to me! You know, you’re the reason Tuni doesn’t like me anymore. She nearly hates me because of you. And it’s this juvenile ‘magic’ rubbish that’s tearing us apart. I don’t want to see you anymore until you can be honest with me. Guess I won’t see you in school tomorrow,” Lily sobbed as she sprinted from the swing set, loping through the snow.

Tears froze on her bright red cheeks as her strawberry mane lashed in her wake. She didn’t dare look back at the fraud behind her, burying his distraught face in his hands, his dark stringy locks nearly grazing the white fluff beneath him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A week after the ‘playground incident’, as Lily liked to call it, the redhead awoke with a breathtaking smile that slowly spread across her freckled face. Her bright green eyes popped open with vigor and turned toward the sunlight beaming through her window. She pointed her toes under her covers and arched her back, stretching her arms out as wide as they could reach. A yawn escaped her lips and she swung her legs gracefully over the edge of her daybed, rotating her shoulders and tilting her head from side to side. The young girl hoisted herself up on her tiny palms and gently placed her feet on the ground, daintily making her way to her dresser. She took her bronze-plated brush in hand and carefully stroked it through her beautiful long hair.

‘Today is my birthday,’ she thought, and hummed to herself as she combed her ruby ringlets.

‘Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean? To a- daydream believer and a homecoming quee-‘

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” a shrill voice screamed from next door.

A great scuttle could be heard from the adjacent bedroom and Lily scrambled out in to the corridor to investigate. Her father already had a foot in Petunia’s door and Mrs. Evans was right behind him.

“What’s a matter, poppet?”

“HER! SHE DID IT- I KNOW SHE DID! It ALWAYS has to do with HER!” Petunia shouted as she pointed a finger in contempt at her bewildered sister standing in the doorway.

“Petunia Rose! Calm down- Lily’s been in her room all morning, what could she have done?” her mother asked sensibly. “Oh, and happy birthday, love,” she added with a smile, turning towards her younger daughter.

“OH! That’s right! Happy birthday, pumpkin! Did you get a goo-“

“Can we get back to me, please?!?” Petunia said in disbelief.

Her flaxen hair was nearly standing on end, leaving Petunia looking rather frazzled. She had a few scratches here and there, and her pale blue eyes were blazing with fury. Her rail thin frame bore a long, peach-colored dressing gown, untied in the front and hanging loosely off one arm, apparently having come undone in her scuffle-with whatever it was. Her malevolent glare never left Lily’s perplexed one as she clenched her fists in anger.

“That-that- thing came crashing in here and tried to attack me! It clawed me to death and nearly pecked my eyes out!”

The harried teen, with arms folded patently across her chest, was glowering at the corner- where a tawny screech owl was perched atop her bedpost. All eyes turned toward the peculiar bird, watching ‘the beast’ as it twitched its head about the room. Lily’s eyes fell on the owl’s scrawny leg, and what appeared to be a letter tied with golden string.

Mrs. Evans was the first to move, striding over to the creature and picking it up with a delicate hand. She lifted the bird above her head, mere inches from her highly teased crown, and examined the golden-brown plumage she held between her slender fingers.

“Oh look, Lily, it’s got your name on it. It must be a birthday present! But who would send you an owl, of all things? Probably your great-aunt Posy, she’s getting on in years you know.”

“Poor bird’s as blind as a bat, probably thought she was sending you a decorative pillow.”

“Flannery! She’s not that old,” she snapped as she shot her husband an agitated look. “Maybe your brother sent it as a joke, I mean how else would it know to come here? Do you think he’s outside?”

“Finbar? Nah, doubt he even knows it Popkin’s birthday,” Lily’s father said, ruffling her meticulously brushed hair.

“Well, I’m going to check- owls don’t just fly in through people’s windows every day,” the woman said as she peeked wildly through the curtains. “The neighbors must think we’re nutters!” her hands flew up beside her and she made a mad dash out of the room.

Mr. Evans rolled his eyes and gave Lily a quick wink before exiting the vicinity, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he fell in stride behind his wife. Flannery Evans was a man of average height, his once blazing red hair graying considerably at the temples. His eyes were a deep ocean blue, but round as opposed to Lily’s almond-shaped ones. A man of great work ethic, Flannery was a local milk man- delivering dairy to the homes in Manchester for nearly forty years. His temperament was usually of a kind and joking matter, but Lily definitely knows where she gets her fiery temper.

Redirecting her attention to the owl, and completely ignoring Petunia, Lily cocked her head and furrowed her brow- noticing something rather peculiar. Not only did the shining emerald ink bear her name and precise address, but also displayed a very unusual coat of arms.

She slowly crept toward the bizarre creature, flitting its tawny head about the room. Petunia watched in silent horror as her sister delicately pulled apart the tattered string, allowing the letter to fall gently in her hand. The owl immediately spread its wings and took off through the door and out of sight, only to be seen moments later soaring skyward out the window.

Turning the buff-coloured envelope over in her fingers, she read:

Miss Lily Marigold Evans

Second Bedroom on the Left

13 Holly Drive

Manchester, England

On the top left corner an intricate crest bearing a lion, serpent, badger, and eagle surrounded a beautiful cursive "H." The back of the folded parchment was sealed with a glossy crimson wax, HOGWARTS stamped across the close.

Lily took off like a gun shot out of the house and down the street, nearly trampling Mrs. Evans begonias on the sidewalk. Still wearing her dressing gown and red hair bouncing in her wake, not even Davy Jones himself could keep her from speeding down the lane toward Spinner's End.

A/N: Well, I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got so far. I have not “abandoned” this story I can assure you, this is just all I have written so far. I have the entire plot laid out until the ‘fateful end’ portion- minus a detail here or there- and I really like where the story is going so far (I hope you do too!) Please review and let me know what you think, I really appreciate it!!