Ghosts of Yesterday
Chapter One
I remember exactly how it happened. That by itself is an oddity, as my memory is so bad sometimes I can barely remember what I had for dinner the night before.
I was five at the time. It was Petunia's birthday party, and everyone was fawning over her. I felt jealous. Usually I was the one everyone fawned over. I decided the best way to get attention would be to leave the room. Either someone would notice me and I would get scolded, or I would slip away unnoticed and eventually everyone would go looking for me.
Despite this, as a five year old I was extremely thoughtful. Where could I go that no one would think of looking for me? My room was definitely out. Whenever I pouted, that's the first place I went to. Mum knew that. I wandered around, hiding under beds or behind chairs, but no place seemed right.
And then as I was climbing up the stairs, it hit me. The attic. The room that I had always been too scared of going in to. But I was five now, and convinced I was too grown-up for things as silly and childish as fear of the attic.
So I climbed a little further, ignoring the fact that my legs were starting to ache. I stood up on my very tippy-toes to reach the handle of the trap-door that was the entrance to the attic, but it was no use. I had always been small for my age, and I still could not quite reach the trap-door.
I sat down on the step and pouted, something I seemed to be doing a lot of that day. Then suddenly the trap-door opened, sending down a ladder, which I climbed happily and entered the attic. I did not give a second thought as to what exactly opened it, even though it was definitely unordinary.
There were trunks all over the place, with spiders here and there. One trunk was open. I saw dolls, and gave a little delighted squeal. They were porcelain dolls, but I gave no thought to how fragile it was. I took one down, a girl with beautiful blond hair in a braid, blue eyes, and a long fancy dress, and began playing roughly with her, starting with taking down her perfect braid. I had no idea I was not alone until I heard a voice behind me.
"Careful with her. You do not want her to break now, do you?" I gave a tiny gasp and spun around. Behind me was an old lady, though she was not supposed to be old because her hair was not entirely grey yet, and old people are supposed to have grey hair. It was a very light brown with grey hairs here and there. I also noticed that she was not quite visible. I could almost see through her. I recognized her from some photos.
"Grandma? Aren't you supposed to be dead?" I blurted out. I did not even blush. I was at that age where I said everything and anything on my mind without thinking of the consequences. I did not even feel scared. After all, I was five years old, and five year olds believe anything and everything….even ghosts.
"Ah, so I was right, you are one of us!" Grandma murmured softly.
I was confused. "One of who?"
"Never you mind. I will tell you when you're older. Come, I will show you how to braid her hair and she will be back to normal." Grandma stayed until the doll's hair was even better than it was before, and then she ordered me to go back downstairs, but not before making me promise not to tell anyone. I obeyed, too happy to give a thought to my previous intentions or even the line that everyone always uses and I hate, "I'll tell you when you're older."
After that, I went up to the attic to visit Grandma whenever I had the chance, which wasn't very often. Mum and Dad were convinced that if I were left alone for very long, I would do something to injure myself. Usually I snuck away while Mummy was in the shower. Sometimes it was hard to not tell anyone what I've seen, especially when I could clearly see that Dad still missed her, but I promised, and I was convinced that if I told anyone, something horrible would happen to me, like my nose would grow like Pinocchio.
Grandma finally told me when I was ten. She was convinced I was old enough to know better than to tell anyone. Not that I would. It was a secret, a true secret unlike the pathetic ones at school, and if I told anyone, it would take the magic away. It wouldn't be special anymore.
"My great-great grandmother was a witch, and absolutely terrified of aging. She set out on a quest to find the Fountain of Youth, though many were sure it did not exist. When at last she found something, she took a sip, convinced she would stop aging right there and then. While it was not the Fountain of Youth, it was certainly magical, and now each generation there is a female (only a female) who can talk to ghosts."
I was enthralled. I knew I shouldn't believe in witches, but then again I wasn't supposed to talk to the dead either. The next year the letter informing me that I was a witch arrived. I was to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a school no one in my family has been to since the Fountain of Youth experience.
It was the night before I was to take the train to Hogwarts that it happened. It was late and I had been sleeping. Suddenly I felt someone shake me awake. It was Grandma. I'm not the best person to be around when I have just woken up, so I snapped at her. "What do you want Grandma? It better be important to have me woken up for this. I have a big day tomorrow."
"I know. That's why I made you this. It's for good luck." Grandma proudly held out her work. It was a chain with an image of a fairy on it. "The charm has been passed down to all the Ghost-seers in our family. Shortly before I died, I attached this to this chain for the next witch in the family. I was going to wait to give this to you, but I've decided that now was a better time." She fastened it around my neck.
"Thank you. Now go away so I can sleep." I snapped. I didn't stop to think of the power behind my words. The next morning I went up to the attic to big Grandma good-bye and to apologize for last night. She wasn't there.
"Grandma, where are you?" I called out. Maybe she was just pouting, though I doubted it. Grandma wasn't the pouting type. I called out her name over and over and over again until it was time to go, daring to hope that she was still there.
My name is Lily Nicole Evans, and it is my fault that Grandma is gone. Here, on the train to Hogwarts, I solemnly swear to never use my curse again.
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