A/N: Okay....this turned out to be an incredibly stupid fic, but the idea just HIT me and it wouldn't go away, so I had to write it.  And there is probably something in the books to contradict that this EVER could have happened, but hey, it's fanfiction.  I can warp histories if I wanna. ;)  Oh, by the way, this is told from the POV of Lily and Petunia's mother.  And I own nothing except the concept.  Unless someone else has come up with that already, too...


Sunrise is such a beautiful time, a time worth getting up early to see.  The birth of a new day, the awakening of life and warmth, the soft, rosy colors spreading across the sky and penetrating the darkness.  I've been paying more attention to sunrises lately, because in my condition, each one could be my last.

I'm not afraid of dying, not now when Death seems to be breathing down my neck. I don't think I really ever was to begin with.  Dying is just another part of living, in my eyes, and no one can escape death.  All anyone can do is live life to it's fullest in the short time we have. I always tried to live my life without any regrets, but I didn't quite succeed.  There are some things I said and did in my younger days that I'll be sorry for until the day I die.  Considering the fact that the day I die could be today, there is the bright side that I won't have to live with regret much longer.

I guess it all goes back to when I was a young girl, about ten years old, when I never recieved my Hogwarts letter. Everyone else in my family was magic, and I regretted being a Squib.  It took years for me to realize that my lack of magical abilities was no fault of my own; it just wasn't meant to be.  I think that's part of the reason why I hated my sister with such a vehemence, although my own shortcomings are certainly no excuse for my feud with her over all these years.  After we got into the habit of not speaking to each other, it seemed easier to just keep on being silent.

It pains me now to see my two daughters having a similar quarrel. It's a quarrel based on jealousy and resentment, yet it might be ended if Petunia decides to stop being so stubborn; Lily is a kindhearted woman, and I know she would forgive her sister without question.  As for me and my sister.....we're both stubborn as mules, and proud to boot.  I think it's too late for any reconciliation. I don't even know if she would forgive me.

Things wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't been so GOOD at everything magical.  We were both smart, but she was more than smart: she had talent, and lots of it.  Maybe a little too much, even, because she seemed too preoccupied with her studies to care much about making friends.  That has affected her adult life more than she likes to admit.  Although she's a successful person at first glance, I know her relationships have all suffered because of her ambition. that damned ambition that caused her to be so good at everything.......

My mind drifts back to the world in front of me as the sun slowly begins to climb higher in the sky.   "The sun's not really moving, Diana." I remind myself.   "The earth is turning around.  And it will go on turning even after you're gone."

The thought is almost depressing. What do I have left? I have two daughters who hate each other, two grandsons who probably won't ever meet, and a sister who probably doesn't know or care if I'm alive or dead. I do have regrets.  Even though I turned my way of thinking around and learned not to hate other people, it was too late to mend things with my own sister.  Even worse, I must have done something wrong with Lily and Petunia, because Petunia can't stand her little sister.  It pains me to know that most of that is my fault; Petunia wouldn't resent Lily so much if it hadn't been for all the attention we gave her.  I couldn't help it; I was so proud of my little girl for being everything that I hadn't been.  Passing on the magical bloodline was important to me, and I had accomplished that through Lily.

She wasn't the only one; there was a new generation now, her son Harry. I'm so glad I got to see him once before I die....he and Dudley too, of course, but I'm certain no drop of wizarding blood can be active in him.  He's not even a year old yet, but his parents have spoiled him so much that I know he's going to be ruined. I feel sorry for the little tyke....he may be given everything material he desires, but it will never make him happy.

I have high hopes for little Harry.  Something tells me he's going to be great someday.  He'll go to Hogwarts, I know it.  Maybe he'll be put in Ravenclaw...I always liked the sound of that house, and I know he'll be a smart boy.  

But I suppose my loyalties should really lie with Gryffindor.  Both of my parents were in that house, my daughter was......and so was my sister.  Now, she's even gone on to become the Head of Gryffindor....or so I've heard.  I still keep up with the Daily Prophet, although I guess it's a little silly since I'm not really even a wizard.  Still, it's nice to know what's going on in that world, the world that I've always felt so closely connected to.  The world my sister lives in.  

My sister.  I've spent half my life pretending that I didn't have a sister.  I'm as bigoted and selfish as Petunia has become, and it's my fault she's the way she is now.  My girls don't know they have an aunt.  At least Lily is acquainted with her, even if she doesn't realize they're related.  She used to come home during the holidays, telling us about all her classes and professors....it took everything I had to remain cheerful when she mentioned Professor McGonagall.  

Once, in her fifth year, Lily said to me, "I really feel a bit sorry for Professor McGonagall, Mum.  She's awfully strict, and even though she's kind to all of us.....I get the feeling she's lonely."  

I don't remember how I replied to that, or if I even said anything at all.  It doesn't matter much anymore.  The sun keeps getting higher and higher in this summer sky, and every minute seems to take away more of my strength.  I'll be dead before nightfall, I'm sure of it.  One last regret lingers in my heart, and I send up a silent prayer,

"Lord, let Minerva know I love her."


Well?  What did you think?  I may considering writing another part to this from Minerva's POV...I'm not sure.