Summary: Lily Evans has always considered herself ordinary. But as she enters her 7th-Year, things start changing and Lily starts going a bit mad. Suddenly she's Head Girl, her friends are acting strangely, and there's a new James Potter that she can't seem to get rid of. Based on the writing style of Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. This writing style belongs to Meg Cabot and all of the publishers and editors or the Princess Diaries series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes:Yes, I'm probably a bit mad for attempting this again—but I never claimed to be the sanest of sorts. was deleted off here...two years ago?...for unjust reasons and I never attempted to put it back up. Others— plagerizers— have, but not me. I've gone back and edited a few things in each chapter since that time, however, so even if you recognize the story from before, chances are there are still a few differences. Anyway, here it is. If it gets deleted again, I won't try to put it back up here. In that case, you can find it posted at The Unknowable Room (the link can be found in my profile). Until that time or circumstance, however, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for this chapter go to my orignial beta, Megan. Enjoy, everyone! )
"As the light changed from red to green to yellow and back to red again, I sat there thinking about life. Was it nothing more than a bunch of honking and yelling? Sometimes it seemed that way."
Friday, August 29th, the Evans's Household
In fact, they're all mad. Every single one of those so-called "professors" are ABSOLUTELY NUTS.
Who in their RIGHT MIND would make me of all people, HEAD GIRL?
I mean, I seriously have to be the most ordinary, boring, and disorganized female to ever grace this planet. And Head Girls, they're just not like that. Boring, disorganized and ordinary, I mean. And this isn't even one of those times where I can say they picked me because I'm special, seeing that I'm a witch, because NEWSFLASH! EVERYONE AT THAT BLOODY SCHOOL IS MAGICAL! PLENTY OF DESERVING 7TH-YEAR WITCHES TO CHOOSE FROM! (all of which whom, by the way, HAVE lives, unlike me)
That's right. I, Lily Christine Evans, am in desperate need of a life. Seriously. I even LOOK boring and ordinary. I mean, normally redheads such as myself stick out like sore-thumbs. All the other redheads I've ever known are either:
B. Extremely successful businesswomen, who SHOULD be supermodels.
But then of course, there's me. All alone in Group C— the completely boring redhead, whose hair has a mind of its own and should just do everyone a favour and dye it blonde like everyone else and fade into the crowds. Or else just place a large brown paper bag fully over her head until so-called "hair" turns gray.
However, hair isn't my only problem. Nope. I'm also stuck being a measly 5'7, which means I'm not short, and I'm not tall. I'm stuck right smack dab in the middle of that genetic mess. And even though my doctor insists that 5'7 is a perfectly decent height, she just doesn't get it. She doesn't understand that my 5'7 height just chalks another one up on the Ordinary Board of Life. So what if I'd be too skinny if I were any taller or possibly bordering on obesity if I were any shorter? At least then I'd have some sort of distinct characteristic. I'd be able to say 'Hey, I'm Lily, tall and far skinnier than what is considered healthy,' or 'Hi, I'm Lily, short and bordering on possible obesity.' Either of those would be better than what I'm forced to say now, which is pretty much just, 'Hi, I'm Lily, not anything special and/or unique. I'm just ordinary.'
See what I mean? It's complete and utter rubbish.
And, okay, forgetting the fact that my looks are less than perfect, those professors are still mad. Because you know what? Academically, I'm not that brilliant either. I mean, I absolutely cannot do Transfiguration. I'm serious. I'm about three points away from failing that stupid class. How can you pick a Head Girl who is practically failing a main class? It just doesn't make any sense. Even if it's honestly not my fault that I'm failing. Professor McGonagall is just too fast for me. Slow learners, such as myself, need slow teachers. McGonagall is just not a slow teacher. We can't all be super-smart Transfigurers like my good friend, Emma Vance, or James Potter, the transfiguring twit. That's just life. Some people are going to have it, and others aren't. McGonagall should try to understand this and not fail me when I can't do anything, because really, it's not my fault I don't have it. It's my parents' for not giving me the 'it' gene.
Oh, and let's not forget that I'm also a complete social outcast. I go around unleashing my completely uncontrollable temper onto all of Hogwarts biggest social butterflies, completely unaware of the consequences. This of course, does not go over well with these so-called "victims" and causes me to fall even lower on the social ladder (HA! As if I could get any lower!).
So now I ask you, after revealing only a few of my many faults:
WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WERE THEY THINKING?? HAVE THEY ALL COMPLETELY LOST THEIR MINDS? I CANNOT TAKE THIS PRESSURE!!!!
Please excuse me while I go drown myself in a puddle!
Saturday, August 30th, packing in the Evans's Household
THINGS TO DO:
1. Find missing Head Girl badge. See? I can't even keep my BADGE, let alone do my job. PRESSURE!!!!
2. Re-collect all of the clothes I borrowed from Grace and Emma. I'm sure they'll be wanting them back.
3. FORCE Winnie into her cage. Stupid owl.
4. Ask Mum about train station transportation. Please, please, please, not Petunia!
5. Keep searching for puddle.
Later, the Evans's Household
Every year. Every bloody year.
How can my mother possibly not comprehend the IMMENSE DISLIKE my sister and I share for one another? Does she not understand that the reason we do not SPEAK to one another on an every day basis, is not because we're too busy, but because it's difficult to be in the same ROOM together for extended periods of time?
My mum is completely mad. She must be. It's the only logical explanation. I mean, I haven't gotten along with my horse-faced felony of a sister since I got my Hogwarts letter seven years ago! You'd think my mother would've picked up on the mutual dislike going on, but she hasn't.
Bugger. This is just not fair. Petunia completely DETESTS driving me anyway! WHY is my life so rotten?
Mum obviously still thinks there is hope for us. Petunia and me, I mean. That's why she keeps throwing us together like this. I mean, we did get along when we were younger— before we found out I was a witch, that is. Then it all changed. Petunia was never one for change. Everything needed to be perfect and neat, for her; the complete picture of normalcy. I didn't mind so much her need for perfection when I was younger. After all, Petunia was my big sister— pretty and perfect in every way. Anything she did, I wanted to do. Anything she was, I wanted to be as well. Everywhere she went, you bet your buttons I was right there trailing behind her. She was, to put it lightly, my idol.
Boy, was I a stupid kid.
I remember when I got my Hogwarts letter, I thought it was completely brilliant. I thought that being a witch was the most extraordinary thing to ever happen to me. My sister, on the other hand, thought it was strange and abnormal. She basically thought I was some sort of freak (which I am, but that's not because I'm a witch). She talked to me a total of six times that summer, and all of her comments were short, curt, and absolutely necessary ("Don't touch that, Lily!" "Put that stick away! My mates will see it!" "Hide that owl and keep it quiet! What on earth will the neighbors think?"). The summer after my first year was worse. Instead of ignoring me like she had the previous summer, Petunia switched to a new tactic. Insults.
So from then on, I just gave up on repairing our relationship. I learned to ignore Petunia's stupid remarks and just went on with my life sisterless.
This is why I don't understand my Mum's line of thinking. I've accepted my sisterless life, why can't she?
I need therapy.
In fact, my whole family needs therapy.
Two more days! PRESSURE!
Note to Self: FIND BADGE!
Sunday, August 31st, the Evans's Household
One more day until I leave for Hogwarts. I'm excited, regardless of the fact that I am now a wrongly chosen Head Girl and I haven't practiced my Transfiguration as much as I promised McGonagall I would...
I am excited, though. Sort of. Kind of. It's just that... I mean, don't get me wrong, Hogwarts is brilliant— I wouldn't trade it for anything— but... even the juiciest apples have worms. And now with all this pressure and everything... I just don't know.
I really should stop complaining. No matter how many worms Hogwarts's apple has, it'll always have that star in the middle. It'll always have my mates.
Grace Reynolds, Emmeline Vance and I have been best mates since our first year of Hogwarts. That first September 1st, I was a little scared, to say the least. I remember wandering aimlessly around Kings Cross Station, looking for Platform 9 ¾, all the while praying that this whole magical dream world I'd somehow been accepted into was actually reality. This was one of the only situations I can ever remember where my parents were about as helpful as wooden logs. They walked along side me, scratching their heads and looking around, trying to help, but failing miserably. You see, I'm Muggle-born and had no idea what the wizarding world was like. I was jumping head first into a new world with nothing but my own smarts and minimal knowledge of the wizarding world to get me through.
I first met Grace when I was standing stupidly in front of the barrier (I was eleven years old! Eleven-year-old Muggles don't think about walking through walls!), nearly in tears as the panicking worry that I would somehow miss the train, or worse, come to realise that this whole thing was just someone's idea of a cruel joke.
"Are you going to Hogwarts, as well?"
I spun around, my heart crashing into my chest at the word 'Hogwarts' coming from someone else's mouth. I wasn't mad! It was real! I was so excited that I forgot to answer, as the small brunette in plaits who'd asked me the question inquired again, "Well, are you?"
I nodded immediately, a large, ridiculous grin spreading across my face. "Yes!" I breathed out quickly, relief spreading like wildfire through my veins.
The girl accepted this with a nod. "I'm Grace Reynolds." She held out her hand to me.
I pumped it excitedly. My first magical mate! "I'm Lily," I told her. "Lily Evans."
Grace smiled, her blue eyes shining. "Are you going on the platform?" she asked me. "My mum says it's a bit early, but we still have to load our trunks and such."
I went to nod, but then stopped myself as I once again remembered my fifteen-minute search of that very same platform. "Er, I was going to, but…" I looked around once more, seeing if the platform had suddenly popped up as a result of my new friend. "Where is it, exactly?"
Grace's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean 'where is it'? It's right there!"
She pointed to the wall.
I looked around it. I looked above it. I even looked to see if there was some secret staircase going below it. There was nothing. Just a wall.
I tried not to laugh as I turned back to Grace. "Er…what?"
Grace once again shot me a curious look, the confusion evident on her face until it finally hit her. "Oh!" she said, slapping herself in the forehead. "You're Muggle-born, aren't you?"
I stared blankly at her. "I'm what?"
Grace smiled. "Are your parents magical?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No," I answered. "Only me. No one else I know is—" I tried to keep the giddy smile off my face as I said, "—magical."
Grace nodded. "That explains it," she said. Then she grinned and threw her arm around my shoulder. "Well, looks like I have a lot to teach you, Lily Evans."
I nodded back, excited and nervous at the same time. If she was ready to teach me, I was ready to learn.
After my last good-bye's with my parents, Grace helped me through the barrier (after I finally realised that the wall was the barrier), filling me in on all the basic wizarding facts she could think of as we boarded the train. Grace is a pureblood, so as much as I didn't know, she did. It wasn't until we were on the Hogwarts Express, looking for a compartment that wasn't filled with intimidating fifth and sixth years that we met Emma.
"Can we join you? Mostly all the other compartments are full," Grace had asked Emma when we had reached Emma's compartment towards the back of the train. Being the little bookworm that she is, Emma didn't even bother raising her head from the large tome she was reading in her lap to answer us; she just nodded and continued on reading. Emma instantly caught my attention, though. You see, both my mates are on the rather pretty side. They're like a duo of perfect life-sized Barbie dolls— except, you know, not plastic. And perhaps not as large breasted, either. But still Barbie dolls. With personalities, I mean. Somewhat strange personalities, when you get down to it, actually.
Emma's mostly the quieter of the two and has the nicest dishwater blonde hair and the loveliest crystalline eyes. She's also the most studious of us all (at least, she is now that I've become the slacker that I am. I never used to be this bad. Honestly. I wasn't always the professional procrastinator that I am today. It just happened). Although, she also has this odd fascination with foreign and strange objects. She's always bringing them back from her holidays away, or buying them at that really dodgy store in Hogsmeade. Once when she went with her family to India, she got this emerald coloured shawl and insisted on wearing it all the time. Every day she'd find a new way to wear it. Grace and I thought it was quite odd, but we were used to Emma's strange fascinations by then. However, the day we woke up to find Emma with a new emerald coloured turban on her head was the day that Grace and I put a stop to that madness (though I know Emma still has it. The shawl, I mean. I saw it once when I was looking through her trunk). Emma's like, Valedictorian Barbie (includes a special emerald shawl! See how many ways she can wear it!).
And Grace? She'd probably be something along the lines of, Trouble-Making Teresa. The girl has far too much energy and an attention span the size of a pea. She's a complete madwoman when she doesn't have anything to do, which has gotten her— not to mention Emma and I— into a whole load of trouble more than once. Like this one time when she had nothing to do, she decided it would be fun to get some ice cream from the freezer in the Hogwarts kitchens... of course, it was only 'fun' at three in the morning. So one night, she dragged a protesting Emma and a half-sleeping me down at least 14 flights of stairs to the kitchens at three-thirty in the morning. This in itself would have been bad enough, but then we somehow managed to lock ourselves in the stupid bloody freezer, when Grace accidentally closed the self-locking door behind us as we entered. Five hours later, when a House Elf finally opened the freezer, we were all sent to the hospital wing.
And do you know what? As we were all lying there in the hospital wing, frozen from head to toe, Grace decided that we should do that again someday (which of course, will NOT happen, as I prefer to keep all my fingers and toes, and do not want to loose them because of frostbite). See what I mean? Mad! But Grace also somehow inherited the beauty genes. She's got long dark brown hair and permanently tanned skin. She's got a bit of a long nose, but that's just a distinct feature of hers, not anything to cry home about.
And me? Well, I'm the redheaded Barbie who was discontinued because no one liked her.
But that wasn't my point. Where was I… oh, right, the train. So anyway, Grace and I spent the first twenty minutes or so chatting about ourselves until Emma really had no choice but to join in. It's funny how three people who are so different can get along so well, but we somehow manage it. We have like two things in common, but that never seems to matter.
"My mum was in Ravenclaw, but I'd like to be in Gryffindor," Emma said when we were discussing the Sorting Ceremony that would take place later that night.
"My whole family had been in Gryffindor for ages." Grace shrugged. "I just hope I'm placed there, too." Then she turned to me. "What about you, Lily? What house do you want to be in?"
The question caught me off-guard. I really didn't understand the difference between all the houses. Grace's brief description had contained that all the bad kids were put in Slytherin, all the brave kids in Gryffindor, all the smart kids in Ravenclaw, and all the nice kids in Hufflepuff. I didn't think I belonged in any one of those specific categories, but I wanted to be with Grace and Emma, so I answered Gryffindor as well.
"Wouldn't it be the greatest if we were all in Gryffindor together?" Emma asked, smiling brightly.
"That'd be brilliant!" Grace agreed, nodding her head. "But with my luck, I'll probably be placed all by myself in Slytherin!" She made a disgusted face as she said the last word, which caused us all to giggle. Our laughter was cut short though, when our compartment door was violently thrown open and then thrown closed again in the same haste, revealing one of the many bad sides of Hogwarts.
James bloody Potter.
(Well, not only him. 3 out of 4 of the Marauders were also there. What kinds of people name themselves "marauders", anyway? I mean, I can't even remember a time when they weren't all labeled as "marauders". I know they cause trouble and all, but honestly, how stupid)
"Gracie!" cried a very amused and very dirty (I still to this day have no idea why), Sirius Black. Sirius is one of Grace's many cousins. That's another thing about the wizarding world— everyone is somehow related to everyone else. Seriously. Well, in all the pureblood families, anyway. Grace and Sirius are very distant and very removed cousins, but still cousins, nevertheless. Sirius is a rather popular one among us Hogwarts kids, as everyone thinks he's so wonderful and handsome. I can't very much object to these comments, seeing how he is very funny and he is rather fetching in that dark and mysterious sort of way, but I wouldn't ever consider him as dating-potential. I mean, he's way too immature. It'd be like fancying a six-year-old.
"Black!" Grace smiled, greeting her cousin. She looked over the three boys, who were all sporting very dirty robes. "What in Merlin's name were you three up to?"
"They insisted we visit Snape for a bit," said the second comrade, Remus Lupin, as he jerked a thumb in the direction of his mates. Remus is a bit different from the rest of the life-centered-around-pranking-and-being-prats Marauders. He's rather studious and actually cares about his schoolwork, as oppose to the other three who never seem to be studying and merely consider classes a time to sleep and plan pranks. I don't know him that well, even though we've been prefects together for the past three years, but it seems as if he's not as persistent in the trouble making and pranking area as the rest of the Marauders. He's not that bad looking either, though in a different way than Sirius is. Remus has light hair and brown eyes, and while he is a bit mysterious (what bloke isn't?), he's not exactly 'dark'. I don't think, anyway.
Grace snorted. "You lot are such prats."
"Come now, Gracie! We aren't that bad!" insisted the third and final comrade.
Merlin, I detest him.
James Potter has to be the most self-centered, pompous, arrogant male specimen to ever walk the planet. He has the largest head of anyone I know. Seriously. Plus, he's mean— well, okay, not to everyone, but he is to me. Everyone else seems to think he's perfectly fine, but that's only because they don't dread even passing the bloke in the corridor. Yeah, he's that annoying. Just because he's smart and he plays Quidditch everyone seems to think he's something brilliant, even though all he ever does is show-off. He thinks he's Merlin's gift to the world! It's pathetic. And so what if he just happened to hit the genetic intelligence jackpot? And he's not THAT good-looking. His hair is ALWAYS messy, his eyes are too hazel, and not everyone likes a Quidditch trained body…
All right, he is that good-looking, but the point is that he knows it. He's completely conceited.
"Who's Snape?" Emma had whispered to me as Grace continued chatting. I shrugged.
Grace went on talking for at least five minutes, completely unaware that Emma and I were still in the compartment. We, of course, still had no idea who these strange intruders were.
"Oh! I forgot!" Grace finally said, looking back at Emma and me for the first time. "Lily, Emma, this is Remus Lupin, James Potter, and my cousin, Sirius Black. Guys, this is Emma Vance and Lily Evans." We all shook hands and nodded our hello's.
And then started the legendary Evans-Potter Wars.
"You know," Potter said to me, "your hair looks like it's on fire."
He, as well as Remus and Sirius, seemed to find this comment rather witty and completely hilarious and they all began laughing quite loudly. I, on the other hand, was quite offended. I know my hair is completely horrible and I detest it greatly, but that DOES NOT mean I was going to let an arse like James Potter insult it.
"It does not!" I snapped angrily, pushing the offending locks behind my ear. "Besides, your hair looks like a dirty old mop! Ever try combing it?"
Which is completely true. About his hair, I mean. I've come to discover that either Potter's hair is just naturally messy, (proving someone actually has worse hair than me) or that he honestly just doesn't care (proving that I still hold the World's Worst Hair Award).
Unfortunately for me, my completely witty and ultimately offending comeback did not seem to bother the great James Potter. Instead, he just rustled his hair as he always does and went on laughing.
"They're really weird," Emma whispered as she watched the trio continue to laugh like a pack of hyenas.
"Boys," Grace sighed, by way of explanation.
Then, when I was certain things couldn't possibly get any worse, (I did, after all, have a group of my potential classmates laughing at me), they did.
She came in.
The real reason that Hogwarts can be a living hell.
Hogwarts's REAL life-sized Barbie waltzed her way into our compartment (which was actually quite full by then, by the way. A complete fire hazard, though I didn't notice at the time).
"James! Sirius!" she shrieked as she waved her perfectly manicured hand in greeting. "I was hoping I'd run into you! And is that Remus Lupin? I haven't seen you in ages!"
The only good thing that came out of this whole scenario was that the Marauders had finally stopped laughing.
"Elisabeth," I watched Potter choke out slowly. "Er... how've you been?"
You know, I think I might've actually felt a bit bad for Potter right about then... nah, never mind. Even stuck-up, snotty, unnaturally beautiful, Elisabeth Saunders couldn't make me feel bad for that stupid prat.
"Just fine," Elisabeth cooed, as she sat herself between the three boys, who all looked as if they'd just swallowed something horrid. "Mother took me to Paris this summer. I was so upset I couldn't make it to your summer party. I was so looking forward to seeing you."
"Really?" Grace asked, joining the conversation. "We really didn't miss your company. At all."
Elisabeth began to glare daggers. Grace was smiling triumphantly.
"Did I ask for your opinion, Reynolds?" Elisabeth snapped. Grace glared back at her. "I didn't think so."
And then, even though I had nothing to do with this little feud and I barely knew any of these people, my uncontrollable, self-activated temper got the better of me (told you it was horrid).
"Well, I don't believe we asked to be graced with your presence, either, but you see, that's just life."
The second the words burst forth out of my mouth, I wanted them back. Elisabeth's glare instantly turned from Grace onto me at my rude and completely out-of-the-blue insult. She looked shocked at first, but then her eyes opened wide as she looked over my apparel: Muggle clothes. She let out a very Elisabeth-like snort. I didn't know she was snorting at me. I didn't know anything was wrong. I was too busy trying to look intimidating. I tried to squint my eyes in a glare-like fashion, but I think I was just scrunching my nose. I watched as Elisabeth turned slowly back to Grace.
"Gracie, Gracie, Gracie…" She sighed, placing her hand on Grace's shoulder in a mockingly comforting way. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd start befriending Mudbloods. What ever will everyone think?"
I saw Emma's mouth fall open and I heard an angry grumbling noise erupt from Grace, and even the Marauders looked offended, but I just stood still, not doing anything. I had no idea what they were all gawking at. I didn't know what a Mudblood was. I didn't know Elisabeth had just insulted me in the worst way possible.
"Leave. Now," Grace ordered in a very cold voice
Elisabeth just smiled and daintily stood up out of her seat and proceeded towards the compartment door, and then, almost as an after though, she turned back to me.
"Watch yourself, Mudblood. You don't want to be getting on the bad side of certain people."
And then she left. I wish I would have kicked her, or pulled her perfect hair, or swore at her until my head hurt. Something. Anything. But, no, I still had no idea what she was talking about. I just "glared" at her until my nose began to hurt.
And that's it.
So here I am, seven years later, no better off than I was then. Elisabeth and I still completely despise each other and by some utter phenomenon, she— along with Emma, Grace, the Marauders and I— were all sorted into Gryffindor. You could only imagine what it's like in our dormitory. Not fun. I can tell you some crazy stories about—
Wait a second.
I just realized something…
I'm Head Girl.
Which means… Elisabeth isn't!
I KNEW THERE WAS AN UPSIDE TO THIS!!!!
I'm going to have good dreams tonight! YES!
Oh, and I found my badge. It somehow found itself on my robes for tomorrow. Now, who would put it there? Possibly someone responsible... and organized... and not so completely ordinary.
Monday, September 1st, In the Car on the Way to Kings Cross Station
My sister is stupid.
I mean, really, really stupid. It's almost funny how stupid she's being.
She seriously thinks that by wearing sunglasses, no one will recognize her.
This is completely ridiculous because I know you can recognize her. I know this because there are not many horse-faced, giraffe-necked, bony females living in Little Whinging. In fact, I don't think that there are many horse-face, giraffe-necked, bony females living in England. Or the world for that matter. See what I'm getting at? She's just stupid.
I really have to stop being so mean. I don't like when people are mean to me, so why should I be so mean to Petty? After all, what goes around comes around, and I have bad enough karma as it is already.
"So, how've you been, Petty?" I've just asked my sister, in an effort to be nice.
She snorts and does not respond.
Well, that attempt at conversation has just failed miserably.
You know what? Petunia just snorted. I don't think she's supposed to snort like that. Pigs snort. Petty is not a pig. She has a horse-face and a giraffe-neck, but she has no pig-like characteristics. Horses and giraffes don't snort. In fact, giraffes don't even have vocal cords. Horses make many odd noises, but they don't snort. That's why she shouldn't snort. I think it's against the rules of nature or something.
Drat, I'm being mean again. I really have to stop. I'm going to learn to be nice. Maybe I'll ask Emma for lessons. She's the nicest person I know.
Yeah, I think I will...
Later, Aboard the Hogwarts Express
Something is wrong.
Something is terribly, horribly wrong.
Either that, or something is GOING to be terribly, horribly wrong.
As I sit here, watching Emma read and Grace sleep, I'm worried. I'm worried because if what I think just happened, actually happened, one out of these two things is correct:
A. I'm going to be pranked very badly by the Marauders sometime in the very near future.
B. I just had a decent, FLIRTING, conversation with James Potter.
Yeah, I was thinking A, too.
Let me explain, because I need to get this out, and I'm afraid of what Emma and Grace might say/do if I told them. Here's what happened...
I arrived at Kings Cross a lot earlier then I had expected. It seemed Petty was most anxious to get rid of me, as she drove away with my trunk still in the car. This, of course, was not a pretty sight, as I then had to chase her down the parking lot until she finally stopped at a stop sign 100 kilometers away from the train station entrance. Luckily, there was an abandoned trolley back there, so I dumped my trunk onto it and walked the 100 kilometers back (okay, it was more like 100 meters, but it seemed farther). By the time I got to the entrance, it was still only 9:55. So I wandered around a bit.
I never realized how big King Cross Station actually is. I mean, obviously it's a train station and all, so it's going to be big, but I never really appreciated just how big. Next to Platform 15, there was even a small band playing. They were actually pretty good for a bunch of old musicians playing on a train station platform, so I threw them some change.
When I got to Platforms 9 and 10, it was around 10:15. I figured it was better to be early than late, so I crossed through the barrier. It was actually quite easy. Last year, this man wouldn't stop looking at Emma, so her dad had to distract him while we jumped through the barrier. It wasn't fun. Kind of funny looking back on it now, but not fun.
The platform wasn't as full as it usually is, but it had a decent amount of people. There were a few students talking on the platform with their parents, but none I recognized. I assumed most of them were in their first year, as they weren't wearing any trace of house colours. I took another quick look around before heading to the train's main doors to lift up my trunk and board the train.
That's when it happened.
There were none of the usual trunk-lifter-blokes by the front of the train like there'd always been before. I'd never actually put my truck on the train before, as those helpful blokes were always there to do it for me, but I was pretty sure it couldn't be too hard. After all, women are getting stronger all the time. I saw this women's muscle contest on the telly over the summer, and they could lift cars, why couldn't I lift a trunk? I totally could. I'm a strong, buff, young chit. I could do it.
Yeah. Sure. Right.
Why am I such an idiot, sometimes?
I was lifting my trunk onto the train, when it suddenly decided to feel very heavy… extremely heavy. And I don't mean like no-Mum-I-can't-carry-the-laundry-up-to-my-room-because-it's-too-heavy heavy. It was more like twice-my-body-weight heavy. Now that I think about it, I was being pretty stupid. Like Petunia stupid. I should have just waited for one of those strong blokes to come and lift it for me. The fact that I have absolutely no muscles seemed to slip my mind at that particular essential moment. I was too busy thinking about all those muscled women who could lift trunks like this with one finger to even consider the fact that I was not one of them. So I stood there stupidly, my trunk lifted in mid-air and me about to drop it. I was waiting for my arms to just give out and for my trunk to fall and split open, revealing anything and everything a girl would hide in her trunk... but it didn't.
In fact, my trunk was lifted clear out of my withering hands and onto the train before I even had a chance to realise that it was gone. At first, I had no idea what had happened. I thought that maybe, out of sheer desperation to keep my unmentionables from falling out of my trunk and onto the platform for all to see, my adrenaline had kicked in and I'd boosted up the strength to lift it. Then I noticed that someone was standing next to me, and the pieces all clicked together.
"Thanks," I said, turning around to face the stranger, who had at that point become my knight-in-shining-armor.
Except it wasn't a stranger who was standing behind me.
And it sure as hell wasn't my knight, either.
It was James Potter.
"You're welcome," he replied, in a very non James-Potter-speaking-to-Lily-Evans voice. This nice and friendly tone he was using was not one I've ever heard before, seeing how we've never actually been nice to each other. I looked over him skeptically, waiting for him to blurt out some rude comment about how I can't lift things and I was such a stupid weakling... but that didn't come either. He just stood there, smiling down on me— and I mean down because, unlike me, he didn't get cursed with a height such as 5'7, but with a nice, tall, manly height, like 6'2. But his height wasn't what was bothering me. What was bothering me was his smile. It wasn't one of those, I'm-better-than-you-and-can-lift-heavy-trunks smiles that I would have expected from James Potter at a time like this. It was more like an I'm-a-nice-guy-and-you-really-want-to-like-me smile that I never would have expected. I was too absorbed in contemplating his smile and actions to even notice that I really should have responded to his "you're welcome". I just stood there, staring and being completely rude. Naturally, he didn't seem to notice. That, or he just didn't care.
"You're Head Girl?" he asked, breaking my ridiculous train of thoughts and making me snap back into reality. He pointed to the badge that was fastened on my robes.
"Er— yeah. Yeah, I am." I looked down at the pretty, shiny badge that was now completely mocking me. "Actually," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them, "I'm sort of waiting for someone to come and take it away from me. You know, they'd tell me it was all a mistake and give it to someone like Elisabeth Saunders or something."
Why did I tell him that? WHY? Was there any need whatsoever? What a traitor mouth I have.
"Why would they do that?" he asked, his tone making it seem as if he was actually concerned. It threw me completely off-guard. I have no idea why he was being so nice to me— well, not nice exactly, that part hasn't come yet, but certainly not how he usually is. He hadn't insulted me yet, which was a big record in my book.
"Because I'm completely unorganized and ordinary," I replied, the words once again coming out on their own accord. "Not to mention I'm not smart at all. So why give it to me when you can have a perfect little social butterfly like Elisabeth?" Which was all very true, but I hadn't intended on telling anyone that. Why I was suddenly spilling my guts out to James Potter, I have no idea. I blame it fully on my traitor-of-a-mouth.
Then he laughed.
But once again it wasn't a mean laugh or a conceited laugh, like the ones I was use to hearing. It was a friendly and very nice sounding laugh (which I really shouldn't be saying because I don't even like James Potter, so his laugh shouldn't be sounding nice).
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, still laughing that same laugh. "They'd have to be mad to pick Elisabeth over you."
My mouth nearly hit the floor.
I've never ever heard James Potter say something nice like that. At least, not seriously, anyway, which was how he said it then. I was expecting some sort of "Ha! You're right! LOSER!" but no, he had to go all nice on me, which only led to more mind-blowing headaches on my part.
Then an idea hit me.
It had to be a prank.
Somewhere around there, the rest of the Marauders were hiding and waiting to dump something on my head, or push me onto the tracks, or something equally as devious. That was the only logical explanation I could come up with. So I did what any other person in my position would start to do; I began looking and searching around us, scanning our surroundings for any trace of the Marauders, or maybe a bucket of some sort, or a rope, or any other suspicious looking object.
Though it made perfect sense to me, Potter was obviously a little lost as to what I was doing.
"Er, Lily? What are you doing?"
I instantly stopped my Marauders/bucket/rope search, my body frozen in place. My head began to spin.
He had called me Lily.
He NEVER calls me Lily. I've always been Evans. Never Lily.
That's when my traitorous mouth switched onto suspicious mode and really let the stupid bloke have it.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes as a small smile remained on Potter's face. "Is this some sort of prank or something? Am I going to be hit or possibly thrown somewhere—" My mindless interrogation was cut short when Potter started laughing again.
"I'm not allowed to be nice to you?" he asked, an odd expression on his face. "I'm nice, and instantly you think it's a prank? Is that honestly how you think of me?" Through his laugh, he looked almost hurt, but that didn't fool me. I just wish my Benedict Arnold mouth had felt the same way.
"Is that a rhetorical question?" I heard myself say. Though, low and behold, my disloyal mouth had ruined my speech yet again, because instead of sounding completely serious like I had intended the comment to sound, it came out all flirty-like, which was most definitely NOT what I was going for. I wish I would've explained to Potter about my traitor-of-a-mouth because he seemed pretty shocked to hear that sort tone from me.
Then again, so was I.
"You want me to be mean to you?" he then asked in a half-flirty, but more serious than me kind of way. I wonder if Potter has a rebellious mouth as well. If so, that half/quarter-flirty comment had to be unintentional. Because it certainly wasn't intentional. That's just not possible.
"Well..." I sighed, searching for an answer to his question. DID I want him to be mean to me? I don't think I do... but... a nice Potter? That'd be just odd. I mean super-odd. So I told him that.
The stupid bastard just flashed his stupid I'm-a-nice-guy-smile, which is now on my list of things to hate (along with his laugh) and looked at me thoughtfully.
"Odd?" he questioned, rubbing his chin and pretending to ponder my response. Then my stupid mouth just HAD to go and smile this goofy little grin. Of course, I wasn't SUPPOSED to smile, considering the old, not-controlled-by-her-mouth Lily would NEVER have smiled at ANYTHING James Potter said or did. Even if he did look completely ridiculous rubbing his chin like that. "Yeah, I'd imagine so," he said smiling (the one I hate) back at my smile (which I remind you, was NOT there on my own free will).
"Yes," I nodded, still trying to wipe that stupid, self-activated smile, off my face. "Very weird."
Then there was silence. To anyone watching, I'm sure this whole scenario must have looked quite odd. You'd never think you'd see Lily Evans and James Potter standing in front of the Hogwarts Express, smiling like idiots at each other (although I'm pretty sure both smiles were unintentional), having what seemed to be a normal conversation. I'd be a bit scared, actually.
"So," he said, breaking me away from my internal war (my head vs. my mouth). "You wouldn't happen to know who the Head Boy is, would you?"
This had not been the first time I'd been asked that particular question. I'm sure that any other organized, popular, non-ordinary Head Girl would've known exactly whom she was working along side with, but naturally, since I don't have ANY of these said qualities, I had no clue. Secretly I was praying it'd be Amos Diggory, a Hufflepuff who I've had a crush on forever. He was one of the top choices, the last I'd heard, so maybe Dumbledore decided to give me a break and picked him.
"Of course not," I answered with a shrug. "Only a responsible and rightly chosen Head Girl would know such facts, and seeing how I am soon going to be impeached from my position, they didn't bother to tell me." This was the explanation I'd given my mother, as well as myself, when this question was asked, so I didn't see why I shouldn't be telling James Potter this, as I had already stupidly told him about my insecurities about the position.
"Didn't we go through this already?" he teased, shaking his head. Then he had to go and put his hands on my shoulders, trying to become all firm and such by the gesture, which was not only completely unexpected, but it also sent one of those unwanted shivers down my spine. "You're NOT going to be impeached, all right? They couldn't pick anyone more perfect for the job. Got that?"
I wish someone had warned me that all of this would be happening in advance. That way, I could've mentally prepared myself for all this niceness and flirtiness and would not have been so completely tongue-tied like I got at that moment. I probably looked like such an idiot, standing there nodding as James Potter held my shoulders. Of course, I probably wouldn't have thought of anything to say anyway, even if I did have an advanced warning.
"Good," he said, finally releasing his hold on me. I hadn't realised I'd been holding my breath, but apparently I had been, considering the long exhale that escaped from my mouth after he'd released me.
"You wouldn't happen to know who it is, would you?" I asked, once I had regained my lost composure. James just shrugged, obviously disliking the topic. It was then I remembered that, even through all his troublemaking faults, James had also been one of the main candidates for Head Boy, and I instantly felt horrid for bringing it up.
"I do know one thing though," he'd said rather quietly. "Whoever he is, he sure is one lucky bloke,"
"Why's that?" I asked stupidly. It was obvious James had wanted to be Head Boy and was mourning the loss of the position.
At least, I thought he was.
"Well," he answered very softly, taking a step closer to me. "He gets to work with you, doesn't he?"
THAT was when I lost it. I mean totally and COMPLETELY lost it. Boys like James, they just don't say things like that to girls like me. Maybe girls like Elisabeth Saunders, or the Grace Kelly look-a-likes, but NEVER girls like me. It goes against just about every social status rule in the book. And let's not forget that before this whole conversation, Potter and I completely DETESTED each other.
So then the whole pranking idea resurfaced again, because I was pretty positive that what he'd just said went against all the forces of nature.
It was a bloody miracle that the rest of the Marauders chose that particular moment to come and collect James, because I was pretty sure that, even through my pranking suspicions, my traitor-of-a-mouth was about to go and say something I'd fully regret like "I wish it was you," or something equally as inappropriate.
"PRONGS!" was the yell abstracted from Sirius as he, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew— the fourth and final Marauder— made their way over to where Potter and I were standing. James instantly backed away from me, for which I was most grateful. I watched as Sirius catapulted himself over to us, instantly putting James into a full headlock.
"I think he's glad to see you, Prongs," Remus laughed, as Sirius began mercilessly messing with James's hair, causing his victim to pull at Sirius's tightly locked arms. James made a loud sound of protest in response to Remus's comment. I couldn't help but giggle a bit, which ultimately led to Sirius realising I was also standing there. Of course, he then launched fully off of James and onto me. Just my luck.
"EVANS!" he cried, pulling me into a huge bear hug. "Boy is it great to see you! 'Reckon I haven't seen you all summer!" A slight agreeing noise escaped from my throat, as I watched the other Marauders over Sirius's shoulder. Remus and Peter were openly laughing at my tight predicament and James seemed to be readjusting his glasses from his own attack. He had an odd look on, though, almost one of slight disappointment. I wouldn't have been disappointed if I was him. I was very much looking forward to seeing MY mates. Why wasn't he?
Thinking about my mates made me realise that I was supposed to be meeting them in our traditional compartment a long time ago. Plus, I needed an excuse to get myself out of there.
"Have you seen your cousin?" I asked Sirius, once he decided to release me from his death-hold.
"Gracie?" he asked, rubbing his chin like James had been just moments before (of course, my perfidious mouth didn't smile when SIRIUS was doing it. Damned stupid mouth). I nodded. I realise now I really shouldn't have said 'cousin', considering half the school is somehow related to Sirius, but I would really only be looking for Grace, so I guess it was acceptable. "She got on the train a few minutes ago," Sirius told me a few seconds later. "I think she was looking for you, though."
"Thanks! Er, bye, then." Then I rushed as quickly as I could away from the Marauders. I jumped onboard and walked quickly down the corridor to the back of the train. Our compartment was the sixth from the back. It was the one we'd always sat in since first-year, and we'd always meet there at the beginning of term.
"Lily!" cried Grace as I slide open the door to our compartment. I instantly smiled at the familiar sight of my friends. Emma was, as usual, seated on the middle seat, reading a large book, and it looked as if Grace had already set up her regular bedroll on the right-side seat. I pulled Grace into a hug and Emma instantly got up to receive one as well. It was an instant relief to see at least they hadn't changed. I've had quite enough of that for one day.
"Where have you been?" Emma asked as I sat down in my traditional seat next to her.
I really didn't want to tell them what had distracted me, because I was afraid of what they might say, or that they'd point out the obvious (which was not what I wanted to hear). So, instead, I lied.
"Traffic," I stated hesitantly. "I got stalled on the way here."
I was relieved when they didn't press the topic any further.
We sat down and chattered about what we'd done over the summer. Emma had gone to Rome with her mum the whole month of July. She snagged an old stone off one of the building there and had tied it on a string so that she could wear it as a necklace. Both Grace and I "ahhh"ed at the odd piece of jewelry, though I personally thought it was a rather ugly rock and belonged in the rubbish bin rather than around Emma's neck. Grace had been busy all summer traveling around to all her family parties. She said it was completely boring because Sirius wasn't at any of them, on account of him living with the Potter's now (because of some family splat, I think) so she had no one to talk to (what she really meant was, she had no one to cause trouble with). I, of course, sat home all summer, doing absolutely nothing except eating and watching the telly. They were both extremely happy about my Head Girl position (I had written them about it the second I'd gotten my badge in the mail) and insisted once again that I wasn't going to be impeached and was rightly chosen for the job.
Psh. What liars.
So, here I am.
That feels so much better.
Maybe I will tell Grace and Emma.
Later, 7th Year Girl Dormitories
HE LIED TO ME!
THAT SLIMY LITTLE BASTARD LIED TO ME!
I CAN'T BELIEVE HIM!
I was sitting happily at the Gryffindor table, chatting away with Grace, Emma, and a few of the new first-years, when Dumbledore stood up to make his yearly Welcome Speech.
"Greetings, Hogwarts students!" he called, smiling as he glanced around the Great Hall. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have but a few announcements to make before you can all begin your feast. Firstly, let it be known to everyone of all years, that the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden." I'm pretty sure he was looking directly at the Marauders when he said that, for it is common knowledge that they've been there on more than a few occasions. Why on earth they'd want to go into a creepy, monster-filled place such as the Forbidden Forest, though, I'll never know.
"Secondly," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling in the glow of the candle lit Great Hall. "Mr. Filch has asked me to remind all students that all products bought in Zonko's Joke Shop are not to be used inside of the castle. A list of other restricted items can be found next to Mr. Filch's office in the fourth floor corridor. Thirdly, I'd like to inform all Hogwarts students, third-year and older, that the first Hogsmeade trip is scheduled for October the eighteenth. And lastly," he said looking around the Great Hall, catching my eye for but a moment. "I'd like to announce this year's Head Students, as Miss Lily Evans of Gryffindor," I slowly stood up (it was actually more like Grace forcing me up, but I was up nevertheless) from my seat, as everyone lightly applauded. "And our Head Boy," Dumbledore continued, as I took my seat once again, silently praying that he would call Amos's name, "is Mr. James Potter, also from Gryffindor."
It was him.
He was Head Boy!
It took all the will in my entire body not to jump up again and start strangling Potter. Instead, I just sat there, my mouth hanging open, staring at the bloody idiot. And you know what? He didn't even care that he'd lied. You know how I know he didn't care? Because he was looking back at me too. And you know what he did?
Now why on EARTH would anyone SMILE when they knew they had LIED and gotten a poor girl's hopes up? WHY WOULD HE DO THAT? I THOUGHT HE WAS SWITCHING TO NICE MODE? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?!?
And I'd felt BAD for him, too! Him and his stupid 'let's-not-talk-about-this' tone. One thing's for sure, I'm NEVER feeling bad for James Potter again! In fact, I'm never going to TALK to James Potter again! Ever! In my entire, pathetic, excuse-of-a-life!
And the evening just kept on getting worse, too. Not only was I completely miserable all during the Welcoming Feast, (as I was greatly looking forward to working with Amos Diggory, who I'm certain would never lie to me, seeing that he's perfect in everyway) but I also had to sit there listening to Grace and Emma trying to comfort me. They just didn't get it, though.
And that's not even the WORST of it! For after I led all those chatty first-years to the Gryffindor Common Room (keeping as much space between Potter and myself as humanly possible), I was most content to just go up into my four-poster bed and sleep off my horrible evening, but Merlin knows that could never happen. EVERYTHING has to go wrong for Lily.
ELISABETH SAUNDERS JUST HAD TO INTRUDE ON MY SLEEPING TIME!!
"So," came the venomous drawl as I entered our dormitory. I looked up, not at all in the mood for a confrontation, but knowing it was going to occur regardless. Elisabeth was sitting on her bed, looking as perfect as ever, with her loyal sidekick, Carrie Lloyd, (who also happened to be a 7th-year Gryffindor) seated next to her. "You're Head Girl."
I bit my lip to keep from responding. I didn't want to deal with her. I didn't want to let her get a rise out of me.
She shook her head ruefully at my silence. "I could honestly say it came as a complete shock, Evans." A small, smug smile played at her lips. "After all, who would pick a girl like you for a position like that?" She then turned her head away from me and towards Carrie. "My father always said Dumbledore was completely off his rocker." She turned back to me, with her stupid menacing smile. "I guess this just goes to show he was right."
I hadn't moved out of the doorway throughout the entire short conversation, and just stood there with my mouth hanging wide open, unable to respond. After all, she was right. I SHOULDN'T be Head Girl. I've ALWAYS known I was wrong for the position.
Maybe it was the whole rotten day that had gotten me so emotional, or perhaps it was the fact that it had been Elisabeth who had pointed out the obvious facts, but whatever it was, I did about the stupidest thing a girl in my position could've done.
I started to cry.
It was such a stupid thing to do, I know, but I honestly couldn't help it. It'd been such a horrid day. And it was just so unfair because I'm usually not the sort of girl who would just burst out in tears at any given thing either. I'm usually quite good at keeping the waterworks to a bare minimal. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd cried. But nevertheless, there I was, standing in the doorway, the tears threatening to pour out as I held them back with all my might.
"Oh, did I hit a soft spot, there, Evans?" Elisabeth mocked as she and Carrie made their way towards me. I didn't move an inch, but that seemed to give Elisabeth even more satisfaction as she and Carrie pushed past me and made their way, laughing, down to the Common Room.
So that's me. The big, old, crybaby Head Girl. WHY did I get picked for this job? It only made this whole year a thousand times worse.
Merlin, do I have a horrid life.