My sister and I have always been different. To start off with, I'm magic, which is admittedly a little unusual. We are also complete opposites. She is way too organized, completely clean, completely perfect, and completely ordinary. I am extremely unorganized, my room is a disaster, and I am late for everything. I also strive to be unordinary in everything I do. For instance, when my mother told me and my sister Petunia we needed glasses, I got bright pink ones with fake jewels along the edges. My sister got boring square brown ones. I still wear those glasses, as I love them and have put numerous spells and charms on them to keep them in good condition. I, of course, don't wear them in the day; daytime is reserved solely for contacts.
Let's take another situation. If my sister Petunia were somehow going to a school where you learned magic that for some reason was called Hogwarts, she would have woken up to her perfectly clean bedroom, with a nice, neat trunk filled with nicely folded clothes and stacked books. I, on the other hand, woke up on the floor of our bathroom. No, I did not fall asleep on the toilet; I have a sleep-walking problem. Sad, I know, but I've been waking up in weird places ever since I had a dream that a boa constrictor, wearing my mother's pink and red bathrobe I might add, was chasing me. So, on the morning before my first day back at Hogwarts, I woke up on the bathroom floor with my sister glaring down at me.
"Is this a new tradition, then?" she asked in that perfect voice of hers that I hate. "Sleeping in the bathroom before you go back to that freak school?" She glared down at me as if everything from my messy red hair to my mismatched socks had personally tried to strangle her in her sleep. Before I could answer she stormed out of the room, muttering about needing a very large cup of coffee every time I was home. As you can see, my sister and I are great friends. I decided to take advantage of the situation and immediately headed into the shower and turned up the water extremely hot. I love long, hot showers. My psycho sister likes short cold showers. Insane, I know.
My peace was again interrupted by the Perfection herself yelling at me to get out of the shower. There was also something in her yells and rants about longer showers being unable to help anyway, as I would never be prettier than a slug. She is such a kind sister. We are obviously very close. I decided to stay in the shower even longer than usual just to make her angrier. Sure enough, as I walked out of the bathroom wrapped up in my bright orange towel, I distinctly heard her mumble "slug" as I walked by. I swear as soon as I turn seventeen I will turn her into a slug just to prove that I am prettier than one. That is a comforting thought.
I surveyed my wardrobe, wanting to look reasonably together on my first day back. One of my best friends, Clarissa, has made it her life goal to turn me into something moderately fashionable. So far she has been failing dismally, but I decided not to put her into an immediate state of depression by looking horrible on my first day back. I pulled on a cream colored lacy tank top, dark blue jeans, and a very pretty necklace with a big hot pink stone dangling from the end of it. I then surveyed my jackets, but none of them looked comfortable enough, so I was forced to put on my orange bathrobe, making a mental note to take it off before I left.
I sat across from my sister at the table to see her glare at me from her completely boring anti-orange-bathrobe outfit. Gosh she was boring. I got up again and shoved a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster and kept them there for a very, very long time.
"If you want, I could just set the toast on fire for you," Petunia stated in a falsely sweet voice. "It would probably get the job done faster."
This is one of the reasons why I hate my sister.
Staring out the window I took a deep breath and attempted to not turn her into something horrible and hairy. The rest of the magical world would not be very pleased if I turned my sister into an ape or something else equally revolting. In fact, not only would I be expelled, but they would probably consider imprisonment in fear that I would grow up to be some sort of insane Muggle torturer who enjoys turning people into things that they generally would not like to be.
Just as I had reached my responsible resolve of not saying anything, Petunia decided to tease me about something else.
"Of course since you don't have a boyfriend, have never had a boyfriend, and probably never will have a boyfriend, it doesn't really matter how you act anyway."
At this moment I took the toast that I had been so calmly buttering a moment before and flung it at her horrible, annoying, cruel, merciless head.
"I don't have a boyfriend because I don't want a boyfriend!"
"Of course Lily dear, it's good of you to think that way. That's the spirit, don't lose hope yet. I'm sure some crazy guy will come around who likes people who burn their toast, have horrible abnormal hair, think that the fashion is bright orange bathrobes, and enjoy writing abnormal, over-dramatic love stories!"
She had done it.
She had just made fun of my wonderful romances.
"Well, I'm glad you finally convinced a guy to go out with you! I mean, I know how long it took and I'm glad the hard effort finally paid off to get you a mean, uptight, fat, narrow-minded beast! I'm sure you two will be very happy together because you are so ALIKE!" After screaming that word at her face, I stomped up stairs, completely forgetting about my other piece of toast.
It was only after I had had a good ten minutes to sulk, scream, and throw objects at walls that I finally walked downstairs to sit calmly next to my mother. Grabbing my now very cold toast I piled it with butter and had just reached for the sugar when Petunia decided to let her views know. Again.
"Isn't it sweet how Lily still eats like she did when she was nine? Its just so cute how she still piles butter and sugar on," Petunia cooed nicely to my mother, who didn't look like she really knew how to respond to this comment.
"Well, at least I'm not boring. At least I don't eat only boring, tasteless oatmeal every morning just to prove I'm mature!" Yes, even her oatmeal is boring. Petunia has this strange defect of turning everything within a five-foot radius of her completely boring. Only with the most stubborn of Gryffindor minds have I managed not to fall under her dark spell. Petunia just smiled sweetly at me, as if I were a little kid, and she thought it was cute when I tried to fight with her. I just glared at her. I am not above glaring, Petunia can smile and be sarcastic and pretend to be nice all she wants, but I will just say what I think outright. The rest of breakfast was spent as a silent contest to see who could keep their front up better. Petunia with her fake smile and I with a glare that quite plainly told her she needed to die.
"Well, honey, we should probably get going." My mother said, attempting to break the silence. "It's just me who's going to be taking you today." I ran gratefully upstairs to grab my trunk and regretfully take off the orange bathrobe. Running quickly down the stairs I managed to trip (of course) and had just managed to get back up again when my family came into the entrance way to say goodbye. I hugged my dad, exchanged good-byes, put a smile on my face as my dad said the usual about how proud he was of me, with my sister glaring at the pair of us from behind. I turned to Petunia.
"Have a wonderful term!" She said sarcastically, still smiling that annoying superior smile of hers. She reached out her arms to give me a hug which did surprise me a bit; I hadn't hugged Petunia since I was eight. I exchanged the embrace only to feel something wet and slimy slide down my back. I shot backwards, reaching my hands under and trying to get whatever it was. I finally got it.
My own sister had shoved a slug down my back. I mean, it's not like I expected us to become best friends or anything, but it would've been kind of nice if she didn't shove bugs down my shirt on the first day of school. I smiled at her, grabbed the slug and shoved it down her shirt before skipping into the car and shoving my stuff in the back. My mother soon followed and started the car, muttering the whole time about how she had never fought with her sisters when she was younger.
"So, honey, who's the lucky guy?"
"WHAT?" I shrieked.
"Who's your boyfriend?"
Did everyone in my family have to badger me about this continually? There is more to life than boys.
"I don't have one," I muttered defiantly. Why did I have to have this conversation every single day?
"Come now, Lily, there must be someone. You can tell your dear mother."
I glared at her. Petunia might not be the only one that is turned into an ape.
"Mum, I don't have a boyfriend, and I don't want one." But that infuriating woman just smiled knowingly at me. Why was every member of my family so frustrating?
"Mum, I just can't find a guy that's right. I'm not gonna date a guy unless I really, really like him." Mother, of course, did not accept this answer. I swear, half the time it seems like her purpose in life is to marry Petunia and me off.
"But what about that one guy across the street? He's nice and–"
"Mom, no. He's nice, but he's not funny, or romantic, or–"
"Honey, it sounds like you're looking for Prince Charming, and I'm sorry but that's just not going to happen."
I thought family was supposed to be supporting, comforting, and accepting. Apparently, I was very wrong.
Finally after a very long drive with my mom suggesting every guy even close to my age, we arrived at the train station. I practically jumped out of the car, grabbed my trunk, kissed my mother good-bye and before she could even suggest whatever guy was next on her list, I was gone.
And as I was innocently walking towards platform 9 ¾ I did something extremely graceful and Lily-like: I tripped. But no, I couldn't just trip on the pavement and scrape my knee. No, of course not, I had to fall into a humongous puddle that was filled with mud, trash and other things I don't want to think about. I also fell face first and was completely covered. Sitting up, I just decided to sit there for a while. Don't ask why. But I felt that falling into a humongous puddle of disgusting mud on the first day back for my last year of school, was something that should be remembered forever and eternity. Besides, once I got up I would have to walk through the barrier and onto the platform where everyone could see/tease me, before I could finally magic the mud off.
So, that was the reason why I was sitting depressed-like in a puddle of stuff that I don't want to think about when I heard a voice behind me that I have hated since the very first day of school.
"Hey Evans! I knew you were weird, but deliberately sitting in mud, now that just beats all! Need a hand?" I turned around to see the very last person I wanted to see when I was stuck in a puddle of mud; James Potter. My arch enemy.
The year was off to a brilliant start.