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 wake up on the bathroom floor with my sister glaring down at me.

"Is this a new tradition, then?" she asks in that perfect voice of hers that I hate.


"Sleeping in the bathroom before you go back to that freak school?" She glares down at me as if everything from my messy red hair to my mismatched socks has personally tried to strangle her in her sleep. Before I could answer she storms out of the room, muttering about needing a very large cup of coffee every time I’m home. As you can see, my sister and I are great friends. I decide to take advantage of the situation and immediately head 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 is again interrupted by the Perfection herself yelling at me to get out of the shower. There is also something in her yells and rants about longer showers being unable to help anyway, as I will never be prettier than a slug. She is such a kind sister. We are obviously very close. I decide to stay in the shower even longer than usual just to make her angrier. Sure enough, as I walk out of the bathroom wrapped up in my bright orange towel, I distinctly hear her mumble "slug" as I walk 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 decide not to put her into an immediate state of depression by looking horrible on my first day back. I pull 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 survey my jackets, but none of them look comfortable enough, so I’m forced to put on my orange bathrobe, making a mental note to take it off before I leave.


I sit across from my sister at the table to see her glare at me from her completely boring anti-orange-bathrobe outfit. Gosh she’s boring. I get up again and shove a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster and keep them there for a very, very long time.


"If you want, I could just set the toast on fire for you," Petunia states 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 take a deep breath and attempt 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 decides 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 take the toast that I had been so calmly buttering a moment before and fling 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 has done it.


She has 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 a good ten minutes to sulk, scream, and throw objects at walls that I finally walk downstairs to sit calmly next to my mother. Grabbing my now very cold toast I piled it with butter and reach for the sugar when Petunia decides to let her views known. Again.


"Isn't it sweet how Lily still eats like she did when she was nine? It’s just so cute how she still piles butter and sugar on," Petunia cooed nicely to my mother, who doesn’t look like she really knows 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 smiles sweetly at me; as if I was a little kid, and she thinks it’s cute when I try to fight with her. I just glare 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 is spent as a silent contest to see who can keep their front up better. Petunia with her fake smile and I with a glare that quite plainly tells her she needs to die. Perhaps that can be arranged.


"Well, honey, we should probably get going." My mother says, attempting to break the silence. "It's just me who's going to be taking you today." I run gratefully upstairs to grab my trunk and regretfully take off the orange bathrobe. Running quickly down the stairs I manage to trip (of course) and have just managed to get back up again when my family comes into the entrance way to say goodbye. I hug my dad, exchange good-byes, put a smile on my face as my dad says the usual about how proud he is of me, with my sister glaring at the pair of us from behind. I turn to Petunia.


"Have a wonderful term!" She says sarcastically, still smiling that annoying superior smile of hers. She reaches out her arms to give me a hug which surprises me a bit; I haven’t hugged Petunia since I was eight. I exchange the embrace only to feel something wet and slimy slide down my back. I shoot backwards, reaching my hands under and trying to get whatever it is. I finally get it.


A slug.


My own sister has 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 smile at her, grab the slug and shoved it down her shirt before skipping into the car and shoving my stuff in the back. My mother soon follows and starts the car, muttering the whole time about how she never fought with her sisters when she was younger.


"So, honey, who's the lucky guy?"


"WHAT?" I shriek..


"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 mutter defiantly. Why do I have to have this conversation every single day?


"Come now, Lily, there must be someone. You can tell your dear mother."


I glare 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 smiles knowingly at me. Why is 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, does 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 arrive at the train station. I practically jump out of the car, grab my trunk, kiss my mother good-bye and before she could even suggest whatever guy was next on her list, I’m gone.


And as I’m innocently walking towards platform 9 ¾ I do something extremely graceful and Lily-like: I trip. But no, I couldn’t just trip on the pavement and scrape my knee. No, of course not, I have to fall into a humongous puddle that is filled with mud, trash and other things I don’t want to think about. I also fall face first and am completely covered. Sitting up, I decide to sit there for a while. Don’t ask why. But I feel 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 get up I will have to walk through the barrier and onto the platform where everyone can see me, before I can finally magic the mud off.


So, that is the reason why I’m sitting depressed-like in a puddle of stuff that I don’t want to think about when I hear 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 turn around to see the very last person I want to see when I’m stuck in a puddle of mud; James Potter. My arch enemy.


The year is off to a brilliant start.

The traumatic events of this morning have forced me to procrastinate on telling you about my passionate hatred of a certain person that normal people like to refer to as James Potter. I, however, am not a normal person and therefore do not call him by the name that his unfortunate parents decided to give him. To me, he is known as King of the Gorilla People. The Gorilla People are his band of followers, more commonly known to normal people as the Marauders. I think that this is a terrible name for them, which is why I dubbed them in second year the Gorilla People.




Some people at my school, girls in particular, would argue with me over James being the King. They would say that Sirius Black is the King because he is, in their words, the best thing that ever happened to them. I say that they are pathetic if they think a boy is the best thing in their lives. Do not get me wrong, I didn't name James as the King in order to compliment him. I named him the King because I hate him even more than Arithmancy, which is saying something because Arithmancy involves math, and I would rather eat the canned pig's eyes that have been sitting on my grandmother's counter for fifty years than do math.




You might have also wondered over my choice of names. I chose to call them Gorilla People because that is what they act like half the time. They run around tackling each other, showing off and acting like immature, spoiled, self-centered brats, which is exactly what they are.




I don’t know what the King of the Gorilla People thinks he is doing when he decides to lift me out of the mud and drag me and my trunk through the barrier. I do have a sense of pride. I am not at all happy about the person I hate even more than Arithmancy not only seeing me sitting nonchalantly in a puddle of mud, but helping me out of it. It is also not very comforting to see he has a very big and gorilla-like grin on his horrible gorilla-like face.




The rest of the female population might think he's handsome, tall, muscular and altogether their dream guy, but I still insist that he looks like a gorilla. After he half drags me through that terrifying brick wall—I've always been afraid of it because there is still that part of me that was raised by Muggles that insists that the brick wall that I'm trying to run through will remain a solid brick wall and have no magical properties except giving me a very, very, big bruise—he stands me up straight and zaps the mud off me himself.




"Well, Evans, you should be glad I'm here. Who knows, the terrifying pile of mud might still be holding you captive if it weren't for me and my supernatural strength." This is why Potter is an immature gorilla. He assumes that he rescued me from violent, man-eating mud.




It is at this point that I realize something horrible and traumatizing; it is my seventh year, I have just gone through the gateway for the last time ever. And I have done it being dragged by the King of the Gorillas. But does Potter notice that I am suddenly even more furious? No, of course not, he is still talking. Does he ever shut-up?




"You know Evans, usually the Night in Shining Armor, which would be me, gets to carry home the Damsel in Distress, which would be you, after he rescues her. So, you owe me a date," he says in a deep voice that he obviously thinks is romantic and 100% guaranteed to get a date. I can tell that he has practiced this voice over the summer, the last time he tried to ask me out with his supposedly romantic voice, I had told him that he sounded like a rat with a head cold. This isn’t much better.




"I think that, by asking me out, you are assuming that I wanted to be rescued and was overjoyed with you dragging me quite irreverently through the barrier? Because I did NOT enjoy it, James Potter! You just ruined the last time I will ever be able to go through that archway!" The King of the Gorilla People looks quite shocked by this comment, as if he had been certain that that his new romantic voice would work.




"And now I'm going to have to do it all over again!" I scream at him. I seem to be screaming a lot this morning. With that comment, I grab my trunk from his hands and march back through the gateway, wondering vaguely if a Hogwarts student has ever before walked back into the Muggle world just for the sake of going through a brick wall.




Upon getting back, I decide that I need to do the entire process again. Do not ask why I felt the need to go back in the puddle of mud and other-things-I-did-not-want-to-think-about, but something about having Potter be the one to rescue me makes me want to do it all over again, just so I could be the one to take the mud off.




Potter follows me through the archway and that's why he is staring opened mouthed with the rest of the people at the train station as I fling myself deliberately into the puddle. I turn around to face Potter as he stares at me completely confused that not only did his romantic voice fail to get him a date, but it has somehow turned me insane enough to jump in a mud puddle in front of about 200 on looking Muggles. As I stare defiantly at him, I decide to show him that not only am I unafraid of mud, but I am more than willing it let it touch me. I grabbed a big handful, raise it to my head and rub it through my hair.




Potter gapes at me. I can just imagine what was going through his gorilla shaped head: "Lily has been cursed by You-Know-Who and now she is completely insane. Why else would she put mud in her hair?" Or simply: "What the heck happened to Lily over the summer?" Neither one of these thoughts manage to improve my mood at all. I stand up, glare at him, and drag my trunk through the barrier with what I think is an intelligent and all-knowing look on my face.




I’m rather proud of myself, really. Not only have I refused to date the King of the Gorillas, but I had shown him that I would rather humiliate myself and put mud all over my carefully chosen outfit than be anywhere near him.




Just as this happy thought passes through my head, Clarissa comes up to me squealing excitedly—what is it with us girls and squealing?—when she notices that I am covered in mud.




"Lily, what happened to you?"




I glare at her. Maybe it is rather mean of me to glare at my best friend, but I am rather mad that she does not recognize the mud for what it is; a triumph, NOT a mistake.




"Potter." I mumble at her grudgingly.




"Potter pushed you in the mud?" she asks skeptically, knowing exactly how much the King of the Gorilla people likes me, and how unlikely it is that he would push his Dearly Beloved into the mud.




"No, he helped me out of the mud, so obviously I had to go back in." She stares at me as if what I’m saying doesn’t make perfect sense, but it does. Clarissa takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as if it’s unimaginable that I would fling myself into a puddle of mud on the first day of school. Apparently, she decides to ignore my odd behavior and hopes it would go away before any of the guys she fancies came along. I get my wand out and regretfully wash off the marks of one of my best successes.




We start walking into the train dragging my extremely heavy trunk behind us. I honestly do not know why my trunk is so heavy. It isn't like I brought that much stuff. Not nearly as much as Clarissa, or another one of my other best friends, Guinevere, who both packed their trunks with make-up and other unnecessary items that they think for their own strange reasons makes them look better.




We finally manage to drag my stuff into the compartment where Guinevere and my fourth best friend; Sybill Trelawney are. Guinevere jumps up to give me a hug, yelling greetings the whole time.




"LILY! I'm so glad to see you! I've missed you so much! And I've missed Hogwarts! And I've missed our pranks! And I missed procrastinating on homework with you! And I missed dumping water balloons on you! And I missed the BOYS!" Guinevere said this loud and fast. Guinevere has the strangest passion/obsession for boys that I find I am unable to understand.




"I've missed you too, Guin!" I say. Guinevere hates her name. She says she was named after some old boring princess that nobody really cared about except for a great aunt of hers who insisted she be named it. Great Aunt Seleania is 98 years old and in Guinevere's words, "still refuses to die."




I turn to the other girl in the room. Sybill does not jump up and start screaming like Guinevere did. Instead she stands solemnly and shakes my hand slowly and majestically.




"Sybill! I haven't seen you in forever!" I say, abandoning the handshake and giving the brunette a hug.




"Yes, it has been a very long time," Sybill says solemnly. "I am afraid to tell you that the Darkness is closing in."




"The Darkness is closing in?" I say in a falsely concerned voice. I’m quite used to her predictions of death by now. "Why, whatever does that mean?"




"It means that Death is drawing closer and that the light is being stomped out. It means doom will soon befall us. And I am sorry to admit that we may not survive these dark omens." Sybill says this all in her regular mysterious voice. I stifle a laugh.




"Oh, come now, Sybill, it can't be that bad. Why don't you be a bit more cheerful for once?" Clarissa exclaims impatiently.




"Because, Clarissa, the forces of life have not chosen to bestow on me light, unimportant matters such as happiness."




We all roll our eyes. We are quite used to this by now. We all know that she isn’t a true Seer, but don’t want to break poor Sybill's heart. She loves predicting people's deaths. If that privilege was denied then she would probably transfigure herself into a cockroach, or something else horrible like that.




It is at this point that Valerie walks in. Valerie is the fifth member of our group and the most drastic of us. In terms of style that is. It looks as if Clarissa is about to faint by just looking at what Valerie has done to herself.




Valerie has always tried to defy fashion in the most drastic ways possible. In first year she decided on wearing extremely long, extremely thick, fake eyelashes. In second year she dressed only in purple. She had even bewitched her robes to a bright purple. The teachers had not been very happy about this but Dumbledore just laughed and said something about the joys of being young. In fourth year she died her hair black and refused to cut it at all, not even the slightest bit. She also insisted on straightening it so much that it was completely flat and lifeless.




Clarissa has been at war with her forever over fashion, always insisting that "she could be pretty if she didn't insist on being ugly." Valerie doesn’t listen to her, just smiles that gorgeous smile of hers that I've always been jealous of and continues to paint her nails neon green. But obviously, she has decided to do something special for our seventh and final year here.




She has cut her hair very, very short. She has died it bright orange. She has spiked it up with some very strong hair gel. She is wearing the fake eyelashes again.




Clarissa mouths wordlessly for a full thirty seconds before letting out a screech. "What have you done? I thought we had seen the worst of it with those weird fake tattoos all over the place but this is terrible!"




"Just because my sense of fashion isn't as narrow minded as yours, and isn't controlled by whatever some super model says, doesn't mean that my fashion is horrible. I wanted the real me to not only be on the inside, but the outside as well."




We all gaped at her.




"Then you must be trying to get the image across to everyone that your inside is a freak! This is absolutely ridiculous," Clarissa nearly yells out.




At this point I decide to interfere, before they kill each other. Unfortunately, this pleasure is denied to me by the presence of the Gorilla People walking into our compartment, all four of them.




"Hello, ladies," James Potter says, trying to look cool but failing miserably as Sirius Black is standing right behind him trying to place a sparkly purple tiara onto his head without him noticing.




"Hello, bigheads!" says Valerie. She had never been afraid to express her feelings in the most reckless way possible.




"Nice hair," Pettigrew says, smiling that annoying superior smile that all of the Marauders seemed to have mastered, although I must say he isn't nearly as good at it as Sirius is.




Sirius finally manages to place the tiara on an unsuspecting Potter's head. It seems the Marauders are not content with merely pulling pranks on the student community, but their best friends as well. These guys are an odd bunch.




"Well, we were just stopping in to offer our condolences," Remus states smoothly, trying not to laugh at Potter's ridiculous crown.




"What do you mean, Lupin?" I say in my most dangerously quiet voice. Like Potter, I had worked on this voice all summer, unlike Potter, I manage to succeed with it.




"He means, of course, that we are sorry that you will soon be facing extreme embarrassment due to the fact that your pranks will not be nearly as good ours this year, and you will lose the bet magnificently," Sirius Black says, smirking at us.




The Bet. Those are the two words that have haunted my every thought since the day in second year when we made it. I've always loved to pull pranks. Most people think that guys are the only ones to take pleasure in these activities, but they are quite wrong. You see, if you live with Petunia, you come to desperate measures in order to ensure your sanity. In a household where Petunia literally tries to make everything perfect, I have no choice but to pull pranks in order to make it somewhat normal.




As you probably guessed, most of the pranks were on her, and I can't say I feel any remorse at all for doing them. At Hogwarts, I found Valerie, who liked pranks as much as I did, and we got everyone else in our group to do them as well. Unfortunately, we had competition. Soon we had to try our very best in order to out-prank Potter and his henchmen. Pretty soon, we were at each others' throats and created The Bet: Whoever has the most creative/best pranks at the end of our seven years wins the prize. We'll win. I guarantee it.




Other people might have responded to this mean and egotistical comment made by the King of the Gorilla People in a calm matter. But I am not a calm person, so I decide to do something drastic. I put a spell on them. In all honesty, it was a curse, and I can't honestly say that I wasn't going against school rules. But I have to say that seeing the King of the Gorilla People and his henchmen in elaborately designed white wigs is a sight that I will not forget for a while. I'm sure they won't forget either. As they curse and yell and stumble dumbly about trying to find a spell to reverse it, I slam the door in their faces and lock it with the most powerful locking spell I know.




Everyone starts to laugh, except me. I am still furious. You could say that I am very, very competitive. Guinevere would say that this is an understatement. I just cannot stand the thought of losing this thing. I can just imagine Potter when we're both ninety and in some care home for old people, and he would say something along the lines of; "And you lost that prank war so bad! Ha ha ha. You didn't even come close to winning." And then the old and crazy me would Avada Kedavra him, and I would end up in Azkaban, which I have heard is not very fun. So you see, losing The Bet would not only result in sincere loss of pride but eventual imprisonment as well.




But do my friends recognize the seriousness of the situation? Of course not. They continue to laugh. It isn’t until Clarissa brings up a particular embarrassing and horrible subject, that I finally postpone being mad and competitive.




"Did Lily tell you," she pauses, staring around at us as if to make the moment more dramatic, "that she made Head Girl?" They all stare at me completely open mouthed. I glower at all of them. In my mind nothing is possibly worse than being made Head Girl. When most people get a letter saying they've been chosen as Head Girl, they start jumping up and down and screaming in excitement. That did not happen to me. I simply fainted. That was the first time in my life that I have fainted, and I am determined that it shall be the last. I have made it my life's work to pull pranks and do other things that usually give me The Look from teachers. Especially McGonagall.




The Look is what all teachers practice day in and day out. Once you have mastered The Look, you can scare and control all of your students without even trying. McGonagall has mastered The Look better than anyone I've ever known. I proceeded to tell her that the first time she gave me a detention. She did not think that this comment was amusing at all, and I was simply sentenced to another detention. You see, teachers don't want students to know that they had to practice in order to master The Look, but I knew she had probably practiced for several years to get it down that well, and that is why I told her so. Other teachers, such as Professor Flitwick—bless his heart, I just love that little old man—and Professor Slughorn, cannot do The Look at all. They simply look like they're constipated the moment they try.




But back to the subject at hand. I did not want to be Head Girl, the teachers must have been crazy to make me Head Girl, and there was no way I was going to stay Head Girl. But a bad thing happened. They always seem to happen to me. My parents somehow got hold of the letter telling me the unpleasant news. They were so happy and proud that I just couldn't make myself break their hearts and carry on with my intention of immediate resignation. That is why I have the horrible position right now.




After staring at me in shock for a while, my so-called friends start laughing hysterically at me. Really, what is so funny about me having to endure torture for the rest of the miserable year? There were actual tears of laughter running down Valerie's face.




"Well if you all don't mind, I need to be headed for the meeting itself," I say, glaring at all of them. But did they stop laughing and sympathize with me that I was forced to go to a meeting with a bunch of spoiled, teacher's pet, prats? No, they continue to laugh as I head out to my doom.




As I enter the room that would undoubtedly be filled with a bunch of goody-two-shoes, I take a deep breath and attempt to put up a fake face, something responsible and encouraging, something that tells everyone that I do know what I am doing, even though I have no idea why I’m put in this position. But the moment I walk through the door the whole responsible face changes into a look that probably made me resemble a frog. You know the phrase, "her chin dropped to the floor "? Well that is the exact and only description I will give you about my once-responsible face.




The reason that I look like a frog is quite simple: James Potter is here, and he is wearing the Head Boy's badge. The first thought that goes through my head is, "Dumbledore must have gone insane." I am seriously worried about his mental health at the moment, picking the two most trouble-making and Look-getting people in the school.




But, I am proud to say that after only 40 seconds of me standing there dumbly with my mouth hanging open and acting like a frog, that I put my responsible face on again and turned to the group. The King of The Gorilla People is just as shocked to see me as I am him, so I am happy to say that I am not the only one there acting like a frog. The prefects must not only be worried about Dumbledore’s sanity, but the sanity of their two Heads as well.




After about half an hour of giving instructions out that I don’t really understand to a bunch of good-grade, anti-prank, rule-abiding students, I finally escape. I almost run to my compartment, completely ignoring the King of the Gorilla People as he again tries to use his supposedly romantic voice on me and get a date. After getting to the compartment and again locking the door, I say the first three highly intelligent words that come to my mind.




"I. Am. Doomed."




And what do my so-called friends do? They laugh. They go hysterical, actually. For the second time that day, I am the cause of someone's hysterical laughter. I now know that I will grow up to be a mad-cat-loving-lady, laughed at by all. My future is not looking bright.

I always thought that the Hogwarts way of doing feasts was very different from the way we ate dinner at home. You see, at my house, whenever we have family over or we go to some other strange relative’s house we always have to wait forever. I honestly think that the adults do it on purpose, just to teach us “young ones� patience. The first thing they do is make you carry the delicious, hot and buttery food into the dining room where you can view all the other delicious hot buttery foods. You are forced to stare at them but are unable to eat them. Than you must wait until every single person in the house finishes their conversation and sits down. This usually takes forever.




Petunia is always one of the last people to sit down because she is trying to prove to everyone that she is not like her irresponsible sister—that would be me—who sits staring at the food in an uncivilized way the moment it reaches the table.




You then have to wait for someone to say the toast. Grandpa proposes it, with a hopeful look on his face. And someone says kindly, “Why don’t you say it?� He refuses, but still looks hopeful, until someone finally insists that he dodoes it, even though he pretends he doesn’t want to. This process usually takes a whole five precious minutes of staring at delicious food. Grandpa does this every single time we get together and still thinks that no one has caught on to his ingenious tactic.




Then after I have finally clinked glasses with every other person in the room, I have to wait some more. I have to wait because there is another stupid rule in our family about letting the person who cooked the meal have the first bite. That same person pretends like they don’t know that everyone is waiting, and starts a long conversation with whomever is next to her before finally saying in a very unsurprised voice, “Oh, were you all waiting for me?� That person pretends to be horrified, even though I know they are relishing the moment, and slowly and dramatically finally takes a bite. Then, I can eat.




But at Hogwarts it’s not like that. Instead, they just make you think and imagine the food while waiting for the stupid munchkins to be sorted into their stupid houses. This way is much worse, because you have to imagine everything. I have a very vivid imagination and by the time the stupid sorting process is finished, I am about ready to die. This is exactly what happened. I slouched, I grumbled, I glared at the innocent munchkins, I acted exactly how a Head Girl should not act. But do you know what the King of the Gorilla People does? He acts like the Goody-two-shoes that I have sworn to hate. He sits up straight, he pays close attention, he claps, he smiles, he gives the new First Years a pat on the back. And all the while I am slouching in my seat wishing that all of the First Years would jump off a cliff so I could just eat the delicious food I know is waiting for me.




Finally, Dumbledore says his nonsense words of the day, “buttery, sizzling, delicious, mouth-watering.� He looked right at me when he was saying, that as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking. Then finally the food appeared. I immediately piled food onto my plate. Clarissa sighed dramatically at me and grabbed a salad.




“Why do you eat those disgusting leaves anyway?� I said, pointing at her salad. I hate salad. It honestly is just a bunch of artificially dyed green leaves that they have decided to call food.




“Because it’s good, and I have decided to watch my weight.� I gaped at her. Watching her weight? Did anything sound more horrible and unsatisfactory as denying yourself the best things in life, such as chocolate, and sizzling, buttery, fattening food?




“That sounds horrible,� I said. She simply glared at me and grabbed some tomato soup. I shuddered, and took some of the more fattening and delicious food. Valerie was doing what I was doing, but Sybill was not. Sybill was just sitting there with her head held high.




“What are you doing?� I asked her, exasperated. Were all of my friends insane?




“I am fasting, to improve my Inner Sight.� I am resigned. My best friends are loonies and will have to live in the Crazy ward at St. Mungo’s. I will end up bringing them flowers while they wear those horrible nightgowns.




“The only thing starving yourself will do to your inner sight is make it extremely hungry,� I told her sternly while piling her plate with food. She glared at me and then grudgingly took up her fork.




I was just about to start a highly intellectually stimulating conversation when Potter walked up to our table and wriggled his abnormally large backside into the seat next to me.




“Hello, Lily Darling!� he said, with a hopeful look on his face.




Clarissa would have known what to do in this situation. She would have known how to make him leave. But I was not Clarissa. I simply took up my plate and walked to the other side of the table. I sat next to the munchkins.




“Hello, munchkins.� They all shirked away from me as if I was carrying some deadly Seventh Year disease.




To my dismay, Potter did not take the very obvious hint. He came and again sat next to me and the first year.




“Hello, everyone!� He smiled at all of the First Years. They smiled back at him. How come Potter doesn’t have the insane Seventh Year disease? Life is not fair.




“Go away.� I glared at him.




“As much as it pains me to distress you Lily Darling, I am unable to obey your request.�




Again, I walked off. I sat next to some pale-looking Fifth Year who looked like she wanted me to go away, too. Does everyone hate me?




“Hello, who are you?� I asked her. She glared at me before answering.




“Natasha.�

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Lily.� And just as our conversation was about to get especially interesting, Potter walked up.




I tried to imagine what Clarissa would say if she were me. Clarissa is very good at getting her way. Some people might just call it spoiled, but I think it’s a talent that for some reason I was not given. If I had been given that talent I would be given a lot more chocolate than I am currently. Clarissa could have gotten the chocolate if she wanted it. What would Clarissa do now?




“I hate you,� I told him. Fine, that was definitely not what Clarissa would say, but that was all I could think of.




I walked off angrily again. He followed me. I traded places again. He followed me. In a matter of minutes he was chasing me around the hall as I practically ran in my attempt to get away from him. I had just picked up a glass of pumpkin juice to fling at his head when I heard a shout behind me.




“EVANS! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?� Professor McGonagall looked at me furiously. “DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A PLAYGROUND TO YOU?� She screamed at me. “DETENTION! FOR BOTH OF YOU!�




McGonagall sat down and attempted to gain some composure. I flung the juice at Potter and went to sit down between Guinevere and Sybill. The King of The Gorilla People followed me.




After a very long meal full of me giving Potter the silent treatment, I was quite relieved to see my dorm. I immediately started jumping on my bed and than started leaping from my bed to Guinevere’s bed, which was right next to mine. I hopped around excitedly, squealing happily.




Guinevere and Clarissa walked into the room, talking about some new fashion that I really did not want to hear about, but they would probably tell me anyway.




“Lily, stop jumping on my bed!� Guinevere shouted, frustrated at me. But I saw that she was trying to hide a smile.




I continued to jump on her bed and watched as the sheets slowly began to slide off. Guinevere came over and yanked me onto the floor. I glared up at her; she smiled and began straightening her bed.




I began jumping on my own bed again and started doing all sorts of complicated and difficult flips. Valerie and Sybill walked into the room. Everyone started unpacking.




“Lily, do you think that maybe you should put your stuff away?� Clarissa asked me, gesturing to my trunk that was still sitting neglected by my bed.




“No,� I answered bluntly.




“But you will be all rushed in the morning and might not have time to even put on your make-up!� Clarissa said this as if she could imagine nothing worse than being unable to pack unnecessary powders and goop on yourself.




“But unpacking sounds so tedious and unnecessary.� Clarissa shook her head at me. I watched amused as everyone placed all of their possessions in their preordained spots.




I continued to jump, flip and squeal as they worked. I glared at my trunk. I didn’t like my trunk. It looked unhappy, probably because it wanted all of my junk to be taken out of it. Or it could have possibly had a bad home life as a baby trunk. Maybe its parents were mean to him. I’m sorry, trunk, I thought to it, but who could bother to unpack when she was as excited as I was?




My friends finally finished their perfecting and started putting their pajamas on.




“Lily! Get ready for bed!� Guinevere shouted at me.




“NO! I would have to open my trunk!� I yelled, horrified at the thought.




“Then open your trunk. It’s not that hard!� Guinevere said, looking up at me.




“But my trunk is sad!�




“How is your trunk sad?� Guinevere asked, apparently amused with my trunk’s depression.




“I don’t know. I think it had a life as a baby trunk. Don’t you think it looks sad?�




“No. I don’t. Now please get you pajamas on!� Guinevere looked as if she was trying to suppress giggles. I really don’t understand why she isn’t taking my trunk’s depression seriously.




“I told you, I don’t want to open my trunk!� Guinevere sighed dramatically and started toward my trunk. She opened it and glared at me.




“Lily, did you even consider folding your clothes, or putting your make-up in a box, or at least taking your candy wrappers out?�




“No,� I told her. “Why would I do that?� She sighed and started mumbling under her breath. Rummaging through my stuff, she finally pulled out a pair of pink plaid pajama pants and a white tank-top.




“Put them on.� She told me sternly. I sighed.




“Yes, Mum.� She glared at me, we started laughing and pretty soon everyone was in bed with the covers drawn up over their heads.




I waited under the blankets until I could hear deep breathing—and some snoring—from everyone. I quietly pulled back my covers and slowly crept towards the window. I decided that I was going to go on the roof. No, I am not going to jump off the roof. I am not a suicidal teenager. This is simply a place I discovered back when I was having a really bad day in second year. You see, if you stick your head straight out the window and look to the left, there is a ledge that leads to a flat area on the roof. I have gone there countless times to be by myself. No one else knows about it and I would prefer to keep it that way.




I carefully eased out of the window and maneuvered myself across the ledge and onto the flat area of roof that I have named Francois. Do not ask me why I named it Francois, I have no idea. I often do things completely weird and random like naming parts of buildings strange things like Francois.




I sat down on the piece of roof and looked out at the view. Out of all the beautiful places at Hogwarts, this was my favorite place. There was a beautiful view of the lake—sometimes I have stayed out for hours watching the foam come up from where the Giant Squid was—and you could see the sky. There was nothing blocking your view. This was also the place where I did my romance writing.




I shifted a brick that made up part of the roof and moved it aside. There was a slight cubby hole there, I had hidden countless stories and papers that I had written there. I never threw anything out. I still have stories that I wrote in first year in there.




A light drop of rain hit my cheek and slid down into my tank top. I reflected that maybe, just maybe, I should not be on the roof with a tank top, writing romances at ten o’clock at night when it was raining. But hey, whoever heard of being stopped by a little bit of rain?




Picking up a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, I started to write.




Golden light streamed down onto a grassy field. The sky was a pure, unforgettable blue, the clouds were puffy. Even the birds seemed cheerful. But the girl standing on the grass knew that this was not a cheerful place. She knew that the sky was an empty promise, that the clouds were not there to cheer her up, that even the birds’ sweet song was all a lie. For the clouds and sky and birds all hovered over the girl, as she sat in the dirt. Her white, frayed dress was stained with dirt, her long hair fell lifeless on her shoulders, the tears rolling down her cheeks seemed to be permanently engraved there. The girl did not like the happy sky and she thought that the birds mocked her. She slowly rocked back and forth, oblivious to everything, as she stared at the grave in front of her. She rocked faster and faster, her tears rolling down harder, her face becoming more desperate. The Earth seemed to sense her pain. The sky began to get gray and dark from storm clouds, the birds stopped singing and scrambled to find places to hide. Raindrops began to fall heavily, casting a cold blanket on the Earth. But the girl didn’t notice this. She simply stared at the grave, rocking faster and faster.




It was perfect, I reflected. It was a perfect start to my story. Dramatic, depressing, and completely my type of book.




Just as I was having these happy revelations, a sudden urge came over me. I wanted to dance on the roof.




No, I’m not joking.




The urge was so strong and powerful that I could no longer resist. I stood up and started twirling and spinning and jumping all over the place. It was wonderful. How many people get to say that they danced in their pajamas on the roof of Hogwarts? I am happy to say that I am one of the lucky few. The raindrops got harder until they were pounding down all over the surface. I sat down, gasping for breath. This is exactly the type of thing I like to do: writing overly dramatic love stories and jumping around on roofs at midnight. I placed the beginning of my story back into the cubby hole and placed the brick over it.




I stood up again. The debate started in me. The more sensible part of me said that I needed to go back inside immediately; it was dark, it was cold, and it was raining hard. The other more reckless part of me wanted to dance again, it wanted to spin in the rain and get my pajamas even more soaked than they already were. The struggle started. I debated with myself for a full minute before I couldn’t take it anymore. The temptation was too strong.




I started dancing on the roof. Again.




I can tell you right now that I am not a talented dancer. Most people wouldn’t even call it dancing. They would call it demented spinning. Sadly, they are right. I should have realized this before I started jumping on the roof. I should have realized that being clumsy, uncoordinated, and ungraceful, I probably shouldn’t be spinning on my roof. But unfortunately I did not realize this.




One moment I was twirling in the rain with my hands up and my head tilted back, and the next, my feet were flying out from under me and I had no control. I fell back and started tumbling into what I knew must be certain death.




I do not why I always get myself into situations like these. Everyone else seems to live these normal falling-from-roof free lives. But no, not me, I dance around in the rain writing secret romances and than fall off a roof and pray that I don’t die.




Dealing with the King of the Gorilla People seems like a dream come true compared to this.

It looked like Sybill was right about the ‘Darkness closing in.’ I could see it closing in around me and preparing to kill an innocent girl who only wanted to dance on her roof.

Fear flooded through me. I couldn’t scream, however. You’d think a girl would be able to scream when she was falling helplessly from a roof, but whatever. I heard some little part of me yelling that she didn’t want to die. No one really knows fear until they fall from a roof. I guess this is what happens when you write stories about girls in graveyards.


Fortunately, Sybill’s prediction was inaccurate, and, to my relief, the darkness stopped closing in and I stopped falling.


There were two things that saved me. The first was that Hogwarts was not a normal castle and therefore did not have a normal roof. Instead of going in nice even slants, the roofs twisted and turned and are contorted into all sorts of strange shapes. I was lucky-or unlucky, depending on how you look at things- to fall on one of the strange contorted shapes that the Hogwarts founders decided to call a roof. I probably do not need to tell you that falling on a hard cement surface did not feel very good, in fact, it felt a bit like someone was attempting to cut my entire body in half with a plastic knife. I felt my hands unconsciously grasping all over the roof, trying to clutch onto anything that could possibly hold my poor body up. But the efforts of my hands were fruitless. I felt my body sliding down and off the demented architecture someone had the nerve to call a roof.


The Darkness started to close in again.


But fortunately, this time, it stopped quickly. I hit another roof-shaped-thing. This one hurt even worse: Imagine being cut open with a plastic spoon as opposed to a knife. I felt my body start to slide off again. This is where the second thing that saved me comes in; apparently, there was some sort of sharp metal stick poking right out of the roof. I have absolutely no idea why the builder decided to put a metal stick there, but perhaps it has some insane purpose such as catching falling girls from roofs. The horrible metal stick ripped right through my skin, forming a long, and painful cut from my thigh all the way up to my chest. In a way, it felt like I was being scratched by giant, rusty, eyebrow tweezers. In a normal situation I would’ve screamed over being attacked by eyebrow tweezers, but at the moment I thought I should probably focus on surviving.


As I slid down the roof I managed to grab hold of the metal piece that had scratched me. I stopped falling. I swear I almost cried in relief, except, like I said earlier, I was too busy focusing on survival. I had not gotten myself into a very good situation: I was hanging from a metal stick on the roof at midnight. Luck was definitely not with me tonight. My arms began to ache and scream and I knew it wasn’t going to be long before the Darkness started closing in again.


It was then that I realized that there was a window right by my leg. It just shows how stupid I was. I was composing in my head what my funeral was going to be like when I could’ve already been off this stupid roof.


I swung my foot back and kicked through the glass, hoping that no one was underneath it. I managed to swing and maneuver my body through the window and dropped down onto a hard stone floor. I vaguely realized I was right outside the Transfiguration room and was amused at the thought of McGonagall’s face when she saw the mess of broken glass I had made out of her corridor.


Obviously, I was in a quite a lot of pain at the moment, the eyebrow tweezers continued to scratch and pull at the horrible cut and my vision was beginning to get a bit blurry. I was also completely frozen in shock and unable to move.

But, believe it or not, that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that the last person that I would want to see at any moment—but particularly this one--was staring in shock right back at me.

I’m sure you can probably guess who that person was.


James Potter was standing right in front of me. But he wasn’t alone. His two sidekicks, Sirius and Peter, were standing right behind him staring at me as if I had just predicted that Armageddon would be happening in the next two seconds.


At that moment, my mouth and mind suddenly caught up with me, and I got all the hysterical screaming out that I was too afraid to do when I was falling from the roof. This probably wasn’t the smartest tactic. All three boys jumped up with stunned expressions on their faces, looking as if someone had just sprayed ice water all over them. The walls seemed to echo back the sound making it an endless scream that seemed to be coming from several people, instead of one very scared girl.


I could just imagine what I must have looked like at the moment: Completely soaked, a long, bloody scratch across my side, my torn pajamas sticking to the blood, and little flecks of dirt and rust encrusting around the edges of what had once been beautiful purple pajamas; shattered glass everywhere, and me, screaming hysterically. This really wasn’t my night.


I only stopped when I felt strong hands grip me tight and shake me slightly, while another pair of hands clasped right over my mouth, attempting to quiet me.


“Lily, Lily! Please shut up, you’re going to wake everyone,� I heard someone hiss at me. I was beginning to feel faint, so I decided to stop screaming. Actually, I felt very faint and leaned back slightly on whoever happened to be behind me. I felt the hand come off my mouth—which was a good thing, it tasted terrible—and I suddenly lost all the strength and dignity that I had been so valiantly trying to preserve, completely falling against the person behind me. I looked up to messy hair and a scared face staring right down back at me, apparently I was lying against James Potter. I looked down to see that Sirius Black had been the one with his disgusting tasting hands on my mouth, Peter standing behind him. Sirius should wash his hands.


Normally I would have been revolted to be lying in James Potter’s arms, but at the moment I was barely keeping consciousness. A deep cut, a fall from a roof, and hysterical screaming can do that to a person.


“What the heck happened to you, Lily?� James whispered frantically down at me. “Oh, never mind,� he said, shaking his head. Apparently, it had just clicked into his head that I was probably not in the best state to answer questions. He lifted me off the ground and into his revolting arms. Who did this guy think he was?


“What are you doing, Potter?� I managed to gasp out at him.


“What does it look like I’m doing?� he asked, walking quickly up the stairs. Sirius finally seemed to have gotten his voice back.


“Did you just fall from the roof?� Sirius asked in complete shock.


“No, I just enjoy breaking through windows,� I said sarcastically. Sirius ignored this comment.


“What were you doing on the roof?� But at this point I was unable to answer the question as James had just climbed a particularly steep step and jostled against the horrible cut. I yelped.


“Sorry.� James muttered. He was going pretty fast now; I was actually pretty surprised that he could carry me while practically running up the stairs. I could barely manage to walk up the stairs with my book bag. Not that I was impressed.


He finally stopped galloping up the stairs and stopped on a landing.


“Prongs? What the heck are you doing?� Someone came out of the shadows; I noticed that it was Remus Lupin. The competitive part of me vaguely realized that they must have been preparing some prank or another before they had run into my beautiful presence.


Remus gasped as he came close enough to see me lying, shocked, in Potter’s arms.


“What did you do to her?� Remus whispered rather loudly.


“What? I didn’t do anything to her, she did it to herself!� I wanted to correct him and say that in actuality it was Francois and the rain ganging up on me and forcing me off the roof, but didn’t get the chance as the King of the Gorilla People opened his large mouth again.


“Can you please just fix her?� he asked, pointing at the cut.


“No!� I yelled. They started making hushing noises. “Just take me to the hospital wing!�


“Yeah, and tell Madame Pomfrey that you flew through the window and ended up like this?! She’ll think we did this to you.� I glared at James.


“Good, you deserve punishment.� But apparently they all chose to ignore me as Potter set me on the ground and Remus leaned over me. I wondered why Potter just didn’t do the spell himself, but then assumed that, of course, he would not have the mental capacity to do such a thing. I was about to protest, but realized that that was quite hopeless as Remus took out his wand. I shut my eyes and again started to plan out my funeral. Let’s just say that I didn’t really trust a teenage boy to fix me as opposed to the esteemed Madame Pomfrey.

There was a flash of light and for a moment it felt like the cut was being banged with a sledgehammer, but then the momentary pain stopped and my skin felt normal again. I sighed and tentatively opened my eyes, praying that I wouldn’t see a tentacle or something where my leg had been. But thankfully, my leg was still a leg. I probably should have thanked Remus, but my politeness, has never, nor will ever, be extended to the Gorilla People.


Potter’s look of concern was then replaced by curiosity. I knew that this couldn’t be good for me.


“So Evans, now that we’ve got that cleared up, why don’t you tell us what you were doing crashing through that window.�


“How about, not.� I replied nastily.


“C’mon Lily! It’s the least you could do for the guy that just saved your life!�


“You did not save my life, Potter!� I yelled at him. They all started hushing me again and the King of the Gorilla People put his evil hand against my mouth. I glared at him. He took it off.


Well, I decided that that was about enough excitement for one day and attempted to stand, but Potter beat me to it. He lifted me into his arms again. Why does this guy think he has the right to do that?


“Potter, put me down! I am quite able to walk by myself now!�


“No. I don’t think I will.� I attempted to struggle, much to the amusement of all of them, but Potter just held tight. Why does he have to be so damn strong?


“Let go of me, now!� I hissed at him. His three henchman were laughing hysterically on the ground, but Potter continued to smile at me. He started walking again.


“POTTER! LET GO OF ME!� I screamed at the top of my lungs. Ha, that got their attention.


They all groaned and started running as fast as they could up the stairs, swearing under their breath. But did Potter let go of me? No, of course not. I thought that if I got him angry enough, he’d just drop me and I’d be free to go on with my happy life. But of course not. He just has to be so freakishly strong.


They finally stopped running and swearing when we crashed through some tapestry into what apparently was a secret passageway. I thought maybe they’d all get really angry at me, like normal people would, and they would finally set me free. I should have remembered that the Gorilla People- or Marauders as they like to call themselves- are not normal people. So, of course, they all naturally start laughing and exclaiming how exciting their lives were. Guys are so weird.


“Wow, Evans. You sure gave us a scare,� Potter said, looking at me proudly.


“Well, I do my best,� I responded sarcastically. “Now can you please, please, put me down!�


“My answer’s still ‘no’ Evans.� I glared at him and tried to escape, yet again, from his over eager arms. But he just grinned at me.


“I may, however, be willing to bargain with you,� he said smoothly. I considered.


“What do you want?� I spat out at him, with as much anger as I could from the position in his arms.


“A kiss.�


“No,� I said firmly, “absolutely not.�


“Well then, it looks like you’re going to be in this position for a while.� All four of them continued through the passage and onto a staircase somewhere. Can you believe this guy? My thinking was really quite sensible; there was no way he was going to be able to carry me all the way to Gryffindor Tower. I mean, I know he’s strong, but even he couldn’t do that.


I was right. Five minutes later I thought I would finally get away from him.
“Lily, I’m sorry darling, but I can carry you no longer.� I was ecstatic. But then, do you know what he did? He simply handed me off to that horrible creature named Sirius Black. I could’ve screamed in frustration.


“Black, put me down!�


“Sorry, Evans, but no-can-do. You don’t get put down until you kiss Prongs here.�


“Never,� I told him angrily. He just grinned at me. I attempted to escape squirming to the best of my squirming ability. But apparently Black is strong too. Five minutes later, he handed me off to Remus.


I thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to escape from this guy. He didn’t appear to have super human strength like the other two. Once again, I was wrong.


“Would you PLEASE just put me down!� I spat out at Remus angrily.


“Sorry Lily.� Honestly, what gives him the right to call me Lily? I then realized who they were going to pass me off to next: Peter Pettigrew, the obnoxious, perverted, little rat of a boy. Obviously, there was no way I was going to do this. Just as Remus was about to hand me off, I started yelling again.


“NO! Fine, fine, I’ll do it.� I told them grudgingly. All four of the Marauders grinned their evil little grins.


“Marvelous,� said James, smirking like the demented hyena he was. “Do you swear?�


“What?�


“Swear that you’ll kiss me if Remus puts you down.� I glare at him.


“I swear,� I muttered. James grinned and took me from Remus’s arms.


“Potter. Put. Me. Down.�


“Sorry, Lily, but seeing as it’s you we’re talking about here, there’s a huge chance that you’ll run away if I let go of you.� I sighed. He was right. He grinned at me, closed his eyes, and puckered his lips.


Disgusting.


I took a deep breath and looked apprehensively at this new and horrible challenge. It was either this or be carried in Pettigrew’s sweaty, disgusting arms. I leaned in a little bit, trying to make myself do it, but then pulled back again. James peeked one eye open. He looked faintly annoyed that he still hadn’t been kissed.


“You can kiss me now, you know.�


“I know, Potter, shut up.� He shut his eyes again. After one more glance at Peter, my resolve was set. I slowly leaned in, counting to three in my head. One. C’mon Lily, you can do this. Two, almost time now. Three. I pushed my lips against his as fast as possible, pushed myself out of his arms when he wasn’t expecting it, and started racing as fast as I could down the first hallway I found. I heard laughs behind me.


“C’mon Evans, you can do better than that!� I heard Potter shout behind me. “Come back!� Ha! As if I would go back there! I quickly resolved never to tell anyone about this; not even Guinevere, to whom I confided everything. I would take this horrible and nasty secret to the grave.


I finally managed to get back to my dorm room. It was two o’ clock in the morning.

Tomorrow was not going to be fun.

***

After a horrible and very unrestful night’s sleep, I awoke to someone jumping on my bed.


“Oh LIL-EEEEEEY!!!� a loud and obnoxious voice yelled in my ear. “Time to get up! We gotta get down to breakfast in twenty minutes!� Great. This was just my luck. Apparently my long half hour shower was completely out of the question.

“I don’t want to get up.� I mumbled, pulling the covers up on me further. Those wonderfully warmed and comfortable covers were very rudely pulled off me a second later, however.

“Lily get up!� That same obnoxious person was now tugging at my feet. After only about five hours of sleep, I was not in the mood to fight back and was pulled completely off the bed. I finally gathered the courage to open my eyes to see very bright light and a too-happy-for-this-time-of-day face looking down at me.


“C’mon Lily, you’ve only got fifteen minutes now!� Guinevere yelled cheerfully down at me.


“WHAT?� I shrieked, finally processing the information and struggling out of my tangled sheets.


“We. Need. To. Be. Downstairs. In. Fifteen. Minutes,� she said slowly and clearly. I hate it when she does that. I raced to the bathroom where Clarissa and Valerie were applying their make-up. I raced into the shower, throwing my pajamas over the curtain.


“Nice to see you too, Lily!� Valerie called out.


I ignored them both as they laughed and tried to take the fastest shower in the history of the world. Piling soap and shampoo on at the same time I raced out, grabbed a towel and ran out of the bathroom. My friends laughed at the sight of me running around in nothing but a towel and trying to find all my clothes, which was rather difficult as they were all in a messy pile in my trunk. I pulled on Hogwarts robes and started yanking a brush through my hair.


“Where are my contacts?� I yelled, panicked. I started throwing everything out of my trunk in search for those stupid contraptions.


“Lily, you would know where your contacts were if you had unpacked last night like we told you too!� Clarissa yelled at me as we both searched through all my junk on the floor.


“I think I left them at home!� I groaned. Why did stuff like this always happen to me? I reluctantly pulled out my glasses case. I hadn’t worn glasses since second year, but what choice did I have?


“LILY!� Clarissa yelled at me, pointing at my glasses with a look on her face resembling the expression someone would wear if she found out that she was supposed to live on slugs for the rest of her life. No, I am not exaggerating.


“Lily you CANNOT wear those!�


“Why not?� I asked, astonished.


“They’re hideous Lily!� I stared at them; they were my pink ones with the fake jewels. What was so wrong about that?


“They are not hideous, Clarissa!� I yelled back at her. I attempted to put them on, but Clarissa yanked them out of my hands. And do you know what she did next? She broke them. She just plain snapped them in half. What kind of best friend would do that to a person? Now, snapping them in half wouldn’t be that bad, I could simply spell them together, but she didn’t just snap them in half; she threw them out the window to some place where they would never be found again.


“CLARISSA!� I screamed at her. “WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?�


“I was being a good friend by not allowing you to disgrace yourself in public. You should be thanking me!� Thanking her? I couldn’t even see four feet in front of me and she wanted me to thank her?!


Seventh year was obviously destined to be unlucky.