"Mummy, how do you spell 'Today'?"
"T-O-D-A-Y," came a gentle voice, the tone laced with curious amusement.
"Thanks." A pause. "How do you spell 'James'?"
"J-A-M-E-S."
"How do you spell, 'Fell in the mud'?"
"Well, those are seperate words, but: 'F-E-L-L'.. and, 'I-N', and 'T-H-E'.. and 'M-U-D'."
The girl nodded thoughtfully, tracing her quill on a page of a leather-bound diary with careful, practised strokes. The child was not more than five, her hair in auburn waves down her back and graced with brilliant bottle-green eyes. She was seated at a table of polished oak, her mother across the kitchen and supervising the dishes which were washing themselves.
A man entered the kitchen, striding over to his red-headed wife and kissing her cheerfully upon her freckled cheek. Ginny offered a giggle and swatted her husband away, leaving him to go sit across the table from his daughter.
"Good afternoon, Lil's," he greeted, looking at her with a questioning gaze. "What are you writing?"
"Daddy! This is my diary," Lily scolded, holding it protectively to her chest and jumping from her seat. "You're not supposed to ask about my entries!" With a huff, she turned and exited through the door.
"Lily!" called her mother after her, looking anxious. "Remember the rule. You're not to write in that without one of us being nearby!"
This would sound quite peculiar to some; a young girl not being able to write in her own diary while being alone. Of course, while Ginny was not often an overly paranoid woman, her own experience with a diary at a young age had left her very cautious with the whole practice.
"So," said Harry, interrupting gently as he flipped idly through the pages of the Daily Prophet, "What's been going on today?"
Ginny turned to him, slightly flustered as she leaned against the counter. "Not too much I'm afraid, but apparently James fell in the mud."
He raised an inquiring eyebrow, but failed to reply as a second child entered the kitchen. This young boy was the same age as his sister, and had the same colour emerald eyes. His hair, most like his father's, was raven black and completely wind-teased. His clothing was covered in dry mud, and he had a slightly arrogant smirk upon his features as he reached over the counter towards a bowl of apples.
"James Sirius Potter," said Ginny, looking over her son as she noted both the mud and expression. "You haven't been taking your father's broom out of the cupboard, have you?"
James spun around, as if amazed his mother would ever suggest such a scandalous concept. "Not me! It wasn't me! Uh uh. No, sir. It was, uh.. Lily! Yeah, that's who. She must've done it. Tsk. That girl is such a brat." He shook his head slowly, left and right, as if the very idea of his sister committing such a crime marred his own innocence.
"Oh?" laughed Ginny, folding her arms across her chest. "That same girl who just happened to leave the room, not only one minute ago?"
"Blimey! She's worse than I thought!" His mouth opened in an over-exaggerated 'O', his eyes betraying himself by displaying mirth.
"Nice try," his mother said, rolling her eyes in the direction of Harry, who had discreetly placed his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. "But I could tell you were well practised. Have you been rehearsing by the mirror?"
Her son snorted, grabbing the apple swiftly and running from the room, leaving to the sounds of Harry's burst of laughter and Ginny's attempts to silence him by clouting him in the ear. His footsteps rounded up the steps, slightly muffled by the multi-coloured carpet that went through all the corriders and the stairs. Quickly, he found himself infront of his and Lily's shared bedroom door, and opened it rather brusquely by kicking it.
Two twin beds, wardrobes, desks, and Lily's vanity resided in the surprisingly large room. There was a bookshelf placed attractively in the corner stuffed with books, including James' favorite: 'The Adventures of Hautie the Hippogriff'. With a nod to Lily, he fell onto his blue bed, chomping loudly on his apple.
"Please stop chewing so loud, thanks," his sister said flatly, failing to look up from a puzzle of a flowery landscape she had been working on for the past two days. "You sound like a horse."
"Please stop breathing my air, in my room," he retorted, offensively continuing to chew as loud (or louder) with his mouth wide open.
"This is our room, and I'll certainly work on my little 'breathing' problem. It's such a gross habit anyhow. I have been trying to cut back." The sarcasm was lost on James, who had got up to view the puzzle over her shoulder. If Lily had been strong enough to throw the desk she was sitting on at him, she certainly would've attempted.
"Flowers," he said scathingly, chewing as close to her ear as possible. "Why not my Quidditch puzzle?"
"They 'zoom' too fast and it gets confusing. I prefer my swaying flowers," Lily said, turning to him and propping an elbow upon the surface of the desk.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged, skipping over towards the window and thrusting it open. He threw the core of the apple out it, and sat upon the sill as he viewed the greying sky. It had rained yesterday, leaving everything wet and soggy. When he had taken his dad's broom out, he didn't even consider that he would fall off and land into the mud. Yes, the five year old considered himself to be an accomplished flyer, even though his mother didn't want him to go on anything other than that dinky excuse of a children's broom. It didn't go even three feet up!
"Why don't you go play outside before it rains?" suggested his sister, fitting a hexagonal shaped piece into the puzzle. It contained the stem of a violet, and she released a cheerful squeal as the last piece, the bud of a rose, fell into place.
"Because it's bo-oring by myself," he said, stretching his arms over his head sadly. "You know what?" he asked, about to confide something in his sister - something he hadn't done since she got to be able to punch him harder than he could.
"What?" Lily inquired, though she still had a ridiculous grin upon her face - evidence that she still hadn't gotten over her skill with puzzles.
"You're fat and ugly and I hate you."
"James!"
"Just kidding," he said bashfully, "I want you to pay attention to me, not your stupid puzzle."
"Okay, okay," she breathed, swiveling in her seat so that she could face him. "What is it?"
"I can't wait for Hogwarts!" he exclaimed. "I can't wait for the Quidditch, and the Houses, and the classes and professors. For all of it!"
Lily was surprised to see her brother's eyes shine so passionately, and she gave him a shy smile. "I know. It sounds so amazing, doesn't it? We'll be able to do magic! For real!"
"Only six years," he grumbled, ruffling the back of his hair so that it grew to be even more mussed.
"Only six years," Lily agreed, standing up. "Until Mummy and Daddy take us to Platform 9 ¾'s, and we walk to the red train and hear its whistle screech.."
A Legend Continued by Meryl Montgomery
Chapter Notes: Disclaimer - All of J. K.'s. I just sit at my computer.