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Speak by ladyemma
Chapter 3 : Chapter Three
 
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A/N- Quick question: Do you like the first banner or the second banner better? Due to a misunderstanding I got 2 banners made for me, and I can't decide at all. Thanks for your help!
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Speak


Chapter Three


I wake up to the smell of my mother's chocolate chip pancakes, as I do every Saturday. It's my favorite day of the week because of it, and because mum will take us to the park. I know as an eleven-year- old I should be way too old to say this, but I love playing on the playground. Especially the slide and the swings . . .

I roll over, a huge smile plastered on my face, as I remember that today was the day I turn eleven.

“First call for pancakes!” Mum calls up the stairs. I slowly crawl out of bed, knowing that I have two more calls before I have to get down to the kitchen.

“Second call for pancakes!” I stretch, yawning, taking a quick peek in the mirror as I do. My untamable red hair is in knots, my freckly face seems to have even more freckles over night (my mother used to tell me that they’re angel kisses. Even though I now know better, I like to think that still.) And my green eyes are as ugly and slimy as ever. Why can’t I look more like my sister, Petunia?

“Third call for pancakes! Get your butt down here right now, Lily Marie Evans!” I stop examining myself, since I know I’m in trouble if she uses my full name, and run as quickly as I can to the kitchen. I know that if there has to be a fourth call, I don’t get any, and let me tell you, from my experience, that’s no fun at all.

“There you are,” Mum grins. She hands me a plate stacked with pancakes and the syrup bottle, and I take it over to the table. A place mat, complete with fork, knife, and a glass of milk, is waiting for me. My older sister Petunia doesn’t even acknowledge me, but I lean over and, as brightly as I can, I say, “Morning, Petunia.” She and I used to be close, but when she turned ten she started to pretend I didn’t exist, and got more into fashion and boys (yuck!). Mum says that we’ll become close again when we’re older, but I doubt it. Besides, sometimes it feels like I’ll never grow up.

I am interrupted from my thoughts when my mother places a present on the table. I rip it open, and there was the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Mum must have noticed me eyeing it in the bookstore near our house.

“Thanks, mum!” I exclaim enthusiastically, jumping up to give her a huge hug. She glances down at me, silently apologizing for the fact that Dad isn’t here. Dad is a lawyer, and works a lot. I’ve gotten used to it, and I know he will give me a present later tonight when he comes home. Mum looks at Petunia expectantly, and Petunia rolls her eyes and reluctantly takes out a present from under the table. I open it more carefully than I did Mom’s.

It’s a make up kit that I know I won’t touch in a million years. Mum looks disapprovingly at the present (she hates makeup), but says nothing.

“Thanks, Petunia!” I say, putting a fake smile on my face.

Once I finish eating, I race back upstairs to get ready for the park. I pull on some jeans, a black T-shirt - if it gets dirty, no one will be able to tell – and my favorite sneakers. I try to get at least the more noticeable knots out of my hair, and tie it in a ponytail to hide the knots that were impossible to get out.

I brush my teeth in a record-breaking time and charge downstairs, all ready to go. Needless to say, I am panting by the time I get down there.

Mum is reading a letter. Why is there an owl in our kitchen? And why is Petunia glaring at me more than usual? “Freak,” she muttered before leaving. What has happened that’s so bad that it made being in the room with me unbearable? Had I gotten a bad report from school? But, if that were the case, Petunia would be grinning, happy to beat me in something. And Mum wouldn’t be smiling like she is now. She would be giving me that disappointed look that I couldn’t bear.

“Oh, Lily!” Mother said, giving me a huge, bone-crushing hug. I give her an inquisitive look, so she hands me the letter. It reads -

Dear Miss Evans,

I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I drop the letter, unable to read any further. “You and Petunia did all this for a practical joke?” I feel hurt.

“It’s not a joke, pumpkin. At least, not from us. Your friend, Carolyn, got it too. Apparently her whole family is made up of witches and wizards. You’ll be going shopping with them later on today. Oh, I am so proud of you, and I know your father will be too!” Mum says, tears in her eyes. But I can’t stop thinking about what she said. So that’s why Carolyn never lets me go to her house. At least I don’t have to lie to my best friend about why I have to suddenly go to a boarding school.

“We still have time to go to the park if we hurry, pumpkin.” Mum says, checking her watch. I nod enthusiastically, and off we go. Petunia stays behind – I heard a small sob as I passed by her door when I went up to get a jacket. I almost go inside to see what is wrong, but I know it will just make things worse.
That was the only time I ever thought Petunia was jealous of my new school.




I woke up, gasping, panting, sweating, all of the above. Had it really been a dream? Of course it was, I concluded. Even if I had no idea how old I was (I made a mental note to ask Hermione later) I knew at least that I was not eleven. But why could I still smell the faint scent of pancakes? Or had my dream come true? No, I was still in Hermione’s apartment. My room in the dream had looked different.
I got out of bed and walked outside to the kitchen. Maybe I could find the answers to my questions there.

To my surprise, I saw Hermione in the kitchen, batter on her face and apron, making chocolate chip pancakes.






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