Chapter 1 : A Day in the Life (Part 1)
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 2|
Background: Font color:
Disclaimer: As always, pretty much all credit goes to JK Rowling. The plot, and any OCs are mine, but I'm just using her world as a playground. Because I still can't deal with the fact that the series is over, six years after Deathly Hallows.
Finally, a MASSIVE thank-you to my beta-reader 'appa-appa-away' who has put in a huge amount of work in proofreading and helping with this fic. Seriously - I am so grateful for the amount of work she's put in...
And with that, enjoy the chapter, and please leave a review or a favorite :D
As I scratch these words onto the parchment in front of me, I'd like to begin by firmly establishing that I am not insane.
Or at least, I don't THINK I'm insane. I guess that's what an awful lot of insane people say, isn't it? That they aren't insane. It's not like you can really tell if you're insane or not. I mean, you can't really tell if anyone's insane. You might think someone's insane, but for all you know, you're the insane one, and they're actually the normal one. I'm rambling, aren't I? Shoot... This probably isn't helping my "I'm not insane" claim, when I think about it.
Seriously though; I'm not insane. Though I have questioned my sanity before - my life can most definitely be classified under the category of 'pretty damned crazy.'
For starters, I'm a witch. Like, I can cast spells, and brew potions. I also know a lot about magical creatures, and I can fly on a broomstick. In fact, I learned about those things at school. I think most people would count that as relatively insane. Well, most Muggles anyway. By now, I'd expect the rest of the wizarding world would've gotten used to it?
Secondly, my dad saved the world. Which I believe even the rest of us wizards think is pretty bloody insane. Especially when you think that he did it at the age of seventeen (Talk about pressure. I'm not sure what people expect of me when I come of age, but I get the feeling the bar is set a little higher than I'm likely to achieve).
Believe it or not, before the events of this journal, I never classified my life as insane. A little crazy, for sure, but never really a 'holy hell, what is wrong with me?' level of insanity. But that was before I stopped being Lily and became Luna. That was before I met the Marauders. Before I found messages from myself about 50 years after I wrote them, and fell in love with a man who died before I was even born.
That was before I traveled through time.
2nd November 2022
It's hard to think of a decent place to start this crazy, mind-bending tale, but I figured I'd start on the very last day my life was comparatively normal; the 2nd of November 2022. In fact, the 2nd of November 2022 was incredibly normal; for me, at any rate. It started, as most of my mornings do, with Emma shaking me awake.
"LILY! LILY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOULD YOU GET THE HELL UP!"
I am not the best at getting out of bed, something that Emma is more than aware of. She's taken to getting up twenty minutes earlier than she needs to, dedicating her time to insuring that I am somehow awake for our morning lessons. To say that she takes this responsibility seriously would be an understatement…
"AUGAMENTI!" Emma yelled. A thick flow of water burst from her wand, landing on – you guessed it – me.
I screamed loudly before tumbling out of my bed, rolling - painfully, I might add - onto the floor. I immediately jumped on the villain who had assaulted my slumber. Emma yelped as I barraged into her, knocking her to the ground with me. We proceeded to roll across the ground, until I emerged victorious, with her unable to move under my weight.
And that is how my dorm-mates found me on top of Emma, on the floor, completely soaked, slowly dripping onto her.
Believe it or not we still haven't reached the "I'm insane" bit yet.
Twenty minutes later, and the two of us were happily walking down to the Great Hall, the nature of my wake-up call completely forgotten. My previous tiredness evaporated, I cheerfully wandered into the hall, assumed my seat at the Gryffindor table, and then piled my plate with food.
Before I proceed with this tale, I think a quick introduction to my life is in order. Starting with me. My name is Lily Luna Potter, I'm fifteen years old and the daughter of Harry and Ginny Potter. I'm 5 foot, 6 inches tall, have bright red hair, and play chaser on my house Quidditch team. In most ways, I'd probably say that I take after my mother. Alongside the trademark red hair and Quidditch position, Dad also says that I act and sound like her, and when I was little, he always used to remark that I should act very carefully handling butter dishes when he was around. I never got this joke, but I'm pretty sure it was some sort of reference to Mum, because she'd always glare daggers whenever he said it.
Overall, I'm a lot quieter than either of my brothers. I get decent grades - when I get up, that is - and I'd like to think that I'm reasonably well-liked by my peers. I'm very well-behaved. In fact, before recent events, I never did anything that was seen as outside of the rules, which resulted in my Uncle Ron referring to me as 'Hermione 2.0.' (This statement was usually followed with my Dad imitating Auntie Hermione's voice and saying something weird about how being expelled is worse than being killed.)
My parents have a lot of inside jokes I don't really get.
At Hogwarts, I have two best friends. I've obviously already introduced Emma; in case you're wondering, the water thing was actually pretty tame for her. She once tried to wake me up by throwing some Lepricorn gold onto my bed, and then left a Niffler on my bedside table. Where she got the Niffler or the Lepricorn gold is beyond me, and quite frankly, I don't think I want to know. I legitimately cannot imagine a less enjoyable way of waking up in the morning. Asides from the fact that it was a very abrupt - and surprisingly painful - way of easing myself from slumber, I also got a detention from Professor Longbottom for 'causing unnecessary disruption and panic within the Gryffindor Tower.' Oh yeah - like it's my fault that I WAS VICIOUSLY MAULED!
Physically, Emma get's recognized for two features. The first is the fact that she's insanely tall... to the extent that Albus looks short next to her (and for the record, my brother is not short.) She's also very, very pretty. She has long, chestnut brown hair that flows down to about chest level. It's always incredibly sleek and straight; even when she first gets out of bed in the morning. To say I'm jealous is an understatement. I'd kill for my ginger curls to look anything like her straight locks.
My other best friend is my cousin Hugo, who is often worse at getting out of bed than I am. The lucky git doesn't have to dorm with Emma though - he never gets woken up via a jet of water. (Well, maybe at home. Rose is a bloody menace when it comes to teasing her younger brother). While I only met Emma when we first arrived at Hogwarts, I've known Hugo since before I could walk and talk. He and Rose are the offspring of my mum and dad's best friends (and relatives), Hermione and Ron Weasley, and as such Hugo and Rose pretty much live at my house, in much the same way that James, Albus and I pretty much live at theirs.
Hugo is every bit the Weasley. With bright red hair and more freckles than skin, Mum and Dad say he's the spitting image of Ron when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Generally, he's the quietest of our group. Whereas Emma and I are loud (especially Emma; I think she probably has the record for 'Most Silencing Charms cast on one Person') and occasionally a bit crazy, Hugo tends to be the voice of reason. Don't get me wrong; he's an awesome cousin and an awesome friend. He's just quieter than Emma and I are. Which - when I think about it - probably isn't a bad thing.
By the time Hugo had descended from the seventh floor to eat his breakfast, there was only about fifteen minutes before the first class of the day - Transfiguration - was scheduled to start. Emma immediately began to chastise him for getting up so late, to which Hugo responded by breaking a piece of his toast off and chucking it at her head, resulting in her flinging a bit of egg at him, resulting in him flicking some of his pumpkin juice at her.
This is just par of the course for these two. Once they'd settled down, Hugo turned to address me.
"So, how was getting up this morning. A couple of third years thought someone'd committed a mass murder in your dormitory," he said, his teeth grinding through a mouthful of potato.
"That isn't far from the truth. SOMEONE -" I shot a glare at Emma around this point "- decided it'd be funny to wake me up by blasting a jet of water in my face."
Hugo began to laugh, before attempting to conceal it by turning it into a very unconvincing hacking cough.
"How horrible! I have complete sympathy for you. What a rude and totally unhilarious thing to do," he managed to choke out before falling into hysterics, Emma joining him.
"Gotta wonder what I did to deserve best-ruddy-friends like you two..." I muttered, causing the pair of them to laugh even harder, before following me out of the Great Hall.
Following that, classes proceeded as normal. Emma got yelled at in Transfiguration for attempting to turn all of Hugo's clothes a bright pink. She failed, and instead turned his ink that shade. Hugo was forced to write in pink characters for the rest of the day. We were given mounds of homework from both Flitwick and Binns' (Seriously, who gives a damn about the Scandinavian Goblin Uprising? Y'know, excluding the Scandinavian Goblin's.) I had tomato soup for lunch, while Hugo and Emma both had pasta. We all passed notes in Defence Against The Dark Arts (I've stuck them in here, just to be thorough...)
You gotta help me! I'm bored out of my mind here! And I'm pretty sure I can hear some sort of squeaking coming from Dunnock's pocket!
Yours in need,
Quit being mean to poor old Duncan! I'm sure you're just imagining the squeaking. Though, Hugo did say that they found a Kneazle under his bed at one point. I'm pretty sure he was joking.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY FOUND A KNEAZLE! I'm going to die, aren't I? This is the end of little old Emma. They'll find my corpse inside some weird creature, and everyone'll say; "Poor old Emma. She shouldn't've had to go that way...!"
Stop being so obvious when you pass these notes! I don't want a detention! And quit being a loon; you know that there is no Kneazle just as well as I do! Also, 'Terrifiedly' isn't a word.
For reference's sake, I'd like to establish that there TOTALLY was a Kneazle. But why should that bother you?! I mean, c'mon - Kneazle's are pretty much just weirdly deformed puppies! It's his doxy collection that you should be worried about...
Can anyone else hear wings?
I am seriously going to kill you. Now there's no way she'll shut up!
You're the worst cousin ever,
Seriously - I'm pretty sure I saw a flash of blue from inside Dunnock's robes! He's probably carrying an entire menagerie with him, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, and set them all on us!
Seriously! Stop being so rude about Duncan. There's no crime in having a hobby!
Quick warning, I'm pretty sure that Prof. Finigan can see you passing notes. I'd suggest making sure Emma doesn't pass any more notes, or you'll get caught for sure!
It should be established that immediately after receiving that note, Emma proceeded to very obviously try to pass me a message, resulting in it getting confiscated, and the three of us receiving detention. After DADA, we went to Herbology, where Prof. Longbottom greeted us all warmly. Aside from knowing mine and Hugo's parents, he also took a shine to Emma when he first met her, as she had shown "significant skill in the field of Herbology." Admittedly, the girl did really enjoy the subject, it being the only one she routinely did homework for, and paid constant attention in.
Once we'd all finished twigging and picking the Fornsberry Bush, ("They can only be picked if you tickle them in just the right spot, class. Right in the underarm of the branch should do it!") the three of us picked up our bags and make the long journey back to the common room. After we'd trekked up the countless staircases and secret passageways, we found ourselves outside the Fat Lady.
"Honking Hypogriffs!" Emma said.
"No need to say it so loud, my dear," She replied before swinging open to let us in.
Like I said... A perfectly normal day.
And nothing out of the ordinary happened after that either. I studied for a little while in the common room, before proceeding to challenge Albus to a chess match - which I won, for the record - then I studied for a little while longer. After that, Hugo, Emma and I headed down to the Great Hall where we all had dinner. Hugo was caught trying to throw bits of Yorkshire Pudding at Emma, Emma was told off for very obviously kicking Hugo under the table; just run-of-the-mill stuff. Then we headed back to the common room, I attempted (and failed) to lower my ever growing mound of homework, before Emma decided she wanted to go to bed. I went with her, and after bidding Hugo goodnight, I followed Emma up into our dormitory, and (after gossiping with her for a good half hour) went to bed, and proceeded to fall asleep.
I should warn you... this is where things start to get crazy.
September 1st 1974
There is nothing quite like being on the Hogwarts Express. Walking past the compartments, where Hogwarts students are casually milling about, chatting while the British countryside flies by is a pretty unique and exciting experience. It's a trip I look forward to at the start and end of each term and – by now – it's a train I feel pretty experienced travelling on. But when I opened my eyes, and took in my familiar but totally foreign environment… I've got to say, I'd never seen the Hogwarts Express quite like this.
I had been slouched across one of the leather seats in an empty compartment. Nobody seemed to be paying me any attention, with student's passing the closed door to my cabin as soon as they realized it was occupied. For the life of me, I couldn't comprehend what I was doing on the Hogwarts Express. I knew it wasn't September 1st. I could distinctly remember what I'd been doing the previous day; passing notes to Emma, beating Albus in chess and Hugo writing in pink ink for most of the day. But - believe it or not - when I stepped into the corridor outside, the situation continued to get weirder.
Firstly, I didn't recognize anyone walking past. Not a single soul. I admit that I have serious issues remembering names and faces, but when I walk down the Hogwarts Express in real life, I at least recognize people from school. I might not know their names, or who they are, but I'm still able to vaguely remember that I had seen them around at some point. So the fact that I was walking past a horde of unfamiliar strangers was pretty unsettling to me. More than that, none of them seem to recognize me! Honest to God, I'm not a vain person, but from the moment I arrived at Hogwarts, at least four fifths of the school knew my name and what I looked like. It's the general side effect of having famous family members. Throughout my life, my face has been plastered in a wide assortment of wizarding magazine's – despite Dad's best efforts – and I legitimately cannot remember ever being in a public place without being recognized by someone. So the fact that all of these school kids didn't have a clue who I was, seemed a little odd.
But that wasn't all. Not only did I not recognize anyone on the train itself, but some of the things people were talking about seemed off. Really off. Like, two kids walked past me (they looked like second years) chatting about the newest broom models that were coming out. One of the kids excitedly squeaked about how awesome the new Nimbus 1000 looked. Which was very odd, considering I've only ever seen the Nimbus 1000 in old Quiddich museums. So - deciding to tell those poor sods just how out of date they were - I butted in...
"You realize that the Nimbus 1000 is ancient, right?" I asked, wondering if this was some sort of stupid second-year joke that I wasn't understanding. "It's older than a Cleansweep Four!"
I was expecting the second-year to blush in embarrassment, or maybe laugh at his weird joke. What I didn't expect was...
"Wicked! They've announced a new Cleansweep?!"
The pair then proceeded to walk straight past me, discussing in excitement that a new model of Cleansweep was coming out. To say that I was creeped out at this point would be an understatement.
Of course, the first thought that popped into my head was that this was just some weird, convoluted dream. But, it didn't feel like a dream. I pinched myself on the arm... and it hurt. Something very weird was happening to me, but it didn't think I was sleeping. It felt as real to me as when I was completely awake; every sight, smell and sound seemed completely legitimate.
I was confused as hell and as I walked down the train, every snippet of conversation I heard made me feel progressively more insane. I heard a trio of third-year girls excitedly discussing the 'new' Muggle pop group ABBA, a pair of fifth year boys talking about some Muggle killings, and despite the fact that I had walked down a pretty long segment of the train, I still hadn't recognized ANYONE.
I was starting to freak out, and had stopped paying attention to the people around me. 'What are all these people talking about?! And who are they?!' I continually questioned myself, looking down at my feet to try and hide the fact that I was panicking. The more my level of terror rose, the more out of the present moment I was and as such, I only looked up when I heard someone yell "OI GINGER! DUCK!" from in front of me.
Unsurprisingly, the ginger that person had been yelling to was me, and also unsurprisingly... I didn't duck in time.
A bright red Quaffle flew straight into my forehead with astonishing speed, and as a result I landed with a firm bump on the ground. I heard the person who had been yelling at me rush towards my body, which was now sprawled across the floor. As I heard my assailant step closer – obvious worry in his voice - I prepared to release all of the panic and fear I'd been experiencing on him. I was determined; this guy was going to learn to never throw a Quaffle in a busy corridor again. But when I looked up, the tirade that had been on the tip of my tongue instantly died. I had finally found someone I actually recognized.
And it terrified me more than anything. Because the fifteen to sixteen year old boy in front of me was someone I'd never physically met before, and had only seen in photographs that my dad had been given. I knew that the boy in front of me had died about a decade before I was born. He had been murdered, by a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange, in the Department of Mysteries. Which is probably why I was so bloody scared that Sirius Black had just hit me in the head with a Quaffle.
In my defence, I did tell you that things would get weird.
And that's all folks! The next two chapters are written, and I plan to update the story every two weeks (though we'll have to see how well that lasts. I have a habit of forgetting to write. Just keep harassing me in reviews and I'll eventually get to it.)
Thanks for reading, and please - A review really helps shape the story. I'm very curious as to what you all think.
Other Similar Stories
Potions and ...