Much More

Not many people had much to say about young Lily Evans. She got good marks in school, but was unusually quiet and reserved during class. She hesitated before raising her hand to give an answer, sat alone in the cafeteria during lunch-break, and was often seen walking through the halls with her head down, heaving a mighty book-bag over her shoulder. She did not go to the cinema on the weekends, pass notes during school, or spend an hour preparing for school each day. The only thing most peers could say about Lily Evans was, "Who's that?"

Lily liked it that way. To be unnoticed was her preference; ever since she could remember, she had felt uncomfortable in the spotlight. She wasn't anything special anyway, in her opinion. Sure, she was unusually smart for her class, but she spent most of her day studying at home in her room. Life was slow, quiet, and peaceful, and that's how she wanted it to be.

Her parents often worried about her partiality to isolation, especially on Saturday nights when the neighbor kids could be seen out in the streets playing football or were skipping down the street, bound for the ice cream parlor. They were afraid that Lily was suffering a severe case of depression, and several times they had set appointments with a counselor. They hoped that she would tell the psychiatrist something that she wasn't telling them; that was not the case, however. She had nothing to tell. Her life was simple, and she wasn't about to change.

Lily was fond of her family. Her parents, Geoffrey and Caroline Evans, were fairly well off people. The four-person family resided in a house in a fairly plain but quaint neighborhood in which all of the houses matched and were aligned in straight rows. The family earned respect from their neighbors for being so successful and happy. Caroline and Geoffrey had high expectations for their daughters, and they loved and cared for them dearly, and only hoped for the best. Lily knew that. So did Petunia, Lily's elder sister. Petunia was the exact opposite of Lily; she did not excel so much in school, but was very successful friend-wise. Being two grades ahead of Lily, Petunia tried hard to be a model sister, and often invited Lily to tag along to parties or movies, but failed. She was little aware of Lily's content, but this did not damage their relationship. Petunia was the closest Lily had to a good friend. They shared a room, and despite their minor quarrels, every night before they fell asleep they would tell a chapter of their story.

Their story was a tradition between them. They had begun it four years ago, and each night they would create one more chapter together. It was all written in a notebook - well, seven notebooks, actually - and it was based on them. The two main characters, of course, were named Lily and Petunia. The two would go off on horse-riding adventures, or plan a luxurious picnic, or have interesting conversations. Lily adored the custom, but despite her wandering imagination, did not wish for her life to be like the one in the story.

However, deep inside, Lily was much more.

***

It was another perfect, sunny day on the twenty-sixth of July. Lily way lying on her back on the wooden bench in the front yard of number four, Privet Drive. She examined her surroundings closely; two pigeons were twittering sweetly in the tree to her left, and in front of her, Mrs. Evans was shearing the bushes. Her long red hair was tied into a loose knot, with thin wisps of hair framing her young face. Lily's mother was fairly young; she was only 30, and already tending a family of four. She was a stay-at-home mother, but it did not begrudge her in the least bit. Every afternoon during the weekdays, 3 of her girlfriends would come and they would play poker, sip tea, and giggle over their small talk in the parlor. Mr. Evans supported the family; he was vice-president of Emerson Vending, a successful business in downtown London. Though the train ride each weekday morning was tiring, he managed to bring in a sturdy income to support the family.

Admiring her mother's fiery locks, Lily twirled a curl of her own her around her finger. She envied her mother's ability to make even the messiest do look ravishing, and wished she could do the same. Her hair was very similar to her mothers; a deep red, loosely curled and reaching four inches past her shoulders. Though she didn't often put much effort into it, she could never do more than an almost-decent ponytail. If she were to twist it into a knot like her mother did, it would just fluff out funny and the ponytail-holder would get tangled in the curls and Lily would have to spend ten minutes trying to wrench it out. Her hair wasn't extremely thick, but instead neglected. Lily cared little about her appearance, though she showered every evening.

Probably the most noticeable feature of Lily's was her eyes. They were a dazzling green, and even she treasured them. An odd thing had struck her only a few years ago, however, about her eyes - no one else in her family had them also. Her mother's were blue, and her father's and Petunia's were brown. Even all of her grandparents and great-grandparents did not have the same trait. Regardless of the mystery, Lily adored her eyes.

Lily sighed contentedly. She enjoyed summer, with the twinkling sun hanging high above her head, the pleasantly hot weather, and the ice-cream truck rolling down the roads and playing its lively tune. There was one disadvantage of summer, however; Lily did not have much to occupy herself. There was no homework she could finish or work ahead on, no projects to create - just 2 relaxing months of doing whatever she wanted. Lily didn't have anything to do, though, except laze outside and read, which is how she spent most of her time during the July and August months. She closed her eyes, but soon opened them wide when someone shouted suddenly in her ear.

"Lily? You okay?"

Lily blinked quickly and scrambled to sit up. Petunia was crouched over her, peering curiously.

"Yeah, fine. What's going on?" said Lily, scratching her neck drowsily.

"Oh, nothing. Hey - I was wondering, do you want to do something today? Like....go out for lunch? Just us two?" said Petunia. She offered a hand and tugged Lily playfully off the bench. Lily sprang up, startled by the strong pull, and giggled.

Lily tapped her chin with her finger thoughtfully. "Hmm...sure, why not. I haven't gone out in a while. Here, I'll get my money, it's upstairs - "

Petunia nodded and held up her hand. "Don't worry about it. My treat. Go get your walking shoes on."

Lily smiled gratefully at her older sister, and jogged inside the house.

It was nearly quarter past twelve when Petunia and Lily returned home, each carrying an ice cream cone and discussing various movies and books. Lily was a little upset, however, and Petunia had failed to notice. They had trekked to a small deli half-a-mile away, and in the process, had bumped into some of Petunias friends. So, being the popular girl she was, Petunia invited them along, and Lily felt singled out. It was one of the few times in her plain life that Lily regretted being so independent. She liked spending time with her sister, but not while her sister was having fun without her. Lily did not want to seem rude, though, and kept close behind the cluster of chatty girls and boys and said nothing.

As Lily strode into the family room wiping her sweat-dampened forehead, her father was lounging on the couch perusing the newspaper.

"Hi Pa." said Lily, taking a seat next to him. She leaned her cheek on his shoulder, and he slid his arm around her back.

"Hey Lil. How was lunch?" said her father, his eyes still glued to the paper.

"It was nice." said Lily softly. She scanned the newspaper at her father's side: "Mass Automobile Accident Kills Fifty in Kent", "New Shopping Center Opening in October"...the usual titles. Lily's eyes, however, froze on a small article in the corner of the page. The heading read "Couple Found Dead in Living Room - Died of Fright?"

Lily's father stood up, his elbow smacking her square in the jaw. "Oh - I'm sorry, babe!" he cooed, patting Lily's shoulder as she rubbed her cheek. "Did you want this? I have to run some errands." He folded up the paper and handed it to Lily.

"Thanks," said Lily, opening it up once more and frantically turning the pages to find the article.

"Did you want anything?" said Mr. Evans, grabbing his coat and keys off of the coat rack.

Lily still searched for the story, barely listening to what her father was saying. "Um...I'm alright, no thanks..." she muttered.

She didn't know why this story interested her so much. Maybe it just seemed strange for someone to die of fright. It was just a saying, an expression - was it really possible? It was also suspicious that the article be so small and hidden in a corner...

"Aha!" exclaimed Lily. After a minute of searching, Lily had finally located it. Eagerly, she read it.

On Thursday afternoon, when Aubrey Tate went to visit, she discovered her sister, Cecilia Wendellmore, and her husband, Elliot Wendellmore, lying stiff and lifeless together on a sofa in the family room. She immediately contacted police, who rushed to the scene. The couple was found with their eyes wide open and jaws dropped, but in perfectly good health and uninjured, except for the fact that they were dead. Police question if they had died of fright, but doctors insist that this is not possible. Investigators are still examining this case. Cause of death remains unknown.

That's where the article ended. It was so brief - Lily skimmed through the piece once more, checking to see if she had accidentally skipped over a line, but to no prevail. It seemed strange that there wouldn't be a larger article on this event; it wasn't very common - well, it had probably never happened - for someone to die of shock, but what other possibilities were there?

Lily stood up, and, making sure she laid the paper carefully so the pages didn't turn, she fetched scissors from the craft drawer in the study. She briskly returned, and went back the article. She was obsessed with it; something about the story intrigued - no, forced her to read it. It was as if she was determined to solve the mystery, to find out more. She neatly snipped around the small column and climbed up the stairs to her room.

She held up the small square of paper, under her lamp, as if maybe there was a hidden message, and perused it once more. Discouraged, she tacked it up to the bulletin board above her desk and fell back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room began to fade slowly, and she closed her eyes...

It was raining. There came a deep roll of thunder, and the lights dimmed and flickered, and went out. The room was dark now, but the blurry shapes of large antique furniture slowly came into focus. There were people in the room, and they were panting nervously in the corner, sitting on a couch side-by-side.

A young man spoke up. His voice was low and raspy. "Power's out. Should I go check - "

"No! Don't go... I have a feeling - it's just not safe. Stay here." said the woman, a tremble in her voice.

There was a momentary, tense silence before the man spoke again. "We should have stayed in Hogsmeade. It's not safe here. The Muggle world isn't right for us." His tone had died to a low mumble.

There was a click and a gentle creak at the front door. Wind gushed in from the storm outside. Neither of the two got up to close it. The woman was humming anxiously.

"Elliot - what's...what's going on?" she cried.

"Shh...I don't know. Stay quiet - don't move - Lumos!"

A light shone from the tip of a foot long stick the man was grasping. He slowly stood up, holding his stick cautiously in front of him, casting an eerie glow on the art-filled walls. He crept forward quietly, as the woman shivered behind him. A strange chill, one that did not seem to come from the door, passed through the room.

"Who's there?" said the man sharply. "Show yourself!" He was slowly gaining his courage. His shoulders had gone from hunched to proud.

There was no answer. The only sound was the patter of rain on the windows and the low howl of the storm at the door.

The man waited a minute, and then lowered his stick. He turned around, relief showing evidently on his face.

"See, honey? There's nothing. We're just getting too nervous. We're safe here. He doesn't know where we are - no one does. There's no way he could know."

"You're right," said the woman, although her voice was still fearfully high. "He couldn't - "

With a flash a blue light, the exchange was cut short when the man was flung forward onto the sofa. The woman screamed.

"Is that so?" said someone invisible in the shadows of the hallway. "No one knows you're here?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" yelled the man, not bothering to move, his voice cracking considerably. His eyes darted to meet his wife's, and they both silently nodded. They knew who had come.

Though the man tried to sound unafraid, the hidden intruder cackled darkly.

"Who am I? Well, it shouldn't matter. You won't be alive long enough to care. Avada Kedavra!"

A blinding green light shot from the dark hallway, zipping straight to the couch. The light filled the whole room, and the man fell back limp. His wife couldn't scream - instead she stared down shocked at her lifeless husband.

"I must be on my way. Good-bye, girl. Avada Kedavra!" the voice growled once more. The woman let out one more piercing scream before she dropped to the man's side.

"Search every inch of the house. It must be here. Report back to headquarters no later than dawn."

Lily felt a sharp pain on the back of her head. Her eyes shot open. She was sprawled on the floor of her room, drenched in sweat. She breathed quick and sharply, but paid no attention to any of this. She had just seen something - had she just seen what had happened to the Wendellmores?

She pushed herself up, wobbled around a little, and dashed to her board for the article. She looked it over, up and down - but it wasn't there. She tore down a few old "A+" assignments and report cards, but still, the clip was nowhere to be seen. Panicking, she shuffled through the cluttered top of her desk, and in the drawers. Still no sign of the article. She even checked under her bed. As she knelt and crouched over, looking sideways among the dust, she felt something crumple in her pocket. Curious, she stood back up, and reached into her pocket -

In her hands was the wrinkled article.

She dropped the paper in alarm. How had it gotten there? Surely she hadn't sleepwalked during as she slept - dreamt - whatever it was. It couldn't have been a dream; it seemed so real. But how did it end up on her?

Out of instinct, she bolted out of her room and down the stairs. She whirled around, as if looking for someplace to hide - she felt like someone was looking for her - she dove into the corner - images were flashing in her mind of the scene she'd just scene. The dream. Screams echoed in her ears. Thunder rumbled, though outside it was still sunny. She saw flashes of green light, and the terrified faces of the man and woman, stiff and on the couch.

She burst into tears. Why did they die? Who did this - who would be so cruel? How exactly were the killed - what was that light coming from? Surely car headlights didn't shine into the house from the windows - car-lights weren't that colorful or that bright - or flashes of lightning? No, lightning wasn't green or blue... the light came from the sticks, but what kind of sticks made light like that?

Her sobs had died out. Instead, she was more confused now than angry. Why had she seen this - and is it what really happened?

"Lily? Are you okay? I heard you crying."

Petunia had stepped into the doorway, and was standing with her hands on her hips with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine...I just - don't feel well. Sorry." muttered Lily. She stood up and rubbed her eyes.

"You do look terrible. Do you need anything?" said Petunia, holding Lily's arm concernedly. She was always rather protective of Lily.

"No, I'm fine, I think I'll just lie down, watch television - "

"I'll get you some chicken soup. Go ahead." Petunia twirled Lily around by the shoulders, and walked away to the kitchen.

Lily laid down on the sofa and propped her head against the pillow. She was thankful to have a sister like Petunia always looking after her. She picked up the remote and clicked on the television. There was an old western movie on, and Lily could care less what she was watching, as long as it didn't have to do with bursts of light and weird sticks.

Petunia returned four or five minutes later carrying a steaming bowl of soup. She pulled up a book to set the soup on, and Lily smiled graciously and took it onto her lap.

"Oh, and here's a letter you got today." said Petunia, pulling out a letter she was carrying under her arm. "They addressed it sort of strange."

Petunia handed Lily the letter. Her sister was right; Lily laughed out loud when she read what was written in emerald green ink on the cover:

Ms. L. Evans

The Blue Upstairs Bedroom

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

"That is strange," said Lily, examining the thick creamy-colored envelope. "Look at the paper that this is made of. Oh, Petunia, there's no stamp!"

"Do you think it was dropped off at our house or something? How else would it get sent in the mail?" said Petunia excitedly. "Come on, open it up!" But before Lily had a chance to open the flap, Petunia grabbed it from her hands and tore it open.

Lily grabbed the paper from her giggly sister, and unfolded the paper. She shifted herself so that Petunia had to strain to see it, and still couldn't even read it properly. Barely getting a chance to look at the writing yet, Lily set the book and soup aside and scurried to the bathroom for privacy. Sure, it was fun messing around with Petunia, but Lily had a feeling that this was nothing to mess around about...

Shutting and locking the door and ignoring Petunia's knocks, Lily sat herself on the toilet seat to finally read her note. Before reading, however, the actual parchment caught her attention. It was thick and old-looking, and a similar color to the envelope's. Even the ink was old looking, as if it had come from an ink bottle. The lettering was neat and curly, as if the letter was a formal invitation to a fancy dinner.

Sighing, Lily began to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

~

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Lily stopped to blink a few times. Hogwarts? Witchcraft and Wizardry? What was going on? Merlin - he was the name of a wizard in the books about King Arthur. Was that the same person? She had never heard of anyone named "Albus Dumbledore", either. What a weird name... thought Lily. She eagerly read on.

Dear Ms. Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Lily nearly fell over. A witch? Her? Witches didn't even exist! Sure, maybe a few times she did things that couldn't be explained (like the time she nearly got hit by a car in the road, but then, when the car was only two feet away, blinked and found herself on the curb), but there was no such thing as magic! Magic only existed in movies and books, not in real life!

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term Begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Though Lily was feeling sick to her stomach, she couldn't help but flip to the second slip of paper.

UNIFORM

First year students will require:

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

Herbs and Fungi - Made Simple by Camilla Weede

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

Defending Yourself in Dark Times by Vesurvius Littlewing

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Broomsticks? Wands? Pointed hats? This was getting too much for Lily to handle. Yet, there was one more page, and she kept reading.

Dear Ms. Evans,

Since you are Muggle-born (or having no direct relation to a witch or wizard), the Knight Bus will arrive at precisely 2 o'clock in the afternoon on August 2 to take you to The Leaky Cauldron. Inside, the bartender, Tom, will give you further instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley, where you can purchase your supplies.

Also, you may attach a reply to your acceptance with the owl outside your door.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Lily couldn't handle any more. She got up, lifted up the toilet seat, and threw up. She didn't even bother to wash out her mouth - she fumbled with the lock, and stumbled out of the bathroom. Once in the kitchen, she went to the garbage can, and stepped on the pedal to open the lid.

She glanced down at the letter one last time before tossing it in.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.