Chapter 1 : Prologue: 10 Ways To Describe James Potter
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Disclaimer: How would I ever own Harry Potter? If you had half a brain you’d know I don’t.
- Ambrose Bierce
10 Ways To Describe James Potter
Lily Evans entered a small coffee shop in the heart of muggle London, feeling extremely happy. She was meeting her boyfriend of two years for the first time in three months. James Potter had been on an Auror mission in the middle of some forest in France and due to the delicacy of the situation and the isolation of his position, Lily had not spoken to James since the night before he left.
But seeing James was not the only reason for Lily's happiness. No, Lily had a surprise; and a less-than-flat stomach. She was three months pregnant with James’s child. And seeing as James was stuck in the middle a forest with Sirius black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. And she wasn’t the least bit nervous about what his reaction would be, seeing as she knew that James knew she would kick his butt if he was anything but pleased.
Lily walked over to a small secluded table in the corner of the room and sat down. The café was very pretty with small bouquets of flowers on each table, dark wooden floors and seating and each with a red plaid tablecloth. The walls were painted a dark red and decorated with small watercolors of the English countryside. A waitress approached Lily’s table and she ordered a latté and a plate of scones with jam and cream. The waitress left and Lily settled back in her seat and waited.
Four lattés, two mochas, five scones and three hours later Lily was still waiting. And instead for feeling happy she was goddamn mad. But she wasn’t going to leave. Oh, hell no! She was going to rack up a bill for the poor bastard. This thought was a comforting one and should have substantially decreased her anger but due to a great intake of caffeine and a body full of raging hormones, she was still seething.
She flagged down her waitress, who was looking extremely sympathetic.
‘Still hasn’t come?’ asked the waitress knowingly, wiping out her pen and pad.
‘How could you guess?’ Lily asked sourly.
The waitress shrugged. ‘Hunny, when you’re in the human relations business for as long as I have been, you know just what’s bothering people.’
Hmm, Lily pondered, forgetting her anger for a minute. Maybe I should become a waitress... then I could become a psychologist and become rich!
She ordered a strawberry milkshake and asked the waitress if she could borrow her pen.
‘Sure,’ said the waitress, handing the pen to Lily, before disappearing to make her milkshake.
Lily pulled a napkin out of the napkin canister and took a while to ponder the purpose of them.
Why are they here? You are just going to pull the napkin out anyway. So why have them? It would be better to put them in one of those boxes with the lifty thing. Then it is less of an effort.
Suppose life is like a napkin canister? Pointless and annoying. You are the canister and life is the napkins. They just get pulled out, used then thrown away. Then when the canister is empty you simply put more napkins in! Then this repeats until the canister is too rusty and old to serve it’s purpose. Then it is thrown into a hole (also known as a landfill).
Therefore, to be human is to be a napkin canister.
Lily snapped out of her reverie and took a bite out of her last scone while watching a speck of dust float down it the air. She was going to write a list. In her sixth year of Hogwarts, after a particularly stressful and aggravating day of turning James down, Lily had discovered that writing lists was a good way of calming herself.
Lily pondered over what she was going to write about, all the while wondering what the world would be like to be a speck of dust.
I guess it would be interesting to be dust. Floating around all the time, each time the breeze comes, a new adventure begins...
But suppose you had misophobia or mysophobia!! A fear of being contaminated with dirt or germs!!
WHAT WOULD HAPPEN THEN?? BECAUSE YOU ARE A GERM YOURSELF! What would you do with your life? You would be afraid of everything! Even yourself!
And suppose you also had metathesiophobia as well! A fear of change!! You would be terrified of the slightest wind BECAUSE IT WOULD CHANGE YOU’RE DIRECTION IN LIFE!
*gasp* Suppose you lived in Russia! And you had russophobia!! A FEAR OF RUSSIANS!
Suddenly she was struck with her best list yet. She leant down over her napkin and wrote, being careful not to rip the tissue: