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Learning To Fall



I was sitting next to the lake under the big oak tree. All the leaves were lovely oranges, reds, and yellows. I knew that autumn had finally come, and I couldn’t be happier. I always felt autumn brought love, yes I know that it is supposed to be spring when love is in bloom, but for some reason I always believed that autumn was the season for love.


Oh wait, maybe I should back up a little. My name is Lily Evans, and I am a 7th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have fire-engine red hair that falls to my waist, am on the shorter side of the scale, and have vibrant emerald-green eyes that everyone find amazing but I think are rather unusual. I am what people would call book-wormish. I am also a loner, probably from all the time I spend in the library.


Back to what I was saying, I was sitting by the lake and out walks Potter, or as everyone else calls him James. I truly despise this guy, with his messy black hair that always looks as if he just got of a broomstick, cocky attitude, and the fact that he was second-best in all his classes (I am the best and am proud of it) how could I not.


Well I am the only person in the entire school, besides the Slytherins, that despises him. Everyone else adores him! That is probably where he got his cocky attitude from. And the big ego! Honestly! How does it fit in his head!

Oh here I go again on one of my Potter rants. Stay on track, stay on track…


Anyway, he walked up to me and leaned against the tree and smiled down at me. I just icily glared back.

He said in that care-free way of his, “Hey, Lils, how about you and me go on this weekend’s Hogsmeade trip together.”


I shot back, “How about I go flush your head down a toilet? Oh wait, it wouldn’t fit in there because of your over-sized ego. How many times must I tell you that to you I am Evans and that I don’t want to go on a date with you?”

He looked slightly hurt, but it soon went away.


He paused and then said, “How come you won’t even give me one chance? Are you just afraid that you might have been wrong about me?”


How dare he say that I am afraid that I was wrong about him! I know one thing, and that is that Potter will never change.


“You think that I turn you down because I am afraid of being wrong! Now that is a laugh. I turn you down, because I don’t like you! In fact, as I have said many times before, I hate you! Egotistic prat!” I said a little louder.

At sometime during the conversation I had stood up, so I turned and stalked off leaving a very hurt looking Potter.


I think that might have hurt him, but I don’t care.


*You know you do*


Hey what was that?


*I am your conscience*



Okay what do you want, and why did you say that I am sorry about what I said to Potter.


*I want you to realize your feelings, and you know that you really are*


Well I am sure of my feelings, and they aren’t the ones you are talking about. So could you please leave?


*I will go for now, but I will never truly leave*


Yeah, right whatever.



Still fuming, I stormed into the common room. McGonagall stood in there, a look of pity and pain etched in her stretched features. Her eyes showed signs of fighting tears. Her tight grey bun looked a little frayed and messy today, and her emerald witch’s hat was tipped slightly, unlike its usual uprightness. Even her matching emerald robes seemed a little abnormally carefree. There was definitely not something right here.


“Ms. Evans, Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office. I’m sorry.”

Why was she sorry? What had I done? What happened?!


Slowly I made my way to the entrance of Dumbledore’s office. It was guarded, like all entrances to private quarters in this school. Whatever it was that Dumbledore had to tell me, it must have been urgent because the gargoyle immediately allowed me to go up the spiral staircase.


I knocked lightly on the large door at the top of the stairs and waited for an answer.


“Enter,” a weary voice called. I pushed the door open and was shocked by the scene unfolding in front of me. Dumbledore’s wrinkled face was reddened from crying, and he wore plain black robes, a great contrast to his normal bubbly and bright ones. His long beard was matted in knots, and it was obvious he hadn’t slept in a while. Never had she seen Professor Dumbledore in such a state.

What could have happened to cause such a powerful man to be in such a weak state?


He motioned for me to sit in a conjured chair, which I took willingly. I knew whatever this was, was going to be said to me while I was seated.


Dumbledore said slowly, almost unsurely, “Ms. Evans, you do know about the threat by the name of Lord Voldemort on the loose, do you not?”


I nodded, and he continued, “I then regret to tell you that Lord Voldemort has recently visited your house, and after not finding what he was looking for, he murdered you parents. Your sister was not there at the time and is safe, but she told me that she would not let you stay with her and her husband. She also said that you would not be a part of her new life in anyway. I know first hand how precious your parents were, and I feel deeply for your pain at the moment. If there is anything I can do, feel free to tell me. The funeral is set for December first. You will be excused from this week’s classes and the classes that day.”


Time seemed to stop. All I could hear was the faint sound of my heart beating against my chest. All the anger and pain I had ever suffered seemed to rise inside of me and it all flowed out through tears. The fresh, hot tears pouring down my face felt like fire. Like the fire I wished Petunia would feel for once. Like the fire Petunia had set on me. This wasn’t fair!  


I pushed passed Professor Dumbledore with water flowing at a rapid pace down my face.

I screamed before I left the room, “It isn’t true! It can’t be!”


I ran the entire way back to the common room. I managed to say the password, and then I flew through the door. As far as I could see no one was there, so I flung myself onto the nearest couch. I lay there for many hours crying and staring into the fire. I lay there thinking about all the happy times I had had with my parents. I remembered when my daddy first taught me to ride a bike, when my mom helped me bake my first batch of cookies, when my parents first told me about St. Nicholas, and when I first got my Hogwarts letter.


All the memories that I didn’t know I had came flooding back to me. It was like watching a painful home video. Every moment captured candidly, moments that you never thought would ever be recalled.

I never moved from that couch. I was sure it would be too much to move upstairs to my dormitory, and I didn’t want to listen to the idiots giggling. Thus after many hours of crying, I fell asleep on that oversized couch.


My body moved back and forth. Two strong hands held my shoulders causing the body motion. Groggily, I opened my red eyes. Standing over me was a dark-haired male. I let my vision clear, and was shocked by whom it was. It was Potter. James Bloody Potter. The last guy to talk to me before that meeting at Dumbledore’s office.

A whole new set of tears surfaced behind my sore eyes. I shook my head to clear the thoughts of pain and memories.


Potter’s not so arrogant voice asked quietly, “Hey, are you okay? I heard you crying last night. Do you want to talk about it?”


“Why would I want to tell you? Why would you bloody care that I just lost my parents to the bastard murdering every person that stands up to him?” My voice held edge, an edge that my parents always hated.


“I’m sorry,” his voice was filled with compassion. “I lost my parents to him too.”


His eyes filled a little too.


“I’m sorry.” I truly was. No one, not even Potter, deserved to lose their parents in such an awful way.


He swiped the tears forming away, and he unsurely wrapped his toned arms around me.



Did I ever say that Potter could hold me? But it does feel nice… Like having a guardian angel…

So I let him hold me, something that surprised him completely.

I cried into his shoulder and I felt a few tear drops fall on my head. For how long we cried, neither of us could tell, but it was the action that brought us closer. To friendship, to each other. 


That day I made a new friend, a friend to last a lifetime.




Not you again!

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