The Years We Were Alive: Year 1

Potter Christmas

December 19, 1971

Lizzie woke up in the most extravagant room that she had ever slept in. It certainly wasn't the room she shared with J in her trailer back home. It was probably the size of her entire home, and it was just for her. For some reason, she had thought that she would have to share a room with James, but it turns out rich people had extra rooms just for the fun of it.

She had been knitting scarves for the Potters since she found out that she was going. Before doing anything else when she woke up, she knitted ten rows on each of the three scarves. She didn't need magic to knit like a lot of the magic-born kids her age. She had already known the muggle way and found it relaxing. Doing it with magic took the fun out of it, besides she couldn't use magic over the break.

"Tea Liz?" Mrs. Potter offered when she heard Lizzie's soft footsteps padding down the hallway.

"No thank you," Lizzie shook her head. She didn't really like tea all that much. Sometimes back home she would drink coffee when her mother gave it to her.

"Hot chocolate then?"

"Oh, yes please," Lizzie licked her lips. That sounded amazing. Much better than the pumpkin juice garbage they drank at Hogwarts.

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Potter smiled at Lizzie. She had started to become suspicious. Good things didn't happen to her, and she was on a hot streak. This was too good to be true. This is when the police would come out and take her to the funny farm for being batshit crazy.

Why was Mrs. Potter so nice? She was nicer to Lizzie than her own mother was. She had only just met her yesterday! Why would she welcome her to her home? Didn't she know that everything in her wonderful home cost more than anything Lizzie had ever owned before?

She ended up sitting on the couch in the living room. She was drinking her hot chocolate while Mrs. Potter was sipping her tea. Lizzie noticed that British people made tea differently than it was made in America, but still. The only tea Lizzie would ever really drink was the sugary sweet tea one of her friend's mothers would make. She was from the South, and they had really good sweet tea.

"How did you sleep?"

"Great, thank you," Lizzie tried not to make a slurping sound, "You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Potter,"

"Thank you, dear," she smiled at Lizzie. They would sit in a moment of uncomfortable silence between the words they exchanged.

"I like to be called Lizzie by the way," Lizzie mumbled into her hot drink.

"What was that?" Mrs. Potter looked at her with the most genuinely warm smile Lizzie had ever said.

"Umm, I like to be called Lizzie,"

"I'm so sorry! James only ever called you Liz,"

"Yeah, he kind of started it. I guess I don't mind it really, it's just that," Lizzie trailed off. Of course, Mrs. Potter didn't care. She didn't want to hear that Lizzie's mother wasn't of the same caliber as Mrs. Potter was.

"What dear?" she prompted Lizzie to complete her sentence.

"Nothing," Lizzie smiled with her mouth. She saw a small tinge of worry in Mrs. Potter's face, "You can call me Liz if you'd like. All the boys do,"

"I'll call you whatever it is that you would like to be called,"

"Thanks, Lizzie then,"

"About that Sirius Black," Mrs. Potter raised an eyebrow. Lizzie could tell that she was happy to have a little girl around. She thought James had mentioned in passing that his mum was trying to have another kid when he was younger, a girl, they wanted a girl.