❝She wore her scars as her best attire, a stunning dress of hellfire.❞
In a world where children are orphaned by dark wizards and destinies are bestowed upon the most unlikely of people, Lily Potter II must choose between what is good and what is ri...
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YEAR ONE T h e S o r c e r e r ' s S t o n e
July 31st, 1991 - Ten Years Later...
LATE IN THE NIGHT, a terrible storm was advancing over Little Whinging, but that wasn't what Lily Potter felt. She felt adventure on the warm July wind, calling to her, and it shivered down her spine as she sat in the small confines of her room.
She was quite mischievous, that Lily Potter, but no one knew her for it. She was known for something greater, although she was unaware of it, and that unknown part of her life haunted her every day that she spent with the Denver family.
In a world parallel to the one all Muggles know, there is a world where magic exists and people know how to wield it. Wizards and witches alike know the names of twins Harry James Potter and Lillian Rose Potter, the Boy and Girl Who Lived, because they vanquished a Dark wizard as infants. This left them as orphans - children who could only be shielded from their fame and those who wished to hurt them by living with Muggles - and there, the great story truly begins. Lily and Harry had no knowledge of each other or of the magical blood which ran through their veins, and the families who raised them - albeit reluctantly - sought to keep it that way. No good could from magic, not in the eyes of the Dursleys or the Denvers.
Lily Potter got the short end of the stick where her [not so] family was concerned. While Harry, the elder twin by eleven minutes, was sent off to lived with the Dursleys who he was actually related to in blood, Lily got stuck with the Denvers, their close friends, and that in itself was enough to make anyone inexplicably mundane. So naturally, with a girl as audacious and potentially powerful as Lily, she never felt completely herself - as if there was always a part of her that was missing.
The Denver Family lived on 34 Beacon Street where every single house within a five-block radius looked exactly like their's, with the exception of a nicely planted garden and a family harboring a boisterous secret. They wanted to fit in with everyone else, but the girl with auburn hair made it impossible just by being there, so Mr. and Mrs. Denver only hated Lily more.
Mr. Barry Denver was the patron of the house and never failed to remind everyone of it. Standing at six feet, he was a lean man with salt-and-pepper hair that he rarely combed. A scruffy beard hid his fat lips, which were always chapped because of the foul words he spewed everywhere.
His wife, Mrs. Monica Denver, was the opposite of her stout husband. Standing at five-foot-seven and a bit wide around the middle, the iron-haired woman always dressed in a most businesslike fashion, although she'd never worked a day in her life. Lily made the mistake of pointing that fact out once when Mrs. Denver demanded that she had spilled grape juice all over her ironed white blouse and it earned her a week locked up in her room. All things considered, the authority lied with Mrs. Denver - if she wasn't happy, no one was - but Lily seldom listened to her anyway.
