The Beginning - Lily
Lily believed she could perform magic; it was rooted in her heart and spread to the tips of her pallid fingertips. She could make a single petal float in the air, until she decided to let it drop, and float back down to the uneven earth underneath her feet. Controlling emotions was another speciality of hers: she could make her sister give her whatever she wanted, or make her mother knit her a new scarf whenever she wanted, and even make her father feel happier after work. Lily Evans was magic. Except no one believed her when she told them.
The fog outside seemed entwined between everything; the trees swayed perturbingly, the sky was grey and bleak, and the wind screamed and whistled. Lily found herself bored and was trying to amuse herself by lifting the roses out of her mother's vase and then releasing them, making a substantial splash as she did so.
"Lily! Come here, I need you!" her sister, Petunia wailed from downstairs.
"Coming!" Lily shouted.
Hurriedly, she put all of the roses back in the vase as they were, and scrambled downstairs to find her sister at the dining table, painting her nails with a shimmery, magenta colour.
"I need you to do my left hand, it's taking too long for me to do it," Petunia instructed, shaking her left hand roughly and slapping it back down on the table. As requested, Lily sat down on a stool next to her older sister, and took the flat paddle brush of the polish.
"Do try and stay still, Tuney," Lily whined, as Petunia squirmed underneath her grip.
"I am, you're pressing on my nails too much!"
"Well, stay still then!" Lily continued, as she finished Petunia's last nail and dipped the brush back into the pink polish. Petunia hurried upstairs, taking the polish, and shut her door raucously.
There was no signs of her mother or father, so Lily decided to go to the Glade. She always went to the Glade - it was a special place to her. It was peaceful and calm, and she doubted that the fog and wind would affect her secret hideout; she was sure it possessed powers, like herself. However, the way to the Glade would be blustery, so she needed one of her many thick - knit scarves.
Climbing upstairs once more, Lily found herself once again in her mother's room. She headed to the oak draw that held everyone's winter accessories and pulled out her favourite - a mahogany coloured scarf and matching, thick gloves. Then, after the choice was made, she slipped them on and walked downstairs to the door. Lifting the brass latch, and unlocking the door, Lily strolled out into the bitter weather.
