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the brightest witch of her age by dirgewithoutmusic
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
16 Jan 2017
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Summary
When Hermione Jean Granger was one year old her parents died in a car crash. She knew all about it because she asked a lot of questions and her aunt and uncle believed in answering them.
Why is the sky blue, auntie? Why are b's and d's like in the mirror? Where do songs come from? Why did Jenny Hopkins call me a--?
Her father had accelerated into a green light, like you were supposed to. (By the time she was eight, Hermione had the driver's rulebook memorized). A truck driver, going the opposite way, hadn't stopped at a red.
Hermione had been strapped in a car seat in the back, her aunt and uncle told her. She hadn't been hurt at all except for the scar that stood out, jagged, on her forehead.
As Hermione grew up into a gangly, bushy-haired, buck-toothed wonder, she thought she could remember it-- a glaring green light, a rush of cold air.
Series
- Part 10 of boy with a scar
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perfectly normal, thank you very much by dirgewithoutmusic
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
20 Apr 2017
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Summary
When the letter arrives, Lily is almost as excited as Petunia. She writes Albus Dumbledore to ask if she can go too, and if she cries a little when the answer comes back no she doesn't tell anyone. Lily waves from the train platform, writes diligently, and listens with excitement whenever her big sister deigns to share stories of magic.
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Anonymous asked for "what if Petunia was a witch and Lily a Muggle?"Series
- Part 13 of boy with a scar
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Summary
On the train platform, Harry suffered a hug from Remus, a hair ruffle from Sirius, and a "don't do anything I wouldn't do" from his mother, and then he ran for the brick wall, cart rattling before him. The snowy owl they'd gotten him hooted softly in protest. Harry had named her Ororo after the Muggle comic books his mother had introduced him to. Lily took Harry to the comic store every time he sat through a whole visit with his aunt, uncle, and cousin and didn't kick anybody unless they kicked him first.
Bill tried to wipe some dirt off a dodging Ron's nose. Ginny complained loudly about being left behind. Fred and George ran off to see Lee Jordan's spider. People watched the Weasleys from all directions--they were hard to miss--and Ron's shoulders slowly rose up and up to his reddening ears. He missed the big empty orchards behind the Burrow already.
Ron was one of the last people on the train. He slid past staring eyes and finally stepped himself into an almost unoccupied compartment-- there was just one small boy tucked in there. He had messy dark hair, slightly askew round glasses, and a comic book held up in front of his nose.
"Is it okay if I sit here?" said Ron. "Everywhere else is full."
Series
- Part 9 of boy with a scar
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Summary
Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.
The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they'd had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said 'freak' and Lily had hissed 'better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy--'
And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric's Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry's always had.
She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. "I think he's asleep," James mouthed over Harry's tousled head. His hair was the same mess, his head bent down as he peered at his sleeping son.
Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. "James," she said. "How are we going to do this?"
Series
- Part 12 of boy with a scar
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Summary
In another life, Lily Evans Potter stood on these very floorboards and defied a wizard who scorned every fiber of her being. She was told to step aside—like a puppy or plaything, a prize for a loyal servant who had pleaded for her life—and she refused. She died for love, for a future she would never live to see.
In this room, there was only Sirius Black, blood traitor, a wizard in whom Voldemort saw willful ignorance, betrayal, an unblemished pedigree, wasted potential. He was told to step aside—the Dark Lord believed that blood would out, that he could be won, a prize for a loyal servant who had pleaded for his life—and he refused. He died for love, for honor, for true friends who became his family when his flesh and blood disowned him.
In a time of war, there are always men and women willing to die for love. There are few who look death in the eye, take the balance of their lives, and make the choice. There are few who are given the choice at all.
The story of the Boy Who Lived does not begin on the night he did not die. His story begins decades earlier, in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Inspired by dirgewithoutmusic's fic "the family potter" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10566861)