Categories > Books > Harry Potter > In Search of a Family: Two Dimensions to the Left
In Search of a Family: Two Dimensions To The Left
Chapter 1
By FredLyonsTheGreat
A Blank Demension: Lila Potter's POV
Out of sight, out of mind. That's what the Muggles say, I think, and that certainly applies to me. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Lilac Amelia Potter, more commonly called Lila, the daughter of James and Lily Potter, and the sister of the great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. My family is incredibly rich and well loved; I live in a huge mansion and I've never lacked for any material things. Most people would say that I'm incredibly blessed, and in a way, I am.
But in a way, I'm not.
You see, Voldemort attacked my parents before I was born. Even today, no one will tell me why the Dark Lord suddenly decided to go after a young couple and their son. At the time, my dad was just out of Auror training, and widely known as one of the best recruits the Ministry has ever seen, and my mother was working in the Experimental Charms Department of the Ministry.
In late October 1981, Voldemort tortured and killed Peter Pettigrew, my parent's Secret Keeper and one of their dearest friends. Then, on Halloween, Voldemort broke the Fidelius Charm that my parents were hiding under at Godric's Hallow, one of their smaller properties, and tried to kill them.
No one really knows what happened, but when the Aurors arrived later, my dad was sprawled in the front hall, my mother in the nursery, and my brother in his crib, all unconscious. Harry had a lightning bolt scar carved into his forehead, and Voldemort was nothing but a pile of robes.
The wizarding world went crazy, and from that day on, though I wasn't even a thought yet, my life was ruined.
When I came along, Harry was two and already quite spoiled. Jealous that I was stealing other peoples' attention, he set out to make my life miserable. Stealing toys, hitting me, getting me in trouble, the whole nine yards. Apparently it's a habit that he has yet to grow out of as he continues to torture me to this day.
I'm not saying that my parents don't love me. They do, I know they do, but they simply don't have time for me. Right now, my dad heads the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and my mother teaches Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, and sometimes does freelance work for the Ministry. Aside from school and vacations, I rarely see them, and when I do, Harry gets all the attention.
The Potter house hold is blatant favoritism at it's finest. Harry can get away with almost anything, and he's never in trouble. Mum and Dad are really lenient with him, and they'll give him anything he wants, almost. And me? Well…they treat me like parents normally treat their kids discipline and all that jazz, except they kind of ignore me a little bit. I'm not angry with them, not anymore at least. I used to be until I realized that if they treated me the same that they treat Harry, I'd be the most spoiled girl on this side London, a title that I'll leave to that cow Pansy Parkinson.
Personally, I would hate to be in the spotlight; I don't want fame. Nor do I begrudge Harry my parent's love and time. However, I would like them for myself, occasionally. Is that too much to ask? According to Harry it is.
It doesn't help that I'm incredibly ordinary. There's nothing about me that screams 'Sister of the Boy-Who-Lived!' At Hogwarts, I get A's and E's with an O here or there, nothing remarkable. Of course, Harry's only an average student too, but he's the savior of the wizarding world, so that doesn't matter. In Quidditch, I can handle a broom without falling off, but that's about it, as opposed to Harry, who could probably live in the air quite happily.
Then there's looks. My brother is pretty cute, even I'll admit that, with messy black hair and sparkling green eyes. The Potter fortune doesn't hurt either. Both of my parents are good-looking; my dad is pretty handsome, and my mom is just gorgeous. She has eyes like Harry's, and flaming red locks highlighted in gold.
On the other end of the spectrum, there's me. Like Harry, I have Dad's unmanageable hair, but unlike Harry, it doesn't look cool on me. It's unmanagebly curly, and never does what I want it to. Since my hair is longer, it just looks plain odd. It's the kind of hair that keeps Sleekeazy's Hair Potion in buisiness. I got Dad's hazel eyes too, which are pretty if you really look at them, and my face is pretty plain.
Whenever anyone sees us as a family, they gawk at Harry first, before smiling at Mum and Dad. For all it matters, I could be a piece of the background before anyone would notice me. When they do notice the left over Potter, you can see they are all thinking the same thing: How did two people with such good looks end up with me?
At home, I eat in my room unless Mum and Dad are home. In that case, I sit in the formal dining room with them, and get royally ignored while they chatter with Harry. At Hogwarts, people just don't seem to notice me. While I know enough kids to say 'hi' to, or pair up with in class, I haven't got any close friends.
But I could deal with all this, I really could, if it weren't for Harry.
I've never loved my brother, at least, not as far as I can remember. Even now, I can't say that I love him. Could you say that about someone who steals your things, regularly embarrasses you in front of your classmates, gets you in trouble, blames everything on you, and laughs at you if you try to do anything about it?
Thanks to my wonderful big brother (that was sarcasm, if you didn't notice), almost everyone seems to think that I'm incompetent, clumsy, and mentally retarded or something.
Sometimes, I hate my life. But I guess that's what I get, being the Forgotten Potter.
Chapter 1
By FredLyonsTheGreat
A Blank Demension: Lila Potter's POV
Out of sight, out of mind. That's what the Muggles say, I think, and that certainly applies to me. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Lilac Amelia Potter, more commonly called Lila, the daughter of James and Lily Potter, and the sister of the great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. My family is incredibly rich and well loved; I live in a huge mansion and I've never lacked for any material things. Most people would say that I'm incredibly blessed, and in a way, I am.
But in a way, I'm not.
You see, Voldemort attacked my parents before I was born. Even today, no one will tell me why the Dark Lord suddenly decided to go after a young couple and their son. At the time, my dad was just out of Auror training, and widely known as one of the best recruits the Ministry has ever seen, and my mother was working in the Experimental Charms Department of the Ministry.
In late October 1981, Voldemort tortured and killed Peter Pettigrew, my parent's Secret Keeper and one of their dearest friends. Then, on Halloween, Voldemort broke the Fidelius Charm that my parents were hiding under at Godric's Hallow, one of their smaller properties, and tried to kill them.
No one really knows what happened, but when the Aurors arrived later, my dad was sprawled in the front hall, my mother in the nursery, and my brother in his crib, all unconscious. Harry had a lightning bolt scar carved into his forehead, and Voldemort was nothing but a pile of robes.
The wizarding world went crazy, and from that day on, though I wasn't even a thought yet, my life was ruined.
When I came along, Harry was two and already quite spoiled. Jealous that I was stealing other peoples' attention, he set out to make my life miserable. Stealing toys, hitting me, getting me in trouble, the whole nine yards. Apparently it's a habit that he has yet to grow out of as he continues to torture me to this day.
I'm not saying that my parents don't love me. They do, I know they do, but they simply don't have time for me. Right now, my dad heads the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and my mother teaches Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, and sometimes does freelance work for the Ministry. Aside from school and vacations, I rarely see them, and when I do, Harry gets all the attention.
The Potter house hold is blatant favoritism at it's finest. Harry can get away with almost anything, and he's never in trouble. Mum and Dad are really lenient with him, and they'll give him anything he wants, almost. And me? Well…they treat me like parents normally treat their kids discipline and all that jazz, except they kind of ignore me a little bit. I'm not angry with them, not anymore at least. I used to be until I realized that if they treated me the same that they treat Harry, I'd be the most spoiled girl on this side London, a title that I'll leave to that cow Pansy Parkinson.
Personally, I would hate to be in the spotlight; I don't want fame. Nor do I begrudge Harry my parent's love and time. However, I would like them for myself, occasionally. Is that too much to ask? According to Harry it is.
It doesn't help that I'm incredibly ordinary. There's nothing about me that screams 'Sister of the Boy-Who-Lived!' At Hogwarts, I get A's and E's with an O here or there, nothing remarkable. Of course, Harry's only an average student too, but he's the savior of the wizarding world, so that doesn't matter. In Quidditch, I can handle a broom without falling off, but that's about it, as opposed to Harry, who could probably live in the air quite happily.
Then there's looks. My brother is pretty cute, even I'll admit that, with messy black hair and sparkling green eyes. The Potter fortune doesn't hurt either. Both of my parents are good-looking; my dad is pretty handsome, and my mom is just gorgeous. She has eyes like Harry's, and flaming red locks highlighted in gold.
On the other end of the spectrum, there's me. Like Harry, I have Dad's unmanageable hair, but unlike Harry, it doesn't look cool on me. It's unmanagebly curly, and never does what I want it to. Since my hair is longer, it just looks plain odd. It's the kind of hair that keeps Sleekeazy's Hair Potion in buisiness. I got Dad's hazel eyes too, which are pretty if you really look at them, and my face is pretty plain.
Whenever anyone sees us as a family, they gawk at Harry first, before smiling at Mum and Dad. For all it matters, I could be a piece of the background before anyone would notice me. When they do notice the left over Potter, you can see they are all thinking the same thing: How did two people with such good looks end up with me?
At home, I eat in my room unless Mum and Dad are home. In that case, I sit in the formal dining room with them, and get royally ignored while they chatter with Harry. At Hogwarts, people just don't seem to notice me. While I know enough kids to say 'hi' to, or pair up with in class, I haven't got any close friends.
But I could deal with all this, I really could, if it weren't for Harry.
I've never loved my brother, at least, not as far as I can remember. Even now, I can't say that I love him. Could you say that about someone who steals your things, regularly embarrasses you in front of your classmates, gets you in trouble, blames everything on you, and laughs at you if you try to do anything about it?
Thanks to my wonderful big brother (that was sarcasm, if you didn't notice), almost everyone seems to think that I'm incompetent, clumsy, and mentally retarded or something.
Sometimes, I hate my life. But I guess that's what I get, being the Forgotten Potter.
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