Disclaimer: Plot line is mine, Lily is J.K Rowlings.

Plot: Lily has been ridiculed all her life about being different, about being a witch, she finally reaches her breaking point after a mishap at the Hogwarts Christmas Ball.

The Oak
A miss-teesh-black story

The July day was stiflingly hot, the sun beating mercilessly down onto the ugly suburban rooves while the sickening humidity forced clothing to stick uncomfortably to one's back. However, in spite of the scorching weather, I slipped into my gardening shoes, settling my broad-brimmed straw hat onto my greying hair. Making my way across my perfectly groomed lawn, I reached my lovely gardenia flower bed in the corner of my white picket fence. An oversized oak tree situated in the neighbouring yard cast an unruly shadow over my dear gardenias, its bothersome star shaped leaves fell onto my flawless lawn. The tree was tall as it was broad, and its branches were sturdy. The largest branch, stretching horizontally across the neighbour's yard, created an abominable, leafy canopy. My annoyance rose every time I saw the tree. I had asked the neighbours to remove or simply trim their monstrosity, yet to no avail. The unattractive leaves from the oak fell and crushed the delicate petals of my white gardenias.

I had stooped next to the garden bed while pulling on my gloves on to avoid tarnishing my manicured nails, when I caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of my eye. It was the neighbour's teenage daughter; she was clad in a long, flowing white dress. However, it appeared to be ripped and had a disgusting stain splattered up the sides. I had always thought that the girl was strange, a recluse one might say. She was always too peculiar for my liking, the girl had no friends. Despite this, the question that begged to be answered was, why was she wearing that ghastly dress?

Watching out of my peripheral vision, I plucked the nuisance leaves from the garden bed slowly, as the girl approached the large oak. She stood and stared without blinking as her gaze travelled up the thick trunk to the top of the tree. The ungainly leaves fell gently around her unmoving body, and her brow was furrowed in a disapproving manner. With a flutter of white fabric, the girl left as quickly as she had come. I then continued the gruelling task of maintaining perfection in my garden, as I placed the leaves in a pile beside my aged body. Mess was not acceptable.

Moments later the strange girl returned, clutched in her pale hands was a large pair of garden clippers, a saw, and tucked awkwardly under her arm, a ladder. I immediately ceased pretending not to watch and looked on with hope. Perhaps her mother had sent her to trim the eyesore that was the oak. The girl rested the ladder against the stretching branch before she climbed upwards; garden clippers grasped firmly in her hand.

As I gazed out the front window, I took in the surrounds of the neighbourhood. The sleepy street of Oak Drive was quiet and still in its Sunday morning splendour. Yes, everything was normal. I sipped my scorching hot morning coffee too quickly, spluttering as I did a double take towards the large oak tree in our front garden. My daughter, Lily was perched on a ladder, furiously cutting at the saplings that were growing off a large branch while clothed in her ball gown! Placing my cup of coffee down I approached the window, my hands pressed firmly against the glass. What on earth iswas that child doing?

The wooden ladder wobbled to and fro as she adjusted her weight on the ancient ladder. It was a long way down from where she stood, hovering above the ground. A pair of rusty clippers dangled from her pale fingers as she clambered up another rung. She reached a thick branch and steadied herself on the rough bark of the trunk. Focusing on a small green sapling that stretched out from the main branch she squeezed the clippers around its base, and grinned with satisfaction when an audible snap was heard.

I bit my lip with worry and pressed my hands harder against the window but decided not to stop her. Lily had returned last night from her prom with a stony face, her pristine white gown torn along the hem and across the bodice, mud stained coated on the sides. She simply said that she "fell" and immediately went to bed, and I had felt there was no point in questioning her further. Perhaps she was just trying to clear her mind.

The branch was almost clear now as the saplings fell to the ground silently. The branch creaked in protest as she pulled herself up on the branch as it hovered, hovering above the leaf riddled yard. The rough bark caught, pulled and tugged at her dress, as if urging her to come down. I called out to her, but she did not hear me. She moved across further across, shuffling along on her bottom, while the leaves whipped her in the face.

She stopped when she reached a rope tied around the broad limb, the rope swing I had made for her when she was a child. She grabbed the rope from under her as she straddled the branch and began to pull it up towards herself. My eyes widened with realisation and I sprinted to the door.

I had forgotten about the disagreeable girl to tell you the truth, as she had been up that tree for an awfully long time and I had moved onto tending my lovely petunias. As a breeze wafted past I pulled my stiff body off the ground and stretched my creaking limbs in the cooling gust.

The breeze around me picked up and a subtle creaking sound caught my attention, coming and going, to and fro. Severely agitated with this new distraction, I turned to glance over my shoulder at the giant oak, its large form effectively blocking out the sun. A glimpse of white drew my line of sight,eyes as it swayed backwards and forwards, partially blocked by the trunk of the tree, swinging in time with the breeze. I moved closer towards the swinging object, my hands gripping the white picket fence as I craned my neck.

An ear piercing scream shattered the perfect silence of Oak Drive. A woman open I gripped the fence tighter as the distraught mother came running out of the house and hugged the swinging feet, sobs wracked her body. The oak leaves fell in a steady sombre procession while the saplings lay forgotten on the ground.

Just a short little something I wrote, I know that it is not relevant to Harry Potter much... but I enjoyed writing it. (:

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