Prologue:
James Potter was sitting in the middle of his yard, his eyes closed, and counting backward from thirty.
"Three, two… one!" He cried, standing abruptly and surveying the area for a sign of disturbance. "I'll get you," he whispered dramatically, silently creeping toward the pine trees.
James was small. He had yet to hit his growth-spurt, though his long, inky black, and seemingly wind-blown hair had done nothing but grow. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses sat perched across his nose, unable to smother the intensity of his bright hazel eyes.
"Aha!" He screamed, leaping on a tiny girl in the bushes, her bright red hair unable to be hidden completely.
She screamed as he jumped on top of her, and the two rolled across the needle-covered ground, laughing hysterically.
"Darn it!" The girl cried. "You always win."
James grinned proudly, standing and offering his hand to her. "Jealous, Lily?" He asked, giggling as she stuck out her tongue.
"You're lucky you're my best friend," she told him, grabbing his hand and standing upright, a fist in the air. "Or I would punch you in the face right now."
James involuntarily flinched. Lily may have been a year younger, and three inches shorter than him, but she was strong.
Lily grinned. "Scared of an eight-year-old, Jamie?"
James rolled his eyes.
"Kids!" Mrs. Potter called from the front door of James' house. "Lily's mom called. She wants us all over for dinner!"
"Yes!" Cried Lily, giving James a high five. "Mom's making spaghetti!"
Later…
Lily and the Potters walked into the Evans' dining room and took their seats at a long, ornate table. Petunia took them in with distaste.
"What's wrong with horse-face?" James whispered into Lily's ear, who then erupted into giggles.
Petunia rolled her eyes and turned away, disgusted.
Lily shrugged.
"You're all going to love my home-made pasta!" Mrs. Evans announced, walking out of the kitchen with a large ceramic bowl in her hands. Her dark red curls hung loose upon her shoulders, and her demeanor was kind, and open. Her chocolate brown eyes, however, were laced with anxiety.
"It's so nice of you to have us," Mrs. Potter said graciously, before delving into conversation with Mr. Evans.
"Hey Lils," James began, "let's ask your mom if you can sleep at my house!"
Lily nodded eagerly.
"Mom?" She asked from down the table, waiting impatiently to be acknowledged.
"Yes, dear?"
"Can I sleep over at James' house tonight?" Lily asked in her best polite voice, crossing her fingers under the table.
Mr. and Mrs. Evans exchanged a nervous glance.
"Well, hunny," Mr. Evans began, looking back again at his wife in distress. She nodded slowly. "No," he said solemnly. "See, we were hoping to start packing tonight."
Petunia smiled for the first time that evening.
"We're going on a vacation?" She began eagerly. "Where are we going, Dad?"
Mr. Evans cleared his throat and ran a hand through his short blonde hair.
"Petunia, we're not going on vacation. We're, well, we're moving."
The room was silent.
"See, Insurance Management offered me a job position that pays double my current salary, but they relocated me, well, a bit too far to commute," Mr. Evans explained quietly.
"Jamie," Lily whispered hesitantly into his ear, "are you moving, too?"
James shrugged. "We've got to," he stated. "We're best friends! We have to stick together."
"But where are you moving to?" Mrs. Potter asked sadly. "We'll have to come visit you often."
"Well…" Mr. Evans bit his lip. "See that's just the problem. You see, we're moving to France."
"FRANCE!?"