The Soul of a Stag

Being a wizard had many perks. Magic, being the most obvious one, but there were others. Wizards were hardier than muggles, less susceptible to diseases and a life span at least three times longer than that of a non-magical or muggle person. Being a Potter had even more perks. The Potters were an old and rich magic family, not part of the sacred twenty eight, mind you, but respected nonetheless. Being the only heir to such a fortune and the son of parents who had got the gift of a child extremely late in life, only made life better and one James Fleamont Potter had it all. Now, one would think that this was more than enough luck for one person to have but James was a natural at a broom as well and had refined his skills to such an extent that he became a chaser for his favourite quidditch team, the Cuddly Canons, almost straight after Hogwarts. Now, one who had even rudimentary knowledge of the sport, because that is exactly what quidditch is- a sport played on a broom with seven balls, would know that joining the Canons, while still an accomplishment, is a very small one. They were a team who had not won a single match in the last decade and one could almost count their fans on one hand. However, James Potter was not a star player for nothing. While the Canons celebrated having snagged the best player from the Hogwarts class of 1977, James planned and other teams sighed.

Enduring the jibes from people was hard for Potter, yes, being the privileged person he was, but somehow in a surprising show of maturity which could almost double as childish stubbornness the Gryffindor prevailed. Oh no, not only did he prevail but he and his best friend Sirius Black, who too had joined the team as a beater, almost single or shall we say double handedly took the Canons to the quarter finals of the world cup, a feat that astonished everyone. They still lost the quarter finals due to their seeker not getting the snitch first but James and Sirius, especially James, had turned the chasers and beaters into a well oiled machine by then and had they been playing any team other than Ireland, they probably would have won.

Good looks, money, talent and a passion he would dedicate his life to, James Fleamont "Prongs" Potter had it all. Naturally, that would make a bloke arrogant, his words not mine. Yet, those who knew him, would say that no matter how arrogant Potter was at twenty one, he was still an improvement over what he was at fifteen. I wouldn't know, as I only met him when I was twenty-one and him twenty two. Oh! What a nightmare it was, sharing my body with him. Not that I complain, much. Four years into our marriage and I can happily say that I am extremely glad, I had to share my body with him, not that I liked it a bit at that time.

Oh! I almost forgot. Who am I? Why, I am Lily Iris Evans-Potter, soul-mate of Prongs.