- Chapter One -
The Exchange That Changed It All
The dark-haired man stood his ground as he came up against his opponent in the comfort of his well-lit hallway, his arms folded firmly across his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. His opponent didn't falter at his gaze. Instead, he stared him directly in the eye, his stare cold and his expression loathing.
'As if you,' said the first man harshly, 'know a curse that can do all that you claim.'
'Don't underestimate the strength of dark magic,' replied the other man, fingering his wand underneath his black robes.
The first man burst out laughing. 'You?! Dark magic?! That's a lot for a Squib to boast about.'
The opponent's lip curled in anger. 'This is your last chance to repent, or else you will pay.'
He began laughing again, clutching his sides to support himself. 'Take your best shot. I'm not afraid of you.'
The second man began muttering inaudible words under his breath, staring intently at the man he swore to be his enemy. Laughing, the dark-haired man turned on his heel and began walking in the direction he came.
'I don't feel any different!' he called.
'You will do in the morning!' the other man yelled.
And in an instant, he was gone.
(Many Christmases later.)
The night was certainly picturesque, with the dark, inky sky scattered with dozens of constellations that twinkled happily above the snow-covered roofs of the little houses of Hogsmeade.
While the scenery looked like something straight off a Christmas card, the night air was harsh cold and biting. But this did not affect the residents of Hogsmeade greatly as they celebrated Christmas with their loved ones, safe and warm by their roaring fireplaces in the company of those whom they adored most.
In this one particular house lived a family of four who were just finishing their Christmas dinner. There were but few morsels left on the plates which were laid out neatly on the small dining table. It was rare that such a meal was enjoyed in the Evans's household, since the little money which came from Mr Evans's potioneering job was often spent on necessities – luxuries were for richer people who had money to spend frivolously.
So rare were luxuries for the Evans's two daughters that the very youngest, a girl named Lily, was ecstatic to have been given a hardback book titled Hogsmeade: A History by some Bathilda Bagshot. It was, however, a hand-me-down – it had been her mother's book, and her mother's mother's book before that. Indeed, such was Lily's delight at having been given such a treasure that she was still smiling from ear-to-ear about it by the time she had finished her dinner, despite having to help clear up the table with her older sister, Petunia, and feeling so full she actually wondered if she might explode.
When her share of the chores was finally done, Lily grabbed her new book off the table from where she left it and was about to make her way upstairs to the bedroom she shared with Petunia, yearning to start reading the book already, when her mother waylaid her at the foot of the stairs to speak to her.
'You be careful with that book, won't you?' said her mother, a rather sweet-tempered woman, quite sternly. 'It's been in our family for quite about a century, maybe even longer. It's practically akin to an heirloom.'
Lily merely blinked and nodded at this information, unsure of how to react.
'Some of the stuff in there is quite outdated, of course,' Mrs Evans continued, prising the book gently from Lily's grip and opening it to flick through some of the pages. 'If we could have afforded a much more recent copy … but yes, while you should take some of the information in this book with a pinch of salt, it does tell of some fascinating stories … myths, even …' she continued flicking through the pages idly until she came across something which made her smile fondly. 'This one I remember my mother reading to me as a child! Yes, this was her favourite. Here …'
Mrs Evans turned the book around so that Lily could see it. On the right side of the double page spread was a detailed drawing of what looked like some kind of monster. Its face was repulsive, contorted with rage, with its fur an ashen shade of brown.
'Why was this one her favourite?' Lily asked curiously; it looked like a positively grotesque story to her.
'She believed it was real,' said Mrs Evans, shaking her head slightly. 'Yes, she believed that this monster was real, and that she would find it someday. Of course that was a foolish and outrageous idea – the castle in which the monster was rumoured, many decades ago, to have lived was never found. And the historian who wrote this was publically humiliated.'
'Publically humiliated?'
'Yes, it was rather a shame,' Mrs Evans continued, 'she was a great historian in that era until she published this book full of – of – fantasy. Needless to say, she sold her land and moved away, probably to somewhere a lot quieter where people wouldn't point and stare and whisper at her when she went for her morning walk.'
'Is she still alive?' Lily whispered, engrossed in the tale her mother was telling her.
Mrs Evans laughed slightly. 'No, no, she must be long dead now; this was many, many years ago, after all.'
'But where did such a great historian get horror stories from?' asked Lily.
Mrs Evans shrugged. 'If my memory serves me correct, she wouldn't reveal the source of this information, possibly to spare them the humiliation she was going through. Undoubtedly, it was a raving loon she might have met on one of her history expeditions.'
Once again, Lily wasn't sure what to say to everything she had just heard – her imagination was racing at hundreds of miles an hour. Seeing her eyes brighten, which was often the tell-tale sign that she was scheming, Mrs Evans said sternly, 'That's enough for one night. It's time for you and Petunia to go to bed. We have to get up bright and early to go to Grandmamma's tomorrow.'
Lily nodded, quickly kissed her mother on the cheek and raced up the stairs to the small room she shared with Petunia. She turned the round door knob, pushed open the wooden door and was enveloped in darkness.
She felt in her pockets for her wand, pulled it out and whispered, 'Lumos'.
'Argh!' came a groan. 'Shine that light in another direction!'
'Oops, sorry,' Lily said quietly, directing her wand at the floor. 'I didn't realise you'd be asleep. It's a little early, isn't it?'
'No, you're a little late,' Petunia said grumpily, turning to face away from Lily.
Lily merely shrugged and made her way to her bed after closing the door behind her; Petunia was always like this, ever since … but that was irrelevant now.
After a change of clothes and a lot of stumbling around in the dark, Lily crept into bed and snuggled up into a little ball where she could ponder on what her mother told her about the monster. Was it real, or was she being gullible? It's true that her grandmamma was quite an eccentric person, but surely if a renowned historian believed the myth to be true, then it had to be true. Such a clever and sharp woman would not make such claims of a castle and a beast if she didn't have evidence for it.
It was while dwelling on these thoughts that Lily fell asleep, only to dream about castles and beasts and forests and wild adventures. When she was awoken in the morning by her worried-looking mother, it was to find that she was quite sweaty; the dream must have gotten intense, but she could hardly remember it now.
'You must bathe and then get dressed, we have to leave soon,' said her mother briskly, after checking the temperature of her forehead with the back of her hand. 'Quick, quick, your sister is already done!'
Lily could see Petunia smirking behind her mother as she checked her reflection in the mirror and neatened her dull brown hair for what must have been the millionth time, although it didn't look any prettier – if anything, it just looked plainer. Trying not to be resentful, Lily groggily staggered out of bed, grabbed a towel, her wand and a change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and then turned to the bathtub.
Slowly, she took off her snow-white nightdress and let it fall to the floor. With a wave of her wand, she filled the bathtub with hot water, placed her wand on the side of the sink and crawled into the water. At once, she felt calmness sweep through her body and started relaxing before remembering the time limit she had. She gave her long, dark red hair a fast but thorough wash (or as fast and thorough as she could what with her hair being so thick), quickly scrubbed her body clean, and stepped out of the bathtub.
After patting her unusually pale skin dry, and squeezing a lot of the water out of her tangled hair, Lily slipped on her turquoise and white dress, grabbed her wand and murmured, 'Evanesco' to clear up all the water in the bathtub, and left the bathroom.
It only took a few moments for Lily to dry up her hair and put it neatly in a bow, put on her prettiest shoes, grab her book, and be outside of their little home, waiting for her mother to tell them to get on the carriage. By this time, her light green eyes were bright with alertness and her skin had the faintest glow.
Lily cradled the book that was in her arms as she looked over at the Thestral that was to take them to Lily's grandmother's cottage. They were large horses with skeletal bodies and wings which looked similar to those of a bat's. Lily was unafraid of them. She approached the Thestral slowly and looked in its chilling white eyes. The Thestral didn't move, except to blink.
'Lily!' came a sharp voice. 'Away from that thing!'
Lily almost dropped her book, feeling startled, and hastened to Petunia's side by the carriage.
'Stay away from the Thestral,' Mrs Evans warned, bustling around with the many bags she was holding. 'Now, you two behave at Grandmamma's, won't you? I don't want any bickering. And – eurgh – where is your father?!' She went back inside the house, leaving Petunia to smirk at Lily.
'You heard her,' she said. 'Don't start any fights.'
'I didn't do anything,' Lily said irritably, 'you did. And I took the blame.'
'You make yourself sound like such an angel.'
'Next to you, anyone would sound like an angel –'
'Girls, girls,' said Mr Evans abruptly, looking quite harassed at being chivvied out of the house by his wife, 'be nice, it's practically still Christmas.'
*.*.*
The journey to Mrs Evans's mother's cottage was a very quiet one; they all sat in the hooded carriage in a bitter sort of silence, Lily and Petunia still resented being reprimanded by their parents. Lily was itching to open up Hogsmeade: A History which was still in her arms. But, being sandwiched between her mother and her sister, there was hardly enough room to breathe let alone to open and read it comfortably.
Lily's grandmother's cottage was just a little way away from Hogsmeade, but the bumpiness of the road which caused a lot of discomfort made the journey feel a lot longer.
'Why couldn't we go by Floo powder?' Petunia groaned, after yet another violent jolt.
'I've told you, dear,' said Mrs Evans with little hint of impatience, 'Grandmamma's having her living room redone.'
'Thestrals are bad luck,' Petunia continued in the same whiney voice. 'This day is going to go awfully.'
The winter sun was quite high in the sky by the time the carriage pulled up outside Lily's grandmother's cottage, indicating that it was around midday already. They all stepped out of the carriage and onto the crunchy, white snow, and Lily and Petunia waited for their parents to sort out their clothes before they knocked on the cottage door.
It only took a few moments for the little old lady to open the door for them, a large, warm smile on her face. Mrs MacDonald had a very kind face; she was small and plump, and her wispy grey hair was almost always knotted at the back. Today she wore a large apron over a lace-patterned cream-coloured dress as she stood there in the doorway, glad to see them on what still felt like Christmas day.
She took a few steps back into her cosy little living room to let them all in from the cold and enveloped Lily and Petunia in tight hugs individually.
'How are my favourite girls?' she asked warmly, looking from one to the other.
Lily couldn't help but beam back, all resentment from earlier completely evaporated.
'What's that you've got there?' Mrs MacDonald enquired, referring to the book Lily was still holding tightly in her arms.
'They're your favourite girls?' came a shrill voice. 'Grandmamma, you told me I'm your favourite girl.'
'Oh, come now, Mary,' said Mrs MacDonald. 'You can all be my favourite girls!'
Mary strode into the room, flipping her short brown hair behind her, a stony expression on her face and her arms folded stubbornly. She was a few years younger than Lily, but this was made up by her naturally bossy attitude; she was very skilled in getting things her way.
Mrs MacDonald left the three girls alone to speak to her daughter and son-in-law. There was an awkward silence amongst the girls as there often is after one meets a friend or a relative for the first time in a while.
'So …' said Lily slowly, 'you've … not changed one bit.'
'Neither have you,' grinned Mary, indicating to the book Lily was holding in her arms. 'Never see you without a book.'
Lily shrugged. 'Books are the best friends a person can have when their life is as mundane and uneventful as mine.'
'It can't be that bad in Hosgmeade,' said Mary, starting to walk to the hallway and beckoning them to follow.
Lily mimicked choking. 'Dead as a Dementor.'
'Dementors aren't dead,' Petunia muttered irritably under her breath.
'Well, they're not exactly alive either, are they?' Lily retorted. 'Mary knows what I mean, even if you don't understand.'
'Oh, quit your bickering, you two,' said Mary, rolling her eyes as she pushed open the door to the dining room and the kitchen.
It was a lot more crowded in the dining room and the kitchen with aunties and uncles conversing amongst themselves, and the sound of stew bubbling in the pots on the stoves above all the hubbub. The smell of cooking food was strong and made Lily feel quite hungry. As a child, she had always been impressed that such a little cottage could hold so many people, but now it dawned on her that it might just be magic.
Lily and Petunia's presence was quite overlooked due to all the business of the adults, except for one person who noticed them enter the room with Mary.
'Lily! Petunia! Hi!' Marlene waved across to them from the other side of the room.
Lily and Petunia waved back, the latter half-heartedly, and when Marlene waded through the sea of relatives to join them, it was Lily who hugged her first.
'Marlene! It's good to see you!' said Lily enthusiastically. 'How long have you been here?'
'Only about an hour or two,' Marlene replied, tucking a few strands of dark brown hair behind her ear. 'I think you're the last ones, so we can get started with lunch as soon as Grandmamma finishes making it. I'm starving.'
'Me too,' Lily said earnestly.
Just then, Mrs MacDonald entered the room with Mr and Mrs Evans, and demanded that the young girls helped her with preparing lunch while the adults caught up with each other.
'Grandmamma, how much food are you making?!' Lily spluttered, bemused by the number of pots that were cooking and the ones that had already been cooked.
'You know her,' said Mary in an undertone. 'She reckons we don't eat if she's not around to see it.'
Lily and Marlene sniggered.
'Now, you girls can go thinking that I'm crazy,' said Mrs MacDonald defensively, 'but just look at how much thinner you've all gotten since the last time you were all here! You can giggle all you want, but Grandmamma knows best, and you should all eat as much as you can here before your parents take you home to starve.'
'Grandmamma,' said Mary, 'if I wanted food, I could just conjure it up.' She picked up Mrs MacDonald's wand from the kitchen counter and swished it around, somehow mesmerised by it.
'You can't produce food from nothing,' said Marlene. 'Food is the first of the five Principle Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.'
'And put down my wand,' Mrs MacDonald added, stirring the contents of one of the pots. 'I don't trust you with that; at best you'll end up poking someone's eye out.'
'Grandmamma …' Mary whined, although she obeyed.
Eventually, lunch was laid out on the dining table and everyone sat down to eat, grateful for the ending of the torture that was waiting for Mrs MacDonald's delicious food. Spirits were rather high as people talked amongst themselves. Lily found herself sitting in between her grandmother and Mary, listening to the talk. On one side, she could hear talk about the launch of a new broomstick company, and on the other, a law the Ministry was bringing in regarding the age a witch or wizard were to be before they could order a drink from the pub alone.
'I noticed you have my old book,' said Mrs MacDonald quietly, cutting up her food.
She was so quiet, Lily almost didn't hear her.
'Oh – yes, Mother gave it to me yesterday, she said it was special.'
Mrs MacDonald nodded, more to herself than to Lily. 'It is a very special book indeed. Keep it close at all times.'
For a moment, Lily battled with herself trying to figure out how to word the question she had. 'Did you – did you really believe that story in the book about a monster?' asked Lily hesitantly.
Mrs MacDonald shrugged. 'That is neither here nor there. What matters is what you believe to be true.'
Lily found herself whispering loudly: 'But what made you believe a story like that?'
'Lily,' Mrs MacDonald began, turning to look at her granddaughter, 'have you ever believed something on an instinct? You're not sure why you believe it, you just do? You have this faith something is right and real, and perhaps it makes sense, perhaps it doesn't, but something is telling you it's real?'
Lily shook her head – honestly, she couldn't say that she believed in such a thing.
'When you do, you'll understand,' said Mrs MacDonald.
'What do you mean "when"?' Lily asked curiously.
But Mrs MacDonald had already finished her lunch and started tidying up the table and dumping the dishes in the sink, leaving Lily with a lot to think about.
'What were you two talking about?' Mary asked, playing with what little food she had left.
'If I knew, I would tell you,' said Lily with a small sigh.
*.*.*
When lunch was over and the dining table was cleared, they kept to their seats where they could talk even more amongst themselves. Mrs MacDonald handed out shatterproof jars with little fires inside them to keep everyone warm. Lily found herself feeling a little lonely with Marlene, Mary and Petunia talking amongst themselves. She decided to step out of the little cottage for some fresh air, which she did so completely unnoticed.
The air was harsh and biting against Lily's soft cheeks, and, as the days were shorter, it was already getting dark. Lily found herself keeping the Thestral company. It was tethered to a post nearby so that it didn't get away and perhaps attack any passers-by. She patted its head and stroked its neck gently, unflinching as it were to her.
'They didn't have to tie you up,' said Lily softly to it. 'You'd have stayed if they told you to, wouldn't you?'
The Thestral bobbed its head slightly, which Lily took to mean "yes".
'You Thestrals are intelligent creatures,' Lily went on. 'Everyone thinks you're unlucky, but you're not. Just because people who have seen death can see you … you can understand everything I'm saying right now. That's how you knew where Grandmamma's cottage was, wasn't it?'
The Thestral merely looked back at Lily, but the swishing of its tail led Lily to believe that it was enjoying her company.
'Lily!' came a shriek. 'Mother told you to stay away from the Thestral!'
Lily turned around to see Petunia glaring at her.
She shrugged at her. 'It's not going to hurt me,' she said. 'Look, Tuney.' Lily stroked the young Thestral again, demonstrating its harmlessness.
'You … freak,' hissed Petunia. 'How can I look at something I can't see? Mother told me to go see where you've gone and you're here playing friends with this … this monster.'
Lily felt quite wounded, for some reason. 'If you can't see it, how do you know it's a monster?'
'Because I have sense,' Petunia huffed. 'If people say Thestrals are dangerous, that obviously means they're dangerous. You don't have to have Merlin's brains to figure that out.' She turned on her heel and left Lily in the cold.
Thankfully, it was only a matter of moments before they were entering the carriage once more. Lily kissed her grandmother and aunties and uncles goodbye. Her grandmother gave her a warm hug and whispered in her ear, 'Don't do anything too dangerous or outrageous, okay, Lily dear? I know what you're like.'
'Me? Outrageous?!' Lily laughed. 'You must have me confused with Marlene.'
Mrs MacDonald patted Lily's arm as she climbed into the carriage. After one waving to the family one last time, they were off riding into the night. As Lily hugged herself to keep her shielded from the cold, it was with a jolt that she realised the book wasn't in her arms – undoubtedly she had left it at her grandmother's. The last time Lily remembered having her book was right before helping lay out lunch … on the small kitchen counter, that's where she left the book.
Bitterly cursing her forgetfulness, Lily leaned back and let herself fall asleep for the journey. Like the night before, the dream she had was quite a strange one. There was a beast and a forest and a castle, and this time, a request.
Two words.
'Help us.'
A sudden bump in the road and a very abrupt halt outside their house woke Lily up. She grumbled at the rude awakening and wished it had come just a few moments later, as she struggled to remember the dream. Rubbing her head where she hit the back of the carriage, Lily stepped out and stumbled in through the front door which her mother had unlocked. It was then that she remembered why she was feeling down – she wished she hadn't left the book behind before she even had a chance to read it.
Wallowing in self-pity again, Lily stumbled up the stairs and into her and Petunia's bedroom. She illuminated the room with her wand light and was about to change into her sleeping clothes when something on the bed caught her eye.
But surely it couldn't be –?
Yet there it was, clear as day, face-up on her bed.
The book was back.
A/N: It's a tiny bit slow to start off with but I promise this fic is going places.
Reviews are greatly appreciated!
