"Come on, Lily! Let's get a compartment before there aren't any compartments left!"
That was my best friend, Sagitta Malfoy. Yes, I am Lily Potter and I am best friends with a Malfoy. My uncle Ron would be puking right now if Hugo wasn't friends with Corvus Malfoy. Apparently back when they were at Hogwarts (a really long time ago) Draco Malfoy and my parents hated each other. Now they're friends, mostly because our generation has forced them to.
"Lily! Come on, don't be a slowpoke!" Sagitta was coming towards me now, managing the unlikely feat of running while also dragging a trunk and carrying an owl's cage.
"Bye, Dad," I said, giving him one last hug. He nodded, and said, "Have fun at school, Lily. Remember to write."
"Yes, Dad." I never write. Entering my fifth year at Hogwarts, I think I have written my parents once, back in second year. ("Mum, I forgot my Charms textbook. Can you send it to me, please?")
I followed Sagitta and dragged my trunk up the entrance to the train. Sometimes I really hated not being able to magic outside of school. Other times, I just made James do it - he's 21 and out of school, working with the Ministry. Bleargh. Boring.
Oh, yeah, did I mention I also had a broomstick to manhandle up the stairs? I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, playing Chaser, and that is probably what will keep me alive this year. I have been told by many people (read: Albus, James, and Teddy) that fifth year is horrible. Then Uncle Ron told me sixth is worse.
Oh joy. Not like I'll have anything other than once-a-week Quidditch practices to distract me from the monotony of school, and the Prefect duties I had been stuck with. Mum had been overjoyed, and Albus had given me an enthusiastic high five, telling me that we could patrol together. Yeah right.
I basically took the harder electives - Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and left the others. No boy would ever take a second look at me - with brown, wavy hair (originally red but James screwed up his home-grown Potions experiment, exploded his cauldron, and some of it landed on me), and brown eyes. I was of average height, meaning all the guys were now going through growth spurts and becoming taller than I was. Freckles dotted my face, from my mother's side of the family - why couldn't Weasleys have clear skin?
"Lily, you are being a slowpoke right now! Yes, maybe that stupid broom of yours is slowing you down a bit, but you can still walk, right?"
I rolled my eyes as I finally wrestled the broom onto the train, and started wheeling my trunk down, following Sagitta as she looked for a compartment.
I suppose I should give you some backstory. Sagitta and I met in Potions, where Professor Slughorn assigned random partners and we got stuck together. She then proceeded to blow up my cauldron (and pretty much destroy the rest of the classroom). After that, she followed me around for a week apologizing and I eventually got sick of it, so of course then we became friends.
Funny how that works. Going back to her earlier comment about my stupid broom? The Nimbus 2020 is not stupid, she only calls it that because her attempt at flying failed miserably - she said "Up!" and the broom rose up and flew off.
Even though she's a Slytherin, we're still best friends. Things have really changed since my parents were at school. Oh, there's still a rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin at Quidditch, but it's a friendly rivalry - we don't hex the other team in the library while they do their homework.
I turned into the compartment Sagitta had found, dumped my broomstick off my shoulder, and fought a war with my trunk to get in the overhead compartment. I plopped down on the seat with a huff and pulled out a book from my bag.
"A book? You're reading a book again?" Sagitta doesn't read unless she has to.
"What's wrong with books?"
"They're boring."
"To you, maybe."
She was opening her mouth to reply when she looked at the door and her face lit up like one of those Muggle Christmas trees that Dudley Dursley had up once when Dad made us go.
"Hello, Jacob," she basically crooned, and I looked up to see who this stranger was she was talking to. Mentally, my mouth dropped.
He was very good-looking. I don't usually describe teenage boys like that, but he was. He was gorgeous, as compared to the buffoons that usually populate Hogwarts. The only good-looking guy at Hogwarts is Scorpius, and he's basically married to my cousin Rose, so he's out. But this guy...
He was tall, about 6 feet or so, enough that the top of his head brushed the door frame. He had curly dirty-blond hair that was kept short & carefully groomed. He had a few freckles, but not a lot, and moderately thick eyebrows that sat over light brown eyes. As he smiled, he revealed a perfect set of teeth.
"Hi, Sagitta," he said. God, even his voice was perfect.
What the hell was wrong with me? I don't go head over heels for a guy. Ever. Okay, when I was 12 I had a crush on Scorpius, for about three weeks. At that point he was 15 and started dating Rose, so I gave up on it.
I sat there in shock for about 5 minutes while they talked about pointless crap, like how their summers were or how annoying their siblings were. When he excused himself and left, I turned to Sagitta.
"Who was that?"
"Jacob Walker," she answered. "Come on, Lily, you should know him, he's been in all our classes, and we've had everything but Herbology together. He's a Gryffindor fifth year as well."
"Why haven't I noticed him before?" I demanded.
She laughed. "Well, if you would bother to lift your eyes off of your parchment in class you would notice stuff."
"My eyes are not focused exclusively on the parchment in class."
"Yeah, they're focused on the book on your lap more."
"Touche."
We sat there, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts, until the lady arrived with the trolley.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked, as usual.
Sagitta shook her head. I stood up, reached into my pocket for coins, grabbed a group of Chocolate Frogs, and paid the lady.
As I sat back down, I asked, "How long until we get to Hogwarts?"
"About 7 hours. Why?" Sagitta answered.
"Because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night - James was messing around - and I'm tired." As I said this I carefully placed my book on the floor and stretched out on the seat.
The next thing I knew Sagitta was shaking me.
"Wake up, silly! We get to Hogsmeade in half an hour. You need to put on your robes."
I sat up, sleepy, and reached up into my trunk to grab my robes. I quickly changed into them and sat back down again, pinning
"Better?" I asked grumpily.
"Better."
"Good," I said, and I picked up my book, an Arithmancy text Professor Vector had assigned as reading over the summer, and continued where I had left off. By the time we pulled into Hogsmeade I was finishing the last sentence.
As the train stopped I picked up my broomstick and let my trunk fall out of the top compartment. We joined the line in the aisle to get off the train, and, eventually, made it to the door, where I ungainly gave up on the idea of carrying it down the stairs. I was about to kick it and let it fall when a strong hand took it from me, nearly making me jump.
"Need some help?" I turned around to see who it was and found myself looking up - and up - into the eyes of Jacob Walker.
"Uh - yes, please," I stammered. Whenever I was surprised, like I just was, I tended to turn into this I watched as he easily hefted the trunk down the stairs. I followed him, waiting for him to put it down, but he didn't. Instead he carried it, in one hand, while he reached for what must be his trunk and carried it too. I caught up to him and said, "You know, I can carry my trunk now that we're off the train."
"No, I got you," he said. Interesting way to word, "No, I can carry your trunk for you", I thought to myself.
As I followed him I added, "I'm not sure why they changed the rule from last year."
He looked confused. "What was the rule from last year?"
I answered his question with another question as we climbed into a carriage together. I saw no sign of Sagitta anywhere, which was weird - we had always sat together. "Weren't you here last year?"
"No," he answered. "I was in Canada at Snowvale Magical Collegiate. Coldest four years of my life."
Was that a joke? I wondered, noticing that I could speak to him a lot easier now - it must have been surprise at being startled by someone I barely knew.
"So how did you end up here?" I asked, as the carriage began moving. The trip from Hogsmeade up to Hogwarts only took about five minutes, and hopefully I could last that long in conversation. Usually, I either gave one-word answers or buried my face in a book, hoping to be ignored. Now, all my books were in my trunk, which he was resting his feet on, and no one else was sitting with us.
"My dad worked for the Canadian Ministry of Magic and he transferred here. He said it was boring and he wanted a change of pace. My mum and I came along too. He now works with the Ministry as an Auror."
"He works as an Auror? Then he probably knows my dad," I suggested.
"Who's your dad," he asked.
"Harry Potter," I said calmly. In my first year at Hogwarts, and in James and Albus's first years at Hogwarts as well, I had been swamped by people saying things like, 'Oh my gosh, you're Harry Potter's daughter!' Now people were used to it and it wasn't a big deal. In fact, most of the teachers either went to school with my dad or had taught him when he was in school.
"Your dad's Harry Potter?" he asked, obviously very surprised.
"Yep," I replied. By now we were passing through the main gates of Hogwarts. We only had a little more to go, and then we had to suffer through the Sorting before we could eat.
"One thing I'm confused about, though, is the fact that Sagitta said you were a Gryffindor fifth-year like me, and that you were in all my classes. How could that be possible if you were in Canada until this year?"
"She may have confused me with someone else," he said. "Although I did go to Hogwarts in the summer and got sorted and all that, and I ended up in Gryffindor, as you can probably see by my robes. All ready for O.W.L.s this year."
"What electives did you take?" I asked. By now we were pretty close to the top of the hill to get to the main entrance.
"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes," he said, standing up as the carriage rolled to a stop. "What do we do with our trunks?"
"I think we just leave them here and they'll be in our dorms after the Start-of-Term Feast," I said. "McGonagall sent home a letter during the summer."
"She did?"
"Yeah," I answered. We began to walk with everyone else to the Great Hall. "My mum was confused. She didn't understand why they would need to change the rule. Neither did I - it was much simpler before, when we just left our trunks on the train and they were brought to our dorms. It saves the hassle of fighting them down the stairs."
"You didn't have to fight your trunk down the stairs," he reminded me, as we entered the Great Hall.
"No, I was just going to kick it and let it fall. I had to fight it up the stairs at King's Cross, though," I said.
As we went to sat down, I turned and scanned the Slytherin table for Sagitta. There she was, sitting between Stoddard Lestrange and Hector Rivers, a sixth-year prefect. Why had she randomly disappeared?
I turned my head back to the front of the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall was standing. She looked old, stooped and wizened with age. Her hair, which had been black in my dad's time, was now a mixture of grey and white, judging by the strands that fell from under her hat. As she waited with behind a stool and the ever-familiar Sorting Hat, the first-year students walked in, led by Professor Vector.
They came slowly down the middle of the Hall, between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. I could hear the usual astonished exclamations at the ceiling (a point of surprise every year), as well as the customary frightened glances around. I leaned into Amanda Jordan, who I shared a dorm with, and said, "They're even smaller than the ones from last year."
"Were we that small?" she whispered back, and then motioned up to Professor McGonagall, who was addressing the first-year students.
"This is our sorting ceremony," she told them. "When I call your name you will come up here, place the hat on your head. It will call out a house and you will join them at their table. The four houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin," indicating with her arm each table.
"James Bagman," she called. A small, seedy-looking blond-haired boy scrambled forward nervously and sat down on the stool. After a very long pause, the hat called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!", and the table erupted in cheers.
"Diana Bulstrode," she announced, and a large, mean-faced girl with long stringy brown hair marched forward, to be very quickly sorted into Slytherin house.
Amanda Deverill and Winifred Carter became Gryffindors. After that, I zoned out. I know that I was supposed to pay attention, as a Prefect. Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure how I got the badge. There are other girls in my year that would've done a better job than I think I'll end up doing.
I managed to make myself pay attention in time to hear the last first-year, Anita Yaxley, get sorted into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall promptly caused the chair and Sorting Hat to disappear, and stood in front of the speaker's lectern, hands clasped in front of her.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice sounding just as strong as it ever had. "For most of you, welcome back. This, so far, looks like it will shape up to be a pretty normal year. For those of you who went to school back when I taught Transfiguration, you know how unlikely a normal year was."
Was that joke aimed at my dad? I don't think he ever had a normal year.
"We have one new member of staff to introduce," she said. "Professor Hurst will be our new Ancient Runes teacher, for those of you taking the subject. Professor King has retired due to old age."
"He was only 175," Amanda muttered to herself, and I had to work very hard to suppress a snort of laughter.
"Now, I know you are all starving," McGonagall continued, "so it would be cruel of me to keep talking while you all want to eat, so... dig in!" She snapped her fingers and the food appeared right before us, steaming hot and ready to eat.
I was ravenous. I had skipped breakfast, too busy packing, and I had slept through lunch, so I basically hadn't had anything to eat all day. When you're starving, seeing food makes it hard to hold back. I basically stuffed myself for an hour, until the feast was over. When it was, McGonagall made the food vanish, and then announced, "Everybody will now proceed to your dormitories. Prefects, lead the first-years ahead now. The rest of you will wait." A nice change from when I was in my first-year; everybody left at once and you got trampled by the herd of seventh-years trying to go to bed.
I stood up. "Gryffindor first-years, follow me please." Was it just me? Where was the other fifth-year prefect? Oh well. I led the first-years out of the Great Hall and up the stairs. To be nice, I pointed out where their classes were to them as we went up: "Charms is down by the library, which is through this door. Transfiguration is in the courtyard that you get to from this door. Defense Against the Dark Arts is down here." I figured that since I never got an introduction when I was in my first-year I at least owed it to them. Every year we've heard a first-year running frantically down the hall to try and make it to their class on time.
We stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Dumbledore," I said, and the portrait hole swung open. Naming the passwords after famous Gryffindors. I was beginning to think McGonagall was running out of ideas. Well, I didn't really care, as long as my Dad's name wasn't the one blocking me from getting into the common room.
"This is the common room," I told the new Gryffindors. "It basically functions as the center of all Gryffindor activity. Here you will do some of your homework, and gather after curfew. There are notices on the board over there. Now," I added, "your dormitories are through that door over there." I pointed to a door with brass hinges. "Girls are on the left, boys are on the right."
As they shuffled off, I flopped into one of the comfy chairs in front of the fire and waited for the rest of the house to show up. After what seemed like an hour, I got up, walked to the portrait hole, and opened it.
My entire house stood there. The entire Gryffindor house, second-years up. I stood there, hands on my hips, just staring at them. They stared back at me, and nobody said anything until I demanded, "Why are you all out here? And why was I the only prefect leading the first-years up here?"
Jacob Walker stood at the front of the group. "Nobody told us the password," he said. "And I don't really know the answer to the second question."
I rolled my eyes. After being initially attracted to him on the train, that had cooled off. (I am an independent woman. Don't question me. To be fair, the one relationship I have been in lasted a month.) He seemed to be smarter than the rest of this house (which admittedly wasn't saying anything). "The password is Dumbledore," I said, and then stood aside to let the doofuses that made up most of Gryffindor in to the common room.
Well, to be fair, they weren't all doofuses. Our Quidditch team, for example, is amazing (well, what's left - our Seeker and both our Beaters graduated last year), and some of them are smart, but I'd say that most of the good genes were murdered in the wars against Voldemort.
Which didn't necessarily mean I wanted to socialize with any of them, so I went to bed. Yes, to a certain degree I am antisocial - in fact, many of my friends would say that I am completely antisocial unless I'm playing Quidditch. I tend to go to the library and bury myself in a book. My aunt Hermione and I are quite alike in that respect.
I usually go to sleep relatively quickly, and this night was no exception. I tossed and turned for about five minutes, then fell fast asleep.
Next followed the weirdest dream I've had in a long time. I was sitting in the common room with my ex-boyfriend, Joseph Hutton. (Our relationship lasted a month; we were dating at the end of the year and broke up right after exams.) Other than the two of us, we were alone. He leaned in to me, and then his face morphed into that of Jacob Walker.
What?
Jacob moved closer to me on the couch, at the same time running his hand up my leg. I wanted to pull away, to tell him I didn't know him, but I couldn't. It was like I was being puppeteered by someone who had fallen asleep at the strings; I was completely helpless.
I didn't like being helpless. I was someone who prided themselves on being strong and independent, on not being reliant on other people to pass Arithmancy or stimulate their social life.
Mostly because I could pass Arithmancy all by myself and I didn't have a social life outside of Quidditch. I also wasn't one to be manipulated by a boy.
So when his hand began running even further up than my leg, I awoke with a jolt, heart pounding. I didn't even know Jacob Walker. Why was I dreaming about doing things like that with him? For all I knew he could be a Dark Wizard that my dad would throw into Azkaban at the first opportunity. It was ridiculous. Yeah, I know, a Dark Wizard at fifteen isn't very likely, but I'm trying to make a point here, freaked out as I was. It was a really weird dream, okay?