Chapter 1 - Lily
When the knock at the door came, Violet Evans was washing the dishes. Dinner had been over at the Evans house for nearly an hour, but the light, pleasant sounds of her daughter's voices mixed with the music from the radio in the living room had lulled her into daydreams. Startled by the knock, Violet wiped her hands on a dish towel hanging to the right of the sink, and made her way into the living room. Her daughters continued to chatter and giggle, seemingly without noticing her as she passed through the room. She opened the door to reveal a tall man.
"Ah, you must be Violet," the man, who had a long beard and bright blue eyes that sparkled behind half-moon spectacles, said, extending his hand toward Violet. He was wearing a long, blue robe, and Violet, who was too stunned to offer her hand, merely stared. "Is the man of the house at home?"
"I… Er, yes. Yes, he is," Violet managed. Her daughters had gone silent and she could feel their eyes on her back, knowing they were trying to get a look at the stranger at the door. Paul McCartney was still crooning on the radio about, "The Long and Winding Road," but their chatter was gone. It was too late to slam the door quietly in this weird man's face, erasing him from their lives forever. He had been noticed.
"I need to speak with him. With both of you, really," Dumbledore said, stepping into the living room. "Yes, I do believe I will come in." She hadn't invited him in, but it was clear that he intended to come in anyway, whether she liked it or not, so she said nothing. And with that, the odd little man named Dumbledore stepped into the Evans home for the first time.
"I'll go get my husband," Violet said, easing toward the stairs. She looked at her daughters – pretty redheaded Lily who had turned eleven only a week ago, and Petunia, her sensible, blonde thirteen year old - regretting immediately that she would have to leave them alone with this strange man for even a second. She managed to make her way up the stairs without falling, relying heavily on the cherry banister to keep her afloat, and when she was sure she was out of sight, broke into a run down the hallway.
She nearly slammed into the door of her husband's office. Samuel Evans worked at one of the most successful advertising firms in Essex. He worked nearly all the time – when he wasn't at the company building, he holed himself up in his office at home - and hated to be interrupted when in the middle of a project. However, Violet was scared and she knew that she had to get Sam to come downstairs, at the very least so that he could protect the girls from possible harm. She knew that she could be heard easily in the living room, so she tired to control her voice as best as possible, though her usual soft, mellow tone was shaky. "There's a man at the door asking for you."
"Tell him I'm busy," the voice from behind the door said, loud and unconcerned.
Violet opened the door, and attempted to close it as lightly as she possibly could. Samuel didn't even look up until Violet hissed, "Sam, you have to come downstairs. This man…he's…he's got a beard that goes down to his waist! He's wearing a robe, Sam! A robe!"
"A robe, did you say?" Samuel, who expected that his wife had lost her mind, looked up from his papers. Violet's high cheekbones were paler than usual, and though that wasn't exactly hugely alarming to him, he pushed himself to standing and followed her to the doorway.
"Sam, I'm scared. Honestly," Violet whispered as she opened the office door. "He's downstairs, alone with the girls."
Violet froze on the stairwell, watching in horror as the bearded man who had called himself Albus offered her youngest daughter what appeared to be a lemon drop. Lily, who had sat through thousands of presentations on not taking things from strangers in her eleven years on earth, was reaching for the piece of candy, her delicate hand extended toward the bony fingers of this old man, nearly touching him.
"Lillian," Samuel said, his voice a warning. Lily jerked her hand away as if burned, turning to look guiltily up at her father on the stairwell. Samuel placed an arm around his nearly paralyzed wife and aided her down the rest of the stairs. He snapped the radio off while making his way across the living room, silencing the BeeGees. Outside, evening was rushing head-on into night, as the lamps that lined the street of the Evans' well-to-do neighborhood in Essex turned themselves on.
Samuel shook hands with Dumbledore. "My name is Samuel Evans. This is my wife, Violet, and our daughters, Petunia and Lillian."
"Albus Dumbledore."
"Pleased to meet you," Samuel said, mostly to continue the conversation. "You wanted to speak to me and my wife?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed."
"Right, then. Girls, off to your rooms," Samuel said firmly, taking a seat on the couch. Lily and Petunia glanced at each other, and began the typical whining that always followed their father's orders concerning their imprisonment in their rooms.
"Actually, as what I have to say concerns Lily, I'd rather she'd stay," Dumbledore said. Still sitting on the floor, Lily's green eyes widened. Violet, who had just entered the room from a trip to the kitchen to fetch a tin of chocolate biscuits for her guest, glanced worriedly at Samuel. Samuel's eyes, however, were glued exclusively to Dumbledore.
"Fine. Petunia, go ahead. I'll be up to check on you later," Samuel said.
Petunia went to the couch to kiss both her mother and father. Then, she cast one last well-timed look toward Lily before heading up the stairs. Lily knew that Petunia wasn't going to bed, however. Petunia, who never missed a chance to eavesdrop, knew exactly where to hide to listen to any conversation.
"I want to begin by saying that I am here to deliver good news," Dumbledore said, selecting a chocolate biscuit from the tin and examining it carefully. "Your daughter, Lillian, is a very gifted young woman."
"We like to think so," Violet said.
Lily nodded, a smile on her face. "I get very high marks in school."
"Hush, Lillian," Samuel demanded.
Dumbledore merely chuckled. "There is no question that she is highly talented, destined for very great things. Greater than you could know or fathom. You see, Lily, you are a witch."
Lily's mouth arranged itself in a small 'o', and her green eyes scanned Dumbledore's face excitedly. She seemed to want to say something, but before she could muster the nerve...
"Excuse me?" Violet asked, flabbergasted. The color that had returned to her high cheek bones in the last ten minutes was rushing out again.
Samuel Evans put an arm around his wife and pulled her close. "Mr. Dumbledore, you do not know my wife, and you certainly do not know my daughter. We are decent, normal people. My wife is a home maker and I have a high-paying job. Our daughters attend the best school in the county, and we go to church every Sunday..."
Dumbledore smiled. "That has nothing to do with your daughter or her abilities. Lily was born with this talent, this power. It is something instilled in her genetically. Something to do with recessive genes, all that rot. I am sure a man as educated as yourself understands genetics, so I won't explain it. In any case, I am not here to insult you. I am here to address what Lily can do to learn and control her powers."
"Lily has no powers!"
"Nonsense, and you and I both know it." Dumbledore turned to Lily, making it clear that from now on, he was addressing her. "Have you ever made something happen when you were tired or angry?"
"Once or twice, I guess," Lily mused, tilting her head to the side. Her green eyes lit up with thought. "I remember once when I was about six, Mum took Petunia and I to my Great Aunt Mildred. We had to dress in these ridiculous frilly dresses. Mine was pink, I think. It looked horrid" Her distaste for the dress, five years later, was still evident. "I hated it. But I was expected to sit through this boring tea, and be polite and smile. I kept wishing that there'd be mice in the bread pudding dish when Aunt Mildred lifted the lid, and sure enough, there were. A whole hoard of them"
From the couch, Violet moaned. "I'll never forget it. A whole dish crawling with mice. I can still hear the screams…"
Dumbledore nodded. "You were put on the list for admittance to Hogwarts shortly after your birth, Lily. We do not make mistakes."
"Hogwarts?"
"The oldest and most highly regarded magical school in the world," Dumbledore said. "Lily is invited to start school there in September." Dumbledore pulled an envelope from his robes and presented it to Samuel. "Her room, board, and food will be paid for, and she will be admitted until she comes of age at seventeen."
"I'm sorry, but I cannot send my daughter to a school where she will learn to pull rabbits from top hats. Lillian is expected to go to an excellent secondary school, and will later attend university," Samuel said, handing Violet the letter absently.
"She will get a much more practical education at Hogwarts than she could at any Muggle school."
"Muggle!"
"Non-magical people, that is."
Violet ripped the envelope open, reading the words over and over. A second sheet of parchment fell in her lap, and she picked it up. "What this, then?"
"A list of necessary school supplies for Lily's first year at Hogwarts. She can get everything she needs at Diagon Alley in Wizarding London. I will be back on August 27th to take her to Diagon Alley to purchase all of the things she needs."
"August 27th?" Lily asked. "That's so far away!"
"Not that far away when you consider it, Lily. By then, I will have your ticket ready for the Hogwarts Express. You'll have to excuse me; I've been here much too long! Must be going now…" And then, right before all of their eyes - with a loud crack! – Albus Dumbledore was gone.
Samuel and Violet Evans did not discuss the events on the night that Dumbledore visited their home again. Despite the reality of the night, both Sam and Violet believed that they hadmade the entire thing up inside of their respective heads, and would not mention a word about magic schools or witches to one another in fear that they were crazy. Lily Evans, however, was carefully counting the days as July turned to August.