8 Thimble Way
A Oneshot
Children screamed and giggled as they dashed across Thimble's Way. It was a street where the neighbors were close knit and no one worried about the boys and girls running across the road or spending all day at the park. Fathers spent days playing football with their families in the yard and older women spent hours in the garden. The thirty first of July 1971 was a more beautiful day than most, but the heat had strengthened in the early afternoon and many children retreated inside.
It was as the streets emptied that a tall man with long grey hair and an impressively long beard appeared at the end of the road. His appearance was quite sudden, as if by magic. As he walked down the street, the remaining children stopped to point and stare at the man.
Or, perhaps it was not the man they pointed at, but his dress. He wore a mustard colored suit with an orange cummerbund fastened over his jacket and red tie. Some would say the man looked like a sunset. Others would say he looked a crackpot.
Yet the man did not walk like a crackpot, he did not talk like a crackpot, and he did not smile like a crackpot. He walked down Thimble's Way with an even stride and purpose. He greeted "good day" to the gawking children and smiled like a beloved grandfather. Aside from his offbeat clothing choices, his hair, and the twinkle in his eye, he looked somewhat... well, no, he didn't look a bit normal.
He continued walking nonetheless, glancing every so often at the address numeral we passed, stopping suddenly at 8 Thimble Way. The house in question was modest, but charming with several flowering bushes and a garden gnome out front. A scrawling child's hand had carved "James" across the base of the gnome. The man smiled knowingly at the name, as if keeping a secret of things to come.
He approached the door and lightly knocked on it, then waited patiently and composed. A graceful blonde woman opened the door, her eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the man.
"Ms. Evans?" he inquired.
She nodded with a slow caution.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of a selective school called Hogwarts, and your daughter, Lillian has been accepted to it," he extended his hand, which she awkwardly shook.
She closed the door and inch, clutching it with both hands. She was not afraid, merely wary. "I think you've been mistaken Mr.… ah…"
"Dumbledore, madam. Professor Dumbledore."
She squinted her eyes, "Yes, Professor… Dumbledore. As I've said. I think you're mistaken. Lily has not applied to… Hogwarts. She has already selected a school to attend next year."
"I understand your confusion," Dumbledore responded, "but Lily has been on our acceptance list since birth. If you would allow me to step in, I could explain the situation more fully with yourself, your husband, and your daughter."
"Oh, of course," Mrs. Evans flustered. "Certainly, come in, come in." She very much disliked a stranger in her home, but she was a gracious hostess, and this man seemed to hold not threat.
She opened the door, allowing Dumbledore to step inside, and gestured toward the sitting room. The room was blue, and the sofa that Dumbledore sat on was yellow floral.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Mrs. Evans offered.
"No thank you," he replied. "I'd like to get right to business if that's all right with you."
Mrs. Evans fumbled again, "Yes, yes of course." She walked toward the stairs and called up, "Lily, George, would you come down here for a moment?" It was just a few seconds before a lithe girl with long, dark red hair bounded down the stairs.
"Yes, mum?" she answered.
"There's a man here for you," he mother replied. "Wait a moment for your father."
The girl peered into the sitting room, barely taken back by the strange man. Instead she smiled at him. Lily was a stunning with breathtaking green eyes—a sharp contrast to her red hair and the same creamy skin of her mother. Dumbledore smiled back at her, this was most definitely the girl.
Lily turned behind her to watch her father some down the stairs. He also had dark red hair, though George was more homely and peculiar looking. Lily had obtained her beauty, grace, and eyes from her mother, and her smile from her father, as well as her hair and height.
"What is it, Cynthia?" he asked his wife.
Mrs. Evans nodded toward the sitting room, "Why don't you see. Something about a school Lily was accepted into."
Mr. Evans furrowed his brow and walked into the living room. He was taken back by Dumbledore, who sat smiling pleasantly, but he sat down in an armchair with the same yellow floral pattern as the couch. Mrs. Evans took the other armchair, crossing the ankles of her long legs elegantly. Lily sat on her feet between her parents.
George spoke first, "I'm George Evans," he said.
"I know," Dumbledore happily announced. "I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School. And you are George and Cynthia Evans, parents of Lillian Maybelline Evans."
Cynthia bit her lip before replying, "And Petunia Evans."
Dumbledore's face darkened for a fleeting second, "Yes, but it is Lily we are concerned with today." He paused, "I'm sure you've noticed you have a very gifted daughter."
Lily blushed deeply, a red stain on her Victorian cheeks. Her father spoke, "She is first in her year."
Dumbledore beamed, "I'd imagine, but I am certain that you have noticed how talented she is in other ways—perhaps, unusual ways."
Lily sucked in deeply, her eyes lighting up. Dumbledore continued with only slight pause, "At my school, Lily would not be unusual at all. Every student is very talented at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Lily clasped her hands together against her lap in a desperate attempt to avoid leaping from the floor. Her parents, however, glanced nervously at one another.
Cynthia cleared her throat, "Pardon?"
"Lily is a witch."
George shifted uncomfortably, "Sir, witches are a fantasy."
The quirky man shook his head with a smile, "I assure you, sir, witches and wizards are quite real. I, myself, am a wizard." With that, he pulled a twisted stick from his coat.
"This is my wand," he explained. "If you allow Lily to come to Hogwarts, she will have a wand too. As you may imagine, it is used to perform magic." He waved the stick and water shot forth from the end, but before it could soak the carpet, a drinking glass appeared, and the water filled the glass, and had barely settled before the glass and whatever vanished. The Evans gasped, but Lily's was not from fear, but from excitement.
She hopped to her feet, "Look what I can do!" The girl ran to a vase of liliums on the mantle piece and picked one from its stem. Holding it in her hand with her arms extended for all to see the flower, she squeezed her eyes shut in concentration, but it was not necessary. She accomplished the goal easily as the flower wriggled in her hand, opening and closing the petals. She giggled. "See, mummy? It's alright. You told me not to do it! But it is because I'm a witch! Severus was right!"
Mrs. Evans put her hand to her head in overwhelming exhaustion. "Severus, dear? What did Severus say?"
Lily grinned and pinched the flower back on its stem, flawlessly reattaching it. "Severus is a wizard mum. So is his mother. He told me all about Hogwarts and the wizards and everything I need to know. He told me I was a witch, but I wasn't sure it was true. That's why Tuney's sour with me—she's not a witch. Daddy, you believe me don't you?"
Mr. Evans tried to answer his daughter, but he turned instead to the crazy man on his couch. "I'm not a, a wizard, and Cynthia's not a, um, a witch. How could she—how could Lily be, be one of those?"
"We don't quite know," Dumbledore responded. "We believe it is a recessive gene. A ancestor from hundreds of years ago could have held magic, but the line has been muggles for so long that no one remembers."
"Muggles?" Mr. Evans asked.
"Persons with not enough magical blood for the magic to appear," Dumbledore explained.
Mrs. Evans turned to her husband and whispered, "This can't be real."
"Why wouldn't it be?" he said. Cynthia's jaw dropped.
"You can't be serious!" she hissed.
George shrugged, "If some one were making a joke, they would telephone us, and no crackpot could go to these lengths. Admit it, Cindy—Lily has always been, gifted, in ways most normal children aren't."
Both parents turned to their daughter, who stood in the centre of the sitting room floor, eager eyes trained on her parents. It was true. Lily was different, always had been. There was a witch in the family.
"You mean she's a freak, right?"
The group's attention turned toward a tall, blond girl of about thirteen. Her arms folded across her chest and leaning on her hip defiantly. She craned her incredibly long neck to glance at Dumbledore, narrowing her large, pale eyes and scrunching up her nose. It was as if all her mother's grace and her father's quirk had been exaggerated exactly wrong, while everything went perfectly with her younger sister.
"So it's true," she frowned. "Lily's a freak?"
Dumbledore gazed sorrowfully at the bitter muggle girl, "Your sister is a witch."
Cynthia switched her attention back to her red headed daughter. "Isn't it wonderful," she said lovingly. "We have a witch in the family."
The horse-girl snorted dramatically, and no one saw Lily flinch.
George spoke up, "Petunia, would you mind going to your room for a while?"
Petunia stood a little straighter. "Yes, I would mind. Very much."
"Go," her father instructed.
Tossing her hair, Petunia ascended the stairs as if the exile were her idea, swinging her hips dramatically and quite unbecomingly.
And no one noticed. They were too preoccupied with Lily.
"Lily, this is wonderful."
"You'll learn magic, Lily—real magic!"
"I always knew you were special."
"Wonderful, I always knew you were wonderful."
"You're a witch!"
"And you knew! Why didn't you tell us?"
Lily laughed, "Since you would have believed me right away?"
The couple sheepishly looked at each other while Lily beamed.
Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Am I correct in assuming that Lily will be attending Hogwarts next year?"
"Yes!" Lily answered.
Her mother smiled, but her father, ever so practically, asked, "Where is this school, exactly."
"I would tell you the location, but it is unplottable and any muggle such as yourself will not be able to find it or see it," Dumbledore said.
George hesitated before questioning, "How are we to get Lily to this school, if we cannot find it?"
"Ah! Here I am blubbering away like a hicklepunk! Allow me to begin at the beginning, which is a quite a long time ago, I assure. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a magical institution for all magical children of Great Britain. It was founded on an unknown date by Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Thus the organization of the school into four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.
"A student stays in their house for her seven years at Hogwarts, her house becoming her family. Students are permitted and encouraged to visit home over Christmas and Easter holidays and required to return home for summer holidays.
"At school, students take courses such as Charms, Potions, History of Magic, and Defense against the Dark Arts. They—
But Dumbledore's speech was cut short.
"Hold it!" George shouted. "Dark Arts? There are Dark Arts!"
"But of course," was his cool reply. "Do you not have war, theft, and violence in your world? So we do in ours. There have been Dark Wizards throughout all of history, and all wizards and witches should be prepared to defend themselves at the most basic levels."
"Sounds smart!" Lily nodded eagerly.
Her mother reached for the hand of the bouncing girl. "It might not be safe, honey," she whispered.
"I assure you," Dumbledore stated confidently, "There is no safer place to be in times of danger than Hogwarts."
Lily grinned, "Here that, mum? I'll get on perfectly well!"
"You'll get on perfectly well," her mother mumbled absentmindedly.
Her father scanned the room, determinedly clapped his knee and announced, "Well, honey, you're going to witch school!"
"Oh, daddy!" Lily shouted, flinging her arms around him. "Oh, thank you! I always knew there was something like this for me! I always knew!"
George chuckled and patted his daughter's back. Lily suddenly looked up from his shoulder. To her mother she asked, "Is it okay, mummy?"
Cynthia just smiled, "I guess so, sweetheart. You're a witch."
Dumbledore glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece before interrupting the family moment. "You may like to see these," he said as he pulled two crisp white envelopes from his coat, sealed with red wax. They were both addressed to
Lillian Evans
Second Bedroom to the Left
8 Thimble Way
Cynthia took both envelopes as Dumbledore explained, "The first envelope is delivered by owl, our means of communication, to all incoming students at Hogwarts. It contains basic information and supply lists. The contents of the second envelope are for muggle-born students. In it you will find an introduction to wizarding society, directions to Diagon Alley, where you will be able to buy all of your school things, and directions to the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9 ¾."
Mr. Evans interrupted "9 ¾? What kind of a—
"There are instructions enclosed, sir," Dumbledore told him. The train departs on September 1st; you would do well to obtain your school supplies several weeks before then. If you require any assistance, several Hogwarts professors will be at the Leaky Cauldron that day."
"The Leaky what—
"All in the envelope, Mr. Evans, I assure you. I suggest you pick up several books on recent wizarding history and culture while you are in the area, a suggested list is enclosed in the second envelope. You should convert muggle-money at Gringots—in the envelope, sir. However, if you require any financial assistance, we would be honored to provide for you.
Mrs. Evans placed a silencing hand on her husband's knee, "I think we will be fine; thank you for your offer."
Dumbledore nodded, "Any other questions you may have should be answered in the envelope."
"In the envelope," Mr. Evans muttered.
Dumbledore rose from his seat, moving towards the door, but turning back on a final thought. "Lily, you say you have a friend who will be attending Hogwarts. May I inquire to his name?"
"Severus," the little girl piped. "Severus Snape."
"Snape?" Dumbledore repeated curiously.
Lily hesitated, "His father doesn't have magic."
"Eileen Prince's boy?"
Lily shrugged. How was she supposed to know his mother's name?
Dumbledore turned to her parents and smiled, "Thank you for making me so welcome in your home."
"It was a pleasure, you are welcome here any time," Mrs. Evans replied, the perfect hostess response.
Dumbledore nodded warmly and shut the door behind him. Four Evans watched him leave; three with smiles and one in tears. Dumbledore looked up at the first bedroom window, smiling regretfully at the sour face. Knowing there was nothing to be done, he took a short detour to a place called Spinner's End and reminded himself to keep an eye on the friendship between Lily and this Snape boy. Lily was a light that should be kept far away from the dark, the Dark Arts, and the sorts of people who came with it.
Hogwarts may be the safest place, but there was a war going on, and Lily was anything but far from danger.
A/N: Okay, so that turned out WAY longer than I meant it to. It just kept coming! I might start my Legendary Fic next… or that's what I'm hoping it'll be. Legendary. Not that actually think that'll happen… but I want it to be the fic I'm known by, in however an itty-bitty circle. It'll be Lily and James, by the by.
You know, it was a monstrous Lily and James fic that got me started. Pensieve by Oi Angelina. You should check it out.
Love, peace, and Potter,
Mebmarker24