{Zero}
In 1971 there were approximately nine hundred students boarding the Hogwarts Express. Twenty years later, in 1991, the station would feel empty.
Young people die when war happens.
In 1971 a dark haired boy stood facing his parents, grinning widely. His mother desperately tried to tidy his hair, which seemed to have a life of its own. The boy showed some resistance, but was unable to escape the caring hands of Euphemia Potter. Next to her stood a tall man, his lean figure towering over his small wife. Fleamont Potter's hair resembled his son's with one particular difference, his seemed to behave.
Smoothed back on top of his head the older Potter's dark hair had but a strand sticking out. "He'd better get going," he spoke in a voice uncharacteristically gentle for his appearance, "wouldn't want him missing the train."
Mrs Potter finally gave up on her son's unruly hair, staring down at him with a soft smile and perhaps a tear or two in her eyes, "Oh, he's all grown up."
"Mother, please." James spoke up for the first time since they had passed through the barrier and onto the platform.
"Oh, let me be sentimental a bit more, James. You'll be gone for months."
Her husband chuckled, "He'll be back too soon, dear. Besides, you've been talking about hosting dinner parties since July. We finally don't have to worry about James here running amok after having too much of the pumpkin juice."
The boy laughed. "See, mum, it's for the best that I leave." The train whistle sounded for the first time, both of his parents looking up. "And that would be my cue. Mother, father," he nodded his head towards them, "it's been a pleasure."
His mother swatted away the arm he had outstretched for them to shake it, "James, don't be foolish, come here." And with that she held him close to her petite frame. "Oh, I'm going to miss you," a kiss on both cheeks, "now, off you go."
Fleamont carried his son's trunk to the nearest entrance, pushing it onto the wagon as James walked a few steps behind him battling with a bird cage in which a large barred owl named Arthur resided. "There we are, James. Now, what were the rules?" The tall man had to lean down significantly despite the fact that his son was now standing on the first step, entering the train.
"No sneaking out of the castle," his father nodded, "no telling anyone about…" His father once again nodded. "And write home at least every two weeks?" James grinned widely.
Fleamont's blue eyes narrowed, meeting James' wide brown ones, "And don't cause too much trouble, James." He said pointedly before straightening up. "I think you're all set. Don't forget, if you are not in Gryffindor I will disown you."
"Mum was a Hufflepuff."
His father winked, ruffling his hair up. "Exactly."
James' laughter filled the air as he pushed his trunk one step higher, pulling the bird cage behind him, and Fleamont Potter returned to his wife.
"Need any help?" A boy stood on James' left slightly shorter than him, with hair slicked back. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He had already put on his robes, and a shiny green pin stood at the front of his chest. James knew, quite positively, that he had to belong to one of the Pure-Blood families that prided themselves on their Slytherin lineage, yet he seemed to lack the pompous air around him.
"Eh, sure. This owl is bloody heavy."
The boy in front of him smirked, "Mine's half the size and I couldn't carry it, mate. Well, I didn't want to. Point being, I get it. I'll grab your trunk." He said, already walking away with most of James' belongings, sans the owl and the clothes he had on. "You can sit in my compartment, no one's joined me yet. I think I look too formal for them."
James chuckled, "Well, you look like you belong in that prep school in Wales, if we're being honest." They entered the compartment, the shorter of the two boys immediately jumping onto his side and laying down.
"The Draich Academy, ugh. It's not my fault, mother insisted on this." He played with the pin on his chest. "You are of noble house Black," his voice rose as he mimicked what James assumed was his mother, "you must look presentable. Ah, son, you are our firstborn," he spoke, now lowering his voice, "you must present your family in the best manner possible. Now take care of that hair… That's my family for you."
"Black?"
The boy jumped up, sitting right across from James his hand outstretched, "Ah, almost forgot. Black, Sirius Black. As in, serious Black. It's funny, I'm not really serious about anything at all. I think that's why father worries so much. Thinks I'm going to embarrass the family name."
James stared, unable to get a word in, "Yes, seriously how could you ever do that?"
Sirius stared back at him in silence, "Did you just… make fun of my name?"
"I saw the chance, figured I had to take it." James shrugged, while the boy on the other side of the compartment fell back into a lying position.
"Fair enough. Who are you then anyway?"
"James Potter."
"Of the Sleakeazy's Hair Potion?" Sirius laughed. "I have a gallon of it on my head, I reckon. Can't wait to wash it out."
"True, my father is the inventor of it."
Sirius stared at him from across the compartment, frowning for a split second, "Doesn't do you much good, does it?"
Shrugging, James tried to fix his hair but to no avail, "I sort of gave up on trying really. The Black family, my dad spoke about your family. Rarely, but—"
"Politics, am I right?" Sirius cut him off and waited till James nodded awkwardly. "I know. Family's quite invested really, I'm not an idiot we aren't on the popular side. But we always have guests over, so I figure it is a simple matter of perspective, really. Most of them are rather prominent, well respected families. Malfoys, Lestranges, Goyle family, a lot of them really. Distant relatives, if I think about it…" He trailed off. "Oi, what Quidditch team are you rooting for?"
"Oh, Chudley Cannons. Dad's a fan, I grew up a fan. You?" A hint of pride could easily be detected in James' voice.
"Not sure, I like the Cannons. Not, that much into Quidditch. Don't know why I asked." He grinned. "I wonder when the trolley will be here, I'm starved."
James thought about his breakfast and just how full his stomach felt. Then his thoughts were preoccupied with the idea of eating as many Chocolate Frogs as he could, and perhaps even trading some cards with Sirius. "I'm hungry, too."
"Dad, are we going to be late?" A girl asked from the back seat of the car.
"No, darling this is just a bit of traffic, no need to worry."
"Why didn't mum and Tuney come to see me off?"
The man in the driver's seat gripped the steering wheel only slightly tighter and sighed, "Tuney wasn't feeling well, Lily. Mum stayed behind to take care of her. But I am here to make sure you get onto that weird platform, what was it again?"
The girl twisted in her seat, reaching for the paper on the opposite side of the car, "Platform 9 and ¾."
"I still don't believe that exists, but if it says so."
Lily knew it had to exist. It was the only logical explanation, however illogical it may have seemed to her father. Besides, Severus had told her about Hogwarts and he wouldn't lie to her, they were friends. The ride went on in tense silence after that as her father slowly lost his temper, cursing at the driver's in front of him under his breath. They had come to the King's Cross with only half an hour to spare, and to her surprise Lily remained calm while her father searched frantically for the Platform 9 and ¾ , which was nowhere to be found. He had even approached a few people asking them for directions only to receive a look of utter confusion and wonder each time. Lily followed her father around, both hands holding onto a cat carrier in which her very own kitten, which she named Daisy for the sake of irony, should have been sleeping, but what with all the fussing and running about the King's Cross there wasn't any doubt that the kitten was for the time being wide awake.
"Dad. Dad, wait!" She tried to keep up with him. "I think I know what to do!" Her father, alongside a few other passers-by, stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her, but her bright green eyes were determinedly set on the barrier in front of her.
The people who have stopped to look at the little girl had moved on with their morning obligations, but her father approached her. "You know where to go?"
"Just beyond the barrier," she looked up at him, "I'm sure."
His gentle eyes searched her face for a sign of a smile, expecting her to admit that she was joking any moment. She didn't, his daughter remained serious and for the first time since learning about his daughter's abilities Alfred Evans understood just how different she was from the rest of the family, from him. "Lily, it's no more than a brick wall." He had intended it to be a statement, but the feeling of a missing question mark lingered behind.
The child in front of him eyed the barrier once again before shaking her head. "It has to be it. Come on, Daisy, up you go," she placed the cat carrier on top of her trunk steering it away from her father and aiming for the brick wall. Once it had been done she turned on her heel, looking up at her father, "I'm going to be okay, dad. And I will miss you all." Needing to be eye level with his little girl, Alfred crouched. "Even Tuney, even though she was mean to me ever since I got the letter."
Lily's father fixed his glasses, "She will get over it, give her time."
"She'll have the whole year," the little girl smiled faintly, glancing at the clock. "Oh, I'm going to be late." Eyes alert she quickly squeezed her father's hand, pecked him on the cheek, and then she was spinning on her heel and rushing towards the barrier, the giant brown trunk with a cat carrier on top pulling her forward faster and faster. Half ready for impact she squeezed her eyes shut, but felt no abrupt stop. Instead she could hear an increase of murmurs from the people around her, all of them moving in a hurry; animals—owls and cats mostly, though she could see a few frogs and even rodents around—were producing most of the noise and Lily Evans let out that breath she had been holding in, relief flooding over her. A smile slowly grew on her lips, soft at first but then a wide grin. She had been right after all and all around her there were people in robes, just as Severus had told her. The train in front of her had nearly all of its windows slid open and the mothers were standing beneath them giving their children the finishing advice before they set of for Hogwarts.
And Lily was alone.
She glanced back at the barrier wondering if her father would even be able to make it through. Sighing she pushed the trunk forward gaining momentum once again. Navigating that many people would have been hard even without baggage that seemed to have been at least half her size and twice her weight, but now it seemed near impossible. Apologizing to every third person she managed to bump into turned Lily's face into a shade of red that matched her hair almost perfectly, her cheeks getting warmer and warmer. She just had to get on the train and the embarrassment would end, a few seconds more. With that thought and her eyes glued to the nearest open door Lily ran straight into a tall man who just happened to be in her way.
"Oh, gosh. I am so, so sorry, Mister!" She squeaked as the man turned around, his blue eyes falling on the little girl whose face was now redder than her hair.
Fleamont Potter looked at Lily Evans, then around the station spotting his wife in a lively conversation with the elderly Mrs McKinnon. "It's quite alright, nothing to fuss about. Say, are you another Weasley? I think I saw some of your cousins over the—"
"A wha—a 'weesly'?" She frowned.
"Prewett? But no, you're not really the right shade."
"Sir, I am not… I am not either of those things." She puffed her chest out, standing straight. Shoulders back, chin lifted just as her mother would always tell her. Just like in ballet lessons. Lily Evans appeared tall to herself, and to herself only. "I'm Lily. Evans."
"Hm, Evans. Oh, was your great great uncle a famous Quidditch referee, Pluto Heaves Evans?"
"A what?" She sighed, "I am going to be late."
"Oh, nonsense," Mr Potter smiled, "let me get that." And with ease he picked her cat carrier in one hand and took her whole trunk in the other, walking a few quick long steps towards the train and placing both inside.
"Thank you, Sir."
"You better get going, and with that hair you better be a Gryffindor." He laughed and Lily's stomach sank a bit. Severus did not like the Gryffindor House. Instead of worrying about that though, Lily simply offered the kind man a timid smile then stepped fully onto the train, pulling her trunk behind her in search of a compartment.
Suddenly a head full of blonde hair popped out of the compartment, right in front of her. Lily found herself staring at the back of the head until the girl spun around and she was face to face with a girl who had the biggest brown eyes, framed with thickest darkest eyelashes. "Hullo."
Lily stopped, tried to step back but stumbled into her trunk, then stood in place.
"Do you need a place to sit?" Lily nodded. "We have room here, come in."
"Oh, sure," and she pulled her trunk inside, her cat meowing loudly.
"I'm Marlene, by the way. First year." Lily nodded once again, sitting next to a girl with rather short curly hair.
"That's Alice," she pointed at the girl sitting next to the window, "she's my cousin. She's second year, she knows everything. And that's Frank," the only boy in the compartment, "he's first year. Also the curly head is Monroe." She smiled, her smile as soft as her voice. Marlene was a gentle person.
"Hi, I'm Lily." She finally spoke, raising her hand in a tiny wave. "So, everyone is new except Alice?"
The girl in question chuckled, "Exactly, which reminds me that I am hanging around a group of first years." She got up and headed towards the sliding door, before leaving she turned to Marlene. "I better not see you getting into Slytherin, young lady, otherwise you'll never be allowed to play Quidditch in my back yard again. Applies to all of you." She glanced around the compartment before winking and leaving the four on their own.
"So," Lily broke the silence, "what's a Quidditch?"
Frank Longbottom looked at her for half a second, mouth agape, before bursting into laughter.
"So, you are saying Gryffindor is the greatest?" Sirius asked rather sceptically.
"Not me," James replied, holding a Chocolate Frog in his hand as it struggled to escape, "everyone." The frog met its end.
"Maybe, but I just have to be in Slytherin."
After devouring two more Chocolate Frogs James let out a sound of disagreement. "You don't have to do anything. You can't, right? It's not your choice. You get what you get, but to be honest you don't sound like a Slytherin." He paused eating a few Cauldron Cakes, his pants starting to feel a bit tighter; his stomach had been full half an hour ago, but he was only on eighteen Chocolate Frogs, and he was going for twenty. "You may look like one. But if you end up in Slytherin I will be the first to… Here, if you end up in Slytherin I will shave my head." He finished the thought, holding out a hand for Sirius to shake.
"Alright, Potter. Now, pass me that box of Bertie Bott's, I am feeling quite adventurous."
James chucked the box at him and Sirius proceeded to tear it open swiftly. Just as he was about to comment on the flavour—which, judging by the look on his face, was either ear wax or brussel sprouts—the door to their compartment slid open revealing a tall blonde haired boy who had to have been at least sixteen.
Lucius Malfoy's lips stretched into a tight smile, "Ah, and we have found the last one, Macnair. That's young Black over there," he nodded his head towards Sirius, leisurely stepping into the compartment and sitting next to James. "We've come to pick you up, having a bit of young Slytherin gathering, as we've been instructed to do."
"And who are you? What if he doesn't want to go?" James piped in, unwilling to let go of the only friend he had made on the train. The prospect of being left alone for the rest of the ride did not appeal to him at all.
Cold eyes met his own, but he stared back not allowing himself to blink. "Who might you be?"
"James Potter." He lifted his chin a bit higher.
"Mouthy for a first year, Potter" he spat. "The name is Lucius. Malfoy. And you, I'm afraid, are not invited."
For the first time since the new arrivals had appeared, majority of which were still standing in front of the compartment, Sirius spoke up. "Why can't he come?"
"Slytherin only, Sirius. See, we have Macnair helping me find all of you young talented Slytherins," he pointed at the largest boy, "and then we have Avery, Rosier, Snape, we've picked them up before we found you, cousin. The rest are waiting in the back compartment."
Sirius rolled his eyes, "I'm not a Slytherin, yet. We have food here, you're welcome to stick around. Help yourselves," he gestured towards the sweets next to him, "Merlin knows we can't eat much more."
The three younger boys' eyes grew wide as they eyed the food sitting only inches from Sirius, "We can't discuss this matter among Gryffindors," he sneered at James, "or sympathizers. Your father would want you to come with us."
"What's wrong with Gryffindors?" Sirius asked but wasn't surprised to find that his voice wasn't the only one heard. Across from him James' eyebrows were raised, full offence taken, as he stared indignantly at Lucius.
"Idiocy, to start with." Sounded a voice from the doorway. Severus Snape was feeling rather mighty in the protection of two older students.
"Now, let's not be impolite, Severus." Lucius stood up. "But, honestly, Sirius you do not want to associate yourself with the wrong folk. Us old families that still have their reputation," his glance travelled quickly towards James, "need to take care of the family name."
"I'll meet you at Hogwarts," the Black boy said standing up with a frown on his face as the tall seventh year grabbed his trunk and owl, "family name and all."
Chucking a new package of Bertie Bott's at him James smiled, "I hope they all get to eat vomit." He kept glaring at them until Lucius slammed the compartment door shut, thus leaving him all alone with enough sweets to feed at least two more boys his size.
After that he lost track of time. At first he wanted to find another compartment but couldn't make himself move. In the end he caved, but instead of finding company he opened his trunk pulling out the first book he could – A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch. Sighing he opened the book and pulled out his wand.
Avifors. A transforming spell that could be used to change the target into a bird, flock of birds or occasionally a flock of bats with a vivid flash of blue light.
He pointed the wand at a Chocolate Frog package, "Avifors." Nothing.
It was only after repeating the hand motion a few times without saying the incantation, that James cleared his throat, eyes trained on the Chocolate Frog, "Avifors." A bunch of feathers.
"Avifors." More fathers.
"Avifors. Avifors. Avifors." Feathers and a Chocolate Frog with a beak and wings.
"Avifors." A bird. Its wings were perhaps a bit weak, but nonetheless it was a bird. A flying bird. James' eyes wide, he extended his hand towards the turquoise creature chirping and flying in circles. Needless to say, by the end of the ride he had learned most of the first semester Transfiguration spells, and had been reading through the first fifty Charms textbook pages vigorously.
Here goes nothing?
Maja
P.S. Reviews are Chocolate Frogs, and the bird bites?
