2. Labelled as 'Moot', from the memories of Lily Evans, September 1st, 1977, with accompanying extract from the Daily Prophet, article by Doris Derwent-Meers.
The month of August has, for the wizarding community, been one fraught with tension. Today marks the one month anniversary of the attack on Diagon Alley, an attack that killed ten and injured thirty-two when a group (rumours suggest they go by the name 'Death Eaters') suddenly forged a seemingly unprovoked attack upon innocent shoppers. Today, former head of the Auror Office, Augustus Lynchwick (who as readers might recall, was one of the critically injured victims of the aforementioned attack, rushed to St Mungo's Hospital's emergency ward in the aftermath) has passed away. This brings the previous death toll from nine to ten, and casts a solemn note on the wizarding community. Augustus Lynchwick has been in critical condition since the events of August 1st and Healers, we can now reveal, have advised his family that his condition was fatal.
The Prophet extends their condolences to My Lynchwick's family and friends, and to all other families affected by this tragic event. For a full list of victims, please turn to page five, along with a retelling of this reporter's eyewitness account of the attack. For My Lynchwick's full obituary, please turn to page twenty-two.
Once again, the Daily Prophet, in conjunction with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, urges anyone with information on the identity of this dark magical group or any of its members to come forward.
"I'm not lying, Marlene! He really was standing just out in the corridor two compartments down - go look, I bet he's still there! And he really was snogging Christine Speckhurt! Just look!"
Marlene McKinnon was not the type to believe idle rumours. No, she was a girl of great intelligence (or so she thought) and therefore required strong, solid proof.
The words of Josephine McKinnon, her younger sister, were therefore not enough to convince her. Raising a brow, I simply looked on from my spot in the train compartment, the debate between the sisters more than enough to keep my interest. While I rather liked words, hearing them and dissecting them and the thousands upon thousands of meanings they could convey depending on which order they came in, Marlene and Josephine liked sounds.
There are two types of people in this world: those who talk and those who listen. I've not yet figured out which is better.
In this case, two people who liked sounds and delighted in creating them (in other words, talkers) were quite likely to escalate into an argument, as neither one of them put much stock in listening to the other.
"He wouldn't possibly," Marlene was saying, her retort punctuated by her arms folded across her chest, "I know for a fact he's promised himself to me and only me, and he's not the sort to break a promise like that! He's a Hufflepuff, for god's sake!"
She had a point with that, as everyone knew that Slytherins couldn't keep their word unless their life depended on it, and Gryffindor's were forever known for being rash and impulsive with things like promises and even more so with things like breaking promises, and Ravenclaw's - well, if they could see an intellectual benefit for breaking a promise, I could imagine them doing it, just out of curiosity.
Not to say we all fell perfectly into the stereotype of our house, of course, but generally speaking - Marlene had a point.
"He was! I saw him with my own eyes, Mar, not to mention Kitty was with me, and she'll vouch for it! He's a sodding idiot, you should know that by now after what he did to Sarah Blackworth last year-"
The boy in question wasn't all that bad, in my opinion. Sarah Blackworth was a slimy idiot, the year above us (and now thankfully graduated), who'd decided it was a brilliant idea to play Sirius Black off Amos Diggory. Sirius, naturally, had socked the other guy in the jaw, much to everyone's great amusement. Amos, as the Hufflepuff in the situation, was Marlene's man of the moment. He had undeniably dealt with the entire Sarah Blackworth scandal a little better than Black had, yet admittedly, he could have been a little better with it. He'd turned most of his house against the girl, not to mention ruined her potential date with Wycross the next month. Of course, she had deserved it, which in my mind made Amos' actions justified.
Fifteen-year-old Josephine McKinnon apparently thought differently, as she was, apparently, a women of principle.
"Not another word, Josephine Alexandria!"
The younger sister, evidently deflated by the universal weapon, the middle name, stalked out of our carriage within seconds.
"Lily, you haven't seen Mary have you?" Marlene asked next, a not so subtle attempt at changing the topic.
"No," I answered, before adding on, deftly ignoring her change of topic with a bemused grin, "You know, I've always wondered why pulling out the middle name is such a big power card. I mean, whenever Mum does it I quake in my boots." No doubt it was a silly instinct, built into our systems through years of training on our parents' part.
Whatever the case, no one in the carriage offered me an answer, and we lapsed into silence as I switched to pondering just how similar crying could sound to laughing in the right circumstance.
2. 'Moot', continued.
"Do you know who the Head Boy is yet, Lily?"
Ten repetitions of this question later, and I was infuriated. Somehow, seemingly everyone knew I was Head Girl - and had since about two days after I'd received the letter. That, naturally, was the only explanation I had as to James' knowledge of it. I'd told Marlene and Mary, and evidently one of them had slipped up.
Of all the secrets to reveal, I didn't mind much that it was this one. This way, I was able to revel in the fact that, yes, I was Head Girl without seeming like I was bragging. Really, it was a win-win-
-except for the fact that I had no idea who the Head Boy was, and there was a very high chance that by now, he was perfectly aware of my identity.
Whilst that boy may have been absent from my mind, James was very much on it. The last thing he'd said to me - "Congratulations on Head Girl, Lily" - rang in my mind even now, free of the trappings of screams and curses that had cushioned it a month ago. I didn't know if it was condescending or serious; I didn't know if he'd meant to say it, or if he'd been substituting it for something else as I'd initially expected; I didn't know even know how he was, as after we'd found everyone sheltering in Florean's (and safe), we'd all apparated home, or side-along'd, and that had been that.
Most importantly, however, I didn't know why I cared.
He'd always had a way of capturing my attention, or else we'd never have fought like we did. Yet, here he'd apparently risen to a whole new level of capturing my thoughts for a month, and I couldn't even take out my irritation on him. Most likely, it was my tendency towards seeking knowledge that spurred this. I needed answers to absolutely everything; a trait I'd been sure was going to send me into Ravenclaw (once I'd had the houses explained to me, that was). James Potter represented a question, and I was beginning to worry that I'd spend my entire life trying to answer it.
At least there was one question I could answer, however.
"Do you know who the Head Boy is-"
"No," I said frankly, "I don't."
That would soon change, however, as myself and the question asker - in this case the Gryffindor sixth year female prefect, Melissa Jones - were making our way towards the first carriage, for the prefect meeting. Which, undoubtedly, would reveal the Head Boy.
If this had been a novel, perhaps the solution would have been obvious. Maybe there's someone up there, pulling the strings, and cackling at my oblivion. Whatever the case, I was not at all prepared for the sight of James Potter, and the reason was two fold.
Firstly, he looked terrible.
Secondly, he had a silver badge to match mine right on his chest.
"Lily, I-"
I blinked, parted my lips, closed them again, and continued right past him and into the compartment. Really, it made sense. Of course it wasn't Remus, I would have known. Everyone knew Dumbledore had a soft spot for Gryffindor - so it was simply logical for it to be James then, wasn't it? He had the characteristics of a leader, albeit an immature, rule-breaking one.
I shouldn't have been surprised, and yet I felt like the world was being pulled from beneath my feet.