- Chapter Two -

Conflicts and Conclusions

For a few days after their little visit, Lily insisted to her family that she had left her book at her grandmother's, but no one was willing to listen. They chose to believe, instead, that Lily had the book with her all along, but she didn't remember.

'Now that I come to think about it, I don't remember that book not being in your arms, Lily,' Mr Evans had said to her.

Lily would have persisted if she had the energy, and the ability to do so without losing her patience. Instead, all she could do was marvel on how the idea of a book that could transport itself seemed so bizarre to her family, yet the concept of magic was one they accepted without questioning.

Lily didn't touch Hogsmeade: a History again. She kept the book in a bag, deep in the bottom of her wardrobe underneath piles and piles of clothes in the hope that she would never have to face it again. She had tried to throw it away, but her mother somehow kept catching her at it, and got very cross.

It seemed to Lily that the longer she kept the book untouched in her wardrobe, the more vivid her dreams became. Now she was exploring dark passageways in the same enormous castle and found herself being chased by bizarre-looking creatures, half-human, half-beast of sorts. And the dreams always ended in the same way: a request, a desperate plea for help.

Feeling rather isolated from the family who wouldn't believe her, Lily began going for strolls through and around Hogsmeade alone where she could mull over her situation. She didn't resent her family for not believing her, for she could hardly believe that this was happening to her. True, Lily Evans had always dreamed of going on adventures, like the kind she read about in all her story books. But never once had she desired a mystery that depended solely on her unravelling it. She felt burdened by this task, and very alone.

The only person Lily felt she could speak to was her grandmother who lived too far away for them to meet frequently. But she theorised that Mrs MacDonald had gone through what she was; and, like herself, Mrs MacDonald wasn't believed. But the fighter within Lily persuaded her that this wasn't a challenge to be abandoned. If her dreams were to be believed, there were people out there – or rather, creatures – who needed her help. Lily felt somewhat ashamed of herself for being afraid of the creatures for the peculiarity of their appearances. After all, she had befriended Thestrals and several other magical creatures, what made these ones so different? It was on these thoughts Lily dwelled as she went for a walk about a week after Christmas.

Upon arriving at home, she found her mother rushing around from one room to the next, looking hassled, as though she was bottling up her emotions.

'What's wrong?' Lily asked concernedly, taking off her coat.

'It's your grandmamma,' said Mrs Evans in a shaky voice, her nose red. 'She's fallen very sick.'

'But – we just saw her last week! How can she be sick already?'

'Oh, this winter has been a bitterly cold one,' Mrs Evans sniffed. 'I suppose it was foolish of us to leave her alone in the cottage, seeing as she doesn't have your grandfather anymore …' She stared at Lily somewhat reproachfully, which made her recoil slightly.

'We can go visit Grandmamma, can't we?' Lily rushed on.

'Oh, Lily!' cried Mrs Evans. 'I simply don't think we have the money to hire another Thestral.'

'We don't have to hire one!' Lily persuaded. 'We can just find a wild one.'

'But they aren't tamed, Lily. Honestly. Thestrals are dangerous creatures; I have no idea in the world why you're determined to believe otherwise!'

'Perhaps we can sell some things to the second-hand shop?' Lily suggested. 'Surely there are things around the house we no longer need which are of value.'

'Like yourself?' Petunia sneered. She was standing by the doorway, wearing an expression of utmost loathing. 'Except you're hardly of any value.'

Lily ignored her and looked at her mother desperately. 'Please, Mamma?'

Mrs Evans sighed heavily and looked at her daughter who resembled her so uncannily. 'I'll gather up a few valuables and you can go into the town to sell them. By yourself.'

And so that was what Lily did. Donning her favourite cloak of a beautiful shade of periwinkle, she took the small bag of valuables her mother later handed her, and trudged along to the shops, the snow crunching under her frozen toes, half-wishing she hadn't suggested going. But she had to speak to her grandmother urgently, especially if it was to be the last time.

It took Lily quite a few minutes to get to the second-hand shop, slowed down by the depth of the snow. Once there, she removed the hood of her cloak and approached the counter. There was no one there for assistance.

'Hello?' Lily's voice broke as she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and continued: 'Is anyone there?'

A man suddenly Apparated behind the counter and stared down at Lily. He looked quite old; what little hair he had left was grey, a lighter shade than his thick beard. His eyes were such a pale shade of blue, Lily found herself suppressing a shiver; she felt as though his eyes could see right through her. In fact, Lily thought, they probably could.

'I've been expecting you,' he said mysteriously.

Lily tried to ignore the goosebumps she felt from his words. 'I'm here to sell some –'

'Yes, yes, I'm aware,' he cut across her quickly. 'You have come to sell some things to make some money to visit your sick grandmother.'

'How did you –?'

'I wouldn't hope for the best,' he continued. 'It's a downward slope from here. Should you succeed, you will live a life you couldn't imagine up in your wildest dreams. But you are a long way from there now. At present, the Thestral will guide you.'

'What are you talking about?' Lily questioned angrily, dropping the bag on the counter. 'Do you have to be so vague? Tell me more!'

'I will take the contents of the bag for a hundred Galleons,' the man rushed on.

'But you don't know what's in there!' she exclaimed. 'I don't even know what's in there!'

'Are you going to turn down a hundred Galleons?' He raised an eyebrow at her.

Lily felt torn between interrogating the man further about the things he had just said, and just getting rid of the bag and taking the money. She decided on the latter. She forced her expression to soften slightly as he handed her a bag full of money and walked out of the shop.

She was seething: the last thing Lily needed was more puzzles. She was already very confused, still hurt by the encounter with her mother and Petunia, and now she was afraid of losing her grandmother. It was all becoming too much – why her?

Lily was glad to arrive home where she could have distractions from her thoughts. She put the money bag down on the living room table in front of her mother.

She opened the bag and peered inside. 'How much did he give you?'

'A hundred Galleons he said,' Lily replied, taking off the hood on her cloak.

'Why did he give you that much?' she questioned sharply. 'The contents of that bag were only worth about twenty Galleons at most, which is enough to hire a Thestral. What did you say to him?'

Lily shrugged. 'I hardly said anything, he did all the talking.'

'Never mind, then,' Mrs Evans sighed, shaking her head. 'Grab some clothes, we're going to stay at Grandmamma's if we can. Hurry. Your father and I will try seeing if we can hire a Thestral now.'

Lily hurried upstairs and grabbed a bag to fill with as many clothes as she could. She flung her wardrobe door open and froze immediately. There, on top of a neat pile of clothes on the floor of her wardrobe, was Hogsmeade: a History, looking just as it always did. She looked down at the bag in her hands and realised it was the same one she had used to cover the book. She dropped it as though it burnt her hand and reached for another bag. Lily hastily shoved in as many dresses, skirts and blouses as the bag could fit. When she was done, she picked up the book reluctantly and went downstairs again.

Lily and Petunia sat in silence in the living room, awaiting their parents' arrival. They didn't have long to wait though; out of the window, Lily saw her parents pull up in a carriage pulled by a Thestral just as it began snowing again.

Lily scooped up her belongings and left the house ahead of Petunia. She climbed into the carriage to find that it looked a lot bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. Undoubtedly the extra Galleons the man at the second-hand shop had given them went to good use. They had room to breathe in this carriage, and room to place their bags.

As soon as Petunia had stepped into the carriage, the doors closed themselves and the Thestral began trotting away, first at a slower pace, and then much quicker – but Lily could only tell the carriage was going faster by the speed at which the scenery was whipping past them. She marvelled at the things money could buy for the short duration of the journey.

When they arrived at Lily's grandmother's house, it was to find that the cottage was as crowded as it was when they were there for Christmas; it became clear that it wasn't only the Evans family who decided to pay a visit to Mrs MacDonald.

Lily stepped out of the carriage with her bag and her book, cautious to go inside. She wasn't sure if she was prepared to see her grandmother in the state her mother told her she was in. She wasn't even sure she had recovered from the last death in the family, let alone prepared for another. She shook herself out of her reverie and instructed herself to get a grip; it was pointless thinking like that, and the most she could do right now was to focus on helping her grandmother feel better.

As soon as Lily got through the front doors of the cottage, she found herself enveloped tightly in Mary's arms. Lily hugged her back, feeling her shaking with tears; it was always serious when Mary began to cry. When they broke apart, Lily pulled Mary to the side and held her hands tightly.

'Is she looking that bad?' Lily asked in a quiet voice, half-dreading the answer.

Mary nodded, her golden eyes now red and puffy, matching her pink nose which was running dreadfully. Lily pulled out a clean tissue and gave it to Mary, who accepted it grudgingly; she didn't enjoy being made to feel like a young girl.

Lily put a consoling arm around her younger cousin who felt more like a sister to her than Petunia did, just as Marlene approached them. Lily was secretly glad to see Marlene was more composed than Mary; she didn't think she could handle comforting both of them. Marlene nodded to Lily as a way of greeting and sighed, leaning against the wall.

'She's been wanting to see you,' said Marlene abruptly over the babble in the living room, turning to look at Lily. 'She told me to tell you to go upstairs to her when you arrive.'

'How did she even know we'd be coming?' Lily questioned, her forehead creasing from curiosity.

Marlene shrugged. 'Search me.'

'Okay, well – I doubt I'll be long,' Lily lied. She put down her belongings and then gestured towards Mary, who was staring determinedly at her shoes, silently urging Marlene to watch over her.

'I'm fine,' Mary grumbled stubbornly, having correctly guessed the silent exchange.

Smiling ever so slightly, Lily made her way across the room and up the stairs. Lily had always preferred Mrs MacDonald's cottage – it had an aura of warmth and homeliness, one which her own home had been lacking lately. It was a small and cosy cottage for a small and lonely lady, made of stones of varying shades of greys and browns. In the late few weeks of spring and through most of the summer, the cottage would smell strongly of the honeysuckle which grew both in the front garden and the back garden of the cottage; in autumn and winter, the cottage would smell of wood burning in the fireplace, and of the numerous hot dishes Mrs MacDonald would prepare to keep them all warm.

But the cottage didn't smell like that now, and this was the first sign Lily read which indicated how serious the situation was.

At the top of the stairs, Lily changed her walk to a creep, put off by how much quieter it was upstairs to downstairs. She knocked gently on her grandmother's bedroom door and awaited a reply. The wooden door was opened by a man Lily didn't recognise – undoubtedly a distant relative who never bothered keeping much contact. There were many of them in the MacDonald family. He let her in and left the room, followed closely by a woman in posh attire who may have been his wife.

Lily only had eyes for her grandmother, who smiled weakly at her from her bed. Lily hurried over to her bedside and sat down, tears now threatening to spill from her eyes.

'Oh, Grandmamma,' she whispered softly.

Her grandmother merely smiled up at her. She looked very weary, and as though she had aged another decade since the last time they met. It had only now fully dawned on Lily just how frail and vulnerable her grandmother was.

Mrs MacDonald shook her head at Lily, telling her not to cry. Then she indicated that Lily should move closer, which Lily did.

'It's up to you,' Mrs MacDonald whispered to Lily. 'I know it's burdensome but I also know you will succeed. The book will help you, use the book.'

'I don't know how to do this,' Lily whispered back. 'Where do I go – what do I do – and how do I do this without you?'

'The book will give you answers,' was all Mrs MacDonald replied with. 'If I didn't think you could do this, I wouldn't be guiding you now. Do you trust me?'

Lily nodded, tears racing down her cheeks.

Just then, the door was flung open and Mr and Mrs Evans came rushing in, the latter looking as bad as her daughter with tears streaming down her face. Lily watched Mrs Evans embrace her mother as gently as she could. Feeling somewhat out of place and as though she was intruding on something private, Lily got up and left the room unnoticed, her head reeling with overwhelming emotions.

She stumbled down the stairs in a blur, her eyes welling up again. She massaged her temple as she made her way back to where Mary and Marlene had been, only to find they were already gone, and her belongings were still there. Not quite knowing what to do with her bag, she slung it around her shoulder and picked up Hogsmeade: a History. Lily decided to study the book in the somewhat quieter dining room to take her mind off her grandmother. That was, after all, the best use of books – an escape from reality.

*.*.*

Lily set the book down on the table and opened it, sighing heavily. It was in this moment that she knew she would take on the quest – whatever it entailed – even if it meant failing as her grandmother had. Perhaps even failing as Bathilda Bagshot's informant might have.

Pushing the thoughts of failure out of her mind, Lily turned to the pages which contained information about the "Beast", as it was continuously referred to. The illustrations were as frightening to her as when she first saw them, although still beautiful in an unusual way. After looking at several pictures, Lily came across some text which looked as though it could explain the pictures:

It has been theorised that, several decades ago, the wizarding world was once ruled by a monarchy, a royal family who reigned for several centuries; perhaps, even, a millennium. This royal family has been said to have resided close to the village of Hogsmeade, as this village is the only settlement in the whole of Britain which is exclusive to the wizarding population.

Sources claim that the monarchy was lost after the young prince of the castle cruelly mocked a man who sent in an application to work at the castle, as he was in need of food and shelter, and desired to work for his place. Upon being jeered at, the wizard placed a powerful curse on the castle and, effectively, the whole of the wizarding population, so that the castle became unplottable (that's to say, impossible to find), and the subjects of the royal family forgot them completely.

It has also been speculated that the curse upon the castle transformed all of its inhabitants into beasts of varying sorts, and confined the residents to the castle grounds, so that they can neither leave, nor be found to help.

The text continued, but before Lily could continue reading, the door banged open and Petunia burst in, her face tear-stricken, scarlet, and very angry.

'This is all your fault,' she vented. 'All of this is your fault.'

Feeling vulnerable in her seat, Lily stood up and packed her book away, a confused expression on her face. 'Do you care to tell me what exactly is my fault?' Lily enquired, raising an eyebrow, although she knew the answer – it was always the same.

'Everything is your fault!' Petunia screeched. 'It's your fault she's in this state!'

'How is it my fault in the slightest?' Lily retorted, her anger rushing to her defence. 'I didn't suddenly decide to wave my wand and make Grandmamma ill.'

'She wouldn't even be ill if she had Grandpapa to take care of her,' Petunia spat. 'And Grandpapa would still be here if it weren't for you.'

In an instant, Lily's vision was blurred with tears she couldn't hold back. They dropped down her face like bullets as she tried to keep her voice strong. 'That wasn't my fault.'

'If it wasn't your fault,' hissed Petunia, her voice now quiet but still full of malice, 'then why does everyone blame you?'

'They … they don't …' Lily sniffed. But she knew this was a lie: since her grandfather's death, no one, not even her parents, had treated her the same as they did before. No one could hardly stand to look at her for long, besides her cousins.

'You're the worst thing that's ever happened to this family,' Petunia continued, staring with narrowed eyes full of pure, undiluted hatred. 'We would be so much better off without you.'

Feeling herself crumbling as more tears streamed down her face, Lily took her bag and pushed past Petunia. She couldn't make out anything in front of her except crowds of people she wanted to get away from. She thought she heard people calling her name, but she didn't stop for them. All she knew was that she wanted to leave, to get out of the claustrophobic cottage, away from Petunia, away from everything.

And it was then that she knew where her legs and her desperation were taking her.

*.*.*

He stood by the large open window, staring out into the night, allowing the breeze to ruffle through his fur. It was very lonely up there; he could see in the distance, the shadow of Hogsmeade village where people were undoubtedly cosy in their beds, unaware of the plight of their forgotten prince.

'Your highness, I feel it is time we give up,' came a deep voice from somewhere in the shadows. 'It's not happening. No one is coming to save us and we can't save ourselves. It's over.'

'It's NOT over,' he growled in response, turning to his steward, although it was so dark he couldn't see him. 'I got us into this catastrophe, and I will get us out of this. Just you wait. We'll be human again.'

'But, your highness –'

'For too long you all have paid for my mistake,' he continued, ignoring his steward completely. 'And you have done so without complaint. As prince, I will do right by those who are loyal to me. Have faith, Moony, because every dark passageway which has never been ventured in before leads somewhere you would never have dreamed you could go.'

The steward named Moony bowed his head and left the prince alone with his thoughts and his burning desire to find a way to lift the curse; or rather, find the person who was to lift the curse, wherever they may be.

A/N: Apologies for the late update and thanks for holding on! I noticed a lot of you had questions and I just want to promise you that all of those questions will be answered at some point, and hopefully in a way that won't let anyone down.

Constructive criticism is more than welcome, and thanks again!