THANK YOU: jamesywrites, Jenn222, Mogseltof, The Rainbow Ninjamaster, BlackCat718, Alysa4eva, Rebecca, no pretence, Joelle8, xExpectoxPatronumx, MessrsMWPP, Akt5us, WhereIsMyThumpThump, ofergy, FutureAuthor-Hopefully, Loona22, lana-bear, Benny Kid, Queenie's Broken Heart, TheSpatulaGirl, LilyxJames4ever, ksteele4978, Love-Pink26, Sarahrules336, and WhiteCamellia for the reviews!
Previously: James has a weird dream about a snitch. Alice dreams that she will have to make a big decision. Edgar Bones' father (the Minister for Magic) is caught in a sex scandal with a maid. Sirius' mum tells him to stay away from Regulus. Mary pretends that there is nothing bad going on. A boy named Logan Barber is kidnapped and his parents are killed. Aurors come to ask the Hogwarts students about the family. James decides that Lily is pretty, but the two are still very much at odds. A little girl named Harmony is interviewed, but treated badly. James receives a letter.
"The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he never would be found out." —Thomas Babington Macaulay
Chapter Three: Lies (And A Bit of Truth)
(Present: Sunday, September 7, 1975)
Dear Mum, Dad, and Petunia,
How are you? I hope you're all doing well. Sev sends his regards, as always.
Getting back into the routine of Hogwarts was interesting. There's a new Defense Professor, and I'm beginning to wonder if she's sane. She's brilliant, of course, but there's something quite mad about her.
It's as peaceful here as it can be, I suppose. Other than a small Potions explosion, nothing has really happened that merits any kind of mention.
Here, Lily stopped writing and chewed on the end of her quill thoughtfully. She sat on the top of the staircase that led to the Owlery early Sunday morning. The breeze was nice there, and Lily had formed a bit of a tradition of spending the first sunrise of each week writing to her family.
The reason the witch had halted the flow of words was simple. The last statement she made was a lie.
But what else could she say? Should she tell them about the boy who was kidnapped? Or the Aurors that had interviewed every student about the boy's possible whereabouts? Should she explain the horrors of the war that were creeping rather quickly into the lives of the students of Hogwarts?
Of course not.
Thinking back to her own interview solidified this decision in her mind.
Saturday, September 6, 1975
Octavian Conrad was a forty year old wizard with hair the colour of a pumpkin. His face was square and he favored his left leg when he walked. He had narrow eyes and bushy eyebrows and lips too thick and dark for any man.
Conrad entered Auror training fresh out of Hogwarts, and had never been well-liked by those he worked with (or anyone, for that matter). He drank more than was healthy—even for a wizard—and smoked whenever the opportunity presented itself. He was tall and rude and demanding, but he always got his job done.
Lily despised the man.
She had entered the room in which the interviews would be conducted. It was nothing more than a magically expanded broom cupboard, and it smelled rather strongly of cleaning supplies (recently mixed with the all-together unpleasant odor of stale smoke).
Conrad was seated behind a rickety wooden table. Hundreds of file folders were stacked beside him, each neatly labeled with the name of a student. He did not look up as she sat down, but merely dipped his quill in ink and poised it over a fresh piece of parchment.
"State your name," he said in his gruff voice. His hair was disheveled and there were dark circles under his eyes.
"Lily Evans."
"Any relation to Elizabeth Evans?"
"The seventh-year? No, sir."
"Blood status?"
"Muggleborn."
The Auror sighed tiredly as he placed "MB" beside her name. "Have you ever encountered the Dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort?"
Lily shook her head, but he was still looking down. "No, sir. All I know of him is what I've read in the paper."
"Do you know the Barbers in any way, or do you know anyone who knew them?"
Her green eyes narrowed at this. "I met Harmony Proctor the other night," she told him frostily. "She was crying because you were so harsh to her in her interview."
Conrad finally looked up, though there was no regret in his eyes. "Was she?"
"Yes," Lily said curtly. "What did you do to her?"
The wizard shook his head. "I did what it took to get the information I needed."
"And had she been able to give it to you, I probably would not be as angry. I want you to find the boy too," explained the witch. "But she said that you continued to insist even when she had clearly stated that she knew nothing. She said you used Veritaserum and extracted her memories and everything. All for nothing."
"It not up to you to judge my actions," Conrad said harshly, his eyes narrowed. "It's my job to find the boy. You'd have done the same."
Lily said nothing. Would she have done the same?
"All of you children are alike. You think you know what you're talking about, but you've never had the experience. It's easy to tell someone where to throw the Quaffle after the play is complete."
More silence from Lily. She stared at her hands in her lap.
"Get out."
She did.
Present
Lily shook off the unpleasant memory and left the sentence as it was. Dipping her quill into the inkwell that sat beside her, she continued.
Professor Slughorn is having another one of his parties in a few weeks. Alice has a gorgeous dress that she's going to let me wear.
Lily had never made up her mind on the concept of a lie by omission, but as she stopped writing once more, she realized that if ever one existed, she had just put it on paper.
Friday, September 5, 1975
After lunch on Fridays, there was a free period for the fifth-years, and Professor Slughorn asked Lily to aid him with his Remedial Potions class. The prefect complied.
There were five students in Lily's year that were required to take the course, and the entire class was comprised of twelve people.
"Good, good," Slughorn commented as the students took seats around the tables in the large Potions classroom. "I've got essays to grade, so Miss Evans and Miss MacDonald will be leading the class. If there are any questions they cannot answer, feel free to come see me."
He bid them farewell and entered his office, leaving the door open.
Lily turned to Emmeline MacDonald, Mary's older sister by a year. The two girls had the same round nose and close-set aqua eyes, but the similarities stopped there. Mary was short and curvy, while Emmeline was tall, with straight blonde hair as opposed to Mary's copper-coloured curls. The older MacDonald wore glasses, thin and rectangular, and had very small teeth. She rarely smiled.
"I'm leaving," announced Amycus Carrow, a sixth-year Slytherin with a lopsided leer. "I won't have Mudbloods teaching me magic."
He stood to go, and Lily would have let him, but Emmeline waved her wand and the classroom door slammed shut before he could reach it.
"If that's really how you feel, Amycus," said the blonde, her face expressionless, "then we could always have you teach the class. Of course, I doubt anyone here really wants to learn how to create a potion so devastatingly wrong the cauldron actually spits it out, but to each his own I suppose."
To Lily's surprise, Amycus sat back down, albeit grudgingly.
Emmeline turned back to the others, a cold glare behind her glasses. "Is there anyone else who wishes to leave? If you feel you're above this, by all means, go. But do not hold me responsible when you fail out of the class." When no one moved, the Ravenclaw continued. "I felt that today we should start with the basics. We won't actually be making anything, only preparing ingredients. If you go wrong there, the entire potion is ruined. Is that all right with you, Lily?"
Lily said it was and the two girls began passing out ginger root, ashwinder eggs, snake fangs, and porcupine quills.
"The trick with the ginger," Lily instructed, "is to grind it as fine as possible. The nutrients aren't released as well when the pieces are thick."
The class went on in that manner for a little under an hour. Then, Slughorn reappeared with a few sealed envelopes in hand.
"I'm having one of my little get-togethers Saturday, the twentieth," the professor told her, handing her an envelope with her name in loopy script across the front. "I do hope you'll be able to attend. The Corrupted Pixies will be there, you know! Lovely girls—always send me concert tickets, backstage passes too!"
Lily smiled and nodded. "Of course, Professor," she told him. "I wouldn't miss it."
Slughorn moved along the table to give Rhonda Lestrange and Emmeline their invitations, and Lily turned back to Peter Pettigrew, to whom she was attempting to explain the concept of crushing sopophorous beans instead of cutting them.
"It releases the juices better," she told the boy, as he turned his silver dagger on its side and pressed down on the dark purple bean. "Sev—someone taught me that just this morning."
"Snape," Pettigrew supplied easily. "I'm not thick, Lily." He proceeded to crush the sopophorous bean and did not hide his surprise when a great deal of liquid burst out.
"And apparently not too petty to take the advice of someone you hate," Lily noted, very aware of the mutual animosity between her friend and the four Gryffindor boys.
Peter shrugged. "Snape's good at Potions. I would be thick if I chose not to listen to him."
They sat in silence for a moment before Slughorn reappeared. "Mr. Pettishmu," said the professor, holding two envelopes out to Peter, "I trust you'll give these to your friends, as usual."
Peter nodded, a look of contempt present in his blue eyes. Lily frowned.
"Professor? Aren't you going to invite Peter?" she asked before she stopped to think about what she was doing.
"Lily don't—" the blonde boy began, but Slughorn cut him off.
"How rude of me," said the older wizard. "What do you say, Pepper? I could always use another person to hand out drinks!"
Slughorn seemed to think this was some sort of honour, but Lily disagreed. "That's not what I meant—"
"Don't be silly, Lily! Pepper would love to come, isn't that right?" He looked at Peter expectantly.
The Gryffindor shook his head, placing the letters for James and Sirius in the pocket of his robes. "Sorry, Professor, but I've been just as happy not going for the last four years. I don't see any reason to change that."
Slughorn look disgruntled, then offended, and left without another word.
Once he was gone, Peter glared at Lily. "You didn't need to do that," he told her a bit harshly. "You don't have to try to make everyone happy. Really, I don't want to be invited to those stupid brownnoser parties."
"Sorry," Lily told him, and she meant it. She looked at her hands in her lap while she spoke. "It was just rude of him to ask you to give those to your friends and then not invite you."
"It doesn't matter," said Peter. "Sirius never goes anyway, and James only goes because his mother would hate him if he didn't."
"Sorry," she muttered again, and briefly wondered how Peter could stand to always live in the shadows of his friends.
Present
She was not lying exactly, Lily decided, but the news of the party (for her, at least) was dampened dramatically by Slughorn's treatment of Peter. Lily was not even particularly fond of Peter (though he was more bearable than the two of his friends that were invited), but it was just wrong for a teacher to treat anyone that way.
With a small sigh, Lily put quill to parchment once more.
Alice and Vanessa are both well. They had good summers, it seems. Alice got to meet Shrieking Silence! Vanessa was jealous, of course, but the Kestrels slaughtered the Wasps in the match yesterday, so all is well.
That was a complete lie, Lily noted bitterly. There was something resoundingly unwell with Vanessa.
Saturday, September 6, 1975
That morning, a woman was seen conversing with Professor Dumbledore at the head table during breakfast.
"Rita Skeeter," Vanessa informed Lily, Alice, and Mary (Waverly was seated at the Hufflepuff table with a boy named Ezra Danning). "She's a reporter with The Prophet, and she writes biographies. She's probably here to interview Edgar Bones about this scandal with his dad."
"Do you think he'll talk to her?" Alice asked interestedly, examining the tall woman with tightly curled blonde hair and jeweled spectacles.
Vanessa took a bite out of her apple and chewed slowly before responding. "I don't know. He and his sister wouldn't talk the last time, but now I think he thinks he might be able to do his father some good by telling the press that the family is going to be all right."
"I'm not sure that's the best idea," Alice commented. "Rita's written things for my mum's magazine before, and I would swear on my life that half of what she says is spun to fit her angle."
"I've always liked her articles," stated Mary, pushing a loose curl behind her ear.
"But you like everything, Mary."
Mary grinned and watched Vanessa for a moment before continuing, concerned. "Is that all you're going to eat?"
Vanessa looked down at the half-eaten apple on her plate and shrugged. "I never eat much for breakfast."
"Actually, I haven't seen you eat more than a few bites at any meal since we got back to school," Lily told her friend, her worried expression mirroring Mary's.
"I guess I just haven't been that hungry." She would not meet anyone's eyes, but she did glance toward the Hufflepuff table.
"This isn't about Caradoc and Waverly…" Lily guessed.
"There is no 'this,'" Vanessa insisted, but her attempts to convince the other girls were futile.
"Look," Mary began cautiously, her usually happy expression turned serious. "Waverly's my best friend, and she used to be yours too. You know she didn't mean to hurt you. It was… a really horrible decision, and she's so sorry. It's just—"
"It has nothing to do with the choice she made," the brunette told Mary curtly.
"So there is an 'it,'" said Lily carefully, not wanting to anger her friend.
Vanessa's eyes widened just slightly. "No, it's nothing. I…"
"You're not eating," supplied Alice, crossing her arms. "And we want to know why. If you think that there's something wrong with the way you look, then you're daft, and if you're depressed because of what happened, we can so see Madam Pomfrey for a Cheering Solution."
"I'm not depressed."
"So you think you're fat."
"No…no."
Lily and Alice exchanged a look while Mary reached across the table and put her hand on top of Vanessa's.
"Being friends with Waverly for so long has always made me question my own weight," she admitted quietly. "Wave's so thin; I could never fit into most of her clothes. But I've learned that that's no reason to be down on yourself. Everyone is beautiful in their own way. For Wave, it's her figure. For me, well, I think I have a nice face, and my hair looks rather fantastic when it cooperates." She was smiling now, and the corner of Vanessa's mouth twitched up for the briefest instant.
"But Doc picked her, didn't he?" asked Vanessa, going back to playing with her food.
Lily knew that they had reached the heart of the issue. "Listen, Ness, I know you really liked Caradoc, I do. But…maybe it just wasn't meant to be. He's a nice guy, sure, but maybe this is supposed to teach you that there's someone out there for you that's better than he was. Maybe your soul mate is out there."
"But," continued Alice, "you can't sit here sulking for the rest of your life. If you want to find him, you have to look around every once in a while."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." But Vanessa had no real intention of doing so. "Oh," she went on, glancing at her watch and standing up hastily, "time for my interview. I'd best be going."
"Vanessa…"
"I'm fine. Stop worrying, all of you."
Present
Vanessa was definitely not fine.
Lily could not imagine why she was hesitant about telling her mum of her friend's troubles. Flora Evans was quite good in situations such as this. But something held Lily back. Perhaps it was because the rest of her family idealized Hogwarts and the Wizarding World. They saw it as a fairytale, and back in Lantern City, fairytales were rare indeed.
Lily found that she could not bring herself to shatter that image for her family. They needed the idea of Hogwarts more than Lily needed their advice.
Footsteps on the Owlery staircase made her jump.
James Potter appeared, dressed in a jacket and trousers, with an envelope in one hand and owl treats in the other. He did not notice her sitting on the top step until he nearly tripped over her.
"Evans?" he asked, catching the rail to keep his balance.
"Potter," Lily greeted. "What are you doing here?"
James, who had regained his composure, ran a hand through his untidy black hair and rolled his eyes. "I'm here to enjoy the aroma," he told her sarcastically, gesturing to the owl dung that covered the majority of the floor. "What do you think, Evans? I'm responding to a letter."
Lily pulled a face. "I know why you're here," she restated, "but what I meant was why now? It's half-five on a Sunday!"
"You're here, aren't you?" he replied, entering the Owlery and locating his bird. He fed it the treats as he awaited Lily's response.
She set her things down and followed him, feeling slightly defensive. "I always come here on Sunday mornings. I can think in peace. You're disturbing it."
James flashed a grin and tied his letter to the owl's leg. "Last I checked, you're the one that followed me. I'd have been in and out in no time, but here we are, having this intriguing conversation."
"I don't understand you," said Lily, crossing her arms and following him as he carried his owl to the window. "One minute you're talking about the solidity of the future, and the next you're being a git."
Saturday, September 6, 1975
Lily returned to the Common Room after breakfast hoping to start on the dream diary Professor Elvira had set for the month, but forgot about it all together at the sight of James Potter.
He was sitting at one of the low tables with parchment strewn all around him. Chewing on the end of his quill, he flipped through what appeared to be multiple editions of The Daily Prophet, and was so absorbed that he seemed to not have noticed her entrance.
It was not that James never did his homework—Lily had seen him working rather frequently over the four years that she had been in school with him. What made the sight strange was the fact that he seemed genuinely interested in whatever it was he was doing.
Not wanting to disturb him, Lily chose a spot several tables away and took out the small purple book that the Divination professor had provided for the assignment.
Tuesday, September 2, she wrote on the first page, straining her mind to remember what she might have dreamt about five days prior. Her concentration was broken, however, by an aggravated sigh from across the room. Attempting to ignore him, Lily stared at her own parchment. She rarely remembered her dreams even the morning after she had them; she had no idea how she was supposed to recall something from days before.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
"Potter, please stop," said an aggravated Lily.
The boy looked up and stopped drumming his fingers on the table. "Oh, right."
They each went back to their own work.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
"Potter," Lily exclaimed, her head starting to ache. "What is it that you're working on?"
"Just an essay," he told her without taking his eyes off an article from The Prophet.
"Some essay," Lily commented in an off-handed manner, pushing her long hair out of her eyes. James said nothing and Lily once more strained her mind to come up with a dream.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
"Potter!"
James looked up at her with an amused grin on his face. "That one's you, Evans."
Lily looked down to where her own fingers were drumming absentmindedly on the table.
Tuesday, September 2, I dreamed that everyone in the world had their hands chopped off.
"What are you working on then, Evans?"
Lily quirked an eyebrow. James did not really sound interested, but perhaps, he had realized (as had she) that the two of them were having one of those rare moments in which they were nearly content in one another's presence.
"Dream diary," she told him, making a conscious effort to keep her fingers from tapping. "For Elvira. She thinks it'll help us tell our futures."
The boy snorted. "Precisely why I opted out of that class."
"Because you don't think dreams can tell the future?"
"Because I don't think anything can tell the future. And even if it could, I don't think we should know about it."
Lily hesitated, knowing that any meaningful conversation could escalate to an argument. "Why not?"
James, too, felt the tension. "I suppose I think that whatever will happen will happen, and that what we do determines that. If we know what's going to happen… what's the point of living now?"
"Hmm," Lily mumbled noncommittally.
"Well, why are you taking the class?"
Lily paused, carefully constructing her words so as not to sound directly contradictory. "I think that it's interesting to know how our lives are…'destined' to turn out. But I guess I also think that we don't have to play by fate's rules. We can know what is supposed to happen, but do something to change it."
"You can't," said James, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. His homework lay forgotten. "Whatever is predicted… that's the sum of all the choices you make and all of the influencing factors that interfere up until the event. No matter what you do to change it, things are still going to happen the way they are predicted."
"I thought you didn't think anyone could tell the future."
"True Seers can," admitted James. "I won't argue that. And it's been known to happen with other methods. But the results of true foresight are always the same—people try to change things, but they can't. Personally, I would rather not know. Knowing would drive me mental."
"I don't know. I think I might like the security of it all."
But James still had her beat as he grinned and said, "Isn't there a saying about that? Security is mortals' cheifest enemy or something?"
"I didn't know wizards read Macbeth," said Lily, mildly impressed.
"What's Macbeth?"
Mildly.
Present
"You never did tell me what Macbeth was, Evans," James retorted, having obviously been reminded of the conversation as well.
Lily waved away the question. "It's just a play about a man who's driven mad by power."
"Then what's that got to do with—"
"Security?" supplied the witch. "Three, uh…witches…predict Macbeth's future. He becomes too secure in his position and is eventually killed because of it."
James grinned. "See? You've just proved my point."
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Lily scowled. "I swear you're two completely different people."
Running a hand through his hair, James replied, "I'm whatever I want to be, Evans. "I'll let you get back to your peace."
He strode out of the Owlery before Lily had a chance to respond.
Words We Speak
Having sent his letter, James made his way across the grounds to the Quidditch Pitch. It was deserted presently, but the Gryffindor wanted to practice a bit for the trials that would take place later that month. He knew, of course, that he would be chosen for his usual position as Chaser, but James Potter was not one to simply settle with gaining his spot. He wanted to blow everyone away.
Besides, there was always a good turnout of spectators at the trials as well, and it never hurt to show off for the fit sixth-year Ravenclaw girls.
He grabbed his broom (a new Nimbus 1700) from the shed and entered the Gryffindor locker room, where he pulled on his Quidditch trousers and a windbreaker, before making his way out onto the pitch and taking to the sky.
James Potter had always been a gifted wizard—in looks, in intelligence, in charm. But flying…flying was something that he was more than gifted in. It was as though his whole being was designed and crafted to fly.
Once in the air, he was completely connected with his broomstick. No thought was necessary, he moved and the broom moved with him. It was (for lack of a better description), much like dancing with a partner that could read his mind. It was certainly just as graceful as dancing.
He took a number of laps around the perimeter of the pitch, testing the limits of his new broomstick. It was, quite frankly, incredible. Of course, the Nimbus 1700 was the best broom in the world and James was the best flyer in the school. He felt invincible.
James was about to land and find a Quaffle to practice with when a lone figure in the stands caught his eye. He flew instead in her direction, only vaguely recognizing the blonde curls.
"You're the witch from The Prophet," he stated flatly, jumping off of his broom as she stood to greet him. In her red high heels, the two were the same height.
"Rita Skeeter," she introduced, giving James a once-over that he was not unfamiliar with. "And you, Mr. Potter, are going to star in my next article."
James felt his eyes narrow of their own accord. "I thought you were here about the Barber kid."
"No, no, no," Rita told him, smiling sweetly. "I was here to interview Edgar Bones. I'm the social correspondent at The Prophet, and you are definitely something people will read about."
"If you're here for Edgar, why don't you go find him?" James was not sure he liked this woman. Her three-inch blood red nails were almost grotesque and her jeweled spectacles cast a strange gleam in her eyes.
Her smile grew wider. "I've already spoken with him. He gave me quite the interview. Of course, that's why they send me for this kind of thing. I have a way of…" she took a step closer to James and ran her hand up and down his arm, sending an odd chill through his body, "getting what I want."
James knew that this was something that he would have to get used to if he was to play Quidditch for the national team, so he thought that he might as well allow himself to enjoy the limelight a bit.
"Is that so?" He quirked an eyebrow and ran a hand through his hair. "Then, what exactly is it that you want from me?"
Rita grinned, clearly thinking that she had him on a string. "Oh," she began innocently, "just an interview with Hogwarts' hottest Quidditch star."
Before James had time to blink, she had pushed him into a seat in the stands and sat down beside him, pulling out a notepad and an acid green quill.
"So, James," she began, speaking quickly as her quill began to scribble without Rita's aid, "do you mind if I call you James?"
"I—"
"Lovely. So what first sparked your interest in the Wizarding World's most thrilling sport?"
Thrown slightly by her brisk manner, James ran his hand through his hair again and cleared his throat. "Erm, well, I suppose it was my uncle Charlus, mostly. He used to take me out flying when I was little, and I was just…good."
"And here?" continued Rita, leaning towards him. Her quill scratched feverishly beside her. "It's widely known that you're the most talented player in the school? How's it feel?"
James was used to being well-liked by people, but he was not used to such direct compliments. "Well, I wouldn't say—"
"No need to be humble, James," grinned the reporter, placing her manicured hand on his knee. James kept himself from flinching. "This is your chance to share you true feelings."
"Well, I suppose I'm a good player," he responded, "but there are plenty of others here too."
"What about after school? Got any plans?"
"I would like to play for Puddlemore United, but—"
"What about girlfriends?" Rita continued, switching subjects so quickly it took James a moment to process what she had said. "One? Many?"
"Er—"
"I saw you speaking with the redhead this morning. She's not nearly pretty enough for someone like you."
Lily aggravated him, certainly, but he felt suddenly defensive. James was the type of person to protect his own, and Lily was far closer (in whatever way) to him than Rita was. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh," Rita replied, one sculpted eyebrow shooting up in interest and her tone lower and less rapid. "So the redhead is your girlfriend? What is it exactly that you see in a girl like her? She appeared rather plain to me."
"Lily is definitely not my girlfriend," James insisted, very uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. "But she's not plain either."
"Unrequited love?" guessed Rita, looking thrilled by the prospect. "You wish she was your girlfriend?"
James could not help but laugh, though he could not be sure whether it was from nerves or the absurdity of the reporter's proposition. "No, no, absolutely not. Lily and I don't exactly…get along."
James Potter told the truth. He said what was on his mind, and it had gotten him into trouble in the past.
But never like this.
Of course, on that Sunday in September 1975, James was completely unaware of the consequences of his statement, so he merely stood, informed the witch that he had somewhere else to be, and soared back down to the changing rooms, from which he left and made his way back up to the castle.
Waiting for the World to Change
In an expanded broom cupboard, another (much different) interview was being conducted.
"State your name," the gruff wizard ordered.
Sirius Black did so, leaning the chair he was seated in back on two legs.
"And relation to Regulus Black?"
"Brother."
"Which makes you the son of Walburga and Orion Black."
"Unfortunately."
"Have you ever encountered the Dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort?"
"Regulus was surely more of a help in that department," the older Black said casually, the entire affair rather pointless in his opinion.
"So you suspect your brother of supporting Voldemort?" the wizard who had introduced himself as Conrad continued, looking up from his parchment for the first time. There was the slightest spark of interest in his mud-coloured eyes.
Sirius gave him a look. "I guarantee he supports Voldemort's cause. My entire family, save a few, always has."
"So some of your relatives could be responsible for the attack on the Barber family?"
Sirius shrugged, leaning back further and placing his hands behind his head. "Doubtful. They're cowards, the lot of them. They'd rather sit back and let someone else do the dirty work."
Disappointment. It was the first emotion Sirius had seen cross the Auror's face since he had entered the room.
"Look," Sirius began, placing the legs of his chair firmly on the ground and leaning in a bit. "The people here, most of them don't know anything about what's going on out there. If you really want to find the kid, stop sitting around on your arse and get out there and do something productive."
Conrad's eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't speak to government officials like that, Black," he spat the name as if it were an insult, and Sirius took it as such. "You wouldn't want your future falling into the hands of someone who could lock you up for the rest of your life."
But Sirius Black had never feared the Ministry, and he never would. In later years, people would call him unhinged for that, but though he made it difficult to see, Sirius, perhaps, had more sense than any of them.
"Well, that's the thing," the younger wizard said casually, grinning wolfishly at the Auror. "If my future really is in your hands, I should hope that you have more important things to worry about than the opinion of a Black."
He left the office without being dismissed.
You Have Stolen My Heart
"Shh," hissed the dark-haired girl, having heard agitated footsteps outside the broom cupboard in which she stood.
In the dim light, she could not see the boy roll his eyes. "It's probably just someone else coming back from an interview. We did choose a closet right down the hall from Conrad's…uh…'office'."
"But still…" Waverly Rivers whispered. "We should try to be quiet."
"Remind me again why we have to keep this a secret?"
"Because, Doc, I already lost one friend by dating you," the witch explained, "and Mary came very close to hating me as well. If she knew about this…"
Caradoc Dearborn took his arms from around her waist and crossed them over his chest. Waverly could see the movement only in the thin strip of light filtering in from the crack in the door.
"I'm not one for ultimatums," he told her quietly, "so I won't make you choose between your friends and me. But Wave, 'this' means something to me. More than Vanessa ever did, which is why I picked you."
"You broke her heart," retorted the Gryffindor. "And I know I was a part of that, and I agreed to it, but she was my friend. I don't want to cause her any more heart ache."
Caradoc nodded, a muscle working in his prominent jaw. "All right."
The Ravenclaw fifth-year had started dating Vanessa Reese in the second term of their third year. He had liked her as well as any thirteen-year-old boy could like a girl, but when he met her best friend, Waverly, he had discovered something more than just 'like.'
Waverly and Vanessa were two very different people. Waverly was sweet and nurturing, while Vanessa was blunt and spoke her mind. Waverly loved romance; Vanessa grew awkward when anything romantic occurred.
They were different, but something inside of them—that thing that he had first seen in Vanessa—was very much the same. Perhaps it was what placed them both in Gryffindor, but regardless, Caradoc had seen it and loved it in both girls, but Waverly had more than just that deep character. She was fun and affectionate and kind, and Caradoc loved her for that.
Welcome to the Black Parade
"Come on, Sev," Lily pleaded, grabbing the Slytherin's hand and pulling.
Lily rolled her eyes and pushed wet hair out of her face. Since she had returned from the Owlery that morning, the sky had darkened considerably and rain was falling on the grounds of Hogwarts.
She was attempting to bring Severus out into the downpour. Rain had been a rare occurrence in Lantern City, and she always enjoyed it immensely while at school. She wanted her friend to have that same appreciation, but he hid himself under an overhang.
"But, Lily," Severus said reasonably, pulling back as she pulled forward. "You're going to get sick."
"Then I'll go to Madam Pomfrey for Pepperup Potion," Lily told him, laughing at his exasperated expression. "Please?"
He sighed in defeat. "Only for a few minutes."
Lily grinned at him as he finally allowed himself to be dragged from the castle's protection. She let go of his hand and spun in circles, facing the sky. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"It's all right," he stated, flinching each time a drop hit his face.
Lily hit him lightly in the shoulder. "Don't spoil it, Sev."
"Fine, it's brilliant."
She laughed again, causing his face to light up slightly though she did not notice. "At least pretend like you believe it."
"But that good thing about home is that it never rains. I like it dry."
"That's precisely what is not good about home," Lily retorted. She felt her mascara running down her face and hastily wiped under her eyes. "The rain is so refreshing. When you're in the rain, it doesn't matter if you're having a bad day or week or anything. You're just clean for a moment."
"Lily," said Severus, slightly exasperated and clearly not enjoying the weather. "You're always clean."
The witch rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "You've missed the point, Sev."
His smile was barely there, but it was enough to make hers even wider.
Suddenly, something that sounded vaguely like a human voice could be heard over the rain. Severus froze, then slowly turned in the direction of the forest.
"Did you hear that?" he asked as he cast an Impervius charm over himself, clearly through with the idea of being out in the storm.
Lily nodded, curiosity sparked. "Should we go have a look?"
"Students aren't allowed in the forest."
"I'm a Prefect," Lily reasoned after a moment's hesitation. "We can tell them that I was merely making sure that it's not first-years having a laugh."
"Lily," Severus pressed as the redhead drew her wand and began making her way toward the tangled mass of trees and plants. "Lily, it's off-limits for a reason. It's dangerous."
Lily grinned. With Severus, she never felt like she had to be the perfect student that everyone thought she was. "Where's your sense of adventure? Come on, we've been in here before with Kettleburn."
If she had looked, she would have seen his frustrated expression. "I don't have a sense of adventure," he stated bluntly. "Come back!"
He was forced to jog after her as her steps toward the forest hastened. "Lily, this is a horrible idea—"
"Be quiet for a moment," shushed Lily. The two were on the edge of the forest now, and the dense trees provided them almost complete shelter from the rain.
"Come on, Sirius!" the two students heard more clearly. "Come on. You almost had it that time!"
"Shut up, James, it's not nearly as easy as it looks," came the reply.
Lily and Severus looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
"Maybe we shouldn't—"
"Come on, Lily, this was your idea. Let's see what Potter and his friends are up too."
Before Lily could protest further, Severus brushed past her and began making his way (with some difficulty) through the forest. Biting her lip, the witch followed. She almost had to light her wand in the darkness, but knew that James and Sirius would certainly be able to see it if she did.
Finally, the pair reached a rainy clearing, and, hiding behind the trunk of a very large tree, they were able to make out James Potter and Sirius Black standing in the center. Both were soaked-through with rain, but they seemed to be attempting some sort of spell. Peter Pettigrew sat not far off, an umbrella covering both himself and an enormous book that he was flipping through slowly.
"Oi," called the wizard on the ground, and the two boys looked back at him. "Sirius, try that again, but this time, use the incantation Formae Amoveo."
Lily and Severus looked at each other, silently agreeing to move closer, but a twig snapped behind them. Hearts racing, they jerked around and found themselves face-to-torso with a towering grey centaur.
He studied them for a moment, and the two students remained frozen. Lily briefly considered turning and sprinting towards the clearing, but quickly came to the conclusion that the centaur could outrun her.
"It does not do to wander the forest, young ones," he said in a deep, soothing voice. "There are creatures far more deadly than I in these trees."
"You're right," said Lily quickly, her voice smaller than she would have liked. She took a deep breath to calm her pulse and continued. "We heard voices and we wanted to be sure that—"
"The centaurs have consulted the stars in regards to the other students that are in the woods, and the Heavens tell us that they are where they need to be. You, however, I shall escort personally back to the castle grounds. It would not do for harm to befall you, young ones, for the stars hold much for you as well."
"What do you mean?" Severus asked, stealing a final glance over his shoulder at the clearing. "What do the stars say about us?"
The old centaur shook his head in an almost sorrowful way. "Too much, for ones so young, my friend. It is not my place to reveal your futures."
"Why not?" Severus continued, looking braver than Lily imagined he felt.
"I am old, young ones. I have seen many come to fulfill the destinies that the stars laid out before them, but I have also seen those who wish so much to alter their fates that they find a way to…change their stars. To tell you what they say now would be to give you the option to change, and that is something we centaurs do not believe is right to do."
Lily bit her lip, thinking of what James had said to her about no one being able to alter their fate. The centaur's view was in partial contradiction with that, and though Lily was inclined to believe the being that studied the stars all his life, a small part of her also believed that perhaps James might know something about it as well. Why she wanted to believe him, she could not fathom, since her own personal views were more aligned with the centaur than with James. But he had spoken with such conviction that she found it hard to disregard him absolutely.
Severus looked as though he wanted to argue, but Lily held up a hand to silence him.
"Sev," she said. "Your future is whatever you decide to make it. Your choices determine how your life plays out, and no one can make those choices but you. Why try to change what you are already in control of?"
"Well said, young one," the centaur told her. "But you have much to learn. Now come. It is time for you to leave this place."
The two students followed him back through the thick trees until they were back out in the rain. With a nod, the centaur departed, and Severus looked at Lily.
"You need to tell McGonagall that Potter and Black were in the forest."
"What?" Lily asked, not sure that she liked the malicious gleam in her friend's eyes.
"McGonagall. She's their Head of House. She has to know that they were out of bounds."
Lily sighed. It was true, and she was a Prefect, which meant that she would be getting her own House into a good deal of trouble.
"Right," the witch responded at length. "Right. Let's go then."
With a satisfied smirk, Severus turned and led the way back up to the castle.
They walked in silence, save for the rain, but Lily's mind was working ardently.
The Heavens tell us that they are where they need to be.
The centaur had said that there was reason for James, Sirius, and Peter to be in the forest. With all the recent discussion, Lily had yet to truly form a solid opinion on the matter of fate, but she could not help but wonder as they trudged through the castle to McGonagall's office if maybe, by turning the boys in, she was disturbing some greater purpose.
Not that she believed that James Potter had any higher purpose in life than to win at Quidditch, but Lily also knew (or thought she knew, at any rate) that Lady Fate had a mind of her own, and perhaps James was part of a bigger picture after all.
Severus told her that he would wait in the hall, and silently urged her forward until she knocked on the door of her Head of House. It opened a moment later.
"Miss Evans," said the tall, thin witch, "what are you doing here?"
Lily glanced back at Severus, who gave her a knowing look, before she said, "Erm, I was wondering if I could speak with you, Professor."
"Of course, Miss Evans, come in."
She did and sat in the chair McGonagall offered. The office was cozy, with a crackling fire that dried her clothes and a sagging bookshelf on the wall.
"What's this about?"
"Well…"Lily bit her lip and decided that some things should be allowed to run their course. "Erm, I was just thinking about the centaurs. We've been talking about them in Divination, and I've been fascinated by their view of the future. Do you really think they can see it in the stars?"
The stern looking woman raised her thin eyebrows, clearly not expecting such a question to come from Lily, but then she seemed to think about what she was being asked. "They've proven on numerous occasions that they can, in fact, tell the future."
"So why don't we listen to them? Couldn't they give the government important information?"
"They remain firm in their belief that one should not attempt change what is to come," Professor McGonagall went on. "Though the whole business is rather shoddy in my opinion."
Lily almost smiled. "But if they said something was important, we shouldn't try to mess with it?"
"Miss Evans, where, may I ask, are you going with this?"
A blush crept into the redhead's cheeks and she shrugged. "Nowhere, really. I was discussing it with someone else and I just wanted to know your thoughts on the matter."
The older witch nodded curtly. "Of course, Miss Evans. Is that all?"
"Yes, Professor," she stood to go, but before she reached the door, a voice stopped her.
"Miss Evans?"
"Yes, Professor?" asked Lily, one hand on the knob as she turned to face McGonagall.
There was a very Dumbledore-ish look in the woman's eyes as she spoke. "You play a much larger role in your future than the stars could ever hope to."
Lily smiled. "Thank you, Professor."
She left the office and found Severus looking rather bored on the other side of the door.
"Well?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"They're to receive detention," Lily lied, wincing inwardly as she did so. "Though I'm sure all three of them are booked well into next year already."
Severus grinned. "As long as they get what's coming to them."
As the two friends made their way silently down the corridor, Lily realized that she had just lied to Severus Snape to protect James Potter. In what world would that ever happen? That thought rang in her mind as she walked, but the witch was quick to attempt to convince herself that she had merely lied so as not to lose House points.
That was the logical explanation, right?
Because regardless of what the centaur had said about the boys, the three of them would always be bullies, and Severus would always be her friend. It was simply absurd for anyone to do what Lily had just done.
Wasn't it?
Only time would tell.
This one is a little shorter than the others, but it needed to end here. I hope you liked it!
I was going to put more of Edgar and his scandal in this chapter, but it didn't work well, so that will be next chapter. Check the blog for more info. (:
PLEASE REVIEW
Love Always,
Kayla
"Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true." —Robert Brault