Disclaimer: Still does not belong to me, no matter how hard I try to persuade... :)

Also many thanks to rockchick94, who gave me my first review ever!! Following her orders I am updating – I will try to do so as often as I can, however I have a week of exams next week so apologies in advance if there are big gaps... :)

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Chapter 4

Previously:

I took a deep breath and began to tell Dumbledore my story.

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After I had finished, Professor Dumbledore looked slightly surprised.

"A room, you say, on the fifth floor?" I nodded. He frowned.

"I have never heard of such a room existing. However," he added with a brief smile, "I must admit Hogwarts still surprises me. The other night, for example, I came across a whole section in the library that I had not previously seen – then when I returned to visit it again the next day, it had vanished. Curious things, libraries. You never know when they will divulge their secrets outside of reading the books they hold." I nodded, making a mental note to search the library inside and out for the section he had described – not, of course, because I felt an inane need to learn, just because it would be interesting! Cough.

Hastily moving on, I brought up the topic of my cover story.

"Professor? Can we work out what my cover story will be – I mean, I can hardly go around telling people I have been attending Hogwarts for the past five years if they've never seen me before, can I? And I need a surname..." I trailed off, pondering which name to use, however Dumbledore answered me before I could reach a conclusion.

"I believe it would be beneficial if you were to be a relation of myself – my... great grand-niece would work, I think. Your mother – now, let me see... she would be my sister's granddaughter – has just died and wanted you to be sent here. You have been homeschooled until now..."

As Professor Dumbledore continued to tell me my life-story, I committed what I could to memory. I pride myself in having a rather good memory – I tend to remember most of what I read, so can drag up old newspaper articles from years before and refer to them if I ever need to (not that I've ever found myself in that position!). It's a peculiar form of photographic memory, and I am extremely grateful to have it – it makes exams so much easier!

Anyway, I was relieved to find out that Dumbledore's sister's granddaughter – who, incidentally was entirely fictional – was to have married a Welsh muggle called Owen Jones, so my surname was nothing particularly difficult to memorize. I just needed to remember to answer when called 'Miss Jones' by teachers – I could picture myself in the situation where someone was calling my name and I didn't realise... How embarrassing would that be?!

Professor Dumbledore seemed to be getting a little carried away with inventing me a background – he was now telling me about the (fictional) carnival that I went to with my (fictional) mother on my fifth birthday with my (fictional) best friend, Jenny. At that point I thought it high time he stopped before I ended up with a split personality.

"Professor – I reckon that will be good enough. I doubt anyone will quiz me on my knowledge of fairground rides; if they do, I'm muggleborn so know a fair amount about them!" He looked slightly disappointed at the prospect of stopping, but conceded.

"I apologise, Miss Jones – I do not get enough opportunities to invent people. I should try and do it more often... Maybe I could write a book on the subject." I couldn't think of anything to say to this rather odd statement, so just nodded, pretend attentively. Thankfully, a knock on the Hospital Wing door provided a rather welcome break to what would have been a rather long-winded explanation about inventing people. Don't get me wrong – Professor Dumbledore is a lovely person, but he does tend to go on a little.

At this point I realised that I was, very possibly, being slightly hypocritical – after all, I did the same thing to people when talking on a topic I liked – and they did the same as I was doing at present. Glazed eyes, nodding occasionally, pretend interest... I really couldn't criticize Dumbledore for something I did myself!

My guilty expression went unnoticed as it changed to one of surprise when Snape walked in the door. He seemed determined to ignore me; instead he spoke to Professor Dumbledore.

"Headmaster. Lily Evans has arrived at the school and is determined to talk to you, for some reason. I tried to show her to your office, but she insisted on accompanying me here to find you." He looked rather disgruntled. Obviously Snape had always been... well, Snape-ish!

Then a thought struck me full in the face. Lily Evans?

As in 'Lily Potter'? It couldn't be! My mind was spinning. I vaguely heard Dumbledore reply to Snape then quietly say something to me about it being 'a good time to practice my cover story'. Before I could pull myself together, though, a girl my age, with fiery red hair similar to Ginny's, had come bursting through the Hospital wing doors. My hunch was right.

I had seen pictures of Harry's mum in the photo album Hagrid had given him – the Lily Evans standing in the doorway was the Lily Potter in the photos. She had the same vivid green eyes as he did which, currently, were screwed up in either anger or pain, I was too shocked to work out which. I was looking at Harry's mum.

He would kill me when I got back – I had a chance, right now, to save her. I could tell her everything, trust her to be sensible enough to do something different... Harry would have a family – wouldn't have to live with the Dursleys, wouldn't spend his childhood wishing for the one thing he could never have back.

Then I realised that I couldn't. Maybe it was my telling her that had caused Pettigrew to turn spy – obviously I had to have travelled back in time for this to happen, but obviously I was here now, wasn't I? Maybe him knowing he was capable of it was what had caused him to betray his friends? Maybe – and I gulped as I thought this – maybe, if I tried to save them, they would end up dead anyway, and it would all be my fault.

Harry would not vanquish Voldemort at the tender age of one, and life as I had known it would cease to exist. Maybe Harry's parents had to die for him to have a chance against the Dark Lord.

The only way forwards was to continue in secrecy.

This thought process took a maximum of three seconds to occur, after which I managed to focus on the room at large, even though my head was still spinning at this revelation. I did not notice, however, that Snape had obviously seen the various emotions flickering across my face, and was looking pensive.

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A/N bit shorter than the others but here seemed like a good place to stop...

Thanks also to Claz, Ellerosse and rockchick94 who added my story to their favourites list – for once in my life, guys, I feel popular! :)

Onwards and upwards!

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