Chapter Seven – An Enchanted Bird

As seventh-year students, Lily had expected that their curriculum would change significantly. Even she, however, had been unprepared for the sort of independent, free-range work that the teachers had assigned them.

Professor Jabitha's Defense Against the Dark Arts and Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classes remained the most regimented, naturally. Otherwise, Lily suspected, the students who turned their cats into a cross between a zebra and a giraffe might insist that they had intended to perform just such a spell.

However, all their other teachers had become rather more capacious in their demands. Professor Sprout had merely assigned them a rather large patch of garden and told them to grow whatever plants they wished, provided that they produced an item or concoction with magically relevant properties at the end of the term. "Extra credit if your patch will also produce a tasty salad," she had added.

Professor Flitwick's Charms class, meanwhile, had delved into the theory of spellwork. Their first month's assignment was to come up with a novel spell that performed the same function as a simple one they currently knew: Lumos or Incendio, for example.

Their Care of Magical Creatures class was the most free-form of all, all things considered. They hadn't even had a class in session yet, though Professor Anhotep had told them to read their books "in lieu of in-class time." Rumors were flying thick and fast about the dangerous beast in the woods, and how Anhotep, Hagrid, and someone else were spending most of their time in the woods trying to track it.

Even Professor Slughorn, who taught Lily's favorite subject, seemed less inclined to watch over his students' progress as closely as he had in previous years. "You are N.E.W.T. students now, truly, and you'll be facing the hardest tests of your lives at the end of this year. I can't possibly tell you which of thousands of spells you'll need to produce, so we can't practice for it. We can only begin to understand how the magic of potions functions, how this mixed with that produces—"

His speech was interrupted at this point by a loud explosion, which was a familiar interruption in the Potions room. "I told you," Slughorn said exhaustedly. "I told you not to touch any ingredients yet, didn't I? Five points from Slytherin."

"In any case," he continued. "This year we will be exploring our own abilities to create potions, based on the basic properties we have learned throughout our first six years together. Antagonistic and complementary relationships, symmetry, emergent properties, augmentation and enhancement, neutralization…"

Slughorn's assignment mirrored most of their other classes. They were to create a potion entirely of their own invention, one which they had not learned in their previous six years.

"And, bonus points if you can perform some function already covered in our books, but with fewer or cheaper ingredients."

Lily heard James muttering to Sirius, "I wonder if we can come up with a potion that'll make earwax taste like crystallized pineapple, then we'll ace this class." Even she had to stifle a laugh at that.

After her first week, Lily finally started feeling like she was getting into the stride of things. Muggle studies, with Professor Malnor, was a cinch as usual. "It's not fair," Gwyn had bemoaned. "You live with these…tellfones and things. How am I supposed to remember that digits have ten digits?"

"Eleven, Gwyn."

"Oh, yes, you're right, eleven."

Meanwhile, she had already begun her own garden, filled with Abyssinian shrivelfigs, belladonna, Gurdyroot, knotgrass, may-kogs, and wolfsbane. She had some interesting ideas for how to combine simple ingredients to produce rather complex potions, which she had been thinking about since the summer. That left only the need to invent a charm of some sort, and she wasn't worried about that just yet.

Alice had decided to tackle the Charms project first, and she spent most of her time either in the library reading theory books or in the common room doing practical experiments. There was the occasional unintended side-effect, such as the third-year that she had frozen on accident. They had tried any variety of spells to defrost her, but had finally settled for giving her the best armchair next to the fire and waiting for her to thaw.

Sometime during their second week, Alice managed to charm an object to grow wings and fly.

"Well, it's not exactly like Wingardium Leviosa," she said, examining the fluttering tea cup in front of her. Wompy apparently regarded it as rather unnatural, because as soon as it landed he vanished. "But I guess it'll have to be good enough, I really need to get to work on these essays."

And so the opening weeks of their last year at Hogwarts passed, remarkably free of incident. It was as if some invisible hand was enforcing peace in the school; even Peeves was rather disinclined to perform any serious acts of mischief. Rumors had it that Madam Pomfrey had taken to napping through the day, since she got so little work.

This was not to say that the Marauders had completely renounced their old ways. There were assorted pranks, but they were on the whole remarkably harmless. During one weekend, all the suits of armor in the school were mysteriously transfigured so that they had the head of Argus Filch, the school's caretaker. Filch had been furious, but he couldn't do anything to James, Sirius, Remus, or Peter without more evidence.

Lily was asked to look into the matter, and she made a half-hearted attempt at investigation that mainly consisted of asking James whether he had done it.

"Of course," he had answered. "Did you like it? We would have set it off earlier but it took a few days to really get his nose right, there was some Filch-y quality we weren't really getting there. It was the snarl, it twists his nose up a bit, but we couldn't replicate it for the longest time…"

She had told Filch that it would be difficult if not impossible to find the culprit or culprits, since almost everyone above fifth-year—and more than a few fourth or even third-years—had the capability of performing the Transfiguration required.

There were only a few problems that marred Lily's otherwise perfect beginning-of-term. One, she already knew, would be impossible to solve, and she wasn't even sure she would have it any other way. This was Gwyn's constant and blindingly obvious insinuations that Lily and James would sooner or later—"And all my Galleons are on sooner, believe me"—become a couple.

The other, a more intractable and troublesome one, was James Potter. As entangled as their relationship was becoming, Lily was less and less sure how to act towards him. He had made his feelings clear for her long ago, to the knowledge of most everyone in the school. At the time she had known how she felt as well, and with equal clarity. Now…

Unfortunately for the both of them, they shared their Potions class with Severus Snape, who also knew exactly how James felt about Lily and never missed an opportunity to mock him for it. Like Lily, Snape had a preternatural talent for Potions, one which made him a favorite of their professor, Horace Slughorn. Moreover, being in Slytherin, Snape enjoyed the advantage of having Slughorn as his Head of House.

None of these factors made him any more tolerable during class, when he was allowed to basically speak his mind without any intervention.

Snape and James were constantly butting heads during the class. Lily wasn't sure if James had ever tried to speak to him, but if any apology had been made it clearly had not been accepted. Snape was never shy about taunting James in class, a constant litany that soon had everyone on edge. In fact, Alice had started ducking every time she heard Snape's voice, knowing sooner or later that curses would start flying.

The first open confrontation came during the third week of September. "You know, Potter, I don't know what is more disgusting. That you are the last heir of one of the oldest and purest wizarding families in existence, or that you constantly pursue a muggle-spawned—"

Snape's words became a meaningless grunt as James pretended to stumble into his cauldron. The contents, which were bubbling rather vigorously, had splashed all over Snape's robes and burned him rather severely. That day, at least, Madam Pomfrey had had work to do. The whole stunt cost Gryffindor twenty points, with a promise of more the next time.

Lily had then found herself in the odd position of giving the Head Boy of the school a detention. Of course, she reasoned, it was almost doing him a favor. It would be far better for him to do his time with McGonagall as their Head of House than with Slughorn, who would not be kindly disposed to someone who had just burned his prize pupil.

Snape enjoyed the good fortune of recovering quickly and returned the next day. It had been a week before the next blow-up.

"You know, Potter, I don't know if it's sadder that you're infatuated with the Mudblood, or that she won't have anything to do with you."

Lily could see James seething in his seat, but he didn't move.

"In any case, perhaps you could invite her out for a moonlit stroll…I know you do like those—"

That time she had had to let him face Slughorn's mercy, although she quietly whispered, "Nice leg-lock hex" to him after class. And it had been—since Snape had been getting up to get to the cabinet when he said it, the curse had caused him to fall face-first into Marvin Yert's attempt at a Hilarius Potion. Marvin hadn't managed to make it quite right, however, so it had ended up a dull sludge-colored gloop that could have made Snape the brother of some kind of bog monster. Slughorn had taken the promised fifty points from Gryffindor, leading some Slytherins to point out that a Head Boy had never been single-handedly responsible for his House losing the Cup before.

Throughout the month she and James had to meet regularly to discuss their responsibilities as Head Boy and Head Girl. Half of the meetings were with all the Prefects from the various Houses, but half were just the two of them. However, they never broached the topic of their conversation on the train. Lily had long since decided that if he wasn't going to bring it up, she wouldn't. She suspected that he rather regretted telling her everything he had revealed about himself.

She had tried, during their first meeting, to convince him that he and his friends couldn't play any more practical jokes on members of the staff or the student body. He'd begrudged her the staff—"Although I don't answer for what Sirius does on his own"—but he drew the line at their peers.

"Some people," he insisted, "just really need to understand how to relax and take things in stride."

"And it's your job to teach them, of course."

"Naturally." More than a few of the Prefects had chuckled at that, Remus most of all. Naturally, Snape hadn't seemed to find that at all amusing.

Despite his continued reticence on that issue, Lily was pleasantly surprised to find that he was easy to work with. He was quick to come up with ideas, could point out the weaknesses in some of hers and was also ready to accept her criticisms. He also did a good job working with all the different Houses with the exception of Slytherin. And together they did get things done. She was forced to conclude—and she promised never to tell this to Gwyn—that the two of them actually worked well together.

Their chemistry (she hated to think of it as that) made her recollect that conversation on the Hogwarts Express. It was when they were working best together that she had to wonder whether he was truly trying to change some things about himself. He had certainly gained a sense of humility, and was not only receptive to her suggestions but even seemed eager to solicit her approval.

As the month drew to a close, Lily admitted to herself that everything felt terribly confused—in the first place because she wasn't sure where the two of them stood anymore, and even more because of how bizarrely twisted their relationship had grown. The more pleasant surprises came her way, the unhappier she became. It was becoming harder to dislike him, and she had grown rather used to disliking him.

This is Potter, she tried to say over and over again. Potter, the one who you told in front of half the school you would never date.

She wasn't sure whether she wanted him to change back into the person she had thought she knew before this year. She would know how to deal with him then, it would certainly simplify things. But somehow she knew that wasn't what she really wanted either.

She was most surprised by the fact that he agreed to let her handle certain issues with the House Quidditch Cup that had gotten out of control last year. At least, after she had pointed out that he wouldn't be seen as a neutral party as Gryffindor Team Captain.

"No, I somehow don't see the Slytherins letting me draw up their practice schedule," he had been forced to admit.

"What would you have given them? Midnight on Sunday?"

He had grinned. "I was thinking one to three, actually. In the morning. They could even have it every day of the week, imagine the generosity."

Reluctant as she was to trust him, she gave him rein over several discipline issues. She couldn't deny that he was effective, seeing as how he knew almost every trick in the book. It was he who suggested that Secrecy Sensors probably weren't the best way to detect innocuous contraband, since most of the stuff that students carried around wasn't bad enough to set them off.

"But the right kind of Summoning Charm…now that's a different story. I've found Accio Guilty Item to get me almost everything that a person could have reason to be guilty about. Sometimes it even goes overboard, like I caught Regulus Black with a copy of Witch Weekly in the hall the other day—"

"Are you serious?"

"Really, you should try it out—"

Just for fun, she had pulled it on Gwyn the next day. She hadn't managed to find any Dungbombs or Invisible Trip-Marbles, but she had discovered a note to Gwyn written by a rather handsome Ravenclaw sixth-year.

She had looked embarrassed for a second before pointing to Alice and saying, "If she gets to rob the cradle, I don't see why I can't get my pick of the litter too!"

The final issue that James and Lily had to decide on was the House unity initiative that he wanted. She had expected him to take the lead with convincing the teachers, but he insisted that she do it.

"Well, I'm sure Flitwick and Sprout like me well enough, but I think Flitwick's still nursing a bit of a grudge since I tried to make his room Unplottable last year—" The trick hadn't worked exactly, but it had taken weeks to locate all of Flitwick's books. Finally they had found his copy of Advanced Whimsical Charms perched atop the point of one of the castle's highest towers.

"And Slughorn's hardly in love with you right now after Snape."

"Right," James said, grinding his teeth. Lily thought it over and drew the same conclusion. Starting off on the wrong foot with two of the four Heads would not be a good way to get his idea off the ground. Besides, she had to admit, she prided herself on being a better person at forging compromise than James, anyways.

"Alright, I'll approach them to start us off. But I'm guessing we'll bring the idea to Dumbledore, then you'll have to be there."

"Sure, of course. I've got your back, Evans."

"Yes, quite the gentleman, letting the girl run the risks, eh?"

"Isn't the rule 'Ladies first'?" he asked, sniggering.

-000-

Lily noticed something was odd about him during their fourth meeting. He seemed distant, unresponsive. It was the last day of September, and though the trees outside had not yet started to change their colors the air was getting cooler. The sun was already setting as they sat down to talk, although it was only seven in the evening.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"You know the Shrieking Shack doesn't have any open windows?" he asked, distractedly. It sounded as if he were a thousand miles away.

"What?"

"They're boarded up. I've never thought about it before, but you can't see the sun set from in there."

"Well why would you want to?" she asked. "If the rumors are true and it's haunted, I mean. I can hardly imagine ghosts would want to see the sun set."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," he said, shifting off of the window sill and plopping down onto a couch. "You never know who can appreciate beauty." She noticed he was staring at her while he said this, but she ignored it.

She brushed her hair behind her ear and said, "Alright, so is there anything new going on that I should know about?"

"New? Well, Sirius has been planning something—entirely without my help, of course. But it isn't exactly new, he's been thinking on it since the summer."

"What is it?"

"You also said what you should know—"

"What is it?" she asked, more sternly.

"—and I really think that means you're trusting my judgment as to what you should or shouldn't know, seeing as how the question was phrased—"

"James."

"Don't worry about it. And I like that you've started calling me James, you know."

"Don't read too much into it."

"I won't," he said. "It's just nice to hear, it is my name, after all."

"So, other than the blind eye you're turning to Sirius, is there anything else I should know about?"

"No, I'm afraid that the other minor pranksters are so far beneath us that they fall beneath my notice—"

She gave him a withering look. "Seriously."

"Alright, there were some minor cases of vandalism. Some students used vanishing ink to deface some library books, Pince brought them to me."

"What'd you do to them?"

"I made them scrub it out with toothbrushes," he said. "No magic."

"Speaking of scrubs, that reminds me of the Slytherin Quidditch team…" he mused. "Just joking, they're probably actually the biggest threat to us this year. When are we going to see a practice schedule?"

"Oh, here, I wrote it out a few days ago, I just forgot to give it to you."

"Thanks," he said, taking it from her hand. He yawned and wiped his glasses before he started to read. Behind him the fire crackled merrily and limned the edges of the lenses in orange light.

"Oh wow," he said. "Yes, we get Saturday mornings, those are the best."

"I'm glad you're happy," she said sarcastically.

"They'll say you're showing favoritism, of course—"

"Oh, I could change it now, if you don't like it," she said, mock-sweetly.

"No, no, that's alright," he hastily corrected himself. And then, "Thanks, Lily."

Another one of the awkward silences that seemed to happen far too frequently now when she spoke to him fell over them, and he shuffled his feet on the richly embroidered carpet. Mephistopheles jumped onto her lap and, grateful for the distraction, she brushed her fingers through his thick fur.

"You know, I haven't seen you playing with that Snitch you used to bring around with you," she said.

"Oh," he said, followed by a lull. "Yeah, I guess I figured it was time to get past that. I mean, I'm not even a Seeker, I'm a Chaser."

"Good to see your maturing there, Potter."

"Potter again, is it? You know, I'd carry around a Quaffle if it wouldn't look so silly."

The thought of James lugging a dark red ball around with him in the halls was pretty funny. While she was amusing herself by imagining it, he sat up and leaned over the table between them.

"Hey, have you—did you talk to the Heads about the whole seating thing yet?"

"Oh, yeah, I did."

"Well, what'd they say?"

"They seemed to like it. Slughorn said he'd talk to Dumbledore, encourage him to allow it."

"So we don't even need to present it to him? Great!"

She snorted. "Hopefully."

"I'm sure you were very convincing," he said.

After a moment he added, "I couldn't have found anyone better for the job."

"You say that now, but don't expect a seat at the Gryffindor table ever again. Once the boys get wind of this, Gwyn will have a waiting list just to get in line for a seat near her."

"Yeah, that girl's got some spark to her," he said conversationally. "Don't sell yourself short, though, I'm sure a few guys would want to sit near you."

She folded her hands in her lap and tried to sound as composed and sure of herself as possible. "James, I thought I made it clear that—"

He scowled. "Right. Me. Giant squid. Your preference. Got it." He turned away and Lily could tell he was hurt.

"Listen, James—"

"Never mind."

"I'm not—"

"Forget I brought it up, Evans." And she realized, with an absurd sort of guilt, that he hadn't actually brought it up or asked her out. He'd just been kidding with her. She hoped she hadn't opened an old wound with that.

Fortunately, he seemed suddenly cheered. "Hey, did you come up with your charm for Flitwick yet?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, glad to move on. "It's a kind of modified bubble-head, makes it around the whole body. In case there's something really bad in the air. It also makes you float up in water, which isn't a bad side-effect, I suppose."

"Not bad, not bad."

"What's yours?"

"It's pretty dumb, I guess. Here, let me show you—"

He reached into his robe and pulled out a small bird. She gasped in horror.

"You've had a bird in your robe while we've been sitting here?"

"It's not a bird, it just looks like one, see," he said. He opened his hand and tossed it into the air. It gently glided towards Lily's armchair. When she let it land on her finger she could see that it was in fact not a living bird, but a remarkable facsimile made of a dark cherry wood. With brilliant red feathers fluted on the wings and dark loops around its eyes, which shone like milky red glass, it was quite lifelike.

The grandfather clock behind her started chiming the hour, and the bird suddenly started chirping insistently. James appeared momentarily startled.

"Already ten?" he muttered.

"So what's the bird do?" His eyes jerked back and refocused on her.

"It's enchanted," he said. "Keeps the time and all. It's a nice charm to put on homework, it'll remind you when it needs to get done."

"Interesting." She held it up for a closer inspection and saw its eyes blinking. When she scrutinized them again she realized they were some kind of small gem.

"It's good for wake-up calls too, you just have to tell it when you want to wake up."

"This actually is a pretty nice bit of magic," she admitted.

"Mm. Do you want it?"

"Huh? No, that's okay—"

"No, really, take it." He waved her hand away when she tried to give it back to him.

"It likes you better anyways, I'm sure. And I never have problems getting up because Remus is practically an insomniac and makes us all wake up earlier than anyone else in the castle."

His eyes darted momentarily towards the window, and then back at her.

"Really, I insist."

Unsure of what to do with it, she finally said, "I can just put it in my robes, right? It won't suffocate or anything?" She always felt awkward accepting gifts. Truthfully, the only time she'd truly felt happy about something like that was when her parents had written her a letter in second-year saying the family was going to make a visit to school to see her. She'd looked forward to it for weeks, until they wrote back saying Petunia had refused to come. Petunia had been in those awkward years when hiring a sitter was somewhat insulting, but leaving her at home was out of the question.

"Hopefully not. Although it does need feeding—alright, alright, just kidding," he broke off, when she cocked her head skeptically.

He yawned then, and stretched his arms above his head. "Well, anyways, I think we've covered everything, and I'm a bit tired," he said. He seemed to be in a hurry somehow, and Lily suspected she knew where he was off to.

"I'm sure. Tired, at ten."

"Yes, well, you know what they say. A hard day's work needs a long night's rest," he said.

She decided not to push it. "Alright. Good night, James. I get the feeling this is one of those things it would be better for me not to know."

He turned back, halfway up the staircase. "For now, at least. One day I'll tell you."

She snorted. "What a privilege, I'm sure."

"It's a promise," he said. "Sweet dreams, Lily."