Chapter Ten
A/N: Thank you to Beachgirl72 for reviewing the last chapter.
After all the threats and acts of terrorism, the Dark Lord had grown quiet and complacent, something that had made Lilly and her comrades more fearful than any of the horrific stunts he had pulled previously.
The Order of the Phoenix had been reformed as best as the old members could do, with the few people that remained willing to go into it after the devastation of the war, and they had kept a careful eye on the movements around Wizarding Britain, to ensure that there were no signs of Voldemort plotting against them, not that he could do so very successfully, as his only followers who were not currently in Azkaban were the Malfoys, and they would certainly not go down that road again, their lesson having been truly learnt this time. This was a feat they had been easily able to accomplish by their affiliation with the Ministry, or more specifically the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who remained an esteemed member of the organisation, though his extensive responsibilities prevented him from attending too many of the meetings.
However, even with the extent to which they were watching the Dark Lord, Lilly could not help but feel uneasy, mainly about the contents of the blood stained letter, a burden which she was now glad to have shared with her brother, as it had made the weight of fear a lot easier to bear, to know that the young man was there for her, that he understood her terrors and shared them. They had, after all, both faced Voldemort, the man who had murdered their mother and their respective fathers as well, and the pair of them each had as much to lose as the other. All they had left to lose was each other.
After an evening gathering of the Order of the Phoenix, one which only the Weasleys, the Potter siblings and Minerva McGonagall had been able to attend, as all the other members had had other commitments, most of them in regard to the enemy himself, Lilly found herself stood outside, on a balcony at the back of 12 Grimmauld Place, the house that her brother and his wife called their home, though it still remained as headquarters, breathing in the fresh air. She had not left the house for weeks, the fear of Voldemort had been so great, and so the only fresh air she had been able to breathe was through an open window. It did not compare to the wonder of the breeze on her face, and she found herself wondering for a moment why she had ever even tried to do without it.
Suddenly, a wave of emotion came over her, images rushing through her mind like a floodgate had been opened, allowing her memories to pour forth, along with all the hopes and fears she had for the future, as if someone had wished to discover everything about her, her strengths and her weaknesses. So that they could make her a target. Or even, perhaps, an ally.
The more she thought about the offer that the Dark Lord had made to her, the more she could not believe that she had even considered accepting it. For her to even have wondered about handing her brother over to the man who had tried to slaughter the two of them, and had achieved that goal with their parents, she could hardly believe that she had been so heartless as to wonder.
She had been scared. That was what Harry had told her, and what she'd believed, as it was certainly how she had felt at the time. She had been petrified of the fact that Voldemort could target her, even now, especially as she had been the one who had killed him. When she had seen him crumble and fall, she had thought that that had finally been the end. 'But that was what they had thought after Godric's Hollow,' she reminded herself sternly. 'And it wasn't true back then, either. Just a story of a boy who had taken him down without a curse. Even a girl with the most powerful wand in the history of the world could not destroy him, it seems.'
Then it struck her. The Elder Wand. Voldemort did not go to any of their friends, to ask them to hand over Harry, he had come only to her, and there was a reason behind that, one that seemed as clear as daylight now that she had thought of it. The Dark Lord did not want her among his ranks because she was Harry's sister, or because she was Snape's daughter, something she suspected that he did not even know. He wanted her because she was the master of the Elder Wand, and, should he kill her, the wand would finally be his.
'I cannot afford to let that happen.' she told herself firmly, shaking her head a little to reinforce the point she made. 'My father died for this wand, or because of it, at least. He was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted servants, so it must have been the key to His power, otherwise Voldemort would not have killed him. Severus Snape suffered and died so that the Elder Wand would be kept out of Voldemort's hands, at least for a little while longer. She would not betray her father's memory by handing it over to the man now.'
It was only when she thought of it in that way that Lilly realised how much of her father's daughter, and her parents' daughter, she was. She had their bravery, their skill, their patience, and she had them in her heart, guiding her onto the path that she was made to walk down. She could feel them, if she searched herself, and she was glad that they were there, as they gave her the courage to say what she needed to say, to herself, if not to Voldemort, and to the world.
The answer was no.
A/N: Please review!