It was the end, at last.


In the days, months, and years that would follow that day, there would be one thing that all of the students would recall. Above the impending winter holiday and the consistently rising death toll, above even the qualms of everyday teenagedom, the students of Hogwarts would remember that Pippa Parsimoni was absolutely silent on the train ride to King's Cross Station.

It was known across the castle what had occurred in the wee hours of the previous night, many hours before the students boarded the Hogwarts Express. Even though most students did not understand the full implications of the rumors, those that did were silent, as well. They sat, heavy-headed, in their cabins, as unmoving and silent as Pippa Parsimoni herself.

Murder, whispered the younger children, running along the corridors of the train. The elder students shuddered and withdrew into their cabins, the doors slamming shut behind them. Emma Bridgewater and Priscilla Goodwin were murdered, continued the youngins in hushed voices.

Snow fell lightly across the grounds when Lily Evans had found out, hours prior to boarding the train. "What?" she heard herself say. Everything felt so apart from reality. She swam in the realization that, once again, everything would change. Things were always changing. And she wondered if, now, they were changing too much. "I'm sorry, Ashton, I think I misunderstood you."

The boy in front of her frowned, scratching the back of his head. He looked on-edge, anxious. When he thought Lily wasn't looking, he'd glance nervously over his shoulder. "I know it's a lot to process but I thought you should know. You were always asking about Emma, so…"

"But, what did you say?" Lily demanded, grabbing Ashton's shoulders.

He swallowed thickly. "Apparently," he began, gaze shifting between Lily and somewhere beyond her shoulder, "Pippa went to the Headmaster last night. And...she said that...Adora Shanks and Jean Pirrip...the other two fifth year Ravenclaws…" Again, Ashton looked away. Lily grew impatient, desperate to confirm her own suspicions. "They murdered Emma and Priscilla."

Lily was silent. Her hands dropped from Ashton's shoulders. He grabbed her hands quickly and gave them a squeeze. Lily didn't look at him. So, we were right, Lily thought, feeling odd. "Ashton, I…" She grimaced, "...I have to go. Thank you for letting me know. I'll catch up to you on the train, okay?" He nodded numbly after her as she sprinted off across the Entrance Hall and up the stairs.

It was far too early to have broken into such a severe sprint. But, there was someone that Lily needed to see. Something that couldn't wait to be said. Even in the cold castle, sweat ran down her neck and forehead. It felt so familiar to that night, weeks prior. As Lily ran up the fifth floor staircase, she slowed to a stop. A sudden desire to lean over the railing came over her. She took a step forward, winced, and trained her gaze on the railing. "Evans?"

"Potter," Lily gasped and looked up the stairs to find James, alongside the rest of the Marauders, staring down at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, hands stuck deep into the pockets of his trousers as he hopped down the steps with the Marauders in tow. He stopped next to Lily, eyeing her curiously, before turning to his friends. "Go on without me."

They spared a glance towards Lily and James before trotting away. "Potter, have you heard?" asked Lily, back pressed against the railing. James eyed her nervously and shook his head. "Emma...and Priscilla…" Lily looked as if she was going to be sick. Still, she went on, "They were murdered. Just as we thought. By the Ravenclaw girls…"

James frowned, one hand snaking up to his hair and the other diving into his pocket. "Shit," he cursed, sitting heavily onto the step above Lily. "I really hoped it wouldn't end up being that." Lily's knuckles were white. Of course, she had hoped as well. She wanted the truth, she had just hoped that that wouldn't be it. "So, all three of them are going to be tried, then?"

The redhead bit her lip. "No," she answered quietly. A group of students gave them a sideways glance as they filed past. James was looking at her so she went on, "Pippa turned the other two, Adora and Jean, in. The two that you saw talking. It was just them, apparently."

His glasses had gone askew from messing with his hair, so James adjusted them and looked more properly at Lily. She looked anxious and certainly unsure. "You look troubled, Evans," he observed, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why, you don't feel right about it?"

"No," she whispered, "it's just...odd, is all."

James nodded. "You're wondering why it doesn't feel over, even though it is," he said wistfully, rubbing at his chin. "I suppose when you get so attached to something, it's hard to foresee a time when it'll ever be over. So, when it is...it just feels wrong."

"I guess," said Lily, turning to look over the railing. Her shoulders tensed and she quickly turned back around. Her eyes looked glazed over. She shook her head as if to physically shake herself out of a daze. "I'm not convinced that it's over, Potter," Lily looked at him with piercing green eyes, "maybe things have come to a point this time. But, will it ever be over, with the world like this?"

James never did answer her. Hours had passed since their meeting on the fifth-floor stairs, and now on the Hogwarts Express, James sat numbly in his cabin. It was over, he told himself, but just as Lily had, he felt unsure. It felt too sudden and far too easy.

Of course, he hadn't mentioned to the troubled redhead what had happened the day prior. It was null by that point, anyway. Pippa had turned her friends in. The mystery was solved. But, what had been the emotion he'd seen in her at the mention of Emma and Priscilla when James had talked to her the day prior? James tousled his hair, frustrated.

He'd gone to the Ravenclaw girls, just as he'd promised Lily, and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible when asking them about the night of Emma's death. Jean and Adora had left early, excusing themselves to do homework. Pippa had remained, rubbing her arms to warm herself.

"I'm sorry, James," she had said. Something flashed through her eyes. "None of us really like talking about Emma or Priscilla. I'm sure you can see how it could be a...sore point."

Not pushing his luck, James had departed, wishing the blonde a nice holiday and peace in the absence of her friends. Again, something flashed through her eyes. James hadn't dwelled on it, however, until Lily had come to him this morning. She knew something, even then, that James was sure of. And with the accused girls gone, why hadn't she said something?

"Something on your mind, mate?" asked Sirius, prodding James with his elbow. He shook his head, mustering a smile. "It's a little odd, isn't it? A murder…"

"People have been murdered before on the Hogwarts grounds," said Peter, not looking up as he squinted at a copy of Quidditch Weekly. "It's not entirely unheard of."

Sirius scowled, cuffing Peter on the head. "I don't mean that you dunce," he said, shaking his head. "I mean, you would have never known, looking at them. Such an ordinary bunch of birds." This, the group could not deny. There was nothing in the demeanor of any of the Ravenclaw girls to suggest that they could be driven to murder. Except, of course, the soup incident involving one Lily Evans. Perhaps this had been an obvious tell, they all thought.

At that moment, the door rattled open to reveal Remus, back from his rounds. Just behind him, twiddling her thumbs, was the clever redhead that had just been on their minds. "Hullo," said Lily softly, peering around at the three boys in the cabin. "I was just dropping Remus off. I'll be off, then…"

She lingered for just a moment and Sirius took the opportunity to pull her into the already full cabin, pushing her into the seat next to Peter. The redhead stared incredulously around at the boys, who stifled their laughter. No student would take it kindly to hear them laughing after such grave news had come that morning. "We were just talking about the murder," said Peter, missing the mood entirely. Lily stiffened beside him.

"Peter," warned Remus, shaking his head.

Lily managed to shake her head. "It's fine," she promised. "It's not like we can ignore what happened." The Marauders all shared awkward glances. "But, I really do need to go. I have to see…" She paused, feeling weird about the situation, "Ashton. And I wanted to stop at my cabin first."

"Happiest of holidays, Ginger," called Sirius as Lily navigated through the boys' gangly limbs to reach the door. "We'll stay in touch."

. . .

Platform 9 ¾ was filled to the brim with students and their guardians. Lily waved to Ashton, who was joined by his mother and father, as they departed the platform. The Kiplings were very kind to Lily but she felt odd, nonetheless. She couldn't help but think of an alternate situation, in which she was standing beside Asher, instead. Lily sighed, turning, and found herself in a tight embrace. "Marlene," she coughed.

"Lily, please don't shut us out again during the holiday!" pleaded the blonde, head buried into Lily's shoulder. "You have to visit, too. We'll all get together, at some point. Maybe Dorcas will finally invite us to her mansion."

The kinky-haired girl glowered from behind Marlene. "I do not have a mansion," she hissed, rolling her eyes, "and stop trying to use me, you tart! I'm already dropping you off at your house." Marlene laughed, pulling away from Lily. Dorcas frowned at Lily. "It's a shame that we couldn't drop you off, as well. You said your sister is picking you up?"

"Hopefully," jested Lily but was met only with frowns from her friends. Mary came up to them, then, looping her arm through Marlene's. "Are you going with them, too, Mary?"

Shaking her head, Mary broke into a wide smile. "My mum is just outside, waiting for me," she answered. "Apparently, her boyfriend drove her here in his car. He has a car, isn't that great?"

"A car?" echoed Dorcas, eyebrows knitting. "Is that one of those metal, Muggle beasts?"

This launched an entire conversation on the matter, which Lily wasn't entirely keen on (given a headache she still had from the trauma of earlier). "I'm going to go," Lily said, jutting her thumb at the barrier behind her. "Petunia hates to wait." The girls rolled their eyes, bid Lily goodbye, and waved her off. Shouldering her bags, Lily made her way towards the barrier, heart heavy.

It wasn't easy being at Hogwarts.

She caught sight of James as she approached the barrier, who was some ways away and standing alongside a severe-looking couple. He blinked at her, opening his mouth as if he might say something. But Lily closed her eyes and stepped through the barrier. When she opened them, Petunia was standing on the other side, scowling as wizards and witches poured (somehow inconspicuously) from the secret platform.

But, it was much harder being at home, Lily thought.

. . .

When Lily woke up on Friday, Christmas Eve of 1976, she found that several parcels had been left on the front step. "You didn't bring them in when you got the mail," asked Lily of Petunia, carrying the packages into the kitchen. Her sister gave her a severe look but said nothing. Lily sighed. It had been a quiet ride home a few days prior, as well. She placed the packages on the counter (which was kept impeccably clean by her sister).

Each package was quite different. There was a small, narrow package wrapped perfectly in silver paper, which was from Ashton. Aside from his questionable scrawl, the gift was impeccable. Lily was glad that he had sent her a gift, as she had for him. After all, she would have felt weird, otherwise. The next package was large and shoddily wrapped in shiny red paper. The tag at the top read in big letters: MARLENE MCKINNON. Lily laughed and set the gift aside. As expected, the next two gifts were from Dorcas and Mary, an average sized green-wrapped gift and a basket wrapped in opaque cellophane, respectively.

Lily set the gifts underneath the tree, which she had taken great care to set up the day prior. She put all of her father's favorite ornaments on, just as she had the year prior, and decorated it with the popcorn tinsel that he loved so much. Petunia always said it was tacky; she hadn't tried to stop Lily, though. "Lily, dear, can you help me?" her mother called from the dining room.

The redhead slipped into the dining room, which was a rather small room that could only sit six people, at the most. Still, Lily preferred it that way. She couldn't imagine inviting too many people into their home. It was the selfish side of her, of course, that wanted to keep the home she grew up in entirely to herself.

Her mother's hair was done up in a haphazard twist. "Just set the nice porcelain plates down after I put the mats down, hon," asked her mother, managing a smile. Vernon, who was Petunia's positively plump boyfriend, was coming over to eat. As such, their mother had been in full drive since the early morning, making sure that everything was absolutely perfect for his arrival.

He came over often enough, Lily thought, that there was no need to fuss. Still, her mother had vacuumed the front rug more times than Lily could count. Lily set out the porcelain plates, which had been one of the gifts her mother had received at her wedding. They were a creamy white and the edged were painted with crimson flowers. Lily had always been quite partial to them.

Petunia strolled into the room, sipping her coffee. "Oh, mum, can't you buy some new plates, at some point?" she whined. "Those are so old."

"I think they're pretty," argued Lily.

The elder sister wrinkled her nose. "Did I ask you?"

That was the end of the conversation, as Petunia left the room, nose stuck high into the air. Ms. Evans sighed. "I wish you two wouldn't fight," she said softly, glancing at Lily as she put out the silverware. "Your father would be so upset if he saw how you two act."

"Mum," started Lily. She didn't think it was fair. What had she done wrong? It was Petunia, Lily thought. But, she said nothing and helped her mother set out the napkins and the glassware. Even when her mother cursed herself out for not having bought a few more bottles of nice wine, Lily said nothing. It wasn't her place, she realized, feeling detached. Her life was so apart from that of her family's that it seemed that she didn't belong at all.

When, at last, Ms. Evans was satisfied with the state of the house ("I'm just going to watch the ham, you two relax,") Lily withdrew to her room. There, she, at last, examined the second part of Marlene's gift: a copy of The Daily Rebel, which she'd smartly placed under her parcel so that Petunia wouldn't notice it (and promptly lose her mind).

Included on the front cover was a note, scrawled in Marlene's trademark messy script with red ink: Can you believe it? Beside the note, a picture of two familiar faces scowled at her. Adora Shanks and Jean Pirrip, Lily recognized, mouth falling open. Above their pictures, the title read, Fifth Year Ravenclaw Students Found Guilty in Murder of Two Classmates. The article itself detailed the trial, which was full of tears and desperate pleas from the parents of the girls.

In the end, Lily read, the two girls received a life sentence. As minors, they would carry out this sentence in a juvenile detention center, first, before moving to Azkaban upon coming of age. Lily shook her head, eyes finding the image of the girls again. They were oddly inanimate. She thought of other mug shots she'd seen, which screamed and struggled at the viewer. Lily placed the newspaper in the drawer of her desk.

Vernon would arrive soon. She used the remaining time to get ready and prepare herself.

. . .

"We have something to share,"

Lily looked up from her plate. Her sister was looking expectantly at her boyfriend, Vernon, and the girls' mother. Poppy Evans blinked at her elder daughter and gestured for her to continue. Petunia smiled giddily at Vernon and withdrew her hand from underneath the table, placing it daintily upon Vernon's plump, sausage-like fingers. The redhead stared at her, gaze drifting to her hand.

On her hand was an ornate and very expensive-looking ring. Ms. Evans' mouth fell open as she looked at Petunia, then Vernon. "Oh my," she said.

Vernon cleared his throat. "I was wondering, Poppy," he began gruffly. Lily winced at the use of her mother's first name. It felt wrong. "If you would give us your blessing, in the stead of your husband," he finished, beady eyes flicking momentarily to Lily. The redhead watched her mother very carefully, only chancing a glance at Petunia, who was also staring at their mother. Both of the girls' gazes carried an air of warning. Their intentions, however, were entirely opposite.

There did not exist a world in which Lily felt that Vernon Dursley, who had an exceptionally normal job, lived in a very normal town, and had a just average family, deserved Petunia Evans. Petunia Evans was not exceptionally pretty. She was very blonde, long-necked, and her eyes were a pale blue color. Neither was she particularly smart, though she did score well enough on her school exams. And, most especially, Petunia's demeanor was not the most charming. She had a short temper and a sharp tongue and she was far too concerned with the others' lives.

Still, Petunia was Lily's sister.

And to Lily Evans, that made her worth a great deal more than Vernon Dursley. Lily could not even wonder what kind of life the two would have together. Did Lily even want to imagine the type of children they might have together? She shuddered at the thought. But, before Lily could object, Ms. Evans stammered out, "Well, of course, you have my blessing. Please take good care of my lovely Petunia."

Lily stood. She gaped at her mother, who was looking up at her with wide eyes. Petunia, however, had stood up as well. Her eyes were narrowed meanly as she sneered, "Don't say a word, you little freak!"

"Y-You can't!" shouted Lily. Her face felt hot. She turned to Vernon. "You can't marry him!"

"And who are you to tell me that?" Petunia yelled back, pointing an accusatory finger in the redhead's direction. "How could you even think of calling me your sister? You're nothing but a freak, Lily."

Poppy opened her mouth as if she might say something. Lily looked over at her mother, who was opening and closing her mouth like a fish. And then she ran from the room, feeling as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from the air. She scrambled up the stairs, tripping over herself, and down the hallway. At last, she reached her room and flung the door open, soaking in the only comfort she had left.

The door slammed shut behind her as she paced about the room, breathing heavily. Lily wheezed, doubling over. It didn't feel real. She should have seen it coming. And yet...Lily pressed her hands against her stomach and breathed. Her head was swimming. Stumbling over to her bed, she sat down and felt the air go in and out of her lungs. Downstairs, she heard the screech of the chairs against the dining room floor as everyone got up from the table.

She told herself that if Petunia came up to her room then, that she could work on learning to accept the way things were. If her sister showed the smallest sign that she didn't want things to remain as they were, then Lily could try and make things work.

But, Petunia never came.

Instead, as Lily sat on her bed, head in her hands, she heard a knock at the window. Her head spun but she looked up, finding a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her. She stood up and traipsed towards the window, weak and weary, but curious nonetheless. The owl was majestic, the sort that Lily knew to cost a lot of money. Its feathers stood up in two horn-like spikes on either side of its head and it tilted its head curiously at her when she opened the window. With clawed talons, it moved further into her window sill. On its leg was tied a small piece of rolled parchment. Lily dragged a hand through her hair, sighing, and reached down to untie the parchment.

"Who are you?" asked Lily to the owl as she untied the letter. It cocked its head further to the side. Frowning, Lily held the small scroll of parchment in her palm. "Better question: who's your owner?"

The owl blinked slowly, which the redhead took as a cue to open the letter. Unfurling it, she read,

Evans,

The merriest of Christmases to you. Sirius says, 'Hullo' as well.

J.

Lily set the letter down on her desk with a grimace. James Potter. Did he expect a reply? Rubbing her arms, Lily neared the open window, where the Potters' owl still sat. It let her pet the feathers above its beak, letting out small chirping sounds. "Hungry?" asked Lily and the bird nipped at her finger. She smiled, chuckling, "Okay, okay." Fishing around in her bedside table drawer, she found the treats she kept around for when her friends' owls dropped off letters for her.

The owl took the treats greedily, downing three or four. Lily stroked its feathers kindly for a while before strolling over to her bed and collapsing onto her back. Her ceiling was painted vibrant yellow, in contrast to the lavender of her walls, a request she'd made of her father when she was just ten years old. He abided and the family had spent the entire day in Lily's room, sunny paint dripping into their hair and onto their clothes. Lily felt a smile tug onto her lips. Things were easier back then.

"Lily flower," said her mother from the other side of the door, rapping her knuckles against it. "I know you're upset, but can't we just talk about things?"

Casting an urgent glance at the owl in her window, Lily bounded for the door. Opening it a crack, she met the doughy brown eyes of her mother. Everything about Poppy Evans was soft, even the small frown she then wore, "If you know that I'm upset, then why are you going through with it?"

"What do you expect me to do, love?"

Lily's eyes stung. "I don't know," cried Lily, keeping the door wedged tightly shut so that her mother couldn't see inside. "You're our mother. You're supposed to care about these things. How could you let her...how could you…" Lily sniffed back tears and met her mother's gaze with red eyes. "If Tuney marries that man, I won't go. I won't do it."

"Lily,"

But she had already shut the door behind her and pressed her back up against it. She still heard her mother on the other side. Ultimately, she walked away, her kitten heels clicking against the hardwood floors. Lily took deep breaths to keep from crying. It was not worth her tears, she thought, but felt one spill over anyway.

Lily wiped her cheek hastily and returned to her bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. As far as Lily was concerned, life was very unfair. If she had been born stronger, then she wouldn't want to cry so much all the time. Her mother used to say that it was brave to show your emotions. But as Lily's heart gave a painful wrench, she thought that that couldn't be correct. She was weak and she wanted terribly to be like one of her friends: Dorcas or Marlene. Even Mary. The redhead's mind floated to the boy who'd written her the letter that now sat on her desk. Yes, James Potter especially. He took everything in stride.

Still, perhaps he was driving her a bit mad. Lily glanced over at her desk, made of wicker and coated in thick white paint that was peeling and chipping off, and sighed. The letter lay open on her desk. It wasn't as though they were friends, she thought. So, why had James sent her a letter? Even if only to wish her a Merry Christmas, he hadn't needed to go through all of the trouble.

James was someone she couldn't hope to understand.

Even so, Lily rose from her bed and approached her desk, settling into the chair, which whined underneath her. She tapped her nails which were coated in a coat of chipped pearl-toned nail polish, left over from the Slugclub Christmas Party. Lily knew that she had a choice. She could respond, or she could simply not.

The question was, how would things change from either choice?

She bit the nail of her thumb, staring down at the parchment spread out on her desk. Picking it up, she scanned it once again. From her window, James' owl hooted irritably at her. "I know, I know," she replied softly to it, sighing. "What should I do?" The owl blinked its wide eyes at her and Lily turned back to her desk.

Dangerous, dangerous, her mind warned. She did not heed its warning as she pulled out some of her parchment. Dear Potter, she wrote but quickly scribbled it out. Lily groaned, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. At last, she leaned forward once more.

Potter,

Merry Christmas,

L.


A/N; An exceptionally short chapter to balance out the absurd length of the last chapter. Sorry about the recent willy-nilly updates. Unfortunately, I'll be taking a short break from updating over the weekend to both give myself a bit of a break (I've had a lot going on) and to replenish my store of pre-written chapters. Hope that isn't too much of an inconvenience!

Anyway, as always, feel free to favorite, follow, and review (if it strikes your fancy)! [SIGNED, SAM]

Disclaimer: Nope, Harry Potter's still not mine.