Since the last chap was centred around James, I thought a Lily chap was well overdue.
Chapter Sixteen: The Woes of Emmeline Vance
On the day before last of January, Lily was woken up by a pair of warm arms wrapping themselves around her quilt. James whispered undoubtedly sweet words that were muffled by her pillows and then pulled her up, all the while holding her in a comfortable hug.
"Happy birthday, you bloody insufferable flower," he murmured, smiling against her cheek.
"Always know what to say to lighten up a girl's mood," she grumbled. "I thought you were going to be nice for a change."
"I dunno about niceties, but I do have something planned," said James, trailing kisses up her neck that made her waver. "On a completely unrelated note, I'm politely asking you to steer clear away from Gryffindor Tower."
Lily grunted sleepily. "Well, since you said it was completely unrelated, I might do just that."
It was a Tuesday, so understandably she didn't relax all that much. She ploughed through Herbology and Charms (Professor Flitwick slipped her a pack of limited-edition Chocolate Frogs) and by the end of the day, after not seeing Sirius or Remus at all (who, she'd been told, were working on something that conveniently prevented her from entering Gryffindor Tower) James and the rest of the Gryffindors pinned her arms to her sides and marched her through the portrait of the Fat Lady.
The common room was decorated with leftover baubles from Christmas. A wide assortment of food and drinks had been set on a table; Remus had to shoo away the younger kids a couple of times from sneaking off with them. There was a faint chorus of Happy Birthday Lileeeeees coming from inside the walls that sounded every few seconds. Hanging between two chandeliers was a banner with the phrase, Have a good one, Evans! as well as a crudely-drawn picture of Lily that she privately thought captured the likeness of a banshee far better than hers.
None of that mattered, though, for Alice forced a rather unflattering jumper down her body and pulled her forwards, laughing all the way; many of the younger years sat around the couches around the tables to watch curiously. She reluctantly agreed to let Sirius announce his own version of Winston Churchill's 'We shall fight on the beaches', but she quickly regretted it:
"When Lily Evans was born in Scotland eighteen years ago with her flaming hair and green eyes, she was told by her parents, 'we shall name you after a flower.' There are certainly worse flowers to name your children after since Petunia is her sister's name."
Lily could barely hear the rest of the speech through her muffled giggles; she was red in the face and her sides hurt, and while she knew it was probably very rude of them to mock Winston Churchill, she didn't care. It was her birthday, after all.
"...she shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, Lily Evans was subjugated by Minerva McGonagall, then our Gryffindors beyond her office doors, armed and guarded by the power of friendship, would carry on the struggle, until, in Merlin's good time, the new generation of mischief makers, with all its talent and cunning, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old."
The ending was met with raucous applause. Lily clapped enthusiastically and beamed at Sirius.
"To Lily Evans!" roared Peter, holding a tankard of sloshing butterbeer. "Muggleborn, Head Girl, and top of the class!"
What?
Lily bit her tongue from snapping; was the 'Muggleborn' really necessary? Nobody else gave any thought to it, but she thought she saw James raise his eyebrow at Peter.
"On my mark, then!" chimed in Sirius, holding his wand like a conductor. "With the House elves! One, two, three… HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILY!"
As the walls sang yet another rousing chorus of Happy Birthday Lileeeeees, the rest of the Gryffindor common room joined in too. The voices overlapped, and they became one; it was very likely Dumbledore could hear them, but she didn't care, he was probably singing right along –
James threw an arm around her shoulders and tapped her repeatedly. She looked around, found Remus standing a way's from them, holding a large camera, and then hugged James's torso tightly as Remus clicked, and her eyes were filled with a bright flash. Her friends joined them right after, and soon the common room had a thick cloud of purple smoke hanging from the ceiling.
Lily's inner Head Girl was pleading with her to stop the party, but she ignored it. There was a time and place to hold up rules, and this wasn't one of them. It was her birthday, after all.
And a bloody good birthday it was. Her friends never failed to deliver.
The constant fall of chilly rain was replaced by rolls and rolls of grey, blanketed clouds; February was upon them. On the evening of the first Saturday of the month, Lily went down the castle with Mary to the Hospital Wing, where they would finally begin their Provisional Courses.
A handful of other seventh years had arrived before them, and were waiting just outside of the chamber. Benjy Fenwick greeted her and Mary enthusiastically; apart from him, she wasn't too familiar with the rest of the group. There was Hermes Burke, who was a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Of the Ravenclaws, she spotted Frey Hamilton and Beatrice Mancuso: both prefects, but she hadn't had a chance to get to know them all that well.
Her pocket watch grew warm under her blazer, indicating that it was seven o'clock in the evening, and Madam Pomfrey poked her head out and told them to enter. Inside, about two-thirds of the hospital beds were occupied by wooden mannequins. Their bodies were etched with deep, straight lines, separating all the different muscles and tendons. It was very dark; the curtains around the windows were closed and the only light came from a couple of flickering torches stuck to the wall.
The students all gathered awkwardly in the middle of the room and faced the front, where Madam Pomfrey was watching them get settled.
"Good evening," she greeted them, when they had quieted down. "I am sure you all know who I am, as you have doubtless been here at some point in your Hogwarts career, but regardless, I am Poppy Pomfrey, head Healer of Hogwarts."
There was a chorus of monotonous 'good evening's. Madam Pomfrey sighed but ignored it.
"Before we start, I am to explain a few things about these Provisional Courses, and of course to answer any questions you might have," she said, and glanced around expectantly to see if they had raised their hands. When no one did, she continued, "The Provisional Courses were created by the Ministry to allow you students to participate in your desired field of work without having to go through additional training. As the name suggests, you will not be considered fully-trained Healers after you graduate, as it requires you to study under a professionally-licensed Healer for at least three years. You will, however, be granted permission to treat people who are in dire need of help if and when a Healer is not available.
"Now I want you to choose a bed and mannequin. They are all the same, so no arguing, if you please."
Lily pulled Mary with her to the very front of the chamber and chose beds next to each other. She discreetly straightened her Healer's pin on her blazer and waited as Madam Pomfrey watched them.
"Thank you," she said. "Now I want you all to cast a Revealing Charm on the mannequins. They are imbued with the essence of a Norwegian Will-o'-the-wisp, which as you all should know emits light when it is no longer hidden. Together, now. Aparecium."
Lily pointed her wand at the mannequin. The Hospital Wing was suddenly filled with a low, blue light that came from inside the lines and carvings; Mary gave a soft gasp of surprise as the mannequins turned slightly transparent, and the bones and organs became visible.
"Very good," said Madam Pomfrey. "Each mannequin has been given a different type of magical illness or ailment. It is your job, as Provisional Healers, to identify it. You have three minutes to come up with a diagnosis."
Evidently, the mannequins were not all the same. Lily scrutinised her patient. There was an odd growth near the lungs; it pushed everything out of the way slowly and yet at the same time seemed to be contracting upon itself. A tumor? Her grandmother had had one, but Madam Pomfrey had mentioned that it was a magical illness. Grandma Iris had not been magical.
She pulled a quill and parchment out of her bag and deliberated. Her mind perused over the various volumes of medical books she'd been forced to memorise by Madam Pomfrey; there had to be something, something like a tumor… perhaps its magical counterpart… Siren Lung? Or maybe it was a case of internal Ringworm.
Lich's Garden.
She froze, then looked up slowly from her parchment at the mannequin.
Lich's Garden… Yes, that sounded plausible. Blood that flowed through a depressed heart was never good, but in the case of a wizard or witch, that blood would decay and accumulate until it formed a lump the size of a fist. If left untreated, it would consume the heart and everything around it, and slowly cause the person to become nought but a skeletal shell of its former self: a lich, and its embodiment of depression.
Realising she had only two more minutes before the task finished, she quickly jotted down everything she had just thought about. Mary was prodding her mannequin with her wand; near Madam Pomfrey's office, Hermes Burke looked lost and was just staring uncomprehendingly at the mannequin's eyes.
"Time's up!" called Madam Pomfrey. "Quills down, if you please. On the field, it is crucial to be able to identify any illness as quickly as possible. Mr Fenwick… what did you find?"
Slowly, Madam Pomfrey moved around the Hospital Wing, listening to all the different reports. Many people hadn't finished, although Hermes was discreetly trying to write a few lines on his piece of parchment. Mary fiddled with her quill nervously, her brown eyes following Madam Pomfrey as she neared them. Lily stood there waiting, reading over her notes.
Madam Pomfrey gave an approving nod to Mary's diagnosis of Spirit Asthma and reached her bed last.
"Evans, Evans," she said. "What did you find?"
"Lich's Garden," Lily answered, handing her roll of parchment over to Madam Pomfrey. "I saw the way it was slowly pushing the lungs and ribs away and how it was trying to eat the heart."
Madam Pomfrey scanned her notes, looking grudgingly impressed. "Very good, Miss Evans. Perfectly explained."
She returned back to the front of the room, looking over them all. "An acceptable first attempt, but I'm afraid you will have to push yourselves if you really want to work in the medical field. You may not feel it in the classroom, with me as your supervisor, but it is intense, gruelling work. Now, since you all have proper diagnoses –" she dismissed Hermes, who'd concluded that his mannequin was already dead, " – I want you to brew a cure."
Hermes groaned.
"You are all taking N.E.W.T-level potions, or else you wouldn't be here," continued Madam Pomfrey, "You should all have a basic understanding of how antidotes work for poisons. It is nearly the same for illnesses; you need only find what reacts opposite to the effects of the illness. You have half an hour."
The Healing lesson slowly receded into Potions. Madam Pomfrey had laid out various ingredients that Lily only vaguely knew what to do with; the rest of the class looked about as troubled as she felt. They were to mix a potion as quickly as possible, and Madam Pomfrey's constant reminders of how their time was ticking away weren't helping.
Half an hour later, no one in the class had managed to brew anything remotely resembling an antidote. Madam Pomfrey wasn't discouraged (though she eyed Hermes Burke carefully; his potion had come out looking like cat sick). She was about to go around once more to check on their progress, when a sudden knock on the door made her falter.
"Poppy!" said an agitated voice. "Let us in!"
Not two seconds after, Madam Pomfrey had glided over to the door and yanked it open. Two witches that Lily didn't recognise stumbled in, pulling a floating stretcher by one of the handholds.
Lily's breath hitched. At once, she leapt out of the way as a stunned silence fell on the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey, who had gone very white, was vaguely shouting instructions at the two witches.
Laying on the stretcher was a girl. She had a glazed look about her slightly purple face; her eyes, normally bright and cheerful, were now blank and emotionless. The sheets under her body were stained red from blood; the hastily-wrapped bandages around her torso didn't seem to be doing much.
Then, off to her left, Mary let out a horrified scream, but her voice was muffled. It was like they were under water; Lily's movements were slow and heavy, and her breathing seemed to have halted. Even her sight was murky as she took in the mute form of Emmeline Vance.
"Everybody out!" bellowed Madam Pomfrey, waving her wand so that the mannequins and cauldrons Vanished. "Straight to your common rooms! Out!"
Lily snapped out of her trance. "Madam Pomfrey, is there anything I can do? A blood replenishing potion, or –"
"Right now, you need to get everybody out of the Hospital Wing!"
"But –"
"NOW, Miss Evans!"
Without another word, Lily grabbed Mary's arm and pushed the rest of the students through the door. They made no protest under her steely gaze; she was back in Head Girl-mode now, and she was determined to help her friend however she could, even if it meant doing absolutely nothing. Mary was shaking violently, and it was all Lily could do to stop her from darting back to the Hospital Wing.
"ROOKWOOD!"
Professor McGonagall's voice made her stop. They were nearing the Entrance Hall now; it was packed full of students, some having exited the Great Hall, where dinner was still in progress; Lily led Mary up the marble staircase and paused to see what was happening. The onlookers had formed a large ring, and she noticed her fellow students looked both horrified and disgusted. She saw James, Sirius and Remus at the very front of the crowd, covered in scratches and bruises, all looking as though they'd just taken a beating from a Hippogriff.
Professor McGonagall was standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall, her wand held loosely in her hand as she glared murderous intent at a tall, black-haired man wearing Auror robes. The man also held a wand, and was pointing it directly at McGonagall's heart, but his hand seemed to tremble even as he did so. His pockmarked face was splattered with what looked like dried, rusty paint, but even from the stairs Lily could tell, and her nose further confirmed it – that there was that unmistakable, nauseating, sickly-sweet smell of blood.
The man had a wild, feral look on his face, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was doing. Even though he was holding McGonagall at wand point, she didn't budge nor did her expression falter. He seemed to shrink before her furious gaze; he looked utterly small, and utterly terrified.
Then, slowly, he lowered his wand.
"Explain yourself, Rookwood," snarled Professor McGonagall. "Convince me why Azkaban shouldn't be welcoming you come morning."
"You – you must believe me, Minerva!" sputtered the Auror. "It was an accident, I did not realise the girl would react badly –"
Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.
"You attack one of my students," she hissed. "You use on her the most infamous of the Unforgivables. You run from the scene instead of helping – and you dare not take the blame?"
The Auror – Rookwood – flinched at every word Professor McGonagall spat out, like they were a knife digging deeper into his skin. He made no attempt to interrupt, and merely darted his eyes around the Entrance Hall, his resemblance to a cornered dog now even more uncanny.
"Make no mistake, the Minister will hear about this," said Professor McGonagall. "Professor Dumbledore shall be told when he gets–"
"NO!" he shrieked suddenly, dropping to his knees. "No! Minerva, he is the one person that mustn't know! You wouldn't believe – the power he has over the wizarding community, even the Minister himself… my job, my reputation –"
Rookwood gave a shuddering gasp and crawled over to McGonagall, clawing at the ends of her tartan robes.
"You cowardly fool," said Professor McGonagall softly, stepping away from Rookwood. "You care only for yourself, and not the girl that was left bloody and unable to breathe, from your curse?"
"Dumbledore can't know," moaned Rookwood from the floor. "It would ruin me. His word – his word would override the Minister's, override the Wizengamot –"
"You flatter me, Augustus, but I'm afraid even I would have trouble controlling the high council."
Dumbledore had entered unnoticed, looking very different in his travelling cloak and red-and-gold scarf. The part of his face that wasn't hidden behind a beard was tainted pink from the cold; had he been outside? She hadn't seen him at all for the past few days. In fact, she'd hardly seen him since she'd started her seventh year. Peter and Alice stalked around from where they had been hiding behind him and went off to join the rest of the crowd.
At his appearance, Rookwood had recoiled violently like he'd just received a shock. His mouth opened and closed and he was staring at Dumbledore with bulging eyes, as though he were seeing a ghost.
"You – Dumbledore – they said you were away, that you were with Mad-Eye Moody –"
"I am not in a good mood, Augustus," continued Dumbledore pleasantly. "I was forced to leave a very important meeting – I'm afraid Alastor is not very happy with me. Upon my arrival at Hogwarts, I was immediately informed that you cast the Cruciatus Curse on Emmeline Vance as part of your Provisional Training without her permission."
"I had permission!" hollered Rookwood. "From Barty Crouch! The Unforgivable Curses are no longer Unforgivable, Dumbledore!"
"I believe Barty meant the curses were to be used against Dark Wizards, and Dark Wizards only," said Dumbledore, "My students, on the other hand, are not Dark Wizards, and your use of such magic is, I'm afraid, what the law would count as unforgivable."
The rest of the students had backed away as Dumbledore strode forwards, away from the Auror who had attacked Emmeline Vance – Mary had succumbed to her sobs, and was now shivering as she wiped her eyes furiously with her sleeve. Lily had no idea what to say; she wasn't all that close to Mary and Em as she was with Alice and Marlene, but even then, they were still friends, and she still felt a bubbling hatred for the man – Augustus Rookwood – the man who had cast the Cruciatus Curse on one of her Gryffindors.
Augustus Rookwood knelt on his knees and wrung his hands.
"I know I did wrong," he said hollowly. "I went too far. I did not realise blood had spilled – but you can't, Dumbledore. My job… it is all I have. I beg you… let me keep it… don't let this out, I beg you…"
He sank to the floor before Dumbledore as though he were pledging himself to him. Dumbledore merely looked on, regarding the Auror with a hint of distaste.
"Disgusting," he said at last, with an air of horrifying finality. "An Auror that wishes to run from justice – disgusting."
Rookwood bowed his head even lower but said nothing. Dumbledore straightened, then stared around at the crowd that had gathered to watch.
"Head Boy and Girl – Mr Potter and Miss Evans – please lead the students out of the Entrance Hall. Professor McGonagall, no one is to go out wandering. I must escort Mr Rookwood to the Ministry."
Professor McGonagall nodded. "And Miss Vance?"
Dumbledore smiled tiredly. "I don't believe Madam Pomfrey has ever failed in her job. She is, of course, more than welcome to call for other Healers to help."
Professor McGonagall nodded again, then she glared at the frozen students expectantly, as though saying, Well? You heard Dumbledore.
Realising she still had a job to do, Lily scrambled down the staircase, pulling Mary with her, and joined James as they led the others out of the Entrance Hall.
The walk back to the Head's Tower was uncomfortable enough as it was, what with that day's events still swirling inside her head. She and James remained silent, following the path from Gryffindor Tower to their dorms, and only spoke when the portrait of the two wizards asked for the password.
But even then, as though guided by an unseen source, they found themselves staggering towards the largest of the common room's sofas; they plopped down, their shoulders touching, and stared at nothing in particular.
Lily spoke first. "What – exactly – happened?"
James sighed, like the effort of recounting his version of events was tiring.
"I dunno," he said. "I don't think anyone knows. One moment everything was going smoothly, Rookwood was teaching us about the Cruciatus Curse, right, and he was showing the effects with a mannequin. Next thing we knew, he had his wand trained on Em, and she was screaming and screaming…"
He trailed off. He had a pained look on his face.
"And no one stopped him?" asked Lily. "Not you, not Sirius or Remus?"
James shook his head. "We thought it was all scripted. I mean, I think you could agree that any sane Auror, regardless of the situation, wouldn't just start using Unforgivable Curses on innocent people, much less students. It went on, I think, for a full five seconds, and then Em stopped screaming, and she sort of became blank. She was bleeding, which I didn't even know could happen with the Cruciatus, and that's when we all realised, and we tried to curse him…"
Lily closed her eyes as the mental image formed in her mind. She didn't want to think about it, yet she couldn't help it; she saw Em lying on the floor, unresponsive as the Cruciatus was cast over and over on her… then she was being carried off to the Hospital Wing on a small, cold stretcher, before finally it stopped at the thought of Em lying on one of the Hospital Wing's beds, Madam Pomfrey and those two witches scrambling around to stabilise her condition…
"Do you think she'll make it?" asked James quietly. "I've heard stories about the Cruciatus Curse, how it permanently messes with your brain and nerve-endings or something."
"She'll be OK," said Lily at once. "Em's strong, and you heard what Dumbledore said, Madam Pomfrey's never failed."
James looked slightly more reassured. She was about to suggest they get to bed, when a muffled voice from just outside the tower said, "What's that damned place Prongs never used to shut up about? Oh yeah – Neverland!"
A handful of people entered, or at least Lily thought they did, for she had only their loud footsteps to go off on. Then there was a slight movement, and six people shimmered into vision, holding their wands.
Lily and James had recoiled, startled, but at the sight of their friends, James let out a puff of breath.
"Sirius," he said, staring at them one-by-one, "Remus, Peter, Marls, Alice, Mary – how'd you lot get in here? I thought McGonagall was patrolling the floors."
"Disillusionment Charm," said Sirius matter-of-factly. "Fooled even McGonagall."
They took seats on the sofas around them, giving the impression that it was some sort of meeting.
"Why'd you come here?" asked Lily. "I'm pretty sure this isn't the right time to call for a sleepover."
Remus sighed. "Blame the girls. They wanted you to sleep in Gryffindor Tower, er –" he looked quizzically at Alice.
"Oh, please," she scoffed, "We wouldn't even have come here if it wasn't for Sirius overhearing our conversation."
She directed that last bit at Sirius, who shrugged. "I was feeling rather lonely myself."
"Let me get this straight," said Lily, rubbing a finger on her temple. "All of you – the remaining population of Gryffindor seventh-years – came all the way here just to ask me to come sleep in Gryffindor Tower?"
"Well, no," said Peter apologetically. "See – er – I think one of the girls is best suited for explaining."
They all turned their heads at the girls; Lily turned to Alice, who turned to Marlene, who turned to Mary.
She sighed and pulled her knees up to her chin. "I couldn't stand it if – if it was just the three of us there. It's my first time without Em…"
Her eyes had a glassy look about them. Sirius turned triumphantly to James. "Now you know how we feel, Prongs."
James ignored him. "We understand. You're more than welcome to sleep here."
Mary nodded mutely and pulled at the cuffs of her jumper.
"We were talking before we came here," said Alice. "We all agreed – Em's going to be fine. She's tough, that girl."
Lily shot a small smile at her friend. "Yeah, she is. Remember when she knocked Gilderoy Lockhart unconscious for trying to flirt with her?"
"Well, considering the fact that Lockhart's four years younger than her, I wouldn't say it was a fair match," said Remsu dryly. "Personally, I think the time when she jinxed Mulciber to sing doublets for a whole week is much more fitting."
Even Mary smiled grudgingly.
"We also agreed," began Marlene, once everyone had calmed down, "that it wasn't any of our faults. There wasn't any way for us to know, what kind of Auror would do that to a student?"
But she sounded as though she was trying to convince herself.
"Even so, I can't help but blame myself," said James solemnly, running a hand through his hair. "If I wasn't so incompetent… she was practically in front of me, I should've realised what was happening. If I hadn't been slow to act…"
"Well, that's why we're doing all this, isn't it?" said Sirius. "All this studying, researching, practicing spells, even just staying alive, and holding on to what we think is right – we're all doing this so that we can help with the fight. To make sure none of us are slow to act. So that no one will end up like Em."
If anyone else had said it, Lily wouldn't have felt hopeful. She'd take their words as empty promises – sure, maybe they'd act upon it once or twice, but then they'd give up and let themselves be trampled all over by the opposition.
But Sirius had a way of making people believe in things. She wasn't sure how, but he just did – he was very much like James in that regard, how they both looked at things so simply that she couldn't help but share in their view.
And yet, it was that very simplicity that caused them to come out on top. Sirius and James were both winners, the very personification of victory – if they had a goal, they'd take the easiest, simplest route, and then maneuver through it so flawlessly they'd reach it before anyone else had.
And so she smiled widely at him. "Damn straight, Padfoot."
Sirius beamed at her.
The conversation of Emmeline slowly found its way towards Augustus Rookwood, and what would be happening to him. She'd voiced the thought that he would be getting life in Azkaban, but Alice had shot her down.
"If you look at things logically, that's probably not going to happen," she said. "The Ministry has too few Aurors, and they haven't taken anyone outside of Frank for the past two years. Worst thing that could happen is Dumbledore sues him for an unprovoked attack on a student, and he loses his job. The Ministry's loath to let go of their Aurors."
"Still, they can't ignore it," said James. "If it was anyone else, they'd surely get life in Azkaban. Since it's Rookwood – a family that's been friendly with the Ministry for generations – they're bound to bend their rules a little. Dumbledore's definitely not going to back down until he receives a proper sentence."
"Then again, he could buy them off with gold," said Sirius. "Common tactic made famous by the Blacks – in other words, my family's full of criminals and they only got away because they had a stupid amount of money. The Rookwoods aren't synonymous with power like other pureblood families are, but they aren't exactly living in dirt huts, either."
Remus frowned at him. "Thank you, Padfoot, for pointing out one of the many glaring problems in our society. I could've done without that."
"I'm just stating the obvious," said Sirius defensively. "Since Rookwood's not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he probably won't be getting the special treatment, and he could make up for it with gold."
Mary spoke for the first time in a while. "What's the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
Sirius waved his hand idly. "A bunch of purebloods with dusty family trees. Rookwood isn't one of them."
"You seem to know a lot," noted Lily interestedly. "Never realised you were an expert."
At her words, Sirius's face darkened.
"Believe me, I'm not," he said shortly. "It's important to know who your enemies are."
"Surely not all of the Twenty-Eight are Death Eaters?" said Lily incredulously. "I mean, the Potters are great."
She smiled sweetly at James, who rolled his eyes. "That's because I'm not part of the Twenty-Eight. Otherwise – no, not all of them are bad. They're just grouped together by name and nothing else."
Marlene yawned. "Very interesting. Let's talk about something else, shall we?"
"Yes," agreed Lily, "Lucky for you, I have just the topic in mind."
She looked directly at Alice and Peter, who were sitting next to each other. "How'd you manage to contact Dumbledore so quickly?"
Peter blinked; he didn't seem to have been expecting such a question. "Er – well, I was standing closest to the door with Alice, and she pulled me along to Dumbledore's office. We found his pet phoenix –"
"Fawkes," chimed in Alice.
"– yeah, him, and we just sort of mumbled about wanting to see Professor Dumbledore, and Fawkes understood that it was urgent, I think, and he disappeared."
"Hmm," said Lily thoughtfully. "What then?"
Alice took it up from there. "Next thing we knew, Dumbledore was there with Fawkes perched on his arm. He looked like he was in the middle of something, but when we told him what was going on, he got this determined look on his face…"
There was a trace of awe in her voice. Lily's mental gears turned; Dumbledore had been in the middle of something important…
"Dumbledore's hardly ever around these days," said Lily. "He looked like he'd just been out in the cold when he entered the Entrance Hall. Rookwood also said…"
Her voice trailed off; a thought had come to her.
"Where are you going with this?" asked Peter. "Honestly, I'm just glad he was there to sort things out. Did you see Rookwood's face? He looked like he was about to cry when he saw Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore said he was in an important meeting," said Lily slowly. "Rookwood said that he was with Mad-Eye Moody, another Auror. I was just thinking…"
Her friends had blank looks on their faces. She looked inexplicably to James; he folded his arms and raised his eyebrows like he'd understood her.
"If you put it that way…" he murmured, looking at her thoughtfully. "But then again –"
"It makes perfect sense," said Lily. "How Rookwood, an Auror, would fear him. How the whole Ministry would fear him. How – how he would fear – him. Why didn't I realise?"
"'There's not another wizard like Dumbledore'," said James, a wide smile breaking out. "People've always been saying that, but I don't think anyone actually believed it. If what you're saying is true, and Dumbledore goes out to fight –"
"Then the Aurors would know firsthand just how powerful he is," finished Lily. "If Moody's making them tag along during their special missions, they'd realise how outclassed they are."
The rest of the group had been staring at them uncomprehendingly, watching them converse like they were watching a back-and-forth Quidditch match. Lily and James both beamed at each other; at last, things were starting to make sense.
"I'm sorry," said Sirius loudly. "But what exactly are you two lovebirds talking about?"
Lily smirked. "We're debating whether or not Dumbledore himself goes out to fight Voldemort with the Aurors."
Her words had had the intended effect: her friends looked surprised.
"I always thought he was doing something," said Remus. "You can't expect Dumbledore to relax with the way things are."
"No," agreed Sirius. "But you said it yourself, Moony – the Ministry's corrupt and filled with horrible people. I don't really see someone like Dumbledore teaming up with them; they'd try to exploit him."
"That's true," said Mary thoughtfully. "I don't know much about wizarding politics, but if there's one thing I realised – people like Harold Minchum and Barty Crouch will stop at nothing to get what they want."
And on that happy note, James declared that it was finally time for bed.
As the next few weeks of February passed, Emmeline's condition became better and better until, on Wednesday afternoon in the middle of the month, Madam Pomfrey informed Lily that they would be allowed to see her soon.
"Her pupils are reacting to light again," said Madam Pomfrey courteously. "She's starting to regain her senses – smell, taste, and she even asked for a glass of water yesterday."
"That's wonderful," said Lily happily. "Is there any way that I can help?"
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I suppose it's time I introduced you to these sorts of cases. Even so…"
Her voice trailed off; she was looking at a bed by the corner of the Hospital Wing with the curtains drawn around them. Lily knew Emmeline still hadn't fully recovered, but she was itching to see her again.
"She's in a delicate phase of recovery," said Madam Pomfrey. "The Healers at St Mungo's would prefer if she were moved there, but I fear any exposure to non-healing magic would not sit well with her. There's a chance she could experience the side effects from the Cruciatus – short and long-term memory loss, inability to feel empathy…"
"That's not going to happen, is it?" asked Lily hurriedly. "If we do things correctly, and stick to procedure, there won't be any reason for her to regress."
"No," Madam Pomfrey concurred. "The thing is, Miss Evans, the Cruciatus is a very obscure spell. There aren't exactly many people who've experienced it. Those who have are either dead or unwilling to have their bodies tested on; the trauma itself is something that shouldn't be taken lightly."
"So you're saying the effects could come up suddenly, without warning?" asked Lily. "That's utter bollocks. Who came up with these rules?"
Madam Pomfrey frowned at her choice of words, but decided not to answer her. "I must say, Miss Evans, you're doing very well on your Provisional Training. If only you could teach Miss Macdonald…"
Mary had been very subdued as of late, especially during their last two Provisional Training sessions. It probably didn't help that Healing was taking place in the Hospital Wing, just feet away from her best friend; it wasn't that Mary was bad at Potions or memorising all the different types of diseases or ailments; she was distracted, and Lily knew, and so she gave her space.
"She's got a lot in her mind," said Lily softly. "It's like she lost her best friend. Give her time."
"Hmm," murmured Madam Pomfrey. She stood on her tiptoes and rummaged around one of her cabinets, then finally grasped a small blue phial and showed it to Lily.
"It could very well be that she's feeling desperate or hopeless," said Madam Pomfrey. "I cannot make a full diagnosis, of course, but I'm experienced enough in these matters to come up with a guess. Make her take this, it's a potion for dopamine production."
Lily was vaguely certain that she'd heard that before in the Muggle world, but Madam Pomfrey pressed the little blue phial into her hands.
"I want you to watch her closely," said Madam Pomfrey. "If she shows any abnormal signs – trauma, depression – come to me."
Lily nodded earnestly and pocketed the phial.
"And now," said Madam Pomfrey, suddenly returning to her normal, brisk self. "I do believe we have work to do. Our stock of Murtlap Essence is running low, do you think –?"
"Oh, sure," said Lily, reaching into her bag to pull her Potions' notes. "Do we have the ingredients here, or should I go and fetch them from Professor Slughorn?"
"No, no," said Madam Pomfrey graciously. "You can find them in the usual cupboard. In the meantime, I shall tend to Miss Vance."
"Of course, Madam Pomfrey."
On Saturday, Emmeline's curtains had finally been pulled back. Lily took Mary to the Hospital Wing with her first thing in the morning.
"She is alright, isn't she?" said Mary anxiously. "No memory loss?"
"Not that I know of," said Lily, walking down the first floor Eastern corridor. "She seemed fine when Madam Pomfrey and I treated her yesterday."
She thought she heard Mary let out a half-sob.
They reached the Hospital Wing at last. Madam Pomfrey answered the door, looking tired but at the same time cheerful; always a good sign. Emmeline herself was sitting upright, her short hair tangled upon itself and holding a cup of smoking potion in her hands.
Lily estimated that it took half a second for Mary to cross the Hospital Wing. She knelt by Em's bed, staring at her with a mixture of relief and admiration.
"Em," she murmured. "You're OK! You look wonderful."
Emmeline smiled tiredly, but Lily noted, with slight alarm, that it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Don't go out giving compliments just because I'm in my sickbed," muttered Em.
Lily reached the foot of her bed and surveyed her with an air of professional interest. "How're you feeling?"
Em thought for a moment, tapping a finger on her chin. "Somewhere in between being trampled by a troll and getting ripped apart by an angry dragon. I've been out for two weeks, Lils."
"Same as ever, then?" said Mary with a laugh. "You had me worried, Vance."
"I thought you said I looked wonderful," said Em dolefully, moving her feet gingerly so that they dangled out of her bed. "Help me get up, will you, I'm quite hungry."
Lily slapped Mary's hand from where it had been snaking towards Em's back. "You're not allowed to be up, Em. You stay in bed, I'll ask Madam Pomfrey to summon food from the kitchens."
Emmeline sighed and pulled her feet back up. "Nevermind. No point in having breakfast if I can't enjoy it."
Lily and Mary exchanged looks.
"You're going to be up and about before you know it, Em," said Mary, attempting a stab at cheerfulness. "Then you can enjoy breakfast all you want."
Em shrugged indifferently. "To be perfectly honest, I like having people wait around for me. Now if you don't mind," she said hurriedly, for Mary had opened her mouth to retort, "I'd like to know about what happened to the dear old Auror that put me in the Hospital Wing, seeing as Madam Pomfrey won't tell me."
"The Auror – oh, Rookwood, you mean?" asked Lily.
"What other Auror put me here?"
"Fair point," admitted Lily. "Er – Dumbledore told us two weeks ago that he was going to escort him to the Ministry. There hasn't been any news since."
Em stared at her. "Dumbledore told you two weeks ago? What then?"
"Well," began Mary uncomfortably, "Dumbledore hasn't exactly been around, Em. The Daily Prophet isn't reporting it, either."
"Dumbledore hasn't exactly been around?" repeated Em. "What do you mean?"
Lily shook her head. "Long story. We know about as much as you do."
"That's depressing." Em leaned back into her pillows and crossed her arms as though she was angry at the ceiling. "Wish that Auror would come back. We'd have a fair match, no Unforgivables to throw around randomly. Then I'd really kill him."
Mary shot her a quizzical look. "Em, I think now, you really need to rest –"
"I want to fight," said Emmeline as though she hadn't heard her, "I want to show that Auror that I'm not someone he can push around –"
"No one thinks that," said Lily quietly.
"EVERYONE THINKS THAT!" exploded Emmeline. Over by her office, Madam Pomfrey looked up from her paperwork. Lily and Mary stepped back in shock; Em was breathing hard and fast, as though the effort of snapping those three words had taken a great toll on her.
"Everyone knows I ended up here, that I let myself get cursed! Why…?"
Em was sitting bolt upright again; she made to move out of her bed, but as soon as her feet touched the floor, she immediately collapsed, clutching at one of the bedposts; Mary hurtled over and tried to support her by the shoulders, but Em slashed her hand as though warding her off.
"Why did I let myself get cursed?" she whispered, her voice incredibly hoarse. "Why do I let people have their way with me? Why…"
She had a haunted expression on her face; it was contorted and pale, her mouth curved in such a way she looked disgusted, but her eyes were wide and desperate, as though searching for an answer that always seemed to elude her.
"Why can't I be strong?! If I was able to fight back, I could've done something, I could've stopped him! Why was I the only one who ended up helpless?"
Madam Pomfrey had hurried over with her wand in her hand, an alarmed look on her face. Lily shook her head quickly at her; Madam Pomfrey looked from Emmeline to Mary to Lily, then nodded reluctantly.
Emmeline sank back to her bed. All the energy and strength seemed to have left her; she sat, her head bowed low and her hands in her lap, and when she spoke, there was no anger and resentment behind her words.
"I want to fight," she mumbled again. "I don't want to feel helpless anymore. Please let me leave the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey."
Lily stepped forwards and took her hand in hers. She'd read somewhere that touching people in a gentle manner invoked feelings of reassurance and safety; she hoped, with all her heart she hoped, that Em understood what she was trying to do.
"You can fight right here," said Lily quietly. "Recovering, accepting help… even just holding on to life is a fight in itself, Em."
Emmeline blinked, as though she'd been slapped in the face. Mary inched towards her timidly and sat beside her, wrapping Em in a one-armed hug.
"I can't say things are going to be alright," said Mary, squeezing her gently, "But I can guarantee that we'll stick together, and we'll fight together."
"We're all fighting," said Lily, remembering Sirius's words. "Everyone we love is desperately clinging to something we all believe in. Someday, soon, we'll show that Auror – we won't let anyone else end up like you."
Emmeline blinked again. Then she gave her a small smile, understanding and confident, and Lily saw, just for a moment, the old Emmeline Vance that she'd known for seven years.