It was midnight, and I couldn't sleep a wink. I felt as though someone had spiked my pumpkin juice at dinner with Wide-Eye Potion, only I hadn't had anything at dinner, just sat there and zoned out while Dumbledore had said some words about "tragedy," and how we must "stay strong," and "unity," and "tolerance."
While the majority of the students were solemn as he addressed us, Bellatrix had managed to wear an expression that suggested she found our headmaster's speech aggravating, to the say the least.
Whatever.
The Piccadilly Five were more important than her, and as much as I felt she deserved to be cursed with wooden limbs for all the horrible things she'd said at lunch, my energy was better spent in observance of those Muggle shoppers who'd had their lives cut short.
The Muggle shoppers that could've included my mum.
I rolled onto my stomach and pulled my pillow over my head, hoping this would somehow help me drift into sleep.
An hour later, I decided I'd have better luck if I went for a stroll. When I reached the top of the stairs to the common room, however, I heard some footsteps, and crept toward the railing to get a better view.
It was James.
He was pacing around the common room, tossing around a Golden Snitch.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" I said as soon as I was within range.
He jumped, his hand going up to his heart in momentary terror and releasing the Golden Snitch into the air.
"Bugger," he said, watching as it flew out of reach.
Luckily, it zoomed in my direction and I was able to catch it before it slipped past.
"Merlin, Evans. That was fast. I could certainly use some of that on my team."
I giggled. "Are you asking me to play for you, Potter?"
James grinned, and as I walked down the steps toward him, I could make out the dark circles under his eyes. "Maybe, maybe not. Just depends."
I sauntered over to him, showing off and tossing the Golden Snitch between my hands. "On what, exactly?"
He reached out and grabbed the Snitch before it passed into my other hand. "On how badly you want it."
I tried to snatch it from his fingers, but he pulled up and held the Snitch over my head and completely out of reach. I tried to jump for it, and he laughed as he whipped his arm back.
"No fair!" I pouted. "The game is rigged."
His grin grew mischievous. "It might be. How about a trade?"
"What'd you have in mind?"
His eyes laughed at me behind his glasses as he approached me, hands behind his back. "I'll let you steal this from me if I"—he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine—"can steal a kiss."
I kissed him back eagerly, feeling grateful for this blissful moment of reprieve from all the tragedy of the day.
"Deal," I said against his lips, and he chuckled into my mouth, wrapping me up in his arms and pulling me closer as we snogged most thoroughly.
We'd been dozing on the sofa by the fire when James shifted beneath me, then bolted upright, knocking me clean off him and onto the floor.
"Aaaarghhhhhh!" I yelped, feeling murderous after such a rude awakening.
"Shit, sorry," he mumbled, reaching down to pull me back up and into his arms. He rubbed my shoulders apologetically. "I was having a bit of a nightmare."
"Is that why you were awake?" I asked, snuggling back into him.
He shook his head. "Nah, I just couldn't sleep."
"How come?"
He didn't meet my eyes. "Nervous about our match."
"Oh!" I gasped. I'd nearly forgotten. We both had our matches today. "You should definitely try and get some sleep!"
He raked his fingers playfully through my hair. "I should be telling you the same."
I snorted, enjoying the feel of his arms around me, the soft fabric of his pajamas against my cheek, and the maddening way he played with my hair.
After a few moments of contented silence, I sighed and sat up. "Let's go to bed, then. At this rate, we can still get a decent amount of sleep if we skip breakfast and possibly more if you let someone else do your pre-game warm-ups."
"I want you to think very hard about what you've just suggested, Evans," James said, mock-scandalized. "Imagine Sirius and Marlene leading warm-ups. Just picture it. What do you see?"
I pictured it. "Sirius and Marlene somehow con the Gryffindor Quidditch Team into a disco dancing competition in which they are the sole judges and insist they can do all the moves better."
James laughed hard, his whole body rolling with it, and his eyes squeezing shut in delight. "They would!" He laughed into my neck and kissed it. "Mad as murtlaps, the pair of them."
As much as I loved that he was trying to distract me and delay the inevitable end of this beautiful rendezvous, one of us had to keep our head on straight!
I gently pushed him back. "May I suggest that in order to avoid this madness, their captain should get some sleep?"
James sighed and placed a final kiss on my forehead. "Alright, alright. Bedtime." He stared at me but made no moves to get up, instead daring me to follow through with his twinkling hazel eyes. He slowly trailed his hand up my arm and evilly began to play with my hair.
And, like a simple kneazle, I closed my eyes and leaned into it.
No fair! The boy was using his wiles against me! I loved it when he played with my hair and he knew it.
Once I regained my senses, I reached up and pulled his hand away from my head, kissing his fingers and standing up. "Bedtime," I repeated breathlessly.
He reluctantly followed suit, gripping my shoulders from behind as though we were doing a two-person conga line.
So, I shuffled my steps to a conga beat and danced my way back to the staircases, with James laughing and following along behind me.
He interlaced our fingers as we reached the landing that separated the girls' and boys' respective dormitories, the mood suddenly serious as we'd finally run out of things to say and do to distract us from the tragedy of the day.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly. "You must feel wretched. I can't believe your mum was—there."
Maybe he'd meant to say, I can't believe your mum was attacked, or I can't believe your mum was almost killed. But it was too much to say any of those horrible truths aloud.
Instead, I nodded. "I feel much better now, having spent some time with you."
"I'm glad." He smiled, and combed a hand through his rebellious hair. "Lily, I want you to know that I'm here for you. You don't have to go through any of this alone."
"I know you are, James."
I stared at this beautiful boy in front of me, with his tousled hair and glasses perched crookedly on his nose—how easily he would put aside his own troubles to comfort me. But there was a reason he was also missing sleep tonight. "Are you feeling less anxious, then?"
He squeezed my hand. "I'd feel much less anxious if there were a beautiful girl to wake up to and distract me from all of my nightmares."
Though perhaps he wasn't yet ready to talk about it.
"Ooh, I think Hogwarts is all out of beautiful girls at the moment," I teased, keeping the mood light.
"Oh, really?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, last one's just been whisked away by a centaur, sorry."
He laughed. And then, stepped closer. "Does that make me the centaur in this situation?"
I tried not to roll my eyes, but I wasn't very successful. There he was, angling for another snogging session. "Good night, James," I said forcefully, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.
He caught my lips in his, however, and did this incredible thing with his tongue that made me weak at the knees, and I actually, honest-to-Godric whimpered.
Merlin, Godric, and Rowena! How dare he kiss a girl like that?!
I had to lean against him for support as he pulled away.
"Good night, Lily," he said in a low voice.
No, no, no, Sir. You do not kiss a girl like that and then just walk away!
"What was that for?" I called after him.
He turned around, but continued walking backwards towards his dorm. "Miss me," he sang, smirking devilishly.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Cheeky!"
He winked. "Always, love."
Mark my words, this boy would be the end of me.
"Ms. Evans, you're going to miss breakfast, and if you're not quick, you'll miss your mother, too!"
I opened my eyes wide to see Professor McGonagall poking through my curtain hangings clad in her traveling tartan cloak.
What time was it?
It was clear the sun had been out for some time, as the Professor was brightly illuminated by the light pouring in through the tower windows.
It wasn't nine yet, was it? Breakfast on a Saturday morning started at eight, though unlike weekdays, the Hall remained open for breakfast until eleven, precisely for those of us who needed to catch up on our sleep. Though, game days were a bit different...
"It's already seven o'clock in the morning," she hissed as though reading my mind. "You and your dorm mates certainly love to sleep in, don't you?" She poked her head out, looking a bit birdlike in her traveling witch's hat, and then poked back in with her lips drawn in a disapproving frown.
It was difficult to keep my eyes open, and they stung horribly.
"Professor?" I asked, blinking to wake myself up, and sitting up under my blankets. "What's going on? Are you going somewhere?"
"You've been summoned to see your mother at St. Mungo's, Ms. Evans. I've set up a Floo connection from my office, so if you'd please make haste—"
I threw the blankets off and practically ran to the shared bath. "I'll only be a few minutes!" I called over my shoulder.
"I shall wait for you in the common room."
As I'd bunched up my pajamas under my pillow, Jen had woken and insisted she accompany me.
"That means so much, Jen," I said. "But if I'm not back before this afternoon—"
"You need me here to look after the team." She nodded. She hadn't looked happy, but she sat back down at the foot of her bed, tucking a socked foot beneath her.
I shifted in the doorway. "I'm scared, Jen."
She looked up at me, eyes full of sorrow. "I know." She got up suddenly and threw her arms around me. "It'll be fine. You're going to be fine! Tell your Mum that I'm glad she's okay. And I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Lily. But I'm here for you, we all are."
At that, a loud snore emanated from Marlene's bed.
We giggled, and Jen stepped back. "Oh! I've got something that will help you when you're feeling fidgety." She opened her trunk and rummaged through it.
"I don't fidget!" I said, defensively.
I may have loads of undesirable qualities, but I, Lily Evans, Living Example of Poise and Refinement, was not a fidgeter!
"You play with your hair an awful lot," she said distractedly.
I immediately withdrew my hand from the ends of my hair (where it had been twisting a lock of hair round and round) and clasped my hands together.
Well, okay then.
Jen threw something at me. It was an apophyllite stone. "Practice while you're gone and keep yourself busy. We'll be waiting for you."
Lily Evans, Fidgeter Extraordinaire, would soon become a master of the apophyllite stone, if the state of my nerves were any indication.
When I finally reached the common room, James was speaking to McGonagall in hushed tones. For some reason, he had also been up. He explained to us that it was due to normal, pre-Quidditch match nerves, which McGonagall accepted, but I knew he was lying. He was worried about something else entirely. Even his hair was more sticky-uppy than usual, and I had to suppress the urge to try and tame it with my fingers in front of our Head of House.
"I want to go with you," James said, while McGonagall waited for me at the portrait hole.
I stared back at him in shock. The Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match was in mere hours! "James, you can't—the match—"
"I won't be able to focus on the match, not while you're at St. Mungo's." He grabbed my hands in his while I avoided his eyes. I knew if I so much as looked at him, I'd cave and let him ruin everything he'd been working so hard for. "Not while I know you need me."
"You can't throw away your whole season because of this. My mum's fine, James, I'm fine. I'll be back before you know it, cheering you on from the stands."
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it, warming me to my very toes. I suddenly wanted to take back everything I'd just said and beg him to come with me.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and, remembering she was there, I blushed.
"I'm afraid Ms. Evans is right, Mr. Potter. Your duty is to your team this morning. After all, what is a Gryffindor Quidditch team without its captain?"
"Snake food," replied James automatically, as though it were the answer to some secret Gryffindor Quidditch Captains' Code of Honor or something.
"Precisely."
Honestly, it probably was.
I couldn't tell if McGonagall was more concerned with getting me to St. Mungo's on time or with keeping the Gryffindor Quidditch team together to ensure maximum potential for her house winning the Quidditch Cup.
Probably a little bit of both.
I smiled a small smile at my boyfriend and squeezed his hand. "Good luck at the match, then, Captain," I said.
James pulled me in for a tight hug goodbye and without warning, kissed me square on the lips so deeply and passionately that I would've stayed in his embrace forever if the professor hadn't cleared her throat a second time.
We broke apart and James forced me to look him in the eyes. The hazel irises had darkened in the dim light. He frowned as he searched my eyes, hesitating to voice his worries. "If anyone gives you any trouble, I want you to know—"
Before I could ask him what sort of trouble might be waiting for me at a magical hospital, or what he could possibly want me to know about it, Professor McGonagall cut him off. "Ms. Evans, we really must get going!"
I gave his hand another squeeze, whispered, "Get some rest," knowing full well he wouldn't, and he let me go.
Professor McGonagall then led me to her office and through the Floo to St. Mungo's.
It was a quarter to eight in the morning and the waiting room inside St. Mungo's smelled of fresh dittany. It was a bit like Mum's attempt at a pizza, and wouldn't normally bother me, but the odor was so strong that my eyes were beginning to water.
I suddenly felt cheated that Flitwick had never taught us the Silencing Charm equivalent for noses. I mean honestly!
The scent seemed to be emanating from a witch and her young son, who sported several bandages absolutely sopping in what must have been some sort of dittany concoction to stave off whatever magical injury had brought them to the infirmary in the first place.
I mean, good on them for applying some practical Healing magic to the situation at hand, but good MERLIN! Just the wafts of it were ghastly!
On top of the smell, I was sat in a very uncomfortable chair, and no one seemed to really care about any of us waiting here.
Even the witch at reception barely looked up as a middle-aged wizard with a whole TENTACLE sprouting from his left shoulder approached her. "Fourth Floor, Dilys Derwent Ward," she deadpanned.
I was fidgeting (of course) with Jen's apophyllite stone and turning my nose away from the mother and son to try and avoid the absolute STINK of dittany when Professor McGonagall reappeared in the room. She stood at reception, motioning me to come over and speak to the Trainee Healer at her side, and then disappeared through an open door behind the reception desk.
The Trainee Healer was short and thin with a face like a stoat, and wore a dark fringe reminiscent of Brigitte Bardot that hanged like curtains over dark, narrowed eyes as I approached. "Ms. Evans, I take it?"
I nodded, trying to ignore the way she'd pronounced my surname, as though it left a bad taste in her mouth when she spoke it aloud.
She held a clipboard in her hand and checked something off with a bright green quill. "I'm Ms. Carrow." She looked me up and down in appraisal and evidently, did not like what she saw. "May I see some identification?"
"Sorry?" I frowned.
"Your wand."
"Oh!" I quickly pulled my wand out of my pocket and presented it to Ms. Carrow, feeling rather stupid. I wondered if perhaps she had some sort of wand and owner database or something on her clipboard.
She sneered, exasperated. "Well, go on! Cast a spell!"
Cast a spell?
What sort of identification was this?
Bewildered, I cast a sparkling Vermillious, the red sparks illuminating the unimpressed face of the Healer.
"Any Squib with a stolen wand could do that," said Ms. Carrow. The room seemed to quiet suddenly, and I felt uncomfortable under the attention of the other patients in the room.
My face flushed at the implication. I didn't realize I'd have to prove that my wand was my wand. Where was Ms. Carrow's proof that it wasn't? Did she have a direct line to Ollivander's or something?
Was I meant to carry a receipt at all times or something? No one had ever mentioned this was standard.
Ms. Carrow's eyes flashed. "If that's not your wand, I'll have no choice but to confiscate it and report you to the proper authorities."
Sweet Merlin!
Drowned in confusion and humiliation, I lifted my arm to produce something complicated enough to prove that this was my wand, but Professor McGonagall pushed my arm back down before I could complete the spell.
"Put your wand down, Ms. Evans!" I looked up at her to find her lips pursed and her nostrils flaring. "For what purpose, exactly, is this necessary?" McGonagall huffed.
The Trainee Healer tucked her quill into her lime green robes. "To be sure she is magical."
SHE DIDN'T THINK I WAS MAGICAL?!
WAS IT THE HOGWARTS UNIFORM AND THE HEAD GIRL BADGE THAT GAVE IT AWAY?!
McGonagall's eyes blazed with such fury, I had to look away. "And what else would she be? If you are under the mistaken impression that Ms. Evans is wearing a costume, I should remind you that Head Girl badges are assigned by magic, Ms. Carrow."
THANK YOU, PROFESSOR!
My body flushed in anger and self-righteousness. "I don't like to be accused of stealing," I said, but it was as though I hadn't said a word for all the reply I received.
Ms. Carrow glared at the Head Girl badge pinned to the front of my school robes, and then turned her dark eyes on the imposing Head of Gryffindor before her. "Only it's protocol, Madam. Persons may be asked to provide identification."
Godric, she was still trying to defend herself instead of apologizing!
"No patient or visitor here is required to provide anything of the sort," McGonagall replied, bristling.
Rudely, Ms. Carrow rolled her eyes. "Should you like to read St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries Protocol for the Intaking of Muggles and the Magically Ambiguous, you are more than welcome—"
"Ms. Evans is neither a Muggle nor magically ambiguous, so I fail to see why that would be relevant. She was summoned here as part of an ongoing investigation—"
"Yes, Madam, involving a Muggle woman—"
"Involving her mother," corrected Professor McGonagall.
Ms. Carrow didn't seem fazed in the least. "So you see why I've asked, Madam. Who's to know for sure that she isn't also a simple Muggle? I reserve the right to ask for identification." She smirked smugly.
McGonagall stepped between myself and the Trainee Healer. "You realize, of course, that the likelihood of a nonmagical person getting through the anti-Muggle deterrents on the building and wandering into St. Mungo's without your wards going off is next to impossible!"
My eyebrows went straight up. I'd never seen my Head of House lose her temper like this before.
Ms. Carrow shifted awkwardly beneath the professor's impressive glare.
"Identification is one thing, Ms. Carrow," continued McGonagall. She seemed to take on more mass as she drew herself to her full height. "But it seems to me you are merely citing this so-called protocol of yours to harass anyone affiliated with Muggles at all for reasons beyond comprehension."
"Prejudice," piped up the witch at reception. Even with all of this drama unfolding before her, she refused to look up from her Witch Weekly magazine. "No floor for that, unfortunately. Maybe Janus Thickey."
Ms. Carrow looked as though she were about to explode with rage at the accusation. "I'm just doing my job, Madam," she bit out, finally.
"Then perhaps you should do your job the way it is meant and take us to meet our appointment," replied McGonagall coolly. "I see no further reason to delay."
Ms. Carrow curled her lips into an unpleasant expression, lowering her clipboard. She eyed me with such acute and pointed disgust that I felt small, even though I was much taller than her. I immediately shoved my hands into my pocket, anxiously passing the apophyllite stone between my fingers.
Ms. Carrow was probably the last person in all of London who should be assigned to my mum, provided Voldemort wasn't somehow in the city.
"This way," she said finally, turning on her heel and leading us to a pair of lifts at the end of a hall.
While I was glad to be leaving the smell of dittany, following this woman felt ominous. Thank Merlin McGonagall had arrived when she had!
I was about to tell her as much when the lift doors opened to reveal a couple with equally shocking red hair. They strode out, absolutely beaming with happiness.
It was almost contagious.
The woman held her hands protectively over her very pregnant stomach. At the sight of the professor, her grin grew even wider. "Minerva, you were right! Twins! Can you imagine?" she gushed.
"I'm always right, Molly," said McGonagall, her tone softened somewhat since her confrontation with Ms. Carrow. "All boys, then, Arthur?"
The man—Arthur—chuckled. "Apparently so! Must be something in the gillywater. That's two more Weasleys in the brood for you, Professor!" said Arthur. He was carrying a toddler with equally shocking red hair in his arms.
"Are you a Hogwarts professor?" piped up a small voice from between the man's legs. That's when I noticed two small boys hiding behind their parents' legs just as the lift doors closed behind them.
"That's right, Bill," said Molly, patting him on the head absentmindedly. "Soon you and Charlie will be getting lessons from Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts!"
Another boy, about five years old, tugged at my robes. "Are you a puff—puffessor as well?" he asked, struggling to get his mouth around his words. "Do you—do you teach dragons?"
"Actually, I'm a student," I answered.
His eyes widened as he stared up at me. "Hey! You have red hair, too! Are you my cousin?"
Ms. Carrow coughed, pushing the lift buttons to try and shepherd us along. "She's a Muggleborn, child." She meant it as an insult, but the two boys took to this information rather well.
They ran in circles around their parents, shouting in complete delight.
"Dad, we have a Muggleborn cousin!" exclaimed Bill.
Charlie sang, "A Mug-born cousin!" as he and Bill nearly crashed into each other.
I didn't know what it was about watching two redheaded wizarding children gleefully mistake me for their cousin, but it greatly relieved my heart of the weight I'd been feeling since lunch the day before, and I smiled.
Arthur stepped toward me looking like a child in a sweets shop. "By Merlin, a Muggleborn! Are you really?"
I nodded.
"Arthur," Molly warned, but her expression was one of endearment as she stared after her husband.
"Wonderful! Please, I've always wondered. What exactly is the function of a rubber duck?" He stared hopefully at me, awaiting my answer.
"It's a bath toy," I said, shrugging. "It floats on the water and young children play with it in the bath."
"Fascinating. Did you play with a rubber duck, Miss?" asked Arthur, adjusting his youngest son in his arms.
"Er, probably?" I answered. Truthfully, I couldn't remember.
"Astonishing!"
Ms. Carrow furiously pushed the lift buttons and stepped inside the opening doors. "If you don't mind," she said loudly.
"If you'll excuse us. We must be getting on. Congratulations on the news, Molly, Arthur." Professor McGonagall led me into the lift, calls of "Bye cousin!" echoing in the lift until we reached the fourth floor.
Spell Damage.
Was Mum spell damaged? I needed to see her immediately!
The lift doors opened to reveal a team of Ministry officials with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement loitering in the landing.
"Ah, Minerva," said a man with a thick, black mustache. "Is this the daughter?"
I stuck my hand out, nearly shaking with impatience. "Lily Evans, Sir. May I please see my mum?"
"Bartemius Crouch Senior," said the man, shaking my hand. "Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Evans." He glanced sideways at Professor McGonagall. "Your mother is on this floor, but before you see her, we'd like to ask you a few questions."
I pursed my lips. "Will it take long?"
I longed to see Mum and hug her and make sure she was alright.
Bartemius Crouch motioned for another man to approach. "This is Auror Moody. He's leading the investigation on this case."
"Nice to meet you, Auror Moody," I said. I didn't bother holding out my hand; he didn't seem the hand-shaking sort.
And I was right, as he merely grunted in reply, and launched straight into an explanation of the case. "As it turns out, your mother is our key witness, but also a Muggle. So, we thought you might have some useful insights on her testimony."
"Let's make it quick, then."
They led me to a small examination room, where I was forced to sit on the hovering examination table. Professor McGonagall waited outside with Bartemius Crouch and Ms. Carrow. I wondered how that conversation was going.
Auror Moody, his handsome face scrunched into a suspicious scowl, conjured a file folder out of thin air. It levitated before him, flipping itself open to a page from which he read the following: "'I was shopping for Petunia.'" He looked me square in the eye, absolutely seriously. "Do Muggles often shop to accessorize a single flower?"
I stared back at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.
The Auror scowled even further.
"Sorry, it's just—Petunia's my older sister." When he didn't show any signs of comprehension, I continued. "I'm called Lily. Our parents met in a flower shop."
Moody raised a single eyebrow, his round blue eyes filling with understanding. "Muggle daughter," he muttered finally, scribbling something in the file. He scratched his nose, and I noticed a chunk of it had gone missing, probably lost in the line of duty. He looked up at me, and actually had the grace to appear sheepish. "That about clears most things up, as it happens. I'd wondered why Muggles wanted to give their flowers necklaces."
"Probably because in this case, the flowers are actually daughters."
"Right," he said. He tapped his wand to the file and it disappeared. "We have yet to approach your mother about Obliviation, thought it best if you were here to help explain it all. Muggles can be right suspicious about magic if you try to force it on them."
"I can imagine anyone would be suspicious about anything that was forced upon them," I said, my voice prickling at his generalization about Muggles.
He smiled. "Too right. Shall I take you to your mum?"
I jumped off the examination table. "Yes, please!"
We walked down the hall to a larger room with several empty beds along the walls. At the end of the room, staring out of a window, was my mother.
"Mum!" I shouted, practically running at her. She turned around just in time to open her arms as I flung my limbs around her in a tight hug.
"Oh, Lily!"
"I'm so glad you're okay," I said, relief pouring out of me. Mum was safe, sound, and solid against my cheek.
"Of course I'm okay, love," she said. She pulled back, gripping me by the upper arms, and stared hard at my face.
She and I had the same almond-shaped green eyes, and she and Petunia had the same dark brown hair. Only while Petunia kept hers permed and close to the chin, Mum grew hers to her shoulders and had a short fringe across her forehead.
She combed my fringe back. "Are you alright? Someone showed me the photograph of me in that magical paper yesterday. I look absolutely dreadful! It must've been such a shock to see me that way."
"You'd been Stunned," said the unmistakable voice of Ms. Carrow behind us.
"Annoyingly, it kept wearing off," said Moody, approaching us swiftly. "Had to keep recasting it so you'd be still."
Mum laughed. "Well, that just proves it! I've always said a strong will can overcome anything, isn't that right, Lily?"
I hugged her around the waist, smiling widely. She was just slightly taller than me, and rather thicker around the middle. "It's true. And Mum's got the strongest will of us all, always wins us over."
While the handsome Auror and Professor McGonagall smiled politely at our happy reunion, Ms. Carrow continued to look more and more cross. Mum didn't miss the opportunity to say she'd noticed.
"Don't you worry, Ms. Carrow, I'm sure I'll win you over yet!" she laughed. She turned to me and gushed rather unwittingly, "This nurse has been one tough nut to crack, Lils!"
Nurse.
Oops.
I braced myself for impact.
"I am not some third-rate, barbaric Muggle nurse," Ms. Carrow said in her iciest tones yet.
Mum blanched. "I'm sorry…?" She looked at me, alarmed, realizing she'd made some horrible mistake. "Are you Dr. Carrow?"
Oh, dear. That was worse.
I attempted to placate Ms. Carrow. "Please don't take offense, Ms. Carrow. You must excuse her; Mum isn't familiar with the wizarding terms for your profession."
"Of course she isn't," she snapped at me. "Though I suppose a race of primitives can't help their ignorant natures."
"I beg your pardon!" I gasped.
"That is quite enough!" said the professor, her hand going up to hold onto the brim of her hat.
Moody grunted. "Now, now. I'll have none of this Muggles-are-beneath-me rubbish in my investigation, Alecto Carrow, so either shut up and show some respect to our victim, or get out."
At that moment, Bartemius Crouch burst through the doors, leading a flock of Ministry officials into the room. "Moody, if you please," he said, quite out of breath.
I noticed Ms. Carrow ducked her head down a bit, but she made no other move to exit the room.
The Auror proceeded to recite Mum's rights under the International Statute of Secrecy. Although she was a Muggle by birth and exceptionally unmagical, as the mother of a witch (that would be me), she had the right to choose to keep her memories of a magical incident and all of her experiences with the Wizarding World thereafter.
By the look on her face, it seemed Ms. Carrow disagreed with this provision, but there wasn't much she could do about it with a room full of Aurors.
Mum tucked her hair behind her ear and nervously looked between me and Auror Moody. "May I have a few moments to discuss this alone with my daughter?" she asked.
"Certainly, Madam. We'll be right outside." Mr. Crouch and the rest of his company quickly left the room, leaving behind a straggling Moody and Ms. Carrow.
Before she followed the Auror and unruly Trainee Healer out of the room, Professor McGonagall patted Mum's shoulder awkwardly. "I apologize on behalf of your Trainee Healer, Mrs. Evans, though I am so glad to see you're well."
"Thank you, and for looking after our Lily," said Mum warmly. "I couldn't have imagined a better educator for her to look up to."
McGonagall's cheeks pinked at the compliment, and she merely bowed her head on her way out.
I turned to Mum.
She sighed heavily and dropped to the nearest examination table. "Oh, dear," she said in a low voice, rubbing her temples.
I sat next to her, reaching an arm across to hug her. "Are you alright, Mum?" I breathed in her perfume: hyacinth, gardenia, violet and musk. I recognized it as Dad's last gift to her before he passed, Charlie by Revlon.
He'd surprised her with it after a day at the shops, sold as the latest scent for the modern working woman. Only, Mum hadn't worked for five years by then, at least. She'd called him a cheeky bastard over it, and he'd laughed for hours. "Looking after each other will be our best work of all," he'd said.
I hugged Mum a little tighter.
"Oh, Lily. It was horrible!" Mum shut her eyes, but she couldn't shutter out the tears that fell. "Is this what your world is like, then? People attack you because you haven't grown up in a magical family?"
I blinked. I hadn't been so forthcoming with my Mum about my hardships in the Wizarding World as a Muggleborn.
I decided there was a fifty-fifty chance she'd forget it all anyway, if she chose to be Obliviated. "More or less. It's a bit more in the foreground now than it used to be because there's some wizard out there organizing in favor of Purebloods—that is, magical families that don't have Muggle ancestry. And that's sort of—well, that's probably what's responsible for the attack in Piccadilly yesterday, but I'm sure the Aurors know more."
"So, Muggles are in danger? Of extraneous magical attacks just because we aren't magical?"
I nodded.
"That's hardly a fair draw."
"Tell me about it."
She turned to me, her eyes full of fear. "And what about you? Are they targeting you as well because I'm not—your father and Petunia and I—we aren't a magical family?"
"It isn't your fault, Mum." I took her hand in mine. I didn't want to answer her question, but she seemed to know the answer anyway.
"But there isn't anything I can do to protect you, is there?" She wiped the stray tears from her face and sniffed. "I felt much better about you being a witch when I thought it was welcoming."
"Oh, but it is, Mum! Not everyone is like those cowards who attacked you, or even Ms. Carrow. For every one of them, there are hundreds or more witches and wizards who won't put up with it!"
She sniffed again. "I suppose that's true. Promise me you'll only be around those sorts, yeah?"
I smiled. "Of course." I didn't mention Bellatrix Black and the rest of her cronies, or the fact that we were often forced to share the same room several times a week for class.
Mum patted my shoulder in approval. "That's a good girl. Now, I don't think I'll be going through with this oblivion business."
"Obliviation." I giggled.
"Yes, right, exactly. That." She waved a hand dismissively. "It sounds far too complicated, and I feel this is an important event for the both of us, even if it is quite traumatic. It wouldn't be very fair if I'd forgotten it and you still knew it had happened, would it?"
I thought back to the last time someone had offered to Obliviate those around me. It had been that fateful day in September during Operation Fire Dragon when Madam Hooch offered to Obliviate all witnesses to my near death experience.
No one would have remembered my would-be Wronski Defensive Feint, the fact that it appeared as though I were mocking Alexander Nott, and I would have gone on, free from humiliation. Free from Bellatrix's wrath, the lie that I could fly—that I was, in fact, an extremely skilled flier.
But then, the Millennium Falcons wouldn't exist. Our Hogwarts Post protest wouldn't have rallied the school—though, all things considered, who knows if it would've been necessary for Augustus Rookwood to attack me if Frank Longbottom had never called me the Wronski Warrior in the first place.
And yet, if I had taken up Madam Hooch on her offer, I would have never sought help with flying, would have never spent extra time with the Head Boy, would have never gotten to know him.
I would have never fallen for James Potter.
"I think you're making the right choice, Mum," I answered. "I'll go tell the Aurors."
Mum nodded and I went out to fetch the others.
"I've decided I'd like to keep my memories intact, thank you," said Mum.
Auror Moody grunted, nodding.
"Although, I'm wondering if you provide any support services. It was quite the trauma, you see. In my world, I'd see a therapist for treatment, but considering there are some details I couldn't possibly disclose to a Muggle doctor, I wondered if there was a Wizarding equivalent."
Auror Moody looked to Ms. Carrow.
Ms. Carrow smiled in a way that would be friendly, if she hadn't already revealed her absolute disdain for Mum. "There is one thing. I can apply a Charm that would lessen the effects of the trauma and help your Muggle brain begin to heal almost immediately."
"I'll give it a go," said Mum, shrugging.
Ms. Carrow looked positively smug. "I'll just need to draw up the paperwork."
Frowning, I stuffed my hands into my pocket, wrapping my fingers around the apophyllite. I tried to recall a Charm I'd read about that would help with trauma and traumatic memories, but couldn't recall any.
When Mum had signed whatever parchment Ms. Carrow needed, it occurred to me that I should have given it a once-over before placing Mum's fate in Ms. Carrow's hands.
Before I could ask to read it over, the Trainee Healer brought out her wand and began the first half of a Charm I actually recognized: the Obliviation Charm.
NO.
Instinctively, I ran between her and Mum, yelling at Ms. Carrow all the while at the top of my lungs to stop, but she continued casting, and I was suddenly its unintended target.
I brought my hand up to my face just as Moody cast a Shield Charm at me.
The apophyllite stone fell from my hand and I stood rooted to the spot, terrified of what had just happened.
Mum was screaming my name and shaking me, trying to understand what had just happened.
"Incarcerous!" Moody hissed, binding Ms. Carrow's arms behind her back. "You're under arrest for unlawful spellcasting at a Muggle."
Ms. Carrow laughed. "She signed a consent waiver, you thick troll. This arrest is unlawful! Let me go!"
"You deceived her, Alecto, and in the presence of an Auror!"
Carrow spit at the floor. "Stupid Muggle. She shouldn't even be here! She should've died!"
My blood went cold, but I still couldn't move.
Moody dragged her out of the room, and it filled suddenly with more Aurors and Ministry officials.
"Lily, what's happened?!" Mum asked in a panic.
Finally, I faced my mum. "She tried to Obliviate you, Mum."
Mum gasped, a hand going to her mouth. "Bloody hell! How could she? Did she get you instead?"
I blinked, completely panicked. "I don't—I'm not sure. Ask me something!"
"What happened before you got to this hospital?"
The entire night's events flooded back to me—the not sleeping, being woken by McGonagall, getting an apophyllite stone from Jen to calm my nerves, and the smell of dittany in the waiting room.
"McGonagall woke me up to come here," I said, feeling relieved. "I think Auror Moody must have cast a Shield Charm just in time to protect me from the spell."
Luckily for me, the Obliviation Charm is rather complex and takes a few seconds to cast properly. I just wish I'd thought to Disarm Ms. Carrow instead of stepping in front of her wand.
Mum pulled me into a hug. "I'm glad you're alright, Lily."
"I'm glad you're alright, Mum. That was really scary!"
Bartemius Crouch Senior made his way to us and apologized most profusely for Ms. Carrow's behavior. "This is not a reflection on our values as a wizarding society, Madam. We take the rights of Muggles very seriously."
Mum tsked at him. "Perhaps this hospital should screen its Trainee Healers a little more closely before assigning them to Muggles, eh?"
I'll give him credit, Mr. Crouch looked positively speechless. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally settling on, "Yes, Madam, good suggestion, Madam."
She went on to say a few more choice words to put everyone in their place and express her dissatisfaction with her mistreatment until Ms. Carrow's supervising Healer appeared with a Calming Draught in his hands.
"This will help you relax, Madam," he said. He was a round man of medium height, age, and build with thinning hair the color of rust. "I'm certain your daughter can attest to that."
Mum looked at me and I agreed, noting the potion was the correct shade of blue.
The Healer nodded. "Excellent." He administered the draught, and Mum coughed at the bizarre taste of it. Nevertheless, she drooped into a relaxed state within a matter of seconds.
"I'm quite tired," she announced. "I'd like to go to sleep, please."
The Healer led her to a nearby hospital bed. "This way, Madam."
Mum bade me goodnight, a small smile on her lips as she drifted peacefully off to sleep, as though she hadn't just survived a Death Eater attack or an equally dark attempt on her memories.
The Healer turned to me and stuck out his hand. "I'm Mr. Bones, how do you do? I'd like to keep your mum here for further observation, just until we know her trauma is stabilized, and we've connected her with appropriate resources to help her in the Muggle world."
"If it's the very least you can do," I said, taking his hand suspiciously. He had been Ms. Carrow's supervisor after all. How could he have missed her flagrant anti-Muggle prejudice?
Mr. Bones blinked. "Yes, well—"
Professor McGonagall interrupted us, a strained expression on her face. She wanted to know if I'd be staying with Mum in the hospital, or if I'd like to return to the castle.
"I can't leave Mum here—a Trainee Healer just tried to Obliviate her!" I exclaimed.
Mr. Bones stammered out an apology, and assured me that it wouldn't happen again. "I'll personally make sure your mother is under constant guard from anyone who may want to do her any further harm."
I still wasn't convinced, but I knew Mum wouldn't want me to waste any time away from Hogwarts, even if it was to mind her bedside.
"I'll send for you when she wakes again," Mr. Bones promised.
"Thank you, Edgar," said Professor McGonagall. "Send my regards to Pippa."
"Of course, Minerva." Mr. Bones turned to me, his grey eyes round with concern. "Your mother is in good hands, Miss, you needn't worry. Ms. Carrow has, of course, been taken into custody. I shall be the sole Healer on your mother's case."
Mr. Crouch approached us and added, "There will be round the clock Aurors in the hospital, and no one will be allowed on this floor without going through me. Auror Moody shall be back in no more than an hour for guard duty."
"Then I'd like to stay until he returns," I said.
"Very well," said McGonagall.
We kept vigil until Moody's return half an hour later. He seemed somewhat offended that I didn't trust he could look after my mum, but I wasn't taking any chances.
It was noon when McGonagall and I Flooed back to Hogwarts and the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match was on. McGonagall insisted I pick up some sandwiches to eat before I watched the match, though I didn't have much of an appetite. I also wasn't much in the mood for Quidditch, but I thought after everything McGonagall just did for me, the least I could do was thank her by showing some Gryffindor House pride.
As I walked out to the Quidditch pitch, the crowds went absolutely mad in the stands. They were chanting something, but I couldn't quite make it out. I climbed the wooden steps up to Jen's usual box, and rounded the corner where I pieced the chant into comprehensible language.
"MUGGLE LIVES ARE HUMAN LIVES! MUGGLE LIVES ARE HUMAN LIVES!"
And hovering in the middle of the pitch, standing on their brooms and facing their opponents, was the entire Gryffindor Quidditch Team, refusing to play.
I frowned. Just what was that arrogant toerag James Potter playing at, anyway?
A/N: OOH, DRAMA! But can we all agree that McGonagall was definitely having a dilemma when Lily said she wanted to stay at St. Mungo's longer—to stay and support her Head Girl at the hospital, or return to Hogwarts and support her Head Boy at the Quidditch match?
In any case, thank you for reading if you've stuck around this long. And for those of you that have just found this for the first time—welcome to the team! Flying knowledge is preferred, but not necessary. After all, we just wanna have a good time and make some Death Eaters mad about it.