That evening, as soon as her father returned, she put her request to him as soon as he had received a glass of fresh lemonade and had been relieved of his briefcase and other papers.
"Dad, one of my friends invited me to spend the summer with him—about twenty of my other friends will be there. Would you mind very much if I joined them?"
Her father, clearly, wanted very much to give an emphatic "no." He had hardly seen his daughter that year, and this summer was an ideal opportunity for him to spend some time with her—besides, Petunia wasn't as adept at managing the household as his younger daughter was.
Petunia complained more about the work and a somewhat tight budget, while Lily accepted whatever there was for her to accept with a straight, set face and squared shoulders, and she never seemed to object when he refused her a privilege. She also never let a sound escape her if she had been injured in any way—a few days ago, she had spilled boiling hot water on her right hand and never let out a sound.
He liked that—a quiet, well-run household, and if he was to be left with Petunia, there was hardly a chance of that happening. But now, with the innocent, forest-green eyes directed almost piercingly at his own pale gray ones, he felt rather abashed at saying what he thought out loud. Harrumphing several times, he made several mumblings about how she had her duty to her family.
Lily saw what he really meant, but she was sharp enough not to let it seem as if she had noticed.
"Father, Petunia is so much more advanced in everything than I am—she is so much older than I, and she knows what you like so much better. I really think it would be better for you if you didn't have a crying child underfoot—and besides—" here a wistful, longing look adorned her lips—"besides, I have so looked forward to this."
Her father, it must be admitted, was never one of the brightest people. Lily had mentally slapped herself several times for wondering why on Earth her mother married him. He sat there, considering what she had said, and, looking up at her pensive face, he capitulated.
"Promise me not to get into any—er—trouble."
"Of course, Father." It was her unconscious custom to call him Father in circumstances that seemed terribly formal to her, as this one did. A beam lit up her eyes.
"And you will write—er—owl us every other day."
"Of course, Father."
"And you will have your hosts pick you up."
"Of course, Father."
"All right then. Give me a hug." He opened his arms and was pleased to notice that she wasn't tense; that she was almost shaking with inward excitement.
Lily ran over her letter that very evening; she had added a post-script.

Dear James,

I can't put into words how much I love the painting you sent me. It's beautiful. Funny—you never told me you were an artist. You should do more things; that was simply amazing, though I don't agree with you about your sentiments on my personality. I'm eccentric, that's all, and the picture turned out looking exactly like me. You're simply wonderful.
I don't suppose I'm sounding much like a fifteen-year-old in this letter. I read the last paragraph over, and it seemed to me that what I wrote reminded me strongly of an old authoress, sitting rather uncomfortably in a wheel-chair and lecturing a naughty grandchild. I hope and pray that I never grow that old.
Please don't pay any attention to that last sentence. It was a stupid impulse that made me sound even more eccentric than ever; and I don't wish you to think oddly of me, though probably you already do. What I really meant was that I would hate to be bound to a chair for twenty years and not be able to dress myself or to do anything by myself except lecture enduring and fidgety children.
I remember you very well, though I didn't think that you paid that much attention to me to be able to paint what you did. I think that if I tried, a picture of you would come out rather nicely, since I'm usually confronting you. But one of my faults is that I'm terribly lazy unless I'm motivated, which right now I'm not.
I remember you inviting me to spend some time at your house with the rest of the school (well, almost.). I rethought and decided that I really didn't like the Muggle world at all, and that I don't fit well into it. This evening, I asked Father if I could visit you, and he gave in. Would it be too much of an inconvenience for you or your family? You see, Father can't take me to your house, so I would have to ask your parents to pick me up.
I hope you don't mind too much. This house, with its regularity and almost scheduled sameness drives me almost mad. Not that I was completely sane before, mind. Anyway, I'd really like to visit and get out of a house where my sister flinches at the merest mention of the words 'magic', 'Hogwarts', 'Hogsmeade', 'boarding school', 'broomsticks', 'summer work', 'Ordinary Wizarding Levels', and even 'basketball'. I simply explained to her the rules of Quidditch and mentioned that it was a bit like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, and now she avoids any mention of basketball. She dragged me out of the chlorine-caked swimming pool in our neighborhood when about six boys showed up, dribbling one of the balls. Oh, well. Muggles. Can't you see me shaking my head and rolling my eyes and doing all sorts of condescending things? Good. Because I'm not.
I would start being apologetic about annoying you with my ramblings, but I say that in every letter I send to you. Almost. But please reply rather soon.
And thanks again for the painting. You're simply wonderful.

--Lily

She saw Alisande fly off into the dark night—the moon was hidden behind a cloudbank. Wondering how long she would have to wait for an answer, she fell asleep, still dressed.
Next evening, her answer came. Lily quickly handed Alisande an Owl Treat and opened her cage door, then slit the letter open that Alisande had dropped on her bed.

Lil!

Sure you can come. We've got more room here than we'll ever need or use or anything else. So you're quite welcome. Don't know why you thought for an instant that you wouldn't be welcome. Eva's here—Vanessa's visiting some cousin in Japan. Amanda's here, the entire Quidditch team, Sirius, Remus, and Peter—of course—, several Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws I don't think you know—well, you know Sheila. She's here. And her friends. And there's someone else you haven't met yet—she's from Wales. Lora Tempesta is her name—her parents were killed in one of those Tom/Ministry fights. They work with the Ministry, by the way. So she's going to be coming to Hogwarts; she'll be in our year; she's Eva and Vanessa's cousin; just a year older than they are. And boy, does she live up to her last name. I expect she'll rival me and Sirius in a few months.
Still, I'll let you judge her when you get here. My parents said they'll pick you up tomorrow around eight in the morning. It has to be that early; they've still got to go to work. Do you have a fireplace and is it working? Because if it is, they'll use the Floo Network. Write back soon.

--James

Lily smiled, looking forward to a summer promising to be vastly more interesting than the last few weeks had been. Dashing to her desk, she picked up a quill and a bit of parchment.

Dear James,

I can really come? Oh, wonderful! I wasn't looking forward to a vacation with only Petunia and the neighborhood brats at all. Yes, tomorrow's fine. We have a fireplace, and it's pretty clear of junk. Does it really matter if it hasn't been used in about a year and a half and had piles of paper placed haphazardly everywhere? Because if it does, you might want to find another way of picking me up. Of course, I could always clean it out. Yes. That will work. So—I'll see you tomorrow, I guess! And I'm looking forward to seeing Lora. She sounds interesting!

--Lily

The next morning, seven o'clock, an extremely laconic reply came with James' eagle owl.

I thought you'd like her. Yes, the fireplace might want to be clean, unless you want to burn all of the papers.

--James

 At eight o'clock and six minutes, Lily was sitting in the living room, trunk corded and otherwise ready. She had asked her father if he needed the papers in the fireplace, and he had shaken his head. This, she considered, was an extremely easy way of cleaning up. Her father was at work, and Petunia had hightailed it out of the house when she heard that a certified witch was coming to their place.
Lily was just putting her book away when a pop came from the fireplace. Mrs. Potter appeared in the midst of several whirling pieces of flying paper. She had changed the black robes for a violet-blue that matched her eyes and brought them out beautifully, and she wore the same silver ring she had worn at the station. Her hair still fell to her waist, but this time she had placed an almost helmet-like chain of silver over it. All in all, she reminded Lily of an Eastern princess.
Mrs. Potter held out her hand to Lily; the other hand held a wand that she was pointing towards Lily's trunk. Quickly levitating the cage and black-and-gold trunk, she smiled at the excited fifteen-year-old.
"Ready, dear?"
Lily was almost enraptured. The lady had the most musical tones she had ever heard anyone speak with; she could have been wonderful in operas. Nodding somewhat too energetically, she stepped in front of the fireplace, which Mrs. Potter instantly ignited. She reached into her robes and took out a pinch of greenish powder, which she threw in the fire.
"La Versailles, dear."
Lily almost gaped. "You—you live in Versailles?"
Mrs. Potter laughed. "Not really. The main building is a very good replica, however. Go on."
Lily faced the green flames and stepped into them.
"La Versailles."
Instantly, she was whipped around and around, blinking rapidly as she tried to keep the soot from her eyes. And then, almost faster than thought, she was trying to keep from pitching forwards as she found herself standing in the Hall of Mirrors of the Chateau de Versailles.

She had visited it once; when she was eight, and she had never forgotten one inch of the carved pillars or painted ceilings. But this—this was the same, though different. It wasn't as dusty, and it was much less formal. Footsteps could be heard in some other room, faintly, and laughter was echoing through the room and hanging from the golden chandeliers.
But the windows that faced the beautiful gardens outside of Paris in the real chateau were now looking down on the largest pure alabaster basin she had ever seen, and complete with the purest clear water and most beautiful marble statuettes of mermaids and dolphins and the like placed at carefully calculated intervals around it. A fountain in the middle of the oval lake-size pool was made of a slim and supple naiad, whirling in one spot with her marble gown rimmed with gold swirling around her, and with her hair formed of water streams. Streams of water were spurting from her wrists that were raised in the air above her head, and her golden eyes were raised towards the sky.
Every statue had the deepest golden eyes one could ever imagine existed, and the twining rose-trees and trellises that surrounded the pool sported lovely dark red, pure white, and pale yellow buds and flowers. Evergreens and sculptured hedges and bowers formed a large lion spread out over at least three or four acres of lawns, only clear to the eye when viewed from above. And Lily could see the pool filled with about twenty boys and girls her age. Orange-yellow daylilies were placed around the pool, the trees and sculptured hedges, and the statues.
Mrs. Potter swept along the long hall, through the replicated rooms of Marie Antoinette and the King, till she came to an encased sort of bridge, ten feet wide and lined with scarlet carpeting. White-gold banisters twined up to Lily's waist, and a crystal arch stretched all along the fifty-foot-long hallway. Underneath, Lily could see a patio, with several large scarlet satin umbrellas lined with golden Valenciennes lace placed above beautifully carven stone tables, benches, and chairs.
When they left the hallway, they stepped into a place that made Lily feel as if she had stepped backwards several thousands of years. In the style of the ancient Egyptians, a large banquet hall loomed in front of her. Almost everything in the room was either real gold or fool's gold. Long golden divans were cushioned with royal purple, sea-green, diamond-blue, and blood-red silken pillows.
The table, a magnificent piece of sculptured teakwood, stretched in a circle thirty feet in diameter, with seats on either side of the five-foot-wide surface. One part of the table, nearest the entrance, had been taken out so as to allow people to enter. The tablecloth was a creamy white linen, and golden fruit dishes adorned the table at intervals of ten feet. Four large golden-bronze pitchers of some drink—probably pumpkin juice Lily, thought—were set at each point of the compass around the table.
Pillars around the room reached up into a ceiling thirty feet high, which was glass tinted yellow with gold, and doorways all around the banquet hall led to other rooms, and lightly waving silk curtains covered the doorways; deep indigo, aquamarine, pale gold, and deep scarlet. Still, though the design was of the ancient Egyptians, there was undeniably a feel of something else to it.
Chocolate Frog wrappers were strewn in one corner, a pile of clothing had been thrown over them, as the owners had gone to the swimming pool, and quite a few books that hadn't been written during Cleopatra's time were pushed inside bookcases near the divans. It gave the hall more of a homelike feel; less formal and more like someone actually lived there. If it hadn't been for the box of Filibuster's Wet-Start, No-Heat fireworks shoved underneath the tablecloth, Lily would have suspected she had stepped into a museum.
Mrs. Potter led Lily along the corridor opposite the large teakwood doorway, along another of the beautiful crystal and white-gold arches. This time, at the end of the hallway, they pushed aside a scarlet satin curtain, embroidered with a design of golden dragons.
Lily let out another gasp as she entered this new and absolutely different atmosphere. It was one of the most imaginative wings of a house she had ever seen; the whole room reminded Lily of a courtyard. A patio formed out of smallish tan, white, and grey stones stretched out to form the whole floor; in the middle of it an almost delicate gazebo stretched carven vines of mahogany to the ceiling. Around the gazebo a small moat stretched only four feet wide and two deep; goldfish and waterlilies abounded in the clear water.
Small tables were dotted carefully and symmetrically in an almost random design; low and dark, they each had a pot of iced water and a box of tea leaves in a beautiful white porcelain box marked with blue fans. Four bowls of the same material were stacked on each table, and scarlet silken cushions with the same dragons as on the doorway curtains served as seats.
Windows artistically moulded into the stone walls let sunlight stream through pale pearl curtains; the scarlet ones had been drawn aside. The walls were covered with rice-paper paintings and calligraphic writing along with carefully woven wall hangings. Two dragons guarded the main entrance, which, like the other doorways that led to other rooms, had a hanging of strung rice on thin threads that rustled softly when a soft breeze swept through the entrances. A balcony extended around the entire square courtyard, with a beautifully carven stone banister around it, and several doorways could be seen through the banister, with scarlet and rice curtains, some drawn aside, revealing comfortable bedrooms. The roof seemed to be nonexistent; at least, the glass that covered the courtyard was so sparkling clear that it hardly was visible. Sunlight covered the courtyard, making it bright, cheerful, and summery.
Twelve cherry blossom trees bloomed, though out of season, at regular intervals in a circle around the courtyard. They were hung with small, round lanterns made out of rice-paper, hung with scarlet tassels at the bottom, and adorned with painted characters; and the same lanterns hung from the balcony, though with small bells attached to the slightly longer tassels.
Mrs. Potter led Lily through one of the strung-rice curtains, through a corridor hung with painted silk hangings, and, after walking up a mahogany staircase, led Lily into a room to her right, where Lily saw her black-and-gold trunk already at the foot of a mahogany divan spread with deep scarlet cushions embroidered with dragons and intricate landscapes.
Several large fans had been hung on the walls over the pale silken wall hangings, and two beautifully folded paper lanterns of the same style as the downstairs courtyard hung at either side of the window that took up an entire wall of the room. It was covered with the rice hangings, and the scarlet satin curtains had been pulled to the sides.
A small potted cherry blossom tree was placed opposite the bed, and a middle-sized fountain in the shape of a small god was in the middle of the room, with a small moat two feet in diameter, with smaller waterlilies planted artistically inside it. There were fish inside this one, also, but they were smaller than the ones in the courtyard.
A large, intricate rug was arranged partly underneath the bed and partly in the area where Lily would step mornings when she swung her feet out of bed. There was a door made of what seemed like carven wooden shutters, and when Lily opened it, it was half a closet with lots of hangers and half a bathroom; but it was larger than any she had seen before. The bathtub, sink, and every other structure were marble with gold streams running through it, while smallish rugs covered the floor underneath the sink and in front of the bathtub and toilet; the rugs in the bath-and bed-room were of a soft, thick, Oriental make; scarlet with bamboo-green and sun-gold driven into them. A rice-paper lantern hung from the ceiling gave more light than three Muggle lightbulbs.
Mrs. Potter smiled at Lily's amazement. "This is your room, dear. And I would stay and show you around, but I've got to get to work. One of our house-elves is fetching—oh, there you are!" She swept towards James' rather tired figure in the doorway. "James, dear, show Lily around while I'm gone, all right?" She didn't wait for an answer; merely vanished into thin air.
Lily could tell James had just been dragged out of bed. Sluggishly, he moved towards a small table in her room that had a teapot like the ones in the large courtyard on it. Lily smiled. She pushed him down onto a cushion that had been placed around the table, took a blue-and-white porcelain bowl, dropped a few tea-leaves inside, and poured the icy water over it. Handing it to James, she smiled to see the speed at which he opened his eyes.
"Thanks."
"Well, sure. I'm staying at your house, right? So the least thing I can do is to make myself helpful."
He grinned. "You know, you're so different from the other six hundred thousand people staying here that it makes me want to make them walk the plank or something. They seem to think that they've got every right to order our house-elves around as if they were small roaches, which not even we do. And here you are—saying that you've got every reason to make yourself helpful. I like that."
Lily laughed. "Well, I don't know if their parents would like your making them walk the plank, but—"
"But." He set his tea bowl down and stood up. "So, you ready to see the rest of the house?"
She smiled. "Sure!"
"You've already seen Versy and Cleo?"
Lily frowned. "I've already seen what?"
"Oh, sorry." He herded her out of the door. "Versailles and the Egyptian wing. It's what I called them when I was smaller, mainly because it's faster."
"Yes, I've seen those."
"Well, first off—" James was leading her around, showing her these things as he did so. They stepped into the Hall of Mirrors. "Mum and Dad's guests stay in the Versailles wing; we've got Mum and Dad's offices there, too; and all the awards and trophies and things my family's won—like Head Boy badges and Awards for Services to the School that they let us keep, and stuff for bravery while working at the Ministry is also there in a big glass case. The family records and portraits are there, too—they're usually painted when you turn eighteen.
"My guests live in the Japanese courtyard, which is mainly a guest house. And the Egyptian wing is for bigshot entertaining. We've hosted several Ministry feasts, and that's where they take place. We've got another wing that's sort of in the style of Hogwarts—it's a medieval castle, that is. It's mostly for relatives, but it usually smells good, since the kitchens are located there. And then we have the main living area—in the style of the ancient Grecians. It's got our library, the family dining room, my miniature menagerie, and our bedrooms that we use when we don't have guests. And then there're the huge gardens that take up so much space I'm glad I'm not a house-elf. The wings are basically arranged in a pentagon—the gardens stretch all around the pentagon. Then, of course, there's the swimming pool—it's directly in the center of the pentagon, and huge.. There're fifteen feet of patio and lawn between the pool and the different buildings, which is where we've got lawn chairs and things. And every wing is connected by one of those overdressed bridges. So."

He stopped near one of the exits that led to the pool, waving his arm over it. "Feel like swimming?"
Lily smiled. "I suppose. I'll go change."
He grinned. "Sure. Same here—wait!"
His yell stopped her before she reached the staircase. Lily whirled around.
"What."
"A warning. Do not wear a bathing suit that can come undone easily."
"Excuse me?"
"We've got Lora here, and her plus me and Sirius and Rem. And Peter. This is a friendly warning."
Lily smiled. "Thanks."
"Sure."
Lily heeded his advice, though it wasn't as if she couldn't do otherwise, seeing that her father was rather overprotective when it came to bathing suits. The one she'd been wearing up till the beginning of the summer was black, a one-piece and had sleeves going down to her elbows, for crying out loud.
Well, it was still a one-piece, but the sleeves had diminished to the point of non-existence, it was white, and there was a dip in the back of it. Lily had known better than to push her father any farther than that, so it had remained this way. Sweeping her hair back into a plait, she quickly knotted one of the scarlet and gold towels she had found in the closet around her waist and headed outside, for the swimming pool.
James immediately swung himself out of the water, shaking his hair all over her. "Lily! That was fast."
"What's the correct response to that?"
He grinned. "Never mind. Want you to meet Lora, though." Turning back to the pool, he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oy! Lora! Quit trying to stick Peter's toes up his nose and come here!"
Almost seconds later, a head appeared at the edge of the pool, inches away from both of their feet.
It was a rather interesting face; not stunningly beautiful, but rather attractive. The girl James had called Lora had wet, palm-tree brown hair, currently extremely wet, and would have hung down to her lowest rib if it hadn't been floating on the surface of the water. Storm-grey eyes twinkled beneath thick, brown eyelashes, and the dimples in her cheeks showed even while an evil, mischievous grin was evident on her face. Her ears were small, and the lobes curved around to meet the side of her head. Her cheeks were naturally a sort of peach color, while her nose was usually wrinkled as a side effect of the smile.
Lily took this all in at a flash; she had no time to do or notice anything else, as James snatched her back from the basin's edge, almost making her lose her balance. Lily was about to say something indignant, when she noticed the more or less annoyed expression on Lora's face and the hands that had snapped for their ankles withdrawing, empty.
"Lora Agathe Tempesta!"
"You just had to move, didn't you?" Lora had a mezzo soprano tone to her voice, though it was anything but musical; it was more like a hurricane.
"Well, Lily's still got a towel on. And, besides, she's not exactly used to you. Heck, she's not even used to me, even."
"I take that as an insult."
"How so?" Both Lora and James had turned to Lily.
"Well, my friend, it's not as if you're so different from the usual that you're impossible to get used to."
"Well, you are!"
Lora laughed. "James, honestly, I don't see what that has to do with it. But hey, Lily." She stuck out a thin hand and Lily shook it, letting herself be pulled into the water.
"Lora! What was that for?!"
"Oh, James, for Pete's sake, stow it! Lily wasn't upset! She let me do that!"
He turned to Lily, who had by now unknotted the towel and thrown it onto a lawn chair. "I did. Come on, James, in!"
Lily met several scores of people from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff that day; she still retained a sort of abstainment from Sheila, but otherwise everyone was completely friendly. Eva was there, but Lily had to admit that, though rather flighty, Lora was a bit more fun to be around than the serious blonde.
Lunch was served in the Japanese courtyard. They had been given a choice of a Japanese menu or an English one, and the majority had chosen the Japanese food. So, seated cross-legged on the scarlet cushions, sipping rather hot green tea, leek soup, and eating shrimp with fried rice and steak bits, the laughing, hot, sunburned and suntanned group of teenagers were busily engaged in seeing whether porcupines liked soy sauce (it didn't) or to see how high bowls would bounce before breaking. Lily's won, with fifteen feet, but that was mainly because of the very good Shield Charm she had put on it.
Eva, Lora, and Lily drew into Lily's room after lunch—as they said, the pool was too crowded, and Lily's room was the only one that wasn't cluttered yet. They said the word "yet" with a very ominous tone that made Lily rather edgy about going to sleep.