Lily Evans and the Elf-nymph Necklace

by Sohara von Salienta

Lily finds out she's a witch, goes to Hogwarts, the usual--but in her first year, she also finds something dear to Tom Riddle. They quickly become friends, but when war breaks out in the Alendoren Cove and Lily could be a useful ally...

56. Severus meets Remus Actually, Severus m...

Yes, yes, I know, that last cliffhanger was evil, but since I'm posting this one only seconds after the last chapter, you really have no reason to kill me.  Do you?

Uh-oh.  Bad question.  Leave that one unanswered, please.

I'm still hitting myself about the head for slacking off about this story so much, but with luck, I should have LOTS posted tonight—I've got quite a bit written.  I go overboard on my writing stuff….anyway.  I hope you like the rest of the story.  

I keep forgetting about disclaimers, which is probably why I posted the one waaaaay back in I think Chapter 21 that went for all chapters.   Well, in case that one expired, here's another one:

DISCLAIMER:  I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING YOU RECOGNIZE FROM J.K. ROWLING'S WRITING.  YES, I DO HAVE QUOTES FROM BOOKS LIKE GONE WITH THE WIND IN HERE, BUT BOTH YOU AND I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE NOT DISCOVERED THAT I AM SECRETLY MAKING MONEY ON THIS STORY.  RIGHT?  RIGHT.  WELL, THEN.  YOU ALSO WILL NOT TELL ANYONE WHAT I HAVE JUST SAID, OTHERWISE I WILL BREAK YOUR BONES LIKE LAWN FURNITURE!!!!!!!

I got carried away.  Sorry.  ::grins sheepishly::  Still, here's another post…

"The actors and crew of Arthur Miller's award-winning The Crucible!"
Instead of feeling suddenly happy and ecstatic, Lily felt as if her breath had been snatched out of her lungs. She had wished for this; she had hoped this would happen, but she had never expected it to, like the arrogant Robin Hood had expected to win the first prize.
She almost had to be pushed forward, and when she did, it was almost in a dream that she heard the thundering, stone-felling applause and the excited shriekings and yells from backstage; the heavy cup that she almost dropped was unreal, and the velvet bag hanging from her arm was a figment of a dream.
The next hour passed in a blaze. Her hand was almost numb from the continued shakings it received from the enthusiastic rich wizards and witches that lined up in front of the stage; she and the other thirteen had been handed a bouquet of so many roses they could hardly hold them all; the cup sat beside Lily on the stage, though the purple bag, the one that contained two thousand Galleons, was tucked away inside her robes, the weight of it was splitting the seams of her pocket.
Orchids the color of which she had never dreamed of littered the bouquet that dangled about her wrist; black and purple and blue; a silvery color, golden, forest-green, and dark red. It seemed that magical orchids had many more varieties of color than Muggle ones did, but Lily didn't bother to dwell on that.
When she finally returned backstage, her friends were all waiting for her with aeons of hugs and squeals, with excited snatchings of the flowers and tugging at the purple velvet bag that was hard to lift. They had already changed; there was a sort of dinner downstairs that everyone was attending; though it wasn't really a dinner; it was more of a small buffet, with cookies, chocolates, and punch on tables.
They had already changed into dress robes that they had been surprised with; Mrs. Doylen and Mrs. Potter, after checking their costume measurements, had gone out and ordered dress robes for them all. They were all different colored, too—Eva's were light blue; Lora's a light slivery grey, matching her eyes. Lily had been given a choice between a pearly white, similar to the ones she already wore, but more elegant, and a deep purple; she spun around several times and picked the one she landed in front of; the dark ones had been slipped on and a magnificent purple orchid pinned to them by the time they joined the throng downstairs.
She tried to keep to the wall as much as possible; it was harder than would be expected, since there were so many people there that were trying to wring her wrist to pieces. Managing to slip behind a table, she bumped into someone in a twilight-blue shade of robes. Hurriedly, she whirled around, apologies on the tip of her tongue.
"Hey, hey, it's all right!"
James stood in front of her, grinning broadly, a cup of punch in one hand and several chocolates stamped with the theatre's crest placed on a napkin in the other hand. He held them out to her.
"Have some. There're plenty."
She smiled as she accepted one. "Thank you. You--you did wonderfully."
"Not as good as you did."
Lily dropped her head somewhat shamefacedly. "Thank you."
He looked her up and down. "You look nice."
"You, too." He did, too. His hair was, for once, halfway behaving, and although one piece insisted on covering one of his eyes, he looked rather handsome.
They returned to Hogwarts that night; they were piled onto the globe, and, as they were sleeping in their compartments, it took off; they left it in the morning when they woke up. It wasn't nearly as nice for baths or changing clothes, since the beds with the shields down were so cramped, but they had to; an icy blizzard was swirling outside, and they couldn't simply slip into shoes and a coat.
They were all yawning dreadfully by the time the adults routed them out of bed and into the Great Hall for breakfast, and Sirius and James had to be forcefully prevented from decorating Lora's hair with little bits of crumbled bacon, milk, and syrup; she hadn't even filled her plate, as she was using it as a pillow. As it was, though, she had to be content with a smudge of strawberry juice on her nose she didn't notice till that night when she was washing her face.

Christmas was looming up quickly. As a special surprise, the Doylens and the Potters had bought everyone that had participated, even Severus, though he really hadn't, a ring with the theatre's crest and motto on them, all surrounding a stone of that particular person's dress robes that evening. The rings were nicely picked out; the boys had no objections to wearing them, and neither did the girls. Lily's stone was a deep amethyst, and she was amusing herself all morning by catching the firelight in it and reflecting the light into her eyes.
She received several presents; loads of candy from Honeydukes besides several other things—and a letter from her father.

Lily, dear.

This may be a shock to you; on the other hand, it may not. My company is slowly going bankrupt; it's due to a mistake one of my clerks made, and it had to do with quite a bit of property going to the wrong owner. I'm telling you this because I might have to take you out of Hogwarts; it's not one of the cheapest schools to send you to, and I'm sure you don't need to study any more. You're my smart sixth year, and you'll be fully prepared for everything the magical world faces—though I'd prefer it, really, if you married sensibly in our class and settled down, using magic only for things like getting dressed. Don't worry, I'm not asking you to make a drastic change. I'm just telling you that I don't approve of magic much, and I wish, on my behalf, that you would help me at home.

--Dad

Lily finished this with a rather archedly raised eyebrow, the only significant part of her face that showed her anger. Her father was, quite literally, asking her to forsake something she was, simply because an arrogant, single-minded Muggle like himself never knew what she could become. In a white-hot fury, in an anger that the small letter hardly deserved, she flung herself at a desk and penned a hurried answer.

Mr. Evans,

I am not giving up a part of myself for the sake of what you call your morals. If you knew me at all, you would know better than to ask. You are currently not paying for my school expenses; the amount is drawn out of my account at Gringotts. That was a flimsy excuse. I do not have any desire to marry; I do not have the slightest inclination towards being what you call 'sensible'. I am not sensible; I am headstrong, stubborn, often cruel, and flighty when not heartless. I have helped you at home more than some say I should, and now you ask me to do this. I point-blank refuse.

--Lily

She tied it to Alisande's leg; the aging owl flew off into the pale blue sky quickly, and Lily was angrily turning away from the window when, again, she bumped face-first into James.
"You again?"
He ignored her rude outburst. "That wasn't exactly a father-daughter letter, was it?"
Lily snorted, not even bothering to make a comment about eavesdroppers. "I don't care. I hate him. I hope I never see him or his race again!"
"Whoa!" Frowning, he placed two hands on her shaking shoulders. "You don't mean that. No—you don't," he added, as he caught her glare, this time directed towards him. "You're frustrated—that's all."
James pushed her into an armchair. "Be sensible, for once, and listen to me. He's your father!"
"Was my father."
He tried to talk to her about that through the whole day; he even waved Sirius away, who was vigorously pointing to the dwindling twilight outside and then to Remus. At the end of the day, she was still stubbornly shooting jabbed remarks about her family every which way she went, in other words, at James, and he was hearing a whole lot about the time in fourth year after her mother had died that he never wanted to; for instance, the time that he couldn't aim right when he threw up; he had managed to do so on his pillow, and then he had flopped right into bed.
James was seriously thinking about earplugs—but then a sliver of moonlight pierced the window and fell onto her face; he remembered his friend.
James jumped up. "I've got to go. It's Remus."
"It's the full moon—what about him?"
"I've got to leave. Lily, please! Just—just leave off right here."
"Okay. Good. I need to finish another letter to my former father that I never started."
"Argh!" He gripped his hair in his hands, then grabbed her wrist. "You're coming with me—but you're staying where I tell you to."
Without waiting for an answer, he sprinted outside, dashing across the lawns, and stopping just in front of the Whomping Willow. There, he turned to her.
"Look, wait here for me. I'll be back in a second."
She folded her arms and glared at him, and he knew better than to try to stop her, but he still made a last-ditch attempt.
"Lily Evans, it's dangerous down there—there's a werewolf in there—"
"Then why are you going?"
This was bringing nothing. James simply groaned, knowing that he never should have left the common room. Too late now, he thought grimly, she could figure out how to get to the Shrieking Shack by herself. Picking up a long sick, he poked a knot in the trunk of the Whomping Willow with it, and the tree instantly froze. Both of them vanished into a hole at the bottom of the willow, James wishing he'd never come in the first place; he'd have to do a load of protecting her by keeping Remus away, and he knew that she'd find out about his Animagi form.
Of course, he didn't know that she already knew about it.
He also didn't know about a future complication that was sneaking across the lawns in the form of a batlike black cloak.
As she let herself be pulled down the passageway, she whisked her wrist free of his grasp and followed closely. To herself, she asked why she was doing this. The answer came quickly. She was sick of the secret she had to keep from them, from the lies she had had to tell them if they ever started to find out that she knew. And—and—she never usually had hunches. It was only that evening that she had had one. Something connected between the way Sirius' eyes flickered when he pointed towards Remus, and something in the way Severus was avoiding every single student, going his own way more than usual.
The feeling was something else she would be able to cast aside easily; it was only this moment that she had grasped, stupidly or wisely, for doing it. Grimly, she thought, probably stupidly, but she didn't have much time to think anything else. Several growls came from somewhere above her, along with the noise of ripping cloth. James flung an arm out to stop her; he took her shoulders in his hands.
"Lily, I know I can't stop you, but I'm trying to appeal to your common sense. Please go outside and wait for me. I'm begging you, with everything I know of. Please."
Lily cast one look at his eyes; she shouldn't have. Inside her, something gave way, and she nodded limply.
"I don't want to. But all right, then. You—you're sure you'll be all right?"
"Positive." His voice was agitated, and he fairly pushed her back down the passageway. "Now go!"
Unwillingly, she flitted into the shadows, and, with a sigh of relief, James let himself into the Shrieking Shack, where he found Sirius and Remus wrestling for something; the shaggy black dog was holding a clingy grey rat gently in his mouth, and the werewolf was trying to snatch it; its head twisted in an odd way underneath Sirius' paw. James grinned to himself as he transformed into his own Animagi form and galloped towards the two, knocking the rat out of Sirius' mouth.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the door was flung open with a bang. Lily, eyes wild and breathless, stood in the opening, taking in the surroundings, and not a bit surprised. James, on his part, was.
He jumped up, and, running over to her, tried to butt her in the stomach with his antlers, trying desperately to get her out of there. Frightened of something, she simply pushed them out of the way.
"James, not right now! I—come with me!" She vanished down the corridor, and, baffled and dismayed himself, James transformed and followed her. What had happened—and how did she know his Animagi form?
On her part, when Lily had been shoved down the corridor, she had, obediently, followed the earthy hallway to the exit underneath the Whomping Willow. But when she was within ten feet of it, she drew back. Someone was dropping down—had pushed the grass aside, and had found the entrance. He had fallen lightly on the floor, and was looking around curiously. Rather slowly, he was advancing, looking about him as if he expected the tunnel to crash on him any minute.
Panting, Lily had recognized him—no one else she knew had that silhouette. Severus knew how to get in here—and from what she could guess, Sirius had told him, hoping that he would come to a confrontation with Remus. Immediately, she recognized that she could do nothing—her only hope was to get one of the boys; she was without her wand, and they were stronger than she; it was highly unlikely that Severus would allow himself to be persuaded back. He hated James and Sirius more than anything, and he would do anything to find out something incriminating about them.
Lily did a quick about-face and headed for the Shrieking Shack, which was full of romping bangs and barks. With utter disregard for any sort of danger she might be facing, she flung open the door, face to face with a large, black dog, a pale grey stag, and a shaded werewolf.
When James had followed her outside and heard Sirius bolt the door behind him as Remus threw himself at it, he could start to get angry, and he did.
"What in blazes do you think you're doing?"
"Not now," she gasped, clutching her side—it was quite a run from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. "Not now. James—Severus—Snape, he's coming up the corridor—someone told him how to get in here—he's going to see Remus—and you, and—and—" She couldn't go on, but she knew she didn't have to. James had understood.
"I'll go and try to pull him back. You try to tell Sirius or Peter—get some help—wait, don't!"
But she had already started for the door.
"Are you crazy? You'll be killed!"
She flashed a grin at him. "If you don't learn to live with danger, you won't learn to live at all."
He didn't move, and she waved him towards the other end of the tunnel. "Go!"
"Right, right," James murmered to himself, and, with that, he set off, running towards the intruder, dashing as fast as he could, not caring about the branches and rocks that scratched him on the head and arms, that tripped him every so often.
Lily turned around after she saw him vanish into the gloom. Without hesitating, she turned for the muffled bangs for the second time, and opened up the door, sliding back the bold from the outside; a trick she had learned some years ago. She eased the door open, and found Sirius and Remus wrestling in earnest; Peter was cowering, in his rat form, in a corner.
Eyes wild, Sirius looked up and growled at her, as much as to say, "Get out!" She ignored that, and, stepping forward, she tried to gain his attention.
"Sirius, Severus' coming down here! You've got to do something with Remus—James needs your help!"
The dog let out something rather near a whine, but he dug his teeth farther into the scruff of Remus' neck, trying to make him go limp for a few seconds. On the contrary, however, it merely enraged him, and he whipped out a paw that had been pinned underneath him, slinging it towards Sirius' head. The dog gave a short whimper, then tried to stand up, but it was rather late; the werewolf was eyeing the now empty doorway; Lily had vanished down the corridor.
Sirius groaned, mentally hitting himself for doing something this idiotic as telling Snape how to get in—sure, he'd wanted him to die, and he still wanted him to!—but this was pulling Lily into it, too…and dangerously! Suddenly gaining strength, he sprinted after Remus, who was a second ahead of him. For five minutes they raced each other, almost flank to flank, jumping over each other in the narrow tunnel, one trying to stop the other, the other trying to get by. But the werewolf was more ferocious than Sirius was, even in his dog-form, and they soon came in sight of three people, two of which lost their calm, cool manner and started shoving the third one back.
James had tried simply talking to Snape; he was thankful he had been in that play; he needed to know how to hide fear under a mask of collectiveness. Still, he knew, something showed through, and at a critical moment, when Snape was about to push by him, Lily showed up.
For once, James breathed a sort of thank you for her timing and her acting. She convincingly pulled off a rather bored, somewhat embarrassed attitude; James knew what she was pretending to cover up, and that it incriminated him, but anything was better than the truth, now. He was only thankful Bertha Jorkins had left last year, what with the scandal she had burrowed up concerning that Hufflepuff, Florence Wilkins…
But he had no time to think of that. Eyes wide, Lily was trying to lead Snape back towards Hogwarts, and, just as he was about to deliver a cutting speech towards both of them and return by himself, Remus broke out, along with Sirius.
At that, both James and Lily panicked; James kept his head a bit more than she did, and he yelled at her,
"Go get some help!"
"But they'll find out—"
"Just go!"
With a last glance, she disappeared towards the castle, and James was madly pulling Snape towards the exit underneath the Whomping Willow; he was frozen with fright and astonishment; also with a sort of excitement at finding out that one of his enemies was a werewolf.
James finally managed to gain a distance of fifteen feet between him and the growling, snapping teeth of the werewolf; Sirius was clearly exhausting himself terribly; he couldn't hold him back much longer.
Terrified, James yelled towards Snape, "Just go! You can blackmail us in the morning, if we're still alive!"
It wasn't that comment that drove Severus back outside; it was the fear of the werewolf, who was meanwhile clawing two feet away from James; foot. In the nick of time, James swung himself outside, and, pulling Severus with him, leaped behind the Whomping Willow barely a millisecond after he froze it.
None too soon. The instant they had vanished from sight, Remus clawed his way to the surface. It was all Sirius could do to guide him, snapping at Remus, towards the Forbidden Forest, where Sirius followed him, collapsing behind a tree and remaining there until he could see Lily return with Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, which she did almost as soon as he had vanished.

  The nurse was almost frighteningly businesslike; she quietly conjured stretchers for the three of them; James, Lily, and Severus, though James was the only one who didn't have the energy to protest against them.
Dumbledore was gazing piercingly at them, and they knew they'd better have a good explanation of what they were doing near a werewolf. However, Dumbledore let the questions wait until they were seated in beds, propped up against mounds of pillows, and drinking a potion Madam Pomfrey had labeled Pepperup.
Lily didn't know exactly what it was, but she found she was thankful for it. In the excitement, she hadn't paid any attention to the fact that the snow on the ground was almost frozen solid; the time they had spent in the tunnel and outside had given them a blueish tint to their faces and limbs, and the Pepperup Potion sent hot steam rushing through their bodies, finally welling out of their ears.
Sirius entered the room about ten minutes after they were settled, and he, on his part, was quickly whisked into bed. There was no denying that he was worse off than either of the other three; deep scratches were all over his body; they had torn his robes to shreds.
Dumbledore, more serious than many had seen him, seated himself on a chair that the nurse provided. His eyes were stern.
"I trust I do not have to ask you to explain yourselves."
There was a moment of silence; they were racking their brains furiously.
Lily cast a look around, and saw that neither of the boys would come up with a feasible tale. She quickly opened her mouth.
"Professor--it was my fault."
There was no denying that this was unexpected, and there was also no denying that a further explanation was expected. She continued.
"I didn't know where Remus went every month, and I thought he might be in some sort of trouble. I followed him this evening, and I suppose James and Sirius must have seen me going into the Whomping Willow. I shouldn't have--but I was worried about him--he's my friend, Professor."
She took a deep breath, along with the stares of her listeners, and went on.
"I think Severus must have thought something odd was going on, and he tried to go in there after me, and he thought something was up, because James and I were trying to push him back out--and then we saw Remus coming around the corner, and James yelled for me to get help. I don't know what happened there until we came back." Exhausted, she leaned her head back against the pillows.
Severus had his two cents to put into the pie, though. "There was a large black dog there, fighting with the werewolf."
James knew the answer to this. "Oh--you mean--" He was struggling for a name, and his eyes lit on Sirius--"you mean Blacky--he's a stray from the village. I've seen him there during visits, and he seems to like me. I suppose that's why he came to help us."
Severus was halfway satisfied, as wasn't Dumbledore.
"I must ask you to tell me anything else that you might know--anything else that has happened. This may be more serious than you realize."
"It is." Severus drew everyone's attention towards himself. "Black tried to murder me."
The headmaster rose to his feet, eyes hard and robes swaying. "Mr. Snape, explain yourself!"
Severus nodded. "With pleasure. Black was the one that told me that if I poked a knot on the Whomping Willow, I would be able to get to the place that I had seen Potter and Lily sneaking off to. He said nothing about a werewolf!"
Dumbledore looked around, at the frightened faces of the Gryffindors and the angry countenance of Severus, who was sitting straight up, arms folded.
"I will let you rest for this night, but be assured, you will explain tomorrow! I will expect you in my office at twelve o'clock noon exactly; I expect Madam Pomfrey to release you tomorrow morning. And--Mr. Snape, it is completely understood that you are not to reveal anything that you have discovered tonight. I need not add that any revelation on your part would mean expulsion."
Severus didn't look too pleased.
"I bid you all a good night--what there is of it."
With a swaying of his cloak, he had vanished into the open doorway; another soft click, and the door had shut.
Madam Pomfrey was bustling over with bowls of steaming soup, and, as they forced it down their throats, they realized the danger of expulsion they were facing, especially Sirius and James.
The next morning, they were met at the door of the hospital wing by Peter, who had scurried out of the Shrieking Shack a half hour after he had heard everything quiet down outside. He had made his way to Gryffindor Tower, spent the night in front of the fire, and had dashed to the hospital wing first thing that morning, not even bothering to slip into fresh robes.
James, Sirius, Peter, and Lily were sitting apart from everyone else at the table; they were hardly eating, though they had missed out on the Christmas feast that had been held the night before. Frantically, they were comparing ideas and cooking up a tale that Dumbledore would be satisfied with and that Severus couldn't pick apart, no matter how much he wanted to.
They could hardly taste their food; it felt like soggy sawdust as they pushed about two bites of a biscuit each into their mouths.
Soon, the golden plates cleared, and they had to leave the Great Hall. They took refuge in the kitchens; they knew they'd be swamped in the Gryffindor common room, and the grounds were open to anyone that cared to eavesdrop, as Lily pointed out. Besides, the house-elves were only too happy to conceal them from intruders, as they were more than familiar with James and Sirius.
At eleven-thirty, they were as prepared as they could be, and they were making their way to Dumbledore's office. At a quarter till twelve, they were congregating outside, trying to keep their voices down; Severus was curiously eyeing them.
To make it easier for them on some points, Lily had told them how long she had known about their Animagi transformations, and the boys were frankly flabbergasted; they had thought that they had been exceptionally secretive and inconspicuous. Still, it was a relief not to have to tell her the entire story, which they would have had to, seeing that she already knew something about it; the way she had called the stag 'James' definitely indicated that.
Twelve o'clock sounded, and Professor McGonagall stepped out from the headmaster's office. She waved them inside, and, single file, they mounted the spiraling staircase, hearts in their mouths.
They trooped into Dumbledore's office, and, eyes wide, they sank into seats that were pointed out to them. Professor McGonagall left the room, and they were left alone with Professor Dumbledore, who was quizzically letting his blue eyes flash over them from behind his desk.
"I must ask you if you have anything to say for yourselves."
The room remained silent, except for the three notes of phoenix song that were echoing from a cage near the desk.
"You have, all of you, been exceedingly foolish. Miss Evans, I would have expected better of you than to go looking for danger. Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, and Mr. Pettigrew, all three of you were exceedingly at fault for at least one of you not going for a teacher. Mr. Snape-" His eyes rested on the rather sullen figure with the flowing cloak draped around the chair. "Mr. Snape-you deliberately pried into business not your own, and you could have been killed, and your schoolmates as well, simply as a result of your actions. I am-" He paused.
Taking his half-moon glasses off, he wiped them carefully on his sleeve, replaced them, then resumed his lecture.
"I am deeply disappointed. I would have expected better of five sixth years. As it is, though-"
Here he paused again, letting blue orbs flicker over each moderately terrified form. He was starting to make them twitch anxiously before he spoke again.
"I believe you five have undergone enough fright last night; you were attacked by a werewolf, after all, and have escaped practically unscathed. As far as I can see, nothing you have done was breaking many school rules, and you-" he looked at James-"did show true Gryffindor bravery when you pulled Mr. Snape away, though you could have left. I award Gryffindor House twenty points, and I trust you shall do better in future."
The Gryffindors were staring at him as though they had just stuck each finger in a light socket and a bulb in their mouths. They had just escaped expulsion-that is, Sirius, James, and Peter-and they were being awarded points?
They snapped back to reality at Severus' laughter and Dumbledore's chuckle.
"You may be dismissed. Merry Christmas to you all."
They stood up and were about to file out of the door, when the headmaster held Severus back.
"Mr. Snape-a word, if you please."
They never knew what happened behind the closed door, but Severus emerged from behind the gargoyle with a grim, white look on his face; his lips were stretched into thin lines. Lily tried to talk to him, but he brushed her aside impatiently and hardly spoke to her for the rest of the holidays; he preferred to practice several curses and whisper secretly with his Slytherin friends; ones that Lily had once been friendly with, but now she wasn't that close to: people whose parents Lily had seen with Tom; and sometimes they themselves-Avery, Nott, Macnair, Rosier, Goyle…
Something strange had happened after the play. Lying came more easily to Lily than ever before, and it took next to no time for her to come up with a convincing explanation for things. Before it, her wits would have been so scattered after the incident with Remus that she wouldn't have had the time to think up a story that Dumbledore himself would accept, but now the pretense of everything started to seep into her, and she was feeling more strangely detached from things, as if the world around her was in such a lower class than she was that she found lying to it almost an obligation.
Something else had happened during the Crucible and the night of December 25th. She and James and Sirius were starting to become incredibly closely knit; they were almost inseparable, and they were spending more time in the pub of the Three Broomsticks or the common room than ever before, talking about things.
She was starting to trust James with the secret about the Alendoren Cove again. Lily told him what Tom had suspected and what she had feared and thought for a while; she was relieved to see the utter astonishment on his face when he heard her say what had been on her mind. She was opening up more; her sarcastic manner started to drop, and he had found her in her dormitory one day, clutching an old book of her mother's and crying as if her heart would break, something she hadn't done in a long while.
School had started, and January was bringing flurries of laughter and spasm of snowball fights to the students. Light, pale pearl clouds were floating in the ceiling of the Great Hall, and the sun shone brightly on the frozen grounds.
One day, Lily was sitting in her dormitory, brushing her hair, holding her inky quill between her teeth, and flipping pages of An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration when the door opened. Lily looked up, then, finding only Serena there, turned back to her book. It was only when Serena started speaking to her that she spit the quill and several loose strands of hair out of her mouth.
"So, you and James are getting along nicely, are you?"
Lily smiled. "Yes."
"Feeling rather special after the play, aren't you?"
"Moderately." Her good mood was vanishing.
"I'll have you know that you almost didn't win that award." Rather full of herself, Serena tossed her hair over her shoulder and waited for Lily's response.
"I am deeply touched. You asked your father to turn the judges against us, I imagine?"
Serena hadn't really expected this. "Well-no-I didn't-"
"Liar," Lily stated smoothly. "You didn't seem to like the fact that you thought we were going to win, so enough said. You're rather a poor opponent."
The girl started to boil. "I just didn't want you getting over yourself! You think you're so much better than everyone else here, simply because of your grades and that pointless acting award! I'm simply trying to better humanity!"
That was too much for Lily. She burst out in a fit of snorts and half-giggles.
That night, when she came down to dinner, she noticed James' face being somewhat more preoccupied than usual. He kept staring off into his glass of pumpkin juice, and he was completely ignoring Peter's crawling underneath the table, transforming, and skittering up the robes of quite a few of the students.
"James?" She knocked on the glass to get his attention.
"What?" He looked up.
"You seem elsewhere."
He smiled. "Oh-I was just thinking."
Lily laughed. "Am I going mad, or did the word 'think' escape your lips? You are not hired for your brains, you hypertonic landmass!"
He grinned, too. "You've been reading The Princess Bride one too many times."
"Well, if I like it, what's it to you?"
"I've got to hear you quote it!"
She laughed. "You and the rest of Gryffindor Tower."
Remus had recovered wonderfully from the werewolf incident; he was quite shaken for about two weeks afterwards, but then he relapsed into his old, carefree, happy-go-lucky self. For some reason, the character that came to Lily's mind whenever she saw him was Winnie-the-Pooh; he was usually happy, and his hair was the golden brown she imagined the teddy bear's coat to be.

    The summer, in contrast to the whirling ice of the winter, promised to be beautiful. In February, just in time for the second Gryffindor Quidditch match, the sky was blazing a silky blue, with puffs of white cotton pretending to be clouds scattered across its wide expanse. It was nice and warm; perfect for the match; Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. Lily noticed that the team was practicing harder than it had been when they were facing Hufflepuff, and, secretly, she hoped they'd lose; their ego was big enough as it was, without having another Quidditch win to add to it.
The morning of the match, the sky dawned with pale pinks and yellows, covering the grounds in light. The Great Hall was filled with a warm tint and lots of sunbeams; everyone was in a good mood that day.
They were all looking forward to the match, and the students were already attired in their red and gold or blue and bronze trappings.
When they trooped outside onto the field, the excited chatter woke up every single bird that was roosting near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and they started to chirp and squawk loudly, complementing the Hogwarts students nicely.
Lily found a seat in between Lora and Sirius; they were fairly high up, and Lily was in a position to pickpocket Sirius' binoculars. Lora was threatening to knock her off of her feet; she was bouncing up and down so actively and swinging her arms with an utter disregard for other people's body parts, and Sirius was tapping his foot and humming to something from the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was only when Madam Hooch, the referee, and the teams met on the field, that her seatmates stopped the incessant moving around.
They had some new team members that Lily hadn't kept up with; though James, Rebecca Oxley, and Nigel Patil were still on the team, along with Miranda and Anya MacGregor and John.
A Ravenclaw fifth year was doing the commentating; it was her second time doing it, and she was no less eager for the match than Lora was; actually, she was probably more so; she had had lots of syrup poured over her pancakes at breakfast, and she was, to say the least, extremely biased when it came to Quidditch matches. She pulled the magical microphone close to her mouth and cleared her throat.
"And captains Patil and Howard shake hands-whistle blows, aaaand-they're off! Quaffle goes to James Potter of Gryffindor-he's flying up the field-ugh, intercepted by Lorenor from the Ravenclaw end-Quaffle goes to Lorenor-I hate hard names-Lorenor-Flack-aaand-back to Lorenor-no, Shaw intercepts it. Miranda Shaw from Gryffindor flying up the field-very nice dodge around that Bludger there-careful, that's a Beater in front of you-take her teeth out, Pete; it's only a minor penalty-and the Quaffle goes to Potter-Oxley-Potter-Shaw-aaand-Shaw scores! Ten to zero for Gryffindor!"
Miranda, grinning widely, was making several bows at the stadium from her broom before the game started again.
"The Quaffle goes to Flack-no, Potter. James Potter of Gryffindor flying up the field-does several nice loop-dee-loops around Lorenor and that Bludger-come on, this is not a carousel! Quaffle to Shaw-Oxley-Shaw-Oxley-Shaw-make up your mind already! Okay; Shaw streaking up towards wrong goalposts…she aims-and she throws to Potter, who doesn't go to his own goalposts like a sensible person; he aims, aaaand-he scores! Never mind; those were the right goalposts-my mistake, Professor, my mistake."
Professor McGonagall, as usual, was superintending the commentator. Lily was surprised that a teacher hadn't taken over that post, but then again, it was more fun this way.
The match went on in that vein for a while; thirty minutes later, Anya was no nearer to spotting the Snitch, and the score was eighty to sixty for Gryffindor.
"Chaser Slycke of Ravenclaw in possession of the Quaffle; heading for the goals-he throws to Lorenor-back to Slycke-and to Flack-Flack scores!-no, no, he doesn't-Patil intercepted that one. All right; Patil wheezing like a plucked chicken-serves you right for catching it with your stomach-Quaffle to Potter-Oxley-Potter-who does a funny ballet twirl in order to avoid being hit by a Bludger-can't he just let it hit him?--Potter scores!-and he got hit in the back with a very well-aimed Bludger-it was, Professor! Eurgh, that must have hurt-anyway, he's not too badly hurt. Shame. And the match goes on…it goes on into the sunset…actually, the noon scorcher-"
"Would you tell us a bit about the match, Ludren?"
"Oh, right, right-sure, Professor. Score is ninety to sixty for Gryffindor…"
As the sun rose higher into the sky, the game went on. Soon the score was one hundred eighty to two hundred for Gryffindor, and the game started to speed up.
"Gryffindor Beater Winters just hit a nasty one at Slycke-hit him in the arm-isn't that a foul? Can we call a time-out and make it one? Eh, well…Potter heading up the field there…dodging another Bludger-OUCH-that must have hurt; hit in the back of the head by the other one-hope it smashed his skull-but he's still on the broom, still hurtling towards the goals-and he scores," the announcer stated in a rather dead voice. "Two hundred and ten to one hundred and eighty for Gryffindor. Potter's got a knack for attracting Bludgers. Does anyone know if there are bits of metal in those things? Because if so, I think someone attached a magnet to Potter; not that I'm complaining, but-"
"LUDREN!"
"Well, if it's true, then-oh, fine. Chaser MacGregor for Gryffindor heading up the field towards the Slytherin goalposts-why she's doing that, I can't imagine-the Quaffle isn't there-oh, hang on a minute!"
The magical microphone went silent for a minute as Ludren puzzled over the tactics of the Chaser that wasn't really a Chaser.
"Wait-change of plans! Seeker MacGregor going into a dive there-come on, Conven, follow her! Get her; knock her off her broom-ah, too late."
Every single Gryffindor leapt to his or her feet, applauding madly, screaming and shouting and hugging each other as Anya sank to the ground, engulfed by her teammates, and holding aloft the ting fluttering gilded walnut in her left fist.
"Gryffindor wins. Three hundred and sixty to one hundred and eighty. Whee." The commentator's voice was two-dimensional by now, but it could hardly be heard over the ecstatic cries of the Gryffindors, who were piling onto the field and overwhelming the team with strangling hugs. It paid to be a Quidditch player, James thought, though it wasn't the most desirable thing to be constantly hit with Bludgers.
That evening, everyone was contentedly stuffing themselves with éclairs, pumpkin juice, custards, and pastries in the common room, which was littered with plates, glasses, napkins, and food platters. Sirius and Remus had ripped a large Gryffindor banner into strips, and they had hung them as streamers from the ceiling. Two others were intact, and they were waving above the stairs going to each side of the dormitories.
Lily fought her way over to James. "You did wonderfully."
He grinned. "Thanks."
Setting her glass of pumpkin juice down on the table, she let herself plop down onto a free stool, of which there weren't many. "Did the Bludgers hurt badly?"
"Nah." He waved his hand as if to signify that it was nothing, but her sharp eyes saw him wince slightly. "I don't get hurt!"
Lily didn't bother to try and countermand that statement; both of them knew what she could say. He was secretly thankful that she didn't.
"So, you staying here over Easter?"
"I think so," Lily smiled. "I couldn't return to my father-and I don't much want to miss out on the opportunity of studying in the library."
He let out a great hoot. "You wouldn't want to miss out on the opportunity?"
She blushed. "It is!"
Just then, Serena came over, one hand holding a napkin with several pastries on it. "James-I think I got the last ones." She let herself drop gracefully onto the floor next to him.
Sirius grinned. "Up for another raid, Prongs?
He hesitated; looked up at Serena. "I think-no, I guess I'll stay here."
His friend raised his eyebrows. "Sorry! I'll just evaporate, shall I?"
"Padfoot, don't take it that way! I'd just rather not-I'll explain later."
Lily felt an odd little jerk somewhere in the area of her left lung, and she frowned. "Sirius, I'll help carry."
They exited the common room without attracting too much attention, which was a good thing. It wouldn't have been pleasant if the entire Gryffindor House found out how to get into the kitchens-invariably, someone would notice, and the entrance would be changed or moved altogether, besides losing quite a few House points.
They were halfway to the kitchen before either of them spoke.
"Lily, you're oddly quiet. You weren't in the common room; you were actually rather talkative. What's wrong?"
She laughed. "Nothing."
He wasn't fooled. "Is it because of Serena?"
"Oh,--you!" Lily hit him lightly on the arm. "I hate clairvoyant people. Yes, it is. Satisfied?"
"For the present. Come on, perk up. The house-elves don't like to see unhappy students. Take it from me; they'll attack you with the evilest mixture of what they call medicine they can brew up." He made a face.
"Really?" She laughed. "Judging by the food they turn out at dinner and feasts, I'd expect something else!"
"Never judge medicine by its maker," Sirius stated darkly.
They returned to the common room minutes later, with their arms piled full of food and each arm hung with pitchers of pumpkin juice. Immediately, they were relieved of everything by the Gryffindors, and they were able to find a seat as the students swarmed around the food.
Just as Lily sank into an armchair and curled up, a tapping at the window made her look up sharply. One of the school barn owls was pecking at it. Sighing, she made her way over to the window, flung it open, and frowned in surprise as it dropped a letter into her hands. Then, without waiting for a response, it took off again, in the direction of the Owlery.
Lily unfolded the envelope and the note inside. Sitting down on the window ledge, she read:

Lily,

I want to talk to you and tell you something. I haven't spoken to you since Christmas, and I'd like to now. Can I see you outside? The lake, maybe, or-yes, I think the lake's fine. Could you come down as soon as you get this?

--Severus

Lily sighed; she stared out the window at the dusky sky for a minute before thinking. When she did think, it was only to move to the window to see if she could see anyone. She couldn't, but that was to be expected, as Gryffindor Tower wasn't exactly on the same height as the front steps. Flitting up to her dormitory, she took her cloak out of her trunk, closed it with a faint click, and left the Tower through the house-elf doors.
It only took a few seconds for her to leave the castle and its many winding corridors and trick steps, one of which she hardly avoided. The sun had just vanished behind the Forbidden Forest as she walked out on the lawns; as she moved towards the glitter on the water.
A hand on her shoulder made her start and quickly turn around, but she breathed again when she found it was only Severus.
"You scared me."
He smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
She nodded in acknowledgement, and both of them walked closer to the lake. There was silence for a few moments until Lily cleared her throat.
"So…you wanted to tell me something…so-shoot."
He smiled. "Shoot at what? At the mysterious figure behind us in Hogwarts robes or at the giant squid or-well, you take your pick."
Lily groaned. Turning around, she caught sight of a shadow vanishing noisily into a bush. "Prongs! Padfoot! Out!"
A rather sheepish pair of boys crawled out of the bush. "We were just spying!"
She nodded, arms crossed. "I can tell."
There was silence except for Lily's folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.
Suddenly a false gleam of understanding broke out over James' face. "You mean you want us to leave?"
Lily closed her eyes. "Where is the nearest piece of castle wall I can bang my head against?"
Severus grinned. "Why not his head?"
Sirius grinned half-heartily. "We'll just go then, shall we?"
Lily turned her back to them as an answer. "Lovely tonight, isn't it?"
James sighed. "That was a hint. Eh, well. C'mon, Padfoot…"
He and Sirius faded noisily into the castle, and Lily's sharpened hearing could catch snatches of what they were saying.
"Why didn't we bring the cloak? We could have used it!"
"Because it's buried under my bed and I don't want to go looking for it!"
"But…"
Here the conversation flickered out, and Lily turned to Severus again. "We have gotten rid of the idiots. Talk to me."
He laughed. "You're good at getting rid of people."
"Are you hinting something? Don't answer that," she amended. "But go ahead."
"Sure." He sighed, then started walking around the lake, kicking at some fairy dust here and there. One or two fairy clumps still lived at Hogwarts, though they had almost all left the grounds since students had formed the practice of packing them in snowballs during the wintertime and throwing them at the Whomping Willow. They liked to come out at twilight, scrubbing the dust off of their wings, which had been termed 'fairy dust'. It itched terribly, and, in contrast to Muggle perception, it didn't make things or people fly.
"You remember Christmas-and what happened that night?"
She was running a bit to keep up with him, and he finally noticed that, slowing down. "Sorry."
"Don't mention it. Of course I remember."
"Er-well, yes. I wanted to-I-er-"
"She is waiting impatiently for his answer. He hesitates to give it to her; anxiously, she bends forward. Will he ever tell her? Wait for the next episode, my friends; it's airing next week at eight Monday night! And now we are greeted with the ever-popular-"
"Okay, okay, I'll talk!"
"Phew. I thought for a minute you'd forgotten."
Severus half-lifted a corner of his mouth as he reached down for a smooth stone. Reaching back, he threw it over the lake, where it skipped six times before finally sinking.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry for following you…and Potter. I guess I thought something was up…and I got sort of jealous…I never dreamed that Lupin was a-a-a werewolf. I just thought you were getting into something-and I told you how it was," he pleaded, hands in a beseeching, helpless gesture; flung out in front of him.
"Black asked me what had been pushed through my head this time at dinner one night. I lost it…I point-blank pulled out my wand and told him to tell me where Potter went every month-I didn't mention you. He told me…and told me how to get there.
"I never meant for you to get so close to being bitten by Lupin; I was being stupid. I don't know why I didn't run. And then you left…and Potter-"
"He saved your life," Lily said curtly.
"Please don't say that," he winced. "I don't want to be under an obligation to him."
She took his arm. "It doesn't matter what you want…when it comes to life…and the saving of it. It matters what happened…what people did…and what he did was something no one else there would have. He-he's noble like that…and if you were, you'd want to repay him…You'll get the chance someday--but I think, that when it comes to that…that it won't be him that you'll be saving, but someone dearer to him than he is to himself…he's got a knack to get himself out of trouble, you know."
"I know," Severus frowned grimly. "I hate this. I won't feel…I won't feel right until I do something that gets me out of this…but the last thing I want to do is something for him." He looked down into her dreamy face. "What you just said is going to be ringing in my head for the rest of my life; you know that, don't you?"
Lily smiled. "You'll eventually get tired of the everlasting bell."
He sighed. "I suppose…but, well, what I wanted to say was that I'm sorry for following you…for being such a pillock…for everything, I guess."
Steering him around an almost invisible inlet of the lake, Lily walked partly into the water; it was only up to the soles of her shoes, and she was still dry, but her eyes were fastened on the dusky glimmer and the candlelight sparkle of the ripples on the lake.
"Look…look out there. It's huge…it could swallow you whole, if it wanted to…so much force, bonded together, and living…surviving…it could kill you, yet you trust it…hitherto it's been almost harmless…but who knows what could happen before the next sunset…"
Her voice diminished as she stared away from him, away from everything but the looming, grey-blue expanse of water, but her mind was on Tom…not on the lake.

Their N.E.W.T.s were coming up quickly; there only remained one Quidditch game, Gryffindor against Slytherin, before the sixth years would have to face the reality of the tests.  Most of them had already started to study, naturally, Lily was among them.  Everywhere she went, be it lunch, her bed before going to sleep, The Three Broomsticks, or an armchair in the common room, she had an opened, heavy book in front of her or on her lap.  They all had impossibly illegible titles because of their age, gold corners at the edges, and some of them she pulled out her wand and muttered something over before opening them—those were trademarks of the books in the Restricted Section of the library; Dumbledore had given her a pass for them.

James and Sirius had been caught sneaking into the Forbidden Forest looking for an ingredient to a potion by the keeper of grounds; the recipe for which they had stolen from one of Lily's books from the Restricted Section.  Every evening, before they went to mop floors, polish door-handles, disembowel creatures for Professor Maar or Professor Cauldwell, or something of that sort, they could be heard moping and complaining all the way to their detention and quite some time beforehand.  James' complaint that he'd miss Quidditch practice didn't shake Professor McGonagall's sentence.

Study of Ancient Runes was getting harder, too.  They were learning J.R.R. Tolkien's Quenyi, his language for the High-Elves, which was based on a cult of small elvish creatures that lived somewhere in the Mediterranean.  The Tolkien language was easier than the elvish one, but the structure and some of the words were similar, so by exam time, they were expected to know not only how to translate and write a few sentences in Quenyi, but to translate some of the elf-cult's common phrases. 

They were doing human Transfiguration in Professor McGonagall's class, and more and more students were walking out of her classroom with cushions instead of legs or large, fluffy tails.  It was much harder than most of them believed it was, and as Professor McGonagall had warned them that they would be changing themselves into an armchair for part of their exam, the common rooms were soon filled with muttered or shouted incantations, half-and-half armchairs and other things of that sort, and frustrated Finite Incantatems.

Lily didn't visit Tom any more that year.  She had no wish to get in the middle of another fight between him and Litharelen, and Tom was busy now.  More and more of the Slytherins were talking in hushed voices about their father's new friend, or their new master, and she had seen one of the seventh years, one that had failed sixth year, pull up his left sleeve and show his peering friends the skull with the snake coming out of its mouth branded into his arm.

Rumors everywhere were slowly frightening people all over England.  Tom had been gaining power since Lily had been in her fourth year, and he was planning to move to their country.  It was terrifying to most people; the others didn't care or were on Tom's side. 

But they didn't know why they were afraid, and they weren't nearly afraid enough.  If Lily had reason to be and was afraid of pain and death, she would have been; she knew Tom better than anyone, except Litharelen, and she knew how dangerous he was, knew how cruel and heartless he could be, and she realized what a reign of terror the magical and Muggle world was in for. 

But she couldn't stop it.  No will of a fifteen-year-old could stop the rise to power of one of the greatest wizards of all time, and she knew that all too well.  Not even hers, though she had known him, was friendly with him, and had saved his fiancée from an almost certain death.  Litharelen hadn't been able to turn his mind from its purpose, and if she couldn't do it, then Lily was definitely not going to be able to. 

Lily had tried to push all this out of her mind, but it kept coming back, it kept intruding, and she found herself reaching involuntarily for the chain around her neck, hoping some way to deter Tom's mind from its purpose, before she came to her senses and retracted her hand.

She was getting along all right with the Marauders; at least with Sirius and Remus.  Peter was too shy for her, and he never really talked much.  Lily had always wondered why he, a tagalong nutcase, had ever been let into the Marauder group, but she supposed there had to be some quality of a danger-loving rulebreaker in him somewhere for the boys to like him that much. 

James she didn't see too often…he was usually poring over books in the common room with Serena, doing his detentions, making jokes about teachers in their classes, or he was at Quidditch practice.  Lily had to smile every time she saw him with Serena…he had an odd light in his eyes that never came to light when he was speaking to anyone else.  She didn't know if Sirius and Remus had seen it; she didn't think so, for she knew that they'd ridicule him beyond anything that was dear to anyone if they did.

Professor Dorvan was jumping the gun when it came to curses.  They were only supposed to learn about the Unforgivable Curses in their seventh year, but without consulting anyone, Professor Dorvan was teaching them the ways to block the curses, though only one in five thousand wizards were capable of performing the countercurses only to the Cruciatus Curse, even if they weren't rolling on the floor, screaming. 

So far they had only practiced the words, though that was all they were going to be doing; their teacher had no intention of going to Azkaban for torturing her students.  The Imperious Curse, though, they were facing; they were doing idiotic things like rummaging through their desks and making paper airplanes out of notes they had been passing, and then handing them to Professor Dorvan.  They had learned not to pass notes in her class.

Professor Flitwick, the small Charms teacher, was trying to bury the steps to decorating a room with holiday trappings into their heads; he was trying as hard as he could to make them understand the basic principles of making snow non-melting, but the whole class seemed to have developed a sort of block about it, maybe because they were standing in a classroom with snow falling from the ceiling.

The last Quidditch game, Gryffindor against Slytherin, would decide not only which House won the Quidditch Cup, but which house won the House Cup, unless someone from the winning House did something stupid and lose about a hundred points or so. 

Along with everyone else, Lily was excited and anxious for the game; though she wasn't the kind of Quidditch lover like James, who would suffocate if he were taken off of his broomstick, it was fun to watch once in a while. 

The teams were practicing late, and they would come in growling if a thunderstorm hit, complaining that Madam Hooch wouldn't let them practice through the thunderstorms.  Lily could see Madam Hooch's point of view when she looked at the windows; whips of rain were lashing the windows, bolts of lightning wider than their fists were glancing down the golden hoops on the Quidditch field, and the sky, purple and dark blue, was lit up to a pale grey ever so often when one of those lightning bolts struck.  Lily saw no reason why the team was complaining about being sent inside.

It was pouring water balloons the morning of the match, and Peeves couldn't have been more delighted.  He had pushed a melancholy ghost that haunted one of the girls' toilets to try to drown herself, and he was pleased with the result.  So pleased, in fact, that he had cleaned out the Gryffindors' supply of red clothing.  They appeared at breakfast in the regular black school robes, devoid of crimson cloaks, burgundy hoods, ruby scarves, and scarlet socks.  Peeves was taken to task for that, but when Professor McGonagall found that he had put a few of the socks into the bread mixture, the students as a whole reached for their plates and shoved them as far away from them as possible. 

Soon, however, the noisy group rose from their seats and made for the Quidditch field, where they trooped into their seats.  Everyone was too excited about a good Quidditch game to notice that the members of the Gryffindor team were looking slightly more pale than was normal.

Most people had had the foresight to bring umbrellas; those that didn't were sharing.  Lily didn't want to bother with one, so she had simply thrown on Severus' cape, pulled the hood on over her head, and charmed it with the Impervius spell; it was repelling water now, and she was relatively dry; at least, she was less soaked than those that hadn't brought umbrellas.  Lily was kept busy for a few minutes, charming other people's cloaks and robes, but then the game started, and they could almost forget about the rain.

The Ravenclaw commentator had been removed because of the biased comments, and a Slytherin boy with dark hair and icy grey eyes was commentating.  They seemed to go through commentators awfully quickly, Lily thought, though the one before the Ravenclaw had graduated; she hadn't been discharged.

Down on the field, the teams mounted their brooms.  On Madam Hooch's whistle, they rose into the air; there was a momentary squabble over the Quaffle, and then the commentary started.

"And they're off!  Quaffle goes to James Potter of Gryffindor; he's heading up the field there, skirts a Bludger and a Beater, and makes his way around Slytherin Chaser Reynold Atherton—the Quaffle goes to Miranda Shaw of Gryffindor.  She does a nice swerve underneath Slytherin Seeker Roger Knappett, leans forward—and the Quaffle goes to Rebecca Oxley of Gryffindor—Potter—Shaw—Potter—and Potter scores!  Ten-zero to Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindors' cheers pierced the falling rain, and James, contrary to his usual feint of bowing exaggeratedly, was squinting through the sheets of water at something. 

"Quaffle goes to Slytherin Chaser Charlotte Rowlands; she elbows Oxley in the side, dodges a Bludger—and the Quaffle is in the hands of Atherton—Rowlands—and Rowlands is heading up the field—flying, flying…aiming--!"
Suddenly, a large Bludger came hurtling from John's direction when Reynolds had her arm raised to throw.  It caught her off guard, despite the warning cries of her teammates, seized her in the side, and bowled her over several times; she was barely clinging on to her broom with her knees when it stopped hurtling.  Climbing on top of her broom again, she shot a death glare at John, but it was too late; the Quaffle was in the hands of the Gryffindors, and the match went on.

"Quaffle goes to Oxley of Gryffindor; she's heading up the field, throws—Quaffle to Shaw—Potter…Potter flying—Shaw—Potter—Oxley—no, no—Oxley dropped the Quaffle; it's in the hands of Slytherin Chaser Gerard Fulford.  Fulford flying towards the goalposts—Quaffle stolen from him by Potter—that was a snatch underneath the arm there, and Potter's flying up the field…"

Soon the score was fifty to thirty for Gryffindor, and the game was getting rougher.  John was hitting Bludgers right and left, barely missing his teammates as the Slytherins bowled over and over, scarcely hanging on to their brooms.  Besides that, if possible, the rain started to hurtle down even harder than it had been, and people were standing in puddles in the stands.  Lily had resorted to performing the Impervius charm twice on cloaks, hoods, and robes, and she had started doing it to people's shoes, too.  Most of the students carrying umbrellas were soaked, including Lora and Sirius, who were sharing one, and wanted to see if they could last the game without drowning.  Presently it didn't look too good.

Up in the air, the match went on.

"Slytherin Chaser Atherton heading towards the goals—he aims—no, he throws the Quaffle to Fulford there—back to Atherton—Rowlands—Fulford—Rowlands—ROWLANDS SCORES!!  SCORE IS EIGHTY TO SIXTY!"

The Slytherin end was cheering as hard as they could, though the Gryffindors were booeing with all their might.  With renewed energy, the teams started to play again.

"Slytherin Beater Alan Greenwood launches nasty Bludger at Gryffindor Beater Shaw—she ducks, but not fast enough—OUCH!—that must have hurt, straight on the jaw!"

Miranda was sinking to the ground, grasping her mouth with both hands, only narrowly holding a scream of pain in.  Lily almost ran down to her, but the crowd prevented her from moving at all.

"Oh, that must have hurt!  But—wait—no, she's up!  She's back in the air!  And—the game continues!"

Anya had landed first, and she had sprinted over to Miranda, splashing her with mud.  She had bent down, and Miranda had said something; straightway after that, both girls regained their brooms.  Suddenly, everyone's attention was drawn to both Anya and Knappett, the Slytherin Seeker, who were heading for a remote golden, gleaming point near the bottom of the goalposts.

Everyone was on the tips of their toes, holding their breath. 

"Both Seekers heading for the Snitch!  MacGregor pulls ahead—no, Knappett—they're neck to neck—wait—where'd that Bludger come from—Winters hits a nasty one towards both of them—Knappett curls over—and—MACGREGOR CATCHES THE SNITCH—GRYFFINDOR WINS THE MATCH!"

Hordes of Gryffindors were pouring onto the muddy field, along with the rain, hugging the team members and lifting them onto their shoulders, cheering with all their might.  All except Miranda; Madam Pomfrey immediately transported her to the hospital wing; her jaw was broken. 

That was the only drop of uneasiness that the Gryffindors felt that day, as Professor Dumbledore presented Nigel with the Quidditch Cup and it was passed along to Anya, who raised it high above the crowds, almost crying with glee and happiness.