CHAPTER FOUR: THROUGH LILY'S EYES
Brittle pages rested on Harry's fingertips as he scanned unfamiliar, extremely feminine writing that he knew belonged to his mother. Checking the date, he was most pleasantly surprised to realize that this was indeed a complete chronicle starting with her first day at Hogwarts and continuing onward. Fixing his glasses that had once again become askew, he leaned forward, his nose inches from the page. He had only once before been so engrossed with a diary, the magical diary of Tom Riddle, but he had never imagined that his own mother's would cause quite the same effect, until, with an eerily familiar sensation, things began to blur and only stopped when he had landed firmly on his feet...directly into the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
Looking around he took in the four banners proudly displaying the houses of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. He walked silently between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, sitting down beside an unfamiliar Gryffindor prefect who sat motionless, staring at the door where Harry knew his mother stood waiting to be sorted. Indeed, everyone was transfixed on the door included, to Harry's delight, a younger Dumbledore, whose hair was a mixture of auburn and white, his blue eyes sparkling as Professor McGonagall, younger herself, lead in the line of first years, the Sorting Hat and stool held firmly in her hands.
Harry watched transfixed as she placed the stool down, the old Sorting Hat staying quite still until finally the slit at the brim opened wide, beginning his yearly song, which Harry realized was once again different than the ones he had previously heard.
One stormy night years ago A meeting held in this very room Signified the beginning of the end As Slytherin predicted doom
"But why," Gryffindor demanded at once "must you destroy our trust?" "Alas," Slytherin replied "the prophecy declares it must."
"For when I take that special one,
who of course does not belong They will be most tested of their will of right and wrong"
"If they choose correctly our world will be most pure But of a choice wrongly made All is lost to be quite sure."
"Surely allowed," Ravenclaw interjected "are all those of sharpest mind?" "and the rest of the lot," Hufflepuff reminded "that make just as good of find?"
"Of course!" Gryffindor declared. "Most definitely not," Slytherin said and the others raised an almighty roar as added "Mudbloods and half-bloods are better off dead."
And soon after Slytherin parted ways and the prophecy forgotten but tonight must I declare it will rise most foul and rotten
So now I yell first years line up! There's no turning back A mudblood Slytherin tonight must be Among those in the pack
The Hall remained silent, no one remembering to clap. Harry watched as a shudder started at the beginning of the line of first years and traveled all the way to the very back to a boy with untidy black hair who stood staring at the hat as if it was his death sentence. It was at that moment that Harry knew that the boy could be no one other than his dad, for he had felt the same way as he waited for 'Potter, Harry' to be called from the list.
"Black, Sirus!" Professor McGonagall said loudly, causing Harry to tear his eyes from his fidgeting father to a handsome young boy who, with a cheeky grin, made his way to the Sorting Hat. With a sort of flourish he dipped the hat upon his head, disappearing under it for a full minute before the brim opened wide---
"GRYFFINDOR!" it declared, and the prefect behind him whooped loudly as Sirus came towards him, causing Harry's eyes to mist as he watched his godfather shaking hands vigorously with the others.
"Evans, Lily!"
Harry had almost forgotten about her, as he had become engrossed in watching Sirus so full of life, but when he saw his mum, even that didn't seem to matter anymore. He felt his face take on a deep longing as he watched his mother, her frizzy auburn hair flying around her tightly closed eyes, perch precariously on the edge of the stool as Professor McGonagall settled the hat upon her head, where it sat silent for one minute, then two...
Five minutes later the hall began to grow restless, people whispering amongst themselves that never had they seen the Sorting Hat take this long and many wondering whether Hogwarts might have sent her a letter by mistake. Harry felt his anger rise at these murmurs and he wanted to yell at them to let them know that his mum did belong and that she was destined for great things--
"Well, I say..." the hat croaked and the Great Hall turned a collective head. "It must be done, so I declare...LET IT BE SLYTHERIN!"
Harry felt his blood run cold as he watched his mother heading towards the Slytherins, who allowed her to sit in silence for several minutes before welcoming her to their group. Meanwhile, up in front he could hear 'Lupin, Remus' being called but he didn't care. He felt his legs propelling him to the Slytherin table, he stood right behind his mum, the tears burning his eyes. Gingerly he extended his hand, desperate to grab her arm and pull her away...pull her to the Gryffindor table where he had always assumed she had belonged.
"It can't be," he bemoaned as a Slytherin girl leaned forward to whisper to his mum, an evil glint in her eye. "N--"
He felt cold and extremely odd as a figure walked straight through him, settling down at the empty space beside his mother. He turned to it in anger, hating the fact that they were contaminating his memory of his mum when he realized the figure sitting beside her had a head full of long black greasy strands and was shaking his mother's hand animatedly.
"Snape," Harry hissed. "Don't touch her, don't you dare touch her...DON'T TOUCH MY---"
"HARRY! HARRY!"
Sharp nails dug into his shoulder and he yelped, struggling to unstick his cheek from the pages of the diary. Anger spread through his veins like he had never known and as he opened his eyes and came face to face with Hermione he mistook her bushy hair for that of his mother's.
"HOW COULD YOU?!" he screamed, his hands slamming the book shut, tossing it quickly down upon his spread.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT MATE?" Ron screamed back and it was his voice, a voice that so obviously couldn't be from the past, that allowed Harry to float back into the present, to find Ron's hands firmly placed on Hermione's shoulders and a deep scowl on his face.
"Why are you yelling at Hermione? She wasn't doing anything to you!"
"Ron," Hermione whispered. "bug off, I don't think it was me he was yelling at." she looked directly into Harry's eyes and it was then that he realized with horror what he had done.
"I'm so sorry, I thought you were my, that is to say--"
"What is that?"
He followed their gaze to the book and realized that even a glimpse of it was now making him shudder with rage.
"Dumbledore gave it to me," he said quietly. "It's my mum's diary."
"Have you started to read it yet?" Ron asked, as Hermione quickly swept to the door, shutting it softly.
"What do you think?" Harry spat back angrily. He knew that they would want to know what he had just experienced, but he also wondered what they would think of him, after they learned the truth. Silence filled the room as he weighed these thoughts heavily in his mind.
"You don't have to tell us Harry, but...I know if Dumbledore left it for you, he must know that it might help with what's to come," Hermione said softly. Harry cast her a scathing look.
"How can me mum being in Slytherin help destroy Voldemort?" he said, his voice cracking against his will.
Ron and Hermione gave a collective gasp before speaking in unison.
"Slytherin? But how..."
"No way! I mean, she was..."
"HOLD IT!" Harry snapped bitterly. "If you'd just shut it for one moment I can tell you," he sighed.
They sat in silence as Harry recanted all that he had seen in five minutes time. When he was finished it was Hermione who spoke first.
"I don't understand that prophecy at all," she mused, her fingers tapping against her chin as her focus went from Harry to a spot on the wall.
"Neither do I," Ron said, leaning back against the footboard of the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. "I mean what choice would your mum, a Muggle, have to make, that would kill off everyone but pure-bloods. I mean obviously, she made the wrong cho-" at a glance from Hermione he rephrased very quickly. "I mean based on the Sorting Hat she obviously made the wrong choice, which was the right choice, er--" his eyes crossed horribly. "Blimey, I'm confused."
"Join the crowd," Harry muttered, his eyes falling back to the diary which had looked so innocent hours before. A deep sense of melancholy seemed to engulf him, as he traced over and over again his mother's name, his eyes blocking out anything but the gold stamping until--
"Harry, don't you think you should keep reading?" Hermione suggested. "I know it's a shock but maybe if you read on it'll give you some insight."
"Keep reading?" he laughed. "You're off your rocker."
"She's right y'know," Ron said tentatively, avoiding a nasty glare from Harry. "I mean, not right now of course...maybe a little at a time. Y'know like a nasty tasting cough syru--"
"Ron! Don't be thick," Hermione scowled. "You're talking about something ve- -"
"No," Harry sighed. "He's right. But I'm just going to put it away for now."
He opened his bedside drawer, placing it upon a thick layer of dust. For a few seconds he stared at it, until the thought of his mum a Slytherin made him seize with rage and--
BANG!
The drawer snapped forcibly closed and he heard Ron and Hermione jump in unison. His scar began to prickle uncomfortably as he looked at them once more, and with a desperate attempt for a change of subject attempted a half- smile.
"Let's talk about something else, eh? Maybe fill me in on Bill and Fleur?"
He tried to ignore the look that passed between Ron and Hermione and was rather thankful when Ron began a rather longwinded story of how the twins had managed to ruin the engagement party by switching Fleur's ring for one which turned the wearer's finger into a sausage. It seemed that everyone was looking forward to the wedding, and even Harry had to admit that he would rather enjoy being happy again...
If only for a little while.
Brittle pages rested on Harry's fingertips as he scanned unfamiliar, extremely feminine writing that he knew belonged to his mother. Checking the date, he was most pleasantly surprised to realize that this was indeed a complete chronicle starting with her first day at Hogwarts and continuing onward. Fixing his glasses that had once again become askew, he leaned forward, his nose inches from the page. He had only once before been so engrossed with a diary, the magical diary of Tom Riddle, but he had never imagined that his own mother's would cause quite the same effect, until, with an eerily familiar sensation, things began to blur and only stopped when he had landed firmly on his feet...directly into the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
Looking around he took in the four banners proudly displaying the houses of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. He walked silently between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, sitting down beside an unfamiliar Gryffindor prefect who sat motionless, staring at the door where Harry knew his mother stood waiting to be sorted. Indeed, everyone was transfixed on the door included, to Harry's delight, a younger Dumbledore, whose hair was a mixture of auburn and white, his blue eyes sparkling as Professor McGonagall, younger herself, lead in the line of first years, the Sorting Hat and stool held firmly in her hands.
Harry watched transfixed as she placed the stool down, the old Sorting Hat staying quite still until finally the slit at the brim opened wide, beginning his yearly song, which Harry realized was once again different than the ones he had previously heard.
One stormy night years ago A meeting held in this very room Signified the beginning of the end As Slytherin predicted doom
"But why," Gryffindor demanded at once "must you destroy our trust?" "Alas," Slytherin replied "the prophecy declares it must."
"For when I take that special one,
who of course does not belong They will be most tested of their will of right and wrong"
"If they choose correctly our world will be most pure But of a choice wrongly made All is lost to be quite sure."
"Surely allowed," Ravenclaw interjected "are all those of sharpest mind?" "and the rest of the lot," Hufflepuff reminded "that make just as good of find?"
"Of course!" Gryffindor declared. "Most definitely not," Slytherin said and the others raised an almighty roar as added "Mudbloods and half-bloods are better off dead."
And soon after Slytherin parted ways and the prophecy forgotten but tonight must I declare it will rise most foul and rotten
So now I yell first years line up! There's no turning back A mudblood Slytherin tonight must be Among those in the pack
The Hall remained silent, no one remembering to clap. Harry watched as a shudder started at the beginning of the line of first years and traveled all the way to the very back to a boy with untidy black hair who stood staring at the hat as if it was his death sentence. It was at that moment that Harry knew that the boy could be no one other than his dad, for he had felt the same way as he waited for 'Potter, Harry' to be called from the list.
"Black, Sirus!" Professor McGonagall said loudly, causing Harry to tear his eyes from his fidgeting father to a handsome young boy who, with a cheeky grin, made his way to the Sorting Hat. With a sort of flourish he dipped the hat upon his head, disappearing under it for a full minute before the brim opened wide---
"GRYFFINDOR!" it declared, and the prefect behind him whooped loudly as Sirus came towards him, causing Harry's eyes to mist as he watched his godfather shaking hands vigorously with the others.
"Evans, Lily!"
Harry had almost forgotten about her, as he had become engrossed in watching Sirus so full of life, but when he saw his mum, even that didn't seem to matter anymore. He felt his face take on a deep longing as he watched his mother, her frizzy auburn hair flying around her tightly closed eyes, perch precariously on the edge of the stool as Professor McGonagall settled the hat upon her head, where it sat silent for one minute, then two...
Five minutes later the hall began to grow restless, people whispering amongst themselves that never had they seen the Sorting Hat take this long and many wondering whether Hogwarts might have sent her a letter by mistake. Harry felt his anger rise at these murmurs and he wanted to yell at them to let them know that his mum did belong and that she was destined for great things--
"Well, I say..." the hat croaked and the Great Hall turned a collective head. "It must be done, so I declare...LET IT BE SLYTHERIN!"
Harry felt his blood run cold as he watched his mother heading towards the Slytherins, who allowed her to sit in silence for several minutes before welcoming her to their group. Meanwhile, up in front he could hear 'Lupin, Remus' being called but he didn't care. He felt his legs propelling him to the Slytherin table, he stood right behind his mum, the tears burning his eyes. Gingerly he extended his hand, desperate to grab her arm and pull her away...pull her to the Gryffindor table where he had always assumed she had belonged.
"It can't be," he bemoaned as a Slytherin girl leaned forward to whisper to his mum, an evil glint in her eye. "N--"
He felt cold and extremely odd as a figure walked straight through him, settling down at the empty space beside his mother. He turned to it in anger, hating the fact that they were contaminating his memory of his mum when he realized the figure sitting beside her had a head full of long black greasy strands and was shaking his mother's hand animatedly.
"Snape," Harry hissed. "Don't touch her, don't you dare touch her...DON'T TOUCH MY---"
"HARRY! HARRY!"
Sharp nails dug into his shoulder and he yelped, struggling to unstick his cheek from the pages of the diary. Anger spread through his veins like he had never known and as he opened his eyes and came face to face with Hermione he mistook her bushy hair for that of his mother's.
"HOW COULD YOU?!" he screamed, his hands slamming the book shut, tossing it quickly down upon his spread.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT MATE?" Ron screamed back and it was his voice, a voice that so obviously couldn't be from the past, that allowed Harry to float back into the present, to find Ron's hands firmly placed on Hermione's shoulders and a deep scowl on his face.
"Why are you yelling at Hermione? She wasn't doing anything to you!"
"Ron," Hermione whispered. "bug off, I don't think it was me he was yelling at." she looked directly into Harry's eyes and it was then that he realized with horror what he had done.
"I'm so sorry, I thought you were my, that is to say--"
"What is that?"
He followed their gaze to the book and realized that even a glimpse of it was now making him shudder with rage.
"Dumbledore gave it to me," he said quietly. "It's my mum's diary."
"Have you started to read it yet?" Ron asked, as Hermione quickly swept to the door, shutting it softly.
"What do you think?" Harry spat back angrily. He knew that they would want to know what he had just experienced, but he also wondered what they would think of him, after they learned the truth. Silence filled the room as he weighed these thoughts heavily in his mind.
"You don't have to tell us Harry, but...I know if Dumbledore left it for you, he must know that it might help with what's to come," Hermione said softly. Harry cast her a scathing look.
"How can me mum being in Slytherin help destroy Voldemort?" he said, his voice cracking against his will.
Ron and Hermione gave a collective gasp before speaking in unison.
"Slytherin? But how..."
"No way! I mean, she was..."
"HOLD IT!" Harry snapped bitterly. "If you'd just shut it for one moment I can tell you," he sighed.
They sat in silence as Harry recanted all that he had seen in five minutes time. When he was finished it was Hermione who spoke first.
"I don't understand that prophecy at all," she mused, her fingers tapping against her chin as her focus went from Harry to a spot on the wall.
"Neither do I," Ron said, leaning back against the footboard of the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. "I mean what choice would your mum, a Muggle, have to make, that would kill off everyone but pure-bloods. I mean obviously, she made the wrong cho-" at a glance from Hermione he rephrased very quickly. "I mean based on the Sorting Hat she obviously made the wrong choice, which was the right choice, er--" his eyes crossed horribly. "Blimey, I'm confused."
"Join the crowd," Harry muttered, his eyes falling back to the diary which had looked so innocent hours before. A deep sense of melancholy seemed to engulf him, as he traced over and over again his mother's name, his eyes blocking out anything but the gold stamping until--
"Harry, don't you think you should keep reading?" Hermione suggested. "I know it's a shock but maybe if you read on it'll give you some insight."
"Keep reading?" he laughed. "You're off your rocker."
"She's right y'know," Ron said tentatively, avoiding a nasty glare from Harry. "I mean, not right now of course...maybe a little at a time. Y'know like a nasty tasting cough syru--"
"Ron! Don't be thick," Hermione scowled. "You're talking about something ve- -"
"No," Harry sighed. "He's right. But I'm just going to put it away for now."
He opened his bedside drawer, placing it upon a thick layer of dust. For a few seconds he stared at it, until the thought of his mum a Slytherin made him seize with rage and--
BANG!
The drawer snapped forcibly closed and he heard Ron and Hermione jump in unison. His scar began to prickle uncomfortably as he looked at them once more, and with a desperate attempt for a change of subject attempted a half- smile.
"Let's talk about something else, eh? Maybe fill me in on Bill and Fleur?"
He tried to ignore the look that passed between Ron and Hermione and was rather thankful when Ron began a rather longwinded story of how the twins had managed to ruin the engagement party by switching Fleur's ring for one which turned the wearer's finger into a sausage. It seemed that everyone was looking forward to the wedding, and even Harry had to admit that he would rather enjoy being happy again...
If only for a little while.