Secret Keeper - Chapter 7
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It was hard to decide what was worse.
On the one hand, there were the people who constantly followed and badgered her as they did Remus Lupin. Was she certain she hadn't seen any dark shapes lurking in the corners? Was she positive she hadn't heard any sinister explosions? Was she absolutely, positively sure that Snape hadn't sprung out from behind the door like some malicious jack-in-the-box, hexed her right between the eyes, and then run off laughing maniacally down the corridor with his robes hitched high?
And then, on the other hand, there were the people that kept clustering protectively around her if she yawned, expecting her to suddenly sink to the floor in another embarassing faint. The people who held her hand reassuringly and spoke in soothing tones to her even when the conversation was mundane, in case she should suddenly burst into fits of uncontrollable tears. The people who insisted on standing up for her -- loudly -- whenever she suddenly found herself the subject of someone's disbelief or mockery of her recount of the situation . . . and usually adding a few of their own embellishments to "support" her story was well.
"It's stupid is what it is." Lily Evans said now, angrily, as she sat on the edge of her bed viciously attacking her hair wish a brush. "What, do they think I'm stupid just because I'm Muggle-born? Or fragile?"
When she received no response, she grunted to herself and tossed the brush aside on the bed and sat scowling at her feet for a moment before she finally looked up. "What's our first class?"
The girl sitting across from her on the next bed sat up straighter with a start. "Divination."
Lily's scowl deepened and she blew out an explosive breath. "I can't believe Dumbledore's already gone and found a replacement. So soon! You're lucky you were in the Hospital Wing; it was absolutely monstrous, Ingrid."
Ingrid Mowse, a short, scrawny girl with a pale face and perpetually worried eyes, shifted uncomfortably on the bed across from Lily. Privately, she didn't think she had been very lucky at all, given that she had been there waiting for the Hair-Gro potion to take effect after her partner in Charms had panicked during an examination and accidentally cursed it off instead of casting the charm he had been supposed to. She ran a hand nervously over her still-short, close-cropped dark hair. "Was it r-really very t-terrifying, Lily?" she asked hesitantly.
Lily frowned. "Not the way you're probably thinking." For a moment, the frown deepened on her face before vanishing, and she merely looked tired. Dark circles were visible under her green eyes, and Ingrid knew she hadn't been sleeping well. "It was . . . it was very sad, Ingrid. To know that I had just passed her singing carols on the hall just yesterday, and then to see her . . . gone, just like that." Her expression hardened and she looked up. "Anyone who says it was Voldemort or something is a liar, and they're disgracing her memory."
"I know, I know." Ingrid said quickly, holding up her hands, looking wounded. "I didn't . . . I didn't think she'd been m-m-m-murdered, but, you know . . . I've never seen someone . . . like that b-before, and I . . . " She trailed off, looking down at the floor as though she had been chastised.
Sighing, Lily heaved herself off the bed and gathered up her book bag. "I know. I'm sorry, Ingrid, I didn't mean to make you think I was angry at you . . . it's just been hard, okay? Everything's been upside-down these days."
Ingrid nodded once, although she kept her gaze downwards. Lily thought she had genuinely hurt the girl until Ingrid looked up suddenly with a shy smile. "You mean like J-James, too, don't you?"
Automatically, Lily opened her mouth to scoff, a response tempered by years of rebuking advances and giggles in the hallway. Her mind, however, cast smugly back to the night several days prior, and her stomach preformed a remarkable acrobatic flip. Her expression must have said enough, because Ingrid giggled hesitantly and smiled as she stood up. "D-don't worry. I won't tell anyone."
"You had better not," Lily said, half-exasperated and half-bemused with herself as they headed down the stairs, "because his head doesn't need any more inflating."
The truth was, however, that Lily had been privately worried that finally agreeing to go out with James would make him worse than ever. The casual bravado he'd always had, she'd thought, would become even greater, his chest swelling so huge his robes would burst from the strain of it. Or so she'd thought.
Initially (she told herself, anyway) she had only agreed to go out with him to get a break from it all; the displays of "bravery" (stupidity) whenever she was around, the loud jokes (not funny) for her benefit when she passed by, the grandstanding (dangerous) at the Quidditch Pitch whenever he knew she was in the stands, Sirius Black's tendency to run into her in the hall loudly extolling Jame's latest witticism all the while waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly in James' direction while grinning wolfishly. She had told Ingrid and the other smugly smiling seventh year Ravenclaw girls as much as she'd gotten ready that night, trying to ignore how much more effort she found herself putting into her hair than usual as she did.
Still.
It had been . . . nice.
The walk through the snow, the meaningless talk and laughter about everything and nothing.
. . . the odd little flip her stomach had performed when she'd seen the sudden steeling of resolve in his eyes when he'd learned about Alice and Frank . . .
. . . maybe . . .
A sudden burst of laughter from the common room below brought Lily jarringly back to the present, away from thoughts of a warm arm around her shoulders in the cold of winter, and she nearly stumbled over an extremely rotund gray cat lounging on the stairs, who shot her a reproachful look before darting between her legs to the safety of the bedrooms. She realised she was blushing with embarassment as well as shame; what was she doing, mooning over someone while Professor Fensworthy's family mourned her?
At the foot of the stairs, she found Remus Lupin quietly going over what looked to be a rather hastily written bit of parchment with a frantic looking second year boy. " . . . and don't forget to enunciate. He's very specific on that, unless you don't mind doing an extra roll after class. Good morning, Lily. Ingrid."
Lily smiled, and Ingrid bobbed her head by way of greeting with an embarassed mumur. As the second year left, muttering distractedly to himself, Lily noticed for the first time how worn Remus looked. Of all the students, Remus had perhaps known the late professor the best, always eager for each upcoming lesson. Divination, Lily thought, was an odd subject for the usually literal-minded young man to begin with.
The corners of his mouth were pinched, the pallor of his skin sickly, and his shoulders slightly stooped. He must have noticed her looking because he straightened with a grimace he turned into a smile. "I think I'll have to see if James doesn't have a spare packet of Pepper Imps left from Honeydukes. I could do with a spring in my step. Between Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies, I think I barely have room left for any other subject. I've been driving everyone absolutely mad getting the two mixed up."
Relaxing slightly, Lily laughed. "You could just ask me about Muggle Studies, you know. I think I'd find a fair high mark on my NEWTS if I'd taken that over Potions. And I'd certainly be able to tell you that caring for a Muggle infant is nothing like taking care of a Flobberworm."
"I think I know someone who could d-disagree with you." said Ingrid, whose now-baffled older sister had just married into a Muggle family, having completely ignored Muggle Studies in favour of Charms.
The corridors, as they wound through them on their way to breakfast in the Great Hall, were filled with chatter of the upcoming holidays, the students beginning to reluctantly accept Ariadne Fensworthy's fate. With nothing to whisper furtively about, no new attacks having been reported, the talk had turned instead towards presents, travels, family, and returning home. Lily was forced to admit, it was impossible not to feel some press of holiday cheer, and with recent events, both in and outside of the school, Hogwarts seemed determined to take the students' minds off of anything dreary as possible by making every nook and cranny of the school as festive as possible. There were furled branches of pine wound around the portraits that, when tickled in the right place, would stretch out and shed a bit of glittering snow on the nearest person's head. The portrait inhabitants themselves had decorated the interior of their frames with delicate white holly berries, and many were prone to bursting into song whenever the portrait people from the kitchen stopped by with large amounts of egg-nogg. There was an enormous tree at the foot of the stairs in the entry way that grew it's own form of decoration in the form of large, luminous gift wrapping bows, which the students could pick for their own uses. Even Peeves, the poltergeist, seemed to be in a festive mood, although his means of celebration typically consisted of dumping pots of red and green ink upon the heads of those students not quick enough between classes, and Lily, Ingrid, and Remus were relieved to hear from an extremely disgruntled looking Hufflepuff that he had apparently taking to haunting the hallway outside the girl's bathrooms the next floor up today.
At the end of the long hallway that lead to the Ravenclaw's hidden room, they found Sirius Black lounging against the wall. Lily glanced quickly about, and when she realised he was alone, felt a pang of disappointment, and busied herself with rummaging in her bag for her timetable to hide the following blush. "Good morning, Sirius." Remus said as they drew near and he fell into loping step beside them.
"Morning, Remus." he responded in an oddly subdued tone. "Morning, Evans . . . er . . . "
"Sirius, you know Ingrid Mowse."
"Yes." Ingrid said, eyeing Sirius apprehensively, as though she expected his head to suddenly start spinning around while he emitted a series of loud cracks. "You b-borrowed a little of my acne medicine two years ago to p-p-pour in Lucius M-Malfoy's pumpkin juice."
"Oh, yeah." Sirius said, comprehension dawning. A pleased smile spread over his face as he remembered. "I always did say breakfast needed proper seasoning. Did I ever thank you for that?"
"Yes. In front of Lucius." Ingrid said, shuddering at the memory.
"Where's James?" Remus wanted to know, perhaps worried that further recollection might spark other ideas.
"Quidditch Pitch." Sirius said distractedly, rummaging in his pockets. A dungbomb, apparently (thankfully) a dud, fell out and bounced at his heels, scattering a group of students behind them with a small scream.
"Today?" Lily almost dropped her bag as she shot a surprised look outside. Although the mood in the castle was warm, outside a fierce wind was dashing spirals of snow against the windows, the sky angry and spitting forth intermittent bouts of hail. She pitied the group of students that would need to make treks through the snow and cold to the magically heated greenhouses. "Is he mad?"
Sirius gave her a lopsided grin as he fished a piece of crumpled paper from his robe pockets. "'Course. Geez, Evans, you'd think you know that by now. But his parents are staying in Bournemouth for the holidays, and that's always packed with Muggles. Says he wants to get in the practice he won't be able to on Chrismast Break so he doesn't get too rusty. You know he has to beat the Ravenclaws next term if he wants to take home the cup." he added, with a wry glance at their blue and black ties.
"He'd better hope his ego's fat enough to keep him in the air then, because his brain will be so frozen he'll be more likely to eat his broom than kick off." Lily said angrily.
He gave her a slightly surprised look before breaking into an approving grin. "You're alright, Evans. Here, Remus, take a look at this." He pressed the paper against Remus' chest.
Shifting his books to balance them against his hip, Remus awkwardly unfolded the paper and raised an eyebrow. "What, exactly, am I looking at?"
"That, mate, is the only surviving prototype of a very special invention siezed from the estate of one Fittipus Finch in London."
Looking curious, Ingrid craned her neck around Remus' elbow to look. "That was just last week. They're already s-selling this things?"
"If you know where to look." Sirius said, smiling slyly. "What d'you think?"
Lily looked. The paper was actually a very worn photograph, and the occupants looked distinctly disgruntled at their rumpled state, trying in vain to smooth the various creases on their faces. The photograph showed two stern-looking ministry officials examining a chained down piece of machinery. Ever since Lily had learned of her acceptance into Hogwarts and the magical world, her interest in all things Muggle had waned, even to the point where going home for the summer holidays meant she usually wound up staying indoors studying and practicing magic instead of going out to a movie. She had lost touch with new styles, new music trends . . . but she still recognised this.
"Sirius," she said, half amused, half exasperated, "what d'you want with a motorcycle?"
Plucking the picture from Remus' hand, Sirius crammed it back in his pocket as though a disapproving teacher had been looming over his shoulder. "Come on, Evans. Everyone gets around by floo powder, or broom, or Muggle transport these days. D'you think I want to be like everyone else?"
"Yes, Sirius," Remus said with a raised brow, "but a motorcycle?"
"You don't think they'd have it chained down like that if it were just a motorcycle, do you?" Sirius asked, smugly. "Old Finch was bonkers, but he was a genius. I think I can relate."
Bourne onwards by the tide of hungry students and staff members, the four finally reached the Great Hall, where Sirius parted from them with a brief word and headed off to join his fellow Gryffindors. Lily noticed the brief look of envy on Remus' face as Sirius was instantly greeted by a loud shout from his friends, and saw Peter Pettigrew amidst them. No doubt James would return soon as well, red-cheeked and grinning from the cold, and Lily knew, although he would never say it aloud and risk making Lily or Ingrid feel awkward, Remus really wished to be amidst his friends.
She also noticed the strange, contemplative, frowning expression come over Sirius' face that she had seen when he had joined them in the hall briefly appear again as he turned away . . . and the dark look he shot at the staff table.
Following his gaze, Lily blinked in surprise and tugged Remus' sleeve as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table. When he turned towards her inquiringly, she pointed. "Who is that?"
Sitting alone on the far right end of the staff table was a woman she had never seen before. She was tall and severe looking, painfully thin, and her features somehow pinched and strained looking, somehow ageless, although smooth and not unpleasant. Her long dark hair was piled on her head in a needlessly elaborate and aristrocratic bun, and her eyes were large and a pale, watery blue. She was idly paging through what looked like a copy of the Daily Prophet, her long, thin fingers twirling her wand absently in the air near her head, lips mouthing silently to herself. As Lily watched, the woman used her wand to spear a bit of sausage from her plate, and she popped it neatly into her mouth.
Remus' brows knit in confusion briefly. "Well . . . she must be the new Divinations teacher, I suppose, right? There aren't any other positions open."
Instantly, Lily felt something inside her bristle defensively. Although she knew she was being unfair, a part of her couldn't help but resent this woman who had so eagerly leapt upon the teaching position. Couldn't half wait, could she? Just swept down, probably rapped on the Headmaster's door as soon as she heard . . .
Even as she thought this, however, the woman looked up. Her pale eyes scanned the hall, and she gave a start as though surprised to find herself there. A moment later, however, she smiled slightly to herself, and it seemed to Lily their eyes met briefly across the hall. The woman's long fingers twiddled in a solemn wave, although her wand still twined between them. Then, abruptly, the wand stabbed downwards, spearing a large, wet piece of ham, and she forced the entire thing into her mouth, a rivulet of grease running down her chin.
"I'm sure she'll be fine." Remus was saying, pulling a plate of fried eggs towards himself, having already looked away. "Don't you?"
Lily didn't respond.
She found herself oddly lacking in appetite.
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Author's Note: I only noticed it just in time, but the line Sirius says that begins "Everyone gets around by floo powder . . . " was actually initially typed "Everyone gets aroused by floo power." Oh, Sirius. You and your dirty mind. FLOO POWAH! punches air This chapter is one of the slowest, but I wanted a little time to build on Lily's character.