DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of the honourable J.K Rowling

The Truth

Monday 23rd of February

Hello and welcome to yet another day in the exciting life of Lily Evans. Oh sorry, did I say exciting? I meant prolonged and torturous. Finally we are back at school. Back to the drudgery and hardship that is our NEWT course. Why ever did I wish to return to school? We arrived last night to find the school the same but for a few subtle changes. Like the appearance of extremely large thug-like auror-types with fierce faces and scary eyebrows at seemingly random positions around the school. They are, apparently, the Ministry's contribution to Hogwart's security. Dumbledore has also, he informs us, placed innumerable defensive charms and spells on every opening into the castle. I just hope he has accounted for the multiple secret passageways I saw on the Marauder's Map. Anyway, according to the authorities, we are now completely safe. Safer, in fact, than we would be at home. I wanted to point out that if this was the case, then why didn't we invite everyone's friends and families to come and live here with us as the castle has more empty rooms than Celine has freckles, but I didn't get the chance. I hope my parents aren't in any danger.

Anyway, back to our arrival. I had spent a greater part of the trip on the Hogwart's Express casually berating Celine and Tory for not getting in touch with me during our time off, mainly because Celine had begun to talk about James and Tory was following her lead. Everyone was getting a little tetchy by the end of the trip, and accusations were starting to be made. They went something along the lines of:

"Celine, I was all alone without an Owl or any way of knowing what was going on!"

"Lily, you saw Potter, I know you did! I know it!"

"Celine, you were probably too busy getting it on with-"

"You can talk, Lily, I mean, Potter-"

"Tory, shut it, will you? Just because you're so rapt in bloody Black-"

"I am not! You're the one who's 'rapt' in Potter-"

"Liar,"

"Shut up, you two, you're boring as shit!"

"I know for a fact that Black can't be trusted around alcohol. You're making a bad choice, Tory."

"Oh yes? And how do you know that? Did you have a cosy little conversation with Potter about him?"

"Yep. I heard from Toby's friend Michael that his little cousin saw Lily and-"

"Argh! What's wrong with you?"

So yes, tempers are running embarrassingly high, but you know, you can hardly blame us. We're in the midst of a war we know nothing about, and we also have a work load I wouldn't wish on Lina Matherson. Today was horrible, horrible torture. In Transfiguration, I wasn't talking to Celine because she'd spilt pumpkin juice all over my porridge, Tory wasn't talking to me because I'd gone a little too far with the Black-ribbing (this was after he'd yelled right in my ear to 'rise and shine' when I was looking peaky at breakfast, mind you), and Celine wasn't talking to Tory because she'd said Lina Matherson's hair was pretty (Celine took this to mean that her hair wasn't pretty, and that Tory actually liked Lina Matherson). Anyway, the upshot of it all was that in Transfiguration I was forced to sit next to Theresa Grey, who told be all about the shopping spree she'd gone on the week before, the dress that hadn't fitted her and the rude security guard who had kicked her out of the shop for loitering. And then, because I'd been doing my best to drown out all surrounding noises, including Theresa Grey, I didn't hear when Professor McGonagall explained about the transfiguration of limbs and extremities, so I struggled the entire lesson and received extra homework and McGonagall's best I'm-so-damn-inflexible-I'll-probably-have-heart-failure-before-I-hit-fifty stern glare.

After Transfiguration, in the interests of self-preservation, I decided to apologise to Tory, explaining that of course Black was a nice guy, and of course I didn't mind that he was a tad unstable at the moment. Unfortunately Tory took my weary, slightly desperate tones to be sarcasm and stormed off in a huff. I was so desperate not to spend another lesson in the company of Theresa and/or Lina and Louisa that I even tempted to clear Celine's pumpkin juice stained slate and start again, but then she went and said something like,

"Hey, Lily, you and lover-boy here been having a little tiff? You haven't talked to him all day!" Right in front of James Potter when we were waiting outside Potions. I, of course, being Lily Evans, performed the whole white-with-anger followed by profuse blushing thing, and James said,

"Oh, yes. We've decided we're well and truly through," and then Celine said,

"Already?" and then Professor Lalli said,

"Oh, you're all here early! Does that mean you're all ready and rearing to go?" and then Sirius Black said,

"No, it means we're all suicidal maniacs with nothing better to do."

Professor Lalli did not answer this at first, and I thought that Sirius might actually have managed to insult her, but then I realised she was just fishing around in her bag for today's potions recipe as she opened the door to the classroom,

"Today we're making Stabilising Solution! To stabilise the sick and wounded! Guaranteed to stop heavy bleeding within seconds, you know," she beamed.

It turned out that the Stabilising Solution required a deeply complex and tiring process involving a drop of Kneazle blood at exactly the right millisecond. By the end of it I was covered in dog liver and seriously contemplating murdering Professor Lalli, who does all our potions herself alongside us (for fun), and whose solution gleamed a irritatingly accurate shade of metallic purple. As we trudged wearily back to Gryffindor Tower, Celine and I shot each other death glares and Sirius said that he wouldn't have been able to cut the tension in the air with a chainsaw. At this point, James gave him an inexplicable shove from the side so that he was sent sprawling into a nearby pot plant containing an animated cactus (Do not ask why it was there. Professor Sprout the Herbology Teacher is probably on drugs). Unfortunately the cactus was sorely angered by this invasion of its personal space, and Black ended up in the hospital wing covered in prickles and swearing vengeance on both the pot plant and James Potter. Lina, Theresa and Louisa thought it was all very funny, of course, and Lina even forgot that she was supposed to be moping about the danger her father was in on the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, and laughed herself silly for about half an hour while Celine and I ground our teeth together.

Lunchtime served not purpose other than to aggravate us all further. A couple of wannabe pranksters from fourth year attempted to make everyone's spoons run away from their owners in the hope of having a thousand or so students milling around trying to rescue them. This insightful and incredibly witty trick went horribly wrong and instead of running away from their owners, the spoons became attracted to them, rather like a paperclips to a giant magnet, as did the soup, the napkins and other miscellaneous objects that happened to be sitting on the table. It was not particularly pleasurable to sit round afterwards, covered in tomato soup, and listen to James, Sirius and Peter Pettigrew discuss how distasteful and ill-timed the prank had been. The culprits, a pair by the names of Josephine Langton and Samuel Vo will, I hope, be unable to hold their heads up in public for a very long time.

Anyway, the rest of the day was pretty much uneventful apart from an occasional snide comment from Celine, a few tussles between James and Sirius and the odd exasperated sigh from me. Now it is ten o'clock at night and I have managed to become friendless, hapless and bad tempered all in one infuriatingly long day. Hopefully tomorrow will be better, but I very much doubt it because I did not do the Athrithmancy exercise I had for homework and Professor Fangmorton will go on to the next one assuming that I have.

Friday 27th of February

Well I suppose today is, at least, Friday, which gives it a distinct advantage in the popularity stakes over, say, Monday or Thursday. Thursday is always a particularly horrible day, I was always say, because it is possible to wake up on Thursday morning believing it to be Friday (or even Saturday if you're really hopeful), which makes it twice as horrible when you realise it's only Thursday and that Professor McGonagall's five-foot essay is due first thing. There were of course several others things about today that put it a cut above the rest. Firstly, I extricated myself from the OLCC (Eggy Crilmer's Charm Club) once and for all, and although it wasn't pretty I felt quite proud of myself. The nerdish Eggy had approached me at breakfast; that absurd, overly enthusiastic, pompous look on his face. Almost as if I could read his mind, I knew what he was going to say, and beat him to it,

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Eggy, but I really can't do it anymore."

"What?" he asked, nonplussed. Sometimes you really wouldn't believe he got four outstanding OWLs in fifth year.

"I'd like to…er…to quit the Charms Club. To not be…part of it anymore…I'm sorry…"

"Lily!" Crilmer looked baffled, and I had a pang of guilt, "Your one of our most talented members! We need you!"

"No, Eggy, I'm sorry. I've just got too much work." And with that, I turned assertively on my heel and strode away, deaf to cries of,

"You're going to regret you're decision, you just see if you don't!' which the mildly enraged Charms fanatic hurled at my retreating back.

Having successfully washed my hands of the Charms Club, I was feeling empowered and daringly sat next to James Potter to eat. I had not talked to him more than in passing since we got back to school. This was partly because I had been too busy and partly because I did not feel like talking to Tory and Celine (who are back to being my best buddies because it was altogether too tiring to remain at odds) about our little trip to the movies. James seemed pleased, anyhow, and to my relief the other Marauders were nowhere to seen.

"Morning," he said, smiling at me, "Did you…er…have a good week?" I blinked,

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously,

"All right, sorry. That was a stupid question. Will you make it through today?" I pretended to give this serious thought,

"Well," I said, "It is a possibility. I may just do it if Fangmorton is somehow sick today and we get someone else for Arithmancy."

"Oh yes," said James rolling his eyes, "Ole Fangers. God, I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, when he employed that old sow." I gave him a quizzical look, then smirked slightly,

"You're just scared of her," I said, because it was partly true. James usually refuses to be intimidated by most teachers, but when it comes to Anne-Marie Fangmorton, he and Sirius behave like whipped curs. I am not quite certain as to why this is the case, as 'Ole Fangers' has never issued either of them with a detention. Sirius, off course, tried it on a bit when we first got her after Professor George left, but I'm assuming I missed out on being privy to a few very serious threats from Herself, because in Arithmancy, Black can now be quelled with the simplest of stern glares.

"I am not!" said James,

"You are! You're Head Boy, but you still think she's going to…I don't know, what exactly do you think she's going to do?" I looked at him curiously, and he stared back at me, running his hand through his hair embarrassedly. I suddenly wondered what it would be like to run my own hands through it, and quickly locked my fingers into fists on the table. I was still being careful not to give much thought to that side of matters.

"Well," he said in a low voice, breaking into my thoughts, "I don't really know. But it's not funny! She scares me. She does have something…about her. She's evil!" I snorted. It was amazing what could be extracted from Potter when you were his friend.

"She's strict, yes. And bad tempered. But she hasn't done anything evil." I grinned, amused. James did not share my mirth. He glanced uncomfortably around the Great Hall,

"She gave Anthony Jansen a week's detention for blowing his nose in class!" he whispered theatrically.

"Where'd you hear that? From Celine?"

"From Theresa Grey."

"Well there you are. Almost certainly not true-"

"Sirius says she approves of corporal punishment. Reckons she's been torturing first years in the dungeons, prob'ly using Filche's old equipment-"

"Sirius is even more terrified of her than you are!"

"With reason, I tell you! She's creepy!"

"She's just a bitter old lady with an attitude problem. She's probably lonely…"

"Lily, why are you defending Professor Fangmorton?" I stared at him for a second, and then shook my head,

"I don't know. Just too used to arguing with you, I suppose." He pretended to look hurt,

"Six years of bitter squabbling! My loyal adoration only met with scorn at every turn-"

"Adoration?" I asked thoughtlessly, and suddenly my jovial, light hearted frame of mind was gone, to be replaced by a nervous knot in the pit of my stomach. The change in the mood was almost audible, and I couldn't work out precisely why. Why is it that whenever I had a vaguely serious conversation with James I feel inexplicably in over my head?

"Oh," said the James, his grin fading as if it had never been, "Well…there's...well you should…I mean…anyway, we'll be late to class…don't want to give Fangers an excuse to put us up for torture, I mean detention…" and with that he gathered up his bag from under the table and rose abruptly. Leaving my half-finished strawberry jam on toast, I made to follow him, half wanting to delve deeper into whatever it was that we were talking about, half scared out of my wits.

"It's still ten minutes until the bell," I remarked as we set a cracking pace out of the Great Hall,

"Yes," replied James absently, "You never can be too early, of course." I followed him in silence for a few minutes, but when it became obvious that he was not actually heading for the Arithmancy Classroom at all, I stopped in my tracks and cleared my throat. Looking as if he would rather have kept going, James turned around and regarded me apprehensively.

"Um…this isn't the way to Arithmancy?" I said softly, and was surprised to find that every muscle in my body was tense as if suspecting some kind of attack. I tried to relax. James looked at his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. We were in a dark hallway that I thought might be leading down to the dungeons.

"Oh," he said, "You're right." He looked extremely worried about something and I stepped closer to him,

"What's wrong?" I asked, "Did I say something to upset you?" I knew this was dangerous ground to walk on, but I seemed to be unable to stop myself.

"Upset me?" he asked feebly, "No, no…what are you talking about…"

"I-"

"Better get to Arithmancy, eh?" Suddenly my brain cleared itself of all fuzziness and distraction. What was I doing, exactly? Gripping reality firmly between my teeth, I smiled,

"Yes," I said, "We should."

"Yes," he replied, and I could see by the grimace on his face that he was feeling like a complete idiot. I gave a sudden laugh,

"What?" he asked softly, still blushing,

"We are a pair of fools," I said, not really knowing why I said it.

"I am no fool," retorted James,

"Then why are you standing in a dungeon corridor staring at me when you should be in Professor Fangmorton's Athrimancy class?" I asked, feeling and sounding like a smart-arse.

"Because…because…" he scratched his neck and managed to look both wretched and endearing at the same time, "Oh, bloody…can't see…" he made a sudden, frustrated noise in the back of his throat and glared down at me, "Oh, come on," he said, and to my surprise, grabbed my hand and began to march off down the hallway, tugging me behind him. ignoring the pleasant feeling of my hand in his, I followed.

When we arrived at the Athrimancy classroom, it became apparent that we had lost track of the time. Having dropped my hand like a hot brick before entering, I saw James take a deep breath and meet Professor Fangmorton's evil eye. A bead of sweat was already making its way down his forehead. I tried to avoid the raised eyebrows of my classmates, and while I was thankful neither Celine nor Tory were present, Sirius Black's all-his-Christmases-had-come-at-once grin was just as bad. 'Where have you been with James Potter?' his maddening eyes were asking. Fearfully, I looked to the Professor. Her, thin, bird-like features were arranged neatly in her seat, her body clenched with the air of some terrible creature lying in wait for its prey. A steely eyed, rigid creature with no immediate desire to eat. A creature content to draw out the demise of its captive.

"Well, head boy, head girl, do you have a reason for being fifteen minutes late for your most important class?" she asked languidly. Listening to Professor Fangmorton's voice is like sinking your two front teeth into a bowl of ice cream. No one even dared to sneer into their textbooks. Unsurprisingly, in the presence of Ole Fangers, James was unable to make up his usual load of garbage, and I had to step in for him.

"We're really sorry, Professor," I began, trying to sound sucky but not too sucky, "Professor Dumbledore kept us late after breakfast. To talk about the prefect's patrol timetables and all that." I smiled, and Fanger's eyes narrowed to slits. I was fully expecting her tongue to whip out and do a lizard like lick of the lips.

"I see," she said, giving James, who was weak with relief, an appraising look, "In the future I shall require a signed note from Professor Dumbledore himself, Miss Evans," she continued icily, "You may sit." And so we sat, me next to Kerin Fitzpatrick of Hufflepuff, and James next to William May of Ravenclaw. Kerin shot me what in my opinion was a completely unnecessary sly smile and jerked her head pointedly in James' direction. I gave her a bland, 'I don't know what you're on about, but yes, all right,' kind of look and went back to my textbook. After class, Black walked me back to the common room, humming merrily and doing funny little skips or jumps every now and then. I gave a long-suffering sigh and turned to face him,

"You don't want to be late for Davidson, now do you, Sirius dear?" I asked him sweetly, and the cheesy smile that had been hitherto plastered across his face was suddenly wiped away.

"Damn," he said, stopping to rummage in his bag, "How do you know my timetable?"

"I know everything, of course," I said superiorly, flicking my plait behind my back. I didn't bother to tell him that I only knew he had Divination with Professor Davidson because I make it my business to know what times divination is on so I can sit and gloat about how I didn't choose it as a NEWT subject, and airily ask those unfortunate souls who did how class was today. Black snorted at this,

"You're getting too cocky by half, Evans," he said, "Before you know it you'll find yourself out on dates with Potter having your-"

"Oh, go and get a life, Black," I said, half jokingly. Not deigning to grace this with an answer, Black rudely stuck his finger up at me traipsed off to the divination tower, "Have fun, won't you," I yelled after him, and continued on my way to the common room, whereupon I decided to go to the library instead.

Once inside I gave smile of satisfaction at the thought of Divination and assumed a relaxed at a table by the window, only to find myself sitting opposite none other than Shirley Rookwood. I growled inwardly at this misfortune and commenced ignoring her completely, my nose in a book (One Hundred and One Seemingly Useless but Actually Extremely Fascinating Potions by A. Lalli). Alas, the fates were not with me.

"You're really very self satisfied, aren't you?" she said, her voice light and prissy. I looked up at her warily, wondering where all this was going, fearful to saying anything lest I ignite her wrath or her rumour spreading abilities,

"Er…I'm not sure what you mean," I said non-committedly, when it became obvious an answer was required.

"Oh, well," she pattered on, "I mean, you're supposed to be very smart aren't you? And quite pretty, wouldn't you say? And head girl¸ of course. And now, well, now you've got Potter too, haven't you? You must be quite pleased with yourself." I stared at her. Why was she talking to me? I had publicly humiliated her earlier in the year…we never spoke two words to eachother otherwise…I had a bad feeling about this. There was something dangerous about Shirley Rookwood. Something almost sinuous, her beautiful eyes were glittering…

"Er, got him? I'm not with Potter…if…if that's what you mean…"

"Oh, come on, Lily, you don't have to lie…everyone knows…we just thinks it's rather amazing that he's still after you…after you've been so cruel to him." I was at a loss for words. What was the meaning of this? What unsavoury rumours were flying around that I was unaware of? Shirley's tone made anger spark inside me, but also fear, which is ridiculous since she is a whole year younger than me.

"I'm really not sure what you mean," I said quickly, and attempted to end the conversation by turning back to my book. But Shirley only giggled mirthlessly and fingered a golden curl,

"Oh, Lily, you surely do. You only realised what you wanted when you saw what I had, didn't you? And you just had to take it away…but, I daresay James will wake up to your games soon enough-"

"What?" I spluttered. What was she on about? It occurred to me that perhaps she was on drugs, but the clear, vicious look in her eye suggested not, "What – I didn't take – what're you -"

"If it wasn't for you, he'd have stayed with me! You were there pulling on his heartstrings-"

"Shirley, you've made a mistake-"

"No mistake," she said coldly, "You forced me to break up with him."

"No – no, what're you – I mean, this was all months ago-"

"Yes it was," she hissed, "But after a few little chats with Lina about you, I realised I had to let you know what you did, punish you for-"

"Punish me? Did you say Lina Matherson?"

"Punish you as you deserve." And with this rather weak parting shot, she rose gracefully to her feet, tossed her curls and was gone. I stared at the space she had occupied. Lina Matherson? Was her'sthe authority on which Shirley dared to challenge her Headgirl? I shook my head in bewilderment as I remembered a previous occasion on which Lina had described Shirley as 'such a bimbo.' I sighed. My good mood was ruined.