Chapter 18

(A/N) Yay! Wow, you guys seem to hate cliffhangers… and that really wasn't a good one, either.

Thanks to TunedIn for pointing out my mistake in spelling.

Who can figure the meaning of this chapter title?

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda, I own nothing. Orpheus and Eurydice are two people in Greek mythology. I'm not bothering to give the abbreviated version; the last time I did, everyone gave me a longer, more accurate version of it. In rough, Orpheus played music beautifully, his wife, Eurydice, died, he went into Hades to retrieve her and had to promise not to look at her once on the way back to the realm of the living, otherwise she'd return to Hades. Not bearing to be able to not see his wife, Orpheus snuck a peek, and almost lost her. Instead, Zeus decided to allow them to live on Mount Olympus. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Important Author's Note: I uploaded this chapter earlier, but then I found that it wasn't satisfactory to me, so I removed it for editing. Sorry for the inconvenience! Thanks for putting up with me for so long, too!

*~*~*~*~*

James, with a suitcase in each hand, walked up to the front of Hogwarts School of Wizardry.

Though they had returned a few weeks earlier than expected, he was happy to be back, nonetheless.

They had been on a plane bound for England before they knew it. The reason of their return wasn't a pleasant one; it was rather depressing. But he would be happy to see his friends.

Turning around, he saw Lily, with her arms folded, walking up the icy walkway to the door of the school. Of course, he could see past the façade she was holding up, but he wasn't about to risk getting a snappy lecture from her for talking to her. From the entire ride from the car, to the airport, the plane, the airport, and the coach bus, she still hadn't said a word to him. Instead, she stroked her owl and read a book, or just looked out of the window.

The door swung open, and McGonagall ushered them in.

And once the door closed, James had an odd feeling that things would be changing very soon.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily sighed, dropping her two suitcases on the floor of her dorm room.

Taking a quick look at it, she'd found (rather gratefully) that the place hadn't changed at all. It took her a while to realize how glad she was that it hadn't.

After her time in America, where she had complained (in a spoiled manner, she'd realized with chagrin later) about everything from the staff to the facilities, comparing it to Hogwarts, she was endlessly glad to find that the place hadn't changed since she left.

She wasn't sure why, it wasn't as though she had expected it to, but when she had walked into the school, the familiar sense of… belonging, she supposed, had embraced her. It had been something she had been lacking for the past few weeks, a feeling she had missed without realizing it.

Lily let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

If it had been under a different circumstance, she might have been happy, delighted, even. But now…

She collapsed onto her bed, fatigue from the trip catching up to her, while trying to block out the voices in her head.

"Marigold and Richard Evans are dead. Your parents are dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead..."

She groaned as the word echoed in her head. As if she needed to be reminded. Deciding she needed a break from it all, Lily walked outside, not bothering to throw on a jacket.

*~*~*~*~*

James peered out the velvety maroon drapes that adorned the large window which gave him a view of the side of Hogwarts, the stretch of the Lake, the gazebo, the cherry blossom trees that lined part of the lake, the large, bare, oaks that seemed to act as large, strong, guards, barring intruders from entering the grounds of Hogwarts.

The grounds were covered in a thick snow, like a quilt on a bed. A figure stood out in the glistening, sparkling, white snow, the familiar figure of Lily Evans.

James wondered vaguely why she wasn't inside with her friends, who had seemed eager to hear everything, from what he'd seen earlier.

It might have something to do with how they all suddenly silenced themselves and spoke in hushed voices after she told them about the death of her parents, he supposed.

Most people would turn to their friends in their times of need, James noted, but Evans had never exactly been that type. He didn't think she'd wanted sympathy, and her friends had given her enough sympathy to drown in.

Still, of all the places she could have gone, that didn't explain why she was out in the freezing cold with just her uniform on, not a coat, jacket, or robe.

The winters could be below freezing at Hogwarts, James knew from experience, and the outside cold was simply numbing. Grabbing a jacket to wear over his uniform, he headed out, for reasons he didn't know himself.

To keep her company, a voice answered him, as he turned the door handle. Shaking that thought out of his head, James walked out into the freezing cold.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily shivered, scolding herself for not bringing at least a sweater.

The room was just too stifling, even without her friends to question and comfort her endlessly, talking to her as if she were a child, treating her as if she were a fragile, fragile, doll, ready to fall to pieces in any moment.

She hadn't even cried yet, she realized. Not that it would achieve anything remotely important. Crying wouldn't bring back her parents, would it?

No use adding her tears to the ocean of tears shed already in the world, for far more important reasons than hers, Lily told herself bitterly. She wasn't the only one with problems, and it was selfish of her to take pity on herself. (A/n: see what twisted thinking Lily has?)

"Hi."

Lily frowned, recognizing the voice. Instead of acknowledging the speaker, she sank onto one of the benches in the gazebo, facing the lake.

James, knowing that he wasn't going to get a reply, took a seat next to her.

Lily reached her hand out and broke off a twig on the Cherry blossom tree. Like that twig, her life had suddenly been snapped into two. Discarding it, she turned to meet his eyes.

"What, Potter?" she asked, her tone cold enough to match the below freezing temperatures outside.

James stared at her, something that unnerved her, like he was trying to see into the back of her skull. "Aren't you cold?" he asked at last. "It's freezing out here."

Lily's skin prickled. That was rather personal. "I like the air," she answered, a hint of defiance in her voice. "It clears the mind."

"Your mind, you mean," James said, still watching her face, as if reading every expression. "Some of us find that it numbs the mind."

Lily looked away, very aware of his gaze. "I sincerely hope that you're one of them," she answered crisply. "Then, perhaps, you'd leave me alone."

"Not a chance," he replied. "Orpheus didn't abandon Eurydice."

Lily looked at him strangely, and it took him a moment to realize what he just said.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily frowned as she walked down the corridor to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore had called for her to the office, for some "important matters to discuss", he had called it. She assumed it involved the death of her parents. Everyone was comforting her, extending sympathies…

She didn't want that. She wanted to forget, she wanted to run away from all of it.

But then, Lily thought bitterly, as she walked past the stone gargoyles that guarded the door, it was hard to escape from a brutal truth when everyone constantly reminded her of it. And escape was exactly what she wanted to do. To be whisked off to where pain and hurt didn't exist, or at least where she wasn't reminded of the source of the hurt.

And it did hurt. It hurt so much, but she wouldn't let herself show it. It was a sign of weakness, and wasn't that what Voldemort wanted? This was war, and she wasn't about to let him win, she told herself fiercely, as Dumbledore opened the door to admit her.

"Take a seat, Miss Evans," he said gravely, gesturing towards the large chair in his office.

Waiting for her to walk in, Dumbledore closed the door, shaking his head.

It was from that exact moment that Lily knew something was wrong. She just didn't know how wrong.

And she would soon find out.

*~*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, Lily stared in horror at the Headmaster, as if expecting him to say, at any moment, that it was a horrible, terrible, joke.

He didn't.

"Miss Evans? You realize what I am saying?" Dumbledore asked kindly, gently. He used the same voice everyone used when they talked to her.

Of course she realized what he was saying. Harsh reality hit her like a ton of bricks. She, Lily Evans, could be one of the most powerful people in the wizarding world- if she wanted to be.

It was a "gift", one that would allow her to become invisible at will, shift molecules, take the shape of anything or anyone, see into the depths of a person's soul, among other things.

She would have the potential to do so many things, so many terrible, wonderful, things. And she was given an option- she could accept or decline.

Not being able to voice her thoughts, she nodded mutely.

Dumbledore smiled bitterly. "You are dismissed, Miss Evans. Oh, and Lily?"

Halfway out the door, Lily turned. "Yes, sir?" she asked, failing to keep the tremble out of her voice.

"Think it over. You have time. Don't be hasty; it would be a poor thing to create a lifetime regret from a moment of bad judgement," he said, his smile disappearing.

Lily nodded and shut the door on her way out.

*~*~*~*~*

Dumbledore stared out the oriel that gave him a clear view of the quidditch pitch.

He sincerely hoped that Lily would make the right choice. He hoped she wouldn't make the decision because of Riddle, her parents, or just out of revenge.

Albus Dumbledore had hoped many things in his life, but never had he wished for something so much. He hadn't told her this, but her decision could decide the fate of hundreds of people.

Power affected and scared people, and her choice needed to be made purely on her own, not out of sympathy for those other couple hundred people her decision would affect.

The Headmaster sighed, knowing that at times like these, they could only hope for hope.

Watching as the sky slowly turned from day to night, stars slowly making their appearance, Dumbledore made a wish on every one of those stars. The Ministry was right about her.

She was the One.

*~*~*~*~*

James Potter sighed.

He wasn't in the mood to talk to his friends, finding that in the past few days, everything that he had gone by, everything he had known, had vanished.

The letter he had received by owl post that next morning had been the last straw.

His mother was dying. His mother, who had been surrounded by experts and doctors with the best training, muggle and magical, was dying.

And all his father could write about his dying wife was two, hollow, sentences.

While his wife's pending death seemed to be a matter not quite so important, James' father had found the time to write two paragraphs about the wallpaper in the dining room that he was stripping and replacing.

James put away the letter. His mother was dying, and his father was worrying about the wall paper patterns that matched the china patterns the best.

James knew his father wasn't a terrible person, but the man was hardly what he considered to be a good father, caring husband, or even a remotely supportive figure in his life. He knew, though, even if James Potter Senior was a good man, and a great leader, he would always be unable to fill a certain void in his life; he'd never be able to carry out his role as a good father.

"Hi, James," a voice said. James looked up to see Remus sitting down next to him, Madame Pince telling him to "hush, he was disturbing those at work", though they were the only ones in the library.

"My family is dysfunctional," James groaned, launching into a brief explanation.

Remus' mouth parted slightly, aghast at what his friend had confided in him. "Oh," was all that came out.

James stared at him for a second, then hit his head on the library table. "That hurt," James said mildly, blinking. Looking up, James groaned again. "I have research to do, I almost forgot. Later, Remus."

Remus watched as James walked off to a different section of the library, and noticed the books he had left on the table.

"Students of Notice: Past & Present, The History of Salem School of Witchcraft, Students Who Left Their Mark: Volume XI, Salem- Stretton, Copies of Yearbooks of Salem School of Witchcraft: 1960-1975, Random Trivia You Never Knew You Never Knew: Volume XXVII, Schools of North America," Remus read, shaking his head. "What the…?"

Thus, Remus left the library wondering of his friend's sudden interest in the Salem School of Witchcraft, and questioning the sanity of the Head Boy.

*~*~*~*~*

Lily, standing behind a bench, paused in her afternoon stroll to watch a few of the fifth and sixth years playing around in the snow. Nearby, under the giant oak, a few seventh years were laughing over some witticism of one of the Ravenclaws. A few second years were playing jump rope, giggling every time the jumper kicked up some clumps of snow.

Somehow, normal scenes such as those made her angry. Because her parents would never see a scene like those again.

The loose blue shawl her mother had given her last Christmas suddenly seemed suffocating.

Suffocating her with emotion.

"Hello," a voice greeted. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Lily turned around to meet the eyes of James Potter. "They're not really worth a penny," she said finally.

"Hmm," James scratched his chin, "That's a new one. Well, two for the price of one, then."

"Going once, going twice, sold to the young man with messy, unkempt, hair," Lily's smile was thin. She took his offered arm, and they continued to walk around the grounds of Hogwarts, her grip on his arm rather tight, as if she would fall any minute. James did indeed seemed to be holding her up, as she was walking stiffly.

"So," James reached into his pockets and found a penny, "How about those thoughts? I had to bargain a bit."

Lily laughed, the first genuine laugh since… forever, it seemed. "Have you ever loved and lost somebody, Mr. Potter?"

James' eyes suddenly didn't seem to laugh anymore. In fact, they seemed to darken slightly. "Yes," he answered slowly. "Yes, I do believe I have, Miss Evans."

"Hmm," Lily pulled the shawl more closely around her. "We have more in common than I thought. Well, I must say, it's a terrible experience. And contrary to popular belief, it's not better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."

James continued to walk. "Continue, Miss Evans. You intrigue me."

"Like having the most precious thing you own being ripped away from you," Lily said, her voice turning icy. "Like having someone step on your heart, your soul, hundreds of times. Like having a broken heart that continues to break."

"And after a while, you wonder, did the person you loved ever exist at all?" James snapped a twig from a low branch of another oak, ignoring the look on Lily's face. "Perhaps they were just someone you wanted so much that you dreamt them up. And all common sense screams at you to forget about it, and tells you that it would hurt so much less. But then, you just have to cling on to that stupid shred of hope that tells you to never forget about it, no matter how much it hurts, that they'll return someday."

"Oh," Lily said softly. "I suppose so."

James seemed to snap out of a trance. "What?" he frowned. "Sorry, go on. I was just thinking about something else."

"Penny for your thoughts," Lily smiled.

"Nothing. It's nothing. What were you saying?" James snapped another twig.

Lily sighed. "Nothing. That's about it, really."

*~*~*~*~*

Lily stared at the small, framed picture on her desk, of the last time she had seen her parents before school started.

She smiled involuntarily as she reminisced the day the picture had been taken.

She remembered the day clearly, from the crisp, fall air that mingled with the scent of her mother's freshly baked pie (family recipe, of course) that was cooling by the window, to the red, gold, and orange leaves drifting slowly to the ground.

Her father had just gotten a new camera, one that wouldn't actually be sold to the public for another five years. Excited, he had called the entire family outside to the backyard, where the golden sunlight streaming in was "just perfect", as he'd said it. "Boys and their toys," Lily's mother had shook her head, stepping out anyway. It would have been a quite formal picture, Lily guessed, if it hadn't been for some interference on their pets' part. Their golden retriever, "Max" had bounded up to them, decided to give up his chase after a squirrel, and chose, instead, to tackle Lily and her sister, both of whom had fell to the ground laughing.

Their cat, a full grown white cat with blue eyes, named "Tinker Bell", had jumped up onto Mrs. Evans, catching her by surprise. Trying desperately to return to proper positioning before the flash clicked on the camera, they succeeded only in falling into the large pile of raked leaves, scattering them everywhere.

It ended up with the entire family with real, genuine laughter, Max and Tinker looking extremely pleased with themselves.

Lily let a single tear roll down her cheek, before wiping it away impatiently.

"Stop it, Evans," she muttered. "Don't do this to yourself. Feeling only makes it hurt worse."

She stared at her cold reflection in the mirror, which said in a raspy voice, "Lovely, dear. You've changed completely."

*~*~*~*~*

James stopped reading, halfway through a sentence.

He couldn't concentrate, so he put down the book and checked his watch. Five forty-three a.m.

He had woken up from a dream, none of which he remembered, but he hadn't been able to go back to sleep. So, he crept up to the Common Room, to study and read. It wasn't working.

Getting up, he walked over to the large, picture window, where the outside scene could be seen as a painting.

The sky was still dark, but a small glimmer of light was starting to appear.

James remembered faintly of when he had been four or five, reading one of his father's astrology, trying to pronounce the words, with some difficulty. His mother had tried to help him, but a four year old reading a college book? She had eventually convinced his father to buy him a telescope, a muggle and magical one.

Though his father had bought it, he always thought of it as a gift from his mother. The stars were fading, slowly.

James smiled slightly. When it seemed like the world was against you, when you reached utter, complete, rock bottom, things could only get better.

Who had told him that?

Effie, the old cook, he remembered. When he was six, he had asked her why she was always so happy, even though she had such a bad life.

The rather robust cook with rosy cheeks had laughed at him, and said, "Youngster, when you get to be as old as me, you know more about life and how it works. It likes to play tricks on you, and throws obstacles at you. But in the end, all of that helps you."

He hadn't understood then.

"How? How, Effie? How did it help you?" he had asked.

"It toughens you up," she had answered. "For when things aren't going so good. When you think life can't be worse, it gets worse. But when you reach rock bottom, the only way to go is up."

He hadn't understood that, either.

"Up, James, up. Goodness, child, that father of yours teaches you nothing, does he?"

James remembered his reply. "Up?" he had crinkled his nose. "You mean the upward movement to a more elevated position?"

"Nothing, he teaches you, that Potter. Now listen here, child. I've been working with this family for years, even when your daddy was a young boy-"

"He was young?" James' six-year-old self had asked incredulously. "You mean, like me?"

Effie had laughed, and James had wondered how this woman could laugh so much. "Now, listen, your father is a good man, but he doesn't know the finer things in life."

"But our meals are all gourmet, he says we have the finest estate in the country, and in three others, too. You mean they aren't fine?" James had asked, confused.

Effie had laughed at that, too. "No, I mean the little things that make life worth living for. Like a stroll on a fall day, smelling a fresh daisy, singing in the rain, having a good, old fashioned, snowball fight, falling in love, pure and true."

"Father says that the air is filled with pollen and other stuff during fall that makes… erm," James had paused, then said carefully, "a-ller-gies. He says that daisies are one notch up from weeds, that staying out in the rain gets you pneu… pneumo… pneumon…"

"Pneumonia, child, pneumonia," Effie had corrected him.

"Right, that," James had nodded. "And he said that playing in the snow makes a person get frostbite. Effie, what's frostbite?"

"Nothing, child," Effie had replied. "It's just your father being dramatic."

"Oh. So frostbite means father being dramatic?" James had said, nodding with understanding. "Anyway, he said that true love doesn't exist, only in the minds of dreamers and Shakespeare. Effie, what's 'Shakespeare'?"

"Who, not what," Effie had corrected. "Shakespeare was a writer. He understood the finer things in life." At James' confused expression, she had replied, "You'll understand when you're older, I promise."

James had to smile a little. Effie had taught him about "life", and Sirius had helped. Effie had died of old age last year, and his father had been terribly upset. "That woman has been working for our family since my father was little. What'll we do without her? No one here can cook like her!"

Which was when they had employed the house-elves, who weren't nearly as fun as Effie had been.

James checked his watch. Six a.m.

He sighed and walked down to the Great Hall, waiting for the rest of the students to come in.

*~*~*~*~*

"Brilliant, Peter! That was bloody brilliant!" Sirius clapped the terrified boy on the back while taking alarmingly large bites out of his sandwich and taking a swig of expired apple cider.

"B-b-b-but S-S-S-Severus was a-a-a-awfully angry, Sirius," Peter said, casting a worried glance at the Slytherin table.

It had been Sirius's idea, all Sirius's idea. Just because he was caught…

The prank had been quite simple, and they had convinced him that nothing could go wrong. And he, being the gullible fool that he was, had actually believed them.

So, Peter had snuck out that night into the Slytherin's dormitories, and had done as Sirius had said. His mission: wet every quidditch player's finger with warm water. For some reason, that would make them wet the bed.

And it had worked.

But he sat on Snape's face when he had to rest.

Why did things always go wrong when he did them?

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi, Lily," Remus greeted, sitting down next to her at the lunch table. "Where is everyone?"

Lily chewed her lip. "Well, Potter was in the library, Sirius said something about the apple cider not really being apple cider, and ran to throw up in the bathroom, and Peter ran out with him."

Remus laughed. "I told him it was a bad idea," he chuckled. "Looks like Snape is brighter than we thought."

"Don't want to know," Lily muttered. "What's going on, anyway?"

Remus ran his hand through his hair. "James has been acting strange, lately. Have you noticed?" the Marauder frowned. "He has every reason to be, but this latest obsession of his with the students of Salem…"

Lily shrugged. "Just a little strange," she noted. "Remus, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why does he act like that?" she asked. "James, I mean. One second, he's nice, sweet, and I can almost see why he's popular, the next second, he's just terrible, disagreeable, and downright mean?"

"I don't know," Remus answered. "It's just how he is. James was never good with emotions. You can never actually tell what he's really thinking."

"What do you mean?" Lily frowned.

"He just doesn't like to explain things," Remus answered. "He always said, either you get it the first time, or you don't. Not the best philosophy, but then, James is just like that. He doesn't like people getting close to him, so he closes up once you're too close to finding out how he really feels. Pity the poor girl who finally captures his heart. James always said that if nine out of ten girls like him, it'll be the tenth that he really loves. An interesting past time is trying to guess what he's thinking."

Lily laughed. "Interesting. You're right; it is an interesting past time. Thank you, Remus," she said, standing up, "for this most fascinating conversation."

As she turned to leave, Remus mused to himself, "If Lily were the one out of the ten…"

*~*~*~*~*

(A/N) Sorry, it was so short. Sorry you had to wait so long, too! Writer's block! So, I would appreciate it if you guys would r/r!

To Come: Snow, a funeral, an owl, Sweetheart's Valentine's Day Ball, and more.

Don't forget, tell me your favorite and least favorite chapter so far!