As soon as the ghastly skull and snake appeared in the sky, James sprang out of the seat he had been sharing with Parvana and began to rummage through his bag. His hands closed around the familiar silky fabric of his Invisibility Cloak, and he hurriedly draped it around his shoulders.

Sirius, who had been glued to the window, turned to face James. There was a look of horror on his handsome face. "Prongs, mate —"

"Stay here." James' voice was low. The figure on the platform was still speaking, which made it difficult to concentrate. It was as if the Dark Lord's words were being whispered directly into his ear.

Sirius wasn't so easily deterred. "If you're about to do something stupid, I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," said James. "You lot need to keep each other safe."

Remus had pressed both his hands over his ears. He looked at James in alarm. "You don't know what he's got planned —"

"Sure I do," said James. "That maniac's after Muggle-borns. I've got find Lily and Mary — make sure they're alright —"

"And what about us?" asked Peter. His voice was several octaves higher than normal.

"You've got Moony's expanding trunk to hide in," said James. "You'll be fine. Parvana, do you know where the girls are?"

Parvana's eyes were wide as saucers, but she nodded determinedly. "They're in the carriage at the front of the train."

"Excellent," said James, even though things were far from excellent. It would take him at least forty-five seconds to reach the front of the train if he went at a full sprint, and he might not have forty-five seconds to spare. He pointed at Sirius, Remus, and Peter in turn. "If anything happens to Parvana, I'm holding you lot personally responsible, Dark wizard be damned."

Before any of them could respond, James vanished under the Invisibility Cloak. As he bolted out of the compartment, he realized it was going to take a lot longer than forty-five seconds to find Lily and Mary. The corridor of the train was packed with students trying to get a glimpse of whatever was happening on the platform.

James pushed past a large group of Hufflepuffs as quickly as he could. A few students shrieked, apparently unaccustomed to being jostled by an invisible force, but he didn't slow. The Dark wizard was still talking — of course the maniac would be the type to make speeches — and James' head began to pound. He needed to go faster. The exclamations and protests of the students he was elbowing past grew louder as he pushed his way through the train, but there was no time to worry about that now, no time —

A group of first years blocked the door to the next carriage. One, a pale, dark-haired girl who had already changed into her Muggle clothes, was jumping up and down, trying to see out the window. James reached out, ready to shove her roughly aside if he had to — first years were tough, she'd be fine —

A jet of green light shattered the window, spraying the first years with shards of glass. The girl was mid-jump, and the curse hit her squarely in the chest.

Time seemed to slow as the spell held the girl momentarily aloft. Her mouth opened slightly; she looked puzzled, like she couldn't believe she'd actually been hit. Then, like a candle being snuffed, her head dropped to her chest. She fell in a heap on the floor.

The other students — they were so small, they had to be first years, maybe second — stared at her crumpled form. A few were bleeding, injured by the shattered window, but they didn't seem to have noticed.

Then one began to scream.

With a great effort, James forced himself to keep moving, even as the image of the girl seared itself into his retinas. Her expression of mild confusion. Jeans with flowers embroidered on the seams.

Lily and Mary could be next.

The Dark wizard began to speak again. His words filled James' ears like cotton. As James ran, he clapped his hands over his ears like Remus had done. It didn't help, it didn't block him out —

James nearly collided with the food trolley, and he realized he had reached the front of the train. He pulled open the door to the nearest compartment without thinking, praying it was the right one.

Inside the compartment, Lily and Mary were staring out the window. They were both in their Muggle clothes, such obvious targets, why didn't Muggles wear robes like the rest of the civilized world? Lily turned as the door opened, frowning, and James realized he was still invisible under the Cloak.

"It's me," he said. He lowered the Invisibility Cloak just enough to allow his head to appear.

"Potter?" said Lily. She and Mary stared at him in bewilderment. "What — is this some sort of joke?"

James realized they may not have heard of Invisibility Cloaks before. "No time to explain," he said. He crouched beneath the window and shook the Cloak, causing it to shimmer faintly. "Get under the Cloak, quickly, come on —"

Lily exchanged a glance with Mary, then dove under the Cloak. Her arm pressed against James' side as she kneeled next to him. Mary followed suit, curling up against James' other side.

"Are we invisible now?" whispered Lily.

James put a finger to his lips and nodded. He pulled the edges of the Cloak around their ankles, hoping they were completely concealed. The girls' trunks were still on the luggage rack, but there was no helping that, the trunks wouldn't have fit under the Cloak anyway —

Loud cracking noises filled the air, like many fireworks going off at once.

"Apparition," breathed Lily, so quietly that James could barely hear.

"Aurors?" asked Mary.

James dared to raise his head half an inch, straining to see out the window. The Dark Lord — Voldemort, had he called himself? — was surrounded by dozens of dark-robed figures. Their faces were shrouded by masks.

"Not Aurors," said James in a hushed voice. "Death Eaters."

Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the Hogwarts Express. James braced himself for another jet of green light. Let him miss, thought James desperately, please let him miss...

Voldemort's mouth moved. "IMMOBILUS."

Every muscle in James' body froze, locking him in place. Try as he might, he couldn't move. On either side of him, Lily and Mary stiffened — they must have been paralyzed, too.

A chorus of muffled cries rose from the corridor, and James' heart began to pound. Surely Voldemort couldn't have immobilized the entire study body of Hogwarts — surely nobody was that powerful —

Out on the platform, Voldemort gestured at the train with his wand. The dark-robed figures surrounding him began to march forward, wands drawn, towards the train.

There was another flash of green light, followed by laughter. Mary whimpered.

Footsteps were approaching their compartment. James tried to look towards the door, but he couldn't so much as turn his head. He was stuck with his face pressed uncomfortably to the window. He hoped they were well-hidden under the Cloak.

The footsteps grew louder. Just outside the door to the compartment, they stopped. Next to James, Lily went silent; she must have been holding her breath.

There was a scraping sound as the door slid open. "Nobody in here," said a gruff voice.

"Whose trunks are these, then?" replied a haughty female voice.

The first voice grunted. "Probably belong to one of those filthy Mudbloods in the corridor."

The woman giggled. Her laugh sounded vaguely familiar. "The train reeks, doesn't it? It's a good thing we're here to clean the place up…"

The door slammed shut behind them, and the sound of footsteps faded away. Beside him, Lily exhaled, her breaths rapid and short.

James refocused his attention on the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Voldemort hadn't moved; he was watching the Hogwarts Express, a satisfied expression on his cadaverous face. Above him, the grotesque skull with the snake for a tongue cast an eerie green light over the platform. The snake snapped its jaws as it grew larger, more life-like. Its fangs were elongating, and a wicked light gleamed in its eyes as it stretched towards the train.

Voldemort tilted his face upward. He closed his eyes, bathing in the sickly light of the skull, and a horrible smile stretched across his wasted lips.

Suddenly, several high, clear notes rang out across the platform. The sound was electrifying, invigorating; it made James feel warm, as if he'd just downed a bottle of Butterbeer. The strange, ethereal music grew louder, and the hairs on James' arms prickled.

Voldemort's horrible smile vanished. His eyes snapped open. He looked almost — afraid?

James didn't want to know what sort of thing could make a wizard as evil as Voldemort look scared. He tried to wrench himself away from the window, even though he knew it was no use, since he was still paralyzed —

As the music rose to a crescendo, reverberating through James' bones, the curse that was holding them in place broke. James tumbled to the floor, knocking over Lily and Mary.

"Oh, my God," said Lily, scrambling to get back under the Invisibility Cloak. "Oh my God. What — Mary, get under here —"

Mary leapt towards the window, desperate to see what was outside. The music was so loud it made James' teeth vibrate as it changed pitch, like a song —

"Fawkes," said James, as Mary exclaimed, "Dumbledore!"

James jumped up, Lily and Mary at his side, and flung the Cloak around them. Outside, a blur of red and gold pierced one of the enormous skull's eye sockets. The skull and snake vanished at once in a cloud of smoke. The phoenix streaked towards Voldemort, who barely managed to Disapparate in time. Fawkes beat its enormous wings, skidding to a halt where Voldemort had been standing. The bird let out a screech that made James' hair stand on end.

There was a flash of white light, and Dumbledore appeared below Fawkes on the platform. He turned on his heel, moving surprisingly quickly for such an old man, and slashed his wand through the air. A jet of gold burst from his wand, barreling towards a seemingly random corner of the platform —

There was an ear-splitting crack as the spell connected with something invisible. Plumes of black smoke began to rise from the spot. Fawkes screeched again, and Dumbledore whirled around, wand aloft, just as Voldemort appeared behind him. Their spells — one liquid gold, the other emerald green — collided in midair and ricocheted away. Voldemort's spell exploded into the wall, sending fragments of brick and dust in all directions. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the rubble shot towards Voldemort, but the Dark wizard vanished before the cloud of debris could reach him.

The air filled with popping sounds, and a dozen Aurors in dragon-hide leather appeared beside Dumbledore. They drew their wands and looked towards Dumbledore, waiting for some kind of signal.

Dumbledore didn't move. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his keen eyes scanned the empty platform, searching for a sign of the Dark Lord's presence. Another group of Aurors Apparated behind him, but Dumbledore's concentration didn't falter for an instant.

There was a crack, and Voldemort reappeared, hovering — actually hovering, as if he could fly — far above the platform. Fawkes let out a piercing cry and swooped towards Dumbledore, who grabbed the phoenix's tail feathers. Fawkes shot upward, pulling Dumbledore along as they streaked towards Voldemort.

The Aurors aimed their wands skyward, but Voldemort deflected their barrage of spells with an irritated flick of his wand. His red eyes narrowed, clearly displeased at how the tables had turned, and he made a strange gesture, dragging his wand across his forearm.

Several cracking noises sounded from the train, and the dark-robed Death Eaters Apparated to Voldemort's side, forming a circle around him. Somehow they, too, were able to hover in place, shielding Voldemort from Dumbledore and the Aurors. Voldemort waved his wand; he and his followers disappeared with another loud crack, just as Fawkes and Dumbledore hurtled through the space where they had been.

An uneasy silence settled across Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The Aurors held tight to their wands, scouring their surroundings as if Voldemort would reappear at any moment. At last, Dumbledore shook his head. Fawkes let out a dissatisfied-sounding cry and deposited him onto the platform. Dumbledore motioned the nearest Auror over and began to speak with him. James couldn't make out what they were saying, but he didn't miss the seriousness of Dumbledore's expression.

Mary brushed against James' side as she swayed slightly. "Is it over, then? Is the Dark wizard gone?"

"Dunno," said James. He kept his eyes on the platform, half-expecting Voldemort to reappear at any moment. "Maybe."

Several Aurors began to perform some sort of complex counter-charm on the barrier separating Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from King's Cross. As soon as they finished, frantic-looking family members poured onto the platform, crying out for their children.

James inhaled sharply upon seeing their panicked expressions and tear-streaked faces. This was real. It had really happened. Voldemort had been here, and — oh, Merlin, he had murdered that girl. That little girl with her flowered jeans. James' ribs began to squeeze together painfully. He was being crushed, he couldn't get enough air, and that Muggle-born girl was dead —

"Potter?"

He blinked. Lily was watching him steadily. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe," she said.

"We —"

"Not now," said Lily. "Just breathe."

She sounded so calm, as if she invited Lord Voldemort over for tea every Sunday. Why wasn't she afraid? They had wanted her, those maniacs —

"Deep breaths. In through your nose. Out through your mouth."

Dumbledore is here, James reminded himself. The Aurors were here. They were safe.

"That's it," said Lily. "Inhale. Exhale."

James breathed.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Nobody was allowed to leave the train; after securing the platform, the Aurors boarded the Hogwarts Express and stood guard outside of every carriage. Harried-looking officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrived soon after that to corral the panicked families into some semblance of order. James spent nearly half an hour staring out the window, trying to spot his parents in the crowd, but the platform was in such a state of chaos that it was hopeless. After some time, several dozen Healers dressed in emerald green robes Apparated onto the train platform and marched aboard the Hogwarts Express to examine the students.

"I'm fine," muttered James as a bald Healer with deep brown skin checked the state of his humours. He could vaguely hear Lily speaking to the Healer — she seemed to be answering the questions James had been ignoring. He gazed listlessly out the window. Two Healers were leaving the train, pointing their wands at a grey, rectangular box hovering in the air above them. The box was just the right size to hold a student. Maybe a first year, with dark hair and embroidered jeans —

The Healer pressed a phial of silver potion into James' hands. James drank it dully, without tearing his eyes from the box. The throng of worried families had noticed it too, judging by the devastated looks on their faces. A few parents began to shout at the officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They were demanding answers, James was certain, and now a group of Healers were carrying out a second box. The Healers' expressions were impossibly neutral, especially compared to the faces of the crying parents —

James' mind began to hum with a sense of heightened clarity, as if he'd just drunk a cup of tea. He felt clear and alert, yet totally calm. He looked away from the window and towards the empty phial in his hand. "What did you give me?"

The Healer smiled. "Calming Draught. How are you feeling?"

"Better," said James. He was mildly surprised to find it was true.

"Good," said the Healer. He handed them each a round decanter of purple potion out of his briefcase. "Dreamless Sleep. Take one mouthful a night for the next week, to avoid excess production of yellow bile. If you continue to feel unwell after a week's time, please contact St Mungo's." With that, he snapped his briefcase shut and swept out of the compartment.

James looked at Lily. "Yellow bile?"

Lily nodded as she held her potion up to the light. "It causes anxiety, or so they say. Especially after something horrible has happened. Wish we had these in the Muggle world — the effects of trauma can be devastating, you know."

"Dreamless Sleep works really well, too," said Mary, tucking her potion into her bag. She seemed much more relaxed than she had a few minutes ago, and James wondered if the Healer had given her a Calming Draught as well. He hadn't really been paying attention.

"You've taken it before?" asked James. He'd always thought of Mary as being silly and care-free, like the Gryffindor version of Daisy Hookum. "When were you at risk for, er, trauma-related anxieties?"

Mary made a face. "Mulciber tried to maul me with an Inferi cat last year. It was awful."

"What a bloody psychopath," said James with rather less conviction than he felt. He peered back out the window, passing over the grey boxes as if they were utterly unimportant. He was hoping to see his father's shock of white hair poking out above the crowd. "When d'you think they'll let us off this nightmare of a train? I'm getting hungry."

"You're hungry?" repeated Lily.

"What?" asked James innocently.

"Nothing," said Lily. There was a small smile playing around her lips. "You must be feeling better, if you're hungry."

"Healing magic's amazing stuff," said James. "Seriously, though, if I sit here much longer I'm going to go off my rocker."

Unfortunately for James, the sun had nearly set by the time the Aurors began to let them off the train, one carriage at a time. Lily and Mary were escorted by no less than five Aurors to a group of parents wearing Muggle clothes. A shimmering, bubble-like protective charm surrounded the Muggle families, and Aurors were lined shoulder-to-shoulder around the charm's perimeter. In the dim light, James could just make out Lily's red hair as she vanished into the bubble.

"Name?" asked the Auror standing guard at the door of the train.

"Oh," said James stupidly. "Right. James Fleamont Potter."

The Auror ran his finger down a list of names. "James Fleamont Potter. You are to go home with Lottie the house-elf, who should be in Queue Two." He jerked a thumb towards the far end of the platform.

"Er, sorry," said James, who was certain he had misheard. "I'm going with Lottie? Not Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?"

"Lottie the house-elf," repeated the Auror impatiently. "Queue Two, then, off you go…"

James stepped onto the platform, confused. It wasn't uncommon for house-elves to accompany pure-blooded students with less attentive parents, but Fleamont and Euphemia had always come to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to pick him up. James' confusion turned into worry, but the feeling suddenly faded away. I'm sure they're fine, he thought. He suspected he'd feel more concerned if the last of the Calming Draught wasn't coursing through his veins.

Sirius and Lottie were standing slightly apart from Queue Two, which was less of a queue and more of a cluster of worried parents that the surrounding Aurors could barely contain.

Sirius' shoulders sagged in relief as James approached them. "Thank Merlin. You're alright, then?"

"I always am," said James, pulling Sirius in for a hug. "You? How're the others, did they make it out alright? How's Parvana?"

"Everyone's fine," said Sirius. "We missed the whole thing, actually. Brilliant idea, hiding in Moony's expanding trunk — we didn't even know it was over 'til the Aurors started making their rounds."

"Good," said James. He turned towards Lottie, who was wringing her hands nervously. "Lottie, where're Mum and Dad? Are they alright?"

Lottie swallowed hard. "Lottie is having orders to bring the young masters home," she squeaked, sounding apologetic. "Miss Euphemia said to look after the young masters while she and Master Fleamont… while they…" With a choking noise, she trailed off. Her bulbous eyes watered.

"While they what?"

Lottie twisted her apron instead of responding. James ran his hands through his hair, which only managed to make it look messier. "Lottie, what happened? Lord Voldemort, did he —"

"No, sir, not the Dark wizard, sir!" squeaked Lottie, staring at her spindly fingers. "Not Dark magics, nothing like that, sir —"

"Then what? Lottie, don't scare me like this, not with the day we've had — "

A fat tear slid down Lottie's cheek. "Master Fleamont and Miss Euphemia are ill, sir."

Sirius shot him an alarmed glance, and James' blood ran cold. "How ill?"

"Very, very ill." Lottie began to sob in earnest. "Master Fleamont and Miss Euphemia are in St Mungo's."

James and Lottie began to row, which left Sirius utterly bored; apparently, Lottie had strict orders to take them straight home, but James wouldn't hear of it ("We're fine, we don't need rest, honestly — take us to St Mungo's, I wanna see my parents!"). Instead of listening to the quarrel, Sirius stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, watching the Ministry officials bustle about Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. There were so many Aurors — were any of them in league with the Order that Uncle Alphard had talked about? Or did the Order operate completely separately from the Ministry?

Eventually, Lottie's tearful insistence wore James down, and she took both him and Sirius by the hand. "We is going home," she said forcefully, and Sirius felt a familiar lurching sensation as she Apparated them to the Potter estate.

They appeared in the foyer with a popping sound. Sirius barely had time to get his bearings before Lottie shooed them up the stairs and bustled away to make tea. Sirius exchanged a glance with James, whose face was oddly blank. "Shall we?"

"Be my guest," said James flatly. There was something in his tone of voice that Sirius had never heard before. Sirius shrugged and levitated his trunk up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. The Potters insisted the bedroom was his now, but Sirius knew better.

Across the landing, James tossed his trunk into his room with rather more force than was strictly necessary. Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe of the guest bedroom, watching him.

"'We is going home,'" muttered James, imitating Lottie's high-pitched voice. "What a load of dragon dung. I'm completely fine, and my parents are in hospital, I don't see why…" He trailed off as he pulled out his wand. He tapped it against his trunk, which burst open, and its contents began to swirl violently around the room.

Sirius watched James' things arrange themselves. Even the textbooks seemed furious as they whirled through the air. "Throwing a strop won't help, mate."

"Don't tell me I'm not allowed to be angry," snapped James. He jerked his wand upward, and a set of dark green robes hurtled into his wardrobe. "My parents —"

"It's not just your parents, though, is it?" Sirius strode into James' room without waiting for an invitation. Once he was shoulder-to-shoulder with James, he drew his wand and began to help with the unpacking. "What happened when you went to find Lily and Mary?"

"Nothing." James made a strange jerking motion that might have been a shrug. The movement reminded Sirius so much of Regulus that his chest twinged painfully.

"Nothing," repeated Sirius. "Just bought some sweets from the trolley, did you?"

"Alright, you git," said James, "if you're really dying to know…" And he filled Sirius in on what had happened on the train.

When he had finished, Sirius whistled. "You realize you likely saved Lily and Mary's life, right?"

"Er… I dunno," said James. "I'm sure they'd have been fine."

"I'm not."

James didn't meet Sirius' gaze. Instead, he scoured the room, as if he was looking for something else that needed unpacking. He pointed his wand at the Puddlemere United figurines lining a shelf, and the miniature Quidditch players began to rearrange themselves.

Sirius watched him closely. He'd seen James angry before — James had even been properly angry at him last year — but this was something different. James Potter looked lost.

Sirius placed a hand on James' back. "It's alright to be upset, Prongs."

"I'm not upset," said James thickly. He gave another twitch and wiped at his eyes. Sirius decided to take a leaf out of Remus' book and say nothing.

After a moment, James took off his glasses and began to polish them on the hem of his robes. "I dunno," he said hoarsely. "It's just… it's all real, isn't it? The war, I mean. We've been gallivanting around Hogwarts and feeling pleased with our cleverness, but out in the real world, people have been dying."

Sirius sighed heavily. "Yeah. That about sums it up."

James shoved his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Why aren't you going to pieces about it, too, then? You're so calm. You're acting like — like Evans was. Why isn't everybody — I mean, they're killing people, Sirius. Voldemort killed that girl, and I saw it. We're at war, and… and —"

Sirius sat on James' bed. He examined his wand before responding, trying to put the thoughts in his brain in the right order. "I dunno where you've been, mate, but we've been at war for some time now. My lunatic family's been supporting the Dark Lord for years. Trying to strong-arm me and Reg into joining up with the Death Eaters." He pretended to gag. "This might be the first you and I have had to deal with it directly, but trust me, the war's been going on for a while."

"I'm an idiot," said James. "I never realized."

"Granted, you are an idiot," said Sirius, "but not for this. Your parents sheltered you from the worst of it. That's a good thing."

James shook his head and sat beside Sirius on the bed. "Your family is awful."

"Really? That's funny, I hadn't noticed…"

"You should've been born a Potter," said James. "I know you're of age and all, but it's not too late to change your name."

Sirius' smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Shame you didn't have a sister. I could've married into the family."

"I mean, I'm still available," said James.

Sirius laughed. "Won't Parvana get jealous, though?"

"Oh," said James, his smile fading. "Yeah, I suppose. I kind of…"

"…Forgot about her, just now?"

James grimaced. "Don't tell anyone about that."

"I'm no expert, mate," said Sirius, "but the relationships I've been in usually involve a little less Quidditch strategizing and a little more snogging."

"Since when have you been the relationship expert of the group? Pete's had more girlfriends than you —"

"Only because of that stint in third year when everyone thought he was sensitive —"

"Hit a nerve, did I?" said James, and he gave Sirius a playful shove. "Out of my room, Black. I've got a date with a bottle of Dreamless Sleep, and I hear she's excellent in bed."

Lily woke before sunrise the next morning, feeling unusually well-rested. As she turned over in bed, ready to fall back asleep, the previous day's events burst to the forefront of her mind with such clarity that she jerked awake. The Dark Lord and his followers had attacked the Hogwarts Express, and James Potter, of all people, had come to her rescue. There had been dozens of Death Eaters — that awful skull and snake made of smoke — and a few students had died, hadn't they?

Lily shuddered as she remembered the horrible, helpless feeling of being paralyzed under the Dark Lord's curse. At least she hadn't had nightmares, thanks to the phial of the Dreamless Sleep that the Healer had given her. She got out of bed reluctantly — it would be impossible to fall back asleep after thinking about all that — and padded downstairs, still in her nightgown.

Her mother was already at the kitchen table, pouring over the stack of pamphlets about the Muggle-born Protection Act that Lily had brought home. Lily stood behind her mum's chair and bent down to hug her. Her mum closed her eyes and tilted her head against Lily's.

"What do you think?" asked Lily at last. She took a seat beside her mum and poured herself some tea.

Lily's mother shook her head. "I'm not sure what to think. After what happened yesterday… It seems foolish to not take the Ministry's advice. But…" She trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pamphlet entitled Relocation Administration: Why Muggles like You Are Making the Move.

"America's a long way away," said Lily softly. "Even for wizards, it's far."

Her mum nodded. "What do you think of the other options?"

"Don't get Obliviated." Lily stirred sugar into her tea rather more fiercely than she'd intended. "They'll erase your memories — it's exactly as horrible as it sounds." She swallowed. "You'd forget me."

"They'd find it hard to Obliviate me, then," said her mum. "There's nothing they could do to make me forget you."

She squeezed Lily's hand, and a lump rose in Lily's throat. "The protective charms seem like a decent option," Lily offered, wiping her eyes. She pushed a relevant pamphlet towards her mum. "I researched them a bit. They're effective, and you wouldn't have to leave town."

Her mother nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too."

"Moving to America is probably overkill, anyway," said Lily. "Nobody's going to go after our family. Why would they? I'm just a student. I've never even met a Death Eater." Except for Severus, she thought. But he wouldn't hurt them. Probably.

"I agree," said Lily's mum. "We'll do the protective charms. I'll take care of these forms and send them off to your Ministry today."

Lily bit her lip. She hoped they were making the right choice. "Sounds great, Mum."

Her mum began to fill out one of the many forms on the table — using an actual, normal, biro, not a ridiculous quill — and Lily glanced at that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. The front page was emblazoned with a massive picture of the ghoulish skull and snake undulating above Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Above the photograph was the headline, which read: LORD VOLDEMORT MAKES FIRST APPEARANCE, MURDERS TWO ON HOGWARTS EXPRESS.

"I don't want you going back to that school," said Lily's mum. Her voice wavered as she stared at the photograph plastered across the front page.

"I have to go back, though," said Lily. "I have to take my N.E.W.T.s. "

"You could go to Elmwood Academy with Petunia," suggested her mum. "I'm sure Tuney would help you acclimate —"

"Mum, please," said Lily. "I can do magic. Actual, real magic. How happy d'you think I'd be studying maths at Elmwood?"

Her mum smiled sadly. "I thought you might say something like that."

Lily flipped the Daily Prophet over, so that neither of them could see the picture of the skull. "Besides, we've got Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts. He's the greatest wizard of all time — he fought off Lord Voldemort single-handedly yesterday. I watched it happen, Mum, and Voldemort was scared of Dumbledore. I think that's why the train was attacked, and not Hogwarts itself. Voldemort didn't want to fight Dumbledore one-on-one because he knew he'd lose."

"The paper said the same thing," said Lily's mum. "Dumbledore's got quite a lot of titles, hasn't he? Headmaster at Hogwarts and Chief Mugwump on the Wizem — the Winzen — the Wizarding jury, anyway…"

"Yeah, he's done loads," said Lily. "Back in the forties there was another Dark Lord named Grindelwald who was even worse than Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore was the wizard who defeated him, too."

Footsteps sounded from the stairs as Petunia came down for breakfast. Lily and her mum looked at each other.

"Shall we put these away?" asked Lily's mother, gathering the Prophet and a handful of pamphlets into her arms.

"Brilliant idea," said Lily, and they stuffed the various papers into a drawer.

"What's going on?" asked Petunia as she entered the kitchen. "Why do you two look so guilty?"

Lily and her mum exchanged glances. Petunia didn't know about what had happened the day before.

"Nothing," said Lily's mum at last.

Petunia's nostrils flared. "You're hiding something."

"We were planning a birthday surprise for you," said her mum at the same time Lily said, "Just gossiping about Mrs Roberts' hideous new trellis."

Petunia crossed her arms. "Nice," she said. "Really nice, lying to my face."

"Now, Petunia — " began their mother.

Lily cut her off. "You want the truth, Tuney? Fine. An evil wizard killed two students from my school yesterday because they were from non-magical families. Just like me. So now Mum and I are discussing our options. Would you rather move to America or have your memory erased?"

Petunia's mouth dropped open. A flush crept up Lily's neck, but she didn't break eye contact with Petunia.

"I didn't know that had happened," said Petunia at last.

"Now you do," said Lily.

Petunia's lips pressed into a line. After a moment, she sat primly across the table from Lily. "Is there tea?"

Lily pushed the teapot towards Petunia warily.

Petunia stirred two sugars into her tea, just as Lily had done. "Well," she said finally, looking up from her teacup at Lily. "I'm glad you're alright."

For the second time that morning, Lily's eyes watered. "Thanks, Tuney. Me, too."