The Prewett twins were at the edge of their seats as Caradoc (they'd specifically requested Caradoc provide one of his famous play-by-plays) recounted every single detail he had witnessed during the try-out. The team and my friends were all sitting together in the Gryffindor Common Room. James and I were cuddled up together in a large armchair.

"We have to make a decision," said Jen, standing up. "Do we want to accept Dorcas Meadowes onto the team?"

Fabian shrugged. "Sounds like she can fly."

Gideon tapped his chin in thought. "Yes, but she sounds a bit stiff to me."

"What do you mean?" I asked, lifting my head to look at him.

"About as likely to laugh as a corpse," he clarified.

"Oh my Godric," I muttered, dropping my head back as everyone laughed. James's laughter jostled me as I leaned against him.

"That should be the least of your concerns," said Jen, laughing once.

Harriet frowned. "Okay, now what do you mean, Till?"

Jen looked around and lowered her voice, sitting on the arm of Harriet's settee. "There's a war going on. How do we know she isn't some kind of spy for the Death Eaters?"

"She definitely isn't a spy," opposed James. "I was there. She was scared of them, and it was real."

"Wait, where?" said Abed. "Where were there Death Eaters?" He looked utterly panicked.

Everyone looked over at James for an answer.

James and I shared a look. Dumbledore had asked us to keep the rally in the forest a secret, and here we were, already breaching his trust.

"That day on the Quidditch pitch with Mr. Malfoy and the other school governors. Some of them are suspected Death Eaters," said Remus, absolutely saving the day.

I shot him a look of gratitude, and he smiled discreetly in reply.

Abed and the others nodded in comprehension.

Jen clicked her tongue. "Well, what if she's a spy for the Twenty-Eights?"

I had already considered Jen's hypothesis earlier that day, but I had dismissed it. "I don't think she's a spy for the Twenty-Eights, either. Otherwise, I think she would have tried to ask for a try-out immediately."

"Well then what did she want to talk about?" asked a bright voice near the staircases. "I was hoping I'd be able to announce your newest recruit."

Frank Bloody Longbottom.

Merlin, save me.

"Frank," I said. "How long have you been listening to all of this?" I asked, craning my neck around until I spotted him. He'd been sitting in the corner with the rest of the Marauders and Mary.

"Well, I've only just been playing Wizard's chess with Pettigrew here for the last, oh, I don't know—what d'you reckon, Pete?"

"Hour and a half," replied Peter. "Only, neither one of us has made a move since Till there started whispering. So I guess you could say, we've been playing for an hour and twenty-five minutes, and have spent the last five minutes pretending." He grinned widely. "Because we're eavesdropping."

"Right," I answered.

At least I could trust Pettigrew to be honest.

"You're not planning on printing any of this, are you?" I asked Frank.

"No one would be interested," Frank answered, and everyone laughed.

"Cheers," I said, rolling my eyes. "Anyway, you can go back to playing. I'll let you know first thing if I get a new flyer, Frank."

"Checkmate!" cried Peter.

Frank grunted in disappointment. "Just as well. Time for bed, then. Night, everyone!"

We all said our good nights to him as he climbed up to his dormitory. Meanwhile, Peter celebrated his win with a very bad disco impression as he reset the chess board. Mary sat opposite him, his next opponent, apparently.

Fabian poked my side. "So what did Dorcas want to talk to you about?"

I sighed. "Long story, but basically, we had a falling out in fifth year. She asked if I would accept her apology, didn't even want the try-out, as it turns out."

"So, you've forgiven her," confirmed Gideon.

I nodded.

"And you feel okay about working with her?" asked Harriet.

Noting my hesitation, James squeezed my hand. I was grateful for that little show of support.

The truth was, however, I would very much like to have my friend back.

"Absolutely," I said.

Jen rolled her neck and sighed, too. The number of sighs inspired by Dorcas Meadowes could probably wrap around the earth by now. "You're much too kind for your own good, Lily Chrysanthemum Evans."

Sirius laughed a little too hard at that and I knew I'd never be able to live down Jen's habit of using random flowers as my middle name—the more ridiculous, the better.

"Okay." Jen pushed herself off the settee and directed her speech to the team. "If the rest of you decide to let Dorcas on the team, then I can live with that."

"Well, I'm for it," said Harriet. "It'd be nice to have another girl on the team."

"All those in favor say, 'Aye,'" I said.

"AYE!" said the rest of the team. I found myself joining them.

"All those opposed?" I asked, looking into the eyes of each of my teammates.

Silence.

Jen abstained from voting either way.

"Resolved: Dorcas Meadowes shall be invited to join the Millennium Falcons starting immediately."

I borrowed Remus's barn owl and sent off a note to Dorcas, inviting her to the team and our practice the next night before our friendly on Saturday.

Not five minutes later, the owl had returned with a very pith acceptance:

Thank you. I accept your offer and look forward to working with you.

We all cheered, but of course, Gideon laughed. "She sounds like an Inferius in a bowler hat!"

Harriet swatted his shoulder. "No fair judging her before you meet her, Gids."

He just grinned at her. "Tell me I'm wrong," he dared her.

Harriet just rolled her eyes, which only made Gideon laugh again.

"Well, then. That's that. Good night, all!" said Caradoc.

The team and I exchanged good nights, and they climbed out through the portrait hole to their own respective dormitories.

"I'm off to bed as well; I'm exhausted," said Jen. "Night everyone."

"Sweet dreams, love," said James in a mock-sentimental tone.

Jen narrowed her eyes at him. "I've still got my eyes on you, Potter, even if Lily has been struck dumb by your pretty face."

James gasped theatrically. "Aww, you think my face is pretty, Till? I'm so flattered!"

Jen rolled her eyes and waved him off, making her way to the staircases.

"And I've not been struck dumb!" I objected.

"Nah, you kinda have," rebutted James, smiling against my temple. "But it was bound to happen eventually."

"Watch it, Potter," I grumbled.

Only, the stupid git was playing with my hands in his maddening way, and I couldn't stay mad at him—even pretend-mad at him—for very long.

The next morning, I went through my to-do list for the day: set up Dorcas's appointment with the Headmaster, review Transfiguration notes, double-check my Ancient Runes translations, tutor Mary and Marlene for a half-hour, go over the prefect schedule for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, and strategize with Jen before our Hippogriff practice that night.

Just as I was hoping to meet with my very pretty-faced boyfriend in the Great Hall, Sirius Black approached me, looking wary.

"Lily Bougainvillea Evans," he said.

Well, I was right about not living down Jen's terrible joke.

"Sirius—what, 'Little Dipper'?—Black," I said.

He grinned, one eyebrow going up in rather a suggestive manner. "I think you'll find 'Big Dipper' is more appropriate."

I tried not to be sick. "Oh my Godric, Sirius, shut up!" I squealed.

He smirked, but then straightened. He cleared his throat. "Lily, we need to talk about Sruthi."

"Sruthi?"

"I'd tell Prongs, but he doesn't know about Sruthi's—er, you know."

"Right." Freyja. "What's going on with her? Is she still having trouble with the other girls in her dormitory?"

"Apparently they don't actually know about Freyja," Sirius admitted. "It turns out it's that the more they tell Sruthi about themselves, the more Freyja gives Sruthi information about them, and she doesn't know how to make it stop. So she's rooming with us because well, Marauder's honor and all that."

"Oh my Godric." I couldn't believe their stupid Marauder's honor code or whatever was the only thing keeping Sruthi sane. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"I think she needs help. Remus thinks Dumbledore might be able to help her, but I'm not so sure. Just because he did a lot for Moony doesn't mean he knows how to deal with a chatty Nordic Patty."

"So how do you propose we help her?"

"Well, apparently this all started when she helped you. It sort of opened the flood gates. The information wouldn't stop coming back to her. She says she's starting to see the future and it's overwhelming."

"Poor thing!"

"That's not even the half of it."

"It couldn't hurt to try Dumbledore, could it?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. It feels wrong to me."

"But he's helped Remus, you said so yourself."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "He gave Remus a cover, but we're the ones who actually help him, Evans. He'd go mad without someone there every month."

"You really love him, don't you?"

Sirius honest-to-Godric blushed.

I smiled, but didn't press him any further. "Alright. So if Dumbledore's out of the picture, how can we make things easier for Sruthi?"

"You have to tell her everything that happens between you and James. For some reason, Freyja is really fixated on your relationship."

"Crikey. It's not like we're going to blow up the world, or something, are we?"

"No, it's more like what comes out of your relationship."

I blinked. "What does that mean?"

Sirius shrugged, smiling mysteriously. "Think about it, Evans. Anyway, just please talk to Sruthi? I think you're the only one who can help."

"Sirius, why didn't she ask me herself?"

He worried his lip. "I think she tried to, but not in a life-or-death sort of way."

I recalled the few times I'd run into Sruthi in the castle over the last month, and how she had commented on my changing relationship to James. "Shit, you're right."

He shrugged again. "S'alright, Evans. You're a busy Head Girl and Hippogriff Captain."

He walked back to the staircases and I pushed into the Great Hall, spotting a head of wild, sticky-uppy hair at the Gryffindor table, a plate of scones sitting on the plate next to him. What a sweet boy, to save all the best-looking scones for his girlfriend.

As I dodged a stray second-year or two on my way to him, I added another item to my growing to-do list: figure out what was so interesting about our relationship to Freyja, and get her to stop tormenting poor Sruthi over it.

James and I were summoned to the Headmaster's Office that morning, two days before our regularly scheduled meeting.

"I'll be away this weekend," explained Dumbledore as we walked in. His office was more cluttered than usual. "I have some business to attend to in the Hebrides, and unfortunately, it cannot wait."

He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk, only they were both piled with books and one contained a Sneakoscope.

James picked it up. "Worried about burglars?" he asked, tossing it between his hands as he sat down.

Dumbledore smiled politely. "One can never be too cautious, Mr. Potter." He opened his hand to receive the Sneakoscope from James and shoved it in a desk drawer.

We cleared the chairs of his books and sat down to face him.

He took in a deep breath. "You're aware, of course, of the influence of Voldemort's prejudices on some of our students."

James and I nodded in the affirmative.

Whatever the Headmaster wanted to talk to us about, it sounded grave.

"Thanks to you, Ms. Evans, I had quite an informative discussion with Ms. Meadowes about it earlier this morning. She also tells me that she's joined your Hippogriff team. Congratulations."

"Yes, thank you."

Dumbledore smiled toothlessly. "I would like for the two of you to continue to lead by example against the corruption of pureblood supremacy. Students look up to you; they listen when you speak up. So please continue to do so, within reason."

"Of course, Sir," said James.

I hummed in agreement.

"It has also come to my attention that the two of you are … romantically involved." Dumbledore's expression remained completely neutral. I had no way of knowing whether or not he approved.

"That is correct, Sir," said James, finally.

"I trust it will not inhibit your duties as Head Boy and Head Girl," he said.

"Never," I breathed. I cleared my throat, and glanced at James. "That is to say, our duties as Head Boy and Head Girl come first."

James shot me a sideways glance that communicated he felt differently.

"That is nice to hear," Dumbledore said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "Though not entirely necessary."

I felt James relax a bit in his chair.

"I just want to speak plainly. If, for any reason, the two of you come to odds, it must not interfere with your ability to work together. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," I said.

James sighed. "It won't come to that, Sir, but hypothetically, you have my word."

I couldn't help but smile at him. James was so confident in our relationship, it made me want to reach over and hold his hand in support.

It seemed James had the same idea, because his hand reached toward me first, and I got giddy all over as I placed my hand in his. He interlaced our fingers together, and shot me a wink.

Dumbledore appeared genuinely pleased. "Very well." His eyes twinkled behind half-moon glasses. "As always, your reports are well-kept, your prefects well-managed, and your patrols remain as efficient as ever. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you, Headmaster," said James.

"Furthermore, I received your note about Owen Holt and his attempt at retribution against Ms. Meadowes yesterday, Mr. Potter. You'll be happy to know that Professor Flitwick and I have devised appropriate penalties for his actions."

I shot James a surprised look. I'd completely forgotten to file a report against Owen Holt for attacking Dorcas during the try-out! But of course, James had already taken care of it.

James nodded. "Thank you. Sir, are there any updates on my proposal?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "I'm glad you asked. As a matter of fact, Mr. Fenwick plans to read your proposal on the floor tonight at the school governor's meeting."

James's eyes lit up with hope. "That's great news, Sir!"

"Yes, we shall see what comes of it."

James couldn't stop talking about his proposal as we made our way to Transfiguration.

"Just imagine, Lily! Defense Against the Dark Arts would be part of the foundational curricula at Hogwarts! First years learning Disarming Spells, Second years being able to participate in schoolwide dueling clubs!"

His eyes shone with such excitement.

My boyfriend was such a nerd.

I squeezed his hand affectionately. "Do you think we can go watch Fenwick tonight?"

James shot me a funny look. "And miss practice?" He shook his head.

Oh my Godric, the biggest nerd.

"We've both got matches tomorrow, Lily. Whatever happens with the school governors won't be helped by us. Everything I want to say is in the proposal anyway. It's up to Fenwick now."

We reached the doors to the Transfiguration classroom, permission slip from Dumbledore in hand. Professor McGonagall was mid-lecture and simply nodded at us as we passed through the doorway and to our usual bench in the middle of the room.

"As I was saying," said McGonagall, her eyes flashing at us under thick, black eyebrows. "This class is still weak when it comes to Conjuration, so we'll be reviewing some basic theory before we use the rest of our time today for practical application."

James paid rapt attention to McGonagall's lecture, though I noticed he hardly wrote a single note, except for one word: unbeing.

Meanwhile, I was on my second roll of parchment.

"Any questions?" McGonagall asked as she reached the end of her review on magical theory.

James didn't even raise his hand, merely sat up straight and caught McGonagall's gaze. "If I understand it correctly, Professor, Conjuration and Vanishment are a binary of complementary magicks."

"I sense there is a question in there somewhere, Potter," McGonagall murmured in her trilling burr.

James nodded. "Yes, I was wondering, if Conjuration is bringing something into being, and Vanishment is bringing something into unbeing, is it possible that Conjuration borrows from the materials of the Vanished, and therefore, I wonder, are Vanished objects truly Vanished? Are we truly bringing something into being if it has simply been tucked away somewhere else in our universe?"

"What, like the universe's junk drawer?" chimed in Sirius.

"I believe, Mr. Potter, you are coming upon one of the more ancient questions of magical philosophy." McGonagall almost smiled. "You are referring, of course, to the idea of the universae detritus."

Universal detritus.

"So it is the universe's junk drawer!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Quite right, Mr. Black. It has been often speculated that Vanished matter does not simply disappear, but that it only disappears from the view and vicinity of the caster. Similarly, conjured matter cannot come from nothing, but neither does it remain for long, which begs the question—"

"Is Conjured matter unstable because it was once Vanished?" James was leaned over the table, eyes bright behind his glasses, and unapologetically hanging onto McGonagall's every word.

"Precisely," she said. "I think you've found your spring term thesis, Mr. Potter."

James grinned. "Possibly."

McGonagall turned to the rest of the class. "I expect the rest of you are just as invested in your spring theses, but we shall leave the lecture here and begin our practice."

As the class partnered off and began to go down McGonagall's list of essential Conjurations, James quickly scribbled something down beneath the "unbeing" on his parchment and stuffed it into his satchel. "Partners?" he asked as he tucked his bag beneath the table.

I stared at him until he looked up at me.

"What?" he said, noticing the expression on my face.

"Oh, nothing, I just hadn't realized what a complete nerd my boyfriend was before."

He gave me a disbelieving look. "Seriously," he deadpanned. "I'm not a nerd. I'm just really interested in—"

"Exactly," I said. "You're 'really interested.' In Hogwarts foundational curricula, in Quidditch, in ancient Transfiguration magical philosophy!" My smile grew as I mocked him mercilessly.

He smirked back and took my hand. "In Lily Evans."

"Oh, shut it," I said, but I left my hand in his, feeling my belly warm. "Just admit it. You're a big old nerd just like me, and your whole, I'm-James-Potter-and-I'm-too-cool-to-take-proper-notes thing is a manufactured façade so you can maintain some amount of respect amongst your gang of delinquents."

"Delinquents!" James laughed. "You would call Remus Lupin a delinquent?"

My face went very pointy and I said, "Yes, I imagine he's the sneakiest of all of you, flying completely under everyone's radar."

"Under everyone's what?" James asked.

I shook my head. "It's a Muggle military device that detects nearby objects on a screen, but if you're under the range of the screen, then you're under the radar, unnoticed."

James frowned, then blinked. "Like the Map. We haven't got all of Hogsmeade on it, so if someone were hiding there, and we couldn't see them on our Map, they'd be 'under the radar'?"

"Yes, actually, that's a perfect analogy."

He grinned, pleased with himself, as I stared at him in wonder. "Then you might be right about Moony. At least once a month, he flies under the radar."

I rolled my eyes at him, but couldn't help a smile.

My boyfriend wasn't just a nerd, he was also. Clever.

It wasn't news that James Potter was clever, it simply struck me in that moment how it was that his mind worked. It was quick, perceptive, sure of its conclusions. He saw things as they truly were—saw people as they truly were.

It had rubbed me the wrong way for years that he could just pinpoint a person by watching them for sixty seconds. Surely a whole person was more than a minute of their lives! But his heart made him accept people just as they were, and fight for their acceptance from anyone who dared hate on sight.

I hadn't wanted to see that about him, content in my own conclusion that James Potter was arrogant. Now here I was, surprised yet again at how tremendously prejudiced I'd been. I mean, me! Lily Evans, Prejudiced and Spiteful?!

Although, in my defense, he had turned me into a fish that once.

James's fingers tickled my palm and I giggled.

He grinned his easy, aristocratic smile. "Shall we start, then?" James said, drawing out his wand and squinting up at one of McGonagall's blackboards.

"I think you'd better," said McGonagall from behind us, and effectively scaring the shit out of us both.

I ran into Sruthi quite by accident on my way to Ancient Runes.

"James is clever!" I blurted out as soon as I saw her. She was walking with her head down, arms clutching a textbook to her chest.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. "Lily!" she said. Then, she processed that I'd just practically yelled at her. "What?"

"Er, today, in class. I realized that James is rather clever and not just an arrogant toerag." I felt a blush overcome my face. "Sorry, Sirius told me earlier that Freyja was driving you a bit mad and that she seemed fixated on my relationship with James, and yet, here you are, staring at me like I've grown a tentacle on my head."

Sruthi looked as though she were about to laugh, but instead, she burst rather unexpectedly into tears. She sank to the floor, and I sank with her, scooping her up in my arms. I let her cry into my robes for a minute, wondering at how overwhelmed she must be feeling.

I mean, I accost the poor girl a few months ago asking for help with my stupid Hippogriff team, and now she's living a mythical, mystical nightmare.

"You poor dear," I said, looking into her obviously sleep-deprived face. She had bags under her eyes large enough to hold a galleon each. "When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

She exhaled and wiped at her face. "September," she said finally. "Before—"

"Before I asked you for help," I finished.

She looked down and nodded. "Yes."

I hugged her again. "I'm so sorry! I'll do whatever I can to help."

She stared up at me helplessly.

"You don't know what to do, do you?"

She shook her head, a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Let's start with some chocolate."

I skived off Ancient Runes with a quick aside to the professor before class began. I explained that I had to take care of another student—it was my responsibility as Head Girl, after all. I took Sruthi to my dormitory where I managed to find a few bars of Honeyduke's finest chocolate tucked into the curtain hangings of my four-poster (even though Jen had threated to steal it all).

Sruthi ate half a bar, brightening considerably, and felt well enough to describe her troubles. Apparently, Freyja was convinced that James and I would have something important to do with the war. As our relationship got stronger, and our goals and ambitions aligned, we would become a source of resistance to Voldemort's forces.

That was a lot of pressure to put on a blossoming relationship.

I could tell there was more to it than that, but Sruthi said that beyond that general idea, it was still too early to be sure about anything more specific.

"Freyja is the goddess of love and war, you see," said Sruthi. "She helped you because she was interested in your part in love and war."

"But why won't she leave you alone?" I asked. "Isn't there a way you could cut her off?"

Sruthi shrugged. "I'm the first woman in my family to have this gift in generations. And it was a well-kept secret, even then. I don't have any idea how to navigate this."

"There must be information about it somewhere," I said. "Perhaps the Divination professor would know."

She sighed, running a hand through her long, black curls. "I've already exhausted him with questions. He didn't seem to know anything of value. What a waste of an elective."

"Did you try the library?" I asked, though I knew she must have.

She'd also tried the Restriction Section. "I even asked if I could request tomes from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Those books came with translations spells, but they didn't contain much useful information, either." She sank back against my pillows, pulling my tartan over herself. "Just bizarre, conflicting genealogies about her offspring."

I tucked into my bar of chocolate, the bittersweet morsels melting on my tongue. "Maybe your relatives had journals?" I wondered, offhandedly.

She sat straight up, and I swallowed my chocolate hard.

Her eyes rolled back, the whites of them straining from sleep deprivation. After a moment, she came out of her trance and blinked slowly. "According to Freyja, they did." She frowned, puzzled. "Why would she show me that?"

I shrugged. "Maybe she wants you to be able to control your gift as much as you do. Then maybe she can be of most use to you."

"I wish she'd just let me sleep."

Her eyes were practically bloodshot from the lack of sleep. "Perhaps we should take you to the Hospital Wing for some Sleeping Draught."

"I'll miss my Potions review." She sounded so tired.

I smiled kindly at her. "I can help you study later. Plus, I think Professor Slughorn will understand if I write to him. He's got a soft spot for our Head Girl, you know."

Sruthi laughed. "Doesn't everyone?" Her smile was genuine.

"Definitely not!" I exclaimed, thinking of Alexander Knott, Bellatrix Black, her whole gang of Slytherins, and lastly, Severus.

Although, perhaps I still hadn't completely lost Severus. At least, it was my hope I could make a turncoat of him yet.

With Sruthi safely deposited in the Hospital Wing, and a note sent to her professors excusing her for the day's classes, I crept into the last half of Ancient Runes. I had to see the professor after class for extra notes, so I was late getting to the Great Hall for lunch.

It was eerily quiet when I walked in, and several students looked away from me rather quickly as I made my way over to the Gryffindor table.

Had word somehow got out about Sruthi and Freyja or something?

I approached my friends, who were crowding over Jen's shoulder to look at something.

"What's going on?" I asked. Mary pulled me in close so I could listen in.

Jen was reading from a special breaking news edition of The Daily Prophet.

"The Ministry makes no further comments at this time. All Muggle witnesses have been taken into custody for proper Obliviation procedures, and shall be released shortly. Cooperation with Muggle governments and relevant agencies will explain the attack as a gas explosion."

"There's been another attack?" I gasped.

James grabbed my hand as he came up behind me and answered, "Yes," in the softest voice I'd ever heard him use.

I frowned at him. "What is it?"

My friends all shot me guilty looks. James reached for Jen's paper and she relinquished it without question.

"It was at a shopping arcade in London, and it seems as though—"

"Mum!" I was flabbergasted. "That's my mum! What's she doing in there?"

I pried the paper from James and brought it almost to my nose as I stared hard at it. There, on the front cover above the fold was a photograph of my Mum, unblinking in front of a rubble-covered street as Ministry workers shuffled around her.

"Is she alright? What happened?" I was speaking a mile a minute, asking any question at all so that somebody—anybody—would tell me she wasn't dead.

James held me tight as I skimmed the article, words like, "explosion," "five dead," "Muggles," and "extremists" jumping out at me, but making absolutely no sense at all.

"Why isn't she moving?" I whispered as I stared at the photograph. Everything else in the photograph moved, but my Mum stood dumbstruck against a wall outside the arcade.

Jen reached up and gently pulled the paper away from me. I stood very still, afraid that at any moment, my entire world would shatter.

"It's alright, Lily," she said. She patted my forearm. "Your Mum was one of the witnesses to the attack and she's been taken into protective custody since her daughter's a—well, a witch."

The tears, both of fear and utter relief, fell down my face of their own accord, and I sank back into James, grateful for the support.

"I need to see her," I said. "Where is she?"

"St. Mungo's would be my best guess," said Remus in a low voice.

"Then St. Mungo's is where I need to be." I walked over to Professor McGonagall at the High Table. She immediately stood and informed that me that she'd just received an owl from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries stating that my Mum had been received, but that she had not been Obliviated.

"Since she is the mother of a witch, the International Statute of Secrecy protects and allows her to retain her memories of the attack. They may be collected by Aurors for their investigation, after which she may choose to be Obliviated. But she cannot have visitors until the medics have completed their diagnostics and the Aurors have completed their first rounds of questioning and memory extraction."

I hadn't meant to, but I whimpered in anguish.

McGonagall's blue eyes shone sympathetically. She put a hand on my shoulder. "I will inform you as soon as I hear word that your mother is able to receive visitors. You will have my permission to leave Hogwarts, of course."

"Thank you, Professor."

She smiled kindly, dropping her hand. "You have my sympathies."

I turned around, only to find James waiting patiently for me, his arms outstretched for a hug.

He led me to a seat, and my friends gathered around us, forming a tight, loving circle, as they each reassured me that everything would be alright.

But it wasn't alright. Not in the slightest.

My mum could have been killed! She was Merlin knows how many feet away from a blast that had killed nearly a half dozen others.

And all because some "extremists" felt emboldened to show that pompous, hating, genocidal excuse for a wizard that they were loyal to him and his fatal idea that Purebloods should rule and exterminate the rest.

I wiped the tears away as best I could with Remus's handkerchief—the boy kept a handkerchief, what a pal—and played with the spoon in my bowl of beef stew.

Mum loved beef stew.

Then, I heard it.

Bellatrix's cackle.

It shattered the tense atmosphere of the Hall, splintering into the very corners of the room.

My spoon rattled against the rim of the bowl. I was shaking. In anger, in distress, in utter upset—I was seething.

Before anyone could stop me, I got up and walked toward her. Those that were sitting with me at the Gryffindor table immediately followed. By the time I stood before her, several nosey students from all Houses had formed a long train behind me.

"Something funny, Black?" I asked as I reached her.

Someone placed a hand on my shoulder. I had half a mind to shrug it away, but it was James. He gave me a look that conveyed he was lending me support, not restraining me, so I leaned back into his grip.

Bellatrix grinned up at me, her teeth shiny and sharp. "I didn't think Gryffindors were a fan of comedy," she said.

Her Slytherin cronies laughed, setting my teeth on edge. I searched the table for Severus, but he was absent.

"But since you've asked, and no one would dare defy our Head Girl," her voice dripped sarcasm like poisoned honey, "I've just heard some very funny news!"

"Drop dead, Cousin," growled Sirius. I looked back to see Remus and Peter holding him back from pulling out his wand.

Bellatrix laughed, tossing her wild hair back. "You do so easily forget your own noblesse, Cousin. What would Mummy dearest think?"

"She can drop into the grave next to yours," he spat.

I noticed Regulus shift uncomfortably as he watched the exchange between his brother and cousin.

Bellatrix didn't laugh. For a moment, she appeared taken aback by the loathing in Sirius's voice. But it was only a flicker. She immediately fixed her sadistic smile into place as she leaned forward and said, "It was only a few Muggles, Sirius. You and your friends are overreacting."

The coldness of her pronouncement was not lost on me. In fact, it caused an uproar as several voices much louder than mine began to shout back counterarguments.

Bellatrix merely smiled primly at us.

"Indecorous, badly bred," she announced, dismissing us.

As we yelled louder at her, she grabbed a nearby copy of The Daily Prophet and made a show of kissing the front page.

Sparks flew from several wands, and James and I immediately stepped into our Head Boy and Head Girl roles, putting up Shield Charms and attempting to dissolve the crowd behind us. All the while, Bellatrix's cackle sang high over the tumult of the angry crowd.

That didn't stop the Slytherins from trying to hex us, however. More than once, we had to dodge a jinx from a lip-curled Yaxley or a sneering Mulciber.

"Stop it!" yelled Regulus. "They're trying to help you!"

Bellatrix fixed him with a glare that could turn one to stone. But he seemed unfazed, and stared back just as resolutely.

Bellatrix sighed and got up rather nonchalantly from the table, folding The Daily Prophet and tucking it into some unseen pocket in her well-tailored robes. "I'm bored," she proclaimed, and walked out of the Hall.

Her cronies followed after her, producing several cheers from those who had stood up against her and her hateful speech.

I didn't think I had it in me to hate anyone, but in that moment, I truly, absolutely hated Bellatrix Black.

Mary and Marlene wanted to call off tutoring, but I wouldn't let them. Instead, James took over to supervise their Charms casting as I took a stroll out of doors.

It was cold, wet, and grey, and the wind had teeth nearly as biting as Bellatrix Black's. It did nothing to relieve my mood, and as I walked blindly over the frost-covered moors, I found myself cursing at the barren branches of my Sacred Tree.

There was a patch of browned grass near the base of it, as though someone had sat there long enough to warm through the layers of frost on the ground. I dared not think it could have been Severus, but the boot-prints still visible in the ground were about his size.

He would hide out here rather than face me, knowing what had happened in Piccadilly Arcade, knowing how his fanaticism had nearly cost him the life of one of the only people in his entire life to show him true kindness.

Maybe the shame could be enough to get him to see how wrong he was. Maybe the guilt could be enough to get him to wake up.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

At practice, I was quiet. I let Jen handle the talking points, let her introduce Dorcas properly. I smiled at her to let her know she was welcome, even if I was feeling distraught, the heaviness in my heart weighing me down and dulling my reflexes.

All I cared about was being in the air with the wind scraping at my every exposed patch of skin. Not that shivering in the cold November air did anything for my flying.

I consistently came in last place when Jen timed us, though everyone seemed to ignore my sudden descent into incompetency. They let me be selfish for the moment, and their grace gave me a bit of strength.

As we headed back to the castle for a scrub and some dinner, however, Dorcas approached me and said, "I know you're hurting, Lily, and you have every right to be. But I joined this team so I could fight back. You need to fight back, too."

I blinked at her, a million and one excuses coming to the surface, the most reasonable being that I needed time to cope with what was going on, and who was she to suddenly know what I needed to do about a fight she only recently joined, anyway?

I could tell Jen was having similar thoughts by the flare of her nostrils, but I cut her off before she could say anything divisive.

"You're right," I agreed. "I've had my pity party and I'm grateful that you all let me have it."

The twins grinned. "A party's a party, whatever the occasion," said Fabian.

"Yes, thank you for the invitation," Caradoc said, who beamed in delight over his attempt at a joke.

Harriet snorted and laughed into her hands. "That was awful, mate," she declared.

Caradoc's smile didn't falter. He only seemed happy that he'd made Harriet laugh.

"Black is awful," corrected Abed. "What she said at lunch today was even worse. I think we owe it to the Piccadilly Five to fly our arses off tomorrow."

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"Hear, hear," I said, a stray tear falling down my cheek. "Tomorrow, we fly for the Piccadilly Five."

A/N: If James is a nerd, then what exactly does that make Lily? Also a nerd. :) Thank you for reading, as always, dear ones. Reviews are welcomed and encouraged!