My heart was screaming.

And my legs were running.

My brain was completely freaking out.

I mean, I was in love with James Potter?

SINCE WHEN?!

It was just too much. I didn't even know if alternate-Lily had told Potter how she felt. Did she even know?

It just felt so big, so utterly and incomprehensibly HUGE, like I wanted to dive off a cliff and sing on the way down just to empty myself of this ridiculous feeling inside.

But for now, running away would do.

"Lily, wait!" called Potter. His footsteps crunched in the threadbare snow behind me.

Only I wasn't going to stop; if Potter wanted to talk to me, then he'd have to catch me first! And suddenly, I didn't resent my newfound athleticism so much. I could run faster and farther than I had before—or perhaps, I was just that scared—but my lungs scarcely protested as I took in huge lungfuls of cold, late-November air, completely unaware that I'd crossed halfway round the grounds towards the lake.

And there, shining like a beacon on the opposite shore was The Tree.

My tree.

The one whose leaves matched my hair in the fall. They'd mostly fallen away by now, and those that were left had browned in the frost.

"Please, Lily!" called Potter, much closer than he'd been before.

I made a run for it, nearly tripping over the knotted roots of an ancient oak in my haste. I skidded over layers of fallen leaves, successfully catching myself before losing my balance.

"Blimey!" Potter yelled, followed by the telltale thwump of someone tripping into a pile of leaves.

Oh, good! Now he'd have a harder time following me!

I dashed behind a sycamore and climbed up onto the moors overlooking the lake toward The Tree, ignoring the burning in my legs. I slowed down; he must have given up at some point because I no longer heard anyone following me. Snowflakes floated through the air as though caught in a Levitation Charm, lending the night a sort of fairytale-like quality.

Though losing one's memory and being stalked by a boyfriend I was in love with but didn't remember hardly felt like a fairytale.

I descended the other side of the high ground, careful not to lose my footing. It wouldn't do to have survived a magical attack and an entire game of Hippogriff just to twist my ankle on the edge of the Forbidden Forest and get whisked away by a hungry acromantula.

Just when I thought I was in the clear, a familiar swooshing sound approached me at an unreasonable speed.

I screamed as Potter appeared before me on a broomstick, leaves sticking out of his hair, and a frown on his face. He must have Summoned his broom somewhere between the pines and the pining for a conversation.

"Lily Evans, you will hear me out, or I swear to Merlin I will tell everyone about your disgusting habit of keeping your worn socks under your bed covers!" he said.

My eyes went wide. WHY DID HE KNOW ABOUT THAT?

He glared at me and it was truly frightening.

"Okay!" I said, bringing my hands up. "I surrender. Merlin! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Potter disembarked his broom slowly. "You're not going to run off on me again, are you?"

I shook my head. "No, but I haven't gotten to where I need to go just yet."

He trailed behind me in silence until we reached The Tree, and it struck me that the only other person I'd ever invited to sit there had been Severus. I wondered if alternate-Lily had told Potter about it. I tried not to let that thought get to me and focused on the task at hand.

"Alright," I said, sitting down and leaning my back against the tree trunk. It felt cold and rough through my thin Hippogriff robes. Potter remained standing a few feet away from me, broom clutched loosely in one hand. "Say what you have to say."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Right. Well." He took in a deep breath. "This whole thing is a lot for you, I know, and it's not an ideal situation for me, either. I'm gutted that you don't remember that we're together, and it's really confusing for me when you can still kiss me like you just did. So clearly a part of you—some buried part of you, perhaps, but some part of you—still remembers how you feel, because there's no way you would have kissed me otherwise."

"Fair enough," I conceded, remembering how warm and safe it had all felt.

"And I know this must be really confusing for you as well, because the last mean thing you ever said to me was just before we started going out."

I wanted to ask what it was, but decided that wouldn't be very productive. It was probably something about his hair. His sticky-uppy hair full of sticky-outy leaves and something resembling sexy.

"When did we start going out?" I asked, pointedly ignoring his sexy hair.

He smiled pleasantly, his eyes laughing. LAUGHING. They were laughing, okay? I couldn't make this up if I tried. "Late September."

"So, we've been going out … two months?" I asked.

TWO MONTHS.

TWO MONTHS and I thought I was in love with the boy?

"Yeah, just about."

I worried my lip. "How did you do it?"

He cocked his head to the side, tossing his broomstick from hand to hand. "Do what?"

"Ask me out. How did you get me to say yes? It had to have been nothing short of a miracle."

Potter laughed, a great big rumbling laugh that made him toss his head back and reveal dimples on either side of his dumb mouth. Like a dumb baby. Dumb baby dimple face.

Why was that so attractive?

"I didn't," he said, once his face went back to normal, but there was the faintest of smiles on his lips, and his eyes were doing that laughing thing again. "We just kissed one day after a Transfiguration lesson, and then later, you asked me out."

W H A T.

"WHAT."

Okay, that broke me.

I started giggling.

"I, Lily Evans, asked you, James Potter, to go out with me?" It was my turn to throw my head back in laughter, only it didn't go so well, because the back of my head immediately connected with the tree trunk. "Ow!" I cried, touching my skull where it was fully throbbing, but I was still laughing.

"Are you alright?" Potter crouched down beside me and gingerly examined the back of my head.

"Yes, stop trying to seduce me," I said, swatting his hand away.

"I wasn't—!" he started.

I pointed at him and laughed even harder, finding his defensiveness even more hilarious.

He sighed and sat next to me, shoulder to shoulder, his hands in his lap.

Once I'd calmed down from the tender pain in my head as well as the surreal notion that I'd been the one to ask out Potter, I relaxed against him.

"The castle looks beautiful from here," Potter said quietly.

It really did, luminescent and gleaming against the darkening skies and light snowfall, its reflection glittering on the surface of the lake.

I hummed in agreement, dropping my head onto his shoulder. It felt natural, which scared me, and I popped right back up again.

He turned to face me. "It's okay, Lily. I won't do anything you don't want. Ever."

I stared at my hands in my lap as I fidgeted. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder, but I was fighting it because it was madness! He laid his open hand next to mine in my lap, an offering, a lifeline, a question.

Do you still care about me?

After half a moment, I took his hand in mine.

"Merlin, your hand's an icicle," he said, and he took both my hands in his to warm them.

I caught his gaze and smiled. The thumping in my chest quickened as he returned it, his whole face lighting up as bright as the castle in the distance, my very own sunset in the fading light.

I leaned forwards and pressed my lips against his chastely.

Yes.

The answer, whether I understood it or not, was yes; I cared for him.

"We should get back," I whispered, looking into his eyes.

"Yes," he agreed, gazing intently back at me. "We should."

Neither one of us dared move.

I gave in and kissed him again, loving the feel of it. He was no Tongue-y Tommy, that was for certain!

"So, it seems a bit helpless around you," I said, my lips brushing against his.

He laughed. "Believe me, the feeling is mutual." He cupped my face in his warm hands, his thumb circling my cheekbone. "But if it's confusing, we can stop."

Er, after I'd just realized how amazing of a kisser he was?

We could stay under this tree and snog until morning, as far I was concerned. I leaned forward to kiss him again and say so, but he pulled back.

"I think it might be confusing for both of us, actually," he murmured.

"Oh."

Right. Because this whole thing didn't just affect me, it was also affecting Potter.

"So, no funny business?" I said, pouting.

He smiled a small smile. "As much as it pains me to say, it's probably best if we don't engage in that sort of thing. At least, not until things go back to normal. It doesn't feel appropriate to kiss you when you're Obliviated."

I wanted to be offended. But part of me also felt relieved. It would've been very confusing and stressful et cetera to carry on all the physical intimacies of a relationship when we were each in very different places about the whole thing mentally.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "You're probably right," I admitted. We slowly disentangled ourselves from each other, not with gusto but with lackluster effort.

I took that as a good sign.

Potter stood up and brushed off his knees, then offered me his hand. He pulled me to my feet, and I was much too close to him when I sprang up but he didn't step away.

I got up on my tiptoes and leaned forward. His eyes widened and he took in a quick breath. Just as my face was mere millimeters from his, I reached up to pull a leaf out of his hair and laughed.

"Well, I'm glad one of us is enjoying this," he muttered. He grabbed his broomstick and smirked. "Want a ride back?"

"Honestly, I think I'm done with brooms for the day."

Potter cracked an aristocratic smile that made my knees weak. Perhaps, I could use a ride on a broomstick after all. "C'mon, Evans. For old time's sake," he coaxed.

Well, I couldn't say no to that!

"Alright," I said, climbing onto the proffered broomstick.

He'd added a Warming Charm to it, and I was instantly comfortable. He climbed on behind me and wrapped his arms around me to grip the handle in front of me with both hands.

"Nice charmwork," I complimented.

Potter leaned against me so that his face was next to mine and I felt him smile. "Learned from the best," he quipped, and kissed me on the temple.

I felt my heart absolutely burst and I couldn't help the grin that plastered itself across my face.

We soared over the lake and the grounds, taking a slow and scenic flight back to the castle entrance.

I could honestly say I couldn't remember a time I'd felt so relaxed on a broomstick, and I definitely couldn't remember a time I'd felt so happy to be with James Potter.

I was called back to St. Mungo's just after dinner, and this time, McGonagall refused to leave my side for my entire visit, which made it all the more awkward when Mum finally got around to asking me about my day.

Her dark hair was a bit a ruffled from her hours-long nap, her eyes a bit less gloomy. She was putting on a show of being alright, just as she has ever since Dad passed away.

I couldn't tell her about what I'd just gone through, playing a flying game in a league I'd founded when I couldn't remember how to fly. Or that I'd forgotten all about my boyfriend, and despite a sort of a Daphne-Apollo moment, we'd come to a truce of sorts. I couldn't tell her any of this because it would mean admitting I had been Obliviated, and she'd only blame herself for it.

"Uneventful," I lied, and McGonagall's eyebrow twitched, but she didn't give me away. Technically, I was of age and didn't need to inform my mum of my ills.

Mum patted my hand and smiled. "You're a terrible liar, Lily Evans. You get that from me."

Well, so much for that.

Feeling guilty, I filled her in on the Hippogriff match, but didn't mention that I'd played while I, in fact, had been Obliviated. Even if she didn't blame herself, I didn't want her to worry about me—not with all the other unfortunate magical attacks she'd already survived.

She stared at me quite hard, her eyes narrowing as she regarded me thoughtfully. Finally, she sighed and patted my hand again. "Alright, you can have your secrets. I remember what it was like at your age. But know I'm always here for you, love. Always."

"I know." I leaned in for a hug, glad Mum was still able to be all motherly after such a horrible thing had happened to her. "Love you, Mum."

Healer Bones came in, whispered something to McGonagall, and then announced it was time for Mum's Sleeping Draught.

"We'll begin mind healing treatments tomorrow, Madam," Bones said to my mother. "You'll be released shortly thereafter, and Professor McGonagall has agreed to allow Ms. Evans a home visit before the holiday."

I hugged Mum once more and followed McGonagall out to the lobby.

"Thank you, Professor," I said, once we were in the corridor.

McGonagall merely nodded. "I still expect top marks from you on your exams, Ms. Evans."

I knew that was her way of accepting gratitude—which was not to acknowledge that she'd done anything to deserve it—but her remark made me pause.

What if I didn't remember something that was going to be on my exams?

I awoke early the next morning, stuck a note to the door of the seventh year girls' dormitory asking for an emergency study session in the library, then ran up the boys' staircases to shove a copy under the seventh year boys' dormitory door. We only had three revising days before exams started!

Then, I bounded toward the Great Hall to fill up on breakfast and several cups of black tea. Marlene was the first to join me, hair secured into a braided knot at the top of her head, pink underside on full display.

"Morning, Champ," she said through a mouthful of toast.

"And to you," I said, tipping my teacup in acknowledgment.

She grinned, shaking her head. "Hell of a day, Lily. Let's see if you made the headlines." She nodded over to a nearby sixth-year who was reading that morning's edition of The Daily Prophet. "Oi, sports?" she called over to him.

He looked up, startled. I thought his name might be Bartleby. Barnaby. Bernard. Or similar. He was quite short for a sixth-year, with rather a round face and even rounder eyes. "Oh, you two will like this," he said, separating the pages of the Prophet. He handed over the sports section to us, and Marlene chuckled.

"Wicked," she whispered, a large grin plastered on her face as she took it in. "Thanks, Lucas."

…

Lucas.

We shall try not to linger on the fact that I, Lily Evans, Former Gryffindor Prefect for Two Years and Current Head Girl, am Very Bad at Names.

"Yes, thank you," I managed.

Lucas grinned and went back to the rest of his paper.

I turned my attention back to the sports section in Marlene's hands. The Prophet had published a side-by-side photograph of Potter standing on his broomstick speaking inaudibly, and me standing on mine with Golden Snitch triumphantly in hand. Their headline ran, "Hogwarts Student-Athletes Take a Stand."

Which was. Very good. Made my eyebrows wiggle in delight.

Head Boy James Potter leads Hogwarts with calming words while their Head Girl, Lily Evans, stands up for independent student organizations amid solid support from fans.

Which was. Not the best take. Made my eyebrows furrow.

First of all, they weren't fans—they were students. And Potter didn't calm anyone! He fired them up! He made sure we wouldn't forget what had happened at Piccadilly, that a game of Quidditch would fill in the hours but not distract from the horrors of the war that was going on. He called on the students of Hogwarts to rethink the route of violence against Muggles. For Peeves's sake, he had everyone chanting, "MUGGLE LIVES ARE HUMAN LIVES!" for literal ages.

Not to mention, "independent student organizations" was the least of my concerns.

But of course, the Prophet would never report on anything political if they thought it would hurt their readership.

Marlene and I looked at each other with rivaling frowns. "That's not what happened," she said.

"No, it isn't," I agreed.

When Sirius Black appeared moments later, he only needed one glance at Marlene's face to immediately pick up the paper in front of us.

"Rubbish," he grumbled after reading it. He whistled over to Frank Longbottom, who was a few seats away. "Longbottom, we have business." They spent the rest of breakfast huddled together, while Marlene and I passed around the sports section to each member of our cohort as they arrived to the Great Hall.

Potter sat opposite me, and he and Black engaged in some self-righteousness over fried eggs and tomato.

I didn't have the space to do much but nod along in resignation. Jen, who was sitting to my left, was also fairly quiet about the matter. Uncharacteristically so. In fact, she was preoccupied with writing a letter of some sort.

"I think that about covers it," she said, after a few moments, slamming her quill onto the table. "The editors at the Prophet will hear about this!"

Ah. I stand corrected.

"Now I can revise in peace," Jen said. "I'll just be off to the Owlery first, unless—Lily? Is there anything you'd like to add?" She offered me her letter to the editors of The Daily Prophet for perusal.

"I think you've said it all," I replied, skimming over phrases like "gross underreporting," and "diplomatic nonsense" in her swirling hand. "Perhaps you could add how disappointing it is that they insist on downplaying major political movements just because they're led by students, and that as a leading news outlet for the wizarding world, they might want to do their jobs and report on what's actually happening?"

Her jaw dropped. "That's—that's good, that's very good," she muttered as she added it to her letter.

I was going to need more tea.

I supposed I could pick a fight over the underwhelming and indifferent reporting of the Prophet, or, I reasoned with myself as I stared at the pile of textbooks I'd stacked beside me, I could focus on what I could control.

Revising.

Naturally, I spent the rest of the day in the library hiding from Hippogriff enthusiasts, and in the company of the other seventh year Gryffindors who, between them, had most of the term's notes from lessons.

"My Lord, what in the bloody hell is the League of the Legless?" I muttered, looking over Remus's neat scrawl.

"Ssshhh!" hissed a nearby Madam Pince.

We all flinched.

"That was the day Binns gave up the ghost," whispered Potter—er, James.

He and Sirius Black reached over the table to high-five each other and Black smirked. "Still gold."

"Helpful," I said.

Longbottom leaned over the table and said, "It's not going to be on the History of Magic exam, so don't worry about it, Evans."

We all turned to him in interest.

"How do you figure that?" I asked.

He smiled conspiratorially. "Binns gives the same exams every year—now that he's a ghost, I doubt he's gone to the trouble of rewriting them. Anyway, this was Alice's study guide from two years ago, and she got an O in History of Magic." He tossed over what had to be at least ten feet of parchment Spellotaped together into a long scroll.

Good Godric.

Jen eyed it with hungry interest while Marlene audibly gagged.

"I'm afraid you'll have to take notes from there. I'd make you a copy, but …" he trailed off and everyone traded knowing giggles.

I grinned. I actually knew what they were talking about!

On Monday, Madam Pomfrey asked for a few of my memories to examine and arranged the use of a Pensieve in order for her to see the exact sort of damage that had been inflicted onto my memory.

Meanwhile, on the growing list of things I didn't remember were the following in no particular order:

- Flying
- Flying lessons with Potter
- Playing Hippogriff
- A potions lesson about salt substitutions (for some reason this was on our Potions study guide for the term exam)
- My relationship with Potter
- Remus's relationship with Sirius
- My entire Hippogriff team
- The crafting of the Hippogriff pitch
- Sruthi Chowdary
- The part of the Hogwarts Post Duplication Charm scandal where Potter and I had spirited away copies of its most inciteful issue yet before Sirius Black took it as his cue to start a protest
- The formation of a Hippogriff league at Hogwarts
- Bertha Jorkins
- A standoff with the school governors
- A Transfiguration lesson in mid-September, also somehow Trask's Theorem
- Dorcas?!
- An entirely new Donna Summer album
- The fact that Marlene went through a whole pink hair phase, which had evolved to its current state as a pink underside that showed only when she put her hair up
- Potter as my partner for Mary's coming-of-age ball
- WIZARDING DANCES

As the week went on, it seemed all of Wizarding Britain had weighed in on the athletic goings-on at Hogwarts.

After Jen's strongly worded letter to the editor had been published in the Monday issue, it sparked a conversation amongst other readers. While some agreed that The Daily Prophet was taking pains to bury the political aspects of our sports, others argued that we were being radicalized at Hogwarts and exacerbating rising tensions.

The school zine that had been taken over by Pureblood supremacists took that argument and ran with it. The Hogwarts Post used a photograph of the Gryffindor Quidditch team standing on their brooms from an angle that made them look large and menacing, looming over the reader threateningly. Their Tuesday headline?

A threatening, "RADICALS AT HOGWARTS" in large letters that dwarfed the title of the zine. They'd interviewed the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, a Hidalgo Pucey, who just kept saying that politics didn't belong on the Quidditch pitch and that the Head Boy had abused his power during the match to brainwash the masses into parroting propaganda.

"D'you hear that?" said Potter—er, James, grinning ironically and slapping a copy of The Hogwarts Post on the Gryffindor table. "I'm a tyrant, a brain-washing, radical tyrant!"

"He's boastful, eh?" said Black.

"The worst of braggarts," answered Remus.

"Feel sorry for him," Pettigrew said. "Must have a small—"

"Gentlemen," interrupted Potter, trying not to smile. "Not in front of the—"

"Fans?" cut in Marlene. She smiled, catlike, at the rest of us, a knowing gleam in her eye. "Don't see any. Pettigrew, please continue."

We all laughed too hard for Pettigrew to continue anything.

"I can't believe the Post has turned into this," I murmured, once everyone had mellowed.

"It's absolutely dreadful, Lily, just dreadful!" agreed Mary.

"Makes you want to do something about it, doesn't it?" said Sirius, leaning over the table conspiratorially.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yes," I said, pointing at him with a forkful of scrambled egg in suspicion. "But whatever it is you've got in mind, the answer is no."

Sirius opened his mouth in defense.

"Today's our last day to revise before exams begin, and I still need to make sure there aren't any more holes in my memory," I continued, cutting off whatever counterargument he may have had.

Sirius crossed his arms across his chest and pouted at me melodramatically. "You and I used to be chummy," he muttered. "Add that to the list of things you've forgotten."

I sighed, my head beginning to hurt by the thought of Sirius Black being anything more to me than a drama queen. "I'm … sorry."

Sirius brightened considerably. "However will you make it up to me?"

Good Godric but the boy was relentless!

I sighed, exasperated, and he chuckled.

"Alright, I get it; now's not the right time," he said, and went back to his breakfast.

I frowned down at my full English before me.

Since when was I Now's-Not-the-Right-Time Lily Evans? Since when was justice ever on a schedule? Surely I could make sure that The Hogwarts Post got the rebuttal it deserved.

Just as I was about to ask Sirius what exactly he was cooking up in that mad brain of his, Frank Longbottom approached us and sat at the empty seat usually occupied by Jen and set several photographs before me. "I didn't get to ask you—before," he said. "But these are all in the running to print. Just wanted to get your—your—"

"Permission?" I asked, raising a single eyebrow.

"Your consent," he answered. "I'm writing a piece on your Hippogriff match, and actually, I'd be honored if you'd give me your perspective."

"Oh!" I said, surprised.

He wanted my perspective? The one where I had no flippin' idea what in Helga's handbags I was doing, flying about, a total safety hazard to myself and the rest of the players?

"I know you're busy revising, but I only have a few follow-up questions, really." He scratched his would-be beard absentmindedly.

I couldn't. I'd have to tell him I'd been Obliviated, which I'd managed to keep hidden from him so far. I'd have to own up to the fact that I'd been flying with an impaired memory. And I had no idea what sort of consequences I'd face if I armed the entire school with that knowledge.

Was I willing to put myself on the line just to get back at the Post?

I sighed. "I—I'm flattered, honestly, but I am really busy, Frank, sorry." He looked crestfallen. I glanced at the photographs and flashed him a grin. "All of these look great—you have my consent to use them all if you'd like."

Frank nodded and gathered the photographs into a pile. "Thanks. And, if you change your mind, let me know." He got up and left.

I exhaled, my muscles relaxing, a pang of guilt resonating around my middle. In an ideal world, I would have been straightforward about my experience. But, as Potter had reminded us just a few days ago, there was a war going on.

My gaze drifted over to the Slytherin table where every student seemed to be reading a copy of The Hogwarts Post. Bellatrix Black caught my gaze and sneered, her wand going up to trace her throat in a blatant threat.

And this war was already here.

Meanwhile, the attack in Piccadilly Circus continued to monopolize the stories on the Wireless. Unfortunately, one of the most popular shows, the Wise Wizards, wasn't taking the threat seriously.

I couldn't walk through the corridors without a group of students huddled over a Wireless, listening to some dreadful comments from the show's Owlery-Howlery segment, where listeners would send in their opinions by Owl or Howler to be read by one of the Wise Wizards over the Wireless.

"I've got nothing against Muggles, I'm just protecting my own!" read one of the Owls.

I rolled my eyes and tried to keep calm as I explained to the group of second-year Hufflepuffs that listening to the Wireless was not permitted in the corridors.

"Tetchy," I heard one of them mutter as they switched it off.

I ignored it and continued on my way towards the library for some more revising.

"If we as a wizarding society want to remain intact, we mustn't intermingle with Muggles! They'll dilute our magic and soon there won't be any witches or wizards left and magic will disappear forever!"

This was the most senseless piece of fear-mongering I'd heard yet.

"D'you think that's true?" gasped a young voice from the corner of a courtyard where some students had gathered around another Wireless. "D'you think they'll really drive us to extinction?"

"Maybe, especially if we have to keep hiding from them," answered another student.

"Your Heads of House might drive all of you to extinction if they find out you're listening to the Wireless during school hours," I said as I came upon them.

They jumped at the sound of my voice and one girl quickly hid the Wireless in her cloak.

"Now off to wherever you're supposed to be; everything on that show is a bunch of rubbish anyway."

I stood there, hand on my hip until they dispersed, muttering and shooting annoyed looks my way all the while. I sighed, wondering how many other students were consuming the same Muggle-phobic points of view from the Wise Wizards show. How many of them would consider all this fear-mongering as truth?

I made a very long detour toward the Owlery. If Owlery-Howlery was still going, the Wize Wizards would have to read my comment as well.

I stooped over Mary's Wireless in the first-floor girls' bathroom where I knew no one would find me (and point out the very hypocritical behavior I was engaging in at the moment). Except for Moaning Myrtle.

"Oooohhhhhhh!" she wailed as she floated overhead. "Nobody ever comes in here unless they're doing something secret!"

"If you want to know the secret, you'll be quiet and let me listen to the Wireless!" I snapped.

She tsked but otherwise remained silent as the Wise Wizards went on with their idiotic show.

"Here's a comment from the Head Girl of Hogwarts!" read one of the Wise Wizards.

"Bet she's really fit!" interjected another of the Wizards. His voice was raspy and made my skin crawl.

I frowned, my face going hot as the Wise Wizards laughed in agreement.

Their show should be called Witless Worms because that's what they were!

"They're talking about you!" sang Moaning Myrtle, and she cackled wistfully as she flew in circles around the vaulted ceiling.

I shushed her, very nearly pressing my ear to the mesh of the Wireless.

"You know, my cousin says she saw the Head Girl trying to sneak her Muggle mum into St. Mungo's last week," said one of the Wizards.

What!? Who was spreading that rumor?

"Her mum's a Muggle?" asked the raspy-voiced Wizard. "I heard she was half-banshee!"

I was seething. These irreverent idiots were hurling cruel insults at my mother while she was suffering from traumatic shock brought on by the very attack that they'd turned into a joke.

The Wizards laughed once again, and the first one settled down long enough to actually read my Owl.

"The Head Girl says, 'Muggles have evolved much in their thinking since medieval times. True, their reactions to magic have not always been welcoming, but that was in the past! Additionally, two hostile sides will never reach peace! If magic is worth protecting, then we must be the first to extend the hand of friendship to our Muggle brethren. After all, Muggle lives are human lives'—my Godric, I suppose she also thinks we should 'extend the hand of friendship' to acromantulas?"

The Wizards' laughter boiled my blood.

"Oh yeah, that should go over well! 'Hello, acromantula, do you want to be mates?'"

One of the Wizards put on a gruff voice as he replied, "'Oh yeah, just pop round and I'll make you dinner!'"

"Where did I even mention acromantulas?" I shouted at the Wireless. "Stop changing the subject! Have a real dialogue!"

"Well, what do you expect from someone who's a half-blood anyway?" said the raspy-voiced Wizard.

Even Myrtle stopped her circling enough to say, "Oh, not nice, not nice, not nice!" as she descended into the U-bend of her favorite toilet.

"And here's an Owl from Reggie in Bath. 'This so-called attack on Muggles is just a hoax so that the Wizengamot can pass even stricter Secrecy laws!' Oh, I think old Reggie may be on to something!"

I was incensed. Justice needed to be served. I was Lily Now-Is-the-Only-Time Evans.

At dinner, I pulled Sirius Black by the arm and marched him over to Frank Longbottom, all the while ignoring his vapid complaints about how I was going to dislocate his shoulder, and oh, what was the Gryffindor Quidditch team to do without his godly talents if such a thing were to occur?

"Sit," I ordered, and Sirius did, though not without the most punishing pout I'd ever seen him sport.

I sat beside him; Frank was before us, looking curious though not in the least bit alarmed.

"I have a story to tell," I said. "It's long, complicated, and political."

"Yessssss," said Sirius, gripping my shoulders excitedly.

Frank wasn't as immediately enthused, however. "What kind of story?"

"The kind that requires two journalists: sports and politics, respectively. I want to tell you how a supporter of Voldemort attacked and Obliviated me just before the Hippogriff friendly last week. I couldn't remember how to fly and I did, anyway."

Frank's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Right. Well. You've got my attention."

"YESSSSSSS!" repeated Sirius, louder this time. "My first article! It's going to rock journalism to its very core! Just a word of precaution, though, I'm a terrible speller."

A/N: I'll be honest; I've been struggling with continuing this story in light of JK Rowling's transphobia. If you couldn't tell from the themes of this story, I am a strong and longtime supporter of the LGBTQIA+ community and believe trans and nb people deserve recognition, inclusion, accommodations, and basic rights deserved by all. With the global spotlight (finally) on Black Lives Matter, I realized that stories of oppression and marginalizing rhetoric are needed now more than ever. For me, this story has always been an allegory for being an immigrant, a person of color in a white-majority country, or someone who by birth and nature is different by some arbitrary measure and has to fight for their right simply to exist. I wish this fic was just a dystopic picture of a polarized society, but it becomes more and more reminiscent of everyday struggles the world over.

TLDR; POWER TO THE PEOPLE!

My dears, I hope you are safe and well, and that those you love are as well. Reviews really make my day, and let me know that someone out there is still following Lily on her misadventures. Thank you for reading. Follow for updates!