Chapter three: Miss Elora Smiled

Meredith said that people in the Wizarding World used owls instead of postmen. She said morning papers came by owls, deliveries, and general mail from anyone else. Her brother was given an owl before going to Hogwarts and that's how his letters home came. Her father was a business man, she said, as all purebloods were of some sort, and kept one in his study for such things.

"He was a great horned owl," she said. "A great mean thing named Thaddeus. He hated anyone who wasn't my father and he'd swoop down at anyone who trespassed."

The owl that came with my letter was a barn owl who interrupted breakfast with the gentle flutter of his great wings and a hoot to alert us of his presence. I was already awake and at the breakfast table watching Meredith cook. When it landed on the table in front of me Meredith gasped, having turned around with the skillet of scrambled eggs; which she promptly dropped. I'm sure they were really good.

"Is that-"

My face brightened and I grinned. "It's my letter!"

I gently took the letter from the owl, who then flew off, and regarded it with what I'm sure was a worshiping expression on my face.

Ms. Lilia Sterling
The Blue Room
17 Cedar Circle
Little Whinging
Surrey

It was a beautiful seal, the purple wax depicting each of the four Houses Meredith told us about. The envelope was made of parchment and the ink was almost the shade of the baby blanket I still kept, written in a practiced script.

"Are you going to open it?" Meredith asked, wiping her palms on her trousers and stepping over the ruined eggs.

I nodded, reaching to pop the wax seal. There were two pieces of parchment in the envelope, so I pulled out the first and began to read aloud.

"Dear Miss Sterling," I read, my voice clear, "We are please to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

I looked up at Meredith with a manic grin. She clapped, clasping her hands under her chin afterward and staring at the parchment in my hands with an expression of obvious longing. And it was her who was captivated by my words. Our roles had reversed suddenly and unwanted in a way I didn't like. But I read on.

"Please find enclosed a lift of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31- that's Harry's birthday!"

Meredith moved to stand behind me, leaning over my shoulder to peer at the letter so that I could smell the vanilla of her favorite lotion. I closed my eyes and leaned closer to relish in it while I still could.

"McGonagall," she said, reading the name to herself. "She was the Transfiguration teacher, I believe. Mordecai said she was fair, if a bit strict."

"Did he like her?" I asked.

She thought about it and then made a face. "Mordecai was a neutral person, Lilia. He didn't feel one way or another about most things, but I do believe he respected her which is something to be said in her favor."

I watched her for a moment and then gestured with the letter. "Do you want to hold it?"

She jerked, standing up straight and looking at with wide eyes in alarm. "What?"

I held the letter out again for her to take, carefully, afraid she might scare if I made too sudden a movement. "Would you like to hold the letter?"

She did. I could see it on her face even if I hadn't already seen it in her mind. She was thinking about the day her brother, Mordecai, got his own letter and she'd asked to hold it- if only so that she could pretend for a moment that she was bound for the school as well. But her brother, in eleven year male possessiveness, had emphatically rejected the idea. As had her parents, though with more fervor.

"What purpose would you have for a Hogwarts letter," her father had asked in a sneering fashion.

From Meredith's stories, both the ones she told Harry and I as well as those she never spoke of aloud, her father did everything in a sneering fashion.

"It's okay," Meredith said, looking away she did in her memory. "It's yours."

The last part was to herself more than it was to me, I knew, and I wished for a moment that I had never gotten my letter at all. But I held it out in a last effort.

"I know it's mine," I told her. "But I don't know what any of this means under the headmaster's name. You could explain it to me."

Finally, giving me a look that said she saw through my ruse, she gingerly took it in her hands and caressed the parchment. She could almost pretend it was meant for her, bearing her last name that we shared as a mother and daughter would. And for a moment, that's what she did. But the joy she might have once felt from doing so fell flat, and her eyes met mine over the paper. She smiled at me and looked back at the page, to the name at the top with all the strange titles.

Her gray eyes lit up in recognition and she smiled. "Dumbledore was headmaster when I was a child. He taught my parents, and to be honest, wasn't a popular person in my house."

"Why not?" He seemed like he would be an awe inspiring person to meet if his titles were half as impressive as they sounded.

She debated a moment on how much to tell me. "My parents were something of elitists. They were prejudiced against anyone who wasn't magical or pureblood, and Albus Dumbledore was the Lord of Light that fought against two different dark wizards; who would seek to dominate over Muggles, and those of the magical world that came from such a background. That's how he received the Order of Merlin, First Class. It's an award given by the Ministry. It's a huge honor."

I wondered if her parents' politics were part of why she didn't speak to them anymore. And I wondered why the man, Dumbledore, was stuck being the headmaster of a school if he was so accomplished.

"What do the others mean? Are they awards too?"

Meredith, who'd been staring off in space thinking about her parents, looked back at me and then to the page to look at the other titles there. "A Supreme Mugwump indicates he's head of the International Confederation of Wizards. He didn't have that when I was there, but I don't think they meet often. A Chief Warlock presides over the Wizengamot. My father had a seat on it and after every meeting he'd come home and complain about Dumbledore's ideals. Grand Sorcerer is just an illustrious title to say he's powerful."

She stopped and looked off in thought. "You know, it makes me wonder who the Minister of Magic is. I hope Minchum's retired..."

Her hand shifted and a slip of paper fell from the packet and drifted to the floor. It appeared to be written in the same hand as the letter, but at a different time as the quill- Meredith said wizards used quills and always insisted I learn- was turned and the letter strokes were in a different direction.

"Please expect a visitor this evening to provide guidance and information as to the contents of this letter," I read aloud. I frowned and looked up to Meredith. "Why would they send someone?"

"LILIA!"

Meredith and I both whirled around to the open window where we could see Harry, running towards the house. There was the bang of the front gate, and the throwing open of the door. Harry's face was lit up with a grin, and in his hand he clutched an unopened Hogwarts letter. He ran towards us and hugged me tight, my arms down at my sides so that I couldn't move them. When he pulled away he hugged Meredith too, colliding with her clumsily in a way that made her go oof!

"It came," Harry exclaimed, waving the letter at us as he did. "It really came!"

"Are you going to open it?" Meredith asked, repeating the same question she'd asked me before.

He looked down at it, having forgotten to in the excitement. When he'd been told to get the mail he'd seen it, knowing immediately what it had been. Harry hid the letter in the waistband of his bottoms and left as soon as he could, running the entire way to our house. Greedily he tore open the wax seal and hungrily roved his eyes over the words.

"Dear Mister Potter, we are please to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

I grinned and took my letter from Meredith to show him. "Look at mine!"

He looked, comparing the two, then beamed at me with hope in his eyes. "We're finally doing it, Lilia. You and me, going to Hogwarts."

Meredith now had the slip of paper telling us to expect someone from the school. She held it up. "Did Harry get something like this in his letter?"

Harry looked through his envelope, but came up empty. She made a humming sound to think. "I thought maybe Lilia got one because they assumed she was living with muggles, but if that's right then why didn't you get one?"

"Maybe Harry's parents were like us," I piped up, knowing that Harry knew little of either of them.

Meredith only made another humming sound. "Maybe I should call your aunt and uncle and tell them you'll be home late. You can be here when someone from the school comes. Then you can hear whatever they say. They might be able to provide some insight."

Harry brightened at the idea of not only meeting another witch or wizard, but also at the idea of having longer time away from his relatives. She went into the next room to where the phone was to call them, leaving us in the kitchen.

"You really think it's possible they were like us?" Harry thought.

I shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, maybe that's why they never tell you anything about them."

"Do you think you could, I don't know, meet my aunt and uncle and look into them? See if it's true? Even if they were muggles, at least I would know more about them."

"No." Meredith said, coming back into the kitchen. She gave Harry a pitying look and moved his hair to look neater. "I'm sorry, Harry. But I don't want Lilia near them."

He wilted. I knew Meredith felt bad for it, but she was worried about them. If they beat Harry for his magic and they were family, what would they do to me?

"On the bright side," she said in a brighter tone, "Your aunt said you could stay the night."

"Really?" Harry asked, grinning.

Meredith nodded. "You'll be here when whoever comes from the school visits. Maybe they'll know about your family if they really were magic."

Miss Elora Lavois was young, with long white hair and deep, ocean blue eyes. She swept into our living room, her long purple robes flowing behind her like a train as she glanced around- a fairy tale princess having come to our cottage and making everything else seem drab in comparison. She saw me first, standing there gawking at her in the dress Meredith made me wear, and she smiled, leaning forward.

"You must be Miss Lilia."

I liked her immediately.

She came just after supper, while Harry and I were helping Meredith clean up. There came five even knocks at the door, making Meredith freeze, her arms in soapy water to her elbows. Then she jerked them out of the water, desperately grabbing a hand towel to dry them- all the while shooing us to get in the living room. Miss Elora looked around as though she found our cottage charming, not having noticed Harry until I pulled him into view.

At the sight of him, she paused; her smile dying as she looked at him like she might a ghost. He looks just like James, she thought to herself. Right down to the ears that stick out slightly. She envisioned a boy our age, who looked very much like Harry, with stronger features and hazel eyes in the place of my Harry's green ones.

"Who's James?" I asked her.

Without warning, I was thrown out of her head with walls coming down to keep me out. She looked at me, shocked. I looked at her, shocked. Meredith immediately began apologizing, giving me a look that told me I knew better. Miss Elora was looking at me, though, in a way I knew meant she was thinking something important. And I wished I'd kept my mouth shut.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Lavois. Lilia does that. We've been hoping that someone at the school would be able to help her control it."

"Elora, please, Miss Sterling. And think nothing of it." She looked me in the eyes, and smiled. "That is a wonderful and rare gift you have there, Miss Lilia. There will definitely be someone who can teach you Occlumency, if no one else I will volunteer myself. And, to answer your question, James Potter was young Mr. Harry's father. I went to Hogwarts with him."

Harry perked up. "My dad was a wizard too?"

Miss Elora looked confused, and though the block on her mind was perfect, I could sense where her thoughts must be. I explained. "The Dursleys told him his parents were drunks. They never told him about magic. We did."

Her blue eyes widened and for a second her walls slipped and I could see a flash of a camera, capturing a kiss between the boy she'd thought of earlier- all grown up- and a woman with Harry's green eyes and long red hair. His mum.

"Drunks?!" She exclaimed. "James Potter, a drunk? Never! Lily and James Potter were the best of our age. Lily, that's your mother, was a Healer. Best in St. Mungo's. James was an Auror. The nerve of those- those- Muggles!"

Visibly, she realized how passionate she was getting and calmed down. "Harry, your parents were friends of mine, and I can promise you they were not drunks."

Harry nodded, happy to know anything. He hadn't even known their names. I was happy for my friend, and expressed that through our usual way of communication. But I was jealous, stepping closer to the stranger.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about mine?" I asked.

She frowned. "Yours?"

I nodded. "That's how I came to Meredith, you see. My father brought me to the orphanage, but she knows he was a wizard. She said she could tell. I don't know his name or anything, but I hoping someone did."

Miss Elora gave me a strange look, glancing to Meredith before looking at me again with a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Miss Lilia. I'm afraid I couldn't tell you."

I tried not to look too disappointed. "That's okay. But, you're from Hogwarts. You can tell us about it, can't you?"

"That, I can," she said.

"What happened to Harry's parent's?" I asked, for Harry who was too nervous to himself. I paid close attention in case her mental wall slipped.

She didn't want to answer. She was arguing with herself on what to say and how to say it, her eyes passing back and forth between the two of us. Meredith was scolding me mentally for having made our guest uncomfortable, despite her own curiosity for knowing about Harry's parents.

"How about we all have a seat first," she suggested, her arm motioning to the loveseat.

Miss Elora smiled at her gratefully and sat down on one end of the sofa, with Meredith on the other and Harry and I across from them on the floor; which was our usual spot. "Well now," she said. "Where to begin? I was told that this was a muggle household, though I'm thinking now that perhaps I was misinformed?"

Her question was aimed at Meredith, but I was the one to answer- eager to have Miss Elora's attention back on me. "Meredith grew up in the Wizarding World."

I was successful, Miss Elora's enchanting smile aimed at me once more. The kind of indulging smile an adult might give to a child they found particularly endearing. One I often give my own now, so many years later.

"Really?" She asked me, her smile genuine. Her eyes, still alight with her amusement, shifted to Meredith who looked at me curiously. "What a fascinating story that must be."

Meredith looked back at her, realizing it was her she was speaking to. "Oh! Well, I suppose. You see, I was born a Squib and when I was of age I left that world and began working at a muggle orphanage. I was there when a man brought Lilia when she was only a few weeks old. When I decided to leave the orphanage a few years after, I brought her with me."

"I see," Miss Elora said quietly, a somewhat more strained smile replacing the one that had previously been there. "Well, then, I suppose it is only fair I answer your questions."

Harry and I leaned forward automatically, as did Meredith to listen intently and Miss Elora to tell the tale. I pulled my knees up to my chin and leaned my head on them, black eyes focused on Miss Elora so as not to miss anything. Harry did the same with one knee, the other angled around the front of him like a shield or a line one might draw to show a boundary. He was nervous, communicating to me all of his anxiety over being told about his parents.

"Harry," Miss Elora started in a low tone, "I went to school with your parents. We were from different houses, but we became very close. They were both Gryffindors, you see, and I was a Ravenclaw. I'm not sure if saying that means anything to you."

We both nodded, having been told by Meredith about houses. Her brother was also in Ravenclaw. If his parents had been in Gryffindor, Harry would want to be too, and if Harry was going to be in Gryffindor that's where I wanted to be.

"We remained close after Hogwarts," she continued, her eyes slowly making their way about gazing at the wall as she reminisced. "The whole lot of us did. There was a war, you see. Just like muggles, there are good wizards... and there are bad. There was a man, who called himself by a name not his own and divided the Wizarding World into those who believed in blood supremacy- and those who fought against it. Your parents and I were fighting against it."

Harry smiled slightly, forming images with the ones I provided from Miss Elora's memory of his parents; heroes. It was a much better image than the one he'd had previously, featuring faceless figures in a drunken stupor climbing into an automobile- their young child in the backseat.

Miss Elora's mind slipped and I tried my best not to perk, hungrily taking in the scenes that were dancing in her head; of Harry's parents, a man with a long beard, and a man whose face I couldn't distinguish and whose aura was jarring. I was immediately interested at the last image, accidentally giving her a tell as her walls came down hard again and I was thrown out. I expected her to appear angry, but she only gave me a small smile before her gaze went to Harry again.

"Your parents were strong, Harry, but they were betrayed. And You-Know-Who was not a merciful being."

"We know who?" I asked, confused.

Meredith explained, having never divulged much into the darker side of the Wizarding World enough for me to know. "That's just what people called him, flower. They were too afraid to say his name. Too afraid that by doing so they might bring him into their homes and to their families."

"There are many people who say his name regardless, though, even now there are many afraid to. Even after he was defeated. My father always said the fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"What was his name?" I asked.

Miss Elora looked hesitant, though not out of fear. It seemed that she had refrained from doing so in respect for others who might not like it. Particularly Harry, but he wanted to know just as much as I did. "His name, was Voldemort."

"He killed them?" Harry asked, speaking to her for only the second time since she'd arrived. His voice was quiet, low as though he hadn't meant for anyone else to hear. Without hesitating, I slid closer to give comfort.

Miss Elora looked sad. Before she'd closed her mind the second time, I'd felt a small bit of emotion. Love, for all three images, and dreadful heartache for the first.

"He did," she confirmed, just as quietly with suspiciously wet looking eyes. "Harry, dear, there is something you need to be told before entering the Wizarding World again. I'm afraid I'm not sure how to say it, but I'm the only one here who can and it wouldn't be fair for you not to know."

My Harry had tears in his eyes that seemed perfectly content to stay there until he nodded for her to continue and they skipped down his cheeks.

"He murdered James and Lily Potter when you were a year old, on Halloween. And when he'd done so, he tried to kill you as well."

My eyes widened and I prickled at the thought of anyone trying to hurt him, my mind reaching out tentatively to Harry's- like holding hands. His let me and his shoulders, though still tense, seemed to soften at the same time.

"Obviously he didn't succeed," Meredith said, her mind also rearing protectively. "So what happened?"

"No one knows."

"What do you mean no one knows," Harry asked defensively.

Miss Elora gave an apologetic look. "I mean, that no one is quite sure what happened. It seemed that Voldemort tried using a killing curse, that he'd used on countless others. And you survived."

The last part she said with a certain amount of confused awe. "No one ever survived once he decided to kill them, but you did. And then, he was just gone."

"You mean to say," Meredith began, pale faced. "That he died, merely by trying to kill Harry and failing?"

She shook her head. "That's what the majority of the Wizarding World believes, that it somehow rebounded, but others- those of us who fought behind the scenes, know that's poppycock. I don't think there was enough human in him to die. Harry, there isn't a soul in our world who doesn't know this story. There isn't a soul in our world who doesn't know yours or your parents' names. You're the-Boy-Who-Lived."

A/N: Soooo... here is the third chapter and we are moving! Next chapter will be Diagon Alley and more of Miss Elora. What do you think of her? Also, for any questions of the Dursleys... they'll be there later, but think of them as more negligent than actual abusing (for the most part). They're getting more happy with him being gone and once he's in the Wizarding World, they'll be even more in the back ground. At some point, however, we will have Lilia meeting them. Any thoughts? Questions? Ideas? Theories? I might skip the Dursley's being informed of him returning, because I hate writing that scene. I've done it SOO many times and honestly, it gets old. So it will be happening off screen with perhaps a reference or two about it. Diagon Alley, maybe a bit more summer, and HOGWARTS! As I get further into the story, the chapters will get longer. I promise.

Mia