September 1st, 1995
Number 12 Grimmauld Place

When she awoke, it was cold, and an icy chill nipped at her toes. Slowly, as she came back to herself, she looked around. It was barely light; only the first streaks of the sun were beginning to appear on the horizon. Her body quivered, and her stomach was sinking from the dream. Her feet barely touching the ground, she glided across the room. Hands shaking, she shrugged her thin night robe over her shoulders, and slipped out into the corridor. A welcome warmth greeted her. For the briefest of moments, she closed her eyes, embracing the sensation. Then, her mind overtaking her, she continued down the hall. She paused to quietly creak open the door to her fifteen year old son's bedroom. A sigh of relief left her lips when she found him soundly asleep, his wand on the beside table next to him, and his snow owl sitting contentedly in her favourite perch. She smiled, for a moment, before she turned to look down the corridor again. A faint ringing in her ears, she walked over to another door, taking a peek in for a second. Her daughter. Just like her son, she was passed out asleep, completely calm, and seemingly unbothered by whatever her unconscious mind was whispering to her.

After a few seconds, she finally turned on her heel, and started back down the corridor. She was not tired, however, and instead walked past her room. Slowly beginning to descend down the stairs, only apparating to avoid the screeching portrait in one of the almost maze like corridors in the home. The smell of vanilla and toast filled the air nearly the second she appeared shortly in front of the kitchen doors. A small smile on her lips again, she stepped into the kitchen. Inside, as she expected, were the lively sounds of humming, cooking, and magic. She walked just as lightly as before, not wanting to startle her friend. Almost as if she had known, the frizzy, red headed witch turned around and smiled, giving a few waves of her wand to command the dishes to continue the cooking process themselves. She came over and embraced her. It was more than welcome. The dream was always the same, and, today of all days, she missed her husband more than ever – something her friend must have sensed.

"Is everything alright, Lily? You rarely wake up before 7:30."

She hesitated. "Much of the same, Molly," She finally admitted. "I took a peek in on Harry and Eleanor upon waking up, and couldn't go back to sleep. Couldn't have hurt to come down here, could it?"

"Arthur does much of the same, sometimes," Molly chuckled softly. "I'm only awake at the moment because I saw him off to work. He's been especially jittery lately, what with the twins starting their final year."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "And he's not concerned about Eleanor encouraging them?"

Molly considered that. "She may get on with them better than any of their siblings. Then again, Ron and Harry have been close friends for years. It's almost madness to think we had only met by coincidence when shopping in Diagon Alley when the boys were six!"

"I suppose Eleanor's penchant for running off was a good thing, in that sense," Lily rolled her eyes with a hint of a smile. "It nearly gave me a heart attack not knowing where Harry was when I came back with his sister, but I can't say I wasn't relieved to find him with you and your kids."

"I hadn't realised who he was until I saw you!" Molly paused for a few seconds. "I hope you know I would have kept him safe regardless."

"You always have," Lily sighed. "You, Remus…and, in the last year since I finally got him exonerated, Sirius."

"Are you still worried about what happened last year, with the Tournament?"

"How can I not be? Not only was my son nearly killed, but Voldemort returned!" Lily hesitated when Molly flinched at the name. "Sorry. I suppose I'm still a bit angry about all of it."

"You have every right to be," Molly gently reminded her. "You were…lucky may not be the right word but…you were spared from death by sheer coincidence because you wanted to visit your sister. Your husband's sacrifice to try and save your son may have been why he survived. Your husband never got to even know you were pregnant, let alone meet his daughter. You've lost just about everything, Lily. I would be stunned if you weren't angry."

"It's a nightmare," She muttered. "But let's consider it a small miracle that the Ministry is at least aware of, acknowledging, and at least trying to do something to push back against Voldemort. Though I don't think they're doing enough. We'll see if Delia will stop trying to evade having that conversation with me."

"The two of you are similar enough," Molly remarked. "And you have been friends for years. Wasn't she assigned to be the one keeping an eye on you and James when…"

"Yes," Lily managed to laugh a little. "She was annoyed about it, but we became friends soon enough regardless. Which is exactly why I know forcing her into a corner, just about, will probably be the best way to have more than a few words with her tomorrow. Since she returns from whatever the hell she has been doing with her children in Spain today. She has to, at least, since all three of them are Hogwarts students."

Molly gently set a hand to her shoulder, offering a sympathetic look.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Lily tiredly nodded. "Yeah," She said, her voice shaking a little. "I will be."

September 1st, 1995
Hogwarts Express

"Eddie, you're such a pussy."

Ron nearly choked on his sweets upon Cat Fudge shoving their brother into the compartment with him, Harry, Eleanor, Hermione, Ginny, and Shyanne. Shyanne laughed, very much used to this, and Hermione whispered something to Ginny and Eleanor that made the two girls burst out laughing. Eddie let out an angry squeal when his sibling shoved him into a seat between the door and their other sibling, Shyanne, crossing his arms and sending them a mutinous look. Shyanne looked up from their writing, pushed up their glasses, and poked him with their wand before handing him a box of Every Flavour Beans. Cat leaned against the window, their glasses pressing into their face, before they sat down themselves, looking rather smug. Harry eyed them, vaguely concerned.

"They punched out another seventh year!" Eddie finally said, shrugging when his eldest sibling gave him a dark look. "What? You also cursed him out, and told him that if he touched your Walkman again that you'd break his nose! Why'd you bring that thing with you, anyways? It's not like –"

"Hey!" Cat protested, their soft, high voice a bit squeaky in indignance. "I put Alanis Morrissette's album on there, and want to learn it by heart before Chanukah! Don't be a dick just because you don't know anything about music!"

Shyanne smirked, playfully punching their brother in the arm. "You're not going to be able to argue with that."

Eddie sulked, giving Eleanor and Ginny a slightly pleading look.

"You can't have a rational argument with them," Eleanor Potter informed him, barely looking up from her book. "You should know that. They're your sibling."

"Who's Alanis Morrissette?" Ginny asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Muggle singer," Hermione and Shyanne told her at the same time, uncomfortably glancing between each other immediately after.

"As a prefect," Ron said, clearing his throat. "I'm going to give Cat the lead."

Hermione scowled. "That's not how we're supposed to handle being prefects, Ron!"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not Percy. Do you expect me to be?"

"I appreciate your lax interpretation of the rules," Eleanor remarked with a smirk. "Please continue doing that. I have a feeling I'll need it."

Harry glanced warily to his sister. "Should I be worried about you?"

Eleanor shrugged. "Nah," She said, waving her hand dismissively. "As long as I'm not committing arson during Hogsmeade weekends, there's nothing to worry about."

"Just be glad we're not going to have a questionable Defence Against The Dark Arts professor this year," Cat said, pulling out one of their earbuds. "We're getting a real auror to teach. Not some kind of weirdo, or an egotist, or someone dangerous."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?" She pressed. "You obviously know."

"It's Nymphadora Tonks," Cat replied. "My mom…talked her into it after getting a glimpse at Dumbledore's list of potential teachers and not liking any of the names on it. Supposedly, she's being paid more than any professor we've ever had in that position."

"Even Gilderoy Lockhart?" Ron snickered. "I bet that bloke demanded a fuck ton of money. Why Dumbledore chose him of all people, though, definitely blows my mind. What a weirdo."

"He was crazy," Cat agreed, viscerally disgusted. "I get that I'm gay and wasn't going to be charmed by him, but, come the fuck on. He was clearly a mess."

Harry laughed. "Let's be honest, though," He said, shrugging. "This will probably be the only sane professor – apart from Lupin – we'll have for that class if the record holds."

Ron considered that. "Sounds about right to me."

"Maybe she's going to be the first professor for that class who lasts more than a year," Eleanor remarked, closing her book. "I would appreciate not having an endless stream of new professors for that class."

"Everyone does," Shyanne rolled their eyes. "I'm starting to think they're cursed the second they agree to teach."

"Let's hope not," Hermione said. "Especially after what happened last year."

"You mean a madman and murderer holding someone hostage to steal their identity?" Eddie quipped. "Because I think it's hard to be worse than that. You don't need a curse for that, either. Just crazy."

"It would have been nice if the real Mad Eye Moody had agreed to teach us this year," Ginny said, leaning back a little. "Since he didn't exactly get the chance to last year."

"As if," Eleanor sent her a pointed look. "Would you want to teach when you knew the most dangerous person in modern times was on the loose and you could try to catch him?"

"I suppose not," Hermione admitted. "But it still would have been nice."

"Sure," Ron agreed. "But, come on. Who cares about that? We have quidditch to think about!"

September 2nd, 1995
British Ministry Of Magic

"Delia –" Lily quickened her pace as the petite woman stepped out of the lift ahead of her. "This –"

"My hands are tied, Lily," Delia said, tucking her folio under her arm as the two women continued to walk. "I spoke to President Vance – again – this morning, and she said it is not in the interest of the Magical Congress Of The United States Of America to engage in this. How many times am I going to have to repeat that?"

Lily stepped in front of the door to her office.

"Delia, come on," She said, relenting and letting her open the door when her friend scowled. "Is there really –"

"I'm not the one in charge, here," Delia swore when the door stuck for a few seconds. Lily quickly followed her in, and shut the door behind them when Delia did not pause. "Again," Delia said, setting down her folio on her desk with a sigh. "You've always assumed I have more power than I do. And I never have."

"I know that might have been true when you first came here," Lily said. "But that was almost twenty years ago! You're not twenty two anymore, or being considered something of a disgraced auror in the States! You're –"

"Being the head of MACUSA's Investigative Crimes And Department Of Magical Law Enforcement does not mean I can make such major, unilateral decisions without the ultimate support of President Vance and, mind you, the legislature."

Lily hesitated. "I suppose, but –"

"I should also remind you," Delia pointedly cut in. "That many in America do not view some of the people in the Order as particularly reliable or worthy of trust. You and I both know that neither Remus nor Sirius, for example, have been portrayed favourably in the media. Granted, there are plenty of people in the UK who don't like them having anything to do with the Order, but, considering the majority of them see the immediate, abject threat that You Know Who poses, they tend to be more willing to disregard some of the less…popular – for lack of a better word – members of the Order."

"Are Americans really so unwilling to help?"

"Because they don't see much of a threat to us?" Delia surmised. "Yes. And, honestly? I concur with President Vance's decision to not limit our own departments to aid Britain's. Other European countries, and Commonwealth nations such as Australia, are more likely to be able to provide assistance. Which, to be clear, is a fact I have already made more than clear to Director Shacklebolt."

Lily bristled. "Kingsley told me about that," She coldly replied. "I hope you know that he is less than thrilled by the decision."

"I'm more than aware," Delia replied, crossing her arms and leaning back a bit against her desk. "But that changes nothing. I understand where you're coming from, Lily, I really do. And I feel horrible I can't do more, but this is the situation, and you're going to have to accept that."

Lily frowned. "Well, then what am I supposed to do? So, your husband, again, said just the other day that the Ministry doesn't have the immediate resources to address the threat Voldemort poses, so what? Voldemort –"

"Must you say the name?" Delia snapped. "And, as for the resources issue, you that's true more than anyone."

"Exactly!" Lily paused when she saw Delia flinch. "I'm not trying to be difficult, Delia. But what am I supposed to do? Just accept and try to manage what we can with the rest of the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement? Because that seems to be what everyone has told me, from Cornelius, to you, to Amelia, to Kingsley, and so on and so forth down!"

Delia eyed her closely for a few seconds. "Lily," She eventually said as calmly as possible. "And I only say this because you've done things this reckless before, do not go looking for You Know Who. You have more reason than anyone to want him dead, but your son and daughter need you alive. Plenty of people – myself included – don't want to see you hurt, either. Consider that before you do anything potentially rash."

Lily glanced away, anxiously reaching into her purse. Delia tiredly took off her glasses, rubbing at her eyes. It had been a long day. She was still waiting to hear from at least one of her three children, even though she and her husband had seen them off only a few hours earlier. She pushed her glasses back on. Set down her wand. Tied her slightly greying black hair up into a high bun. Her eyes fell on the static family photograph she kept on her desk. Their most recent family photograph, from just a few weeks before while visiting family in Ireland. Herself and her husband, her hair a bit windswept and the two of them looking at each other. She had always loved the way her husband's curls peeked out from under his favourite, lime green bowler hat. Their eldest, Cat, had the same almost laughing smile they always did, and their long, hot pink hair and bangs were a bit askew like their glasses. Shyanne, only a year younger than Cat, with the same easy smile they always had, their pink hair, in contrast to their sibling, neatly up in a high ponytail, and their glasses neat. Eddie, their youngest, who, while he had his father's dark, lightly curly hair, smiled just like his mother. Delia sighed, though she startled when she heard the click of a lighter. Lily sent her a faintly apologetic look when she lit and took a long draw on her cigarette, trying to evade the vaguely irritated look Delia had been given her since the day she had started smoking shortly after Eleanor's birth.

"I won't do anything like that, so if that's your concern, you don't have to worry," Lily finally said. "That doesn't mean I don't know what else to do, however. I'm not going to be idle like you. Delia, listen, if there's even something you can –"

"I've already done what I can," Delia cut across her. "How many times do I have to tell you? Do you honestly think I would lie to you about that? After everything we've been friends for so long, after everything I've done for you over the years, after –"

"I know, I know," Lily hesitated, taking another draw. "I'm sorry, Delia, I just…"

"You're in pain," Delia finished, her voice softening considerably. "But what is breaking your back just to claim you're alright going to do?"

Lily took another draw, her hands shaking. "I…"

"Lily," Delia said, letting out a light, tired sigh. "I think you need to take a few steps back. How about, after work, I take you out for some drinks and tapas? You seem to need it more than ever."

Lily was silent for a few seconds but then nodded. "Alright," She quietly agreed. "Perhaps you're right…it could very well help."

Delia offered her a small smile. "At the very least, it won't hurt."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Is drinking your solution to everything?"

"Of course not," Delia replied. "I'll be a little alarmed if that's what you think despite knowing me since '80."

"Fair enough," Lily managed a small laugh. "But I appreciate you looking out for me. It means more than you can imagine."

"We've been friends for years," Delia shrugged. "Did you expect anything less from me?"

"No," Lily admitted with a smile. "But I appreciate it nonetheless."

Authour's Note: hey, y'all! now that i have a better idea of where this fic is going, i've decided to restart from the beginning. don't worry, the sister fic It Began In 1993 is still up, and i'm still working on that one too. i have a few edits to make, but that one doesn't need rewrites. hopefully that clears things up, and thanks for reading my fics!