Dear Mum and Dad,

Today Professor Slughorn was very pleased with my potion, I think I'll get good marks for that one. I'm settling into this new school year, finally. Speaking of Professor Slughorn, he's invited me to one of his parties, remember I told you about them? Marlene's been saying that she wants to help me get a new dress for the occasion. I suppose I'll have to show it to you during Christmas break.

Lily bit her lip, racking her brain for more useless information to fill her letter. Finding nothing, she signed it Love, Lily, and tied it onto Barley's leg. She looked over at James, who was sitting by the fire, scribbling onto some parchment, though Lily couldn't tell whether it was a letter, homework, or something entirely different.

James looked up at her, and Lily looked away, wishing he hadn't seen her staring. Lily cleared her throat, and said, to dispel the awkwardness, "So, who did you pick?"

"What?" James asked, looking blankly at her.

"Quidditch," Lily said with a huff, regaining some of her senses.

"Oh. Well, there's this possible Keeper, his name's Michael McGonagall."

"McGonagall?"

"Her very nephew. I suppose I'll have to let him join, or she'll fail me in Transfiguration," James said with a chuckle.

Lily fell silent again. "I wonder if something's up with Barley… He hasn't brought a letter back, maybe he's dropped it? He's getting old."

"How old is Barley?" James asked.

"Eight years old," Lily said.

James was silent, and Lily hugged herself. She couldn't imagine losing her beloved barn owl, her link to her first year of Hogwarts. At that time, there was no threat of a wizarding war, no dark clouds that seemed to constantly gather in the horizon. In fact, all Lily could remember of her childhood were balmy summer days and cobalt skies.

"Maybe I shouldn't have sent him out on that long trip," Lily said, biting her lip.

"He'll be fine," James said, but even with the warmth in his voice, he couldn't manage to sound convincing.

Lily got up, deciding that she could start Professor Kettleburn's essay the next night. She climbed up the stairs that didn't seem quite so cold and ancient now that they were being lived in, and entered her minty green room.

She let herself flop onto her grass-themed bed and stared up at the ceiling. Now missing one bird, she conjured up another, whispering "Expecto Patronum." She had to try three times to summon the usual crispness of the Hogwarts letter on her mother's checkered tablecloth, but once she had it, the small, silver bird started in circles around her head.

Lily felt its warmth surround her, and she fell asleep on top of her bed, fully clothed, too tired to worry any more.

! #$%^&*

Her alarm woke her and Lily groaned, not wanting to get up and get dressed. She stood up slowly, but found, to her surprise, that she didn't feel the usual cold of the stones on the soles of her feet. It was only when she looked down that she saw that, for the second time that week, she'd gone to sleep in her clothes.

Lily sighed and decided, this time, to actually change. She picked out some clothes, more for comfort than for fashion, and started peeling yesterday's clothes off, before replacing them with new ones. She began to feel clean and ready for the day once she'd brushed her teeth and run a comb through her hair, and she trotted downstairs.

James was still stretching and yawning in his armchair, knocking down the book that had lain open on his torso. "Must've fallen asleep here," he muttered when he saw Lily.

"You're going to be late," she said with a frown.

"Go on without me," James said, another yawn overtaking his face.

Lily pushed the heavy, wooden door and found herself in the hallway. The silence hit her like a slap. She hadn't noticed how full of sound Hogwarts in the morning was until it was missing. She had the eerie feeling that it must be the middle of the night though the shining sun proved otherwise.

Lily ran down the hall and looked down towards the staircase. Not a single student was in sight going down to breakfast, and the Fat Lady was missing from her portrait. Lily sprinted back to the Heads' dormitory, to find James, when she saw Professor McGonagall, looking grave.

"We've lost a student, and the Headmaster requests the Head Boy and Girl attend a meeting, immediately," she said, her voice wavering.

"Ginger root," Lily said, and the door swung open. "James?" she shouted.

James appeared at the doorway, still in a similar state of undress to before. He looked at Lily and then at McGonagall, and went wordlessly to get his robes. Lily felt a wave of fear hit her, as she processed the meaning of the word "lost."

Was it someone she knew?

James appeared, hastily dressed, and they all walked in tense silence towards Dumbledore's office.

! #$%^&*

"Her name was Felicia Tipman. Hufflepuff. Muggle-born. Seems to have died in her sleep," Dumbledore said.

"Then it's natural causes," Professor Slughorn blustered, clearly wanting to close the discussion as fast as possible. "No need to investigate."

"That may be so," Dumbledore said sharply. "But Felicia was a healthy twelve-year-old, who deserved much more time to live, and certainly deserves our fullest investigation."

Slughorn didn't answer, his head bowed. The other teachers began to murmur, and discomfort rippled through the room. Suddenly, someone spoke up.

"It was Severus Snape!"

Lily looked at James, open-mouthed. How could he continue his little feud with Severus, when something so serious had just happened?

James looked straight towards Dumbledore, aware that all eyes in the room were on him.

"Please, explain," Dumbledore said calmly enough, but with a distinct edge to his voice.

James could feel the heat of Lily's furious glare, but he focused on Dumbledore. "Yesterday, in Potions, he was brewing a poison that could kill you in your sleep—he even told me, showed me!" James said, his voice rising as he spoke.

"Nonsense!" Professor Slughorn cried out. "My boy, I graded his sample of love potion myself!"

"He could've easily switched it out! Or have done both at once!" said James.

"Mr. Potter—" Slughorn began, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"This is no time for childish grudges, Mr. Potter. I want you to be very certain of what you are saying," Dumbledore warned.

"I am, Professor Dumbledore," he said.

Before another bout of arguing, Dumbledore swept over to Lily. "I had called you both here to ask you whether any of you had seen anything of use. It seems Mr. Potter has his very strong convictions. Anything from you, Miss Evans?"

"No, I have no one to blindly accuse," Lily said heatedly.

"Then it seems you are free to go. And, of course, your duty over the next few days is to reassure the other students. Don't let their worries get out of hand."

And with that, the two found themselves in the hallway outside.

"How could you? Accusing him of murder?" Lily asked, her voice shaking. "This—this is beyond pranks and teasing, this is—"

"Lily! I saw it! He practically told me he was going to use it!" James said, frustrated. "Why do you still defend him, after what he did to you?"

"I'm not defending him!" Lily shouted. She had gone all white, her freckles shockingly visible against her skin, and her fists clenched. "And while we're talking about what he did to me, that's nothing compared to all you did over the years, Potter!"

Lily stormed off for the second time that week. James didn't bother going to the Great Hall because there was no way he was in the mood to eat.