5

There was one letter missing from the fifth file. It had, in fact never lived there. Ever since the day the Hogwarts tawny owl had tumbled through the bathroom window while Harold was shaving one sunny June morning, causing him so cut his chin, this letter had lived on Mrs Evans' dressing table. She had read and re-read it so many times in the last few years that she knew it by heart. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, and allowed her memory to run through that letter for the thousandth time.

11th June

Dear Mum and Dad,

I feel so messed up and confused. I have so much I need to tell you, and it's so hard by letter. There is so much I need to fill you in on, that I have been aware of for so long, but have just been ignoring in the hope that it will go away.

I don't really know how to say this, how to break it gently, so I will just say it bluntly.

We are on the brink of war. Everyone knows it, although no-one talks about it. Almost every day in the Prophet there is news of more disappearances, homes with the Dark Mark, His sign, over them. The Ministry is trying to make out that it is just a bunch of sick terrorists who will soon be rounded up, but they're not fooling anyone.

Not just the wizarding world, but the entire muggle world, is in danger. And I know for certain that no muggles will be safe, because the perpetrator of this crime, the fire-starter of this war is against all muggles, muggle borns and squibs. (Remember about squibs? I told you about them a few years ago I think. Alice reckons Pringle's apprentice Filch is one.) His name, or at least the name he goes by, is "Lord Voldemort".

He thinks... well, he thinks that purebloods are the best anyone could be, and muggles are filth and need to be kept in their places. All that crap that those revolting Slytherins believe in. They're all ready to join him as soon as they leave school. Remember I mentioned Malfoy a couple of times? He finished school at the end of my third year. According to the rumours he and his mates have already joined Him. And that brings me to my next sorrowful tale.

Severus- my once best friend- is now my friend no longer. He plans to join the death eaters as well. I had been suspecting as much for a while, because he has become increasingly more like "them" recently; hoisting up random muggle born first and second years by their ankles, bandying the word "mudblood" around like there's no tomorrow, and not even bothering to apologise to me, like he used to. But what finally ended it was something that happened two days ago. Potter was being an absolute prat as usual, pulling the levicorpus on Sev and humiliating him, so, even though Sev and I have been getting more and more distant, more and more argumentative, of course I went to defend him. I look out for my friends, unlike some people. But Sev said, in front of everyone, "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" He tried to apologise later, but I couldn't forgive him. It's my worst nightmare come true. Over the years, almost every time we've had an argument about him calling people mudbloods, I have asked him if that's how he saw me, begged him to stop it before it ruined our friendship. And now it has.

It's not a huge step. It's not like I'm any different from any other muggle born. In fact, despite the brave face I put on, I think I might have let him come crawling back if he hadn't as good as admitted that he intended to join You Know Who. Alice and Marlene have been saying for years that he's no good. For the first time I am inclined to agree.

After what happened I decided that I had put it off for long enough. I went to Professor McGonagall to ask her what I could do about it, how I could protect you and the rest of the world. She freely admitted that we were on the edge of a war. She said there was nothing I could do for you personally, but if I wanted to help the war effort, I might want to reconsider my career path. She said to me, and I am quoting this as well as I remember so as not to seem as though I'm bragging, "I am sure that you would be an extremely successful Potioneer, but if you wish to do something to assist the bringing down of You Know Who, I suggest you become either a healer or an Auror. I would advise you to think about becoming an Auror. Although you would certainly do well as a healer, an Auror is a much more difficult career path, and quite frankly I think the Auror Office needs your talent. I'm sure you must be fully aware that you are one of the brightest witches in your year, and you were not put in Gryffindor for nothing."

So that's it. I swapped Herbology for DADA, and I'm going to try and become an Auror.

I'll see you in a few weeks anyway, but I needed to get all that off my chest.

Love,

Lily.

Blinking, she returned to the task in hand. Shuffling the pieces of parchment, she caught phrases like "Muggle Studies professor is completely clueless" and "Marlene says I'm crazy for starting my revision this early". Whenever she caught James Potter's name, it seemed to be just a passing comment, such as "I can't even be bothered to get angry at Potter anymore" and one that caught her eye said "I've matured, he hasn't. That's all there is to it these days." It had been true at the time. She sighed reminiscently. Then she resumed her shuffling. Come on! She thought to herself, she was a journalist! She was telling a story! All that was needed for this and the next before the big one in seventh year was a bit of softening of Lily's heart, a bit of romance even. But it did seem to be the case that Lily had just matured too far in advance of James at this point. Then she remembered something from Christmas of that year, when Lily went to stay at Alice's for the Christmas holidays.

Dear Mum,

I feel like I ought to write to you. I've been writing to you at least once a week whenever I'm away from home that long for the past four-and-a-bit years. It's a hard habit to break.

So, now I'm going to have to re-awaken your youthful side with my tales of all my parties and boys. (Kidding, kidding! Of course you're always youthful! Now put that saucepan down!) Well, a party, anyway. And "my" boys would be a bit ridiculous, as I'm still single and loving it ever since that I dumped that jerk Brian. Not that I don't appreciate boys, but I'll come back to those reflections later on. Hold that thought!

So, the party. Alice had a Christmas party for loads of people at school, and guess whose mum should turn out to be all time best friends with Alice's mum. That's right, Potter's. Not that I made a fuss about it, I'm far too well behaved for that. (Okay, you can stop laughing now.) So of course he turned up with his little gang, Pettigrew looking positively terrified at the idea of having to spend a whole evening being sociable. Alright, that was a bit harsh. But he is very anti social, apart from when he's with those Margeriners or whatever they call themselves. No, I think it might be Mariners, or no, Marauders! That was it! Marauders. According to the dictionary it originates from the French for "rogue". That figures. Why am I still thinking about them?

At this party then, I had a great time, and had a tiny bit of alcohol and stuff (don't tell dad) but not too much, I promise. Oh, don't give me that face, I'm sixteen in a month anyway, and I distinctly remember you telling me that you first got drunk when you were fifteen. Not that I got drunk. Absolutely not. I tried some firewhiskey, but not much.

But about halfway through, I had an astounding revelation. I was watching Potter having a laugh with his mates (don't ask me why I was watching him; just, don't even go there) and I realised that Potter is actually... well, to put it baldly, he's actually quite hot. Hey, I admitted I had drunk a bit of firewhiskey. It must have gone to my head a bit quicker than I expected. But anyway, I pointed this out to Alice, and she gave me this weird look, and said, "Are you seriously telling me you've only just noticed? I thought you always knew, you were just so repulsed by his personality that it had no effect on you!" Of course I was. Obviously.

Hah, I can see those cogs turning in your head from here, mother dear. You're as bad as Alice. You see, I know what your reaction will be to everything I write. But to answer your unasked question, no I do not fancy James Potter. Black is much better looking than him, anyway, I've known that for ages, and he's just as much of a prat; possibly more. I could hardly fail to notice him, the way he flaunts it like that. But for some reason I've only just noticed Potter. I spent most of the evening after that wondering how it took me so long to realise. Alice spent most of the evening bugging me about Potter and dragging Marlene away from her admirers to giggle about it together.

It's a good thing he's not reading this. Knowing his mountain sized ego as I (painfully) do so well, he would take this as a sign that he's been right all along, and I'd like nothing better than to Xs\|g|X-h/ m|\ sorry, that was Marlene grabbing my quill and writing something COMPLETELY inappropriate on my letter, that I had to cross out. Apparently she has been reading over my shoulder for the last 5 minutes, and she informs me that I sound like a typical lovesick puppy eyed school girl. What would she know; she never writes letters to anyone.

Need some sleep now. Looking back over this letter, it has been a bit party obsessive. Oh well, it's Christmas.

Love,

Lily

In all the worry about Harold, the impending war, and the boy Lily had once called her best friend, she had completely forgotten about this letter. She remembered very clearly the delight with which she had received Lily's letters about James in her seventh year, going from confused, to anxiously excited, to blissfully happy, fulfilling all her own suspicion; but she had forgotten this one letter that had started those musings. This was the perfect way to begin the ending of Lily's childhood.

So... how was it? Please review! If you've got any criticisms, suggestions or ideas about why she is looking through the letters, then I want to hear them.