World Enough and Time – Chapter Six
Secrets
James had been having one hell of a day so far.
In the hours since he had arrived at the Ministry that morning he had scarcely had two minutes to himself. He had been rushed in and out of various meetings, had piles of parchment shoved into his hands or deposited on his desk in heaps, and he had received countless memos and tasks from his various superiors. And everywhere there was hushed and hurried talk about the previously-missing-and-now-found Unspeakable, Terry Boot.
The most that anyone knew was this: that Terry Boot had mysteriously gone missing a few days earlier in the Department of Mysteries and had now showed up with no memory of the time that he had been gone, nor what had caused his disappearance in the first place.
Since then the Experimental Charms Department had, as James had dreaded, been dragged into the investigation due to their recent work on memory recovery. Not only did this mean that he would have less time to research a solution to Lily's disappearance but the whole fiasco had been something of a media frenzy all morning and James loathed reporters.
Pansy Parkinson, who he had met briefly in the lift, was everything that James hated about the press. She was artificial, underhanded, and far too nosy for her own good. He had spent his first ten minutes in the office not-so-courteously brushing her off before she had begun to pester his various co-workers. Had there been some sort of restriction to the media's presence in the Ministry her poking around would have been easily solved but as it was everyone was doing their very best to simply ignore her.
Currently James was walking briskly to his cubicle, one hand shoved in his pocket the other rubbing absent-mindedly at the back of his head, tousling his scruffy dark hair. He sighed deeply and turned a corner before stopping short. What he saw was a most unwelcome sight. At the end of the row, standing just outside his office space, was the very last person he wanted to see - Pansy Parkinson - and she was peering obviously over at his desk. James groaned.
He spun around and began heading in the other direction but the sound of high-heeled shoes clacking against the floor told him that he had been spotted and was now being followed. James doubled back the way he had come and took the long way through the sea of desks and cubicle walls. There were a good number of Ministry workers bustling about, purple memos flying about overhead, and James hoped to get lost in the shuffle. When he finally did make it back to his desk there was already someone there though he breathed a brief sigh of relief that it was not the nosy reporter.
Elaine Goodrich, one of James's coworkers, was shuffling through the piles of parchment on his desk, her foot tapping anxiously on the ground. He cleared his throat and Elaine spun around, her short, dark brown curls whipping her in the face, and burst into speech immediately.
"James, Abercrombie's just sent out another memo! He says he wants our reports on memory-recovery by the end of the day, which is just ridiculous. It's too soon. We haven't done enough research or any testing. And do you have that report on the obliviate charm because I can't find mine. I think I lost it, or maybe Magical Maintence vanished all my paperwork again…."
Here Elaine practically snorted in frenzied frustration and turned back to the desk to continue rifling through the parchment. James opened his mouth and then closed it again, unsure what to say to the young woman currently ransacking his office space. Before he could think of a response that would not set off her already frazzled nerves she was speaking again.
"How can Abercrombie expect us to finish our reports when we're interviewing Terry Boot in a few hours? It's absurd. There just isn't enough time. Aha!"
It seemed Elaine had finally found what she was looking for and she grasped the parchment triumphantly before turning back towards James. James, still trying to catch up with everything Elaine had just spewed at him, failed to notice that the look of excitement on his colleague's face had turned rapidly to surprise. Therefore it was too late to do anything when he felt a hand grip down on his shoulder and spin him around.
He groaned loudly when he saw the short, brunette reporter standing behind him. Parkinson had a smirk on her face and she sauntered into the small space as though it were her own office. James was forced to take several steps backwards out of her path. She looked between him and Elaine, her dark eyebrows high on her forehead.
"So, you two are working on the Terry Boot case, are you? How wonderful." She smiled. James glanced over at Elaine, who was staring at Parkinson with obvious distaste. Neither of them answered her.
Elaine met James's gaze and grimaced. "You know, I really have a lot of work to do and not enough time to do it in so I should really be going." She had to shimmy sideways to avoid coming into contact with Parkinson, who was still standing the in middle of the small space. James glared at Elaine as she left and she made a face and mouthed good luck before darting around the corner of the cubicle. Pansy did not even seem to notice Elaine's departure but was inspecting the office instead.
It was not a neat space. Along with the mounds of parchment scattered across the desk there were also ink bottles, quills, and old crumpled memos. There were old newspapers, old coffee cups, stains from old coffee cups, and sweets wrappers. A small filing cabinet with a potted plant on top stood in the corner and the walls were half-covered with photographs of James's family and friends. Although it was extremely untidy, it was comfortable.
James did not hold back as he glared opening at Pansy. She ignored this however and, with a wave of her wand, a corner of James's desk cleared and she seated herself on it, crossing her legs. Her skirt shifted up her legs in an unflattering way.
"If you don't mind, I have a lot or work—"
But Parkinson cut him off with a short high-pitched laugh that showed off her large, brilliantly white teeth. "Oh, James, I'm sure you can spare a few minutes for a friendly chat," she said dismissively. James was not surprised that she knew his name. He opened his mouth to protest but Pansy started talking again before he got the chance.
"Lovely family," she said and her hand darted out to one of the photos pinned to the wall. James recognized it immediately – it was one of he, Albus, and Lily standing outside of the house. It was the last year that all three of them had been at Hogwarts together and in the picture their trunks were visible behind them along with a large owl cage. The three of them were smiling widely. Lily was waving.
James could see Pansy's long nails scratch the surface of the photograph and her grip creased the middle of the picture, right over his sister's smiling face. The Lily in the picture leaned left and right, struggling to peer out from behind Pansy's thumb.
"Don't touch that," he snapped, more threateningly than he had intended. Pansy merely looked at him, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She still held the photo tightly in her hand.
"Your brother, he looks just like your father," she said. James said nothing. His hands clenched into fists and he fought the urge to grab his wand, which was tucked in his back pocket. "And your sister, her name is Lily, isn't it? Such a pretty girl."
"Get out," James growled but Pansy did not rise from the desk. Her smile widened ever so slightly.
"Now, James," she said, as if reprimanding a small child, "I'm just making conversation."
"You're fishing for a story but you won't find one here," he said but it occurred to him that not once since entering the office had Pansy reached for the parchment and quill poking out of her handbag.
She raised one eyebrow at him. "I assure you, this is entirely off the record."
"Then what do you want? No. Actually, you know what? I don't care. Get out of my office." He pointed to the exit. Pansy stood but rather than leaving she took a step towards James. She was no longer smiling.
"All right, James, I'll tell you the truth," she started slowly, taking another step towards him. "It's just that I'm very worried about Terry. Do you really think your department will be able to retrieve his memories?" She paused and adopted an entirely unconvincing look of deepest concern. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts, you know, and such good friends."
But... there was something like worry in her eyes. James was convinced that she was lying, but if she was not worried about Terry Boot's well being, what was she worried about? Her increasingly close proximity was making him extremely uncomfortable and his hand twitched towards his wand again.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Parkinson, but I really do have a lot of work to do," he said as evenly as he could, refusing to break eye contact first.
She stared at him for a long moment before turning and snatching her bag from his desk. She paused only briefly in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder, her lips pursed, and then she was gone. James remained where he stood, his mind racing, trying to puzzle out what had just happened. Pansy Parkinson was up to no good, of that he was sure. She wanted information, very confidential information, and it troubled James greatly that he had no idea why.
Lily had never made a habit of skipping classes but since her recent disappointment with the Room of Requirement she found it increasingly hard to sit through her lessons with her fifteen-year-old mother and pretend that everything was normal. Nothing about this was normal. She had tried, really tried, to act as if nothing was wrong but it was only getting harder. After her unfortunate encounter with the Room, something inside of her seemed to have snapped.
Her emotions were no longer running as wild as they had been before – almost cheerful one moment and ready to burst into tears the next –but instead she felt a horrible sort of numbness. She was tired all of the time. Everything was wrong and nothing was changing. Lily was afraid that she was giving up.
However she was not quite to that desperate point yet. At least part of her was still fighting and Lily refused to accept that she would be stuck in the past forever. All the pretending was what felt like giving up. Why try and fit in and live a normal life here when she would be going back to her own? She did not want to adjust. Adjusting meant planning for an extended stay here. It meant coping. It meant forgetting about the life she really belonged in.
And so she had already skipped Transfiguration at the beginning of the week and her most recent Potions class as well. Neither McGonagall nor Slughorn had said anything to her about the absences but she suspected Gryffindor had lost a few points. At the moment she was due in Defense Against the Dark Arts but this was perhaps the class Lily was most keen to avoid.
For one thing any time spent in the presence of Severus Snape was decidedly uncomfortable. He was constantly giving Lily suspicious looks and on more than one occasion had given Lily the impression that he knew exactly what she was thinking about him. Not to mention that in addition to Snape's unpleasant company the class was fairly upsetting to Lily because of all the talk about a war going on – a war that Lily had covered in History of Magic but was now a part of simply by being alive in nineteen ninety seven. It was nothing if not unsettling.
And so Lily was avoiding her lessons, and the people in them, and spending her time in a few little haunts around the castle. Currently it was the Astronomy Tower, an area out of bounds except for classes and mercifully empty during the day. She sat with her back against one of the stone parapets, her hair ruffled from the steady breeze that blew across the tower.
In the peace and quiet of her hideaway Lily closed her eyes and, once again, tried to think back to the night she had traveled back in time. Classes that day, dinner, the Common Room, and then nothing. Had she been studying? Asleep in her bed? Wandering the corridors?
The last was a fairly likely possibility and she was quite prone to wandering the castle at night, especially with the aid of the Marauders Map. But the Map had been confiscated and neither she nor Albus had yet been to steal it back from Filch's office.
At the thought of the Map Lily had the sudden sinking feeling that she was forgetting something awfully important. But before she could dwell too much on that another horrible thought occurred to her: Harry has the Map.
Harry had the Map, that Map that never lied, that Map that at any moment could betray not only her location but her name. Another Potter on the Map would not be easily brushed aside. Lily's eyes flew open in horror and for a brief panicked moment she considered running back to Gryffindor Tower and ransacking her father's things and stealing the Map away from him. But this idea was gone as fast as it had come and Lily's rational side caught up.
She had seen Harry pouring over the Map in the Common Room when he thought no one was looking. He was looking for someone and he had spent hours doing so. If in all that time he had not spotted the traitorous dot of Lily Potter than it was unlikely he would do so. Not to mention the fact that Peter Pettigrew had lived as a rat in her father's own dormitory for a year while he had had the map and no one ever noticed him. There were hundreds of dots on that map and no one was likely to notice her unless they were really looking. Lily began to relax and put the Map out of her mind, turning her thoughts back to her night-time wanderings and possible explanations for her unprecedented predicament.
Perhaps she had been to Filch's office and encountered some sort of dangerous magical object? Maybe someone had attacked her and used some sort of complicated magic? The more Lily thought about the possibilities the more unlikely each of them seemed. Her head started to ache terribly and she sighed in frustration. She had nothing to go on – no clues, no prospects, and dwindling hope that she would ever be put right.
Lily did not know how long exactly she stayed up in the tower but when the sunlight began to fade to the pastel shades of twilight and the breeze took on a chill she decided it was time to venture back down into the castle. She stood, stretched her sore limbs, and walked over to the door leading to the stairs but before she had grasped the handle the door swung open and Lily felt her heart sink.
Professor Snape stood before her, looking grimmer than usual, his black robes in stark contrast with the brilliant bright hues of the sky stretched out around them. He sneered at her.
"You neglected to attend your Defense Against the Darks Arts lesson, Ms. McGonagall." Lily swallowed. A few strands of bright red hair flew in front of her face but she did not reach up to move them. She tried to look Snape in the eye when she spoke, tried to look as innocent and honest as possible.
"I didn't feel well," she said but it sounded horribly like an empty excuse. She slumped her shoulders a little.
Snape was ready for her. "Madame Pomfrey has not seen any patients today." His sneer became more pronounced. "If you were ill, why did you not go to see her?"
"I didn't want to trouble her," Lily said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. She looked down at her shoes.
Snape held open the door and gestured for her to descend the stairs. Lily remained frozen for a moment. "We do not tolerate liars at Hogwarts, Ms. McGonagall. You look well enough to me. Certainly well enough for a visit to the Headmaster's office."
From what James could tell the entirety of the Department of Mysteries was bathed in a strange, blue light and that, combined with the thick silence around them, gave him the impression that he was very deep underwater. Of course, James could not be certain that the whole department looked that way, especially because he could only see a sliver of the floor from the bottom of the blindfold tied around his face. He, Elaine, and Walter Macmillan, a tall and gangly chap just a few years older than James, were in the process of being escorted through the department by Fletcher Smith, an Unspeakable who looked to James to be about a hundred years old. He was generally crotchety and impatient, especially when it had come to the blindfolds.
Elaine had even laughed when he presented them each with a swatch of black cloth. "You expect us to wear blindfolds?" She continued to giggle and Fletcher had gazed back stonily.
"It's the Department of Mysteries," he said blandly. "How else do you think it's stayed all mysterious for this long?"
Elaine's smile had dropped in half a second when she realized the blindfolds were not a joke and she glanced at James and Walter, his shoulders sagging, before tying the piece of fabric around her head. James had smirked over at Walter and the two of them followed Elaine's lead.
Now they were on their way to what must have been near the heart of the department. They had been though a spinning room with flickering light, a few long and twisting corridors, down a few short flights of stairs, and everywhere there was the constant impression of blue. As they walked James tried to gauge how deep into the Ministry they were going, tried to remember the turns that they took – left, right, right again – but everything fell apart in that strange, spinning room. By the time Fletcher told them to remove their blindfolds James was quite effectively lost.
James blinked a few times while his eyes adjusted to the light and when he could finally look around he could not suppress a gasp. Beside him Elaine's mouth was hanging halfway open in awe and Walter let out a low whistle.
Straight ahead of them was a long line of shelves covered, from what he could see, with none other than time turners. He thought instantly of Lily and the shattered time turner that was the only clue as to what had happened to her. Instantly, James felt both a pang of loss at Lily's disappearance and a sudden spring of hope that something about this project might just help to get her back. Returning to work had definitely been the right decision.
"Took us years to replace all those," Fletcher growled when he saw James staring at the time turners. "Only just recently finished with them. They were all smashed a while back when Death Eaters got into the place."
This story sounded vaguely familiar to James but he shook off the feeling and turned to look around the rest of the room. There were a number of large wooden desks and tables lining the walls with all sorts of strange objects that James did not recognize. Elaine and Walter had both wandered over to closer inspect the intriguing items while Fletcher watched them through narrowed eyes. James's own attention was drawn to a large and eerily glowing bell jar on one of the tables.
He walked up closer to it and Elaine followed him. The two of them stood and stared, observing the strange contents in fascination. It appeared to be filled with a kind of shimmering dust that was blowing in a strong wind contained within the glass. At the top, there was a hummingbird, fluttering it's bright wings, but the bird was slowly descending and as it did so it became smaller, its feathers fluffier and then, when it reached the bottom of the jar it became an egg. As the egg began to rise again the hummingbird emerged and grew back into its adult form.
"What is it?" Elaine breathed in wonder, hardly blinking as she watched the bird's progress.
"I think it's time," James replied, tearing his eyes away to gaze around the room again. Everything here seemed to have something to do with time. Had he truly gotten so lucky? He was certain that there was something here that could save Lily – but how would he ever go about finding it?
"I didn't know Terry Boot worked with time of all things," Walter said from behind them. "How extremely fascinating!"
"Well, no one really knows what any of us do down here do they," Fletcher grumbled. "Seeing as we don't tell anyone. Enough snooping around. You three are here for a reason and it's time you got to work. I'll go fetch the lad."
With this Fletcher turned and walked towards one of the doors that lined the side of the room. James watched him go, his thoughts still with Lily and how, if there was indeed a way to retrieve his sister, the answer might reside in Terry Boot's memories – the very place he had been instructed to investigate.
Lily scuffed her shoes on the stone floor of the corridors as she followed glumly behind Snape. As they made their way to Professor Dumbledore's office, Lily scowled at the back of the man's head. She could not help wondering, once again, what Severus Snape had ever done to earn her father's respect.
They reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office far too quickly for Lily's liking. Snape offered the password, Fizzing Whizbee, with a sour face and Lily had the urge to giggle at his discomfort but restrained herself.
They climbed the revolving stairs and at the top Snape knocked on the large wooden door. He was answered immediately by Dumbledore's pleasant voice granting them entry. Lily stepped in after Snape. The office, just as the last time she had been there, hummed with the sounds of strange silver objects on the tables and along the shelves. Behind Dumlbedore's desk sat a phoenix who trilled contentedly. The sound made Lily smile.
Dumbledore was seated at his desk and looked up upon their entrance. "Ah, Severus. And Ms. McGonagall. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
His tone was light but Lily was sure he knew that this was not merely a social call. Although Lily was coming to understand what a very strange man Albus Dumbledore was, she knew that he was also a very, very clever one.
"Ms. McGonagall has been skipping classes," Snape said coolly, stepping aside so as to give the Headmaster a better view of the accused. Lily arranged her face to be as expressionless as she could make it.
"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked. Lily hoped she was imagining the slight note of disappointment.
"Most recently she has neglected to attend her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson this morning and was not missing due to illness. I found her occupying the Astronomy Tower."
Dumbledore nodded and turned his piercing blue eyes towards Lily. She stared back, not defiantly, but not apologetically either. She fidgeted uncomfortably where she stood, waiting as Dumbledore considered the situation and Snape awaited the verdict.
"Severus, I would like to speak to Lillian alone for a few moments. If you would be kind enough to wait outside." It was not a question and Snape stepped out of the office without complaint. As he turned away however Lily did catch a scowl on his features. She did not put it past the man to be listening at the door. Her attention was diverted when Dumbledore addressed her.
"Please take a seat," he offered and Lily understood that this also was not merely a suggestion. She sat in the nearest chair, wondering if Albus Dumbledore were the type of man who shouted a lot when he was angry.
For a moment he did not say anything and Lily felt increasingly uncomfortable. Just as she was about to speak up herself did the Headmaster begin talking. "I would ask you why you neglected to attend Professor Snape's lesson but I am sure we both know the answer to that, Ms. Potter." Lily glanced nervously at the door, thinking of Snape, before she turned back to stare at a space just above Dumbledore's shoulder. It was now difficult to meet his eyes.
"I don't belong here," she said, and as she did so her shoulders sagged. "Why pretend that I do?"
"If I knew how to help you, Lily, I would," Dumbledore said, so earnestly that Lily met his gaze again. He did not in fact appear to be angry with her at all, merely concerned. For some reason this troubled Lily greatly.
"You can't… you can't send me home, can you," she asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper. She waited, feeling her heart beating in her chest.
"As of this moment… no. The truth is that it may not be up to anything I do. This does not, however, mean that I will stop trying."
She wanted to be angry, angry with Dumbledore, angry with herself for not remembering how she got here, angry for being here in the first place, but she simply could not muster the strength. The emptiness that had filled her since she had encountered the Room of Requirement seemed to stretch out further inside of her so that she felt thin and tired. Surely, if Albus Dumbledore could not help her, no one could.
"However, Ms. Potter," the Headmaster continued in a mildly more authoritative voice, "until we do find a way to get you back where you belong you will need to continue attending your lessons."
Lily's eyes narrowed in defiance. "What for," she snapped without thinking. Then, feeling embarrassed at having addressed the man across from her so rudely, she added rather lamely, "Professor."
Dumbledore's eyes were no longer as grave as they had been a moment before. Indeed they were almost twinkling. "Your education is important. In addition, I believe that by regularly attending classes, completely homework, and keeping an altogether normal schedule will help to keep your mind from more unpleasant territory. I trust the library has been of little help to you so far. Although I applaud your efforts I'm afraid we are dealing with a rather mysterious and poorly understood branch of magic."
Lily did not ask how he knew that she had been spending almost every day in the library. He had a point, but she did not want to see it.
"I don't want to be distracted," she argued, though more mildly than she had a moment ago. "I don't want to sit and pretend that everything is normal when it's not. Nothing about this is normal." Her voice became more strained, a note of desperation finding its way in, but Lily went on. Now that she had started talking to someone about how wrong everything was she found it hard to stop. "It's not right, attending classes with your mother or being taught by people who are supposed to be dead or worrying about how your family is doing when your brothers haven't even been born yet. I haven't even been born yet!"
Dumbledore raised one hand to signal for her to keep her voice down and Lily took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself. When she spoke again her voice was strangled with pent up emotion.
"I don't want to be in school with my sixteen-year-old father. I want to see my dad. I miss my family, my friends, my life. Nothing I have here is real. And I can't remember how I got here or what happened at all before I woke up here and I'm angry with myself because surely, surely, I should be able to remember something." Lily's head began to ache and she felt tears prickling behind her eyes but she ignored both.
"I want to go home," she whispered, no longer able to meet Dumbledore's eyes. Now that she had gotten all of that out she felt somehow childish and wrong-footed. A glance at the Headmaster showed that he was watching her with concern, looking older than she had yet seen him.
In the silence that ensued Lily heard a sudden scuffle from outside the office door. Her head snapped in that direction as Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked swiftly over to it. Lily felt her heart fluttering in her chest. Has someone heard? Snape?
Dumbledore swung the door open and Lily mouth fell open in surprise at the scene that appeared in the doorway. Professor Snape was still there but he was not alone. His fist was gripped tightly around Harry's collar while Harry himself had his wand pointed at Snape's chest, a furious expression on his face that Lily had never seen before.
"What is going on here," Dumbledore asked quietly, with such fierce authority that Lily felt the urge to back away from him. She stood slowly from her seat to get a better view of the scene before her. Lily was glad that she could not see Dumbledore's eyes - she was sure that they were furious and frightening.
Neither of the two wizards that Dumbledore was addressing answered him. In fact, it seemed they had not heard him at all.
"Lower your wand, you petulant child," Snape snarled, gripping Harry's shirt tighter, close to shaking him. Harry did not lower his wand. He opened his mouth to retort angrily but Dumbledore cut him off.
"Severus you will release Harry now. Harry, lower your wand."
Neither took their eyes off the other but Snape did let go of Harry's collar. Harry half lowered his wand. He was clearly furious and it troubled Lily to see him so openly angry. Lily took a step away from the door but did not turn away.
"What has happened," Dumbledore asked, his quiet voice very clear in the otherwise oppressive silence.
Harry jumped in before Snape had a chance to. "Him," he shouted. "Snape's what's happened! He told Voldemort about the prophecy, it was him, he listened outside the door, Trelawney told me!"
Lily furrowed her brow in confusion. Prophecy?
Snape's expression changed so rapidly that Lily would have missed it had she blinked. His outrage remained but there was something deeper now as well, something like pain.
"Don't talk about what you don't understand," he nearly shouted but Harry ignored him entirely. He continued to look at Dumbledore, hurt and betrayal and mostly anger playing opening across his features. It made Lily's heart ache to watch it.
Dumbledore chose to address Harry first. "When did you find out about this," he asked quietly.
"Just now!" Harry's voice sounded strangled. "AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!"
Lily's hand flew to cover the gasp that escaped her mouth. She backed away a few more steps and the back of her legs bumped into a plush sofa against the wall. She collapsed into it.
Snape, lost in anger, shoved Harry hard against the wall and Harry raised his wand again, right at Snape's heart.
"ENOUGH!"
Lily winced and the two other wizards sprang apart at Dumbledore's shout, though she suspected this was not entirely of their own volition. Lily could see Dumbledore's wand peeking from the bottom of his sleeve though she had not seen him draw it. Harry walked further into the circular office and froze at the sight of Lily in the room and she hoped she was not about to be shouted at. Once again he had caught her listening in on something that she should not have heard, as had happened after he had cursed Malfoy. Harry's cheeks, already flushed with anger, turned a slightly darker shade of pink. He glanced over at the Headmaster but Dumbledore appeared entirely unconcerned with Lily's presence.
Snape was standing off to one side, clearly as upset at Harry was but doing a marginally better job of hiding it. Lily felt entirely lost. Clearly, these two loathed each other as much as humanly possible. How could so much change in one year, one year with Snape at Hogwarts and Harry not? How could the two reconcile when there was obviously so much standing in their way?
One of the bravest men I ever knew. She could hear her father's voice. He was always saying things like that. "But that doesn't make any sense," she whispered to herself, so lost in her own confusing thoughts that she was not at first aware that she had spoken aloud.
"You wouldn't understand," Harry snapped at her before turning away, and Lily felt her chest constrict.
She tried not to be offended by the dismissive tone in his voice. Harry's face was still flushed and his eyes darted around the room as if looking for an escape. Lily wished she were anywhere else right now, that she had never heard any of this conversation. Just as she was thinking this Dumbledore turned to her and said quietly, "Ms. McGonagall, if you would excuse us."
Lily stood on shaky legs and stared back at the three sets of eyes staring at her. Her heart was beating fast and her mind was racing and she struggled to put all of the pieces together. Harry's words were echoing in her head. He told Voldemort to go after my mum and dad!
"You – that's not – you couldn't have," she stuttered out at Snape. The tall man stood rigid, miserable looking, and when Lily spoke he glowered at her. She thought of her brother, Albus. "You didn't," she whispered. But she knew instantly from the dark look on the professor's face that she was wrong. She glanced around the rest of the room.
Harry was looking uncomfortable and Lily realized how strange this must look to him. She was a stranger to him, to all of them really. Lily wanted to run but she was the farthest of all of them from the door and the room seemed to stretch out before her, becoming impossibly long. She took a step forward but stopped when Harry spoke.
"Why do you care," he asked, his voice hoarse from the shouting he had done earlier.
And Lily wanted to tell him, tell him that she cared because he was her dad and because they were her family too, and that in this mess she had landed in she just wanted one thing to make sense but that this newest revelation confused her more than anything else had so far. She wanted to tell him how wretchedly wrong everything was, how nothing was how it was supposed to be and about how this situation now made the least sense out of anything. But instead Lily remained silent.
Snape turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, who is this girl?"
Dumbledore took a moment before answering. He appeared to be weighing his options, considering possible scenarios, and Lily felt suddenly nervous. He could not possibly be considering telling them the truth. What about all of the risk involved? Her entire existence? Was Dumbledore really going to put these things on the line?
Lily found herself holding her breath. The rest of the air in the room seemed to still in anticipation. Desperately, Lily wished to be back home, for this all to be a terrible dream. If nothing else she wished Harry would stop staring at her.
"She is not Lillian McGonagall. If you were ever convinced of this, Severus, I am sure that is no longer the case."
Her heartbeat sped up. He could not tell them. She opened her mouth to protest, to shout, to scream in frustration but no sound came out. Her feet felt rooted to the carpet. And Harry was still staring, suspicion written all over his face.
"Her name is Lily," Dumbledore continued and Lily finally found her voice.
"No, you can't!" Her voice cracked with urgency. Panic was filling her up, fogging her thinking.
"Lily," Snape breathed, and something about the way he said it made Lily deeply uncomfortable. She stepped away from him, her legs knocking into the couch behind her.
"Lily who?" Harry asked skeptically.
Lily just looked at Dumbledore, pleading silently for him to lie but as he met her gaze she knew what he would say. The truth is that it may not be up to anything I do.
"Lily Potter," Dumbledore said and in the wake of his quiet voice silence fell.
AN. Some quotes at the end straight from HBP.