Plot: The infamous Marauders weren't alone in their love for pranking. In fact, they often had their butts kicked by a bunch of girls. Now, this is it. Seventh year. Four girls, four boys. Two opposing pranking teams. One hell of a battle to be won.
Disclaimer: Sad as it may be, I am not J.K. Rowling in disguise, and therefore I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or themes involved. (I do, however, own Jamie, Hannah and Regan and most elements of this specific plot—so I'd appreciate it if no poaching occurred. Thanks.)
Quick note (8/2/10): Edited for the first time in... Oh, I don't know. EVER. So yeah, I know I said I wasn't going to be doing any rewriting aside from Chapter Four, but I couldn't help it. This was ridiculously bad—quite possibly the worst of the lot. So I wrote out some changes I wanted to make. And I looked back at the chapter. And I decided to delete it all and start from scratch, because there was no way I was going to salvage anything from that piece of shit.
I'm sorry. I really did want to keep this story in its original form, but some things were beyond repair. I swear, though, nothing is earth-shatteringly different in this version. It's just a smoother read with a little more detail, and it makes more sense (I hope). And hey, it doesn't seem like it was written by a five-year-old anymore! That's an accomplishment in itself!
(For anybody who's reading this story for the first time... Just, uh, pretend this is how it was right from the get-go. Yes. Do that.)
Chapter Three: When Life Gives You Lemons
"What the hell was that for?" Hannah exclaimed as soon as the Marauders had left the compartment. Though she kept her voice low, fully aware that the boys would be able to hear her through the dividing wall if she spoke to loudly, she managed to convey her feelings of distress through a an almost comical wide-eyed expression and a hissing tone that made Lily cringe.
"I... I'm sorry," said Lily, her eyebrows knitting together in a kind of contemplative confusion. That was a good question. Why had she done it? It wasn't that she was scared of the Marauders—not at all. She had a great deal of faith in the Rogues' ability to outwit them, and she was fairly confident that, had the exchange not taken place, she and her friends would have walked away victorious. It was just that... she'd thought she'd spotted a miracle in James just then, and honestly, it would have been stupid to just beat that miracle with a stick. So she'd taken advantage of the apparent lapse in his egotism, embracing this sudden maturity and showing some support for what appeared to be a newborn conscience. There was nothing wrong with that.
Was there?
Something snapped in Lily's mind right then, and it was like being woken from a long and bizarre dream. What on Earth had she been thinking, standing up for James like that? He was a Marauder—the bane of her existence, no less. He'd made a point of asking her out every day since third year, and on top of that, he and his stupid friends were responsible for countless pranks targeted not only at Lily and her friends, but at the (mostly) innocent students of Hogwarts; pranks that had traumatised and injured people all over the school. For the most part, they'd only made the Rogues stronger, more prepared for whatever the Marauders might throw at them next—but certain ones had affected them rather profoundly. Some were unforgivable.
The point was, just because James acted like a decent human being for two seconds didn't mean Lily should go revaluating her entire opinion of him. He was still an arrogant jerk, and as far as she knew, he always would be.
"Hell, Lily, are you even listening to us? Can you not feel the shame raining down upon you?"
Lily snapped out of it, physically shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the strange feeling that seemed to have settled over her since that moment with James. Maybe it was shame, as Regan was so melodramatically suggesting, standing before Lily with her hands on her hips. Or maybe it was something else.
No, she would put it down to shame. Anything else would just be crazy.
"I said I was sorry!" said Lily desperately, crossing the compartment and sitting down, more to calm her thoughts than anything. "I honestly don't know what I was thinking." She paused, sighed, and tried to put her thoughts into words. "I just... seemed so weird for Potter to stand up and stop us from fighting like that. It's almost as if he's—"
"Been taking lessons from McGonagall?" Hannah suggested with a completely straight face.
Giving her an expression that was torn between a glare and a half-amused smile, Lily shot back a cynical retort. "In case you haven't noticed, Han, we all take lessons from McGonagall. Transfiguration, remember? That class you've been taking for six years?" She rolled her eyes and went on. "And actually, I was going to say matured. But forget it—it's not humanly possible."
"So then why did you give them the picture?" Regan desperately wanted to know.
"I told you, I've got no clue!" Lily was flustered now, racking her brain for an answer to the question that had been haunting her ever since the encounter with the Marauders. "It was weird, okay? For some reason I felt like I had to... back him up or something, you know? I mean, you have to admit, not all of what he was saying was total bollocks." She offered them a defiant look, raising an eyebrow and challenging them to contradict her.
Straightaway, Hannah did just that. "Oh, trust me, it was. Every word of it."
"Yeah," said Regan. "What's all this shit about schoolwork before pranks? Some people these days— really need to sort out their priorities..."
Lily exhaled in a huff and turned toward the window, resuming her classic staring-mindlessly-out-at-the-hills stance. This pretence was rather inappropriate given that, this time, she actually had an awful lot on her mind.
She was Head Girl. That much, as she had come to realise, she could handle. Not because she'd had a change of heart since her earlier reluctance to accept the position, but because it had begun to pale in comparison to other new developments. Say, like, James Potter being all chivalric and rational. That could take a while to get used to.
No, she reminded herself. There will be no "getting used to it". This is temporary. A moment of insanity. He'll be back to his old self first thing tomorrow.
Hopefully by tomorrow, she wouldn't feel so bloody confused either.
Sadly, she knew that chances of things getting easier from here were slim. They hadn't even arrived at school yet, and already she felt like the whole world was trying to throw her off balance—two run-ins with the Marauders, Jamie's strange little encounter with Frank, that weird electric spark that had passed between Lily and James, her sworn enemy... She felt like she was in some crazy, warped alternate universe. Maybe things would settle into a more familiar routine once they were within the confines of the castle, but probably not. This was seventh year: the ten months in which her entire magical education was on the line; the year in which the feud would have to come to an end. Things were only going to get more complicated from here on out.
Possibly sensing that the other two were about to launch into another chastising rant about the pictures and Lily's sudden change of heart, Jamie made an effort to change the subject. "So, how were everybody's holidays?" she asked innocently.
The Rogues had made plenty of effort to keep in touch throughout the summer, but as their letters (especially Hannah's and Regan's) tended to revolve more around plotting against the Marauders than anything else, they'd had little opportunity to exchange polite conversation about holiday activities. Hannah and Regan lived next-door to one another in a sprawling magical community packed with notorious pureblood families, so they usually spent their holidays together. Jamie and Lily, however, both had Muggle ancestry (for Jamie, her paternal side; for Lily, her entire family) and lived among the non-magical folk, and so they were somewhat out of the loop when it came to their friends' summer antics.
Apparently, Jamie's tactic worked; as soon as she brought up the subject of the holidays, Regan forgot all about whatever she might have been about to say and adopted a cool, stiff expression as she obviously recalled the events of her summer.
"The worst," she said simply. "You know my parents."
Lily couldn't say that was entirely true; she knew Regan's parents for their reputations and what she was told about them by their daughter. From what she'd gleaned from Regan's many incensed rants, Ivette and Gallahad Tain were oddballs even by wizarding standards. They were of good lineage, attended gatherings with all the highest calibre witches and wizards of their generation, and flaunted the usual stone manor with enough space to house an army. They were, however, frowned upon by the elite wizarding society for several reasons—primarily their secrecy, their extravagant (and often quite disturbing) choices of clothing, their alleged association with a strange clan of wizards in the East, and, above all, the fact that, unlike most pureblood families, they'd all been sorted into Hufflepuff. All, that was, except for Regan and her brother, who had been placed in Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively. It had come as a low blow to the Tains when their children had deviated from the family pattern, as they had always been strangely proud of their atypical tradition. In fact, Ivette and Gallahad seemed to pride themselves on being as different as possible from those around them. Regan was much the same in her originality, but she disapproved of her family's behaviour—particular her brother Zachary's disturbing idol-worshipping of Gellert Grindelwald despite the fact that he was long defeated—and because of this, had become a completely separate entity. At one point, she had been hell-bent on dropping her surname—but such a feat was extremely difficult in the wizarding world, where ancestry was everything.
So yes, Lily knew a fair bit about them, but she'd only actually met the Tains on a couple of occasions, and she'd never exchanged any more than a few words with them. Despite being such a unique family, they still held the typical pureblood stance when it came to Muggleborns—and when they'd found out that their daughter was "consorting" with one at school, they'd been given more reason yet to believe Regan was out to tarnish the family's reputation. As if it could get any more tarnished than it already was.
"Yeah, she spent most of the summer at my house," said Hannah, a mixed look of concern and amusement evident on her face. She came from a comparatively peaceful household, and it was practically a second home to Regan, and often visited by the other Roges, too. "Annie and Clara went to Romania with Mum, so we pretty much had the run of the place. And after Reegs finally joined me in the land of full-fledged witches—"
"Shut up."
"—yes, well, once she finally got her butt in gear and turned seventeen, we had an awesome time."
Lily smirked. She could just imagine Regan and Hannah abusing their newly-earned privileges, summoning things from all over the house, apparating everywhere, causing as much mayhem as they possibly could. She pitied the other inhabitants of Diricawl Crescent, who'd probably had to put up with a lot this summer.
"What about you, Jay?" she asked, turning her attention to her caramel-haired friend.
Jamie frowned. "Actually, mine were pretty boring. Indira was going to take me to Ireland for a bit, but for some reason the Ministry had to shut down part of the Floo network, so... I mostly just hung around at home. It was alright, though—I managed to get a good head start on this year's reading."
"Yeah, that does sound boring," Regan scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "Next?" she said loudly, indicating Lily, who paused to think for a moment.
"Not much interesting—unless you count the fact that Petunia called me a freak one hundred and forty six times," she offered, eliciting a half-smile from each of the others. She'd decided, since it would probably be her last summer at home with her sister, to keep a tally monitoring Petunia's ever-decreasing vocabulary. In all, it had been mildly entertaining, if a little depressing. "But aside from that, it was all Muggle stuff. Nothing that would interest you guys."
"Oh, please," said Hannah, as if what Lily had suggested was completely ridiculous. "We're very interested in Muggle things. We know you spend all day talking on your teffylones—"
"Telephones," Lily corrected, "and no, we don't."
"Whatever," said Hannah, "it's a stupid word anyway."
Just then, there was a cautious sort of knock on the compartment door. The Rogues exchanged wary glances; could it be the Marauders again?
"No, it wouldn't be them," Lily said quietly to the others, remembering the truce and how serious a few of them—ironically, not including Sirius himself—had been about it. It wasn't likely that they would be back so soon. Even they weren't quite that immature.
Trusting that Lily was right about this, Hannah pulled back the sliding door. At first, it appeared there was no one there at all, and Lily was almost convinced that this was the lead-up to another prank after all—until she shifted her gaze down a few feet and saw a very tiny, very nervous girl dressed in Ravenclaw robes and clutching a small envelope to her chest. She stared at them with wide eyes for a couple of seconds, apparently unable to form the words required to explain herself.
"Well? Spit it out!" said Regan rather loudly, causing the girl to jump. Regan had a tendency to scare the living daylight out of young children; it could have been the general vibe she gave off, but Lily suspected she did it deliberately, probably for entertainment purposes.
"Professor M-McGonagall wanted me to deliver this," the girl stuttered. "It's for her," she quickly added, pointing at Lily.
Afraid that Regan was about to say something else to upset her, Lily hurried forward and took the envelope from the girl's hands. "Thank you," she muttered, glancing down at the letter. The girl was gone before the words had even left her mouth.
Lily studied the envelope. It was plain and vaguely yellowed with Lily Evans scrawled across it in black ink. McGonagall's cursive was unmistakable; a clear reflection of her general demeanour, it was sharp, hasty and looked as though it had been etched into the parchment by a tense hand. She'd become something of an expert at distinguishing the writing of the teachers at Hogwarts. Each one, she found, was a true representation of the penholder's qualities; Slughorn's was extravagant and sort of goofy, Trelawney's was near impossible to decipher, and Dumbledore's was long and lean, albeit rather loopy. Some—Hagrid's, especially—were downright comical.
"Are you going to open it or not?"
Startled out of her momentary reflection, Lily glanced up to see Hannah staring intently at the envelope in her hands. Beside her, Regan looked even more impatient, while Jamie (as usual) was serene and silent.
Lily was still in a daze from earlier, so it took her a moment to gather her bearings before she said, "Oh, right," and began to open the envelope. The seal was the standard red one—stamped with the Hogwarts coat of arms—and it only took half a second to peel it off and extract the letter, which was very concise indeed.
Miss Evans,
Please make your way as soon as possible to the staff compartment in the first carriage, where I will be awaiting you with further details regarding your position as Head Girl. Tell your friend Miss Love that she too will be required in ten minutes' time.
Minerva McGonagall
A sudden surge of trepidation crossed with excitement gripped Lily's chest. Not only would this meeting with McGonagall solidify her position as Head Girl, make it seem more official, it would also answer the questions that had been nagging at her ever since she'd received her letter in the summer holidays. One, what exactly would she have to do to prove herself in this position? And two, just who would she be working with?
Come to think of it, it wasn't as big a deal as all that—but she couldn't help feeling a little on edge as she folded up the letter, slid it back into the envelope, and began to prepare herself for the meeting.
"Do I look okay?" she asked anxiously, tucking a few errant strands of hair behind her ears and smoothing out her robes.
"Yeah, duh—but why?" inquired Hannah, who, along with the others, was still completely unaware of what was going on.
"Were you invited on a lunch date with Diggory or something?" was Regan's interpretation of the situation, spoken in an offhand manner.
Lily glared, trying to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Regan was joking, of course, but now that she thought about it—really thought about it—Amos Diggory was actually a very likely candidate for Head Boy. They'd written him off earlier due to his being in Hufflepuff, but admittedly, he did fit the requirements quite perfectly. He had excellent grades, was popular among both students and teachers, and had a sort of charming politeness about him that made him seem gentlemanly and responsible. Even though he wasn't currently a Prefect, such a situation wasn't unheard of—and in the past two years, he'd done far more to prove himself worthy of the badge than Paul Abbott, the existing Hufflepuff Prefect, had. Yes, Lily finally decided. If that isn't Head Boy material, then I don't know what is. The thought of being paired with him, however, only served to make her more nervous, and suddenly, she found herself unable to breathe in any sort of normal fashion.
"Lils," said Jamie slowly, "would you please stop hyperventilating and tell us what's going on?"
Inhaling deeply, Lily turned to look at her, her features set in all seriousness. "First Heads meeting," she said simply, albeit a little shakily. "It's up in the first carriage—I've got to go right now, and you need to be there in ten minutes with the other Prefects." She turned to face the others and asked them again, "Are you sure I look decent?"
Regan pretended to be uncertain as she gave her a onceover. "Actually, you've got spinach stuck in your teeth, and your face looks like it got attacked by a skrewt. And... is that bird crap in your hair?"
Hannah elbowed her out of the way and presented the door to Lily. "Yes, you idiot," she said in exasperation, choosing to ignore Regan's comments. "You look brilliant, as usual. Now go!"
Nodding hurriedly, Lily gathered her bearings one final time and headed out of the compartment, ready to meet her fate.
Halfway down the corridor, she encountered something worse than fate:
James Potter.
He came out of the Marauders' compartment just as she was passing by, looking a little anxious at first but quickly assuming that lazy, flirty stance of his as soon as he saw Lily approaching. There, she thought. That's the Potter I remember. There was something reassuringly familiar about witnessing the return of his old self, though considering how much she despised that old self, she wasn't sure why.
"Hey, Evans," he said casually, leaning an elbow against the wall and blocking her path. He'd cleaned up after the canary incident and changed into his school robes (something Lily and the Rogues had done just about as soon as they'd boarded the train, wanting to be prepared for any Marauderly hijacks that might come about). As always, she noted, his hair was sticking out at odd angles, his shirt untucked, his sleeves rolled up, and that annoying, lopsided grin ever-present on his face. She'd failed to notice earlier, but it appeared he'd—infuriatingly—grown a couple more inches over the summer. He was a good head taller than her already, and though she tried not to let this intimidate her, it definitely served as an advantage to him. The muscles in his arms seemed to have become more pronounced, too—something she was just beginning to notice when she came to her senses and abruptly cut that train of thought, mentally scolding herself. Unfortunately, it was too late; James had noticed her wandering eyes.
"Checking me out, are you?" he said, looking amused.
"No," Lily scoffed, answering perhaps a little too quickly. Her scowl deepened and she folded her arms as she tried to change the subject. "Are you going to get out of my way, or am I going to have to hex you?"
James, mirroring her stance in a more casual manner, folded his arms, looking just as smug as before. "You wouldn't do that," he said.
"Oh yeah?" Lily shot back. "And why not?"
His next response irked her. "Because you've just been made Head Girl, of course. Speaking of which, I suppose congratulations are in order." Even though his tone was teasing, it wasn't quite the same as what she was used to; there was something underneath that arrogant nonchalance—some underlying motive that Lily couldn't quite put her finger on. It was almost like he knew something that she didn't, and was trying to exploit it for as long as possible.
"How did you find out I was Head Girl?" Lily demanded snidely.
James shrugged. "As you've probably discovered already, those walls are paper thin. And your friends were making a pretty big deal of it earlier."
Lily blushed, wondering what else he might have heard through the compartment wall. Again, purely out of embarrassment, she attempted to divert the conversation. "Whatever," she said. "I have to get to a meeting. Official business, Potter—though you probably don't even know the meaning of those words... So if you'll excuse me..."
To her surprise, he stepped right out of her path, leaving her free to walk away down the aisle. "Thank you," she said, taken aback just a little. She should have known, of course, that this show of kindness was too good to be true; as soon as she began to walk, he fell into step right behind her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him.
James raised his eyebrows as he, too, stopped. "Er, I'm going this way, too. Is there a problem with that?"
Lily wasn't sure whether or not to be suspicious. He sounded pretty genuine, but honestly, what business would he have down at this end of the train? The first carriage housed only staff members and, only temporarily, those few students who were invited for important meetings or other—less official—gatherings (an example of which being Slughorn's occasional start-of-year "Slug Club" get-together, which, apparently, wasn't happening this year—if it had been, Lily would certainly have known straightaway). They still had a couple of carriages left between here and there, but those were usually taken up by Slytherins. Why James would be visiting with the likes of Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, she had no idea. But then it hit her.
Pranks, she thought sourly, and resigned herself to rolling her eyes, turning around, and trying to forget that James was on her tail at all.
This, unfortunately, turned out to be far too strenuous a task for her to handle. The effort required to tune him out was vast; his feet scuffed loudly against the carpeted corridor with ever step he took (as if Lily were walking too slowly for his liking) and he emitted a phony cough or sigh every now and then - he even began to whistle a ridiculous tune as they passed through the first Slytherin carriage, as if his other gratuitous noises weren't pissing her off enough.
Finally, Lily snapped. Rounding on him once more, her eyes were wild with anger as she burst out, "Alright, enough!" Nearby, a compartment door was slammed at the sound of her raised voice. She ignored it. "Is it your personal mission in life to be an annoying prat? Is that why you're following me?"
James held his hands up, looking defensive and a little amused. "Whoa—following you? Who said I was following you?"
"Oh, come on, why else would you be down this end of the train? Visiting your Slytherin buddies, I suppose?"
He gave a shrug and a sheepish grin; Lily glared.
"Go away, Potter. I don't have time for this."
James, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, actually looked somewhat nervous as he uttered his next words. "Actually, Evans, believe it or not, I have business to attend to as well. See—"
"I don't care, Potter! Stuffing dungbombs in compartments, blowing up people's luggage, chucking first years out the windows—whatever it is you're up to, it does not count as business. So please, just leave me alone, because I, for one, actually have something important to do."
With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off down the corridor. She had to shove her way through a cluster of jeering Slytherins who were gathered pointlessly in the aisle and refused to budge even an inch, but with perseverance—and much use of her bony elbows—she finally made it to the first carriage. Here, she located the compartment she was looking for (she could hear McGonagall's and Dumbledore's voices drifting out of it already), took a few deep, calming breaths, and stepped forward to knock gently on the partially-open door.
The Headmaster and the Deputy looked up. Before anybody could utter a word, however, somebody sprinted up behind Lily and slid into place beside her, grasping the door frame. Lily tensed up for a second, thinking it was probably the newly appointed Head Boy arriving for the meeting; upon glancing up at his face, however, she realised it was just James.
"You again?" she barked, momentarily forgetting that she was in the presence of Hogwarts' two most authoritative figures. "I told you to lay off, Potter, this is import—"
But he barely seemed to notice her at all. "Sorry I'm late, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall," he said with uncharacteristic decorum, ignoring Lily altogether. "I tried to get here as soon as I got the letter, but I ran into a bit of, er... trouble in the hallway..."
Lily, still frozen midsentence, arched an eyebrow and gawked at him. What the hell did he think he was doing? Why did he get a letter? Why was he here, in her meeting, acting like it was all about him?
And then it clicked, and she gasped.
"No," she said, beginning to back into the compartment, taking as many steps away from him as the small space would allow. "No, no, no, no, NO! This cannot be happening. You're Head Boy?"
James, who looked amused at her outburst, glanced quickly over at the teachers before returning his attention to Lily. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he said, "Yeah, I am. So glad you approve, too."
Lily couldn't bring herself to speak. This scenario was beginning to bear a frightening resemblance to Jamie's reaction earlier, in the Rogues' compartment—"Head Girl?" she'd exclaimed; "You're Head Girl?" And then the others had managed to assuage her disappointment, cheer her up little by little until the incident with Frank had caused her to forget the whole thing. This, however, was different. Here, Lily had an extremely valid reason to be upset—outraged, even. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined this to be within the realm of possibility. James Potter. She was going to have to work with James Potter, the embodiment of all things evil; there would be no cheering up after this. Any hope she might have had left of having an enjoyable year promptly vanished into thin air. Before, with the Marauders, that had been a strange, fuzzy dream, but this...
This was a nightmare.
"I'm sorry," said Lily blandly, turning to the professors, "but I can't work with him. This is a recipe for disaster - you must know that!" She knew she was being rude, but the anger that had risen within her was hard to contain—and honestly, they ought to have known better. They'd have to have been blind not to see the animosity between Lily and James in their past six years at Hogwarts, and if they had any trace of sanity left in them (Dumbledore she doubted, but McGonagall, she thought, had always been very, very grounded) they would be aware that as much as placing the two of them in the same room together would result in boiling tempers, shouting matches, and possible explosions.
But no, they seemed to have forgotten all this, for they were asking them not only to be in the same room as one another, but to cooperate. And that—that was completely and utterly out of the question.
Presently, both Dumbledore and McGonagall had their eyes on Lily, and it was only now that she began to realise what a fool she was making of herself. The Headmaster was wearing his usual knowing smile, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement; it was almost as if he had concocted this plan solely for entertainment purposes—never mind the safety of Hogwarts or anything. McGonagall, however, had her lips pressed together in a thin line and was watching Lily with wide eyes that betrayed a hint of something like worry. "Hogwarts is doomed," her look seemed to say. Well, at least one of them had some sense. Not that it did her much good when kooky old Dumbledore had the final say in official matters like this.
"Miss Evans," said the man who had just robbed her of any chance at happiness in life, looking at her curiously over his half moon glasses, "I assure you, the selection was a most judicious process. I must admit, there was some... disagreement as to whether this was a suitable pairing, but after much deliberation, it was decided that you and Mr Potter would make a fine team—you complement each other nicely, and once you manage to set your differences aside, we believe you two have the potential to work marvellously together."
Judging by the look on McGonagall's face, "we" didn't mean the staff as a whole—in fact, where this batty decision was concerned, "we" probably referred only to Dumbledore himself. The thought of "disagreement" among the staff added to Lily's apprehension. She hated to disrespect somebody as wise and as kind-hearted as Dumbledore, but he had to be completely out of his mind. Could he even hear himself speaking? Did he really think that was valid justification for creating what Lily could only think to call the Demonic Duo?
Lily was speechless, numb. This was all too baffling to handle.
"Please, Miss Evans, Mr Potter—sit down," said the Headmaster kindly, gesturing at the empty seats across from him and McGonagall.
This compartment was larger than those which accommodated the students; it had the same depth, but was longer, more drawn out, with seating on either side of the door in addition to that against the dividing walls. There were plenty of places Lily could have sat down, many of which would put her far away from James (or, well, far enough for her to calm down just a little). Dumbledore, however, was pointing to the seats directly in front of him, which meant they would be stuck only inches apart. Oh, joy.
Lily chanced one more look up at James. She expected him to be wearing that haughty smirk of his, taking full advantage of this moment of triumph and revelling in her misfortune—but instead, he'd adopted a completely professional stance as he nodded at Dumbledore. He even looked a little... nervous.
Wait—nervous? That was impossible. Marauders never showed signs of nerves or weakness; it was part of their code or something. Come to think of it, though... Could that be why he'd been so jittery earlier, in the hall, with his whistling and foot-shuffling and general annoyingness?
James, noticing her curious stare, cleared his throat, offered a tiny smile, gestured at the empty seats and said, "After you."
Lily would have liked to say something nasty in response instead of just going along with his display of gallantry (which, obviously, was just his way of sucking up to the teachers), but she was still too flummoxed by everything that was happening to do any more than slide into the seat he had offered and stare down at her knees. Besides, she'd already given the professors one childish spectacle to disapprove of—staging another would just be begging them to take her badge away.
"Before we begin, I would like to congratulate you both on being selected. It is a most wonderful achievement to have been awarded these positions, and I am sure Minerva here is very proud to have two students from her very own house sitting before her today."
That was funny, Lily thought. McGonagall didn't look proud. She looked like she'd swallowed a bullfrog.
"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Dumbledore carried on. "Now, as I'm sure you both know, once we arrive at Hogwarts, you will be required to wear your badges at all times."
Lily gave herself a mental kick. She'd been so blown away by the concept of being Head Girl that she hadn't been quite ready to put on the badge just yet, but now that she thought about it, it probably would have made a good impression to do so. James, she was relieved to note, wasn't wearing his either. He'd probably meant to keep the secret from her as long as possible just for dramatic effect (and, if that had been his intention, then he'd definitely succeeded).
"Another thing that you will also be aware of," continued Dumbledore, "is that these badges bestow upon you both great responsibility. As Head Boy and Head Girl, it is your duty to keep the students of Hogwarts in order at all times—to watch over them, to direct them, to offer assistance wherever it may be required, and, to some extent, to punish rule-breakers. Miss Evans, as Prefect in previous years, you will have had experience with the point system. Mr Potter, you have not—but I assure you, it is very simple. Now, there are several specific duties which Minerva will explain to you, but in the grand scheme of things, you are the student figureheads for the school, and perhaps your most important obligation is to act as role models—it is the pair of you whom the younger students will look up to, so treat this responsibility with utmost care."
Her worst fears were being confirmed—Potter, a figurehead. Potter, training the younger students to act just like him. Potter, raising an army of little mini-Potters to take over the school. The mere notion was frightening; Hogwarts really was doomed.
Jamie glanced at her golden watch. "I'd better go," she said, and stood up.
"You do that, Prefect Girl," said Hannah distractedly. She was in the midst of sorting through a rather large pile of chocolate frog cards on the seat beside her.
Regan stood up and offered a military-style salute as Jamie made her way out the door. Hannah kicked her in the leg and she doubled over, shouting in protest.
Jamie paused in the doorway, sighed, and offered a few final words. "See you, guys. I'll bring you back a souvenir from the Land of Responsibility."
When the door was closed behind her, Regan righted herself and turned around, falling into the seat opposite Hannah. "Never heard of that place," she mumbled, rubbing the back of her leg.
"No, me neither," said Hannah. She gathered up the cards and began to pile them methodically back into a wooden box with intricate carvings on its sides. Courtesy of Lily, it had been magically enhanced to hold far more than it appeared—which was fortunate, because otherwise, Regan and Hannah's massive chocolate frog card collection would never have fit inside. "Four hundred and seventy nine," she announced as she replaced the lid.
Unexpectedly, the door flew open and a mocking voice burst into the compartment. "Been at the scales again, have you?"
They didn't need to look up at the door to know who had spoken these words, but all the same, both girls' heads snapped up in semi-surprise. Sirius Black came barging into the compartment, completely uninvited, his handsome features arranged into a look of casual mocking. Trailing behind him was Peter, who had his eyes cast timidly at the ground, but kept on twitching and stealing excited glances at Regan.
Hannah glanced up from the wooden box to glare at Sirius, but kept her mouth shut.
"I mean, no offense or anything," Sirius went on, "but four hundred? Even Pete doesn't weigh that much."
Peter didn't even bother to defend himself at this; he was too fixated on Regan, who had caught on to his staring and was casting him a rather unpleasant "I'm onto you, and I'm going to beat you up" sort of look. He didn't seem to be able to identify this as a threat, however, and continued to gaze adoringly at her.
Turning her gaze away from Sirius and feigning indifference, Hannah picked up the box of chocolate frog cards and stood up to stow them back inside her trunk, which still sat on the compartment floor. "What are you doing here, Black?" she said coldly, without looking at him. "I thought we'd agreed on a truce."
"Ah, yes," said Sirius, "but the rule was 'no pranks'—and that doesn't stop me from pestering my least favourite Rogue every now and then, does it?" As if in an attempt to make himself even more annoying, he slumped down onto the seat Hannah had vacated and helped himself to a bag of Every Flavor Beans.
Without missing a beat, Hannah snatched it away from him and shot a swift kick at his leg, causing him to curse and jump up in surprise. Once he was on his feet and had gathered his bearings, he turned to Hannah and merely looked amused. "Easy, Milton," he said. "Just because you've got legs the size of tree stumps doesn't mean you have to go all Whomping Willow on me."
The fire in Hannah's eyes was alight now, and she inched forward, standing up to her full height—which was, admittedly, not very high at all—to address Sirius with her arms folded across her chest. "Just because you look like a troll doesn't mean you have to come in here and burn our eyes out with that face of yours whenever you feel like it."
"Ooooh," said Regan, as Sirius's features became momentarily dark. "She got you there, Black."
Apparently, he wasn't willing to be shot down quite so easily. "Well, actually," he said in a very matter-of-fact tone, "I didn't really want to come here. You know I'd never come within ten feet of you unless there were dungbombs or explosions involved."
That was completely true, but it still made Hannah clench her fists up. Regan, remaining somewhat calm, narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly in question. "Oh yeah? So then why are you here, you idiot?"
Sirius jerked a thumb toward Peter, who still looked quite dazed and didn't seem to notice all the attention shifting onto him at once.
Regan scoffed. "You? What do you want with us, Wormbutt?" She fixed him with a condescending stare.
Peter looked up in alarm, and his face quickly turned as scarlet as the trim of his robes. He dropped his gaze to his hands—which he was wringing in an utterly pathetic gesture—and then looked bashfully back at up at her. "I... er, wanted to borrow a quill," he put forward stupidly, his eyes shifting nervously back and forth from Regan's face to the window, as if he were frightened to look into her eyes for too long. Indeed, Regan did look rather intimidating with her raised eyebrows, her set jaw and the way she stood semi-casually with one hand on her hip, challenging him to say something that was worth her time. When all he had to offer was the dumb quill excuse, she let out a short bark of laughter, which caused Peter to jump back a few feet in shock.
"A quill?" she said. "Right... So you expect me to believe that none of you four brought a single quill with you for the entire year? Nice try, Wormbutt, but even I'm more prepared than that."
It didn't seem possible that Peter's face could go any redder than it already was, but in that moment, it did. His eyes fell to the floor in humiliation.
Sirius snorted. "Told you it was lame, Pete." He half-turned toward the door. "These two are boring; let's go."
"Wait!" said Peter desperately. He looked at Regan again, apparently going for take two. "Er... I... er... Can I borrow two sickles?"
"GET OUT!" Regan snapped, throwing an arm out forcefully toward the door. Peter jumped higher than ever, and was out of the compartment in a heartbeat. "And prepare your damn excuses next time you want to stalk me, Wormbrain!"
There was a terrified squeak from further down the corridor. Sirius, looking entertained, took this as his cue to leave. "So long, Rags," he said—as always, going to great—and completely futile—lengths in order to mispronounce their team name. "I'm off. Even our empty compartment is more interesting than you lot."
Hannah's curiosity took over, and in spite of herself she inquired, "Empty? What the hell are the rest of you up to? Found some new victims now that you can't prank us anymore?"
"Hardly," said Sirius, and from the bitter edge in his voice it was evident that he'd already pushed that case with the Marauders, and failed. "Off being nerds, attending to some 'official business'."
"So Remus did get Head Boy, then?" Regan deduced.
"No," said Sirius, and the corners of his lips twitched up mischievously, as if he were about to impart some big, scandalous piece of gossip; "James did."
"And finally," McGonagall concluded, "since we have an unusually large number of first years starting this year at Hogwarts, Hagrid will require your assistance in escorting them across the Black Lake. Upon disembarking the train you will each be assigned to a boat, and it is your duty to supervise the new arrivals and make sure nothing goes wrong." She gave them both an exceptionally stern look that Lily suspected wasn't part of the regular protocol in relaying these details, but more of a warning specifically targeted at them. "Consider it a practice run."
Just then, there was a loud and rather discourteous knock on the door.
"Come in," said Dumbledore.
The door slid open to reveal a small gathering of Prefects outside; at the front of the group was Paul Abbott, and Lily thought she spotted Jamie a few people back. Evidently, ten minutes had elapsed since the commencement of this dreadful meeting. Strange, Lily thought—it had seemed more like ten years.
"Ah, Mr Abbott," said Dumbledore calmly. "Your timing is impeccable. I believe Minerva was just finishing up with our Head Boy and Girl here. Please, come in."
Paul gave a lazy grin and shuffled into the compartment with the others in tow: Magnolia Fairwater, the other Hufflepuff; Ian Corner and Alora Boot, both of Ravenclaw; Jamie Love and Remus Lupin of Gryffindor; and finally, Theodore Nott and Kristen Parkinson, the Slytherin Prefects.
The compartment became considerably more packed, but it was a relief to be surrounded by others (besides James Potter and two people she felt she had to continually impress), even if some of them were people she didn't particularly like. With Lily crammed into the corner and James right beside her, Jamie was unable to sit very close by, so she opted for a seat by the door.
"Miss Love." Dumbledore addressed Jamie just as she sat down, causing her to look up in alarm. Lily knew she must feel uncomfortable under his gaze; after all, Jamie couldn't stand being singled out, especially in such a large group. "It is nice to see a fresh face in this meeting. I must tell you, when Miss Evans was made Head Girl, we considered leaving her spot vacated as per the usual practice; however, I always thought you would make a lovely Prefect, and it only seemed fitting to fill the position when we have so many new students arriving at school, all of whom will, no doubt, require assistance from people as mature and experienced as you all... I assume you are comfortable with this?"
With all this attention focused on her, Jamie was quickly becoming very pink. She gave a stiff, hurried nod and shifted her gaze to her lap. Dumbledore moved on.
Lily barely listened to a word he or McGonagall said after that. Squashed into the side of the train, she suddenly became all too aware of just how much of her body was touching James; her shoulder, part of her forearm and the whole of her thigh were all pressed into the side of him, and although he was looking in the other direction and didn't appear to be bothered by it at all, she couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.
The minutes ticked by very slowly, Dumbledore and McGonagall taking turns giving them lectures, all the Prefects—save for a few, like Abbott and Nott—listening intently, Lily barely breathing at all where she sat in the corner. At one point, she caught Jamie's eye across the compartment, and she was only a little surprised to see her eyes wide and frightened, shifting to James and back to Lily as if asking, "Is this for real?" Lily shrugged and shot back a look to say, "We'll talk later—and boy, do we have a lot to talk about." Unfortunately, the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders caused James to turn ever so slightly in her direction, and she quickly shoved herself as far as she could into the side of the train. This proved to be a bad idea; there was very little space left, and so she bounced right off the wall and back into James, ending up closer than she had been to begin with. Her cheeks grew warm as she attempted to right herself; she could practically feel him smirking.
Finally, the meeting drew to a close and all were dismissed. Lily kept her head down and pointedly avoided James as she exited the compartment, but once she was on her way down the aisle, back to the Rogues' compartment, she felt Jamie fall into step beside her. There were so many unspoken questions between them—How? Why? Who, in their right mind? —but neither of them said anything until they were safely back with the others, with a closed door and a paper-thin wall between them and the forces of Evil. At this point, Lily let out a monstrous "Argh!" and threw herself onto a seat in the far corner, curling up into a ball and hiding from the world.
She expected immediate questioning from Hannah and Regan, but instead there was silence and a comforting hand on her back.
"You wouldn't believe it...," Jamie started, but Hannah cut in before she could elaborate.
"Oh, we heard," she said very seriously, "but you're right—we still can't believe it."
"You've got to hand it to Dumbledore," Regan said drily. "Totally unpredictable."
"Totally ridiculous, more like," said Lily, lifting her head to look at them all with wild eyes. "What am I supposed to do? I can't work with him! He's going to drive me completely up the wall—it'll be a wonder if I have any sanity left by the end of the year. I'm probably going to fail my NEWTs by that point, if I've spent that much time with James sodding Potter." She was being overdramatic, she knew, but she couldn't help it. Seventh year had just gotten a whole lot worse, and it hadn't even started yet.
They felt the train beginning to slow just then, and the feeling of dread settled further into Lily's stomach. The others didn't have any consoling words for her; clearly, they couldn't come up with any positives either. Even the prospect of the feast, of seeing everybody again, of the excitement of the Sorting, did little to cheer her up. All she wanted to do was fall into the pillows of her heavenly four-poster in the Gryffindor Tower and never wake up again.
This was going to be the worst year ever.
A/N: Yes, so it's just a tad longer than the original version... but since most of you have said you prefer the longer chapters anyway, I figured it couldn't hurt.
Also, I know it wasn't a particularly interesting chapter, but I've found that in most stories I write, Chapter Three ends up taking the brunt of all the introductions/set-up/foreshadowing/official business and dull stuff like that. So I guess TMATR is just keeping in line with tradition.
Anyway, you know the deal: love it, hate it, couldn't care less about it—no matter your opinion, I'd love to hear it. So drop a review if you haven't already, and tell me what you think. :)
Thanks for reading!
~PrincessEarth
[NOTE: A revamped version of Chapter Four is in the works, but be patient. It's going to be BIG, and those kinds of chapters take a lot of work. For now, you're stuck with the crappy flashback I wrote when I was fourteen. Sorry. :P]