CHAPTER 3:
That night I dreamed of snakes. Well, technically just one snake. If you ask me, seeing a gigantic snake kill someone in your sleep is never a good sign. In the dream, the serpent was able to talk. But it didn't make sense, how could I possibly be able to communicate with snakes? Only a parselmouth could do that and I am completely positive I do not speak parsel tongue. Unless- no. It can't be. Disturbed by my unusual nightmare, I sprinted down the stairs and into the common room. Albus and James were already there.
"Golly Lil, you sounded like a bloody elephant coming down those stairs." Said James with a bemused expression.
Huffing and puffing, I managed to croak out between raggedy breaths,
"I. Had. A. Nightmare."
Albus gaped at me with his mouth wide open,
"Perchance, was this dream about a snake named-"
"Nagini!" cried James.
The three of us looked at each other with bewilderment.
"Okay, so we had the same dream, now what?" I asked.
"Ouch!" I cried out in pain as a searing ache soared through my forehead. When I opened my eyes, James and Al were massaging their temples. James broke the silence with a clear of his throat. Gently patting our shoulders, he motioned us towards the door.
"We'll talk about this after breakfast. Pip pip cheerio."
"I don't think I've ever seen someone work so hard to not take anything seriously." Al exclaimed.
"The name says it all." I joked.
"Hmmph." Albus harrumphed.
"James Sirius Potter."
I told Albus I didn't have much of an appetite and headed off to class first. I'd forgotten about Dad's important message and by the time I realized it, I was just too lazy to return to the Great Hall. My footsteps plodded up the staircase and I entered the classroom only to find McGonagall.
"Good morning Headmistress McGonagall! What are you doing here?" I inquired.
"I am the all-around expert on Hogwarts History, who better than me to teach this class?" she said.
Embarrassed by my stupid question, I took the desk in the center of the front row. Patrick ambled in from the corridor and sat down in the seat next to mine. The rest of the class sauntered in and McGonagall began the lecture. I braced myself to withstand another boring speech about history but instead, she said two words: Harry Potter. I was shocked, had I heard her right? What did my father have to do with any of this? McGonagall proceeded,
"Harry Potter was the boy who lived. He is the only person to have survived the killing curse. His parents James Potter and Lily Potter were murdered by Voldemort and gave their lives for him. However, Harry weakened Voldemort when he survived." Everyone was staring at James, Albus and I.
"As Harry moved through his years at Hogwarts, Voldemort attempted to gain back his power and finish what he had started, which was to kill Harry. Voldemort was closest to doing so in Harry's 7th year during the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry did indeed, die for a moment. Miraculously, he came back to life and finished Voldemort once and for all." I felt woozy and lightheaded. This could not be happening. And right then, I fainted with a THUMP.
"Ohhhh", I moaned as I opened my eyes. Patrick, Albus, James and McGonagall were crowded around me. Albus was ghostly pale and James looked like he was about to hurl.
"I'll carry her to the hospital wing, Professor McGonagall." Patrick volunteered.
"Very well, off you go."
Patrick scooped me into his arms but we didn't go to Madame Pomfrey. Instead, he set me down on one of the benches in the outdoor courtyard.
Confused and a bit disoriented I demanded,
"Patrick what—" I didn't get to finish my question for Patrick had interrupted me with a kiss.
He broke away,
"There, feel better?"
I gushed, "Loads better!"
"You see, your family's story is legendary, Lily. It's about how love conquers all." said Patrick. I hesitated,
"But what if I don't live up to my father's legend? I don't want the pressure. I'm already a failure as it is and Voldemort, what if he returns?"
"No, Lily, you are your own legacy. Don't allow others to compare you to anyone else. Voldemort is dead, gone down with history and as long as you are yourself, you will never, ever be a failure." Patrick's eyes glistened with sincerity. He wiped away a teardrop as it slid down my cheek. Walking through the dewy grass and linked arm in arm with Patrick, I couldn't help but admire my father.
"My dad really is one of a kind, isn't he?" I admitted.
"No doubt about it." Patrick ruffled my hair. I laughed and did the same. Things couldn't get better. But then again, everything that goes up must come down. Or in Robert Frost's words; nothing gold can stay.