In Which Lily Muses on the Concept of Family
"Hey, Vlad, don't get fussy, I just need you to take this letter home for me," Lily croons to her owl, Vlad, attaching a piece of parchment to his leg. She supposes he's objecting because it's so cold, but really, just because it's nearly Christmas is no reason that she can't write to her parents. She's happy at Hogwarts (or she would be if Slytherin hadn't been abolished) but she still gets homesick sometimes.
"Oh," says a surprised voice from the door. Lily doesn't see why whoever-it-is is surprised that they're not alone in the Owlery, but she's hardly going to start a quarrel this close to Christmas. Unless it's Rich Hamilton or Connor Finnigan, of course.
Lily turns around. "Oh, hey, Dana," she says politely, nodding at the blonde girl in the doorway. Dana Dursley is Lily's cousin on her father's side. She's got green eyes just like Dad and Al's, and she's a bit plump. She's always been quiet—a sweet little Hufflepuff.
"Lily," Dana acknowledges, blushing. She blushes at everything. With an effort, Lily refrains from rolling her eyes. "So…what're you doing for the holiday?" Dana asks, clearly for lack of anything better to say.
"Home, the Burrow, V's if I can swing it…" Lily rattles off, stroking Vlad's feathers absently.
"That's great!" Dana says, smile wide and white teeth gleaming.
There's a small pause while Dana eyes the school owls nervously, clutching her letter. Lily wonders idly to whom she's writing, but dismisses it as unimportant. "How about you?" she asks belatedly.
"Oh—home," Dana says, not sounding particularly thrilled.
"That's nice," Lily says, wincing at the banality of this conversation.
"Yeah," Dana sighs.
"Don't you…I mean, you must miss your parents. Got any siblings?" At this point, Lily's desperate.
Dana gives her a weird look. "Yeah. Don't you read our Christmas cards?"
"Oh, of course," Lily grins mischievously, unwilling to admit a mistake. "Two brothers, right? The older one's kind of cute."
"Hey!" Dana scowls, but her posture relaxes. "That's my twin, Dick. Jeffie's a couple years younger."
"I've got two brothers, too," Lily says absently, trying to figure out why Dana seems so depressed. "So…."
"So, I'd better go," Dana says, and turns toward the door.
"Wait! Your letter—" Lily starts, stepping forward. Dana looks over her shoulder at Lily, those green eyes heartbroken.
After all, Lily reasons, it's just not fair that Dana, her cousin, have to suffer whatever troubles at home she's worried about, all alone. Everyone's got issues, yes, but there's something here Dana's not telling her.
Lily glances deliberately down at the address on Dana's letter. "You're sending an owl to Great-Aunt Petunia?" she exclaims, too shocked to be tactful. "Dad says she hates magic!"
"She thinks I'm a freak!' Dana wails suddenly. "I was wearing my robes when she came over last summer and she turned white, walked out, and hasn't spoken to me since!"
"Well, duh," Lily starts to say, fighting an urge to roll her eyes. But Dana's almost crying now, and Lily hopes she's not that callous. "Oh," she says instead, and then the idea comes to her. "Hey, Dana—you should totally come over for Christmas dinner! Grandma Molly won't mind a couple more—you can bring your brothers!"
"I don't know," Dana says hesitantly. "Uncle Harry's all right, but there's the twin terrors who gave Dad some weird candy—"
"Uncle George? He's not that bad," Lily protests. "And Dad'll sort him out. You should bring your parents. Grandpa Arthur'll want to know everything about lektricity and refriggerites. Or something. Besides, Christmas is for family."
"Are you sure? I mean, Uncle Harry's family, but—I mean, Grandmother—and then, too, the Weasleys are—I mean, I—" Dana pauses, takes a deep breath, smiles through her tears, and says, "Thank you, Lily. I'm really glad we're cousins."
"Me, too," Lily says, crossing her fingers behind her back and plotting how best to get James to look out for Dana.
Dana looks at her letter, then at the owls, and then at Lily. She shrugs, brushes at her face rather awkwardly, tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and leaves.
Lily looks after her curiously, reflecting that family resemblances are strange things.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Things have settled down a bit, so you don't have to talk to Professor Beaumont about 'student safety' or whatever. It's not like she could do anything, anyway.
Did you hear anything from the Ministry higher-ups about what's been going on here? They can't really think they can just say, "get rid of Slytherin" and forget all about us—can they?
Oh, and my present for James is sort of complex—I'm going to need some help setting up the Portkey.
See you soon!
Love,
Lily
P.S. I invited Dana Dursley and her family over for Christmas dinner at the Burrow—hope that's okay!
"Good Godric." Harry Potter looks up from his daughter's letter in blank surprise, and a small amount of nervous dread.
"You mean you deciphered that scrawl? Honestly, our daughter's handwriting is the worst I've ever seen," complains Ginny Potter, shaking her head so her Weasley red hair bounces. "What's the latest catastrophe? Did she fall hundreds of feet from a broom—no wait, she doesn't play Quidditch…"
"Like that would stop her," Harry mutters darkly, then sighs and hands the letter to Ginny.
"Weren't you listening? I can't read her writing," Ginny scowls. She crosses her arms, doesn't take the letter, and waits.
Harry sighs. "She's invited Dudley et al to the Burrow for Christmas."
"WHAT?" Ginny exclaims. "That girl—! For Godric's sake! The same Dudley whose parents locked you in a cupboard for years and years? And without asking us—" She breaks off and snatches a quill. "Don't you dare fly off, Vlad, I've got a few things to say to Lily!"
"No, wait," Harry says. "What's done is done; we can't un-invite them."
"That's what Memory Charms are for," Ginny says nastily, and her quill flies across parchment.
"I don't think she meant—" Harry starts to say.
"Oh, right, she didn't mean to invite your horrible family!" Ginny rolls her eyes, and ink spatters across the page. Harry reflects that her handwriting is likely to be at least as unreadable as Lily's.
"My family isn't horrible!" Harry protests reflexively. "Dudley certainly isn't! I saw him when Dana got her Hogwarts letter, a year and a half ago, and he's really not that bad—his wife seems like a reasonable person—"
"What! You never said you liked his wife!" Ginny glares at him, ink and parchment forgotten.
Harry supposes that he has at least temporarily stopped her from writing Lily a Howler.
"I didn't talk to her much or anything, she just seemed more like a sane person than I would've expected from someone who married Dudley," Harry explains mildly. "And Dana's just a regular kid, trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life. And anyway, she's a Hufflepuff." The unspoken implication is, no Hufflepuff has ever been evil. There's some disagreement about Gryffindors, and everyone knows Slytherin is—or was—the preferred home of dark wizards. And extreme intelligence does occasionally produce misguided idealists and budding megalomaniacs, so Ravenclaw isn't completely off the hook—but Hufflepuff. Bad people just aren't in Hufflepuff.
"Okay, so I suppose this Dana's all right," Ginny admits grudgingly. "But let's get back to Dudley's wife. Is she pretty?"
Lily's all packed for the break. She surveys the room she shares with Vulpecula, Sally Simpkins, Miranda Shiplake, Colleen Corner, and Anissa Goldstein. The extra bed (Lily's) is pushed under the window, between Vulpecula, a friend, and Miranda, a neutral party (and a Muggle-born—or rather, Newblood).
Everything looks neat, much cleaner than it ever does during the term. Sally's already gone, thank Salazar, but Colleen and Anissa are leaving tonight, by Floo. Their bags are neatly piled beside one another. Lily longs to tear down the Gryffindor hangings, but she thinks of how disappointed her father would be, and restrains herself.
She looks at her bed, covered with her green and silver entrelac blanket, without which she can't sleep (Aunt Luna gave it to her when she was first Sorted into Slytherin, and it's got all sorts of protective, soothing enchantments—even a few strands of Demiguise hair, and everyone knows how hard those are to find), beside her own bags, embroidered with gold LLP's (a present from her mother).
And there's the small gouge in the window frame where Lily and Sally got into a tussle over an enchanted hairbrush and it exploded…the crack in the windowpane that Vulpecula says was there since the days of Lily's paternal grandmother…the scratch marks running the length of the room made by Miranda's cat, Caliban…the plush flowered rug Colleen brought in to replace the threadbare school-issue one—the rumor is it used to be red…
Lily sighs, not sure how this could have happened. The Gryffindor second-year girls' dorm feels…not quite like home, but—
"Hey, Lily, aren't you coming?" V demands, popping her head in at the doorway. Her green eyes sparkle.
"What?" Lily asks distractedly. She blinks, and reminds herself that she absolutely can't have thought living with Silly Sally Simpkins was tolerable, much less pleasant, or homey, or—"Yeah," she says, determinedly, sweeping her blanket around her shoulders and grabbing her bags. "Let's get out of here."
You liTle brat, you're just LIKe all the PotterS, bound to coME to a BAD end. Stay OUT of what doesn't concern you, or that end'll be soOnEr than you think. You're ALL trash, and don't you forget it. I'll be watching YOU.
"By Salazar," swears Lily softly, "What the bloody hell—"
"What's the letter say?" Luther inquires.
"Who'd be writing now, we'll be home in a bit," V comments, staring out the train window.
Lily tucks the letter into an inner pocket of her robes. "Nothing," she says, "It's nothing."