Chapter Eleven: In Which There is an Assembly
Lily blinks. "This is not my beautiful dorm room," she murmurs ironically, and sits up. Several beds over, she notices Tim Hamilton, a first-year, and avid follower of his Slytherin-hating older brother Rich, and adds, "And these are not my beautiful roommates." Then she winces, because Sally Simpkins, at least, is not beautiful in her eyes.
It's only then that she realizes she's starving.
Before she can summon a house-elf in her desperation, the door of the hospital wing clangs open, and Harry and Ginny Potter race forward toward her, followed by Madame Frost, Madame Pomphrey's assistant. The fact is, Madame Pomphrey isn't up to the whole job anymore, and Madame Frost has been picking up the slack.
"Lily! Are you all right?" Dad demands, catching her hands in his. Mom starts rubbing her shoulders, and Madame Frost excuses herself and goes over to Tim Hamilton.
"What happened?" Lily asks.
"Madame Frost said you fainted—don't you remember?" Dad says, frowning worriedly at her.
Lily picks at the thread of her blanket and doesn't meet his eyes.
"It's fine," Mom says reassuringly. "Harry, why don't you get Lily some dinner? She needs to replenish her sugars."
Dad nods, and leaves, though not before dropping a kiss on Lily's forehead.
"What's going on?" Lily asks, her voice acquiring rather an edge. She thinks she's being remarkably patient, given that she still has no idea why she fainted, or what she's doing in the hospital wing.
"Well, sweetheart," Mom says, sitting down beside Lily and stroking her hair. "There comes a time in every woman's life when her fertility increases, and—"
Lily frantically shushes her mother. "Mom, I know!" she hisses, in the voice of embarrassed teens and pre-teens everywhere. "Are you saying that's why I fainted?"
"Yes. You had low blood sugar," Mom says curtly, not mincing matters. Lily knows this means she's offended, but doesn't care.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, young lady, that you're going to need to eat properly. I don't want to hear any excuses," Mom frowns, but when Lily doesn't reply, seemingly acquiescent, she continues more happily, "It's just such a relief, darling. After Neville's letter about you, and Rose was quite worried as well, and those…friends of yours…" her disapproval of Luther and Vulpecula is evident, and Lily scowls. "Well, I'm glad it was just hormones."
"Just hormones?" Lily repeats disbelievingly.
"Of course," Mom says, surprised. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, dearest. Happens to all of us," and she grins crookedly. "You'll feel better once you've had some chocolate."
"You have no idea what's going on with me!" Lily shrieks, twisting away from her mother's embrace. "And no, chocolate isn't going to fix it!" Although it might help, she's forced to admit; Lily's mouth waters.
"I had a professor once who loved to explain the medicinal qualities of chocolate," Mom says reminiscently. "Your cousin Teddy's father. It was the year with all those Dementors, and of course everything was such a mess…I'm glad they don't guard Azkaban anymore. Much too dangerous…" Mom shudders.
"You're not even listening to me, are you?" Lily demands, icily. She turns away, curling her body into a ball on the bed and closing her eyes against the hunger, and the despair.
Mom strokes her red hair, and, for once, doesn't scold.
"Are you all right?" Vulpecula asks, green eyes wide as she stares into Lily's face.
"Fine," Lily lies.
"Tell the truth," Luther demands, sitting beside her on one of the Slytherin couches. The three of them have taken to haunting their old common room. Sometimes other Slyths come, too, but on nights like this one, the room is only theirs.
"Why?" Lily bursts out, at last. Her words seem dragged from her unwilling lips. "Why tell the truth? Why lie? Why bother?"
"Finally ready to explain your fit of the sulks, then?" Luther says snidely. "Let's hear the whole story. Your idealistic youth, your grand disillusionment, your realization that it's all hopeless anyway—"
"Well, it is!" Lily yells, finally shaken out of her apathy. "I'm not accomplishing anything! At all! Nothing! By the time Dad was my age, he'd defeated the Dark Lord twice! And what have I done?"
"Given a quarter of this school's population hope, for one," argues Vulpecula. "And annoyed the hell out of Hamilton et al."
"I haven't changed anything!" Lily says desperately. "The Ministry doesn't even know about Slytherin's Army!"
"Then maybe it's time they did," grins Luther. "What say we storm the place? It can't be that hard; the Dark Lord took it over easily enough."
"Those terrible lifts might come in useful…" Lily muses, fantasizing in spite of herself.
"That's the spirit!" Vulpecula laughs.
The three of them have a good time planning their assault on the Ministry, complete with maps and timetables. Still, Lily's fears don't entirely disappear. She worries at the problem like a loose tooth. What is she going to do? What in the world is she going to do?
"All right, everyone," Professor Quirke clears his throat nervously, looking down at the sea of faces. All the second-years are here, waiting for his speech. They've already heard from Professors Fenn, Vector, and Hagrid, who teach Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures, respectively. In the back of the room, Professors Trelawney and Firenze glare at one another.
It was the Headmistress's idea, having the professors of the non-required subjects give promotional speeches, instead of the usual pamphlets. Quirke thinks longingly of those impersonal pamphlets now.
"As you all know, Non-Magical Studies is, er…the study of non-magical society," Quirke says lamely.
"This is such a waste of time," someone mutters, in the back. Quirke can't see who it is, but he suspects it's one of those nasty Slytherins—everyone knows they have it in for non-magic people.
"Every witch and wizard should take Non-Magical Studies," Quirke persists valiantly. "Because…because you may be stranded out of the magical world, and—and there are many alternatives to magic, you know…"
"Someone put me out of my misery," moans someone in the third row.
"Who even cares about alternatives to magic?" asks a girl in the front row. "It's not like we're all going to go strolling in Muggle London without our wands!"
"And what's with calling Muggles "non-magic," anyway?" another student grumbles. "If the war's really over, shouldn't we not even care about that anymore?"
"Students!" Quirke says, vainly trying to recapture their attention. "Please!"
"Are you kidding?" another student says. Quirke is losing track of where all the voices are coming from. He scans the crowd desperately, looking for the ringleader. "The day the Ministry stops caring about pointless stuff, like naming Hogwarts subjects, and starts dealing with the real world, is the day Dementors start singing!"
"Oh, thanks for that image, Derek—"
"Muggles have got to be the most boring people on the planet! And that includes Binns!"
Quirke has had enough. It doesn't help that the other professors are just sitting there, watching his discomfiture. "I'm not surprised the Ministry of Magic wanted on-the-ground feedback about this place!" he says loudly, furious. "You are all spoiled, bigoted, stupid brats, and I'll tell the Minister so!"
With that, Quirke storms out of the room, leaving behind a sudden silence.
"Oh my Godric," Anne du Winters says blankly, just in front of Lily. Lily watches Professor Trelawney get up, hugging her shawls around her and staring at where Quirke disappeared.
"The art of Divination…"
"Oh my Godric indeed," Vulpecula agrees. "He's a spy!"
"The Ministry's big on spies; for some reason, they don't trust the educational system," Luther comments.
Lily is focused on a different aspect of the matter. There's something about what just happened to Quirke—"Did you see how he completely failed to discipline anyone?" she whispers. "I mean, he calls himself a teacher…"
"Pathetic," agrees Luther. "He's not doing much for the "Non-Magical" cause, is he?"
"But he's right, though—sort of," Anne argues, twisting around in her seat to look at Lily. "I mean, a person could get stranded in the Muggle world—back before the Statute of Secrecy, Muggles used to burn witches and wizards—and lots of other people. The worst was when they found Wizarding children, because they didn't have wands and couldn't defend themselves."
"Oh, that's awful!" Vulpecula says, looking horrified.
"In that case, he's really not winning the Muggles any points," Luther drawls. "They must be a nightmare."
"That's not the point, though—" Lily whispers excitedly. "No, see, he totally muffed it, and no one cares whether he's right or not! And that's all that matters! Public opinion!"
"What?" Anne asks, confused.
But Lily isn't paying attention to her, or to Trelawney, still going on about Inner Eyes and portents of doom…Instead, her mind is filled with racing thoughts. Because Lily has finally figured it out. She knows how to save Slytherin House.