The thing that rises from the cauldron late that night does not come with the ears of a deer. So there is that, at least.
The legs don't work at first, but it doesn't make a sound or fight. They have to haul it up and out of the cauldron but the feet won't go under it properly so they begin cleaning the slime off it on the floor. The thing sucks at air once Lily clears her mouth of slime with a suction bulb and a rag but it doesn't say anything, just looks up at her like a funhouse mirror, with those unblinking green eyes.
"Lungs work," Lily says, taking another pass at the construct's face with a clean rag. "So that's something." She thrusts a finger into the thing's mouth and pulls down to open it up and inspect the teeth. "It still has wisdom teeth. I got those out years ago. So it's not a perfect copy."
Severus is standing over them both, eyes fixed on a faraway point while he casts a few rudimentary healer's spells. "She reads as human. Or close enough. There are a few irregularities."
"Like what?"
He crouches, and one long finger points just above the thing's bare left breast. "Her organs are reversed. Her heart is here, on the wrong side. The stomachs are-multiple." His finger trails lower to point to where the stomachs would be and Severus glances down and then away, suddenly embarrassed by the thing's nudity.
"Don't be a prude, it's not me. It's an animal."
The voice that comes next is unexpected, strange to Lily's ears, but familiar. "Not me?"
The construct reaches a hand to its own face, leaving a trail of residual gore everywhere its fingers touch. Then it reaches for Lily's face.
She catches it at the wrist. "None of that. Come on, let's get you washed up."
"You," it parrots softly, rising with Lily to its feet. The head swivels around to look at Severus. "You."
They could conjure a bath there, but it makes more sense to take it to the bathroom. It leans on Lily's arm heavily, sliming her shirt, and its feet slide but gain purchase as they move at a snail's pace toward the laboratory door. "It seems to be figuring out walking. Is it-wrong, do you think? If it can't take commands properly it won't work." Lily asks, disappointed.
"You think," it says.
Severus opens the door out of the laboratory, eyes still unwilling or unable to look at thing below the hollow of its throat. It gives him an artificial haughty air, one of looking down his long nose at the both of them. "She was never going to have precisely human intelligence, or yours. It's an accomplishment that she can speak at alll."
They each give a breath of time to offer the thing an opportunity to parrot him in between shuffling steps down the hall.
When it doesn't, Lily gasps out a little sound, half-laugh, half exclamation. "Oh! It only copies me. A side effect?"
"Me," it says, nodding slowly. It reaches for Lily's face again and she bats the hand away.
"Most blood constructs use only one variety of blood. The blend of human an animal is likely the culprit." His frown deepens. "Human blood is quite volatile."
"Of course it is, it's blood with opinions. My opinions. Open the door for me, would you?" It's the room Bellatrix had stayed in with its ensuite bath like a swimming pool, but she doesn't trust the construct's legs on stairs yet to take it another floor up to her own room or Severus'.
The door swings open at a flick of his wand, and he looks in with suspicion. "Leave the door open. If you shout, I'll hear."
"You think it'll attack me? Come now. Would have already done." Lily laughs, disengaging it from her arm and taking it by both hands. It toddles across the carpet in her wake like a child unsure of their feet. "You'll do what I say, won't you?"
The thing is watching her, and then glances back at Severus looming in the doorway, and then back to Lily. "What I say."
"Good enough. Now let's get you in the bath and into some clothes so Severus doesn't faint, because he is an old lady who can't stand the sight of your bum." There's an indignant little noise made through his nose, but Lily ignores it. Lily navigates it over the bathroom threshold and lets it sit heavily on the closed toilet seat before turning on the taps. Everything will need to be scrubbed clean; maybe the construct can do it herself, though that seems optimistic just now. "Sev, could you bring me some of the servant's stuff from my room? I'm going to keep talking to it. Maybe I can get it up to a full sentence, if not an original thought."
Working shampoo through its hair, Lily babbles her way through a half-remembered child's story to the thing, and it pipes up occasionally to mimic a new word or phrase-river, dead, magic, princess, toad, climb, run. She's more like a child than Lily is entirely comfortable with, and Lily slips into motherhood with unremembered instinct. When her eyes water with shampoo she shushes and gentles the thing, rinsing them clear until it stops cringing. When the construct is dry, there are clothes hanging there-testament that Severus came, watched her work, and left in silence. The path of mess it trailed is gone up to the threshold of the bathroom, too, and she can easily spell the last of it away while the thing stands there dripping. Drying the thing is easier than dressing it; the fingers keep trying to help but only succeed in getting in the way on the buttons. It's only when the thing is dressed and standing before her, a wide-eyed and blank mirror, that Lily takes in the full impact of how very strange this is.
Over her shoulder, she says, "You can't sneak up on me, you know. You've done it too many times and I learnt all my sneaking at your sneaky knee." She turns back to the construct. "This thing is weird and I don't envy you staying with it."
Severus comes out of the doorway where he was lurking and says, "She's no stranger than a house-elf."
Green eyes track both of their faces. "Envy," it says slowly.
"House elves are weird, too. After we win the war I think I'll make a study of them."
He cuts a glance to her, inquiring. "Why? They are an ancient race, adapted for wizard use."
"Sentient beings, adapted? Oddly enough, I think I've gone a bit sour on the very idea of slavery of sentient creatures. At least this thing isn't quite all the way there." Lily turns to face him. "Thank you. For helping me do this. It's-for all how strange it is, it's incredible we've managed it."
"It would seem I am a suitable substitute for a team of apprentices," he replies dryly.
"Better. A thousand times." There's real warmth in her voice, because it's true. Turning back to the construct, she enunciates, "I am going to show you to your room, okay?"
"I am," she says, but she nods as well.
The construct can walk ably enough now, so Lily leads it up the stair to the room-her room. The dark bare cell greets them from the hall, and its eyes look fearful until they both pass the threshold and the meadow Severus has made is clear. It lets out a little gasp, sinking slowly to its knees, skirts ballooning around her.
Lily looks over her shoulder and there Severus is, black spectre trailing them, watching, the ghost of a pleased smile flitting his mouth. She snorts with derision, but the wonder on the construct's mirrored face is real, and it reaches out to one of the flowers. At its touch, it blossoms rapidly, releasing scent into the air.
"I suppose it doesn't know everything I do. Or it hasn't sorted through everything. A lifetime of being a human is probably a lot for an animal to work with." Lily herself wouldn't be so impressed with flowers she already knew of, and Lily wasn't overly impressed with them the first time. She had been sick on them, if she recalled correctly-that stage of recovery from the memory charm had been thoroughly messy. Lily turns her attention back to the construct. "You stay here. This where you sleep. This where you go when Severus doesn't need you. Do you understand?"
The thing ignores her, reaching to another flower, and then a third, plucking it. It looks at the bloom in her hand, and then up at Lily, and then twists its body, pivoting on one inelegant hand to peer at Severus.
"Lily," it says.
"That's a violet."
"Lily," it repeats, this time with more confidence, looking back up at her. "Lily."
Lily casts her gaze over her shoulder. "I didn't say that. Neither did you, I don't think."
"She is learning."
"You keep saying she. It's mostly a creature with a brain the size of a plum that happens to be human-shaped. It's not a she any more than a cat or a boat is."
"Lily, Lily, Lily," it chants, and then stops and shoves the flower in its mouth.
"Oh, for the love of-" Lily crouches, moving to stick her fingers in its mouth and remove the flower, but the thing claps both hands over her lips. "Well, at least violets aren't poisonous."
With a petal stuck to its teeth, the thing looks up, wide-eyed at him. "Severus," it manages.
Something not entirely unlike anger, something that has been sparking for a few minutes now, finally ignites. Lily returns to her feet. "All right. Go to sleep here. This is your room now. Obey Severus and don't get either of us killed." She strides through the door and shuts it behind her, almost bashing Severus' nose straight into his brain.
She's almost halfway up the hall, striding fast, when she hears his footfalls track behind her own. Her body whips around the corner of the stair that the banister she uses for leverage gives an almighty creak at her velocity.
All her things are already packed right down to James' invisibility cloak, ready to go at a moment's notice in the magically expanded bag in her boot. That room holds nothing but flowers and a woodland animal. And she wants this, wants to chase horcruxes and destroy them. But this anger pushes at her certainty.
The bed Bellatrix slept in still feels like a place that will only entreat nightmares, but the library will do well enough, and there are spare blankets in the hall closet. She sets up on her favorite chaise to read and nap on, padding it deeper with pillows and blankets summoned from the linen closet.
A new blanket drops near the head. A dark green one, the one she knows, with a pale hand atop it. "Regulus has found a suitable dog to place under the Imperius curse in order to replace his brother's animagus form. While you were working, I moved the doe to the cellar and put it to sleep. It's hidden well enough, and anyone discovering it won't know what questions to ask."
"Good." She pauses, and then decides to go at it with brutal efficiency. "You've never handled a baby, have you? Or a toddler?" She punches a pillow to fluff it. "You'll have to watch that thing all the time. Teach it how to take commands, how to act. It seems tractible enough but eating flowers- and have you managed to figure out how to heal it?"
"I have looked into it. I am reasonably certain a form of healing can be performed, though of course it would be best to avoid damage in the first place. I have no way of anticipating the reaction to pain." He pauses. "You intend to sleep here?"
"Yeah. Might as well get it used to the room it'll be staying in." She looks over at him. "Don't expect it to be me. It won't."
"Of course not." There's a little frown and he's staring at a spot on the wall past her face. "The thing that was you tried to kill me."
She rolls her eyes at him and butts her shoulder against his, pulling a blanket up to the pillow. "The thing that is me is standing next to you."
"And leaving. Tomorrow, since the construct is functional, unless I overheard your planning with Black incorrectly."
He hadn't. It was all rather well done, in that uncaring and silken tone of his. "Eavesdropping, were you?"
"Hardly. Both of your voices carry."
Which means yes, at least a little bit. "We're headed to the coast. It's going to be lovely. I could use some sun."
"The coast?" The surprise in his voice is unusual, worth exploring.
"Have to start somewhere." She smooths the covers and the bed's made, now, green blanket and all, so she sits on it and peers up into his face. "Why, do you know something?"
He looks like he's said more than he meant to, and his frown deepens. "Helena Ravenclaw was murdered in a forest."
Lily splutters. "Murdered? A forest? I-how do you know anything about it?"
"A very long time ago a ghost told me a story." His eyes focus on hers, sharp, and his arms fold across his chest, closing himself off. "It was meant to be-educational. A deterrent."
She looks at him, uncomprehending. "When was this?"
"We were sixteen."
She reaches backward. The ghosts of the castle, the only ghosts either of them had ever met, and that transparent and silent man, doused in a silvery and unspoken crime. "Who, the Bloody Baron?"
He nods. "He murdered her."
She stands again, furious. "And you only saw fit to mention this now? Which forest, Severus?"
The frown turns into a full-blown scowl, now. "I don't know. It was not the primary subject of our conversation."
"Oh, yes, you just talked to a notoriously intractable century-old ghost and it just so happened to come up that he had murdered the daughter of one of the Founders and by the way have you seen how the Harpies are doing this season? Was that it?"
"No," he spits.
Lily throws up her hands in exasperation. "Then what was it? Why were you talking to him? What was he trying to educate you on?"
"He was one of Helena Ravenclaw's suitors," he says, sounding as if the words are being dragged out of him against his will. "Rowena Ravenclaw sent him to her daughter. He tried to make Helena return with him from Albania. She refused. He killed her and then himself."
That version of events appears to leave out quite a bit, but she can piece it together well enough; suitor likely didn't quite cover it. And the warning it must have been, for him, at that age, that comes easy enough. She remembers him at sixteen staring transparently after her in a way even gentle Remus commented on. At the time, she'd assumed it was loathing, with all those other boys in Slytherin pouring poison in his ear. Now with the pensieve and her wand, everything he's said, everything he's done for good or ill, she knows it was something rather different. But being stuck that way as a ghost- "And they still haunt the same castle?"
If his glare were a physical force, she'd be dead. "He wears chains for it to this day."
Lily snorts. "Oh, if that's the case I'm sure she's forgiven him then."
"And what would you have him do?"
The conversation isn't exactly about ghosts anymore-or, at least, not the long-dead ghosts haunting a school. "Something useful. Something that actually helps someone, maybe. I don't know."
She doesn't speak the sudden and virulent thought that there are some things that are beyond forgiveness.