Lily fought the urge to wiggle her shoulders as the tag on her dress brushed just so against her skin. She relied solely on her etiquette lessons to keep her from doing so, considering it practice for retaining a regal demeanor no matter the situation. Lily was a witch of great passions and she wasn't sure she would ever master it completely. All the more reason to practice.
When Lily was first introduced to Lady and Lady-Consort Shafiq, she had been squeamish as they went over how much etiquette she would be learning. She was the second daughter of a lifelong coal miner turned builder. What right did she have to learn to learn how to bow and curtsy as if she were a fine lady? Would her parents think she was putting on airs? What if they thought she thought she was better than them?
Lady Shafiq explained that it was not only a right but a sacred duty. Long ago, she explained, Chaos created muggles and set them going to see what chaos they could sow. Magic created magical creatures and cared for them. The magical creatures had an intrinsic bond to Magic, and an understanding of it. They became guardians of sorts, caretakers, of different kinds of magicks. Centaurs were caretakers of their land and the Sight. House Elves became caretakers of home and hearth, of the places where magic gathered and pooled. Goblins watched and cultivated the deep earth, became keepers of the magic of metals, and of blood, eventually becoming the unbiased caretakers of the history of wizarding bloodlines.
Eventually, the two mixed on rare occasions, and their offspring became the first wixen. These magical beings had unbridled access to magic, a tendency to cause Chaos, and a connection to Magic that they did not know how to define. Only when Morgana spoke, did Magic truly become Mother. A Mother who deserved honor and children devoted to her. And thus, the rules came to be. Every rule they followed was to bring them closer to Mother Magic, to remind them of their limits, that just because they could do anything, didn't mean they should. The varying depths of curtsy helped convey respect towards the magic each family had tended to, reminded them both of their place (An ancient house, to nurture to guide, a NewBlood to learn and grow.) Every rule was intended to teach them mastery of self and magic and to honor their first and greatest Mother.
Twelve different ways to pour tea became much more interesting to learn after that.
Her tag scratched her again and Lily sat a little straighter. By Morgana's divine light, she'd come to hate muggle clothing. The cloth was so inferior. For once, Lily felt not a lick of guilt for thinking so. The reverend at the pulpit read another scripture regarding the meek inheriting the earth.
'But what will be left of it to inherit,' Lily thought, 'If the meek never speak up?'
The Evans had gone to St. John's Vicarage as long as an Evans had lived in Cokeworth. If Lily remembered correctly, that was a good hundred years. Long, but not as long as the Becketts or the Colliers, but plenty long. Long enough that it was an unforgivable sin if all available Evans were not present. Lily was forced to attend despite finding it utterly disrespectful. She didn't believe in this God anymore, or, at least, she didn't claim him as her God. She worshiped Mother Magic and Chaos (sometimes she thought of him as Grandfather Chaos in the deep corners of her mind). It seemed in very poor taste to all three deities to be in a place of worship she didn't belong, singing words she did not believe.
To make matters even more uncomfortable, sitting next to Petunia, taking up at least three people's worth of space in the pew, was her beau, Mr. Vernon Dursley, esteemed drill salesman of Grunnings. For the first time in her life, Lily was certain she was in the presence of someone completely, irrefutably muggle. Not even a single spatter of squib blood in him. He felt so incredibly dull to her that she imagined she'd have more connection with a tree stump.
It sickened her to admit that he was perfect for Petunia. Not the Petunia who loved her and kept her secrets as a child, but this Petunia. The Petunia who hated her and took pride in being completely and utterly normal. The Petunia who felt rejected by magic and so rejected magic and her magical sister utterly and completely. Stable, perfectly normal, destined for a reliable car and a nice house in an "up and coming" suburb, Vernon could provide exactly what Petunia wanted.
Despite everything, Lily still loved Petunia, and the loss of their relationship ached. Lily couldn't imagine what it would be like to have living family bonds, to actually feel it being ripped away. So, Lily was doing her best to compliment Petunia when they interacted, stay out of their way as much as possible, and act like a perfectly normal muggle otherwise. It made the knife twist when Petunia pretended to be a doting sister in return. Lily knew deep in her bones that this, more so than that nasty letter, was the final death knell of their relationship. As Petunia Evans became Petunia Dursley, Lily Evans, her freak sister, would cease to exist entirely.
As the reverend continued to speak, Lily sank gratefully into her mindspace. Occlumency and Legilimency were, in her opinion, the closest thing to functional telepathy a magical could get without a bond. It made memorization, introspection, and speaking across the hall with Severus so much easier. She and Severus had used it exclusively to speak the last few days of term. Lily hadn't wanted to draw any more attention to Severus, not with Potter and Black pushing her boundaries even more since their confrontation. She didn't care much for Mulciber and Avery, mostly because they had been standoffish before she became a New Blood, but she was so grateful for them now. Since the incident at the lake, they'd made it their personal mission to ensure that Severus never went anywhere alone.
Lily walked through her mind. It was a mixture of things- a workstation, a library that was arranged in no particular order, and a hall of prophecy. While Lily did not have the gift, ancient magic fascinated her. What was more ancient than prophecy and the mysterious hall that was said to exist before the Ministry? She made each memory into a prophecy orb that glowed faintly, a small personal moon. It would shatter and cut the person touching it if that person wasn't directly involved in the memory, or Severus.
She walked to a deep well that held all of her unsorted memories and sat on the edge. Fog hung heavily in the air and brief clips of sound, scattered seconds from all her unsorted memories, whispered around her. The cacophony was so great it could, and would, drive one mad if they weren't invited. Unable to resist any longer, Lily held out her hand and called forth a memory she'd been mulling over for weeks. Finally, she began crafting it into an orb, and let herself relieve it.
Resignation settled on Lily's shoulder, heavy as a wet, woolen cloak. She refused to show it, walking with her shoulders back, spine straight, and chin up. The invitation to have tea and speak with Professor Dumbledore before the Leaving Feast was clasped delicately in her right hand. She had a sneaking suspicion it was about all the points she had taken from Gryffindor recently. The fury that sparked within her that night in the common room had settled from an inferno to a more sustainable, unquenchable flame. She would not be swayed a single inch. As far as she was concerned, she was living up to the ideals of the Founder's houses. Bravery, Loyalty, Wisdom, Justice. The only one who might be questioning her timing was High Lady Rowena.
She took one last deep breath, strengthened her mental shields the way Severus taught her, and approached the looming gargoyle. "Butterbeer Barrels."
Professor Dumbledore was waiting for her with a kind smile and hat with fireworks dancing around the brim. Professor McGonagall was there, too, sitting stiffly in a rather garish chair. It was obvious she had not conjured it herself.
"Ah, Miss Evans, do come in and sit."
Lily took one step deeper into the room before she crossed her right foot behind her left and curtsied. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall."
"No need to be quite so formal, my dear. Go ahead and take a seat."
Lily did. A cup of warm tea with a dash of milk was waiting for her. Between the greeting, and the dribble of tea slowly traveling down the side of her cup, Lily already knew that this meeting was not going to turn out well. She took a polite sip.
"Thank you for inviting me, Headmaster. May I inquire about the reason for the invitation, or is that too presumptuous of me."
"Ah yes," he steepled his fingers, "I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding, but Gryffindor's points have been dropping at an alarming rate. Once a contender for first place, they've dropped solidly into last. While reviewing the points, I noticed you have been taking at least 60 points a day from Mr. Potter."
He paused and Lily thought he expected her to gasp and express her horror and confusion.
"Yes, that's correct. I believe, as of last night, I have taken a total of two hundred points and referred him for ten detentions. Unfortunately, this morning I've had to take an additional eighty points and I have four more detention referrals. It's good that you're here, Professor McGonagall, I would have hated to bother you in your free time." Deftly, she pulled the slips from her pocket and held them out to her Head of House who took them with aplomb.
The Headmaster very clearly hadn't been expecting her response. He smoothed his beard twice and popped another lemon drop in her house, sucking on it.
"Miss Evans," he finally said in a tone of grandfatherly disappointment, "Might I gently remind you that your position as prefect should not become a means to deal with personal problems?"
Lily took another sip of tea, rage and hurt brewing a storm behind her Occlumency shields. She placed her cup into the saucer and employed her greatest weapons- good manners, a charming smile, and pure audacity.
"You may, Headmaster, but might you consider having this talk with Prefect Lupin? Master Black gloated the other day that whenever points are taken from him or his friends that Prefect Lupin gives them a few points back here and there to cushion the loss. I believe yesterday I heard him giving Mr. Black ten points for exceptional spell work and teamwork after he managed to spell Heir Potter's hair into some semblance of order.
As for the situation with Heir Potter, in the handbook we're given as prefects, Chapter 3, Rule 5 states that we, as prefects, are supposed to serve as another defense for the honor of unbonded wix, wizard, or witches. It's why we search the broom cupboards on our rounds. We are also given a duty to protect a Maiden's Kiss if we see someone trying to steal it and we are to report immediately if we suspect or have proof of anyone attempting to coerce anyone into a bonding. Guidelines state we are to take between twenty and forty points and refer them for punishment to their Head of House.
I've simply followed those guidelines. I believe the entire school knows at this point of his constant attempts to woo or coerce me into a relationship despite my clear and unwavering rejections. His constant attempts are disrespectful, uncomfortable, and disrupting."
The Headmaster released a deep sigh, "Miss Evans, surely you can see that Heir Potter means no harm. A Potter in love is utterly determined. You're still quite young. He has plenty of time to mature and become the good man a Potter always becomes."
Lily swallowed her initial response and the bile in her throat, viciously pleased to see Professor McGonagall frown slightly, and shift uncomfortably in her seat.
She took another sip of her tea and smiled pleasantly, "Headmaster, Heir Potter can become a good man for someone else, I have no want or need of him. I've made myself perfectly clear. I am of age to be courted if I so choose and I have made it abundantly clear that I will not accept his suit. It is my right, and choice, as a pureblooded witch in good standing with Mother Magic. He completely disregards my words as if I have no right or authority over myself. So, as a Prefect, I am responsible for protecting any wixen from bond coercion. It doesn't matter if it just so happens that I'm the one being coerced."
"Miss Evans," Dumbledore frowned, "Surely you do not think that James is truly trying to coerce you?"
Lily looked him square in the eyes, her shields strong, "Interrupting my schoolwork and my studies, refusing to leave unless I date him isn't coercing? When he pranks my dorm mates and refuses to reverse it unless I go on a picnic with him, making sure all the girls know their suffering is my hands, isn't coercion? When he presumes a familiarity I have not given him? When he shows up unannounced when I'm alone and without chaperone? When he and his friends hold their wands to my best friend's throat and he laughs and says he'll let him go, if only I'd fancy a trip to Hogsmeade with him? Please, Headmaster, explain to me how that isn't coercion."
"Ah, I see," the Headmaster stated, though Lily could tell that he clearly did not, or did but would not admit the truth of it, "Please don't let Mr. Snape's rivalry with James color your opinion of him. It's healthy to have rivalries, it encourages the parties involved to reach for their full potential. It may seem brutal at times, but thus is the nature of magic."
Lily wasn't sure if it was High Lord Godric or High Lord Salaazar that made her loose her tongue. She only knew that his words were an affront that could not be forgiven or forgotten. They could not stand, not even in this room with such a small audience.
"I know what Prefect Lupin is, Headmaster. And I know what Master Black tried to use him to do to Severus." Her words seemed to echo in the room with a strange sense of finality. This was her line in the sand. Merlin and Morganna have mercy on her.
Color rose in the Headmaster's cheeks. "Mr. Snape had no right–"
"No, Headmaster, you had no right. How dare you keep him from finding succor after someone nearly succeeded in murdering him. And to ease your mind so you don't have to wonder why the vow of silence you forced Severus to swear failed, he didn't tell me. Master Black did. He and Heir Potter like to gloat when they think they've done something brilliant. How stubborn they must be that their punishments did nothing to temper them. Wait, that's right, they didn't receive one, because Master Black surely didn't mean it, and Heir Potter was the one who saved him! Surely he owed Heir Potter a life debt now."
Lily held her chin up high. "It is a shame that I must be the one to inform you that there is no life debt. Heir Potter didn't care about Severus, he cared about saving Prefect Lupin. Not that that will stop Heir Potter. He seemed absolutely delighted that he might be able to trick Severus into doing things for him now."
The Headmaster's face was extremely pale and he looked very old. "Miss Evans–"
"It's terrible that it happened but it has been a boon in one sense. Severus and I have finally learned how you truly feel about New Bloods, sir. After all, a Snape, or an Evans, is clearly disposable while a Potter and Black are not."
The Headmaster didn't say anything. The fireworks on his hat had sputtered out.
McGonagall finally spoke, "Lily, why haven't you come to me?" She sounded genuinely sorrowful.
Lily tempered her tongue. "I was going to, until I realized I had no chance against your first choice for Head Boy."
Her Head of House sat back as if Lily had struck her.
"It genuinely pains me to say that I've come to realize," Lily touched the Prefect badge on her chest, "That this means nothing. It's supposed to be an honor. We're supposed to be leaders and guides, portraying the greatest traits of our house. If someone like Heir Potter can be given the highest honor after years of making a mockery of the system, if all the concerns I've had have been discounted, the fact that I was called into this office instead of Heir Potter–"
"Miss Evans," Dumbledore finally spoke, and he said it with a tone that meant he would finally reveal the answer to some great mystery, "Have you ever considered that James, whose mother was a mainline Black, has given his Black-Blood Heart to you? Have you considered the repercussions?"
"Albus!" Professor McGonagall gasped, obviously disturbed.
Lily stood without waiting to be excused, her magic writhing just beneath her skin. Unpinning her badge, she dropped it in Professor McGonagall's hands. "The discontinuation of the Honorable and Most Ancient House of Potter would be a terrible loss. Hopefully, before his mind splinters fully, he can perform a reproduction ritual with someone. I'm quite sure Master Black or Mr. Pettigrew would be more than happy to assist him in the matter."
With that, she glided out of the office, her head held high.
The memory finished coalescing into an orb. Lily blinked down at it. She rolled it in her hand, feeling the weight of it, before she sent it to the shelves. No matter how she looked at it, there was no other way the meeting could go. Not without feeling sick, without breaking her vow to Severus. Severus had been both horrified and elated when she showed him. Neither of them knew what repercussions could follow. Both had felt gratified when, at the Leaving Feast, Gryffindor remained dead last and Hufflepuff was awarded the House Cup.
A touch to her elbow brought Lily back to the church. She stood fluidly with the rest of her family to sing the final hymn of the service. She was so very tired of empty words.