Chapter 2: Welcome Back

"I mean, it's official, isn't it? Dumbledore's completely lost his mind. I always thought this day would come," I conclude, nodding along with my musings. Since I'm lying in my seat, my long red hair dangling off the edge and my legs propped on the wall of the compartment, I address the ceiling. "I mean, really, who in their right mind would make me Head Girl and then decide, 'You know who that unstable bird Lily Evans would lead really well with? That tosser James Potter. Ah, yes. The perfect pair to lead our student body.'"

Marlene snorts. Emmeline sighs.

"Really, Lily, I think you're underestimating yourself. And James," Alice says.

Now it is my turn to snort. Alice can only say that because she's related to him in some distant fifth-cousin way all purebloods are. She and James have always been casually friends, a result of bumping into each other at Wizarding events all growing up. However, I can't say the same for my mates Marlene and Emmeline who nod in agreement. Unfortunately, not even they are immune to the James Potter charm. I just really don't understand it.

"No, listen!" Alice presses on. "No one's really surprised you're Head Girl, Lil. You're top of like every class –"

"Not every class," I grumble under my breath. Transfiguration will make me sell my soul to Salazar Syltherin's ghost who is certainly roaming the deepest pits of Hogwarts looking for muggle-born souls like mine to devour.

"– and you're like every professor's favorite student -"

"Hello! Are you forgetting Transfiguration?!" I say, louder this time.

"- and everyone really respects you! Really no one's surprised. And as for James…"

I give my heaviest, most agonized sigh.

"…I mean, it's a bit of a surprise since he wasn't a prefect but it's not impossible, is it? He's been top of classes right there with you."

Another agonized sigh. Just another reason the prat bothers me so much. Not only is he a reckless, arrogant slacker, but he still manages to excel in all our classes. Especially Transfiguration, which is just the worst, and the hardest, and the stupid git doesn't even have to try. Agh. It's enough to drive any self-respecting, studious witch up the wall. And I'm that witch. Sometimes.

"And like it or not," Marlene breaks in, impatiently twisting her tight brown curls out of her face and into a knot on top of her head, "James has grown up quite a lot in the last year. And he was made Quidditch Captain last year, so he does have leadership experience, even if it's not the traditional prefect type."

I snort. There's only so much growing up a person can do. I'd lost Marlene to the James Potter charm at the beginning of last year when she won a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team under Potter's leadership. Apparently, things can get chummy between all that practicing and team meetings, and Marlene is all pro-James now.

"You two will do great," Emmeline, ever the optimist, concludes. I shake my head, disappointed in her. Emmeline's the one who is most often on my side when it comes to Potter, but while she thinks he's a bit of a show-off, she also thinks I'm skewed in my completely antagonistic views of him.

"You guys are all the worst," I moan. "And I can't talk about this anymore. I'll just have to have it out with Dumbledore at the feast."

"The feast…" Marlene sighs wistfully, massaging her stomach. "Merlin, I'm hungry."

Alice laughs. "The trolley came by just an hour ago! And you ordered practically half the cart!"

"But that was a full hour ago," Marlene whines. "Emmeline..."

"No!" Emmeline's been slowly preserving her Chocolate Frogs since she bought them and still has several left in a careful pile next to her. She's so responsible and reasonable, I will never understand how I got chosen as prefect over her when we were in fifth year.

"Lily's right, you're all the worst."

Alice and Emmeline laugh and I can't help but join in, watching them all affectionately. For all my moaning and whining, I really do have the best mates in the world.

We're four of the six seventh year Gryffindor girls. Alice and I clicked right away. Emmeline quickly made our duo a trio, but we all struggled with Marlene initially. Marlene has a… er… strong personality and quite intimidated us at first.

But then there was a weekend when all the upperclassmen were at Hogsmeade and us first years (Alice, Emmeline, and me) were struggling over a particularly grueling Transfiguration assignment in the library and making absolutely no progress when Marlene plopped herself down right at our table. "Merlin! That Transfiguration essay was perfectly horrid!"

But she'd completed it. And she helped the rest of us through it. Marlene might struggle more than Emmeline or me at school, but she's a right whiz at Transfiguration.

Several hours of giggling and sharing work and talking later, Madame Pince all but chased the four of us from the library and Marlene had wormed her way into our trio.

We make a mis-matched group: Emmeline, with her tall willowy frame, long pale hair, and reserved nature; Marlene's smattering of freckles over her nose, quite at odds with her sometimes-abrasive personality; Alice's wide blue eyes and soft features that hide her mischievous streak (probably those distant Potter genes coming through); and me – oddball who's too magic for her muggle family but too muggle for the Wizarding world, stereotypical firecracker red-head, and general mess. But we work, and I'm so glad.

We spend the rest of the train ride eventually convincing Emmeline to share her chocolate (she really is far too kind to be in this friend group) and catching up about summer holidays. When darkness starts to fall outside the windows, we change into our robes. I try to be surreptitious when I use my reflection in the train window to check that my Head Girl badge is pinned on straight, but Alice catches me anyway and flashes me a smile.

And then the train is stopping at Hogsmeade Station and we're boarding the horseless carriages and we round a corner in the road and . . . there it is. Hogwarts. Standing tall and strong, silhouetted against the star-splattered sky and looking just as magical and wonderful as when I first saw it at age eleven. All the things I'd been told I'd do and learn there, my best friend at my side... well. It's good to be back. And though I love my house with my parents and, yes, even Petunia, returning to Hogwarts feels a little like coming home.

/

"...and I'm pleased to introduce our new Head students this year, Miss Lily Evans of Gryffindor -" Professor Dumbledore pauses to let the light applause echo in the Great Hall. "- and Mr. James Potter." He gestures at the two of us to stand as, yet again, Potter's name gets way more of a reaction than necessary. I blink a few extra times to keep from rolling my eyes and stand, a little uncomfortable with all the eyes on me. My mates all beam at me and everyone at the Gryffindor table seems pleased, thank goodness, but my gaze catches a student at the Ravenclaw table nudging her neighbor and a knot of Slytherins whispering together. It's not about you, I tell myself. I see one of the Slytherins point at me, still whispering behind her hand, and sigh. Okay, it's not all about you, I rephrase.

Professor Dumbledore continues. "Mr. Potter and Miss Evans are both talented and responsible students who will be happy to point you in the right direction when you inevitably get lost and will be wonderful assistants to the staff in helping our school year run safely and smoothly. Do not be afraid to approach them for help." More light applause. Potter smiles at me from where he stands further up the table, so I give him a half-hearted smile in return. Probably shouldn't look like I dislike him too much in front of the entire Hogwarts population. Although, come to think of it, most of them probably know anyway. Some of our stand-offs are near-legendary around here.

Professor Dumbledore starts going through Filch's lengthy list of banned items, so I figure I'm safe to sit again. Potter shoots me one more grin as we sit back down. Now that we're out of the proverbial spotlight, I feel okay frowning back. His smile only grows, and then he turns back to listen to Professor Dumbledore.

At the head of the room, Dumbledore finally takes his seat and Professor McGonagall beckons the procession of first years forward, setting a three-legged stool directly in front of the Head Table and placing a dusty brown wizard's hat on top. The new students form a clumsy line in front of it, looking nervous.

"Finally, the Sorting," Marlene groans. She looks longingly at the empty gold dinnerware on the table in front of us.

"Like you didn't end up eating most of my chocolate frogs," Emmeline hisses. Alice muffles a laugh into her sleeve, but I'm staring intently at the hat, as are most of the other students in the Hall. "Shh!" I shush them, and just in time.

The large tear near the brim of the hat opens wide, and the hat begins to sing.

Every year, the Sorting Hat precedes the actual sorting with a song as a kind of welcome back, and as an introduction of the Houses to the new first years. I bob my head along to the jaunty tune, only half-listening as the Hat describes Gryffindor's courage and daring, Ravenclaw's wit and wisdom, Hufflepuff's loyalty and hard-work, and Slytherin's cunning and ambition.

My enjoyment, however, gets cut short when the Hat takes an unprecedented detour. The melody slows, and the notes slip to a minor key.

And yet my job this year

Is not just to tell where you belong,

So listen, young reluctant warriors,

to my prophetic song.

Outside these castle walls, and

also, I'm afraid, within,

Danger is nigh. You cannot be shy

About where your loyalties have been.

The need to fight and face the Dark

never has been stronger.

Enemies across the Houses

you cannot remain any longer.

Here is where you come to learn,

And here you learn to defend.

And now it is here you must

Learn to unite with every foe and friend.

For if you don't, the consequences

Could be grim and dire

Because the Dark Lord's efforts,

And his followers, will never ever tire.

So it's up to you, my brave young friends,

To fight and save the day.

You need not fear, for good will win

If you listen to what I say!

The hat falls still, sitting innocently on the stool once more. There's a long beat of silence, and I stare wide-eyed across the table at Alice and Emmeline and see my own trepidation echoed in their expressions. "Whoa..." Marlene whispers next to me, the word more a shocked exhalation than anything else.

The room breaks into uncertain applause, prompted only by Professor Dumbledore's lead. I can't help but send a glance up towards Potter. His head is bent forward, huddled close with his usual crew: Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black. They whisper intently. But then, almost like he can sense me looking, he turns my way. He lowers his eyebrows and gestures with a tilt of his head, almost like he's asking, what do you think? But I just shake my head and shift my gaze back to the front of the Hall.

Professor McGonagall moves methodically through the new first years, calling them up to place the Sorting Hat on their head alphabetically by last name.

"Allen, Theodore!"

McGonagall's all business, like the Sorting Hat sang a normal, cheery Welcome! song instead of that off-putting ominous number. Allen becomes the first new Gryffindor, and we all applaud, though the sound is half-hearted.

Still, good on you, McGonagall, I think. Get things rolling. No need to alarm the first years more than they already are. Or the rest of us. I glance around at all the other students already seated at their House tables, many still clearly unsettled from the Hat's song. Frank Longbottom, a few seats down from us, absent-mindedly drums his wand on the table, not noticing the green sparks sputtering out with each tap, looking worried. Over at the Ravenclaw table, Julie Mackey and Angela Stoker have turned all the way around, leaning into the aisle to talk with a few of the Hufflepuff prefects, all of them sending the Sorting Hat anxious looks. Even the Slytherin table's usual blasé attitude has been disrupted; while most of them don't look as perturbed as the rest of us, many are looking pensive. Gareth Avery whispers something into Hilda Wilkes's ear, and she nods slowly.

Even the normalcy of the routine of the Sorting can't calm the restless, anxious mood. I try to relax as I focus on the Sorting. I mean, it's not like we don't know we're in dark times. And watching these little kids – Merlin, are they titchy! - brings back memories of my own Sorting.

I hadn't really had any sort of preference as to which House I wanted to end up in. Honestly, they'd all sounded lovely. I was only worried, because I didn't see myself as particularly brave, smart, hard-working, or ambitious. What if the Sorting Hat couldn't find a House for me?

But he'd only deliberated in my ear for a moment.

"Very sharp, no doubt. And a wealth of potential. But there's no question where you're meant to go... GRYFFINDOR!"

Meeting Alice right away over dinner at the Gryffindor table drove away any lingering uncertainty: Gryffindor was definitely where I belonged. Even if I wasn't thrilled by all the company at the Gryffindor table...

Again, my eyes drift to Potter as "James, Wesley!" becomes a Hufflepuff. Again, he's already looking at me. And then he has the gall to go against the mood of the rest of the Hall -he smiles at me again. And waves. And again, I blatantly look away.

I'm not sure what all these chummy smiles are. It's not like we're friends. When we met on the train our very first year, I thought him rude and full of himself. The rest of our years together have only confirmed that first impression. I've listened to him brag about his talent on a broomstick and whine about how unfair it was that first years couldn't try out for their House teams. I've watched him mess around in class and more or less ignore the professors (it infuriates me that he still gets good marks). And of course, I've had a front-row show to the worst of his bullying. The way he's treated some of the students here... ooh, it makes my blood boil. How Dumbledore could have appointed Potter as co-Head with me...

All the frustration and, quite frankly, anger that I didn't have the chance to process on the train has caught up to me. I'd been so surprised and caught off guard that Potter had been in the prefect compartment at all, and then anxious about how the meeting would go, I hadn't had time to properly process all my blood-boiling emotions that Potter is a Head student with me. But I do now, and I brew and stew about Potter all through the rest of the Sorting.

"Food!" Marlene exclaims when a mound of mashed potatoes appears in the dish in front of us. "Finally!"

My mates all dish up – Marlene filling her plate to near-overflowing ("Hey, I gotta be well-fed for Quidditch practice!" "Mar, that doesn't start till next week.") - but I pick half-heartedly at some ham and chips, scowling. Alice, Emmeline, and Marlene mostly let me. I think they're partially too hungry to hold any serious conversation, and partially still reflecting on the Hat's dire song.

I seethe some more, my brain giving me a play-by-play of all my least-favorite Potter moments from the last six years, until by the time the golden platters have all been Vanished clean, I'm basically furious. Dessert begins replacing dinner on the serving dishes.

"What d'you reckon about the Sorting Hat's song, though?" Marlene says. She says it to all four of us, but I know it's pointed at me. I have the feeling she's trying to draw me out of my simmering.

Alice and Emmeline wait for my response while cakes and pastries continue to pop into existence in front of us. I take a chocolate-glazed cream puff from a huge mound of them and consider Marlene's question, doing my best to shove my irritation to the side and answer thoughtfully.

"Well...it's not exactly surprising, is it? I mean..." I look around and lower my voice, not wanting any of the younger students to overhear. "With all the disappearances this last year and..." my voice goes even quieter, "...murders. The news about the Prewitts..."

The girls' expressions turn somber. When I'd heard about the Prewitt brothers at the beginning of last summer, I didn't leave my room all day. Mum worried about me, but I didn't tell her what had happened. She knows about You-Know-Who, but I'm not stupid enough to give her all the details and have her worry more about me than she already does. My parents love that I'm a witch – revel in it, even – but I'm not sure even they would let me keep coming back to Hogwarts if they knew the full scale of what was going on.

Anyway, I'd been able to go visit Alice the next week, and we'd discussed it all then.

"And isn't that what we're here for now? We already knew that the more we learn at Hogwarts, the better we can oppose You-Know-Who. That's what I want, anyways." I glance at Alice, and she nods grimly. This, too, we discussed over summer holidays.

Emmeline surprises me by nodding too. She's so quiet and even timid sometimes, it's hard to picture her in a battle. But then again, she'd lost her grandmother to You-Know-Who supporters.

"Get in line, Lily. As soon as I can get my wand pointed at that bastard's face..."

"Marlene!" Emmeline scolds.

Marlene shrugs and snags a cream puff from the stack. I've been turning mine over and over in my hands while I talked. "I'm just agreeing with Lily. I'm here to learn to fight."

She tosses the whole cream puff in her mouth just as I bite down on mine.

"What the bloody -!" Marlene spits the dessert back out.

I sputter and jerk my hand away from my mouth to examine what just happened. Instead of a light creamy center, the pastry gives to a springy, fibrous filling. I've bit right into...

"A cotton ball?" Alice examines the remains of Marlene's cream puff on the table.

"What?" Marlene's baffled, but I'm not. I know exactly who's responsible.

I mean, who else would – could – pull this kind of chaotic mischief off but the band of boys who openly declare themselves the Marauders and think the rules don't apply to them?

Sure enough, when I look up the table, the four of them – Remus, Pettigrew, Black, and, of course, Potter - are in stitches as students all over the Hall go through the same experience Marlene and I just did.

Marlene starts to laugh. "Wow, that was the weirdest sensation! You've got to try it, Em!"

"I think I'll pass," Emmeline says. Alice, however, gamely gives it a go. But instead of being filled with cotton, Alice's cream puff explodes and splatters her face with the filling.

Marlene doubles over with laughter. Emmeline hands Alice a napkin, who wipes her face clean. Despite the mess, Alice has already recovered from the surprise and a little smile tugs the corners of her mouth.

She's not the only one who encountered the explosion results. There are cream-splattered students all over the Hall now. Most are laughing, though some seem shell-shocked their dessert blew up on them. I see one little first year girl sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table and wiping at her dirty face, mortified tears dripping down her cheeks. Half-eaten cream puffs litter the floor and are smeared all over the tables after the unsuspecting students spat them out.

Irritation floods me all over again as I survey the scene. This is so irresponsible. The Hall is a mess, the end of the feast dissolved into chaos. Someone could have choked, for Merlin's sake! I'm just grateful Angela Stoker, the Ravenclaw seventh year prefect, has already swooped in to help that sweet first year.

Which, of course, is when Potter decides that now is the right time to approach me, his whole posse in tow. They're still laughing. Black holds out a hand to Remus, who gives him a high-five.

"Hey, Evans, should we be helping with the first years?" Potter asks. And then he sees my face. "Umm... are you okay?"

At his question, Alice peeks at me too and frowns. "He's right, Lily. Are you feeling alright? You're all..." She waves her hand around her own face, apparently at loss for words.

"Red." Pettigrew pipes in unhelpfully, poking his head out from around James. "Red and mad." He nudges Black, who whispers something back, and the pair dissolve into giggles. Remus sighs and rolls his eyes before herding them away.

Potter also rolls his eyes but focuses back on me. "But Peter's right, you do look a little, well, upset."

"Forgive me if I'm not thrilled about my co-Head assignment," I snap back.

"Wait," Potter says. "For real? We're still stuck on this?"

Behind me, I hear Emmeline very softly say, "Oh." Then she's getting up and tugging Alice and Marlene by their sleeves. "We'll see you upstairs, Lil."

"But -!" Marlene says.

"Come on," Emmeline insists.

Marlene and Alice both shoot me unhappy glances but allow Emmeline to lead them down the Gryffindor table towards the door.

Potter watches them go. Then he turns back to me, eyebrows furrowed behind his glasses. "What's the deal, Evans?"

"This! This is the deal!" I wave the cream puff in his face.

He raises an eyebrow. "The cream puffs? Really?"

"Yes, really! I know it was you."

"Well, it wasn't just me..." he mutters. "Sirius and Peter and Remus..."

"Yes, I know. The four of you, always up to no good!" I gesture out across the Hall, as if that was all the proof needed. Students have finished dessert and trickle out of the Hall, most showing signs of run-ins with the cream puffs; cream-flecked faces, dirty robes, pastry bits in hair.

Potter looks, too. Then he turns back to me. "You do realize that most people thought it was funny, right? Even your mates were laughing."

I let out an exasperated noise, almost like a growl. "That's not the point! The point is you're somehow Head Boy, and this is not what Head students do!" I shake the offending cream puff in his face again. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "I'm just really not sure how I ended up paired with you. This doesn't make any sense!"

"Did it ever occur to you that Dumbledore chose me -"

"Yes! I'm really questioning his sanity!"

"- which means that he thinks I have at least some merits!"

We're basically yelling now. Most of the Great Hall has cleared out – thank Merlin for the younger prefects taking the lead on getting the first years to their dorms – but a small gaggle of students remains to witness our argument. So much for putting on a friendly front.

"Like what? Being at least halfway decent at Transfiguration? Riding a stupid broomstick? Because Merlin knows there's plenty of other seventh years who could fill those roles who also aren't giant, arrogant gits as well!"

Potter's mouth falls open. For a moment he can't speak and I'm feeling smug, like I've won. When he finally talks again, however, his voice is quieter than I'm expecting, quiet enough that even the knot of Hufflepuffs at the next table pretending not to eavesdrop won't be able to hear him. "And that's really all you think of me, huh?" He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up. "Right," he says. "Even after... okay. Right." He looks at me and grimaces. "I'll just... try to stay out of your way then, Evans."

And then he leaves.

Just like that, out the Great Hall door.

I stare after him, mouth hanging open, partially annoyed he got to end the battle, but mostly just baffled that he did.

"Good show, Evans!"

I whirl on the Hufflepuffs at the nearby table. "Better get along to bed, Eagans. I would hate to have to take any points from your House on the very first night."

Eagans (scrawny, obnoxious fourth year) snorts and a few of the other students with him giggle, but they head towards the door after Potter. A few seats down at the Gryffindor table, Carol Singer smirks at me before leaving with our fellow dormmate, Mary. Great. Can't wait to hear her take on tonight.

The tension in the Hall breaks and the students who stayed to witness Potter and I battle resume their conversations and start to clear out. I scan them all, trying to figure out just how much damage control I'll have to do, how many rumors I'll have to squash. Me and my bloody temper. Eagans alone will run his big mouth to the whole of the Hufflepuff House...

And then my eyes catch on the Head table, where all the staff sit. "Oh shoot," I hiss. Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall caught the whole show.