A few rocky days went by in which Lily was slowly mending. But eventually, the pleasure of having finished examinations and knowing that we would see our families soon caught up with us and put us in a good mood
My great happiness consisted of catching up on sleep and exploring the castle with the girls. We once played quite an exhaustive game of Hogwarts Hide-And-Go-Seek with the girls in which Marlene and Alice tried to tag myself, Dorcas, and Lily before we got our hands on the Special Services Award: Tom Riddle in the Trophy Room. I managed to slap ol' Tom right on the 'iddle' while Marlene took down 'Dorky' with a spectacular dive and Lily, with a mad glint in her eye, came racing down the trophy room, barely outracing Alice to the award. The wall fairly shook when she slapped it.
It was during the ensuing blissful siesta that I was startled awake from hearing Lily say in amazement, "P-Professor McGonagall?"
Professor McGonagall's voice rang out sharply in our sleepy little dormitory. "Good afternoon, Ms. Evans. If I may ask the whereabouts of Ms. Kingsley?"
"Um", I heard Lily say, "There. In her bed."
My curtains were thrown back and strong afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window and absolutely blinded me.
"Gently!" I shouted. "Be gentle with me, Professor, please."
"Why", the Professor asked me severely, "must you always be asleep?"
I heard Marlene snicker.
"Why are you here, Professor?" I asked and then when it suddenly occurred to me why she would be here, I threw back my covers and asked breathlessly, "Has Jamie woken?"
The Professor looked down at my eager face and something in her eyes grew mournful. "No, I'm afraid not."
"Then-?" my voice died in my throat and my heart began to pound frantically.
Only bad things happen in that office. Only the most terrible of truths are discovered in there. Leave the truth to the wise! Leave them to people like Dumbledore. Weaklings like me weren't meant to deal with those. I don't want them.
"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Kingsley. The Headmaster wishes to see you to discuss your summertime lodgings, that is all."
"Summertime… lodgings?"
"Yes, now please get out of bed, if that is at all possible for you, and follow me."
"When summer holidays begin, I would like you to stay with the Potters, Ms. Kingsley. They have given their consent already."
"Professor," I said hesitantly, "I… I want to go home. To my parents."
"I understand that," Professor Dumbledore replied gently. "But you must bear in mind that you have become a target for potentially dangerous opponents. The Potters, at least Mr. and Mrs. Potter, understand this and are ready for this, moreso than your family."
"A target for potentially dangerous opponents?" I repeated, puzzled.
"The reason, I believe, can be traced to your brother and sister's admirable prominence in Wizarding Society. Particularly your sister, who has been the leader of the legal movement of Muggle-born equality and rights," Dumbledore answered.
"Then I'm not the one who needs to be given protection, am I?" I said, panicking. "It's my siblings and my parents!"
"Please remain calm, Ms. Kingsley. We are simply taking precautions," Dumbledore replied. "Rest assured, your entire family will be given the best protection possible. However, that includes you, and I humbly request that you stay with the Potters this summer. Do you have any objections to this?"
"No, Professor."
"Then I wish you a very happy summer."
"Ray, what is going on?" Marlene demanded when I returned. The others were also waiting for me in the dorm.
"We heard you ask Professor McGonagall if Jamie had woken up, which implies that your brother hasn't woken up. You told us he was fine," Lily said, crossing her arms. "You've obviously been lying to us."
"I haven't been lying to you," I replied honestly, but then found myself reduced to mumbling. "I just… it's not been… easy to talk about. There are some difficulties that… that you don't want anyone to know about. That are hard enough dealing with yourself."
I didn't know it then, but Lily's thoughts flew to Severus, and Marlene's to her alcoholic father, and Alice's to Frank, and Dorcas' to her desire to be athletic. Each one of us had an insecurity so deep we couldn't bear to voice it.
"I'll be at the Potters over summer, at Dumbledore's request," I said. "Just don't tell anyone else."
"The Potters?" Lily said, her nose wrinkling. "As in James Potter?"
It took me a few moments to find the tall, messy-haired silhouette of James Potter. He was standing with his parents, a slightly elderly couple with warm smiles and an altogether elegant demeanor.
"Excuse me," I said hesitantly.
"Oh!" Mrs. Potter exclaimed. "You must be Raylynx?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"It's wonderful to meet you dear," she smiled at me.
Mr. Potter also greeted me quite kindly.
Suddenly, Sirius Black appeared from the throng of people and finding James, they clasped hands in a very 'manly' way.
"All right, mate, I'm off," Sirius said.
"You take care, yeah?" James said gruffly, "And try to come over?"
Sirius scoffed, "Course I will. S'long as I tell my mother I'm out to hang myself, she won't be able to get me out the door fast enough. Might not even have to do that when hang all those ridiculous pictures of nearly naked Muggle girls on my-". He broke off when he realized that Mr. and Mrs. Potter were standing directly behind James.
"Right, well," Sirius said airily. "Later, then."
"Hey, pureblood prince!" he barked into the crowd. "Come on, Mummy's waiting."
And from the crowd appeared an irritated Regulus, towing his suitcase and his broomstick.
"All right, all right, I'm coming," he replied irately.
Pureblood Prince…
Andromeda's words echoed in my mind.I think Regulus was tired of always being second-best to Sirius, so he was motivated to become first in his parents' eyes. Of course the only way he could was to buy into the pureblood nonsense. But that doesn't make him a bad person at heart, you know.
Feeling my gaze, Regulus turned and his eyes landed on me. His eyes narrowed and again, I saw that conflict burst into life in his eyes. But there was also something else in his eyes… something I'd never seen before…a kind-of… desire? For what?
"All right, shall we get going then? Is this your luggage, Raylynx?" Mr. Potter gestured towards my luggage besides James'.
I nodded and Mr. Potter took out his wand and set my and James' luggage 'home'.
"If you will," Mr. Potter held his arm out to me in gentlemanly fashion. I took it. He turned on the spot and we disappeared into a vortex of crushing darkness.
We appeared in the middle of a tidy, well-kept lawn, facing a cozy but by no means small or even average-sized house. It was very beautiful. It had white walls and dark green ivy and yellow blossoms wrapping around the gleaming golden windows with draped with lavender curtains.
"Our home," Mr. Potter announced, "in Godric's Hollow. The home of the Potter family since before anyone can remember, at least."
Mr. Potter held the door open for me and I entered to see a spotlessly clean entrance hall made of white marble and featuring a gorgeous chandelier.
The Potters had just entered behind me when a little house-elf came running out, skidded to a stop, and bowed so low her nose touched the ground.
"Master!" she squeaked loudly. "Master James has returned!"
"Hello, Dusky," James grinned.
"And who is Miss?" Dusky asked, turning her big, luminous eyes on me.
"This is Raylynx Kingsley," Mr. Potter explained. "She'll be staying with us for the summer."
The elf made a deep bow to me.
"Shall I show you to your room, then?" Mrs. Potter said to me graciously before turning to the boys and saying, "Dinner at seven thirty. Try not to be late."
They both grinned furtively and James said, "'Course, mum."
"Oh, boys and their Quidditch!" Mrs. Potter shook her head sternly but failed to hide the smile that played around her lips. Here was a mother who could not be happier that her son was home and playing Quidditch. My throat tightened.
Mrs. Potter and I headed inside the house, which became more homely and comfortable the further in we got. Marble became carpet and rich tapestries became shelves of books. We headed up a staircase to the second floor. The hallway was quite short, for it ended in a doorless small round room where a cushioned seat lined a wall that was mostly window, framed by heavy cream-colored curtains. The hallway filled with soft light coming in from that room and sunlight streaked the plush carpet.
"Here we are," Mrs. Potter said, opening the door to the first room on the right. I looked in, feeling that I would be grateful for a bed, period.
Instead, there was a room with not only a bed, but complete with a tall mahogany bookstand that reached the ceiling, a tapestry-like curtain that hung over the window that depicted a royal blue night sky with sparkling silver and gleaming gold stars, a small couch beside the window, perfect stop for reading, and a tiny glittering, glistening chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
"It used to be my old room, when I was a little girl," Mrs. Potter mused. Noticing my expression, she said quickly, "If there's anything that you aren't taken to, please feel free to change it around. Unfortunately, it's the only bedroom we have set up for now."
"No," I replied immediately, "this room is more than fine. I was just surprised at how beautiful it was."
Mrs. Potter smiled and said, "I'm glad you think so. Well, let's see. What do you need to know? Your luggage should be on the other side of the bed. Dinner at seven thirty. The bathroom is two doors down. Don't hesitate to ask me for anything or Dusky will be happy to serve you."
She let me be then, to unpack, but I just sat on the bed and gazed out the window. There was a line of thick trees behind the row of houses on this street and I simply watched the sun sink lower and lower, until gold turned to a deep orange that flooded my room, stopping just short of my bed.
I shouldn't be here. I should be at home, with Mother and Father, Sola, and Jamie.
At seven-twenty-five, I changed into a clean shirt, jeans, and a cardigan before heading down into the kitchen.
"I hear from my son that you are also a Gryffindor," Mr. Potter addressed me as Dusky served us hot soup.
Across the table, I spotted James grimace at his father for revealing that they had talked about me.
"Yes, I am," I responded as Mrs. Potter finally removed the apron and sat down with us. She could have Dusky do all the meals by herself, but Mrs. Potter seemed to enjoy the homely aspect of having a family. I should have enjoyed it more as well, but I always took it for granted.
"And how was your fifth year at Hogwarts?" Mr. Potter asked.
I thought back to Lily's fights with Severus and Marlene, those dreadful O.W.L.s, to nearly dying in the Shrieking Shack, and most of all those long, grieving nights at Andromeda and Ted's. I managed a nod in response to his question and mumbled, "Fine, sir."
"O.W.L.s weren't too bad?" Mrs. Potter asked, raising a stern eyebrow at James.
James scoffed, "Piece of cake. Be surprised if I don't get straight O's."
"You'll need it, son, if you want to become an Auror," Mr. Potter remarked.
Mrs. Potter shot an upset look at Mr. Potter and said, "I still don't like the idea of you chasing after Dark Wizards, James. It's too dangerous."
"Mum," James replied, "you worry too much. A lot of people are Aurors and they hardly ever die 'cause the Ministry organizes them into partners and all that."
"No deaths that we know about," Mrs. Potter retorted.
"Bollock,", James said. Rolling his eyes, he turned to me and said, "Mum's got all these conspiracy theories on the Ministry."
"James."
"Raylynx," Mr. Potter addressed me, cutting smoothly across this little family feud, "what kind of career are you thinking of?"
"I'm not sure", I answered, feeling a little embarrassed. "Maybe a wandmaker."
"A wand maker? That's quite interesting," Mr. Potter remarked. "Whatever gave you the idea?"
Actually, Sirius Black had initially planted the notion in my head, years and years ago, when I'd seen him chosen by his wand, but there was no way I was going to say that at the Potter's dinner table.
"Nothing specific," I replied. "It was just a thought."
"Well, I'm sure that if you change your mind, you could put your wand-making skills to use at the Ministry. I'm sure you could find a good position at the Department of Mysteries or at the Spell Registrar," Mr. Potter replied.
"Ugh, no, don't work at the Department of Mysteries," James said. "Unspeakables are weird."
"James," Mrs. Potter chided, "don't talk about the Ministry like that. Your father works at the Ministry."
"Yeah, but he doesn't work at the Weirdo Department, does he?"
Mrs. Potter shot James a look, but Mr. Potter chuckled and said, "I'm glad you wouldn't label the International Cooperation Department of the Wizengamot as the 'Weirdo Department', though I'm sure some people would label it just," Mr. Potter replied. Turning to me, he explained, "Seeing as our work is mostly negotiations and trading with other Wizarding cultures, we tend to attract some very- er- culturally open-minded people."
"Culturally open-minded," James snickered, "You have a way with words, Dad."
"What about you, Mrs. Potter?" I asked, feeling it was courteous to do so.
"I'm a Healer," Mrs. Potter answered, "I work at St. Mungo's."
And so the conversation rolled on, right through the breadsticks and the salad and the pasta and the strawberry and crème pie…
"We'll leave here tomorrow around noon. That should give us plenty of time to get there," Mrs. Potter said as we finished dessert.
"Er-where?" James asked, confused.
Mrs. Potter replied in surprise, "Bathilda Bagshot's, of course. James, we do this every year!"
"Oh right," James said grumpily, "that old goat."
"She's not some old goat, James!" Mrs. Potter chided. "She is the most gifted historian of our century who deserves to be treated with respect and we're going to her house for tea tomorrow. So dress appropriately, James!"
"Oh, my dear," Mrs. Potter turned to me. "You're invited as well, unless you don't feel up to it…?"
It could not be more clearly stated on her face that she was very proud of her connection with this gifted historian.
"Oh, um, I'll go, Mrs. Potter," I responded clumsily, "of course."
"Mistake," James muttered under his breath so that only I could hear him. "She talks forever. It's all drier than the paper on her book, too."
"Book?" I wondered aloud, sounding very much like a kindergartner.
"Yes, dear. She wrote the highly critically acclaimed A History of Magic," Mrs. Potter explained, "School textbook, I believe?"
Yes, it had been the one Audrey had left behind on the couch once…
"Right. So that's two people going already. Additional people hardly seem necessary, Dad,"James said immediately. "How about a game of Quidditch tomorrow afternoon? We could start just before tea time."
Mr. Potter smiled ruefully and seemed to deliberate for a moment before replying, "Sure, son, I'd be delighted."
"Oh, a fine thing to teach your son, how to evade perfectly lovely guests!" With a huff, Mrs. Potter picked up an empty dish and began to retreat to the kitchen.
I made to help her, also standing up with my plate, but Dusky, with a horrified squeak, took the dishes out of my hands and tried to push me back down in the seat.
"Miss is an honored guest! Miss should not be doing dishes!"
Mr. Potter smiled and said, "It looks like that's not necessary, but thank you, Raylynx."
"So you're another one of Dumbledore's, are you?" Bathilda Bagshot eyed me beadily across the tea table.
"Yes, I go to Hogwarts," I replied, though I found it odd that that was how Bathilda phrased my attending Hogwarts.
"Mmm," Bathilda said, eyeing at me with obvious distaste.
"Not much to offer, rather dull and plain," I heard her murmur under her breath. She turned instead to Mrs. Potter.
"Have you heard the latest news?" she asked in a sharp voice. "That rampage at the Quidditch game. Apparently several people were hurt. And the Ministry has been unable to find the culprit! Yes, the Prophet reports all kinds of lies about the Ministry being on top of things- pshaw! I heard it all from Amelia herself! Oh yes, the Bones family is one of the most prominent families in the Wizengamot and Amelia is having no trouble taking up the crown. She visited just last week, you know. She told me all about the Quidditch incident and about some other particularly nasty incidents occurring lately concerning Muggle-borns, murders and the like."
Mrs. Potter shook an anxious glance my way and said, "Yes… Well, tell me about your latest work, how is that coming along?"
But Bathilda steamrollered on, "For example, that poor Taylor family, betrayed by their own friend! Can you imagine! They made Travers their Secret-Keeper only to find he was a dirty traitor! To be betrayed as such, can you imagine?" Bathilda fiercely prodded her finger in my shoulder, directing her question at me.
My thoughts fluttered to Lily and Snape and then for some inexplicable reason, Regulus' face appeared in my mind. I shook my head, trying to erase that image from my mind.
"No? Well, you're too young to have gone through all of life's experiences yet. But you mark my words, it is the most tragic thing to happen."
Mrs. Potter was successful in diverting the conversation to a more pleasant, casual route, and soon Bathilda was talking animatedly again about her own accomplishments in knitting and gardening.
When we finally left Bathilda's, who raised both her eyebrows as I bid her good-bye, I apologized to Mrs. Potter, saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to upset her."
Mrs. Potter smiled and patted me comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, dear, Bathilda doesn't like children on principle. It has nothing to do with you personally."
