Chapter 7: Patronuses

"And then Black says," I deepen my voice in a mock-serious imitation of Black's, at least the best I can in a whisper. "'You'll be the death of us, Evans!' or something like that, and stomps away after Potter! Like, what is that even supposed to mean?"

"I'm not sure... That's really all he said?" Alice whispers back.

"I mean, yeah, just that and something stupid about not caring about curfew, not that that's much of a surprise..."

It's History of Magic the next day. A quiet class, so not exactly an ideal one for filling your best mate in on the latest Potter drama, but the morning had been busy, with Potions and Transfiguration and a very dicey translation in Runes, and since I'd stayed right up until curfew in the library working on some other class work (and doing a lot of fuming too, I admit), I hadn't had anytime to tell my mates about the disastrous tutoring. Besides, it may be quiet in here, but everyone's zoned out under Professor Binn's droning, lost in daydreams, so mine and Alice's conversation goes unnoticed. Mostly.

Remus and Pettigrew are sitting in the desk in front of us. Pettigrew's not paying us any attention – actually, I think he might be asleep, the way his face is hidden and resting on his folded arms – but Remus must have been. He twists in his seat.

"Lily," he whispers patiently. "You know I'm your friend, but James is my friend too. And sorry, but he's my friend first. So, I'm going to speak for us all when we say you really need to stop accusing James for everything."

"Not you too, Remus," I sigh. I really don't need everyone lecturing me for not giving Potter more leeway. Not when he's as big a prat as he is. "He really was a terrible tutor last night."

Pettigrew now turns around in his seat, too. Apparently, I was wrong about his nap, and apparently, not even four students huddled up in a very obvious, albeit quiet, conversation can deter Professor Binns from plodding on about goblin warfare. "No, Remus is right," he says. "And so is Sirius. You've got to go easier on James, if only for our sakes."

Remus shoots him a look and a frown.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean," Pettigrew says, clearly enjoying all our eyes on him, "James was all pumped about getting to... erm -" he shoots a look at Remus and seems to edit what he's about to say "- tutor someone, exercise the Head Boy job, you know. And now you've gone and crushed him and he's been sulking all around the dorm since. Really brings everyone's mood down."

Binns taps the board at the front of the room, punctuating the date of the fall of Ugor the Malicious. We jump and hurry to take some notes, bent back over our own desks again. Well, Remus and I take some notes, anyway. I think Alice just pretends to, and Peter doesn't even turn all the way back around in his desk, just watches me while I scrawl some of the more gruesome details Binns has found it necessary we know. Really, with how many gory events the man covers, it's incredible this class is as dull as it is.

Once Binns has drifted back to his desk to read from his lesson plan, the four of us huddle up again. "Well, I'm sorry Potter's poor mood is throwing off your dorm's vibe or whatever, but it's not my job to keep him happy and allow him to continue pulling all his stupid stunts. You know he took my Transfiguration textbook from me during tutoring last night, right? And I still haven't forgiven him for your terrible cream puff demonstration."

Pettigrew's eyes sparkle. "Wasn't that brilliant?"

"It kind of was," Alice mumbles.

Before I can berate her, Remus cuts in quietly. "You know, Lily, even though we all helped execute the cream puff – er – debacle -"

I point my quill at him accusingly. "I really expect better of you, Remus!"

"But James was quite unsure about the whole thing. He actually tried to talk us out of doing it at all."

"What?" My quill hangs in the air.

Yeah." Peter rolls his eyes. "He kept going on about wanting to be responsible because he's Head Boy now."

"But… but…!" I splutter, and Alice elbows me when Binns stops his lecture, looking up from his notes at us, confused. We all straighten up and do our best to appear attentive.

"Did you have a question, Miss Everton?" Professor Binns asks me.

"Not at all, Professor," I say. "Just very excited about goblin – er – execution." Every head in the room swivels to stare at me. I smile weakly and Alice snorts.

"Very well," Binns says after a moment. "Now, as I was saying, in 1321…"

I give him a few seconds to get back on a roll and the rest of the class to lose interest in me before I hiss at Remus's back. "But he still did it! There were still exploding cream puffs at dinner!"

Remus glances at Binns before answering. The spectral professor is thoroughly engrossed in the lecture again. "He only agreed after the Sorting Hat song. Thought everyone could use a mood boost."

I open my mouth to protest some more and then shut it again without saying anything. I don't actually know what to say to that. I try again. "But -"

"My goodness, won't you shut up?" Finch, one of the Ravenclaws, leans forward to berate us in undertone. "Honestly, Evans, I'm starting to wonder if Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he picked you as Head Girl."

I spin in my chair and ignore Alice's elbow to my side. "No one asked you, Finch!" But I'm too loud again, and Binns stutters to a halt once more.

"Miss Edwards? Do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine," I mutter, facing the front and rubbing the sore spot Alice's elbows left on my ribs.

Remus turns back around too, for good this time. I can tell by the way he resumes his note-taking. Pettigrew similarly turns back around, though not before frowning at me one last time, though I was pretty sure this conversation was the most productive thing he do all lesson.

I go back to my notes, too, but in the end, hunching over my parchment is more for show. My brain is too busy over-thinking about what Pettigrew and Remus just relayed.

I didn't like the cream puff prank. I still think it was an irresponsible move but... I remember Marlene hugging her sides while she cracked up. Laughter echoing all around the Hall. Everyone leaving dinner dirty but most with grins on their faces. Contrast that with how dinner had started... well, I don't think the girls and I had been the only ones talking about You-Know-Who and mysterious disappearances and tragic murders. The mood had been downright somber, not at all the festive, joyful start of the school year the first years deserved. Until their dessert exploded on their schoolmates.

And for better or for worse, James Potter had orchestrated it all. And I just don't know what to think.

Defense Against the Dark Arts is hit and miss every year. Dumbledore hasn't been able to keep a professor on for more than a year at a time, at least not in all the time I've been here. At its worst, it's obnoxious and we don't learn much some years, but at least we've come away with some good stories.

Last year was a miss. Professor Xander was old, stuffy, and gave Professor Binns a run for his money for "Most Dull Teacher", which is saying something. The only reason Professor Binns got to keep his status is because he is, well, dead, and I suppose you can't get any older or stuffier than that.

This year, though, is a hit. Professor Jarvis is a retired Auror and as such, has LOADS to teach us. We really could have used her two years ago, to prepare for our OWLs, you know. Oh well. At least we have her for NEWTs.

Once we've all settled into our seats on Thursday morning, she announces, "It's time you seventh years start working on Patronus Charms."

Immediately everyone starts whispering, the air thick with anticipation. I give Emmeline an excited grin.

Now, I'm not one to brag, but I really am quite gifted when it comes to Charms. And yes, I know this is Defense Against the Dark Arts, but a charm is a charm! Despite the anticipated difficulty, I'm determined to master this, and confident I can do so.

Besides, if James Potter can produce a corporeal patronus, I definitely should be able to. My brain has been all in knots since yesterday's conversation in History of Magic, trying to reason with it all. Today, I just need a win over Potter, I think.

Currently he, Black, Remus, and Pettigrew are all sitting in the back of the classroom, snickering as they race paper airplanes back and forth. Well, Potter and Black are. Pettigrew seems to be the official finish-line judge. Remus at least seems to be trying to pay attention to Jarvis, his quill occasionally bobbing across the parchment in front of him, but he sneaks enough looks at the planes and grins enough times as he writes that I can't be sure he's not actually tracking Potter's and Black's wins.

Gits.

I mean, sure, everyone knows that they can all produce patronuses already; rumor has it that they did it for extra credit for their Defense OWL exam and that was over a year ago, but still. They could at least pretend to listen as Jarvis reminds us again of the importance of a strong, happy memory and that producing a corporeal patronus in a safe, will-lit classroom is much easier than in an instance you will actually need one. "Though it is still a very advanced piece of magic. Feel proud of any sort of substance you produce today," she tells us.

I note that she seems to be purposefully ignoring the boys in the back, so she must know too that this is review for them and doesn't care enough to try and engage them. It might end up with them distracting the entire class more than they are now.

"At the end of the class, I will ask each of you to demonstrate for me what you can do so I can appropriately evaluate you and assign what to work on for homework this week."

After a final review of the words – Expecto Patronum – she lets us loose.

The next half hour or so is spent with screwed-up faces and varying levels of exasperation leaking into the shouts of the charm. Before long the classroom is full of puffs of silvery mist, but no one manages to produce an animal. Occasionally I sneak a glance back at the boys, but they haven't even bothered to try. The Great Airplane Races continue (Remus is definitely tallying Potter's and Black's wins).

I huff in frustration and focus even harder, with little different results. Probably because every time I start picturing my Hogwarts letter arriving, I get distracted by paper airplanes. Potter's fault, all the time. He was the reason I couldn't transfigure my textbook on Tuesday, and now he's the reason I can't produce a patronus.

I really hate him.

Professor Jarvis's wand goes off with a BANG and green sparks, and the chatter in the room ceases.

"Alright," she says. "Everyone take your seats. I will call you up one by one. Impress me."

As expected, she moves through the class list alphabetically. Jenny Adams and George Belby have minimal success, but then, "Sirius Black!"

The class ripples expectantly, excited to see someone succeed finally. I roll my eyes. Black rises from his chair, swapping smirks with Potter, and my annoyance rises. They think they're so great…

Still, I can't help being a little (just a little) impressed when Black almost lazily flicks his wand and a massive, shaggy, erect-eared dog bursts into existence. It trots in a small, pleased circle in front of Jarvis, trailing wisps of pearly mist, before dissolving. Jarvis nods, grudgingly satisfied, and Black returns to his seat, looking unbearably smug.

A few more students take their turn. Dean Hoffman does the worst, not managing to produce even the faintest hint of a mist, while on the other hand, a silver fox flickers briefly into existence for Meg Donahue.

"Lily Evans!"

My turn. Oh dear.

I reluctantly leave my desk.

"Proceed, Miss Evans."

Unwillingly, my eyes stray again to the back of the classroom. Black is still maneuvering his paper airplane with his wand, banging it insistently against Potter's, but surprisingly without any results, because Potter is focused on me, his airplane hovering forgotten and idle above his head. It's the first time he's really looked my way since our disastrous tutoring two nights ago, and his gaze makes me uncomfortable.

But his expression is unreadable, and as soon as I meet his eyes, he looks away deliberately.

For some reason, the rejection stings, but immediately I shake it off. Like I need any reassurance from him. Tutoring on Tuesday showed me just how unhelpful he is. And just like that, my classic, red-headed temper rises to the surface. I'll show him.

I'm going to beat Potter at this.

The image of me producing a perfect pearly patronus in front of the class, in front of a stunned Potter, who promptly throws himself at my feet in apology, fills me with much more satisfaction than it probably should.

With a toss of my hair, I turn deliberately away and focus all my energy on that happy thought, eyes squinting in concentration. "Expecto Patronum!"

A shining silver something blossoms out of my wand. It lights elegantly on the ground and prances around the room, large luminous eyes on me the whole time.

A doe.

She halts in front of Jarvis and me and I stretch out my hand to touch her, but before I can, she vanishes with a poof, just like Black's dog.

"Well done, Miss Evans." Jarvis looks appropriately pleased with my work. "Practice that a couple times this week, but you seem to be in very decent shape."

I beam, feeling triumphant, and I flash a smug glance at Potter on my way back to my chair. His expression confuses me though. He's gone slightly pale, and his mouth hangs open. Did he really think I couldn't do it and he's that shocked that I did? Prat.

But I can't help but notice the other Marauders looking similarly surprised. Black whispers something hurriedly to Potter, who promptly shoves him, and Pettigrew looks positively delighted. Remus shoots me a thoughtful look.

I can still feel all their eyes on me as the rest of the class continues. Remus produces a silver furred wolf and, while I shouldn't be, I'm surprised to see Pettigrew just as easily produce his own patronus, a long-tailed rat.

"James Potter," and the class ripples in excitement again. Everyone is eager to finally see famous James Potter's supposedly mighty patronus. He only talks about it all the time. Well, not really, but often enough that everyone is practically quivering in anticipation to finally find out what shape it will take.

I couldn't care less what his patronus is, no matter how impressive. I just didn't want him to have yet another thing to show off for.

"Mr. Potter?" Professor Jarvis asks again, because Potter is not making his way to the front of the classroom. Instead, he twists uncomfortably in his seat.

"Would you mind too terribly if I showed you my patronus after class, Professor? Please?"

My jaw drops as wide as his did earlier when I hear this request. Did James Potter, ultimate show-off, really just ask to perform his patronus in private?

"Um, what?" Marlene whispers in my ear.

"I'm… not sure," I mumble back.

Jarvis considers him, a slight frown furrowing between her eyebrows, but she nods once, crisply. "Immediately after class, then, Mr. Potter."

Potter slumps back in his seat, obviously relieved.

Class continues. The only other person who achieves a patronus is Emma, whose silver hare takes a couple bounds. "Nicely done," I tell her. Alice, who had managed a solid though undefined silver something, echoes. Marlene only snorts. She couldn't produce anything beyond a light, shapeless mist.

Finally, everyone has taken their turn and Jarvis claps her hands together. "Not too bad, seventh years! I'm quite impressed with some of you. Do your assigned practices over the weekend and we will revisit patronuses on Monday. Class dismissed."

When everyone files out, chattering about the upcoming weekend and the exciting class, Potter hangs back. I hesitate in the doorway.

"Lily?" Marlene asks. "Lunch?"

"I, um, forgot my quill, I'll be right there. Don't wait for me!" The words tumble out of my mouth unplanned.

Marlene's eyes narrow suspiciously (and rightfully so), but good old Emma and Alice dutifully pull her along and they leave me.

I didn't leave my quill in class (though that wouldn't have been unlike me). I have to know why Potter asked to stay after class. It's so unlike him, I have to know. Though why do I have to know?

I'm not sure.

Heart pounding a little harder in my chest than normal, I quietly peer back into the classroom. Let's see this fantastic patronus of yours, Potter.

Potter's back is to me, but I can tell by his stance, by his light words, that the spell comes easy to him. "Expecto Patronum."

There's a burst of light and a large, horned shape blooms from the tip of his wand. My mouth pops open.

Because prancing around the classroom, glowing silver, is the match to my patronus. A stag. And Potter wasn't even lying. It's truly magnificent.

I'm scrambling away from the door even before Potter's patronus disappears. Lunch is calling, after all, and Marlene and Emma and Alice are waiting.

But all the way to the Great Hall, I'm not thinking about food or my supposed missing quill or my waiting friends. I'm thinking how Potter waited to cast his patronus, and what this means.

If he'd cast it in class, after everyone had seen my doe, everyone would know we have matching patronuses. Not a big deal, but definitely something that I could see people snickering about, teasing. I remember how Potter used to mock me back in fifth year, asking me out all the time, like he was trying to draw attention to how few dates I actually went on. This whole patronus situation would only be more fuel for that fire.

But... he didn't. Cast his patronus, I mean. So that it could be a secret. Obviously, his mates all know about the match, but no one else would, not even me.

I just can't figure out why he'd do it this way. Fifth year Potter wouldn't have ever thought of me and my feelings. Why did he now?