Apologies again for the long wait between chapter updates. I'm hoping to improve the writing time per chapter, but unfortunately life has that funny habit of getting in the way. Anyway, enjoy - and please review!

IV. Rough Landing, Lily

"In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing."

– Teddy Roosevelt

The Auror looked at the man with an expression of something akin to disgust and pity.

"You're an unfortunate fuck, aren't you?"

Andrew Morin had not had a good day.

"I see Potter got to your kneecaps," the Auror added.

Morin made a muffled noise through the piece of fabric that was stuffed into his mouth.

"I imagine you're in a fair bit of pain. Should've come quietly," the Auror admonished. "You know Morin, Amelia Bones doesn't take kindly to people who try to kidnap her family members. She jumped at the chance to sign this here piece of paper. Any idea what it is?"

Morin blinked, trying to focus.

"It's a Red Letter. It's the reason why half your legs recently departed the rest of you."

The Auror opened a small briefcase with his wand, and retrieved a small vial of clear liquid.

"Of course, thanks to this Letter, we're under no legal obligation to re-attach them to you. But we're a lenient bunch when we need to be. So here's our proposal. We feed you a couple of drops of this here Veritaserum, you tell us what we need to know, and then we'll send you on down to St Mungos to get your gams all fixed up."

Morin nodded vigourously.

"Thought so."

From behind a pane of two-way glass, Nathaniel Potter watched grimly as his colleague began the interrogation.


"What on earth are you doing up here?" Lily exclaimed.

"What does it look like?" James replied with a gleeful expression.

"Magic carpets are illegal, Potter."

"Yeah, like that's stopped us before," Sirius scoffed.

"Fancy a go, Evans? It's bloody brilliant," James said, gesturing towards the carpet in question.

"I wouldn't be caught dead on one."

"See, that's the problem, Evans. You're hardly living! Have some fun," he implored.

"I'm having plenty of fun with both feet on the ground."

He looked at her quizzically.

"Evans, are you afraid of heights?"

"Somewhat," she admitted begrudgingly.

"Suit yourself. It's a pity though," he replied with a shrug, before turning towards the carpet.

"If you put one foot on that thing, I'm going straight to McGonagall."

He paused and sighed.

"You make life bloody difficult, Evans."

And with that, he grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the carpet, which immediately shot into the air. Lily shrieked in shock.

"POTTER!"

"What?"

"If I survive this I'm going to murder you."

"Threaten me later, I'm trying to steer this thing," he replied, hoping to pass off sounding more confident than he felt.

"You have no idea what you're doing!"

"Sirius said it was easy!" James said, as the carpet tilted precariously.

"And you believed him? Christ, Potter, you–"

"Well, in hindsight, I'll admit–" James said, stopping halfway through his own sentence and gritting his teeth as he pulled the carpet level.

"Better?"

"No."

"Really?" James replied, gesturing towards the view.

The lights of the castle glistened like specks of gold in the night sky. Before them, the expanse of the Forbidden Forest rushed out the surrounding mountains. The Black Lake shone in the moonlight, with lazy ripples pushing out to the shore.

"Okay, slightly."

"See, they're not that dangerous."

"We're flying through the air on a temperamental piece of fabric, Potter."

"Well, when you put it like that, I–"

"You don't know how to land one of these by any chance, do you?" she interjected.

"Y'know, I probably should've asked Sirius about that too," James mused.

"HOW DO YOU PROPOSE WE GET OFF THIS THING?" Lily yelled.

"I DON'T KNOW EVANS, BUT IF YOU WOULD BLOODY SHUT UP FOR JUST FIVE SECONDS I WOULD BE ABLE TO FIGURE THAT OUT!"

"Fine!"

James grabbed the corner of the carpet, and it banked right in a wide arc.

"What are you doing?"

"Aiming for the lake."

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"No, I'm James."

"Potter, I swear to–"

"Would you rather I aimed for the Whomping Willow?" he interrupted.

She paused.

"Well, no."

"Remus said carpets don't like water. So it should level out over the lake. And then we'll jump."

"Or we'll crash face first into the lake on a blanket."

"You're ever the optimist."

"I have literally no reason to be optimistic about anything right now!"

"Trust me, Evans, I've got this."

"I don't trust you, Potter. That's the problem!"

"Put your arms around me."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to fall off and die. It would weigh awfully on my conscience."

"Fine," she replied, wrapping her arms around his chest.

"Okay. I'm going to aim for the water. Just don't let go," he said with steely determination.

James rested his palms flat against the carpet in front of him.

"Are you ready?" he asked

"Yeah."

He pushed with his hands, and the carpet plummeted downwards, picking up speed as it dived towards the lake.

"Slow it down!" Lily exclaimed.

"I can't!" James yelled.

The carpet shot through the air, and then, only a few feet from the choppy waters of the lake, it levelled out, streaking over the water.

"Now!" James shouted.

The two Gryffindors leapt from the flying carpet, crashing into the icy waters of the Black Lake.

"Evans?! Evans?" James yelled, floundering as he surfaced, his head bobbing above the water. There was no sign of the red-headed witch.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, frantically trying to spot her in the moonlight.

Suddenly, Lily surfaced, gasping for air, with her wand in hand. Pointing it at the shore, she murmured an incantation, and as if being hauled in by an invisible fishing line, she was pulled towards land. James swum a few feet, then pulled out his wand and mimicked Lily's spell. Once he reached the shallows, James stood up and waded out of the water to the shore, where Lily stood drying her clothes.

"Thoughts?" he asked.

Scowling, Lily muttered a hex that left him sprawled on the sand.

"Oof," James winced, sitting up as Lily tucked her wand away. "Okay, room for improvement."

"Never again, Potter," she replied, and began walking to the castle. With a smirk, James stood and followed her. They reached the Entrance Hall to find the Marauders waiting by an alcove.

"How was the swim?" Sirius asked.

Her hair still dripping wet, Lily shot him a look that spoke pure murder, and walked past him.

James clapped his mate on the shoulder.

"Just lovely."


Whitcliffe snapped her fingers, and a piece of chalk rose through the air and began scribbling notes on the blackboard. She turned and addressed her class of Sixth Year students.

"Copy these spells and their complications word-for-word. That should take us through to the end of class."

"Professor?"

"Yes, Mr Lupin?"

"Are we going to actually do these spells?"

"In the classroom?"

"Yeah."

"If you must know, there is a practical class planned for the end of each month, but a theoretical grounding is more–"

"So we're only doing spells once a month?" James interjected.

"Mr Potter, don't interrupt me when I'm speaking or I'll deduct points."

"Professor, with all the danger that's out there, why aren't–"

"There's no danger, Potter. I think you're being–"

"Well, what about Voldemort?"

"You don't have to worry about Voldemort."

"That's a load of bollocks."

"Voldemort doesn't represent a tangible threat," Whitcliffe replied primly. "The Auror Commander himself said–"

"The Auror Commander is a fucking idiot then, and if the Minister had any sense, he would have fired him years ago!" James yelled, rising from his seat.

"That's a detention, Potter!"

"You'll have to wait in line, Professor. I'm booked up this week," James scowled.

"And forty points from Gryffindor! Sit down!"

"Tough luck, Sirius, I think I just broke your points record," James replied glibly, still glaring at Whitcliffe.

"Just shut up, Potter!" Lily exclaimed.

For a moment, James looked as if he'd been blindsided, but then his eyes hardened.

"You want the truth?" he asked, his voice icy cold. "Muggles are disappearing across the country. Last week, a family of four in Birmingham. The week before, two men in Swansea. Just yesterday, a Muggle woman in London was found dead in her apartment."

Whitcliffe's eyes widened.

"Potter, I–"

"The Ministry doesn't want you to know this, but she was in a relationship with an MLE official who had written a submission denouncing Voldemort's political operation and his influence within the Ministry," James continued, ignoring the Professor. "That's not a fucking coincidence. The Muggles don't know how to explain the disappearances and random killings. But I do. It's him. It's Voldemort's people. So when some Ministry hack walks in here and tells us that everything's just rosy, forgive me for chewing their bullshit before I swallow it!"

"Get out of this class!" Whitcliffe shrilled.

"Gladly."

James stormed out of the room, not bothering to collect his textbook as he left.


News of James' outburst spread like wildfire, and by lunchtime, it was all anyone was talking about.

"How did he find out about the Muggle disappearances?" Lily questioned the Marauders at the Gryffindor table. James was conspicuously absent - probably disappeared to walk it off, Sirius had suggested.

"I haven't heard in in the Prophet," said Marlene.

"Of course he knows, his Dad's an Auror," Peter scoffed.

"And not just a regular Auror," Sirius added. "He's a decorated field agent. Personally hunted down several of Grindelwald's allies after the Muggle World War. Purged two sects of Necromancers. He's seen some shit. And they say he's one of Dumbledore's closest confidants."

"His Dad takes mail clippings - crime stories, obituaries, and the like - out of Muggle newspapers and Owls them to James," Remus explained. "He never writes or says anything on them, because that would be a breach of security. But the implication is there, and James is smart enough to do his own digging. He didn't get many, at first, but now he seems to get a new letter every week."

"But it's just James' word," Marlene replied, sceptical.

"Yeah well, we trust him," Sirius said.

"Remus?"

"I'm inclined to agree with James," the werewolf replied simply.


"What was it like?" Marlene asked.

"Awful," Lily replied flatly.

"But seriously - a magic carpet? How did they get their hands on one?" Marlene replied, flicking through her textbook.

"Smuggled or stole it from somewhere I imagine. I'm afraid to ask."

Lily checked her wristwatch, then looked towards the library entrance.

"He's late."

"Who?"

"Nicholas. We're meant to be going over the Charms tutorials."

"Oh, Nick Wright. The cute one from Slytherin," Marlene replied, putting on a scandalised air. "Lily Evans, fraternising with the enemy."

"I am not fraternising. He is cute though," Lily conceded.

"Recently single too, I understand."

"He's seventh-year."

"Perfect. He's good looking, good at Charms, and not the same year as Snivellus."

"Oh, don't call him that."

Marelene shrugged.

"Suit yourself. I think he's a greasy git."

"You spend too much time with Potter," Lily replied.

"You well, Evans?"

A lanky boy with a hint of stubble, wearing impeccably fitted robes interrupted them.

"Hey!" Lily replied, smiling, then gestured at Marlene. "Nick, Marley, Marley, Nick."

Nicholas flashed a toothy smile.

"You play for Gryffindor yeah?"

"Third year on the team."

"So it's your fault we keep losing."

"James Potter helps," Marlene said, shooting a sly glance at Lily, who rolled her eyes.

"I s'pose he does," Nicholas replied, missing the exchange between the two girls. "Look, can I borrow Lily?"

Marlene shrugged, gathering up her books and satchel.

"I'll leave you to it."

Nicholas took her seat and fished out a ream of parchment from his bag.

"So, Flitwick asked me after class yesterday if we could run an extra session for the fourth years showing some promise. Introduce them to a few OWLs concepts and the like. See how they handle it. What do you think?"

"Yeah, good idea. We could fit them in after the third years on a Tuesday?"

"Perfect. I was just thinking a half hour session to start with."

"Agreed. We can always make it longer later on."

Nicholas split the ream of parchment in two, and handed half of it to Lily.

"Those are the lesson plans for first and second years. Flitwick said he's written in what we need to cover for the remedial group."

Both students began reading through their respective stacks of parchment, silent save for the occasional scratching of quill on parchment as they took notes.

"Speaking of Potter, what do you make of his outburst?" Nicholas asked. "You're in that class, yeah?"

Lily looked up from her parchment, taken back by his sudden question.

"Oh, yeah. Surprised, I guess."

"What did he say?"

"Went on about a bunch of Muggle deaths and said Voldemort's people were responsible for them."

"That's ridiculous."

"Whitcliffe agreed. Kicked him out of the class."

"Permanently?"

"Just for the lesson."

"What do you think? About what he said about Voldemort?"

"I mean, political killings seem a bit much. I don't like the rhetoric that's going around, but I'm Muggleborn, so–"

"Oh, I daresay you've got some magical blood in you somewhere along the line," Nicholas replied, flashing a toothy smile. "You're too talented not to."

Lily gave a non-committal shrug.

"How about you?" Lily asked. Nicholas smirked.

"My father always told me to steer clear of politics. We're in the quill business, see. And no matter what your views are, you need something to write them down with. In fact," he added, motioning for her quill, "yours is probably one of ours."

He turned it over in his hands, and pointed to a marking just above the nib.

"Here, look," he said.

Lily peered at the marking. A tiny 'W' was inscribed in the quill.

"See?" he said. "It's a Series 4."

She shot him a bemused look.

"Sorry. It's easy to talk shop. It's all my father does."

"You're the 'Wright' in Wright Quills," Lily clicked. "How have I only just figured this out?"

Nicholas winced.

"It hasn't come up, I suppose. And you can blame my 18th century relatives for that particular abomination of the English language."

Lily laughed.

"Hey, what are you doing this weekend?" Nicholas asked.

"Watching the Quidditch."

"Of course, stupid question."

"Well, I go for Marley's sake really," she replied.

"Want some company?" he asked.

Lily smiled.

"That'd be nice."


James hadn't shown for any of his classes that afternoon, nor did he make Quidditich practice that evening.

"Any idea where he is?" Marlene asked as the Gryffindor players headed down to the pitch.

"Haven't a clue. It's bloody unusual for him to miss practice," Sirius said, a frown appearing across his features.

It was late when he finally did reappear, slipping through the portrait hole into the Common Room with an expression that suggested that he didn't want to talk about it.

Sirius motioned him over to where he, Remus, and Peter sat playing Exploding Snap.

"Where have you been?" Remus asked in a quiet tone.

"Went for a walk in the Forest," James replied. "Ran across Hagrid, who said that McGonagall was looking for me."

"Minevra doesn't like to be kept waiting - ah, fuck!" Sirius exclaimed, his attention suddenly fixated on putting out the fire in his eyebrows as his cards ignited.

"What did you tell McGonagall?" Peter asked, as he dealt a new hand.

"I told her that points shouldn't be deducted for honesty."

"You got away with it?" Remus asked.

"Not exactly. Detention for two weeks. And I'm to write a personal apology to Whitcliffe for disrupting the class."

Sirius shrugged.

"Could be worse."

"Dumbledore wants to see me too."

"Any idea why?"

"Not a clue."

Sirius glanced over to where Lily sat. She met his gaze and stood up, approaching the group of boys.

"Here comes trouble," he muttered.

"You're back," Lily said curtly.

"Yeah," James replied.

"What'd McGonagall say?"

"Something about ensuring Ravenclaw don't get their hands on the Quidditch Cup."

"Hilarious. Don't you think you're being a bit paranoid about all this Voldemort business?"

James raised his eyebrows.

"I don't like what his people are saying, but killing Muggles?" Lily added.

"I call it how I see it, Evans."

'What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not," he said, smirking.

"You can't just start a shouting match in class."

"Would you prefer to be lied to?" he pressed.

"Sorry, Potter, I have a hard time believing that you're the champion of the Muggleborns when you're quite willing to hex them in the corridors," Lily replied.

"That's hardly fair," Sirius protested. "James hexes everyone in the corridors."

James shrugged. "Don't listen then. But Evans?"

"What?"

"Cancel your Prophet subscription. You're too smart to be wilfully ignorant and pay for it too."


The spiral staircase ground to a halt, and James tentatively knocked on the door of Dumbledore's office. It swung open of its own accord.

"Come in, Mr Potter."

James entered to see Dumbledore sitting at his desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment. A stack of books leaned precariously on the edge of the desk. Dumbledore continued writing as James approached, and gestured to a chair in front of his desk.

"Mr Potter, take a seat."

James did so, and Dumbledore paused, placing his quill in an inkwell.

"I've spoken to Professors McGonagall and Whitcliffe regarding your rather…vocal defence of your opinion in class today."

"Yes sir," James replied, his eyes downcast.

"It seems, James, that I receive much of the same information as you do."

James looked up at him, surprised.

"Notice however, that I don't choose to shout it from the Great Hall at dinner, or write frantic letters to the parents. There is a time and a place for such discussions, but not here. This is a place for learning, not for fear and rumours. You are right to be concerned about the goings on in our world. But leave the detective work to the Aurors."

James nodded.

"You're young, and youth and impetuousness often fit hand in glove. Be mindful of your influence, James. What you say and do might have consequences you could never expect."

"Yes Professor."

"Professor Whitcliffe wanted me to forbid you from playing your match against Ravenclaw on Saturday."

"Sir, I–"

"I politely informed her that student discipline was at the discretion of the Heads of Houses, and that Professor McGonagall had dealt to the matter in due fashion."

"Thank you, Professor," James replied, relieved.

"Besides, and I tell you this in the strictest of confidence, it would be a shame not to see you fly this weekend," Dumbledore added, rummaging in a desk drawer before fishing out a jar filled to the brim with sweets.

"Gumdrop?"


Thanks for reading! P.S. Reviews are the best.