Lily woke, expecting to see red curtains and dark wood, but was instead faced with a lilac wood-chipped wall and a sea of pink and white spotty bedding. It took a moment for her to realise that the unexpected smell was home.
In came the watery winter light from the window, the view obscured by condensation. Lily scraped her flyaways out of her face and took in the room. It was little more than a box room (the curse of the youngest child), with one sloppily painted lilac wall standing out from the white. She and Petunia had painted it with some help from their mother a few years ago. The cutting in was dire but she'd never cared. Behind the open door stood a low bookcase topped with trinkets. On the shelves, amongst her bedtime stories, were all her old school books. How absurd.
If it wasn't for the trunk large enough to contain a small child sitting in the middle of the room, it could have easily been a dream.
She wasn't sure why her chest felt achy. She realised that her eyes were wet and Lily scrubbed the tears away before they dared to fall. She felt like she was looking in through the window and aching with grief for the life she'd had before.
I wonder if this is how it feels to be a ghost?
Three dull, quiet knocks surprised her and the ache grew into a painful kind of joy.
An invitation to come away from the window and join in.
She knocked back.
And so, like it always had been, as though nothing had changed, Petunia slipped into her bedroom and silently closed the door behind her. She was in her dressing gown and her long brown hair just as fuzzy as her younger sisters'.
"Just like old times?" Lily said, looking up at her sister hopefully. Petunia rolled her eyes.
"You're so intense for a littl'un. These are the old times, you dolt. You're eleven."
Lily snorted and moved to sit up properly, wrapping her quilt around her so there was room for Petunia. Trust her big sister to put her in her place when she was getting carried away. Petunia took the seat, yawning loudly. The small clock on the bedside table read 08:17.
They looked off into the middle distance for a while in sleepy companionship as the sun crept higher. As Lily's head began to nod, Petunia seemed to wake up a little and startled her little sister with an abrupt elbow to the ribs. Lily stifled a squeak.
"What!?"
"I forgot to tell you!" Petunia whispered. She got up onto her knees on the bed, facing Lily. Her pale face shone in delight. "I know what I'm getting for Christmas!"
Lily raised her eyebrows, amused. "I thought you said only impatient babies peeked?"
Petunia waved this away and carried on. "I wasn't peeking, they left it out - anyway, you're not gonna believe it!"
"Just tell me then!" huffed Lily, but the corners of her lips were twitching.
"It's a record player!" Petunia's voice could almost be described as a squeal. A far cry from the cool and aloof girl she fancied herself as when they had been at school together. But this excited, fizzy Petunia was someone Lily was quite familiar with. The same Petunia who had proudly led her wobbly little sister around showing her all the fun things in the world.
Lily pushed the fleeting thought of Severus to the back of her mind.
"That's really cool," Lily said, but it wasn't enough for Petunia.
"'That's really cool' Christ, Lily, it's more than cool."
Lily shrugged and finally removed her cocoon of bedding to stand shivering beside the bed so she could rummage in her trunk for some clean clothes. She hadn't even unpacked before she'd gone to bed last night.
"I do think it's cool," she assured.
"It's just because you don't know any cool music," Petunia stated matter-of-factly. "Bet you'll be even more behind now you've been away from civilisation for months, too. I'll sort you out."
Lily let Petunia rant while she dug deeper into her trunk before she finally pulled out a small brown paper bag.
"Got you an early Christmas present," Lily said quietly, offering Petunia the parcel. She tried not to look too timid. After all, it was "just like old times".
"Er… thanks, but shouldn't I wait?" Petunia took the package, but didn't open it.
Lily shook her head. She needed Petunia to open it, before her nerve left her. "No, it's special, you have to open it now."
Petunia raised her eyebrows, but opened the bag obediently. A light brown box the size of her palm dropped out. Lily nibbled the skin on her lip nervously. God, I hope she doesn't hate it.
"Professor?"
She'd shaken off Severus with the promise to find him at lunch - even though he'd scowled at her for keeping secrets, this was private. He'd make fun of her.
"Yes, Miss Evans?" Slughorn turned to face her from vanishing some plant cuttings that had spilled onto the floor during their class. He smiled benignly down at her. She'd just have to push down the embarrassment.
"If it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could help me… make something? Only Mary said you'd be the best person to ask - she said you'd be good at 'that kind of magic'."
The professor raised his eyebrows and glanced to the door before pulling out a stool and sitting down, facing her. "That depends on what you want help with."
Lily opened her hand and showed her teacher the little wooden box. He took it from her and studied it. Though his hands dwarfed hers, he was quite gentle as he prised the lid open. He frowned, seemingly trying to figure out what he was seeing inside before laughing delightedly and handing it back to her.
"Is that a headframe and winding wheel?" he asked her. She nodded. She could feel her ears going red.
"What an unusual thing for an eleven year old witch to transfigure. I assume you transfigured this?"
"Yes, McGonagall showed us how to make ornaments from wood. So I used that spell."
Slughorn 'hmmed' and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Very impressive of you to make the hinge joint for the lid and I assume the wheel can spin?" She nodded.
"You are a very clever little witch, I think."
Lily didn't look at him, instead at the little box in her hands. Once he realised that the compliment was going over her head, he changed tacts.
"So, what is it you want help with? You've done a fantastic job of it already. A Christmas present for your parents, I presume?"
"It's for my big sister."
"I would surely remember an older Evans, usually my memory is quite good. What house-"
"She's not a witch, Sir."
"Ah yes, you're muggle-born, aren't you, Evans?"
Lily looked up at him defiantly. This had been why she'd been concerned about going to the Slytherin head of house for the matter. This blood nonsense again.
"Is it a problem?" she asked, her voice a little defiant. Lily's mouth was a hard line and she stared right at Slughorn. To her shock, he laughed again.
"You are a funny little girl, Lily. No need to look so tough. I don't play into that nonsense. Now, tell me what you want to do to this box."
She flushed again, embarrassed at the misguided disrespect she had shown her teacher, but he seemed unbothered. "I like the way the pictures move around here. Severus said it was to do with memories. I asked him if it was possible to make anything have memories, but he said he didn't know."
"You want to put a memory in the box?" He asked, bemused.
"Er.. not quite. I want to make a music box. But not with the wind-up thing. Like, can I make it play a memory?"
The professor sighed and glanced at the clock.
"I am more than happy to explain this to you in more detail, but it will take a bit of time. Mind if we talk more over lunch in my study?"
Lily was a little taken aback. She'd never been in any of the teacher's studies before. The only times she'd been in teachers' offices in her old school was if she'd been in trouble. She remembered that she was supposed to meet Severus for lunch, but he would have to be disappointed.
"Er… yes Sir, thank you."
"Not a problem, Evans. Follow me."
Obediently, she followed the Potions Master to a small door at the back of the classroom that she had barely noticed before. Behind all the shelves and his desk at the front, it was almost hidden by shadow. He held the door open and she stepped inside, a little nervous.
The room was long and had a low ceiling like the rest of the dungeons. At the far end, she could see a large cauldron, over an empty fire in the hearth. The fireplace was surrounded by shelves holding an assortment of jars and boxes. Nearer them was a small table with one, comfortable looking chair. Slughorn closed the door and conjured an identical one and gestured for Lily to sit. She did, putting her school bag down beside her. Her feet didn't touch the ground.
"Now then," said Slughorn, sitting himself down across the table from her. "About memories."
"Yes."
He flicked his wand silently and Lily watched as a gleaming case, the size of one of her school books, came floating gently towards them. Slughorn took it from the air and placed it on the desk between them.
"If we are going to discuss memories, in a magical sense, I must show you this. Of course, the Headmaster has a much more ornate affair which I believe belongs to the office itself, but for my needs, this does the trick.
He opened the case to reveal a dark green velvet-like material holding snugly four small vials, one in each corner and in the centre a small metal dish about the size of a saucer. Lily sat on her knees so that she could lean further onto the table for a better look.
"This is a pensieve. It's a magical device which allows a witch or wizard to deposit a memory to view at their leisure. As you can see," he took one of the vials and held it up to the light, "a wizard may create a copy, or remove entirely, a memory and place it in a separate container."
Lily stared at the vial. The words she was hearing seemed to be being processed very slowly by her brain. She watched the silvery liquid shimmer behind the glass.
"You mean… that's a memory?"
"Indeed." Agreed Slughorn, replacing it onto the case. "Now, let me show you something else."
Lily watched, amazed, as the professor put his wand to his temple and withdrew it, slowly. It seemed like a single grey hair was clinging to the tip, but when it broke off she realised it was a thin strand of the same mystery material that was shimmering in the vial. Slughorn lowered his wand over the metal saucer and the strand came to rest in the dish. It seemed to change from a thread to a liquid and inexplicably filled the shallow dish with much more matter than he seemed to have placed in it. Finally, Slughorn tapped it with his wand and, bizarrely, it seemed to create some reverse ripple, where the surface stilled and became as clear as glass. Lily leaned forward further still to see. Predictably, she saw her own face looking back at her.
Then her reflection spoke.
"... I was wondering if you could help me… make something…?"
Lily looked from the not-reflection to her professor and back again. "How?" she whispered, mainly to herself.
He smiled and replaced the memory into his own head. "Don't you remember saying that to me just now?"
"Er… yes. Yes Sir."
"Well, that is my memory." He said, simply, sitting back in his seat. He had an unusual expression on his face and it took Lily a moment to realise it was the same look Petunia sometimes had - that pleased look when she had shown her little sister something impressive.
"Right…" Lily took a breath and reminded herself not to get derailed into the forest of questions she had about memories. "But, my sister doesn't have a wand, and my box isn't a… whatever you said that is-"
"A pensieve."
"Yes, a pensieve. So how can I get it to play a memory?"
"Well, this is a memory in its purest form - besides what's in your head, of course - but in the magical world, we use weaker - or rather more appropriately dosed - forms of memory to imbue certain artefacts with the likeness of their depiction. For instance, some photographs move with the emotion and personality captured in the moment the image was taken. More powerful than that are the Hogwarts portraits, which maintain the mannerisms and voice of the person they depict. Wizarding radios do exist, but before we were able to modify that muggle technology for our uses, we have created various ways to imbue our voice into objects."
He sighed and continued. "The magic itself is quite complicated and, as gifted as I'm sure you are, it would not only be exceedingly difficult, but also a touch dangerous for me to attempt to teach you it."
Lily sat back in her chair, a little dejected. "That's okay sir, thank you."
"Of course, you're quite welcome. Now, while I won't teach you the spell, young and inexperienced as you are, I can help you to make your music box, if you'd be happy for me to extract the memory?"
Lily raised her eyebrows in surprise. McGonagall certainly wouldn't have done the spell for her. She supposed Mary had been right. She tried not to think about how squeamish the phrase 'extract the memory' made her feel as she agreed.
The box clicked open in Petunia's hands and she looked, bemusedly at the tiny wooden structure inside. Just as she opened her mouth to question it, the wheel began to turn slowly and the sound of two out-of-tune, childish voices singing, punctuated by giggling, came from seemingly nowhere.
"Going up to the spirit in the sky!"
"That's where I'm gonna go when I die!"
"When I die and they lay me to rest, I'm gonna go to the place that's the best."
Petunia closed the lid and cut off the singing. She looked at Lily, astonished.
"Is that… That's us, last Christmas, right?" she asked, eyebrows still hidden up under her fringe.
"Er.. Yes. I thought… I hope it's not too… freaky?"
Petunia looked down at the closed box again. "It is a little freaky," she said, quite neutrally. "But it's still quite cool." She smiled up at her younger sister. "Thanks, I like it."
Lily's lip wobbled and before she could stop herself, her cheeks were wet.
"What are you crying for?" Petunia asked, a little bluntly. "I really do like it! You have to admit it's a little bit freaky."
Lily laughed through the tears. "Yeah, it's really freaky. It was freaky when I was making it!"
"Well then what's the crying for!?"
Lily clambered onto the bed next to her and hugged her sister. Petunia patted her head awkwardly. "You're being so weird."
"I'm just relieved!" Lily told her, though most of it was muffled into Petunia's dressing gown.
"Yeah well, thanks, I do like it. I don't remember us sounding that terrible, though."
Lily laughed again, and turned her face so she could speak clearly. "Yeah, we were terrible. And Mum and Dad were going on as if we were really good."
"I thought it was the best performance we'd ever done. We dressed up and everything."
"Yeah, and we did the curtains, too!" Lily reminisced, smiling fondly.
"You tripped on the curtain." Petunia snarked.
"We should do another one, for old times' sake." Lily suggested. "If you get your record player."
Petunia sighed, but put her arm around her little sister.
"There you go again with the 'old times' sake' - it was last year!"
Soon enough, the girls were dressed and sitting at the kitchen table while their mother made eggy bread on the stove. Petunia was dutifully filling her sister in on all the highschool gossip that she'd missed out on and who had been in trouble for what. Petunia had an endless memory for other people's business and was quite impressive when it came to remembering who was whose brother and who was dating who. Mrs Evans was listening while trying not to roll her eyes at the pre-pubescent drama.
"And your little boyfriend Ben was after you again. Didn't you write to him? He keeps pestering me about you."
Mrs Evans 'ooo'ed cheekily and laughed at Lily's scowl.
"He's my friend! And I did write to him!" Lily objected, "Didn't you give him my letter?"
"Of course we did, Petunia took it to school, didn't you, Pet?"
Petunia nodded. "Yep. And now he's after me all the time asking if I can send a message for him, or if I have a reply for him. I feel like a carrier pigeon." Lily could see her barely contained smirk which betrayed that Petunia loved to be in the middle of this potential slice of gossip.
"Well anyway, from what you were telling me about those boys at your school, you'd probably be better off with Ben-"
"I'm not better off with anyone!" Lily interrupted incredulously. "I'm eleven!"
Mrs Evans snorted audibly as she plated up their breakfast.
"Thanks," said Petunia dryly. "I love snot with my eggy bread."
Lily waved goodbye to her mother and sister before setting out into the wet streets. Petunia, quite dramatically, told her she'd rather die than go out for no reason in the weather, so she'd take the trip alone.
The streets were nearly empty. Children were off school, but with adults still working, the rows of terraced houses that lined the hilly streets had warm light shining through fuggy windows as Christmas preparations happened inside.
It wasn't raining anymore, but Lily jumped around the pavement to avoid ruining her trainers in the puddles. The sky was resolutely grey.
To her left and her right, the rows of near identical houses stretched on, getting gradually bigger as they neared the top of the hill, where the wheel loomed on the horizon. She'd made the trip many times and walking the streets was so automatic, it was as though nothing had ever changed. Really, he didn't live far from Severus' family, but she didn't make her usual stop by his house.
The front yard was small and paved, with plenty of small weeds fighting their way through the cracks. Old rusted tins of paint decorated the corners. The gate creaked when she made her way through to knock on the chipped door. The front curtains twitched at the sound of her knock and she could clearly hear the thunderous footsteps that it seemed only boys achieved on the stairs. The door was wrenched open and a round, beaming face met her.
Ben turned into the house and shouted down the hallway "I'M GOING OUT!" before slamming the door behind himself.
They stood there, grinning at each other. Ben broke the silence.
"Petunia told me you'd drop by. Thanks for coming!"
"Of course, I promised! And I missed you!"
They set off down the wet streets together, this time with less care for the puddles. They shoved each other, trying to get the other to soak their shoes and trousers.
"I'm so bored at big school, oh my God, Lily it's so dull I don't know how your sister does it. I was really counting on you coming through this year so I'd at least have someone to get up to something with during breaks! Now I have to make my own trouble and it's not the same."
Lily laughed apologetically. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Petunia was telling me about the trouble."
"Your sister is such a grass."
Lily shoved him and soon he had a soggy sock for his trouble.
"So what kind of weird boarding school is this, then? The kind where you can get up to any old nonsense or the kind where it's full of posh swots and you have high tea or whatever."
"Er… more the first. There's definitely no high tea… But the teachers are really strict. Some of them are scary, to be honest. I know some of the boys in my year have been sneaking around at night but it wouldn't be worth it to get caught. Our head of house, McGonagall-"
Finally, someone who could appreciate the weirdness. True, she couldn't spill everything but here he was, the perfect person to explain the weird feeling of missing her own, old life, or how her sister's jealousy was making her regret her choices. How she'd thought she had an ally in Severus, but they were barely together and she had to try and understand how all these weird, posh children did everything their own stupid, special way.
It was only once she was taking off her wet shoes in the entryway that she considered that Ben had barely had a chance to speak.
Spirit in the Sky was released in 1969. I was torn between that and Want You Back, which was released in the same year and both make the UK top charts between 1969 and 1970, but in the end, I thought that 9 and 11 year olds mainly listen to music their parents like, and I thought that Spirit in the Sky was more the kind of song that your parents listen to, that's just catchy enough for a child to like. I also didn't really want a love song - since it was meant to be a moment for just the sisters and their relationship with each other. I also like the idea that Petunia might've kept it, and then, them innocently singing about not fearing death would add a kind of macabre sweetness.
Trying to describe nostalgia without using the word nostalgia is very difficult! I don't think it's a concept an 11 year old would really understand to describe - but Lily certainly feels it.
Pulling how magical portraits are made directly out of my arse - I hope you don't mind.
Soooo, "Cokeworth" is not a real place in the UK, but it does imply that they grew up in one of the many old mining towns that Thatcher eventually obliterated. The area I'm from is made up of them and that big wheel and the slag heap characterise the horizons. (This is the "heap" that they keep playing on when they shouldn't be…) I think when Lily is making something that reminds her of her home life, it would probably be playing in the streets in the shadow of the mining machinery as a wild unsupervised 60s/70s child lol.