July 20th 1969:

"Therefore I say unto you, Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on", the reverend spoke gently "And why are ye anxious concerning raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin" he paused "even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

….

Reverend Evans' Sunday mass sermon was shorter today. He read his favourite passage which reminded him of his second born daughter. It felt fitting to share this verse after the notice of foreclosure at the old mill down in Spinner's End. He felt for the workers and families who would be affected and wished he could do more than simply say that God will provide; was he being dismissive? 'The reverend and his family won't personally be affected', they will think, 'so why is he preaching to us'? Whilst Mr Evans and his family were better off than others, living in the small industrial town of Cokeworth, they still weren't well off. The Evans' home had electricity and they had a monochrome television plus a few other modern appliances like a hoover. However, they couldn't afford a car or a central heating system in the house; Mrs Evans still spent her Saturdays in the local laundrette.

So when the family stood at the doors to the little village church, Mr and Mrs Evans invited churchgoers to their home to view the moon landing later that day on their television. Not many accepted the invitation however; it seemed satirical to marvel at technological advancement when that very thing was forcing them out of work and as a potential result, their homes. For the few that did attend, Mrs Evans had made some sandwiches and a cake to choose from. They were all gathered around the television at 9pm; Neil Armstrong walked on the moon at 9:17pm, and it was broadcast to televisions worldwide. The evans' and their guests watched it via the non-colour channel, BBC1. The pastor's two children- Lily Jane Evans, aged nine and Petunia Mary Evans, aged eleven had even been allowed to stay up late, to be able to watch.

"It's truly a marvel, to be able to watch this with our own eyes!" Mrs Evans exclaimed. Everyone around her gestured in agreement.

"It's nice to see a product of God's creation with my own eyes" a churchgoer responded, "A real symbol of unity".

"Yet we must remember that whilst we are lucky enough to be able to marvel at God's work, some are unfortunate enough to be indirectly impacted by God's will. I am of course thinking of those affected by the Old Mill closure." Mr Evans spoke diplomatically. "We must remember that while some receive God's gifts (the good) , others receive God's wrath (the bad). It is the duality of the world, of faith and of God."

Later that evening whilst in bed, Mrs Evans turned onto her side to face her husband.

"I've been thinking about what you said earlier, about the duality of god" she whispered to him, "We of course were blessed with our own miracle… So when will the bad come? And in what form will it take? She asked

"Jeremiah 29:11- 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord" Mr Evans responded, matching his wife's volume. "Remember my sermon from today". She fell asleep in her husband's arms thinking about her youngest daughter's gifts; for she was the miracle of whom they were referring.

….

"Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do." Lily had picked up a fallen flower from a nearby bush. Once Petunia got close enough, Lily opened her hand to reveal the flower in her palm. It sat there, opening and closing its petals, pulsing like a beating heart.

"Stop it!" shrieked Petunia.

"It's not hurting you," said Lily

"It's not right," said Petunia, but her eyes had followed the flower that Lily had dropped to the ground. "How do you do it?" she added.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" a rather skinny boy jumped out from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too short jeans, a shabby, overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man, an odd smocklike shirt. The boy seemed to regret his appearance, Lily thought, as a dull flush of color mounted his sallow cheeks.

"What's obvious?" asked Lily who was rooted to where she stood unlike Petunia, who had run backwards toward the playground.

"I know what you are." he said

"What do you mean?" Lily asked

"You're…you're a witch," whispered the boy. Lily's expression looked affronted.

"That's not a very nice thing to say to somebody!" she turned, nose in the air, and marched off toward her sister.

"No!" He flapped after the girls, his coat making him look batlike. You are!" he paused, "You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard."

"Wizard!" Petunia laughed, "I know who you are. You're that Severus boy! They live down Spinner's End by the river," she told Lily with distaste "Why have you been spying on us?"

"Haven't been spying," said Severus, "Wouldn't spy on you, anyway," he added spitefully, "you're a Muggle."

"Lily, come on, we're leaving!" Petunia told her sister shrilly. Lily obeyed, glaring at Severus as she left.

A few days later, Lily had found the Snape boy at the playground and questioned him more on his idea that she was a witch; he showed her that he was magic as well. The boy's name was Severus and he lived in Spinner's End; his dad had been made redundant from the Old Mill's foreclosure and so Severus had been coming to the playground all summer in order to get away from his toxic household.

"The Ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school, you get letters." Severus was conversing with lily, sitting by the pond next to the playground which was mid way between both LIly and Se

"But I have done magic outside school!"

"We're all right. We haven't got wands yet. They let you off when you're a kid and you can't help it. But once you're eleven," he nodded importantly, "and they start training you, then you've got to go careful."

There was a little silence. Lily had picked up a fallen twig and twirled it in the air, she was imagining sparks trailing from it. Then she dropped the twig, leaned in toward the boy, and said, "It is real, isn't it? It's not a joke? Petunia says you're lying to me. Petunia says there isn't a Hogwarts. It is real, isn't it?"

"It's real for us," said Severus. "Not for her. But we'll get the letter, you and me."

"Really?" whispered Lily.

"Definitely," said Severus

"And will it really come by owl?" Lily whispered.

"Normally," said Severus. "But you're Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents."

"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"

Severus hesitated. His black eyes, eager in the greenish gloom, moved over the pale face, the dark red hair.

"No," he said. "It doesn't make any difference."

"Good," said Lily, relaxing. It was clear that she had been worrying.

"You've got loads of magic," said Severus. "I saw that. All the time I was watching you…" His voice trailed away; she was not listening, but had stretched out on the leafy ground and was looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead.

"How are things at your house?" Lily asked.

A little crease appeared between his eyes.

"Fine," he said.

"They're not arguing anymore?"

"Oh yes, they're arguing," said Severus. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. "But it won't be that long and I'll be gone."

"Doesn't your dad like magic?"

"He doesn't like anything, much," said Severus.

"Severus?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about the dementors again."

"What d'you want to know about them for?"

"If I use magic outside school – "

"They wouldn't give you to the dementors for that! Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. You're not going to end up in Azkaban, you're too –" He turned red again and shredded more leaves.