The Diary

Chapter Twenty-six - The Proof

Disclaimer: How kind of you to think these characters are mine. They're not.

Dedication: This chapter is for Sarah. I swear to god, she understands my characters better than I do, and she picks up clues like nobody's business. It's ridiculous. This story is all the more enriched because of her analysis, and she supports it more than I had thought possible. Not only that, she's a wonderful friend. Huzzah for Sarah!

Also, a huge thanks to Holly for the beta!

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I've tried so not to give in
I've said to myself this affair never will go so well
But why should I try to resist, when baby will I know than well
That I've got you under my skin

“I've Got You Under My Skin” - Frank Sinatra

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Last Chapter:

Remus gave him a pointed look. “What happened?”

“I don't want to get into details, but both Evans and I have detention tomorrow. And with Stoddard, no less.”

Remus got a funny look in his eyes. “Stoddard, you say?”

“Yeah. Hate detention with him. Crusty old curmudgeon.”

“You've been saving that one up, haven't you?”

James avoided Remus' gaze. “Maybe.”

0 0 0

Orange really wasn't Garrett Stoddard's colour, James mused as the man in question led a bored James and a hesitant Evans into the Hogwarts trophy room for their detention.

The caretaker's skin was yellowed - with what, James didn't want to know - and the pumpkin-coloured robes looked terrible on him. His head was mostly bald, with only a light ring of greying hair resting like a laurel around his head, and based on the size of his waist, he'd eaten more than his fair share of Chocolate Frogs during his life.

He stopped in front of an absurdly large, silver cup (Gobstones World Tournament, 1773) and turned to face the students.

“Potter, you already know what you're doing. Evans…” Stoddard eyed her with the air of a butcher sizing up a piece of meat. “You'll pick it up quick enough.” He handed them two threadbare rags and a jar of Henberger's Best Trophy Polish. “Get at it, then. No magic, no talking.”

He settled into a worn wooden chair and pulled out a copy of the Prophet.

James picked up a rag and tried to exchange irritated glances with Evans, but she was deliberately looking away while reaching for the other rag. He'd planned to try to talk to her, but it seemed Stoddard was going to stay put for the duration of their detention.

“Mr Stoddard, sir?”

A small, pudgy boy stuck his head in the trophy room door.

“Eh?” Stoddard called out, folding down the paper to peer over it. “What?”

“I'm supposed to tell you there's been an accident in the Charms corridor, and you're needed right away, sir,” the boy said.

Stoddard grunted with annoyance, refolded his paper and pushed himself out of his seat.

“You two,” he said, pointing to James. “You'd best have made some progress when I get back.”

James consented through silence and picked up an old bronze plaque. Evans also said nothing and chose a trophy of her own.

With a final glare at the Gryffindors, Stoddard swept out of the room after the boy.

It was uncanny that he could move so quickly, James thought, considering his girth. The man's face told James he wasn't too old, but the caretaker was still anything but young. What an odd man.

James frowned apprehensively. Now was his chance to do something.

“So, Evans,” James started uncertainly. “How was your day?”

She threw him a look of disgust and rubbed harder. “You're the reason I'm in here, Potter, in case you had forgotten. Therefore, I'm not talking to you.” Evans turned her back to him.

“It wasn't my fault you hit me.”

“Not talking to you,” she said through clenched teeth.

He stared at her back for a moment before focusing on his polishing. Things weren't going very well with Evans. It was too difficult; there was no way she would ever give him a chance at anything beyond what they had now.

But there had to be someway to get through to her—James just had to find it, and preferably within the next few hours. He didn't spend much time with her as James.

“It really wasn't.” Great, James. Of all the things to say…

Evans' hand stopped moving. She set down the trophy and moved as far away from James as she could.

He kept working at his plaque, the rag running over the engraved letters over and over again. He wondered what Artemisia Lufkin had done to get the award. Was she even still living? There wasn't a date listed.

“You there, Prongs?”

James started. He'd forgotten that he'd shoved the two-way mirror into his pocket on his way out of the dorm. He fished it out and brought it up to his face.

“Present and bored, Padfoot.”

Sirius' face smiled mischievously. “Did you like my little distraction?”

“That was you, then?” James asked.

“I thought you could use a little entertainment during your punishment. How're the trophies? We haven't been in there in a while.”

James looked around the room; experience told him it hadn't been cleaned in a few weeks.

Evans cast a quick glance over her shoulder. When she saw that James was watching, she hurriedly looked away again, making an indignant scoff.

“Same as always, Padfoot,” James drawled. “Too many trophies no one ever bothers to come look at.”

Sirius gave a short nod. “Of course, of course.”

Suddenly, Sirius' face turned to the left. “Oh, he's coming back your way. Well, enjoy yourself!” With a final wink, Sirius disappeared from the mirror, and James pocketed it just as Stoddard crossed the threshold, his head sweeping about to check for signs of misdeed.

“Back to work!” he shouted. Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea for Sirius to irritate Stoddard.

James snatched his rag up and reached for the jar of polish, only to realise it was mostly empty.

“Sir?” he said. “We need more polish.”

Stoddard grunted and stalked over to James to see for himself.

“Go fetch some out of the closet down the hall,” he instructed James, spittle flying from his mouth.

James restrained his eye roll and muttering until he was well out of Stoddard's eye-range. “Crusty curmudgeon.” He trudged down the corridor and opened the cupboard. A quick search yielded an old bottle of polish whose label was peeling off with age.

He took his time walking back to the trophy room to think. Things weren't going so well with Evans, he lamented. He'd tried to be nice, but he'd met with the same cold fury he'd always gotten from her. Was Remus wrong in theory, or was it just Evans being her usual stubborn self?

James had his hand halfway to his head before he stopped, remembering his hand was tarnished with polish. He briefly considered making a detour to wash his hands, but if he stalled too much, Merlin knew what Stoddard might do.

He paused outside the door to the trophy room, trying to come up with a new strategy. He could try not talking to her, but no, he'd done that. James scowled. Was there nothing that worked? After staring at the slim, filthy bottle in his hand, searching for answers, he scowled and entered the room. He'd figure it out later.

Upon entering the door, James heard Stoddard's voice float around the shelf blocking James' view. He was talking very quietly, soft enough that James could barely hear it. He peeked his head around the large shelf.

Evans was where James had left her, only now Stoddard was standing behind her. Very close behind her. Closer than James had ever stood to her. Stoddard was licking his lips, and his head was right next to her ear. Evans' hand wasn't moving anymore, the rag lying still upon her trophy. Her eyes were downcast and her lips were pursed into a thin line. A shiver danced across her shoulders.

James coughed.

Stoddard immediately took a step backward. “That's how you polish a trophy, girl,” he snapped.

Evans nodded, her eyes unmoving, and her hand resumed its task.

James held the bottle out to Stoddard, who promptly told him to use it himself. James set it down on a ledge and wiped his hand on his trousers. James decided when he got a house, he would never force anyone to polish anything. Magic existed for a reason.

“Keep working,” said Stoddard. “I need to get more rags.”

As soon as the caretaker was gone, James asked, “What just happened?”

Evans gave him a sideways look. “What are you talking about?” she said very quickly, rubbing her trophy of choice with extra fervour.

“That!” James gestured toward the door.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't give me that—you're as white as Nearly Headless Nick! Did he…” James' eyes widened as it dawned on him. “Did he do something?” he demanded.

“What? No, he didn't do anything!” She angled her body away from him.

“He said something, then?” James took a step closer to her. “What'd he say? Did he threaten you?”

It was possible that Stoddard was a pureblood fanatic like some of the Slytherins, and being degraded by an authority figure had to hurt more than coming from some small second-year.

“No! Potter, get away. Nothing happened.” Evans shirked away from him.

“He did! Oh, that bastard…” James said. “You've got to tell McGonagall.”

“There's nothing to say!” The colour still hadn't returned to her face.

James couldn't believe she was denying it. Stoddard had clearly said something to frighten her into silence, and she was just going to let him go. It wasn't like Evans at all.

“There is something to say,” James insisted. “I just saw it!”

“No, there isn't!” She spared a glance at him. Her hair was frazzled around her face. “Leave me alone, Potter.”

“Evans—”

“No! Potter, if you speak to me again, ever, by God, I will hex your hair off.” Evans pulled out her wand and brandished it at him.

“Look, if you jus—”

“I'm warning you, Potter. Stay away from me.”

James desperately wanted to talk to her about it, but she wouldn't be swayed by James Potter. He would have to resort to being Roscoe, and although that wasn't part of his current plan, it would definitely be more effective.

“Fine.” James threw his hands up in the air. “Don't talk to me about it. I didn't see anything.”

Evans heaved a deep breath, stored her wand away and picked up the rag she'd dropped on the ground. With a final glare at James, she went back to work.

Stoddard eventually returned with more unneeded rags and spent the rest of the time reading the Prophet. James kept checking over his shoulder to watch both the caretaker and Evans for some sign of anything, but Evans' face was carefully expressionless, and Stoddard barely looked up from his paper.

When his and Evans' hands were both shiny with residue, Stoddard released them back to the dorm.

The moment they set foot outside the room, Evans stalked off alone. James was tempted to chase after her and demand an explanation, but there really was no reason to do so. He waited until she'd turned the corner before picking up his own pace. She would surely go straight to Roscoe, wouldn't she?

James hurried back to the Tower, careful never to let Evans see him trailing her. He said a quick hello to his friends, explained that yes, detention had been horrible, and he really wanted nothing more than to go have a lie down.

Up in his dorm, James scrambled to find a quill and his notebook. He opened to the next page and waited.

He hadn't been there for more than two minutes when Evans' handwriting formed on the page.

Good evening.

And to you. How was detention?

Wretched. It was detention.

What did you have to do?

We had to

She paused before continuing.

Wait. I never told you I had detention today.

Oh, fuck. James whacked his palm against his forehead.

Didn't you?

He flipped to the previous page. She hadn't written to him about it at all. Holy Merlin, what was he going to do?

No, I didn't. I didn't write to you yesterday.

Oh.

James frantically tried to come up with a plausible lie.

Oh! I forgot, my friend told me.

How did they know?

Grapevine, I'm sure.

There must not be a lot to talk about if I'm the dish of the day.

I guess not. But how was detention?

James hoped she wouldn't dally on his slip up. It really didn't make any sense for Roscoe to know she'd had detention. Why hadn't he thought things through?

Like I said, terrible. We polished the trophy room.

Exhilarating.

Very. Especially when you have a Marauder to keep you company.

A Marauder?

Unfortunately.

Who was the detention with?

The caretaker.

Right.

James cursed. There didn't appear to be a way to ask her directly about it.

He's not a nice man, is he?

Definitely not.

Not too mean, was he?

Define mean.

Did he whip you?

No, not that.

What, then?

He

He pleaded with her to tell him. She had clearly been shaken up by whatever it was that Stoddard had said.

made me uncomfortable.

How?

He stood very close to me.

James waited for her to elaborate.

And he implied… things.

Abnormal things?

Yes.

Such as?

They were very inappropriate and

And? Give me an example.

He said he wanted me to… well it involved a broom cupboard and… him. At night. Alone.

That had not been what James had expected at all. In fact, it was worse. Infinitely worse. That was just disgusting. James shuddered.

Did he now?

Yes.

A steady stream of curses ran through James' mind. Wrong, disgusting, vile old man! Merlin, how could this man be at Hogwarts of all places?

Are you reporting him?

No. It's not a big deal.

James reread her last statement. She wasn't going to do anything? James had thought for sure she had only said that in the trophy room for his benefit.

It is.

No. I don't want to make a fuss.

You're not making a fuss. This man deserves to be fired.

Surely she wasn't planning to do nothing.

Maybe, but why do I have to report him? Someone else will.

James was floored. This couldn't be the same Evans that stood up for house-elves and Snape. This was against her entire outlook on life!

He tried to think of something to persuade her to change her mind.

Lily - do you remember that discussion we had about You Know Who?

Yes.

And how you said the problem was apathy and complacency?

Yes.

How is this any different?

She didn't reply.

How is it someone else's responsibility this time?

Still no response. He hoped she was still reading.

He didn't actually do anything. There's nothing to report.

James couldn't believe how obtuse she was being.

You know sexual harassment is illegal in the wizarding world, right?

I didn't know that, but it wasn't

Wasn't what? That's what he did.

You weren't there. He didn't do anything.

She didn't get it.

Lily, you need to stand up for yourself.

I do.

You can turn a date down, but you won't take action against someone who needs to be out of the castle.

You won't tell anyone, will you?

James bit back a cry of frustration. She really was going to let Stoddard get away with that.

You know I can't do that.

Good.

You know, you do things for others, but never for yourself. So answer me this. What about the other girls he does this to?

I don't know if there are any.

How deeply James wanted to strangle her right then.

Then who's going to report him?

There's nothing to report, end of story. Good night.

That was it? She was going to let Stoddard go free. James' mouth hung open. It was inconceivable.

Well, if she wasn't going to do anything about it, James would. He didn't care if James had said otherwise, he had to do something. He hadn't listened to Evans' lectures about action for nothing.

If only she would follow her own damn advice.

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“Was it as bad as you thought it would be?”

Emily leaned her weight on the Potions desk and watched Lily work on their Invigoration Draught for Professor Slughorn.

Lily hesitated. “Yes and no.”

Emily nodded. “What'd Potter do this time?”

Lily added a couple more shrivelfigs to the cauldron. “Hm? Oh, he was his usual annoying self.”

“Then what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied evenly.

“Something's wrong because even I know you aren't supposed to add the whole container of shrivelfigs to that potion.”

Lily scowled. “I know that.”

“You do know that's exactly what you just did, right?”

“What?” Lily looked down. The potion had turned to a horrendous orange and was foaming like mad. “Oh, God!” Lily hastily grabbed a handful of monkshood and tossed it in the cauldron.

“Why didn't you stop me?” Lily asked, irritated.

“To prove my point.”

“That could have turned acidic!”

“Really?” Emily asked interestedly.

“Yes!”

“Then why'd you stop it?”

“Because it could have destroyed your cauldron!”

Emily scoffed. “I'd be willing to sacrifice my cauldron to see that.”

“And we do have to turn this in to be graded.”

“Your grade can suffer the loss.”

Lily made a noise of frustration and added another pinch of monkshood. The Draught wasn't foaming up anymore, but it was still off-colour.

“Don't you have some handy solution to fix that?” Emily asked.

“No, Emily, I don't.” Lily racked her brain for something to counter-balance the shrivelfigs. Maybe if she changed the rotation…

Lily stirred the potion counterclockwise and added a dash of belladonna. She breathed a sigh of relief when it gradually faded in colour.

“Excellent work, Miss Evans!”

Lily nearly leapt into the air at Slughorn's compliment.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I haven't seen this level of skill in years!”

Lily smiled meekly. “You're very kind, professor.”

Slughorn chuckled and ambled away. Emily turned to Lily and made a face of disgust.

With a roll of her eyes, Lily turned back to the worktable.

“You still haven't told me what's wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong,” Lily insisted.

“Nothing but a `you're very kind' to Slughorn, and nothing's wrong?”

“Exactly.”

“Liar.”

Lily ignored her for the rest of the hour, choosing to finish off the potion by herself. As soon as the bell rang, she marched out of the dungeons and into the Great Hall, where she dropped her bag at an empty space and sat down.

It was so stupid that other people were making a bigger deal about this than Lily was. She had been embarrassed the previous night, sure, but it really didn't matter. Lily would just forget about it and move on like she always had. She would never get detention again, Potter would forget about it, she would forget about it, and everything would be fine.

Except…

Except Lily hated when people did nothing. She hated when she did nothing. The thought of not standing up for people like Snape made Lily physically cringe. Lily had made a promise to herself, and she fully intended to keep it.

Aha! her mind said. It's a good thing, then, that nothing bad happened! Just a few misplaced words!

Had it been bad? Lily wanted to say it hadn't been. That would be very easy. And really, no one would ever know the difference.

Except for the other girls. The other girls Lily suspected did exist because Lily had heard rumours about Stoddard before, but she'd never believed them, always attributing them to attention-seekers. Having experienced it first-hand, however…

Ah, but you didn't experience anything, did you, Lily?

There were no visible effects. He hadn't touched her. And the man was off-balance enough to be unaware of personal space issues.

But then why was she still thinking about it? Why had Emily and Potter and Roscoe disagreed with her, arguing that something was indeed off about Lily?

Lily sighed and pushed some peas around on her plate. She had the sense that Roscoe had been right. Again.

Well. There wasn't much choice for her, then. Lily vowed to tell McGonagall the instant she saw her. Feeling resolved, she finished her meal and exited the Great Hall, heading straight for McGonagall's office. She turned the corner and spotted her Head of House. McGonagall appeared to have seen Lily as well because she began to walk towards her.

Lily abruptly stopped walking and made an about face when she realised that telling McGonagall about Stoddard would mean repeating Stoddard's words, and Lily really had no desire whatsoever to do so.

“Miss Evans,” called McGonagall.

Lily halted immediately and turned back around. “Yes, Professor?”

“I was wondering if I might have a word with you in my office,” McGonagall said, stopping in front of Lily.

“Of course, Professor.”

Lily followed McGonagall up the marble staircase in silence, wondering if McGonagall already knew or if she simply wanted to discuss something Prefect related. If she did know, that meant Potter had already blabbed to her. It was a possibility, and if he had, Lily would be sure to hunt him down later.

McGonagall held the door open for Lily, who gave her a small thank you.

“Have a seat, Miss Evans.”

Lily did so, setting her bag on the ground as sat down. Looking at McGonagall was too difficult, so she gazed out the window at the Quidditch Pitch. Emily had practice later that night, she thought absently.

“Have a biscuit.”

Lily started. “Hmm?”

McGonagall smiled kindly. “Have a biscuit,” she repeated, holding out an open tin.

Lily took a chocolate one and nibbled at it. How to bring up the matter…

“I hope your studies are going well,” McGonagall said. She put a lid on the tin and stored it in her desk.

Lily nodded unsurely.

“Is everything all right, Miss Evans?”

`Yes' was on the tip of her tongue, but Lily bit it back.

“Not exactly,” she said slowly.

“Is there anything you would like to share with me?”

Potter had told. Bastard.

“It involves… one of the staff.”

“I see. Did something happen that I should be aware of?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“Would you like to speak with another professor? One with whom you might be more comfortable?”

Lily fidgeted in her seat. If she couldn't tell McGonagall, there was no way she could tell Slughorn or Dumbledore.

“No, I'll be fine,” Lily said with more confidence than she felt. Remember.

McGonagall gave her a gentle look. “Very well.”

Where to begin. Should she name Stoddard right from the start?

“Lily.”

She looked up to face McGonagall.

“Yes?”

“Would it be easier for you to write down?”

“Erm, yes,” Lily said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her voice. “It would be.”

McGonagall withdrew a piece of parchment from her desk and laid it in front of Lily, along with a sharp quill.

Just like talking to Roscoe.

She hesitantly picked up the quill and wrote down as much as she could of the way Stoddard had all but groped her, of the vulgar insinuations he'd made, of the overwhelming air of severe discomfort.

When she finished, Lily slid the parchment across the desk and let out a slow breath. It was like a horse had been sitting on her chest, and it had now decided to trot off and annoy someone else.

After a quick scan of the parchment, in which her face revealed nothing, McGonagall rolled up the parchment, sealed it with her wand and placed it in her desk.

“I'm very pleased you decided to come forward, Lily.”

Lily nodded mutely, but she had questions.

“Professor,” she began, “how did you know…”

Now it was McGonagall's turn to appear conflicted.

“While you are the first girl- young lady,” McGonagall corrected herself, “to have come forward, there have been rumours of misconduct on Mr Stoddard's part. Unfortunately, his contract with the school requires that we have actual evidence before action can be taken, and I am happy to say we have just acquired as much evidence as we'll need.”

A flicker of pride ignited in Lily's chest.

“So he'll be fired?” Lily asked.

“Of course. You won't have to see him again.”

“Good.”

“You showed tremendous courage today, Lily,” McGonagall said. “Fifty points to Gryffindor.”

Scarlet crept onto Lily's face and she looked down. “Thank you.”

“Now, I believe you have a Charms class to attend to? Unless you would rather take the rest of the day off.”

“I'll go to class, but thanks.”

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Just inform Professor Flitwick that you were with me.”

“Okay.” Lily stood up and reached for her schoolbag. “And Professor?” She looked at her Head of House. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Thank you, Lily.”

Without further comment, Lily slung her bag around her shoulder and headed to class.

0 0 0

A lighter.

Lily really wished she had a gas lighter with which to set James Potter's hair on fire. She could have just as easily used her wand, but a lighter could not be traced back to her. And she could always banish the lighter when she was done. Yes, she thought, it was a very good plan.

If only he were sitting near her. But no, for once Potter had chosen a seat on the other side of the Charms room from her. Probably to avoid her wrath. And Lily had no shortage of that.

Potter should have just let her deal with Stoddard on her own. He had said he wouldn't do anything. He hadn't promised per se, but he had implied it. Stupid Potter.

“Lily. Lily Evans.”

“Hm? What?”

Emily sighed. “What did Potter do now? You've been plotting against him the entire hour.”

“Well,” Lily started. “He did something he shouldn't have.”

“Obviously.”

“Engorgio!”

The rat in front of Lily swelled to the size of an armadillo before she ended the spell.

Emily also cast the spell, but with considerably less impressive results.

“No, it's more of a jab,” Lily said, demonstrating with her own wand.

“I really don't care,” Emily said, carelessly freezing her rat into place. “Now what did Potter do?”

Lily debated telling her. She'd been holding out on Emily lately, and that probably wasn't the best.

“He… he did something he said he wouldn't. I was going to… report… someone, and he went ahead and did it before I had the chance to.”

Emily creased her eyebrows. “Why would he do that?”

“Because…” Lily hesitated. “Because he didn't think I was going to.”

“Why wouldn't you?”

“Because I didn't want to.”

“Oh,” said Emily. “Why did you change your mind?”

Lily played for time by shrinking her rat back to size. “Someone I respect a great deal gave me some very good advice.”

“Oh.”

Though she didn't look it, Lily could tell Emily was vaguely hurt.

“Look, it was really not that important,” Lily offered with a sympathetic sigh. “It was very specific, and the person in question wouldn't have wanted you to know.”

It was the truth, if very distorted.

“I figured,” said Emily. She appeared mildly more at ease and waved her hand at Lily. “Don't worry about it.”

They spent the rest of the hour practicing the charm and planning ways to remove Potter's hair without getting caught.

After class, Lily waited for Potter to exit the room before following after him with Emily at her side.

Arrogant bastard, thinking I can't do things on my own. The injustice of it swelled in her abdomen and made her hand itch to reach for her wand.

“Potter!” she called once they were out of Flitwick's earshot.

He stopped and turned around, a look of happy surprise on his face.

“Hullo, Evans. What can I do for you?”

Lily marched up to him and glanced around. There were no teachers in sight. She grinned maliciously and smacked him soundly across the face.

“When I say something, Potter,” she said slowly, enunciating each word carefully, “I mean it.”

Potter gaped at her while Black regarded her, one of his eyebrows cocked in interest. Remus' face was neutral and Pettigrew looked positively shocked.

She took in their expressions in a fraction of a second, then spun around and hurried away, her heart pounding madly. I can't believe I just did that.

Emily nudged her in the ribs as they made their way down the corridor. “Nice one!”

“Thanks!” Lily beamed, but somehow her small victory over Potter felt hollow.

She pushed the feeling aside and concentrated on the way his mouth had dropped. For once, she was the one in control!

“Miss Evans?”

Surprisingly, the Headmaster had appeared from around the corner, accompanied by an important-looking man in scarlet robes.

Lily stopped mid-step. “Oh, hello, Professor Dumbledore.”

It was always awkward being around the Headmaster. He always struck Lily as slightly barmy, even though she knew he was renowned for his genius.

“This is most convenient,” Dumbledore said. “We were just on our way to my office. Do join us.”

Lily's heart continued to try to leap out of her chest, but now for a different reason. “Of course, Headmaster.”

Emily gave her a significant look, and Lily returned it with a faint I have no idea shrug.

“There's no need to worry, Miss Evans.” Dumbledore began to walk as Lily approached his left side. “Mr Whittier would simply like to have a few brief words with you.”

“All right.”

Did he want to talk about Stoddard? Lily had already spoken to McGonagall; surely Dumbledore knew about that. What more did they need?

She trailed after the Headmaster and the large man, who, upon closer inspection, had a long scar running over the back of his left hand. Mr Whittier had the odd habit of swinging his arms out farther than he needed to, and every time he took a step with his right foot, out flew his left arm.

Five flights of stairs and a password later, the trio entered the Headmaster's office. Lily couldn't help but look around; the walls were covered in portraits of witches and wizards, who got off their seats to examine the office's new occupants, and there seemed to be no end to the small gadgets that were scattered around on end tables. Some emitted steam while others rattled. A bright fire roared in the fireplace, and the Sorting Hat rested on an elegant shelf on the far wall.

She watched Dumbledore open a black cabinet next to an empty perch and withdraw a shallow stone basin engraved with runes. He placed it on his enormous desk and gestured for Lily to join him and Mr Whittier.

Dumbledore gave Lily a crinkly smile and asked, “Are you familiar with a Pensieve, Miss Evans?”

It was hard to miss Mr Whittier's eyes on her, but he had yet to say anything.

“No, Professor.”

There was that light in the Headmaster's eyes again.

“It is rather rare, I must admit,” he said. “A Pensieve is a device by which one can store one's memories.”

The basin - Pensieve - was filled with a substance that Lily found nearly impossible to describe. It was liquid yet gaseous, a maelstrom of shifting silver.

“Oh.” It wasn't much, but Lily didn't know what else to say.

“While I am aware you have already given your statement to Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore explained, “the Ministry of Magic has also requested a copy of the incident.” His tone had lost its amused undertones.

Lily wasn't exactly ecstatic to think about Stoddard's advances any more than necessary, but if that was what the Ministry needed…

“I can do that,” she announced, twisting her hands together behind her back.

“Most excellent. This won't take but a moment. If you would be so kind as to focus on the memory,” Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and placing the cool wood at her temple.

Lily closed her eyes and swallowed, willing her rapid heart to slow down. She allowed her mind to drift to the previous night and tried to remember as much detail as she could. The heat of having Stoddard's body so close to her own, the way his breath had flown over her ear, making her shiver.

Finally, Dumbledore removed his wand, and it felt like a piece of her was sucked out with it. She opened her eyes to see a long strand of the cloud-like material attached to the Headmaster's wand. He deposited the thread into the Pensive, where it swirled together with the other matter and then settled.

Lily looked into the Pensive and saw herself and Stoddard. She couldn't tear her eyes away as the orange-robed man approached her and—

“Outstanding work as usual, Miss Evans,” Dumbledore said. “This will be satisfactory, I assume?” he asked Mr Whittier.

The man gruffed and pulled out his own wand, which he then used to extract the memory from the Pensieve and place into a glass bottle.

“Thanks, Dumbledore,” he said, his voice scratchier than Lily had imagined it to be. “I'll get this right over to the Ministry.”

“Thank you, Mr Whittier, and do say hello to Millicent for me.”

Mr Whittier departed, leaving Lily and Dumbledore alone.

“Please, take a seat,” he told her, moving around to sit behind his desk. The Pensieve sat untouched on the desk, a reminder of why Lily was there.

“Lemon drop?”

What was it with the professors and sweets? Lily declined and smoothed her skirt.

“I'm sure Professor McGonagall has already expressed this, but I would like to add that I am also very proud of you, Miss Evans.”

Lily smiled timidly. “Thank you, Professor.”

“I thought you might like to know that Mr Stoddard has been taken into custody by the Ministry.”

“Because of me?” Lily blurted out.

Dumbledore replaced the lid on his tin of sweets. “It is standard policy to apprehend wizards that have been proven to break the law,” he said pleasantly. “I am happy to say that I have already found a replacement caretaker, so I would advise you to continue to avoid detention.”

Lily let out a faint chuckle. “Well, I had planned on getting one for next Saturday night, but now that you've said that, Professor…”

“A good choice, Miss Evans.” He inclined his head. “I would like to remind you that if you have need, Professor McGonagall or any of the staff is always available to speak with you.”

For lack of anything else to say, Lily said, “Thanks.”

“It is a very grim issue, but one that we must deal with and move on. I offer you my deepest apologies for ever having put you in such a situation.”

The Headmaster suddenly looked very tired, with his soft, wrinkled face and the white beard that ran down to his waist. Lily imagined he did have to feel terrible, having someone like Stoddard on his payroll. She made an indistinct noise and scrutinised her shoes.

“I've written a letter to your parents, although it might be advisable to write to them yourself.”

“I'll do that.”

“I'm sure you're eager to return to your friends,” Dumbledore said, standing up and moving to the door; Lily followed suit.

“Again, you have shown outstanding nerve, Lily,” he said, that twinkle back in his eye. “I don't believe I can express that enough, nor can I apologise enough for allowing it to occur.”

Lily forced herself to look at his light blue eyes and say, “I don't blame you, Professor, and I'll be fine.”

He held the door open for her. As she began to descend the revolving staircase, he spoke softly enough that Lily almost didn't hear it. “I'm sure you will.”

0 0 0

At dinner that night, James was still enduring some jibes about Evans from his so-called friends. He tried to pretend that yes, it was rather funny, wasn't it, but he was still puzzling over her behaviour. Why had she slapped him? And had McGonagall confronted her about it, like she'd said she would? If McGonagall had, then she could probably guess that James had spoken to her, but it was still strange that Evans would actually hit him for it. She, who immediately got on James' case whenever he put even a toe out of line, had deliberately harmed him. She was so hypocritical it made James' teeth itch.

But while James was glad that Stoddard wouldn't be around anymore, he couldn't help but feel guilty for speaking when Evans wouldn't. As much as he liked her—and he liked her quite a bit—James had had to do something. She'd been more than livid at him, but it was worth it to know that Stoddard was getting his comeuppance. A flash of satisfaction spread through James. Stoddard was gone. He wouldn't bother Evans ever again.

James had just polished off the last of his steak and kidney pie when a hush fell over the Great Hall. Heads turned to the staff table, where Dumbledore had stood up, waiting for silence.

“Good evening,” he called. “I would like to make an announcement concerning a member of our staff.”

Whispers broke out amongst the students. All the professors were at the High Table, so no one had been murdered.

“As a few of you are aware, our caretaker, Mr Stoddard, has been apprehended by the Ministry of Magic due to grave allegations that have been made against him.”

The mutterings increased. A teacher arrested? James wanted to tell them to shut up; he was curious to see what would happen.

Dumbledore held his hands up for quiet.

“I would ask that any student with information regarding this issue discuss it with either myself or with his or her Head of House immediately. You may inform your parents or guardians that any questions they have should be directed via owl to my office, and I shall respond to the best of my ability.”

James had to hand it to Dumbledore for handling the matter so skilfully. Not enough to tell the students exactly what had happened, but enough to search for other victims.

“Our new caretaker, one Mr Argus Filch, will be arriving at the castle within the week. Now, I believe I've said all that needs to be said, so I will leave you to finish your dinner,” Dumbledore concluded, taking his seat.

“What do you suppose he did?” asked Sirius.

“Ackerly told me he was torturing cats for fun,” Peter whispered conspiratorially.

“He probably just stole some brooms or something,” James said, his tone signifying that he didn't care to discuss the matter.

“Probably,” Sirius said.

The topic moved to the upcoming Easter holiday, and when they adjourned to the common room, James went with them, inserting comments into the conversation but not really listening. His mind was, once again, stuck on Evans.

He excused himself from his friends early to go wait for her to write, giving the excuse that he wasn't feeling well.

Evans' handwriting appeared relatively early that night, and without any sort of greeting.

I told McGonagall what happened, but she already knew.

How did she find out about it?

The Marauder I had the detention with saw it happen, and he reported it today before I could.

Before she could? James rolled his eyes.

Well, you weren't going to report it.

I would have, had he given me enough time. But he didn't. I was on my way to her office when McGonagall asked me to come talk to her. And besides, he had promised he wouldn't say anything.

Did he say that exactly?

Well, no, but it was implied.

But he didn't think you would report the caretaker.

It still doesn't excuse him. It was my business, and he should have stayed out of it. He had no right to do something like that.

But you convinced me you weren't going to do anything! James wanted to write. He had thought she would sit by idly and forget about it, and though it hadn't turned out that way, but she had been so forceful when speaking to him. How was he supposed to know Evans would actually stand up for herself?

So you told McGonagall about it. What happened to the caretaker?

I gave Dumbledore a copy of the memory, which was really bizarre, and he gave it to some man from the Ministry. I don't know when, but at some point they arrested Stoddard.

That's good.

Yes, it is.

I'm glad you decided to go forward.

For once, James felt that he disagreed with his alter ego—James still didn't think she would have said anything—but he had to write as Roscoe, not as James.

I am, too.

What did you do to the Marauder?

Oh, I slapped him.

Why?

The question that had been burning in his mind all day.

Because he's an arrogant prick, that's why, and he deserved it.

I thought you didn't like when people resorted to violence.

I normally don't, but you haven't met him. You would slap him within five minutes.

He hadn't thought it possible, but James was even more confused. What was this vendetta she had against him? James hadn't done that much to her, had he? Not for the first time, James wished he could get a straight answer out of her.

I would disagree, but then again, I haven't met him.

Right. He is the most infuriating person on the planet. But I really don't want to talk about him anymore.

Fine. What else have you been doing lately?

I've been studying for OWLs, doing Prefect business with Remus, the usual. Talking to Emily and Rob. They're a great couple.

At that moment, James really didn't care what else was going on in her life. James had tried ignoring her, had tried annoying her, had even tried being civil to her, but it was all for naught. But James was determined to figure it out, and hopefully they could at least be friends some day. He didn't think he could take much more of her blind hatred much longer.

Author's Note: Sorry for the long update (exactly a month). If you really care why, consult my LiveJournal. I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on the chapter. It's a serious issue, and I want to know if you think I handled it okay. :) Thanks!