Chapter Five - Progeny
5.1
It always amazed me how alive Dumbledore's office seemed to be: on the walls, the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses studied me askance as they flicked from portrait to portrait, chatting merrily; Fawkes crooned contentedly as he preened his bright, sweeping feathers, glancing up every so often to grace me with new a melodious warble; various silver contraptions clicked and whirred as they worked, powered by energy created by their own motion; before me, a cluster of orbs floated in a tall crystal vial, each orb bearing a number and filled with a different brightly-colored oil, which, through some combination of density and pressure, determined the temperature. The orbs seemed to glow in the soft morning sun, light bending through glass to splay bold shadows across the dark wood of the Dumbledore's desk. These dancing shadows captivated me as I waited for my Headmaster to return, thumbing the parchment James had given me restlessly.
The greater part of a week had passed since I agreed to take the Hogsmeade dates to Dumbledore, though it wasn't as if I was putting it off. The man simply eluded me; during meals (rather, the meals he attended) he was always in a deep conversation with another Professor that I dared not interrupt, and he never seemed to be in the Teacher's Workroom or in his office, no matter how long I waited for him to show. I couldn't help but wonder, nervousness flittering in my stomach, what was going on outside of school that would occupy his mind-and his time-so completely.
Finally, as I had approached Professor McGonagall after breakfast the following Thursday, she sighed before I even opened my mouth to ask after Dumbledore, and pointed vaguely off in the direction of Dumbledore's office.
"If you hurry, Miss Evans, he should be able to see you-"
"Thank you, Professor!" I had called over my shoulder as I took off down the hall, running as best I could with a textbook-filled bag slung over my shoulder. Though she shook her head sternly at my rush, silently admonishing me to walk, I saw the shadow of a smile upon her lips as she turned away. Several shortcuts later, I was puffing my way up the spiraling staircase guarded by two griffins; the office had been empty, the door ajar, and I had collapsed into the chair behind his desk.
Still waiting-rather impatiently-for Dumbledore to arrive, I reluctantly tore my eyes from the orbs' glittering shadows and forced myself to lay the folded parchment on the desktop. With a sigh, I reached down into my bag to proofread my Herbology essay one last time just as the door opened.
"Ah, Lily, I was expecting you," said Dumbledore pleasantly as he entered the office, his eyes twinkling as he motioned for me to stay seated. As he crossed the room and draped his cloak delicately across his chair before lowering himself into it, I felt myself comforted; he did seem slightly strained, but his deep, dry voice was strong. "Professor McGonagall mentioned that you were very eager to speak with me. I trust that these first few weeks of school have gone smoothly?"
"Yes, Sir," I said lightly with a brief smile, sliding the parchment across the desk. "Sir, I don't want to keep you from any other business you might need to attend to. This is a list of potential Hogsmeade dates that Potter and I would like you to look at… when you have the time…" I trailed off, studying him for any reaction that might indicate what sort of things were running through his mind. But he merely smiled.
"I assume that Hogsmeade isn't the primary reason for this visit, Lily," he said, opening the parchment and scanning its contents with a satisfied nod of his head. "You could have given this list to Professor McGonagall at any time." Fawkes fluttered over to perch on the back of Dumbledore's chair, while the Headmaster turned his attention to me. The air surrounding him was of the utmost patience, as though he would wait hours, silently staring, for me to elaborate.
I glanced into his eyes sheepishly, embarrassed that I had been so easy for him to read; it was true-there was another matter that I had debated asking him about. I took a breath, deciding how to word my request. "When-when Emmeline goes to her hearing," I began carefully, "can I please-can I go with her?"
Dumbledore tilted his head thoughtfully as he picked up a quill, readied it with ink, and wrote "approved" in a delicate, thin script across the parchment I had given him. "Are you worried for her?" he asked as he wrote.
"No," I announced confidently. "She didn't do anything wrong, and Mr. Crouch is sure to see that. I just thought it would be nice if she had some… moral support."
The look Dumbledore gave me was unreadable, but he hesitated, considering my request, and a swelling of hope rose in my stomach. As he appeared to reach a decision, I leaned forward eagerly. "That decision lies with Emmeline, and with her escort. If they both agree, I will excuse you from duties for the day."
I nodded, slowly, accepting the parchment back from Dumbledore and folding it into squares. "Thank you, Sir-"
"Lily, are you sure there is nothing else that you wish to discuss with me?"
The words were unexpected, but it was as though he had triggered an automatic subconscious response for all of my repressed concerns to suddenly rise to mind, and I leaned back in my seat as the realizations hit me. One particular thought, aside from the silly notion of Dumbledore reads minds, sprang instantly to my tongue. I debated whether or not to speak for a moment, remembering the mess I had made out of the Quidditch practice situation, before timidly nodding. "May I ask you something concerning James Potter?"
Dumbledore smiled down upon me over laced fingers, illuminated by the beams of sunlight streaming into the room from the window behind him. "And what about Mr. Potter do you wish to address, Lily?"
I squirmed in my seat, forcing the words out of my mouth. "Forgive me, Sir, but why was he chosen to be Head Boy?"
The words were hardly out of my mouth before one of the portrait Headmasters, a sour-looking man with a dark goatee who had been pretending to read a book, glowered at me. "The impertinence!" he drawled thinly, turning toward Dumbledore for support. "In my day, students never challenged the authority of this institution…"
I blanched, and one glance at Dumbledore's eyebrows, which were raised in amusement, made me rush to finish
naming my concerns. "I mean to say-Potter and I have talked about this before, briefly… he told me that he
didn't think he was the right person for the job." I suddenly stopped talking, not wanting to sound as though
I was questioning Dumbledore's judgment. As I waited for Dumbledore to respond, I couldn't help but wonder if
in my anxiety
over James' "methods", I had overstepped my bounds.
"If I may ask," began Dumbledore as he fished a piece of hard candy from a bowl on his desk and popped it into his mouth. He gestured to the bowl, offering me a piece, and I reached out to take a shrink-wrapped lemon drop, if only to give my hands something to do. "Why do you believe that Mr. Potter was inappropriately selected?"
The blunt question gave me pause. "He is so… impulsive. I'm afraid he's going to do something stupid without considering the consequences," I finally admitted, before the betraying thought flittered across my mind: when he does consider his actions, though, he handles things very well. You said so yourself, didn't you, Lily?
Outwardly, I was controlled, my voice low and conversational; on the inside, my stomach was rolling as the part of me that wanted this niggling question answered battled with the part of me that, suddenly, didn't want to jeopardize James' headship. "The other day I had to stop a fight between him and four Slytherin boys whose fathers…" I trailed off and raised a hand to massage my throat, wishing I suddenly didn't feel like throwing up.
"Go on, Lily," Dumbledore prompted quietly, staring at me quite intently. The sunlight still blazed white behind him, and awed shivers ran through my body at the sublime sight. I felt like I could confide anything in this man. He was Dumbledore, after all.
"He said that if we don't kill them now, they'll only try to kill us later." This time, I didn't sputter at the uncomfortable thought. Yet for some reason, I couldn't meet Dumbledore's gaze; I glanced down and spoke to my hands as I unwrapped the candy. "I despise the Death Eaters and everything they stand for with every fiber of my being, and I'll do what I can to oppose them, but there is a line that we can't cross. Isn't there?"
I bit my lip and raised my head, not knowing how my Headmaster would answer. Indeed, his response threw me completely off balance.
"Lily, I believe that you need to see something." Seeming undisturbed by my bewildered stare, he summoned a large stone bowl from one of the shelves of his bookcase, letting the rune-covered basin hover in the air for a moment before lowering it to settle onto the desktop. "Please, stand. Do you know what this is?"
"Your Pensieve?" I asked quietly as I got to my feet and looked down into Dumbledore's swirling memories. As he nodded and nudged the bowl, the silvery thoughts seemed to become agitated, spinning faster within the bowl until they appeared to be a shimmering liquid mass, a glass in which I could see the foggy form of a dark-haired, bespectacled student growing clearer. I furrowed my eyebrows as I recognized the lanky figure. "James?"
Again, the Headmaster nodded. "You see, Mr. Potter and I have already spoken of the incident that you just addressed."
5.2
I let the force of hundreds of class-bound students and their professors propel me toward the Great Hall, falling into their ranks thoughtlessly as what I viewed in the Pensieve replayed itself in my mind, its implications ricocheting around my skull.
Ignoring the loud crush of students pressing in on me, I slipped unseeingly through the cavernous doorway at the end of the Hall and lit upon the familiar path to the greenhouses, faintly noting autumn's touch, a cool wind that rattled the Hogwarts grounds, whipping through the grass and tearing at trees and students alike as it journeyed ever southward.
Normally I would have particularly enjoyed the weather, but I only shivered as I slipped into the shadow of a passing cloud. My eyebrows furrowed with the thought that sprang irresistibly into my mind…
James was seated before Dumbledore's occupied desk, still in his Quidditch practice gear, arms crossed loosely and an intense air of concentration about him as he stared blankly, seeming to look through the Headmaster. Dumbledore's face was unreadable as he watched James sigh and run a hand through his hair, before shifting so that he was leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped and his forearms resting on his knees. I was watching, unnoticed, from where I had landed alongside Dumbledore's desk.
"It's hard to find the words," James said slowly, bracingly, whetting his lips with his tongue. "I know I shouldn't have attacked Snape, Avery, Rosier, and Wilkes, just as I know that what I said to Evans was rash, but I can't help but think that Rosier and Avery's fathers indirectly…" he trailed off, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
"You blame them for causing your mother's relapse," stated Dumbledore softly, a strange expression, mild horror tinged with sorrow, crossing his face as the thought occurred to him. James didn't appear to notice.
Angrily, as though all his pent up feelings were suddenly erupting, James used his palms to scrub at the tears gathering in his eyes as he jolted upright in his seat. His voice was hard when he spoke, defensive. "The Peakes were close family friends. The day she heard about their murders she was back in the hospital, in worse condition than before. Two days later-"
I was struck my Dumbledore's presence as he met James' stare, his eyes fierce, though compassion rimmed his irises as he said, "James, I know it was hard to watch your mother struggle with her illness, and I can't condone what their fathers did-but you will not attack fellow students, especially while you occupy the position of Head Boy. Do you understand me?"
"But she relapsed!" burst James as he exploded to his feet, his fists clenched. Startled, I jumped back, closer to Dumbledore. "Head Boy be damned, my mother is dead because of them," James breathed as he stared down at the Headmaster.
"James…" warned Dumbledore firmly. Each word was the hardest steel, yet a whisper that somehow reverberated around the room, washing out my horrified gasp.
With a start, I realized that the chill I was feeling came not from the combination of Dumbledore's memory and recalling James' impassioned "the world has already ended", but from the small drops of rain landing lightly upon me. I threw a glance up at the gray sky, squinting up into the rain as it peppered my face; frozen in my tracks, I closed my eyes, letting the rain streak unhindered across my brow. I felt unsettled, like I was spinning in circles despite my firmly planted feet. Trying to wipe my mind clean of the Pensieve's shock, I concentrated on discerning the squelching footfalls of my peers through the cascading rainwater now gracing the ground.
My eyes opened with a jolt as the rain abruptly stopped, and I realized that someone was holding a cloak over my head, using it as a makeshift umbrella. Sensing a presence behind me, the heat and almost-touch of someone standing too close, I glanced over my shoulder, my heart beginning to race at the thought of coming face to face with James after what I had seen. But when I looked, I found that it was Bertram Aubrey who stood grinning down at me from under the rest of the cloak, comically stooped over so that we could both fit underneath without the fringes of the cloak rising above my knees.
"Wotcher, Lily," he yelled pleasantly, fighting to keep his voice, and cloak, from being carried off by the persistent wind. "Quite a shower, eh?"
I nodded, smiling despite myself and absentmindedly wringing out my dripping hair. "Summer wanted to go out with a bang, I suppose."
"Yeah, and it's trying to take my cloak with it."
We walked on toward the greenhouses in step, and as the initial mirth caused by crossing paths with an old friend bubbled down to a simmering contentment, I let our idle chatter distract me from the ever-present niggling of the Pensieve scene, consciously attempting to delay the inevitable dwellings.
We parted ways at the greenhouse door, Bertram honoring me with a mock-bow as he swept the cloak from over my head with a flourish. Feeling slightly out-of-body, I rolled my eyes as I thanked him for the use of his cloak, before shaking my head amusedly as I crossed the threshold of the classroom, wondering whether I had only imagined the flirtatious undertones behind his actions. Based upon his demeanor toward me in Potions as of late, I decided, with an unwanted blush, that I hadn't.
Hot in the summer and drafty in winter, the greenhouses always smelled of damp earth, and I took a deep, steadying breath as I made my way to my usual seat in the back. Pushing aside the dirty gloves and abandoned spades cluttering the tabletop to make room for my bag, I plopped down into my seat, waiting for Emmeline and Alice to arrive. The sound of the rain seemed amplified as it beat against the glass roof, and I looked past the green tendrils of vines climbing along the window to watch it fall.
The rain had gotten harder, empowered by flashes of lightening, and I could just make out the silhouettes of students dashing toward the shelter of the greenhouses. Moments later, the majority of the class arrived, decked out in various water-repelling charms; Emmeline and Alice, for their part, each greeted me through the distortion of the bubblehead charm.
As they took their normal seats, chattering about the sudden cold front and inspecting their homework for water stains, I noticed that the Marauders had arrived behind my friends. Talking animatedly amongst themselves, they happened to be the calmest of the class, sitting off to the side of the room, their heads huddled secretively over something they had placed on the tabletop. I strained to make out what it was, hoping they weren't about to release some venomous creature quietly pocketed from Care of Magical Creatures, but only succeeded in alerting Sirius to my interest. Spotting the curiosity on my face, he nudged James in the ribs. As James raised his head to look at me, shaking water from his hair, I forced my eyes away from him, the Pensieve's image swimming across my vision once again.
They stared at each other, neither backing down, before James shook his head quickly and clawed at the Head Boy badge pinned to his robes. "I don't deserve this badge," James said shortly, tossing it upon the desk and stooping to gather his things. He froze as Dumbledore spoke, both of them attempting to hide the pain crossing his own face.
"And what would you have me do, James?" asked Dumbledore gently, hiding his exasperation and leaving the implications of his statement hanging heavily in the air. "We do what we must. I know that you will follow in the footsteps of Mr. Longbottom and Miss Vance and tangle yourself in this war eventually… but I implore you, you cannot let yourself become targeted until absolutely necessary."
With that, Dumbledore simply slid the badge back across the desk toward James, looking at him expectantly. James glanced up quickly with surprise at the Headmaster's words before catching himself and lowering his eyes to where the badge rested on the desktop.
"I trust you, Sir, and I'll do my best," sighed James after a few moments of thought, forcing his anger away as he picked up the badge and fingered it absentmindedly. His temper gone, James sank slowly back into his seat, seeming weak from the force of his vented emotions. "I just feel so… helpless," he concluded earnestly. I lowered my eyes to the floor for a moment, feeling as though I was intruding on something I oughtn't. His words, however, picked up tempo as he continued to speak, and my eyes were drawn irresistibly back to him. "And I'll continue to feel this way until I'm part of the fight-"
"You may not raise a wand against your enemies, but that does not mean you are out of the fight. You make a stand simply by your choices, by living what you believe in." Dumbledore smiled sadly. It seemed like he was leaving so much unsaid. "You care deeply for a great many things, James, and I admire your passion; this fervor is one of the reasons why you hold that badge. But you need to focus on your job-you and Miss Evans must unite the school, James, not divide it."
James stared up at the Headmaster before cupping the Head Boy badge in his hands and concentrating on it. "I know. I've been a fool," he muttered, nearly indistinguishably.
"That cannot be," said Dumbledore kindly, reaching out to affectionately clasp the young man's shoulder. "I do not place my faith in fools."
The memory faded away, and I realized that I had my own Head Girl badge nestled in my palm, my eyebrows furrowed as I stared at it, seeming to see it for what it was for the first time.
5.3
With October came the start of the Quidditch tournament, and I found myself perched on the edge of one of the hard wooden benches lining the Quidditch pitch, my chilled fingers gripping the edge of my seat, almost completely oblivious to the cold from the rain seeping into my skin. Squinting through the gray lines of rain, my gaze was locked onto the Quaffle, watching with awe as it slipped seamlessly from Chaser to Chaser, passing in complicated weaves and kick-backs by the agile flyers. It was almost-almost-a disappointment when the ball was out of the players' grasp, when it was launched from obscure angles toward the goal posts, ricocheting from the hoop rims to score. It seemed absurd that such a nimble, delicate-looking performance was being pulled off by a team with such intent looks of determination upon their faces.
Passionate was the only fitting word to describe the play-to describe him-and there was no question why Ravenclaw seemed so defeated. After a mere half-hour, Gryffindor was already leading by 140 points with a score of 170, determined not to let Ravenclaw take any more goals than the three they had already scored. The game had been clean-no fouls but plenty of near-misses by the Beaters, and it seemed that the front James had put together was untouchable.
I mentioned this to Alice, who was jumping up and down next to me, whooping and brandishing the rain-tattered banner she had made, but it was Emmeline who answered. Tapping my hand with fingers of ice to get my attention, she pointed well above the goal posts, where the dark silhouettes of two players hung in the air.
"Look," she said, her eyes narrowed with concentration as she watched the Ravenclaw Captain confer briefly with her Seeker. "If we foul Ravenclaw, or they pull off a few goals, this game is their's-if that Seeker really is as good as they say he is."
"Conflict of interests, eh?" I said, smirking evilly and nudging Emmeline in the ribs. "Do you want Gryffindor to win, or precious Broderick to catch the Snitch?"
"Helm can fly around blindfolded right now, for all I care," she merely grunted, her eyes still trained on the Ravenclaw players. I snorted, turning back to the rest of the game; really, the game was intense, but Emmeline took it to a whole new level.
My eyes found the Quaffle again just as James faked out the Ravenclaw Keeper, seeming like he was going to drive straight through the hoop before veering off at the last second, the Quaffle sliding off his fingertips in the opposite direction to score. As the stands around me erupted to their feet, Emmeline tore at my sleeve.
"There he goes," she yelled, leaning forward against the wooden railings of the stands, watching with horror as Broderick dove toward the fray of players, one arm outstretched and a look of pure joy on his face. "He's going to catch it! Where the bloody hell is Glo-"
In the next instant, all the cheers in the stadium choked off into bated breath as Broderick smashed into a Gryffindor Chaser, his broomstick catching the player's shoulder before Broderick himself collided with him. A whistle split the air as both players tumbled off of their brooms and fell the twenty-five feet to the ground, and as a charm fired by several teachers slowed the pair enough that they landed at more or less a safe speed, all the noise in the stadium cut off long enough for everyone to draw in a breath.
"FOUL!" roared Gryffindor, just as Ravenclaw erupted into screams that sounded torn between dismay and delight. The announcer seemed not to know what to say. I turned to Emmeline for clarification as Madame Hooch forced herself into the throng of teachers now surrounding the unconscious pair.
"It is a foul, isn't it?" I asked her, biting my lip. "Oh, I do hope they're alright…"
Alice looked stricken, biting her fingernails as she studied the players, who were now being levitated from the boggy grass and toward the castle. Emmeline merely shook her head. "No, Helm caught it before the collision. Catching the Snitch ends the game, period. We-"
As though on cue, Madame Hooch spoke, her voice magnified by magic. In her raised hand, she held a tiny, struggling, golden ball. "Broderick Helm catches the Snitch, to tie the game 180 to 180." Ravenclaw's suspicions confirmed, they started cheering, chanting Broderick's name.
"The stupid idiot flew in front of Broderick on purpose, he must have," Alice said definitively, still looking over the pitch. "To try to keep Broderick from catching the Snitch."
Emmeline snorted as we began to press our way out of the stands, the exhilaration from a good game slightly soured by the injuries. "Who in their right mind would do that?"
"Who else? Look and see who is missing," said Alice, gesturing to where the Gryffindor team had met in the air. They seemed worried, and after only passing nods to the Ravenclaw team, they took off toward the castle, blurs of scarlet closely pursued by blurs of blue. I frowned at the formation they flew in: a wedge, like that of a flock of geese, but with the head position empty.
My stomach sank. It couldn't have been any stupid idiot other than James Potter.
5.4
"Whether he flew into it on purpose or not is debatable," said Peter later that evening. The whole of Gryffindor had returned to the tower to change into dry cloths, and then had congregated in the Common Room to discuss the game, our chances for the Quidditch Cup, the merits of different House players, and James' most recent stint to the Hospital Wing. I was sitting on one of the overstuffed, tattered couches in a back corner of the room surrounded by most of the Seventh Years-sans James, who had not yet returned from the Hospital Wing, and Remus, who had gone to check on him-in companionable conversation. "It's admirable to say he did, but I'd rather we didn't start that rumor-then we'll have the whole of Ravenclaw touting that James should have been fouled for Blatching, for which they would have received a foul shot, potentially allowing them to win."
I sank back against the cushion with a sigh of relaxation-my first in what seemed like ages-letting myself go limp as I listened with half an ear as Emmeline eagerly engaged Peter, who seemed to have entered his forte, his normal timidity forgotten. I found myself growing groggy, squashed as I was between Alice and Sirius, our upper bodies leaning against each other, holding the others upright. With a sharp intake of breath, I realized that I had been lulled mostly asleep by the rhythm of both Alice and Sirius' breathing, and detangled myself from the others, stretching.
"Anyone up for a walk?" I asked, glancing at my watch before pointedly eyeing the other girls. "It's actually still early…"
"I'm game," said Alice, holding out her hand and letting me pull her to her feet. The small diamond of her engagement ring dug into my hand as I did so, a subtle reminder of her resilient devotion; I fancied that it was a cry for me not to let my hopes and dreams be trampled underfoot the rampaging world. A sudden unexplainable sense of longing filled my chest, almost of… jealousy. I coughed deeply, trying to uproot the feeling, before shaking myself, smiling warmly at Alice, and turning to Emmeline.
"Emmeline?" I prompted, raising my voice over Sirius, who was glaring good-naturedly at Alice and me as he stretched gratefully out over the whole couch, muttering about couch hogs. It took me two more tries to break into Emmeline and Peter's in-depth, fast-paced argument over Quidditch teams before I finally got her attention and mentioned that I needed to ask her something. After a mock-exasperated sigh at me, and a promise to Peter that they'd finish the conversation later, Emmeline let me push her out of the Portrait Hole, Sirius' motherly command to "be in by curfew," fading behind us.
We were halfway down the Grand Staircase when we encountered a red-faced second year, who was holding a bottle carefully in his hands as he leapt up the stairway, attempting to canvass three steps with every stride.
"Did James Potter pass this way?" he wheezed, stooping to catch his breath. "Madame Pomfrey sent me to give him this potion for his concussion-he left it in the hospital wing…"
"Sorry, lad, haven't seen him," said Emmeline, ruffling the kid's hair. "And I don't think you will, either, especially to give him medicine."
I fought a laugh as the second year sighed dejectedly, and as we continued down the stairs, I lingered over the trick steps that Emmeline and Alice unconsciously avoided, wondering if James was finding refuge somewhere beneath our feet.
5.5
The evening air seemed almost flat as Alice, Emmeline, and I reached the rocky cliffs furthest away from the castle that overlooked the lake; everything was dim, gray and shadowy under a roof of night sky and patchy cumulus that had rained themselves out, the clouds' curves slightly illuminated by the pale glint of moonlight that had found its way through the dense moisture. It was early yet-my watch read three-after-eight as we stumbled quietly upon the extending ledge, eager to utilize every possible second of freedom out of doors.
Emmeline promptly began pitching stones as far out into the lake as she could, listening to them connect with the water with a very distant yet satisfying splash before the sound was devoured by the night. Alice took a seat against one of the large boulders surrounding us, wrapping her arms around her knees as she leaned against the stone, and I simply stood motionless, overtaken by thought, staring down absently at the fringe of trees crossing over the lake path, the site of the proceeding weekend's unsettling conversation with James.
I felt restless, and suddenly, with a sigh, I sprawled out upon the ground, belly down with my cheek resting against crossed arms, head positioned so that I looked out over the flat lake. The stone I pressed into was cool and damp from the day's showers, and as I closed my eyes, I felt as though I was sinking into the rock itself. I fancied that I could feel myself moving indescribably fast as the world spun, and almost wanted to dig my nails into the rock as if that would keep me from sliding off of the cliff.
"It's amazing that we don't slip off," I decided pensively, my voice muffled into my arms and nearly carried away on the breeze.
Emmeline snorted in surprise, and I sensed her hesitate before she smoothly hefted another stone, taking in its weight before throwing it. "What?"
"It just amazes me that something I can't see, or even really feel, is holding my spec of a body onto the planet. It's like…"
"Like magic?" ventured Alice conversationally, inviting me to continue sharing my groggy revelations with a smile.
"It makes me feel very… helpless," I said, pushing myself up to sit cross-legged with my back to the lake, the feeling of vertigo lurching my stomach as my perspective shifted ninety degrees. "Like those invisible strings tugging us to and fro, connecting us in ways we can't imagine to who knows how many people. And it only takes one twitch to alter the whole arrangement; choices made today can unwittingly force the actions of others, or even decide the outcome of a war years down the road…"
"Invisible strings, paramount choices… what's your point, Lily? What're you leading into?"
I smiled at Emmeline, at her endeavors to find reason in my meandering mind as if she expected everything I said to have a point. As I looked at her, it suddenly occurred to me that, well, I was leading into another train of thought, if unconsciously.
Might as well get the bollocks out of the way up front... I thought to myself, quoting James as I collapsed back against the ground, this time laying with my arms folded behind my head so that I stared at the immense blanket of clouds looming over us. Abruptly, I realized what had just run though my mind, what James had meant when he said it, and fought a blush. I took in a breath, trying to decide the best way to present my position and explain the jumbled mess that James Potter had made of my head. "...I was just considering the concept of cause and effect."
"Yeah?"
"Specifically..." Specifically what? How, through everything that had happened over the summer and school year thus far, James and I had both changed-how it seemed like we were at the end of feeling each other out, our relationship teetering on the edge of deliverance-how frightened of this, how desperate for this, I was? No; I couldn't explain every event that had subtly affected our tangled relationship-I'd mire myself in a bog if I tried. "It's complicated and involved," I settled on, shaking my head and trying to master the tremors running through my hands. "But it all invariably centers on James."
"James?" Emmeline asked with a smile, quirking an eyebrow at Alice.
"Potter," I corrected quickly, but I caught a knowing glimmer in Emmeline's eyes and knew the damage had been done.
"Well, what about him?" asked Alice, exchanging a look with Emmeline.
"He just…" I trailed off, sighing wearily at the moon, which had partially emerged from behind a group of clouds. "I can't keep him out of my head."
Emmeline laughed, and I hastened to amend my statement. "No, I mean-" I took another breath. "It's like all of his actions and motivations fix themselves in my mind-it's like I need to figure him out."
They let the sentence hang in the air, turning it over, before Alice, leaning slightly toward me, said simply, "When you stop trying to figure him out, you will." Her ring caught a wave of moonlight and twinkled at me.
I opened my mouth to respond, but as I tried to sort out the thoughts and emotions streaming through my body, the words didn't come. Slowly, after acknowledging Alice's words with an almost rueful laugh, I gazed back at the moon.
What James offered, I reflected, was far from security-it was almost madness, another uncertain, and unsafe, variable in an ever shifting environment. Over the past few weeks, I had grown to understand that James himself realized this, that he struggled inwardly between his reluctance to grow closer to someone lest he would be helpless to keep them from being wrenched away from him again, and the nerve-tingling instinct to act on his desires. I wondered if he realized that-to me-he offered hope, the start of something untainted and right, if he realized that we had the potential to become our own rebellion. We both had only to take the plunge; I was terrified to make that leap, yet knew that as soon as I did, I would be exhilarated.
"So…have you and Frank settled on a date yet, Alice?" asked Emmeline several long moments later, apparently deciding that the pensive silence had lingered long enough.
Alice smiled, her eyes alighting. "Middle of June, so you two maids of honor keep your calendars open."
I exchanged a grin with Emmeline. "Can there be two maids of honor at one wedding?" I asked, sensing what her response would be. Alice threw me a good-natured-yet heated-look, and I scrambled off of the ground to go stand behind Emmeline, playfully using her to shield me from Alice's glare.
Rolling her eyes, an expression of cool determination on her face-a façade to mask the longing tears that I sensed she was repressing-Alice joined us on the edge. "It's my wedding-there'll be two maids of honor if I bloody well want there to be."
I laughed, giving her a quick hug before turning to stare out over the dark, mottled surface of the lake. Emmeline slipped a smooth rock into my hand, and I gripped it as hard as I could, pouring my anxiety and fear into it, before throwing it with all of my strength into the darkness, hearing it slip into the lake some distance below with a barely audible splash.
The three of us stood overlooking the lake, pitching stones, for the longest while, grinning like first years as Alice discussed her plans for the wedding and Emmeline prodded Alice about her thoughts on the first Honeymoon night, a subject that Alice blushingly attempted to avoid. Laughing, united with my friends, I felt younger, light hearted, managing to shove aside my worries and relish the vertigo in my stomach as the world spun.
5.6
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Alice, staring at me as I plunged into the Forbidden Forest some time later. I scanned the trees, looking for any familiar landmark that would identify the short cut that the Marauders had unknowingly shown me earlier, but the forest had not been so dark then, had not seemed so unnerving. I gritted my teeth, deciding that it should be possible to forge our own way through the trees.
I paused, turning back to face her. "Don't worry, it's a short cut."
"Are you loosing your nerve, Alice?" challenged Emmeline half-heartedly, dogging my heels, her wand out with its tip alight, shining it nervously up into the branches of the surrounding trees as though expecting something to jump out at us. I shivered, remembering the rumor that there were Acromantulas living in the depths of the forest. I wondered, briefly, how close to the fringes of the forest that they roamed.
Alice shook her head, striding forward to catch up with us, rolling up her sleeves and readying her wand as she did so. "No, I just want to point out that, if we're caught, not only will we be guilty of being out long past curfew, but also of entering the Forbidden Forest." She didn't sound overly concerned, but I answered anyway.
"That's why we aren't going to get caught," I said simply, setting my own wand tip alight and beginning to pick my way between tree trunks, vaguely registering the chill of always unbreakable shadow. "Look, it's twenty minutes to go around on the path, ten to cut straight through the Forest; and, anyway, the faster we get a move on, the sooner we'll be in our beds."
Decision reached, we made our way through the forest in silence, moving as quickly as we could through the underbrush, trying not to disturb any of the forest's inhabitants. This isn't so bad, I repeated to myself as the forest air seemed to get heavier and the darkness thickened, almost completely shutting out the already weakened moonlight, creating the impression that all color had been filtered from the world; the bright lights cast by our wands only illuminated the air around them and created long, slanting shadows on the ground. Deciding that I would be able to see better without my wand once my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I silently extinguished the light. It wasn't long before Emmeline and Alice did the same. Just a little farther…
"You know," said Emmeline after what had seemed an hour but was probably only a tenth of that, "I'm starting to doubt the validity of calling this a `short' cut-"
I turned to roll my eyes at her, but Alice abruptly threw out a hand, wordlessly forcing both of us to freeze in our tracks. After it was clear she had our attention, she slowly pointed.
"What is it?" hissed Emmeline, raising her wand, sounding as apprehensive as I suddenly felt. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on whatever it was that Alice was pointing at.
The air was significantly lighter ahead, allowing me to notice that we had been unconsiously making our way to a small clearing, drawn by the thinning trees. Through a break in the clearing's tree line, I could see the tallest, quivering branches of the Whomping Willow, the top of the Astronomy tower visible beyond them. I realized that we had been heading not toward the castle, but on a course parallel to it. Assuming that this is what Alice wanted us to see, I turned toward her.
"Don't you see him?" Alice asked in a strangled whisper, eyes focused intently on the clearing.
Confused, I turned back to the clearing. "No, what're you…" I trailed off as I finally spotted the lithe, four-legged creature standing in the middle of the clearing, his hands absently gripping a bow as he tilted his head back, studying the night sky. It was no wonder I hadn't spotted him earlier: his coat was dark, with dappled white splashed across his flanks and wisps of flaxen hair infused in his black tail and main of hair; with that coloration, he blended into the shadows cast by the surrounding trees as though he was one.
"A Centaur?" asked Emmeline disbelievingly, edging slightly closer to his still figure, wand arm dropping loosely to her side. "Who would ever have imagined-"
"Mars is bright tonight," said the Centaur suddenly, the deep tones of his voice carrying clearly to us.
My heart began racing. "Ex-excuse me?" I asked, unable to stop myself.
The Centaur turned his head and stared directly at us. "You do not want to speak too loudly," he warned. Emmeline and Alice glanced at me, wild-eyed; it was clear that the Centaur was inviting us to approach him, if we wished. We deliberated through silent looks for a moment before moving forward as one. As each of us stepped into the clearing, we glanced up into the sky, where stars were finally visible through the scattering clouds.
But the sky didn't hold my attention for long. I peered at the Centaur, taking in his appearance. Slightly nomadic-looking with a mass of arrows resting in the quiver slung across his shoulders and his long hair streaming freely down his bare back, he didn't look precisely old, yet his eyes were sharp and wizened. I cleared my throat, unsure of the customs for greeting Centaurs.
"I'm Lily, pleased to meet you," I said, offering my hand to him. He stared at me for a moment before taking it, and I felt oddly out of my depth-who would ever have imagined? His grip was firm, his hand enveloping mine as we shook. One by one Alice and Emmeline followed suit; he heard all three of our names before offering his own.
"I am Chiron." That said, he tilted his head back to stare at the stars once more, his tail swishing lazily around his hind legs.
"Excuse me," said Alice, sounding breathless and tucking her wand into her robes, as though that could help to help keep him at ease. "What did you mean, about Mars-"
"Humans seldom understand the ways of Centaurs," he interrupted, fixing her with a clear eye. "And Centaurs know humans all too well. Your greed could destroy you." He forestalled any comment by raising a hand to the Heavens and pointing out the distant red planet that was quite visible from between washed-out stars. "Mars, Bringer of Battle, the harbinger to the chaos that we have Seen coming for decades."
"Harbinger? But He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has threatened us for years already…" said Emmeline slowly, eyebrows furrowed.
"It's going to get worse, then," I said, feeling my stomach drop. "The war."
Chiron turned his eyes upon me as he unseeingly traced out the Centaurs' constellations with his still extended hand. "We attempt to divine the flows of the coming chaos by mapping the rising and setting of certain stars over decades-" He abruptly lowered his hand, taking a step back to fully view the three of us.
"Is there something wrong?" asked Alice anxiously, holding out her hands in a calming gesture.
"Serpens crowns your heads."
Abruptly, he knelt to gather the nearby underbrush into a small pile and set to work striking a flame. Unable to make neither heads nor tales of his cryptic comment, Alice, Emmeline, and I watched him silently as he built up the fire, breaking off the shaft of an arrow and setting it in the flames before backing away to watch the smoke rise. At long last, he dashed apart the fire with a hoof and turned his attention back to us. I shivered at the foreboding look in his eyes.
"The stars that shine the brightest burn out before all others," he said finally as he splayed his hands, regarding the three of us in equal measure as he said the last. "The zenith approaches, the star falls, the star fades away. I will not interfere in the affairs of Humans."
The zenith approaches. I felt my skin crawl. "What-?"
Chiron cut me off by glancing quickly over his shoulder. It was then that I felt it, a rolling vibration traveling through the ground, hundreds of feet trampling their way toward us. My body was beginning to shake uncontrollably from the quaking ground, and I struggled to remain balanced.
"You must go," said Chiron as a flock of birds exploded from the trees and winged away noisily, their beating wings pounding at the night, adding to the chaos. Behind Chiron, the shadows of the forest seemed to be moving, and I realized that his herd was streaking through the trees behind him, dark silhouettes pounding heavily into the ground, fleeing something unseen. "Go," he commanded roughly. "You are not alone!"
He wheeled away into the forest as the last of the herd began to pass.
"Hang on!" cried Emmeline angrily as he disappeared and the shaking earth began to settle. "You can't leave like that-"
A dark shadow detached itself from the back of the herd and came to a stop where Chiron had been standing only a moment earlier, breathing heavily and dripping blood from several gashes in its hide. It was a deer-a stag. For a fleeting second I wondered what it had been doing running with Centaurs, but then I realized it must have been fleeing-and had narrowly escaped-whatever had frightened them. The stag took a few brash steps toward us, snorting loudly and brandishing its antlers at us, before the appearance of another shape entering the clearing made it back away, fading into the surrounding forest.
"We should listen to Chiron and go," said Emmeline quietly, ignoring the odd behavior of the stag and staring toward the edge of the clearing. Her words were overshadowed, slightly, by the deep, guttural growling of the creature now stalking into the clearing: a great, black dog, its teeth bared and hackles raised. We immediately took a few steps backward, and I fumbled with my wand.
"S-stupify!" I cried, sending a beam of red light streaking toward the rabid-looking animal. It hit the animal in the head, but he dog did no more than stumble.
"You can't stupefy the Grim!" yelled Emmeline, jerking at my wand arm, her voice nearing the pitches of barely-restrained hysteria as she grappled for control of my wand.
"Come off it, Emmeline!" I yelled, tugging my arm free, irritated that my hex hadn't been successful. "It's just the bloody dog that attacked that stag-"
"Lily, if that dog attacked the stag, what attacked the dog?" interjected Alice as I raised my wand again. Her cool pragmatism in the wake of Emmeline's outburst stunned me, gave me pause.
"What?"
But it was true, the dog was dripping blood from the deep slashes and bites apparent through its thick fur, and it was obvious that these were not the sort of marks a stag could have left even if it had tried to defend itself. It continued to prowl its way toward us, moving faster now that we had begun to back away again. In its eyes gleamed purpose.
"I think it wants us to leav-" I decided, but before I had finished, a slightly smaller furred creature had darted from the forest and bitten the dog on the back, the force of its attack pulling the two creatures into a chaotic roll in the brambles, a tussle to overcome the other. Alice gasped as the dog cried, and it was abruptly released as the wolf noticed us. In the space of a moment when I had a clear look at the wolf's head before the dog had thrown itself upon it, my blood ran cold. The wolf's snout... was oddly short…
"We need to run," I whispered fiercely, grasping Emmeline and Alice by the back of their robes and pulling them out of the clearing with me. Alice began to protest that we couldn't leave the dog, but I cut her off, pointing my wand at her face so quickly that she flinched. "No heroics. Run, or I'll make you."
There wasn't an argument the second time. We turned and ran in the direction of the castle, leaving the snarling and yelping behind as quickly as we could, the stag following us at a distance until we had emerged from the trees. We didn't talk as we dodged the swiping branches of the Whomping Willow and crossed the Hogwarts grounds, nor as we entered the thankfully deserted castle corridors. No one said a word until we were back in the empty Common Room and halfway up the spiraling stairs of the girl's dormitories, trembling and sweating, trying to catch our breaths.
"That was a werewolf, wasn't it," said Emmeline grimly, leaning heavily against the stone wall and conjuring a fan to cool flushed red face. She closed her eyes, clearly not expecting a response.
I nodded, a clump of adrenaline and fear still sitting in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to vomit, but instead collapsed onto the stairs next to Alice, holding my face in my hands. "A bloody werewolf… and I thought Acromantulas could be the worst of it."
Emmeline didn't appear to be listening, as she was still muttering to herself disbelievingly, and Alice was twirling her ring on her finger thoughtfully, her eyes staring hard ahead and her eyebrows furrowed as though she was trying to figure something out. After a moment, I stood shakily and lightly placed my hands on my hips. "Well," I said, changing the subject slightly. "I want to know what the Centaur meant-Serpens crowns our heads?-but I guess we can leave that for tomorrow-"
"Wait," said Alice suddenly, standing and laying a hand on my arm. Her eyes were wide, and her face had gone pale. I squinted at her.
"What's wrong, Alice? Do you need the hospital wing?" I asked, laying a hand to her forehead. "You don't feel feverish…"
"I'm fine," she said absently, brushing my hand away and trotting up a few steps so that when she looked down the stairwell, she could see both Emmeline and me clearly. "I'm not sure, but I think… I think that the werewolf is… Remus."
My mouth dropped open, and I stared, not knowing how to react.
"Are you crazy?" asked Emmeline in a vehement whisper, echoing my thoughts. She narrowed her eyes and looked around the dim, torch-lit stairwell, checking to see if anyone could possibly have overheard.
"No, it makes sense," said Alice earnestly, one hand extended, gesturing for us to stay where we were standing and listen. Her voice was low and grave. "Think about his reaction to that news article the other day. Think about how sick he's been looking for the last few days, how he `goes home to visit his mum' about once a month and always comes back looking beaten up. Think about how his boggart is a white orb..."
"Like the full moon," I said suggestively, hopelessly, glancing past Alice out of the window to spot the partially-obscured moon, which did look uncannily like Remus' spherical boggart.
I felt like someone had just picked me up and tossed me bodily out of the tower window; I wasn't quite sure how to start accepting that we had just narrowly escaped a werewolf attack-by one our my friends. The three of us stood in a newfound silence, digesting this new truth. And then,
"What should we do?" asked Alice quietly, her hands splayed helplessly as she looked back and forth from me to Emmeline, searching for an answer.
"We shouldn't do anything," I decided. "For one thing, we're not even positive that it's true-and for another, if it is true, no one has mentioned it. We should keep it that way."
"Every now and then, Potter mentions Remus' `furry little problem'," Emmeline said distantly, a strange look crossing her face as she, too, stared out of the window. Abruptly, she whipped around to face us. "That means Potter knows, and if Potter knows, Black and Pettigrew know. Should we just ask one of them about it?"
Alice bit her lip. "I don't know…"
"Listen, why don't we sleep on it?" I asked, fighting a sudden yawn and the tingling desire to sleep behind my eyes; the adrenaline had faded, leaving my body drained. "We won't get anywhere productive tonight."
"Good idea. Maybe we'll wake up and discover this evening was just some twisted dream?" suggested Emmeline darkly, shaking her head as though she still wouldn't accept the evidence staring her in the face.
Thus agreed, I bade them goodnight before trudging to the top of the staircase and practically stumbling into my own room. With a flick of my wand, I started the shower running and locked the door between the bathroom and James' room. After a moment, I tossed my robes into a messy pile on the floor and stood gratefully under the scorching shower spray, trying to put a name to the something that was flickering about the back of my mind, the something that was still bothering me about the entire night.
I dwelled on it only until I finished in the bathroom; still at a loss and resigned to figuring it out later, I slipped out of my bath robe and into my cool bed sheets. Head spinning slightly even after I laid it upon my pillow, an uneasy sleep took me mere moments after I closed my eyes.
5.7
I slept fitfully, tortured by dark dreams of images only half-formed, more intense impressions than perceptible objects. In the nightmare, I sensed more than saw the shadowy form of a werewolf chasing me through the haunts of my subconscious, closing in on me until it finally overtook me. It prowled closer, snarling, before turning into a tall, menacing figure hardly discernable from the surrounding darkness. I suddenly felt as thought my heart had been wrenched from my body; my emotions were shattered, I was cold, and a tortured gasp escaped my lips, struggling past a convulsive sob. I felt utterly alone, fighting the fear and the overwhelming sorrow I inexplicably felt. Yet, somehow, I was defiant; deep within my soul blazed a glimmer of triumph and I knew, with certainty, that all was not lost.
I awoke abruptly, breathing heavily, not knowing what to make of the nightmare or the sense of unease that had settled upon me. I hugged my pillow, trying to wipe my mind clear and settle back to sleep, trying to ignore my wish to hold-
It was in that moment, in the hesitant calm of a mind forced empty, that the thought jumped unbidden into my consciousness, and with a start of adrenaline, I knew.
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