Chapter Two - A Missing Piece
2.1
The next morning passed in a sort of surreal blur-the memories of packing up and flooing over to Kings Cross with Emmeline seemed so far away, and yet in reality they weren't quite memories and still the present. And as I got nearer and nearer to Platform 9 3/4, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was it: if I set foot on that train, I was on my own, my childhood gone forever. Sure I had whiled it carelessly away as a child, but now, faced with adulthood so inescapably, it was all I could do to step through the barrier.
The re-introduction into the magical world hit me full-force. The Platform was crawling with life: children ran to meet friends, trolleys jangled, owls hooted, parents sobbed, and, as though balking at being left out of the activity, the Express itself hissed, clanked, and whistled loudly. With morning sunlight glaring sharply through the high windows of the station, everything seemed bright and normal; this cheered me somewhat even as I spotted prowling Aurors and other Ministry Officials looking nonchalantly around the platform, reminders that there was a war going on and we were all vulnerable.
The moment finally came when I was face-to-face with the scarlet Hogwarts Express. I stood motionless for a moment on Platform 9 3/4, considering the vessel that would inevitably carry me away; then, with a little prod from Emmeline, I held my breath and crossed over the threshold.
Emmeline seemed to feel the same way as I. "It's... strange, isn't it?" she asked as we moved clumsily through the aisle with our trunks, heading steadily toward our usual compartment.
"Yeah," I agreed heavily, the threat of tears pricking my eyes. I opened the compartment door, moved in and deposited my trunk on the ground, and bent to rummage through it. Under the premise of grabbing my uniform and some notes for the Prefect meeting that I had prepared in my notebook earlier, I dabbed lightly at my eyes with the hem of my cloak before straightening.
Emmeline tossed me a smile and plucked the gold badge off of my folded school robes. "All right, Head Girl? Ready to take on the school with none other than James Bleeding Potter?" she asked, breathing on the badge and then polishing it on her jacket.
I chuckled weakly as she replaced the now shiny badge, and made for the door. "Don't remind me..."
"Alright then. How about this?" she asked as we retreated back the way we had come. "Remember when we ran into each other as first years and I told you that when we got to school we'd have to fly a dragon up to the gates? Your eyes went so wide..." reminisced Emmeline, laughing.
I glared at her to cover up my own amused grin. "What a way to scar a young and impressionable muggleborn for life, yeah?"
We parted at the engine of the train: Emmeline hopped off to go keep watch for Alice, and I slipped inside the Head's compartment to change into my uniform.
The Head's compartment was the same size as any of the others, the only thing that set it apart was the furniture. A large wooden desk had been placed by the window, and two overstuffed maroon chairs, which reminded me of the ones in the common room, had been placed on either side of it. An iced down bowl on the edge of the table held carafes of water, pumpkin juice, and butterbeer, and small basket of assorted snacks had been placed beside it. In the center of the table was an ink well, a stash of quills, a bit of parchment, and a sealed letter from Dumbledore. To the left as you entered the compartment was a door that connected the Head's compartment to the larger Prefect's compartment on the other side.
I set my notebook next to the letter and changed quickly, a blush creeping to my face as a horrible scenario came to my mind where James-and worse: the rest of the Marauders too-sprung in on me half-dressed. I barely made it in time: I had just folded my muggle clothes and left them in one of the chairs when the locked door of the compartment rattled. I froze for a second as I heard James swear through the thin wood about the door being jammed, before the handle began to shake more violently. The thought struck me that this would be the first time James and I would come face-to-face since our rather uncharacteristic encounter the night before, and I seriously considered performing a "Colloportus" charm on the door and letting him carry on with the thought that it really was jammed.
...with me on the inside?
Clenching my teeth, I darted forward to unlock the door just as James gave an almighty heave and wrenched it open. He looked surprised to see me standing there, his eyes widening for just a second before he recovered with a gruff "'Lo, Evans."
I pointed my wand at the handle and muttered "Reparo!" to buy myself time before speaking and then leaned casually against the jamb, trying to regain the composure that I had somehow lost in the last five seconds. "I was just-just changing into my robes," I said, trying not to sound breathless with nerves.
He looked me up and down, taking in my polished badge. I didn't squirm under his glance, and this seemed to satisfy him. "Ah, I see. Mind if you let me in?" he asked politely, almost distantly.
"Right," I said awkwardly, backing out of the way and retreating to perch myself on the arm of my claimed chair. James was already in his uniform, but the first thing he did after lifting his trunk onto the luggage rack was to loosen his tie. I watched him, silently, finding nothing to say. His appearance, though, spoke volumes.
He looked worn again, tired, but the anger I had witnessed a few nights before had been carefully hidden in his eyes until it was barely noticeable, a mere shadow behind the burning flame. He moved silently around the cabin, draping his cloak over the back of the other chair before glancing out of the window onto the platform. His eyes then found our letter from Dumbledore, and my notebook.
He reached out and slid his fingers over the parchment envelope before touching the worn edges of my notebook curiously. "Mind?" he asked, sitting on the surface of the table and picking it up.
"A little," I said quickly, leaning over to him and somehow smothering the urge to jerk the notebook out of his hands.
He didn't say anything, but merely shrugged and passed it to my waiting hands before playing with his tie again. I frowned a bit; in the old days he would have opened it, or run off and hidden it just to spite me. But now...
"Thank you," I mumbled, placing it on top of my pile of clothing. "You wouldn't have been interested in it anyway, it's just a bunch of idle thoughts and sketches..." I trailed off as he eyed me strangely. I sighed; he'd been doing that a lot lately. "What?"
"It's only," he said slowly, propping his left elbow on his knee and then dropping his chin to rest in his palm. "Everyone's changed. Like you: you look so... forlorn. You never used to look that way before."
I rolled my eyes and smiled playfully. "I know one bloke I could say the same thing about, only with him it'd be an understatement."
He tilted his head pensively to the left and turned his neck so that he was looking up at me, his free hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. "It's just been..."
"I know," I said softly, reaching out and gently squeezing his shoulder before realizing what I was doing. At my touch he stiffened, and I quickly snatched my hand away.
The Head's compartment filled with a painfully loud silence for a time, another one of those typical uncomfortable moments that seemed to last hours and that neither one of us could quite break. I opened my mouth to ask him just what, exactly, the night before had meant, but before I could James cleared his throat, slid off of the table, and cut my words short. Just like that, the moment passed. He took a deep breath, tightened his tie, replaced his mask of confidence, and announced that he was going to go find something useful to do.
Before he left he paused in the doorway and I got this silly romantic notion in my imagination of him turning back to me, inviting me into his arms and kissing me upon the platform amidst steam from the engine and the roar of the train, not caring who saw. But then I banished the thought, reminding myself that this was Potter, the man who'd tormented me for the last six years. I told myself that these thoughts were probably just the product of highly charged emotions due to the war. I will not yield to them.
So when he did turn back to face me, illuminated by the sunlight streaming into the compartment, I met his stare unflinchingly, even daringly.
But he didn't ask me out again, and he didn't confess whatever undying love his imagination claimed he had. He stood there, with is hands in his pockets, biting his lower lip almost sheepishly in an attempt to hide a grin. And in his eyes glimmered something long forgotten, almost unrecognizable-was it triumph? A daring hope? His hazel irises twinkled mischievously at me as though he knew what I was thinking, and I didn't like the thought of that at all.
"Oy, Evans," James said boldly, his voice filled with ill-disguised mirth and yet tinted with a fleeting caution toward the known recklessness of saying something unwise. Even as I noticed him catch himself mid-breath, I raised my eyebrows at him in response, somehow knowing that he would finish his statement regardless of how much tact it lacked.
He hesitated for a split second before continuing arrogantly: "Don't kid yourself."
And then, infuriatingly and with another half-hidden smile, he sauntered down the loading ramp.
"So I guess it's back to business as usual, Potter?" I called heatedly to his retreating form, answering my own unspoken question. He either didn't hear me or pretended not to, and after a moment more he was out of sight.
I gritted my teeth, feeling both dismayed and like a first-rate idiot. Lily, Lily, Lily, I thought sourly, staring in the doorway where James had been standing moments before and hating myself for letting James Potter get to me. When will you ever learn?
2.2
To both pass the time and keep from brooding about James, I kept myself fairly busy loading the train and helping nervous first years to find someone to sit with. In fact I didn't even notice that my parents had arrived until, when levitating a trunk onto the train, I caught, in the glossy scarlet side of the Hogwarts Express, the slightly distorted reflections of two timid muggles peering around the platform from the entrance barrier.
Upon finishing with my task, I whirled around and dashed with a squeal into my dad's warm embrace, inhaling the recognizable scent of pipe smoke on his jacket and effortlessly falling back into my role as the youngest, more playful daughter. "Ah, Lily girl," dad said fondly, stroking my red hair that was so similar to his own. "We missed you."
"And I missed you," I said truthfully, releasing my dad and hugging my weeping mother, burying my face into her warm neck as I used to when I was a little girl and I was seeking comfort. "Mum," I said earnestly. "Don't start that again-we always go over this. I'll be fine, I'll see you in a few months..."
She sniffed and drew away, smiling. "I'm not sad," she said, and dad and I snorted at her in disbelief. "Really, I'm not. It's just this is the last time we're ever going to wish you off at this amazing platform... and you Head girl... honey, I'm so proud of you," she wailed, jerking a tissue out of her purse.
"Really? You don't sound it, you sound horrified," I said with a wry smile. I peered cautiously around my mother, half-dreading who I would find. But I didn't see Petunia-instead in the distance my eyes found the tall, lanky, and messy-haired form of James Potter, who was doing an almost-satisfactory job of pretending he wasn't watching me while at the same time presumably listening to Sirius rant about something, and propping his leg up on a stack of trunks so he could tie his shoelaces. I didn't have the energy to glare at him like I sincerely wanted to, so I paid him no never-mind and, acting as though I hadn't spotted him at all, I turned back to my parents.
"We seem to be missing one blonde," I said, pretending to check my family members off on my fingers. "Where's Petunia?"
Mum and Dad exchanged a look. "Well, she's off with the Dursleys looking at china patterns for the wedding," my dad said, as if trying to recall some long-lost and difficult fact from the cobwebs of his brain.
"Oh right," I said, my smile faltering. "The wedding..."
"She wanted to see you off," said my mother quickly. "Really she did, but this sprang up and-"
"Mum, you don't have to lie for her. I know she didn't want to come and that's fine," I said shortly, frowning at a dirty look that another parent had just shot mine. I was suddenly grateful for the Aurors on the Platform that would keep anything from happening to my parents, even as I realized that it was safer for them not to be around this dangerous prejudice at all. Damn, any time I start to feel happy about something, the war has to come and mess it up, I thought glumly.
Unfortunately for me, my parents thought I was frowning at the memory of Petunia.
"Now Lily," my mum said sternly. "I know you two haven't gotten along lately, but it's high time for you to mend your differences. You are sisters, and if you don't bridge the gap soon, someday you'll never be able to."
I sighed and bit my lip. "I know mum, and I try, but-"
My dad shot me a look. "No buts. You'll speak to her at the wedding of course?"
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that..." I trailed off, wondering how to word what I wanted to say. I couldn't just go barging off saying, We're in a war with someone who hates muggles and muggleborns and I put you in danger by showing up so I'm not coming. No, I had to have more tact than that so they wouldn't constantly be worrying about me. The way I am constantly worrying about them.
"Now Lily!" said my mother, pained. "You can't miss it-you're supposed to be one of the bridesmaids!"
Was that Petunia's idea or yours, mum? I forced a smile onto my face. It was better to placate her now and write her a letter explaining everything later. "Sure thing, mum."
I glanced at my watch with the old sense of paranoia stabbing at my intestines like a knife: there were still thirty minutes until the train departed; best to send my parents home before the platform became too crowded. I stood on my tiptoes and gave each of my parents a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later, mum, dad. I have to go, er, to a meeting with the Head Boy before the train leaves."
They nodded, and after one more hug each, I ushered them off of the platform. As they left something in me left with them, and I stood there staring at the brick wall they had disappeared through for what seemed an eternity, trying to figure out what that missing piece was. But I couldn't.
2.3
With departure time drawing steadily nearer, Emmeline and I took up station along the back of the train outside our compartment, standing on the metal grill walkway that protruded from both sides of the compartments and leaning up against the railing... waiting. A few compartments down, all four of the Marauders were doing the same. I was definitely beginning to get worried: there were only five minutes left until the train departed, and Alice still hadn't showed.
Trying to suppress butterflies in my stomach, I tossed Emmeline a look, and her wide eyes and slight shake of the head told me not to say my worries out loud lest they come true. The still quiet was becoming oppressive-all the students were on the train, the parents that remained were waiting solemnly for the train to pull away, and no one spoke.
With four minutes left, Alice still hadn't shown up. I began to pace the walkway irritably. "Come on, Alice," I muttered under my breath, praying that nothing serious had happened either to her or somewhere else in London.
"She probably just got a late start," said Emmeline definitively, her fingers betraying her nervousness as she tapped them rhythmically against the railing as if it was a piano.
"Yeah," I agreed hopefully, albeit hesitantly.
With three minutes left, James and I met on the walkway halfway between our two respective "groups". I had fallen back to the clipped, businesslike way of speaking to James that I generally used at school, the friendly, intimate way of the night before seemingly forgotten in my undeniable confusion of how he wanted me to "properly" associate with him.
"We're going to have to send Dumbledore an owl straight away..." said James quietly in a strained voice, not bothering to finish his sentence.
"D'you think anything's happened since we've been on the Platform?" I asked, eyeing the prowling Aurors.
"Hard to tell. Even if it had, those Aurors wouldn't leave their places," responded James, glancing at his watch. "Two minutes."
"I know but-"
Suddenly a shout went up on the platform and I jumped. The Aurors had all crowded around the entryway excitedly with wands drawn before a burly Auror with a Scottish accent cleared it by bellowing, "They're clear-let `em through!"
I waited a heartbeat, hoping... and then suddenly Alice and Frank burst through onto the Platform, Alice looking panicked and Frank pushing her trolley along behind her. In an instant, James had vaulted the railing and run to meet them and I leaned out over the rail, telling Alice to hop on and motioning her toward me.
"Can't somebody help with this damned trunk?" yelled Frank as James reached him, and from the corner of my eye I saw both Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black fire levitation charms at the trunk and Remus Lupin reach out to receive it. Emmeline darted to open our compartment door and all the while I was frozen, staring at the bruises on Frank's cheeks, the anxiety and shock on Alice's once round and cheery face, the small particles of dust and rubble that had settled in their hair and clothing. I could barely register what must have happened-the obvious, an attack-and at the same time I was winded by the thought that my parents hadn't made it out in time...
Numbly, I found my voice again and called Alice to me, but she moved closer to Frank and clutched his hand. Frank and James were talking very rapidly now, something I could somehow recognize even though it seemed like everyone was moving in slow motion. A loud jet of steam blasted from the engine, and I thought vaguely One minute left, as James moved away from Frank to let the couple say goodbye.
I knew I shouldn't intrude but I couldn't keep my eyes off of them; Alice grabbed the front of Frank's jacket and shook it slightly and said something that I couldn't hear over the roaring and creaking of the train wheels as they prepared to move. And then, as if my life was a film that was being fast-forwarded, all of the sudden they were kissing and the train was slowly pulling forward. James nipped forward to take Alice's arm as she and Frank separated, but she wouldn't let go of Frank's hand. They kissed one more time, quickly, before James tugged Alice toward the train and Frank drew his wand and sprinted back off of the platform.
Once on the train, Alice fell into my arms whey-faced, and we sunk slowly onto the walkway, Alice trying vainly to hold back tears and clutching me to her. Giving Alice the best welcome that I could, I held her to my chest, rocking her back and forth and trying to calm her down. By now, the train had gained considerable speed, and over the top of Alice's head I could see the other Aurors on the station barrel through the entranceway of the Platform right on Frank's heels.
I glanced at James and he knelt down and threw one of Alice's arms over his shoulder.
"Come on," he said gently as we brought Alice back to her feet. "We need to get you inside."
2.4
I reluctantly left Alice, five minutes later, in the care of Emmeline, Remus, Peter, and Sirius, and made my way slowly up to the head of the train, glancing up at the tormented sky as I did so.
The storm front that I had promised James the night before had finally rolled through, black clouds twirling with sickly green, being ripped up by the wind. I thrust my face into the strong air stream surrounding the train for a moment, reveling in the blast of clarity that the cool air and sprinkles brought as they struck my face, whipped my hair, and jarred me out of the nervous daze I had sunk into after hearing of the attack. Suddenly my life was brought back into a painfully sharp focus, and I realized how lucky we all were to have been sidestepped by that catastrophe.
Upon re-entering the Head's compartment, finally out of curious eyes, I leaned against the wall with my eyes shut, feeling very disheveled and just taking a moment to breathe.
I heard the scratching of a quill, someone clearing their throat, and then: "How is she?" asked James, his voice coming from somewhere near the table.
"We wrapped her up in our cloaks, she was shivering so badly, and now she's sleeping," I responded without opening my eyes. "She was really upset though, first at almost being blown up and then having to leave Frank when she's almost lost him once already."
He paused and then asked, "She'll be alright once we get back to the school?" I got the impression that he wasn't only referring to Alice.
"Yes," I said heavily. "She's a little shaken up and shell-shocked, but she'll be fine."
"Did you notice the ring on her finger?" he asked, his voice betraying no surprise.
I opened my eyes and walked over to the table, noticing that James was just finishing up a letter to Dumbledore. I plopped down in my comfortable chair and leaned back in it.
"Yeah, I did," I mumbled, grabbing a chocolate frog wrapper from the basket and opening it. I left the frog in the wrapper and vacantly turned the card over in my fingers. "But what's that got to do with anything?"
James shrugged as he folded up the letter. "It's just a dangerous thing to do, these days."
I looked quickly from my chocolate frog card to James, a scandalized expression on my face. "What, get engaged?"
He nodded. "Those bastards tend to go for the ones you care about, rather than straight to you."
I gagged but recovered quickly. "And you know this from experience?" I snarled sarcastically. He didn't answer, only pursed his lips and sealed the letter with wax. "Listen, it's just an engagement ring, not some sort of bloody target. I mean, isn't anyone allowed to be happy for once? They're in love for God's sake, and if I was in their position I wouldn't let anything stand in my way either."
"Nor would I," said James, glancing up at me. "I never said they made the wrong choice-only the dangerous one," he added quietly.
My vocal rage ended abruptly as my throat choked up. Determined not to cry in front on James, I wiped furiously at my eyes and said nothing. He noticed my silence but thankfully decided not to comment on it, and I leaned my head against the cool window of the compartment. From our position several compartment away, I could see half of the engine of the train through the abrupt downpour and the smattering of raindrops that landed heavily on the window before streaking off. Bullets of rain pelted the scarlet engine, only to evaporate with a vehement hiss on contact. The rain seemed to mimic my thoughts exactly: crazy and half-formed, disappearing in the blink of an eye before they had really been established.
I took a sharp breath and mentally shook myself. You've got to get it together, you can't keep falling to pieces all the time, Lily, I told myself, lifting a hand to trace the path of a smearing raindrop on the window gently with my fingers.
After a moment James poured two glasses of butterbeer and spoke. "In the letter, I just told Dumbledore what Frank told me: that there was an attack in London. A gang of Death Eaters blew apart a cafe and some stores right outside the station, probably as a diversion so they could infiltrate the platform, but there didn't appear to be any Hogwarts casualties. I did warn that Alice is in a right state and that Madame Pomphrey should be expecting her."
I swallowed and nodded shortly, dimly noting how controlled James looked, and sipped on my drink. Even chilled, the butterbeer seemed to fire me up and alleviate my tension at... everything. I got wearily to my feet and headed over toward the door of the Prefect compartment.
I fixed up my wind-blown appearance as best I could before saying, with what I hoped sounded like confidence, "You send that letter off with an owl, Potter, and I'll start the Prefect meeting."
James smirked knowingly at me. "I knew you'd get round to issuing orders soon enough," he said, placing the letter under his robes in the breast pocket of his shirt, pulling on his cloak, and preparing to run out into the downpour. "Good thing I don't mind a bit of rain."
He stared at me intently as he waited for a response, and again I got that feeling of him knowing what was running through my charged thoughts. I looked determinedly at the floor, biting my lip and wanting more than ever for someone to hold me, someone to kiss me and tell me everything would work itself out. But that someone I wanted was steadily drawing away, becoming cooler with each step. That's not logical, Lily. It's just emotions drug up by the war, they don't mean anything in the long run and they won't help you out of a tight spot, I repeated to myself. After a moment the hail of longing dimmed, and I could meet his glance again.
"Yeah, good thing," I said faintly, walking over to him and opening the compartment door. The rain had gotten heavier, with thunder rolling a split second after flashes of lightening. The blurred landscape looked like a wash of gray as we speed by in the premature darkness.
"Mind you don't get the letter wet," I said with the air of naming the impossible, shaking my head at the tempest. James rolled his eyes hopelessly at me and started through the door but I yanked him back.
"What, Evans? Would you like to go in my place?" he asked suggestively, though with a hint of impatience.
I considered him for a moment before holding my hand out for the letter. Suspicion evident in the way he moved, he pulled out the letter and handed it to me. I tapped it with my wand, muttered "Impervious!" and stuffed it hastily into his pocket, trying to ignore the disappointment written on his face.
Suddenly, he chuckled. "For a second there I thought you were going t-"
I cut him off, not daring to listen to what he had thought I'd do lest he said something along the lines of "fling yourself into my arms", even jokingly.
"Don't kid yourself Potter," I said quickly, and with that I shoved him out of the door.
-->