It was just before dawn, the sky, slowly turning from inky blackness to pink and gold. Only one girl walked outside, on this morning, beneath the rapidly disappearing full moon. Lily Evans was out here, curious about the angry whispers she’d heard in the Gryffindor Common Room—the angry whispers of James Potter and Sirius Black.

--

“What the hell do you mean you can’t make it?� Lily froze on her way back from the bathroom; James Potter was still out of bed. Though sorely tempted to tell him to go to his dormitory, Lily pressed herself to the wall, straining to hear what upset the carefree, foolish boy.

“James, don’t be angry. There’s nothing we can do about it. You know that Filch wants us scrubbing floors until our knuckles bleed,� snapped James’s friend, Sirius Black.

“Yeah, James. You’re being unfair,� Peter Pettigrew, another friend, piped up.

Lily could see them clearly in her mind’s eye. She was certain James had been childishly flailing his arms. She’d seen him do it so often to signal to another player on the Quidditch pitch, and even more often when irritated. And she could see Sirius, too, standing proud, his jaw jutted forward haughtily, his arms crossed over his chest, proudly defiant. She could even imagine Peter, with some satisfaction, drawing himself to his unimpressive full-height and reddening in the face with anger.

Yes, Lily thought, How like them to be arguing and acting so immaturely. She turned to go up the stairs when she heard James’ voice again.

“You’re both bloody cowards. You promised Remus you’d be there tonight. You’ve skipped a hundred detentions before, but when your friend needs you most, you turn tail and leave, like a whipped dog or a stinking rat. How fitting. I’m going with Remus. If you change your mind, we might be at the Whomping Willow.�

“James…�

“Good night, Sirius. Sweet dreams, Peter. Have fun in detention.�

And with that, Lily heard James’ footsteps cross the room and out the portrait hole. She heard some unintelligible whispers and swearing from Sirius and Peter before they, too, scurried off. Once the coast was clear, Lily tightened her dressing robe and snuck out of the Gryffindor common room. What could possibly be so important that James Potter would treat his two best friends this way? And why would he and Remus be at the Whomping Willow?

--

Now, as the sun was rising, Lily was alone, staring out at the Hogwarts grounds. She seemed to have missed James and Remus. Slumping onto the ground, Lily realized that she’d been out here all night, and was now exhausted.

Even trees needed to sleep, Lily mused with a yawn, watching the ever-violent Whomping Willow remain at rest.

She remembered when she had first arrived at Hogwarts; the tree had seemed so young, indeed it had been. And it had been so short and small. Now, after nearly seven years, it was an imposing figure, looming over the Hogwarts’ grounds. Its arm-like branches waved in the breeze, beckoning menacingly. Its call seemed to have enticed a stag, standing like a bestial sentinel before it. The deer seemed calm as it stood, surveying the grounds of Hogwarts unblinkingly from its place beside the usually vicious tree, as though it didn’t care that the tree behind it could lash out at any moment, swiftly making venison out of the deer. Not did the stag notice, or mind Lily. Instead, it turned back to the tree, making an odd head movement and a soft, muffled call. Lily half-expected a doe and a fawn to peer out from behind the Whomping Willow and join the young buck, but instead, Lily saw a dark figure creep out from inside the tree. Clasping her hands to her mouth in horror, Lily recognized what she saw—a werewolf. Its fur was grey and matted; it’s tail bushy and aloft. If it caught sight or scent of her, Lily would be dead, for werewolves lusted only for human flesh. Frozen with terror, Lily watched, as the sun rose into the sky, blood-red, and dispelling the bloated moon from the sky.

Suddenly, the werewolf fell to the ground and writhed in pain, twisting, howling, and screaming. Lily couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pained creature. She didn’t breath, she didn’t blink. Neither did the stag. It stood over the werewolf, watching and guarding. It looked concerned.

You foolish girl, Lily chastised herself, animals can’t look concerned. It’s a trick of the light or of your tired eyes… But the stag seems to be in as much pain as the werewolf…

Lily blinked and there was no werewolf. A tired boy in worn clothing lay in the monster’s place, breathing ragged, shallow breaths. He had his own teeth and claw marks etched into the pallor of his skin. In one fluid movement, the stag became a boy. James Potter. James bent over and lifted the werewolf-boy to his feet. Lily’s green eyes widened. The werewolf was Remus Lupin. Lily had heard James mention Remus but this…

“You alright, Moony?� she heard James ask Remus.

“Yeah…� Remus said, still short of breath. “I’m glad you could come.�

“What are friends for?� James asked, teasingly. Then, pensive once more, “Are you really okay, Remus? This transformation seemed worse than normal.�

“What’s normal for a werewolf?� Remus asked, nearly bitter. Realizing it, he softened. “I’m sorry James. You’re a good friend. I shouldn't yell at you. You were the only one who could make it tonight.�

“Don’t blame them,� James said guiltily, still supporting Remus. “You know Snivellus hexed Peter earlier today. They only fought back.�

Remus laughed hoarsely, “They fight back a lot.�

“It’s just too bad that Filch caught them today… C’mon. Let’s get you inside, before anyone sees.�

James didn’t know that Lily saw him and Remus on that early morning. And he never would know what she had seen. She saw a loyal friend, a brave man, a talented wizard, and a good heart. James would never know that what she saw in him under the Whomping Willow was what she had been hoping to see in him for years now. Over nearly seven years, she had watched the tree grow, and now, in an instant, she had seen James grow, too.