Volume 1, Chapter 1: Lily

Lily lay in bed, breathing deeply, her thoughts preventing sleep. She had tried the usual tricks – tensing and relaxing each muscle, telling herself the same line over and over again, even counting sheep – her parents had suggested this, convinced that it actually worked. Well, she had proved their theory wrong.

Lily gave up worrying about it and let her mind wander. She glanced at her clock. It was nearing 1:30. She knew she would regret it at school the next day, but she didn’t know what else to do. Lily thought of the people at school. She thought of Jimmy Warner – the boy whom she liked; she thought of Miranda Dellerby, the girl who seemed to have everything Lily wanted. Then another person popped into her head.

It was a boy. One with black hair, long enough to make her mother gasp. Lily wondered why she had thought of this boy. She rarely saw him. Come to think of it, Lily couldn’t recall ever seeing him at school, which she found odd, because it was a small school and she was sure he lived close by.

Then her thoughts shifted once more. From the strange boy, she began pondering on how strange she herself was – what coincidences seemed to happen around her. Some people said they were cursed with bad luck. Well, Lily was sure she was.

A few weeks ago at school one day, Lily had been rather depressed. She had been dwelling on the fact that Miranda Dellerby had just got into the cheerleading squad, and Lily had heard that Jimmy had gone especially to watch her perform.

As Miranda stood at the door of the classroom flirting with Jimmy, who was several grades ahead, Lily sat in her desk with her books arranged nicely in front of her. She sighed. Didn’t boys ever admire good qualities? Lily worked so hard in school to be at the top of her class but it seemed like the only people who ever noticed were the kids who made fun of her.

Lily didn’t notice Harold Parker, who slid into the seat next to her, until he reached across and yanked her red ponytail, yelling in an obnoxiously high-pitched voice, “Tomato-head!”

Lily’s face flamed, making her likeness to a tomato even more striking. She saw Jimmy turn to look at her, for the first time, it seemed, and utter a loud guffaw. Lily gritted her teeth. She couldn’t calm down enough to think that teasing was just the way young boys showed affection. Her head wasn’t cool enough to think that Jimmy just may be somebody too worthless to get upset over. All she could think about was how unfortunate she was and how nothing ever seemed to go right for her.

Steaming, she gathered her books and got up to exit the classroom, although there were just two minutes left before class started. But to leave, she would have to pass through Miranda and Jimmy who had now gone back to speaking as an excuse to stare at each other. As Lily approached them, she had a nasty thought…she could drop her books on Miranda’s delicate toes. So, as she squeezed through them, she let them go. The books fell, but they did so uncommonly slow, and it almost seemed as if they were defying gravity. Then, as Lily glanced back, she could hardly believe her eyes, because the books seemed to have moved right in midair. Then, with more than normal speed, they zoomed down to meet Jimmy’s feet with a painful ‘crack!’

Jimmy yelped and grabbed one of his feet. Lily raced back to him and retrieved her books from the floor, apologizing profusely; but she was shaking her head, wondering about what had just happened. It’s almost as if the books knew who her anger was really directed at.

Ever since, Jimmy had acted like Lily actually existed. Whenever he saw her he sent her venomous looks. And then, just yesterday it went from bad to worse. She had gotten detention and her grade had nearly been brought down a whole letter.
Mrs. Morris was Lily’s English teacher. Lily had to work extra hard to please her. Sometimes she felt like she succeeded; other times, she felt like she shouldn’t even bother. Mrs. Morris had given them a particularly difficult assignment the previous Friday. For their end-of-term paper, she required at least 800 words on a subject from England’s grand history. She had specified that it had to include all the figures of speech, and she would judge all spelling, structure, and composition mistakes.
Lily worked endlessly, working on each sentence as if it were the last. The day they were due, Lily turned it in with confidence. After class the next day, however, Mrs. Morris publicly asked her to stay after, using a very stern voice that caused all the students passing her to exit accidentally “bump” into her and hiss “Oooh, Evans!”
“Miss Evans,” she began crisply, when Lily approached her desk warily. “I have read your essay and would like to discuss it with you. As you know, very often, I find your writing quite good. But I must say, Miss Evans, despite your immaculate spelling and relatively good construction, I find your subject matter extremely distasteful!”

Lily was not of the maturity to be able to handle such situations with a great deal of wisdom. Looking back on it, she wished she had said something along the lines of, “Oh, Mrs. Morris. I wasn’t aware that we were being judged on our subject matter. I specifically remember you saying you would judge our spelling, structure, and composition. As you have already mentioned, you find these without fault and can have nothing further to say to me.”

Alas, Lily did not have quick thinking at her command, a gift she would forever long for, and so she was left to simmer silently while the dreadful Mrs. Morris finished her soliloquy.

“My other students have chosen subjects such as the noble kings and queens and heroic knights of the past, a fascinating one on the Stonehenge, one of the Saxons against the Normans, and a very…interesting essay on the organization of the parliament.
“But, Miss Evans, yours was fearful. No one wants to read of witch-burnings. This, I’m afraid, puts England in a very bad light, and many of the people whom we view as good appear in your essay to be villains.
“For your subject matter I could forgive you, had you not seemed to side so strongly with the supposed witches. You make everyone who does not absolutely defy burning them seem hateful!
“At the very least, I expected you to be neutral, although, good heavens, I had hoped for some patriotism from you, Miss Evans.”

Lily told herself she could take criticism – and she could. Had Mrs. Morris simply said, “I wished you to be more neutral and not express your own opinion so much,” Lily probably would have walked away better for the advice. However, Mrs. Morris had to insert such insulting words as ‘fearful’ and compare her with the other students, and then accuse her of being unpatriotic! Altogether it was more than Lily Evans could bear. Lily grasped for something to say in return.

“Well,” Lily replied haltingly, “you…you began two sentences with ‘but!’”

Mrs. Morris’ penciled-in eyebrows shot up. She leaned back in her chair as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. When she had finally gathered herself again, she spoke in a deadly whisper.

“Miss Evans, you ought to speak with more respect to teachers and elders. You will receive detention every day for an hour after school for the rest of the year.” It sounded frightful but there was only a week left in school. Despite that, Lily was mortified; she had never received detention.

“As this essay counts for a good deal of the grade, I’m going to refrain from giving you anything lower than a C+. You should thank me for my generosity and resolve to do better in the future.”

Lily almost sobbed…a C plus. That would permanently bring her grade down to a B, and there was nothing she could do about it with the end so near. She watched as Mrs. Morris reached for a stamp. Mrs. Morris had a neat row of stamps, one for every letter grade down to F. She often let students watch as she marked their papers…her theory was that when it was a good one, it rewarded them better, and when it was a bad one, it would cause them more pain to behold it.
She carefully chose the C+ stamp, deliberately pressed it into the red ink, and slowly placed it onto Lily’s clean, neat, 985 word essay. When Mrs. Morris lifted the stamp from the page, Lily had to do a double take to register what was there.

On Lily’s paper, there, in the top-right corner, was a smug, shiny red A+.

Mrs. Morris looked positively disturbed. She inspected the bottom side of her well-worn stamp carefully. There it was, the C+, just as it had always been. Shaking her head, she pressed it to the essay again. Once again, there appeared an A+.

“Oh, did you just put another one for emphasis?” inquired Lily maliciously. She, herself, was very confused, but she had taken the all too apparent opportunity of tormenting Mrs. Morris.

Mrs. Morris face was in absolute shock. She stared disbelievingly at her own stamp, then slammed it onto her desk and reached for a red pen in her drawer. She found one, and tested on a random slip of paper. She practiced writing a C. Then she let it meet Lily’s paper. It was dry.
“This is absurd!” Mrs. Morris yelped, driven to distraction. She glanced up at Lily and then let her gaze linger. Then she shook her head. She retrieved a black pen from her drawer.

It worked. She wrote C- on Lily’s essay. Mrs. Morris gave a satisfied smile and set about putting her desk back in order. When she looked at the essay to pick it up and deliver it to Lily Evans, there, in her own handwriting, in the same black pen, was instead of a C-, a sentence, reading:

This is a wonderful piece of work that deserves nothing less than an A+.

Mrs. Morris mouth dropped open. She shoved the stapled papers into Lily’s arms.
“GET OUT!” she shrieked. “GET OUT!!!”

It was a long walk home, as Lily had long since missed the benefit of a bus. She had quite a bit of time to marvel over the most recent occurrence. She attempted to make sense of everything she did, but even for a normal fifth grader this was a huge task.

Last Christmas, when she had been extremely content and happy with her family, she remembered that all the bells on their Christmas tree began jingling out the tune of “Jingle Bells;” Lily had noticed it, and so had Petunia, but thankfully it had been random enough to not get her parents attention, as they had assumed someone had just given the tree a good shake.

Lily began to realize that all the strange things that happened around her were not a coincidence – they must be because of her. She shuffled her white tennis shoes on the sidewalk. She saw a lilac tree hanging over the fence she was walking along. Lily reached up and grabbed one. Staring at the flower hard, she willed it to close. Lily shut her eyelids tightly. When she opened them, the lilac looked like a bud. As Lily concentrated, the lilac blossomed into full bloom. She laughed out loud.

Having just done an essay on witch-burnings, she was not all too eager to assume that she was a witch, but perhaps a magician with surreal powers; or a fairy! Wouldn’t that be lovely!

Lily broke from her thoughts and sat straight up in bed. That’s why she had thought of the boy with greasy black hair. She had seen him! He had been spying on her. After that all her fantasies of going to live with the fairies washed away and she had run home the rest of the way.

Lily closed her eyes. She was nine, and so thoughts like these didn’t present huge problems. When she would wake up the next morning, her troubles would start anew. For now, she slept.

Volume 1, Chapter 2: Surprises

Petunia knew something was wrong with her little sister. After Lily’s less than satisfactory explanation of her detention to their parents, Petunia managed to get the truth out of Lily in the privacy of the room they shared.

In the Evans’ house there were three bedrooms: their parent's, theirs, and the spare room. It was always Olivia Evans’ habit to have a room ready for visitors. Lily and Petunia had never had a problem sharing a room. They got along well together, although Lily was a dreamy young girl and Petunia was rather more sensible.

Lily loved her sister.She had always looked up to Petunia. As a very little girl, she had followed Petunia dogmatically, asking, in her tiny voice,

“What’re we doing today, Tuney? Are we goin on a ‘dventure?”

Petunia had always responded to these childish questions with a smile and said, “Perhaps if we’re good we can go to the park later.”

“And what’ll we do there, Tuney? We could fight big dragons from the playground fort!” She
clapped with delight over her own suggestion.

“No, Lils,” Petunia would reply sensibly, as a very grown-up eight-year-old. “We will
go and I’ll push you on the swing and we can slide on
the slide.”

Petunia was worried for her younger sister, though. She had always been concerned for her general lack of good friends and social events; but all the strange things that happened around Lily scared her. Petunia did not like things she couldn’t understand.

On the first day of summer holidays, Lily and Petunia ate breakfast together.
“Tuney, let’s go to the park. Like we used to when we were little.” Of course, nine years old is a very grown up age. “Please?”

“Well, I was planning on calling my friends and going to the theater…”

“Oh, please, Tuney?”

Petunia sighed.

“Oh, all right.”

“Yay!” Lily clapped her hands delightedly.

Their mother walked with the two young girls to the park, and upon arriving, Lily and Petunia immediately began swinging. Lily loved swinging. It was a little bit like flying – or what Lily thought might be flying. How Lily would love to be a bird. Then she thought how she could do things that were supernatural. Lily concentrated and swung her legs back and forth forcefully. She got higher and higher.

“Divorced!” Petunia screeched with laughter. Then she stared at Lily and stopped swinging her legs. Lily saw their mother stand, her face concerned, also staring at her daughter. Lily was swinging unnaturally high. Higher than the bar of the swing set.

“Lower, Lily! Don’t go so high!” Mrs. Evans cried.

“I’m all right, Mummy!!!” Lily called back, laughing with glee.

“Come down!” shrieked her mother.

“Coming! Look out below!” Lily waited ‘til her swoop up had reached its full height, and then released herself from the seat, but still climbing in the air; it was much too long before she headed toward the playground asphalt. She landed lightly, like a cat. Olivia Evans was looking at her daughter with shock.

“Lily, don’t do that again!!! That is too high! Listen to me; don’t do it again!”

Lily nodded contritely. Petunia and Lily went to the seesaw. Mrs. Evans left them soon after to go to her dentist appointment.

“Watch your sister, Petunia,” she said warningly.

After a while, the two girls were back at the swings. For a while Lily restrained from going too high, but after a while the past incident disappeared to the back of her head and she let herself go higher.

“Lily, don’t do it!” shrieked Petunia.

Lily did not listen to her elder sister. Instead, she went higher. Once again, she jumped off the seat of the swing when it had reached the height of its arc and flew into the air, screaming with joyful laughter. Feeling gravity pull her toward the earth, she let her feet land softly.

Petunia slowed her own swing, dragging her feet on the ground until it stopped.

“Mummy told you not to!” cried Petunia grumpily, having leapt up from the swing. She had her sharp elbows sticking out on either side of her and her hands were clasped on her hips. Her lips were pursed.

“But I’m fine,” Lily replied, catching a breath after her giggling. She ran to the edge of the playground and picked a flower from one of the bushes. For a moment she thought she saw something in the bushes move, but shook her head and ran back to Petunia.

“Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do.”

After glancing nervously around, Petunia slowly approached her and looked curiously into Lily’s cupped hands. The flower was pulsing. When Petunia focused, she saw that it was opening and closing.

“Stop it!” Petunia screeched.

“It’s not hurting you,” responded Lily, but she let the flower fall.

“It’s not right,” said Petunia wonderingly, as her eyes followed the blossom to the ground and let them remain fixed for a moment. “How do you do it?”

Lily thought her sister sounded like one of the girls that spoke to Miranda Dellerby at school – but they were worse. They complimented on what they wished they had themselves, green envy filling their eyes. Jealousy was a trace ingredient in Petunia’s tones; there was more mournful longing.

Lily opened her mouth to answer but didn’t get a chance.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” remarked a boy who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Petunia yelped and retreated to the swing set. Lily started at his appearance but held her ground. It was him! It was the boy whom she had seen the week before!

“What’s obvious?” inquired Lily, her voice betraying some of her curiosity.

The boy took a step forward, glanced quickly Petunia’s way, then said, in a low, mysterious voice,
“I know what you are.”

Lily’s eyes widened, but she wore a frown.

“What do you mean?”

They boy got even closer.

“You’re…you’re a witch.”

Lily was taken aback.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody!” she chided, affronted, and turned with her head held high to go to Petunia.

“No!” he cried and she could hear him running toward her and Petunia. Lily slipped her arm through her sister’s.

“You are,” the boy said desperately. “You are a witch. I’ve been watching you for a while.” That, Lily could confirm positively. The boy continued.

“But there’s nothing wrong with that. My mum’s one, and I’m a wizard.” This was said with a great deal of pride.

Petunia’s cold laugh rang out.
“Wizard!” she shrieked. “I know who you are. You’re that Snape boy!” She whispered loudly to her younger sister, “They live down Spinner’s End by the river.” Petunia looked up at the Snape boy. “Why have you been spying on us?” she demanded.

“Haven’t been spying,” said Snape, fidgeting. “Wouldn’t spy on you, anyway,” he added bitingly, “you’re a Muggle.”

Lily gathered, from the tone of voice he had used, that this was an insult. He had insulted her sister!

“Lily, come on, we’re leaving!” ordered her older sister shrilly. As they left, Lily was sure to give the boy a piercing look to show him what she thought of him.

The next few days, Lily tried to forget about the Snape boy; under normal circumstances this would be difficult, but in this case it was worse, because Lily’s curiosity about herself was burning. The boy’s words kept resounding in her head:
“You’re a witch…My Mum’s one, and I’m a wizard…”

A witch. She couldn’t be a witch. Witches were tall and skinny and had green or ugly brown skin with warts on their noses and hair on their chins. Lily shuddered. Perhaps you had to dress weird. In any case, a million questions were swimming around in her thoughts and she was dying for answers. So, after several days of indecision and doubt, Lily finally told her Mum she was going to the park. Petunia was at the mall with her friends and Mum was busy preparing for a luncheon for her clients. After Lily had sliced fruit and assembled cucumber sandwiches, her Mum let her go.

“You’ve already practiced piano, then? And read for at least an hour? That’s fine. Be back before 5 o’ clock.”

Lily did go to the park, and searched through some of the bushes. No one was there. Lily summoned her courage and headed toward Spinner’s End. She made her way to the river. She had been there before; in that area Running River was more of a creek. The high noon sun beat down on her and when she reached the river she was suffering in the heat. So Lily rolled up her white pants and began wading in the shallow river. Her purpose in going was forgotten for a moment in her delight of watching the dragonflies, feeling the water trickle around her ankles, and picking cattails.

“Don’t you know that the residents in this area own the river? No wading allowed.” Lily recognized Snape’s voice, although the boy was speaking in his best stern adult impression. At his words Lily started, and it was enough that she slipped and fell. The boy’s face was lined with worry as he raced towards her.

“Sorry!”

Lily got to her feet before he reached her, but surveyed herself, crestfallen. The once white seat of her pants was now a muddy brown.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Mum will kill me!”

Snape helped her out of the river.

“No,” he said thoughtfully, “no, she won’t. Stay right here.”

Lily sat on a rock with a mournful face and watched him dash off to his house. Lily could see his house from here, and she thought she should have been able to guess it was his by its appearance. The house was taller than it was wide, with charcoal gray siding and a steep black roof. The chimney was sticking out at a severe angle, and then bent the other way in the middle. On one side of the house there was a garret overhanging the garden, with nothing to support it. The garden, in fact, was not much of a garden at all, but a clump of spiny bushes.
All things considered, the first thing Lily thought was that it was something you might see a witch live in.

Snape came running back out of the house, leaving the front gate swinging behind him. He approached her, out of breath, and brandishing a stick. At least, it looked like a stick.

“This is my Mum’s wand,” he explained breathlessly. Lily stepped backward. A wand? Like a magician? But it wasn’t a straight black stick with a white tip. It was, indeed dark; it looked as if it had been made out of ebony. The wood was knotted and it bent several times, and tapered to a very fine point.

“A wand?” Lily managed to gasp. She hesitated. “Is it real?”

“Yes!” cried Snape. “Yes, it’s real! My Mum’s a witch and it really works.”

Lily was skeptical. “What are you planning on doing with it?”

“Well, I’m a wizard, aren’t I? I can get you cleaned up.”

“You’re not using a stick to clean me off,” retorted Lily, folding her arms.

“Do you want to go home looking like that, then?”

“Better than having no bum at all.”

Snape didn’t quite know how to reply. Instead, he picked up a rock.
“Look, I’m going to turn this rock white. Come here.”

Lily edged closer, wary of him.

“Nuvea Silite,”murmured Snape. Lily almost laughed. A spell! She was glad she didn’t, though, when the rock’s gray and brown gave way to pure white. Now she was brimming with questions.

“So you say words to do magic? How come I can do things without knowing words? Are there spells for everything? Can you make spells up?”

Snape was a little overwhelmed, and Lily could tell because he bit his lip.

“We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Lily Evans.” She held out her hand. The boy did not hesitate to take it.

“Severus Snape.”

Most people would have laughed at him. Severus Snape had a strange name, he wore ill-fitting clothes, his hair was greasy, lank, and far too long, and he was pale and thin. Lily didn’t see all that, though, other than in observance. Those things didn’t affect who he was and so they were not relevant in Lily’s mind. Lily liked him already, despite a bad first impression.

He led her to a shady thicket of trees, where he answered loads of her questions. She learned of Hogwarts, and she marveled that he had come into her life just in time, for, next year, she would be ten, and eleven was just the age that young witches and wizards began attending the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Severus told her about the houses, and a little bit about classes – although he didn’t know much –and he talked of the Ministry of Magic.

Lily was in love with Hogwarts by the time she was supposed to go home; but, as she walked home in clean white pants, she realized something. Hogwarts probably cost money –and she would have to leave home! For seven years! Doubts began filling her mind. Her parents would never let her go.

Mrs. Evans was upset when Lily returned.

“You’re lucky you made it in time for dinner,” scolded her mother at the dining table. “I told you to be home by five! What could you possibly have been doing in the park for five and a half hours?”

“I met a boy,” Lily answered honestly. Mr. and Mrs. Evans stared. Petunia nearly choked on her broccoli.

“Mum, Dad, I am a witch. And he is a wizard.”

Petunia looked horrified, but her parents looked relieved. Their daughter was still living in her imagination.

“That’s nice, honey. Who was the villain this time? An evil sorcerer?” Her mother asked, obviously finding the whole thing humorous.

“No,” Lily contradicted. “No, I really am a witch. Dad, I can do things. Things that Muggles – you can’t do.

“Well, naturally,” Mr. Evans responded. “Witches are naturally inclined to do things that others can’t do. Please don’t turn us into frogs…or…what was it? Muggles?”

Lily became frustrated.
“Tuney, tell them what I can do!”

Petunia hesitated.
“That boy – the Snape boy from Spinner’s End – we really did meet him. He claimed he was a wizard. He’s probably the one putting all the ideas into her head.”

“NO!” Lily pushed her chair back from the table and stormed out of the room. Mr. Evans shook his head and looked at Petunia.

“Petunia, what can she do?”

Petunia’s eyes were wide, but she shrugged.

Mrs. Evans cleared her throat.
“Richard, the other day, Lily…she was swinging. She went so high –I’ve never seen a child, or anyone, go that high. Then she jumped off from –from that height and it almost looked as if she was flying.”

Lily returned with an air of excitement, her anger apparently dissipated.

“Watch.” Lily had brought a flower from the garden. She showed them what she’d figured out she could do with the lilac that one day, coming home from school.

Her father went pale as he watched the rose bloom and close, bloom and close. Mrs. Evans gave a tiny “Oh!” Petunia looked away, frowning.

“That’s extraordinary,” said Mr. Evans under his breath. “Phenomenal.”

Mrs. Evans began clearing the table. Lily set the rose by her father and helped her mother. As Mr. Evans brought his dish to the sink, he exclaimed,

“So, what do we do about it?!”

“What do we do about what, Richard?” asked Mrs. Evans in a breathless voice.

“She’s magical, isn’t she? So what do we do?”

They both looked at Lily, who was grinning.

“Hogwarts.”

So Lily and her parents settled down for a long evening of conversation. They asked her about the school, what it was like, and how long she might be there, and all about wizards and witches.

“You know,” said her Dad, with a note of pride in his voice, “Now that I think of it, I recall the times when Lily did the oddest things. Remember, Liv? All the places she managed to get into – and out of -when she was just a baby? We couldn’t believe it. It all makes sense now.”

They were fascinated. They had a witch for a daughter.

Lily had never had a closer friend than Severus was to her all through that year. They spent hours in their private thicket, talking of what was to come. She felt as if life couldn’t get any better –she felt so content with the new turn her life had taken.

Only in one way had her life become less happy. Petunia wouldn’t talk to her in the way they had used to. Their late-night heart-to-hearts had altogether disappeared; she was harsh and brief when she bothered to respond to her younger sister. Lily wanted Petunia to share in her happiness, but Petunia almost seemed bitter. Petunia was even worse when Severus was with their family.

Severus joined them for Christmas dinner. Although Mrs. Evans disapproved slightly of the way he looked, she allowed Lily to be with him quite a bit, if it would further her magical education. She invited him over, once they had had their family time in the morning unwrapping gifts.

He came. Mr. Evans was congenial, Mrs. Evans was gracious, but Petunia was downright distant. She granted him more than one glare in the otherwise pleasant time spent with the Evans’ family. After dinner, he asked if Lily might walk with him home. After a brief glance at each other, her parents sent them off with a “home by eight o’ clock” warning.

Lily took the opportunity to give him his present on the front porch. Severus seemed immensely surprised. It was a scarf, knit in all the Hogwarts’ colors – yellow, green, blue, and red. He immediately wrapped it around his chin.


“Erm…your present is at my house,” he told her.

So the two walked to his house, the sun sinking low, the temperature dropping rapidly. Though she had brought a coat Lily was shivering violently when they reached his house. He stepped inside, glanced at her, then, after some hesitation, let her in for the first time.

Standing by the front door, Severus said in an undertone,
“Wait here,” and he scampered up the rickety wooden stairs, that twisted up to the second floor. It seemed like a long wait, and the house got dark after the sun went down. It was really just a matter of minutes before Lily heard someone come downstairs. It wasn’t Severus, however.

“Severus?” inquired a cold, low female voice. Lily, it could be confessed, was intimidated.

“N-no, ma’am, I’m Lily Evans.”

The woman finished going down the steps. Suddenly there was light flooding the little entry room, and Lily saw that it was coming from the tip of her wand. Mrs. Snape was a thin, sallow woman, very like her son, with black hair and black eyes. Her nose had a beak-like quality. She was not very handsome at all.

“Oh, you’re the little girl that he’s been tramping about the country with, hm? Where’s my son?”

“Upstairs,” answered Lily. The next word Mrs. Snape uttered Lily didn’t catch, but they didn’t sound very nice. She was relieved when Snape’s mother went back up the stairs.

Finally Lily was saved from the darkness and the chilling drafts in that room when Severus returned with a candle. In his white hands he held a small, dirty box.

Lily took it from him with delight and opened it. She let out a tiny, “Oh!” when she saw the contents. She lifted it out and brought it to the candle-light. It was a round, silver locket, with a fine chain. On the locket was a castle, engraved with great detail; every brick and gargoyle was clear to Lily.

“It’s Hogwarts,” said Severus eagerly.

“It’s beautiful!” exclaimed Lily, admiring it still. She let him put it around her neck.

“We should get a picture together sometime, for you to put in it,” Snape said as he fastened the chain. “Then we’ll always be together.”

“We’ll always be together anyway,” promised Lily. This promise gave Severus great satisfaction, and he wore a smile. Lily didn’t notice it that in the seemingly content smile was contained a great deal of greed. After she left he stared after her until she was out of sight.

“We’ll always be together.”