Some months later in what can only be described as a pokey little hole of a village, the Potters were attempting to ignore the screaming of their newborn son Harry. Without the threat of an attack from Lord Voldemort, they were less inclined to cherish the whining little brat than they would have been if his life had been in danger, and consequently Lily Potter was wishing for the umpteenth time that she had waited until the war was over to get sprogged up.
“Well it’s your own fault,” said James smugly as Lily opened her mouth to complain. “You told me you were on the Spell, remember?”
Gnashing her teeth furiously, Lily performed a swift, non-verbal silencing charm, which fortunately was a lot more successful than that which was performed by Severus Snape a few months previously. One did not acquire a Wand That Was Good For Charms without some personal gain.
Now that father and son were bonding in silence, Lily found she had time to think. The thing was that she had been feeling inexplicably cheesed off for some time now, as though something significant ought to have happened. Cheated, that was it. She felt cheated to still be living in the back of beyond with a man whose ego had been re-inflated to its former gargantuan size by the birth of a son who looked just like him “ it had taken all her efforts to persuade her husband that perhaps James should be his middle name and not his first “ and was also feeling the added pressure of having a homicidal nose-less maniac somewhere out there picking off her friends one by one. Nothing was changing, which, for a woman who had been experiencing the build up to an earth-shattering event, was infuriating to say the least.
“James,” she said finally, as her husband hastily stopped teaching Harry rude hand gestures, “I’m fed up.”
James said nothing. Unsurprisingly.
“I mean, here we are in Godric’s Hollow “ presumably the hollow of his armpit if the perpetual stench is anything to go by “ with no money thanks to Dumbledore’s latest bright idea that we can distinguish traitors from loyal Order members by imposing a membership fee so extortionate that no Death Eater would ever consent to pay, no jobs because the Order takes up all of our time, significantly fewer friends because of you - ”
Here James protested wordlessly yet uselessly.
“Oh come on James, the only person you will allow near the house apart from Dumbledore is Sirius. Not even Remus! You won’t tolerate him being within a ten mile radius of our home because of Sirius’s ridiculous theory that he’s some kind of spy.”
James could find nothing with which to counter this latest accusation and so said nothing, but amused himself with making wolf-like shadow puppets on the wall, and, just to make a point, making chomping motions towards the bulbous shadow cast by Harry’s head. Lily, however, was in full flow.
“And if that wasn’t enough, we’re no nearer to stopping Voldemort than…than…well I’m too far into my rant now to start thinking of witty comparisons so you’ll just have to use your imagination.”
She broke off, her breathing not dissimilar to a bull that has spotted a matador from a distance. This wasn’t working. It was no good shouting and railing against somebody who couldn’t even splutter in indignation. Reversing the spell with a flick of her wand, she glared at James in a manner that never failed to get a response, though that response normally involved momentary loss of bladder control.
James mastered his impulse to urinate and cleared his throat.
The reader is now to be spared any snivelling answer given by James Potter because it is at this point that Albus Dumbledore, with no thought for the already strained nerves of Lily Potter and the likelihood of her reaction to a sudden intrusion being both swift and brutal, apparates inside their godforsaken hovel. It is afterwards, when he is reattaching the last of his severed extremities, that he vows never to drop in unannounced ever again. In an alternative future, Harry is to notice the lasting effects of this encounter when Dumbledore is repeatedly seen to approach the dwellings of other wizards at a safe distance.
“So, what’s the news, Albs?” said James in a thoroughly over-familiar manner while demonstrating his irritating habit of abbreviating all names to one syllable or less to make them sound more like his own.
Dumbledore gave an inexplicable smile, and, almost simultaneously, an equally inexplicable tugging motion of the hand, as though he were having trouble with the waistline of one of his many garments.
“Ahhhhhhhh James, I have been trying to penetrate the mind of the enemy,” he said, and his eyes twinkled in a trademark sort of way.
“Oh, no, not through my “ forgive me “ extraordinary skills as a Legilimens,” Dumbledore continued with an almost undetectable air of smugness as Lily showed every sign of interrupting. “No, this is a magic that is much older, much more pungent…this is Pantomancy, the art of reliving the memories of a person through extensive wearing of their underpants.”
Lily and James exchanged a look of horror and both tried to back away as tactfully as possible, trying very hard not to think about the horrors concealed within Dumbledore’s voluminous robes.
“Yes, for many months now I have been sharing my life with one Severus Snape - ” Lily fought back a wave of bile as James attempted to look macho by making a show of clenching his fists “ “ and much, much more. I have experienced his torture at the hands of Lord Voldemort, his frustration at having his undergarments continually falling down, his decision to eavesdrop, and, finally, the revelation; I believe I made a grave mistake in dismissing Sibyl Trelawney that night.”
The suspense was killing them. Really.
“Yes, in reliving that moment atop the stairs of the Hog’s Head Inn, I heard, through his ears, something which I myself missed and which I do not think he even knows he remembers. But to know whether I am right “ which I generally am seeing as I am a godlike genius “ I must go back and find out…or rather have someone else go back and find out.”
It was at this point that James, in the friendliest manner possible, got out his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore’s heart while backing away at a suitable pace. Lily, who was still slightly sluggish due to her feeling of purposelessness, was not quick enough.
Before she knew it had happened, Dumbledore had clubbed her around the back of the head with the terracotta base of a potted plant (which had been the first thing to hand), attached a time-turner to her neck using a lasso-like technique, twizzled it for a moment and hissed the word “Pants” in her ear. Then, with a feeling of mild resignation, Lily felt herself spiralling through time and space…
Will Lily be able to save the plot of Harry Potter?
Will she be able to do anything particularly useful seeing as Dumbledore’s explanation of events is pretty shoddy even by his standards?
What happened when Lily met Sevvy?
Only time will tell.