A memory surfaced from last summer when she’d been dozing; she’d opened her eyes to find him just a bit too close with an intense look in his eyes. His hand had been outstretched as if he’d been about to touch her. He had looked guilty and jerked his hand back quickly. Lily had pretended not to notice anything amiss, but it was her first sign that he thought about her as more than a friend.
Perhaps she should have dealt with his feelings then. Instead she’d ignored it and buried the uncomfortable thoughts deep inside her. The truth was that she’d never thought of him as anything other than a friend, and his jealousy, dressed up as concern, had become irksome.
But, she thought sadly, at least he was always there, and now I’m sitting in my room, afraid to go near the river in case I see him.
She sat back on her bed and tried not to think about him.
“Lily,” called her mother. “Come quick! There’s an owl here for you.”
Lily smiled at the excitement in her mother’s voice. Lily had never had a regular correspondent from school, but this year Mary had been writing nearly every week to relate the latest in her relationship with Remus. Lily jumped off the bed and ran down the stairs. Like her mother, she still got excited by the arrival of an owl.
Dear Lily, she read,
I hope you’re still enjoying your holiday and not getting too upset by this glorious weather - ha-ha!
Lily grimaced. Mary loved the sun and would be as brown as a Bowtruckle when they returned to Hogwarts, whereas she’d still be as pale as her name. She read on.
We went to Huffle-on-the-Hill for a few days, which is supposed to be where Helga Hufflepuff was born (although the inhabitants of Helgastow disagree!). This got me thinking about all the other places the Founders lived.
Unfortunately, Dad has to go back to the Ministry tomorrow and Mum can’t stand this heat, but they’ve agreed that Martha and I can go by ourselves. Trouble is that we can’t use magic and neither of us are star students in Muggle Studies (I failed that, by the way, but did get an O in Divination and passed most of the others “ how did you do?).
So, lovely, darling, wonderful Lily, would you please, please, PLEASE come with us so we can get across the country using buses and trains and things? The thought of buying a ticket with Muggle money is terrifying us.
We want to go to Ravensglen in Scotland and Godric’s Hollow. We’re not sure where Salazar Slytherin was from (History of Magic - another one I failed - oops!) but we’re pretty sure he was from the Fens “ well, that’s what the Sorting Hat always says - so maybe we can make our way there and see what we can find out. This is another reason we need you, Lily; you’re not totally brainless like us “ ha-ha!
Please say you’ll help us!
Love,
Mary
P.S. Martha says please, too.
P.P.S. I’ve just had another letter from Remus - LOADS to tell you there!
Lily grinned. “Mum, Mary’s asked me to go hiking with her and her sister. Can I go, please?”
Dahlia Evans looked curiously at her daughter as if she couldn’t believe the change one letter could bring. Lily knew she’d been subdued this holiday, and guessed her mum didn’t believe her story about staying inside because of the heat of the sun. After all, it had never bothered her before when she’d spent all her spare time with the Sev. Lily guessed that her mum was relieved the pair of them weren’t together. She had the feeling her parents had never really liked Sev.
“Of course you can go, darling. Just make sure you send us a postcard,” Dahlia responded, smiling.
A week later, the three girls found themselves in Ravensglen. It wasn’t a totally magic village like Hogsmeade but a town with some wizards and witches living on the outskirts. There was a library in the town, a building that defied age and stood proudly at its centre. Lily entered with delight. She could feel magic in here “ not just from the wizards and witches who had been here “ but the magic of words. Mary and Martha left her there whilst they wandered around the town.
That evening they’d sat in their tent going through their itinerary.
“Where next?” asked Martha. “Godric’s Hollow, or shall we head for the fens?”
“Well, we’re not sure about the Slytherin village, are we?” said Lily. “So we need to do some research first.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve brought History of Magic with you?” laughed Mary.
“No, but the author of the book, Bathilda Bagshot, lives in Godric’s Hollow. Perhaps she’ll help.”
Lily lay awake after they’d fallen asleep. Carefully, she let herself out of the tent and looked up at the stars. The night was warm and although it wasn’t the punishing heat of the day she still felt uncomfortable. They had pitched their tent in a parched meadow near what had once been a stream before it had run dry. If only she were seventeen she could cast Aguamenti to cool down. She settled for lying on the grass and thinking through the evening’s conversation.
Mary had, once again, brought the conversation around to Remus and his friends. Lily had been hoping to have one evening when she didn’t have to think about Potter and his gang, but tonight hadn’t been the night. Then Martha, who was obviously tired of the constant analysis of Remus, had brought up the subject of Quidditch. Both Macdonald girls had a passion for the game and although Lily had little interest she found herself getting caught up with their enthusiasm.
“I can’t understand,” Martha said at last, “how you’ve spent five years at Hogwarts and not bothered about Quidditch, especially as we’ve won the Cup twice in that time.”
“I’m just not that into the whole competitive side of it. Se... I mean, someone I know always says it’s a pointless game played by idiots too dim to get House points in class,” said Lily.
“And is this person any good at Quidditch or flying?” asked Martha.
“At the time, he was dreadful but he’s pretty good now. He still hates Quidditch, though,” she replied, and then shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Sev. “You have to admit, it does stir up some awful rivalries.”
“Pfft! Healthy rivalries. Lily, there’s competition everywhere. House points, Gobstones, Exploding Snap - it’s all competitive.”
“Tell me what you love about playing,” said Lily.
Martha sighed. “It’s the chase, the flying, the wind rushing past my face, and the euphoria when I get to the Snitch before the other Seeker. Yes, there’s a downside; I get injured if our Beaters aren’t doing their job properly. When we lose it’s hell, and Preston’s a tit, but on the whole I can live with all that for the sheer joy of flying!” Her eyes lit up at the memory and her fair hair glistened in the torch light.
“And,” said Mary slyly, “you get to celebrate or commiserate with Gryffindor’s star Chaser!”
Martha poked her tongue out. “You still think I’ve got a thing about James, don’t you? Well, maybe I did ... once. But I know when I’m flogging a dead Hippogriff. It’s not me he’s interested in and it never will be.” She looked meaningfully at Lily who returned her stare without blinking.
“You don’t have to give up on my account,” she said, a touch archly. “Although why you’d want to go out with the arrogant pig, I don’t know.”
Mary tutted. “It’s not really arrogance, Lily, so much as pride. James is a great Chaser. I think he could easily get picked up by the pros. He isgood, so why should he be falsely modest about it?”
“It’s not just Quidditch,” protested Lily. “He’s such a show-off in class.”
“Mmm,” agreed Mary, “but so is Sirius and you don’t give him such a hard time, or Remus, and he’s the one who answers the most questions “ nearly as many as you, in fact!”
“So you think I’m arrogant, then, for answering questions?” Lily asked with a slight edge to her voice.
“No, not at all. You’ve got confidence just like James and Sirius. They’re just a bit louder,” replied Mary.
“Well, Potter only asks me out to bug me. He’s so full of himself, thinking he’s better than us mere mortals,” muttered Lily.
“He’s not like that, Lily, not really,” protested Martha. “He’s been so supportive this year.”
Lily reddened “ how on earth had the conversation got back to Potter again?
“You’ll need new players,” she said, trying to change tack, “with Stells leaving. Are you going to try out again, Mary?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve had such a bad run of injuries. And Preston won’t pick me, not after I finished with him,” Mary replied sadly.
“Would he honestly be that petty? He knows you’re good, and it was nearly a year ago,” said Lily.
“He might not be Captain this season,” Martha said abruptly.
Lily and Mary both stopped talking and looked at the younger girl.
“Put it this way,” Martha continued, “Professor McGonagall wasn’t exactly impressed with his performance either.”
“How do you know?” asked Mary.
“She cornered me one time after Transfiguration and asked me how Quidditch was going. It was after we’d narrowly beaten Ravenclaw and Preston decided to drop me. Preston didn’t pull me aside for a quiet word; he shouted in front of everyone. Even the Ravenclaws in the other dressing room were shocked. Mind you, I’m glad everyone could hear because if James and William hadn’t been there to haul him off...” She shuddered.
“And Professor McGonagall knows all this?” Mary asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“I didn’t tell her everything. I said things were fine but I could tell she wasn’t fooled. She turned up a few times to watch practise sessions. I think she regrets making him Captain in the first place,” Martha said sagely.
“Why did she appoint him?” asked Lily.
Martha shrugged. “Not sure. I think the choice was between William Stells, James, and Preston. Stells was doing seven N.E.W.T.s and probably didn’t need the pressure; James was doing O.W.L.s and maybe she thought him too cocky. Besides, he’s the star player and the captaincy can put too much pressure on a player. They can lose form; so I suppose Preston was the best choice.”
“You really think she’ll drop Preston?” asked Mary.
“We weren’t the only ones watching his bust up with James,” replied Martha. “Professor McGonagall heard every word.”
“You never told me,” said Mary, “how awful Preston had been to you.”
Martha shrugged. “I didn’t want to upset you. You’d have thought it your fault because you’d only just dumped him and it was around the time you had that trouble with Mulciber.”
The three girls all shuddered at the name. The Slytherin in his sixth year had come across Mary in Hogsmeade. The details were hazy in her mind but she’d been found two hours later, unable to move, by the Hog’s Head barman, who had carried her back to Hogwarts. She could not recall what had happened, but there had been cuts on her hands and feet. Her last memory had been accidentally bumping into the Slytherin gang and Mulciber whispering something. But there had been no proof.
“I seem to attract trouble, don’t I?” Mary said mournfully.
“Not now you’ve got Remus,” Lily soothed.
With that thought, Mary had settled down to sleep and Martha had followed shortly after. Lily, however, had remained awake, disturbed by the memory of Mary being returned to the dorm. At the time she’d been sick with worry that Sev had been with the Slytherins. She’d been reassured by his protests that he had not been there, but she wondered now what she should believe.
It was starting to cool down and a breeze ruffled her hair. Lily went back inside the tent to sleep.
Three days, two buses, and a train ride later, the three girls found themselves in Godric’s Hollow. In the village square they passed a war memorial. There were many names engraved into the stone from two World Wars. It made Lily sad to see how many families had been decimated. There were even some wizard names on the stone; Lily saw a Bones and a couple of Vances.
Stiff from the travelling, they all agreed to spend a night in a local guest house on the main street which, they were delighted to discover, was run by a local witch, Margaret Abbot. To their dismay, she informed them that Bathilda Bagshot was away, but she did point them in the direction of the church. They settled for examining the parish records; it was mid-afternoon when they finished. They left the musty ante-chamber that housed the scripts, making their way outside. An elderly man was tending a grave as they stepped into the sun.
“Why, it’s Miss Evans, isn’t it?” he said.
Lily turned to face the speaker. He had messy, grey hair that looked as though it would never lay flat and wore glasses that were slightly askew. James’ father, Hereward Potter, was making his way towards them, smiling broadly.
“Mr Potter,” exclaimed Lily in surprise. “How lovely to see you.”
He stepped forward and raised her hand to his lips. “What brings you to Godric’s Hollow? Not my feckless son, I hope?”
“N-no,” she stuttered. “We’re visiting the Founders’ homes ... err ... and you?”
“Why, we live here. This is our home. I thought you knew?” he replied.
“I had no idea,” said Lily faintly as she turned back to Mary and Martha.
“Lily, I swear I didn’t know!” whispered Mary.
“Actually, James may have mentioned it,” said Martha, blushing.
Mr Potter was eyeing them curiously. “Miss Evans, will you introduce me to your friends? Although...” He stopped and looked directly at Martha, “Aren’t you the Seeker?”
Martha nodded.
“James has a team picture on his bedroom wall, but I don’t know your name.”
“Martha Macdonald,” she said.
“And this is her sister, Mary,” introduced Lily. “Mary’s in my year and Martha’s the year below.”
“Mary Macdonald,” Mr Potter mused. “You were at the lake when James fell in, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied. “But I didn’t do much to help “ just ran off to get Hagrid. It was Lily who did all the work.”
His eyes twinkled at her. “So Sirius tells us. He turned up,rather suddenly, last week and dragged James off on a camping trip. He’s determined to do everything that Muggles do, and I’m afraid poor James is being towed along in his wake.” He smiled at them. “Ladies, with the boys away, my wife and I are at loose ends. Would you do us the honour of coming back to our house and having tea with us? My wife would never forgive me if I let you go now, Miss Evans. She’s been fretting that she never thanked you properly in the hospital and was sorry to miss you at the station.”
“Oh, there’s no need, Mr Potter. We wouldn’t want to put you and Mrs Potter to any trouble,” replied Lily.
“It would be no trouble. In fact, it would be a joy. Mrs Potter has been longing to meet you properly for some time, even before you saved James.”
“Me?” Lily said in surprise. “Why me?”
Mr Potter started guiding them towards the church gate. “She’s fascinated by Muggle-borns, my dear “ especially one as talented as you. James told us you were exceptional at Charms, which is also one of his mother’s specialities.”
Lily stopped walking. “What difference does being Muggle-born make?” she asked belligerently.
“No difference at all,” he replied quickly, obviously feeling the need to explain in case she took offence. “My wife is interested in genetics. She has a theory that Muggle-borns must have a powerful witch or wizard in their ancestry. Ever since James wrote to her about your ability in your first Charms lesson, she’s been curious about you. Popular opinion at the Ministry, and amongst some Pureblood families, is that Muggle-borns will never be as magical. However, you, Miss Evans, I’m delighted to say, seem to give a lie to their facts.”
“Oh!” Lily quietly. She was thoughtful for a moment, remembering that lesson. Professor Flitwick had been teaching them Levitation Charms and she had managed to levitate her feather before anyone else in the class. James had been behind her and she’d caught a snatch of his conversation to Sirius. He’d said the word ‘Muggle-born’, she remembered. She’d turned to Sev sitting next to her.
“What did they say?” she had asked.
He’d looked into her eyes. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Please, Sev, I want to know.”
“That one,” he’d surreptitiously pointed to James, “can’t believe you’re a Muggle-born because he doesn’t think they’re good enough. The other one thinks you must have cheated.”
It was as clear in her mind now as if it had been yesterday. She’d felt humiliated and tears had started in her eyes, but she’d swallowed hard. “I’m as good as them!” she’d declared in a fierce voice.
“You’re better than them, Lily. That’s what they can’t bear.” Sev’s words, little more than a whisper, had kept her going.
“Miss Evans, are you all right?” asked Mr Potter, interrupting her reverie.
“Does James share your opinion about Muggle-borns?” she asked.
He laughed. “James has little choice in our household. He finds our obsession with Muggles and Muggle-borns tiresome at times, but he’s always believed our theory.”
She’d never questioned Sev’s words, never challenged Potter about his conversation. She’d set herself against them and concentrated on her work. Bottling up those feelings hadn’t helped her, and when they’d let Remus and Peter into their circle, she’d turned against them too.
Something subtly altered in her mindset. Maybe the slurs had never been there? Perhaps he’d always been impressed?
“You’re better than them!” Sev had kept saying to her.
But, she thought, I knew Remus wasn’t like that. We’ve worked together in the library and we’ve patrolled together. Why was I so willing to believe it of Potter?
Lily barely heard the chatter around her. Mr Potter, delighted he had two Quidditch players in his midst, began telling them of his own playing days.
“I was a Seeker like you, Martha. At Hogwarts and then for Puddlemere United.”
“Wow! You were a pro; James never told me that,” gasped Martha.
“It was a long time ago. Don’t you find your parents’ tales boring?” he asked.
“Um, I suppose so. But then we’ve nothing as interesting as a professional Quidditch player in our family,” replied Martha.
He stopped by the front gate and mopped his brow. Lily noticed in the bright sun how old he looked. He held the gate open for them.
“Welcome to the Potter Mansion,” he said, laughing. It was not a mansion; they could see that. It was reasonably large but not overwhelming. The front garden, that looked as if it needed some attention, had obviously been well tended in the past. A cobblestone path curved delightfully up to a white wooden door.
All it needs is honeysuckle over a trellised archway for it to look like a jigsaw puzzle picture, Lily thought.
“You think it’s twee, Miss Evans?” Mr Potter asked perceptively.
She looked up at him. “It’s very pretty and very English. I just can’t see James in this setting at all. He’s too...” - she struggled for the word - “brash!”
He chuckled. “You’re right, of course. We found our home long before we had James. We loved the quaint appeal of it, the Muggle charm. James is like a constant whirlwind here; he’s never been still.” There was pride in his voice as he led them through the front door.
“Hal,” he called. “I found three waifs in the churchyard and I’ve brought them back for tea.”
“I’m in the kitchen, darling. Bring whoever it is through.”
They entered the kitchen to see Mrs Potter sitting at the kitchen table, reading. She looked up and smiled.
“Lily,” she cried. “How lovely to see you again. I was so sorry to miss you at Kings Cross. I never thanked you properly for all you did for James. Come here.”
Lily walked over to kiss the proffered cheek. James’ mother smelled of roses and exuded warmth. After Mr Potter introduced Mary and Martha, they sat around the table whilst he made tea and fetched biscuits.
“Oh! What are these?” Martha exclaimed excitedly as she bit into a chocolate and sponge confection with an orangey tang to it.
“It’s a Jaffa cake,” murmured Lily. “A type of Muggle cake. Well, more of a biscuit, I suppose.”
“It’s neither, really,” explained Mr Potter. “Which is why we like them, eh, Hal?”
Mrs Potter smiled. “Would you care to stay for supper?” she asked them.
“That would be lovely, as long as it’s no trouble,” replied Lily.
James’ mother got up and Lily heard a quiet whisper, no, a gasp, come from her. She had momentarily flinched in pain, and then her face assumed a mask. She noticed Lily looking at her and smiled. He husband, immersed in Quidditch memories, had noticed nothing remiss and soon bore the two sisters off to look at his trophy cabinet.
“We really don’t want to put you to any trouble, Mrs Potter. Please, you look tired to me. We can easily find food somewhere else as we did rather land ourselves on you,” said Lily.
“Nonsense,” she replied stoutly. “I enjoy the company. It’s wonderful to have girls in the house. I’m always outnumbered during the holidays - especially when James brings his friends home. “
“How long do James’ friends usually stay?”Lily asked.
“Well,” she explained, “most years they’ve all come for a week, but Sirius arrived last week and will be staying until September now.”
She looked at Lily as if she were assessing her, and then decided to carry on.
“I don’t know if you know the Blacks, Lily, but Sirius has left home. He’s had an almighty row with his mother, and is adamant that he won’t return.”
“But surely he’ll make it up with them. He won’t stay homeless.”
“Homeless?” Mrs Potter laughed. “Not while we have space; I’d never let that boy starve. For one thing, James would probably walk out, and Hereward would never speak to me again. He loves having Sirius and the other boys here; it reminds him of his own school days.” She paused to sip her tea. “The things he got up to. Such a charmer! Many a girl had their eye on him, I can tell you. You know the alarm on the girls’ staircase in Gryffindor?”
Lily nodded.
“Well, Hereward found a way past it!”
Lily looked up in alarm. “I hope he hasn’t passed on the secret to your son and his friends. The girls’ dorm is our only refuge! They’d be even more impossible...” She faltered, aware that she sounded very rude. After all, this was James’ mother she was talking to.
Mrs Potter was smiling at her words. “Don’t worry about that. Albus Dumbledore, who was our Head of House at the time, made sure the spells were reinforced. As mischievous as those boys are, they won’t outwit him!”
She finished her tea and started to get up. Once again, she winced.
“Mrs Potter, please, you’re obviously in pain. We can’t inconvenience you like this,” Lily cried.
Mrs Potter grabbed the young girl’s hand.
“I want you to stay. It’s the least I can do. If I’d lost my son, Lily...” She left the sentence unfinished.
“At least let me help,” replied Lily.
“That would be lovely,” agreed Mrs Potter. “And Lily, please call me Hal or Hally. I can’t stand this stuffy ‘Mrs Potter’ business.”
“Oh!” said Lily, taken aback. She didn’t think her parents would ever let her friends call them by their first names after such a short acquaintance. “Um, okay...Hally.”
Mr Potter, Mary, and Martha trundled back to the kitchen to find the two of them chatting and cooking. His wife was slicing cold meat with her wand and the knives were chopping tomatoes for a salad and peeling potatoes.
She looked across at them. “Ah, there you are. Has he been boring you with tales of his Quidditch exploits?”
“Oh, it wasn’t at all boring, Mrs Potter,” declared Mary. “Mr Potter’s stories were very interesting.”
“I was just telling Lily to call me Hally,” explained Hally, “So please, Mary and you too, Martha, feel free to do the same. And I’m sure Hereward would be delighted to be on first name terms with three young ladies.”
“Oh, yes,” agreed Hereward. “Charming idea. Makes me feel as if I’m back at Hogwarts again.” He smiled roguishly at Lily; she was once again struck by his resemblance to James. “What have you been up to, Hally, when I spirited these two away?”
“Lily was helping me with tea, dear, and I was just explaining how to roll out pastry.” She turned back to Lily who had a rolling pin in her hand.
“It’s always better,” explained Hally, “to do this the Muggle way. The pastry is so much lighter.”
“Unless you can find a good house-elf,” reproved Hereward.
His wife giggled like a schoolgirl. “Don’t mind him. He’s grumpy because we had a house-elf and she was a wonderful cook.”
“Was?” queried Mary.
“Still is!” stated Hereward. “But then my wife gets it into her head to free her.”
“So she left, Mrs Potter...um...I mean, Hally?” asked Mary.
“No,” laughed Hally. “She still works for us, but I’ve let her have some time off to look after her aunty. Sirius was disappointed; he always thought Sukey such an oddity and delighted in her.”
“That’s rather a lot of potatoes you’re peeling for five,” said her husband. “Shall I stop them?”
“Not five,” replied his wife, “seven.”
The girls looked at her blankly, but Hereward smiled at his wife.
“The weather’s finally going to break and James will dash home at the first drop!” she declared confidently.
Oh, Merlin! thought Lily. I really hope she’s wrong.
At six o’clock the heavens opened. The villagers of Godric’s Hollow whooped with joy as the ground thirstily drank the rain; Lily watched from the sitting room window.
Maybe James will sit it out, she thought hopefully. She really didn’t want to see him at the moment. However, the fates were conspiring against her. Just as they sat down to eat, and the smell of treacle tart was wafting through the house, she heard the sound of two teenage boys bickering.
“I don’t give a toss about that grotty tent, Padfoot. I’m not going back out in this tonight!”
“You wimp! What’s wrong with a bit of rain?”
“I’m soaked!” James’ voice had become rather high-pitched in his indignation. “I have no dry clothes since you dropped my bag in the river, and I lost my shoes in the mud!”
“Look, it’s not my fault the current swept your bag away. We could have waded in to get it.”
“If you think I’m ever going near a lake or a river again after last term then you’re thicker than McLaggen!”
“You’re just saying that because the lovely Lily wasn’t on hand this time,” said Sirius, laughing. Lily flushed slightly at the mention of her name. “Bet you’d relish the chance to have her save you again? If you time it right, you could snog her back instead of throwing up all over her.”
“Merlin, will you stop going on about that. I didn’t throw up on her...” Lily heard his footsteps stop, and then heard him say, “Blimey, that smells like treacle tart. Sukey must be back.”
James burst into the dining room, shoeless, dripping wet, with his cloak wrapped tight around him. His glasses broken, he squinted to see who was sitting at the table. It was a delighted and totally unabashed Sirius who enlightened him.
“Wow, Lily, what great timing. James was just saying how much he’d like to go swimming with you again!”