Part One
Lily adjusted her robes, tucked her hair behind her ear, and forced a smile on her face.
She was exhausted, but she was determined to keep going, because there was simply too much to do and she couldn't afford to stop. It would be a short meeting, anyway, and then she could go back to working on the massive pile of schoolwork that never seemed to shrink and worrying about the one last charm she couldn't seem to master. Or rather, the charm she had passed for O.W.L.s and now couldn't cast at all as they reviewed for N.E.W.T.s.
Entering the prefect's lounge, she was not surprised to find James and Remus there already: James had been trying to one-up her all year and get there early. For a while, it had been a bit of a game between them, until she had let him win, mostly because after Christmas he had started setting up the room and making sure the fire was hot enough. Whether he was trying to be responsible or trying to impress her, she wasn't sure. She could never tell what was going on with him: he was a mystery now, a former troublemaker and prat who had shown up seventh year with the Head Boy badge and a very different personality--one that she still didn't understand at times, even after working with him all year, and one that had grown strangely distant as the months had progressed.
"Hi Remus--Potter," she greeted them as cheerfully as she could. James glanced up and smiled at her--a warm friendly smile that confused her at times: was it just for her, did he smile at everyone like that now, or had he always done so and she'd never noticed? Either way, she hoped she wasn't blushing, because she liked that smile, on the rare occasions when she saw it.
"Evans, when are you going to start using my first name?" James asked, pretending to be exasperated, but she saw the twinkle in his eye and knew he was teasing. And for once, she didn't mind; she actually had a comeback.
"How about when you stop hexing Slytherins for fun?" she replied with a grin.
Remus clapped him on the back. "It'll be Potter forever then, Prongs."
James laughed, but Lily gave them a coy look. "I could call you Prongs, too. Especially if you told me what it means."
"Forget it. I'd rather you call me by my middle name," he replied, then arched an eyebrow at her. "If you know it."
"It's Harrington," she replied without thinking as she helped him move the sofa. "After your father."
She noticed Remus nod appreciatively, but James gave her a curious look. "How did you know that?" he asked. She shrugged, oddly embarrassed.
"Must have been from the Sorting," she mumbled.
"No," he said, either ignoring her discomfort or completely unaware of it. "They don't use middle names for the Sorting."
"Then I probably heard it somewhere else," she replied, trying to brush him off. "Look, if you want me to call you Harrington, I will. Or Harry for short."
"I just didn't expect you to know it," he laughed. "Call me James. At least once before we finish school, okay?" It sounded oddly pleading, and she wondered at his tone.
"At least once," she murmured, eyeing him. "All right. I'll try. But only if you tell me what Prongs means."
"You might as well call me Potter then," he replied as several students began to enter the prefects' lounge.
She pretended to sigh in mock disappointment. She had wondered for years what the Gryffindors’ nicknames meant, but not once had any of them let slip a hint or clue, even under the influence of copious amounts of Butterbeer or Firewhiskey. It had become a running joke for her to ask--to badger, really--yet even Peter pretended not to hear her when she tried to trick him into revealing something, anything.
She also wondered how they managed to sneak around the castle without getting caught. There were times she wished she knew how, for it was getting harder and harder to find someplace to study not already taken over by frantic fifth-years and seventh-years. But then, that was another of their secrets, another one of his secrets that she knew he had and found herself thinking about more and more.
Shaking her head of inappropriate thoughts, Lily nodded at James, and they started the meeting. It was as short as she anticipated; there was not much to go over until they handed out the schedule for the train ride to London, and as that was still two months away, they hadn't even started working on it. They were both too busy with N.E.W.T. reviews, and it was fairly obvious the other prefects wanted to get back to studying as well.
"I'll clean up," Lily told James as everyone left. "I'm going to stay and study a bit. Gryffindor is getting distracting, and Madam Pince is tired of kicking me out of the library."
James shrugged. "That's all right, I've got some time before I meet Sirius." He started to charm the chairs back into the corners. Lily couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind as they worked together, quickly moving everything back to its proper place; sometimes they seemed to make a good team, but other times they seemed as reserved as ever around one another.
"Thank you, James," she said, placing special emphasis on his first name. He gave her a look of exaggerated shock.
"You are quite welcome, Lily," he replied with a wink. "But I'm still not telling." Gathering his bag, he continued talking, friendly and casual. "So what are you working on tonight?"
"Well, that Patronus essay, for one," she said, and she noticed a dark look cross his face. "But I'm really trying to get the boggart spell down."
"Boggarts?" he asked, giving her a quizzical look. "But we passed those in O.W.L.s. You were brilliant at it."
Lily felt herself blushing at the easy, natural compliment…and the fact that she could no longer cast the spell. "Thank you, but I seem to have forgotten it. I haven't been able to banish a boggart since the holidays, and Armitage is planning on reviewing them in class next week." She had stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas and had come across one in her dormitory, hiding in one the wardrobes. When, to her shock, she had failed to banish it, she had been forced to ask Professor McGonagall for help. She in turn had sent Lily to see Professor Armitage, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, for extra tutoring, but so far Lily had failed every time they had practiced.
James frowned. "I'm sure it's just nerves. Armitage is throwing so much at us for N.E.W.T.s it’s a wonder we're not trying to Stun the castle ghosts every time we turn a corner."
"Maybe," she replied absently. "Anyway, I've been reading everything I can to try to figure out the problem. Hopefully I can find one I can practice on." She did not mention that she was fairly certain there was a boggart in the grandfather clock in the corner; she wanted to practice on her own, so that if she failed again, no one saw her. She had a feeling that if James knew there was a boggart in the prefect's lounge and she intended to face it, he would insist on staying with her. He was a Gryffindor, after all.
"Let me know if you do," he said, almost on cue. "I can help you with the charm. I've been known to have a sense of humor at times."
"I've noticed," she replied dryly. "And thanks. What are you working on?"
He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm going over that same essay with Sirius. And then the spell itself, because I can't get my Patronus to resemble anything but a dirty rain cloud, and I don’t think that will do me much good unless I'm staring down a drought."
"Then I can help you with that in return," she said, the words popping out before she could stop them. "I've got it pretty well. I even produced a corporeal one on Friday."
"You did? Was yours the silver swan, then?"
"No," she laughed. "Mine was the deer--well, a doe, I guess. No antlers."
He gave her a funny look and a nod. "A doe. Huh." She didn't have a chance to ask him about it before he shook himself and forced a smile. "Then maybe we can set up a time to practice both," he said. "I'll keep an eye out for boggarts we can use."
"Thanks, James," she replied, his first name falling easily from her lips. He winked again, and she rolled her eyes as he turned away. "Good luck with your writing." She settled into a chair and took out her parchment and quills, intending to work on her essay before trying the boggart.
James waved and headed toward the door, stopping just before he left. "It was really a doe?" he asked, and Lily gave him a questioning look.
"Yes, why? Not what you expected?"
"No expectations," he replied. "Just a coincidence, I guess. Don't stay out late, Evans." He left her alone, wondering what he meant by a coincidence.
She worked on the essay--six feet of complicated magical theory--for what felt like hours. She was fairly certain she drifted off at least once, because all of a sudden she heard the clock in the corner chime midnight, but didn't remember it chiming the half hour. Standing up, Lily swore as she stretched: she was out past curfew and still hadn't faced the boggart in the clock.
She took out her wand, determined to let the creature out. She knew she was being rash and reckless, and yet she was so frustrated at not being able to banish one several times now that she had to try: she'd read so much, thought so hard about turning her fears into something she could laugh at, that she couldn't leave now without even attempting to face it.
Striding up to the clock, she raised her wand, took a deep breath, and opened the door. A shapeless cloud sped out and zoomed around her, like a dark bat circling its prey. It slowly coalesced into a vaguely human shape, one she recognized and dreaded.
It was her.
Yet the figure before her was dirty and bruised, clutching a broken wand and limping with an injury to its leg. Its hair was cut short and ragged and its eyes were dull and lifeless. It was a lonely figure bereft of spirit, of hope. It was Lily, living her deepest fear.
Lily faced her boggart. She was not afraid of getting dirty, of getting hurt; she was not even afraid of fighting and dying, not really. And yet the figure stood before her, injured and alone and full of despair, and she knew it for what it truly was: she was afraid of facing the uncertainty of war alone, of losing hope--of losing everything, especially her magic.
Taking in a slow but shaky breath, Lily kept her wand trained on the boggart, her arm surprisingly steady. When she tried to cast the spell, however, nothing happened. What could possibly be funny about war? About stepping into the world as a Muggleborn when Muggleborns were disappearing and dying, victims of hatred and prejudice? How could she possibly laugh at such a future when it looked so bleak at times? When defeat was such a dark possibility?
Lily was not one to lose hope easily, but at rare times she felt it slipping. She felt alone. She knew it would be dangerous out there for her, and she would have no one to turn to, no one to run with if she lost everything. Her parents were Muggles and going home--giving up the magical world--would only put them in danger. She had lost her best friend years ago to Dark magic, and her two closest friends in Gryffindor were purebloods who would not have to face the same prejudices, the same threats that she already knew at Hogwarts. Even James was a pureblood with friends, family, and money that would see him safe from the war.
She had nothing, not even a simple spell to banish a boggart.
The boggart-Lily reached out toward her, and Lily felt an icy calm as it approached. She did not know what would happen if it touched her: would it attack her, drive her mad, kill her? At that moment, she didn't care; she was tired of this figure, this vision of defeat. Reaching out, her heart racing in anticipation, Lily faced the only future she knew.
* * *
James rubbed bleary eyes and glanced up at the clock in the Gryffindor common room: it was after midnight, and they had class first thing in the morning. Nudging Sirius, who had fallen face first into a book on advanced charms, James mumbled something he hoped sounded like, "Get up, Padfoot."
Sirius grunted back.
Too tired to try again, James began to gather the books and papers he'd spread out over the table. He had almost finished his Patronus essay, and Sirius had tried to help him with the charm up in the dormitory. And yet time and time again only a pale grey cloud had floated from the tip of his wand to hover aimlessly next to Sirius's great silver dog, until James had sighed (and sworn) in resignation: he had failed again.
It was frustrating. He had always been able to get things done, whether by luck, talent, or hard work (which few people credited him with, but he did have to work hard at things like Potions.) Yet here was something he could not do, and he hated it. Why couldn't he conjure anything more than silver dust? Remus had tried to help him as well and had said James probably just hadn't found the right happy memory to conjure a corporeal Patronus. Which was equally as frustrating, because James did not feel unhappy…not really.
He had a good life: he knew that. He was well-off and well-loved. He had happy memories from childhood, even better memories of his best friends from school: why did none of them work, then? It was as if it weren't enough, that amazing trip to the dragon preserve in Wales when he was eight, or that unforgettable night in Hogsmeade when him and Sirius had stayed out all night playing cards at the Hog's Head, only to be chased down the street laughing when Aberforth had finally realized who they were…
No, something was missing. He felt it more and more as the year progressed. Maybe it was the responsibility of being Head Boy weighing on him, maybe it was the pressure of N.E.W.T.s and an uncertain future outside Hogwarts: yet neither explained why he felt unsatisfied and alone, even with so many friends, so many memories.
At times he thought he knew what the answer was, and yet he pulled away from it, from her. She was just a dream, a teenage fancy, someone he tried to distance himself from because he refused to believe that love was either the reason or the answer to his problems. He couldn't let himself think about her like that anymore; it was a futile hope, and he refused to give in. He was probably just overwhelmed with work and responsibility and the prospect of going out into a world increasingly torn apart by war…but he wasn't unhappy, was he?
Either way, he couldn't call upon a good memory with enough conviction to make the spell work properly, and he hated not being able to do something--he hated failing. He was determined to get it before N.E.W.T.s no matter what it took, because he needed it, and not just for the exams. There was a war on, and he knew he would be swept into it. He hated Dark magic: he would fight it every chance he had.
Kicking Sirius under the table again, James stood, but stopped as one of the girls from Lily's dormitory, Sandra, came running down the staircase in her bedclothes, looking frazzled but relieved to see someone in the common room.
"James!" she gasped. "Thank Merlin you're still up. Lily's not back yet, and I'm worried."
He frowned. "She said she was going to study in the prefect's lounge."
"But it's past midnight, and she's always back by curfew," Sandra insisted.
"Maybe she fell asleep," muttered Sirius, lifting his head and running a hand through his hair. He glanced around with groggy eyes. "Easy enough with all this work we've got." He yawned and stretched.
"Could you check on her?" asked Sandra, still sounding anxious. "She really wanted to work on the boggart spell, and if she found one but couldn't manage it alone…" She trailed off, since none of them were really sure what happened when you faced a boggart and failed to banish it. James nodded, suddenly much more awake.
"Of course," he said, making sure he had his wand and the Marauder's Map tucked into his pocket. "I can be out after curfew. I'll run down there and see if she's just fallen asleep."
"Thank you, James," Sandra replied. "I'll wait up for you."
"And I'll keep you company," offered Sirius, trying to sound gallant but still sounding half-asleep. "Go rescue the Head Girl, Prongs. But hurry up, it's late."
James nodded as he left the common room. He was glad the Fat Lady was asleep and didn't even stir as he stepped quietly out of the portrait hole. Turning a corner, he took out the map and tapped it, searching quickly for the small dot that identified Lily. And there she was, still in the prefect's lounge, probably asleep, just like Sirius said. He sighed as he set off for the fifth floor.
As he neared the lounge, however, a bad feeling started to come over him. What had Sandra said about Lily wanting to find a boggart? Lily had told him the same thing as well. What if she had found one? What if she had tried to face it alone? She could be injured, or worse. He ran down the hallway as fast as he could, dreading what he might find. Shouting the password to the lounge, he burst through the door, stopping short at the sight before him.
Lily stood in the center of the room, facing…herself. But this second figure was dark and disheveled, green eyes full of grief as it held out its hand toward the real Lily. Without evening thinking, he yelled her name, and both figures turned toward him--one in surprise, one in despair. He ran toward them, waving his arms and hoping to get the boggart's attention.
He did. The creature swirled into a million pieces, then coalesced into the form of his deepest fear. Tonight it was a cloud of silver fluff, and with a flash of irritation, he recognized it as the Patronus spell that he couldn't cast. Failure. Yet his determination to protect Lily was strong, and he knew how to defeat the boggart, even if he couldn't produce a real Patronus.
He raised his wand and cried, "Ridikkulus!" The shapeless silver cloud became an absurd caricature of a prince batting away the mist, dressed in doublet and hose, a foppish hat, and glasses. James couldn't help it, because it worked every time: he grinned, and with a resounding crack, the boggart disappeared.
Breathing heavily, James turned to Lily, only to find her staring at the spot where the creature had stood. He was both rattled and relieved and almost couldn't help his harsh response.
"What the hell, Evans?" he said, running a hand through his hair as he pocketed his wand. "What were you thinking, going up against it by yourself? I said I would help you."
Whirling around, she glared at him fiercely. "I can handle it, Potter. Back off."
"No, you can't," he said, standing his ground. "You were about to touch it, Lily. You were completely mesmerized." He paused and tried to soften his voice. "What was it, exactly?"
"None of your damn business," she said, but he noticed that her hands were shaking, so he stepped toward her, reaching out hesitantly. When she didn't move away, he pulled her into an embrace and rubbed her back, feeling her heart race against his chest.
"What are you so afraid of that you can't get this?" he murmured. "You've always been the strongest, bravest girl I know."
She wasn't crying, which proved his point. Yet she didn't answer, not right away. Finally she stepped back and glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. "I'm afraid of leaving, of the future, of what's out there."
He shook his head, confused. "It's bad, I know, but you'll be fine. You'll get all your N.E.W.T.s and find a great job and--"
"No," she said, waving her hand in the air and turning away. "I'm not afraid of exams or finding a job. I'm not even afraid of the war, not exactly."
"Then what is it?" he asked softly. She was very still, her back toward him, and he could barely hear her response.
"I'm afraid of being alone, of losing hope--losing everything, including magic." She turned toward him, and now there were tears in her eyes. "What if he wins, James? What kind of world would that be for someone like me?"
"Someone smart and talented and stronger than she thinks?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I think you'd manage just fine."
"No, you don't understand!" she said. "I'm a Muggleborn, James. It's bad enough here at Hogwarts now, but out there it will be worse. And I can deal with that, I can …but what if it never ends? What if You-Know-Who wins?" She threw herself down onto the sofa. "I can't go back to the Muggle world--my sister hates me, and it would just put my parents in danger. And I love the magical world too much to leave. But if he wins, I might end up like…like her, and that terrifies me."
"He won't win," James replied, sitting down next to her. "The Ministry is doing the best they can, and there are others fighting back, too. You can't lose hope, Lily."
"I haven't, not really," she sighed heavily, falling back against the cushions. "I'm just afraid that I will. That he'll just keep growing stronger, that I'll be alone and lose everything--"
"You won't be alone," he said firmly.
"But what if--" she started, and he stopped her.
"You won't. I'll be there for you, no matter what happens. I'll fight for you." He almost reached out to take her hand, but stopped. "I promise."
She just gazed silently at him, a slightly stunned look on her face. He wasn't sure what had moved him to say it, but it was true: he would. He couldn't bear the thought of her vibrant personality beat down by war, her life destroyed by despair. He wouldn't let that happen: she was too strong, even if she didn't know it.
She stared at him so long he started to grow embarrassed. Finally he stood and offered his hand to help her up. She took it, squeezing gently. "Thank you, James. For what you did… what you said."
"I meant it," he replied, helping her pack up her books and parchment. "And we'll figure out the spell, too, so you believe me."
"I believe you," she murmured. "I guess I just don't believe in myself right now."
He wasn't sure how to reply to that and was silent. They finished cleaning up and left the lounge together, walking side-by-side down the hallway. James felt like something had changed between them, but he wasn't sure what. And he certainly wasn't sure if she felt it.
"James, what was your boggart?" she asked. He glanced at her in surprise, and she stuttered a bit. "If…if you don't mind me asking, that is."
He shook his head ruefully. "No, I don't mind. You saw it. I wish I could say my greatest fear was something more normal, like spiders or snakes, but it's not."
"So you're afraid of…rain?" she asked, a small smile on her face.
"No, of failing," he finished for her. "Of not being able to do something. Feeling powerless." He laughed somewhat bitterly. "Which is why this damn Patronus Spell is driving me mad. I should be able to do it, but I can't. All I get is that wispy silver cloud, and that's not going to save me in a dark alley unless a sandstorm pops up."
"So that's what it was, back there? Your Patronus?"
He nodded. "My lack of a corporeal Patronus. It obviously represents what I'm most worried about right now. For O.W.L.s it was a bit different--a botched Quaffle play, which I think Flitwick found a bit shallow, but I've always known what it meant, no matter its form."
Lily was quiet as she appeared to think about what he had said. He'd never really shared that with anyone and wasn't sure why he had just told her, but he had. It was out there now, and hopefully she wouldn't hold it against him.
"How do you make it funny?" she asked, sounding both curious and sad. "That's what I don't understand, how our deepest fear can be defeated by laughter."
"It's not about just laughing at our fear," James said. "It's about seeing it differently, so that it's not as frightening. Then you can laugh. When a boggart shows me failure, in any shape or form, I feel an incredible determination to win, to succeed. So I imagine a…well, you saw," he coughed in embarrassment. "I picture myself as a prince from all the stories my mum told me growing up. You know the type--tall, strong, and proud, bravely fighting back the darkness. And they always win in the stories. It's the most ridiculous image I can think of, me as a stuffy prince," he laughed, just imagining it, "and so it always works. Not that princes can't fail, but I really can't see myself in tights."
Lily smiled at him. "It's brilliant, if a bit self-depracating," she said. "I think you'd make a good prince."
He stuck out his tongue. "No thank you. Most of them were dull, pompous idiots, except for the one who got lost in a maze--do you know that story?"
"I know lots of stories about princes and princesses," she said, shaking her head. "But they're probably quite different from yours--Muggle stories, after all."
"The only one I ever liked was the one where the prince had to fight his way through a maze to find a princess under a spell in the center, and--"
"--and he had to wake her with a kiss?" Lily finished. He nodded. "We have that one too, although there wasn't a maze. The castle was surrounded by thorns."
"Ouch," he murmured, and she laughed.
"And there was a dragon," she continued, and he nodded enthusiastically.
"Best part," he said. "That's why I actually liked that one--the dragon, the maze, the kiss, the…" he trailed off as he noticed something he had never seen before: a large set of double doors at the end of what had always been a dead-end corridor.
"The what?" asked Lily, following his eye. Then she noticed the doorway. "Where did that come from?" she asked.
"I have no idea," he replied as he walked up to the doors. Pulling out the map and forgetting that Lily had no idea of its existence, he quickly found their small dots in the sixth floor corridor. They should be facing a blank wall, as there was nothing on the map to show any room there…yet clearly the doors before them went somewhere. James felt a curious excitement begin to build.
"What's that?" asked Lily, looking over his arm at the map. "Is that a--"
"It's a map of the castle," James replied absently, still staring at the doors. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, something he'd heard or read about secret rooms at Hogwarts…
"It has people on it!" she exclaimed.
"Well, yes, it's a magical map," he replied, folding it up and tucking it away. "And those doors are not on it. I've never seen them before, have you?"
She turned back to the doors, moving closer as if she were as curious as he. "I haven't, no. I'm sure there haven't been doors here before."
"I'm positive," James said. They were close enough for him to run his hands over the dark wood, traced with a complicated design of swirls and knots. "I'm also fascinated." He turned to her with a grin. "Want to see what's inside?"
Lily's eyes widened. "James! It's the middle of the night. It's past curfew, and I'm already exhausted. Let's come back tomorrow."
"It might not be here tomorrow," he replied. "Not if it's magical. It'll probably be gone by morning."
She still seemed hesitant. "What if it's dangerous?" she asked. He gave her a glib grin as he took out his wand.
"It's in the castle, so it can't be that bad," he replied. "But if it is, then you cast your Patronus, and I'll take care of the boggarts. Deal?"
And finally she nodded, a slow smile creeping onto her face. "All right. I just hope it's not a magical toilet."
James laughed as he pulled open the doors and stepped into the mysterious room, Lily by his side.
* * *