Lily shook them off when she reached the barrier. Running through by herself, she stepped onto an almost empty platform; it was only ten o’clock; her father had taken her there an hour early so as not to be late for a meeting. The Hogwarts Express was just entering the station when she pushed her trolley and Alisande over to a bench and sat down, thinking about something.
When most of the rest of the students came trickling in, she barely noticed them; so wrapped up in a trail of thoughts she’d been following that she never noticed anyone except when they stepped on her feet. Not until someone put his hand on her shoulder did she snap out of her trance.
“Lily?”
”Severus? Oh—you scared me. Hallo.”
”Hello. Have a good summer?”
”Yes, I did, thanks.”
Something about her warned him not to ask her anything, so he simply smiled. “Good, then. If you want to come sit with us—the compartment at the end of the train’s ours.”
Lily smiled absently. “Thanks. I might not, though.”
”Sure, that’s okay. Just wanted you to know you’ve got an invitation.”
”Thank you.”
“Course.” He walked to the smoke-spouting train, getting help from Lucius with the trunk he was carrying.
Somewhat lethargically, and still deep in several odd thoughts, Lily stepped onto the train, too. She was pulling her trunk onto the train when a hand caught the other end and lifted it for her.
“Need some help there?”
”Sirius! Yes; thanks,” she accepted. Between them, they managed to get it into an empty compartment without throwing Alisande’s cage over. Lily, after calming her rather excited owl down, sank into a seat
next to the window.
Sirius hesitated at the door; then turned back, choosing the seat across from her.
“Lily.”
”Yes?” Her gaze riveted his.
He bent forward. “Are you all right? I mean, about what you saw yesterday.”
Lily felt the cold stab again, and, taking it for anger, almost glared at her friend.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
”Well—I thought you liked him—that you were friends.”
”True.” She sighed. “We were.”
”Until you lost your temper, right?”
“Right.” She was too drained to dispute the fact. “Sirius, I do wish I hadn’t done that.”
”Oh—Lily…” he let his voice trail off. Not knowing what else to do, he moved over to the seat next to her
and awkwardly draped an arm over her shoulders.
Frowning, he noted that she was tense; spanned and stiff, and not as weary as she sounded; as if she were trying to hold something in.
“Lily.”
”What?”
He looked at her, realizing that the clear glaze over the forest-green orbs were tears she was trying to hold in.
“I’m here—if you want to cry.”
Lily stared up at him. For a minute she wanted to give in and unburden herself—but then her pride stopped her. She had an awful lot of pride, and at the moment it was forcing itself into her throat, pushing the lump of grief back down.
“What makes you think I’d want to cry?”
”Well—your eyes were wet.”
She laughed uncertainly. “Oh—that’s nothing.”
He knew better, but he let it drop as he watched her knuckles whiten as she took hold of the handle on one end of her trunk.
He left her compartment when the train started, though he was rather disappointed to note that she didn’t even seem to realize that he had left. She only did break out of her mind when the train pulled into the Hogsmeade station and her gaze fell on the robes she hadn’t changed into yet. Quickly pulling them on, she swiftly pinned the Hogwarts prefect badge on and pulled her hair out of her eyes, leaving the train as the last person.
Lily smiled softly when she caught sight of the frightened, bug-like eyes of the first years, all of them apprehensive and nervous. How long ago it seemed since she was one of them—since she had been warned about something like fighting a troll for the Sorting. Through the trees, she could see the towers and spires of the castle that was her home—her real home, the only place that she could really feel at home anymore.
The carriage ride was uneventful; the only thing that snatched her interest was a blond plait and a tousled raven-wing head boarding the carriage in front of the one she stepped into. She wrinkled her nose in curiosity, but then sat down, leaning her chin on her fist and looking out at the moonless sky.
They were herded into the Great Hall like cattle, Lily thought; the only things missing were the branding irons. Rather mechanically she slid into her seat and watched the first years file in. A somewhat unfamiliar sight met her eyes—Serena, living up to her name—quiet and serene, sitting next to James at the table and listening to him mumble something. Lily frowned and averted her eyes just as the hat began to sing:
Good evening, fellow countrymen
I see you’re none too tired;
So hearken with all your mind and ken
Though this won’t take a while.
The founders of this great school are,
Though they are dead and gone
Embedded in our very minds
Through your uprising dawn.
The dawn of youngish heads afloat
With tempests quite aswirl;
With different kinds of knowledge that
Is brought by boy and girl.
To Ravenclaw the dawn had brought
Intelligence in a lump;
While Gryffindor, in masks of red
Brought bravery and spunk.
Hufflepuff, in golden yellow--
For loyalty it fought;
While Slytherin brought silver green
And craftiness it sought.
So put me on and let me choose
Which house you shall adorn
With your character and mind
To your house you must be sworn.
The Great Hall burst into applause when it had finished, and it only quieted when Professor McGonagall stepped to the front with a scroll of parchment.
“Amson, Magda.”
A short, blonde girl with her hair in two plaits stepped up to the front of the Hall and slipped the hat onto her head. A few seconds later it called out over the mass of students:
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
The Hufflepuff table burst into applause as Magda Amson sat down at her seat while Professor McGonagall was already calling out another name.
“Andrews, Frederick.”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Along with the rest of her table, Lily burst into wild applause as Frederick took his seat at the table.
“Carson, Gladys.”
“RAVENCLAW!”
The Sorting continued, and anxious first year after anxious first year took his or her place at their respective House tables.
“Wagner, Gwendayln.”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“Wooster, Gwladys.”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Finally, “Xerxier, Bertram” was made a Slytherin, and Professor Dumbledore stood up as Professor Flitwick carried out the three-legged stool and the Sorting hat.
“I would like to make a few announcements before we fill ourselves. First—the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students, not only to first years.” His eyes twinkled in the direction of Sirius and James. “The Whomping Willow is by no means to be toyed with; it is fully capable of causing serious injury to a student. Hogsmeade forms are to be handed in to Professor McGonagall before the first visit to the village. And, lastly—there is an international performing arts contest between students of magical schools. We do by all means encourage your participation in this.
“That being said, let the feast begin!”
The golden, twinkling plates were quickly filled with the wonderful feast; though Lily could only manage to eat a mouthful, it was a very good mouthful, and by the time they were walking noisily upstairs to their respective common rooms, everyone had loosened up and was talking animatedly.
Lily was taking the first years to the Gryffindor common room; as soon as she reached the Fat Lady, she smiled in recognition.
“The password is ‘African constricter.” She grinned encouragingly at the small students as she led them through the door and into the warm room with the crackling fire.
The next morning, she awoke to the sun throwing rays of fire through the window. Blinking several times, she sat up in bed, gazing over the clouds.
Shaking her head several times, Lily swung her feet out of bed and pulled a pair of robes out of her trunk. She changed quickly, and within minutes she was plaiting her hair, pinning her prefect badge to her robes, slinging her school bag over her shoulder, and swiftly leaving her dormitory, shutting the door softly behind her.
It was seven thirty when she slid into her chair at breakfast and pulled out the new Transfiguration book and started poring over it, taking bites of a roll in between pages. She hardly noticed when Eva pulled out a chair next to her, smiling at the sunny blue sky and frowning at the schedules Professor McGonagall was handing out.
“Someone’s up early.”
Lily looked up. “Oh, hi, Eva.”
”You’ve been awfully quiet.”
”Oh—“ Lily shrugged. “It’s nothing. Where—“ she looked around the Great Hall, which was slowly filling up—“where’s Lora?”
Eva frowned. “You didn’t know that either? She got Sorted into Ravenclaw.”
”Oh.” Lily’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t know.”
”I can see that.”
“Oh, well. I guess we’ll see each other in classes, won’t we?”
Her friend grinned. “Sure. Wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” Then she lost her smile. “Lily, you heard about James?”
Almost unnoticeably, Lily stiffened. “What about him?”
“About who he turned to after your fight.”
”Oh—that.” Lily waved her hand. “Of course I heard. Couldn’t help seeing it, could I? I’m sure they make a nice couple.”
Eva sat down next to Lily. “They’re not a couple.”
Snapping her head up, Lily caught her friend’s gaze. “They’re not?”
”Er—no—not yet.” Eva tried to avoid the redhead’s stare, without much success.
“I see.”
”You’re sure you’re all right with that?”
”Of course. He’s entitled to have girlfriends. I’ve got nothing to do with him.”
Eva smiled. “Good, then. I was afraid you were moping or something.”
Moping? “Me? Eva? Who are you and what have you done to my friend?”
Vanessa sat down next to Lily. “Hallo and good morning.”
”If you say so,” Lily replied, slapping her book closed as a milk jug threatened to overturn itself.
At eight, when Lily and her friends were standing up to leave the Great Hall, they almost ran over several people at the doorway that were trying to get in.
Lily looked up. Right in front of her were James and Serena—neither of them were ridiculously hanging onto each other’s arms as they had in third year; they were sensibly shouldering their books and talking—that is, until she bumped into them.
Lily almost didn’t dare to look up, and when she did, she met a sort of odd glare; angry, yes, but also a bit pleading and confused. On her part, she only saw the glare.
Tossing her head, she gave him a proud and arrogant stare, and she smiled haughtily to see him drop his eyes.
“You’re blocking the doorway.”
He moved out of her way, handing her freely a stare of disgust, and when she turned towards her Charms classroom, she caught Eva’s smirk.
“You’re not sulking. Good.”
”Why ever would I?”
”I’m not starting this again.”
”Very good.”
Charms was rather confusing for Lily—it wasn’t exactly easy to deal with someone who, besides being her assigned partner, would alternately glare at her and stop himself from giving a customary “Hello”. She came through rather cold-heartedly, squaring her shoulders and making him livid by being the first one in the class to make her small stool start playing the drums on a desk with its own feet.
One thing did catch her attention, however—a shiny silver badge on his robes.
“You’re a prefect?”
He looked up. “Sure. You didn’t know? Remus handed his in—said he couldn’t keep it up. They gave it to me.”
Scornfully, Lily twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “And which brainwashing charm did you use for that?”
James glared at her. “I earned that prefect badge, thanks very much!”
“Pleasure.”
“If you’re so high and mighty and smart and better than me, how many O.W.L.s did you get?”
Lily rolled her eyes. He really shouldn’t have brought up that subject.
“Twenty-two.”
She would have relished the use of a camera at this moment. Never before had she known exactly what people meant when they used the expression ‘looked like a sheep.’ Now she knew. Only she doubted that sheep wore glasses.
“Twenty-two Ordinary Wizarding Levels?”
“No; twenty-two pairs of socks.”
“Last time someone got that many was twenty years or more ago! You sure it’s twenty-two?”
“Why would you care?”
”I got fourteen, and that’s higher than my parents, for Pete’s sake. What are you, some sort of encyclopedia?”
“Nope. I’m better than that.”
“Then what the bloody hell are you?”
“Lily Evans.”
She didn’t know how she retained her self-control at the sight of his face.
That evening, she was talking to Eva and Amanda about the fight she and James had had, leaving every bit about the Alendoren Cove out; she had invented a rather picturesque story about his not wanting her to befriend a Slytherin. The girls ranked themselves on James’ side, to Lily’s amusement. She would have done that, too, if she hadn’t been the one that was the opponent.
For once, she was starting to hate their fights; hate and despise them beyond everything else she had ever detested. Hated not being able to speak to him normally; reviled against the glares they exchanged in class and in the corridors, and loathed his refusal to talk to her.
It had seemed so long ago since she couldn’t care less if the entire school refused to have anything to do with her; and now this seemed to matter more than anything. But at least she had the satisfaction of knowing that no one knew what she thought; she had overheard Remus urging James to say something in the way of apology, and James had retorted that someone who didn’t care enough about his friendship to even act a tiny bit sad wasn’t worth it.
Her whole mood wasn’t affecting her grades any, but the entire depression stage was starting to show itself in her eyes; if anyone besides her friends had bothered to notice her, they would have been seriously worried. It seemed that every moment she was repressing tears, and the unflowing salty liquid was seeping into her sarcastic temper, jibing at her with cruel retorts she would hate herself for seconds later.
It was slowly eating away at her to see someone she completely clashed with hanging on his arm. Wait—not hanging; she was standing by him as a sort of emotional support; as someone he could and was counting on when he needed anyone to talk to. This seemed even worse than anything she could have imagined. If he had bothered with a flaky, superficial, small-minded imitation of a person, she could have spit scornfully in his face; but the fact that he was growing attached to someone that had grown dignified, stately, sweet—someone with a heart—was what was devouring her mind.
Lily was taking refuge in her books. Only a month after she entered Hogwarts for her sixth year, she had become a successful recluse, and she had filled a small book with drawings of tears; of knights kneeling next to the tomb of their sweethearts or holding a dead lady in their arms; of servant girls in peasant gowns clasping lockets tightly with tears running down their cheeks, of eyes weeping silent despair. She never showed her work to anyone; she never let anyone hear what she thought.
One night, Eva and Lora were becoming close to desperate. Of course, they had noticed her silent separation from the rest of the school, and so far, they had had no idea how to combat it. Before, they had known the reason for her despair—her mother—or it was simple loneliness, not the sadness they saw in her now. Hitting on the last, most desperate motion, they approached her one night, as she sat curled up in the darkest, coldest corner of the common room, drawing something, just as usual.
Eva stepped forward. “Lily.”
Lily looked up. “Oh, hello.” She snapped her sketchbook shut.
Lora sat down next to her, a halfway planned speech forming in her mind. “Lily, I want to suggest something to you.”
The redhead smiled absently. “What?”
“It’s about the international talent show thing. Eva tells me your mother was an actress—and that you’re not to be sniffed at either.”
A faraway look came into Lily’s eyes for a second, but it flew away as soon as it came. “Yes?”
“I want us to enter it.”
“I’ll support you, of course.”
“No, you imbecile!” For a minute, Lora wanted to burst out with something; she controlled herself soon. “I—we, that is—we want you to act in it.”
Lily faintly smiled, with difficulty concealing a hopeful gleam. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, Lily!” Eva sighed. “You’d be wonderful in this. You honestly would. Look—we want you to do this, for Pete’s sake! At least listen to what we’re going to have you do!”
Lily swung herself around so that she was sitting cross-legged on the window seat. “Which play were you suggesting.”
Lora grinned almost evilly. “The Crucible.”
The Crucible! Lily caught her breath. She remembered. The whirlwind drama her mother had reenacted for her so many times when she was smaller—the tempest of hate, jealousy, and religion rolled into one.
“Eva—you’re sure?”
Eva grinned. “Positive. We’re going to ask my parents for a fund for costumes and sets—and we’re going to be holding our own auditions. Nothing fancy, just us students, and—well, we think this’ll work! It’ll be wonderful—and the fee for entering the contest isn’t so high. Lily, say yes! Say yes!”
Lora chimed in. “Say yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!”
Lily couldn’t help but laugh. “You really think that I’ll do well in it?”
Tossing her head, Eva spoke condescendingly. “My dear-when Miss Doylen says something—she does not think—she is sure!”
“All right then!” Lily gave a half-genuine smile. “I’ll do it!”
They informed Professor McGonagall of their intentions, and two weeks later, they had acquired permission from their parents and several scripts. They were holding the auditions in the Great Hall; between lunch and dinner. Eva and Lora, who had no intention of participating—they either didn’t think they would be good or they were too shy—had picked the judges; there were two from every House.
Lucius and a girl that was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Maria Slenkham, were from Slytherin; Lora and the Ravenclaw prefect made up their House; Hufflepuff had both of their prefects judging, and Gryffindor included Eva and Amanda. Only about thirty people showed up for the auditions, but Lily, who was seated out of sight near the teacher’s table, felt her eyes widen as she saw James and Serena appear.
Eva obviously hadn’t expected this; she was a bit startled and flung a glance over at Lily, but the redhead had immediately immersed herself in her script.
The story was set during the Salem witch trials; a girl, Abigail Williams, was madly in love with her former employer—she worked as a maid—, John Proctor. They had committed adultery, and upon finding that out, Proctor’s wife, Elizabeth, turned Abigail back to the home of her uncle, Reverend Samuel Parris.
Then, one night, the girls of the town of Salem attended a séance of sorts in the woods, with the slave of Parris, Tituba, as the conjuress. Abigail performed a charm to make Elizabeth Proctor die, and just at that moment, Parris, who had been awakened by the noise, walked in upon them and they scattered.
The next day, two girls, one of them Parris’ own daughter, Betty, were lying still in their beds and refused to move; they did not even blink. Witchcraft was fastened upon Tituba, who, in order to save her neck, pretended that she had conjured up the Devil. Abigail and Betty, quickly realizing that they would be released from all punishment if they did the same, started crying out the names of the Devil’s servants; people of the town they pretended to have seen in his company.
Abigail quickly realized that if she could accuse Elizabeth Proctor of witchcraft, she could marry John Proctor if his wife were hung. She stabbed herself with a needle, accusing Elizabeth’s spirit, and straightway got Elizabeth arrested. Proctor, however, met her and told her to stop crying out against his wife, unless she wanted for the whole town to hear about her as an adulteress.
Abigail didn’t listen, so, the next day, Proctor’s new maidservant, Mary Warren, one of the girls that had also cried out names, was brought to the court by Proctor, and she tried to tell the court that all the pretense of people’s spirits harming them was pretense. When Proctor was pressed for a reason for Abigail’s lies, he came forth with the secret of adultery he had hidden. Elizabeth was called in to confirm his tale, and, thinking only to save her husband’s reputation, she denied any such thing.
Then Abigail straightway started accusing Mary of witchcraft, so as to save her own skin, and, in order to avoid being hung, Mary ‘confessed’ to all of the doings that were attributed to her now, but she accused John Proctor of forcing her to join the Devil.
Abigail tried to persuade Proctor to run away with her when she stole into the prison, but he refused. She left the town with Parris’ savings, to board a ship in the Boston harbor, while she left the Salem confusion behind.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth Proctor’s execution date had been postponed; she had informed the court that she was expecting a baby, and they would not kill an unborn child. But Proctor, who had never ‘confessed’ to his dealings with the Devil, was to be hanged. The court sent Elizabeth to try to make him change his mind; he did so, signing a paper to that effect, but when he learned that it would be made public and that his sons would suffer the shame of their father being a liar, he tore his confession up and went to be hanged. The story ended on Elizabeth’s line—“He hath his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him.”
They had been requested to read the roles of John Proctor and Abigail Williams; also the ones of Elizabeth, Samuel Parris, and Reverend Hale, a clergyman brought down from Boston to detect witchcraft in the town. Lily had been handed the role of Abigail Williams during the confrontation in the court, and she was letting the words soak into her skin as she whispered them to herself.
Then, her name was called. Lora and Eva unashamedly waved at her, while Lucius simply grinned slightly. She found herself paired with Frank Longbottom as Danforth, a judge, three other Ravenclaw girls as the ‘victims’, a Hufflepuff fifth year as Mary Warren, a Slytherin seventh year as Elizabeth—and James as John Proctor.
Lora leaned back in her chair. “Start from page one oh seven. I cannot tell you how.”
The Hufflepuff playing Mary Warren gulped several times, them plunged into her line.
“I—I cannot tell how, but I did. I—I heard the other girls screaming—“
Lucius interrupted. “Act agitated. You’re testifying something that might get you killed. You’re scared, woman, act scared!”
She gulped, then resumed her line. “I—I heard the other girls screaming, and you, Your Honor, you seemed to believe them, and I—“ She was shaking now, but whether it was from nerves or not, they couldn’t tell. “It were only sport in the beginning, sir, but then the whole world cried spirits, spirits, and I—I promise you, Mr. Danforth, I only thought I saw them but I did not.” Breathless, she stopped.
Frank, with utmost seriousness engraven into his face, turned to Lily, who had meanwhile been transforming her character into Abigail’s, and she was breathing rapidly, as if she were a cornered beast, at Mary’s revelation.
Frank interrogated Abigail as carefully as a primitive judge was capable of, asking if the spirits were a delusion. Lily straightened; squared her shoulders; almost glared.
“Why, this—this is a base question, sir!”
Frank attempted to pacify her. “Child, I would have you consider it—“
Lily snapped. “I have been hurt, Mr. Danforth; I have seen my blood runnin’ out! I have been near to murdered every day because I done my duty pointing out the Devil’s people—and this is my reward? To be mistrusted, denied, questioned like a—“
“Child, I do not mistrust you—“
“Let you beware, Mr. Danforth!” Lily raised her chin up high and heaved her shoulders in false innocence and anger. “Think you be so mighty that the power of Hell may not turn your wits? Beware of it! There is—“
She stopped, staring blankly about the Great Hall, apprehensive and frightened. Frank stepped forward, asking what was the matter, and suddenly, along with a pretended cold wind that swept through the imaginary court, hysteria broke loose. The girls, following Lily, started madly to accuse the Hufflepuff girl, Mary Warren’s actress, of bewitching them with a chill wind, and during the wild confusion, Lily started to call out to Heaven, clasping her hands to her chest.
“Oh, Heavenly Father, take away this shadow!”
James, who had been standing somewhat dumbfounded near the sidelines, suddenly rushed for her, dragging her upwards by her hair, pulling her to her feet. She let out an ear-piercing scream—he had actually tugged her to a standing position, instead of acting it.
Frank started for James. “What are you about? Take your hands off her!”
James ignored him, screaming at Lily. “How do you call Heaven? Whore! Whore!”
Frank wrestled James away, who was screaming out, “It is a whore!”
Letting go of James, Frank did a rather good demonstration of baffled dumbfoundedness. “You—you charge—“
Casting a frightened gaze around her, Lily cried out her next line. “Mr. Danforth, he is lying!
“Mark her!” James shouted. “Now she’ll suck a scream to stab me with, but—“
“You will prove this!” Frank, the image of legal perfection, sat down on the end of one of the long hall tables. “This will not pass!”
As suddenly as it came, James’ vengeful mood vanished, and he stood there, trembling.
“I have known her, Mr. Danforth, I have known her.”
“You—you are a lecher?” Mr. Danforth was thunderstruck.
Lily listened to the accusation, limp, supporting herself from where she had fallen onto the floor when he let her go. Her cheeks burned red when he related her intentions—to “dance with me on my wife’s grave!”
Frank, doing the flabbergasted and horrified part extremely well, turned to Lily. “You deny every scrap and tittle of this?”
She used her remaining strength to stand upon her feet unsupported, with her green eyes flashing dangerously. “If I must answer that, I will leave and I will not come back again!”
They decided to call Elizabeth in—to see if she would corroborate James’ statement. The plain Slytherin seventh year didn’t do half as well as Frank or James had done, Lily thought—she almost reached up and massaged her scalp where James had pulled her hair—, but she was quite average.
They stopped when Elizabeth was led out of the court after her statement, and they were told they could go. Quickly, Lily packed up her things and left the Great Hall; when she was rounding a corner, a hand on her sleeve stopped her.
“Lily?”
She whirled, but then discovered the owner of the tentative voice. “Oh, it’s you. Thought you were somebody."
James was undaunted. “I wanted to apologize.”
”For what?”
“For what happened in there.” He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. “When I pulled you up by your hair.”
”You mean, by what’s left of my hair.” Instantly, she mentally slapped herself. He’s trying to apologize, idiot!
“I don’t know why I did it—it’s just that everything from that night we got into a fight flowed back—and you were doing your part so well I half felt as if I was Proctor—and—well, something snapped. I saw red for a moment—and, well—“ He stopped lamely. “You see how it is?”
”I see.”
He put a hand up to her head; didn’t jerk back when she flinched. “You all right?”
”Sure. Especially—“ She caught her rude words on the tip of her tongue.
“Especially what?”
”Nothing.”
“Oh.”
Then, somehow, his wall of resentfulness and cruelty was pulled back up. “Well, then, I’d better go. Wouldn’t want my friends to see me hanging around heartless, unthankful creatures, would I?”
He didn’t give her a chance to reply; he simply vanished down the hallway, leaving Lily stunned and hurt.
She avoided her friends for the rest of the weekend; even Abigail; the rather fat girl that slept in her dormitory; she had finally let down her shield of coldheartedness and a freezing spear was jabbed instantly into her body.
It was pointless; she felt—simply pointless. Each and every time that she trusted people, trusted them with herself, they always disappointed her. Now she knew why people would want to wipe out a whole race—destroy a tribe; a clan. At this moment, she wanted to murder every single wizard that ever set foot upon the earth; the next second, her mood was gone, leaving her shaking, pressed against the wall.
Next week, Lily came close to breaking down every time she heard James say something lighthearted or laugh—he had no idea how much he had hurt her. And she never intended to let him know. He was the type of person who, once someone else’s weakness was discovered, was fully capable of preying on them like a mantis. She refused to let that happen to her, and if she could help it, she would wipe him out of her paths forever.
Only, seeing as that Monday they were informed by a bulletin near the Great Hall doors that they had received the roles of Abigail Williams and John Proctor for the play, that wasn’t going to be so easy.
