“Lily! Lily! Lily, Lily, Lily!” she jumped onto Lily’s bed and slammed her hands on the mattress for emphasis. “Guess what?”
Lily looked up. “You just won the World Cup for loudest entry into a room. I don’t know.”
“No!” Eva shook her head violently. “Results are in, and you made the play!”
Her friend laughed. “That’s wonderful! Seems like you’re more excited than me, though.”
”Oh!” Eva frowned. “I told you you could do it!”
“I know!” Unvoluntarily, Lily let her excitement and dreamy expectation show on her face. “Eva, think of it—I’ll finally be able to be more like my mother.”
“Of course you will!” Eva grasped her friend’s thin shoulders in a tight hug, then released her. “But there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”
Lily was still smiling. “What?”
”James got the part of John Proctor.”
It was rather amusing to watch the speed at which Lily’s wistful gaze turned into an angry, outraged glare. “He did what?”
Eva flinched. “I know, I know, after the other day, he’s the rudest prat and pillock that ever walked the earth. But he’s good. You’ve got to admit that.”
Lily sighed. “Yes, he’s good. But I don’t want to be his former mistress!”
Slamming her head into the pillows, Eva was heard to mumble “Why me, why me, why me?”
She sat up abruptly. “Lily, for Pete’s sake, you’re the best Abigail Williams we’ve got in this whole darned school. You back out, and—oh, help. Listen to me!”
“I am!”
“If you back out just because some prat-a very good prat, but still—some guy you don’t like was cast in a role. Live with it! Please, for all our sakes!”
Lily crossed her arms. “There is something you’re not telling me.”
“True.” Eva slumped. “The winning cast gets two thousand Galleons.”
“Ah-hah! So I’m an investment, is that it?”
“Er—not really. Listen; this could make you a star! All those bigshot casting people would be begging for you to sign their contracts. Come on!”
Lily sighed, though a smile twinkled at the corners of her mouth. “All right, fine.”
“YES!” Eva bounced back off the bed and headed for the common room. “She said she’ll do it!”
The redhead grinned as a cheering sound came to her ears.
It proved to be a hard resolution to keep for her, but if she hadn’t had a fixed madness about acting, she would have hauled off and slapped James Potter across his sneering face and gotten removed from the show for it. He seemed to never miss a chance to taunt her and pick out every flaw in her character; there hadn’t been a time she remembered when he had actually been humanly kind to her. It was maddening, and what was even more infuriating was having to act as though she were intensely and madly in love with him.
The first time they worked with blocking, they were doing the entrance of John Proctor into the room where Betty, Parris’ niece, was lying inert on the bed after the midnight dancing. Lily moved against the wall as an awed Abigail, and James shot a whisper to her as he entered.
“Ready to confess your undying love for my perfect, charming self?”
Lily didn’t have to clench her fists for that, but it was rather difficult, keeping up a straight, winning, dimpling countenance when mischief and mockery was on every scrap of skin he had on his body.
Everyone else had just left the room, and she was alone with the stiff Betty and Proctor. Stepping lightly over to the bed that Proctor was bending over, she touched his shoulder.
“Gah! I’d almost forgot how strong you are, John Proctor!”
With a knowing smile on his face, James looked up. “What’s this mischief here?”
Lily, with the winning smile on her face, quickly related last night’s events.
“Ah, you’re wicked yet, are you?” James laughed. “You’ll be clapped in the stocks before you’re twenty.”
He turned to go, but Lily took his hand and turned him around. “Give me a word, John. A soft word.”
James turned to Eva. “Is this fair, having to work with someone who’s obsessed with my every motion?”
Lily was slowly losing her patience, and Eva could see that. She hurriedly intervened.
“James, honestly!”
“Okay, okay.” He turned back to Lily, frowning at her growled “Don’t turn your back to the audience!”
“No, no, Abby. That’s done with.” He pulled his hand away, but she took his other one.
“You come five mile to see a silly girl fly? I know you better.” Her jeering, taunting tone set him somewhat more at ease. He pushed her aside again.
“I come to see what mischief you uncle’s brewin’ now. Put it out of mind, Abby.”
Lily laid a soft hand on his shoulder. “John—I am waiting’ for you every night.”
“Abby, I never gave you hope to wait for me.”
Starting to anger, she pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I have something better than hope, I think!”
“Abby!” His harsh tone made her draw back. “You’ll put it out of mind. I’ll not be comin’ for you more.”
She couldn’t believe it. “You’re surely sporting with me!”
James clenched his teeth. “You know me better.”
Outraged, Lily took his collar in one hand, yanking him down to her level. The directors had told her that she wasn’t to hurt him while doing that, but, almost completely absorbed in her character, she was quickly forgetting.
“I know how you clutched my back behind your house and sweated like a stallion whenever I came near! Or did I dream that? It’s she put me out, you cannot pretend it were you. I saw your face when she put me out, and you loved me then and you do now!”
Lily let out an exclamation of frustration as James, Peter, and several of his friends that had come to watch started to snort with laughter. James was the worst of them all.
“What did I tell you? What did I tell you! Oh, this is priceless. She actually looked as if she meant it. This is absolutely priceless!”
Lily sank to her knees, muttering Eva’s phrase of the fortnight before. “Why me, why me, why me?”
She started to relish the idea of large amounts of homework; they would allow her to skip practices. There was no reason for her to go; she knew all her lines and blocking after three weeks of four hours’ rehearsal after classes—the reason for the amount of practice was that the international event was taking place during the Christmas holidays, and by the time Ravenclaw murdered Hufflepuff in a Quidditch match, it was Halloween, and the Ravenclaw that had been cast as Elizabeth Proctor kept getting stage fright.
People had been amazed when Lily showed up at the third rehearsal without her script. The truth was that she didn’t need it. Somehow, she managed to place herself inside Abigail Williams so well that the responses she gave didn’t seem like lines she had memorized; they came from somewhere inside her, and they were natural; the lines she spoke were ones that she would naturally have given no matter what her lines were.
She had overcome her frustration at James and his cronies for their outbursts, but she had to stop herself from hitting something several times, when she had managed to melt away the candle-lit, table-filled surroundings and replace them with the rough wood of a Puritan dwelling; or a clapboard meeting-house—and then the person she had cloaked in rough farmer’s garments and a strong character made some crude twentieth-century remark that jerked her back to the present.
Professor Cauldwell was working them harder than before; the class had officially classified Lily as a workaholic. She stayed in the Potions dungeon after hours, stirring up Madam Pomfrey’s medicines and improving on others. The Skele-Gro that had formerly knocked a person out with the pain now simply seemed to stab them all over with red-hot needles where the bone was missing.
Professor Dorvan, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was lecturing intensively on vampires. She was inviting one of her acquaintances—a vampire, one that lived in the Forbidden Forest, to lecture the class and to do some practical training at midnight in the classroom sometime near Christmas vacation. He was going to be dosed with a potion to make him unharmful, but Professor Dumbledore insisted on two other teachers being in the room while the vampire was near the children.
Professor Trelawney was driving Lily insane. True, Lily had more patience than some, but for a large, ogling bat with a nose like a hedgehog and seventy-five strings of beads around her neck (Lily had been bored one day) to swoop down on her every few seconds and tell her that she was in great danger of being eaten alive by a sock was worse than usual.
Their costumes had been sent by both James’ and Eva’s parents; James was wearing a rather elegant rough navy cloak and the period tunic and breeches. He wasn’t cutting his hair; they were intending to pull it back from his face. The Ravenclaw playing Elizabeth was dressed in a plain tan gown that felt like sackcloth underneath a mildly dirty apron and cap. Parris and the judges wore black and white clergy suits; the accused had costumes resembling Proctor’s and Elizabeth’s; but they weren’t as elaborate. The accusing girls themselves had dark brown or deep red dresses with white aprons over them and the caps they all thought ridiculous on their heads. Lily wore a dress of the same style; but it was deep blue, and it trailed more than the gowns of the others. The neckline went down two inches; not more; the sleeves weren’t as long on her dress. The details were small; but they gave her a ‘fast’ and ‘loose’ appearance.
There was one rehearsal where Lily was promising to make Proctor a perfect wife when Elizabeth was dead, and she had to kiss his hand.
“Oh, John, I will make you such a wife when the world is white again!” She knelt down and kissed his palm—and instantly, when she touched it with her lips and raised her head to say her next line, something seemed to constrict around her throat, and she toppled backwards, croaking something.
When her voice returned a good two minutes later, the first thing she did was to push the cackling audience out of her mind and try to claw James’ face apart; she didn’t succeed. Lora had caught hold of her apron strings.
“You—you little—you—you!—“
“Me.”
“What was that for, you pillock?”
People were still snickering madly, remembering the sight of her trying to say something and only croaking out frog-like sounds.
“It was funny!”
“That’s it!” Lily stamped on the floor; almost shook the foundations. She raised her hand to slap him; the blood rushed to her face, and then, seeming to recover herself—she dropped her palm.
“I suppose it was.”
He was, quite frankly, stunned. What he had been trying to do was to get her thrown out of the performance; hurt her as badly as she had hurt him—but she was harder to anger than anyone he had ever come across! She had about seventy-five people getting a kick out of her humiliation, and then, in a quiet, sedate voice, she agreed that his practical joke was amusing. James was honestly baffled.
He didn’t know how to respond.
“Er—okay, then.”
Lily pivoted to face Eva. “Eva, I’d like to call it quits for today.”
Eva nodded. “Sure. That okay with everyone else?”
Lora laughed. “It’s better than her tearing his eyes out, which she would if she stayed here any longer! I’d help her, as a matter of fact.”
Taking off the white cap and apron, Lily threw them over to Lucius. “Here. Eva, you get the dress later on tonight.” Without waiting for an answer, she swished out of the Great Hall, leaving silence behind her.
Outside the Great Hall, when Lily was turning onto a staircase, she felt a hand on her arm. Swirling around, she found herself face to face with Severus.
“I heard a sort of fight?”
Lily laughed. “James was being himself. Nothing really important happened.”
”Good.” He held out his arm, and she took it; they both started towards Gryffindor Tower.
“So; how’s life been treating you?”
“If life is James Potter, then it’s been using thumbscrews on me.”
He winced. “Ouch. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t bother. I’m all right. It’s not as if—“ she stopped—“as if I care enough about him for him to make me mad, is it?”
He tried to look into her eyes, but she kept them fixedly as a portrait of a knight on a fat pony.
“Lily?”
”What?”
”You don’t, do you?”
Lily stopped and faced him. “Severus Snape, I could swear on my wish of Professor Trelawney choking on a pellet of ferret food that you didn’t just say that, and if you did, that you know better.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry. I guess I just thought—oh, I was being stupid. Never mind.”
His companion smiled triumphantly. “I wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t what?”
“Minding.”
They had almost reached Gryffindor Tower by this time, and Lily stopped a corridor away from the portrait. She turned to Severus.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything.” She smiled brilliantly, leaned forward, and kissed him lightly on his cheek. Before he could jerk back into reality, she had vanished into the shadows.
James stopped with the practical jokes after that; more or less. He still loved giving smart remarks under his breath and yanking her seat out from under her at dinner, but the novelty of it had worn off, and he settled with simply ignoring her. Without knowing it, he was doing several persons a favor with that. Lily was turning to Sirius and Severus, mostly to vent, but also for help in controlling herself, which was harder than it had ever been. Still, the last thing she wanted to do was succumb to James’ taunting, so she couldn’t give in.
Meanwhile, Lily was doing better and better in her classes. Professor McGonagall had told her that she would take her on as an apprentice teacher after Hogwarts if she wanted to do so. Her grades were going steadily up, and the people in her classes found it normal to go to her with their questions instead of a teacher. Almost invariably, she was the one picked to demonstrate a rather dangerous spell, and she wouldn’t have needed to study at all for the rest of her Hogwarts years and still be able to make over one hundred per cent. But, having the sort of obsession with her grades that she had, she threw herself into her books as if they were her liferaft in a storm.
Halloween was approaching; in fact, it was the night before Halloween when Lily was informed of the date. She had been so occupied, what with her books and the play and the personal annoyances in the form of a former friend, that she didn’t let any other knowledge seep through. So Lora’s announcement, one night after a practice, came as a rather large surprise.
“Lily, you know we’re having that Hogsmeade visit tomorrow?”
Lily looked up. “We are?”
Lora sighed. “I take that as a no. We are.”
”I see. What about it.”
“Are you coming?”
Eva caught up with them. “I heard the word ‘Hogsmeade’!”
Lora laughed. “I’m trying to see whether Lily feels like going or not. Lily, we’re buying set materials there.”
Looking up, Lily let her eyes smile. “We are?”
”Absolutely. We’re also asking you, Snap-er, Severus, and James to do the sets.”
”Oh, no.” Lily stood up. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.”
Eva grunted in frustration, while Lora took the “no” as a “yes”.
“Wonderful. We’ll meet you in front of the Three Broomsticks at one-thirty. Either bring the costume you’ve got or wear it. Preferably wear it. See you then!” She started for the Ravenclaw common room before Lily could say anything.
The next morning, Lily lined up along with the rest of the cast for the horseless carriages that were taking them to Hogsmeade; they could easily be told apart by their long, Puritan dresses for the girls and the coarse farmer’s outfits and black suits for the boys. All of them were wearing cloaks, though, so they weren’t as noticeable, and when they reached the village, which was bursting with people wearing anything from Hogwarts uniforms to fishing nets, they stood out even less. Eva led them straight to the small pub, as the wind was blowing the pink out of their cheeks.
James raised his hand. “Drinks on the set providers’ son!”
Everyone cheered; they pushed four tables together, and when James came back with the butterbeers, everyone was ready to discuss what they came for.
Eva and Lora were the stage managers and directors; that is, they were good at bossing other people around, and what they thought needed to be done usually was correct. They had drawn sketches of the sets they thought would be acceptable, and everyone was poring over them.
Lora pointed to one. “See, that’s Parris’ attic, where the first act takes place. The last thing we want is for this to be too overdone; that kind of takes the attention away from you guys.” She nodded towards the directors. “So we thought we’d have rafters or something, and then just one bed-stage right. We need one window on stage left, but we don’t need curtains. We’re going to have the door permanently upstage right.” She waited for them to nod in agreement, which they did.
”I want to go out a bit more with Proctor’s house. I want things like spice jars on shelves-just little things to make it look more like a home. We’ve got the table on stage left, and the fireplace upstage center. We need a small mantel, just like a plain piece of wood. It needs the pot for the rabbit stew, and then we can get a salt shaker from the kitchens; that’s not so hard. Door; upstage right. As usual.” She flipped the page.
“I don’t want the courtroom to be outdone. This is where we really need to focus on the actors-this one’s the most dramatic scene. All I think we need is boards for a background, and then a long table for the judges. And a seat for the accusing little brats.” She smirked at the three Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaw and Slytherin, who were giving her friendly glares.
“Act four. I want to do it in the courtroom. It’s pointless to make another room. So. Any questions or input?”
Everyone shook their heads. James took Serena’s hand before answering. “I think you’ve got a pretty good set plan. What, say, do you think it’ll cost?”
Lora looked at Eva, who started thumbing through a notebook.
“I think-if we manage this well and get as many things from our house as we can-one hundred twenty Galleons.”
One of the Hufflepuffs spit out a mouthful of butterbeer all over the table at that, earning a few squeals and disgusted noises; James calmed the group down quickly, though.
“It’s no big deal; you won’t have to bother. My parents are paying for this. They don’t care how high the cost is, they said, as long as it doesn’t reach over one thousand five hundred.”
There was a rather relieved sigh; for James, Lucius, and Eva were the only honestly rich children in the group. Breaking the silence that had settled on them, Lora jumped up, almost knocking over Serena’s bottle of butterbeer. Lily wasn’t quite sure it wasn’t an accident.
“Let’s go look at sets then, shall we?”
Her excitement was infectious. They made their way to a tiny store, the Theatre Accessories, squeezed in between the post office and the Hogsmeade branch of the Magical Menagerie. It was brightly lit inside, and when the students stepped onto the creaking wood floor, a small witch scurried out from behind the back rooms.
“Hello, dears! Anything you need?”
Lora stepped to the front with the plans. “We’ve got a production we’re producing,” she said importantly, “and we’d like to look at the options you have for backgrounds.”
The wrinkly old lady peered over the papers, now with several butterbeer stains on them. She coughed.
“What’s the time period, dears?”
Lora, still in a ridiculous pose she thought was grown-up and dignified, gave her answer. “The Crucible It’s the Puritan time period—actually, 1692 to 1693. We need sets for a clapboard meeting house, an attic of a home, and the downstairs of another home.”
The woman winked. “I think you’d better look around, dears. Straight through that door on the left, and then straight ahead.”
Lily was starting to twitch every time she said ‘dears’, but she followed the cast through the door. They emerged in a magically enlarged room bearing quite a resemblance to the storage room of a theater; everything was classified according to centuries. After wandering for a while, they finally got to Saeculum 1700, written in fancy, old-fashioned script on a piece of parchment tacked to a wooden beam.
Eva moved forward. “Last thing we want is fancy. We’d better look for plain wood.”
The Ravenclaw playing Elizabeth Proctor, Flora Expavesco, nodded. “I think I see something like rafters over there—“ she pointed to a corner—“over behind the noblesse rose trellis.”
They had found samples of the sets they wanted in little over an hour; they emerged with several samples of walls and ceilings, two kinds of windows, a miniature table and benches, a long, wooden table for the judges, two colors of wood for the door, and a bed. Lora was the one who stepped up to the counter and matched the samples they had unearthed to the different points in the plan; the rest of the cast sat on the floor, talking animatedly about the different, expensive sets they had seen.
“And then there was something for the Revolutionary War—did you see that? I wonder what play that was for.”
“Did you see the golden cat? I bet that was for Antony and Cleopatra.”
“There was also an Italian villa. I don’t want to know what that must have cost!”
“I found several costumes in a different room from the Civil War era. Those were expensive.”
“Ooh, what colors?”
“I saw an apple-green and a dark widow’s dress—”
Lora waved James to come over to the counter, and immediately they stopped talking. Still, they were relieved when James stepped back with the grin still on his face.
Serena jumped up; she had come because she had insisted on being props manager.
“What’s the grand total?”
“Hum? Oh, that. Nothing bad. Five hundred sixty Galleons, twenty Sickles.”
Lily was extremely glad he could be so flippant about the costs; she definitely wouldn’t want to have to cover the costs. The two hundred pounds her father had given her at the beginning of her school years were going for her education; and there wasn’t much of it left; just enough to keep her at Hogwarts till her seventh year. There was enough for the last set of books, but she couldn’t afford to be extravagant at all.
For a minute, she considered how nice it would be to be able to spend that much at one time, but then she wrinkled her nose at the prospect. She knew she would get bored eventually with the extravagant silks and satins surrounding her house, and with the expensive foods she would be able to buy. Actually, she was considering that she’d much rather have to work, rather than lie around all day.
“I’m never getting married,” she thought. “I couldn’t stand having a pillock of a husband tying me down to earth all the time—and I don’t think there’s one person in this dimension that could understand me.”
One person came to mind, but then she brutally shoved the name out and padlocked the iron doors that kept him outside her conscious self.
When they returned to Hogwarts, Lily dragged her feet upstairs, in the direction of her dormitory. The Halloween feast was in the evening, and she wanted to stay up late. The feast promised to be interesting, considering the time the Marauders spent in Zonko’s, and Lily didn’t plan on falling asleep before anything interesting happened. Besides, most likely they would attack her with whatever it was, seeing the bad terms they were on, and Lily had better be wide awake if she wanted to dodge whatever it was.
What Lily considered ‘resting’ was sitting in the window seat with either a book or her drawing materials; this time, it was her book of pencilled portraits.
She started off with a pair of twinkling eyes, set underneath smiling, dark eyebrows. The almost Grecian nose bridged just where the stubborn but sometimes compassionate jawline started to slope downwards. The mouth was a bit thin, but it was smiling, and the dark hair was wildy flopping everywhere.
She stared down at the face for a few minutes, then, sharply drawing her breath in, she ripped it out of her book, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room, where it fell next to her bed, hidden by a fold of the curtains.
Lily sat in the windowseat, straight-backed and tense, eyes almost wide with fright, breathing shortly and rapidly. She stayed there until it was time to go downstairs; when she did leave, it was with a machine-like swiftness.
The feast was even better than usual; if that was at all possible. The bats that fluttered over the tables had lost their harsh squeaky sounds; they squawked more solemnly and softly, thereby sparing the students’ eardrums. Professor Dumbledore had ordered butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks; the roast beef mounds set on the tables seven feet apart were decorated with orange and black tinted Hogwarts crests stuck into them with toothpicks and connected with draping, thin streamers. The orange and black icing that decorated the desserts was buttercream; a wonderful improvement over the usual powdered sugar icing.
Lily enjoyed the feast; she drew out more than usual and started talking animatedly to everyone around her, not even noticing that one of those people was one she was currently supposed to be extremely angry at. When she left the Great Hall for the Gryffindor common room, she heard James whisper to Remus; “What’s wrong with her; did someone spike the butterbeer?”
“What, do you mind?”
”No, ‘course not! I mean-well, I don’t want her talking to me, but-well, having to be mean doesn’t leave you time for much else.”
”Well, then! Leave well enough alone, my friend.”
“All right,” she heard James sigh before she was engulfed by the crowd.
Everyone stayed up late that night; swapping old and new jokes and stories; whispering to each other about the new wizard down in Albania who was causing havoc among the Ministry and, in the case of the cast, rehearsing lines. It was around one when the common room was mostly emptied. The Marauders were still there, talking about something and eating Fudge Flies; Lily had retreated to her dormitory to retrieve Das Kartengeheimnis; she didn’t trust herself with her pencils anymore.
When she stepped off the marble staircase she had descended without a sound, her sharpened hearing unconsciously caught her name. Curious, though mindful of the anger of hurt she might feel by listening, she made her way behind the sofa they were sitting on.
“I didn’t think she’d be so outgoing. Almost like someone hexed her with a Cheering Charm or something.”
“You mean you’re disappointed?”
”Er-well-look here, Peter-“
“What?”
”She hurt me pretty badly, that night at our house. I hadn’t done anything at all-I’d saved her from falling off of that owl window, for Pete’s sake.”
“So?”
”So the first thing she does is scream her head off at me!”
“I don’t know why that should hurt you.”
”Oh, I give up. I don’t know why it did, but it did.”
“You care that much about her to care if she insulted you?”
“Er-“ James shrugged. “I suppose so, yes.”
Lily was trying to conceal the start she gave from herself. It wasn’t working too well.
“She matters that much to you?”
“I guess. I don’t know. I mean-she’s a nice person and all, if you’re not around her when she’s got a weapon and/or is in a bad mood-“
“But what?”
”But she’s too-too out there.”
“That made no sense whatsoever.”
James sighed. “She’s so flighty and carefree-she runs into danger and enjoys it…” His voice trailed off.
“Just like you, you mean.”
“No!” He was positive on this point. “We just break stupid school rules-she doesn’t care if she breaks laws!”
“What?” All four of his listeners were becoming intent on this; including Lily.
Immediately James withdrew into a sort of shell. “Never mind. It’s her secret; I can’t tell you.”
Sirius sounded worried. “James, my friend, you’re sick.”
“I’d like to remind you that you were the one that suggested we sneak into the girls’ dormitory in second year.”
“Not that kind of sick. I meant-“
“Lovesick,” Remus added.
James swung around at him and glared.
“If you think that I have even the tiniest hint of feelings towards that ungrateful little brat, you’d better think again. You know perfectly well that Cissa and I are closer than I’ve ever been to her. Cissa’s understanding, quiet, sweet, smart, sympathizing-everything that the Evans girl isn’t. You know that!”
Sirius nodded. “Good. Fine. Very good. I don’t blame you one bit.”
James squinted at Sirius. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
”Is there?”
”No; I’ve got a pair of scissors stuck in my forehead. Tell me.”
Sirius raised his hands above his head. “The prisoner has confessed all. My secrets are your secrets.”
”Huh?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, so maybe I do,” Sirius admitted. “But a person’s allowed to have some privacy around here, isn’t he?”
“No,” the other three chorused.
Sirius closed his eyes. “I’m going to bed.”
Lily didn’t forget about what he had said; but she sincerely hoped he didn’t mean what she had thought he had meant. She couldn’t deal with all this-she wanted to be as normal as she could get-befriend and help outlaws, wreak an extremely large amount of havoc throughout the world-she didn’t have time for a stupid love life!
However, she didn’t have much time to reflect on her preferences of a perfect life; they were studying Bowtruckles in Defense Against the Dark Arts; a creature that Professor Dorvan had been extremely friendly with in the Forbidden Forest; they were tree-guardians, which normally leapt down upon woodcutters or tree-surgeons, gouging their eyes out with their long, sharp fingers.
In the Forbidden Forest, however, they would leap on any unsuspecting creature within their grasp, no matter if it tried to harm the tree or not. Professor Dorvan had had a colony of the small Bowtruckles living in her tree; and she had asked them to come to Hogwarts for a demonstration. They would only be pacified for a few minutes if offered a certain object, and the students were ransacking the library for a book that might hold the answer; as they were supposed to confront their visitors upon their arrival
The play was growing more demanding as Hufflepuff was slaughtered by Slytherin in the next Quidditch match and Christmas was moving steadily closer and closer. The tournament was on the twenty-first of December; it was taking place in northern Germany, and it wasn’t helping that the workload was being piled upon them.
The N.E.W.T.s were being taken by the sixth years at the end of the school year, but the teachers evidently felt that the fifth year’s O.W.L. scores hadn’t been high enough, so they were pushing for extremely high grades on the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.
The homework was keeping the cast of The Crucible up till midnight on days with less homework; Lily was the only one that could get to bed at any time and still wake up at six-thirty in the morning.
It was starting to rain heavily, and James wasn’t at play practice that much; he was at Quidditch training. Often, he would come in in the middle of one of his scenes, splattered with mud and exhausted. Quickly he’d have to remove the Quidditch robes and usually the drenched shirt for his costume; they were working on moving so that their costumes looked natural on them, which was the reason for them.
