Beyond Hogwarts -Chapter Twelve

-=Beyond Hogwarts; Chapter Twelve=-

It took her next to no time to get to Professor Blunt’s office—her feet had trodden the path so often that they didn’t hesitate at forks in corridors or false doorways. Finding her way to the blank space of wall bordered on one side by a statue of a nymph, on the other by a portrait of Nicholas Flamel, she whispered “Egypt,” and entered the office serenely as a door formed itself in the wall for her.
   On his part, James had no idea how he had managed to give that utterly cruel and sharp reply to her—when he entered his office and flung himself into a chair, he knew he’d never snap at her that way if he hadn’t been that stunned. And—
   The image kept leaping up in his mind. To him, the brown-haired Franziska von Berlepsch had melted away, and the partly troubled, somewhat anxious, yet glittering eyes of Lily Potter were tearing him apart. He didn’t stop and think why she was there—it only repeated itself to him that she was.
   Muttering the password into his bedroom (Forest green, for Lily’s eyes), he flung himself onto the bedstead, running his fingers through the so easily mussed dark brown hair, thinking grimly that the one time he had hair that he could make behave, he was wishing himself out of that position with all his mind, body, and soul, if he had one.
   He fell asleep in the dark green robes he was wearing that evening as well as his cloak, which he didn’t bother to unfasten. But if anyone had looked into his room at about midnight, he or she could have found his unconscious face wet, as if he had just plunged it into a water basin.
   Closing the door behind her softly, Lily stepped forward, anxiously looking around for the professor. Her eyes ascertained that he most definitely wasn’t in his office, unless he had Transfigured himself into a dust molecule, so she made her way over to the bookcase that was the door into his bedroom. She knew the password, of course, but she still hesitated at the door.
   Making up her mind decisively, she muttered “Forest green” under her breath, and slipped into the bedroom.
   Her eyes fell on him at once, especially on his face, and, biting her lip to stop the tears, she perceived the drenched cheeks half buried in the pillow. Taking her cloak off, she knelt down next to the bed, taking his hand in her own and resting her cheek on it.
   Several seconds later, his consciousness retched itself, and he blinked several times before seeing her.
   “Lily?”
   Her first impulse was to wipe his wet face and say something in the area of “Shh; you’re still tired,” but painfully, she remembered that as far as she was concerned, her rights in that area of behavior had evaporated along with her guilt-free conscience.
   Both of them looked into each other’s eyes for a few minutes, Lily’s pleading mutely. With an effort, however, he averted his eyes and swung his feet onto the floor.
   “You’re a student; you shouldn’t be here. Go back to your dormitory. Haven’t you any idea what this looks like?” He was standing in front of a pitcher full of water and a basin; with a shaking hand, he spilled half of it onto his robes.
   “Here; let me help you.” Swiftly, she stood up, taking the decanter from him and letting a small stream of cool water flow into the bowl. Setting the pitcher down, she picked up a nearby towel, dipping it in the water and handing it to him.
   Uncouthly, he pulled it from her hands, wiping his forehead and neck. Sighing, he unfastened his cloak, draped it over a chair, and moved towards his wardrobe.
   “I’ve got to talk to you,” Lily said, trying hard to blink back tears as she stared at the back of his head.
   “You are, and I told you to go back to your dormitory, Miss von Berlepsch.” He pulled out a silvery cloak and slipped it on over his head. “I will have Mr. Thorns select several detentions for you for every minute you remain in a teacher’s chamber.”
   She sighed. It wouldn’t do any good to talk to him—not when he was in this mood. Still, giving up had a faint chance in it, so, turning her back to him, she swept over to the windowsill, sighing once.
   James hesitated for a few minutes, but then couldn’t help it; he hadn’t the strength to be cruel to her for long. It was easier in their third year—but now it was different.
   Striding over to the window and putting a hand on her head, he turned her around so that she was facing him, thinking dryly that if Lord Voldemort tried to conquer him, all he’d have to do is to put him in a position where he’d have to give his life up for his wife.
   “You wanted to talk to me?”
   She nodded, eyes fastened on him. “Ye-es. About—about last night. Last evening—you know.”
   “What about it?” The hard glitter in his eyes was returning.
   Lily opened her mouth to excuse herself, to say something that would make him know that she disliked the boy, was only doing a job…but by itself, her mouth closed again, and she sighed.
   “I’m sorry.”
   James frowned, perplexed. If anything, he had expected a tirade of explanations, clarifications that would put her in the position of an innocent, not an apology…Suspicions were flaring violently.
   “You mean that you like him? Love him?
   He couldn’t continue; he was furious, hurt, and disbelieving. “You—“
   She turned her back to him again. “No.”
   “No?” Perplexed, his anger was stilled for the moment, and he took her arm. “What?”
   “I can’t stand Sebastian; that’s what I mean by ‘no’,” Lily sighed. “He—he’s too ordinary, tedious, too fond of regular things.” A smile crept to her lips as she watched a bird outside circle around an oak. “He’s not half of what you are. If he’d been with me in the Alendoren Cove in seventh year, the last thing he’d do is follow me; he’d be pulling at my robes, begging me to take him back.”
   Grinning at the rather accurate portrayal, James stroked his chin in thought. “You know, come to that, he really would.” He took her arm again. “So—well, why—   “Why’d I kiss him, you mean?” Lily asked, smiling slyly. “I thought you’d never come to that.”
   He groaned. “I thought you’d lead up to it. It’s not one of the more pleasant memories of my life, but I think I’ll have to get used to it.”
   “Remembering it, you mean? I’m terribly sorry.”
   He frowned. “You said that before. Please tell me what’s going on. And don’t try to crush my hopes unless you absolutely have to; they’re already incensed enough to believe that you can’t stand the boy.”
   Lily started fiddling with her robes. “You’re right—and you’re right about something else—I never should have taken this job.”
   “You shouldn’t?” He was confused.
   “No,” she restated. “I hate having to do this.”
   Frustrated, he stamped loudly on the carpeted floor, knocking over a potted plant. “Do what? Be specific, honestly!”
   Lily sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around them. “I only wanted to do what I was sent here for…to do a job, and yesterday I thought that I’d do anything to get back home quickly, and I wanted to hurry it up. I didn’t mean for you to be hurt that badly—I suppose I just wasn’t thinking.”
   Her blurred vision intercepted his, and, giving in, he sat down next to Lily, wrapping his arms around her.
   “I shouldn’t have been so upset—I couldn’t help it.”
   Wiping her tears away on his shoulder, she laughed weakly. “Of course you couldn’t. No one likes finding their wife kissing someone else.”
   “Hey, I don’t mind so much—not now, anyway. I did mind when I didn’t know whether you were doing a job or not…”
   “Don’t!” she begged him. “Please don’t. If there were anything I’d take back out of everything I’ve ever done, that’d be it.”
   His answer startled her badly, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if the person beside her really was James.
   “No. Don’t take it back. We’ll probably get some very valuable information out of him, and if you think you have to do anything like that in the future, go ahead—I won’t mind.”
   “What?”
   He kissed the top of her head. “You’ve got insanely good seduction skills, sweetheart, and it’d be a bit pointless to see them go to waste.”
   Her mouth fell open. “You mean that?”
   “Most certainly. Now get out of here before someone sees you leaving my bedroom.” Winking at her slyly, he Summoned a wet towel, wiping her face with it. “Especially since you’ve been crying.”
   Wickedly, she pushed the towel away. “That’s all to the better. I’m in despair about my parents.” Giving her husband a quick peck on the cheek, she opened the bookcase and vanished from view, and James was left to wonder, amazed, at the many faces of that girl.
   The next time he saw her was that afternoon in Defense Against the Dark Arts, shyly holding hands with Sebastian Krum. Inwardly rolling his eyes, Professor Blunt curtly ordered them to stop acting as if they were married in his classroom, then pretended not to see the consistent note-passing that went on between Franziska and Sebastian. He might be interrupting something indispensable to them, James knew, so he purposely concentrated all of his energies onto making an entire class turn a desk chair into a cat without sending him flying out of the window.
   After that episode, things flew along quickly—two evenings after that, Sebastian passed Franziska a note in Studies of the Dark Arts. Unfolding it quickly, Franziska read:

Zitka—

   I’d like to show you something. Remember how I’ve talked about ‘Uncle Mort’ to my friends sometimes? I want to introduce you to his as., who’s here at DS. We’re holding a meeting in the 7AT tonight. Coming?

   Franziska was getting used to his continual abbreviations—DS meant Durmstrang, as. meant assistant, and 7AT meant the seventh years’ astronomy tower. Dipping her quill in the ink bottle, she penned a quick reply.

I’d love to! What time?

   He read it and smiled; seconds later, the note was passed back.

   Twelve-thirty. I’ll meet you at twelve-fifteen in the common room.

   The bell rang, so they couldn’t continue, but Lily managed to drop the note in Professor Blunt’s room when she and Sophia were ranting about their low scores at him. The telegraph that his eyebrows sent at dinner relieved her; he’d be there. Listening, of course, not participating, but he had an Invisibility Cloak, a Quick-Quotes Quill and a silencing spell that would most certainly come in handy.
   When Franziska slipped downstairs to the seventh years’ common room, Sebastian surprised her badly by stepping out of the shadows and throwing a black cloak on over her shoulders.
   “Sebastian!”
   “Shh. You won’t be seen this way.”
   Mollified but still annoyed, Franziska followed him out of the common room and to the Astronomy Tower. Neither of them spoke, and for the first time that evening, Lily felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of the meeting. She hadn’t thought about it too much, to be honest; her thoughts had been with her husband.
   Climbing up the spiraling stairs, Franziska was doing her best not to trip over her robes and the long cloak, but inside, Lily was excitedly anxious to catch Professor Karkaroff—she’d be able to go back home at last. Sighing with relief at reaching the top of the stairs, she followed Sebastian onto the tip of the tower.
   Several cloaked figures were already sitting there in a ring, legs crossed tailor-style. They looked up at their entrance, and Lily recognized several of them—they were some of Sebastian’s friends.
   Sebastian pulled her to a sitting position next to him in the circle, and as his watch beeped twelve-thirty, the door swung shut, locking, and from behind it stepped a closely hooded and cloaked figure.
   A rather raspy voice that struck a chord in Lily’s memory spoke as the adult took his place in the circle, facing the door.
   “We have a new member of our following, then?”
   Sebastian stood up, bowing. “Franziska von Berlepsch—seventh year. I know her well.”
   Dark eyes flickered over to Franziska, who nervously tried a smile, but failed.
   “She may do well,” the still hooded figure admitted, “but first an examination must proceed.”
   Lily gulped. Examination? No one had ever said anything about an examination! Her only consolation was that if they forced her to take a Truth potion, James was hiding in a dark corner, wand raised underneath the Invisibility Cloak.
   “Wha—what kind of an exam?” Franziska quavered. “I—er—I didn’t know—“
   “Of course not,” the adult said, amused, “We never allow anything to leak out.”
   Yeah, right, Lily snickered to herself. Then why’m I here, huh?
   “I—er…I don’t know if I—“
   “Absolute nonsense,” the leader cut in. “Krum, stand her up against the wall.”
   Sebastian obeyed mutely, and Franziska found herself with her back against cold stone and her fingers just out of reach of James’ Invisibility Cloak.”
   “What we will begin to do,” the leader informed her, “is to fire several curses at you. If you know our—‘Uncle Mort’—well, you will know that the capability of warding off magic is something you are necessarily required to know.”
   “Very well,” Franziska managed. “I—I’m ready.”
   The rest of the circle stood up, pulling out wands, and the adult stood aside, not letting his face be seen. Averting her mind from him, Franziska drew her own wand, facing a havoc of mild jinxes.
   “Mobilicorpus!”
   “Petrifocus Totalus!”
   “Desdemona!”
   “Caedes Sagmen!”
   “Naris Caesaries!”
   “Aculeatus!”
   “Alapa!”
   “Pistris!”
   “Beluosus!”
   The nine curses came almost all at once, and Franziska could only ward off eight of them (Lily could have protected herself from fifty, but Franziska had limits to her capabilities); the last one wriggled through her shield charm, transforming her insides into ravenous, magnified rats, and she cried out in pain as a sharp shard of something pierced her just below her heart, and small teeth started ripping at her stomach.
   It was all James could do to make himself stay hidden, but he murmured “Finite Incantatem!” with a viciousness that would have stopped twenty thousand curses.
   Relief flooding her body, Franziska dropped to the stone floor, breathing heavily as the throbbing started to cease and her organs rebuilt themselves.
   “Had enough, Miss von Berlepsch?” the adult asked, almost jeering. “This is a taste of what you will have to face…”
   Blinking hard, Franziska shook her head. “I can take more than that.”
   Applause broke out between the members of the meeting; she was the first that had replied like that; many had simply lain on the floor, breathing heavily.
   Carefully, Sebastian raised her up, and Lily felt a swell of hatred against the boy. He’d told her he liked her, and only a few days later he was torturing her willingly, upon a simple order! She shuddered involuntarily as Sebastian draped an arm around her.
   “Darling, are you cold?” he asked, worried. “Do you want my cloak?”
   Franziska shook her head. “No!—no, I’m not.”
   She was put through many more tests that night; ones that were supposedly tortures inflicted by the Ministry if she refused to give them particles of information, ones that she would be punished with if she ever disobeyed the Master, as he was also called, and finally, she was put under the Imperious Curse.
   It was a strange feeling; aches and sore spots vanished instantly, and she felt as if she were floating, lying on a cloud, and then the orders came—
   They penetrated her brain distantly, but she understood them. Hop around the room on one foot. Do a handstand on one hand. Throw a curse at Maud that makes her nose bleed. Pretend to be dead. Kick yourself in the shin. Break your little finger. One after another after another…
   Under the Imperious Curse, Lily surfaced and threw Franziska into the shadows. She was incapable of acting while under the curse, so she couldn’t pretend to be her character. And Lily had a sort of aversion to the Imperious Curse—Muggles would call it an allergy, but it wasn’t exactly that. She just had a magical repugnance for the Imperious Curse, and as the shaft of pale red light pierced through her clothing and delved into her mind, her throat started constricting; she was finding it hard to breathe, but still trying her best not to give in to what the curse was trying to do to her.
   Her throat tightened around itself, and she felt an impulse to throw up her dinner, which spread downwards and felt like someone pressing two sheets of iron together on either side of her. Her hand grasped her stomach as she lurched against the wall, grasping her throat.
   Her hand came in contact with a cold metal chain; fumbling along it, she touched the elf-nymph pendant and the bottle of litaleter. Trying desperately not to be seen doing it, with a sharp clench of her hand, she broke the screw and touched the tip of the bottle lightly with her fingers, then raising that finger to her lips.
   It was a saving idea—instantly, her throat muscles loosened, and she sank to her knees, breathing weakly, hardly conscious of a robed form sweeping towards her.
   “Curious, I must say,” the form admitted. “The Ministry will have trouble controlling you.” He raised a hand to his cloak, extending the other to her, to help the girl up. “Welcome, Franziska von Berlepsch.”
   With a sweep of his hand, he swept his hood back, and Lily shrunk back against the wall in surprise.
   Not his hand, she realized with shock—but her hand. The elderly, slim hand she had mistaken earlier for Karkaroff’s, the alto tone to her voice—Professor Mink!
   The lady realized her shock, and smiled.
   “Not whom you were expecting, was it? No, our Headmaster is far to busy to attend—er—meetings of this sort.”
   Franziska forced herself to her feet, holding out a hand to the professor. “No, ma’am; you’re a wonderful actress. I would never have guessed.”
   Professor Mink flung her head back and laughed, feebly but loudly. “I may be old, but never too old to do my bidding, I suppose. But you have held yourself admirably.” She waved Sebastian forward. “Krum, take her back to her rooms. She will need rest—the other teachers will wonder about her tiredness tomorrow morning if she does not get at least a few hours of sleep.”
   Obediently, Sebastian supported her underneath her arms, walking her outside, when he let out his breath in a huff.
   “Zitka, I was so worried about you! I thought you’d been seriously hurt!—and I wanted to slap myself for leading you into this.”
   Wryly, Lily thought, James would have intervened on her behalf, as would the rest of her friends, and at least they’d have the decency to say, “I wanted to kill myself for letting you come tonight,” instead of the “Oh, I’d like to hit myself on the cheek!”
   She leaned on his arm heavily, replying through bitten lips, “Well, it’s all for the best. And I’m initiated now, aren’t I?”
   Aren’t I. Lily supposed she was being picky, but if she were her own character, she would never have dared to utter the words ‘aren’t I.’ Aside from being a grammatical aberration, they sounded ignorant, something Lily never was, even if she had done everything else to lose her dignity.
   “Yes.” He smiled. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t regret it. The society has many advantages.”
   Advantages, Lily thought. Yep, getting a beautiful black tattoo on your arm, under the dictation of a wonderfully powerful controlling genius—who wouldn’t want that? True, the idea of living outside of the law was appealing to her—to continually be running, fleeing, with the wind whipping your hair around your eyes, then taking a stance and fighting to the death, rising victorious, strong, invincible—
   “Yes, it does,” she replied mechanically, feeling a touch of silvery silk sweep her fingers. “I can walk to the dormitory from here. You go back.”
   “Okay. See you tomorrow.” With that, Sebastian vanished again, clumping back up the stairs and closing the door behind him. As soon as she heard the door shut, Lily felt a strong grasp on her arm; the next second, the Invisibility Cloak was being pulled on over her.
   “James?”
   “Hush. My office. Now.”
   Silently, both of them swept along the maze of corridors, stopping only in front of his office, where James muttered the password and both of them entered. They took the precaution of leaving the cloak on, and headed for his bedroom.
   “Hematite.”
   “Hematite?” Lily asked. “Wasn’t it something else a few days ago?”
   “I changed it this evening,” he said shortly. “Just in case.”
   Throwing the cloak off, each of then cast a Silencing Spell on the room and withdrew to the four-poster, sitting down on the mattress.
   Exhausted, Lily sank down on the pillows, and he, nervously, pulled her into his lap.
   “Lil, are you all right?”
   She sighed, closing her eyes and dropping her head into his arms. “I hate Franziska. Too much of a dolt to block the most painful curse.” She winced. “I hate Sebastian for that one.”
   “Shh.” He kissed her forehead, sweeping her hair out of her face. “It’s all right now. We can leave now, and I’ll make doubly sure nothing like this’ll ever happen again.”
   Lily smiled weakly. “I love you, too.”
   He grinned at her, then held up the cap to the litaleter bottle.
   “I found this. You might find useful later on.”
   “Where’d you get that?” she almost squealed. “I don’t know what I’d have done without that!—I was almost ready to tape this thing shut.” Grasping it, she screwed it onto the bottle again, breathing with relief when it was on again tightly.
   Braiding her hair into a long plait, James coiled it out of her way. “I’d prefer to say I think of everything, but it fell within reach of my hand.”
   She smiled at him. “About everything else—you got what we needed, then?” she asked, breathless.
   For an answer, he held up a piece of parchment. Lily plucked it out of his hands, finding in it a script-like review of what had happened, with people’s names included before their words. She smiled.
   “That should do, then. Sebastian cast two of those nine spells on me?”
   “The Quick-Quotes Quill never lies. A very nice invention, and I suspect the Daily Prophet is drooling over it. Merriwether has a couple of geniuses working for him.”
   “I see. You’ll be owling that to him tonight, then?”
   “I’d intended to do it tomorrow, but you’re right. Tonight.”
   She watched, detached, as he folded the long bit of parchment into an envelope and stuffed it into his pocket, picking another envelope off of his desk and tying it to his owl’s leg.
   “James?”
   “Yes?” he asked, opening the window and letting the owl fly out.
   “Isn’t that the wrong letter?”
   “It is,” he nodded. “In case it’s intercepted.”
   “I see.” She fiddled listlessly with the bedspread. “How are you taking it to the Ministry, then?”
   James sighed. “That would be my weak point. I’ve got to do it myself, and I don’t know how to get out of here inconspicuously. We can’t make ourselves too obvious, because whoever’s sent to destroy Mink has to be above suspicion.”
   “I see.” Her eyes started to glint, and he looked up expectantly.
   “You have a plan, I see?”
   “I’m simply homesick for my parents, and you’ve got to escort me out—and then we’ll get that old Transfiguration professor to take back over. We’ve got no time for anything else—we’d never be able to get that bit of parchment to the Ministry—it’d be destroyed two days from now.”
   He frowned. “You believe that? I’ve got a most secure office.”
   “You’ve also got a headmaster that can get into offices without needing passwords, or so I found out from Sebastian. No. We’ve got to leave tomorrow morning.”
   “Very well.” James gave in. “Need the cloak to get back to your room?”
   “Yes, please,” she said. “It wouldn’t do us any good at all to be suspected of anything like this.”
   “Anything like what?” James asked mischievously. Lily grinned and kissed him slowly.
   “I’ll leave that to your imagination, shall I?” were her last words before she threw the cloak over herself and vanished from view.
   During the night, around four, Sophia woke to the sound of frantic crying and some indistinguishable cries. Shaking Bella awake, she slipped down the ladder of her bunk bed to Franziska’s; pulling back the curtain, the two saw the girl in the grip of a nightmare. Tears lashed her cheeks as she sobbed out “Mutti!” and “Vati!”—her names for her mother and her father. Pounding her fists into her stomach and the mattress, she let out a strangled cry—a last one for her mother.
   Sophia cast a quick glance over to Bella, and both of them started to try to shake her into consciousness. Franziska awoke quickly, shrinking away from them, but when her bleary eyes sent their images to her brain, she relaxed, slumping onto her pillow in tears.
   “Zitka, what’s wrong?” Bella wheezed, shaking the girl’s shoulder. “Sophia, what’re we going to do?”
   “Get her to the nurse—no.” Turning Franziska so that her face was visible, she posed one question.
   “Was it your parents?”
   “Yes,” she sobbed. “I felt as if I were in the room with them!—and they weren’t dying normally; they were being tortured—kicked, beaten, everything!” Burying her head in her knees, she let herself go. “I never knew how they died—no one told me—but I keep seeing this—over and over and over—“
   “Karkaroff. He’ll know what to do,” Sophia said commandeeringly.
   At seven o’clock that morning, sitting next to her trunk, a tear-stained girl with most disordered hair and robes was hazily blinking at the figure that had just entered the room. A tall man, with brown hair and concerned brown eyes—she recognized a familiar figure, and, running towards him, threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his robes, unconscious of any embarrassment that showed only too freely on his face.
   Professor Karkaroff frowned. “I suppose that has chosen her protector in the way of getting her to her aunt. Professor, this young lady has not yet healed from the death of her parents—I do not suppose it would be too much to ask of you to take her to her aunt’s.”
   Swiftly detaching the distressed and rather unattractive (at the moment) student’s arms, he pulled a letter out of his robes, laying it on the headmaster’s desk.
   “That’s why I came to see you, sir—your old Transfiguration professor has written; asking for his position again.”
   An hour later, both of them were on a train towards Franziska’s aunt’s, but as soon as they alighted in Bremen, they visited the restrooms in the train station and never came out—the two had Apparated to the Ministry of Magic in England as soon as they were alone.
   James appeared first, and Lily materialized next to him a moment later. Without wasting any time at all, they swerved into Mr. Merriwether’s office, asking for an urgent audience.
   Blustering, Mr. Merriwether received them, but as soon as they were alone, he leaned forward urgently.
   “Have you got anything?”
   For an answer, James held out the roll of parchment with the Quick-Quotes Quill’s notes on them, and Mr. Merriwether pounced, catlike, onto the narrowly written paper.
   Moments later, he looked, up, relief written all over his face.
   “I must take this in to Rowland. Wait for me, please. You are certain no one suspects anything?”
   “We had to leave quickly,” Lily put in, “and we could only take so many security measures. We did our best, though.”
   “Excellent. I will be back in a moment.”
   The door shut softly behind Mr. Merriwether, and the couple turned to each other.
   “Rather fine work we’ve made of this, haven’t we?”
   “Absolutely,” he grinned. “I’ll be thankful to be home again.”
   She leaned into his coat, beaming. “I can’t wait to ride our horses again. Do you realize we haven’t done that since we returned?”
   He crushed her into a hug, kissing her forehead. “We’ve just escaped mortal danger and all you want to do is ride a horse?”
   “We’ve just escaped mortal danger,” she teased, “and all you think of is food and sleep?”
   “Hey, I’m a guy,” he shrugged, “can’t I give in to natural and animal impulses?”
   They were interrupted by the opening and closing of the door and the entrance of Mr. Merriwether and Rowland Sikora, the latter of which advancing heartily on both of them.
   “Congratulations, both of you,” he beamed, crushing their wrists to pulp, “and my most genial and wholehearted thanks. You have provided us with an invaluable service.”
   “It wasn’t so much,” Lily fidgeted; “we only did our job.”
   “Speak for yourself,” James grinned, “I should hope I deserve at least this!”
   The Minister granted him a warm smile. “You will both be presented with the Order of Merlin, Third Class, at the very least. We will have a private ceremony—after all, this is the last thing we want noised about in the Daily Prophet.”
   “Thank you, sir,” James winced, flexing his wrists. “Might I ask one favor, though?”
   “Absolutely,” the Minister nodded. “Speak.”
   “I’d much like to have my wife back to her former state—not that she doesn’t look nice now, but I do prefer her otherwise.”
   Mr. Merriwether laughed. “We will have taken care of that in a moment—though the tearstained, blotched image isn’t all that bad.”
   Lily scowled. “I had to do that!”
   “Franziska removal,” James edged, guiding her towards the door, “is this way.”
   James was through with his Professor Blunt image before Lily had emerged from what she termed as ‘Serena creators’, and, plunking himself down on a chair, waiting for her, he relievedly ran his hand through his again black, shorter, and messy hair, while putting his feet up on a table.
   Across from him, five minutes later, another door opened, and Lily stepped through, green eyes blazing in relief. He grinned appreciatively to see the auburn hair pushed away from her forehead again and the toss of the hair she hadn’t indulged in for weeks.
   “Let’s go home,” she sighed, fidgeting with the Durmstrang robes she still wore. “They told me I could change when I got home, and I’d give the world for a horseback ride and a nice, normal dress.”
   “Dress?” James questioned, amused, standing up and slinging an arm around her waist.
   “Dress,” she restated. “I want my old English dark green one on, and I fully intend to go on a two-hour ride after I take a bath.”
   Mr. Merriwether shook his head, half-smiling, as the door closed behind them.
   “That’s a pair in a million, that is, and I suppose we’re just lucky they haven’t joined Lord Voldemort.”