After breakfast, most of the students left the Great Hall for the common room, planning a snowball fight for later on in the day, when the sun was shining the brightest. Lily declined the invitation to a chess tournament, so, after getting dressed and flinging her black cloak around her shoulders, she left the castle for the grounds, carrying several sheets of paper and a pencil.
It was a practically perfect winter morning; the sun glittered gently on the soft snow covering the ground and the trees; there were absolutely no footprints on the snow, as it had been snowing that night, the Forbidden Forest duskily groomed itself before her in a friendly manner, and the lake was filled with icy briars etched into the lake, almost as if fairies had been gliding on it, and the touch of their feet had cracked the ice that covered the water.
Lily took in the winter air with a sigh, a heartfelt longing for the day and the time never to change. She felt at home, here, with the cold wind rustling through her lungs and filling her mouth, and with the small, soft snowflakes landing on her hair and eyelashes, staying there, not melting, and for a moment the world around her was perfect in her eyes.
Smiling dreamily, she let herself sink into the snow with her back against a tree, facing the lake, the snow-and-ice covered castle. Pulling out her pencil, she let it glide over the page, entranced; she stared into the spires of the castle’s towers.
Lily was pulled out of her dream what seemed like five seconds later; actually, it was almost two hours after she had left the castle. The six other Gryffindors had launched themselves onto the new-fallen snow, packing it together in their mittened paws, and throwing it while almost falling down laughing. Lily smiled, and, as a precaution, folded her drawings and tucked them away inside her robes, replacing the space in her hand with her wand. Clumping her own bit of snow into a ball, she muttered something under her breath, and for the next five minutes, she and everyone else was laughing madly at Peter trying to figure out why there was a stubborn mass of snow that he wasn’t able to break and that kept launching itself at his head.
Finally, everyone sank to their knees or onto their backs on the ground; they were all exhausted. Lily rolled over so that her chin rested on her folded hands. James was lying merely feet from her.
“Having fun?”
”You bet,” he laughed. “Don’t I always?”
“Well,” she grinned, “if you enjoy dancing madly in your seat because you can’t reach snowflakes, I’d say you do.”
”Hey!” he protested. “That was entertainment, provided and planned beforehand by me!”
“Entertainment, yes. Provided, yes. Planned beforehand?”
”Okay, so it wasn’t,” he admitted. Grinning, she pulled her hair out of her face, and his eyes were suddenly latched onto something on her hand.
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?” She was confused. “Oh, you mean this?” The ring Richard had given her had caught the sunlight. “It’s from someone I met at one of my father’s business parties.”
”I see,” he nodded. “So—what’s going on between you two?”
Lily raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t I already been through this?”
”You have?” he asked, for once honestly confused.
“I have. I explained, as plainly as I could, that he wasn’t my fiancé, that I wasn’t leaving school early, and that I wasn’t going to take exams early in the case I did leave school early and definitely not give you and your friends the answers to the questions. I am under a distinct impression I did say that.”
“Oh.” James frowned. “I see…I guess I didn’t hear that—I thought you were engaged, or something.”
The next minute, Lily did something that startled him almost out of his snowdrift. She rolled over on her back, laughing loudly and almost maniacally, gasping between laughs, “You thought I was getting married? You thought I was—oh, good God!”
He maintained a stiff façade. “I don’t see what’s so funny about it!”
“The idea—the idea!—of me getting married—I can understand the others, besides, they weren’t really serious—but you know me better than they, and you actually expect me to marry someone and settle down? To follow behind him the rest of my life? You’ve got more than a few screws loose, my friend.”
“Oh,” he said again. “I see. But—well, under what conditions would you get married?”
His question had the effect of quieting Lily down immediately; rolling back over, she raised herself up on her elbows.
“I don’t know, but I do know that I’m not getting married unless I know that I honestly love someone. I don’t think I will fall in love—in fact, I highly doubt it, since that happens hardly once a century—and I’ve got to like the person too, not just love him…Why’re you asking?”
”No reason,” he blushed. “It’s just that you don’t look the type of person ever to get married, that’s all.”
“I see,” she said skeptically, arching an eyebrow.
Lily let herself be persuaded to play everyone else in chess; so far, no one had beat her in it yet, not even James, who usually was one of the best players for corridors around. Remus had insisted for a few minutes that the chess set she used was enchanted, but he had to give up that theory when he lost half of his pieces in less than five minutes, using his own pieces, and while someone else held Lily’s wand.
James and Peter had left the common room to get drinks, they said, and they were met with heartfelt applause when they returned with seven mugs and two steaming pitchers of hot chocolate, which conveniently didn’t run out, as that kind of charm was one of Sirius’ specialities. Lily didn’t wonder at that; the amount of food Sirius managed to put away during meals made her wonder if he really didn’t weigh over three hundred pounds or if his size was an optical illusion on everyone else’s part. No one had any idea where he put all of his food, and he could eat anything. He had eaten part of a rat once, when James had dared him to, and Sirius didn’t back down from dares.
They spent the rest of the day curled up in the common room, comfortably chatting with each other and listening to the fire flicker. Lily was too good-natured that evening to get bothered about Serena’s presence, and Serena seemed to feel the same way; at least, they were friendly with each other.
It was close to four o’clock when Sirius let himself fall down onto the couch next to Lily and stretched his arms over the back of the sofa.
“Hullo.” He yawned.
Lily smiled. “Merry Christmas.”
Sirius grinned back. “Likewise.”
They said nothing for a few minutes; then Sirius flexed his knuckles lazily. “What’s that I heard you and James talking about?”
”Talking about when?” Lily asked.
“Outside, this afternoon. Something about marriage.”
“Oh…right—he asked me under what conditions I would.”
“Would what?”
”Marry someone.”
”But you’re not, are you?” Sirius asked, suddenly extremely worried. “I mean—you’re barely sixteen and a half, you’re too independent for that—well, you’re not, are you?”
Lily laughed. “You make it sound like a plague. No, and I don’t think I ever will. I don’t much like the idea of it.”
”Oh.” He sounded relieved, which confused Lily a bit. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Well—yeah,” he improvised. “Yeah.”
Lily laughed. “I see.”
James leaned over the back of the couch, between Sirius and Lily. “So, what’s going on over here?”
”I dunno,” Sirius shrugged, “but she had me royally confused there for a minute.”
James leaned down to whisper in Lily’s ear, “Do I want to know?”
”No,” Lily wickedly grinned, “it’d be safer if you didn’t.”
That evening’s feast was wonderful; wizard crackers were popping apart every few seconds, and white mice and dancing miniature poultry had the run of the tables, while many sets of Gobstones and Exploding Snap cards and wizard checkers and chess were piling up on the one table—everyone was seated at the teacher’s table, since there were only about ten or so students there. The snowflakes from that morning were still falling, but the boys had given up on trying to catch them, thankfully, since they would almost certainly have upset the masterpiece of a glittering, white pudding and cake that was the centerpiece.
Lily smiled into her pillow as she fell asleep that night, wrapped loosely in her blanket—it had been a wonderful day—beautiful and peaceful, friendly and interesting, besides amusing.
For the New Year, Remus and Peter had simply sneaked into Hogsmeade and returned with a few flasks of butterbeer while the other two kept the girls busy, with their attention away from the fact that the other two boys were missing, so it was a surprise for all the girls when Remus and Peter showed up, laden down with bottles of warm, brownish-butter-pecan coloured liquid, and they didn’t waste an instant in relieving them of their load.
Quickly, the school year started up again, and most of everything else, the dark predictions of Professor Trelawney that they would trip over a fireplace fender that very evening and knock out their front teeth and even the amount of work that the seventh years had, were quickly almost forgotten in the excitement of the Apparation classes. They had to take mountains of notes in the beginning, and they had to write countless essays, but a month into the class, just before the second-to-last Quidditch game, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, Professor Dumbledore, who was teaching this class—the only one he ever taught nowadays—had set up a small Apparition point that happened to be their classroom—in other words, they could Apparate from one point in the room to another while they were inside that room.
The morning the seventh years had filed into the classroom and were informed of this new information, large grins broke out over five faces; the four Marauders’ and Lora’s. They had been begging Professor Dumbledore for this for ages, that is, ever since the class was announced, and now they had their chance.
True, distances of sixty inches weren’t exactly anything important, but they were taking every chance they had to do something potentially dangerous.
Professor Dumbledore was a relaxed teacher, as they found out, who did not insist that they be silent in his class; it had lots of similarities to Professor Flitwick’s Charms classes. Therefore, their hour and a half spent in the class was extremely pleasant, as they could hold many conversations and occasionally send jinxes flying at each other, which did usually prove disastrous to the other person’s work.
Lily was standing next to her desk; Lora and Sirius were practicing on either side of her, glaring at Lily, who was effortlessly Apparating from one desk to another, all over the room. It was rather unnerving to have her pop up randomly in one’s empty desk, and Lora, who was trying to concentrate, didn’t enjoy it.
“Lily, can’t you stay where you are once in a while?”
Lily stopped Apparating; having just landed in her own desk. “Professor Dumbledore told us to practice.”
“Practice, yes!” Lora flailed. “Not drive everyone else insane!”
Professor Dumbledore left the room quietly; he had told them that he would be attending a conference that period in his office.
“Okay.” Lily folded her arms. “You do it, then.”
”Do what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Apparate, you great prat!”
“Oh, right.” Lora frowned, scrunching up her face and whispering something to herself, and then—then—
Then nothing. She stood there for a good five minutes before relaxing her face and slumping into a chair.
“I can’t do it. I can’t.”
”Well, you’d certainly win the vote for the Pope of Fools, with that face. It’s not that hard; just concentrate on where you want to get.”
On her left, James had just managed to Apparate across the room, and he took a deep bow to the applause that filled the room, shouting, “Yes! Yes!” Lily nodded.
“See, if the Quidditch player can do it, so can you. Imagine that I’ve just cursed you.”
Lora sighed. “But you haven’t!”
“Okay, then—“ Lily Apparated to the door, just to be safe, and pointed her wand at Lora. “Tenrash Pfefferolus!”—the charm James had invented and had used on her before she accidentally got locked into the dungeon and found the necklace—it gave one the sensation of just having swallowed a whole jar of cayenne pepper and then some.
Immediately, Lora started to half-scream loudly for water, and after she’d finished rolling around on the floor, clutching her mouth, she stood up, glaring at Lily, who looked quite satisfied. The next instant, Lora vanished and showed up across the room with her hands around Lily’s neck, yelling something like “You didn’t have to burn my mouth to pieces!”
It didn’t last very long, however. Moments later, Lora’s arms, neck, and one foot appeared in the spot she had been in before, and Lora was stuck.
Professor Dumbledore chose that time to enter the classroom again, and his eyes twinkled as he saw the splinched figure on the floor and the rest of the class trying fruitlessly not to laugh.
“My dear Miss Tempesta, we have gotten ourselves into a mess, have we not?” He pulled out his own wand. “Fortunately, the Ministry of Magic has given me the power to reverse accidental magic—there.” Lora was whole again, but she was feeling her neck as if it would come off any second.
She glared at Lily, who was packing up her things; the bell was about to ring. “Thanks a lot, Lily.”
Lily slammed her hand down on her schoolbag. “Look, how was I to know you’d get yourself splinched!”
“You had to use that curse on me?”
”Oh.” Lily resumed her packing. “It was the first one that came to mind. I know what it feels like; don’t worry about that. James used it on me way back in first year.”
“Ooh, way back in first year, now there’s something that happened yesterday.”
“Well, then, I’ve only got one bit of advice for you.”
“What’s that?” Lora was still spitting out spicy saliva into the sink.
“Never come to visit me,” Lily said smoothly, “after we leave Hogwarts. I like spicy food.”
Lora groaned. “Sometimes I wish you would just shut up…”
The bell rang, and the two separated for their next class. “Wish granted!” Lily grinned as she disappeared into the crowds.
The next Quidditch game, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, was that Saturday, and the whole week long, everyone was in high spirits just thinking about it. The Quidditch players were regarded as greater heroes than they had ever been, and James’ ego, for one, was boiling over a bit.
Remus and Sirius had been sneaking down to the kitchens almost constantly, and Lily suspected they were trying to persuade the house-elves to set out the feast (if they won) when they were returning from the match. It was only on Saturday morning, at breakfast, that their faces lightened, and they grinned heartily as they caught the sight of the mounds and heaps of sausages and pancakes lying on platters in front of them.
“Oh, good, food!” Sirius exclaimed. He didn’t waste any time in piling it onto his plate.
James shook his head. “Sirius, I swear, you could eat the entire Hogwarts castle and come back for more. Even [i]I[/i] don’t eat that much, and the Lord may help whoever I end up marrying; she’s going to be cooking nonstop.”
“You assume that you’re going to get married,” Lora said meanly. “I don’t know…you may be a Quidditch player, but…”
“Oh, shut up, Lora!” James sighed playfully. “The things I go through…”
“Oh, shut up, James,” Lily said coolly as she helped herself to another piece of toast.
“The angel of comfort spreads its wings over the cold and starving populace,” James said sarcastically. “Geez, Lil, be nice! I’ve got a game ahead of me, and you’re making the birds in my stomach throw fits.”
“Birds?” Serena laughed. “I thought it was butterflies!”
Lily caught the girl’s gaze. “You can have whatever you want in your stomach. He has birds.”
Before anyone had a chance to say anything, a bell sounded, and the happy chirping of students shifted to the grounds as they flooded the lawns, all eager for a good Quidditch game.
Lily managed to swipe a seat next to Sirius and some other Gryffindor third year she didn’t know. She was wearing the scarf Remus had given her a few years ago; it wasn’t as warm as the bright sunlight wanted them to think.
The Ravenclaw, Ludren, was commentating. He took his position up in the teacher’s stands; as Madam Hooch, the flying teacher and referee, blew her whistle for the teams to rise into the air, he pulled the magical microphone close to his mouth.
“Captains Howard and Potter—who’s the new Gryffindor team captain, by the way--aaand—they’re OFF! Quaffle to James Potter of Gryffindor; he dives around that Bludger sent his way by Ravenclaw Beater Winters; Quaffle to Gryffindor Chaser Rebecca Oxley—now to Robert Wickman, also Gryffindor Chaser—we’ve got four new ones on the Gryffindor team, let’s see how that works out. Anyway. Quaffle to Oxley—Potter—Oxley—hog the Quaffle, why don’t you? Okay; good—Winters sends a very well-aimed Bludger towards Wickman, who’s finally got the thing, but he drops it—Quaffle to Ravenclaw Chaser Flack…”
As the sun rose, so did the speed of the players, who were each trying their utmost to win the game—if either of them won, they’d be playing against Slytherin for the thousandth Quidditch Cup.
The score soon rose to Gryffindor: 40 and Ravenclaw: 40. The Keepers for both sides were very good—the new Gryffindor one was a fifth year, India Falner, who didn’t mind sacrificing her stomach to stop the Quaffle and Bludgers. The Ravenclaw Keeper, Howard, didn’t use his stomach as a punching bag, but he was more adept at catching the Quaffle and ducking away from Bludgers.
“And Slycke chasing up the field with the Quaffle—hands it to Flack—back to Slycke—Lorenor—Flack—Sl—no, Potter does a nasty steal and is heading towards the goalposts—he swerves—and he scores! Fifty to forty for Gryffindor,” the announcer stated, sounding everything other than excited, though the cheers from the Gryffindor end soon drowned him out.
Lily could see that the teams were counting on the Snitch, as neither could count on getting one hundred and sixty more points than the opposing team. Meanwhile, Gryffindor was in the lead, and a Bludger had almost knocked Rebecca off of her broom more than once. Falner, the Gryffindor Keeper, was developing a nasty bruise on her stomach.
James and Rebecca were the most coordinated Chasers on the field; they kept circling the Ravenclaws and swerving closely around them, making their opponents slightly dizzy. But, still, with the Bludgers aimed at them all the time and the cobbing they had to get used to, the scores stayed almost tied, as they rose to Ravenclaw: 80 and Gryffindor: 70.
“Lorenor throws the Quaffle to Slycke—intercepted by Potter, who—OUCH, that must have hurt—hit in the spine by a Bludger—well, shame, it’s not broken, and he resumes play. Quaffle—no, wait! Referee calls it a foul—now, that’s not fair, Professor! He should have gotten out of the way, why’d he let the Bludger hit him!”
James took his position in front of the goal posts, aimed, and threw—the Quaffle flew past Howard, the Ravenclaw Keeper, and went through the hoop. The Gryffindors as a whole were on their feet, applauding madly, as the score was raised to eighty for Gryffindor. It started to confuse the older students when the new Ravenclaw Beater, Winters, had the same last name as John did--it produced a bit of uncertainty at hearing the commentator say that Winters launched a Bludger at Oxley.
“Okay, okay, score tied at eighty, and the game gets more intense. Winters hits Potter in the stomach with his bat—well, he’s not dead, is he? Well, then! Professor, not another foul—oh, no. Gryffindor foul. Oxley taking it—she aims—she throws—oh, damn! Score’s ninety to eighty for Gryffindor.”
Rebecca refrained from taking a lap of honor around the field, such as James might have, but she couldn’t help a wide grin. Lily took that moment to wonder why Ludren was the commentator again-he [i]had[/i] been removed for the biased comments last year—but then she remembered that the Slytherin commentator they had had last year had been a seventh year. Soon, however, the game started up again, and with it the cheers, leaving Lily no more time to think.
“Ravenclaw Chaser Lorenor swerves around new Gryffindor Seeker Elya Racor—she’s a fourth year, by the way—and not bad looking on that broomstick, if I do say so myself. Anyway, Lorenor gets past funny little Gryffindor blockade—Quaffle to Flack—Slycke—Flack—Lorenor—LORENOR SCORES!! SCORE IS NINETY-NINETY!!”
They were tied again, and some of the players were coming close to giving up. James called a short time-out, and they re-emerged from a huddle with fresh grins on their faces. Lily suspected he had told them about the party that was planned if they won, but she couldn’t be certain; she had to pay lots of attention to the persons jumping up and down on either side of her—Sirius and the Gryffindor third year, who obviously weren’t paying any attention to anyone that was in the stands. Still, Lily had to smile at Sirius, who had lifted up a small first year onto his shoulders so he could see better.
In a half hour, Ravenclaw was in the lead again, having just scored one hundred and thirty, breaking the tie at one hundred and twenty. The grins were starting to wear thin, and people were starting to get hot in their wraps; the match had gone on for two hours already.
“Gryffindor’s behind! We all know where that’ll lead—okay, then—Slycke dodges a Bludger sent his way by Gryffindor Beater Winters—can’t we just call him Gryffy, Professor? It wouldn’t hurt him—well, I guess Winters wouldn’t appreciate Ravy. Sounds too much like gravy, don’t you think?”
“Ludren!”
“Okay, okay, back to the match. Potter steals the Quaffle from Slycke—dirty, cheating thing, you are, Potter! Well, maybe not cheating, but you get my drift. Still—Potter—oh; he stops in midair! Completely pulls up—what was that for? Oh—oh—oh—oh!! Snitch! I think! Snitch in far-off corner near bottom of Gryffindor right goalpost! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Both Conven and Racor heading towards it—go, go, go, go—CONVEN, GO!” he roared.
Elya was stretching her hand towards the Quaffle—but Conven, the Ravenclaw Chaser, knocked her hand aside, almost bowling her over. John took this time to send a well-aimed Bludger towards Conven.
It hit him full in the neck, and he fell two feet onto the ground, yelling bloody ax murder as Elya, confident and beaming, caught the Snitch with a whip of her hand and rose into the air to tumultuous Gryffindor cheering.
The Gryffindors poured onto the field, cheering their lungs out, as they lifted their team onto their shoulders, especially James, Elya, and John, who they considered to be the heroes of this match. Lily looked around for Sirius, but he had already made his way into the Gryffindor common room.
When they arrived in the Gryffindor Tower, the feast was already spread out—though there was one condition. In order to be able to eat any of the food, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had to be allowed to jinx you with a curse James had invented, and you had to figure out how to get it off of yourself. It was one of the funniest sights in the world to see Frank Longbottom with long, droopy bunny ears that signed the “Do your ears hang low?” song in sign language, or to catch Serena with a pug’s nose and pig’s feet. Remus had made sure he got a picture of that.
Lily, on her part, enjoyed the colour-less eyes; in other words, she was walking around with absolutely no pupils, no color, no nothing in her eyes except white; still, she could see. It unnerved more than a few people, needless to say.
Lily almost wished that she had been cursed with the monkey paws, which were being used by Lora to climb up students that had sprouted bark. They looked interesting, to say the least, and it was almost a shame when Lora found that hopping backwards around the buffet table three times would cure the paws.
Lily’s funny eyes were taken care of when she tripped over the carpet and did several accidental somersaults; while Serena still hadn’t figured out how to get rid of the feet she couldn’t fit into any of her shoes. Lily couldn’t help snorting when she saw James sitting next to someone who had extremely small, cloven feet on a footstool for all the world to see.
Serena frowned at her. “What’re you laughing at?”
”You,” Lily grinned. “Now all you need is a curly tail.”
Serena simply glared and avoided Lily for the rest of the evening, which was quite to Lily’s taste; she didn’t mind one bit. Actually, she liked it better this way.
Still, it did annoy her to see one of her friends flitting around Serena like a constipated bat. True, he had done this since third year, but STILL.
The night ended pleasantly, with tired, stuffed, and contented students making their way into their respective beds, and after the hot stuffiness of the wraps they had worn to the Quidditch field, it was doubtful whether anyone had ever enjoyed a shower more, besides maybe James, Lily, and Lora—but then again, after their encounter with the compost heap, they had taken baths, not showers.
Anatomy of Magical Creatures was pleasantly interesting for Lily; she was about the only girl not disgusted when they were told to dissect a vampire; vampires bearing an extremely strong resemblance to humans. She found the gland easily that made all sorts of sweet things poisonous to them, though it was a bit harder to find the nerve ending that had fallen off of it; the nerve that kept them able to eat at all. Their structure was much more complex than that of humans, and therefore, to Lily, much more interesting.
James would rather have died before admitting this to her, but he did admire her for the non-queasiness she showed when faced with a task like this one. Similarly, Lily felt exactly the same way about him; she was getting sick and tired of the disgusted looks some of the boys in the class would flash at their teacher after he had given them an assignment like this.
Divination was easy, as usual, and almost more boring than it had been. True, Professor Trelawney had accidentally tripped and fallen chest-first into a pot of boiling tea while trying to demonstrate the proper bearing of a Seer, but that had increased her desire to remain seated during class and to lecture on the poisons that would shortly flow through their veins if they didn’t deduce their future correctly.
Lily yawned. She was sitting at the same table with James and Sirius—Serena didn’t take this class with them.
“You know, it’d be much more interesting—and we might actually halfway believe her if she hadn’t done this so often. I wish she’d think of something more interesting…”
“She’s thick, too,” Sirius said, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog from his schoolbag. “I can’t believe that she gave me full marks for an essay in which I told her I’d die by resurrection in four days. I wrote that essay in fourth year.”
”Exactly,” Lily said. “I don’t know why she’s still teaching here—but, believe me, if I ever have children, which is unlikely, I’m doing all I can so that they won’t take Divination.”
James grinned. “Lily, I thought you said you didn’t want to get married!”
“There is that,” she admitted. “Either of you, though, in case the unthinkable happens, warn my children, all right?”
”Why not you?”
“I’m a forgetful person, am I not?”
”I thought you meant you’d die before then, what with all your—“ James stopped, flashed a glance at Sirius, and covered his sentence up—“what with all your fraternizing with Slytherins.” He had been about to say “fraternizing with Dark wizards."
Sirius frowned; his gaze flickered between the two, but he didn’t say anything, for Lily had just launched into a loud, whispered, enraged speech on how not all Slytherins were bad, that it was a stupid prejudice, and that prejudices were the worst things in the world.
“Lily,” James groaned, “shut up! In the nicest way possible, please shut up!”
Lily smirked. “So I get on your nerves, is that it?”
“In the politest way possible, yes!”
“Good,” she grinned, though she almost laughed aloud when she saw their mock-crestfallen faces. “Well, it’s fun! For me, that is,” she amended.
“For us it isn’t. Hush!”
Sirius hit James on the back of the head. “Don’t tell her to shut up!”
James raised his head in surprise. “Why ever not?”
”Well—well—I dunno—er—uh-oh. Trouble.”
Professor Trelawney, for once, had risen to her feet and was standing just over James’ head. “And, may I ask, what were you three talking about that interested you so much during my lesson?” her misty voice asked.
Lily kicked the boys under the table, trying to tell them not to say anything. “We were talking about the future lessons of our children, Professor.”
It was very good that Sirius hadn’t let out the snort of laughter he certainly wanted to, for Professor Trelawney’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, but my dears, my dears! If you could but see what I could…if you could but see…” She turned around and swished off to face the rest of the students. “I have changed your homework to a set of predictions instead of the star calculations. Please, by Monday in two weeks, have for me a detailed essay on your children’s lives. I will be awaiting your answers with the greatest interest. Class is dismissed,” she breathed, still with the water swimming around in her eyes. She was noticeably annoyed that no one asked her why she was so perturbed as they filed out of the classroom, but then again, she was always like this, except when she was extremely annoyed.
Professor Binns still worked at Hogwarts as the History of Magic teacher, and their hopes that he would leave when he died seemed things of a century ago, though he had only given up the body about two years ago.
The first time Lily used the expression ‘given up the body,’ she got several odd stares, but her explanation made sense. He hadn’t given up the ghost; his ghost was still here, boring them almost to tears and certainly to headaches, but his body was goodness knows where, so he had obviously given up the body.
Lily was almost the only seventh year that even bothered to give an impression of studying hard; her classmates had managed to even leave the classroom while Professor Binns was droning on and on. Long ago, Lily had given up raising her hand and asking questions; Professor Binns never really noticed her hand anyway. She had resorted to reading her History of Extremely Advanced and Dark Magic by Bathida Bagshot in class and taking her notes from there, instead of trying to understand the mysterious doings garbled up by a sleepy ghost about the attack of several centaurs on a Muggle village in 1758 A.D.; each of them armed with wands, which was supposed to be against the wand-possession law.
One evening, Lily was sitting in the library, trying to understand an assignment handed to them upon their exit from Transfiguration, when Severus slid into a seat next to her.
She looked up and smiled. “Hello. Haven’t seen you much lately!”
“I know,” Severus nodded. “I’ve been busy, and you’ve been in your common room a lot.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve been looking for me,” she teased.
“I have. That is, I need to talk to someone once in a while, don’t I?”
Lily smiled. “I suppose you do, don’t you?”
He turned to her assignment. “What’re you doing?”
She sighed and flung her quill onto the table. “I’m supposed to be figuring out the steps to configure a raccoon into a candelabra, but I’ve no idea how to configure this—I actually don’t know how to configure magically. This is my dictionary’s definition.” She handed Severus a slip of paper, the writing on which he read aloud:
To design, arrange, set up, or shape with a view to specific applications or uses: a military vehicle that was configured for rough terrain; configured the computer by setting the system's parameters.
Severus frowned. “Lily, you’re working too hard. Let me see the assignment.”
She handed him the other slip of parchment, this one with Professor McGonagall’s handwriting on it. He smiled briefly as he pointed to a part of the paper.
“It’s ‘transfigure’, not ‘configure’.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m an idiot…I should have known that. Sorry for taking your time up.”
He smiled at her. “That’s okay—always happy to help!” He pushed his chair back and left the library, and Lily found herself hitting her head with a book.
“You idiot, you idiot, you idiot!”
The only thing that gained her was that James sat down next to her and pulled the book away from her forehead. “What? Why’re you an idiot this time?”
Lily frowned. “I just spent about an hour trying to understand how to configure a raccoon into a candelabra, and now Severus points out to me that this read ‘transfigure’, not ‘configure’. I feel like such a genius!” she sighed, looking around for another book.
James pinned her hand to the table. “Don’t hit yourself. You’re not stupid, just tired. Come on; it’s nine in the evening. Give yourself a break.”
She smiled weakly. “I dunno.”
“Lily, you’re going to pass these end-of-year exams with at least two thousand per cent. Don’t kid yourself. Help others, for instance. It’s a debt you must pay to society!”
Lily laughed. “I suppose you mean by that that you need help?”
“You might say that, yes,” he admitted. “I do.”
“Okay then,” she said briskly, all trace of weariness wiped away. “Where do we start?”
”Here,” he mumbled, pointing to a passage in Advanced Herbology, Volume V. “I don’t quite understand this part of the revival charm…”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Lily said, taking her wand out. “You see, the principle of the thing is this...”
They spent an hour in the library that evening; though they were studying, they still came back to Gryffindor Tower with a cheerful attitude.
“Goodnight,” Lily yawned as she made her way over to the marble staircases leading to the girls’ dormitories. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sure. Thanks, Lil. I’ll never forget it!”
“Yes, you will,” she said good-naturedly. “Of course you will. But I don’t mind.”
“See you, then.”
“Mhm. Night.”
A bit more cheerful than she had been in some time, Lily undressed and slipped under the covers, in too good of a mood to even throw the slug someone had placed underneath her blanket at Serena.
The next morning, Professor McGonagall sprang a surprise test on them in class, and when the students left her classroom, there were more than a few moanings.
“How could she do that?”
“It’s only Maar that does that, how come she did?”
”I failed that. I know I failed that. I failed miserably.” Peter was groaning.
“Well, it’s not the end of the world, is it?” Lily spoke up.
Peter glared, and for once, he seemed to gain something that in companionship of others could be called courage, but in this situation could only be called stupidity.
“Lily, shut up or I’ll stuff a sock down your throat. We all know you passed with full marks! Happy? You’re smart, we’re not—just shut up!”
Lily arched her eyebrow, and Peter’s stupidity (or courage, whichever floats your boat) started to diminish, and he accidentally backed into one of the suits of armour, causing it to topple over on to him. Lily sniffed as she moved on by him, only bothering to look down once.
“You know, that was really, really clumsy.”
True, James, Sirius, and Remus had to suppress snickers when they rushed over to help Peter up, and they didn’t bother repressing the fact that trying to get into an argument with Lily was the height of idiocy. Sirius pointed out that James used to do it all the time, but James simply admitted that yes, he did give a rather good imitation of a pillock when he had enraged her. Still grumbling, Peter was dragged off to lunch in the Great Hall, mumbling something about the shield falling on his foot.
The next Quidditch match was coming up quickly; the one that was to decide the winner of the Quidditch Cup for the thousandth year of Hogwarts’ existence. Needless to say, rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was getting to the point of a student war; most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had arranged themselves alongside the Gryffindors, and several students were in the hospital wing with ailments like grass sprouting out of their noses or the substitution of quills for bones. The teachers didn’t approve of or tolerate this, but it was rather hard to prevent every single scuffle taking place in the corridors, so they simply had resorted to taking ten points off of every person that landed in the hospital wing, besides two detentions.
The teams hadn’t time to get into any of the small fights; they were on the fields almost every hour of their free time, until Madam Hooch made them go inside and get to bed. Robert Wickman, the new Gryffindor Chaser, seemed to have developed a sort of complex about the Quaffle ever since he had been hit in the jaw with it, while Falner, the Keeper, was still trying to cure the bruise on her stomach. James was trying to hammer it into her head that one did not catch Bludgers, one flew away from them. She had faintly grasped this, and James was trying to teach her to catch the Quaffle with her hands, not her stomach, which would prevent many injuries.
The morning before the match, the Gryffindor team, for once, awoke cheerful and rested; James had insisted that they go to bed at eight-thirty in the evening. They joined the school in the Great Hall ravenous and eager fore breakfast; they alone made away with a platter of toast and sausages, two pitchers of orange juice, a large pile of pancakes, and two dozen scrambled eggs. They rose from the table at nine o’clock, refreshed and ready for the match; even promising autographs to people when they won the game. James looked peeved to see the Slytherin team was doing exactly the same thing, but he couldn’t say anything, naturally.
The students piled onto the field, excited and ready for a good game of Quidditch; still chattering, they found their seats. Lily was squeezed in between Sirius and Lora this time, and she foresaw doom for her feet, as both of her neighbors were ardent Quidditch fans and would certainly be jumping up and down at every goal the Gryffindor team shot.
James and the Slytherin captain, Rowlands—the only girl on the team—shook hands, and to Madam Hooch’s whistle, they took off.
Ludren was commentating again. “There they go! And the Quaffle is released oh-so-nicely, and it’s in the hands of James Potter, who I’m sure we’re all rooting for!” (Boos from the Slytherin end of the stands) “Quaffle to Wickman—Oxley—back to Potter—who aimes—and HE SCORES! TEN--ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”
The cheers from the stadium could have turned a cat deaf, and dozens of birds were roused from their nests in the top of the Forbidden Forest’s tree canopy, almost drowning out the Slytherin groans.
“Well, that last one was too easy—can’t expect Slytherins to take that sitting down, can we? Oh-and they’re not!—Oxley’s broom handle just got almost snapped in half—nasty, cheating Bludger! That was on purpose and you know it!”
“Ludren.”
”Right, right, sorry, Professor. Fulford of Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle; he’s looping around Racor and Andrews of Gryffindor there—this is a Quidditch game, not a slalom competition!—still, Quaffle to Atherton—Rowlands—Atherton—and—MISS IT, MISS IT!! Come on, Falner—oh, damn. Slytherins score, score is ten to ten…”
The Slytherins were quickly pulling ahead. Lucius, as team captain, obviously hadn’t told them not to go against the Quidditch rules as long as they weren’t caught. Still, it was rather hard for anyone to miss the Slytherin Beater’s attack on James with his club, and when James did a funny little flip in the air afterwards, Madam Hooch decided that Greenwood had made him lose control of his broom, and two fouls were accorded to Gryffindor. One of them scored, and the Slytherin Keeper, Dramin, was being first slapped on the back with congratulations by his team and the next instant transformed into the recipient of several dozen malicious glares.
“GRYFFINDORS SCORE! TWENTY--TEN TO GRYFFINDOR! TAKE THAT, YOU POND SCUM!” Ludren yelled happily into the magical microphone, which Professor McGonagall was eyeing warily, as if it were some sort of dangerous serpent.
“Okay, reformation essential; players drift to their respective sides of the field. Potter in possession of the Quaffle…Potter diving down…down…oh, shooting straight up! Straight up—the Slytherins dishuddle—if that’s a word, which I doubt—they shoot away from him—only Dramin left there—Potter aims—HE SC—oh, bloody tentacles! Quaffle stopped by Dramin…”
The Slytherin end was cheering madly, much to the dismay of the rest of the school.
“Okay, we’ve just got to make that up, then! Quaffle in possession of Rowlands, …”
Several goals later, the score was forty-twenty for Slytherin, and Elya, the Gryffindor Seeker, was looking more than a bit frazzled as her eyes roved everywhere for the Snitch. James had come close to getting knocked off of his broom—he had thrown himself in front of Rebecca, who was aiming for the goals, when a Bludger was whizzing towards her—and a Slytherin Chaser, Fulford, had a bloody nose he hadn’t allowed anyone to mop up yet.
“Good grief, Fulford looks bad—not that I’m complaining, but still! Okay, Rowlands of Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle—she streaks towards Oxley—almost rams her in the stomach with the broom—now that should have been a foul!—but Oxley moves just in time; Quaffle flies to Atherton—Rowlands—Fulford—Atherton—Atherton scores—fifty-twenty for Slytherin,” Ludren commented in the deadest voice he could summon up at a moment’s notice. The Slytherin cheers filled the stadium.
“Winters of Gryffindor sends a niice Bludger towards Rowlands—almost sends her flying there—don’t worry, Winters, next time’ll do it! Quaffle in hands of James Potter—Potter flying towards goals—come on, come ON!—YES—POTTER SCORES—SCORE IS THIRTY-FIFTY TO GRYFFINDOR!”
Finally, the Gryffindor cheers raised the tops of the teacher’s tent, and, grinning like a maniac, James did a funny little lap of honor halfway around the field, waving at the Gryffindor team’s supporters, who started cheering loudly when he passed them. All except Lily; that is—she thought he was being too much of a showoff, and besides, Lora and Sirius had taken those moments when they were cheering to damage her feet almost beyond repair.
“Oxley holding Quaffle—Oxley heading up the field—she leans back—and OUCH!!—square in the side with that bat! Greenwood, watch where you’re swinging that thing! She’s not a stinking Bludger, for screaming out silently—oh, good! Gryffindor foul—Potter takes it—he aimes…HE SORES!! FORTY-FIFTY TO GRYFFINDOR! TAKE THAT, YOU FLYING DISEMBOWELED DRAGONFLY!!”
“LUDREN!”
“Oh, sorry, Professor,” he apologized, obviously not meaning a word of it, “but if they are, then—“
“Do we have to get a new commentator? This is going too far!”
“No, but see, Professor, I’m just telling it like it is! It wouldn’t be interesting if I didn’t give the opinions of everyone in the stands!”
“Do you mean to say that every single student has ranked him- or herself on the sides of the Gryffindor team?”
“Exactly!” Ludren smiled.
“I am not going to stand for this? Do you want a detention?”
”Not particularly.”
“Then stop sending out biased comments over a magical microphone that is at this point in time turned on! Get on with the match!”
“All right, all right!” he grumbled. “What’s the score?”
In the meantime, the Slytherins had scored once, making it sixty to forty for Slytherin. The Gryffindors were still groaning their protests.
“Okay, it’s forty for our favorite team and sixty for the hated enemies—I was joking, Professor! Rowlands in charge of the Quaffle—she ducks around Potter’s suicidal broom and self that has thrown himself in her way—she—ooh, the Snitch! Look, look! Dive! Dive! Dive!!! Down there, Racor! Get it—get it—knock him offa his broom—GRAB THE TAIL—ANYTHING—come ON!”
Elya and the Slytherin Seeker, Roger Knappett, were both streaking for a small golden speck in the middle of the left Slytherin goalpost’s hoop—the other players were rushing out of their way right and left, and Rowlands had forgotten to throw the Quaffle; she sat on her broom poised in midair, with her arm lifted above her head, intently watching the two Seekers.
Lily, along with the rest of the stadium, was holding her breath—she could see them clearly, thanks to the sharp, almost telescopic vision from the elf-nymph grottos. Elya was inches behind Knappett, and they were feet away from the Snitch—Lily clapped her hands over her mouth as Knappett reached for it…
“KNAPPETT CATCHES THE SNITCH—DAMN HIM—oh, wait a minute, what was that?”
…and then Lily saw an odd little lump travel down his sleeve and out of his robes…
He turned a funny little somersault in the air and tumbled onto the ground, five feet away, while Elya had caught the Snitch that had zoomed down his sleeve and out of the green robes. She rose into the air, nearly beaming her mouth off, while her team instantly raced towards her, hugging her and the fist that held the Golden Snitch madly.
They sank to the ground, cheering and yelling themselves hoarse, and over the tumultuous roar that covered the field as the school poured onto it, Ludren’s voice could be heard, happily screaming, “KNAPPETT CAN’T CATCH AND GRYFFINDOR WINS ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY TO SIXTY!!”
