Lily Evans and the Lefay Torc

Lily Evans and the Lefay Torc
by ErtheChilde

"There are very few people who could claim ownership over this particular item. I am sure once you have a moment to examine it, you will realize why you are one of them and why it is of the utmost importance that you accept that."

- CHAPTER TWO - An Owl in the Fridge

The Evanses of number nine, Roscoe Lane were a cheerfully average middle-class family that had lived in the picturesque cottage on the outskirts of Mill Town for ten years. The small house had been built over a century earlier and had been occupied by several other families and couples before. Although occasionally in need of a plumber or a newly shingled roof, it was one of the nicer structures in the village and an ideal place to raise a young family.

Perry Evans was a giant of a man with almond-shaped, bright green eyes that always appeared to be laughing and had the build of someone who had once been very athletic but who had gone to seed over the years. He wore his thick dark-red hair short, and a bushy beard of the same colour hid his rather thin lips and uneven teeth. Like the majority of the little village, he was a worker at the mill down by the river, and a very smart handyman, if he did say so himself. His wife, Lisbeth, was a petite, cheery woman with prominent, pale blue eyes that wore her blond hair in closely teased curls around her face. She was an active member of the district's Women's Institute, wrote short political pieces in the town newspaper, and was known around the neighbourhood for her prize winning blueberry scones. The Evanses had two daughters, Petunia and Lily, who were a year apart and could not have been more different than night and day.

Petunia was the older of the girls at twelve, with shoulder-length blond hair which she wore in a bang that did nothing to distract from her watery blue eyes and faintly equine features. Despite her plain appearance, she was well-liked in the small town for her sensible manner and the unadventurous sense of style, which pleased all the most conservative members of Mill Town, making her the universal choice when it came to children being minded. Lily, on the other hand, was quite a different story. A vivacious girl with her father's green eyes and red hair, she took after her mother in temperament, which did nothing to endear her to her neighbours who firmly believed that children should be seen and not heard. There were those in the village who just didn't know what to do with a young girl who liked to play football and rugby instead of skipping and jacks, a girl who spent most of her time with that peculiar Snape boy from Spinner's End, and who always seemed to be around when something odd was happening...

Mr. and Mrs. Evans tended to wave off these concerns whenever a well-meaning neighbour voiced them.

"I'd rather she spend her time outdoors than be lurking around the shops, spending my hard-earned money on shoes and dresses and make-up!" Mr. Evans would point out when his pub friends needled him about his daughter's tomboyish behaviour, and Mrs. Evans would hold herself proudly when confronted by criticism for not forcing her daughter to act in a way that was acceptable for a young girl in a small town. They even tolerated her unusual friendship with the Snape boy, despite the reputation of Spinner's End, believing that she would have little time for him in the fall when she started at Miss Lawson and Miss Cramp's Academy for Girls, Petunia's secondary school. Most importantly, they carefully believed that the curious occurrences - such as when she was five and a tiger escaped from a travelling circus, showing up the next day being led through the main street on a line by Lily ("They must domesticate the animals in order to train them properly.") or when Lily's very strict sixth-grade math teacher was suddenly only able to speak in ancient Greek ("The poor man must have had a stroke. And really, is it any wonder, with the way he shouted?") - were nothing more than everyday oddities to be ignored. The best they could do was scold Lily for acting out of the ordinary.

They had no idea just how far from ordinary their daughter was until the day of her eleventh birthday.

When the family awoke on the final Saturday of January to a cold, overcast day before them, the last thing they expected was any sort of odd disturbance. Mr. Evans sat reading the paper in his dressing gown while Mrs. Evans bustled around the kitchen, presiding over several pans on the stove burners. Mr. Evans chuckled appreciatively at something in the paper, and reached for his coffee cup.

"Twenty-two to six," he rumbled happily as he took a sip. "I told it 'round the pub that Wales would flatten England. Old Tommy Budgell owes me five quid."

"There's not enough around this house that needs paying for, but you're gambling it away?" Mrs. Evans demanded, half-accusing and half-joking. "I thought you said that you'd learned your lesson when you lost the last time?"

"But it's different this time, because I won," he replied smoothly, seizing his wife as she passed by and hauling her into his lap. "Besides, I thought we might have a night out sometime this week. Leave the girls to themselves, have dinner...perhaps catch a film in the cinema?"

"You didn't win that much," Mrs. Evans deadpanned, but her voice was more forgiving and there was a light blush across her cheeks as he leaned in to kiss her soundly. They were interrupted by the arrival of their daughters in the kitchen.

"Mum! Dad! Do you have to?" Petunia had arrived in the kitchen, her spindly arms on her hips and an expression of distaste on her face. "What would the neighbours think if they saw you two?"

"Don't worry, Pet, anyone who matters is off on holiday," Mr. Evans said, winking at his wife as he released her.

"What are you talking about?" Petunia demanded. "It's only the end of January. Everyone's still here."

She didn't appear to understand the joke, and her parents were saved from explaining it to her as Lily appeared behind her sister, stretching and bleary-eyed.

"Morning Mummy, morning Daddy," she greeted with a yawn.

"Happy birthday, luv," Mrs. Evans said, as Mr. Evans gave her a hug. "Presents or breakfast?"

"Both?" Lily asked hopefully, earning a chuckle from her father while Mrs. Evans left the kitchen, returning seconds later with two neatly wrapped gifts.

"Here you go," she said cheerfully.

Within seconds, Lily had the wrapping off of the gifts and was exclaiming over them. She held up a box with a new pair of roller-skates. "Mummy - Daddy, this is great! How did you know I needed a new pair? Oh, and Tuney, this charm bracelet is really pretty!" She held up a thin silver chain that had two little flower-shaped charms hanging from it. "Wherever did you find the charms for it? I love it!"

Petunia shrugged as though the matter was unimportant, but she couldn't disguise her smugness at how well received her gift had been. Mr. and Mrs. Evans exchanged glances.

Once upon a time, Petunia and Lily had been quite close. They were barely a year apart and had always been the only girls on their street, making them playmates from as far back as either could remember. However, in the past two years, their relationship seemed to have suffered. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were sure that Petunia was merely growing up - she was in a different school from her sister for the first time, and adolescence was a tricky time for a girl - and simply brushed off Petunia's air of constant disapproval directed at Lily as that of an older sister trying to assert her maturity in the face of her younger sister. And while Lily was obviously hurt by this, she had a streak of pride that kept her from begging forgiveness too openly.

"So, does eleven feel any different from ten?" Mr. Evans asked as Lily began to put on her bracelet.

"It feels like I should be allowed to sleep in longer on weekends," she replied with a grin. She glanced around the kitchen for a moment, and then asked, "By the way, did the post come yet?"

"If you're expecting anything from Mam and Tad, they phoned me yesterday while you were in school and said they'd only just sent your birthday gift," Mrs. Evans told her. "It won't be here for another few days, popkin. But Nan and Pop will be by later this evening for dinner."

"It's not that," Lily said. "Only, I'm expecting a letter."

"From who?" Mr. Evans inquired as he went back to his paper, and Petunia sat down to the plate of food her mother had placed before her. "Not got a boyfriend, do you?"

"Daddy!"

"I'm just asking. I've got to keep up with these matters, what with you off to secondary in the fall...give me time to prepare!"

They heard the clack of the letter-box and flutter of letters on the entranceway floor.

"I'll get it!" Lily piped up, already out of the kitchen, leaving her parents looking nonplussed and Petunia suspicious.

Lily felt a pang of disappointment when she picked up the post. There were several envelopes lying on the floor, most of them in thin brown envelopes that indicated bills, and another one written in thick, loopy black writing addressed to her father, which he opened right away as Lily returned to the kitchen, starting dejectedly toward the refrigerator to get some milk.

"Is that from my sister?" Mrs. Evans wanted to know. "Rosemary said she would be sending along some pictures from her holiday in Majorca."

"Nothing from your side," Mr. Evans replied, frowning as he read his letter, "but on my end - oh, damn. Great Uncle Taffy's died. Shame, that, he was a family hero - smuggled refugees from France in the war, you know. They called him 'Temeraire' and there was a ceremony - what the ruddy hell?!"

Mr. Evans was cut off as something large, brown and feathered whizzed through the kitchen window, which Mrs. Evans had opened to air the kitchen while she cooked; it bounced off of the table and landed in the open refrigerator, between the eggs and the milk. Petunia let out a shriek and fell off her chair and Lily shouted in surprise, letting go of the door handle by mistake and closing the creature inside.

For a moment, they were all quiet, trying to understand what had just popped into their refrigerator, when Lily came to her senses and wrenched the door back open, ducking as the animal burst out of the fridge and landed on the shelf above the sink, hooting at them indignantly.

The four Evanses stared up at the impressive brown eagle owl that was glaring at them reproachful-like, before it turned to Lily and held its leg out impatiently. Attached to it was an off-white envelope covered in scratchy, cramped black writing. Lily immediately made to move toward it, but her mother reached out quickly and held her back.

"Lily, no! It probably has some kind of disease," Mrs. Evans squeaked. "Perry, quick, call Animal Control -"

"Mummy!" Lily protested. "It's got a letter tied to its leg. It's probably for me -"

"Nonsense," Mr. Evans said gruffly, recovering himself from the sudden shock. "Some fool brat no doubt caught the poor devil and tied rubbish to it. Probably a prank. The same thing happened to the Pattersons' dog last week -"

"No, Daddy, it's for me," Lily insisted. "It's probably from Sev or maybe...maybe it's Hogwarts!"

Her parents exchanged blank glances, clearly not understanding what their youngest child was talking about, while Petunia, still on the floor, emitted a strangled squeak of anger and derision, her eyes flitting from the owl to Lily in undisguised resentment.

"Why on earth would that boy send you an owl?" Mrs. Evans sniffed, while her husband asked, "What's Hogwarts? What are you on about?"

The owl seemed to become further agitated and hooted sharply, edging a little closer and holding out its leg more forcibly. Through the complete silence and tension in the kitchen, Lily hesitantly reached for it, ignoring her mother's second cry of warning and half-expecting the owl to duck forward to peck her hands, and freed the animal of its burden.

Her hands shook, not with fear but with anticipation, as she turned the envelope over. Her expression fell slightly at the familiar writing, but she was careful to guard it, still revelling in the novelty of her first bit of owl post.

Dear Lily it said in very cramped, scratchy black writing,
Happy Birthday! Have you gotten your letter yet? I got mine on my birthday three weeks ago. Sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't want you to feel bad until you got yours - you have got it, right? Well, even if you don't, someone will come by to give it to you today, I'm sure. Mother was pleased at my acceptance. She took me to Diagon Alley to get my owl as soon as Father was at work, but she said I could only send you post when I was sure you had your letter. I know I'm sending this early, but I couldn't wait to tell you. Diagon Alley is amazing; I can't wait until summer when we can go shopping for our wands and our books! Come by the river when you can,
Severus
PS: Send your reply back with Hermod.
PPS: Sorry if he made a mess, he's got no depth perception. It's why we were able to get him so cheap; eagle owls usually go for Galleons more!

Lily was only just able to finish reading the final postscript before her father gently tugged the letter from her, a look of intense suspicion and curiosity on his face. Lily immediately felt the blood rush to her face and an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Although she was still excited by the owl post, she wished that Severus had had the decency to wait to send it, because she had not yet told her parents exactly why she was not like other girls her age.

Up until that point, no one except Severus and her sister knew that Lily Evans was a witch.

"What kind of parent would buy an owl for their child?" Mrs. Evans demanded. "Is that the pet of choice over in Spinner's End? Lily, I really don't understand what you see in that boy..."

"What letter is he talking about? And what's diagonally?" her father wanted to know, his voice getting more agitated the less he understood. "What does he mean, 'shopping for our wands'? Does that mean something to you?" Her father suddenly peered at her suspiciously. "You're not playing one of those new-fangled table-top fantasy-games with him, are you? Because that will rot your brains just as fast as that damned rock and roll music will."

"No, Daddy - it's not that -," Lily hedged, trying to think of a way to explain. From her place on the floor, Petunia looked annoyingly smug, obviously enjoying Lily's discomfort. She had never approved or accepted what Severus Snape had told Lily almost two years earlier, that all of the strange things that happened to her and which she caused to happen were the mark of a witch. On the windowsill, the owl hooted. "It's just - haven't you ever wondered - I mean, you both must have noticed that...well...I'm not exactly normal, am I?"

"What's that got to do with -?"

Her mother was cut off as the owl suddenly ruffled its shoulders importantly and took off out of the window. There was a long silence at the table, no one knowing what to say after such a bizarre interruption.

Of course, the owl was no comparison to what happened next.

There was a deafening crack, rather like a loud whip, and suddenly, there was a tall, balding man sitting on the kitchen table, wiping some type of green sludge from his face.

Lily's mother cried out and staggered backward into the stove, promptly singing part of her apron, while her father swore loudly in Welsh, starting so fast that he dropped the post into his plate of kippers. Petunia whimpered, curling into a ball, as though she was practicing an air-raid drill.

The man, in the meantime, ignored them and pushed himself off of the table, continuing to wipe the mulch from his face, oblivious to the strawberry preserves and toast that were sticking to the back of his winter coat. "Curse Alberic Grunnion for ever discovering Dungbombs - threw off my concentration completely - might have Apparated into a tree if I hadn't moved at the last second! I'll see Weatherby in a month of detentions for this, no doubt about it!"

The strange man finally looked around at his surrounding, looking remarkably like an owl himself, and his eyes widened at the sight of the Evanses huddled at the other end of the kitchen.

"Merlin's beard! I do apologize! I had intended to arrive outside your home and greet you in Muggle form; however...your poet Burns did say something about the best-laid plans."

The Evanses, except for Lily, still seemed unable to comprehend how a stranger had just appeared in their kitchen out of nowhere. She, however, seemed more appreciative and awed. The strange man noticed this and gave a rather enthusiastic chuckle of triumph.

"I take it that you are Miss Lily Evans?" he asked conversationally.

"Y-yes," she managed, feeling as though there was a rather large bubble of glee inflating rapidly inside her.

"Well, you don't seem quite as surprised as the other Muggle-borns I've seen," the man said easily, digging around in his coat for something. Mr. Evans tensed, as though expecting a weapon, and didn't relax even when the only thing the man pulled out was a thick, off-white envelope addressed in green ink and held together by a bright, red wax seal.

"I...I've been expecting you," Lily whispered, trembling with excitement and pointedly ignoring the shocked expression on her mother's face. "My friend Severus -"

"Oh yes, Mr. Snape," the man said, dismissive. Petunia mouthed wordlessly in the background. "That young man has been writing the school for the last three weeks, wanting to know when you would get your letter and trying to impress upon us how important it was that you did. I take it he informed you of your circumstances? Highly irregular, that; if he had been just a little older, he'd have had the Ministry after him for talking about magic in front of Muggles, even if you are what you are. One can never be too careful. It was quite irresponsible of his mother not to warn him."

"Will...will he go to Azkaban?" Lily asked fearfully.

The owlish man peered at her, and the burst out laughing. "So you know about Azkaban too? Well, I must say, you're turning out to be the best informed of all of them. No, child, you don't get arrested for that sort of thing - although with the way times have been lately - never mind. No, he would simply have to pay a fine - for a first offense, anyhow. Now that he's been accepted and soon to buy a wand, though - well, the Ministry takes underage magic very seriously once there's a wand involved. Much harder to hide from Muggles."

Lily's father finally seemed to regain his ability to speak, although, for the moment, it was only within his ability to splutter indignantly, "Who the devil are you -?"

"Ah, yes, so sorry, I got a little carried away," the man said, and bowed deeply, "I am Professor Julius Pimburrow. I teach Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"- how do you know my daughter, and what is this nonsense about magic and Muggers!"

"Muggles, my dear man," the stranger assured him, mopping fruitlessly at the green sludge. "Blast it all!" He finally pulled out a long, thin rod and waved it at the stubborn sludge. "Scourgify!" To the shock and awe of the Evanses, the gunk disappeared from the man's coat, leaving not even a spot here it had once been. He examined it for a moment, and then returned his attention to the stunned Mr. Evans. "'Muggle' is the term wizards give to non-magical folks such as yourselves and your lovely daughter -" He nodded at Petunia, who, nonetheless, appeared to be insulted by the man's well-meaning compliment. "- But as I'm sure you've noticed, Lily is something special." He beamed at Lily. "She is what we called a Muggle-born witch, and although it's rare, it is by no means unheard of - in fact, by her reaction, she already has heard of it, so there!"

Mr. and Mrs. Evans stared, evidentially not seeing what was 'there'. Professor Pimburrow appeared to notice this and cleared his throat.

"Er, Miss Evans, while I'm glad you are taking this well, perhaps you should let your parents see that letter?"

"Oh! Right!" She fumbled with the paper, and pressed it into her father's hands. It took him several seconds before he collected his wits enough to work open the flap of the envelope, and even when he managed it he simply stared at the words on the parchment as though trying to make sense of them.

"What does it say, Perry?" Mrs. Evans asked in a tremulous voice.

He hesitated, glanced at Lily as though wanting her to suddenly shout 'April Fool!' and then began to read out loud:

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme
Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Evans,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than August 30.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress."

He stopped reading, and Lily, whose eyes had been closed during the entire recitation, breathed a sigh of contentment. Although she had expected it for months now, the words were so official, she found herself trembling, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

"No doubt the first words out of your mouth will be 'is this a joke' or something else of that sort," Julius Pimburrow soothed. "I can assure you this is no joke. Hogwarts is a boarding school for children with special abilities - children who can do magic."

"Magic," Mr. Evans echoed sceptically. "Like card-tricks and sawing people in half?"

"Those are mere Muggle imitations of magic," Professor Pimburrow said dismissively. "What we teach is more complex and infinitely older. Students learn useful things such as how to brew potions, how to transfigure objects, how to defend themselves against the Dark Arts, how to fly -"

"But she already knows how to fly, why go to school for it?" Petunia piped up, her sudden outburst causing Lily to jump. She had forgotten that her sister was in the room. At the attention, Petunia, who had picked herself up off of the floor, instantly clamped her mouth shut as four pairs of eyes goggled at her.

"What?" Mr. Evans demanded.

"Petunia!" Mrs. Evans cried. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes - I mean, no - I mean -" Petunia was bright pink now, having divulged more than she had let on knowing. She sent a murderous glance at her sister and clamped her mouth shut.

Mr. Evans was considering Lily. "You've flown?"

"Not really 'flown'," she evaded. "It was more...gliding."

"A common manifestation of magic in young witches," Professor Pimburrow assured her parents, "but what I meant by my earlier comment was learning to fly on broomsticks. We have an excellent Quidditch team at Hogwarts; many of those players have gone on to national teams."

"We always knew Lily was special, but this...this is different from anything we would have imagined." Her mother's voice was weak, and Lily noticed that her parents were staring at her as though they had never seen her before. Her father had fallen into a slump on his chair, looking altogether lost. The uncomfortable lull was broken by Petunia.

"Lily, don't be thick - even if you are a...a witch," Petunia's voice was high and false, the way it always got when she was frazzled or stressed, and she said the word 'witch' as though it was a vulgar curse word. "You're going to my school. Not some nutterhouse with a headmaster named Elkas Dumblebum!"

"Actually, it's Albus Dumbledore," Pimburrow corrected, "and he is one of the most well-respected wizards in history. He singlehandedly defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald."

"Grindel-who?" Mr. Evans wanted to know.

"You wouldn't know him," Pimburrow said gently, "but he did have a rather large effect on your world. I'm sure you've heard of the destruction of Nagasaki?"

Mrs. Evans gasped. "That's impossible, that was an atom bomb!"

"No, my dear lady, it was the work of Dark Wizards. There were so many memories that needed modifying afterward that the Ministry of Magic had to pull people from all over the Ministry to lend a hand," Pimburrow explained.

"This has got to be a joke," Petunia murmured faintly, almost desperately.

"No, this is no joke - although I did hear an excellent one about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who walk into a bar and -" He noticed the blank stares from the Evanses, and cut himself off. " - Er, apologies. At Hogwarts we teach students not only to use magic, but to control it. Most witches and wizards inadvertently use magic from a young age, which allows the Ministry -"

"Ministry?"

"Yes, the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry keeps tabs on young witches and wizards, and tries to ensure that magic remains hidden from the Muggles."

"But why hide it?" Petunia demanded.

"An excellent question," Professor Pimburrow allowed. "It's actually one that I often pose on end of the year exams. There are several reasons for it, but most of them boil down, in one way or another, to the Muggle - or even the human - proclivity, if you consider it - to laziness. If Muggles knew the existence of magic and wizards, they would want instant solutions to their problems. Or worse - if the solutions turned out to cause more harm than good because of the ineptitude of Muggles, wizardkind would be persecuted. It has happened before, you know, there have been several resurgences of witch hunting within the last five hundred years alone."

"What about normal people?" Petunia wanted to know. "If she goes, can't I go?"

Pimburrow laughed heartily, as though the thought had never occurred to him.

"A Muggle at Hogwarts? I believe Salazar Slytherin might turn over in his grave - whichever slimy rock that might be under." He smiled at Petunia in what Lily was sure he thought was a kind smile, but which came off as rather patronizing. "I'm afraid not, young lady. Hogwarts was built to educate magical children, not Muggles."

"But -"

"The rules are clear," Pimburrow said firmly. "Even with Dumbledore's pro-Muggle notions, I don't believe a Muggle at Hogwarts will ever be accepted by the board of governors." He shook his head, as though that closed the matter, and concentrated on Lily again. "Hogwarts is the premier magical institute in the United Kingdom. In all of Europe, I would say, although I'm sure others would disagree. Your daughter is destined for an excellent education. This really is an opportunity only she can take advantage of."

Lily tried to understand the expressions her parents had turned toward her. From the slightly glazed look, she had a feeling that they were thinking of all the times something strange had happened. There had been the week when she had wished for a pet and a whole litter of kittens had been found under her bed. Or the time when she had been playing with a cousin who had thrown some mud at her and seconds later had fallen into the manure pit, which had miraculously moved twenty-feet from its original spot. And then, the previous Christmas she has been complaining about the cold and the Christmas tree had spontaneously burst into flames.

"How much does this...school cost?" Mr. Evans asked lightly.

"Dad! You're not seriously considering -!" Petunia's outburst was cut off by a look from her father, and Professor Pimburrow sent her a quelling glance before answering Mr. Evans.

"Each year's tuition comes to about twenty-five hundred British pounds," Pimburrow said, nodding to the parchment in Mr. Evans' hand. "You can transfer that to wizard currency at Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley. All the information is there in the packages, along with the first-year book list and supply list."

Mrs. Evans stepped forward tentatively. "But we haven't...that's almost twice what we're paying for Petunia, and that's just for the first year. What about books and...and other essentials?"

"Never fear, Madam," Pimburrow reassured her. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to pay for their schooling. Many of our Muggle-born students take advantage of it and are able to pay the school back within the first few years after entering the workforce."

"And what sort of future would Lily have if she were to attend?" Mrs. Evans continued shrewdly. "I don't want to shell out any amount of money if she's going to come out of it a complete ignoramus. My girls are just as smart as any boy, and I won't have Lily passed over for some...some non-wizard boy just because she's lacking in the proper education."

"Well, upon completion of her schooling, she would be prepared for any number of high paying professions in the wizarding world. Cursebreaker, Auror, Accidental Magic Reversal - there are literally endless opportunities."

"But what if she decides she doesn't want to work as an 'Or-or'?" Mr. Evans pressed. "What if she wants a job in the real world?"

Pimburrow frowned at Lily's father, and Lily felt slightly embarrassed for her father.

"Mr. Evans, the wizarding world is just as real as the Muggle world. They exist simultaneously and each depends upon the other for its continued survival." He glanced surreptitiously down at his watch, a curious contraption that had stars in place of numbers. "If your daughter does indeed choose to work as a Muggle after completing Hogwarts, which I doubt she will, we offer quite a few classes that would offer a solid base in some of your fields of study. In addition to my own class, we offer Muggle Art and Muggle Music, and we pay considerable attention to the Classical languages and Classical history. History of Magic also addresses some eras in Muggle history whenever they are relevant to wizarding events."

"Art and music," Mr. Evans echoed. "I suppose that's an acceptable medium."

"And I know several women from school who have gone to Oxford to study the Classics," Mrs. Evans piped up hesitantly. "It's a challenging field, but a respectable one."

"You don't actually believe this, do you?" Petunia demanded, her gaze shifting frantically between her parents as though she was becoming aware of losing allies.

"Petunia, for goodness' sake, hold your tongue," Mrs. Evans told her in a quiet aside. "There's obviously more to this than we thought. And it does explain a great deal."

"First the owl this morning, and now this Pimburrow," Mr. Evans added, nodding briefly at the wizard in their kitchen, "I find myself reluctant not to believe...So I suppose we will simply have to pop over to this -" he glanced rashly at the parchment still gripped tightly in his hands, squinting at the words, as though they were being deliberately difficult for him to read out - "Diagon Alley, and see that it's not a joke."

"An excellent idea," Pimburrow agreed. "Oh, I'm utterly elated that you both are taking this so well. It sometimes takes a lot more convincing to get Muggle parents to realize the door opening for their children - I once had to turn a man into a dormouse before he would believe that magic existed. I'm actually quite surprised he still let his son attend the school after that, but there you have it!" He glanced again at his strange watch. "Now, should you be needing an escort to Diagon Alley, we can certainly provide you with one -"

"Actually," Lily finally managed to speak up, "my friend Severus knows where it is. He could show me -" she caught her parents' looks, "- er, us?"

"Perhaps," her mother said shortly, her tone warning Lily not to bring any of their personal matters up in front of the strange wizard.

"Then I am to assume you will be attending?" Pimburrow asked.

Lily opened her mouth to accept, but was cut off by her mother again.

"We will discuss it."

"Wonderful," Pimburrow remarked, cheerful. "Then do be sure to send an owl before the end of August." He reached into his coat again and brought out a small garish looking box of Eeylops Premium Owl Treats. "I understand you probably don't have your own owl, but if you leave these out at night you will attract any owl passing. You might be able to coax it to deliver your letter. If not, stop at the Owlery in Diagon Alley and send your post from there." Ignoring the uncertain looks, he tipped his hat. "Now I'm afraid I will have to go, so many other families to visit today, and I don't want to miss any of them. We teachers only really get the weekends to make these little trips, and on top of all of the essays I have to look at..."

With another bow toward the Evans family, the tall man was gone with another crack that had Petunia screaming out loud and Mrs. Evans covering her ears.

It was several moments before the family recovered, and Lily looked at her father askance.

Mr. Evans looked quite ruffled, whether by the news that his daughter was a witch or that a man had disappeared in the blink of an eye, she wasn't sure. He didn't meet Lily's eyes as he looked over the parchment again, a furrow in his brow.

"I suppose..." he began, his voice coming out so weakly that he had to clear his throat before he tried again. "I suppose you'll have to ask the boy if you can borrow his feathered beast. Of course, I'd be careful near it, Lily, the creature seemed a mite vengeful to me."

Mrs. Evans turned slowly to the stove, as though performing the familiar action would help her recover from the events of the morning. Still, she kept sending her daughter rather transfixed glances out of the corner of her eye when she thought Lily wasn't looking.

Out of the four of them, Petunia appeared to be the most trapped in disbelief. Her entire face was flushed with anger that made her eyes almost bulge out.

"You're mad - you're all bloody mad!"

"Petunia, don't you take that tone with us -" Mr. Evans warned, but his daughter's passion seemed to cancel any fear of punishment she may have had.

"This is barmy - I can't believe you and Mummy are going along with all of this! After you told her all the time that she wasn't supposed to act strange if she could help it? And now you're actually considering this...this scam!"

"Mind your tone, Petunia," Mrs. Evans said evenly as she absently added scrambled eggs to her coffee, her hands still a little shaky.

"I bet that's what it is!" Petunia cried, having worked herself into a true fury. "It's all about swindling honest people like you and Daddy out of their money! I'm sure of it!"

"I'd like to meet the man who thought to send in a trained letter carrying owl and a man who could disappear without needing a puff of smoke to disguise him," Mr. Evans deadpanned, "or did you not see how he cleaned his coat?"

"So some strange man trying to be the next Houdini tells you she's a witch and you immediately think it's a good idea to send her to some school for this rubbish?"

"We have decided nothing yet," Mrs. Evans replied firmly. "We will simply be taking a trip down to this Diagon Alley one day - incidentally, where is it, dear?"

"London," Mr. Evans said easily, barely glancing at the paper this time. Lily had a feeling that he had read it so many times in the past few minutes to discern the truth of it that he might have memorized it. "It's around Charing Cross Road, this says."

"There you go," Mrs. Evans told her older daughter. "There's no harm in looking things over. If we find out it's one big scam, we can always come home."

"So what if it's not?" Petunia demanded hotly. "No one answered me - even if it isn't a scam, Lily's name is down for my school, isn't it? I've already told all of my teachers and friends that she would be coming next year, and now you're saying you might not?"

"I don't see why she should," Mr. Evans said lightly. "If she has a chance to learn magic...it might be useful, you know."

Petunia sputtered at the unintended insult, and Lily took the momentary pause in her sister's tirade to interject, "Tuney, you knew I wanted to go to Hogwarts when Sev told me about it."

Petunia looked as though she had been slapped, and then with a sound between a growl and a hiss in her throat, she turned on her heel and stalked from the room.

"Petunia!" Mrs. Evans bristled, but the only answer she received was the slam of a door which shook the small house. She sighed. "Don't worry, popkin, she's only a wee bit ruffled. She was set on you coming to her school, that's all."

Lily felt a horribly guilty feeling spring up in the pit of her stomach that warred with her excitement at the fact that her parents were even considering allowing her to go to Hogwarts.

Her father seemed to read her mind.

"While we're on the subject, Lily, how is it that Petunia came to know about this school before we did? More importantly, how did she know you were a witch before us?" He furrowed his brow. "When did you first find out? And why didn't you tell your mother or me?"

"Tuney was with me," Lily said miserably, fingering her new charm bracelet. "It was two years ago. We were at the playground near Mr. Saunders field, and I...well...I was showing off. I jumped off the swings and sort of flew." Her parents were staring at her. "Well, glided, actually, like I said. But Tuney got upset with me, because Mummy had made me promise not to do...odd things. And then out of nowhere this boy appears and tells me the reason I could do it was because I was a witch." Lily hesitantly gauged her parents' reactions. "I didn't believe him at first, but I started seeing him a lot more, and we got to talking. Severus knew all about it, because his mum's a witch, see?"

Mr. Evans shook his head. "That explains a lot about what I've heard of that woman."

Mrs. Evans shushed him, evidently intent on her daughter's tale. "Go on, dear."

"That's how we became friends and that's what we talk about all the time," Lily said. "And Sev says even though I'm Muggle-born it makes no difference, that I'll be just as good at magic as anyone else, and -" and it was here where she appeared to come to the crux of her story. "- Oh Mummy, please say I can go? I've never wanted anything more! Sev snuck a book about Charms out of his mum's study one day and showed me some of the spells - there's spells for all kinds of things! Opening locks, healing injuries, fixing broken things - please, Daddy, can I?"

Mr. and Mrs. Evans sat in silence for a long while, having some kind of conversation with one another without even opening their mouths. Lily glanced back and forth between them, her heart beating, feeling as though her life depended on the answer. Mrs. Evans gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Alright, Lily," Mr. Evans said heavily, "if this Hogwarts turns out to be a real school and all, you can go. I'm not sure where we'll get the money for it, but like that old bloke said..." He shook the parchment meaningfully. "We'll look into it."

"Thank you!" Lily squealed, throwing herself at her father and then at her mother. "Oh, this is the best birthday present in the world! The only thing that could make it better would be..." She trailed off, her smile ebbing away at a thought. "I just wish Petunia weren't so cross with me."

"You'll have to expect her to be in a bit of a strop, popkin," Mrs. Evans told her reasonably. "It's not just the fact you won't be going to her school. I suspect she's a mite jealous. You saw how she was asking Mr. Pimburrow if Muck -Mugger - if non-wizards could go to magic school. She probably thought if you could go to a different school, perhaps she could as well."

Lily nodded, slightly unconvinced, and poked at the eggs on her plate.

An idea occurred to her, and she glanced up hopefully. "Can I go tell Sev?"

Her parents only hesitated a moment, as though resigning themselves to the fact that their daughter was probably going to remain friends with the Snape boy longer than they had hoped. Her mother nodded.

"I suppose so," she said. "But...the regular way, dear - by walking there. And I don't want you near Spinner's End past three o'clock. You get some weird types down there." Mr. Evans chuckled nervously, and Mrs. Evans, realizing what she had said, coloured and tittered as well. "Weirder. Not the magical type."

"Great!" Lily cried, her discomfort abating temporarily. "I'll go now! See you later!"

"Lily, get back here and finish - don't you dare leave this house without a coat, young lady, it's the middle of winter - oh, why bother? She's already gone," Mrs. Evans huffed. She shook her head. "That girl had better hope that wizards have a cure for pneumonia, because she's well on her way to catching it if she keeps doing that..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks go out to Kim for catching all the little mistakes I tend to miss when writing!

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