Sotto Voce

Chapter 2 - Cogitatio

It's the heart afraid of dying, that never learns to dance;
It's the dream afraid of waking, that never takes the chance;
It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give;
And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live.
- - - Bette Midler, "The Rose"

Well, Lily thought to herself, this isn't so bad. She had been to only one other Sorting Feast, and that was when she was a first year, so stunned by Hogwarts that she fancied she could feel the magic running through the contours of the wooden bench, through the skin of the ripened fruit laying atop golden plates - even the air seemed to be charged with a delightful electricity. Her amazement with the Great Hall was supplanted, though, by the feeling of solitudo that was to become all too familiar to her over the years. As such, she could count the number of times she had been to the Great Hall on one hand.

Lily found herself nearly as awestruck as the first years. While normally she would not partake in such communal, raucous gatherings, she arrived to fulfill her obligatory duties as Head Girl. The novelty of the Great Hall came afresh to her mind - how could she have forgotten the ceiling was enchanted? The house banners hung proudly over each table, respective animals prowling restlessly in their tapestry cages. Lily nearly gasped with fright as the head of the Gryffindor house ghost popped up through the table.

"Sir Nicholas deMimsy-Porpington at your service! Welcome to Gryffindor, the finest of the four houses! You look like a fine bunch of lasses and lads."

Lily regained her composure. "Nearly Headless Nick. Of course. You really shouldn't be popping through dinner tables, you know. Nick is Gryffindor's ghost, you see. Just don't ask him to clarify his nickname," she said by way of explanation to the first years, who were gaping at him, wide-eyed and startled.

The ghost squinted at her. "Lily? I thought you never came down to the Great Hall. Why, I reckon that if I didn't converse with you in the corridors, I wouldn't even know you were in Gryffindor."

Lily flushed and looked down slightly. "Yes, well, Head Girl duties and all..."

She was interrupted by a loud popping noise from the Slytherin table, which was clouded by some sort of smoke. When the smoke cleared, the Slytherins were no longer there - in their places were disgruntled garden snakes who were twirling around themselves in confusion. The smoke rearranged to form a sentence, which floated above the table in luminous green letters: Slytherins - Snarky and Slimy since 997 A.D! This announcement brought to you by The Marauders."

Lily bit back a giggle and glanced up at the staff table. Dumbledore looked like he was attempting to rein back his amusement, but Professor McGonagall was white with rage and making her way over to the Gryffindor table. She stopped where James Potter and his friends were sitting. Sirius Black was whooping with laughter and giving a high-five to Peter; Remus Lupin and James were sniggering and exchanging congratulatory looks.

They stopped abruptly and looked up guilelessly at Professor McGonagall.

"You boys. In my office. Now." She enunciated each word with a jab of her wand, and was looking positively apoplectic.

The four of them got up smoothly from the table and James bowed to the rest of the students, all of whom were eagerly watching the drama unfold. Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but McGonagall hit him with a quick silencio and filed them out of the Great Hall. The Slytherins, now changed back, were looking more furious than McGonagall, if that was possible.

One of the first years turned to Lily, an awestruck expression on his face. "Who was that?"

Lily tore her gaze away from James' retreating form. "That's James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. They call themselves - " she paused to look at the dissipating green words. "The Marauders. They're renown for their pranks."

"Well, they're bloody brilliant, if you ask me!" another first year piped up, the rest nodding vociferously in agreement.

Lily shook her head and turned back to examining her food. Typical - a few minutes into the year and the Marauders pulled a tricky bit of transfiguration, gaining a new generation of admirers along the way. McGonagall might be incensed, but she would never take away James' Head Boy badge. He seemed almost sacrosanct; nothing could touch him and his only punishment would be a week or so of detention. Lily mused what the reaction would be if she pulled such a prank.

Most likely the student body would look on in shock and puzzlement, her teachers would look at her with disappointment, and she would be expelled. Well, perhaps not expulsion - but suspension most certainly. No, this year would be no different from the past six, and then she would be gone from Hogwarts and out on her own.

On her own. What would she do out of Hogwarts? Go back to the Muggle world? No; as much as she felt out-of-place at school, she loved magic and the wizarding world, and she would feel stunted among Muggles. She didn't really want to continue her schooling at a wizarding university - most of the people that went on to those became researchers in their chosen field, and even with her skill at charms, she didn't want to spend her days in some sort of laboratory. A professional Quidditch team wouldn't take her if she had no prior experience, no matter how much raw talent she might have; besides, being in the spotlight like that was definitely not to her taste.

Professor Dumbledore tapped her on the shoulder. Lily looked up at him, startled.

"As lovely as the Great Hall is, there are areas more conducive to thought and slumber. Perhaps I can accompany you back to your room, Miss Evans?"

Lily realized that the Great Hall was completely empty save for the Headmaster and herself, and she felt the familiar, accursed blush creeping up her cheeks. Had she really failed to notice everyone's departure?

"Of course, Headmaster. I'm...I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting," she said, rising to follow him out the doors.

Dumbledore chuckled. "No need to apologize, dear. I often find myself wrapped up in reminiscence. I gather you were thinking of your plans after graduation?" When Lily gave him a startled glance, he smiled.

"I recognize that look anywhere, especially as it was frequently upon my face when I was your age. My dear brother Aberforth insisted that I would make an excellent hippogriff breeder, and I nearly took him up on his suggestion until I was offered a job as a teacher at Hogwarts. I also worked as a dishwasher in the Leaky Cauldron for a time." He paused, eyes twinkling. "If I may be so presumptuous as to suggest a possible career path?"

Lily nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"You'd make a most excellent Auror."

She gaped at him. Her, an Auror? The idea was laughable. People like James or Sirius became Aurors, not timorous little introverts good at Charms. She was about to tell him that she appreciated his confidence in her abilities, even if it was a little misplaced, when he stopped in front of a portrait of Mona Lisa - the moving one, the one that guarded the entrance to her little room.

"I believe we have arrived. You'll find that your trunk is inside, and I believe the house elves insisted on leaving some hot chocolate. Won't you take a sherbet lemon? No? Well, goodnight, Miss Evans. Pleasant dreams."

She looked after him, slightly dazed. He had led her to her little room, and after speaking the password ('subtilis') and stepping inside, she found that a steaming mug of hot chocolate was on the mahogany desk, and her trunk was unpacked, clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe. How on earth did he know about this room? Moreover, how did he know that she inhabited it? Or, for that matter, that the house elves left hot chocolate? She blinked, feeling slightly dizzy, and sank down into the plush leather couch. The man was omniscient - he had to be. Still, his nonsensical suggestion of a career for her hinted that perhaps he was slightly off his rocker.

Lily arose from the couch and slipped off her school robe and uniform, changing into a long nightgown. She padded over to the dresser and ran the elaborately carved wooden brush through her hair. She considered herself objectively through the mirror. She was really quite beautiful, perhaps not the ostentatious Veela-beautiful, but certainly one of the most attractive girls at Hogwarts.

All the features that were grotesque on Petunia (ultra-pale skin, thin build, long neck) looked elegant on her. She had her faults, certainly. Her hair, though long and beautifully colored, was thin and fine; her skin wasn't the eggshell white of Petunia's - she had a fair scattering of freckles along her forehead, nose and cheeks; and her bust was too large for her body, making it rather difficult find clothes that fit her unusually proportioned chest. So far, the only garments that had truly fit her were the old-fashioned wizarding clothes, with their long skirts and corsets and robes; she wasn't really complaining - she didn't really like Muggle fashion, especially compared to the sumptuous habiliments of wizarding fashion.

Lily put down her hairbrush with a sigh and slipped under her duvet, murmuring a spell to extinguish all the candles. As the bed's feathery softness enveloped her, she let her mind wander. The Sorting Feast wasn't as bad as she though it would be, and she was glad she attended the last Sorting she would see. The first years weren't as intimidating as they had been when she was their age; they were eager and curious, and so the conversation consisted of her answering all the questions she could, requiring nearly no creative effort on her part. And then there was James' prank on the Slytherins, which made her smile for the first time since she'd seen her parents.

Ah, yes, James. Lily feared terribly that she was getting a crush on him, which would not do - no, it would not do at all. Prefect meetings would become unbearably awkward; she could already see herself blushing and stuttering in front of him and all the other prefects. And if they had to work together in the capacity of Head Boy and Head Girl? She shuddered to think of how she would behave around him. Besides, the whole thing would set her up for heartbreak from the start.

She knew that somehow he would find out about her feelings, and let her down gently - oh yes, gently and painfully. He would explain to her that she was a very nice girl and all, but he needed someone poised and self-assured. She would be humiliated and spend the rest of her Hogwarts days avoiding him and wallowing in self-pity.

Or perhaps he would agree to go out with her, then, a week later, dump her and tell her it was a bet. That would be truly crushing, and Lily could only imagine the shame she would feel if that happened. But James wasn't like that, she knew. He would never be so malicious - he couldn't have had so many friends if he was prone to that sort of abject cruelty. And that was exactly what she liked about him. Sweet, caring, handsome, the ideal boyfriend...husband...

No, Lily berated herself sharply. She would not succumb to that, she would not let herself degenerate into that type of person. She was Lily; maybe lonely, shy, overlooked - but she was not a pathetic damsel who was so weak as to base a large portion of her self-worth on a boy, especially one who would never notice her anyway. She did not need romantic entanglements, and swore to herself not be get swept up in a silly adolescent infatuation - and with that firm decree, she allowed herself to sleep.