Singled Out

Chapter VIII

Ellie looked up from her Muggle Studies notes. "Where were you last night?"

"Huh?" Lily turned from her textbook.

"Where were you?" Ellie repeated, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"Oh, I was out," Lily replied vaguely, gesturing with her quill.

"Out where?" Ellie pursued the topic doggedly.

"Just out," she said casually, but her face began to flush.

"You’re lying," Danielle accused her.

"Am not," Lily said hotly.

"Yes, you are. You’re blushing!"

"It’s hot in here! Anyway, I wasn’t lying."

"Oh?"

"I was evading the truth," Lily said loftily. Then, she looked at Danielle and both girls dissolved into giggles.

The door banged open. Arabella Figg stumbled into the room. "Danielle? I think you should go see Professor McGonagall." Danielle sobered abruptly.

"Got it." She rose quickly and almost ran out of the room.

"Hey, Ari." Lily smiled at the Gryffindor Prefect. The Figgs and the Potters were longtime friends, and Harold had introduced them to each other.

"Hey," Arabella smiled back, albeit tiredly.

"What did McGonagall want to talk to Ellie about?" Lily tried to look as if she wasn’t prying.

Ari frowned. "She’ll tell you if she wants to." She rubbed at her eyes, yawning. "Damn, I’m tired."

"Same here," Lily said sympathetically.

"Wait ‘til you have your O.W.L.s," Ari said, grimacing. "I don’t know how they expect us to do it all."

"Is it that bad?"

"Worse."

"Tanspere won’t let up on us and we’re not even taking them. She says we have to be prepared for the O.W.L.s But from what I’ve heard, the Herbology O.W.L.s are the least of our worries."

"Careful not to get too cocky," Ari warned. "I’ve heard horror stories about students that ended up covered in Bubotuber Pus because they hadn’t paid attention in class."

"How thick would you have to be to do that?"

"My dad always tells me the story of how he broke up with his girlfriend after hearing a rumor on the Whispering Grapevine."

"Right," Lily said skeptically.

"Really, I’m serious," Ari insisted. "And besides, it’s important to do really well on everything if you want to be a Prefect. And I’m assuming that’s what you’re shooting for."

"Well, yeah."

"You should have taken Origins of Magic," Ari began, but she was cut off as the door opened again. Ellie walked in slowly, looking dazed, before flinging herself onto her bed.

Both Lily and Ari were at her side immediately. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," Ellie said, her voice thick with tears.

"This isn’t nothing," Ari said firmly. "Merlin’s beard, you’re shaking like a leaf."

"I’ll be fine."

"Would talking about it help?" Lily offered the suggestion tentatively, afraid she’d say something wrong.

Ellie shook her head.

"Do you want Sleeping Potion?" Ari looked very concerned, and Lily wondered what she knew.

Ellie shook her head again.

"Ellie, what’s wrong?"

"Auntie Meg," she choked out.

"What happened to her?" Lily racked her brain to figure out who ‘Auntie Meg’ could be and what she could have to do with You-Know-Who.

"She’s in the hospital. She might be dying," Ellie sobbed.

"Who did it?"

Ellie finally lifted her tearstained face and stopped crying. "No one," she said in mild surprise. "She’s having a baby."

"Oh." Lily felt rather embarrassed for assuming that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was involved, but Ellie had gone back to crying.

Ari took over the conversation. "Well, she’ll probably be OK, right? I mean, the mediwizards and mediwitches at Aesculapius Academy can cure anything."

"Aesculpis?" Lily asked Ari quietly.

"Well, Aesculapius, but yeah. It’s the foremost wizarding hospital in all of Europe, and one of the best in the world. Witches and wizards from all over come there for training. The current Chiron is brilliant."

"A Centaur?" Lily felt herself getting more confused with every word Ari said.

"Oh, no," Ari laughed. "It’s just a title for the most senior wizard. Senior in experience, that is."

"What about the mediwitches?"

"Well, the Chiron is pretty much always male although there’s no rule about it. At any rate, the witches and wizards at the Ilithyia wing never fail."

"The Ilithia?" Lily felt her tongue stumble over the unfamiliar names and wondered once more just why the wizarding world was so obsessed with Greek and Latin.

Ari laughed again. "Close enough. It’s the midwifery wing. They use any means, Muggle or magical, to birth a baby. And they need to. Witches don’t birth easily," for a moment Ari was silent.

"They don’t?" Lily felt startled and rather out of her depth. She was only fourteen, although she had been there when her cousin was born last summer, and she would never forget the blood and mess. And the obstretician had said that was an easy birth.

"Well, we’re so long-lived, we don’t need as many children. And there are theories that the magic does something to us, making conception and birth absolutely horrible. Almost as if we were of the Faerie. That’s part of why the really old wizarding families only have one heir, and that heir is watched and magicked carefully to make sure it will be male. Of course, there’s also the fact that no one wants to split up the family fortune."

"Really?" Lily was intrigued in spite of herself. The idea of arranging a child was faintly repulsive, but still…

"It’s considered Dark Magic, but the Ministry doesn’t really bother enforcing it. Certainly not now, when there are far bigger problems." Ari continued, not noticing that Lily’s thoughts were wandering to a house of perfect children and a certain older black-haired man with blue, blue eyes…

Lily snapped out of her mood at the words ‘Dark Magic’. On second thought, perhaps it would be better to simply let Mother Nature take her course.

"So, why is Ellie’s aunt having another baby?"

Even as Ari shrugged, Ellie spoke from where she was sprawled on her bed.

"It’s because dear Uncle Barty wants another son," she said, the words dripping venom. "Apparently my cousin isn’t good enough for him. He wants a perfect son who’s only interested in becoming Minister of Magic. A little copy of himself. More to the point, he wants a son who isn’t interested in Quidditch."

Memory swooped upon Lily as she realized who ‘Auntie Meg’ was.

"Never mind the Auntie Meg is barely strong enough to take a walk around the park, she has to have a baby. Men," Ellie said angrily, the tears beginning again. "And now she’ll die and the baby too, and its all that bastard’s fault. He’ll probably forget about Barty once Auntie Meg is gone, he’s so wrapped up in his job."

"You don’t know that’s going to happen," Ari said firmly. "Why don’t you go visit her? I’m sure Dumbledore will let you, under the circumstances."

"Maybe," Ellie said doubtfully.

"Yes," Ari insisted.

"Fine, fine. I’ll go now, OK?"

"I’ll be in the Common Room studying," Ari said cheerfully.

Ellie took a deep breath. "Lily, can you come with me?"

"Sure." She followed Ellie down the twirling staircase—sometimes she suspected that it actually twirled, just to confuse everyone. They hurried through the halls back to Dumbledore’s room. Lily reflected that she’d been coming here with disturbing regularity as of late.

The door opened before them, and they slipped in.

"Ah, ladies," Dumbledore smiled at the pleasantly from where he stood on the staircase that was revolving slowly. A dramatic-looking bird waved flaming wings. "I was expecting you."

"Professor, can I go?" Ellie sounded slightly breathless as she spun around the small room.

"First, come to my office for a moment, please."

Just then, they reached a door at the top of the stairs. Ellie stumbled out looking nauseous. "I hate closed spaces," she said between gritted teeth.

"Fizzing whizzbee?" Dumbledore offered a large jar to them, but they both declined. Somehow, Lily didn’t quite fancy floating through the school and not being able to stop. And then there were the rumors that the candy was made from Billywig stings. "Very well," he said cheerfully, popping the sherbet ball into his mouth. He immediately began to rise through the air until he was floating directly above their heads. "Oh, I am sorry," he exclaimed as they craned their necks to look at him. "Here, two chairs," and there were two normal-looking stools on the floor. Lily clambered into one, and a back grew behind her, cradling her, a perfect fit. The chair shot up into the air so that she could speak comfortably with Dumbledore. After a moment of hesitation, Ellie followed suit.

"Now, you’ll be wanting to speak of visiting your aunt, I presume?"

Ellie nodded, once more tightlipped and angry.

"Well, I see no reason to forbid you to visit. It isn’t as if childbirth is a sight that students should be prevented from seeing." He sighed deeply, shaking his head. His frosty beard trembled. "In times like this the pain of childbirth is nothing." He was silent for a moment. "If that is all, Miss Sawyer?"

Ellie smiled faintly. "Yes, Professor."

"Very well. Now, I would wish to speak to Miss Evans about her schedule. You may return to whatever fun you were engaged in."

Ellie gave Lily a look of puzzlement as she walked back to the staircase, looking unhappy at the prospect of having to go down the narrow tower.

As the door closed behind the blonde, Dumbledore’s gaze returned to Lily. "You are aware that there is a class called Origins of Magic?"

Lily remembered Ari mentioning it back in the room. "Yes," she replied.

"I would wish you to join the class, however, the choice is ultimately yours. I believe that you have the abilities needed to succeed in the course, but it is your education. And, I needn’t impress upon you the difficulty of the class. Entrance is by recommendation only, and a large number of the students are older than you. Lastly, though you will have friends, such as James Potter," and here, Dumbledore couldn’t conceal a smile, "there will be students whom you disagree with on certain issues. Mr. Snape is a member of the class, and I am aware that the two of you are not the best of friends. I must repeat that you should not feel compelled to join."

"Could I see a list of all the students?"

"Very well," he smiled. He flicked his wand at a stack of papers across the room, muttering words she couldn’t hear. One scroll gently floated to land on the desk. "Here it is." Another flick of his wand, and pairs of names written in a very ornate script were scrolling up the paper, each pausing until she had read it, then replaced by the next set.

Burton, Petra

Longbottom, Frank

Forrest, Pristina

Figg, Arabella

Ivanovich, Dmitri

Black, Sirius

Graber, Naomi

Snape, Severus

Prewett, Aeneas

Kaplan, Marianna

Ivanovich, Natasha

Ivanovich, Alixandra

Levy, Remus

Potter, James

Sawyer, Elizabeth T

Fletcher, Mundungus

"I see," Lily said, feeling rather dazed. "But, if I join, won’t there be an odd number?" She tried to stop her body from betraying her with trembling. He was in the class; she could be working with him. My boyfriend, she reminded herself firmly.

"No need to worry, Miss Evans." Dumbledore leaned back, swallowing what remained of the fizzing whizzbee. Apparently he had forgotten where he was, for he fell over backwards even as he dropped through the air. As Lily shrieked, the large, hitherto unmoving, golden bird swooped over him, grabbing him by his long silvery hair. To her surprise, Dumbledore stopped mid-fall, held up by nothing but one bird.

With as much dignity as anyone could muster under the circumstances, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and gestured to the bird to let go before slowly gliding through the air to land sedately in his chair. Lily’s stool mirrored the action, lowering her until she was face-to-face with the professor. "Thank you, Fawkes," he said gravely. Then, just as gravely, he reached up to pat his head gingerly. "Ouch," he said with feeling.

Lily was now eyeing the bird nervously. "Professor, what is that?" she finally ventured.

"Ah, you have not met Fawkes. He’s a phoenix, a firebird. He is a gift from a dear friend of mine."

"Oh," Lily replied simply.

"Yes, the phoenix is a wonderful beast. Clever, gentle, very strong, incredibly faithful." Dumbledore leaned back, this time with a chair behind him. "Anyone would be honored to have such a companion." The bird flew smoothly to Lily, sitting on her shoulder. Its claws dug into her shoulder gently. "I believe hr likes you," Dumbledore said with delight. Lily remained still, afraid to move.

Meanwhile, the professor changed the subject abruptly. "Have you given thought to a profession for when you leave Hogwarts?"

Lily shook her head as gently as possible, trying not to dislodge the bird or provoke it into using those talons on her.

"Fawkes," Dumbledore said, and the bird returned to its perch. "I apologize for that," he said cheerily.

"No problem," Lily massaged her shoulder as discreetly as possible.

"You see," Dumbledore leaned forward now, and his sparkling eyes were serious, "not every student at Hogwarts is the same. Some of the students deserve more attention than others. And some could be very important in the fight against Voldemort. It is my wish that those students are made aware of the choice that lies before them."

"So, it’s a class to enlist people to you?" Unreasonably, Lily felt annoyed. She knew that Dumbledore wanted best; she knew she didn’t agree with You-Know-Who, but still, he could let them have a choice, rather than brainwashing them. Even if he was right, no-one should be forced to join one side over the other. For all his talk of choices, she would have expected more of him.

"No, no, you misunderstand me, Miss Evans. It is a class that tries to learn about the questions that few bother to ask, and it attempts to teach what magic is, and how we should, as witches and wizards, use it. It isn’t a training program for one side or the other. It is my responsibility to teach you about your powers. It is your responsibility to decide how you will put those powers to use." He watched her through his half-moon spectacles. "You need not decide now," he began.

"I’ll do it," Lily said energetically, surprising herself.

"I’m glad to hear it," he said, twinkling at her brightly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to, and I believe you do too."

"Thank you," she said, rising.

"You are welcome. Now, run along."

She walked to the door. "One more thing," he called from behind her.

"Yes?"

"May I see the mark that Mr. Snape made on your arm?"

Lily rolled up the sleeve of her robe and Dumbledore glanced at her forearm carefully. To Lily’s surprise, there was a faint mark that looked almost like a flower in bloom.

It should have no serious permanent effect on you. Now, do try to stay away from my office for another week, at least."

Grinning, Lily stepped onto the rotating stairwell, and her last glimpse of the office was of Dumbledore wincing as he rubbed his head, while Fawkes watched.

* * * * *

James itched at the back of his neck restlessly. "Halloween is in a week," he said excitedly.

"Is it?" Sirius looked up from his Potions book.

"Yeah. We need a prank. A really good prank," James sounded excited.

"You’re talking to each other again?" Remus rolled his eyes. "About time."

"Oh, right," James said sheepishly. "Well, everything’s fine."

"So you’re going out with her?" Sirius kept his voice carefully neutral.

"Yeah," James’ reply was equally neutral.

"I see."

Remus wondered if their tone could become any more dispassionate.

"What prank are you planning?" He made a valiant effort to pull the conversation back onto track. To his relief, it worked. He really didn’t fancy having to clean up another fight.

"I was thinking something with the bathroom," James said. Although he didn’t say anything, it was obvious that he had planned it to be revenge on Sirius.

"How about the Prefects’ bathroom," Sirius challenged.

James shrugged, striving to look like he didn’t care. "Fewer people use it."

"How about the staff bathroom," Remus threw in.

James and Sirius looked at him in awe. "Of course," they chorused.

Remus put up his hands. "Hey, I was just kidding."

"Well, we’re not."

"I think the Prefects’ bathroom would be a really good idea. Don’t forget, Snape uses it."

"That’s right," Sirius breathed, his eyes suddenly sparkling with malice. "That would be great!"

"What were you thinking?" James asked warily. "Don’t forget, I use that bathroom too," he warned.

"Of course you’ll know about it before."

"But won’t people ask questions if I suddenly change my bathing habits?"

"You can think of an explanation, Prongs."

James sighed. "Fine, but this prank of yours had better be good."

Just then, an owl winged its way into the room.

"Who’d be sending an owl," Remus wondered idly as the small bird flapped to Sirius, looking as if it couldn’t stay up for another second under the weight of the large package it was holding. "And who’d make it hold that much," he added curiously.

"Dunno." Sirius accepted the box. "Oh, wait, I know!" He tore the box open and laughed as he read the letter enclosed.

"What is it?" James glanced up from the History of Magic tome he had just pulled out.

"It’s Festering Potion. It ‘gives the appearance of festering wounds but washes off in an instant with the enclosed Cleaning Solution. Caution: Do not use on eyes. Test before using. Allergies may occur,’" Sirius read from the bottle.

"Sounds dangerous," Peter said.

"Sounds cool," James corrected, grinning. "Where’s it from?"

"Oh, my penpal sent it."

"You have a penpal? From where?"

"Yeah. From the States."

"That’s a big place."

"From Massachusetts," Sirius looked back down at the box. "They have a lot of stuff for Halloween at the American schools. They’re allowed to go trick-or-treating at school, and there’s a midnight treasure hunt in a haunted house."

"Right," James dismissed the stories. "But what else is in the box?"

"Well, there’s the normal potions, like Shrinking Solution, then there’re the weird ones."

"Well, what are they?"

"There’s Crow Brew. It makes you crow instead of talking. There’s Pumpkinhead Potion. It turns your head into a jack o’ lantern."

"Do you have to drink them?" James was very excited now.

"Well, most of them." Here, Sirius looked up, reflecting James’ excitement. "But, do you remember that lesson in Potions about how to change something from having to be ingested to a topical spread?"

"Yeah."

"So do I." Sirius grinned evilly. "This has possibilities."

* * * * *

Narcissa carefully examined her nails.

"Pris, you look like you haven’t slept in ages," Natasha Ivanovich exclaimed.

"Tasha, how many times do I have to tell you? My new name’s Narcissa." Narcissa tried to soften her tone.

"Sorry, but you know, you look a mess."

"Do I?" Worrying about her looks was a thing of the past.

Natasha watched her friend. Pristina never replied to a comment about her appearance that way. But then, this wasn’t Pristina any more. Natasha shuddered slightly as she remembered Narcissa staggering into the room at one in the morning, her fingers blue from the cold. It had taken the better part of an hour and a number of spells and potions before the blonde was even remotely warm. And the things she said as she tossed in her bed, teeth chattering…

"Tasha," Narcissa said sharply. "What do you think of Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore?" Natasha blinked in surprise. "Well, I guess he’s nice. I don’t know; I never really talk to him."

"How about his policy on Mudbloods?"

"Pris-," Tasha stopped. "I mean, Narcissa," she corrected herself, "don’t say that sort of thing! I mean, I know that you don’t mean it as an insult, but still. You can never be too careful in these days."

"I know what I mean, Natasha," Narcissa’s voice was cold. "I mean Mudbloods. They are naught but filth, infesting our school. Lucius says-," but Narcissa didn’t finish her sentence as Natasha frantically clamped her hand over her friend’s mouth.

"Pris," she cried, and Narcissa didn’t bother with correcting her. "I told you that the Malfoys aren’t the best source for views on a lot of things. You shouldn’t be going out with him."

"Tasha, I’m old enough to have my own opinions," Narcissa said, laughing. "Don’t worry, I was just kidding. Now, let me brush your hair. It’s getting all tangled. We can pretend that we’re little girls again. Remember the time we tried to do a Starfish without Stick after seeing that note in Quidditch Through the Ages?"

As Natasha nodded and smiled, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong. If only Narcissa would drop Lucius Malfoy. He was doing something, brainwashing her. After all, how else could Narcissa have forgotten that she, Natasha, was Muggle-born?