Touch Me, Trust Me

Chapter I

It was nearing March, and Lily Evans had been out of a job for nearly three months. Since she had quit her position at the newly established independent magazine, The Quibbler, time had passed incredibly slowly. Nowadays, she usually spent minutes on end in the cushioned seat by the window, peering out of it with no real intent of ever seeing anything interesting. In Lily's hometown of Little Whinging, the most exciting event to ever take place was when Mr. and Mrs. Across the Road bought an expensive sports car.

With a soft sigh, the girl stood and turned to leave her room. Her wristwatch read 11:57, which was a good indication that she should eat the breakfast her mother had cooked some three-and-a-half hours earlier, lest she should not get any due to its being thrown out to the dog.

As she descended down the staircase, she noticed her older sister, Petunia, and her new, and (sadly so) second, boyfriend, Vernon. Her parents, Darrin and Melissa, sat opposite the unspeaking couple, all four of them watching some television show. Lily traipsed quietly into the kitchen; her parents had been shooting questions at her since December about why she spent her time locked up in her room.

Expectedly, her breakfast was cold. It did not matter though; sometimes it was better that way. All through her meal, her thoughts were elsewhere--the same place they had been previously as her emerald eyes had searched the outdoors.

That place where her mind currently rested was a place of dreams and fascination and wonder. She longed, so zealously, to be an eminent singer. Before Hogwarts, where there was very little to do with her talent, Lily had been involved in many competitions and performances throughout Surrey.

"Lily?" came her mother's voice from the living room. "Lily, you should come in here...there's something on the telly you should see."

Lily pushed back her nearly empty plate of toast, eggs, and kipper. "Coming, Mother." Upon entering the room, her eyes flitted immediately to the television screen, where the local news was being broadcast. She emitted a soft gasp. "Oh my...."

The screen showed a family, a mother and five small children, the oldest looking no older than twelve, holding one another and sobbing. In the distance was a suburban home, the front door flung open carelessly, allowing a limited view inside where something obviously chaotic had gone on. At the bottom of the television were the words, "Le Forgeron-Cité, Surrey."

"Mother..." said Lily shakily, "that's only five towns away."

Her mother nodded. "I know." Her normally pretty face, which highly resembled Lily's in its ivory complexion and soft features, was screwed up in a sad emotion that Lily could not precisely discern.

"Did you see the fellow who did this? He's a right freak, don't you think, Darrin? I'm surprised they even lets a man looking like that walk around!" said Petunia's suitor, his two chins wobbling in succession with each word.

Mr. Evans shook his head in an agreeing sort of way, but his green eyes did not unglue themselves from the television set. A reporter came on, covering most of the astonishingly dismal sight.

"I'm here on location at Le Forgeron-Cité, where a terrible crime has been committed. A family, the Smythes, mourn here at their home in a quiet town in western Surrey the deaths of Jared Smythe, father of four, his sixteen-year-old son, Gerard, Jackson, his brother, and Jackson's wife, Angelou, parents of two.

"Behind me is Jared's widow, May, clutching her three remaining children and two now-orphaned nieces. The family had gathered to watch a football game on television. When Mrs. Smythe and the younger children took a trip to the supermarket for concessions, they had no idea what they would be coming back home to.

"The police have several leads as to who committed these murders, in which a cause of death has yet to be decided in each case, but none as strong as the suspect in at least four other deaths--"

"Father!"

"Darrin?"

"Why'd you do that?"

Lily's father had gotten up and switched off the television. He had an odd glint in his eyes, more distressed than even Mrs. Evans's heart-wrenching look of sadness.

"Darrin?" said her mother again. "Is everything all right?"

He crossed the room, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slacks, his deep-auburn-haired head tilted downward at the floor. "I think that's enough." He looked up, now standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

"Did you know them?" asked Lily softly, getting up and coming to her father's side.

Mr. Evans glanced once at Vernon Dursley. "Vernon, you should probably be heading home. Your parents are probably worried, what with all this," he said kindly, but his eyes still held the same hard, upset look.

Vernon looked somewhat offended, but shook hands ('Not even a kiss,' thought Lily.) with Petunia, grabbed his coat from the rack, and left.

Her father remained silent as his family watched him apprehensively remove his rectangular spectacles and clean them on his shirttail. His eyes were glazed over in apparent thought.

After several moments, Mr. Evans finally said, "I knew them. Grew up with Jared and his brother, Jackson. We went to school together until we were seventeen. I've not talked to them since, but I never imagined I would be sitting here, watching this." He gestured toward the television.

There was a long moment of silence as the three women took time for this to sink in. It was a sad, depressing ordeal, but also a frightening one. To know that this had happened just fifty miles away, and that it wasn't the only murder of the fashion to occur lately, was enough to reduce the family to tears.

"Do you know this bloke they've been showing on the telly? The fellow they suspect did this?" said Lily, her voice strained, but somehow strong. "I think I know who he is...."

All attention was now on her.

"He's my kind--a wizard. That's why there's never a determinable cause of death; he uses a curse. The curse, actually--the Killing Curse."

Her mother fidgeted in her easy chair. "How do you know this...man?" she asked uneasily.

"There have been deaths in my world, too. I didn't think much of them at first. There's always some madman out there, you know? But this man, his features are unmistakable. He's the one they're calling Lord Voldemort."

The thought of the wizard Voldemort made Lily inwardly cringe. He was tall, and very thin, almost unnaturally so, his skin was the color of milk, and his eyes a deep amber. His nose was nonexistent and his hair was a short brown specked with gray and white. To look at him struck fear in everyone, according to Lily's friends and the Daily Prophet--everyone except Albus Dumbledore, apparently.

"Why's he doing this?" asked Petunia in a quiet, almost inaudible whisper.

The floor suddenly became fascinating, but Lily knew all eyes were still fixed on her. "Because of who these people are...."

"Who they are?" said her father at once in a tone of alarm. "Who could Jared and Jackson Smythe possibly be? Jared was a solicitor and Jackson a sportswriter."

"Well," said Lily, "it's more who they aren't. Lord Voldemort is...hmm." She paused, wondering how to explain to her family why Voldemort killed without causing them to panic. But then, her father was ten times stronger than she, and she had managed to keep cool.

"Do you remember studying Hitler in school?" She received synchronized nods. "I suppose...he's a lot like him. Voldemort doesn't believe people of Muggle descent should be allowed to exist."

The other two women in the room gasped horrifically as if on cue; Mr. Evans just cleared his throat--her father had been involved in World War II, had served and seen men killed on the beaches of Normandy and France at the age of nineteen. "Go on," he said.

"So Voldemort, over these past couple of months, has gained a ring of supporters--Purebloods who believe in his cause. They're called Death Eaters, but are really more like Nazis. They serve him loyally, and are extremely difficult to capture. So far, only a handful of them have been arrested. That's...really all I know."

A pregnant silence filled the room once again.

"Is this why you've been shut up? Because of this Voldemort bloke?" asked her mother gently.

Lily frowned. "No...it's...." She had almost said "nothing" again. But this time, she was set to tell her parents the truth. "It's because I want to sing, Mum. I want to perform again. I quit The Quibbler, that paper I was working for, because of that, not because of low pay...."

"Well then," said her father, who had been mutely cleaning his eyeglasses again, "you will perform. You'll sing. I'll see to it."

Lily turned to face him. "How will you go about doing that?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry. Just let me deal with it."