Blood, Magic, and Other Insignificant Things

Blood, Magic, and Other Insignificant Things

The Halloween Feast was over. Lily Evans left the Great Hall quickly, Jack-o-lanterns floating idly above her head and the mumble and murmur of students surrounding her. Halloween, in the Wizarding World, was a far more joyous occasion than even for six-year-old Muggles. But not tonight, Lily thought as her thoughts spun and her feet, thankfully knowing their own way, carried her towards her Common Room; not tonight.

He had struck again. The Prewetts. All of them - or most of them, anyway. Dead. Found dead in their home that morning. It had been Avada Kedavra, with interspersed raping and torturing as a prelude. Sick man. Sick, sick, man.

And Lily knew that it was not a lone occurrence. It was something she would see again and again in her life. Possibly one day it would be her. She was Muggleborn, she was Head Girl of Hogwarts. Many of the school's Board of Directors had protested her being chosen: they did not want Voldemort to target the school because Albus Dumbledore put a qualified Muggleborn above a qualified Pureblood. They wrote it in the papers. Muggleborn Appointed Head Girl of Hogwarts - Death Eaters Threaten Retaliation For Insult. Because she wasn't pureblood.

Blood. On her hands. Lily looked down to see a small gash on her knuckle, blood now on her hands. How had that happened? She looked back, shaken from her thoughts, and saw that she was not headed to where she was supposed to be headed. But oh, did it matter?

No. The Prewetts were dead, why would a stupid wrong direction matter. Why did anything matter? Why did this cold, dark hallway, with its under-qualified, wrong bloodline Head Girl matter?

And then she began to cry. She sunk to the floor and began to cry.

Lily had not the slightest idea why she was crying. She had not the slightest idea why she wanted to be as small as possible, but she knew that if she could just curl herself into a slightly smaller ball, on the floor against the wall, maybe everything would be better. She did not know the Prewetts. She did not care. They were dead and He had killed them and she was next and there was blood and cold and confusion.

Warmth. Blissful warmth, so close beside her.

Inhaling sharply, she looked up. "What do you want?" Oh, but her voice was harsh from crying.

"To find you." His voice, too, held signs of tears. "They want to see us. Tell us what to tell the kids if they get depressed or upset."

She hated how he did that. Called the younger students 'the kids', as though they were goats. "Does it have to be now?"

He sat beside her and slung an arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer to his warmth. "Yes. But we won't go. We'll go to Hogsmeade. We'll Floo to London and get drunk and dance till morning. We'll go get my broom and we'll fly over the lake and jump in. We'll Floo somewhere and find a hotel and we'll be together and none of this will matter, Lil. None of it. It won't be you. It'll never be you."

Lily shut her eyes tightly. "I don't want to die, James. I don't want to die."

"You won't. I promise."

"They said-"

"They're stupid wankers and if they thought the Prophet would report on it they'd threaten to kill every fish owned by Muggles, and slash every tyre owned by Muggles and dig up every muggle lawn. They're afraid of Dumbledore, they wouldn't touch you."

Lily held onto him tightly. She felt so safe when he was there. "Why me, then? Why'd he pick me? Why'd he put me in danger if he knew they'd want to kill me for being - for being-"

"For being Head Girl? For being so amazing? For being better than everyone else?"

"For being a Mudblood."

In an instant, her had grabbed her shoulders and roughly turned her to face him. "Never say that," he told her in a low, steady voice. "You never say that, Lil. You're not. You're you, and it doesn't matter. I love you, and I know you're scared, Lil, but it doesn't matter! It doesn't and it won't and blood is so, so... Gah!" He shook his head violently, as though he couldn't think of a word strong enough for his meaning.

"Insignificant?" she suggested.

"Yes. Insignificant. No one cares about blood. It doesn't matter! And none of this matter, so stop caring about it so much."

She lowered her head and placed her hands over his. "They care. And it'll matter if - if what they say in the Prophet-"

"But it won't! I won't let it. Lil, come on, stop this." He took her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her head back up. "I love you. I won't let anything happen to you. And do you know what?" He stood and pulled her up with him. "None of this matters at all. We don't need this. Let's go. We don't need magic, or blood, or any of this. All we need is us, and we've got that. We'll go and buy a house somewhere and we'll get married and we'll never worry about any of this." He made to walk away, but a look from Lily stopped him. "What?"

She smiled sadly at him, and held her arms out for a hug, which he quickly stepped into. "We can't go," she reasoned. "What would we do? Where would we get money? And what would everyone think, your parents and our friends?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes." Lily stood on tiptoe to kiss the tip of his nose, then sank back down. "Let's - let's go talk to Professor Dumbledore. He knows what he's doing."

James nodded. "Of course he does. That's why he picked us. Of course," he said with a grin, "I'm me and you attract death threats, so maybe that doesn't say much."

"It says plenty," Lily reasoned with a small smile. "It says that he knows it doesn't matter."

James grinned, pulled her to him for a quick kiss, and took her hand. "Let's go then," he said. "Show everyone what we think of all this."