Return to Sender

Chapter Two

Three Wise Men walk into a Bar...

"Actually, Petunia," Lily's voice was nearly a growl, but she somehow managed to keep a sweet sound to it as her father turned his eyes pleadingly towards her, "witch begins with a 'w,' not a 'b.'"

Across the table, Petunia sucked in a breath sharply. Her husband, a coarse Muggle named Vernon Dursley, threw his napkin down. "Now see here," he said, flaring at his father-in-law. His great mustache waggled wildly, looking to Lily as if it were trying to flee for its life from his mouth. "Petunia said that if we spent the holidays with you, that none of her abnormalities would ruin the spirit." He sneered in Lily's direction, and her giant fox tail attempted to lunge across the table at him. "But no sooner do we arrive than her freakish nature becomes painfully apparent." He rubbed a small lump on the back of his head; not ten minutes ago, during a tense but relatively peaceful meal, Lily's tail had wiggled its way free from its bindings on her leg and thrown a bowl of cranberries at her brother-in-law.

Her father, Charles Evans, stood up, and anger flashed on his weary face. He looked as if he had aged ten years since the loss of his wife the previous fall. Lily's parents had always brokered the peace between their daughters, but left alone to the task, her father seemed to be losing the war. That was why she had tied her tail into the most uncomfortable position possible on her leg, to keep it from being seen and from being the latest excuse for her sister to lash out at her. "Vernon, you will apologize to Lily this instant. There is nothing abnormal, freakish or in any way, shape, or form wrong with my youngest child." Petunia clucked and started to speak, but Charles held up a firm hand. "If you cannot do that, on this night when we all should be forgiving, then I want you to leave."

Seconds turned into hours as Vernon stared between his wife and her father, never sparing a glance for Lily. Finally, he stood up, extending a hand to his wife. "Come, Pet, let's go home." They walked in silence out of the dining room. Lily could just see Vernon holding out Petunia's coat from where she sat at her father's right.

"...so sorry, dear. It's so shameful. One would hope that there was a group out there to take care of her kind, but they're allowed to roam free, like regular people." Petunia kissed her husband on the cheek and slammed the door behind her as they left.

"Dad, I..." Lily struggled feebly for the right words to say. She was grateful that her father stood up for her, but ashamed that it had been her blasted tail that had started the fight in the first place. She swirled the wine around in her glass, then swallowed it in one brave gulp. "I'm so sorry, Dad--"

"Save it, dear." He poured her another glass of wine, as well as a fresh one for himself. "It wasn't your fault; Petunia's been itching for a fight since I told her you were coming home from school for the holidays. I had hoped I could have one last holiday with both my girls... Somewhere along the way, though, you both grew into very different women." Lily thought she saw a tear in the corner of his eye. "Well, next year you'll have your own place. Perhaps I'll just get to enjoy two Christmas hams instead of one, then." His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her.

Her tail slinked over to where Charles sat at the head of the table and looped itself around his arm. Lily opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the excited hooting of an owl. Circe, her black sooty owl, flew into the room and perched on Petunia's empty chair. She leaned down and picked at Petunia's half-eaten ham happily. Lily laughed as her tail slid back to her, encircling her waist and giving her a hug of sorts.

"I'll call Petunia in the morning and try to make things right, Dad." Oddly, she felt more at home with Circe there. Whenever she spent any time with the Dursleys, it always left her in a black mood. She wondered whether, if she spent enough time with them, she wouldn't start to believe that something was actually wrong with her. She couldn't imagine what life would be like if her parents had taken after their eldest daughter. She shared only one thing with her sister now: the hope that Petunia would never give birth to a magical child.

Her father was shaking his head. "Don't bother, dear. I know you mean well, but it will just infuriate her more. Once you've gone to Annalise's flat, I'll make amends." He stood up and carved a slice of ham, laying it in front of Circe. "If I don't, your Mum will come back and haunt me for the rest of my days." Something in his eyes told Lily that he might not mind that one bit. "Just remember, dear, you can't choose your family, but sometimes," he nodded towards Circe, "sometimes a family chooses you."

* * *

"Remus Lupin, get your sisters off the ceiling this instant!" Pleione stepped into the living room, wearing an apron that was covered with tiny Christmas trees and flour. However, the look on her face did not express much seasonal joy, and Remus quickly performed a charm to return his twin sisters, Kestrel and Paulise, to the carpet.

Paulise cooed gently as she tumbled off the ceiling, but her sister was not of the same mind. Kes had been diligently poking at a ball of mistletoe that hung off the archway to the kitchen when she was returned to the floor and she wasn't happy about it at all. Kes balled up her tiny hands into fists and swung at the nearest object, which happened to be her father, Eamonn.

"Cor, that one packs a punch... Think we could get her into one of those underground baby boxing rings?" Eamonn winked at his son through a lock of grey hair. He turned to his wife, who was heading back to the kitchen. "Pleione, you need to relax. Its only your mam and da coming tomorrow; it's not like we're being inspected by the Ministry of Magic."

Silence his only answer, Eamonn sighed, shaking his head and turned his attention to Remus, who was cradling Paulise on his lap and distracting the babe with a series of sparks from the end of his wand. "Pay no attention to her, son. We're glad you're home."

"I know that, Da." Remus' smile turned to a smirk as the indomitable Kes crawled towards him. Kes reached out and tried to grasp hold of a string of blue sparkles, confused when her little hand returned nothing but air. Paulise giggled at her sister from her spot on Remus's lap. "It's their first Christmas, I wouldn't dream of missing it. I still can't believe how much they've grown since summer. I'm just glad they still remember me."

Eamonn pulled a pipe out of the pocket of his robe, lighting it with the tip of his wand. He drew in a long breath and when he blew the smoke out, it smelled just like Christmas cookies to Remus. Remus raised a curious eyebrow at his father.

"Ah, that." Eamonn rolled his eyes to the kitchen. "Your mam said that if I wanted to partake of my 'nasty Muggle addiction,' I would have to alter the scent to match the season." He took another drag on the pipe, closing his eyes to savor the taste. "First I charmed it to smell like a Christmas tree, but that made Pleione sneeze, so here we are."

Smiling, Remus bounced Paulise on his lap, his heart warming whenever the nine-month-old giggled. Part of him wished that his mother hadn't made his dad change the smell. The smell of his father's pipe was connected with so many good, comforting memories for him. This might be Kes and Paulise's first Christmas, but in many ways, it was Remus's last, his last as a child, at least. Next year, he'd be out of school, a true adult working in the wizarding world. At least, that was the hope of his parents. Remus wasn't as hopeful. He knew that as soon as his name was registered as a werewolf, many doors would be closed for him. It was a scary thing to face for a young wizard. No matter how many N.E.W.T.s he achieved, that one word, werewolf, would change everything.

The sound of music filtered in from the kitchen. Kes stopped torturing the corner of a chair and turned to listen, as did everyone in the room. Pleione Lupin had a beautiful soprano voice, and as she moved into the chorus of 'Silent Night,' a lump settled in Remus's throat.

All is calm,

All is bright.

The twins were perfectly still, enthralled by the sweet sound of their mother's voice. His father sat in his chair, his eyes closed. Eamonn mouthed the words to the song silently as he smoked his pipe.

Remus bowed his head; a lock of his wiry brown hair caressed his nose. Not knowing exactly why, Remus began to cry.

* * *

Peter would have given all the gold in Gringotts to be anywhere else. Surrounded by his family for their Yule celebration, he felt more alone than he ever had in his life. History of Magic class would have been preferable to this. At least, he told himself, if he was there, he wouldn't have to feign interest, let alone happiness.

The youngest of Alvin and Marabeth Pettigrew's four children, Peter was, by his own account, turning out to be the most disappointing. Unlike his siblings, he would have no job waiting for him once he finished at Hogwarts. Truth be told, most days Peter couldn't see beyond the next few hours. Ever since the attacks that had put him into a magical coma last year, the youngest Pettigrew had been trapped in the here and now, in an eternal waking nightmare that never seemed to end.

He set down his glass of eggnog and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He couldn't recall the last time he had actually fallen asleep. Every three or four days, he would simply pass out from pure exhaustion, only to be awakened by horrible dreams of torture. All he wanted was a bit of peace, and as he saw his eldest brother slip into the kitchen, Peter finally saw a chance to get it. He grabbed his glass and made for the kitchen, mumbling to his mum in passing that he needed a refill.

Bradford Pettigrew was a mirror image of his younger brother, but whereas Bradford looked young for his thirty-eight years, Peter looked old for his seventeen. Bradford turned around as Peter approached, and Peter could see the too- familiar look of worry crossing his brother's face.

Forcing a smile, Peter attempted to be casual. "How's work at the apothecary going, 'Ford?"

"Just fine. We expect to have a whole new line of fungal encouragement potions available at the start of the New Year." He reached up and opened a cupboard, his eyes scanning its contents. Eventually he pulled down a box of biscuits and offered one to Peter before continuing. "You look just awful, Peter. N.E.W.T. preparations have you overworked?"

"Yeah," replied Peter, scratching nervously at his nose. "It's horrible. I'm so nervous about it that I can't sleep." He stuck a hand into the pocket of his robes and crossed his fingers, hoping against hope that his brother would believe him. "Listen, 'Ford, I was wondering if you could get me another batch of Dreamless Sleep potion for this next term. I reckon I'm going to need to be well rested if I want to survive it. I mean, if I don't do well on my N.E.W.T.s, what kind of future will I have?"

Bradford considered his brother for a moment, and then frowned. "We talked about this over the summer, Peter. You can't rely on a potion like that to keep your life 'normal.' You were using too much of it." Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Bradford held up a hand and pressed on. "It would be irresponsible of me as an apothecary and, more importantly, as your brother, to let this continue."

"This is different, though, I swear. I'm over all that stuff from last year. I just want to do well in school," he lied, clenching his hand tightly around his glass of eggnog. "Seriously, 'Ford, be a mate and help me out."

Bradford shook his head. "No, Peter. If you want it that badly, you'll have to learn to make it yourself." He pushed past Peter and made to leave the room. "I won't tell Mum about this conversation, but if you ask me again, I will. And you know what she'll have to say."

A rush of anger flooded his body as Peter broke the glass he was holding. He had to hurry to clean up the mess before it was noticed. "Merry fucking Christmas, and bollocks to the New Year..."

* * *

"Oi! Alice! There's an odd smell coming from the oven." Annalise crinkled her nose and attempted to waft the scent away from her. The chair she was sitting in was right next to the kitchen and after several moments of enduring the smell of burnt something, she picked up her books and moved to the other side of the room. As she stretched out on the floor, she knew her lower back would regret this decision in the morning, but for now it was the lesser of two evils.

Alice Ryder burst out of the loo, jumping over her sister as she clambered to get to the kitchen. "Bloody, buggering bubotubers!" she swore as Annalise watched her snatch a pan full of pumpkin muffins out of the oven. "These are totally ruined." There was a defeated sound to her voice as she chucked burnt pastries into the bin. "Sorry 'Lise, but I just can't make them like Mum used to."

Annalise propped herself up on her elbows and turned to Alice, giving her a comforting smile. "Pumpkin muffins aren't what makes Christmas morning great, Alice. I'm just happy to be here with you. It's not like you had to take me in for the hols, you know." She threw her sister a sly wink. "A young attractive future Auror such as yourself must be having to beat the eligible wizards off with her wand." She paused for a moment, and her grinned widened. "As Lily would say, my being here must be cramping your style."

Alice looked around her cluttered apartment and guffawed. "Unless 'rubbish' is the new style, I don't think so. And it's not like the last year of Auror training leaves much time for dates, 'Lise."

"Oh, come now," chided Annalise with a smile. "Is that the real reason? Or are you just having trouble keeping a bloke about once they realize that you're an empath?"

With a frown, Alice puffed out her cheeks and nodded. "Maybe... My superiors have said that having an empath around for interrogations is essential for the Auror Division, but the fact that I can pick up on moods just by touching people seems to... well, bother my fellow cadets. If I accidentally brush up against someone, they act as if a dementor just entered the room." Alice threw the oven mitts onto the floor in frustration. "If I'd listened to Mum and gone into healing, I wouldn't have this problem..."

"Sod Mum. She didn't want you to join the St. Mungo's team because you could help people, she wanted you to do it because it was more prestigious than joining the Auror Division." Annalise wrinkled her nose in disgust and slammed her book shut. "We're better off without her. If she thinks that we'll still just be her little dolls to pose and play with after what she put Dad through--"

"She's still our Mum, 'Lise." Alice stepped over and took her sisters hand in her own. "I don't have to be an empath to feel how angry you still are at her. But it's been eight years since the divorce, and now that you're nearly an adult, it's time for you to realize that it wasn't all Mum's fault. Dad's never been an easy wizard to live with..."

"Please don't defend her, not now." There was an air of finality to the young witch's voice. "Let's just forget about her and her shiny new family. She doesn't want us there and I don't want her here." She rested her head on Alice's shoulder, her brown hair mixing with her sister's blond tresses. "And since Dad can't be here, let's enjoy the fact that it's just us girls, the Ryder sisters."

Alice turned slightly and kissed Annalise on the forehead. "A nice, quiet Christmas sounds just wonderful."

There was a loud crash and the door to the apartment shuddered. Startled, the girls clambered around until they found their respective wands. Alice put one finger to her lips and with her other hand, gestured for her sister to get down on the floor. Annalise nodded in understanding as her sister approached the door. Attacks against those that supported the Ministry and opposed the Dark Lord were increasing every week, and the loss of some dear family friends over the summer had taught Annalise to err on the side of caution and obey her sister's instincts in these matters.

Alice approached the door slowly and silently. There was another bang followed by a trio of crashes and a stream of curse words that would make a banshee blush. Alice stopped dead in her tracks and then shook her head, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Oi, Ryder! Hurry up and let me in. It's freezing out here and I've been flying for ten hours straight," called a deep female voice that was not unfamiliar to Annalise. While Annalise frowned at it however, Alice smiled and opened the door.

Standing in the doorway was a tall lanky witch with short black hair. She wore a scowl on her face and stormed into the apartment carrying three suitcases and levitating four other boxes and a broomstick behind her. Her clothes were completely unsuited for a British winter; instead, she looked as if she had just returned from a safari; under a traveling cloak of sheer linen, she wore a white Muggle tee shirt and long khaki pants.

With a swirl of her wand, she directed her bags and boxes to settle along the wall and then, with a growl, collapsed onto the sofa and covered her face with the nearest cushion.

"Happy Christmas, Cat." Alice shut the door, giving a consoling smile and nod to Annalise before rounding on their new guest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

* * *

"You're nutters!" James goggled at Sirius, wishing that his oldest and dearest friend had not just told him his 'brilliant plan.'

They sat in the attic of Albus Dumbledore's manor, surrounded by boxes of old wizards' robes. It was only in seeing this attic, and all the things that the headmaster of Hogwarts had accumulated, that James felt he could really grasp the age of the man. Boxes were stacked neatly and labeled by decade (which, James supposed, reflected the style of an age) and color. The box that Sirius was diving into at the moment was labeled '1890s - Scandalous Red.'

Sirius waved away James's dismay with an unflustered hand. "It's a wonderful idea. We'll have a blast and really, James, think of all the joy it will bring to the children!"

"No, absolutely not. It's practically Muggle-baiting, plus I'd be putting my status as an unregistered Animagus on display." A small voice in his head nagged at him whenever he had to say no to Sirius. James enjoyed a bit of danger, and loved breaking rules, so long as no one got hurt. But more and more, Sirius's ideas of fun weren't just breaking school rules, but flouncing in the face of wizarding law.

"I swear you took on the wrong Animagus form, Potter. One of the flightless fowls would have been more appropriate." Sirius jostled the robes in the box around, and with a loud whoop, James knew that Sirius had found what he was looking for.

James groaned as Sirius held up a floor length red velvet robe that was trimmed at the collar, cuffs and hems with white ermine.

"Come on, mate! All the transfigurations I need are a cinch - white beard, fat belly - but you know that I'd never be a believable Father Christmas without a reindeer." There was an almost sad, pleading look in Sirius's eyes now.

James regarded him carefully. "Tell the truth now; why do you really want to go down to the Muggle village and parade about as St. Nicholas on Christmas day? What's in it for you, Black? You're not going to beg for biscuits and milk, are you?"

Sirius grabbed a handful of the twine that bound the boxes shut and quickly transfigured it into a harness that was sized perfectly for a stag, complete with bells and Christmas ribbons. Handing the harness to James, Sirius replied, "This is my first Christmas away from my family, away from that horrible house. I want to see all the Muggle families running around and being happy. I want to see a merry Christmas for once." A slight color rose in his cheeks, but Sirius continued his confessional unabashedly. "I'm ready to see everything I missed all these years."

The room grew quiet, and an owl could be heard hooting softly somewhere outside.

"Right, then." James stood, and then reached down to offer Sirius a hand up. "But I swear, if you try and ride me, no witch will ever want to be seen with you up at the Astronomy Tower ever again."

"Done deal," said Sirius with a wicked grin. "Now, I've been reading some Muggle Christmas stories... Do you mind if I paint your nose red?"

* * *

A set of bells jangled on the door as they entered the wand maker's shop. Lily held the door for Annalise, who was shivering from the cold. They had spent most of the afternoon breezing in and out of the shops of Diagon Alley and the temperature changes were starting to wear on both of them.

Thankfully, Lily mused, this would be their last stop of the day, and then they could Floo home to Alice Ryder's apartment.

The girls set their bags down. Annalise took a seat and picked up an old, tattered copy of Witch Weekly while Lily scanned down the aisles for Mr. Ollivander.

"Hello?" she called out as she took off her mittens.

"Ah, Miss Evans... I had a feeling I'd be seeing you again, though not this soon. Curious." Mr. Ollivander stepped out from an office at the back of the store and slowly made his way towards her. "I guessed that you would grow to need a different wand, but I didn't expect to have to provide you with another while you were still in school."

Lily's mouth dropped open. Her mind had filled with hundreds of questions as to the whys and hows of what Mr. Ollivander did and didn't know, but then she remembered the note that Dumbledore had given her. She reached into her pocket and offered it to him.

He read the note over several times, glancing oddly at Lily between each reading. The magical tape measure that had taken her wand measurements so many years ago fidgeted restlessly on the counter, as if it itched to get to work. Finally, he said, "Well, that changes everything then, doesn't it?" Without another word, he rushed back into the office that he had emerged from not moments before.

Lily turned and looked at Annalise, who just shrugged. "My grandmum always said that he was a nutter, but then, you'd have to be a bit of a daredevil to take up wand making, what with all the explosions and disappearances."

Before she could reply, a box was banged on the counter in front of her. Mr. Ollivander stood behind it once more, with a very amused look on his face.

"Wood from a sacred cherry tree in Yorkshire, nine inches, macguffin hair core. Not a wand to be trifled with, no, not one bit. A very challenging wand, Miss Evans, for a young witch who will face very great challenges." There was something almost sad in his eyes, as if this wasn't the sort of news he liked to give.

Lily looked over her shoulder to Annalise, who looked just as puzzled as she did. Feeling as ignorant as she had during her first long-ago trip to this store, she sheepishly asked, "But sir, what is a macguffin? I've never heard of such a creature."

Amusement flickered across his eyes once more. "Macguffins were a species of Scottish lions. They were hunted to extinction several thousand years ago by the earliest magical inhabitants of the isles." Patting her on the hand, he continued. "Don't be surprised that you've never heard of them. Most witches and wizards your age have no interest in zooimagical archaeology."

"What were the magical properties of the macguffin, Mr. Ollivander?" Lily glanced down at the box with a new respect, shocked that something so rare and precious was to be hers. She had always considered herself a very ordinary witch, regardless of any praise from her professors at school. With a bolt of realization, she realized that this was likely going to cost a great deal more than she had expected. She wondered if she even had enough money for the wand.

"Ah yes, hmm," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "I believe they had the ability to turn invisible, which was part of the reason they were hunted, of course. For their pelts, you see."

Annalise tilted her head, looking rather confused. "But sir, if they could turn invisible, how could anyone be sure they were extinct? And it just doesn't seem possible, that if they were so sought after, that there would still be hairs around to make a wand with..."

A look of mild annoyance crossed Mr. Ollivander's face, as he waved Annalise's objections away. "Miss Ryder, have you ever seen a lion living in Scotland?" Annalise shook her head and Mr. Ollivander nodded. He waved the Headmaster's note in the air, "According to this, there is only one sort of wand Miss Evans could use. One finds in this business that materials have a way of making themselves available when they are needed."

No one said anything for a moment, and then the elderly wand maker turned back to Lily.

"Be very, very careful with this, Miss Evans. Not only are macguffin wands impossibly rare, but they are very hard to use." He took the lid of the box and handed the cherry wood wand to her gingerly. "Give it a wave, dear, but don't be surprised if nothing happens. These wands not only choose the witch, they take their sweet time getting used to you as well. Consequently, no one but you will be able to cast with this wand."

Lily picked the wand up, rolling it about in her hand until she had a feel for it. Behind her, the foxtail twitched nervously under her cloak. She mulled her options over in her mind, opting finally to go with a simple spell and then work her way up the ladder as it were. She took a deep breath, and with a swirl of the wand said, "Lumos!"

Nothing happened at first, but after a moment of intense concentration Lily made the end of the wand sputtered with light. A few seconds later the light stopped flickering and remained lit until Lily whispered, "Nox." Annalise let out a small whoop, and clapped Lily on the back. Setting the wand back into its box, Lily turned to Mr. Ollivander with a smile.

"Wonderful! I don't know how to thank you and Professor Dumbledore for this. I haven't been able to do that spell for weeks without something turning blue." Lily gestured to her cloak, which was indeed a spectacular, almost Ravenclaw blue. "How much do I owe you, sir?"

Mr. Ollivander put the box into a small brown paper bag and shook his head. "No charge, Miss Evans. The price of the wand has been covered by Professor Dumbledore; this is my way of repaying an old debt to him." Lily opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to silence her. "There is nothing else to be said about it. However, I wouldn't mind if you stopped back in after the school term to tell me how the wand has worked out for you. It is... so rare that anyone can use a macguffin wand that I'm curious as to the long term results."

"Absolutely, sir. And thank you again." Lily took the paper bag from him and left the shop with Annalise not far behind.

"Wow." Annalise looked at Lily with a bit of awe. "And here I thought that wand was going to cost you a hundred Galleons the way he talked about it."

"I know!" exclaimed Lily, who couldn't have looked more surprised if she had just won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award. "Odd, though, that I'll be the only one that can use it. I'll have to look up macguffins when I get back to the school. Perhaps they are like crups and have magical loyalties." Lily stopped in her tracks. "You know, 'Lise, I really have to find some way to say thank you to Dumbledore and I've just had a brilliant idea. There is a Muggle sweet shop about four blocks from the Leaky Cauldron. I know that you're dead tired, but do you think we could swing by there? James is always on about how the Headmaster fancies Muggle sweets. It would only be a minute."

Annalise smiled. "No problem, Lil. I'm willing to heave these bags around for a bit more in the name of a good cause." She swung a bag full of books over her shoulder in what at any other time would have been a sign of solidarity, but at that particular moment, Peter Pettigrew was standing behind her.

"Ow!" he shouted, and a stream of impolite words followed. The girls clucked over him for a few moments until it was clear that any injuries wouldn't leave permanent damage. But Lily stared at Peter with continued worry as he and Annalise chatted about their respective Christmas dinners and presents. She'd seen pictures of healthier looking vampires, quite frankly, and she wondered what could be done about it. It was no secret that Peter had had problems sleeping since his attack last year, but nothing seemed to help.

"Just come from the apothecary, then?" inquired Annalise with a glance at the packages he was carrying.

Peter shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Yeah, had a bunch of potions to pick up for Mum; she, uh, likes to keep the house well stocked at this time of year, what with all the grandchildren running about."

"You know, I always wondered what a medi-witch would keep in cupboard. Do you mind if I?" Grabbing a bag from him, Annalise looked at the contents and frowned. "Peter, there's nothing but Dreamless Sleep potions in here. What, is your mum planning on keeping the whole family sedated?"

Peter grabbed the bag back from her, with an almost angry look in his eyes. "Dunno. I just took the list and picked it up, didn't I?"

Lily opened her mouth to say something, but Peter was already making his hasty goodbyes. Once he had scuttled out of sight, Annalise said, "Now, that was odd."

"No," Lily said, thinking that she was going to have to have a long chat with James about Peter, "that is a disaster waiting to happen."

* * *

Nearly an hour had passed since their encounter with Peter, and Annalise's feet were much the worse for wear. Rather than being four blocks from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, the Muggle sweet shop that Lily dragged her to had been nearly a mile away. The afternoon was growing long as they approached the pub that acted as a buffer between the Muggle and wizarding worlds, and Annalise was grateful that the comfort of her sister's apartment was only a handful of Floo powder away.

Both girls were sniffling, noses on the verge of running rampant. Snow was starting to fall and it clouded their eyes. Both of them were pushing wayward strands of hair out of their faces. A gust of warm air hit them as Lily opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron. Annalise rushed inside.

"Pardon me, lass," said an elderly witch, addressing Lily who still held the door. "Would you be a dear and keep that open for me? My old bones would dearly appreciate it."

Lily nodded, and Annalise was about to ask the woman if she needed any help when a man in dark Muggle clothing approached her from behind. Annalise smiled at him, thinking he was going to assist the old lady.

The scream of pain that the witch let out a moment later, however, tore the smile from Annalise's face. The old woman arched back as the man pulled his knife out, and then, before anyone in the pub had a chance to react, the stranger reached around and stabbed her in the heart. Screams echoed from every corner of the pub and at least half a dozen people fumbled for their wands as the assailant withdrew his knife once more and made a dash for the door that a shocked Lily Evans was still holding open.

"Exodus, chapter twenty-two, verse eighteen!" shouted the man as he disappeared into the crowded streets of Muggle London. "Exodus, chapter twenty-two, verse eighteen!"

Blood ran down the old witch's robes, and with every second that passed, her eyes became glassier. Confused witches and wizards tried in vain to cast spells to staunch the bleeding and heal her, but nothing worked. The pub was a flurry of activity and anger. The girls pulled away and huddled against a wall.

Annalise was crying and shaking uncontrollably, but Lily remained stoic and put an arm around the younger girl. "Calm down, 'Lise. The Aurors are here now; it will all be okay soon. We're safe."

"But Lily, what did he mean? Who was he? Who could do such a thing? What was that that he shouted, some Bible reference?"

Lily nodded solemnly. "It was. I think I even remember the line, Petunia used to taunt me with it... Thou shall not suffer a witch to live." A fair-haired young Auror approached them as Lily whispered, "And I think that means that the killer was a Muggle."