Music of the Night

Music of the Night

Chapter 3: An Ominous Welcome

The wind began to howl as the carriages were pulled along the knotty road to Hogwarts, causing Lily to nearly wretch from nausea. Thalia attempted to make conversation at least twice, but upon seeing the green face of her friend, she shut her mouth and promptly Summoned a paper bag for Lily to hold under her mouth.

Lily somehow miraculously made it to the Hogwarts grounds still in possession of the contents of her stomach. Thalia slid open the door and was immediately jerked to the side of the coach by an enormous gust of wind. She grabbed the edge of the doorway and pulled herself out of it, reaching in to grab Lily's hand.

Thalia gave an almighty tug, and a queasy Lily fell out onto the grass. She strained against the violent gusts to rise. They, along with everyone else who had come by carriage rather than by boat, struggled arduously across the grounds.

Lily, however, didn't notice anyone else around her as her mind was fully occupied at the moment. She had one hand tightly grasped on her heavy cloak, struggling against the torrents of the wind to keep it on her, and the other trying to wave her wild red curls out of her face. It was a miracle that she was even able to make it into the castle at all since throughout the entire trek her vision had been blocked by a mass of hair.

She stumbled through the large front doors and into the entrance hall where a handful of disheveled students of all ages were already waiting. She tried not to think that she could possibly be in a similar, or possibly even worse state than those before her. She stood for a few moments shivering silently before Thalia made her way toward her.

Lily stared at Thalia. Thalia stared back. Then they both burst out laughing. "Please tell me that I don't look like you," Lily implored.

"Why? What do I look like?"

"A yellow mop with blue eyes."

Thalia laughed. "Well, in that case, no, you don't look like me.

Lily breathed a small sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."

"Because," Thalia continued, "you look like the Thing."

"The Thing?" Lily felt a Thalia-speech coming on.

"Yes." Thalia leaned in, suddenly speaking in dark, spooky tones. "The Thing is a terrible monster who hides underneath young children's beds at night, waiting for their unsuspecting parents to leave the bedroom after they have once again brought a drink of water to their children. It then emerges, slowly, so as not to alarm its prey. It rises itself up, raising it's shaggy arms in the air and yells-"

But Thalia never got to finish her story (which, by the way, Lily knew was based entirely on a nightmare her friend had had as a six-year-old) because Professor McGonagall shouted for silence at the front of the Hall.

The room grew quiet immediately.

"Now that I have all of your undivided attention-" she said, pausing for a moment to stare at Sirius Black who was pretending to still be in the windstorm, blowing himself back and forth, teetering on his toes. He noticed the entire room staring at him, stopped, and gave a huge smile at the professor, showing off all of his sparkling white teeth.

Professor McGonagall made no notice of this performance other than the fact that it had stopped, and she continued. "You will shortly make your way into the Great Hall. You will patiently watch the Sorting Ceremony and then we will commence with the feast.

"Due to weather conditions, I see that any attempts that any of you had made on the train to make yourselves decently presentable have now been completely ruined. Please take the time now to become fairly respectable-looking before going inside."

There was a scramble as everyone tried to dig up the words to Neatness charms from deep within their sun-fried brains. Lily, who had an uncanny knack for Charms cleaned up Thalia and herself in no time, and walked around the room, fulfilling her duties as Head Girl and helping the younger students to tidy themselves up.

She passed by the Marauders who were laughing as Sirius vainly fired Smoothness Charms at James's head, only to have the hair lie flat for a moment and then spring up again. They were all finding this extremely funny, including Sirius, who tried the charm again, giving Lily the most likely correct assumption that Sirius had known from the very beginning the charm would have no effect whatsoever on James's hair.

James turned his head, caught Lily watching, and winked. Lily did not smile, but gave a small nod and waved her hand before turning around and rolling her eyes thinking, And this is the new Head Boy. Lovely.

A few minutes of tidying later, and everyone made their way into the Great Hall and seated themselves at the appropriate House tables, stomachs growling and anticipations peaking.

But as anxious as the older students were for the Sorting to begin, they were nothing compared to the long line of apprehensive-looking first-years that Professor McGonagall was leading to the front of the room. One girl was unconsciously chewing the end of her long blond plait while a gangly flame-haired boy kept glancing up at the ceiling and twitching.

Lily's heart went out to them. She remembered when she had been standing on the same line as the row of children in front of her. She had been petrified. She had just taken a train from a platform she hadn't known existed, had ridden a rickety boat on a lake, which was rumored to have housed a giant squid, and had then been hurried along into a room in which it appeared to be raining, while hundreds of black-robed students peered down at her as she placed a worn hat on her head.

It had appeared to her that she was the only one this terrified. It seemed as though all of the other first-years had known about Hogwarts before they could even speak. She didn't know what she was doing there. What if she really wasn't magical at all?

Then Professor McGonagall had called her name. She felt her feet moving toward the stool with the hat. She had been unaware of even placing it on her head; all that she had been focused on was the surprising sound of a small voice in her ear.

"Hmm. Let's see... Oh, you've got a mind. And what a mind! But much more than a mind...hmmm....Oh, masses of talent, yes, yes, Ravenclaw might just suit you perfectly....but what's that I see? Some conscience you've got there, an uncanny sense of right and wrong, no not Slytherin...hmmm, oh, with that ability to stay calm even in the most dire situations...I suppose that would take a great deal of bravery, would it not? And with your capacity to love, you will accomplish wonders. Yes... All right then, better be...

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word had been called out to the entire great hall. The young Lily had opened her eyes in relief. The Great Hall had at once become more inviting, more cheery, and far less intimidating.

Snapped back to the present by the sound of the Sorting Hat's rather throaty singing voice, Lily listened as Professor McGonagall informed the first-years of the Sorting process. Many of them became noticeably more relaxed.

Professor McGonagall checked the list of parchment she was holding in her hand and called out to the crowd,

"Acker, Janet!"

The line of first-years seemed to dwindle even more slowly than usual. Perhaps it was the gloomy ceiling, which had just begun to show the beginnings of a thunderstorm, or perhaps it was the grumbles of the stomachs of every person in the room growing increasingly louder. Whatever the case, when 'York, Pauline' was finally seated at the Hufflepuff table, the great sigh of relief that washed over the entire student population was highly audible, and even louder was the cheer when Dumbledore rose and announced, "Begin!"

Lily modestly spooned some stew onto her plate and barely had time to chew her first bite when Thalia's tongue went off on a rampage once again. Somehow, her friend always managed to chatter, eat, drink, and make wildly flamboyant gestures with her hands all at the same time. Lily often let the sound of Thalia's voice float in one ear and out the other, and just watched her as she spoke. She found it to be quite entertaining.

Now, however, was not one of those times. Tempted though she was to take in her surroundings and enjoy her long-awaited dinner, Lily reminded herself that this was the first real conversation she'd had with Thalia since the previous June. She had tried to make several telephone calls to her over the course of the summer, but somehow Petunia had always "innocently" unplugged the phone before saying, "Oh, were you using that?"

Lily idly twirled her fork around in her meat as her friend babbled on. "So then I said, 'No Mum. I cannot use a Repelling Charm to make the salesmen stay away. We'd never get any visitors at all.' "

Lily nodded.

Thalia, seeing a clear response that either her friend was listening or pretending to so that she could think to herself, continued, knowing that even if Lily wasn't listening, she had the courtesy to appear attentive so that passersby wouldn't witness the one-ended conversation and scoff at the girl who talked to herself.

"So, naturally, she was a bit upset, but she understood when I said that even though I was old enough to do magic outside of school, that didn't mean that I could use it for things like keeping people away. It wasn't necessary. And just plain rude. You'd be proud of me there, Lily. Then she got all blubbery about how much I'd grown, that I don't chatter nearly as much as I used to, yadda, yadda, yadda, and the point is, she was so impressed by my nobility that she bought me two new wigs!"

At this, Lily, who in fact had been listening, snorted into her stew. "Thalia, what on earth do you need more wigs for? Don't you think your collection is large enough?"

Thalia waved her hand as though she was shoving this concept aside into the large pile of discarded sensibility that had built up over the years. "You can never have too many wigs. That's what I always say."

"But you know very well that you can just magically change your hair. Why the wigs?"

Thalia clapped a hand to her open mouth in fake shock. "How dare you suggest such a thing? Be like everyone else and lose my sense of individuality? My image of uniqueness? My entire me-ness?"

Lily cracked a grin.

"Oh," said Thalia. "And because I don't have the patience to learn all of the charms and I don't suppose you'd want to do them for me every time I want to change my hair."

Lily nodded in a business-like fashion. "Fair assumption."

The conversation was interrupted by a loud blast of laughter from the other end of the table. Apparently, James had just said something that Sirius had found somewhat humorous.

Thalia nudged Lily. "This is the year we do it."

Lily raised her left eyebrow, an odd habit she had that revealed itself when she was either surprised or skeptical, giving her a rather alarming expression. "What?"

Thalia's eyes sparkled as they often did when she was excited. "We're going to find out the secret of the Marauders."

"What 'secret of the Marauders', might I ask?"

"Oh, Lily," Thalia said exasperatedly. "For someone who's so smart, you haven't noticed? Remus is always sick, and whenever he is, the other three look more tired than usual. And they somehow manage to do all of their pranks without getting caught- well most of the time, they don't get caught- and James is now the Head Boy when he wasn't even a Prefect! How can you explain that?"

Lily shook her head. "Of course I've noticed. I've wondered, this is true. But that does not by any means make me want to find out the reasons for their mysterious absences, or their uncanny abilities to worm their way out of detentions. The strange doings of our fellow Gryffindors have nothing to do with me, peculiar though they may be."

Thalia frowned. "Alright. I can take a hint. None of my business. Got it."

Lily looked shrewd for a moment. "And if you don't mind me asking, why is it that you have this sudden interest in the escapades of the mischievous foursome? We wouldn't happen to fancy one of them, would we?"

Thalia looked horrified. "Of course not! That's disgusting! Sirius is my cousin!"

Lily laughed. "Who said anything about Sirius?"

Thalia, now seeming to realize for the first time that Lily hadn't really been serious, laughed as well. "Oh, please. James wouldn't be able to control me. He's worse than I am! I'd probably be running amok in the Forbidden Forest chasing poodles yelling 'God save the queen!' And he'd most likely be behind me, pelting me with twigs. Remus would be scared away. It's enough he has to deal with those two. And Peter-" She paused and glanced down the table to where the round-faced boy was watching James wide-eyed, not noticing the pumpkin juice that was dribbling from his open mouth down past his chin. "Well, enough said."

Lily's gaze remained fixated on Peter Pettigrew for a few moments longer. There was something about that boy that she couldn't understand. He wasn't particularly witty, funny, nor mischievous. He wasn't malicious, but he didn't stand out as being exceptionally amiable either. All he ever seemed to do was gape fascinated at his three friends, and all he ever seemed to say were words of praise of their fantastic pranks. He didn't seem to have any substance of his own. He was like a robot, programmed to worship, admire, and dote over his three friends' every action, word, or gesture. Lily truly felt sorry for him. She didn't think he minded being the follower, but she genuinely pitied him for his lack of personality and any sense of individuality.

Thalia opened her mouth once again to speak, but before she could say anything (much to Lily's relief), a loud hush fell over the room as the headmaster rose from his chair.

Lily still felt awestricken every time she heard Professor Dumbledore speak. His very voice sent shivers running up her spine. Every tone of his soothing voice assumed authority. But it wasn't demanding it. Dumbledore spoke in such a way that let everyone know of his power, not because he wanted them to know it, but just because they figured it out on their own. His face radiated wisdom and seethed brilliance. When he stared at her with those omniscient eyes, she felt utterly vulnerable. She had to tell him the utmost truth, because if she didn't he would know, and she would be incredibly guilt-ridden every time she laid eyes on him after that.

She surveyed the others in the room. There were those few students who were genuinely attentive, among the many others who looked as though they would have rathered that Dumbledore just forget his speech and leave them to their meal. No one else seemed as mesmerized by the powerful wizard as she was. Then again, she realized, few people were as observant as she.

Dumbledore raised a hand and the low hum of the students who were trying to finish their conversations was immediately silenced.

"A new year," he began, his voice tired. "A time to accept the past and embrace the future. A time to remember the atrocities of recent events, but also a time to live."

Dumbledore was, of course, talking about the latest attacks of Voldemort's Death Eaters, violent outbursts that had occurred all summer long leaving a dreadfully extensive casualty list, comprised of the names of both wizarding folk and muggles.

"We are living in dark times," continued the headmaster. "We must be careful; we must be alert. But we must live. It may be tempting to lose faith and the desire to keep going. We might feel that we have nothing left to live for, and that all goodness in the world is gone forever.

"But we must not let these feelings conquer us. We must not give in. We must not fail to realize that by giving up hope, we are accepting defeat and surrendering to those who wish to break us."

He paused. Every eye was glued to his aged face. Many of the students were dumbfounded. Whenever Dumbledore had gotten up to speak in front of the school it had always been a cheerful atmosphere, never with talk of death and destruction. James noticed Sirius shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Of course, with all of the relatives Sirius had, it would be crazy for him not to be even the slightest bit uneasy when it came to talk of Death Eaters.

Dumbledore spoke again. "It is when these situations arise that the students of Hogwarts School must be aware of the crucial necessity of all to hope and to live together. We must join as one. House competition or petty rivalries are of little importance now. The world is too dangerous and too fearsome a place to venture alone. Separate we may be conquered. Only united may we be victorious." He glanced at each of the house tables in turn in what Lily thought to be a silent plea for the enmity between houses to come to an end.

The somber silence was painfully chilling. Every last person in the room was digesting what the headmaster had just spoken to them, some taking the words to heart, making eye contact with acquaintances from other houses, others simply snickering as though the thought of a disunited Hogwarts was exactly what they needed.

Dumbledore stared back at the students, giving individuals the impression that he was staring directly at them. His serious face suddenly broke into a smile and he clapped his hands together cheerfully as though the foreboding speech he had just delivered had taken place weeks before. Lily did notice, however, that the solemn shadow of one who has seen much too much pain and suffering was still present in his eyes.

"Well then! Now that that's out of the way, I feel it is my duty to remind you of the basic school rules with which you should all be somewhat familiar. The Forbidden Forest is out of bounds. In the event that anyone forgets that restriction, I beg him or her to simply recall the name given to the wood. It is forbidden."

James attempted to suppress a grin as Dumbledore's eyes slid over to his direction for a split second before continuing. "Mr. Filch has once again expanded the list of items prohibited from the corridors. Anyone found in possession of such belongings faces depletion of house points and/or a detention. To see the full list of banned products, please refer to the growing list on the door to Mr. Filch's office.

"And now, without further ado, let us conclude this feast with the singing of our school song." And as Dumbledore fired a thread of silk into the air to form the song's lyrics, it was obvious to all that the usual mixture of bouncy, solemn, and melodious tunes was far less enthusiastic than it had been in previous years.

As soon as the last singers finished up (the Marauders had decided to turn the song into a round, meaning that they sang the entire thing through four times), the Great Hall once more erupted into the sounds of dozens of conversations which slowly made their way out into the Entrance Hall and down the corridors to four different house Common Rooms.

Lily was cornered by Professor McGonagall, who slipped her a piece of parchment bearing the four house passwords, which she memorized before wiping it clean. James, who evidently had received a similar parchment, was already talking to the Prefects of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Lily found a Ravenclaw and Slytherin, each wearing a Prefect badge, wearily told them each their new password (separately of course), turned around, and trudged up flights of stairs and down long corridors before entering the Gryffindor Common Room, proceeding straight to the spiral staircase at the other end of the room and plodded up to her dormitory, leaving the new Prefects to deal with the first-years.

She lazily changed into her sweats and collapsed onto her bed. She was too tired to listen when Thalia, Karen, and Hannah entered the dorm, chatting excitedly about their summers. She was too exhausted to worry about the N.E.W.T.s that she would be taking at the end of the year. She was too drained to think about her new Head Girl duties. And yet, somehow she couldn't get Dumbledore's ominous welcome out of her mind.

She rolled over, trying to think happy thoughts, when she slowly felt herself drifting off, the image of the headmaster still fresh in her memory...

It was a sweltering June afternoon, three days after her eleventh birthday. Lily was sitting lazily under the giant oak tree in the yard, reading a novel. Her parents were swinging on the loveseat on the patio, sipping lemonade. Petunia was across the lawn on a blanket lying on her back, her head supported by her hands.

Everything seemed so incredibly normal. Too normal, in Lily's opinion. It was strange. At times like these, Lily felt like every other eleven-year-old girl. And yet, things sometimes seemed to happen whenever her anger got the better of her, highly dangerous and unusual things to say the least...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a large yellowed envelope that had fallen directly onto page 176. She looked up, wondering from a piece of parchment could have possibly dropped. She noticed a large tawny owl soaring away into the cloudless blue sky.

An owl? Here? During the daytime? And the letter... Lily dismissed the ridiculous thought that had come to her mind. The owl couldn't possibly have been carrying the letter. A bird delivering mail? Of all the outlandish things....

She turned the envelope over and read the writing on the front of it. It was addressed to her. She ran her fingers over the glittering green ink.

She tentatively broke the seal on the envelope, which bore a crest of a badger, eagle, snake, and lion around a large letter H. She pulled out a piece of parchment from within the envelope. She read,

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Lily frowned, skepticism etched in the small crease between her brows. Was this some kind of joke? She glanced at her sister who was examining her manicured nails in the sunlight. Petunia would never be clever enough, or creative enough to concoct a prank such as this.

Maybe it was someone from school. But no, no one she could think would ever have the brass to do something like this.

But then, what if it was real? Were there really such things as witches and wizards? Is that why she was sure had seen her cereal bowl hovering a few inches off of her placemat only that morning? Is that why Petunia's nails suddenly broke when she had been yelling at Lily last month? Is that why she felt the ground trembling beneath her whenever she became uncharacteristically angry?

She stood up awkwardly (that seemed to be how she did everything these days; she had absolutely no idea what to do with her overgrown appendages) and walked over to where to her parents were busily chatting.

"What is it, Lily?" her mother asked her with a hint of concern upon seeing her daughter's furrowed brow.

Lily wordlessly handed her the letter and watched as her parents read it. They exchanged a look that Lily wasn't able to interpret.

Her father turned to her and his face burst into a huge smile. "We knew this day would come soon! Come here, you!" He enveloped a puzzled Lily in a tight embrace. When he let go, Lily looked at him, an expression of confusion on her face. Her mother, apparently, didn't notice, because she too wrapped her arms around her daughter and eyes shining, exclaimed, "Congratulations, sweetheart!"

Petunia suddenly appeared next to the swing, looking every bit as perplexed as Lily felt. "What's going on?" she asked, although Lily thought it sounded as though her sister wasn't asking because she genuinely cared, rather because she refused to be in the same vicinity as a breaking story without knowledge of it.

Still beaming at Lily, Mr. Evans handed the parchment to Petunia, who took it curiously. Lily watched her sister's face as she read the letter. Petunia first looked inquisitive, then her eyebrows widened with surprise. When she looked up, she was sporting a rather sarcastic grin. "What is this, some sort of joke?"

Lily breathed a small sigh of relief. Ironic though it was that it was Petunia who agreed with her, at least someone else shared her disbelief.

Her father grinned. "Nope."

Petunia snorted. "Come off it, Dad."

"I'm not joking."

Both sisters gaped at their father, who went on talking as though their conversation wasn't the slightest bit out of the ordinary. "We figured you'd get the letter when you were around the age of eleven. We'll have to get you your school supplies, of course. I'm deliciously curious to see the magical shops. You'll like Dumbledore, Lily. He's without a doubt the most brilliant man I've ever met. A bit eccentric to be sure, but a genius nonetheless. It was he who suggested that we start you with piano lessons, Lily."

Lily tried to process this. "I'm a witch, I'm going to a school for magic, and this is related to my piano lessons?"

Her mother smiled even wider, clearly amused. "That's right."

Petunia, however, did not seem to find this whole occurrence the least bit humorous. "What kind of joke is this?" she demanded, her usually pale cheeks coloring slightly.

Mrs. Evans's smile wavered a bit as she answered. "This isn't a joke, Petunia. Lily is a witch."

Petunia's nostrils began to flair, her head bobbing up and down on her long neck. She stepped back from her sister and pointed an accusatory finger. "Are you meaning to tell me," she bellowed at her parents, her eyes never leaving Lily's face, "that I have lived all of my life in the same house as a WITCH?"

Her parents exchanged nervous glances. Lily could tell that they had expected this sort of thing to happen. "Yes, dear," her father answered in a steady voice.

Petunia's eyes blazed. "You freak! You abnormal, weird, freak! I always knew there was something wrong with you! Something strange, something weird! You freak!" She shoved the letter back into her father's hand and stormed into the house, leaving Lily marveling at how limited her sister's vocabulary actually was.

Her mother sighed. "We rather expected her to react this way. Don't worry, Lily. She'll get used to the idea, and she'll be just as pleased as we are."

Lily gave a small smile, highly doubting that Petunia would ever accept her, but showing nothing, not wanting her parents to become upset.

"So," she said slowly, trying to continue the conversation as though that unfortunate outburst had never occurred. "What is this school? Who is-" She referred to the letter in her father's grasp- "Albus Dumbledore?"

"He is to be your new headmaster, Lily," her mother answered. "I know that doesn't seem like a lot of information, but we really don't know all that much. Usually, magical children born to non-wizarding families don't even know about their abilities until they receive a letter like this one. Their families don't know either. Your case is different, though. We're not the best people to explain it, Lily. You are to go see Dumbledore on your first day of classes so that he can explain everything to you properly."

And that's just what Lily did. On her first day of school, she had just made friends with a girl named Thalia Tonks, who was shocked at hearing that Lily had to go speak with the headmaster.

"Do you know who he IS? He's the best wizard in the whole WORLD!"

Lily was thoughtful for a moment and then responded, "Then I suppose that whatever he has to say to me is extremely important and it is imperative that I go."

Thalia looked positively horrified at this suggestion and began biting her nails as Lily walked up to Professor McGonagall's desk at the end of their first lesson to ask for directions to Dumbledore's office. She seemed surprised as well, but showed Lily nonetheless, no questions asked. Like Lily, she obviously felt that if Dumbledore had requested to speak with her, it was clearly very important.

Lily wasn't all that nervous to speak to Dumbledore. She had never minded speaking to adults. In fact, sometimes she liked conversing with them more than with those her own age. There was so much wisdom to be learned from those with more experience, she always felt.

The only thing she was nervous for was the conversation she was to have with the headmaster. She now learned that the name for non-magical people was "muggles." At first she supposed that Dumbledore just wanted to discuss with her the basics of the magical world, so that she didn't feel so lost. But she had asked Thalia, a muggle-born, whether Dumbledore had asked to speak with her, and he hadn't. In fact, most muggle-borns' families hadn't even known that a magical world existed. Why then, had her parents known for years? Was there something special about her? Was she abnormal? Was Petunia right?

She twisted her hands nervously in her robes as Professor McGonagall led her to a statue of a hideous stone gargoyle and said very clearly, "Licorice Wands!" Evidently, it was a password, very much like the one she had used to enter Gryffindor tower the previous night, because it slid to the side, revealing a high spiral staircase.

Lily thanked Professor McGonagall and stepped onto the first stair. Before she knew what was happening, she was being raised up. This caught her quite unawares. She was sure that this was considered perfectly normal in the magical world, but as she had just made contact with other wizards and witches for the first time the day before, she was still very unprepared for things such as moving staircases.

When she reached the platform at the top of the staircase she held up her hand to knock on the grand door, but paused when she heard voices inside. She didn't want to interrupt the meeting.

A voice she didn't recognize was criticizing someone. "He's a nightmare! Whenever he's at home, I never dare go there. The entire house shakes from his mother's screaming. And she isn't screaming for no reason, mind you. Do you know that just before he got on the train he said that as soon as his parents "kick the bucket" -those were his exact words, I'll have you know- he would destroy every single item in the house bearing the family crest?

"He'll tear up your school, leaving you with nothing but ruins, you mark my words. It pains me to have to say this of my own flesh and blood, but you're best off expelling him right now, Headmaster, before he does anything we all regret!"

"I assure you, Phineas," said Dumbledore, slight amusement in his voice, "that if Mr. Black makes any threats to take over the castle should I "snuff it," as he would say, I'll see to it that you're the first to know."

"But Headmaster-"

"I am sorry, Phineas. I'm afraid this will have to wait until later. I sense that there is someone waiting just outside my door for a word with me."

Before Lily had a chance to back up so that it didn't appear as though she was eavesdropping, the door swung open.

"Ah, Miss Evans," said Albus Dumbledore from behind a majestic-looking desk. "I've been expecting you. "Please." He waved his hand. "Come in."

Lily nervously walked over to the cushiony armchair Dumbledore had just Conjured and sat down, hands folded neatly in her lap, trying with all her might not to show the apprehension that was presently causing her stomach to churn tumultuously. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. Every inch of surface space was covered in interesting instruments, some of which buzzed and flashed different colors. There was a large cabinet containing what looked like a large stone bowl. Perched on a shelf was the most unusual bird Lily had ever seen. Moving portraits (when would she ever get used to those?) were hung on the circular walls in rows, reaching high up to the swirling ceiling. But the thing that Lily noticed most of all was the absence of any other person besides the headmaster and herself. Whom had Dumbledore been talking with?

"Thank you, Professor," she said, her voice remarkably steady. "I am here because my parents said that you had something to discuss with me."

Dumbledore stared at her with those legendary blue eyes. Lily felt for the first time, but not the last, that he was reading into her very soul.

"Yes, Ms. Evans. I do wish to speak with you. However, before I begin to answer your abundant questions, I must first give you a bit of an introduction.

Lily sat back in her chair, and listened intently as the headmaster began.

"There are several different types of people. There are those who wish they were more, those who are happy with their lot in life, and those who feel superior to others because of their numerous blessings. Similarly, there are different types of wizards.

"Magical ability varies. Just as each person has his or her own strengths and weaknesses, each wizard or witch has his or her own special magical talents. Some, as is with everything, have more than others. Many watch jealously, wanting, yearning for the gifts that they do not have. They will very often go to any measures to get want they desire, no matter how heinous the cost. Some might not try to do something about their lack of talent, but simply give up and accept that they are doomed to failure. And some, unhampered by their apparent deficiency in the magical arts strive to better themselves, convinced that if they work hard, they will accomplish.

"The second type of wizard is the one who has more magical talent than others, knows it, and flaunts it. He is so blinded by his own conceit that he doesn't recognize others for who they are inside, instead of by their spells and incantations. He feels that because he is more gifted, or comes from a long line of wizards, that he is above the less talented and the muggle-borns. He pays attention only to others' faults, and not to their gifts.

"Then there are those that are happy with what they have. They don't feel lacking, nor do they feel self-important. According to them, they have just enough. They are aware that they have more than others, but they do not feel that they are in any way more special because of it. They recognize that as is natural, someone will always have more, and someone will always have less. They feel fortunate to have more than some, but accept that there are those who are more fortunate than they. It is possible that they perhaps do have more magical talent than most, but they do not let this cloud their judgment, and they see people for who they really are.

"Your gift, Lily, is an exceptional one."

Lily was taken by surprise. "Me?" she meekly asked.

"Yes, Lily. Perhaps you have already discovered it."

She didn't understand. She had talked with several muggle-born wizards and witches that she had met both on the train and during her first day of classes. They had all had similar pre-Hogwarts magical experiences. In times of anger, some had made things explode, others caused things to break. Lily had done such feats, although no one else she had asked had ever felt the ground tremble beneath their feet. No one else had felt a flame boil up inside of them, waiting to burst. But then again, Lily reasoned. I get very angry.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about."

"Ms. Evans," explained Dumbledore. "The human heart is a very complicated thing. The spectrum of emotion is so wide and diverse; most cannot sense even a fraction of the multifarious sentiments in an entire lifetime.

"You, however, are different."

Lily felt her emerald eyes widen. "How so, Professor?" she asked, her voice very soft.

"You have a gift. You are what we wizarding folk call a Cormagnus."

Lily was even tenser than she had been before. Did she have some sort of disease? Her breathing suddenly felt very jagged. "I'm a what?"

"A Cormagnus. You, Lily, have a gift. It is your heart."

Lily relaxed considerably, knowing that whatever it was that she had, it didn't make her inhuman. But while she felt a bit more at ease, she was even more confused. "A heart?"

"Many wizards and witches have outbursts of accidental magic when their emotions are running very high. Cormagni, who are very rare, have emotions that are larger, more extreme. As a result, the accidental magic that can erupt can be magnanimous, even potentially dangerous."

Lily's face fell. This is what Dumbledore had to tell her? That she could get so angry that she would be a hazard to society?

"But," continued Dumbledore, obviously sensing Lily's plunge in confidence, "that isn't necessarily a bad thing."

How could this possibly not be a bad thing?

"With your increased sensitivity to your own emotions comes an increased sensitivity to the emotions of others. The troubles of others affect you deeply, much more than they would an average person. But you can also understand others' pain and help guide them out of it.

"I know it seems like a big responsibility, and it is, but I am not telling you that you have to accept that burden. If you wish to be like the first type of wizard and wallow in disgust at your unique difference, you have the right to do so. If you have the desire to superciliously look down upon those who do not possess your gift, who do not have so firm a grasp of the confusing twists of human nature, again, it is your prerogative to do so.

"However, you may also choose to be the third witch. You may acknowledge and accept this gift along with its responsibilities, and with the full knowledge that in a certain respect, you are much more well-informed than most of the wizarding and muggle worlds. And you may cultivate this knowledge, allowing you to help and guide others, to empathize and sympathize when no one else can. You can turn away from your gift, gloat about it, or use it to do good. It is up to you. I trust that you will make the right decision."

Dumbledore stopped there, giving Lily a few moments to process all of this information. That certainly did explain her uncanny perceptiveness and the overwhelming feelings of pity she had for those less fortunate. But ordinary people felt this way too, didn't they?

"Excuse me, Professor, but to my knowledge, there are others who are extremely sensitive, and possess similar characteristics to myself. As far as I know, they are not er... Cormagni. Is it possible that there is some sort of mistake? I don't mean to sound impertinent, Professor, but isn't it possible that I just might be a little more sensitive and a little more perceptive than most people? Does it necessarily mean that I am a Cormagnus?"

She was sitting on the edge of her seat apprehensively, thinking that just maybe she was not as different as she seemed.

Dumbledore smiled. "You are correct, Miss Evans. Simply sensitivity and perceptiveness would not properly characterize a Cormagnus. However, if you do not mind me asking, how do you feel when you are angry?"

Lily frowned. That had been a rather personal question that she normally would have politely refused to respond to, but as this was Dumbledore explaining to her the particulars of her "abnormality" as her sister would say, she thought it to be in her own best interest to answer.

She tried to recall the last time she had been angry. She rarely lost her temper; she was usually very good at controlling it.

But why was that? Slight irritations that barely caused the average person to bat an eyelash disturbed her. She became upset at things most wouldn't even consider thinking about twice. And yet, she nearly always managed to control herself.

She had seen others get far less worked up than herself, and they had positively swelled in fury. But why didn't they worry about letting their emotions show?

And then Lily remembered the last time she had lost her temper, and she realized why she never, EVER let herself get angry.

It had been in fifth grade, the previous year. Lily had been playing in the yard at recess with some of her classmates. It was then that she had noticed Hubert sitting against the metal fence. His legs had been curled up against his chest, his arms folded across his knees, his eyes gazing longingly at the other children at play, yearning to join them, but not daring, for fear of rejection.

Lily had watched as the two class bullies, enormous boys by the names of Bobby and Loren, rounded on him, poking him, jeering him about his shabby clothing and his thick glasses, calling him a misfit and a loser. She had seen the look of helplessness on Hubert's face.

She had felt an anger course through her veins. She had wanted to strike down those two boys, punish them terribly for what they had done. She wanted them to know misery, to experience torment, both emotionally and physically. She wanted them to pay.

She became aware of herself growing hot, even thought it was a chilly autumn day. She felt the ground shake beneath her feet. At first, she thought it was just a figment of her own imagination, an illusion caused by her trembling body. But then she saw the other children stumble, heard their cries of confusion.

A thought had entered her mind. This is me. I'm doing this. And suddenly, miraculously, she found that she wasn't angry anymore. She was too worried, too concerned for the other children.

She knew why she never let her anger get the better of her. She was dangerous.

Lily looked into Dumbledore's eyes, a spark of understanding passing from the blue to the green.

"Lily, I think you know that you are a Cormagnus."

She nodded, frightened at what she was capable of.

She opened her mouth, waited, and encouraged by Dumbledore's smile, told him what she had remembered.

"When, I'm angry, I feel out of control. I feel real hatred. Whoever wronged me has to pay, has to be punished. I burn up, almost as if I have a boiling pit of lava inside of me. The ground begins to shake. I try to hold it in, so I don't hurt anyone, but it's extremely hard to. I don't let it happen too often. I don't want to put anyone in danger." She had said all of this while looking at her hands, because she didn't want to see the look on Dumbledore's face when she told him what a monster she was.

But when he didn't answer, she made herself look up. In his eyes, she saw not rebuke, but compassion and- was that pride?

"Well," he said satisfied. "It sounds to me like you're handling yourself very well."

She was extremely confused. Hadn't she just said that she was dangerous?

"Sorry?"

Dumbledore smiled. "The greatest task of a Cormagnus is not, as it may seem, reaching out to others, although that is a very important charge. It is controlling one's own emotions.

"When a Cormagnus experiences deeply affecting sensations, he or she will release a powerful magic. The nature of the magic is relative to the specific emotion that was experienced. Each Cormagnus reacts differently to different feelings. Therefore, it is important that these feelings be kept in check. Any burst of strong emotion can emit a magic that is wonderful and beautiful, but it may also be harmful, even lethal."

So that was why she had felt the ground shake. Her anger had triggered the reaction.

And that explained why she responded to things so strongly. But it still didn't clarify how her parents knew about Hogwarts for years. And what on earth did it have to do with her piano lessons?

"Professor," she began, "if you don't mind me asking, I was under the impression that until muggle-born witches and wizards are given their acceptance letters to Hogwarts, neither they nor their families know anything about the magical world. My parents told me that they had been expecting me to receive my letter for some time. How would they have known?"

The headmaster's eyes sparkled as they looked at Lily over the half-moon spectacles. He looked as though he was enjoying himself immensely.

"Oh, just a little precaution I took when you were younger. Believe me, it wasn't that simple. I had quite a time convincing the Ministry of Magic-" He noticed Lily's amazed expression. "Yes, Ms. Evans, we have a Ministry of Magic, and it took a bit of work to have their permission for me to go and speak with your parents. You see," he explained, "the Ministry's greatest worry is that muggles will find out about the wizarding world. Obviously, your parents would have found out eventually, but in their eyes, the less muggles who know about us at one time, the better." His voice was slightly bitter.

He suddenly changed his kindly expression to one of slight horror. "Pardon me, Ms. Evans, I didn't mean to burden you with my political views."

She nodded, only mildly aware of what he was saying, and he continued. "Eventually, the Ministry gave their consent, knowing that if I didn't alert your parents, there would be a lot more than just two muggles finding out about our world.

"I went to your house when you were about a year-and-a-half old, just about the time when your Cormagnus abilities had appeared, and explained to your parents all that I have just told you. Of course, they were a bit worried at first," he smiled reminiscently, "but I told them that your powers were still developing; they wouldn't have to fully deal with your gift until your teenage years, by which time you would be under my fulltime watch.

"You know as well as I do that it is not good for you to completely reveal your emotions. However, keeping one's feelings bottled up inside can do equal damage. I suggested that your parents help you find a hobby of some sort through which you could express yourself. That way, you could let free of your inner thoughts while channeling your feelings in a certain direction. Your father mentioned that you had poked at the keys of the piano in your living room a few times. I suggested lessons.

"As of now, it seems as though your strongest emotion is anger. As you get older, more of these reactions will reveal themselves. You need to be constantly trying new things, so that as your feelings grow, you will be able to control them. If you played piano as you do now for years, when a new sentiment breaks through, the piano might not be enough to contain it. Your parents just bought you a guitar, correct?"

"Yes," she answered.

"You need to practice that. You must always try new things so that your mind will be occupied and so that should a new reaction reveal itself, you will have new means to control it."

Lily nodded with a relieving understanding. It all made sense now. Why else would her parents have started giving her piano lessons as soon as she was old enough to recognize letters?

She stared into Dumbledore's eyes. She knew she had seen them somewhere before...

"Did you ever wonder how you learned so quickly?" he asked her. "It is because of your passion, your feeling. With music, hitting the right notes is only half of the work. It is the feeling, the touch, the flow, that completes the piece. You, Lily, have feeling such as I have never seen nor heard before. When you play the piano, every emotion, every thought, every feeling flows into the keys. Listening to your melodies is like listening to your heart. Few people are able to make that kind of music."

Dumbledore then removed his glasses and pointed his wand at his face, whispering an incantation Lily couldn't hear. His long silver beard retracted into his face, as did his thick mane of hair. His crooked nose straightened, the end shooting out and rounding, forming a large bulb. His ears protruded, and chin became square.

She gasped. The new face grinned. "I suppose you remember me, Miss Evans?"

She did. The man before her had been present at every recital, every performance, and every competition, she had ever attended. He had always stood in the back, applauding before anyone else had started. And he had never failed to bring her a fresh bouquet of lilies. He'd never told her his name, but those brilliant blue eyes always let her know that he was proud.

And now she knew who he was.

Seventeen-year-old Lily Evans rolled over onto her side, tucking her knees into her stomach, Dumbledore's speech still playing in her head. The words he had spoken were far from upbeat, but somehow, they gave her reassurance.

For her, Dumbledore had always been a source of strength and inspiration. If ever she felt like she was just going to give up all restraint, she would just look at Dumbledore, and know that she could hang on, even if just for a little bit longer.

What he had said about the current state of the wizarding world was true. Times were dark, and death could be around any corner. But Dumbledore had said that everyone must live. He gave words of hope and encouragement. If everyone would join together, the Dark Side could be defeated. It seemed highly improbable, but as far as Lily was concerned, if Albus Dumbledore said that the impossible could be accomplished, then she had full faith that it would.