The Dangers of Magic

Chapter 2: Where There Be Some Confusion, Among Other Things

He was busy concocting new and improved, chaotic ways to make trouble for the ministry. After all, he made headlines, no? He was a mad man. But of course, he didn't project that image at all. He changed appearances at the snap of a finger. What was the story behind him though, that made him become such a mad man? He was after all, something of a normal man, wasn't he? Something of a normal man...

He had a normal childhood. He had love from his parents, he loved him parents, his first love, everything about him was normal. Other than the fact that he was a wizard, of course. He got his letter from Hogwarts and was so happy. Any normal wizard would have been overjoyed. To go to the finest wizard school in all of Britain was indeed an honor. Such an honor... He remembered waving frantically from the compartment of the scarlet Hogwarts trains. The puffs of fluffy white smoke, that exciting train smell. It was all wonderful.

He remembered...

"And just what house are you in?" a rather pale boy with brown hair and an oval face asked him scornfully. "I suppose you're a Gryffindor, are you? We don't like Gryffindors. To high and mighty and above the rest of us, see?"

"I'm a first year," he said rather boldly.

"A first year?" The boy mused at the other two boys behind him.

"That's right." He held his chin high.

"Good Hufflepuff material, isn't he? Thinks he's got brains, but he hasn't. Thinks he's got some Quidditch talent, but oh my no. Supposes he will have friends who think him marvelous, but it's just because they're too thick to say anything else." The boy shook his head disdainfully.

"Oh and what house would you be in?" he asked coldly.

"Only the best house in the whole school." The malevolent boy grinned nastily. "Slytherin."

"I've heard about that house," he said.

"And I suppose you heard it from the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs even the lowly Ravenclaws? Telling you there was never a wizard or witch in Slytherin who never went bad? Well, I'll tell you this, little boy," he said as he turned back and grinned to the two boys behind him. "They say that because they're jealous of our lot. They envy our brains and cunning, see? They think that if they trash us to lowly first years to you, you'll do anything to not become a Slytherin. Oh, but they're wrong. It's glorious being a Slytherin, you just wait kid, once you get sorted into Hufflepuff, I guarantee that you'll be dying to be in Slytherin."

And the boy turned and left, leaving a rather frightened boy behind.

Wicked boys. Wicked, wicked boys. Yet they left an everlasting impression on that first year boy. He didn't know why. Of the many memories he had at the school, something else stuck in his mind years and years after he left Hogwarts.

"I know your mother," said a little humming voice in his ear. "I knew your father too, such loyal people you never found. What became of your father, young man?"

"Gone," answered the little boy. "Mum and I don't care much for him. Died."

"Yes," murmured the voice sympathetically. "I could see that in his head,"

"In his head?" the little boy said incredulously. "How in the world can you see death in someone's head?"

"You can't, but I can," the voice answered smugly.

"Fine. Now tell me what house I should be in," he commanded the hat.

"Well, I'm taking my time, see, because time slows down tremendously when you put me on your head, time could freeze for a moment, I dare say. What seems like five minutes here could be merely five seconds without me. It allows me time to probe through your mind and scope out your real talents." The hat replied smartly.

"So what do you see?" he asked it nervously.

"I see a great mind, full of cleverness," the hat paused. "Thirst to learn exciting, new things, and some cunning, and talent."

"Talent?" echoed the boy. "Talent for what?"

"Everything," answered the hat simply. "But specifically, what you dream of being good at. You have a rare gift, my dear boy, being good at what you dream for. You have a great dream to one day be a famous alchemist, I see it right here. And you can make that dream come true, my dear lad, because you're determined to be good at Potions. I dare say that anything you wanted to do, you could, be it fly without a broom, or creating new and exciting enchantments and charms, and even do things no one has dreamed of before. You have, dear boy, great talent. My advice to you would be to never ever throw it away. Never misuse it," the hat said wisely.

"And my house is...?" The boy asked coldly.

"Impatient, young dolt," The Sorting Hat snapped, which was very rare, for a hat. "Ravenclaw. You do have a great mind, where Ravenclaw can help you. Help them in return, and remember what I said, for it will help you greatly one day, or it will turn you into something very, very fearsome. So be it RAVENCLAW," the hat shouted, after what seemed like five eternities to the small lad, but merely five seconds to the waiting crowd.

Ravenclaws had indeed welcomed him to the fold. He'd remembered what the wise Sorting Hat said, but whether or not he followed it, it was never known to anyone but him.

To no one but him...

* * *

"James!" Remus hissed. "James, wake up!"

James fidgeted for a moment, then bolted up. "Is she back?!"

Remus shook his head worriedly. "That's why I woke you up. Oh and you're sleeping on the spatula." He pointed to the imprint on James's cheek. It was actually quite sore when James ran a hand over it.

"Oh lord... what time is it anyway?" he asked rubbing his sore cheek.

"It's precisely ten in the morning and Lily is still not back," Sirius said gravely from the entrance to the kitchen.

"You spent the night?" James asked warily.

"Well, Remus and I did. Peter was called away on business. He promised he'd drop in just as soon as he finished." Remus replied.

"Oh no," James moaned. "Where is she? Where could she have gone? What's happened to her?"

"I don't know, I suggest if she's not back tonight, we call authorities," Remus suggested.

"By tonight? By tonight?! She could be dead by tonight because we didn't help her!" James yelped angrily.

"James, calm down," Sirius said sharply. "We know Lily's missing, she could be hurt very badly, but you have to keep your head about this. It does no one no good to go crazy about something. We haven't been down to check the stores, we haven't done anything to look for her except sit here and worry. I'd worry if she wasn't home by tonight, or even tomorrow morning. It's extraordinarily possible that something came up, like there was a blizzard so bad that people in Diagon Alley were trapped,"

"Sirius... there was no snow last night..." James said slowly. "No rain, either. It snowed lightly in the morning, but that was it."

"And she doesn't have her apparition license either." Remus frowned.

"Making me feel a lot better, thanks," James said miserably.

"James, hold on a moment, I'm going to look for something. Sirius, come help me," Remus dragged Sirius from the kitchen leaving a miserable James sprawled on the table.

"Sirius, you know as well as I do that Lily is in danger, or unable to come home of her free will." Remus said in a stern tone.

"I know," Sirius said heavily. "I know."

"She'd have tried to contact us in someway if she knew she wouldn't be able to make it home all right. This worries me tremendously." Remus gave a puzzled glance in the direction of the kitchen. "And if we don't hear news soon, James is likely to bust."

Sirius shook his head despairingly. "There is nothing we can do, Remus. We've no idea where she went, absolutely none..."

"Yeah, well, we need to search for her, it'll make James feel a little better if he had something to do to know that he was helping look for Lily."

"I say we talk to Dumbledore," Sirius volunteered.
Remus shot him a glance, "You don't think, Vo-"

"No, no," Sirius said quickly. "Couldn't be, she'd kill him were her insults alone. She's a strong girl and can take care of herself. Something serious must have happened. I've seen her make muggers and thieves cry like babies with a few of her mild comebacks. Any Death Eater who dares to cross her path and make her mad would have to buy a pair of strong ear muffs." Sirius smiled grimly at the thought of his sarcastic red-headed friend.

"You're sure then?" Remus still looked worried. "That would put James over the top..."

"I'm positive. Can't be him. Still, Dumbledore ought to know..." Sirius said.

"Can't," Remus answered in dismay. "He's in Azkaban, sorting out something the Minister messed up on, you know owls aren't allowed in Azkaban, or near the premises, they'd die immediately, what with all those horrible dementors."

Sirius's somewhat cheery face fell completely.

"Unowlable..." Sirius said in horror. "For how long?"

He shrugged. "I've no idea, two weeks at the minimum,"

"Remus...without Dumbledore, we're gone. He's the only one who can figure out these things," Sirius said weakly.

Remus nodded. "I know. Things are looking down hill from here... if we wait two weeks, Lily could be dead... or worse."

* * *

"Lily?" Tom asked interrupting her thoughts. "Lily?"

"Huh?" she snapped out of her rather frightened daze and turned her large green eyes on Tom who was his towering, a head taller, concerned self.

"Are you all right? You had a rather frightened look in your eyes," he looked at her. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine," she said, a wave accompanying her words. "Absolutely fine."

I'm lost in time, she thought frantically. I'm lost in time, and no one knows where I am. I with a Muggle in the 1940's, I'm all alone. I'm not only miles away from James, I'm decades as well. I'm decades away from anyone that can help me, for that matter. Decades away from anyone that can help me...

"as I was saying, if you need anything, feel free to send one of the maids out to fetch it," Tom said over his shoulder as they were walking down the wet, dimly lit street of a 1946 London. Lily was amazed she didn't see it at first, what with all the different hairstyles, and clothing. Tom himself was something of a 1946 marvel.

When she heard maids, her head went dizzy. Maids? As in plural? As in more than one? Who the hell is that rich anymore? Come to think of it, who's a gentleman anymore? It's more of a pick, grab, then run. Maids? Her head swirled with these thoughts as she went along the street, following Tom like she was a little child. Technically she would be. She wouldn't even be born. And she highly doubted her parents were anything more than teenagers. About Tom's age, she supposed. Tom looked as if he would be either fresh out of high school or college. About twenty, maybe even twenty-two. He was very handsome, she wouldn't deny it. But then again she thought Remus and Sirius were good looking as well, so who was to take her advice?

"We're about three blocks from my house, I'd say," he said after about five minutes of silence.

"Three blocks? So basically five to ten more minutes of this walking?" she asked, tentatively skipping over the zillionth puddle she unfortunately always happened to step in.

He laughed. This one wasn't as cheery as the other ones, and had a little lack of mirth. As if he found her amusing. Then again most people did. It was either that, or people would go crying to their mums. She really didn't care which they did. She was always that kind of girl, Lily supposed. She never cared what anyone really did think. She enjoyed unofficially challenging people to matching wits, and she always came soaring on top. She called herself a natural. And most people called her a smart-ass, but it wasn't like it was her fault. Blame her wit. Anyone insulted one of her friends (Yes, even Sirius, Remus, and Peter) she was there, ready with her barbed comments and sent everyone running.

Very handy trick when she was around someone she didn't like. Except she was likeable. It was extremely hard to not like Lily, since she could be bright and cheery when she wanted, and if a lot of people found her insults funny, unless they were aimed at them and were more than mild. It took a lot to work Lily up into a real temper. She sulked, she glared, but she only got into a real temper a few times a year. It took even more to really worry her. And this time travel business just about tipped her off that today wasn't her day.

"And, as you can see, we're approaching," Tom said, and Lily was sure he was winking.

And they were indeed approaching, approaching an abnormally big house. It was more of an expensive mansion then it was a house.

He looked at her from the corner of his purple-blue eyes. She was plainly speechless with awe and astonishment. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was in a small 'O' and she was frozen.

What a beautiful house, she felt like exclaiming. And in 1946, it's bound to cost maybe a little more than James's house! James's house looks like a shack compared to this Victorian beauty!

"Do you like my home?" Tom asked with a small sarcastic smile spreading on his handsome face.

"Like it?" breathed Lily. "It's beautiful!"

All of her previous worries were forgotten. This was a stunning house.

"After you," Tom said as he did a mock bow, gesturing to the open door.

The inside was much more beautiful and elegant then the outside. A delicate crystal chandelier hung magically from the ceiling, looking a bit like an enlarged crystal crown. It had small dangling ovals, which were giving off light, and it was hung by a silver cord.

The walls were a very slight cream color, the carpet was a rich green. The polished oak stairs also had carpeting running up them, and the stairway was shining in the light. And the maids and butlers there were! The place was very efficiently run, and Lily could see Tom was not one for a household that slacked. It was very clean.

"Here, come this way, if you're hungry a maid can fix you up something," Tom waved a hand to the open archway.

"Oh, uh, I'm not hungry any more, thanks," Lily didn't feel hungry at all. Momentary lapse of hunger, she supposed.

"Well, is there anything you'd like to do?" he asked.

"Well, if I may, is it all right with you if I freshen up a bit? Slogging through puddles and muck may be fun for you, but it sure as hell doesn't agree with me," she pointed to her wet flats she was wearing and pointed to the bottom inch of her plum colored skirt (Which, she noted with distaste, was exactly the kind of clothing women wore around here) which was soaked.

His eyes twinkled in an odd sort of way and he pointed to the stairs. "Just walk up and take a left in the hallway, there is a third door on the left side of the hallway, you can freshen up there,"

"Thanks," she turned briskly to go up the stairs.

* * *

"Dead... Or worse." Remus's voice echoed.

Sirius shuddered. If Lily died, things would be only too horrible. James, he'd be distraught. He'd kill himself as well, Sirius surmised. Even though they had only been dating some time, James loved her more deeply and affectionately than he had ever loved someone else. Sirius and Remus had a brotherly bond with her; they warded off offending boys and enjoyed joining her in teasing the pesky girls that were in their year. They'd miss Lily dearly, and if they both were gone, well Sirius didn't really want to think of that, and his throat constricted at the thought.

"Guys?" James called shakily. "Remus, Sirius, are you still here?"

"We're here, James," Sirius called after a long look at Remus.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Remus?"

"Yeah," Remus shrugged after Sirius, who began to walk into the kitchen.

James's grey eyes were suspiciously bright. Like he had tears in them.

"Well, what do we do now, boys?" he asked in a dull tone that had pretense enthusiasm.

Remus and Sirius exchanged troubled glances. "James," Remus began cautiously.

"Hmm?" James fiddled with his thumbs.

"Are you crying?" Remus asked bravely.

"No," James said in a scornful tone that would've (would've, mind you) passed if it hadn't been for the pearly, clear drop that fell from his soft grey eyes. "Well maybe a bit," he admitted unwillingly.

Silence.

Sirius and Remus exchanged disbelieving glances and looked at James incredulously.

"More than a bit," he said sulkily.

More silence, exchanging looks and deepening disbelieving glances.

"Fine, a hell of a lot, but I have a bloody good reason too!" James snapped. He looked remorseful immediately.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to do that, I swear. I'm just, well, sort of," he trailed of desperately searching for the word.

"Worried?" Remus offered.

"Pre-occupied?" Sirius supplied.

"Both, I guess," James shrugged.

"We know," Remus said gently. "We understand, James. We're awfully worried too."

"I just don't know what could be wrong," James said his shoulders shuddering.

"Don't worry, we'll find her, if we have to bring in Muggle SWAT teams and occupy the entire ministry to do so," Sirius said consolingly.

"Muggle SWAT teams?" James exchanged dubious looks with Remus.

"I swear to god, we have to watch him more often. He watches too much TV," Remus said irritably.

"Do not," Sirius faked hurt, like he had so many times with Lily.

His throat tightened again,

With Lily, everything was fine. Everyone was laughing. Everyone was happy.

And now...

Sirius wasn't sure. He didn't think he'd ever be sure.

* * *

Lily made her way to the bathroom, and she never once ceased admiring the taste Tom had. Everything was polished till it sparkled and shined, the carpet was a rich green, and there seemed to be a bit of silver, too.

As she crossed the grand hallway, she found the door. Lily marveled at how beautiful a simple bathroom could be.

It was a simple, yet elegant, in deep red and silver. It was massive as well.

She turned on the tap and scrubbed her face. The remains of her hang over managed to somewhat disappear and she felt her buzzing headache subside and her thoughts become clearer. She almost thought it was a shame to use the soft, red towel.

Lily felt refreshed, and well enough to realize the strangeness of this situation. Here she was, in the middle of London, in 1946, and she had no idea how to even get out. She didn't know who to contact, having no magical connections whatsoever. Lily put her head in her hands and sighed with frustration. It echoed in her mind like some threatening curse word; 1946, 1946, 1946...

"Lily?" There was a knock at the door, which made Lily jump violently.

"Yes?" Lily called after a moment.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine, I'll be out in a moment." Lily checked to make sure than any of the tears creeping down her face were gone before walking out the door.

When she opened it, she found Tom leaning against the wall.

"Are you feeling fresher?" he asked.

"Yes, much. Thanks." Lily stretched.

"So, are you hungry or tired, or something?" Tom asked her.

"You know, I think I might just turn in. I'm exhausted. It feels like a lot of strange things have happened to me in the past hours." Lily wished that she was with James.

"Allow me to show you to your room." He gave a mock bow and started in the direction of another staircase.

"This place is absolutely gorgeous," Lily breathed as she noticed picture after picture, table after table with fragile crystal wear on it.

"Really?" Tom asked, as if he genuinely did not notice the beauty the surrounded his house.

"I find it a bit lonely, and even dull, at times."

"Dull!" she exclaimed. "Never."

"And you're quite sure about that?" he asked giving her a grin.

"Quite sure."

"Ah, here we are." Tom was leading in the direction of a hallway that was dimly lit.

He opened a white wooden door to reveal a very nice room done up in various shades of green.

"It isn't much, but it is quite comfortable," he said, after stepping down into the room.

"I love it. You must tell me the name of your decorator. I cannot imagine you might do something like this," Lily laughed.

"Oh, you'd be surprised at the things I can do," he smiled tentatively.

"Good night, if you need anything, just ring that bell on the nightstand 'side your bed. One of the maids or butlers will attend to anything you need."

"Thank you, Tom. Thank you very much," Lily replied seriously.

"Don't thank me just yet," He gave her another tentative smile. "Don't thank me just yet."

* * *

A man leaned heavily against a wall, his back tired. Reformation camp his foot. The only reason they were here was because the ministry decided that they need extra hands to do the labor work their workers were too scared to do. Just what they needed, mud kicked on their shoes. He may not have been old, but his back acted like it. How many years had it been since he had been put in here? Four? Five? Try nine or ten. His sentence had been increased by five years before they would let him go. And what for? Why couldn't they just leave him alone in Azkaban? Did anyone try to bail him out of Reformation Camp? One person. A very dear person who had been extremely distressed to see him go into Azkaban. But what could he do? Nothing.

All because I did something I never should have done. All because I got caught doing it. But I don't care. Some marks never go away. That is, you never let them, he thought bitterly.

One glance out of the window told him that soon the call for supper would sound. The pale moon gave a weak light into the dark chamber. A few more thuds would do it, if he could lift the club a few more times as well.

"Lazy arses, those sleazy Ministry workers!" he mumbled to himself. "Idiotic and stupid. Can't they just use wands to make bricks instead of breaking the backs of old men?"

"Quiet!" a Guard ordered thumping on the door's bars with a stick. "Get to work!"

"I am getting to work. I've been to work for the past years. I've been doing this for the pasty ten years. Have I gotten anything for the hard work I've done? No. I bet this very cell was built using the blocks that poor people like me have hit!"

The Guard at the door sighed. The prisoner often did this. He didn't go mad in Azkaban. He went mad here, as if he had just realized he'd spent three years in Azkaban. He had his outbursts at times, other than that he was sane. Even gentle sometimes, and certainly kind. It was hard to believe what he had been. The Ministry was even willing to let him go free, but the council had put their foot down.

"Listen to me ramble on like this," he said, his mood switching increasingly fast. "Look at what's happened to me." He turned to the bars and the Guard saw the pain this man had suffered through, his eyes feebly roving for a familiar face. "Would you believe," he paused leaning against the wall. "That when I was a lad in school, I won an Award of Service three times? I was Head Boy, and had three prefect titles to my name."

"I, I didn't know that, sir," the Guard said, startled.

"Oh yes... I spoke five different languages... was doing well in Transfiguration, had good marks in Potions."

"Did you, sir?" The Guard felt awed by what he had found out. This man had never, in the years he had been in Reformation Camp, spoken to anyone but himself. And the Guard being a mere boy, was quite awed by what this man had accomplished.

"I did. I did a lot of stuff... most of it, I regret now." His eyes closed shut for a few moments.

"Sir?" the Guard began tentatively. "There's a Remus Lupin here to see you, Sir."