Sanguis Novus

Chapter Seven: Racing Beans and Spilled Potions

"Faster, Remus!" she urged him as he pulled her along the sky, streaking away from the incoming red. "Faster...faster..." Her voice grew fainter as the red overtook her, and as she drowned in it, it tasted sharply metallic. It tasted of blood...

Socializing birds flitted by the Gryffindor tower, their voices shrill and their songs sharp. It was to this Lily snapped open her eyes and found herself seeing a deep thick red color. Oh, my God, where am I? she thought, reverting back to the dream. Oh, wait, it's just the sofa...it's just the sofa.

A fog shrouded her common sense. As much as she ruminated over events she supposed had occurred, they certainly didn't seem to fit together. Drowsiness overtook her again, and Lily rolled her neck from side to side, resting the tight muscles in her neck. A glint of sunshine struck her eye, its glare almost silver...

Silver like...

Oh, I have to remember this, she admonished inwardly.

Silver like...what's his name?

Lucius! I met him the night before, didn't I?

The night before.

She remembered it with startling clarity. The truth. She remembered that too, and she doubted she would ever forget it. Well, Lily thought solemnly, that's that.

Stretching luxuriously, she lifted herself up from the couch and regretted it immediately, thinking longingly about how enticingly comfortable it had been. She squinted as the morning sun cut into her eyes. Clumsily, she turned around, pushing a few plump cushions aside and looking beside her. Remus had left, though when exactly she could not tell. A clock hanging above the fireplace informed her it was only seven-thirty in the morning.

"It's too early and it's too cold," she groaned to herself, letting herself slump back on the couch. "And I don't want to go to class," she added as an afterthought.

Shutting her eyes again and cursing the inconsiderate birds that had awoken her, she tried to lull herself to sleep. But this time, there was no sound of crackling wood, dancing flames, or Remus's steady breathing to sooth her. Only that incessant twittering birds, which was no lullaby.

She heard small, shuffling steps approaching her. Faking a deep slumber, she clenched her eyes tightly, hoping whoever it was wouldn't notice her. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped, and Lily assumed that person had sat down. For some odd reason, there was a devouring curiosity inside her to find out whom that person was. After all, it was a little bit early for anyone to be up.

Risking being observed, she cautiously opened one eye. A thin-haired, pale-looking, and - euphemistically put - pleasantly plump boy sat by the fireplace, curled up in an armchair, looking reflectively out of the window as if desiring something he painfully knew he could never have. Lacking any sort of distinctive feature, he certainly didn't strike her as someone she could easily notice. Still, he gave off an aura of fear and the need to be comforted.

"Hey," Lily said, sitting up. The boy jumped in apprehension. "What's your name?"

"Um, Peter...Pettigrew," he stammered timidly. The hesitance with which he approached her question made her nearly bow her head with shame and pity. If anyone had asked her what her name was...

"Sorry, Peter," she blurted out apologetically. "I shouldn't have asked you that."

"It's okay," he mumbled. "I don't really care, anyway, 'cause I know that name isn't going to take me anywhere." Hmph, it'll take you further than mine will, Lily thought enviously. "Do you know how much it sucks being the son of two Squibs? Two, can you believe that? Not one, but two. No strong magic flowing in my blood."

"If I knew what that was," she muttered to herself, feeling more and more stupid with each passing second.

"Hmm? What did you say? I didn't really catch it."

"Oh, it was nothing...just wondering when breakfast starts and all," she quickly lied.

"Wait, you're that Evans girl, aren't you!" he exclaimed, his eyes fixated on Lily.

"Sadly..." she trailed off bitterly, shifting tensely under his speculation.

"Well, I, um, though you were, uh, really brave up there...on the stage thing or whatever it's called. I - I think you were really brave to come to Hogwarts," he stuttered, shuffling his feet discreetly.

"Oh, thanks," she snapped back while rolling her eyes exasperatedly; Peter, however, seemed to have let the only-too-evident sarcasm in her voice slip away unnoticed.

"Yeah, I wish I was like you..." Wow, this guy is scaring me now, Lily thought, praying that Remus would appear in the common room and take her away. "Like me"? "I'm a little bit nervous right now because classes start today. I'm going to look like such an idiot in front of everyone."

"No, you won't," she assured him. "You'll know more than I will. If anyone's going to be an idiot, it'll be me, I promise you. Trust me, I'd never even heard of magic until I got my Hogwarts letter, and I still don't know anything about it."

"Living with Squibs is just as bad as living with Muggles," he whispered fearfully, his eyes darting around rapidly. "Actually, I think...I think I'd rather be Muggle-born."

Lily's mind went blank, Peter's voice echoing through its emptiness. "I'd rather be Muggle born"? What was that supposed to mean? Nothing, she thought, nothing can be worse than being Muggle-born. I'm a living reason why! But after the initial stun wore off, she held nothing but the utmost respect and honor for him. His appearance was bedraggled and his presence was almost negligible, but he hadn't called her that word. He hadn't insulted her dignity.

"Well, maybe and maybe not. I guess it depends on the situation, right?" she explained after much internal deliberation.

He shrugged casually. "Maybe."

"Sorry, but I've got to go get my books, you know, for class."

"Okay. It was nice talking to you."

There was a slight pause on Lily's behalf. "Same here."

Hair disheveled and robe entirely askew, Lily trudged up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, where she should have slept last night. She darkly wondered what her dorm mates would think of her after being absent the very first night. "First impressions are lasting impressions," her mother had always said. Lily felt that she didn't leave a very good one.

To her heart-fluttering relief, she discovered her dorm mates still dozing in bed, despite the sunshine pouring through the opened curtains. Making her way to her bed (located on the far left of the room), she was pleasantly surprised to see her trunk already laid at the foot of it. Nice room service, she thought. Bending down, she flipped open the lid and began sorting through the various items she had, rather unceremoniously, stuffed in there while she had been packing.

Reverently, Lily lifted her schoolbooks out, all organized in a precarious-looking stack, staggering a little under its weight. Without warning, the top book slipped from her grasp, and as she groped wildly for it, she lost her balance. All of her books came tumbling down, landing at odd angles.

"Oh, God!" she swore, racing to gather her fallen things while sending panicky glances at her dorm mates, many of whom began stirring.

"Who's that?" someone yawned, sitting up dazedly and looking in Lily's direction, her eyes blurry and unfocused.

"Just the Mudblood," another answered, halfheartedly watching as Lily, books forgotten, got to her feet, simmering with unspoken rage. The others observed, many of them looking very bored. "By the way, where were you last night?"

"My name's Lily, if you haven't learned that yet," she replied, her voice laced with suppressed fury. "It's not 'Mudblood.'"

"Whatever you say," came the lofty response.

Not able to stand another minute under the speculation of her blatantly prejudiced dorm mates, she roughly crammed her books into her school bag, and with it swinging perilously from one shoulder, she stormed out of the room and out of the Gryffindor Tower. If I'm going to be stuck with those people for a whole year, I'm going to ask for a House change, she thought, her hands balled into fists.

Suddenly, the portrait swung open from behind her, and a round-faced girl, with eyes brimming with empathy framed by soft brown curls, climbed out of the Gryffindor Tower. Lily recognized her as one of her dorm mates.

"What do you want?" Lily inquired, crossing her arms petulantly.

"Look," the other girl started, an Irish accent light on her words, "I don't want us all to start off on such bad terms."

"Then tell them that!"

"I'm sure they didn't mean to make fun of you - " Lily snorted incredulously, and the other Gryffindor girl threw up her arms in defeat. "All right, fine, you're right. They shouldn't have called you that, and they won't apologize for it, either. I can't hide it from you."

"Wait, you really asked them to apologize?" Lily said, feeling her hard-edged cynicism melt away.

"Well, I tried. It didn't work a bit though. I just want you to know that not everyone is like them. Not all of us are Muggle-born haters."

"But most of you are, right?" she observed, head tilted downward.

"I - I guess," the other girl admitted, "but I promise you that I'm not one of them Lily. I really am not. I would never call anyone a you-know-what, and I'm really sorry about not saying anything to stop the rest of the girls. I should have told 'em to just shut up. It's all my fault."

"No, no, not at all! It's - it's...no problem. And thanks," Lily tacked on.

"Well, I already know your name, no offense or anything, so mine's Alice Emer."

I don't remember seeing her sorted, Lily thought, but, then again, who was the one hyperventilating right before being called up? A small smile gradually crept onto her face. Maybe Alice is right. Maybe I will find people who don't think I'm worse than they are, simply because of my name. As she peered out of a nearby window, she saw the English countryside stretch out before her, an endless wave of sloping green hills flecked with flocks of grazing sheep. A breeze fluttered pass, sweeping the loose tendrils of hair from her face.

"Then, Alice," she said, "would you like to join me for some breakfast?"

"Of course! I'd be more than glad to."

After running into three trick staircases and an extremely unhelpful suit of armor that inconveniently pointed them in the wrong way, they arrived at the threshold of the Great Hall. The four House tables and their respective banners were still in place, and despite the early time of day, Lily found the Hall bustling with students and professors, all of whom were gorging themselves and taking full advantage of the various breakfast selections. Deeply inhaling the mingled scents of eggs, bacon, and freshly baked bread, she half-dragged Alice to the Gryffindor table, the sweet perfume of food guiding her.

"Lily! Over here!"

Over a sea of people, she spied a hand waving energetically at her.

"Do you mind if we sit over there?" Lily asked, pointing vaguely at the crowd.

"As long as there are seats!" she almost screamed. "I never thought that so many people would be here. I can barely hear you over them!"

Lily had to agree. The student body seemed to have expanded overnight - surely the Hall hadn't been this full! But the night before was an entirely different matter. The Sorting and the Welcoming Feast were established and practiced Hogwarts traditions, able to be held without a single interruption. The students understood that as well, and with the notable and glaring exception of the Slytherins' raucous idea of a welcome, they had sat, placid and docile, until they were dismissed. Breakfast, at least on the first day, couldn't have been more different. Cries of excitement, rage, and aggravation filled the Hall, and it was only further accented by the fact that everyone rushing around and pointing wildly at pieces of parchment that every student seemed to be zealously grasping.

"Oh!" Lily gasped, suffering a second of temporary weightlessness. "I think we're getting our schedules!"

The notion that she was about to foray into the world of academia, her forte, thrilled her beyond anything. Leaving the complex matters of history and blood and family name, she thought only of her classes and her books. She might not be able to take pride in being an Evans, but Lily could always invest in grades for they would hopefully provide the anchor of stability she hungered so desperately for. Hogwarts had already proven itself very fluctuating; first a paradise, then an inferno, and who knew that the next day would bring?

"Hogwarts is just a school," Lily said under her breath as she sat down at the table - Alice next to her - trying to push back the tide of rising nerves. "It's just a school, like any other school...it's just a school. You can do this."

"Good morning, Lily!" James chimed, every bit his grandiose self, handing her a blueberry muffin.

"Er, morning, James," she said, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows. "Would you...d'you know where Remus is? I...I really wasn't expecting you here or anything. I thought that was Remus waving at me."

"I can see why," he said, winking provocatively at her.

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Just means I must be as attractive as he is."

"Are you trying to say that - "

"Maybe I am."

"Are you?"

"Well, can't you figure that out on your own?"

"What?"

"You don't get it yet?"

"JAMES!" she shouted, blushing madly as she chucked her muffin at him, missing his head by a mere inch or so.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop," he said, holding up his arms but giving her one last wink. "Sorry, Lily, but it's just so much fun to tease you. But back to the original point, shall we? Remus? Well, when McGonagall came around while she was handing out schedules, she told Remus to go with her. I think she said it was very urgent. I could definitely tell - she and Remus were all jittery. Then McGonagall took him away and gave our schedules to Flitwick, so now he's handing them out."

"Flitwick?"

"That short guy over there. He's the Charms professor. Anyway, that was about fifteen minutes ago and they're still not back."

"Do you think he's okay?" she asked. Although she was attempting to remain upbeat even with that unpleasant Lucius fellow scrutinizing her from the Slytherin table, Lily felt compelled to ask, her concern for Remus and his well being too powerful to avoid. Already, he had helped her in numerous situations, and at least in Lily's point of view, there was an unspoken obligation to fill: someday, she would, in return, aid him in something as aggrandizing as being assimilated into a different world and its lifestyle. Though Lily seriously doubted anything required more assistance than that, she felt that maybe this would be one of those times.

Suddenly, a light rustling came from overhead, a shuffling sound that was entirely unrecognizable to Lily. Putting down her goblet of orange juice with a clunk, she drew her head backwards, raking over the seemingly illimitable ceiling of the Great Hall. A great mess of colors - various hues of brown with some gray sprinkled in - appeared out of the corner. As it fanned apart like a formation of migrating geese, she registered the sight, her eyes glowing in comprehension. Owls. Owls poured into the Great Hall, their talons clutching packages and letters spanning a gamut of sizes and weights, a few loose feathers floating down from their beating wings. Tearing herself away from the spectacular show, Lily found she was not the only one awed by this surprising morning greeting. Many first years from all four Houses were gabbling excitedly, their fingers pointing at the birds that were now swooping into lower altitudes, some beginning to drop their burdens.

"It's the post!" someone exclaimed.

But Lily, now having escaped the initial shock of a few hundred guests flying in on breakfast, wasn't thinking about any letters that she, for some odd reason, might receive, but her owl. What had become of Regina? The first years had been instructed to leave all of their belongings on the train, and the announcement had made it clear that everything would be delivered to their dorms...but where was Regina? The unknown whereabouts of her dear friend made Lily's skin unusually clammy.

"Looking for your owl?" James said.

"Well, no, not really. I'm just wondering where she is. I left her on the train when we got here, but now I don't know where she is."

"She'll be at the Owlery, if she isn't carrying a letter or anything. Don't worry, your owl will be fine. By the way, what's your owl's name?"

"Regina, and it's sort of hard to explain why, so don't ask. It just came to me naturally."

"Regina," James repeated, drumming his fingers on the table.

"What, anything wrong?"

He hesitated before replying. "It's my mum's name."

Lily decided to drop the conversation as it was, but she couldn't quite understand why James had danced around the subject of his mum, even if it was just her first name in question. She gazed back up at the owls, the last of which were still dropping letters in their rightful owners' hands. Her heart twinged with bittersweetness as thought of how ecstatic everyone else must be, being able to receive gifts from home on the first full day of school, while her parents, her Muggle parents, had probably forgotten all about her and were now doting on Petunia...

Lily forced the image out of her mind. Mum and dad still love me, I think. They just...don't know how to send me letters. Yeah, that's why.

But now that the subject of her lost family was brought up (by my own crazy mind, she thought, annoyed), a thousand new questions were spawned: What are they doing right now? Is Petunia still evil and nasty? Will Mum get angry with another student today? Will Dad then calm her down? Have they really just moved on without me like I never really existed?

Stop it, she told herself. Don't think like that.

The yearning for her parents would not go away. Their amicable faces revisited her, mouthing silent words of love, disgust...Lily didn't know what they were saying. They might as well have been saying they were ashamed of having a witch in the family, and that Petunia had been right all along, that Lily really was a freak. Were they now denouncing their youngest daughter, calling her a failure and a blemish on the family name?

Like the family name helped me a lot, she thought. Wait, no. It was no one's fault that she had "Evans" as a last name, and it was no one's fault that she had been put in the position of the ridiculed at Hogwarts. That's the way things were always done. Don't disturb tradition. Wonderful, sacrosanct tradition. Right?

A sudden pang of homesickness seized her. Would she never again lay her head on her mother's shoulder? Would she never hear anecdotes of her father's childhood?

A weight settled on her right shoulder. Turning her head around, a mass of brown feathers met her eyes.

"Regina!" she cried, her worries melting away as she stroked the contented owl. "Have you got something for me?"

Hooting gleefully and nipping Lily teasingly on the finger, Regina took to the air once again and flew away, but not before depositing a rather wrinkled sheet of parchment - hastily ripped on one end - on her sausage. Mail for me? she thought, raising an eyebrow. Who'd be writing to me, unless it's...no, it isn't. With a slight qualm of disappointment, she scanned through the letter that Remus, not her parents, had sent.

Hey Lily!

I just thought I'd let you see owl post in action, but I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to see it later on. Anyway, sorry I had to leave you without telling you beforehand (you were sleeping). I had to go see Professor McGonagall for something, so I'll see you at breakfast then!

Remus

Lily had scarcely finished reading it when shouts of "Lily! James!" filled the hall. Spinning around, Lily's eyes widened in relief as she saw Remus sprinting over to the Gryffindor table, his nimble body weaving through the dense pack of students. After sitting down and motioning for her to do the same, he apologized briskly for having missed some of breakfast. Though she dismissed it with a casual shrug, Lily could sense a palpable uneasiness on Remus's behalf, his curt, "Sorry about that," being nothing more than a scrambling attempt to cover it. "So, were you able to make your way down here without getting lost? And you got my owl, right? It took me forever to find yours, you know that? She looks exactly like the school owls...actually, I might have taken one of those by mistake..."

"No, you found the right one," she replied, biting her lip.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, waving her hand absentmindedly. However, Remus's mention of Regina's resemblance to the school owls had quite unnerved her. How could she have forgotten that Regina was indeed a school owl, and Lily had - more or less - stolen her, however unintentional? She had half a mind to run back to the Owlery, take the owl to the headmaster (wherever he might be), and apologize copiously for having made such a grievous mistake.

Then a strange thought occurred to her. If she really had purloined an owl, then why hadn't Hogwarts noticed? Somebody, she reasoned, ought to have realized an owl had gone missing after delivering a letter, and that same somebody ought to have been logical enough to send a letter to Lily, politely asking for Regina back. In fact, Regina should have just flown away altogether after delivering the letter. None of that had happened, though, and reasons behind it were incredibly nebulous.

Meanwhile, James was acquainting himself with Alice.

"Ooh, an Emer, are you?" he asked, fascinated. "Irish, right?"

"Did you know that because of the name or the accent?" she jested.

"Both," he replied. "What is Ireland like, anyway? I've always wanted to visit: my mum tells me there's a large population of wizards over there."

Alice exchanged seats with Remus so that she could continue the discussion of her homeland (and family, as Lily soon learned, much to her dismay) with James. Lily gave him a small smile as he sat down next to her, a few crumbs dribbling from his toast-filled mouth.

"What did Professor McGonagall want with you?" she questioned him as soon as he had swallowed everything.

"Just...." His face screwed up in concentration. "My mum gets sick a lot." With a jolt of horror, Lily remembered the sweet complexion of Mrs. Lupin. I had no idea she wasn't feeling well, she thought. "She's always feeling a little ill, and the only way she would have let me attend Hogwarts is if they promised they'd let me visit her once a month. Professor McGonagall wanted to confirm things with me, that's all."

"That's terrible! Next time you go home, can you tell your mum I hope she feels better?"

"Sure, I'll - "

Remus abruptly stopped. Professor Flitwick was standing next to him, jovially smiling and a thick leaf of parchment tucked in his arm.

"Name, young man?"

"Remus Lupin."

Ruffling through the interminable stack of papers, Professor Flitwick retrieved Remus's schedule and duly handed it to him.

"Well, Mr. Lupin," he said, beaming at Remus, "I'll be seeing you after breakfast then. Okay, next person. Name?"

"Lily..."

"I need your last name, if you don't mind."

"Could I get the schedule myself?" she squeaked nervously, making an effort to sound resolute.

How am I afraid to death of a tiny little wizard who's shorter than myself? she thought, irked. However, her first experience with the Hogwarts professors - observing them laugh at her as she was being Sorted - had not provided the best of impressions.

"Are you Miss Evans?" he put forward, his tone possessing no hint of dislike and only the joy that comes in helping others.

"Y-yes."

"I'll be seeing you after breakfast as well," he said, and before hobbling away, he passed her a schedule. "Now, where is Minerva? I would think she would be back by now."

Instantly absorbed in the rigidly drawn cells on the parchment, she noted the word "Charms" written in the top-right corner under "Monday." A ten-minute break and Transfiguration followed it, then lunch and Double Potions - with the Slytherins. She cringed at the thought of it.

"Remus, do we all have the same schedule?" He peered over the top of her parchment and nodded. "I wonder if James and Alice do as well."

"All first-year Gryffindors do," James answered. "God, can you believe this? Classes with the bloody Slytherins this year. That's insane!"

Thankfully, Lucius isn't a first year, Lily thought, feeling quite pleased with how everything was going. True, having to spend time with the Slytherins was certainly something she loathed, but the classes looked balanced, not to mention interesting. There was also the added advantage of having Friday afternoons free.

"Lily, it's already eight-thirty," Remus informed her. "D'you want to start heading up to Charms?"

"I'd love to, but I don't think any of us know where it is!"

"You think we should ask around?"

"Yeah, why not?" Head swiveling around, she searched for a person that would legitimately know where the Charms classroom might be. She supposed anyone should suffice, but as an added precaution, Lily looked for one of the two Gryffindor prefects, distinguished by little silver pins on their otherwise plain black robes. "Pardon me?" she ventured.

"What d'you need?" the prefect snapped back, sounding so disdainful Lily wanted to slap him.

"Could you tell me how to get to the Charms classroom?"

"You first years...and you'd think they'd give you a Hogwarts orientation or something so you wouldn't be asking people like me for directions."

Despite his exasperation, he pointed out the route to the Charms corridor, and Lily thanked him copiously. Rejoining her tight-knit group of acquaintances - she was almost afraid of calling them friends for fear of losing them - she faithfully repeated what the prefect had told them, and after much shuffling of books, papers, and concealed breakfast items, the four first-years stood up and strode out of the Great Hall. The Slytherin table, a boisterous place even in the morning, passed through the very edge of her field of vision. Perhaps it was the condescending House unity it valued above everything else, but the Slytherin House certainly had an extra quality that set it off from the others. The Sorting Hat had said each House pertains to a distinct set of traits, but in Lily's mind, the partitions between Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff were merely arbitrary. The Slytherins, on the other hand, all possessed a certain element of something. It was this outstanding and nameless quality that drew Lily's eyes to their table, despite what good sense dictated she should do.

Lucius Malfoy, his robes immaculately arranged and hair impeccably groomed, towered over a cowering but surly-faced Sirius Black, and from the looks of it, he was admonishing the first year vehemently, a zeal brewing in the usually nondescript gray eyes.

"James, what's Sirius doing over there?" she asked.

"What does it look like he's doing?" he shot back, though not without an implication of pity in his voice.

"You think I can't see? Why is he over there?"

"Undoubtedly being yelled at for being a blood traitor, I would guess."

"Blood traitor," she mulled, not surprised that she had stumbled upon yet another unfamiliar term. Slowing her pace down, she turned back, casting her gaze on Sirius. His usually tart mouth was clenched shut, the outline of his jawbone noticeable. She looked from him to Lucius's shadowy face. Breathing slowly, Lily disregarded her friends' frantic and wordless warnings, obviously referring to the highly and respected pureblood Lucius, and skipped over to the feuding pair, the lilt in her steps cruelly ironic. Creeping a little nearer, she crouched down, taking care to keep herself concealed from the Slytherins. She was sure they wouldn't appreciate having a Muggle-born Gryffindor listening in on their conversations. Well, there was only one particular conversation she had in mind...

"Black," she heard Lucius say, "I really don't care if - " Lily craned her head to the side as someone walked between her and the Slytherin table, temporarily blocking Lucius and his words. As soon as the slight disturbance passed, she caught something that sounded like, " - exert a good influence over them, maybe."

More and more students were getting out of their seats and were beginning their day's odyssey, and they were interfering, however inadvertently, with Lily's eavesdropping. Thinking she could risk it, she crept closer. The words were clearer; Lily could hear much better now.

"But under no circumstances, Black, under no circumstances whatsoever, are you to sympathize with that Mudblood Evans, is that understood?"

The first year mumbled something in reply, his eyes glued unblinkingly on Lucius.

"Don't be so impertinent!" he snapped. "You know what's best for you. No one of your lineage should consort with such filth. We can only afford one family of blood traitors, which is, by the way, why you should also avoid that Potter kid...what's his name again? Something common, right?"

"It's James," Sirius said, positively spitting poison.

"Never mind, his first name is irrelevant. What is relevant, on the other hand, is that you don't go around picking up foolish ideas like his."

Lily's throat choked up with a screaming wrath, her heart ramming against her chest. I'm going to kill this guy, she thought, glaring and Lucius and his irritatingly smug demeanor. He's brainwashing Sirius and telling him what to think and what to do, and that would include treating me like dirt! Lucius's now-prophetic threat echoed in her hears: "We'll be watching you..."

He hadn't been joking. With a deft and sure hand, he was turning Hogwarts against her through his numerous connections, boxing her into a cramped and enclosed pen, friendless, cold, and terrifying. He would plant a seed of doubt in everyone's mind, doubt in Lily, doubt in Muggle-borns, and it would flower, feeding on the hate with which Lucius watered it, growing into a monstrous tree, blocking all light. There would be no escape for her then.

Pushing her panic aside, Lily pulled herself up to full height, and doing her best to look carefree, she called out, "Hi, Sirius!" as if she had stumbled upon him by chance.

He glowered at her through narrowed eyes, but Lily noticed him watch Lucius warily too, waiting to see how he would react after explicitly telling Sirius not to associate with Lily.

"Why, Miss Evans!" he exclaimed, his eyebrows rising. "What brings you here?"

"We need to go to class now, Sirius included."

"Ah, and I was hoping you could stay and enlighten me with your presence," he said tartly, the current beneath his chiding words perilous.

"But, unfortunately, I cannot," she fired back, equally saucy.

His face flickered dangerously. Lily capitalized on this brief moment of silence, grabbing Sirius by the hand and sprinting over to where Remus and the others were standing.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Sirius yelled, throwing off her hand. "I didn't need that!"

"Yes, you did!" she shouted, just as vehement. "You were letting him walk all over you!"

"I was not!" he retorted, his cheeks red. "And I didn't need your help either."

"If you didn't, then I thought you'd have the nerve to stand up for yourself over there, or at least to make an excuse so you could get out of there. But I saw you do none of that. You just let him push you around."

"Yeah, but you're in no position to talk, are you? You don't know Lucius Malfoy."

Lily gave Sirius a withering look. His physical nearness and the fingers entwined in her hair from the night before, the unspoken power he used in such a Machiavellian fashion made her wonder if Sirius truly knew the real Lucius.

"Oh, I know all that I need to know," she stated, turning on her heel and marching away. She strode through the corridors alone for quite some time, determined not to peer back to see if the others had followed. "Just get to the seventh floor," she said to herself resolutely. "Then I can sit in a corner and not have to think about Sirius." The morning had undoubtedly put in her terrible spirits.

Hearing approaching footsteps from behind, Lily reluctantly turned around and saw Remus jogging towards her. James, Alice, and Sirius, on the contrary, seemed quite keen to sensibly keep a good distance behind the still-fuming Lily.

"You know Lucius Malfoy?" he asked as he fell in stride with her rapid speed.

"In a way," she said, roughly pushing a curtain of hair away from her face, not especially eager to disclose any details of their first contentious meeting.

Neither of them spoke until they arrived at the Charms classroom. Professor Flitwick was not there. Lily took her bag off her shoulder, using her other hand to massage it. She half-dragged it behind her and slumped into a seat near the back of the room. Remus sat down next to her and gave her a wan smile, gesturing in Sirius's direction.

"Try and stay away from him for a bit. I've heard the Blacks have got the nastiest tempers in all of Wizarding Britain," he advised, and for the first time since meeting Alice, Lily felt her foul mood lighten. "But, seriously, you won't want to anger him."

"So I've learned," she sighed, bending down to pull out her books.

"Can I ask you a question? Just...please don't get mad. I think I'm a little afraid of that famous Evans temper too."

"My temper? Clearly, you've never seen my mum after she gets home from work, and her name's Prudence, but never mind. What's your question?"

"Why did you help Sirius out?"

"For the same reasons I told Sirius earlier." Her voice faltered. "And, well, you know how people always tell you to do the right thing? That's what I tried to do, and now everyone over there's mad at me."

"They aren't mad at you...except for maybe Sirius, but he'll get over that. I think."

"Nothing's going right, is it?" Lily pondered, resting her head on the desk.

"But the year's only just begun. You can't say that now, can you?"

"Then nothing's been going right so far."

"You still have a whole year ahead of you. One ruined morning won't ruin the next - I dunno - however many months we've got left."

"Already thinking about the end of the year?" Lily inquired, though she herself wondering what life after Hogwarts would be like.

"Just a little bit. The good part about going home is having my broomstick back."

The mention of "broomstick" made Lily feel a little nervous, although she could hardly guess why.

"Oh, right," she said. "First years aren't allowed to bring their own broomsticks to school. It isn't like I've got one to bring, anyway."

"Yeah, well, I thought it would be pretty cool if I tried out for Quidditch. I wouldn't make it, of course. I just like flying around, you know? Sometimes it's fun trying to race the birds...I never win. I'm not very good at flying" he finished, shrugging. "Why did I just tell you that? That was an incredibly stupid thing to say."

"It wasn't! I think it would be really fun to have been able to fly when I was younger. Huh, imagine that. Flying. With the birds too!" Lily snapped her fingers wistfully. "You should try out for Quidditch, Remus. You really, really should."

Nice job, Lily, she thought. You don't even know what Quidditch is.

"I can't. There are certain - circumstances - " He broke off uncomfortably.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"My mum, that's all."

"She doesn't want you to try out?"

"Remember how I told you she gets sick a lot?" Lily couldn't believe she had forgotten. "I wouldn't be able to attend the practices, so even if I did make the House team, they would probably kick me off for not showing up for practice."

"But they'd make an exception for you, wouldn't they?" she argued. "Quidditch can't come before your mum's health."

"Quidditch?" came a sing-song voice from behind Lily, who rolled her eyes, not daring to believe who it might be. "Did I hear someone say 'Quidditch'?"

"Maybe you did, James," Remus replied coolly.

"I can't wait for tryouts," he ejaculated, pummeling a fist into his other palm. "I'm going to show them all...you don't have to be second year or older to make the House team!"

"Be r-realistic," Remus reasoned, failing to sound cogent beneath James's ferocious stare. "If you can get on a House team as a second or third year as a reserve, that's good right there. The competition's tough."

"Competition," James huffed. "Like they stand a chance."

"You don't even have your own broomstick with you," Remus said. "You're going to have to be flying on a school broom - "

" - and I'll still be better than everyone else," he finished with a flourish, and then James headed back to his original seat with a look so smug Lily swore it would have made Lucius tremble with jealousy.

"Um, what is Quidditch, exactly?" Lily asked as soon as James had resumed his conversation with Sirius.

"It's our sport - played on broomsticks."

"Hmm, I've never heard of that before."

"Muggles tend to want their sports to stay flat on the ground, don't they?"

"Eh, the ball can go pretty high during a football match," Lily said, recalling the one time her parents had take her to a game.

"Well, what's football?"

"I'll tell you...after you explain Quidditch to me," she bargained.

"Er, it's a bit complicated, to tell you the truth. I don't think there's anything Muggles have that can match Quidditch. There are, let's see, four balls - three different balls - and seven people on each team, and rules that I can't even count."

"I think I'll get it once I physically watch the game," Lily said, her natural disinclination towards anything related to sports returning.

By this time, the great majority of the Gryffindor first years had filed into class, many of whom were buzzing about what their first ever day of Hogwarts might bring. With this tide of rising exhilaration, Lily felt her troubles at breakfast disperse; a tingling sensation pervaded her thinking, a nervous anticipation building from within.

"Oh!" she said, letting out an audible gasp.

Professor Flitwick, with a marquee of scarlet cushions floating behind him, emerged from his office, whistling a nondescript tune. He flicked his wand, and the cushions punctually arranged themselves in a tidy pyramid, each layer consisting of one fewer cushion than the previous one. The eyes of many an amazed student followed Flitwick as he marched up the pyramid, not stopping until having reached its peak. Spinning around, he faced his class, beaming.

"Well, hello!" he squeaked, bringing his hands together. "Welcome to your first class at Hogwarts, and it seems that I have the pleasure of bringing you up close to magic." His eyes scanned the room, lingering on Lily for an infinitesimal moment. "I'd like to begin with a quick lecture before I take roll."

A unanimous rustling of parchment interrupted his words. Lily snatched a quill, somewhat bent at the end, from the side pocket of her bag, vaguely wondering what there was to lecture about on the first day and whether or not she should have memorized her course books over the summer. James seemed to echo her views.

"A lecture already?" he yelped, arms crossed over his chest.

"I never said anyone had to take notes." The room froze. "So, shall we begin then? Charms is perhaps the most applicable branch of magic you will learn at Hogwarts, though that may be coming from a slightly biased perspective. It will undoubtedly be the most useful in your everyday life, regardless of your career..."

One period later, the bell clanged through Hogwarts, commencing a ten-minute break. The first years exited the Charms room, chatting animatedly. After a short introduction to the subject, which had been interspersed with many laughs, Flitwick had given each of them a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean - Lily had gazed, bemused, at hers - in an attempt to practice the Pushing Charm, the most rudimentary of charms, according to The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1). After a bit of practice, the beans were lined up on a strip of Spell-o-Tape and raced across the room, goaded on by their respective owners' cheering and flying red sparks.

Lily hadn't won, but as she watched James's bean cross the designated finish line and his acceptance of Flitwick's prize (an oversized bag of Bertie Bott's), she felt she had done quite well in finishing ahead of a good portion of her classmates. Her feelings had buoyed even further as she eyed Remus battle it out with another person for third place and Peter's bean give one last feeble hop across the finish line to finish second-to-last.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" she said the moment they left the room, the incidents from breakfast being mostly forgotten, though she and Sirius were still tacitly avoiding each other. "I wish every class could be like that."

"Doubt it," Remus groaned, casting a longing look down the Charms corridor.

"Flitwick's classes'll be fun, though," James added. "My dad's told me he's not strict at all. As for the other ones - " He exhaled dramatically " - who knows?"

"Bet you won't fancy having McGonagall next," Sirius gibed, jabbing at his own schedule.

"Oh, no, you aren't being serious?"

"'Course I am."

"Transfiguration next?"

"James," Lily pointed out, "you do have your own schedule."

"Why do I have to go through all that trouble of getting mine from my bag when you, Remus, and Sirius have all got 'em in your hands?"

Alice, covertly throwing shifty glances over her shoulder, jogged up to Lily and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Is anyone up for a bit of fresh air?" she offered. "The courtyard's just at the end of this hall."

Everyone but Lily declined; they made their way to a verdant expanse lined with benches carved from a flecked gray stone. The midmorning sun shimmered off the morning dew even now clinging to the grass, and the birds were as bothersome as ever, fluttering in and out of the mass of students cherishing their quick intermission between classes. Breathing in the scents of rural England, her senses awoke. Lily lowered herself onto the nearest bench, Alice still following. Ready to continue discussing the morning's lesson, it came as a surprise for Lily to see Alice staring, with a misty and rapt expression, at the blanket of dancing blue that seemed to cover and encompass the entire courtyard. Lily's stomach squirmed, and she felt herself empathizing for Alice, though as to what had caused the sudden change in Alice, she was none the wiser. But somehow, instinctively, Lily knew.

"D'you miss Ireland?"

"Yes," Alice admitted, her neck muscles constricted.

"Did you live there?"

"Em, used to. Me mam moved to London and took me with her after she got a job at the Ministry of Magic. My family might be pureblood, but we've barely got ten Galleons to our name. The Ministry offered her a good pay."

"London's all right," Lily mumbled, the thrill, the rush of the city still emblazoned in her mind.

"I - I guess it is, but Ireland, Lily! Ireland! You'll never see anything like it anywhere else in the world. The sky's purple at times, the hills are almost magical, and when I'm standing by the shore, and I watch the waves crash onto the cliffs...it's like living in one of those old myths."

Lily nodded, her throat tightening. Having never seen Ireland, she could only imagine the rich landscapes being described, but Alice's words struck a deep chord within her, and it resounded through her tangled heart.

"Lily," Alice snapped, her airy manner disappearing entirely, "who's that following us?"

Lily's thoughts automatically jumped to Lucius Malfoy, who was always there waiting for her in the most inconvenient of moments, but as she scanned the courtyard, it wasn't the distinctive silvery hair that met her eyes. It was Peter.

"Oh, him. He's just another Gryffindor," she answered, yawning, but Alice didn't seem placated.

"He's certainly a strange one. He's been following you since we left Charms."

"What?" Lily sputtered. "Me? Why me?"

"I thought you would know. Do you know him?" Alice asked, her lips pursed.

"By name only," Lily lied. "Well, um, we should probably go to Transfiguration now."

The mention of class seemed to un-ruffle Alice. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulders, she cast one last longing look at the sky before the two friends made their way to the Transfiguration department, arriving in a dazed state. Acrid fumes had been slowly billowing out of a crevice in an empty classroom door, and they had the misfortune of unintentionally running through it and inhaling it. Its putrid scent sent them doubling over.

"What's that smell?" Lily gasped, trying to limit her breathing.

"I think - ugh. It's disgusting. I feel like I'm going to throw up!"

"What's all that racket over there?" a raspy voice grunted, heading in their direction. "One of these days I'm going to quit this job. Hanging students from the ceiling was the only thing worth staying for, and now that's been bloody outlawed." A narrow-eyed man with scraggly hair opened the door, letting free another blast of the stink. A cat with bulbous eyes emerged from the room, resting at his feet. "What do you want?"

"Just...the smell," Lily said, trying to act as if it wasn't affecting her at all.

The cat hissed.

"Damn plumbing broke," the man muttered, heading back into the room. "Now get to class!"

Alice and Lily complied without a moment's hesitation and sprinted down to the Transfiguration room, not saying a single word to each other until they collapsed into their seats, still clutching their sides. Professor McGonagall, hair pulled back into her customary bun, was shuffling about at the front of the classroom, still in the midst of preparing her lesson.

"Where've you two been?" Remus mumbled, eying their pallid profiles.

"The pipes broke somewhere back down the hallway," Lily forced herself to say, holding back the sickening feeling filling her. "Smells terrible."

"And we ran into this scary-looking person," Alice continued. "He didn't look too happy at all. I wonder who he is."

"I don't," Lily snorted. "I hope I never have to see him or his evil cat ever again."

At last having all of her notes organized, Professor McGonagall tapped her wand impatiently on the side of her desk. The class fell silent at once.

Lily soon realized that, in comparison with Transfiguration and the uptight, regulated way it was taught, Flitwick's class was the closest she would get to having a free period. McGonagall's voice was kept stiff and low, almost a monotone, but that was all it took to ruthlessly maintain the class's attention. Her control was firm and authoritarian, and as much as she elaborated on the nuances of the subject of Transfiguration, one message penetrated Lily's dazed brain: This is a serious class, and you will take it seriously.

Shaking with fear, her eyes surreptitiously roamed across the room. From what she could gauge of her classmates' facial expressions, they, too, seemed afraid, the look of foreboding mingled with reluctant admiration naked on their faces. Even Sirius's lower jaw was dangling. Only James had the annoyingly lazy look and was absentmindedly examining the sleeves of his robes.

After the course introduction came an extensive lecture, brimming with complex definitions and theories. Professor McGonagall moved at a brisk pace and erased one board of notes after another, only to replace it with another. Ugly splotches of ink and uneven lines of meaningless words covered Lily's paper, who as trying her very best not to fall behind. Out of the corner of her eye, Remus was scribbling with such speed his nose was flecked with pinpricks of black, and if she wasn't mistaken, Peter had managed to tip his inkwell, and a great puddle of black was now enveloping both his and his disgruntled neighbor's parchment.

"Now that you have the very basics of Transfiguration copied down," Professor McGonagall announced, magically wheeling the board over to the side of the room, "I should hope that all of you - " She fixed her steely gaze on James, who had the gall to not so much as look at his quill " - will diligently review these notes until they are thoroughly memorized. I doubt that without knowing this information as well as your own name, you will not go far in Transfiguration."

This extraordinary pronouncement provoked a small squeak of terror from Peter, still madly waving his wand at his ruined parchment, which wasn't responding to its owner's shrieks. Nonchalantly, Professor McGonagall flicked her want at him. The ink vanished. Peter beamed gratefully at her, and while Professor McGonagall smiled back at him, Lily was sure she saw the professor's cheek muscle twitch.

"Now, will you please get into pairs, and Mr. Potter here, since he was so raptly listening to the lesson, will kindly pass out to each of you a matchstick. Using the techniques and the incantations that I have just taught you, try your best to transfigure it into a needle. If you need help, consult your partner before asking me. You may begin."

"Well, hello, Lily," Remus said, turning around.

"Hello, Remus - "

" - and hello, you two," James interrupted, offering a wicker basket. "Fancy seeing you here. Take 'em, already."

Lily reached in and picked up a few as James moved onto the next pair. She felt a slight prick on the finger.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, holding up her finger for examination. "I think I've got a splinter."

"You should pull it out," Remus advised.

"No, because then it'll hurt even more," Lily moaned, bringing her finger up to eye level so that she could see a miniscule sliver of wood protruding from her skin.

"It hurts more when you leave it in."

He reached for her hand and brought it back down, laying it in his other hand. Wincing a bit, Lily watched on as he bent down and freed the splinter, tossing it aside. He patted her finger gently as if ensuring there was none of the wood remaining.

Her attention meandered over to Sirius and James. Sirius had managed to turn his matchstick a metallic silver color, resembling a needle in many ways except...not being a needle. James, on the other hand, was prolifically turning out one needle after another, and was continually reaching into the basket for un-transfigured matchsticks, only to transform them with a natural wave of the wand and a drawling incantation.

Lily looked back at Remus and realized with a start he was still stroking her translucent skin, his figure bathed in sunlight. Her stomach roiled. He tilted his head upwards, their gazes locking. Lily felt an embarrassed heat flushing from her cheeks. Remus dropped her hand.

"So, uh, the matchsticks," she stuttered, placing one of them in front of her and extracting her wand.

But flicking their wands and reiterating the spell had no effect whatsoever on the matchsticks. Frustrated, Lily read through her notes again: Visualize desired result...incantation: mutatio...circular wand movement...going counterclockwise...She glared jealously at James, who was presenting his mountain of needles - their points facing perilously outward - to an astounded Professor McGonagall.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I don't believe I've ever seen a student do this well on his first try," she remarked, nodding. "Twenty points to Gryffindor."

Lily stored all the say down to lunch, the word "failure" lurking in her footsteps.

"Don't be disappointed," Alice said, later, through a mouthful of potatoes. "I couldn't transfigure mine at all. Hardly anyone could."

"You didn't see James, did you?" Lily retorted, mashing her peas into a pulp. "He was a Transfiguration factory! Matchstick goes in, needle comes out. Matchstick goes in, needle comes out."

"James is an exception. His father got a perfect score on his Transfiguration N.E.W.T. Those are the exams we take in seventh year. It was the only one in history. He outscored even Tom Riddle."

"Who's that?"

"I can show you if you like."

"Okay," Lily acquiesced, wondering what Alice had in mind.

"It's not far. The trophy room's nearby." The trophy room turned out to be exactly what its name implied: a room full of trophies, plaques, and framed certificates. Pearly glass cabinets lined the perimeter of the room, reflecting whatever light the paltry candles emitted. "Lily, look there," Alice pointed out.

Lily edged tentatively closer, half expecting to hear the scream of breaking glass. Countless chestnut-hued plaques met her eyes, the name "Tom Riddle" boldly embossed on every one of them.

"What did this guy do to get all of these?" she murmured to herself in awe. "See, he's got...Special Services to the School, Academic Achievement Award, International Association of Teachers of Magic Award, student of the year - hang on, he's got about five of those." Tearing herself away from the prodigy's massive collection of accolades, Lily stared at Alice, stupefied. "You're sure he did this - all of this - when he was Hogwarts?"

"More than sure," Alice swore. "He was also prefect and Head Boy."

"How d'you know all of this?"

"He's practically Hogwarts legend, Lily, especially since there's been no trace of him since he left the school. Wizarding families with children going to Hogwarts worship him and his perfect marks. Me mam used to say to me, 'Why can't you be more like the Riddle boy?' whenever she was annoyed with me. Then I'd tell her, 'Who'd want to be a good-for-nothing, stuck-up genius, anyway?'"

Lily found herself laughing alongside Alice, though not without a twinge of disappointment that she couldn't be Tom Riddle-reborn. Maybe then she might have been able to transfigure a bloody matchstick...

"So, you said he disappeared after leaving Hogwarts?" Lily asked, salivating for more information about the student that was so idolized.

"Mm-hmm. He's probably inventing self-spelling wands as we speak."

"The Ravenclaws have got a lot to live up to, then."

"What do you mean?"

"He was a Ravenclaw, wasn't he?"

"That's the odd thing about him," Alice spoke softly. "He wasn't in Ravenclaw. Or Gryffindor. Or Hufflepuff, for that matter."

"He's a - ?" she gasped, the glowing aura surrounding Riddle's mystique extinguished.

"Yeah, weird, isn't it? Of all Houses. He was a half-blood, too. Wonder what the Sorting Hat was thinking."

"I thought only purebloods could be in Slytherin."

"Who knows?"

They tromped back up to lunch, gulped down whatever was left on their plates with unnatural speed, and waited as James and Sirius resolved their debate over - what else? - Quidditch. Remus sat off to the side, watching, amused.

"Don't even bother trying," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "You know you won't make it."

"I will!" James said, looking aghast.

"You will not."

"And why won't I, huh?"

Sirius hastily swallowed what was in his mouth and set his fork back down on the table.

"You've got three strikes against you." He held up three fingers. "One: you're a first year. Forget about making the team - do you know how many first years try out for the House teams? My cousins tell me the last one to do so was five years ago. Two: you're a bit too confident."

"I am not! I just have high self-esteem."

"Which is too high, if you ask me," Sirius finished for him. "First years, if you couldn't tell, are generally seen as a bunch of little berks." Lily recalled the prefect she had asked for directions at breakfast. What an idiot she must have seemed to him! "Three: your..."

"My what?"

" - name," Sirius mouthed discreetly.

" 'James'?" he exclaimed deprecatingly. "What's wrong with that?"

"No, not...that name."

The fury blazed in James's hazel eyes only momentarily before fading. Looking as if he accepted this last point, albeit with a pouting lower lip, he sunk back into his seat, playing with his shepherd's pie with a fork.

"Ah, um, Lily," Remus said, clearing his throat, "what do we have after lunch?"

Studying her schedule, she replied, "Potions, but it seems that there are two of them."

"Double Potions?"

"I'd guess so."

"Do we have it with another House?"

Clearly, the acid green words located beneath "POTIONS" had escaped Lily's notice.

"Oh, no," she groaned, banging her forehead against the table. "This is impossible! The Slytherins, and in the dungeons too!"

And despite her threat to skip classes, Lily was dragged down into the bowels of Hogwarts, her skin becoming clammier with each step. Her initial annoyance at whoever designed the schedules began to be replaced with an increased trepidation and fear, something she had become all too acquainted with. Rivulets of water trickled ominously between the cracks in the walls, and the torches incarcerated in their brackets did little to comfort her. The dungeons...we aren't really going to have class in a prison, are we? she thought, hoping against hope that "dungeons" would turn out to be some sort of misnomer.

They were the first Gryffindors to arrive. Innards boiling, a sugary grin of welcome fixed imprinted on her taut face, Lily made her way past rows of tables bearing identical cauldrons and miniature cabinets of Potion ingredients to a bench with her name, shaped with sparkling letters, floated in midair. Looking down, she saw her own cauldron and purchases from the apothecary resting on the table. She sat down warily, her shimmering name vanishing instantly. Mollifying her somewhat, she realized she was seated at the very back of the classroom. On the other hand, she thought the distance between herself and the Slytherins could be widened significantly.

James appeared next to her, blocking the Slytherins from view. She expected him to ask if she was put out that Remus wasn't within arm's distance, but he himself seemed very irritated, still reeling from Sirius's carefully dealt points dealing with his prospect of making the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

"Aw, why's Potter looking so sad?" one Slytherin jeered. "Severus here could put it all right for you."

A great guffaw rose from the Slytherins.

"Yeah, you could, couldn't you, Snape?" another one laughed.

Lily felt James stiffen beside her. Casting her eyes down, she watched as he secretly slipped a hand into his robes, his slender fingers gripped on a thin rod of wood.

"No," she said instantly, laying a restraining hand on his arm. "Don't."

"Does Potter need a Mudblood to protect him?" someone mocked; Lily, blushing, pulled her hand back, rearranging her cauldron. "Snape, come here."

A small boy with lank shoulder-length hair stood up, the bench scraping unpleasantly against the floor. Revolving slowly, he faced James, his motionless black eyes meeting James's pulsing hazel ones. He raised his arm slowly, lissomely, directing it straight at James. James did the same, although in a much swifter fashion. Both of their knuckles were bulging with tension; both of their wands aimed at their respective targets, erect and unmoving.

"The Gryffindor's a pushover for someone like you," a Slytherin said, propping his feet up on the table. "He'll be no problem."

Streams of strange and foreign words flowed out of James and Snape's mouths as bright jets of light issued from the tips of their wands, arcing towards their destination. They met in midair, ricocheting off each other and heading it opposite directions. The screech of glass filled the room. One of the numerous glass jars laying on the shelf above the Potions professor's desk had fallen victim to one of their jinxes. It was now in pieces on the floor.

"What is this commotion?" a soft voice issued from nearby. "Class isn't due to start for a few minutes."

Everyone's head whipped around, staring at the lone figure leaning against the dungeon's entrance. Mum! Lily thought, her heart racing. She examined the woman closely. Excluding the wizard robes, she could easily pass for Prudence Evans. Her lush auburn locks were parted elegantly down the middle, hanging down to her collarbone. A rather small nose, relatively short fingers, a very shapely contour...but, no. The eyes. They were different, blue instead of the orbs of light brown sprinkled with green, but the blue! Lily had never seen such a shade, light yet deep, enticing yet mournful.

She walked over to where the jar had splintered. With purpose, she looked from student to student.

"What happened?" was all she said.

"James Potter tried to jinx me," the boy named Snape called out, a sickeningly oily feel to his voice.

"He tried to jinx me first!" James yelled back, blazing with fury.

"Out of self-defense. You obviously wanted to attack me, so I held up my wand to protect myself."

" 'Self-defense,'" James snorted. "More like you were being egged on by all your Slytherin buddies over there."

"Was anyone hurt?" the woman asked, more concerned for their well-beings than who had began the fight.

"Just the jar," James shrugged, sitting back down.

"No, Mr. Potter. Please stand back up. Which one of you broke the jar?"

"He did," they said simultaneously.

A small smile lit her serene features.

"Then you are both equally at fault," she declared. "Sit down. We're beginning class now." James obeyed with such speed he almost toppled the bench and sent Lily lurching.

"Watch it!" she hissed.

"You shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"My name is Professor Trewellyn," the woman said after effortlessly repairing the glass and replacing it on the shelf, "and I will be your Potions professor at Hogwarts. Now, I must warn you that - "

"Where's Professor Icarus?" a Slytherin interrupted, glaring at the new professor with undisguised contempt.

"He retired at the end of last year. He apparently wished to spend more time at his seaside house in France."

"Why's that?"

"I would suggest you ask someone else. As I was saying, you should be warned that Potions is considered one of the most difficult subjects in the Hogwarts curriculum, O.W.L. or otherwise. Few are able to master it thoroughly; therefore, do not be discouraged if you do not get what you want on the first try. Potions requires an exactness and perfection not found in any other branch of magic, and one misstep can often ruin your entire concoction. Not many people can have this precision without a good deal of practice.

"This said, I will be grading you quite leniently through the first half of the year. More emphasis will be placed on effort and brewing methods than the finished product. After that, I shall be expecting more from you - "

"What's your surname again?" the same Slytherin disrupted, now picking his fingernails.

"And may I ask what your name is?"

"Sebastian Avery."

From somewhere next to her, Sirius let out a low whistle.

"Mr. Avery, anything not pertaining to Potions can be discussed with me after class," she said smoothly, but Lily detected a slight pink glowing on her cheeks.

"But, Professor," he continued, "it's important that, as students, we're able to know if our professors are - able enough to teach us."

"And what would my surname have to do with my competence as an instructor?"

"Everything," Avery smirked.

"Regardless, I should expect that all of you, if you put enough hard work into it, should be able to brew any Potion in the first year curriculum by the Easter holidays. Now, what is a potion?" Two hands shot up. Professor Trewellyn looked from Snape to James, deciding whom to call on. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"A potion is a brewed solution," he recited, glaring at Snape.

"Correct. Five points to Gryffindor."

"However," Snape added coldly, "a potion is a magically brewed solution. A Muggle soft drink wouldn't be a potion, would it?"

"Even better. Five points to - "

"Still wrong, Snape," James spat. "A potion is a magically brewed solution which is brewed for a specific purpose."

Professor Trewellyn looked dumbfounded at this sudden burst of antagonism. It took a moment before she regained her composure.

"Another five to Gryffindor, then. Well, let us try brewing a potion ourselves, shall we? Assuming you remembered to pack your cauldron and student cupboard, which, it seems, all of you did, those objects should be arranged in front of you. The instructions for this are very straight forward, and after a few rounds of potion brewing, you ought to be quite familiar with the brewing methods. If you are not, then consult Magical Drafts and Potions for more assistance. Please get into pairs."

Lily automatically swiveled around, looking for Remus, but he was seated at the opposite corner of the classroom and had already been approached by Peter. Sirius was already chatting with Alice, about what, Lily could not imagine...

"Guess I'll be working with you then," James said.

She found nothing to say in reply. They both looked up at Professor Trewellyn for further information. She waited until everyone had settled down before resuming.

"We seem to be a bit split along House lines, don't we?" she asked, noting the gap between Slytherin and Gryffindor. "It's time for a little bit of inter-House communication. Let's see, now, Mr. Black there, why don't you work with Mr. Snape over here?" Loathing showing plainly on his face, Sirius and his materials relocated to the empty seat next to Snape. "Ah, that's better. Now, Miss Emer, would you please move over here?"

And so it continued, the pairing of Slytherin and Gryffindor, proceeding at an agonizingly slow pace. Wondering when it would be time for dinner and the end of this double period, Lily was struck to find herself the last remaining Gryffindor.

"Mr. Avery, you will be working with Miss Evans."

Lily almost rammed her fist into her solid metal cauldron, thinking she would rather feel the white-hot pain of her bones being crushed than have to suffer the fellowship of a Slytherin - and that one in particular. He was certainly very absorbed in blood and lineage.

He shot her a look of pure hatred before moving over to the seat James had only so recently occupied. I'd rather work with James in a bad mood and Quidditch-less than this person any day, she thought.

"The instructions for the potion are right here," Professor Trewellyn said, tapping her wand twice on the board. Curved letters slowly spread from where the wand had touched the board, methodically reordering themselves into the necessary words, sentences, and steps. "I expect that most of you should be able to brew this with little difficulty as now heating of the solution is involved. You may begin."

"So, um," Lily began, falsely cheerful, "what do we need first? It says, 'Add a pinch of essence of lionfish to half a cauldron-full of lukewarm water and mix clockwise three times.' Um, do you want to get the water then?"

"Mudblood, stop acting as if I'm really enjoying this," he yawned.

Lily wanted to snap, "I'm not either," back at him, but she prudently bit her tongue, being reasonably assured that she had a Lucius Malfoy protégé on her hands.

"Alright, then, I'll go get it," she told him, but not moving.

"Go, then!"

Scowling, she wrenched the cauldron off the table, its weight pulling her down. She straightened up and stumbled over to the faucet to join the line that was already forming.

"What a great class this is going to be," Lily grumbled under her breath.

"Now the essence of lionfish," Avery said, pointing his finger at the student cupboard.

Lily wrinkled her nose as she creaked open the cupboard. Identical jars stood in stolid rows, each with fresh new labels affixed on them. She picked out the essence of lionfish and sprinkled a very small quantity of it over the cauldron. A light vapor fizzled from the water's surface.

"Where's my ladle?" she asked.

"Tsk tsk, Mudblood. How could you lose something as important as that?"

"Stop being so sarcastic," she snapped, her temper flying loose. "You could help me, you know, instead of just sitting there!"

"Don't talk to me like that, Mudblood!" he hissed, standing up so quickly the table shook.

"Then help!"

"No, I won't."

"Then sit down and be quiet, please. I don't want to fail Potions, and I don't think you want to either."

Immediately, she sensed she had pushed the matter too far. For a moment, Lily had almost welcomed the chance to spar with a rival Slytherin, to show that she wasn't about to let anyone toy around with her, but then she remembered with a sinking horror that this wasn't just a Slytherin. She was dealing with someone with prestige, someone with connections, and someone with power, a power that could be lethal. Avery seemed to have noticed her falter.

"If you ever talk to me like that again," he threatened, "you'll more than just fail your bloody classes."

"Miss Evans, Mr. Avery, is there something wrong?" Professor Trewellyn asked, seeing them upright and glaring.

"We're - just...working...getting stuff," Lily spluttered, awkwardly sitting back down. As soon as the professor's attentions turned elsewhere, she leaned in and whispered to Avery, "See what I mean? Can't we just get the assignment done and over with? Then we'll never have to talk to each other again."

"Fine," he conceded. "Use my ladle since you're too stupid to find your own."

Turning crimson, she accepted his ladle and stirred the potion as instructed.

"The next step: 'Add three strands of unicorn hair and let potion sit for five minutes,'" she read. As Avery pulled out the strands, Lily gazed in wonder at the slender threads of dazzling white. A real unicorn, huh, she thought. And all this time I thought they were just fairy tale animals. Maybe I'll see one someday! "What do we do next?"

"Can't you read, Mudblood? We don't have to do anything for the next five minutes."

"But wouldn't it be better if we prepared for the next step?"

"Why bother?" he mumbled, but looking back up at the board all the same. "We'll need some gumbumble wings." But as Lily reached for the cupboard, her elbow struck against something hard and immobile, a loud clang resonated through her ears, pain shooting through her arm. Clutching it, she grimaced, rocking back and forth. "What the - " Avery began.

"Ow, that hurt," Lily cried.

"What did you do, Mudblood?"

"I think my elbow hit the cauldron."

"That's not what I was talking about!" he screamed. "Open your eyes!"

Slowly, her eyelids rose. Her eyes traveled from Avery's livid form to...Lily gulped. His finger was directed incriminatingly at the floor. The cauldron rolled on the floor, liquid slowly spilling out from its gaping mouth.

"I - I'm sorry," she said, instantly getting off the bench and righting the cauldron. "I'll clean it up, I'm sorry!"

"You're such a stupid little Mudblood!" Avery continued to rave, spittle flying from his mouth. The entire class was silent, observing them with an edge of fear. Professor Trewellyn was watching, too, but said nothing. "Who even let you come to Hogwarts? You ruined it!"

"I don't - oh, I'm really really sorry," she pleaded, trembling violently, her face sparkling with tears. "I'll clean it, I really will!"

"I DON'T CARE! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!" he bellowed, kicking the cauldron with such force whatever solution was left in it sloshed on Lily's robes. "YOU'RE JUST STUPID, MUDBLOOD!"

Straightening his robes, he stormed out the dungeon. The absence of his cutting words magnified Lily's sobbing and panting gasps for air.

No one moved.

Remus hurried forward, standing before her prostrated figure. Sinking slowly to his knees, he placed a hand on her shoulder, murmuring something.

"No!" she shrieked, throwing it off. "Don't - oh, my God!"

She pushed herself to her feet, defiantly staring at a point off in the distance.

"Miss Evans - " Professor Trewellyn cooed, moving towards her student.

Lily, her reverie broken, turned her head in a graceful arc and looked at the professor. Fresh tears poured from her eyes, trickling down her chilled skin, half pitying and half disbelieving.

Careful not to slip on the spilled potion, she ran from the room.