Maeve Macmillan still loves to write.
This time around, she's evolved from writing notes and short stories to articles and eulogies. Darkness has seeped in like a heavy shroud. War, death and decay have become as common as brown eyes. But it is more...
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-----------------------> WHEN JAMES POTTER WAS SEVENTEEN, he achieved seven very important things. Firstly, he was an adult in the eyes of the magical law and could thus, legally drink. Second, because he was an adult in the eyes of the magical law, he could be sent to Azkaban and the prison cells below the Ministry of Magic should he be caught doing anything illegally (like being an unregistered animagus, for instance).
Thirdly, he wrote his Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests and passed with flying colours. Fourthly, he graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fifthly, he entered a relationship with his long-time crush, Lily Evans.
Sixthly, he along with his best mate, Sirius Black, was accepted into the much-acclaimed Auror department and put under the terrifyingly wicked Deputy Head Auror, Alastor Moody. Seventhly, he along with his girlfriend, friends—brothers, really—and his best mate's girlfriend were recruited into a top-secret organisation headed by the recipient of the Order of Merlin first class, Albus Dumbledore, to fight against the Dark Lord.
Hence, he was practically bouncing on his feet—thank Merlin Lily appeared more fond than annoyed by his giddiness—as Headmaster Dumbledore let them in on the secret house enchanted to be invisible for all those without a password. James was bubbling with pride upon being trusted with such a secret, and by the faces of his friends, he deciphered they were as well.
The light June weather rained upon them as a modest, two-storey townhouse rippled into existence on the outskirts of Edinburgh. It did not look like the place hosting a resistance group against the Dark Lord, but he supposed that was the point.
Dumbledore smiled down at them, a vision of brightly odd robes and a matching, tall, pointy hat. "Shall we?" He gestured to the wooden door and it took every bit of willpower in James for him not to yell out a yes.
They marched to the wooden door which towered over them and Dumbledore knocked in a special set of patterns which James tried to memorise. A bit later, the door swung open and the short hair surrounding the familiar face of Maeve Macmillan smiled at them. "Hi."
"Maeve!" Halley practically jumped on her, capturing her into a hug, which Maeve returned instantly.
James lingered behind as she greeted everyone with a kind smile, seemingly not holding any hostile feelings despite the lot of them—bar Halley—engaging in a witch-hunt for her just six months ago. Headmaster Dumbledore ushered them in before closing the door.
When Maeve's eyes moved to him, James blurted out, "You have bangs now."
Maeve smiled at him, eyes soft. "I missed you too."
"But—why would you?" James looked genuinely confused and heartbroken. "I was awful to you," he continued, his voice pained. "Whether or not I realised it, I...I was horrible. I can't imagine how you must have felt. Why aren't you mad at me?"
