Lily Evans and the Marauder's Secrets

Only the Beginning

Author's Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMES! <3

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The next couple days pass by in a blur.

My parents head back home that very Saturday night, as do James's, but many linger the rest of the weekend, and some even into Monday. When they leave, there's fewer students in the Great Hall for meals, and the common room feels a little emptier. The most noticeable absences are at the Slytherin table; nearly all their sixth and seventh year students vanished alongside the Death Eaters after the attack on Hogsmeade, and I try not to stare at Severus's usual spot, empty and abandoned. My best friend is gone, but I'm also realizing he's been gone for a while now. And so I refuse to miss him.

Mary's parents arrived late Saturday to collect her body. They spend a long time in Professor Dumbledore's office, and with Carol and her mother, who stayed the better part of Sunday. When they leave, though, Carol stays.

None of my mates leave school, either. Alice, Marlene, Emmeline, Sirius, Peter, Remus... they all stay.

Professor Dumbledore cancels classes on Monday while the last of the parents finally head home and Professor Jarvis finishes recovering in the Hospital Wing. Remarkably, she's pulled through and even agreed to finish out the year teaching. "But no more after this," she tells me Monday morning when I'm visiting James. "I'm retired, and I intend to stay that way from now on. I'm too old for this. But I promised Dumbledore a school year, so I'll teach the school year."

And, against all odds, the school year will go on.

"Does Dumbledore really think anyone's going to care about OWLs or NEWTs after this?" James complains that afternoon. His wounds have healed so well, Madame Pomfrey stopped bandaging him this morning and promised him if they stayed as they were, she'd let him go this evening. He's definitely getting restless.

"It does seem kind of silly, doesn't it?" I say. "Still..." I turn the page of my Transfiguration textbook.

James looks over at me with an exasperated, affectionate smile. "And yet, you still want the top marks," he says.

"Somebody's got to do it," I say. "Although let's be realistic: no matter how well you've tutored me this year, or how much I study between now and finals, I've got no chance beating you in Transfiguration."

He considers that. "No," he says. "You don't."

I whack him over the head with my book, but really, he probably deserves the top spot there.

Finally, finally, that evening, after Madame Pomfrey makes James take dinner in the Hospital Wing, and I decide to stay with him to keep him company, he's set free.

"Looks like I can't keep you any longer, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey says, looking disgruntled as she fusses down the aisle. "The Headmaster would like to see you and Miss Evans both after dinner in his office."

"Finally," James groans. He tosses down the biscuit he'd been nibbling half-heartedly. "In that case, I'm done. Just let me go."

Madame Pomfrey frowns, but she's out of reasons to make him stay. Five minutes later and James is practically strutting down the corridor, thrilled to be free again.

"You look like fifth year Potter," I tease, and he groans again.

"Please never say that to me again. Let's pretend none of that year ever happened. In fact, let's pretend none of the years ever happened except this one."

"No?" I say. "I don't know, it was kind of making me nostalgic."

"For what?" he asks incredulously.