Eternal Recurrence

November 15th, 1976

Despite the initial complaints, the sixth-year Gryffindors adjusted well to sharing their space with Dorcas, and Dorcas adjusted well to being shared with. 

A few days after she moved in, a box arrived outside their door, full of basic muggle and wizarding clothes and a stack of school supplies. No one, so far, had taken the credit for leaving the box, but Dorcas, who didn’t have many options, had accepted it gratefully. Lily had helped her alter them to her size. Dorcas hadn’t really needed to help, but she’d learned that one of the things her new dormmates liked to do was help each other. And she was, mostly, trying to accept that. 

Lily, while mostly satisfied with her new arrangement, had grown somewhat tired of the constant crowd. She missed Severus less now, with so much else taking the space he’d once occupied in her brain. Not just new friends, but Mary’s attack, James’s fall, everything. She hadn’t had time to think back on her lost friendship, to take stock of her life in the way she might have done in the past. 

It still hurt when she saw him, though. When he looked right through her, as if she wasn’t even there. But even now, even with what Dorcas had said, she couldn’t think him capable of the attack on Mary. She could believe it of Mulciber without much trouble, but Severus? He couldn’t. He couldn’t be capable of that. 

“D’you know what you’re doing for Christmas, yet?” Jack Danes asked her as they walked through dreary rain to get to their Herbology greenhouse. 

“Probably stay ‘ere,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by the scarf she’d wrapped around herself. “Yourself?”

“Belfast is calling me back,” he said, fondly, then gave her a thoughtful look. “You’re not making the trip back to Cokeworth, then.” 

She shook her head, although she hadn’t formally decided one way or the other. The idea of seeing her dad and sister again didn’t spark the joy that it might have. With everything going on in her world, she didn’t know how to pretend everything was normal. And she couldn’t face the idea of telling them the truth. 

“Aye, well,” he said, sloshing heavily through the mud. “Hogwarts at Christmas is always grand, isn’t it?” 

Lily Evans didn’t know Jack awfully well, but she did know him enough to know that this drive for conversation was out of character. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Everything alright, Jack?”

He shrugged. “Oh, it’s class. Just, well, I’ve been wanting to ask you something, but I’ve never been quite sure the right time.” 

She waited, expectantly. 

Eventually, he sighed, and said, “you know we’ll get one last Hogsmeade weekend, before the break, yeah?” 

She nodded, still confused. 

“Would you be wanting to go with me?” He finally asked, and there was a faint blush in his cheeks that hadn’t been brought on by the cold. 

Lily was surprised, although, in hindsight, she had no right to be. The two had been spending a lot of time together, laughing and eating and studying together. He was handsome and funny and patient. There was no reason she should be surprised by the idea. 

But she was. And he could see that on her face. 

“Aye, right, bad idea,” he said, quickly, turning even redder. “Forget I asked, alright?” 

“No,” Lily said, earnestly, putting a hand on his arm. “Not a bad idea, I just… I hadn’t really been thinking about Hogsmeade with anyone lately.” 

They both stopped, and she was grateful for the Impervius Charm protecting them from the wind and rain. 

“I… There’s been a lot on,” she said, rather lamely. “But getting a drink with you sounds... nice.” She tried–and failed–not to sound hesitant.

He smiled, and she knew some of it was at his own expense. “You don’t have to, Lily. Think about it. And, if you want to meet up, drinks are on me.” 

She laughed, feeling comforted by his easy response. She’d never known a boy to be so comfortable with rejection before. She thought, without meaning to, of James Potter. He’d also seemed to grow comfortable with her rejection, after a while. She wondered if it would be strange for him if she went out with someone in his dorm.

She squashed that thought immediately. She couldn’t live her life based on what was strange for James Potter. 

They carried on towards Herbology in familiar silence, and she wondered, idly, what it might be like to date Jack Danes. 

*** She would never truly find out. ***

Lily Evans was incredibly talented and a very hard worker. But she knew, innately, that she wasn’t a genius. She wasn’t a genius in the way that she saw even around her at Hogwarts. Severus might have been a genius, at least where potions were concerned. She thought at least one of the Marauders must be damn close to being a genius, given the impressive elaborateness of their pranks and mishaps. Dorcas Meadowes was likely a genius. Professor Dumbledore was certainly a genius.

But Lily Evans was not. Not that she’d ever let it stop her. 

She was armed with three recent potions periodicals, a stack of parchment of her own research, and a box of crystalized pineapple as she descended into the dungeons and knocked, lightly, on Professor Slughorn’s door. 

“Lily, my dear!” Slughorn greeted her, a small cordial glass in his hand despite the fact it was barely four in the afternoon. “Come in, come in! I was just going through some of my correspondence.” 

Lily entered his office, comforted by the eternal familiarity of the place. Stacks of papers on every surface, books lining the walls, piles of fancy-looking snacks mixed in with antique bottles of things with contents Lily couldn’t even guess at. 

There was a workstation in the back, where he presumably did his potions work. It was currently serving as a table for his bronze chess set. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my girl?” He asked, motioning for her to sit in one of the plush armchairs opposite his desk. 

“For starters, I thought you might be liking this, Professor,” she said, sliding the pineapple across the table to him.

*** She was not the first person to bribe Professor Slughorn 

with this particular gift, nor the last. Her son, Harry, uses the

 same technique in 1996. Tom Riddle used it in 1943. ***

“Lily, the cheek of you,” he admonished while giving her a conspiratorial grin. “I imagine you might have a request along with this perfect gift.” 

Lily smiled, shrugging. She wasn’t going to deny it. Slughorn opened the box carefully and offered her first pick of the sweets. She took one, despite not liking the pineapple nearly as much as her Professor did. 

“Alright,” he said, taking another sip from his little cup, “now, what is it, Miss Evans? Have you finally admitted you belong in my house and are looking for a way to make that happen?”

Lily laughed. “If I ever say that to you, Sir, you’ll know it was someone else using Polyjuice Potion.”

“Well, I never,” Slughorn said, chuckling all the same. “What can I do for my favourite student?”

Lily took a deep breath before handing her work to Professor Slughorn. He looked at the title of the article and glanced through her research for a minute or so before responding. 

“It’s certainly an interesting development,” he said, in a measured voice. “If this wolfsbane has the effects that Belby purports, it could make life much easier for those afflicted with lycanthropy. I do question why you’ve brought it to me, though.” 

Lily twisted her lip, knowing that the suspense would help her case. 

“I was thinking, Professor, that you would be the only person capable of brewing it–here at Hogwarts. The ingredients are hard to come by, and it requires so much active magic that I know it must be beyond my own abilities.”

“Nonsense, my girl,” Slughorn said, proudly, “I’m sure you could if you had the time.”

Lily smiled politely. “Even so. You really would be the best person to try this potion, given how complex it is. And, even if it only has half of the effects Belby claims, it would be a powerful step in potions research.”

Professor Slughorn gave her one of his rare, shrewd looks. “And this is for academic purposes, I imagine.”

Lily hesitated. Even Remus didn’t know she knew about Remus.

“What else would it be, Professor?” She asked, a little too innocently.

Slughorn looked at her, then back at the papers, thoughtfully. “It’s an interesting brewing process. I find it unlikely it can do what it says, but you’re right that the simple act of brewing might be educational.” 

“So, you’ll do it?” Lily asked. “You’ll brew the potion. And, well, see if you can find any uses for it.”

Subtlety had gone out of the window, apparently. 

Professor Slughorn hesitated, then put the notes down on his table. “You’ve done some admirable research into the different ingredients and their interactions. Ten house points to Gryffindor. I cannot say whether I will be successful in brewing this experimental potion, but if I am, and,” he paused, “if it can be of some use, I will endeavor to tell you. Is that satisfactory?” 

Lily grinned. It was as good of a response as she’d hoped for.

“More than, Professor. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lily. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” 

*** The Wolfsbane Potion will change Remus Lupin’s life. If Lily and James 

had lived, they would have ensured he was prepared for every full moon. 

But they do not. And he spends many of them in agony, in more ways than one. ***

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry would never be known for its prioritization of student safety. With accidental magic, exposure to cursed objects, sports played hundreds of feet in the air, a forest full of forbidden creatures, and the rising militaristic action of its students–it had never been more dangerous. 

It shouldn’t have been so surprising, then, when the banners in the Great Hall had been transfigured into a dour black, the faces of the faculty grave. An assembly had been called–announced through Professor Dumbledore’s magically amplified voice–requesting everyone’s presence in the hall and confirming that classes would be cancelled for the rest of the day.

Lily Evans had known in her gut that it was bad news. 

“We are grieved to announce the passing of Timothy Wood, who was found this morning on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. We believe, at this point, that his death was a horrible accident. We will be enforcing now, more than ever, that no student is to travel alone within Hogwarts Castle or grounds. The Forbidden Forest, as always, is off limits.”

Professor Dumbledore paused as the students absorbed the knowledge with shocked gasps and a few strained cries. A small group of Ravenclaws had begun crying silently. They must have been his friends. 

“For those of you affected by this loss, we have brought in a professional Mind Healer from St. Mungo’s, who will be sharing Madame Pomfrey’s space in the Hospital Wing. I encourage all of you to make appointments to see them.”

Lily had only known Timothy Wood in passing. He was a year below them, in Ravenclaw. He kept to himself. She didn’t know if he was a muggleborn. If it was an accident, she supposed it didn’t really matter. 

*** But it wasn’t an accident. And Lily Evans knew that. ***

The rest of the assembly was mercifully short. Professor Flitwick spoke about Timothy Wood briefly, then Madame Pomfrey shared some of the physical symptoms of grief and how she would be available to help in any form that was needed.

Mary had paled at the announcement and was now staring at the table in front of her with shining eyes. Lily reached for her hand, squeezing it under the table, and Mary flashed her a grateful smile. Lily wondered if Mary had known the boy who had died, at least better than Lily had. 

*** Mary hadn’t. She couldn’t even conjure up an image of Timothy Wood. 

But she was unable to stop imagining a different assembly that might have 

happened two weeks ago. Where her name was on everyone’s lips. Where 

Timothy Wood was struggling to remember what she looked like. ***

Dorcas Meadowes, despite still wearing her Slytherin colors, had, in all other ways, become the seventh Gryffindor sixth-year. She sat with them at meals and worked with them in classes. She slept in her little cot that she’d since transfigured to make a little more comfortable. She had been trusted with the password to the common room, and her comings and goings were becoming unremarkable to the rest of its inhabitants. 

She had known it wouldn’t be long until a Professor noticed, even if a sullen part of her didn’t care. So she wasn’t altogether surprised when Professor McGonagall had asked to speak with her after a particularly challenging Transfiguration lesson. 

“I’ll wait for you in the hall,” Marlene said, quickly. They weren’t supposed to be going anywhere alone, after all.

A few moments after the door closed, Professor McGonagall smiled. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss McKinnon,” she said.

Dorcas didn’t understand why her cheeks suddenly felt warm and was grateful her complexion was dark enough not to show it. 

“Yes, Professor.”

“I’ve also noted that you’re eating much of your meals with my house and, according to the attendance sheets from the Slytherin prefects, you have been mostly absent there in the past few weeks. I would like to know why.”

Dorcas met her eyes, forcing herself not to back down. McGonagall’s eyes were a sharp blue, and Dorcas suspected she might already know the answer.

“They burned all my things, Professor. After Halloween, I… I do not feel welcome in my dormitory.” She took a deep breath. “I understand my reaction to that might be considered unorthodox, but I do not feel obligated to risk my own safety merely to sleep in a room with people that hate me for reasons outside of my control.”

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Why did you not come to a professor with this concern? Your Head of House, perhaps?” 

Dorcas was not sure how to respectfully say that she considered her Head of House useless when it came to affairs like these. 

“I was unsure of his ability to ensure my safety,” she said, after a long pause. When it seemed like McGonagall was still waiting, she went on. “I… I’ve spent a long time alone in this school, Professor. I’ve spent a long time being scared. And, for the first time, I can sleep through the night. I would ask you to respect that.”

It was strange for Minerva McGonagall–having a student that spoke to her as an equal. She didn’t mind it as much as she might have thought. 

“I can understand your situation, Miss Meadowes.” She said, after a long pause. “However, there are several safety concerns that your actions have elevated. For instance, it is difficult to account for your whereabouts when you are not within your own House. If there is some kind of emergency, it would be hard to know exactly where you are.”

Dorcas said nothing. 

“Fortunately, I have a solution for you. You are, of course, a Slytherin. I have no designs to change that, nor, I suspect, do you.” Dorcas nodded. “But I have spoken to the Gryffindor Prefect that you currently share a room with, and she has vouched for you. On top of that, she has agreed to include you within her existing safety checks of Gryffindor Tower, as will the other Gryffindor Prefects.”

“What does that mean, Professor?” She asked.

“It means you may remain in Gryffindor Tower. You will be beholden to the same rules as the rest of my House. If you break curfew, you will be punished, even if you are visiting your old rooms. Do you understand?” 

Dorcas nodded, the tension in her spine easing as relief flooded her. 

“I will also be informing your Head of House and your old prefects, so they do not expect you in the Slytherin dormitories. I cannot pretend this move will not make you… unpopular, in their eyes. Are you prepared to deal with the consequences of that?”

Dorcas might have laughed if it had been anyone else. She didn’t think it was possible to get more unpopular. 

“I am, Professor.” 

McGonagall nodded, clearly not expecting anything else. 

“If you discover any more threats to yourself or other students’ safety, I ask that you notify me immediately.” Dorcas nodded. “Before you alert Miss Evans,” McGonagall added, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, Professor.”

“You are free to go.” She gestured to one of the desks in the back of the room. “And you might want to grab Miss McKinnon’s notes for her.”

*** Minerva McGonagall loved her students greatly. 

But she would not be able to keep them safe. ***

“So, how are you liking the Gryffindor lifestyle?” Marlene McKinnon asked Dorcas with an impressive lack of tact, considering the gravity of their situation. 

Dorcas hated tact. She smiled. “Could be worse. No one is burning my things, but I do have to deal with Connie’s sixteen different bottles of hair care products in the shared bathroom. Ultimately, I would say it’s a wash.” 

“Is that a pun, Meadowes?” Marlene snorted, shaking her head. 

Dorcas just shrugged, casting a nonverbal heating charm over them both as they stepped into the courtyard. Marlene gave her an impressed look, and she shrugged, unsure why she suddenly felt lost for words. 

“But it’s okay?” Marlene asked, more seriously, as they walked towards the Owlery. She had a letter to send to her family, and Dorcas had been more than happy to come along for the walk. “Staying with us?”

Dorcas shrugged again, looking at the gray skies above them. “It doesn’t feel nice, having to stay on someone’s floor because people hate you so much they might kill you. And I really don’t know how much I’m going to tell my mum about all this. She already thinks magic is a bit mental, she’s certainly not going to understand all this.” She gestured around them.

“You going home for Christmas?” Marlene asked. Marlene, of course, would be going home and escorted her siblings with her. Oddly enough, the crowded dormitory room had been comforting for her. She was used to sharing space. 

“Yeah, it’s hardly safe here,” Dorcas said, darkly. Then she softened. “Plus, I love my mum’s cooking. The elves here have definitely not mastered Nigerian food.”

“I’d be surprised if they’d attempted it,” Marlene said, smiling. They walked in silence for a few minutes more, the tower of the Owlery looming in the distance. “You can always come visit me, you know?” Marlene said. 

“What?”

“If the muggle world or your mum becomes too much… You can visit me. It’s a crap little house in the country that’s always too full,” she added, smirking, “but you’d be welcome. I can give you the address and some Floo Powder.

Dorcas smiled at that, not sure why she felt so warm all of a sudden. “My fireplace isn’t connected to the Floo Network, but… I could always come on the train?”

“The train!” Marlene said as if she’d forgotten it existed. “Perfect. We can pick you up from the station.” She grinned widely. “You know, the Potters always have a New Years Eve party! It’s a right laugh, plus all of us just go drink and smoke outside, listening to muggle music. You definitely need to come to that.”

Dorcas Meadowes wondered what that would be like. Feeling any sense of belonging in a wizarding community. Then she wondered how the Potters would feel about having a muggleborn Slytherin nobody crashing their party.

“I’ll think about it,” Dorcas said, with a smile that she hoped didn’t give too much away. 

Marlene nudged her affectionately. “I won’t give up. I’ll take the train to you if I have to.”

“You don’t know where I live,” Dorcas pointed out.

“Then I’ll take every train. I’ll get so lost you’ll feel bad enough to come find me, and then we’ll go to the party together.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, Marlene. If you ever get lost on muggle trains, I’ll come find you.” 

*** Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon would end up 

spending every Christmas together until their deaths in 1981. ***

Sirius Black had grievously underestimated just how competitive Alice Selwyn could be. 

“You know what, fuck this,” he said, as his cards blew up in his face for the third time. “We’re playing Bavarian rules.”

“How do you know I won’t crush you in that as well, Black?” She asked, her eyes alight with victory and her eyebrows un-singed. 

“If you do, I’ll know you’re the True Reigning Exploding Snap Champion of Gryffindor Tower and Surrounding Areas.”

“That’s my whole title?” She teased. “A bit short, don’t you think?”

“Queen of Exploding Snap and its Many Variants as Determined by Sirius Black?”

“You just had to put yourself in there.” 

“Her Royal Snapness, the Queen and Champion of Exploding Snap as Recognized by Hogwarts Castle of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He said, finally getting a little out of breath.

“Perfect,” she said, leaning back at their table, looking smug. “I expect you to refer to me as that instead of my name, you know.” 

“Can’t,” he said, sounding regretfully, “I already refer to you exclusively as ‘that one bird over there, what was her name again?’” 

Alice scowled and threw the deck of cards at him. “You deserve to get your eyebrows burned off for that one.” 

He caught it, smirking, then started to lay the cards out in a circle for another match.

*** Shortly after this conversation, Alice Selwyn takes a piece 

of gum out of her pocket and pops it in her mouth, then 

stuffs the wrapper in her pocket. ***

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Frank asked James, eyeing the laughing Alice and Sirius from the other end of the common room. 

James looked up, having been entirely lost in his own thoughts, then gave Frank a knowing look. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Frank said, without an ounce of believability. 

“Oh, good,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’d hate to think you were getting jealous about a girl you aren’t even dating.”

Frank shot him a dark look, and James held his hands up in surrender, turning his attention back to the small journal in his lap, where he kept most of his quidditch notes. They’d had a rough practice today. 

 He’d been distracted, which hadn’t helped. He was thinking about Adelaide more than he was actually spending time with her, as she told him she needed time to work on her Divination project. It was–apparently–an auspicious time of year, which meant she needed to spend much of her free time meditating by an open window, an activity that was absolutely freezing to anyone else who wished to spend time with her. 

He really liked Adelaide. But something had felt off lately. 

He hadn’t told her about the box of clothes he’d ordered and dumped outside the girls’ dorm before running away–despite the fact he’d been wearing his invisibility cloak. The only person he’d told about that was Peter, who had rightfully laughed when he’d found James with a bunch of women’s clothing catalogues but had seemed genuinely touched by the gesture afterwards. Peter wouldn’t tell anyone. 

He didn’t know why he felt strangely guilty. If anything, Adelaide would have been happy he’d done it. It had meant she didn’t need to give up any of her own clothes for Dorcas, and Dorcas would still have all of the things she needed for the school year. Well, most of them. He hadn’t delved into the part of the catalogue labeled ‘intimates.’ He would leave that for Evans.

That was the problem, really. His involvement felt like he was siding with Lily over Adelaide. And he had a feeling Adelaide would not be happy with that development. 

“James?” Frank asked, and it didn’t sound like the first time he’d spoken.

“What?” James said, looking up.

Frank rolled his eyes. “I asked what you and Adelaide were doing in Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“They’re still doing Hogsmeade weekends?” He asked, incredulous. “After all the attacks? They’re just letting us wander around unsupervised?”

“Unsupervised?” Frank snorted. “Are you eyeing the Head Boy role, Potter? You might have a smidge too many detentions.”

“Fuck off, Longbottom. People are dying.”

Frank sobered. “Eric was an accident, that’s what they’re saying. And Mary… Well, that was different. Plus, all of that happened on campus.” 

James couldn’t really argue with that. 

“They are sending some extra teachers with us, though, I think. And I, with the rest of the Prefects, have to be role models, according to McGonagall.”

“I’d hate to see whoever is using Snape as a role model,” James said, with only half his usual amount of venom. 

Frank wrinkled his nose. “Fair play. Still. It will be good to get out.”

“Yeah, well,” Jame shrugged, “save me a drink in the Three Broomsticks.”

*** James Potter will, in the not-so-distant future, attend Frank Longbottom’s 

wedding to Alice Selwyn. Lily Evans will be holding his hand. ***

Lily Evans watched, with academic interest, as James Potter and Sirius Black got away with doing nothing yet again in their Transfiguration study session. It would have been less annoying if it had any apparent affect on their marks, but, alas, it did not. They seemed to have no need to practice and still understood the tenants of human transfiguration without thinking twice.

“You alright, there, Lily?” Jack asked, from where he was frowning at himself in the mirror, trying to make one of his eyebrows change colour. 

“Aye,” she said, shaking her head and looking back into her own mirror. She had been more successful than Jack. Both of her eyebrows were now bright pink. But she had been, so far, unable to turn them back. “I s’pose this is my new look, though.” 

Jack snorted. “Could be worse. Pink suits you.”

Lily blushed, ever so slightly. Unfortunately, pink did not suit her. 

She looked up as Professor Flitwick entered the classroom and murmured something to Professor McGonagall, handing her a letter. He looked grave. 

Professor McGonagall looked at it, nodded once, then looked back at the rest of them. 

“This study session is over. You may all practice on your own time.”

Lily, who did not want to be stuck with bright pink eyebrows, frowned. 

“Mr. Potter, could you stay with me a moment?” Professor McGonagall said, and James looked up, warily. Lily wondered what he might have done wrong now. 

It took a few moments for the whole room to filter out, and Lily was one of the last. When she looked back at McGonagall and James, she froze, for just a moment. She didn’t know how she knew, but something was wrong. 

*** Lily would not see James Potter again until 1977. ***