cokeworth
June 30, 1970
Cokeworth
Lily beamed as she opened her hand, revealing a beautiful petunia. She looked up at her sister, expecting to see her joy mirrored in Petunia’s face. This was a gift.
Instead, Tuney’s small face contorted in disgust. She shouted, “You’re a freak, Lily!” Before Lily could react or defend herself, Petunia had turned on her heel, and was running down the hill toward home.
Lily crumpled to the ground, her summer dress falling haphazardly around her feet as she pulled her knees into her chest, surely staining the fresh white linen green. Lily buried her head in her hands, unable to stop the tears from falling. This was only the latest in a series of rejections from Petunia, who was, at one point, her closest friend and confidante.
At first, this little talent of Lily’s had been entirely accidental, and Petunia, ever the protective older sister, found ways for each instance to be coincidence, however unlikely. After all, it was entirely possible that the mean boy in Petunia’s class had just happened to spontaneously hit his head on the stop sign on the way home from school.
As time went on, however, these strange incidents seemed to follow Lily. Eventually, after the sixth object in their house had spontaneously started smoking (luckily only the first two had caught fire and had both been put out quickly) in a moment of Lily’s anger, however, Petunia had lost all faith. Lily was making these things happen. She was weird.
Lately, Lily had been working on controlling herself in moments of high emotion, in an effort to get back into Petunia’s good graces. She had been working on this trick for ages, determined to get it just right. How could Petunia be upset with her for this? It was beautiful. It was special. It was just for her.
And so, Lily sat in the grass and cried. Maybe she really was a freak. Tuney was almost never wrong. After a while, Lily’s violent sobs calmed into hiccups. She wiped her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She focused on the palm of her hand, trying to bring a flower back to it. The first one had disintegrated when Petunia ran off, but Lily hadn’t just been working on conjuring petunias. She had mastered lilies, and was tinkering with daisies.
Lily started when a boy’s voice came from the tree behind her, “She’s just jealous.” A small, dark-haired boy climbed down from the treetop above her. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. How long had he been there? Had he seen the whole interaction? Had he been watching her cry? Why hadn’t he said anything? Why was he saying something now?
“Who are you?”
He smiled gently, brushing his hands off on his trousers, “I’m Severus. I’m like you.” Lily raised one eyebrow, unconvinced. Severus waved his hand lightly and several of the small leaves on the willow tree above their heads flew down, seeming to sprout wings and dance. Lily couldn’t help the delighted smile that found her face, both in amazement at the trick, and at the realization that this boy really was like her. She had never met anybody who was like her. Who could do the things that she could do. The leaves danced in mid-air for a moment or two before they landed gracefully in a perfect circle around her.
Lily watched them fall, then looked back at the boy. “I’m Lily,” she said, picking herself up off the ground and extending a hand.
He took it, shaking it gently, and responded, “Pleasure to meet you, Lily.”
Lily sat with Severus in the grass all afternoon, and learned that his mother was like them, too. He told her that there were lots of people like them, including his mother. He said that they were special, and people like Petunia would always hate them, because they were jealous. Lily tried not to wince at his use of the word “always;” she was angry with her sister, but Petunia was still her best friend. Severus told Lily about the school his mother went to, where they would be invited on their eleventh birthdays.
“Although… I’m not quite sure how it works if you don’t have magic parents. I’m sure it’ll be fine, as long as they notice you,” he said, like it was nothing, but it made Lily’s heart race. She had been trying desperately not to be noticed, and was just now finding out that she could be left behind if the right person didn’t notice her? She felt nauseous.
Severus kept talking, unhindered, not noticing the green tinge to Lily’s complexion, about his mum and her world, and sometime between then and when the sky started to turn pink, she started to feel a little better. When the sun started to fall, Lily told Severus that she had to go home, but they agreed to meet back at the willow the following afternoon.
All summer long, Lily and Severus met under the willow tree between their two houses, and Lily told Severus about her parents, and Petunia, back when they got along, although Sev never really seemed to understand what could be so lovely about Petunia. And Severus, in turn, told Lily about his parents, how his father was horrible to him and his mum, and how he never understood why she didn’t use magic to defend herself, but would use it to defend him. He said that he thought his father resented his mum’s magic, because he was ordinary. Lily told him he was being mean every time he used the word “ordinary,” at least for the first few weeks, but eventually, for his father, at least, it started to feel appropriate. Petunia, and Lily’s mum and dad had other things that made them special, things other than magic, things that Severus wouldn’t understand, but Severus’ father was awful, so perhaps he deserved to be called ordinary.
By the end of the summer, Lily was dreading school, dreading not seeing her best friend every day, but they agreed to keep coming to the willow between Cokeworth and Spinner’s End whenever they could, and Severus reminded Lily that this was to be her last year of muggle school, as he called it.
★ ★ ★
January 30, 1971
Lily practically flew down the stairs in the morning. It was her birthday. Eleventh. Lily didn’t know what exactly happened to people like her on their eleventh birthdays, but she knew it was a big day. Severus’ had been exactly three weeks earlier, and he had been gone for two whole days.
Lily ran up to the breakfast table, “Is it here yet, is it here yet?”
Her father simply chuckled, and her mother smiled, asking, “Is what here yet, dear?”
“I don’t know!” Lily exclaimed, “But it’s coming!” Petunia, also at the table, scoffed and rolled her eyes, but nothing could bring down Lily’s mood. Lily wolfed down her breakfast, then sat on the sofa, practically buzzing with energy, for almost an hour, until a knock came at the door. “I’ll get it!” called Lily, to no one in particular. Lily opened the front door, bouncing on the balls of her feet, to find a middle-aged woman in a long green robe, her brown hair tied back into a tight bun. This was it. Whatever it was, Lily was about to find out, but this was it.
“You must be Lily,” the woman said, a conspiratorial glint in her eye, “Are your parents home, dear?” She had a slight Scottish accent, which was not uncommon in Cokeworth, but Lily was fascinated all the same.
Lily nodded, awestruck, then turned and ran upstairs to find her parents, leaving the woman standing in the doorway, the front door still open.
When Lily got back downstairs, practically dragging both of her parents behind her, the woman had stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. Lily ran to sit on the sofa, positively certain that this woman had come with news. The woman and Lily’s parents stood in the hallway.
The woman spoke first, “We should sit.” Lily’s parents eyed her warily but nodded. Once everyone was settled in the sitting room, the woman spoke again, “My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am the Deputy Headmistress of a school called Hogwarts. I am also the Transfiguration professor, and your daughter here has displayed some… special talents. I’m sure you’re aware.” She smiled in Lily’s direction, and Lily blushed, suddenly embarrassed about all of the fires and other troubles.
Lily’s parents moved almost in unison, blinking, and swallowing, and nodding. Lily’s father spoke first, “You’re the professor of… Transfiguration?” He pronounced each syllable slowly, like they were brand new in his mouth.
Professor McGonagall’s face softened, “Hogwarts is a school for witches and wizards, so the subjects we teach are geared toward their gifts. We have been watching your daughter, and we’d like her to join us in autumn.”
Lily’s father let out a breath, “You think my daughter is… a witch?”
Professor McGonagall nodded, “I’m quite sure of it.”
Lily’s father shook his head, scoffing, “That’s not possible. There’s no such thing as—”
He stopped speaking abruptly. The woman in front of him had disappeared. More accurately, she had turned into a grey tabby cat. Lily’s face lit up in delight, as her parents’ faces paled. Just as quickly as she’d become a cat, Professor McGonagall reappeared in human form. She was speaking primarily to Lily’s parents, evidently unphased by their reaction to her ability to turn into a cat. “We’d like to educate her at our school, help her learn to control her gifts.” The professor turned to Lily, “We’d like the accidental fires to stop.” Professor McGonagall winked at Lily, and Lily felt heat rise to her face.
Lily’s father’s voice was measured when he spoke, “If we decide to let her go, what would happen?”
Professor McGonagall nodded, “I would take her shopping in a Wizarding area of London at your earliest convenience, so that she’ll have everything she needs for school: a uniform, books, a wand, et cetera. Then, on the first of September, she would board a train in London to go to the school. One of the books we will purchase in London will tell you all about Hogwarts, so you need not worry.”
Lily’s parents looked at each other, appearing to have a silent conversation. “Please, please, please can I go?” Lily pleaded.
Both of her parents took a deep breath. “Yes,” her mother said, a breath above a whisper. Lily practically jumped onto the small space between her parents, embracing them both, “Tentatively.” Her mother continued, “Assuming everything in this book looks good, and we’ll want to come to the Wizarding part of London. Assuming— assuming we can get in, of course.”
The professor nodded. “Yes. Muggles can get in,” she said, and she looked at Lily, who was now seated snugly between her parents, lowered her voice, and smiled like she was revealing a secret, “They just usually don’t know where to look.”