15
It was only the next day that Amita was finally summoned to the Headmaster’s office. She hadn’t even needed to utter the password to enter the staircase that it was already rising, as if awaiting her.
She knocked softy and entered, surprised to see an animated Lily gesturing wildly at the Headmaster, her irritation obvious. Dumbledore dismissed her with a fixed smile and motioned Amita over to one of the now empty chairs.
She could see a border of her painting behind the man’s desk and took a deep breath. She had already rehearsed what she was going to say so she wouldn’t inadvertently utter a word that would make her choke to her death, burn to death or drown in her own blood.
“I was just talking with Ms. Evans about Professor Selwyn’s class. She seems adamant using Boggarts was unethical and tactless, what do you think?”
The words died on Amita’s tongue and she swallowed difficultly. This was not what she had expected. How did he want her to answer?
She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Boggart are household monsters, the chance of encountering one in real life is high and knowing how to fight it seems important enough,” she started, trying to gauge the man’s reaction. His smile remained the same. “The issue was Professor Selwyn’s attitude and lack of respect towards her students’ fears and doubts. Whether the war is real or not does not diminish its impact on the students. She refused to stop the exercise until the class was littered with dead bodies and did not apologize.”
When Amita looked once more up at the Headmaster, he wasn’t smiling anymore. “Right, I could tell the issue lied somewhere other than the Boggarts themselves, thank you for informing me.”
The girl was surprised about his serious tone, but more so about the way she keened under his gratitude. “You’re welcome,” she managed to stutter out.
Dumbledore thanked her once more and motioned over to the door. Just like that, Amita was dismissed.
She walked towards the door’s threshold, feeling off-put.
“Oh, and Amita?” She turned around with a snap. The man’s eyes smiled from under his half-moon spectacles and he added: “ I quite liked your painting, please do make more of them for me.”
***
When Amita finally sat down for dinner in the Great Hall, her fingers dyed with her new paints’ pigments, she wasn’t scared of the Headmaster’s gaze. Instead, she nodded his way in acknowledgement, sat down next to Lily, and placed a few bread sticks in her plate. She poured the still simmering soup in her bowl and dipped the loaf in.
Her heart felt lighter and for the first time in a while, the food laid in front of her was the only thing she was actively thinking about. Not the rumours about her muggle lover, not her guilt regarding the Quidditch incident and, surprisingly, not even Regulus’ gray eyes as he drowned in the mysterious cave, could deter her from enjoying supper.
“How was your meeting with Dumbledore?” Lily asked dismissively as she filled her bowl with more soup. The prefect knew it must have been trivial as Amita wasn’t the type to get into trouble.
“Good,” Amita simply replied, watching as the elderly man himself stood up and cautioned everyone to attention with a soft knocking on his glass.
The Great Hall’s chatter slowly dimmed and, even the Slytherins—curious at the unusual speech—granted the man their full attention. Had something happened? The last time an impromptu speech had been given, Mary MacDonald had been assaulted on school grounds.
The floating candles had swayed under the Headmaster’s growing anger and Hogsmeade visits had been revoked for all students until the perpetrator had been properly punished. Of course, Mulciber hadn’t been quite coy, and, after his expulsion, things slowly returned to how they had been.
“It has come to my attention,” Dumbledore’s voice boomed through the room, slightly amplified, “after speaking with passionate students, that Ms. Selwyn has lacked tact with numerous 6th and 7th year students. After a long discussion, we have reached the conclusion that it would be better for us to part ways.”
Murmurs bubbled from a few tables, gossip spewing out of curious mouths as multiple eyes gazed fixated unto a proud Lily Evans. Standing as tall as she had before, her eyes were fixated on the Headmaster, her expression too rigid to infer if she had anything to do with the change in staff.
Amita’s heart, however, felt like it would burst out of her chest, and she already knew, without even touching them, that her ears had grown red.
“I have not yet appointed a replacement, and, although I have a few wixen in mind, it will take a few days before DADA classes resume. As such, students from year 1 to 4 will have supervised studying periods in their respective classes while OWL and NEWT students are free to study on their own time.”
Lily remained fixated on the bespectacled man while Amita’s eyes roamed around the Great Hall. Slytherins remained impassive, except for Carrow’s annoying smirk, while the Gryffindors were growing rowdy. Younger years groaned out at the prospect of study periods, while Sirius’ good mood pried out of Remus Lupin a genuine smile. James, however, was startlingly still, eyes locked upon Lily’s figure in awe.
“May this be a reminder to treat each other with respect and consideration. We, at our core, are the same, with fears and dreams and desires. We must remember that.”
***
It was dark out already. Lily was out on prefect runs while Marlene was already fast asleep after her quidditch practice.
Amita opened her curtains delicately, careful not to ruffle the fabric and wake up the seeker. She slipped on her loafers and placed her bag’s strap over her shoulder.
As expected, the common room was empty except for a few students hunched over their homework, too busy to pay her any attention. Amita crossed the Gryffindor House’s threshold and ventured into the cold halls, hoping she wouldn’t meet Peeves or Mrs. Norris along the way. The Prefects on duty were Lily and Abbott, she could get away with a weak smile and well placed tears, but the caretaker? He would go out of his way to get her into detention.
After climbing down two flight of moving stairs, Amita turned right and climbed one more. Once arrived at the Art tower, she whispered a weak ‘Alohamora’ and watched as the door opened for her.
With a quick charm, she lit up one of Professor Oakwood’s few lanterns—don’t you dare paint at night! The artificial light will conceal the true colours of your painting—and set it onto the lone table before prying from her bag a bare canvas and Olsen’s paints.
Amita hadn’t been able to fight the Boggart, but she was intent on braving her fears, and she somehow knew painting her aunt was the first step to do so.
***
James had never seen Lily so shaken. She had practically crumbled in his arms, yet as soon as she had collected her thoughts, she was already bolting for Dumbledore’s office to file an official complaint. She said it was her duty as Prefect to stand up for her fellow students, yet he had never seen anyone but her do so, so fervently.
No matter how straight or proud she seemed, James knew the Boggart had extenuated her. He had tried to convince her to be replaced for her weekly rounds, to sleep early and recharge, but she had dismissed him with a wave of the hand and a soft smile. James could do nothing, but relent.
When he was certain both Remus and Sirius were fast asleep—Peter always fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow—, James placed his father’s cloak over his shoulder, pocketed the map and left the tower.
He knew Lily was competent, but he simply wanted to be sure she was alright.
***
Lily was beyond relieved that the students weren’t rowdy tonight. Dumbledore’s announcement seemed to have somehow quelled down their rebellious nature as she and Abbott had only found one couple out of bed.
The girl said farewell to her fellow Prefect and started the ascension towards the Gryffindor Tower.
“Why did it have to be a tower of all things?” she groaned, her calves burning under the effort.
***
Amita had finished varnishing her painting. After uttering a quick drying spell and wrapping it in fabric, she placed it delicately into her bag and threw its strap over her shoulder.
She threw a quick glance around the room, opened the door to the stairwell, but was pushed back into the class at the sound of meowing.
***
At the crossroad between the Gryffindor tower and another lone one, James opened up the map once more to locate Lily. While everyone else’s mark on the parchment were dots, James had charmed the artefact to showcase Lily as a flower. He eyed as the petals hiked up the stairs towards the Common Room, before his gaze darted towards two dots unto the tower on his right.
Lily could make her way up alone, couldn’t she? She was a prefect after all, she wouldn’t get caught out of bed and thrown into detention for a week.