Dear James

Trunk is packed. Wand is packed, robes are packed, telescope is packed… Lily’s mother had given her a sandwich for the train ride. It was 10 am, just minutes away from packing the car to leave for King’s Cross.

Lily hadn’t been to London in a while; she was excited. Sev had told her Hogwarts wasn’t technically in London, but they still got to go there, even if it was only to board the train.

According to Severus, London wouldn’t even be the most exciting part of today.

“LILY!” her mother cried.

“What!?” Lily shouted from her room.

“WHERE IS YOUR LUGGAGE? WE HAVE TO LEAVE,” she shouted. Mrs. Evans peaked her head around the wall. “Oh, there you are. Let me take your suitcase,” she said, walking towards Lily’s tightly packed trunk.

Lily snatched a glance in her mirror. She was in a plain brown plaited shirt and a maroon t-shirt, a thin white belt holding up the hand-me-down from Petunia. She hoped wizards wore clothes similar enough to Muggles.

She had been thinking about it more since Severus had mentioned that she wasn’t the same. Was she a witch, really? Or was she a Muggle? He had said she was a “Muggle-born witch,” which didn’t quite feel right, either. Were the other people at school going to see her as a Muggle, masquerading as a witch? She wouldn’t blame them for thinking that, anyway; it was how she felt. Sure, she had a wand, and the cauldron, and the silly-looking robes, but why did that mean she was any more witch than Petunia?

Apparently, it meant enough. Petunia, out of frustration for being left out, had written her own letter to Dumbledore. Lily had gotten a mail-order gift from the Snapes—a year-long subscription to The Daily Prophet—and Petunia had given the owl a letter when it appeared. Lily had noticed Dumbledore’s name on the letter.

Petunia had gotten an owl back a few days later. Lily only knew from the loud caw, following a muted thud from her room—as though Petunia had hit a pillow. And a loud, ten minutes of crying had followed.

Then Petunia stormed in, furious, eyes red and swollen from crying. “Why do you get to go to this—this—bloody stupid school? I—Lily, I—I hate you!” She was screaming now.

Lily had frowned. “What? Pet, I—what?”

Petunia shook with rage. She threw the letter at Lily. “Your stupid school said I can’t go with you. Well, they should—I—it’s bloody stupid, it is.” She took a massive huff of air. “It’s probably for the best. It must be filled with freaks. Freaks like you.” She spat the words at Lily, full of venom. Meant to stab her heart.

She succeeded. Lily felt tears prick her eyes. Petunia had stormed out of the room, slamming the door, not bothering to grab her letter from the floor.

She picked it up.

Petunia Evans—

Thank you for your note. It is truly admirable that you wish to follow your sister to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

We regret to inform you that only those who have shown an aptitude for magic are able to be admitted. As you have not shown that you possess a natural magical ability, we are unable to admit you to Hogwarts.

Additionally, we do not admit students who are older than first year. It would be highly difficult to enter Hogwarts as a fourth-year student without the prior three years of magical learning.

Thank you for your inquiry about Hogwarts.

Best,

Professor Albus Dumbledore

Lily crumpled up the letter and tossed it in the trash.

She glanced that way now, where it sat still at the bottom of the otherwise empty bin.

It doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter it doesn’t mat—

But it did. She didn’t like that she was leaving home, and Petunia couldn’t come with her. And now, she didn’t want to come with her.

Not even to King’s Cross.

“LILY! TIME TO GO!”

∙ ∙ ∙

They made it to King’s Cross easily enough. Platforms nine and ten were easy enough to spot. And Lily knew how to get to the platform. She just had to convince her parents to do it, too.

“Mum—Dad—you just have to trust me. Just walk with me towards the barrier. We’ll go through, I promise,” she told them. There was another boy walking past with his trolley stacked tall, a tawny owl in a cage. “Look, he’s going to go through the barrier, mum,” she whispered, pointing towards the boy.

He was lanky and wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans. Cool sneakers. His hair was jet black, sticking up all over the place. He was wearing a pair of round glasses and had a smile on his face. He pushed his cart towards the pillar between 9 and 10 and bled into the brick column. His mum followed him through the barrier, her dress breathing out behind her effortlessly and crossing the barrier last.

“It’s easy, mum. We just have to go.” The clock was ticking, reading 10:55. “We have to go now,” she said, more urgently. She grabbed her father’s hand, who grabbed her mother’s hand, who was looking paler by the second. Without hesitation, she raced towards the barrier.

In an instant, King’s Cross faded away and a new station appeared before her eyes. A large, shiny, black, and red train was waiting for them. The Hogwarts Express was painted in gold letters on the side.

“This is me,” Lily whispered.

She turned to her parents, tears suddenly pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll try and write. Don’t be surprised if you see an owl. That’s how I’ll be able to communicate,” she told them.

Her mum smiled, and wrapped her in a hug, squeezing the tears out of Lily’s eyes. “You’ll do amazing. We love you, Lily,” she said.

“We miss you already,” her father whispered in her ear, a little secret for her to carry onto the train.

She pulled herself away, somehow. With a small, sad wave, she climbed the steps onto the Express. She glanced around; witches and wizards were wandering everywhere. Some seemed familiar, some seemed just as scared as she was.

The luggage cart was all along the far wall. She picked a cubby, noticing the glasses boy who had run through the platform doing the same down the hall. She copied his movements—trunk in one cubby, extras in another, pouch of money in hand. She turned around to see compartments along the other wall and found an almost empty one to fall into.

She rushed to the window and threw her hands against it. Instantly, she found mum and dad and waved to them, letting them know she was alright. She’s here. She’ll be okay.

She kept waving, even as the train started moving. They waved back, mum blowing her a kiss. She saw out of the corner of her eyes the boy sitting on the bench opposite her watching.

It wasn’t until they were out of the station that she let herself sit down. She breathed deeply, suddenly aware that she had been crying.

Her eyes fixed on the boy across from her. He was scrawny, almost bald, and dressed in what could only be described as hand-me-downs of the seventh generation. His pants and t-shirt were wrinkled and massive on him, and he was wearing a cardigan over top of his shirt. Wasn’t he warm?

“It’s so horrid saying goodbye, isn’t it?” Lily commented.

He looked uncomfortable, shifting on the bench. “Uh—yeah, I s’pose,” he mumbled.

She frowned slightly. He couldn’t possibly be a wizard if he was this uncomfortable, this alone on the Express. “Are you from a muggle family, too? My name’s Lily.”

“Remus,” the boy offered. She could see a little scar just beneath the top of his shirt if he moved. “My dad was a wizard, but I didn’t know him; well, I grew up with Muggles.”

Oh, Lily thought. Adopted? Better to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I couldn’t believe it when I got my letter, but I can’t wait to see what it’s like.” She smiled brightly, “can’t you?”

And suddenly, they were rudely interrupted. Oh, only Sev, Lily thought. He peeked into their compartment.

“There you are, Lily, I’ve been looking for ages,” he said, eyes bright towards Lily. Though she noticed makings of a frown and daggers towards Remus. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward her new friend.

“Sev!” she cried, standing up. He stepped in and she hugged him. It was nice to see a familiar face, after all.

He blushed and tapped her arm. “Come and sit in our carriage, there’s loads of room,” he offered, facing her.

“Oh,” she glanced over her shoulder at Remus. “Can Remus come? He’s by himself…”

“I’m not sure,” Severus said thickly. “There might not be that much room.”

Lily felt a sigh coming on. Sev could be so rude sometimes. But Remus huffed before she could, slouching down and resting his feet on the bench where Lily had been sitting. “Get lost then. I don’t want to go to your stupid carriage,” he said dully.

Lily sighed. Maybe she hadn’t made a friend. She turned towards Sev, and the two of them stepped into the hall, leaving Remus alone in the compartment.

Sev pointed down the hall. “I’m with these two—their names are Mulciber and Avery—they seem interesting and I think they know a lot more about magic than we could ever get our hands on, Lil,” he rambled.

“Oh, Sev, look out—” but she was too late, and Sev’s shoulder rammed into a very posh-looking boy heading the opposite way.

“Oi, watch it,” he said, shoving Severus’ shoulder.

“Oi!” Snape responded angrily, pushing the boy back.

“Hey, cut it out!” Lily jumped between them. She gave Sev a stare—stop it, it doesn’t matter—and returned the other boy’s death stare. He blinked, his frown disappearing. Then he smiled. Lily fought every urge to smile back; his grin was absolutely contagious.

“Who are you all?” he drawled.

“I’m—“ Lily started.

“We’re just leaving,” Sev interrupted, grabbing Lily’s elbow and pulling her down the hall.

“Sev!” she exclaimed.

“What?” he said innocently.

“That was rude,” she muttered, keeping her voice low.

They weren’t quite out of earshot, because she heard the boy open a door behind them and say, “None of you are related to me, are you?” before the door slammed shut again.

They kept walking, quiet now. There was chatter up and down the halls, conversations drifting in and out of half-shut doorways and cracked windows. Lily glanced in each one, looking for the people she met in Diagon Alley. Surely they were here, right?

Sev held onto her arm. “We’re at the end of the hall,” he said. But a flash of auburn hair caught Lily’s eye.

“Wait—Sev, stop—” she tugged her arm free.

He turned around indignantly. “What, Lily?” he huffed.

She stood there. She wasn’t doing anything wrong; leave it to Severus to make something out of nothing. “I just saw someone I know. I want to say hello,” she said. “I’ll meet you down there, okay?”

He sighed, his chest visibly rising and falling. “Fine,” he said, and turned around with—was there a sort of flare, there?

She shook it off, then turned back to the compartment. It was! She pushed open the door. “Alice?” she asked.

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Lily! Oh, I hoped I’d see you before the Sorting. Come here!” The third-year shuffled on the bench and made space for her, between her and another student.

This compartment smelled different, too. It smelled lightly of old sweaters and—was that parchment and daises?

Lily was suddenly aware of how many people were in the compartment. They were all looking at her expectantly, waiting to see—she didn’t know. “Why are you all looking at me?” she asked.

They started laughing. “Oh, she’s so cute, Alice,” one girl said.

“What do you smell?” another asked, looking at her intently.

“Why?” she asked back, albeit slightly bluntly.

Alice nudged her kindly. “It’s Em’s new Amortentia diffuser. It’s supposed to smell like the person you love. Like, I, for example, smell—” Theatrically, Alice sniffed. “Broomstick cleaner, the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace smoke, and that one tree outside the Quidditch pitch,” she said, a breath of a smile on her face. Her cheeks colored slightly.

“Prewett!”

“Aw, Alice…”

The girls sighed. Lily assumed all of that meant something to them. It meant nothing to her.

“I dunno,” she said. “Parchment, I think…dusty sweaters? And a hint of some flower—maybe daises,” she told them.

“Oh, I love that. He sounds cute if that’s what he smells like,” one girl said. “I’m Tina,” she offered to Lily.

“I’m Emmeline. Em, for short,” the girl next to her said. “And I smell…oh, I smell the lake. Oh wow, I didn’t realize how much I missed it,” she said wistfully. “I can’t wait to be back.”

The others nodded in assent. One girl turned to Alice and said, “Prewett, when’s Narcissa bringing the—”

“Oh, should be soon,” she cut in. “She owled me that it would be ready by today, Maisy, but she’s probably busy with Lucius,” she told them, her face contorting slightly.

And if on cue, a frightening witch pulled open the door. Her hair was dark black, with stunning white streaks underneath. She held something small in her hand. “Alice?” she asked, motioning for the witch to step outside. Alice shifted and stood up, the color fading from her face ever so slightly.

The door closed, and the witch across from her—Maisy—turned to her. “Are you a first-year?”

Lily nodded. Maisy nudged the witch next to her, across from Alice’s empty seat: a blonde, small, curly-haired, doe-eyed witch who was looking at Lily curiously. “So’s Marlene here. Her brother plays for the Chuddley Cannons, can you believe it?”

Lily paused. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is,” she stammered.

“You’re a Mudblood?” said the witch in the other corner. Everyone—even Marlene—gasped.

“You can’t say that!”

“Oi, that’s not cool—“ but before anyone else could say anything, the witch brushed off her robes and stood up stiffly. Alice opened the compartment, her hand holding a small golf-ball sized object, and the witch promptly removed herself from the room.

The compartment was silent. Alice glanced around. Tentatively, she asked the unspoken question: “What happened?”

Emmeline jumped on her question. “She called our little Lily a—a Mudblood, Al,” she said, disgust in her voice.

Lily broke in, carefully. “What does that mean?”

Alice’s face was contorted with anger. “Bitch,” she said absentmindedly. Turning to Lily, she explained, “it’s a slur for Muggle-borns—like your blood is ‘muddy,’ or something. It’s a stupid term. Oi, what the hell?”

The compartment nodded in soft assent. Lily locked eyes with Marlene. Her expression was somewhat plain, slightly stricken, though mostly empathetic. Lily smiled back, and leaned back on the cushions, turning her eyes towards the rolling countryside as they zoomed up England’s countryside in silence.