"One month, exactly," Lily said, sipping some tea.
"So much happened, feels like it went by in an instant," Remus said.
"Feels that way," Harry said.
"I'm going to miss this place," Severus said, tugging on his glove.
"Someone else will find it again, I bet. Whether it's ten or a thousand years from now," said Harry.
They sat for a moment, enjoying the tea, looking over the marble fountain hiding the secret library beneath it. The weather outside, unchanged by magic, was sunny and bright. They had packed early, but in a few hours students would frantically gather their things and rush to the platform to put an end to the school year. He wanted to spare half an hour, to say goodbye at least. They talked about the past year, laughed about the unnaturally dangerous situations they'd been put in. It was then, Harry knew that he wanted to win, no matter what. He wanted to spend many more mornings the four of them, until they were old and grey.
Lily remarked it was getting late, and they parted to go grab their things and say goodbye. He had to dodge multiple first years shouting about missing items before he made his way to the dorms.
"There you are!" Reg shouted. "Why'd you always pick the worst time to disappear?"
"Sorry?"
"Never mind. Look..." He went into his robes and produced a tear-shaped vial. "I made this over Christmas break. I thought… with Luci. I never got the guts to use it, so..."
"Wait, is that –"
"Liquid luck," he said proudly, "and I want you to have it."
Harry's eyes widened. Slughorn was the only person he'd ever known to be able to brew it, not even his good old professor Snape was capable of it. "Christ, are you sure?"
He sighed and sat down on his bed. "Look, I don't know what kind of insane things you get into, fighting chimaeras, ghouls, whatever. But consider it my contribution. I'd rather you didn't die, even if you're quitting next year."
Harry took the vial and looked at it. "I'm not just pissing around, you know. And I am going to need every bit of luck I can get. You're a good friend, Reg."
"God, you're not going to cry, are you?"
"Piss off!" Harry shot back, laughing.
They shared a manly hug with no crying at all and brought their suitcases downstairs.
"– toothbrush, shirts, shoes, wand, sandwich for the ride –"
"Luci, how hard is it to pack everything?" Nathan asked in frustration.
"I did, I did pack every – hey, Harry, Reg! You're all packed up?"
"All done," Reg said.
"We should get adjoining compartments, I want the team, and the 7th years all together."
"Sounds good," Harry said, grinning at Nathan's exhausted sigh.
They followed the throng of sleepy students to the carriages on the way to Hogsmeade Station. The place only saw such hustle and bustle at this time of year. The hundreds of students were talking to their friends, planning their vacations and joking around. Severus was with Remus, Melissa and Helena.
"I'll be right back", he called to the Slytherin as he spotted Lily, talking with a blonde – Sarah, he remembered. "Hey."
"Hey, you don't mind if I –"
"Yeah, we'll take different carriages, see each other at King's Cross?"
"All right," she said, and smugly grinned at Sarah, who politely smiled at Harry.
"Have a good ride, later."
The ride back was a hectic thing, the Slytherin playing musical chairs within four compartments to get a last moment with friends, some of them they wouldn't see back at school. A few hours in it ended up being him, Reg and Luci talking about next year's quidditch team.
"He's not coming back, you know," Reg said, nodding to Harry.
"I told you that in confidence," Harry protested.
Luci weakly smiled and looked out the window, dragging her feet up on the empty bench next to her. "I figured as much."
"You did?" Harry said in surprise.
"You don't know either, do you Reg?" she said, still looking at the scenery. "I'm sure you realize, but it's not easy having secretive friends. I can only imagine what you're getting up to when you disappear. I know you have your reasons, and I know you're not a bad person. Just remember your promise, all right?"
"I will."
"And good luck," she said, turning back to them with a smile.
"I have all the luck I need," he said, glancing at Reg.
He almost fell asleep to the rhythm of the tracks. He hadn't realized it, but the school year had left him tired. And his work was far from over. He felt the fated Crystal in his pocket, eager to meet Lily's parents, and make sure they would be safe from misfortune.
It was with tears in his eyes that he said goodbye to everyone. It hadn't hit him until he saw them ready to leave at King's Cross. He wasn't the only one, as Luci was openly crying, he almost gave in when she hugged him. Lily was wiping her eyes as he went over to her. It had been an emotional trip for everyone.
"Come on," she said with a shaky voice, "my parents must be around here somewhere."
A ways away from the commotion of students reuniting with their parents, Lily guided him to a couple. The man was smoking a cigarette and wore a flat cap over his blonde hair. What struck Harry the most was his gleaming green eyes. Next to him, a spry woman with strawberry blonde hair was was excitedly waving in their direction. The man flicked his cigarette away and gave a broad smile. Lily almost ran towards them and hugged them both tightly in quick succession.
"We've missed you so much, Lily," the woman said.
"I've missed you too mum, I'm sorry I couldn't make it for Christmas."
Lily stepped back and looked to Harry, who was awkwardly smiling at them.
"Peter Evans," the man said stepping forward and extending a hand. "An' you must be Harry?"
"Yes, sir. Pleasure," he said, shaking his hand.
"And my lovely wife, Clara."
"Finally we get to meet the young man who we've heard so much about," Clara said brightly, "Peltier, that's French isn't it? Sounds very sophisticated, doesn't it Peter?"
"But you are British, are you boy?"
"I am."
"Well," Clara said after a moment of silence. "Let's get going then, we've got a bit of a drive ahead of us."
They followed behind her parents, Lily excitedly smiling. Peter had taken Lily's suitcase and she was holding Snowdrop in her cage. "Well, what do you think?"
"They seem like perfectly lovely people."
"They are, I'm glad you said that," Lily said, nodding. "They'll warm right up to you, you are very likeable."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
The car was a sleek grey sedan of a make Harry couldn't make out, but even he could tell it was perfectly maintained. The two suitcases barely fit in the trunk, and Lily put Snowdrop in the space between them on the rear seat. As they got on the road, Peter lit another cigarette.
"Do you like pork roast, dear?" Clara asked, turning around in her seat.
"Sounds lovely, ma'am."
"See?" Peter said. "Who doesn't love pork roast? Clara makes it with a wonderful mustard sauce. Clara, love, you worry over nothing."
"First impressions, dear, first impressions."
"And you lived in France?" Clara continued.
"I was very young," Harry replied.
"Lily told us your parents were overseas, quite busy. But Bordeaux, how lovely. Me and my husband, we always wanted to go to France, but we always put it off. Isn't it right, dear?"
"You know I'm busy, love."
"Of course, of course. Still, I'm sure it's lovely this time of year."
"Mum!" Lily said laughing. "Leave some conversation for dinner, will you?"
"I was just curious, but all right then."
Peter looked back at Lily in the rear-view mirror and Lily rolled her eyes. A laugh came from the driver's seat.
Peter and Clara Evans lived on the outskirts of Cokeworth, and it seemed a century ago that he'd gleaned those memories through the pensieve. Lily's father was a car mechanic, explaining the pristine condition of the car he was driving, and Clara was a home-maker. He pulled up to an old house that could've been a farmhouse before and parked on the stone slab driveway in front of it. In the open garage was a motorcycle surrounded by some of its parts.
Peter handed Harry his suitcase and took Lily's. They went inside and instantly Harry felt a sense of deja-vu. The house felt lived in. He realized he got the similar feeling of warmth he got when he first entered the Weasley home. There was a cuckoo clock on the wall next to the stairs, a newspaper was sitting on the dining table above an embroidered tablecloth. On the mantelpiece were arranged a multitude of pictures. Some seemingly decades old and some much newer. A rack next to the fire was stocked with logs.
"Right, Harry, take your suitcase and follow me. I'll show you to your room," Peter motioned.
Harry's room was two doors down from Lily's, probably a conscious choice. He knew where he'd rather have slept but decided to keep this opinion to himself. "You'll unpack later. It's about time for tea."
When they came downstairs, Lily was already nibbling at a golden-brown biscuit she took from a plate and smiled at them. Clara served them tea and they sat around the table. "Have some, dear. I baked them myself", she said, motioning to the plate.
"Thank you."
"Are you going back to the shop?" Lily asked.
"Took the day off," Peter answered, shaking his head, "Did some work on the Triumph. You like bikes, Harry?"
"Sure," Harry answered, not knowing much about bikes at all.
"Harry's more of a broom person," Lily said with a grin.
"Right!" Peter laughed. "I forget sometimes, it's a different world ya live in."
"He practically carried his team to victory this year."
"Quidditch, is it?" Clara asked.
"That's right, mum. Harry's team didn't win for five years until he came along."
"You don't say. You must be pretty good at it then?"
"We had a great team, ma'am. All I do is finish the game when it's already won."
"D'you hear that, Pete? Lily told us you were the modest type."
"Did she?" Harry said, amusedly looking over at her.
Lily smiled guiltily and shrugged while she sipped her tea. "I might have sent a few letters."
"Had nothing but good things to say about you, Harry." Peter said, taking a filterless cigarette out of a silver case. "Have you thought about marriage, son?"
It took everything for Harry not to spray the table with tea. Truth was he had thought about it, but not seriously, not with the cloud of uncertainty hanging over their heads. Marriage, normal life, all seemed so far away.
"Dad!" Lily plead. "You've just met him."
"So? I knew I wanted to marry your mother a week after we first met, isn't that right, love?"
"You should've seen my father's face when he told him," Clara said, laughing. "Made us wait until I finished school at least."
"I would be very lucky to spend my life with Lily," Harry said, trying to defuse the situation.
"Well look now what you've done, dad. He's gone all sweet and sappy," Lily said.
Peter laughed and drained his tea, took drag from his cigarette and stood up. "Mum will help you both unpack, I'll be in the garage 'till supper."
They unpacked, and afterwards Lily asked him to accompany her for a walk, probably for his benefit. It had been a lot to take in. She waved at her dad, who was hard at work on the Triumph, and they set off to explore the surroundings. An old warehouse stood in the distance dominating the view of the surrounding fields. Behind them was the view of the city, grey and overpowering, plumes of smoke rising from the columns of factories. This was the place Lily grew up in, and spent her childhood. It felt like a different world.
"So how was meeting the parents?" she asked, as they walked hand in hand.
"Good. A bit strange. Good."
"You've had something on your mind? I can tell."
Harry swallowed through a dry throat despite the tea he had earlier. He studied her and noticed the edge on her features that told him he had been caught. She knew, damn it. "I didn't..."
"I know a nice quiet place," she said calmly.
They followed a trail down one of the fields and stopped near a familiar looking tall elm near a small copse and a battered fence. They sat down beneath the shielding shade of the leaves.
"Mum and dad are going to die soon," Lily said.
"I didn't know anything about them," Harry said. "I barely knew about you. They weren't around, I never wondered."
Lily's voice was racked with sadness. "I know. So you don't know when?"
"I should've asked."
"You didn't know what would happen."
Harry felt a horrible pain in his stomach, like acid was eating right through him.
"Four years," she said, "at the most."
"I want to try to stop it. But I don't know how."
"Try the Crystal," Lily said.
With a deep breath he took it out, and whispered the name 'Peter Evans' into it. The thread appeared much as Lupin's mother's did, rusty and frayed. Clara's came back much the same.
"They don't have much time," Lily said. "Let's just enjoy the time we have. Hell, Harry, we don't know if we'll survive this."
Something clicked in Harry's mind. "Hold on. If our names come out clean, what does that mean? That we'll succeed?"
"Didn't you say Abraxas was connected to you? Maybe she doesn't play by the same rules. Think about it. If it can change things like you can, the Crystal is pointless."
He ran his hands through the low grass beneath the tree. "I just feel so useless."
She took his hand. They talked for a while, wondering what Remus and Severus were up to. When the sun reached the top of the copse of trees, they walked back. Supper was pleasant. Clara was the perfect picture of a mother and wife, but modern for the time. She curiously asked questions about Lily's life at Hogwarts, about what she and Harry had been doing. Peter stoked the fire and showed Harry around the garage, not minding Harry's ignorance about mechanics one bit as he went on about his pride, the Triumph.
By 9:30PM they went to bed. Harry fell asleep instantly to the air dried smell of the sheets.
He awoke to a knocking at his door, and the muffled sound of Lily's voice through it. "Get up! There's news from the Prophet!"
Finding his slippers, he opened the door. Lily stood before him with a mixture of excitement and alarm. "Come on," she said, "get some tea, you have to read this."
On the front page he saw in gigantic print: 'DARK LORD DEAD: DEMISE OF TERRORIST CAUSES MAYHEM AT MINISTRY'.
Harry's dazed mind did not make the connection. He went downstairs and sipped from some tea with Lily next to him and read the article.
Dear readers, since last week the Ministry had been locked down to any of our questioning. The reason for this isolation is now clear: the Ministry has ascertained through extensive questioning and investigation that the Dark Lord, called He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, died recently.
Yesterday evening, the press received a report from the Ministry detailing their investigation (see more on page 5). Thus will follow a detailed account of the happenings at the Ministry since the last three days.
On the late morning of Tuesday the 28th, Head of Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Bertrand Willow was found dead, hung by the neck from a muggle artefact called an 'extension cord'. Next to him was found a letter containing the following:
I can not live with what I have done.
For the past two and a half years I have been V--------'s puppet. He cornered me one night in November 1975 and cast the Imperius curse on me. Since then I have done nothing but aid and allow the torture, murder and enslavement of muggles I was supposed to protect.
I know what you will say, Mary, Leonard, that it's not my fault. But as soon as I awoke the horror was too much. Even unaware, to be a part of this fills me with disgust at myself. I threw up and wept for hours before writing this letter. I'm sorry. My actions hurt wizard and muggle alike. I should have fought, even if it was something I did not know how to fight.
I go with the certainty and satisfaction of knowing he is now dead. He would not free me willingly. Let those who can live enjoy the peace that follows, I can not. Never allow this to happen again. I hope you can see the light. I'm sorry.
God forgive me,
Betrand
Merigold Herwesh, Senior Auror and Warwick Stellwine, Deputy Head of the Department of Transportation were found under similar circumstance with similar letters (see page 7). Our sympathies go out to their families and friends.
Sixty-four more people turned themselves in at the Auror Department over the next day and the Ministry was closed off by 14:45. All were interrogated and found to have acted similarly. Either aiding or turning a blind eye to the reign of terror of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Twenty-four of them have been identified as having been put under the Imperius curse by You-Know-Who himself. The rest by other Death Eaters under his command (also now presumed dead).
The names of these remain secret until further investigation. Five suspects were arrested by corroborating information offered by said victims. More remain at large, their status being unknown. Experts at the Department of Mysteries and Auror Department have assured that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named died on the night of the 27th to the 28th from unknown causes somewhere in the Persian Magical Sphere. Cooperation to decide further actions is underway with the ICW.
Our community is caught between mourning and celebration since the news broke out. James Galwick, Mayor of Godric's Hollow has announced a remembrance and celebration on the evening of the 2nd of July (tomorrow evening). Many more such events are to take place all over the country and abroad (see page 9).
Harry took a pause from his reading and took a deep breath. "Damn."
"Voldemort still kills from beyond the grave," Lily said solemnly.
"If they knew what's coming, they wouldn't be celebrating," Harry said sourly.
"We'll be fine," Lily said putting her hand over his.
Peter was out in the garage all morning, working on his Triumph. Clara went to the market and that left Lily to tour Harry around the house. Lily's room had a large Queen poster and an extensive collection of muggle records. They listened to music for a while. Lily tentatively tried to get him to dance. He was terrible at it, but they had a good laugh.
In the afternoon over tea Clara sat with them, she was holding an opened envelope between her hands. "Lily dear. Your sister will be coming over in a few days."
Harry visibly tensed, Lily noticed.
"Oh. How long will she stay?"
"Just overnight. She's coming by on Friday, leaves Saturday," Clara said awkwardly. "She's… She's getting engaged."
Lily groaned. "Please tell me it's not to that awful Dursley fellow."
"Lily!" Peter growled. "I know you don't like him and I'm not sure I like him either but she's your sister. And she's going to do what she wants anyway."
The next day a letter came by owl from Severus.
Lily,
I will be staying with Remus from the 8th until the 23rd. Afterwards we stay at Black Manor (meet us at Remus' house on the 23rd at 16:30PM). I take it you read the Prophet. Tell Harry it's good to have confirmation he's right. There will be plenty of time for panic later.
Take care,
Severus
The rest of the week Harry was juggling anxiety of meeting Vernon and trying to find a way to stop Lily's parents from dying. Lily tried to soften the blow by keeping him busy, slagging off Vernon and Petunia, and going to various places around Cokeworth. The market was an ant hill of smells and sounds located in the commercial district. They found a muggle bar her father didn't know about and had a few drinks and privacy in a corner booth.
But Friday the 8th did come and Harry winced as he heard the car pull up to the house. Clara opened the door and through it came a blonde young broad man with a curled up moustache and a smug smile.
"Vernon Dursley. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." Dursley's gaze turned to Harry. "And who might you be?"