The Marauders: Year Seven Part One

The Breakfast

The reception witch at St. Mungo's was bored. Not much was going on, the waiting room was completely empty save for a man sitting in a corner, half asleep and hugging a funny plant with spindles that had attached itself to his neck, having just arrived a few moments before, he was awaiting his name to be called by a mediwitch. The reception witch was doing a puzzle on the back cover of the Quibbler, humming to herself quietly. 

Suddenly there was a crack outside and she looked up with a yawn, expecting to see a witch or wizard with some funny magical malady on the sidewalk beyond the wide glass window, about to come inside, and instead what she saw was a teenage boy - blood gushing from his chest - wobble, fall forward, the blood smearing on the glass. He slipped to be kneeling on the ground, before tipping sideways, disappearing from sight.

She stared, unable to process what she'd just seen for a moment, then she screamed and jumped up, waving her wand to sound an alarm for immediate help, and ran for the window.

Lily was waiting on the couch in the living room of the Evans's house, nervously pressing her skirt down on her knees. She'd gotten dressed nicely for the breakfast, a mustard-yellow corduroy skirt with brown leather buttons up the front, a brown blouse tucked in, and a maroon-mustard-and-brown striped sweater. She had on both of the necklaces James Potter had given her, and the bracelet that she'd only recently learned had been from him as well. She'd done her hair, and painted her nails, and she was nervously tugging on her knee socks, letting her loafers slip on and off as she shuffled her feet against the carpet, looking at the clock on the mantle.

Mrs. Evans came into the room, pausing to kiss the top of Lily's head as she entered and smoothed her daughter's hair. "Have I told you how lovely you look?" she asked.

"You think so?" Lily asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Evans smiled. "He's going to be very impressed. Of course, I think this boy would be no matter what from what I've seen in his eyes in the past." She squeezed Lily's shoulders.

"Mum, you made omelettes, right?" Lily asked.

"I did," Mrs. Evans said.

"Thank you," Lily's voice shook with nervous excitement. "Omelettes are very important."

"You mentioned," Mrs. Evans smiled, "I didn't forget, dear."

"I'm sorry, I'm just -- I don't know why I'm nervous."

Mrs. Evans's eyes glowed -- she knew. "I couldn't tell you sweetheart," she lied, and she went off into the kitchen.

Lily turned back to the fireplace, looking at the clock. Any second now. He could be floating through the Floo Network right now, even, she thought.

And the fireplace gleamed in response, the flames turning green and hissing and --

"He's here mum!" Lily shouted, jumping up and giving her clothes one last smooth before --

James Potter tumbled out of the fireplace, looking very nice and done-up, aside from his always messy hair, but Lily wouldn't have had it any other way. He dusted the soot from his clothes and drew a deep breath as he stood up, smiling at Lily, "Morning Evans."

"Morning!!!" she said, very excited, the nervousness making the word come out a lot more hurried and loud than she'd expected it to and she flushed as James chuckled.

"Hitting the coffee early, love?" he asked.

Lily shook her head, "Sorry. I'm glad you're here, that's all."

James laughed and shook his head, then exaggerated pinching his arm, "Bloody hell, I'm just not used to that yet."

"What?" Lily looked confused.