Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Dumbledore misplaces his twinkle

Chapter 6: The Headmaster's Office

Hermione, unlike her friend Harry, was not accustomed to visits to the Headmaster's Office. She suspected that she was due for one, and spent the next few days waiting for the shoe to drop. The school was rustling with gossip about the strange events of Sunday night; and everyone was on edge, thinking that they portended some sort of disaster.

Lily had been taken to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey's shocked gasp told her that here was another who had recognised Lily Evans. Lily had disappeared behind a screen, and Hermione had been told to "wait, there," by Professor Snape. An imperious gesture of his hand punctuated the order. Hermione had perched on the designated chair, nervously triumphant.

He had come back within a quarter of an hour, and began interrogating her. "What had she done?" "What was in that potion?" "Had she told anyone what she intended?" "Who else knew about the picture?" He had paused between questions, beetle-black eyes boring into hers, and she felt a kind of mental intrusion, as if someone were rifling through her thoughts.

Legilimency, she thought, indignant. How dare he? I'm sure this is not authorised by the Governors!

Snape had said nothing: nothing about her story, nothing about whatever memories he had examined. He said nothing at all, and merely stared at her, expressionless, for a disconcertingly long time.

Finally, he said, "Return to your dormitory at once. Say nothing of this to anyone. That includes your usual partners in crime. If I find that you have disobeyed me, you and they will probably have to be Obliviated; and I shall personally see to it that your entire magical education is accidentally and irrevocably erased."

-----

The dreaded summons came at last. Professor McGonagall, with an unusually reproving look in her eye, told her at the end of Transfiguration class on Wednesday to report to the Headmaster after dinner that night. She sat silently at the table, picking at her food. Ron had decided, over the past week or so, that Hermione was in a snit, or obsessing over her classes again, or having some sort of unmentionable female problem; and he had decided to pretend that nothing was happening. Harry, more sensitive to the unspoken around him, and constantly vigilant about any possible threats to himself or his friends, probed gently.

"Something's wrong, Hermione. Something must be worrying you. Don't say there isn't. I hate it when people lie to me."

Hermione was becoming more and more uneasy about the situation. Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Snape himself would give her any information about Lily's condition. She hated being in the dark as much as Harry.

She lowered her voice, speaking for his ears only. "There is something going on, Harry, but I just don't know enough to tell you about it yet. I promise I will as soon as I can." She saw his look of defeated anger, and clutched at his arm. "You know I will. I'm hoping to find out something tonight. I've been told to report to Professor Dumbledore after dinner."

Harry looked at her amazement: partly out of concern, but also surprised that any other student would merit an audience with the Headmaster. He was instantly ashamed of his conceit, and gave her a reluctant nod.

The students were trickling out of the Great Hall. Hermione took a deep breath, and rose from the table to keep her appointment. Harry patted her shoulder.

"Good luck, then."

"Thanks." She straightened her back, and headed to the Headmaster's Office.

-----

Oddly enough, the whimsical password and her familiarity with the impressive entrance to the Headmaster's Office from Harry's description did not lessen Hermione's anxiety. She found the process all rather tedious. Her brief glance around the Office itself was more gratifying. The Headmaster's personal library was extensive; his collection of magical instruments, impressive; and while the presence of Dumbledore was expected, and the presence of Snape unsurprising, Lily was also there, comfortably ensconced in a squashy chair.

"Sit down, Ms. Granger," the Headmaster quietly commanded. The level blue gaze was unnerving. Lily came and sat by her, and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I'm afraid we're really for it," Lily whispered.

"But you're all right, aren't you?" Hermione asked her anxiously. Certainly she looked very well indeed: eyes clear and bright green, hair and skin radiant, and seemingly full of energy.

"Never better," she was assured. "Madam Pomfrey poked about me a bit—and there were some problems with vitamin deficiencies and some things not being exactly where they should---"

Hermione stared at her, alarmed.

"-----but not to worry. There wasn't anything she couldn't sort out."

Hermione gave a sigh of relief. "Then all's well that ends well."

Snape snorted.

Dumbledore looked at her gravely. "Ah, that is not entirely true. Miss Evans' current status is hardly resolved, and your own position as the person who reincarnated her is also rather at issue. It would be a matter of some distress to me if Hogwarts' foremost sixth year student were to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban."

------

Not when facing the Judges, not even in those terrible hours in the Department of Mysteries, had she been so shocked and frightened. She had flattered herself that she had considered releasing Lily from all viewpoints: personal, moral, magical. She had never considered the legal ramifications.

"Oh, yes," the Headmaster assured her. "Were your actions and the result of this spell were to become public knowledge, you would certainly be condemned for the rest of your natural life. My dear Miss Granger, you used ancient Blood Magic to resurrect a dead person." He looked at her keenly, and asked, "Was it Harry's blood? Did you tell him what it was for?" She bit her lip, and was silent. He sighed. "That is unquestionably Necromancy, and it is illegal everywhere in the world. Did you never think about this?"

"No---" she faltered, "not really. Lily wanted to come and join us. She wants to help in the fight against Voldemort. It never occurred to me that helping her could be wrong."

Dumbledore looked the closest to appalled Hermione could remember. "Miss Granger, there is a very good reason such magic is forbidden. What human who has lost a loved one has not longed to have him—or her---back? You were incredibly lucky to try this spell using an image painted by the genius of Uriel Praetorius, which contained some of Lily's essence. Were news of your success and your techniques to be known, bereaved witches and wizards everywhere would be attempting to raise their loved ones with snapshots, with silhouettes, with sketches hastily drawn on tablecloths. Can you begin to imagine the hideous, abortive caricatures of life that might arise to torment the unlucky wizard with a horror worse than grief? If your potion had been even slightly cooler, or less meticulously stirred, Miss Evans would certainly have died—or more accurately---gruesomely failed to live. She nearly died anyway."

Hermione's head went up, and she looked worriedly at Lily.

Snape observed coldly, "It was the cup of earth. You used Professor Sprout's potting soil. It does not have quite the same composition as Egyptian earth from the banks of the Nile. The lack of trace elements and decayed animal matter----" He lifted his brows, enjoying Granger's discomfiture. Actually, she had done an astonishingly good job on the potion, but hell was welcome to freeze over before he would admit it.

Dumbledore continued, in a milder tone. "The research, the potion, and the incantation were quite brilliant. You've expended great thought and energy in doing this. I could have wished you had expended as much considering whether you should have attempted it at all. Have you thought what impact your actions might have on Harry?" Hermione eagerly began to reassure him, and then was stopped by the disappointed look in the wise blue eyes. Snape, standing behind the Headmaster, and pretending to examine a crystal armillary sphere, threw her a contemptuous and knowing glance.

Dumbledore quietly rebuked her. "How can you possibly imagine that this would be a good thing for him? To see an image of his mother who is not his mother? Instead of his tender and loving ideal, a fellow student who cares no more for him than any other classmate. It could cause him nothing but pain and misery. Therefore I tell you that Lily Evans cannot return to Hogwarts."

Lily stiffened and cast a fierce look at the Headmaster. "You can't just send me away! You can't deny who I am! I am Lily Evans! I'm here---inside." She thumped her chest with her fist, rising to her feet. "When Hermione told me about that filthy Oldyfart, and how he killed the other Lily, how he threatens everything that makes life worth living—I knew I had to do something. Severus risks his life constantly to fight him, and no one knows it." Dumbledore and Snape exchanged quick, alarmed looks. "Yes, I know about the Order of the Phoenix. I know how few, how very few people are willing to stand up and fight. You need my help, Severus needs my help, and that boy—Harry--- needs my help. You'd better get used to having me around, because I'm here to stay. Find work for me, and let me get to it!"

Snape reflexively muttered something about "Bloody Gryffindor heroics," but his heart was not in it, and he stared at Lily with only a veneer of his customary scorn. There was a light in his eyes Hermione had never before seen there.

Dumbledore gave a long sigh, and agreed sadly, "You are, I grant you, a kind of Lily Evans. Perhaps the Lily Evans as seen by Uriel Praetorius, on the day you were painted."

"In that, I'm no different than anyone else. We all change throughout our lifetimes. Would your own Headmaster recognise you as you are now?"

He smiled, mild and reasonable. "A valid point. Nonetheless, it is unlikely that the Ministry of Magic would acknowledge you as the real Lily Evans. They could conceivably deny you any rights as a living being and whisk you off for further experiments. I take it that is not what you would prefer. A sixth-year, sixteen-year-old student needs, first of all, to finish her education to be of any use in the present struggle. Lily Evans cannot return to Hogwarts. Thus you will simply have to be—someone else."

There was a long silence.

Lily steadied herself and asked, "Who?"

The Headmaster studied her compassionately. Leaning back in his chair, he told her, "One of the advantages of a life as long as mine, is that I have made a great many people indebted to me in the course of it. I have now called in some of these debts on your behalf." He drew a long parchment document from the pile on his desk. "Have you ever been to Canada, my dear?"

"Never, Professor," answered Lily warily.

"Nonetheless," he declared with a dreamy smile, "though you may not have been to Canada, you will be from Canada. The principal of Medicine Hat Lodge is an old ally and associate, and he is willing to provide thorough documentation of your birth, background, and studies. I believe it would be best that your new identity have nothing in it that would make associations easy, and thus, we have decided that you will be a pureblood orphan from the Jones family."

"The Joneses!" interjected Snape, making no effort to conceal his disgust.

"I want to keep the name Lily," Lily said, in a tone that suggested that this would not be negotiable.

Dumbledore considered her request. Lily added, "It's not that uncommon a name. The other Lily didn't have a patent on it. I have a right to my own name. No one could possibly imagine who I am."

Dumbledore looked at Snape, who shrugged. "Why not? It's not as if anyone is expecting Lily Evans to turn up."

The Headmaster said slowly, "Very well. I understand your need to have something of your old identity—" Lily glowed with relief. "But—" Dumbledore was not finished with Lily. "There is the matter of your appearance. Something must be done. There are still some people capable of noticing a resemblance. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, as your former teachers, have been informed of your incarnation. They were too familiar with your manner of speech and your distinctive magical style to be deceived for long by any appearance charm. I will talk to Remus in due course. No one else at the school is likely to recognise Lily Potter, even in your current guise."

"Evans, Lily Evans," Lily muttered. Snape appeared oddly smug.

Dumbledore smiled benignly. He seemed to have recovered from his dark mood, and was once more the Headmaster Hermione knew and loved. "We simply need to avoid accidental associations made by more casual acquaintances. Any real structural changes could only be transitory, and glamours are easily penetrated, but some charms are quite long-lasting and harmless."

With a whimsical air, he waved his wand lightly toward her.

"Tingeo."

Lily's auburn hair lightened to a golden glory: her eyes altered through a sea-green, to a sky-blue, and then to a stunning azure. Dumbledore cocked his head and regarded his work with a certain pride. Hermione stared at Lily, impressed. She looked rather goddessy. Snape was stunned, and Lily, glimpsing the blonde tresses contrasted against her black robe, fled to the nearest mirror to get a good look.

Snape said slowly, "Rather showy, perhaps."

Hermione, rather daringly, suggested, "People would be so busy looking at her hair, they might not see anything else."

Lily, still admiring her mirror image, tossed her golden locks. "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful."

Snape very nearly smiled. He saw Hermione gaping at him, and glared at her poisonously. Lily craned her neck to have a better look at the back of her hair.

Dumbledore cast the spell again. "Tingeo."

The shadows in the room rushed toward Lily. They pressed around her, and her hair darkened like quills drawing up ink. In a moment, her hair and eyes were impenetrably black—blacker than Snape's own. Snape himself was pleased and admiring.

"You look a little like a vampire," remarked Hermione. Lily's fair skin appeared even whiter, contrasted with her jet-black hair and eyes.

Lily leaned closer to the mirror, grimacing to reveal any changes to her canines.

"She does not look at all like a real vampire, you silly girl," Snape corrected acidly. "Your Muggle roots are showing."

Lily considered. "You know, Professor, I think this might do. I really look quite different." She turned to him, smiling mischievously. "This is better than a masquerade! How long does it last?"

"As I cast it today, " Dumbledore smiled in return, "it should last indefinitely. The counter-spell, luckily, is not 'Finite Incantatem,' which would certainly cause problems. It is, in your case, 'Propria.'" He looked at her again. "A different hair-style is also in order."

With another wave, Lily's hair was plaited into a neat long braid down her back. A few curling wisps of inky-dark hair framed her face.

Lily beamed at Dumbledore. "Professor, you should teach a special seminar in cosmetic and hair-styling charms!"

Dumbledore beamed back. "Master Praetorius worked on canvas. I find it more intriguing to work on the living subject. Another useful bit of subterfuge seems wise." He uttered, "Vox nova!" with a flick of his wand.

Lily looked at him, puzzled. He smiled enigmatically.

Lily asked, tentatively, "What does that do?---" and stopped, touching her throat in confusion. Her voice had changed, the accent flattened and Americanised, the voice itself somewhat lower. Snape smirked at her.

Lily began muttering to herself, cocking her head as if to hear her voice more clearly. "Lily Jones from Medicine Hat Lodge? Let's go roond and aboot in a boat?" She gave an amused snort, and laughed to Dumbledore, "It will take quite of bit of talking to get used to this!"

Dumbledore regarded them all seriously. "Harry, of course, must never know of your identity. I rely on all of you," he looked pointedly at Snape, "to protect him from such useless and hurtful information."

Hermione fidgeted in her chair. Lily was more forthright.

"Professor, forgive me for saying so, but I believe it would be better to tell the boy the truth. He might otherwise learn it by accident, and that would be worse for him. He'll understand the reason for secrecy about my identity as well as anyone." She paused then, seeming distracted by the strange sound of her own voice. "Besides, if he doesn't know who I am, he might take it into his head to fancy me, and what then?"

Hermione murmured, "Eeww."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I hesitate to burden him with such knowledge. Harry has suffered a great deal for one so young, and this could well make his situation worse."

"Harry is certain to recognise her eventually, Professor," Hermione blurted out. Dumbledore looked at her curiously. Snape raised his brows. "I mean, he has pictures of her, sir, and he studies them. And I think you should tell him right away, because nothing makes him angrier than not being told things. He's stronger than you think."

Snape's mouth twisted in distaste. Lily gave him an arch look and declared, "My boy. Defeats Dark Wizards in the cradle." Snape growled, but let it pass.

Dumbledore gave a resigned sigh. "It never seems to end for Harry. In this case, though, I believe you are right, Miss Granger. Harry does not respond well to deception. You and I will speak to him early tomorrow."

Hermione groaned to herself. She really hadn't thought through the situation to the inevitable confrontation. It won't be pretty.

Dumbledore had turned his attention back to Lily, and said, "You will have to be Sorted publicly. Anything else would raise questions. And you are, after all, new to Hogwarts, so I must ask you to remove your Gryffindor tie, and--" he calmly extended his hand," to surrender your prefect's badge."

"I really liked being a prefect," Lily admitted ruefully.

Hermione regarded her with sympathy, as Lily reluctantly removed her gleaming badge, and laid it in the Headmaster's palm. She loosened and pulled off her red and gold tie, and thrust it into the pocket of her robes.

"I think, for now, you should go to the Guest Apartments, and spend the night there. Your luggage, " Hermione and Lily stared at each other, and Dumbledore smiled beatifically, "has already arrived."

------

The three of them left the Headmaster's Office in varying moods of anxiety and elation. Hermione was already wondering how many classes she and Lily would share, and if Lily could be her partner for Potions. How pleasant it would be to have a friend in the sixth-year dormitory. She had always felt subtly excluded by Lavender and Parvati. Now she would have a friend of her own, with whom she could whisper secrets as they fell asleep.

Snape had composed himself with difficulty. Lily was back. Lily would be at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future. She is here, but instead of being separated by house rivalries, we are separated by over twenty years! He could have wept at the irony. Nevertheless, she would be in his N.E.W.T. class----Another Gryffindor will be in my class! He began to consider how best to deal with her in public….

His thoughts were interrupted by Lily's new, strange voice.

"Severus, what's wrong with the Joneses?" Lily whispered urgently.

He rolled his eyes, and Hermione felt she had suddenly, in that reaction, seen Snape the student and classmate of Lily. "You'd better learn all you can about wizarding North America. The wretched little busybodies with whom you'll be associating are bound to quiz you. Jones," he began, with the air of one giving a lesson to a pair of hopeless dunderheads, "is the most common wizarding name in Canada and the States. Even as late as 1850, wizarding criminals from Britain and Europe were not generally punished by imprisonment, or death, or even the Kiss. They were transported to less populated areas, from which there was little chance of their escape. Transoceanic Apparation is still extraordinarily difficult and dangerous, and in those days, completely impossible. From 1025 until 1692, most transported witches and wizards were sent to North America."

"Yes, I know," Hermione eagerly interrupted, "and then there was the security breach and the Salem Witch Trials; and the Ministries decided that North America was no longer isolated enough---"

Snape rounded on her, eyes blazing black fire. "Who is telling this story?"

Hermione, stopped, abashed. "Sorry, professor. You are."

Snape sneered disdainfully. Lily laid a soothing hand on his arm. "Please go on, Severus." She shot Hermione an exasperated look behind Snape's black-clad back. Hermione shrugged a mute apology.

"When a condemned witch or wizard was transported," Snape continued, in icy tones, "their families generally wished to renounce their connection to the felon. Thus the individual was stripped of his or her family name. A custom sprang up, from a large group of Welsh wizards banished in 1455, of adopting the name Jones. Thus the name Jones means absolutely nothing. Your ancestors could be Moodys or Malfoys or McGonagalls. There will be some speculation among the purebloods, but a typical pedigree will be provided you that reaches back to, say, 1650—and goes no further. The name Jones simply indicates that you are a witch whose family patriarch hailed from the British Isles."

"What about French-Canadian witches?" wondered Lily.

"DuBois," answered Snape, concisely. "Laveau, in Louisiana. Ramirez in Latin America. There are other names, of course, but Jones, DuBois, Ramirez, and Laveau, with a sprinkling of Smiths, Mankillers, and Walkers, are by far the most common."

Words bubbled irrepressibly from Hermione. "And of course, the boundaries between the magical and Muggle worlds have always been more porous in the Americas, and are practically nonexistent amongst the Native American population---"

Severus Snape's wand was instantly pointed between her eyes.

"Silencio," he hissed. Hermione found herself mouthing soundlessly. Snape gave a satisfied grunt, and continued his lecture. "You would do well to read the history of Medicine Hat. It's in the library, and I shall bring you the book. As to why you are here, a few hints will be dropped—your new guardian finds the curriculum at Medicine Hat too non-traditional—you have been sent here to put you out of the way of an inappropriate admirer. Such rumours are easily started; and in your case, the more obfuscation, the better."

Snape and Lily kept pace going down the halls, Hermione trotted behind them, trying to counter the silencing spell, and mutely insulting Snape behind his back. It wasn't fair!

They had reached the Guest Apartments, and Snape gave the password: "Advena!" A painting of a young shepherd playing a bone flute swung away from the wall, and Lily entered. Hermione glanced in.

It was all very luxurious, in a 16th century sort of way. The carved oak chairs were cushioned, and there was a noble blaze in the elaborate fireplace. An arched doorway allowed a glimpse into an equally grand bedroom, complete with a bed that looked equal to accommodating most of the Gryffindor girls, after they had climbed the steps necessary to accessing it. Tapestries softened the stone of the walls. Purple velvet draped the windows.

"Smashing!" she mouthed to Lily. Lily looked around her, bemused and amused.

"Might as well enjoy it as not," she smiled at Snape, "since I'll only have it for the night."

Snape stood outside the doorway, stiff and uncomfortable. "I shall bring you the book shortly."

"Perhaps we could have some sandwiches or something, too," Lily suggested. "I haven't had a proper dinner. We can look over the book and have a good chat together." She gave Hermione a smile and a wave, which Hermione returned. "Goodnight, then, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow. And Severus, do be a sport and take that spell off her?"

Snape gave her a nod and shut the painting.

He turned to Hermione. Staring down his nose, he snarled, "You can't leave anything alone. You must always be prying into things that do not concern you. You must always try to impress everyone with your cleverness. Do you know what you've done? Do you know how this could change everything?" Grudgingly, he waved his wand at her. "Finite incantatem."

Hermione was tired and tense. She thought of Harry's reactions; she thought of Lily, and herself, and how her achievement must forever remain secret. She muttered, mostly to herself, "She's my friend, and she wanted to get out and be free. She's your friend and she wanted to get out and help you. That's what she said," she continued, her voice rising. "She wasn't thinking about Harry or me or anyone else. She said, 'Severus is my friend, and he needs me.'"

Their eyes met. Hermione flinched away.

"Go to your dormitory, you tiresome little twit."

Throat swelling with resentment, Hermione turned her back on him and stalked back to Gryffindor Tower. She entered the common room to find Harry in front of the fire again, waiting for her.

"So? What's happening? What can you tell me?"

Hermione felt overwhelmed by the day, the fright she had had, the complicated story she must know, and now by this energetic young male. In his current mood, intense and curious, looking at Hermione with his mother's green eyes, he was eerily like Lily. It gave her an unsettled feeling, as if she were seeing two images at once.

"Dumbledore is going to tell you everything in the morning. I'm going to be there too, since I'm involved."

Harry was concerned and grim. Hermione couldn't bear that he might worry all night. "But please understand: it's nothing terrible. It's very strange and peculiar, but sort of –wonderful as well. I can't tell you any more right now, but you will know everything about it tomorrow."

"So you're all right, then? I was worried about you."

Please, please don't let him be angry with me about this. "I'm all right. It's been a long day, and I've got to get some sleep. You too."

Harry gave her his beautiful smile. "Goodnight, then."


They walked out of the common room and separated at the stairs. Hermione, full of hopes and fears, spent a restless night wondering what Lily and Professor Snape were talking about, thinking how she might have done things differently, practising what she would say to Harry the next day, and stubbornly maintaining that it was all for the best.


------


Notes: Thank you to my kind reviewers.

Next chapter: The Canadian Sixth Year—a new student enters the mix
You must login (register) to review.