"I heard they were caught trying to smuggle a baby manticore into the castle."

"No, no, I heard it was a dragon."

"Well, I heard—"

As the day went on, rumors were flying thick and fast about James and Sirius. Though the entire school seemed to know about them losing one hundred points for Gryffindor, no one knew exactly how those points had been lost. By dinnertime, it seemed that everyone in the castle had a theory—each one wilder than the last.

Lily rolled her eyes at Dorcas and Mary as the girls left the Great Hall that evening. The group of third year girls seated at the end of the Gryffindor table had now broken out into an argument over the most effective method of sneaking a dragon into the castle.

"People will believe anything," Lily huffed, on their way across the entrance hall to the grand staircase.

"Literally anything," Dorcas agreed. "I started telling people that they lost the points by getting caught sneaking out to their weekly ballroom dance class in Hogsmeade, and I've heard at least ten people repeat it since Herbology."

Lily stomped her way up the staircase, Dorcas and Mary behind her. "It's like no one has anything better to do with their lives than talk about Potter."

"And you," Mary pointed out fairly.

Though she wanted to, Lily found she couldn't argue with that. All day long, students had been approaching her in the corridors, in classes, and even in the bathroom to wish her luck in the bet. Some of the students she was sure that she had never spoken to in her life. She was sure that her fellow students were so encouraging of her because they were angry with James and Sirius for giving away the lead of the House Cup to Slytherin; but still, she had to admit, it was a little flattering.

"Speak of the devil," Dorcas remarked, grinning slyly at Lily as the girls reached the top of the staircase.

Sure enough, James was approaching them from the library corridor. Remus was right behind him, carrying a stack of books so high that his face was barely visible behind it.

"Here, let me help you, Remus," said Dorcas quickly, taking half the stack out of his arms before he had time to protest. She sent a scathing look in James' direction. "So much for Gryffindor chivalry."

James was unapologetic. "My hands are full."

He held up a hand; his fingers were wrapped tightly around a struggling, winged golden ball: the Golden Snitch. To demonstrate, he released it for a split second; the Snitch made an attempt to zoom upward, but James caught it over his head before it could get out of his reach.

Lily clapped her hands slowly. "Inspiring," she said drily.

James quirked an eyebrow upward. "I'd like to see you try it, Evans."

Quidditch had never been Lily's game, and James knew it. She was a decent flyer, but once you added in the balls and bats and everything else, it was just too much happening at once.

"I prefer football," she said with a sniff.

"One ball, no broomsticks?" James pulled a look of disgust. "Boring."

Dorcas was looking over Remus' books as they continued walking. "Did you leave any books about Defense in the library?"

Remus grinned sheepishly. "Defense for Dummies? I'm hoping I'm beyond that."

James snorted, releasing the Snitch once again and catching it out from under Mary's nose. "We'll save that one for Pete."

Remus shot him a reproachful look, but didn't say anything. Dorcas was flipping through the book on the top of her pile. "You really think you'll need all of these for the exam?"

"Better safe than sorry," said Remus with a shrug.

James rolled his eyes. "Moony always worries too much. The exam'll be a breeze."

"And I think that you need to take Hawthorne more seriously," said Remus severely. "Especially after last night."

The girls exchanged a look. "Last night?" Mary repeated.

Quickly putting two and two together, Lily added, "Was Hawthorne the one that took all those points off you and Black?"

Honestly, Lily didn't find that surprising at all. In the year that Professor Hawthorne had been at Hogwarts, she had proven herself to be a no-nonsense teacher, with zero tolerance for troublemakers or rule-breakers. Unsurprisingly, James and Sirius hadn't exactly managed to endear themselves to her.

"I'm afraid that's classified, ladies," James smirked. But, though he tried to play it off casually, Lily still noticed the warning look he sent in Remus' direction.

"Dunno why you lot are being so secretive and mysterious about all this," said Dorcas, rolling her eyes at James. "What's the matter, people weren't talking enough about you and Black lately? Had to do something to make sure everyone in the school was still paying attention to you?"

James took a moment to respond, deliberately releasing the Snitch so that it fluttered its little golden wings across Dorcas' face before snatching it back again.

"C'mon, Meadowes, give us some credit—we're not that vain." Ignoring Lily's disbelieving snort, he continued, "Anyway, the only thing I want attention for right now is trouncing Evans here in our friendly little wager—which is going swimmingly, by the way."

He flashed what he clearly thought was a charming smile in Lily's direction, but Lily was unmoved.

"Yeah, you won a whole five points today—so that's, what? Only ninety-five still to go?"

James was, as ever, undaunted by Lily's sarcasm. "Let's consult the scoreboard when we get back to the common room, shall we, Evans? The scoreboard doesn't lie."

As it turned out, James was certainly right on one front—the scoreboard did not lie. As it descended from the common room ceiling that evening, watched by nearly every occupant of Gryffindor House, James' bravado finally broke.

"WHAT? Impossible!"

A fair amount of snickering began to break out across the common room as the flashing letters of the scoreboard revealed themselves. Sirius, sitting on one of the sofas near the fireplace, spat a mouthful of pumpkin juice in Peter's face at the sight.

The scoreboard now read: James Potter, 10; Lily Evans, 20.

"How?" James sputtered, rounding on Lily, who was smiling serenely and very much enjoying the moment. "How?"

By this point, they had the attention of the entire common room—their fellow Gryffindors weren't even pretending to not watch the drama unfold. Lily folded her arms across her chest.

"I stayed behind after Herbology this afternoon to help Professor Sprout tidy up the greenhouse. She was very grateful for the help."

James opened and closed his mouth several times, but no matter how many times he tried, no words came out. Lily didn't think she had ever seen James Potter speechless before, and she liked the sight perhaps more than she should.

She leaned in teasingly, bumping his glasses as she moved her lips near his ear. "Don't worry, I'll take very good care of your shirt, Potter. I think I'll look pretty great in it at that concert, actually."

As she sashayed off in the direction of the girls' dormitories, James finally found his voice.

"Just you wait, Evans—I'm just getting started."

Lily turned around in the doorway to the dormitories, a hand on her hip and a smile playing at her lips. "Bring it on, Potter."

She turned on her heel to go up the stairs, but not before she heard Remus' amused voice from below. "You sure you know what you've gotten yourself into, Prongs?"

And she couldn't repress a smile as she heard James reply, "Not in the slightest, Moony. Not in the slightest."

Lily had never been so excited to go to a Potions class before.

This was actually saying a lot, as Potions was one of Lily's favorite subjects. She'd worked especially hard in the class over the last couple of years; after al, high marks were vital to pursuing her intended career as a Healer. Potions had always made sense to Lily—it reminded her of cooking with her mum. It was all about precision, adding the right ingredients at the right time in just the right way. It was always thrilling to her to watch a potion come together in the end.

But her excitement about today's Potions class had nothing whatsoever to do with the thrill of potion-brewing, or pursuing her future career. No, today she was excited because she knew that winning points during this class would be a piece of cake, and she couldn't wait to rub it in James Potter's face.

As she entered the dungeon classroom that morning, she strayed from her usual seat and took a spot at the very front of the class. Dorcas followed her loyally, though she looked disgruntled at having to be in the front. But this was a very important part of Lily's plan.

James may have been a favorite of Professor McGonagall, but Lily was an undisputed favorite student of Professor Slughorn. And fortunately for Lily, Professor Slughorn was much more prone to showing his favoritism than Professor McGonagall—especially if he was properly buttered up first.

"Professor, are those new robes?" Lily asked sweetly, as Professor Slughorn set his briefcase down on his desk. "They look quite dashing!"

Dorcas shot Lily a look of pure disgust, which Lily ignored. Professor Slughorn, on the other hand, let out a hearty chortle and puffed out his considerable chest. "You really think so, my dear? Well thank you very much!"

Once Slughorn had turned away again, Lily turned casually in her seat to catch James' eye. He pretended to vomit into his cauldron. She stuck her tongue out in response. Their very mature exchange was interrupted by Professor Slughorn, who had returned to Lily's desk. Lily whirled back around with a start, pressing her lips together firmly and trying to ignore James laughing behind her.

Fortunately, Slughorn didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss. "One more thing, my dear—I wanted you to be among the first to know that next week I will be hosting one last soiree for the Slug Club. You know, just a little get-together to celebrate the end of the school year! It will be the night before the end of the term feast. Of course, as always, you're most welcome as well, Miss Meadowes," he added solicitously, turning his attention on Dorcas, who managed to fake a passably convincing smile.

Lily jumped in before Dorcas had a chance to respond. "Thank you so much for the invitation, Professor! We'd love to come."

Dorcas's expression was nothing short of betrayed as Professor Slughorn made his way to the front of the classroom and began the day's lesson. "No, no, don't you rope me into this! I refuse to take any part of this."

"Oh come on—what if he invites that Quidditch player you love so much? You know, the one from the Harpies that came last year? What's her name—Gladys something—"

"Glynis Davies," Dorcas corrected her automatically. On seeing Lily's triumphant smile, Dorcas narrowed her eyes. "Don't do this, Evans. Don't toy with me. You know what Glynis means to me—"

"You're fresh off of winning Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup—maybe she could put in a good word for you with the Harpies next year—"

"You're diabolical, you know that?" Dorcas sank low into her seat and glowered at Lily. "I mean it. You're the worst. I don't know why I'm friends with you."

Lily, who knew when she'd won an argument, beamed at her. "Oh, stop. You love me." Without hesitating, Lily turned away from Dorcas and faced Professor Slughorn, who had just finished asking a question about the Draught of Living Death, and thrust her hand into the air.

A small smile twitched around Professor Slughorn's lips. "Miss Evans?"

"The only known antidote to the Draught of Living Death is the Wiggenweld Potion, which will awaken the drinker from any slumber."

Professor Slughorn's smile broadened into one of pride. "Quite right, Miss Evans. Take five points to Gryffindor."

A self-satisfied smile taking over her lips, Lily couldn't resist turning around again to look at James. She mouthed the word "five" and held up all five of her fingers and waved them at him tauntingly. He put a hand over his mouth and pretended to yawn. Still smirking, Lily tossed her hair over shoulder and turned her attention back to Professor Slughorn.

Dorcas, meanwhile, only shook her head. "Insufferable," she muttered, "the both of you."

By the time that class had ended, Lily had managed to earn another ten points for Gryffindor due to the perfect, pearly sheen on her potion. Dorcas elbowed her as the girls walked out of the classroom together.

"I'm impressed, Evans. I don't think I've ever seen anyone suck up to a teacher as efficiently as you did today. Well done."

The sarcasm was practically oozing out of her voice, but Lily refused to take the bait. "Well it was worth it, wasn't it? Fifteen points! I'm well ahead of Potter now!"

"For once, Meadowes is right," came a voice from behind them. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that that display in class was truly sickening, Evans."

Marcus Avery was leering behind them, flanked as always by Mulciber and Snape. Dorcas flared up instantly.

"I think I speak for all of us, Avery, when I say that you're an asshole. And if we ever want your opinion—which I doubt—we'll ask for it."

Something about being friends with Dorcas—it didn't matter at all to her that, mere moments ago, she'd been criticizing Lily for essentially the same thing. The second anyone else chose to insult her friends, she would leap in and defend them to the death.

Avery appeared unmoved by Dorcas' harsh words, however. He smirked. "Last I checked, I don't need your permission to share my opinion. And I'm just getting started. What do you think, Mulciber, Snape? Who did Evans spend the most time flirting with in class—Slughorn, or Potter?"

Mulciber let out a guffaw. Snape, on the other hand, did not look amused. Without looking at any of them, he muttered something about being late for his next class, and took off down the corridor without so much as a backward glance.

Watching him go, Lily thought again of the picture of the Dark Mark that she had found among his things. She hadn't been able to shake the image from her mind since seeing it in class yesterday morning—it had continued to crop up, unbidden, while she was trying to fall asleep last night. She kept telling herself to just forget about it—after all, it wasn't any business of hers what Snape got up to anymore.

But it wasn't just about Snape. If he was involved in this Death Eater business, then, at the very least, Mulciber and Avery were as well. And there was no telling what other Slytherins might also be among them. It was chilling, thinking that budding Death Eaters might be all around them. Hogwarts was supposed to be a safe space, but Lily was quickly learning that, in this coming war, there was no place that was truly safe.

With a sinking feeling, Lily knew what she had to do.

Dorcas, meanwhile, had told Avery to go do something that earned her scandalized looks from several second year students who were on their way into the Potions classroom. Lily grabbed her arm.

"C'mon, Dorcas, just leave it. They're not worth it."

"But—"

"Come on."

Lily tugged on her arm, which was ineffective in a physical sense, since Dorcas was significantly taller than Lily, but succeeded in at least getting her attention. Dorcas reluctantly followed Lily down the corridor, ranting furiously all the while.

"I can't believe you're just going to walk away from that, Lily—I mean—that little shit—I should've just cursed him—put a boil on his—"

"Dorcas, leave it," said Lily firmly. She was only half-listening to her raging friend, anyway. Her eyes were fixed on the dark figure moving through the corridor ahead of them. "Hey, listen, you go on to Charms without me—I just remembered that I, er, left my essay in the common room—"

Dorcas frowned, looking unconvinced. "You'll never make it back in time, you'll be late for class—just tell Flitwick you forgot, you know how he is, he'll understand—"

Ahead of them, the figure she'd been following had turned a corner and disappeared. Lily shook her head frantically. "No, no, it's fine! I'll just take it at a run! You go on without me!"

And with that, Lily practically sprinted away from her bemused friend, and turned down the corridor after Snape.

He hadn't got far—he was halfway down the corridor, about to turn into the Ancient Runes classroom when Lily caught up to him. She skidded to a halt beside him, but Snape, unflappable as ever, barely raised an eyebrow.

"We need to talk," she said shortly.

His expression remained unchanged. "I have class," he said coolly, making a move towards the door, but Lily grabbed him by the arm.

Fueled by equal parts adrenaline and desperation, Lily hissed, "If you don't come talk to me, I'll go straight to Professor Dumbledore and tell him you're a Death Eater."

At that, he froze. His lip curled upward into his familiar sneer—though it had never been directed at her before. She tried not to let it bother her. He turned to face her, her hand still on his arm, his eyes meeting hers for the first time.

"And with what proof, exactly?"

"I'll tell him what I saw," Lily snapped. For some reason, his lack of emotional reaction angered her more than anything else. "That picture of the Dark Mark in your bag."

Snape shook his head, his sneer turning almost menacing. "Last I checked, that picture was in my possession, not yours. And even if that weren't the case, you'd tell Dumbledore—what, exactly? That's a pretty serious accusation to make based on one picture."

When Lily spoke again, she could feel her voice shaking. Even though it was from anger, not fear, she hated how weak it made her sound. "Not just a picture. Everything you and your mates get up to. Dark magic—cursing Mudbloods—"

She practically spat the last word at him. It had been just a year ago, after all, that he had called her that very same word in front of half the school. At the time, he had begged for her forgiveness, and had tried to tell her that he didn't mean it. But now, hearing the word from her very own lips, he didn't even flinch.

He wrenched his arm from her grasp, the billowing sleeves of his robes hissing through the air as he moved away from her. "No proof," he repeated simply. "Anything else?"

There was nothing familiar in his black eyes as he stared down at her, nothing she recognized in the face that was still contorted into a sneer. What had happened to the little boy who had so openly welcomed her into the world of magic, the one she thought she had known for so many years?

She shook her head. "I guess not." She didn't know what she had been hoping for, exactly. A denial, at least, but Snape hadn't even bothered with that pretense. She made as if to leave, but then turned back to him at the last second. "Why did you have that picture in your bag? If you don't want any proof around linking you to the Death Eaters?" Her mind whirred as she began putting pieces together. "Who sent it to you? I saw the writing on the back—it wasn't yours. Who—?"

She stopped short abruptly at the look on his face. He advanced on her slowly, his robes billowing threateningly, and for the first time, Lily thought she might be afraid of Severus Snape.

"If you keep asking questions," he said, his voice low and icily cold, "you're going to get yourself into trouble. If you know what's good for you, then you'll stay out of this."

With one last, menacing look, Snape turned and disappeared through the doorway into the Ancient Runes classroom.

Lily stood, rooted to the spot, for several minutes after Snape had gone, her mind still buzzing. There was a lot she didn't know, but there was one thing she knew for sure: she didn't care what Snape threatened her with—she definitely wasn't going to stay out of this.