Note From the Cook: hey guys! I'm back! For all of you who don't know me, I'm Jewels the Mary-Sue Slayer. Muahahahahaha! Anyhow, for those who DO know me: I deleted all my old stories because I decided I didn't like them. Such is life. Reviews are lovely, flames are inevitable, and constructive criticism is ideal.

Origins of the Recipe: the following dish is a take-off of great work prepared by Ms. J.K. Rowling.

One More note from the cook: okay, here's the thing. Besides Mary-Sues, there's another thing I really hate: underdeveloped, lovesick, and otherwise just boring James. James Potter is probably the most jipped character in fan fiction. His one role always seems only to be pining over Lily. If I were Sirius, Remus, Peter, or just about anyone else, I wouldn't hang out with him. So there will be no James sitting around pining constantly in this. He gets to have a little more fun than that...

Complete Summary of the Recipe: Mix: one portion each of James, Lily, confusion, sarcasm, secrets, crazy friends, mystery, and wonky spells. Stir in: one tablespoon each of chaos and enmity. Blend using: sense of humor (solid) and the ability to read English. Garnish with: dark times, war, assassination, changes of heart, Coca-Cola, Fritos, death eaters, traitors, Voldemort (shudder), more sarcasm, romance (don't overdo it!), rolling of eyes, chocolate, Quidditch, and (if anyone gets around to it) homework. Serve: shaken, not stirred...

Cookies to whoever reviews!

Chapter 1- Somewhere Between Fairytales...

(a.k.a. The Boy in the Fire)

"...Life is much more successfully looked at through a single window..."

-The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Once upon a time, in a land not far away, in a time not long ago, there was a perfectly normal house, on a perfectly normal street, in a perfectly normal town, in a perfectly normal country. Or so it would seem.

In said house, lived a family. It was not a large family, and it was not a large house, but it wasn't a small house either. There were four bedrooms, two baths, a smallish kitchen, a small basement, and a smaller attic. It was a tidy house, with nothing about it or its inhabitants that would imply to the naked eye that anything extraordinary (by the standards of the neighbors) would ever happen there. It wasn't the type of house to be involved in a fairytale at all, or so it would seem.

In this house, lived the Evans family.

Mr. Benedict Evans was a writer for the newspaper, and he did most of his work in the spare bedroom, which doubled as his office. He was a tall, handsome man in his early forties, and had (for what very little it may be worth) played a mean football game when he was younger. But that was long past.

Mrs. Anna Evans was a kindergarten teacher, and she also worked at home in what she described as a job ten times more difficult than her husband's. She took care of her youngest daughter. Mrs. Evans was tall and slim, and moved with an enviable grace and refinement. Mrs. Evans was, for lack of a better description, beautiful.

Petunia Evans was the oldest girl, but she no longer lived in the un-extraordinary Evans house. When she turned twenty-one, she moved away to a flat in Surrey. Petunia had the build of her mother, but not the grace. Her hair was short and ash-blonde, and her eyes were steely grayish blue.

And that left Lily.

Lily Evans still lived at the Evans house, but only for the portion of the year when she was not away at boarding school. Lily too had the build of her mother without the perfect posture and movement (though hers were hardly lackluster). Her hair was a bright ginger color, but she didn't know whose "fault" that was. Her mother's strawberry blonde (more blonde than strawberry) hair was the closest thing to it that she knew of. Lily's eyes were the features she liked best about herself, however. They were large, almond shaped, and a bright jade green, similar to Mrs. Evans's. Of all the Evanses, Lily was the oddest.

In addition to being the sole real redhead in her immediate family, Lily was a witch. Nine months out of the year Lily spent at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Lily did not think of her life as a fairytale, nor her house as a palace, nor her boyfriend as a knight in shining armor, not herself as a damsel in distress. And perhaps, on some accounts, she was right. But that depended on one's definition of the "fairy" in the fairytale.

On the particular morning where this story begins, seventeen-year-old Lily was preparing to return to Hogwarts. It was September the first at last.

True to man's fallen nature, Lily had waited till the morning of departure to pack. It was seven o'clock, with three hours until she had to leave for Kings Cross. She was in her bedroom, bending over the large black trunk that lay on her bed, as she folding clothes neatly inside.

Lily's bedroom was very "eleven-year-old girl," but it was a very good "eleven-year-old girl." The walls were a reddish sunset color, and there were at least four lava lamps in various spots around the room. The doors to the outer hallway and to the closet were beaded, as well as the window "curtains." The last time Lily had had this room redecorated had been, of course, when she was eleven, just before she got her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. Her first ever Hogwarts letter.

The seventh Hogwarts letter Lily had ever received was lying on the dressing table, the seal broken, and a smooth golden badge glistening in the reflections of one of the lava lamps and the sun, which shined faintly through the beaded curtains. On the badge were the two words: "Head Girl."

A nonsensical, yet incredibly catchy Simon and Garfunkel song played in the background on Lily's dated record player, and the young witch quietly sang along. Her voice wasn't bad either, but she was hardly Linda Ronstadt. Also playing in the background was the sound of Mr. Evans's typewriter, for his office was the room next door to Lily's, and he was always up early writing. When Lily paused and listened, she could here from down the hallway her mother frying bacon for Lily's going away breakfast. It was so like Mrs. Evans to get up early and make a large breakfast.

As she finished folding her favorite sweater, Lily automatically swept a lock of wavy ginger hair out of her face, and glanced over at the shiny badge on the bed stand. She couldn't help but smile proudly. She was Head Girl! In the flurry of excitement that surrounded the end of Lily's sixth year at Hogwarts, she had entirely forgotten that over the summer holidays Professor Dumbledore (headmaster of Hogwarts) would be selecting a Head Boy and Girl. She hadn't remembered, in fact, until the Hogwarts letter had arrived two weeks before, including a supply list, a letter of congratulations, and a badge.

If, as she looked over clothes in her closet, Lily wondered who the Head Boy would be, she was not particularly worried. She had great faith in Albus Dumbledore and the Hogwarts Staff. For the most part. Adelaide Grossman, the Herbology teacher, was an obvious exception. She was the bane of half of Hogwarts' existence: Lily included.

Lily glanced over a brown leather belt, debating with herself for a moment as to whether or not to bring it along. She decided not to bring it, because she doubted there would be use for it, and the phrase "better safe than sorry" was (as far as Lily was concerned) clichéd and not entirely true. Whether she was right on this account or not can't be determined.

The Simon and Garfunkel record ended, and Lily regretfully took it off the player and put it in its case. At Hogwarts, devices like record players or televisions didn't really work, and muggle (non-magical) music was one of the things Lily really missed from her home. Still, Lily got most of her daily music fix at Hogwarts with the music her friends had grown up listening to. "Artemus's Arrow" and "Snitch Snatch" were Lily's favorite wizard bands.

Throwing the last articles of clothing she needed (or wanted) into the trunk, and packing the school robes she would change into later into a carry-on bag, Lily collapsed on the unoccupied part of her bed. She had been more thoughtful the past summer than Lily had ever remembered being- and that included the time in third year that she had to chose her classes for the first time. Tomorrow she would be starting classes for her final year at Hogwarts. After that, she would be on her own.

Technically, "on her own" was not entirely accurate. She would have her friends, and she would have the man who had put the turquoise ring on her right middle finger. Lily smiled as she glanced at it. It was a beautiful, perfect ring and it represented a beautiful, perfect relationship. Elijah Trent was the closest thing to perfect that Lily ever remembered meeting, with the possible exclusion of her mother. But that was different.

Yet even the support of Elijah Trent could only go so far. He would not be at Hogwarts this year, for he was a year older than Lily and had graduated the year before. At the moment, he was working for the Ministry of Magic, and this made Lily even more apprehensive. Elijah was so successful already. He was only eighteen and had only started work a few months before, but his career looked like it was going to go far. This left more pressure on Lily. She had good grades, admittedly, and Professor McGonagall- during career advice two years previously- had said her grades would allow almost any career she desired. But what if...?

"You packed yet Lily?" came the call of Mrs. Evans from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mum," replied Lily.

"Petunia's coming in an hour, so make sure you're ready by then..."

Lily groaned.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mum, nothing..."

Sighing and rolling over on her small portion of free bed, Lily mentally slapped herself for forgetting. Petunia and Vernon would be coming. Vernon Dursley was Petunia's live-in boyfriend. They weren't married (both being very career oriented and not thinking it entirely necessary), but Mrs. Evans always wanted them to be. For other reasons, or else simply because she wanted to be a mother-of-the-bride, Mrs. Evans constantly hinted at Petunia. Though Lily's relationship with Elijah could be considered "serious," they weren't by any means engaged.

Lily climbed off her bed and crossed to the vanity. She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair, staring with dissatisfaction at her mirror image. The same reflection as ever stared back. The same ginger hair fell just past her shoulders. The same green eyes sparkled in the lava-lamp lighting. The same fair, thin face looked the same as ever, except there was a touch of red in her cheeks from excitement. The same half a dozen freckles were splashed on the same small, strait nose. It was a pretty face. Lily didn't like it.

She pulled down a red and silver make-up box from the shelf next to the mirror and glanced in the mirror on the open lid. Photographs surrounded it. They were mostly wizard pictures, because the subjects were not stationary as in muggle pictures; rather they were waving, smiling, winking, and making faces at her from their paper worlds.

Lily smiled reminiscently at the picture in the right corner; it was a picture of Elijah and her, sitting on the grass under a tree with his arms around her. Just below it was a mug shot of a brown-haired fifteen-year-old girl with a round, cheerful face, and soft brown eyes. Just below that was a muggle picture of Lily's family. It was an old picture- taken before Lily had entered Hogwarts, when she and her sister were still on good terms. Lily was still short and bony in this picture, and her then violently red hair was still cut in a bob.

On the opposite side of the mirror was another wizard picture. It was of seven people, all wearing scarlet and gold robes and holding broomsticks in hand. They were grinning and waving, looking flushed and wind-blown. It was from Hogwarts's Quidditch Cup the year previously. Covering the lower half of the Quidditch picture was a wizard photo of three males. One had red hair and freckles, another had sandy brown hair, a long, pale face, and the other was an exceptionally handsome sixteen-year-old, with neat black hair and smirking grey eyes. Though one wouldn't guess it at first, the last was only in Lily's make-up box by chance that he was in a picture with the other two. Below that picture were just two more. One was a scene of a fairy-tale-esque castle: Hogwarts. The other was of two girls of sixteen. One was an Asian girl with long black hair and thin-rimmed square glasses, and the other was a pretty girl with blue eyes, honey colored hair, and a suntanned face. They had their arms on each other's shoulders, and they were grinning up at Lily. The blonde girl winked.

Whenever Lily opened this make-up box, she would look over the pictures and remember the times they had been taken. When she had finished her trip down memory lane, however, she sorted through a good deal of make-up that she had never used, and probably never would. Finally she located the bare necessities (eye-liner and lip gloss- she lived in mortal terror of foundation and mascara) and began to apply them.

It didn't take Lily long to finish, and when she was done, she put the make-up away, closed the box, and placed it in her trunk. She gave a final scrutinizing look around the room, to make sure she had everything she needed already packed. Then, feeling somewhat satisfied, Lily shut up her trunk, locked it, and exited through the beaded door down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Morning Lily," said Mrs. Evans, looking up at her daughter's entrance before returning to the breakfast she was preparing.

Lily came over to her mother and put her arm around her waist. "You don't need to do all this," she said gratefully.

"I know," said Mrs. Evans, and she kissed Lily on the forehead. There had been a time when Mrs. Evans could easily kiss her daughter on the top of her red-haired head, but since Lily's growth spurt a few years before, the younger was now the taller.

"Don't over-do it, Mum," she added, eying the piles of bacon that had already been fried.

"I'm not."

"You made French toast."

"Well there's not much in that..."

"And pancakes."

"So?"

"For five people..."

"I'll manage," said Mrs. Evans carelessly, "now go sit down. If I need help I'll draft your father." Mother and daughter listened for a moment to the sound of Mr. Evans's typewriter.

"Good luck with that one, Mum," said Lily, raising an eyebrow, but she sat down at the kitchen table anyway.

"So you're entirely finished packing?" Mrs. Evans asked.

"Yep," said Lily, "except for all the stuff that I've forgotten and that I'll send an owl back for within a week."

"Well of course besides that," said Mrs. Evans, shaking her strawberry head and smiling. Lily grinned and looked carelessly down at the newspaper on the table. The headline and picture startled her.

"Mystery Woman Found Dead in River. Cause of Death: Unknown."

Lily quickly shoved the newspaper under several magazines. It was bad enough reading about It in The Daily Prophet (the biggest wizard newspaper in Britain) without having to read about It in the muggle newspapers as well. But they all reported it. Perhaps the muggles didn't fully understand it, but Lily knew they weren't stupid. They could tell something was up, though she also knew that very few muggles really saw what.

The woman in the picture- whoever she was- had undoubtedly (in Lily's opinion) been a witch. Her body had not been so mangled that an autopsy would have been unable to identify her. The fact was, according to the muggle government, that woman didn't exist. It was the case with many witches and wizards of magical descent, though Lily was not one of them. Since her parents were non-magical, and she had not discovered that she was a witch until she was eleven, Lily officially existed. There was something somewhat comforting about that.

What was uncomforting was that picture in the newspaper. Lily knew who the killer was- every wizard in Europe (probably most outside as well) knew who the murderer was. The newspaper recalled to mind a story Lily had read years ago in The Daily Prophet. It had quoted him. "I am Lord Voldemort" he had said; after that, most wizards were too afraid to say the name. "You-Know-Who" had become the more common term for him. Lily thought this was borderline ridiculous, and the sound of the replacements invoked more fear in her than "Voldemort" itself did.

"Lily? Earth to Lily..." Mrs. Evans was saying, bringing Lily back to reality.

"S-s-sorry... what did you say?"

"I asked you if would get your dad- I need him to make the waffles..."

"You're making waffles too?"

"Why not?"

"You have French toast, waffles, bacon, eggs, sausage, and pancakes so far, Mum. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were celebrating my return to school."

"Don't talk rot," said Mrs. Evans, disregarding her daughters slyness with a wave of her thin hand, "if we are celebrating, it's only your Head Girl-ship. Now go find your Dad and finish getting ready. Petunia and Vernon will be here soon..."

It turned out, however, that Petunia and Vernon did not arrive until eight o'clock. This being the appointed time to arrive, Lily was not surprised, but in the preceding ten minutes, Mrs. Evans grew impatient to see her oldest daughter. Lily was less so, because though she and her older sister didn't always get along, the matter of Vernon Dursley only made things worse.

However when eight o'clock did roll around, it found Lily deeply involved in a book in the sitting room, Mrs. Evans making sure that everything was "just so", Mr. Evans giving a critical eye to the waffles he himself had prepared, and Petunia Evans and Vernon Dursley knocking on the front door. Lily, being in the sitting room, which was directly connected to the entryway, was the one who disrupted her occupation to answer the door.

Petunia was standing on the steps, looking the same as ever except she had yet another new haircut. Lily had only seen her sister twice the whole summer holiday, and Vernon only once. Vernon was standing a little behind Petunia, looking supercilious. Either by some idea planted in his head by his girlfriend, or else by his own nature, Vernon did not particularly like Lily. The feeling was entirely mutual, which meant that either the two would all out start physically fighting, or else they would remain coldly civil towards each other. So far, it had been entirely the latter.

"Hello Petunia; hello, Vernon," said Lily distantly, standing aside so that the two could enter the house.

"Hello Lily," said Petunia, with less coldness than usual. Lily suspected it was due to the fact that they hadn't had so many forced meetings lately.

"Lily," said Vernon simply, nodding his head.

Mrs. Evans came into the entryway. "Petunia! Vernon!" she hugged them both quickly (dwelling slightly more on her daughter) and invited them into the kitchen. Mrs. Evans was an extremely warm personality, and if it weren't for the frequent sarcasm in Mr. Evans, Lily would've wondered how she and Petunia could be the offspring of a woman like their mother.

Vernon and Petunia entered the kitchen, gave their hellos to Mr. Evans, who was frying eggs now, and sat down at the prettily arranged kitchen table.

"Go sit down and talk to your sister, Lily," Mrs. Evans whispered in her youngest daughter's ear, as Lily attempted to help her father with the eggs. Lily glared slightly at her mother, before sitting down across from her sister and her sister's boyfriend.

There could be very little doubt about which Evans daughter was the prettier. Petunia, though not ugly, had a hard, pointed face. Her whole manner implied that something disgusted her- much the opposite of Mrs. Evans. Her build was similar to what Lily's had been at the age of eleven- bony (though Lily had been exceptionally short until she was at least thirteen and Petunia was quite tall)- and her neck seemed to be very long. The off-the-shoulder white smock that Petunia presently wore didn't really help the affect to make her neck seem shorter either.

As far as personality went, one either loved Petunia, or loathed her. Lily seemed to be the only person on the planet who was caught in between.

Lily fidgeted with bell sleeve of her green blouse, before looking up at the two who sat before her. They both stared hard at her.

"So..." began Lily uncomfortably, "how has your summer been?"

"Fairly good," said Petunia succinctly. She straitened a rose in the table's centerpiece.

"Anything exciting happen?"

"Vernon got a promotion."

"Really? What's your job now?" Lily bit back a 'what boring and utterly pointless job do you have now?' How could someone possibly work at a building that made drills and feel complete? It wasn't as if he made the drills himself! 'Then again,' Lily thought fairly, 'some things just get different people going...'

"He's a supervisor," said Petunia, as if protecting her boyfriend from having to speak to the "freak" little sister. This was exactly the point of view the older girl held of the younger- as far as Lily could see.

"Really? What does that involve?"

"Supervising."

From the mouth of anyone else, this would've been amusing sarcasm, but Petunia was dead serious.

"I see," said Lily slowly, "what about you, Petunia? How's work been going?" Lily noticed her mother throw her a grateful glance.

"Oh fine," said Petunia, and there was something of interest in her voice; it was probably the change of topic. "I got an important job on the Haynes Estate... they're having a party next month and they want me to redecorate it before then."

Petunia was an "interior decorator."

There wasn't much conversation after that until breakfast started, when Mrs. and Mr. Evans found themselves deep in conversation with Vernon and Petunia. Lily ate more or less in silence, but she observed a good deal. For example, she saw that her father was pretending to be far more interested than he was and that her mother occasionally gave the couple an apprehensive glance. Of course, Lily had observed these sort of things in the past.

By the time Lily had burrowed through her bacon and eggs, and was just starting to worry about her pancakes, everything had gone smoothly and without incident. Petunia, in fact, seemed warmer to her than usual. It was as Lily cut her first bit of pancake that the first signs of trouble appeared.

Vernon must have noticed something in Mr. Evans's eyes during their conversation, and he must have mistakenly construed it for disapproval. After a minute or two of thoughtful silence, which no one except Lily noticed, Vernon drew the conclusion that the only matter concerning himself that Mr. Evans could find dissatisfying was his cold shoulder to the younger Evans girl.

Young Mr. Dursley did not know of Lily's abilities in the slightest. All he knew was that Petunia disliked her younger sister, that she didn't think much of her friends either, and that she was (in Petunia's words anyway) a bit of a "freak." But these thoughts did not enter into Vernon's head at all as he sat anxiously hoping for the approval of all. He did, after all, have an important announcement to make this morning. The only thing he thought of was impressing Mr. Evans, so he did what he thought was necessary.

"You're still in school, aren't you?" he grunted to Lily. At first, she didn't have the faintest idea who he was talking to, but when she saw all eyes on her, she started and said:

"I-I-I'm sorry...? What was that?"

"Are you still in school?" Vernon repeated.

Lily was even more startled. She gave a nervous glance at Petunia, who had gone deathly white and was staring at her hard and bitterly. Lily had had a bad history with some of Petunia's past boyfriends. Lily thought her sister had the right to be annoyed that a boyfriend from two years ago had tried to flirt with Lily when he came to visit, and that her dance date had asked if he could meet Petunia at the dance when he learned that Lily was away at school, but Lily didn't see why Petunia blamed her for this. Well, even if she did see why, she didn't think it was fair.

"Oh... er... yes I am," said Lily, a bite of pancake falling from her fork.

"What school do you go to?"

"I... er... um..."

Petunia shook her head to her sister as inconspicuously as possible, signaling that Vernon didn't know of Lily's "abnormality;" Lily was well aware of this fact and thought quickly.

"I go to a boarding school in the North," she said shakily.

"I thought Helene's Academy was in the London..." Vernon said slowly, "That's where Petunia went, wasn't it?"

"Lily doesn't go to Helene's," said Mrs. Evans hastily, "she goes to..."

"Saint Claire's Academy for Young Ladies," threw in Petunia.

"And that's in...?"

"Liverpool," finished Lily.

"Oh yes- my younger cousin attends Claire's..." said Vernon thoughtfully; Lily's eyes widened. "She doesn't think much of it, though. Perhaps you know my cousin... her name is Jane Smi..."

"I don't know any of the younger girls very well," Lily interrupted.

"She's sixteen..."

"I only know the girls in my year by name," was the quick lie response.

"I see," said Vernon nodding, "But you know, I thought Claire's Academy started in mid-August."

There was an uncomfortable pause, while everyone thought. Then something rather awkward happened. Each member of the Evans family simultaneously spit out separate excuses for Lily's absence from the first two weeks of school. They varied from a paperwork mix up to Lily's "broken ankle" which had apparently only been recently healed.

Vernon gave them all looks that questioned their sanity, and Petunia grew paler. Lily fought a laugh- for some reason unbeknownst to her she found the situation extremely funny- and tried to compose herself while gulping coffee. Mr. and Mrs. Evans gave each other apprehensive and meaningful glances. Even Vernon noticed something going on.

"Er... do you enjoy school?" he asked quizzically.

"Very much."

"Is Professor Bradshaw good?"

"Oh excellent."

"Really?"

"Yes, she's quite nice."

"He."

"I'm sorry?"

"He's quite nice you mean... Professor Joseph Bradshaw..."

"Oh yes, that's what I mean. Your cousin certainly keeps you very informed."

"She talks constantly."

Petunia gave Lily a look that said quite clearly: "End this damned conversation." Lily, who was not at all comfortable, tried to comply by not saying anything. Yet Vernon still noticed a look in Mr. and Mrs. Evans's eyes and misconstrued it to be satisfaction, so he continued in his drilling of Lily. He was also growing curious.

"Do you like Liverpool?" he asked.

"I don't get around it much actually," Lily said quite truthfully.

"My cousin says she goes on regular outings."

"I don't like the city."

"You stay at the school all day?"

"Yes."

"Do you like that?"

"Terribly."

"Really now?"

"Yep."

"Petunia loves the city."

"I know."

"How odd that you don't."

The somewhat strained conversation waned for a moment, and Petunia temporarily thought she was saved. The feeling soon vanished.

"What's your favorite subject in school?" Vernon continued on to ask.

"Charms."

"What?"

It had been an automatic answer, and now Lily was going to have to pay the price for habit. She bit her lip and stammered, "I m-m-mean... Charm class. It's a sort of etiquette and grace class, y'know?" Lily got up to clear her plate in hope to postpone the conversation.

"Lily's very graceful you know," said Mrs. Evans, smiling slightly.

SMACK!

Everyone jumped. They turned to see Lily, who had tripped over something (most likely her own foot) and only saved herself from falling flat on her face by grabbing the kitchen counter. Mrs. Evans ran a hand through her short hair nervously, Mr. Evans smirked into his coffee, and Petunia covered her gray eyes with her hands.

"I see," said Vernon awkwardly. He wasn't entirely thickheaded, and even he could see that something was up here. He gave his girlfriend a curious glance and she returned it with an "I'll tell you later" sort of look. Much to everyone's satisfaction, Vernon seemed contented to leave the severely lacking conversation at that, and the party ate in silence for at least two minutes.

Mrs. Evans broke it first with something about furniture directed to Petunia, then Mr. Evans spoke to both Vernon and Petunia about business, but Lily staid out of these conversations. She had finished with her pancakes and was observing the whole table as she sipped coffee, when a sudden "pop" met her ears.

At first, Lily thought that she was the only one who had heard the sound, (it had been loud, but not too loud) but, much to her horror, it wasn't so. Vernon looked about the kitchen, temporarily drawn out of his conversation.

"What was that?" he asked thickly.

Mrs. Evans glanced at Lily, who shook her head frantically. Lily was probably the only one who really knew what it was. But before Lily or anyone else could deny hearing anything, the whole thing was wrecked in a fleeting instant.

The sitting room connected immediately to the kitchen, and everything that happened there was fully visible from where the Evans family sat at the kitchen table. This included the fireplace, which was against back wall, and if any of those at the table turned their heads to face the sitting room, that would most likely be the first thing that would come to sight. A voice coming from that direction caught everyone's attention.

"Hey, Lily! You there?" called a boy's voice from the general direction of the sitting room. Everyone turned to see who was in there.

The shoulders and head of a boy about Lily's age were visible, amongst blue flames, in the fireplace. Everyone stared: Lily included. She was the first to fall out of shock. She jumped out of her chair and practically flew to the fireplace, trying to obstruct it from Vernon and Petunia's view as best as possible.

The boy had a good-natured smile on his face as he saw Lily approaching. His hair was reddish brown, and his face was slightly freckled. "Hello, Lily!" he said, "I had to ask if you'd seen the news..."

Lily cut him off. "Eddie! What are you doing here?" she whispered furiously, "don't you know my family is muggle?"

"Bloody hell! They know you're a witch don't they?" asked the boy addressed as Eddie, much too loudly.

"Eddie, get out of here!" murmured Lily venomously, "my sister's boyfriend is here... he doesn't know!"

"Oh! Sorry, Red," Eddie said, putting a hand over his mouth as if he'd said something very wrong, "I just wanted to know if you'd seen the newspaper..."

"Good grief, no I haven't!" snapped Lily, "I'll talk to you on the train! Bye!"

"Bye, Lily!" said Eddie, and with a small pop, he disappeared.

There was silence. Lily slowly and reluctantly turned to face her family. Her mother, father, and sister had never seen anyone travel by floo powder before (for that is how Eddie Bones had communicated with her from thirty miles away), and, of course, neither had Vernon Dursley. He stared blankly at Lily.

"What the hell...?"

"Vernon," said Petunia quietly, "we should go home."

"Wha?"

"C'mon," Petunia went on, taking up Vernon's hand and pulling him out of his chair, "there's something I need to tell you."

"There was someone in your fireplace," Vernon said blankly to Mr. Evans, as the younger couple made their way out.

"I can't imagine how..." began Mr. Evans, but he didn't bother finishing the lie.

In the entryway, Vernon and Petunia called a dull and nearly forgotten "goodbye," then exited the house. Petunia slammed the door behind her.

OoOoOoOoO

Note from the cook: I personally am not a big fan of this chapter, but I needed to get some things said and done, and the next chapter will be a better read, now that I've got one main character introduced. Chapter 2 is either already posted or will be soon. I'm serious though: I WILL give cookies to whoever reviews. Even if you're just telling me I suck and should just go live in a pickle jar and never write again! Yummy! Pickles!

Cheers

!Jewels!

P.S. I was serious about the cookies...