NineteenYearsLater

“We must have just missed each other,” I said, “since I came back into my room in time to see James pulling a cloak off of himself and trying to pretend like he wasn’t going to do something perverted with it.”

James glared at me from across the table; I grinned in response. That would get him in trouble and out of my hair for the time being. I rubbed my neck and grimaced. That crick in my neck was still there, and clearly not planning to go away any time soon.

We discussed a few things, (I was carefully skirting the subject of Voldemort just for the sake of being able to find things to talk about. I was sure that was going to dry up our topics quite quickly.), and we finished dinner in a comfortable setting. Albus stood up and Lily joined him, both of them leaving to put the dishes into the kitchen. I cleared my throat.

“Mr. Potter,” I said, hoping that I wouldn’t be kicked out for bringing up the subject, “have you heard anything regarding followers of Voldemort?”

Dead silence.

“What makes you ask that, Lillian?” Mrs. Potter said, slowly returning to what she was doing; stacking the remaining dishes into a pile.

“I’ve heard a few things through the grape vine that have me worried,” I said, looking down into my lap.

James spoke up, “I’ve heard some things too. They kind of worry me Dad.”

Mr. Potter rubbed his forehead in the exact spot where his scar lay, “Now that you mention it, this thing has been itching a bit.”

Mrs. Potter turned on him, “Itching? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was hoping it meant it was healing up and going away,” he replied sheepishly.

James snorted softly into his napkin.

“I-” the doorbell cut me off.

We all looked towards the front hall. Albus yelled, “Got it!” and ran for the door. I stood up and pulled out my wand. I noticed that James and Mr. Potter did as well. I heard Mrs. Potter mutter a few swear words because her wand was in the kitchen. Albus opened the door and looked at the person, confused.

“And you are-?” He asked them. When I heard the voice, I relaxed.

“I’m here for Lillian.” My brother Reginald said, “Is she here already?”

“Reggie!” I exclaimed, striding forward and hugging my older brother, “How are you?”

He returned the hug and then gave me a grim look, “Not so good I’m afraid. Mother dearest has just been charged with being a Death Eater and they plan on putting her in Azkeban.”

I took a step away from him, “But that won’t do any good. She’s already escaped there once, she can do it again.”

He sighed, “I know,” He rubbed his forehead.

Suddenly his face brightened, “I’ve noticed you’ve done pretty well for yourself. I mean, you even became friends with the one family Mother hates. Well done, sis, well done.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” I said, hurt, “I just enjoy their company.”

Reggie eyed James as he came to see my older brother for the first time, “I’ll say.”

I hit him in the shoulder, “That’s not what I meant,” I said, “and you know it.”

He grinned, “So introduce me! Who is everyone?”

I introduced everyone and we all adjourned to the front room, for some relaxation time. We discussed everything but what we really wanted to talk about, which was Voldemort. James and I kept exchanging glances and then looking away quite quickly, as if afraid to be caught exchanging looks.

Reggie finally broke up that sort of thing by asking us if we were dating. After that, we just sniffled every fifteen minutes.

“Hey, where’s John?” Reggie asked me, looking around, “I noticed he wasn’t at the family
homestead and such. Where’d he run off to?”

I rubbed my neck, feeling uncomfortable, “Um, you do know what he did when I was six right?”

Reggie looked confused, everyone else just looked downright perplexed, “No what?”

“He tried to kill me, that’s what. It’s like Damien only worse,” I said to him. At the reference to the movie, we exchanged grins.

“I didn’t know he was the evil twin,” Reggie said, after thinking about what I told him, his mention of us being twins made everyone gasp. I ignored them, “I would’ve pegged you for that job, hands down.”

“Thanks,” I said, sarcastically. He grinned.

“No prob,” He said, “I think we’ve both stayed in America for too long, though, since we have too many of the mannerisms.”

“You think?” I asked, again sarcastic. In America, I had learned the art of sarcasm and had never fully relinquished its grasp on my system; not that I wanted to. I also had lost my accent, which was a rather nice thing, since everyone kept asking about if I was actually American; at school I mean. I found the entire shebang to be a little too amusing, according to James and Albus, but I ignored that.