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August 6th, 1990 - Gringotts, London, England
Even without the addition of the Black family assets, Harry’s inheritance from their parents and gifts from those thankful for Voldemort’s defeat in 1981 were sufficient to gain a certain grudging (scowling) acceptance from the goblins. They were not helpful, but they were willing to provide services when paid well and even made discrete introductions to individuals and businesses who could provide what Harry needed.
Harry currently sat in the room they had rented from the goblins, an office with an added bed behind a curtain for an extra three galleons a day. Harry was working their way through the letters they needed to write before starting on the potion regimen that would more than likely alter their magical signature permanently. One to Hermione, encouraging her and her parents to investigate other schooling options for magic, with helpful suggestions; that letter should be delivered on Hermione’s eleventh birthday next month. Another for Dumbledore, informing the wizard that the curse in Harry’s scar had been removed by Gringotts’ curse-breakers and the locations of Tom’s horcruxes, what they were and a warning about the curse on the ring. Dumbledore’s letter wouldn’t be sent until Harry’s potions were consumed and they were well out of the UK.
Harry wasn’t sure about sending Ron a letter, there wasn’t anything simple that a stranger could say to improve his life. Sending a broom was tempting, but Harry would rather help the whole family if they were going to spend money on any of the Weasleys. An anonymous transfer of 10,000 galleons and a book on budgeting was Harry’s final decision. They included a handwritten note on the inside cover of the book. ‘For the depth of your kindness. Remember that love can be expressed just as well through listening as it can through raising your voice.’
The first letter had actually been an earlier letter to Luna, who was still nine, so after confirming that Pandora Lovegood was still alive, it had been expedited. An unsigned warning to the family that a seer thought spell experimentation and creation was a bad idea, at least until Luna was an adult or wed.
The letter to Remus was short, only mentioning Peter’s current residence with the Weasleys as a pet rat. Nothing about his (maybe) future bride or son Teddy, Harry’s godson/son who didn’t exist now, though Harry remembered Teddy and his children well enough to think of the patterns of their freckles and the scent of their shampoo.
The hardest letter to write was to Sirius, who would hopefully be freed shortly if Remus acted on the information in Harry’s letter. Something about the fame being too much in England, the government too corrupt, the expectations too high. Included was a hope that Sirius would let himself recover and live, and an encouragement that the man should find a therapist.
Harry might consider reaching out later, but the loss of their original Sirius still cut deep, even after all of Harry’s therapy.
Signing that letter and sealing it left Harry waiting for his next appointment, their thoughts traveling back to the events leading them here. Harry had woken in their cupboard on their tenth birthday. They had, of course, thought it was all a dream. Harry had been nearly fifty when… Well, at least the memories Harry possessed now indicated they had nearly been fifty before they had woken up in what Harry had been convinced was a nightmare. To be that small, that hungry, that hurt… It certainly was a nightmare, even if it proved not to be a dream.
Harry had considered going through the motions, playing the Boy-Who-Lived a second time. Being better, saving more people, maybe saving everyone. But Hermione had, entirely unintentionally, made certain that was a choice Harry was far too self aware to follow through with that plan, self flagellation and toxic cancel-culture were not among their kinks. Hermione had hit Harry with a Body Bind after their 25th birthday and bullied them into three months of therapy, which had turned into five years of therapy conducted by a muggleborn from Australia who didn’t have any preconceptions about Britain’s ‘Chosen One’. Harry had continued to see Doctor Wells on and off throughout their thirties and forties.
Those first five years had been mostly about childhood trauma, the war and the abuse; coming to terms with what had happened to Harry, and about their choices at the time. Later visits had often been about things that should have been blindingly obvious if Harry had grown up in a more open or welcoming environment. Such as Harry’s astoundingly apparent bisexuality. How many times had Harry commented internally about how attractive Cedric had been, or even Sirius? Sure, Harry’s on-again off-again relationship with Ginny until Harry’s therapy started had shown that there was definitely attraction to women, but a later fling with Oliver had been, in a word, brilliant.
Coming to terms with the realization that Harry would likely have been happier to have been the Girl-Who-Lived… That took longer. Pronouns being what they were by the 2020’s, Harry had slipped into they/them, but secretly had thought about taking the potions and going all the way to she/her. For someone Harry’s age the process would take over a year, and the transition wouldn’t be as smooth as it would be for someone younger. Someone who was ten, however? Well, that might only take a couple of months; and for a person who had not yet started puberty, the process would be nearly seamless.
Harry had picked a new name, documents were being created for the US government and MACUSA both. They… SHE had struggled with the middle name, but decided to at least keep a form of that gift from her parents, while the rest of her name claimed more. Lily Harriet James (hearing ‘Lily’ or ‘Lily James’ being spoken would always draw Harry’s attention, even now, so they thought it wasn’t a bad choice) would be moving soon, orphaned and living with a shut-in aunt who doesn’t exist. Playing at being a latch-key child in the 90’s, common enough in that decade (this decade), going to public school and waiting to see if she was contacted by Ilvermorny or if she would slip through the cracks. Or if there were lesser known magical schools in the Americas that might be better choices.
Harry’s magical knowledge had remained, of course, though their… her current form was still adapting to the lost decades of practical use. On first waking up in the cupboard, an attempt to summon her wand failed, but a wandless lumos had still allowed her small hand to glow and reveal Harry’s predicament. The instant recognition of Harry’s situation had been dwarfed by the surprise of the light in her hand fading within seconds. Harry needed food, healing and time to practice in her untrained body, none of which she would have in sufficient amounts at the Dursleys. Instead she managed a wandless alohamora and poured a glass of milk and made a peanut butter sandwich with a single slice of bread. Taking small sips and bites in the scant pre-dawn light proved her expectations correct, Harry was unable to finish her small meal with any speed.
Petunia’s rage that morning when she found Harry sitting quietly at the table, occasionally taking mouse-like nibbles of a half eaten sandwich, sputtered out when she paid attention to Harry’s eyes. Green eyes that held no fear or respect, old eyes wielding tired disdain. The request for a cap and transportation to Charing Cross Road, so they could be done with one another forever, was accepted and Harry hadn’t even needed to tire herself by trying a wandless confundo. Hushed words upstairs between Petunia and Vernon led to a silent ride to Grunnings where Vernon exited the car with a grunt and a scowl that might match a goblin’s. When Petunia delivered Harry to a corner three blocks from the Leaky Cauldron, Harry simply nodded and climbed out of the car. As Harry closed the door, she could see that Petunia might have wanted to say something, but the moment vanished as soon as Harry turned away.
Perhaps Harry could have done something to try and better the Dursleys, found some generosity to warn Petunia of coming health issues for Vernon and their son. Harry knew that such words would not be well received and she had already reached her own closure about those she considered to be ‘her’ abusers, after years of therapy, of course. She walked to Gringotts trying to draw as little attention as possible, walking near adults heading the way Harry wanted to go, but not close enough for them to make them remark on her presence.
No one paid attention to a child wearing a winter beanie at the height of summer. With the hair and scar covered, no wizard or witch noticed their ill dressed savior among them.
Reaching an open teller’s desk at Gringotts, Harry had used future memories to bypass any key or age issue. Pressing her thumb against a small hidden spike on the desktop that Harry could barely reach before holding her bloody digit to another fixture built into the desk. It was nothing so convenient as a full identity scan, but it did detect blood connections to the Gringotts vaults. After using the dragon to escape Gringotts in the war, even after reparations were made, the goblins demanded that Harry, Hermione and Ron must always identify in this way in addition to providing their keys. It was a little petty aggravation with healing charms, but the goblins seemed to thrive on pettiness when wand wielders were involved.
The head shake when asked for Harry’s key was enough to get a meeting with the Gringotts equivalent of a manager who confirmed that age had nothing to do with business, so long as the vault was legally Harry’s, no matter what the Ministry tried to claim. Crackknuckle also confirmed that they sent nothing to the ministry about vault holders and their personal transactions. As such, they ran more extensive tests that culminated in confirming that her blood did open vault 687. Once that hurdle was cleared, Harry was allowed to hire curse-breakers for her scar. Arranging to use their healer was a little more complicated as that included a secrecy oath (one that the curse-breakers already had in place) and additional fees.
The shock to Harry was that she recognized the healer by name, even though he’d only seen the man briefly once. Ted Tonks, Teddy’s maternal grandfather to maybe be (have been?) was obviously employed here and that was a tidbit which he’d never heard before. The consultation had not been comfortable. The otherwise congenial man was angry at the obvious abuse Harry had experienced. Andromeda had never mentioned Ted working in Gringotts when she spoke of her late husband, perhaps he had not done so for long. After Healer Tonks provided many pastes, potions, and a diet (for Harry to give to her guardian) the man departed and Harry wondered if she would meet him again before she left for the states.
The knock at the office door shook Harry from her ruminations and answered that question as Crackknuckle led Ted Tonks and his wife into the room. Andromeda looked so young that Harry did a double take and almost called the woman Mum, an endearment that Harry had grown comfortable using as the two of them cared for young Teddy.
“Hello Healer Tonks, Hello ma’am. I take it that you are the solicitor that Gringotts facilitated to help with my paperwork?” Harry had known Andromeda worked as a lawyer of sorts once Nymphadora had gone to Hogwarts, but again, Harry didn’t know much of the details about the type of cases and documentation that his godson’s grandmother had handled.
Though Ted looked ready to make introductions, it was Crackknuckle who spoke first. “Potter, I would like to introduce Solicitor Andromeda Tonks of Able, Tonks and Wuthering. She has signed our privacy contracts, agreed to your additional conditions and has worked with Healer Tonks before. Solicitor Tonks should be adequate to provide the paperwork that you have requested.” With the most minor nod Harry could possibly detect, the goblin turned and strode from the room. Crackknuckle closed the door with a firm motion that Harry could feel shift the magic and air in the room as the privacy wards were secured.
“Hello again, Healer Tonks. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Solicitor Tonks.” Rather than introduce herself, Harry allowed Ted to provide the introduction that Crackknuckle forwent.
“Ah, just call me Ted and my wife Andromeda, at least for this meeting. Two Tonks in a meeting is at least a Tonks too many, you know.” Ted sounded like he had used that line before. Moving his eyes from Harry to his wife, Ted pressed on. “Andromeda, may I introduce Harry Potter, for the moment anyhow, according to the reasons for this visit.”
“Miss Potter,” Andromeda spoke with a smile. “Or that is my conclusion after reviewing all of the documentation requests that have been submitted by Gringotts. I hope that I have understood your goals properly.”
“Hello Andromeda, you may as well call me Harry or Lily then, as it feels unfair to address you both by your given names and deny the use of mine.” Harry smiled first, then let her lips twist slightly towards a sardonic expression. “Thank you both for agreeing to the necessary Memory Charms to protect my current and new identities. As for the purpose of this meeting, essentially we are planning the permanent disappearance of Harry Potter.”
With a shake of her head and a small smile on her lips, Andromeda replied. “Now I feel like I’m back in my childhood home, murder was an occasional topic of conversation at tea.”
“Perfect. I imagine that you would like to know my existing plans before we dive into the paperwork?” At Andromeda’s nod, Harry continued. “Given the identification paperwork requests, and the potions that Ted will be administering to me, I imagine it is obvious that I will be transitioning to the female gender physically, changing my identity and Harry Potter will be anonymously and untraceably gifting all of ‘his’ assets to Lily Harriet James. My new identity will be that of a child of an American expatriate and a British national who was recently orphaned and is moving to the States to live with their last living relative, the father’s sister.”
Andromeda nodded. “The paperwork will not be an issue, even creating records for deceased parents isn’t difficult on the magical or muggle side. Our partner firm in the states has a contact in the non-magical government that can access and manipulate records and our firm can forward immigration documents to MACUSA as well. However,” Andromeda narrowed her eyes on Harry, “unless there is an actual guardian you are bound to run into a great deal of difficulty. Officials will notice that you are not of adult age when you go through immigration and they will not allow you to depart without a guardian. I know the goblins of Gringotts do not care about age, but the human governments will. Unfortunately for you there is no way for us to establish your emancipation at the age of ten, fourteen is the bare minimum in the States. Even that depends on the state in which you take residence.”
“I appreciate the warning.” Harry flicked the letter to Remus (which she would have to rewrite now that she knew Andromeda worked at a law firm) across the room and then reached out her hand and silently and wandlessly summoned it back. The rest, food and practice Harry had over the last week had done wonders for her magic, though she wouldn’t wandlessly be fighting dark lords anytime soon. “Gringotts has agreed to a contract between one of their human employees and myself to get me settled in. I’ll try it on my own for a bit, wandless Confundus Charms and Disillusionments should make most difficulties easy enough to handle.”
“But you're ten.” Ted said emphatically. “You shouldn’t be on your own, even if you are extraordinarily advanced with your magic.”
Harry simply smiled at the man. “It feels a little nice to have strangers worried about my welfare, I’ll admit that. Unfortunately your worries will be erased and the best thing you can do for my welfare right now is to share any additional concerns so that I can either prepare for them or assure you that I already have a plan in place.”
The following thirty minutes of the meeting devolved into a discussion which should have been obvious to Harry if she’d thought about it, impassioned adults attempting to convince a child that they were not, in fact, an adult. At the end of thirty minutes, which had evolved into a discussion of morality and ethical behavior by the end, Andromeda sighed. “Honestly, Ted, I think I feel better about Harry living on her own than I would about Nymphadora doing so, and our daughter is seventeen.”
“I love her, but our daughter is a klutz who would be more likely to burn down the kitchen than successfully make tea and toast.” Ted shook his head, even as he agreed with his wife. “I can’t stop you anyway, Harry, but I do wish you would promise to carry a portkey to a hospital and ask adults for help if you need anything.”
“Easy enough, Ted. I promise that I will acquire a portkey for the closest magical hospital when I arrive at my destination, and if I encounter issues I will attempt to seek assistance from a responsible adult.” Ted still didn’t look happy, but nodded at Harry’s words. “So, can we move on to the potions?”
Ted looked at Andromeda, who flipped to a few sections of the paperwork that Harry still had to sign before taking her first potion. Before signing, Harry realized that she might as well hand Remus’ letter to Andromeda. After adding a note that Peter was an animagus rat and erasing her signature, Harry did so. “Before the Memory Charms, Andromeda, you may want to personally write a note that the contents are trustworthy.”
As Harry was drinking the potion that Ted handed her, Andromeda was reading the letter before looking back at Harry with shocked eyes. “Pettigrew is alive? How could you possibly know that,” Andromeda demanded.
Finishing the potion and wincing at the sour tang and acidic bile on her tongue, Harry gave a little grimace. “How I know that is exactly why I’m leaving Britain, Andi.” Both Ted and Andromeda started slightly at Harry’s use of Andromeda’s nickname. “Even with Memory Charms I simply can’t risk telling you that secret. I hope your firm can get your cousin released, he doesn’t deserve to be jailed for what happened.”
October 8th, 1990 - McKinley Elementary, Santa Barbara, California
It had smelled like a primary school when Gringotts employee Haley Mitchem had pretended to be Lily’s aunt last Friday to enroll her, and it smelled just as strongly Monday morning. Disinfectant, floor polish, old books, crayon wax and pencil shavings, but at least it was Monday morning so the cafeteria and sweaty gym kid smells weren’t assaulting Lily’s nose yet.
Ms. Brown (Lily had a fleeting memory of Lavender snogging Ron in the Gryffindor common room) smiled and nodded at Lily in the school office where the vice-principal introduced the teacher to her new student. “Wonderful to meet you, Lily. Now the intake form says you’ve missed some school, and we aren’t positive how far you are along compared to our curriculum, but we’ll bring you into my class for at least this week and we can see where you’re at. If you’re in a significantly different position from the rest of my class, we can see about making any needed adjustments. I am aware that British educational requirements don’t match ours exactly.”
“Thank you, Ms. Brown.” Lily was already wondering if she was going to submit a request for home schooling. Her memories of being nearly fifty were in a bit of a war with her youthful body, brain and the chemical disaster that had come with completing the gender transition potions Healer Tonks had provided. Seamless, Lily’s arse it was seamless. “The vice-principle mentioned there were a large number of Spanish speaking students attending, but the sheet he gave me didn’t have any Spanish language classes?”
“Oh! Do you have an interest in learning Spanish?” Ms. Brown responded with a hint of excitement in her voice, the short soft blond hair swaying a little as she looked down at Lily.
“Ah, I’m pretty good with Spanish, but I want to improve it. I wouldn’t mind learning more German, or an Asian language. If any teachers or students are French speakers I’d like to stay in practice…” Lily trailed off as Ms. Brown stopped in the middle of the hallway, a sparse number of students moving around them, heading towards their classes or where they were meeting their friends.
“You already speak French, Spanish and German?” Ms. Brown’s inquisitive and intense tone reminded Lily of every time Harry had heard ‘you killed Voldemort?’ after the war. It wasn’t a question, it was a prelude to glorification over something Lily didn’t think was worth that level of attention. Thirty years as an auror with regular cases on the continent had demanded those language skills for the countries most likely to have need for collaboration.
And Fleur had loved her French bitching sessions with Harry.
“I just said my Spanish is not yet fluent and my German is only good enough to get directions or order food in a restaurant.” Lily grabbed at the story she had prepared. “I am nearly fluent in French, though my friend Fleur regularly mocked me for my ‘‘orrible English accent’.” The statement provoked the young teacher into a sudden soft laugh.
“I find your accent quite charming,” Ms. Brown responded.
“That’s just the RP with a side of Surrey, I’m afraid. Nothing special to see here. So nothing but English classes?” Lily was wondering if she could hold out for the full month she had allotted.
“If your English hits the mark, which I expect you will, I can get you into a Spanish class three times a week. No French or German, unfortunately, but I can check our tutor lists, though they do charge by the hour…”
“Oh, great.” Lily cut the teacher short. “I have some leeway for educational expenses. As I implied, I’d also be interested in Japanese, Mandarin or Korean. Got to hit that neuroplasticity while I have the chance.”
Ms. Brown started walking again, but Lily didn’t miss the eyes that dragged down the obviously oversized soft leather bomber jacket Lily was wearing over a blue blouse and hit the mid-thigh of Lily’s basic blue jeans. The pink Converse trainers didn’t seem to make an impact even if Lily had Color Charmed them herself. “Neuroplasticity?”
Lily had no idea when ideas that Hermione had talked about had been developed, she really thought that most of what her friend had said was common knowledge among educated muggles… no-majes… Fleur was right, non-magics made plenty of sense. Then again, mundane was good too, or maybe just humans… make them the normal ones and the witches and wizards as the aberrations. “Yes, my Mum used to talk about learning while I’m young, my brain is more flexible and open to knowledge. Neuroplasticity.”
“Okay.” Ms. Brown kept walking but sent side-eye looks at Lily every few seconds. “And you didn’t take any placement tests when you were enrolling?”
“Principal Clark said it wasn’t wo… Decided it was unnecessary. If it just costs money I do have an educational trust, but Auntie wanted me to try school with my age group for at least a little while.” Lily had set the poor teacher up for the massive guilt trip, but it was going to happen eventually. It was probably better to embrace the situation before she was introduced to the class.”
“Trust?” The question was tentative and Lily heard sentimental Sproutishness in Ms. Brown’s tone.
“Mum and Dad died in a fire a few months back. I’ve not got to worry about money, but I only have Auntie left.” Lily let her words work on the new teacher while her eyes took in the other early arriving students and their interactions in the hallway. Some eyes were on Lily, seemingly simply from the accent they were hearing from her. That or Lily’s wavy red hair may have also been a factor. Andromeda said that the potion for gender transition tried to take the healthiest bits of her Dad’s attributes to blend with her Mum’s without causing health issues. Interestingly that had sacrificed the dark Potter hair for her virtually unnatural Evans red, though adding messy loops. Thankfully, the poor Potter eyesight had also been defeated by Evans genetics. Too bad you couldn’t genetics away the faint remains of a thunder-bolt scar. Lily had used some concealer and carried some with her, the scar didn’t even have a texture any longer, simply a faint lightening of the skin that might remind one of a stylized lightning bolt.
Ms. Brown was silent until she reached a locked classroom door with a ‘5th!’ and ‘Ms.Brown’s Class’ on the surface where the teacher paused before unlocking it to speak to a few students standing nearby who were leaning towards the door as if ready to move inside. “Class, I need a couple of minutes to talk with Lily, your new classmate, before we’ll be ready to have everyone enter. Can you let the rest of the class know? It won’t be long at all.” The door unlocked and Lily could feel the focus on her. ‘Just that ‘new member’ of a team feeling again’, Lily pushed her young brain to behave; she’d already gone through this so many times before.
Lily couldn’t help but sigh, even as Ms. Brown closed and latched the door. “Ms. Brown, you just singled me out in a way that is likely to cause an unfortunate amount of attention. If it isn’t too much of a bother, perhaps you could alter that? I’m already seeing a therapist…” Lily wasn’t. “And I’m not feeling the need to confide overly much at the moment.” Lily really wasn’t.
After blinking a few times, Ms. Brown gave Lily a sudden nod, opening the door and waving to the students who arrived early outside the room. “My bad, Lily didn’t need a primer on basic classroom etiquette…” Actually, Lily might have needed exactly that if it had been offered, but she could take her cues from the other ten year olds. “We can do introductions after everyone is here, but for now, please put your homework that I assigned over the last week into the appropriate boxes and gather your supplies for section one.”
Ms. Brown grabbed a set of markers and a bit of sticker paper from her desk before gesturing to Lily, directing her towards the left side of a two person table/desk combination. Lily looked at the open metal shelving on one side where it appeared Lily was supposed to store books she didn’t have yet. Well, she did have notebooks and folders and other supplies from the list the principal had given Haley Mitchem on Friday. Ms. Brown gestured to the sticker paper, letting Lily know she was to write and decorate her name for the front of the desk, but to make certain it was legible.
Lily realized that Ms. Brown didn’t trust herself to remember the student’s names immediately without a reminder and, honestly, Lily could vibe with that. Rather than being frustrated with such a task, Lily leaned in and tried to embrace it. She first walked around the room and looked at what the other students had done. There was chunky block lettering and letters that got smushed in to fit for names like Christina and Theodore (Lily wondered if Nott had managed to woo Ginny after her break up with Boot, crikey but weren’t Ginny and Harry the ones that just wouldn’t settle down) and then there were a few that tried to tie names into themes, Lily appreciated those. Carmen with windmills, Alice with her tiny red queen and Leo with his lions.
While Dean and Luna had been (might be?) artists, Lily was very much not, she might be artistic in her implementation of runes and Arithmantically directed efforts. Lily pulled on years of minor improvements in her quillmanship and drew a lovely lettering of her name (Andromeda would surely approve), ten small awkward lily flowers were added as if the letters of her name were vines. Eventually the bell rang and Lily used a bit of magic to serve as a minor sticking charm, rather than peeling off the backing to adhere the ‘nametag’ to her desk. Lily thought she might redo it tomorrow and she would rather sit at her desk, rather than sit on the floor, to do so.
Once seated, Lily realized that her new deskmate looked like the lovechild of Neville and Vincent Crabbe. He was puffy and soft with Crabbe’s dark hair and slightly darker skin tone than either former classmate, but Lily saw something cunning in this boy’s eyes. Lily moved to introduce herself, hand nearly raised to shake his own, when Ms. Brown addressed the room.
“McKinley Elementary is happy to welcome a new student, Lily James, and we are lucky enough to have her in our class. Lily, why don’t you tell the class a little bit about yourself?”
It was more of an instruction than a question and Lily was trying to decide if she was amused or annoyed.
Fifty years of memories and pushed into a primary school, why was Lily doing this to herself? ‘Give it a chance, my brain could likely benefit’, Lily thought. “Sorry if I sound a bit odd, but I’ve been told I keep a bit of Surrey in my voice no matter who I’m talking with.” No laughter, two blinks. “My name is Lily, Lily James, no relation.” Lily had gone with her gut on that one and not even a smirk. Did the yanks not even know about James Bond? They were the ones making the bloody movies. Should Lily go for dick and poop jokes? Probably should save the auror jokes for the adults. “Anyhow, I did grow up in England, south of London. I haven’t met the royals and I’ve only played cricket on forced sport days. I’m not awful at footie, err soccer, and I’m looking to practice my Spanish with any of you that speak some.”
Luis, Lily’s new deskmate by the tag she had read when examining the other student’s nameplates, spun off a sudden speedy spurt of Spanish that sounded as much like the Spanish Lily knew as a rural Scot sounded like a Londoner. When she responded in the Spanish she knew, Luis rolled eyes taunting Lily for being ‘too much’, ‘too posh’ or at least ‘too something’. Twenty seconds of high speed banter ended swiftly when Ms. Brown clapped her hands twice and directed the class’ attention back to her.
“Welcome Lily. Do any of you have a question for our new classmate before we start our first section?” Ms. Brown obviously knew what she was doing. There might be geography or history questions that would sprout out of Lily talking with her new classmates, and she might even be able to segway into current events, seemingly incorporated into the ‘social studies’ in Lily’s current curriculum.
Sadly, Lily was well aware of what Ms. Brown had unleashed.
“I’m positive that I never met Prince Charles or Princess Diana, or the queen.”
“Yes, I have had blood pudding, no, it isn’t my favorite. No, I am not a vampire.” Lily thrust her arm out into a sunbeam filtering through the window.
“I have been to London but I don’t know ‘Boy George’.”
“Elvis and the Beatles are fine. Why would it have to be one or another?”
“A truck is a lorry, an elevator is a lift and a wrench is a spanner. Oh, and the English use quite a lot of additional ‘u’s in our spelling, so I’m likely to have a disaster on any spelling tests for the foreseeable future.”
Despite at least two imploring looks from Lily, Ms. Brown allowed this inquisition to drag on for a full fifteen minutes before depositing a book covered in clean brown paper in front of Lily. A glance at the book Luis retrieved showed that it had been decorated with stickers and drawing, maybe lily would be lazy and take it home to add some color with magic. “Reading first, today, page 84. We’ll go from left to right and I’ll indicate the rows. One paragraph each.” Ms. Brown indicated the student at the front left and they started with the name of the story and author.
“The Coffin, by Ray Bradbarry.” A young girl sounded out.
“That’s Bradbury, Carmen.” Ms. Brown corrected gently.
‘Bugger, what have I gotten myself into.’ Lily fretted about lasting even a week at this age in school, much less a month.
“What’s up with the oversized coat? Isn’t it way too big?” Carmen asked in Spanish, as Lily really did want to practice. Luis was playing with some form of tag with a few other boys, but had introduced Carmen and Maria as some girls Lily could chat with to practice her Spanish.
“Ah, it’s one of the few things I’ve got left from my Dad’s stuff,” Lily lied easily. The men’s small bomber style jacket was the smallest auror grade protective piece of gear that Lily could acquire and would pass as mundane, short of a custom commission that might have taken months. It also had expansion charms on the inside pockets, which was pretty brilliant.
Maria blithely misunderstood the implication. “Are your parents split too?”
Carmen grimaced, but Lily responded gamely. “My Mum and Dad died a while back. That’s why I moved here, actually, to live with my aunt.” Lily gnawed gently on her lip, showing a discomfort she wasn’t feeling, blinking a little to add a bit of wetness to her eyes. Both of the girls she was chatting with seemed to be floundering, the conversation suddenly far too deep for ten year old girls. “It’s awful, but at least they weren’t killed by an automatic coffin. How do you even say that in Spanish?”
Carmen provided the correct words, but Maria still looked rather embarrassed about bringing up Lily’s parents at all. She wished people had been this careful about her feelings during Lily’s first go around, instead of celebrating the anniversary of their death. Lily much preferred this hint of ‘new kid’ celebrity status for a cool accent and strangely red hair than anything she’d had before.
“Don’t worry about it, Maria. I mean, we’re kids, people are going to talk about our parents sometimes. So, we get to use the computer lab on Tuesdays and Thursdays?” Lily changed the subject.
Both other girls nodded, but Carmen clarified. “After lunch for an hour. We practice typing for the first half but then we can play the games.”
“Are they connected to the internet?” Lily probed. When both girls looked puzzled, Lily let a sigh slip out. She knew about the rise of AOL and other providers in the 90’s, but Lily must still be too early. “I think Oxford and Cambridge are, but maybe it’s just a university thing right now. PC Magazine at the public library had an article about it.”
There had been an article about the coming end of the BBS era, but more than that Lily had been thinking about the work Hermione and other mundane raised had pioneered in using runework to allow for safely using technology around magic, or vice versa. Lily didn’t remember it exactly, but Hermione liked sharing and Lily hadn’t minded listening over food, drinks or just casual get togethers over the years. What Lily had done now that Hermione wasn’t around was to acquire some books on runes and put feelers out to purchase a pensieve; she might not survive public primary school, but that didn’t mean she was disinterested in learning something new.
Lily had a flexible young brain and she might as well use it for more than polishing her language skills. It would be fascinating to see exactly what she might accomplish before she was fifty again.