Lily James Quotes

I've been bitten, beat up, tied to a bed, James Bonded out, and now you finish off by choking a goddamn teacher!

But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

You think you’re funny,” she said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.” “I will if you go out with me, Evans,” said James quickly. “Go on . . . Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.” “I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily.

Can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Harry shook his head. "Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help." Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..." "Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. "The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed.

James had a clearer understanding of love than anyone, and if he said he was going to marry [Lily] one day then he probably would.

It’s cruel that I got to spend so much time with James and Lily, and you so little. But know this; the ones that love us never really leave us. And you can always find them in here

Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ``What shall we eat?'' or ``What shall we drink?'' or ``What shall we wear?'' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. - Matthew 6:25-34

Ten thousand dollars." I hear Lily's gasp of disbelief behind me. Oh fuck. "Fifteen" Twenty," counters Christian quietly. Twenty-five," the stranger says. "One hundred thousand dollars," he says his voice ringing clear and loud through the marquee. "What the fuck?" Lily hisses audibly behind me, and a general gasp of dismay and amusement ripple through the crowd.

Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. “I thought it was the perfect plan... a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you... It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.

Beside him, making scarcely a sound, walked James, Sirius, Lupin, and Lily, and their presence was his courage, and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

If you tell me, I will leave you alone," I said. "And if you don't tell me, I am going to grab the nearest ghostwritten James Patterson romance novel and I am going to follow you through this store reading it out loud until you relent. Would you prefer me to read from Daphne's Three Tender Months with Harold or Cindy and John's House of Everlasting Love? I guarantee, your sanity and your indie street cred won't last a chapter. And they are very, very short chapters." Now I could see the fright beneath the defiance.

The brambles and the thorns grew thick and thicker in a ticking thicket of bickering crickets. Farther along and stronger, bonged the gongs of a throng of frogs, green and vivid on their lily pads. From the sky came the crying of flies, and the pilgrims leaped over a bleating sheep creeping knee-deep in a sleepy stream, in which swift and slippery snakes slid and slithered silkily, whispering sinful secrets.

Why should I tell you?" he asked, with no small amount of petulance. "If you tell me, I will leave you alone," I said. "And if you don't tell me, I'm going to grab the nearest ghostwritten James Patterson romance novel and I am going to follow you through this store reading it out loud until you relent." Now I could see the fright beneath the defiance.

There’s a bigger cause out there. It’s bigger than any of us here. But we stick together, all right? We stick together and look out for each other. Because you four are all I’ve got left. And I’m not going to see you die. Forever alive, all right? We’re not going to die." -Sirius Black

Language!” Lily said again, “Honestly, James, you really need to start growing up this year, you’re of age, you need to start acting…” “Isn’t she brilliant?!” James beamed at Remus, who was now sitting on the floor of the carriage, catching his breath

I've been living in the forest ever since... except when I come to watch the Quidditch, of course... you fly as well as your father did, Harry..." He looked at Harry, who did not look away. "Believe me," croaked Black. "Believe me. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them." And at long last, Harry believed him.

It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and their son

Anyway, I'm done with God." Lily smiled. "But what if it's not God you're mad at?" she said. "What if the thing you're mad at is this idea of God, this really bad idea you got from other people. What if God exists? What if God is love? Aren't you going to feel stupid later?

And so, as per usual, it was James and Lily who managed to bring everyone out of that gloomy winter slog, just in time for spring. The marauders and their friends faced the rest of their year with fresh eyes and renewed purpose. Because fighting a war was one thing - but fighting for the Potters’ future child made every challenge seem more worthwhile.

It’s an abomination that shouldn’t exist,” Lily said, “and it knows it. That’s why I like it. It’s exactly like me.

Why do you weep, child? We of the Floating World live only for the moment, giving all our time to the pleasures of cherry blossoms and snow and maple leaves, the calling of a cricket, the beauty of the moon, waning and growing and being reborn, singing our songs and drinking cha and saké, knowing perfumes and the touch of silks, caressing for pleasure, and drifting, always drifting. Listen, child: never sad, always drifting as a lily on the current in the stream of life. How lucky you are, Kiku-chan, you’re a Princess of Ukiyo, the Floating World, drift, live for the moment. . . .

Anna held up a small black-bound memorandum book. Cordelia hadn’t even seen her retrieve it. They strode out of the bedroom, Anna waving the book over her head in triumph. “This,” she announced, “will hold the answers to all our questions.” Matthew looked up, his eyes fever-bright. “Is this your list of conquests?” “Of course not,” Anna declared. “It’s a memorandum book… about my conquests. That is an important but meaningful distinction.” Anna flipped through the book. There were many pages, and many names written in a bold, sprawling hand. “Hmm, let me see. Katherine, Alicia, Virginia—a very promising writer, you should look out for her work, James—Mariane, Virna, Eugenia—” “Not my sister Eugenia?” Thomas nearly upended his cake. “Oh, probably not,” Anna said. “Laura, Lily… ah, Hypatia. Well, it was a brief encounter, and I suppose you might say she seduced me.…” “Well, that hardly seems fair,” said James. “Like someone solving a case before Sherlock Holmes. If I were you I would feel challenged, as if to a duel.” Matthew chuckled. Anna gave James a dark look. “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said. “Is it working?” said James. “Possibly,” said Anna, regarding the book. Cordelia couldn’t help but wonder: Was Ariadne’s name in there? Was she considered a conquest now, or something—someone—else?

She'd become an English major for the purest and dullest of reasons: because she liked to read. The university’s “British and American Literature Course Catalog” was, for Madeleine, what its Bergdorf equivalent was for her roommates. A course listing like “English 274: Lily’s Euphues” excited Madeleine the way a pair of Fiorucci cowboy boots did Abby. “English 450A: Hawthorne and James” filled Madeleine with an expectation of sinful hours in bed not unlike what Olivia got from wearing a Lycra skirt and leather blazer in Danceteria. Even as a girl in their house in Prettrybrook, Madeleine wandered into the library, with its shelves of books rising higher than she could reach … and the magisterial presence of all those potentially readable words stopped her in her tracks.

It's so cruel that I got to spend so much time with James and Lily, and you so little. But know this; the ones that love us never really leave us.

I don’t know everything about life and marriage and happiness. But I do know what love is. And I do know that when love is real, and when love is in its strongest form, it is the most powerful thing on this earth. It kills, saves lives, heals wounds, and most of all, brings hope. That is what you have done for me, Lily. You have brought me hope." -James Potter

When the world tells us that it is impossible and when the world is falling from underneath us, and we have no where to turn, I feel the safest. For I know that you are there, and you won't let anything happen to me. When that same world tells us that this isn't meant to be, and that we aren't ready for a life of commitment and adulthood, I still feel the safest. Because I know that you will always be there with me, for you are committed to me, and I am committed to you. I swear to you, in this moment when all of the world is watching and filled with doubts, when the entire world is slowly dying, that I will never leave your side. I want to live my life with you, and I want to die with you. I vow to you to always be true, be faithful, and be not only a wife, but a friend and comforter. My heart is all I can give you; it is all that I own. Therefore I give you my all. I give you everything that I have." -Lily Potter

Then Hermione’s voice came out of the blackness for the third time, sharp and clear from a few yards away. “Harry, they’re here…right here.” And he knew by her tone that it was his mother and father this time: He moved toward her, feeling as if something heavy were pressing on his chest, the same sensation he had had right after Dumbledore had died, a grief that had actually weighed on his heart and lungs. The headstone was only two rows behind Kendra and Ariana’s. It was made of white marble, just like Dumbledore’s tomb, and this made it easy to read, as it seemed to shine in the dark. Harry did not need to kneel or even approach very close to it to make out the words engraved upon it. JAMES POTTER BORN 27 MARCH 1960 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 LILY POTTER BORN 30 JANUARY 1960 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. Harry read the words slowly, as though he would have only one chance to take in their meaning, and he read the last of them aloud. “‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death’…” A horrible thought came to him, and with it a kind of panic. “Isn’t that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?” “It doesn’t mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry,” said Hermione, her voice gentle. “It means…you know…living beyond death. Living after death.” But they were not living, though Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents’ moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

My desk clock told me it was five past ten, early for a drink, although I wanted one. After a little hesitation, I decided the bottle wouldn't know it was too early, hoisted it out of the desk drawer and gave myself a small, rather shamefaced nip.

I've been asking you this question since I was eleven years old. And even if you say no—again," he muttered, and Lily laughed as she wiped tears from her eyes, "I'll keep asking because you have a history of giving me the wrong answer. Something you're not usually known for doing, considering how brilliant you are. Will you marry me?" Lily did not wait a single second before shouting, "Yes!" "Finally!" James rejoiced loudly, swooping the witch into his arms and spinning her around in a circle.

JAMES: Apart from the Thestrals. Watch out for the Thestrals. ALBUS: I thought they were invisible! HARRY: Listen to your professors, don’t listen to James, and remember to enjoy yourself. Now, if you don’t want this train to leave without you, you should leap on . . . LILY: I’m going to chase the train out. GINNY: Lily, come straight back. HERMIONE: Rose. Remember to send Neville our love.

I don't have all of the answers to the world. I don't know everything about life and marriage and happiness. But I do know what love is. And I do know that when love is real, and when love is in its strongest form, it is the most powerful thing on this earth. It kills, saves lives, heals wounds, and most of all, brings hope. That is what you have done for me, Lily. You have brought me hope. When I look into your eyes, I know that no matter what may happen to me, as long as I can see those eyes staring back at me, then I'll be fine. Somehow I'll make it through. Somehow I'll find a way to survive for you. And that's what I want to feel for the rest of my time here on Earth, however short or long that may be. I want to wake up every morning and see your shining face staring back at me. But I also want to protect you. I want to protect you from anything that may hurt you. I want to be there when you cry to dry your tears. When you feel lonely, I want to give you a kiss. When you are scared, to embrace you. And when you are happy, to share a laugh with you. I don't know what's in store for us, but I do know that true love outlasts everything. It outlasts doubt, hate, war, misfortune, and most of all death. I vow to you to always be beside you. Not only in this life, but the next. Because that's when love becomes real. That's when love becomes unchained from anything in this life. I know that when I die, the first thing that I will see will be your eyes. That is how I will know that I made it to Heaven. Because you and I will still be together, forever." -James Potter

Rather later, she would attempt to pinpoint an exact moment when it happened, and she never had much luck with that—maybe it was months earlier, when he appeared on her front porch in his stupid hat, or on the platform on that wretched September 1st, or maybe it was long ago, in some unrecognizable, ever-­changing form, but whenever she thought about the matter in the months and years to come, she knew with absolute certainty that it happened no later than this moment. Possibly Lily did not fall in love with James Potter that night, but, she would later conclude, there was no time after it that she did not love him.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes- her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did. Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection. "Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?" They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees- Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life. The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years’ worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things. Good luck, Harry, wherever you are. If you read this, Harry, we’re all behind you! Long live Harry Potter. “They shouldn’t have written on the sign!” said Hermione, indignant. But Harry beamed at her. “It’s brilliant. I’m glad they did.

Harry had been picturing his parents’ deaths over and over again for three years now, ever since he’d found out they had been murdered, ever since he’d found out what had happened that night: Wormtail had betrayed his parents’ whereabouts to Voldemort, who had come to find them at their cottage. How Voldemort had killed Harry’s father first. How James Potter had tried to hold him off, while he shouted at his wife to take Harry and run … Voldemort had advanced on Lily Potter, told her to move aside so that he could kill Harry … how she had begged him to kill her instead, refused to stop shielding her son … and so Voldemort had murdered her too, before turning his wand on Harry.

They stopped and bowed their heads close together as the revelers ate and danced and celebrated around the glow of the fire. Darkness was falling over Lilyvale, the pink horizon a glorious and unusual marvel. Lily and James hardly noticed, lost as they were in the preciousness of the moment. "Lily mine," James whispered. "We're finally home.

Lily could do nothing but stare incredulously at the wizard before her. James Potter was an evolutionary improbability, she thought.

If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” growled Hagrid. “Stop Lily an’ James Potter’s son goin’ ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His

Believe me,” croaked Black. “Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them.

rather like a tired ghost after a long and exhausting spell of haunting.

Who’s your celebrity crush?” Savannah asks. Daisy smiles wide. “James Dean.” My eyes pierce the camera. “Audrey Hepburn.” Lily stares off in thought. “Uhhh…” She flushes. “Loren Hale.

What they’re saying,’ she pressed on, ‘is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they’re – dead.

Oi, Evans!” James had remerged, apparently ready to enact his plan. The whole room turned to look at him, standing on top of one of the study tables with his broom held aloft. “Oh no…” Remus breathed. “Oh yes!” Sirius cheered. “POTTER!” Lily Evans shouted, “Get DOWN from there, you’ll hurt yourself!” “Watch this!” James cried, gleefully, thrilled by the attention. He leapt onto his broom and soared upwards at an astonishing rate. “He’s never fallen off before,” Marlene said, uncertainly, as James began the first of a series of loops and dives, each shakier than the last. “Has he ever been drunk before, though?” Mary countered.

Mia reconciled the great future loss by reminding herself that, somehow, the essence of James and Lily would not disappear forever. Even without being raised by his parents, Harry would grow to emulate them entirely.

Esa sonrisa que Lily contenía, florece en un instante. Bajo el techo desnudo del Gran Comedor, su expresión se ilumina y cuando se muerde el labio inferior, James avanza, inclina la cabeza, contiene el aliento y prueba un beso suave. Se rozan despacio, los labios juntos y nada más. Los rizos de Lily le hacen cosquillas en la cara y por un momento piensa que está volando y que es el viento el que le hace sentirse así, flotando a varios pies del suelo.

Sometimes, Lily will catch James staring off into space, eyes out of focus, expression sober. Sometimes she’ll catch sight of a little red ball passing back and forth between his hands. She’s never sure whose heart is breaking more in those moments.

Lily frowned, tilting her head as she looked at James's face. "Your brother loves his friends. I can't imagine loving anyone that much." Mia did her best not to sob as she remembered Harry crying in the cemetery of Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve. "You will.

tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus,’ said a bald black wizard standing furthest back – he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear – ‘he looks exactly like James.’ ‘Except the eyes,’ said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. ‘Lily’s eyes.

I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.

As all his lives play out before his eyes in the pitiful moments before he dies, only one thought really rises above the other’s. So that, the last thing that James Potter thinks about, with his beating heart and fluttering pulse, is Sirius Black. A moment in a train carriage, their eyes crashing into one another for the first time, like two suns colliding. He was bright without Sirius, but he was brighter with him. His universe set fundamentally to rights the moment they shook hands. If Sirius dies James dies. And if James dies— Sirius. He barely feels it when the green bolt slides between his ribs. It’s just a shiver really. A chill. Not so bad at all. Maybe it didn’t work. Maybe something went wrong. Maybe he’s still breathing. Except that he’s falling. Crashing to the floor as the world becomes a mash of indistinguishable sounds and colours. Oh Sirius, I’m so sor—

And sometimes, and only in spring, a dove from the river's soft vale of lilies will fly as close to you as trust, and a calm in the great reds of autumn will, as often as you need, lie down beside you, raising a brow you've known above the eyes of the only woman you will ever have a need to dream or touch.

Potter," Lily greeted him, eyes wide. James blushed and crossed his arms over his chest nervously, leaving motor oil streaks on his skin. "Oh, umm... Hi." He cleared his throat as he attempted to lean up against the wall, only to have the small amount of oil left on his palm cause him to slip and stumble and leave a greasy print behind.

When Vivian began to recover they brought her a fluted glass vase with an arrangement of lilies and yellow roses from the flower shop on Eighteenth Street owned by an elegant man Arthur had once been involved with, Christos, who was friends with both of them. He, too, loved the theater and everything about it. Later he opened a restaurant.

Suddenly, Lily was running toward him through a small path in the crowded room, a hard, blazing look on her face. James quickly thrust his bottle of butterbeer into Sirius's hand as he turned to nervously meet Lily halfway just as she jumped into his open arms, wrapping hers around his neck. And, despite the fact that fifty people were watching, Lily kissed him.

Hey!” James had reappeared; he had divested himself of his trunk, owl, and trolley, and was evidently bursting with news. “Teddy’s back there,” he said breathlessly, pointing back over his shoulder into the billowing clouds of steam. “Just seen him! And guess what he’s doing? Snogging Victoire!” He gazed up at the adults, evidently disappointed by the lack of reaction. “Our Teddy! Teddy Lupin! Snogging our Victoire! Our cousin! And I asked Teddy what he was doing--” “You interrupted them?” said Ginny. “You are so like Ron--” “--and he said he’d come to see her off! And then he told me to go away. He’s snogging her!” James added as though worried he had not made himself clear. “Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!” whispered Lily ecstatically. “Teddy would really be part of the family then!” “He already comes round for dinner about four times a week,” said Harry. “Why don’t we just invite him to live with us and have done with it?” “Yeah!” said James enthusiastically. “I don’t mind sharing with Al--Teddy could have my room!” “No,” said Harry firmly, “you and Al will share a room only when I want the house demolished.

Clarissa Harlowe is a larger form than all the heroines of the Protestant will descended from her: Jane Austen’s Elizabeth Bennet, Emma Woodhouse, Anne Elliot; Hawthorne’s Hester Prynne; George Eliot’s Dorothea Brooke; Thomas Hardy’s Sue Bridehead; Henry James’s Isabel Archer, Milly Theale; D. H. Lawrence’s Ursula Brangwen; E. M. Forster’s Margaret Schlegel; and Virginia Woolf’s Lily Briscoe.

James never looked so happy, and Lily looked like a brand new witch, cleansed of all the sadness that came from ending her friendship with Snape, the memories of being treated poorly because of her blood status, and thoughts of her home life and scornful sister. Somehow, this new love was fixing them both and, by extension, had offered healing to those in their tight-knit circle of friends and family.

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years’ worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things. Good luck, Harry, wherever you are. If you read this, Harry, we’re all behind you! Long live Harry Potter.

Potter,” Lily straightened her back, staring over the pile with a look of bemusement, “Have you been in the library ?! In the morning?! Instead of flying ?!” “We need to get Moony prepared , Lily!” “But… you said mornings were sacred to you!” Sirius said. “You said you had to pay homage to the gods of the quidditch pitch!” Peter grinned. “I can miss one morning.” James said, dismissively. “Prongs!” Remus grabbed his hand, and gushed at him dramatically, “I’m touched .” “Gerrof,” James snatched his hand back, ears turning bright red. “You can all stop making fun of me. Am I the only one taking this seriously?!” “Hey!” Sirius smirked. Remus and Peter groaned in anticipation of what was coming, “I am always Sirius. ” Peter and Remus covered their eyes in embarrassment, but it must have been the first time Lily had ever heard that joke because she snorted with laughter so suddenly that her tea shot out of her nose.

— A pier, sir, Armstrong said. A thing out in the waves. A kind of bridge. Kingstown pier, sir. Some laughed again : mirthless but with meaning. Two in the back bench whispered. Yes. They knew : had never learned nor ever been innocent. All. With envy he watched their faces. Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Their likes : their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets tittering in the struggle. — Kingstown pier, Stephen said. Yes, a disappointed bridge.

James's hazel eyes were soft and yet commanding at the same time. Mia stared into their depths, losing herself in them, wondering how no one else saw it: Harry. Everyone always said that he was the spitting image of his father except the eyes; Lily's eyes, they always said. No. He's right there, Mia thought. The shape and the colour were all wrong, but she could see Harry kneeling in front of her in the visage of his father. All strength and sacrifice and boundless love.

What would have happened if Einstein had advanced something equally new in the sphere of religion or politics? English people would have found elements of Prussianism in his theory; anti-Semites would have regarded it as a Zionist plot; nationalists in all countries would have found it tainted with lily-livered pacifism, and proclaimed it a mere dodge for escaping military service. All the old-fashioned professors would have approached Scotland Yard to get the importation of his writings prohibited. Teachers favourable to him would have been dismissed. He, meantime, would have captured the Government of some backward country, where it would have become illegal to teach anything except his doctrine, which would have grown into a mysterious dogma not understood by anybody. Ultimately the truth or falsehood of his doctrine would be decided on the battlefield, without the collection of any fresh evidence for or against it. This method is the logical outcome of William James’s will to believe.

The house belongs to us. James and I grew up here. That mansion is our home," Mia replied with a sweet smile. "Or, well, it was. James and Lily have their own little cottage now." The Dursleys looked dumbfounded, which Mia discovered was not very difficult for them. "Grew up here?" Petunia gaped at Mia. "So, it's just you here, then? That big house all to yourself?" Mia could tell by the tone of voice that the woman was trying to be polite now that she was aware the Potters had money. "Oh no, I moved to London." She then pointed to Sirius and Remus standing beside James, pouring drinks for one another. "I live with those two handsome men." Petunia blushed furiously, looking scandalised. "You live with two men?" Mia grinned, half tempted to tell her, in detail, what she and those two men had done right here in this very orchard. The particular shade of red on Petunia's face was intriguing, to say the least, but nowhere near as amusing as the purple that Vernon was turning as he muttered, "shameful" and "scandalous" under his breath.

She was the only one who argued with Grace. 'He's not a good choice for you,' she insisted. 'He respects you too much.' 'Respect is good,' Grace said, thinking of how Colin slighted her letters. 'I want respect.' 'It's not enough.' 'He loves me!' "Not the right way.' Finally Grace turned on her sister in a rage. 'Don't you see, Lily? Must you make me say this aloud? No one will ever love me in the /right/ way, not in that feverish way that men fall in love with you. I'm not that sort of woman!' Lily cried, and Grace ended up crying, too.

Lily's focus turned to Mia, who was not surprised at all by the scene as she moved forward, crawling into the space between James and Remus, knowing that they had purposely left it available to her. She leant back against Remus's chest, and his arm instinctively wrapped around her waist. James's body moved as well, resting his head against her shoulder just as Sirius's mop of dark black hair adjusted on the bed, eventually resting in her lap. Mia let out a soft sigh as she placed her hand on top of Sirius's head, letting her fingers loosely run through his hair.

Now Snape was head to head with Mundungus in an unfamiliar tavern, Mundungus’s face looking curiously blank, Snape frowning in concentration. “You will suggest to the Order of the Phoenix,” Snape murmured, “that they use decoys. Polyjuice Potion. Identical Potters. It is the only thing that might work. You will forget that I have suggested this. You will present it as your own idea. You understand?” “I understand,” murmured Mundungus, his eyes unfocused… Now Harry was flying alongside Snape on a broomstick through a clear dark night: He was accompanied by other hooded Death Eaters, and ahead were Lupin and a Harry who was really George…A Death Eater moved ahead of Snape and raised his wand, pointing it directly at Lupin’s back-- “Sectumsempra!” shouted Snape. But the spell, intended for the Death Eater’s wand hand, missed and hit George instead-- And next, Snape was kneeling in Sirius’s old bedroom. Tears were dripping from the end of his hooked nose as he read the old letter from Lily. The second page carried only a few words: could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind’s going, personally! Lots of love, Lily Snape took the page bearing Lily’s signature, and her love, and tucked it inside his robes. Then he ripped in two the photograph he was also holding, so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed, throwing the portion showing James and Harry back onto the floor, under the chest of drawers…

I’m here.” “I know that.” “No, really James. I’m here. I know that it’ll be…“ he swallows with some difficulty, “harder now, what with…” the alcohol seems to have robbed Sirius of his ability to finish his sentences. “The hiding,” James decides to help him out, feeling Sirius nod against him. In the dark the light catches Sirius’s eyes, making them look like water. “But I will always be here, always, always. Okay? For you. For Lily. For Harry.” James’s chest is starting to feel uncomfortably tight. “I wish you and Moons would just move in.” Sirius laughs quietly, though there’s something heavy about it. “It never feels right, does it? All of us not being together.” James shakes his head. “No,” he whispers, like it’s a secret. “Never.

To our children, the future of the Wizarding world, and to those who should be here, but are not," Charlus said as he raised his bottle, a sad smile on his face. Remus nodded with a grateful glance to Charlus. "To Hope Lupin." "To Aaron Macdonald." Mary cast a smile at her mother, who sniffled loudly and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "To Edgar Longbottom," Frank said proudly, raising his glass and meeting his mother's approving stare. "To Harold and Aster Evans," Lily said with a watery smile, leaning her head against James's shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. James raised his glass, meeting Charlus's teary stare. "To Dorea Potter." "To Dorea Potter," Mia echoed her brother. "To Dorea Potter," Sirius added quietly. Finally, they all drank.

Full of remorse and self-recrimination, Remus fled, leaving the pregnant Tonks, seeking out Harry and offering to accompany him on whatever death-defying adventure awaited. To Remus’s shock and displeasure, the seventeen-year-old Harry not only declined his offer but became angry and insulting. He told his ex-teacher that he was acting selfishly and irresponsibly. Remus responded with uncharacteristic violence and stormed out of the house, taking refuge in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, where he sat drinking and fuming. However, after a few hours’ reflection, Remus was forced to accept that his ex-pupil had just taught him a valuable lesson. James and Lily, Remus reflected, had stuck with Harry even unto their own deaths. His own parents, Lyall and Hope, had sacrificed their peace and security to keep the family together.

Now, now, calm down, Lily." Mia smiled teasingly at her friend. "We understand that when a witch and wizard are in love, they like to express that love in a very special way." "A very loud special way," Sirius added with a chuckle and looked to James. "Muffliato, mate; it's not hard." "All right, very funny." James scowled. "You've successfully embarrassed us, now sod off, the lot of you, so I can finish my breakfast." "Not going to happen." Sirius shook his head and cracked his knuckles. "See, Lily here is like a sister to me." "And me," Remus added. "And me," Mia agreed. "I'm sitting this one out," Peter insisted from the sofa. "And we feel the need to defend sweet Lily's honour after we discovered that some horrid wretch had come along and stolen her . . ." Sirius took a deep breath and stared into James's eyes before continuing, "maidenhead.

Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Svabo The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami Books for Banned Love Sea of Poppies, by Amitav Ghosh The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje Euphoria, by Lily King The Red and the Black, by Stendahl Luster, by Raven Leilani Asymmetry, by Lisa Halliday All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides The Vixen, by Francine Prose Legends of the Fall, by Jim Harrison The Winter Soldier, by Daniel Mason

Dear Padfoot, Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself. I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course, James thought it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player, but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going. We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda, who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell — also, Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard. Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore, I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually, because it seems incredible that Dumbledore could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally! Lots of love, Lily

My eyes would have told you everything you wanted to know in the parlor ... You would never have spouted that drivel about how I felt about Lily if you could have seen my eyes. Never.

Grace leaned against Colin, who was silently watching the lively chatter. That was characteristic of him, actually. And then she realized that they were a pair, a silent, observant couple. Still, in the circle of his arm, she wasn't a lonely observer. She wasn't a wallflower, anymore. She could be herself rather than wishing she was more vivacious, more full of chatter, more like Lily.

Somehow he held himself in check, willing away the tension strung throughout his form. Releasing a sigh, he kissed her knuckles, then rested his chin against her temple, inhaling the beguiling scent of lilies, aware of the silky little tendrils of hair that brushed his mouth. It brought a surprising peace to his soul.

And he set off. The dementors’ chill did not overcome him; he passed through it with his companions, and they acted like Patronuses to him, and together they marched through the old trees that grew closely together, their branches tangled, their roots gnarled and twisted underfoot. Harry clutched the Cloak tightly around him in the darkness, traveling deeper and deeper into the forest, with no idea where exactly Voldemort was, but sure that he would find him. Beside him, making scarcely a sound, walked James, Sirius, Lupin, and Lily, and their presence was his courage, and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

[...]lasciando la mente libera di indugiare, sempre più depressa, sulla scena vista nel Pensatoio. Il ricordo gli rodeva le viscere. Era sempre stato così sicuro che i suoi genitori fossero persone meravigliose da non aver mai avuto difficoltà a ignorare le calunnie di Piton sul carattere del padre. Hagrid e Sirius non gli avevano sempre detto che tipo eccezionale era? (Già, be’... guarda che tipo era Sirius, lo punzecchiò una voce interiore... altrettanto antipatico, no?) D’accordo, una volta aveva sentito la professoressa McGonagall dire che da studenti suo padre e Sirius avevano combinato un sacco di guai, però da come ne parlava sembravano più dei precursori dei gemelli Weasley, e Harry non riusciva a immaginarsi Fred e George che mettevano qualcuno a testa in giù tanto per divertirsi, a meno di non detestarlo... Malfoy, forse, o qualcuno che proprio se lo meritava... Si sforzò di convincersi che Piton se l’era meritato, ma Lily non aveva forse chiesto: «Che cosa ti ha fatto?» E James aveva risposto: «È più il fatto che esiste, non so se mi spiego». James aveva dato inizio a tutto solo perché Sirius si annoiava. Rammentò quando, in Grimmauld Place, Lupin aveva detto che Silente lo aveva nominato prefetto nella speranza che riuscisse a tenere sotto controllo James e Sirius... ma da quanto aveva visto nel Pensatoio, Lupin era rimasto lì a guardare... Però Lily era intervenuta, rifletté; sua madre era stata corretta. Eppure il ricordo della sua espressione mentre litigava con James lo disturbava quanto tutto il resto: era chiaro che provava solo disgusto per lui, e Harry non riusciva a capire perché alla fine l’avesse sposato. Un paio di volte si chiese perfino se James l’avesse costretta... Per quasi cinque anni, il pensiero di suo padre era stato per lui una fonte di conforto e d’ispirazione. Se qualcuno gli diceva che assomigliava al padre, si sentiva avvampare di orgoglio. E ora... ora quello stesso pensiero lo rendeva infelice.

GINNY, follows after. A thirty-seven-year-old man, HARRY, has his daughter LILY on his shoulders. ALBUS Dad. He keeps saying it. HARRY James, give it a rest. JAMES I only said he might be in Slytherin.

Octopussy, octopus and pussy because they’re both the scariest things in the universe.” He grinned. Lily

Outlaw, Liam, and Reilly’s kids: Arie and Elric Mayhem and Torrin’s twins: Roark and Taryn Deviant and Tage’s kids: Welliver and Lily Romeo and Justice’s kid: Helrick Chaos and Beau’s kid: Rain Grim and Valentine’s kid: Pendergrass Whip and Harley: No kids       Chapter

A busy and crowded station. Full of people trying to go somewhere. Amongst the hustle and bustle, two large cages rattle on top of two laden trolleys. They’re being pushed by two boys, JAMES POTTER and ALBUS POTTER, their mother, GINNY, follows after. A thirty-seven-year-old man, HARRY, has his daughter, LILY, on his shoulders. ALBUS:

CAR CRASH!” roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. “How could a car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin’ his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!

Forgive me, but," he begins, and I know this can be going nowhere good, "what about the men who watch our channel? Do we really want to look so biased? We can't alienate half our viewership." I see Katherine open her mouth to respond, but then I must enter some kind of alternate reality in which I think I'm the best one to take these questions, as I open my big mouth and beat her to the punch. "Who's to say they'll be alienated, though? Men watch plenty of TV shows and movies led by women. Or if they don't, they certainly should. We've been put through five million Fast and the Furious and James Bond movies, for goodness' sake. And if they're opposed to watching and learning from women, because they think we're boring or don't get our perspectives, well, I reckon they're part of the problem." I fold my arms over my chest defiantly, then lose my remaining nerve and avert my eyes from those of the CEO. When I look at the other women instead, they're all staring at me with some measure of shock, some looking amused and impressed on top of that. Katherine is the first one to shake herself out of it and narrows her gaze on Geoffrey Block, CEO, once more. "It may also be of interest to you that if this series doesn't happen at Friends of Flavor, I plan on hosting it on my personal site, the Kat's Muse. I have advertisers who have long expressed interest in helping me launch my own videos, but I've been reluctant to take any of FoF's thunder. I would feel obligated to make it clear, though, that I was only hosting the series because this channel had rejected the proposal." My jaw drops along with Katherine's figurative mic. She kept that little contingency plan from us yesterday, but damn. Of course she had a secret weapon in her back pocket. Lily pipes up, "And if you all didn't know, men do not make up half of Friends of Flavor viewers. More like thirty percent. Meaning women are seventy percent. Maybe worth looking at who's really getting alienated." Well okay, Lily. For someone who spends so much of the time off in her own mental universe, she sure knows how to pop back down to earth and spit facts when needed.

Sirius took a breath, and then tapped his spoon on his wine glass. The reception was quiet as they all looked to him. All eyes were on him now. It was time for the Best Man to make his own vow. He had to support them. He had to smile for them. They were happy. And he knew that James would be happy for him if their roles were switched. James was looking right at him, and so was Lily. They wanted him to rise and talk. And so he did, holding his glass in his hands. "Well," Sirius said, his voice echoing through the now silent Leaky Cauldron. They were all staring at him, "I'm supposed to make a speech, being the Best Man and all . . . but I'm really not one for speeches. That was always James's department. . ." There was a small laugh through the crowd. "When I first met you, Evans," Sirius said, as the room went quiet again, "I swore that you were wrong for James. And yes, I was jealous. And yes, I acted like an idiot. But I know James, and now I know you, and I know that you both were made for each other." Lily smiled warmly at him, and Sirius cleared his throat and continued. "Who would have thought I would be sitting here, making a toast to that four eyed freak that came running into my compartment that first day of school?" he said, "I know I wouldn't have guessed it. But I'm glad that I can see you on the happiest day of your life. I'm glad I was a part of it." He raised his glass to James, and got that mischievous smile again, "You were right, mate. It is like a fairy tale. And we all know what happens at the end of fairy tales. All evil's conquered, everything's set right, and Prince Charming and his girl go riding off in the distance happily ever after. So don't be scared, James. Because you two were written out to live happily ever after. I see the real thing in you two. Something that none of us here in this room is ever going to have for ourselves. You really do love each other." James took Lily's hand, and smiled down on his best friend. Sirius smiled back, and then turned to the crowd, his glass still raised, "So, here's a toast to true love, mates. Here's a toast to my brother," he turned, and looked to Lily, "And my sister." "Here, here!" the audience roared, clashing their glasses together, and Lily looked to Sirius, in an expression that she had never given him. Not one of loathing, or disgust or annoyance. . . but of surprise. Sirius grinned, and raised his glass to her again with a nod. She returned the nod, her smile rising again, and then Sirius took his seat. "Touching," Remus said. "Don't push it, wolf," Sirius growled as he went back to playing with his food. Lily was still staring at him from where she was sitting. He could feel her eyes on him, trying to get him to look at her again. But he wouldn't let himself. He had said what he had said, and there was nothing else about it.

Sirius took a breath, and then tapped his spoon on his wine glass. The reception was quiet as they all looked to him. All eyes were on him now. It was time for the Best Man to make his own vow. He had to support them. He had to smile for them. They were happy. And he knew that James would be happy for him if their roles were switched. James was looking right at him, and so was Lily. They wanted him to rise and talk. And so he did, holding his glass in his hands. "Well," Sirius said, his voice echoing through the now silent Leaky Cauldron. They were all staring at him, "I'm supposed to make a speech, being the Best Man and all . . . but I'm really not one for speeches. That was always James's department. . ." There was a small laugh through the crowd. When I first met you, Evans," Sirius said, as the room went quiet again, "I swore that you were wrong for James. And yes, I was jealous. And yes, I acted like an idiot. But I know James, and now I know you, and I know that you both were made for each other." Lily smiled warmly at him, and Sirius cleared his throat and continued. "Who would have thought I would be sitting here, making a toast to that four eyed freak that came running into my compartment that first day of school?" he said, "I know I wouldn't have guessed it. But I'm glad that I can see you on the happiest day of your life. I'm glad I was a part of it." He raised his glass to James, and got that mischievous smile again, "You were right, mate. It is like a fairy tale. And we all know what happens at the end of fairy tales. All evil's conquered, everything's set right, and Prince Charming and his girl go riding off in the distance happily ever after. So don't be scared, James. Because you two were written out to live happily ever after. I see the real thing in you two. Something that none of us here in this room is ever going to have for ourselves. You really do love each other." James took Lily's hand, and smiled down on his best friend. Sirius smiled back, and then turned to the crowd, his glass still raised, "So, here's a toast to true love, mates. Here's a toast to my brother," he turned, and looked to Lily, "And my sister." "Here, here!" the audience roared, clashing their glasses together, and Lily looked to Sirius, in an expression that she had never given him. Not one of loathing, or disgust or annoyance. . . but of surprise. Sirius grinned, and raised his glass to her again with a nod. She returned the nod, her smile rising again, and then Sirius took his seat. "Touching," Remus said. "Don't push it, wolf," Sirius growled as he went back to playing with his food. Lily was still staring at him from where she was sitting. He could feel her eyes on him, trying to get him to look at her again. But he wouldn't let himself. He had said what he had said, and there was nothing else about it.

When they all got together for Christmas, weeks later, and it was Sirius's turn to say grace. . . "Father," Sirius had said, folding his hands and closing his eyes, "I know I never talk to you, unless James is sitting here telling me that I have to in order to get any food." The five of them had laughed, and then Sirius had continued. "But I guess I just wanted to thank you. . . if you exist," he added, "For getting us all this far. I know that we've lost some . . . some people. . . along the way, but we're all here. And that's what important. That there are still five of us around this table, together and in one piece." Remus opened one of his eyes to glance at Sirius. This wasn't like him at all. Was he all right? "Thank you for my family," Sirius sighed, forgetting that there was anyone else at the table, "For my real family. I guess that's it. Oh, yeah, and bless James and Morgana in their wedding. And take mercy on their kids, because they're going to need your mercy having those two as parents. Amen." "Amen," they all repeated, and then Lily took her knife and cut the turkey, "All right, who wants white and who wants dark?

Now, now, calm down, Lily." Mia smiled teasingly at her friend. "We understand that when a witch and wizard are in love, they like to express that love in a very special way." "A very loud special way," Sirius added with a chuckle and looked to James. "Muffliato, mate; it's not hard." "All right, very funny." James scowled. "You've successfully embarrassed us, now sod off, the lot of you, so I can finish my breakfast." "Not going to happen." Sirius shook his head and cracked his knuckles. "See, Lily here is like a sister to me." "And me," Remus added. "And me," Mia agreed. "I'm sitting this one out," Peter insisted from the sofa. "And we feel the need to defend sweet Lily's honour after we discovered that some horrid wretch had come along and stolen her..." Sirius took a deep breath and stared into James's eyes before continuing, "maidenhead.

What can you do? I was born like this. Just like I have red hair and big feet, and like you can’t help looking like Lily Collins, I have this thing that comes over me—like this awful black fog or something—and when I’m inside it, there’s no light or happiness or meaning. I can’t describe how awful it is, because the words don’t exist. When I’m in the fog, I just need to get out of it again. And dying feels like the fastest way.” “But it’s the worst way,” I said. “You know that, right? You can’t get better if you’re dead.” “When I’m inside that fog I don’t believe there’s any way to get better.

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse.

Going to art class?” James asked, taking a few steps toward her. “You took art two semesters in a row?” “Well, I can’t play an instrument, so it was either art of band,” Mandy said, laughing lightly. “There aren’t a lot of electives to choose from.” “You don’t want to be a band geek anyway,” James teased. “That will ruin your reputation forever.

Ann. They’d been dating for six months, but it was more out of boredom than anything else. Barker Creek didn’t have a lot of choices when it came to women and James had finally settled on Ann because he knew it was impossible to become attached to her. She was pretty – in an overly made up way – and she filled out a pair of jeans better than anyone else in the school.

Then why did they need you?" Lily's face is hard and set again. "Why not just send Sirius?" James gapes at her. "Alone?" Lily doesn't say anything. "No," says James. "I mean no, Lil. Don't be ridiculous. Anyway, he can't work a defensive spell if his life depended on it, which it would. You know how he gets when his blood's up, all laughing and insane and hopping about talking nonsense and all of a sudden someone would hit him in the chest with a hex before the possibility even occurred to him.

Snape took the page bearing Lily’s signature, and her love, and tucked it inside his robes. Then he ripped in two the photograph he was also holding, so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed, throwing the portion showing James and Harry back onto the floor, under the chest of drawers. . . . And now Snape stood again

Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ``What shall we eat?'' or ``What shall we drink?'' or ``What shall we wear?'' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

She came to a complete stop when she realized that the fountain, one that sported stone mermaids spouting water out of their mouths, seemed to have acquired additional statues. These statues, however, did not fit in with the mermaids but instead seemed to be mud-covered blobs with lily pads stuck all over them. When one of the blobs suddenly raised a hand and rubbed what surely had to be a nose, Millie moved forward again as amusement bubbled up inside her. “How absolutely brilliant!” she exclaimed as she stopped right next to the fountain, earning a smile from little James, his teeth looking remarkably bright against the mud he’d used to cover his face. The blob next to him, six-year-old Edith, rose to her feet and let out a dramatic sigh. “Mother ruined everything by pointing us out to you.” She pulled a lily pad from her arm and dropped it into the shallow water pooling in the bottom of the fountain. “It’s a good thing she did point me in the right direction, or I could have been searching for the two of you for hours.” Millie grinned. “I’ve played many a game of hide-and-seek, and yet I’ve never seen children use such inventive means to disguise themselves. It was completely ingenious—which means clever, by the way—to choose the fountain to hide in.” “It was nothing of the sort,” Mrs. Cutling argued, marching up to join them, apparently unimpressed with Millie’s attempt at broadening the children’s vocabulary. She leveled a stern look at her children before turning her disapproval on Millie. “I’m holding you responsible for their current condition.” “It wasn’t Miss Longfellow’s fault, Mother,” James hurried to say. “It was my idea to hide here, so you shouldn’t be cross with her.” “And it’s been great fun,” Edith added. Mrs. Cutling drew herself up. “I see nothing fun about this, Edith. In fact, you and your brother have embarrassed me no small amount this afternoon. Because of that, the two of you will be spending the rest of your day in your rooms—after you bathe, of course—contemplating the ridiculousness of your actions.” She pointed a finger to the dry courtyard. “Both of you . . . out . . . now.” Millie watched as the two children scrambled out of the fountain, lily pads and slime dripping off them, which earned them a thinning of the lips from their mother. They sent Millie pitiful looks that clearly begged for help, but then two sets of little shoulders sagged when it evidently became clear Millie had no help to offer them. A

Christ has come into the world to lay out a garden wherein, amid splendor and abundance, there should thrive the violet of humanity, the myrtle of mortification, the rose of love, the lily of virginal souls, the laurel of confessors and the palm of martyrs.

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

The change in scenery from Cohen James to retired synchronized swimming is not ideal, but it’ll have to work.

can be counted as a coincidence -7 books -7 years at Hogwarts -7 Weasley children -7 generations before a Weasley girl was born -7 horcruxes ... -7 is Harrys Quidditch number -7th year is when James Potter and Lily Evans started dating -7 galleons to by a wand -7 obstacles to the philosophers stone -7 ghosts in Hogwarts (Including peeves) -7 people were attacked by the Basilisk in CoS -7 letters in Weasley -7 players on a Quidditch team -7 books are assigned to the kids from Gilderoy -7 muggles saw Ron fly the Ford Anglia -7 years before Harry helped Gryffindor beat Slytherin -7 secret passages are shown on the Maurderers Map -7 registered animagi -"Turn to page 394" 3+9+4=16 1+6=7 -7 magic quills -7 is the age by which most experts believe that magic will reveal itself in a wizard or witch