Christmas was one of the most joyful times of year. The town of Cokeworth, well at least the parts up hill, were covered in snow and holly, with frozen drainpipes and flashing painted bulbs of light. In the town centre there was a big Christmas tree, which's peak almost dissapeared into the great smoggy cloud that forever loomed overhead from the steelworks and mines nearby. Those living downhill in the 'poor' part of town often gushed at the lights dripping from the pretty houses, and during the day, enjoyed the free carols and small little concerts happening in the square. Though the poorest of the poor - those living in the wonkey, broken windowed, moth infested dwellings would find themselves trailing along the muddy path through a pale graveyard towards the Parish Church. Signs stood oustide, reading 'come in for a meal' or 'get a festive feast'. The church helped the poor in the winter very often, and at Christmas they were the most generous, sending people away with toys, trinkets and christmas puddings all from the homes of those helping on the day.
Beneath the wooden beams and behind a tartan blanketed, holly settled table stood the red haired Mrs Evans, who beamed at everyone who passed by. Though when someone had mucky fingers, or a snotty nose, she handed then a christmas cake at a distance, making sure to wipe her white gloves thoroughly on a handkercheif afterwards. Her daughter Petunia, wrapped up in a lime scarf and brown coat, ran around with some boys she knew from school near the sermont stand. Her younger sister Lily stayed near to their mother, providing kind looks to everyone who received her mothers charity. One rather old woman, hunched over a cane, leaned through her glasses to peer properly at the cheery little thing with her wonky woolen hat.
"Aren't you pretty- my look at those green eyes".
"What do you say?", nudged Mrs Evans, quite liking it when Lily recieved a compliment. She took it often as a compliment to her as they looked rather alike. Though Lily had always been rather more plumper than she had ever been.
"Thank you", beamed Lily, before stopping the woman as she ventured to leave, "Would you like to hear a joke?".
"Lily-", warned her mother, holding her smile.
"Why yes", replied the woman kindly, placing both hands on her cane.
Most people she had asked that morning had brushed off the joke. Lily was very happy. She slapped her feet about on the floor for a moment giddly before wracking her brain for the funniest, most christmassy joke she could come up with. "What did Santa say to the coal miner?". Mrs Evans began attending to the next gentleman who came along, tuning out whatever Lily had to say. She often picked up jokes from Mr Evans, who wasn't the most sensetive soul. Though she meant them in good spirits and kindness. Lily did not have a bad bone in her body nor a hateful word in her mind. Though not everyone may have seen that. "Heres the list of naughty children for you sir".
"Oh", chuckled the elder woman, "How funny". She then gave Lily a little wave, making her way back out into the cold. Lily watched her leave, counting another finger on her hand. She had told her sister that she would be able to get five people to listen to her jokes. So far she had two. It had been three hours.
"Wow...there are a lot more people than last year", stated Mrs Evans to her neighbour , Mrs Dibbins, who had knitted scarves for children.
"Well, things are a bit more expensive this year", she returned, "My husband thinks there will be strikes eventually".
"Hopefully not- the last thing I need is Harold coming home complaining about Miners striking". Mrs Evans handed another cake to a small boy who had a dirty nose. She offered him some tissue for it, which he seemed very offended by, running off.
"Do they not bathe their children?", whispered Mrs Harrow, passing by with another flask of hot tea for those who had chosen to sit down for some lunch in the pews. "One lad that came in had hands as black as cole. Its nineteen-sixty-nine- not twenty-nine".
"Was that when you were born my dear?", jested Mrs Evans, before jumping a little. Mrs Harrow nearly fumbled her flask onto the table, and Mrs Dibbins wrinkled her face like a wet bit of paper on a bathroom floor.
"Oh goodness- Its the creature of Cokeworth".
At the door to the church, repelling all who stood around, was a woman with long, unkempt black hair. She had dark, deep rings around her black eyes, and her skin was so pale she almost melted into the snowy ground behind her. Her clothes were strange too, with moth bitten large sleeves and crooked boots. Her withered hand extended from one of them, grasping that of a suited young boy with a greasy head and large nose that loomed over an uncomfortably twitching lip.
"That childs filthy", breathed Mrs Dibbins, pulling back her scarves.
"She terrifies me", whispered Mrs Evans, shuddering with each step she made towards them. The line of the poor parted, reshuffling themselves so that she was provided with an empty walkway directly to the tables of aid. Those working behind them pulled back their wares, and she glared at each of them as they passed by, not daring to beg. Though she stopped when reaching Mrs Evans, tugging her son from his hiding by her hip. He kept his eyes low beneath the table, spotting a little pair of dolly shoes on the other side. Eventually he looked up to where they connected to a head, seeing little Lily, who gave him a wonky smile. "Good morning".
"It is twelve...it is afternoon", she corrected quietly, reaching for a cake. Mrs Evans placed her hand on one. "-So you will not allow me aid either?".
"No-No", corrected Mrs Evans flusterdly, picking up the cake, "I like to hand them- to prevent...uh-the other cakes getting dirty".
"So you believe that I am dirty?", she returned.
Mrs Evans must have let the truth of her thoughts fall onto her face as the womans brows turned down comically. She threw her sons hand away from hers, pointing in Mrs Evans face. Mrs Evans brought Lily behind her as though the woman were going to curse her. "They say you are kinder than the rest- but you are the most foul. False kindness is the foulest villany!".
"-And who are you with those words- Shakespear?", retorted Mrs Dibbins, not allowing the, "Greasy haired wench", to insult poor Mrs Evans.
"You are the wench!", spat the woman dramatically.
"Mother- please", cried the young boy. Mrs Evans finally spotted him, having great pitty for the sickly looking creature. His bones were practially poking through his shirt. He seemed fit to cry, and even more so when the woman turned on her heel, chanting all sorts of madness beneath her breath -cursing the ground that she walked on. She shoved her way out of the church, making her opinion of everyone who resided within it very, very clear.
"Damn you all of 'good faith' !".
Her son didn't know what to do with himself. His mothers quick exit had left him rather distraught. He decided to follow her out, looking back at Mrs Evans' table hopefully. Lily leaned around to watch him, tugging her mothers skirt. She brushed her off.
"I feel the need to get Father Lucas to come and bless the church", informed Mrs Harrow uneasily, "You know what- I might". She thumped down her flask, rushing off out of the church hall towards the adjoining Church house. A loud thud came from behind the stalls as she left, and Mrs Evans shrieked. Petunia quickly scrambled up from where she had knocked a bible to the ground, holding her hands infront of her skirt. The boys she had been playing with teased until their mothers glared at them.
"Oh Petunia- what have you done?", she patted Lily on the shoulder, "Stay there".
"Yes mother", affirmed Lily, still watching the boy leave. People looked through their noses at him, and he hung his head low - so low in fact that he walked crown first into the doorway. He fumbled to his knees afterwards, and nobody dared to try and help him. Instead he got up and continued walking along. Lily's gaze switched from the boy to the cakes on the table. She got an idea. However her efforts were quickly thwarted as Mrs Dibbins moved the cakes further onto the table away from her.
"Now Lily- those are for the poor".
Lily needed to get a cake. Or something else. Maybe some bread- or soup from a nearby table. There was some not far from the door. Though that table was guarded by Mr Hindle, who was rather spiny and did not like children. But she had to find a way. The boy looked so very sad. Food always cheered her up when she was sad.
"Mrs Dibbins, I need to go to the bathroom".
"-Theres an outhouse around the back", she stated, "Be quick- I'll tell your mother where you have gone".
"Thank you", smiled Lily, grabbing her gloves from her pocket. She slipped her fingers into them, making her way quitely around the back of the stalls as to not disturb their owners. Some of the food amongst them smelled quite marvelous. She couldn't wait to get home for tea that evening. They were having sausage and mash. She stopped behind Mr Hindles stall, avoiding the man as he reached down to get to another box of cans, next to a basket of bread. The bread looked rather good. It made her quite hungry. However she was not quite sure how she was going to retrieve the bread from beneath the table, especially when the man always kept quite a close eye on his belongings. She thought of all of the options. Then something came to mind. Something she was sure her sister would very much warn her not to do. It was a trick she had learned recently when unable to reach the biscuit tin above the kitchen shelves. Though, she was sure it wasn't bad to do it if she was trying to help someone.
Lily opened out her palms first to the basket of bread. She tensed her fingers and wrinkled her brows. The basket shifted a little. Then it shifted a little more. Mr Hindle looked down as it moved, turning to grimace at Lily.
"What on earth are you playing at girl- scram". Lily stumbled away, knocking into Mrs Hindle, who was much kinder than her husband. She was round and soft, with rosy cheeks and blue eyes.
"Now, now- what is it you wanted dear?".
"Uh...just some bread, maybe". The woman smiled with a nod, before bestowing a loaf on Lily. "...Oh, thank you".
"Theres plenty for the girl to have one, my dear", she smiled, before ushuring Lily off. Lily, quite proud of herself, tucked the bread into her coat, quickly making her way out into the snow. She almost tripped down the step from the church, loosing her shoe for a moment. She did her best to wriggle it back on, flapping down the path to where she could see the back of the sad boys head.
"Wait!", called Lily, slipping on ice, "Wait-you!". Her heel caught and she began to slide down the hill faster than a car, holding tight onto the bread. The boy turned just as she crashed into him, and they both tumbled to the ground beside a grave.
"What was that for?", he cried, before noticing that Lily was well, Lily. He stared wide eyed at the girl as she sat right up, begining to giggle. "I-Its not funny".
"It was a little funny", she returned, before jutting out the bread towards the boy. He reeled back into himself for a moment as though she were pointing a weapon at him. Then he slowly took the bread loaf ; his features melting. "I didn't mean to knock you over".
"Why didn't you warn me?".
"Apparently Im a good at falling quietly", she returned, standing. She then removed her glove, holding her hand out to the boy. He took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. "I hope you enjoy that bread- it looks really good".
"...It does". His stomach rumbled louder than the distant clanging of the ironworks.
"I like bread with Jam", informed Lily, before gasping, " Oh- what did the Jam jar say to little girl?".
The boy didn't quite know how to respond to Lily. He shoved the bread into his pocket so that the top poked out. "...What?".
"Help me- I'm jammed". The corners of the boys mouth twitched. "Ha- Thats three- I knew Tuney was wrong. I can make people laugh".
"That is the worst joke I have ever heard", he returned, trying to be stern. Though her glee rubbed off on him, and he could do nothing but give a small, quickly faultering smile.
"Maybe thats what makes it good- it being bad".
"That makes no sense", he replied.
"Severus!!". The boys shoulders seized to his ears. His mother was nowhere to be seen, but she could certainly be heard. She had the sort of voice that you would not want to hear in the dark. It was both terrifying and motherly, which was not the greatest mix.
"I-I have to go", stated Severus quickly, "...Uh..thank you".
"Wait", Lily grabbed his arm as he tried to run away, "I'm Lily".
"I...". The boy didn't dare to linger any longer, making his way quickly to his mothers becalm call. Lily waved him off, despite him not daring to turn to her.
At dinner in the Evans residence, which was a small, neat home with pretty coloured curtains and a beautiful old wooden dining table, Mrs Evans recalled her interaction with the 'creature of Cokeworth'. Mr Evans, still in his mangers uniform and brown coat, happily spooned globs of mash into his mouth as Mrs Evans got a headstart on some of the cooking for Christmas the following day. Petunia eyed Lilys incessant smiling over her dinner, not even looking away to take a sip of her orange juice.
"Shes evil that woman", stated Mr Evans, placing down his culterly to savour the mash in his mouth as he spoke, "Did I tell you that she tore the butchers shelf down when he wouldn't give her some spare meat- spare meat!-". He shook his head.
"I thought she was going to curse me...", Mrs Evans closed the oven sharply, "Though I did feel sorry for her son. The poor thing looked starved".
"Severus".
"What was that, Lily?". Lily looked up from her happy daydreaming.
"Oh- nothing mum". She noticed the curiosity on Petunia's face, and was sure she would have something to say.
When Mr Evans had made his way into the sitting room to rest by the fire, Petunia shifted across the table to her sister. She leaned over the girls bowl, taking a strawberry from atop the cream in it, plopping it into her mouth. "Did you speak to Mrs Princes' son- hes a freak- you know".
"...He didn't seem like a freak", whispered Lily quietly, "Though his mother was quite scary".
"Shes a monster", replied Petunia, "You know Danny".
"No-".
"My friend, Danny". The name rung no bells. "Never mind- He told me that Mrs Prince killed a cat once, and drained its blood into a bowl".
"Why on earth would she do that?", worried Lily.
"Well...they think she's a witch".
"...A...A witch". Petunia nodded forbodingly, moving the rest of the contents of her sisters bowl infront of her. "She can do strange things...and she is very evil....and I know someone else who can do strange things".
"I-I'm not a witch", informed Lily uneasily, "Witches aren't real".
"Then tell me how you do that weird trick-".
"I don't know", she argued.
"Then you are a witch!".
"Whats this?", inquired Mrs Evans, turning off the tap. Lily and Petunia sat up straight quite quickly. "There will be no talking about Witches at my table".
"Yes mother", they chimed. Though Petunia had a great grin on her face. Lily did her best not to look at her. She was just trying to stir up trouble. Petunia did that a lot. That was why she got along so well with aweful boys like 'Danny'.
Though later that night when Lily was sitting at her dressing table the word 'witch' was circling her mind. A witch was a green woman with a big lumpy nose, moles, a cat and a broomstick. She had none of those, she was sure. She even turned her head in the mirror to check as Petunia wriggled around in bed, reading one of their mothers magazines.
Mrs Prince however looked very much like a witch. Her nose was all lumpy and bumpy, and her hair was long and dead, and she was hunched and easily imaginable on a broom riding towards a great big moon, like the witch in the 'Wizard of Oz'. Thoughts of Eileen Prince returned Lily to Severus. She hoped he'd eaten all of the bread she gave him. She wondered if he would come back the next week. Lily made a promise , in that wonder, to help the boy get some more food if he did show up to the church the following Sunday. Though to her slight dismay amongst the crowd receiving soup and warm treats Severus did not show. He didn't arrive the next week, starving and pale either, or the week afterwards- and by the time the snow began to thaw and the town square was stripped of its christmas joy, Lily started to forget that Severus existed.
Winter turned to spring, and an unseasonably warm May day meant that Lily and Petunia discarded their coats. She put on her favourite blue flowery dress, which Petunia always said made her look frumpy, and trailed after her mother, Mrs Dibbins and Mrs Harrow to the park, who dragged along their terrible sons, including a neighbour named 'Danny'. When they reached the park the women put a blanket out on the grass, taking in the sounds of the river infront of them, and ignoring the screeching of the factory beyond, complaining about the heat for once, instead of the cold. The three boys ran off with a ball, leaving Petunia rather annoyed. They made it very clear that girls couldn't play football, and so she was resigned to walk around towards the twisted oak trees with her sister. Lily was glad to see them with their green 'hats' on again.
Despite being warm the sky, as usual for Cokeworth, was tinged grey. Though it made a brilliant backdrop for a patch of growing wildflowers. Lily plucked a daisy from it, turning to look at her sister. "Look- the flowers are back".
Petunia had no interest in flowers. "You going to use them to brew a potion?- huh- Lily".
Lily frowned, still keeping her palm outstreatched towards her sister. She couldn't understand why Petunia was always so mean to her. When they were little she had been so much kinder, but now she acted like Lily was always doing something wrong and it was rather upsetting. Looking to the flower, Lily recalled how excited Petunia had been the first time she had shown her what the girl had coined 'the trick'. It was something she , and only she could do. Petunia only really started to be sour about it a little while afterwards, when Lily said she didn't know how to do the trick. But she supposed, in that moment, that she could try and teach petunia. There wasn't any harm in trying , and if she couldn't do it, well that was that, she just couldn't. That never could have been Lily's fault.
Lily plucked another flower with her left hand, handing it to Petunia with her right. Petunia stared at it for a minuet, before taking the flower from her sister. She contemplated what Lily was trying to do. Lily encouraged her to place the daisy on her palm and keep it wide open. So Petunia did just that. She outstreatched her palm, tickled by the flowers petals.
"Try to imagine the flower floating", then encouraed Lily softly.
"Floating?", Petunia inquired, finally realising what her sister was trying to do. There was a noticable bit of glee that washed over her. Her demeanour became less abrasive. She looked down intently at the flower, which jiggled about in soft gusts of wind. "Show me- I can't do it".
"Okay", smiled Lily, furrowing her brows. The flower shifted towards her forefinger, lifting into the air above it. Its folded petals spread out it take any sunlight it could, seeming to grow brighter.
Petunia looked down at her flower, trying again. The sound of the boys playing in the distance snapped her back to some sort of reality. She glowered at Lily, chucking the flower in her hand to the ground, before slapping the one out of her sisters . "Your a freak, Lily!", she hissed.
Lily stumbled back as Petunia marched uphill towards her. "Your a freak. Your a witch- and I'm going to tell Mummy!".
"I'm not a freak!", she returned, almost falling over her heels.
"You are too!- you are the most freakiest freak known to the world!-". Petunia froze, looking past Lily and towards the twisted oak. Something in her face seemed as though she has spotted the most horrific creature known to man. Her lip trembled and eyes darted around, before she span, running off.
Lily cautiously looked over her shoulder, spotting a pair of jeans, topped by a shirt and smart, tattered coat. Above that was the face of Severus, who glared at Petunia as she ran away with a book tucked beneath his arm. He must have been reading within the trunk. The boy settled his eyes then on Lily, who panicked, worried that he had seen her trick. She didn't need Petunia and Severus going to tell her parents. Though the boy did not seem frightened or disgusted. In fact he seemed strangely happy. He then plucked up a small plant from the ground, placing it in his palm. The plant began to twirl around itself, dancing on the wind to Lily, who caught it.
"...Your like me", she breathed.
The boy nodded slowly. "-And you are like me".
Lily smiled . "I didn't think anyone else could do that".
"I can do much more than that", he informed a little stiffly, coming downhill a step or two, "I could teach you some of it too. You'll need to know more than that for Hogwarts ".
"Hog-what?-".
"I mean it is impressive, but i've seen Witches do far more at your age". Lily blinked at the boy, slightly offended.
"I am not a witch", she stated adimantly.
"Only a witch can perform magic".
"I am not a witch!", she shouted this time.
Severus reserved back into himself. "Okay - Not a witch. Well...you are magical...like me-". Magical. Lily was magical. Many young girls would have loved to hear that. Mary Poppins was magic, and there was magic in 'Chitty, Chitty Bang, Bang'. But magic wasn't real.Magic was what was reserved for fairytails and films. Magic is what turned the Tin man to tin, and stole the lions courage in the Wizard of Oz. That was a fantasy, not a documentary, like the ones about space that Mr Evans watched. There was no way that Lily was magical. "...I don't think your sister is- is she a squib?".
"A squid?", misheard Lily, "That is very rude".
"No- a squib", argued Severus. Then in dawned on him. "You are a muggleborn". The boy seemed to back away for a moment, looking over his shoulder. Then he took another look at Lily. Small and roundfaced, she could do him no harm. "...Have you ever done anything elaw strange before?".
"I-...Well yes, like my trick".
"Then I am quite sure you are a witch", he held his hand out to her, "-And I am Severus...".
"Prince", finished Lily.
The boy seemed quite happy to be called 'Prince'. "Actually, it is Snape...but I do prefer Prince. It is my mothers name you see".
"My mothers name is...well I don't know. But i'm an Evans-".
"Lily Evans", he finished, "I remember...and I remember your kindness". Severus thought. He then smirked a little. "I suppose I should repay that Kindness".
"Oh there is no ne-".
"Come with me". Lily finally acknowledged his hand. She slowly reached out hers, placing it on his palm. It was a very cold palm, and tough too. He had scars around his fingers and bruises on his knuckles. "I will tell you what you need to know about 'not' being a witch".
Lily wasn't quite sure wether to trust the boy. He seemed nice enough, but Petunia had been utterly terrified by him. Though she had been left with little choice when his fingers wrapped around hers and he dragged her up and over the hill.