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Six-year-old Lily Potter crouched down behind her row of teddy bears, peering at her cousin through the brown stuffed heads. She was three months and two days older than Hugo Patil-Weasley, so there was no way she would be losing this stuffed animal battle.
It was Saturday, when her cousins, aunts, and uncles would come over to her house on Grimmauld Place for dinner. They always had fun, but Lily liked it best after they finished eating, when Mum and Dad would let her and Hugo come up and play. Hugo was her best cousin. He would play any game she could dream up. And she could dream up a lot of things.
Behind her, she heard her older brothers, James and Albus Potter, grunting as they wrestled over the carpet, and her older cousin, Rose Patil-Weasley, egging them on. She rolled her eyes. They were so immature. She’d rather play with Hugo any day.
Just then, she heard her Aunt Hermione’s voice calling up the stairs. “Story time!”
Lily perked up. “Yaaaaay, story time!!!” she shouted, jumping to her feet and spinning in a circle before collapsing in a heap atop her stuffies. She loved story time with Aunt Hermione. She loved the feeling she got from Aunt Hermione’s stories, that wild sensation deep in her belly that anything was possible. It made her dream bigger, and brighter.
Aunt Hermione was secretly her favourite of all the grown-ups who came over. Uncle Ron and Aunt Padma were boring, even if they were Hugo and Rose’s mum and dad. Aunt Luna and Aunt Pansy were nice, but Lily always felt like there was some secret about them she didn’t understand. And Aunt Hermione’s husband, Uncle Draco, was a bit of a snot. Though she’d never repeat that again, since Dad had been very mad at her when she’d said it aloud over roast beef and peas.
“I win!” shouted Hugo, pumping his fist. Lily groaned, having forgotten about their game in her distraction over story time. No matter. She’d win next week. Instead, she leapt up and beelined for the guest bedroom, where they all would snuggle up and listen to Aunt Hermione’s story. She wanted to get the middle spot!
“Ooh, story time,” she heard Albus say behind her, almost at the same time that James said, “Do we have to?” Lily didn’t understand James. He always complained about story time but then came and listened anyway. Last week, she’d almost fallen off the side when James had shoved his way into bed halfway through the story.
She pounced onto the bed, claiming the middle, and turned to see the rest of the crew straggle in behind her.
“It’s a good one tonight, I promise,” Aunt Hermione said, smiling at James, who was still sulking outside the room. She settled into her usual squashy blue armchair while Hugo, Rose, and Albus piled into bed next to Lily. With another big smile, Aunt Hermione leaned back and began to tell her tale.
—
Gather round children, and listen well,
for I do have a story to tell.
It’s a story of dreamers, of doers and daughters,
yet also a tale of doomsdays and liars.
Our story begins one cold winter’s day
when a girl made of dreams made it only partway
to the school where she learned, studied, and slept.
She was brought to a dungeon just to be kept
away from her father, who’d angered the god,
the man above mortals who in truth was a fraud.
She lived there for months in a cell below ground
held as a captive in the god’s wicked compound.
As she lay there in that dark and damp room
something began to come out of the gloom:
a trio of snakes, so long and so thin,
slithered right up to her ear and went all the way in!
You see, the snakes were messengers of magic unknown,
a magic that shows only when hope is alone.
The snakes whispered stories of triumph and loss
of heroes and villains, a whole albatross
of predictions and prophecies, things only of dreams,
and so began to listen the girl of moonbeams.
She listened and listened and listened some more
and when she finally knew all, from her lips did pour
the truths of men, the good and the bad
for sometimes the wicked succeed and the just—they go mad.
Now the evil sorcerer heard tell of her skill
and went to the dungeons to go get his fill.
He listened and listened and listened some more
and decided to find out what he had in store.
He asked her a question and tested her truth
and found his worries dried up with a poof
for her word was true and did not lead him astray,
so he offered her a privilege: by his side she would stay.
Now, the girl of moonbeams had a heart like no other;
she wore it on her face so she never could cover
her thoughts and opinions, no matter how strange,
so she told the evil man she’d offer an exchange.
She’d serve at his side forevermore
if he gave up his power and ended this war.
He could go live in exile with her at his side
and he could listen to her truths at the expense of his pride.
Now, before we continue there’s something to know:
this evil wizard? He hated a quid pro quo.
He viewed himself as a god above men
(yes, that’s right, I said men and not women).
Women were weak and unworthy in his brain;
they didn’t say anything he would deign to entertain.
He knew he had power and he wielded it with rage,
He said to the moonbeam girl, “No, you will be my sage.”
So he threatened her with a curse of his own,
One that would make it so her truth would never be known.
—
“Wait a second,” interrupted James. Lily startled, sitting up from her warm nest to find him in the room. He’d made it as far as the doorway, sitting against the doorframe with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. “Why would the evil wizard take away her power if it was so useful?”
“Don’t interrupt, James,” Lily whined. She’d said it before and she’d say it again: James was so annoying. “I want to hear what happens next!” There was something about the story that was calling to her—she couldn’t say what, only that she had to know what came next.
“You’ll find out, James, I promise,” Hermione said. “Let me keep going, OK?”
“Fiiine,” James said, drawing out the vowel sound and rolling his eyes at Lily. Lily rolled her eyes back at him and stuck out her tongue for good measure.
Hermione cleared her throat and continued.
—
His curse was wicked, with one special fact:
Only he would hear her predictions intact.
As the girl of moonbeams listened, her eyes far away,
she knew the truth of what would happen that day.
And so she didn’t protest when the curse made her tell
her snake-truths to him whilst under his spell.
For what the evil wizard sorcerer failed to fear,
as he gathered her truths right into his ear,
was a woman with power that he didn’t understand
which meant that the power would never be his to command.
Our girl of moonbeams, of dreams and stardust,
though kind and gentle and generally nonplussed,
certainly held no small amount of glee,
when she saw what had happened following his decree.
For the curse he unleashed, exceptionally unwise,
made all of her truths be perceived to be lies.
There were no exceptions, no exemptions, no exclusions at all,
So our dream girl began to weave her illusions in thrall.
She told him: “They’re after the cup, diadem, and snake!”
To which he replied: “No, you’ve made a mistake.
My Horcruxes are guarded beyond what you could imagine;
one of them is even behind of a dragon!”
When he moved his troops en route to the school,
she shook her head and called him a fool.
“You’re off to your death; you’ll never come back,”
she intoned from her chair, her face having gone slack.
“Begone from my side!” the evil man roared,
“You do not order me, for I am the Lord!”
He mounted his high horse of hubris with poise,
and after him followed his battalion of boys.
The army marched off to battle and win,
leaving the girl made of dreams alone with her kin.
She waited and waited in her den of snakes
looking out over the manor’s enormous black lakes.
She wanted to leave this dark, dreary place
so she could go and find her warm father’s embrace.
After many more nights, she found she was freed,
and she returned to her home with the greatest of speed.
But her father was nowhere she’d seen him before
and she learned that he hadn’t survived the great war.
She decided to carry on his publication,
a legacy wrought on sharing information.
But still she lived with snakes in her mind,
and thus did she continue with them in kind.
For though the evil wizard had long since expired,
the curse laid on her had not quite retired.
Its master’s death left it weak and wanting
yet there was just enough there to be truly haunting.
People from near and far would read her gazette,
but could never seem to decide whether to sweat
over the warnings and worries she wrote and she printed
or swoon at the joys and riches about which she hinted.
“She’s cursed, she can’t be trusted,” they would say,
before rushing to pick up the newest edition without delay.
For her predictions came true just often enough
that few would readily call her on her bluff.
As for the girl made of dreams?
Of stardust and moonbeams?
She sat with her snakes atop her witchcraft
and with them she laughed and laughed and laughed.
—
Lily didn’t move for a moment after the story was finished, wanting to keep herself wrapped up in the words. They had tickled something deep inside of her.
Of course, her stupid brother immediately ruined her moment of peace. “That story was dumb,” James groaned from the foot of the bed, where he’d ended up lying across Lily’s legs. She tried to kick him off, but he was too heavy. “I wish she’d gotten eaten by the snakes.”
“I dunno,” said Albus, rolling around under the covers next to Lily and wiggling his feet free of James. “I kinda liked the snakes. And the girl.”
“I think it was very brave of her,” said Rose, “to keep telling the truth even though no one would listen.”
Lily struggled to sit up; Hugo had fallen asleep on her shoulder and had drooled all over his face and her shirt. Gross.
“What did you think, Lily?” Aunt Hermione asked, turning to face her. Lily’s face grew hot at the question.
“Uh…” she said, unable to put into words that strange tickling feeling inside of her. “Yeah, it was nice.” She shrugged, looking away and snuggling back down into bed.
Aunt Hermione came over and gave her a kiss on top of her head, then went down the line kissing the rest of her cousins and siblings.
“Good night, all of you. Sleep well.”
Lily heard the door close with a quiet snick. Yawning, she closed her eyes and was asleep within seconds.
—
Lily blinked her eyes open to pure darkness. She swallowed, throat dry, and decided to go downstairs to get a drink of water. James and Albus were asleep next to her. Hugo and Rose were here, too, soft snores coming from Rose’s mouth, so she figured the adults were all still gathered downstairs.
She crept down the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid the ones that creaked in the middle, then hopped over the bottom stair (it would sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” if it were woken up—Lily had learned this the hard way) to the landing. She passed the sitting room door to make her way to the kitchens, then paused. She instead turned around in the darkened hallway to peer through a small crack and observe the grown-ups.
Mum and Dad were curled together on the couch, her long red hair draped over his shoulder. Boring.
Uncle Ron and Aunt Padma were sitting in adjoining chairs, sipping on cups of those drinks that Mum said was for adults only. Double boring.
Aunt Hermione and Uncle Draco were a bit more entertaining—he kept poking her in the side when she wasn’t paying attention, and then she’d turn around and bop him on the nose. See? Aunt Hermione was definitely the funnest.
But then a flash caught her eye. Aunt Luna’s bright blonde hair was illuminated by a thin stream of moonlight coming in through the window above her head—a stark contrast to Aunt Pansy’s dark waves. Lily was mesmerised, losing herself in the glowing light, until Aunt Luna turned her head to look straight at her.
Lily stiffened—she was caught! But Aunt Luna simply smiled, pointed at her ear, and winked.
Lily didn’t understand at first. What was she doing? But then she heard it: a hiss. She jumped, ducking behind the door, searching for the source of the sound.
Hello, our new girl of moonbeams, of stardust, of dreams. Can we tell you a tale?
Lily whipped her head back up to look at Aunt Luna. But the woman had turned to snuggle into Aunt Pansy’s side. Aunt Pansy paused whatever she was saying and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. The beam of moonlight was gone.
Something bright illuminated the ground at Lily’s feet. She looked around. There, from the small window across the hall, came the glow of moonlight. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt something slither past her feet. Something grew warm within her chest.
Lily Luna Potter lifted her chin and smiled. Before her lay the truth of what was to come.
This time, they would listen.