November 19th 1971
"Lily, please," Sev said, and his voice sounded all pleading and hurt.
She stopped walking, turning to face him in the corridor. Students pushed past them on both sides—some third-years rushing somewhere, a group of Hufflepuffs laughing. But Sev just stood there, his dark eyes looking at her like she'd done something mean.
Since joining The Circle a few weeks ago, Lily's time had been split between class, the group, and Sev. And it was getting really, really hard to fit everything in.
She didn't want her grades to fall—she'd always been the smart one, always been top of the class, and the thought of doing worse made her stomach hurt. Professor McGonagall had said her last Transfiguration essay was excellent, and Flitwick had shown everyone her Levitation Charm as an example. She couldn't mess that up.
But she also didn't want to miss time at The Circle. It felt like home when she was there, more than Gryffindor Tower did. In the common room, she was just Lily Evans, the Muggleborn first-year who was good at homework. In The Circle, she was part of something. Something that mattered.
She'd met most of the other members now. There were seventeen total, from all different years. She was the only first-year—which made her feel special but also really young—but there was even a seventh-year: Finola Finnegan, an Irish girl with bright red hair and a temper that matched. Finola had laughed when Lily nervously said hello, then messed up her hair and said, "Don't worry, little one. We all started somewhere."
The Circle was brilliant. They talked about ideas and looked up different bits of history that weren't in their normal textbooks—the real stuff, the uncomfortable stuff, the bits Professor Binns never mentioned. They practiced magic together, with the older years helping the younger ones. Mary had helped her get her Shield Charm working properly last week, and a fifth-year called Marcus had shown her a really clever way to do Lumos that didn't make her as tired.
And David was always there, watching over everything like... like a lighthouse or something. Always steady. Always knowing what to say or what book to read next.
Then there was Sev.
Lily felt her stomach twist with guilt.
In those first few weeks before The Circle—back when Hogwarts had felt too big and too confusing—Sev had been the one person who made sense. They were in different houses, which meant different classes and common rooms and everything, but that hadn't stopped them being friends. They'd found each other in the library, between classes, at mealtimes when they could sit at the ends of their tables and whisper.
She knew he hadn't made any friends in Slytherin. Being a half-blood with a Muggle dad made things rubbish for him there—the pure-bloods were mean to him, and he was too proud to be friends with the other half-bloods or Muggleborns. So he basically had nobody.
Just her.
But The Circle took up so much time. Between classes and homework and the study sessions and practicing spells and all the reading David kept giving her, Lily barely had an hour or two a week for Sev anymore. And she could tell it hurt him, even though he tried to hide it.
She knew she couldn't keep doing this forever. Something had to give.
The good news was, David had noticed.
He'd pulled her aside two days ago after practice, his grey eyes looking concerned. "You seem stretched thin," he'd said quietly. "Is everything alright?"
She'd hesitated, then told him: "It's my friend. Severus. He's... he's noticed I keep disappearing, and I think his feelings are hurt."
David had thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "The one from Slytherin? The half-blood?"
"Yes."
"Does he ask questions? Notice things that aren't fair?"
Lily had thought about it. Sev did notice stuff—he'd been the one to point out that all the teachers were pure-bloods or half-bloods, that there wasn't a single Muggleborn teaching at Hogwarts. He'd explained house-elf magic to her with this weird look on his face, like he found it fascinating but also wrong somehow. He definitely saw more than most people did.
"Yes," she'd said. "He does."
David had smiled then, that warm smile that made her feel important. "Then maybe it's time to let someone else in. If you think he can keep a secret, you're welcome to bring him. We're always looking for people who understand, no matter what house they're in."
She'd been thinking about it ever since. All day, really, through every class.
Sev was half-blood, not Muggleborn, but he knew what it felt like to be looked down on. He knew what it was like when pure-bloods sneered at you, made you feel small and stupid and wrong. He'd understand what The Circle was about. He'd see things the way she did now. The way David did.
He had to.
Lily took a deep breath.
"Alright, Sev," she said. "Alright. After Potions, I'll take you there."
He practically sagged with relief, his shoulders dropping. "So I can finally see where you've been sneaking off to," he said, trying to sound sarcastic but mostly sounding relieved and happy.
She nodded, looking at him seriously. "Yes. But you can't tell anyone. It's really important."
He blinked, surprised by how intense she sounded. "Of course, Lily. If you want it secret, I'll keep it secret. I promise."
She looked at his face for a moment—the sharp features, the dark eyes, the black hair that fell in his face. He meant it. Sev always kept his promises.
"Okay," she said, and smiled a little. "Okay. Come on, we'll be late for Potions."
They walked together toward the dungeons, joining all the other students heading for class. Sev walked close beside her, closer than he had in weeks, and Lily felt a bit better.
Maybe this would work. Maybe Sev would join The Circle too, and then they could spend time together and make things better. Maybe everything would fit.
They were one of the first ones there, like always. Professor Slughorn was already at his desk, setting up ingredients—she could see dried nettles, snake fangs, what looked like porcupine quills. He beamed when he saw them.
"Ah! Miss Evans, Mr. Snape! Early as always! Wonderful, wonderful. I do appreciate students who take their studies seriously." He waved at the desks. "Please, sit down. We'll be brewing a Forgetfulness Potion today—tricky business, very easy to mess up. I'm quite excited to see how you both do!"
They found their usual desk in the middle—close enough to see the board, far enough back that Slughorn wouldn't call on them constantly—and got their stuff out. Lily pulled out her textbook, her scales, her phials. Next to her, Sev was already flipping to the right page.
Other students came in: Ravenclaws talking about Astronomy homework, some Hufflepuffs looking nervous (Potions wasn't their best subject), Slytherins who gave Sev mean looks before sitting in the back corner.
Lily tried to focus on the lesson, on the ingredients Slughorn was talking about, on the instructions in the textbook. But part of her mind was already on the fifth floor, imagining Sev's face when he saw the room. When he met David. When he understood what they were doing.
It would be fine.
It had to be.
o–o–o–o
Class was boring, which meant Sev was still better at Potions than everyone else, even her.
Lily had followed the instructions perfectly—she always did—and her Forgetfulness Potion had come out exactly the right shade of pale grey, exactly the right thickness. Slughorn had gone on and on about it, gave Gryffindor five points and patted her shoulder.
But Sev's potion had been perfect. Not just right, but better than the textbook—he'd added the snake fangs at a different time than the instructions said, and his potion came out clearer, stronger-looking. Slughorn practically glowed, talking about natural talent and brilliant futures.
Sev had ducked his head and tried not to look pleased, but Lily saw the tiny smile at the corner of his mouth.
Now they were walking through the corridors, heading up from the dungeons toward the fifth floor. Lily's heart was beating faster with each staircase. Students passed them—she recognized some Circle members and wondered if they knew what she was doing—but she kept her face normal, casual.
Sev was talking about the potion, about how the textbook was too careful, about changes he wanted to try. He always got like this after Potions—excited, enthusiastic, more open than usual. It was one of the few times he seemed actually happy at Hogwarts.
"—and if you changed the heat before adding the quills instead of after, I think you could cut the brewing time in half—Lily? Are you listening?"
She blinked, focusing on him. "Sorry, what?"
He frowned a bit. "Where exactly is this place? We've been walking forever."
"Fifth floor," she said. "Almost there."
They turned down a corridor, this one quieter with fewer people. The portraits watched them walk past. A suit of armor creaked as they went by.
Lily's hands were sweaty. She wiped them on her robes.
"Here," she said, stopping at the blank bit of wall.
Sev looked around, confused. "Here? There's nothing here."
"There is," Lily said. "You just can't see it yet."
She pulled out her wand—willow and unicorn hair, bendy—and tapped the wall three times, just like Mary had shown her.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the stone went all ripply.
Sev's eyes went huge.
The bricks slid apart and changed until they showed the big black doors with the brass handles shaped like wands.
The doors opened on their own, smooth and silent.
"Lily," Sev breathed, staring. "What is this?"
She took his hand—it was cold and bony in hers—and tugged him forward.
"Come on," she said. "I'll show you."
She led him through the doorway, heard the doors swing shut behind them with a soft, final thump. The sound made her jump a little bit, even though she'd heard it loads of times now.
Sev looked around, his mouth actually hanging open a bit. His eyes went wide, taking in the sitting area with its posh chairs and fireplace, the huge table covered in books and parchment, the practice area with its scorch marks and targets.
"How did you find this?" he asked, his voice hushed like they were in a library or a church or something sacred.
"I didn't find it," Lily said. "Someone else made it."
He turned to look at her, confused. "Made? Made it how? Who—"
"That would be me."
Lily jumped. Sev whipped around so fast he nearly lost his balance.
David was standing behind them. He must have slipped into the room just before the doors closed—Lily hadn't even noticed him there. He was wearing his usual Gryffindor robes, his dark hair neat, his grey eyes watching them both with that intense look he had.
Sev turned quickly, almost defensively. His hand shot out in front of Lily, pushing her slightly behind him. Protecting her.
It would have been sweet if it wasn't kind of silly—David wasn't dangerous. Not to them, anyway.
"Who are you?" Sev demanded. His voice had gone sharp, suspicious. The same voice he used when Slytherins said something nasty to him.
Lily opened her mouth to explain, but David waved her off gently. A small gesture that said let me handle this.
"I am David Price," he said, his voice calm and welcoming. "And this is a sanctuary I made for those who are ignored, belittled, and trodden upon within Hogwarts' walls."
Sev didn't relax. His hand was still out, still keeping Lily behind him. "A sanctuary," he repeated, flat and disbelieving. "Right. And Lily's been coming here because...?"
"Because she's Muggleborn," David said simply. "Because she's experienced firsthand what it means to be treated as lesser in a society that values bloodlines over ability. Because she wants to do something about it." He paused, his grey eyes moving from Sev to Lily and back again. "Just as you have, I imagine. Being a half-blood in Slytherin can't be easy."
Sev's jaw tightened. "What do you know about it?"
"Enough," David said. His voice was still calm, not confrontational. Just... stating facts. "I know that pure-bloods in your house likely mock you for your Muggle father. I know they exclude you from their social circles, their study groups, their networks. I know you're talented—exceptionally so, from what I've heard about your Potions work—but talent doesn't matter when your blood is 'tainted' in their eyes."
Lily saw Sev flinch slightly at the word 'tainted.' She'd heard Slytherins use it before, whispered in corridors when they thought no one was listening.
"How do you—" Sev started, then stopped. Swallowed. "Who told you about me?"
"Lily did," David said, gesturing toward her. "She's worried about you. Worried that you're isolated, that you're struggling alone. She thought you might benefit from what we're building here."
Sev's hand finally dropped. He glanced back at Lily, something complicated flickering across his face. Hurt? Gratitude? Anger? She couldn't quite tell.
"You told him about me?" he asked quietly.
Lily felt her cheeks go hot. "I just... you seemed lonely. And I thought... I thought you'd understand. What we're doing here." She gestured around the room. "It's not just me. There's loads of us. Muggleborns and half-bloods who think the current system is rubbish. We're trying to make things better. Fairer."
"Better how?" Sev asked. His voice was still suspicious, but there was curiosity in it now too. Interest.
David smiled then, that warm encouraging smile that made Lily feel like she mattered. "Why don't I show you? Come, sit. Let me explain what we're about, and you can decide for yourself if this is somewhere you belong."
He gestured toward the sitting area, the comfortable chairs by the fire.
Sev hesitated. His dark eyes flicked around the room again—taking in the books, the practice wands, the evidence of magic and learning and purpose. Lily could practically see him thinking, weighing, calculating.
Finally, he looked at Lily. "You trust him?"
She didn't even have to think about it. "Yes."
Sev studied her face for a long moment. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him, because he gave a short, jerky nod.
"Alright," he said. "Alright. Show me."
David's smile widened slightly. "Excellent. Please, both of you, sit."
They moved to the sitting area. Lily took her usual spot on the sofa—the middle cushion that had started to feel like hers after weeks of study sessions. Sev sat next to her, stiff and wary, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
David settled into his armchair across from them, completely at ease. He looked at Sev with that intense grey-eyed gaze that always made Lily feel seen.
"Tell me, Severus," David said quietly. "What do you know about the history of half-bloods in wizarding society?"
Sev blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I... not much. My mum may be a pure-blood, but she doesn't teach me anything and it's not really covered in History of Magic."
"No," David agreed. "It wouldn't be. Professor Binns tends to focus on goblin rebellions and giant wars—the safe topics. The ones that don't make pure-bloods uncomfortable." He leaned forward slightly. "But the history of half-bloods and Muggleborns in our world is one of systemic oppression stretching back centuries. And it's a history that every magical person should know."
He reached for his wand.
Sev tensed immediately.
"Relax," David said, his voice gentle. "I'm just going to show you something. A teaching tool I use."
He gave his wand a precise flick, and the dome appeared on the table between them—that shimmering, translucent sphere that Lily had seen before.
Sev's eyes went absolutely enormous. "What—how—"
"Watch," David said. "And learn."
Images began swirling in the dome, moving and shifting like smoke given form.
"If one was to look only at recent history, they could be excused for thinking half-bloods have it better than Muggleborns," David began, his voice taking on that teacher quality Lily had come to recognize. "With Dumbledore being Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump—holding more titles than anyone alive. With stories of Merlin himself being half-blood. It would seem like half-bloods have achieved equality."
The dome showed images: Dumbledore in formal robes, standing at the head of the Wizengamot. Ancient illustrations of Merlin with his staff and pointed hat. Impressive, powerful figures.
"The truth is that throughout history, half-bloods have had it just as bad as Muggleborns. Sometimes worse."
The images shifted, darkened. Medieval scenes appeared—cruel ones that made Lily's stomach clench.
David's voice stayed steady, factual. "Think about the prejudices for pure-bloods having relationships with Muggles—your own birth, for example." He looked directly at Sev, not unkindly. "In this day and age, it's not looked upon fondly, is it? Pure-blood families disown children who marry Muggles. They're called blood traitors, treated as pariahs."
Sev's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away from the dome.
"Now," David continued, "imagine what it was like in the past. When Muggles weren't just looked down upon, but were seen as the enemy. As beings to be targeted for sport. As pets."
The images in the dome made Lily feel sick. She'd seen some of this before, during her own first lesson, but it still twisted her stomach. Muggles being hunted. Being used for entertainment. Being treated like they weren't even people.
And half-bloods—the children born from those unions—being treated as abominations. As proof of pure-blood failure. As shameful secrets.
"As long as there have been pure-bloods, there have been half-bloods," David said. "Children born from forbidden relationships, from secret affairs, from rare moments when blood barriers were crossed. And they were punished for it."
More images flickered through the dome: official-looking documents with names crossed out, family trees with branches literally cut off, children being turned away from grand estates.
"They were stricken from succession when the pure-blood families ruled Britain," David explained. "Even if they were the eldest child, even if they had more magical talent than their pure-blood siblings, they could not inherit titles, lands, positions of power. They were written out of family histories. Erased."
Lily saw Sev lean forward slightly, his dark eyes fixed on the dome. His hands were still clasped in his lap, but they'd gone very tight, knuckles showing white through his pale skin.
"They were treated as lesser," David continued, his voice harder now. "Just as Muggleborns were and still are. Taught magic, yes—usually by the pure-blood parent who'd broken the unwritten rules—but always with the understanding that they would never be fully accepted. Never be truly equal."
The images showed half-blood children learning magic in secret, hidden away in attics or basements. Being taught to keep their heads down, to not draw attention, to be grateful for whatever scraps of magical education they received.
"The laws have changed, of course," David said. "Half-bloods can attend Hogwarts now, can work at the Ministry, can own property and businesses. Legally, they have the same rights as pure-bloods."
A pause. The images in the dome shifted again.
"But laws and reality are two different things."
Lily had heard this part before—about how things being legal didn't make them fair. But watching Sev's face as he absorbed it felt different. More important somehow.
"Today, a half-blood can climb to the heights of the social ladder," David said. "Dumbledore proves this. He's the most powerful wizard alive, holds more positions of authority than anyone in recent history. But ask yourself—how did he achieve that?"
The dome showed Dumbledore again, but this time the images were different. A young man dueling Grindelwald. Newspaper headlines about his victory. Awards and honors piled upon him.
"Only through exceptional power," David answered his own question. "Only by being so magically talented, so publicly heroic, that they couldn't ignore him. Only by breaking the shackles that the wizarding world places on anyone with 'tainted' blood through sheer, undeniable force of ability."
Sev flinched again at 'tainted.' Lily noticed. So did David, though he didn't comment on it.
"Even then," David continued, his voice dropping to something quieter, sadder, "Dumbledore only brought himself out of the shallows of society. Not his family. Not other half-bloods. Just himself."
The image in the dome changed to show a run-down building—shabby, grimy, nothing like the grandeur of Hogwarts.
"His own brother, Aberforth Dumbledore, still sits in obscurity," David said. "The owner and operator of the Hog's Head Inn at Hogsmeade. A bartender in a questionable establishment, serving drinks to wizards who wouldn't give him a second glance if his surname wasn't Dumbledore. And even then, most people don't know he exists."
Lily hadn't known Dumbledore had a brother. The thought was strange—the greatest wizard alive having family that nobody talked about, that nobody cared about.
"Why?" David asked, and Lily realized the question was directed at Sev. "Why do you think Albus Dumbledore, with all his power and influence, hasn't elevated his own brother? Hasn't used his position to change things for other half-bloods?"
Sev was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "Because... because the system won't let him? Even with all that power, he can't change it?"
"Partially," David acknowledged. "But also because Dumbledore is afraid. Afraid of seeming like he's using his power for personal gain. Afraid of being accused of favoritism. Afraid of losing the fragile acceptance he's earned by proving himself again and again and again." He paused. "So he leaves his brother in a shabby inn, and he does nothing while half-bloods and Muggleborns continue to be treated as lesser throughout wizarding society."
The dome's images faded slowly, leaving just the translucent shimmer.
David leaned back in his chair, his grey eyes moving between Lily and Sev.
"The wizarding world is built on a hierarchy of blood," he said quietly. "Pure-bloods at the top, half-bloods in the middle, Muggleborns at the bottom. And even those at the very top—like Dumbledore—are too afraid or too complicit to tear that hierarchy down."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"But it doesn't have to be that way."
Sev was staring at the space where the dome had been, his expression unreadable. But Lily could see his throat working, like he was swallowing something difficult.
"What..." Sev's voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat, tried again. "What are you proposing, exactly?"
David smiled—not the warm, welcoming smile from before, but something sharper. More determined.
"Change," he said simply. "Real, fundamental change. Not waiting for the system to give us scraps. Not hoping that if we're talented enough, exceptional enough, useful enough, they'll finally accept us." His eyes glinted in the firelight. "But actively working to dismantle a system built on the subjugation of anyone without the right bloodline."
Lily felt her heart beating faster. She'd heard David say things like this before, but it never stopped making her feel that fire in her chest. That burning certainty that this was right.
Sev looked at David for a long moment. Then at Lily. Then back at David.
"And how," Sev asked slowly, carefully, "do you plan to do that?"
David's smile widened.
"By finding others like us," he said, and his voice got louder, more passionate. He stood up from his chair, the movement smooth and powerful. "Those who burn with the kind of passion that fuels them to say enough is enough!"
He swept out in front of them, his robes swirling slightly with the movement. His arms spread wide, taking in the whole room—the books, the practice area, the evidence of everything they'd built.
Lily loved when David did this. When he got all passionate and swept up in what he was saying. When he showed everyone that it was okay to see something wrong and demand it become right. It was a feeling that caught her up every single time, like being pulled into a current. She felt her own heartbeat speed up, her hands clenching slightly in excitement.
"The world will not change on its own," David continued, pacing now, his grey eyes bright and intense. "It needs people like us. People with drive, with purpose, with vision! People who see the world as it really is—flawed, unfair, built on centuries of injustice—and refuse to accept it!"
His voice got even stronger, filling the room.
"Change is not to be feared—it's to be embraced! Demanded! Created!"
Lily glanced at Sev. His eyes were fixed on David, wide and dark and completely focused. His mouth was slightly open. She could see his chest rising and falling faster, his breathing quickening.
He was feeling it. The same thing she'd felt during her first lesson. That pull, that certainty, that sense of this is important, this matters, this is real.
Awe. That's what it was. Pure awe.
David stopped pacing and turned to face Sev directly. The firelight caught his features, making his sharp cheekbones stand out, making his grey eyes seem to burn. He looked older than fourteen in that moment. He looked like someone who could actually change the world.
He held out his hand, just like he'd done for Lily weeks ago. Palm up, offering. Inviting.
"What do you say, Severus?" David asked, and his voice had gone quieter now but somehow more intense. More personal. "Are you ready to cast aside the titles that the ignorant would place upon you? Lesser? Tainted?"
Sev flinched at both words, but he didn't look away.
"Are you ready to step into The Circle and become greater?" David continued. His hand stayed extended, steady, waiting. "To become cleansed of the labels they've forced upon you? To be valued for your magic, your ability, your worth—not the circumstances of your birth?"
The room felt very quiet suddenly. Even the fire seemed to crackle more softly.
Lily held her breath.
Sev stared at David's outstretched hand. His own hands were clenched tight in his lap, trembling slightly. She could see him thinking, calculating, weighing everything he'd just heard.
His dark eyes flicked to Lily.
She gave him a small nod. It's okay. You can trust this. Trust him.
Sev's jaw worked. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
Then, slowly—so slowly it felt like it took forever—he reached out.
His pale, bony hand met David's.
"I..." Sev's voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. "Yes. I'm ready."
David's smile was brilliant, warm, welcoming. His hand closed around Sev's firmly, and he pulled the other boy to his feet.
"Welcome, Severus Snape," David said, his voice ringing with satisfaction and approval. "Welcome to The Circle. Welcome to the beginning of something extraordinary."
He pulled Sev into a brief embrace—just a quick clasp on the shoulders, the kind of gesture older boys did sometimes—before stepping back.
Sev looked a bit stunned, like he wasn't quite sure what had just happened. His cheeks had gone slightly pink.
Lily jumped up from the sofa, unable to contain herself any longer. She threw her arms around Sev in a proper hug, squeezing tight.
"I'm so glad," she said into his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here now. It's going to be brilliant, Sev. You'll see. Everyone's really nice, and we learn so much, and—"
"Lily," Sev said, and she could hear the faint smile in his voice even though it sounded embarrassed. "You're squeezing me to death."
She pulled back, grinning at him. His cheeks were definitely pink now, but his eyes looked... lighter somehow. Less alone.
David watched them both with that warm smile, looking pleased.
"There will be time for proper introductions to the other members later," he said. "For now, Severus, I imagine you have questions. About what we do here, about our goals, about how we operate." He gestured back toward the sitting area. "Please, sit. Ask whatever you'd like."
Sev sat back down, but this time he looked more relaxed. Less defensive. His shoulders weren't quite so hunched.
Lily plopped down next to him, still grinning. She couldn't help it. Having Sev here, in The Circle, with her—it felt right. Like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place.
Now she didn't have to choose between her friend and her purpose. She could have both.
"So," Sev said, looking between David and Lily. His voice was still a bit uncertain, but there was curiosity there now too. Interest. "What exactly do you do in The Circle? Besides... history lessons and speeches about change?"
David's smile took on a slightly sharper edge. More determined.
"We prepare," he said simply. "We learn. We practice. We build a foundation so that when the time comes to act, we're ready."
He leaned forward, his grey eyes intense.
"Tell me, Severus—how good are you at defensive magic?"
o–o–o–o