The Eyes of Death

“I need to get Fred to enchant my lighter.”

Lily Potter had almost taken that final step into anonymity. With the end of the world, one would think that all past wars and past tragedies might be forgotten in the light of the current matter. And for awhile, it was. For awhile, they were all too distracted by identifying the bodies, by fighting off the Acromantula, by attempting to get the wards up. Lily had found work to be done, had found a use to distract from her own dark angst. She had become just another person trying to survive.

Then Albus screwed it up.

There had never been an official vote. Suddenly, Albus and Jack were in charge. People reported to them, checked in with them, sought their approval. And suddenly, Lily was princess of the rebellion. People trying to appeal to Albus appealed to her. People who disagreed with him brought up their problems to her. People who looked at Albus, who thought him to be the tragic orphan for whom this tragedy had been destined found their pity extending to his ‘ward.’

Lily’s opinions on her sudden popularity? Fuck that.

“Do you think Claire would do it?”

She had thrown herself into the more pressing matter of getting a Potions supply. She had been apart of the initial sweep of the castle to gather anything that could be used in Potionsmaking. She had helped Lysander consolidate what was left of the Greenhouses, make sure they had the supplies they needed. Then she had gotten to work, secretly working on Wolfsbane amidst creating staple healing potions. Unfortunately, it meant more time around her brother, who had headed up the Potioneer Crew. If she had not desperately needed a secret store of wolfsbane, and a perfect guise for making it, she would have found something else to do. But, alas. Need.

“She probably wouldn’t. She seems a little stiff.”

Molly Weasley blew smoke into the air, her cigarette lightly perched between her fingers, head tipped back. Old habits died hard, and while Lily had kept a stockpile of wolfsbane, her cousin had kept a stockpile of cigarettes. When Lily could no longer deal with the potions, with the looks, with the terrible sense of importance people thrust upon her, she escaped to the courtyard with Molly. Neither girl relied on speaking. There was this weird weight between them, the silent shared grief of two girls who mourned the same people but did not know how.

Molly flicked her lighter. "I can always use the torches, I guess."

Lily brought her own cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. The cigarette was almost done and she went to flick it away. Molly thin hand deftly plucked it from her fingers and finished off the last drag, before flicking it onto the cracked cobblestones. "Waste not, want not, Potter."

Lily stood atop the stone bench and stretched up. The sky was stained orange, and there was a thickness to the clouds, but the air was frigid and thin. Both girls had swaddled their bony frames in baggy jackets, but the air still reached through, causing tremors along Lily's pale skin. She stretched up, her calves straining to free themselves of tension, her black hair getting loose and tangling in the wind. Molly was back to her own cigarette, her second in this sitting, squinting at something across the way. "Lily."

Lily turned, relaxing her legs and tilting her head to see better. Glowing red eyes, an ominous face...

Molly stood next to her and Lily stepped off the bench, towards whatever was coming. She had not used magic all day so she had reserves, but it might be best to run... If only she could see...

From the ruins of one of the felled walls, an injured thestral was picking its was through the rubble, one of its wings collapsed.

"Oh, fuck," Molly said.

Lily felt the same thing. It wasn't the terror of the thing, for they had seen sketches of thestrals in books, nor was it the surprise at one's approach. But back when the girls were students, they had never seen a thestral. Before the world ended, they had felt death but never seen it.

Molly stood next to Lily as the thestral continued its painstaking journey. "What should we do?"

"Go get Jack," Lily said. Her instincts went to the woman who had the most at ease with the few magical creatures they had encountered and she felt Molly flinch to obey. "Are you coming?"

Lily stepped towards the thestral and the ghostly horse continued its trek, stepping over a collapsed portion of what used to be the west wing. "Lily..."

But Lily felt strangely drawn towards the thestral, and she slowly drew nearer the creature. She lifted a hand and the thestral paused, stretching its neck forward and sniffing the air between them. She had come to the center of the courtyard, with the thestral mere feet away. The beastly horse took another step, and Lily could hear its labored breathing, the leathery wing shuddering under strain. Lily leaned her hand towards the horse's bony muzzle.

"Lily."

The voice was low and direct, quiet enough to not rouse the horse. Lily dropped her hand and took a step back. She could sense Jack approaching, quietly, calmly. Lily stepped back again and Jack met her. She had a loose rope in her hand and had looped it to make it into a makeshift bridle. She made a series of low, clucking noises, almost chirps, and the thestral swiveled its head towards her. She slipped the bridle over its head and wound the other end around her hand, moving to inspect the wing.

"Oh, good," she murmured. She glanced to Molly and Lily. "She'll be fine. If we can bind this, she'll be okay. I've already sent for a few healers. Molly, I think Fred was looking for you. Needed some help with guard duty tonight."

Molly nodded a head and began walking towards the castle, eyes lingering on the horse and the redhead. Lily glanced back to Jack, who was already leading the horse off.

"Where is she going?"

Jack turned her head. "I'm going to attempt some sort of makeshift paddock between the greenhouses. Go inside - it's cold out."

Lily felt obligated to remain but knew she had little, if anything, to offer. She she strode up towards the castle and inside, feeling listless and uncertain. The eyes of the thestral still seemed upon her, its breath warmed her palm.

She had known everything had changed. But now she had proof. And it definitely didn't make her feel better.