A/N: Hey everybody! This is actually my first story that I have attempted so go easy on me. I got this idea as I was re-reading the 7th book. It's my take on what Hogwarts would have been like for Lily and James had Voldemort been in control of the Ministry as he was in the Deathly Hallows. Constructive Criticism is more than welcome. I own none of the characters in this story or they world they interact in. That all belongs to the lovely J. K. Rowling. I hope y'all enjoy! :)

Muggle-Born Legislation

"I need Gretchen Jones to come with me." McGonagall was standing at the door to the History of Magic classroom, putting a halt to the boring, early spring lesson that had begun not even fifteen minutes beforehand. She was wearing long emerald green robes, her witch's hat drooping to the side as usual. Her lips were pursed tightly together and her face, which so often wore a mask of severity to match the bun of hair she kept hidden under her hat, was void of expression. Lily glanced at the blonde and somewhat plump Hufflepuff, Gretchen, whose face had gone stark white, fear evident in her light colored brown eyes. There was only one reason the deputy headmistress would interrupt a class to pull a student out… and that reason was not a pleasant one.

Lily felt sick to her stomach as she watched Gretchen shakily gather her belongings and slowly rise to go with Professor McGonagall. She was handling it more calmly than the last student who was taken. Dirk Creswell had attempted to duel McGonagall. The fight was over before it had even begun and resulted in Dirk being knocked out cold, placed on a magical, invisible stretcher and taken from the room floating behind McGonagall. Lily wondered how she would handle it should she ever be found out. She knew fighting would do no good, though she couldn't imagine going down without attempting to save herself.

Usually, when a Muggle-born was discovered and taken to Azkaban, Lily would ignore the looks of the classmates around her. She hated seeing how much they seemed to not care, how much they were not bothered by the injustice that was happening to their peers for reasons that were out of their control. Even worse, she hated seeing the smug looks of the Slytherin's and other supporters of the anti-Muggle-born legislation as another innocent victim was taken to a lifetime of misery due to the unjust laws of the magical world.

This time, however, Lily found her eyes wondering around the classroom to gauge the reactions of her fellow students. Perhaps it was because there was no danger of looking upon Slytherin's delighted faces, as Gryffindor's shared their History of Magic class with the Hufflepuff's. Perhaps it was simply because after five years Lily's curiosity got the better of her as it had in her first year at Hogwarts. Whatever the reason Lily found that she could not help herself from glancing around. Most of the students remained staring straight ahead, ignoring what they were witnessing. Anger welled up inside of her at this.

How can you not care? She thought to herself. How can you not stop this? She quickly caught herself, however, remembering that she too was sitting down doing nothing. But what can you do? Thoughts crept back into her head. If you speak you will be discovered. You will be no use to anyone sent to hell they would send you to should they find you out.

Her eyes continued to roam the classroom, almost against her will at this point. She was shocked when she saw a group of boys in the back examining the situation without indifference. In fact, two of the boys, one with messy dark brown hair and hazel eyes hiding behind round, wire-rimmed glasses, the other with long shaggy black hair and cool, gray eyes, were glaring at McGonagall in outward defiance. The other young man, a sickly looking boy with honey colored eyes and light brown hair was watching Gretchen sympathetically. The last boy, with straw colored, and watery blue eyes was watching the other three nervously, almost as though he was wishing they would stop there outward show of emotions. Interesting Lily thought to herself. For as much as Lily despised this particular group of boys for the way they treated her best friend and "cousin", she could not help but feel a surge of hope as she watched their reactions. At least they seemed to care.

You see Lily Evans, or as she was known at school, Lily Prince, was a Muggle-born witch. A dangerous thing to be in these times. According to the ministry of magic, Muggle-borns, or Mudbloods as they were more commonly referred, only obtained their magic through theft. The ministry maintained that it is impossible for someone with no magical heritage to possess magical abilities. Therefore, every Muggle-born must be rounded up, given a "trial", and imprisoned until they give back the magic to whomever it was they stole it from. A ludicrous idea, as magic cannot be transferred between witches and wizards. Muggle-borns who are caught spend the rest of their days rotting away in an Azkaban cell for a crime they did not commit.

Most Muggle-borns are taken before they even ever set foot into Hogwarts. Eager eleven year olds who believe they are heading towards a brand new world are easy to spot in a crowd of magical folk due to the wonder on their face and their ignorance to provide a fake name. A few, however, are clever enough to discover what is happening in the magical world they are about to enter and take precautions. A few begin their research months before running through the wall at Platform 9 and 3/4. It's true that most of these individuals choose to remain in the Muggle world instead of taking the risk of being discovered in a world that does not want them. After all, who would be crazy enough to risk imprisonment for a world they hardly knew anything about? Well, Lily Evans, who, after finding out she was a witch, decided it was best to risk a lifetime in a cell than face the horrific alternative, was one such person. Of course, she was lucky enough to have help outside of Hogwarts. Who could say where she would be if she hadn't.

Lily Evans and her older sister, Petunia were playing on the swing set of a nearly deserted playground. A single huge chimney dominated the distant skyline.

"Lily, don't do it!" shrieked the elder of the two.

But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air, quite literally flown, launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

"Mommy told you not to!"

Petunia stopped her swing by dragging the heels of her sandals on the ground, making a crunching, grinding sound, the leapt up, hands on hips.

"Mommy said you weren't allowed, Lily!"

"But I'm fine," said Lily, still giggling. "Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do."

Petunia glanced around. The playground was deserted apart from themselves, and, though the girls did not know it, a skinny boy who was watching them from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too short jeans, a shabby, overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man, an odd smocklike shirt. Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which the young boy lurked. Petunia advanced, evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view, then held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

"Stop it!" shrieked Petunia.

"It's not hurting you," said Lily, but she closed her hand on the blossom and threw it back to the ground.

"It's not right," said Petunia, but her eyes had followed the flower's flight to the ground and lingered upon it. "How do you do it?" she added, and there was definite longing in her voice.

"It's obvious isn't it?" The boy could no longer contain himself, but had jumped out from behind the bushes. Petunia shrieked and ran backward toward the swings, but Lily, though clearly startled, remained where she was. The boy seemed to regret his appearance. A dull flush of color mounted the sallow cheeks as he looked at Lily.

"What's obvious?" asked Lily.

The boy had an air of nervous excitement. With a glance at the distant Petunia, now hovering beside the swings, he lowered his voice and said, "I know what you are."

"What do you mean?"

"You're… you're a witch," whispered the boy.

She looked affronted.

"That's not a very nice thing to say to somebody!"

She turned, nose in the air, and marched toward her sister.

"No!" the boy said. He was highly colored now. He flapped after the girls, looking ludicrously batlike.

The sister considered him, united in disapproval, both holding on to one of the swing poles as though it was the safe place in tag.

"You are," said the boy to Lily. "You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard."

Petunia's laugh was like cold water.

"Wizard!" she shrieked, her courage returned now that she had recovered from the shock of his unexpected appearance. "I know who you are. You're that Snape boy! They live down Spinner's End by the river," she told Lily, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation. "Why have you been spying on us?"

"Haven't been spying," said Snape, hot and uncomfortable and dirty-haired in the bright sunlight. "Wouldn't spy on you, anyway," he added spitefully, "you're a Muggle."

Though Petunia did not understand the word, she could hardly mistake the tone.

"Lily, come on, we're leaving!" she said shrilly. Lily obeyed her sister at once, glaring at Snape as she left.

Although Lily did not believe him at the time, Severus Snape had been the first person to tell Lily that she was a witch. And he did so much more than that for her.

Lily and Snape were sitting together in a small thicket of trees. A sunlit river could be seen glittering through their trunks. The shadows cast by the trees made a basin of cool green shade. They sat facing each other, cross-legged on the ground. Snape had removed his coat now; his odd smock looked less peculiar in the half light.

"… and the Mistry can punish you if you do magic outside school, you get letters."

"But I have done magic outside school!"

"We're all right. We haven't got wands yet. They let you off when you're a kid and you can't help it. But once you're eleven," he nodded importantly, "and they start training you, then, you've got to be careful."

There was a little silence. Lily had picked up a fallen twig and twirled it in the air, imagining sparks trailing from it. Then she dropped the twig, leaned in toward the boy, and said, "It is real, isn't it? It's not a joke? Petunia says you're lying to me. Petunia says there isn't a Hogwarts. It is real, isn't it?"

"It's real for us," said Snape. "Not for her. But we'll get the letter, you and me."

"Really?" whispered Lily.

"Definitely," said Snape, and even with his poorly cut hair and his odd clothes, he struck an oddly impressive figure sprawled in front of her, brimful of confidence in his destiny.

"And will it really come by owl?" Lily whispered.

"It will," said Snape. "I know it is a lot to take in but that is only because you're Muggle-born."

"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"

Snape hesitated. His black eyes, eager in the greenish gloom, moved over the pale face, the dark red hair that was Lily.

"I… I haven't wanted to tell you this… but you need to know…" and then Snape told Lily of all the laws the Ministry had in place for Muggle-borns. What going to Hogwarts truly meant for Lily. Of the secret she would have to keep in order to remain safe.

"But you've got loads of magic," said Snape. "I saw that. All the time I was watching you… "

"But I could end up in jail Sev! I would never see my family again!"

"It will be okay Lily. You have me to teach you everything you need to know. You can use my mother's maiden name, Prince. We will say you are my cousin. That will give you a magical heritage. They won't look into it that hard. They won't expect you to know as much as you do. When you do, they won't question it."

"I don't know, Sev…" Lily's emerald green eyes were boring into Snape's dark ones, uncertain and fearful. Severus clinched her hands in his.

"You have to go to Hogwarts, Lily! People who don't learn how to control their magic will be consumed by it. They can go mad!"

"Severus?"

A little smile twisted Snape's mouth when she said his name.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about the dementors again."

"What d'you want to know about them for?"

"If they found me out… "

"That isn't going to happen! You are not going to Azkaban, Lily, you're too…"

He turned red and shredded more leaves. "Lily… You have to go to Hogwarts. I'll keep you safe. I won't let anyone find out about you. You belong in the magical world… our world. I'll keep you safe. I promise." And Lily believed him.

Yes it was Severus Snape who had not only told Lily what she was, but also taught her everything she needed to know in order to convince those around her she was not a Muggle-born. He was her best friend and her alibi. And with him, she had made it to almost the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she excelled out of spite, wanting more than anything to prove everyone who thought otherwise that Muggle-borns were just as capable as anyone else at performing magic. And when she graduated, Lily Evans had every intention of taking down those in power who thought otherwise.

"It's sick!" James Potter stated as he walked out of the History of Magic classroom with his three best friends, his hand automatically jumping to his head where he ran his fingers through a mass of already unruly, dark hair. "And nobody seems to care!"

"I know mate," his best friend Sirius Black, responded, his gray eyes not holding their usual hint of laughter. "But what are we supposed to do? It isn't like we can single handedly take on the Ministry." The slightly over-weight, blonde Peter Pettigrew let out a nervous chuckle at Sirius's words, looking around anxiously as if he expected the Minister of Magic himself to appear and arrest them.

"I don't know! But I am tired of sitting down as this happens… we can't be the only ones who think this is wrong… we just can't be!"

"Padfoot is right," Remus Lupin interjected, a sadness present in his honey colored eyes. "There isn't much that we can do," he ignored James's snort of frustration at his words, "and we have to remember that most of them don't know why these people are being taken. Not everyone is privy to the information you were able to get from your parents over the summer. The ones who do know are usually Slytherins and we all know they fully support what is happening. What I don't quite understand is why Dumbledore hasn't done anything about it. After his defeat of Grindelwald, it's surprising that he would sit idly by. And this has been happening for years."

"My parents reckon there isn't much he can do," James sighed, "he is just trying to stay in control of Hogwarts. He doesn't want someone from the Ministry to have the power here too. The only thing they are allowed to do is pick up the Muggle-borns from Hogsmeade after they are caught." James thought back to the late night talks he had with his parents the previous summer. When James was a first year he did not really understand what was happening to his classmates that were being taken away by McGonagall, and it happened so rarely that he did not blink an eye to it. As the years went by, however, and more and more of his classmates kept leaving and never returning, concern began to creep into his conscious. When he asked his Head of House where they were going in his third year, she looked at him with sad eyes and simply said that they had broken a law. He let it go for a while, until once again, in fourth year, his guilt returned. Knowing he would not get anything from the professors, he waited until summer break where he then confronted his parents about the situation.

"But what law is it that they have broken? Why do so many kids keep breaking it if they know what is going to happen?" James demanded, staring at his parents determinedly at the dinner table.

"James…" His mother began warily, her hazel eyes the exact same color as his looking up from her plate of baked chicken to meet his own, "I'm not sure if you are quite old-"

"Dorea, no, it's okay" James's father interjected, "I think that it is time that he knew the truth." Charlus Potter, who looked so much like his son with the messy dark hair that never seemed to lie flat no matter how much effort was put into attempting to make it do so, and his round wire-rimmed glasses that framed his square face, was staring at his son with an intensity James had never seen before.

"There are wizards and witches out there James," Charlus began, "that believe they are better than others because of their blood."

"Yeah, Sirius's family is always going on about some 'pureblood supremecy' bullshit."

"James! Language!" Dorea Potter cut in.

James ignored his mother's exclamation and continued staring intently at his father. "But what does that have to do with whatever it is that is happening at Hogwarts?"

"The Blacks are one family who buy into the pureblood hype, that is true," Charlus continued,"but there are others. Powerful families that believe Pureblood wizards should be in control of the world. That muggles should bow down to us because of our magic. One such wizard is known as Voldemort."

"Voldemort? What kind of stupid name is that?"

Charlus could not help but laugh at his son's response. "As stupid as you may find the name, son, he is a terrifying individual. Even worse, he is extremely powerful. Some say he is more snake than man. And he is in control of the Ministry right now."

"But Harold Minchum is the Mister of Magic."

"On paper, yes he is. But we have reason to believe that he has been placed under the Imperius curse. Voldemort is controlling things behind the scenes. It is easier for him to insight terror there, and much, much harder for people to oppose him."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it James, I have already said that this wizard appears more animal than man. No one with half a brain would want to follow him if they knew exactly who they were following. It is much easier for him to remain hidden from public eye and he meets much less resistance this way. All's he has to do is control the propaganda he is spreading through Minchum and the Ministry… get people to truly believe it. We think eventually he will make himself known… but for now he is getting exactly what he wants without anyone really standing in his way."

"And what is it that he wants from those children he takes from Hogwarts? Is he afraid they will oppose him or something… is he just trying to get them out of the way? Is he AFRAID of them?"

"In a sense, yes, though he would never admit that," Charlus gazed at his son over his round spectacles, "James, there is something that every witch and wizard that gets taken at Hogwarts has in common."

"And what is that?"

"There blood James," Charlus continued staring intently at his son, "every person that has been pulled from Hogwarts was birthed by non-magical parents."

"Muggle-borns? No they aren't… Patricia Weasley got taken last year and the Weasley's are one of the oldest Pureblood families there is!"

"One of three things happens to a muggle-born when they discover their magical abilities, James. Most attempt to go to Hogwarts in blissful ignorance of the world they are entering. They are discovered and taken by the Ministry before they ever even reach Hogwarts. A smaller group, who does their research beforehand, finds out about the anti-muggle-born legislation and make the choice to not even attempt fitting into our world. They already feel comfortable and welcomed in the muggle world and see no reason to leave it. An even smaller group than them, however, become aware of the laws preventing their entrance into the magical world and attempt to enter anyway. They create back stories for themselves… change their surnames to reflect magical heritage."

"But why would they do that!" James exclaimed, "not that I think they shouldn't be able to attend Hogwarts or anything," he added, "but why attempt that knowing the risks?"

"Could you imagine turning your back on your magic, James" Dorea Potter finally spoke, interjecting quietly. James thought about her words. Could he give up his magic? Could he handle not fostering his gift? James knew the answer to that question instantly. There would be no way. He would go mad.

"No. I couldn't do it."

"And that's why they make the choice they do, James," Dorea spoke gently "And that is why Voldemort is afraid of them. They are the ones with the biggest reason to fight. Not one Muggle-born who attempts to go to Hogwarts plans on staying in hiding forever. But they know they have to learn magic before they can fight against it. They oppose Voldemort by choosing to live the life they deserve. And as your father has said, though he would never admit it, he is afraid of them. He is afraid of their dedication and their heart. He is afraid that eventually, they will outnumber him and his followers and take him down. That is why he has laws in place to hunt them down. He is afraid they will prove him wrong. They threaten everything he stands for."

Yes, James Potter had discovered something that most students at Hogwarts didn't know or chose to ignore. He knew that Muggle-borns were hiding in the castle… in classrooms with himself, pretending to be something they weren't because some mad-man had made it impossible for them to be themselves. And he hated it. The very thought of it made him so angry he could scarcely think. He was determined to help them in any way he possible could. And he had a plan to do so. But first, he had to discover who they were.