FicWad

The first beams of sunlight gently seeped through the curtains, illuminating Lily’s serene face as she lay peacefully in bed. The soft glow cast a comforting aura around her, creating a tranquil atmosphere in the room. However, the tranquillity was soon interrupted by the subtle chiming of the bedside clock, signalling the start of a new day. Reluctantly, Lily stirred from her slumber, feeling the weight of exhaustion bearing down on her.

Opening her tired eyes, she struggled to shake off the lingering drowsiness from a restless night. The realisation that it was already six o’clock in the morning dawned on her, prompting her to prepare for the day ahead. As memories of the harrowing events in Hogsmeade the previous night flooded her mind, Lily couldn’t help but long for the comfort and security of Harry’s bed, wishing she could stay cocooned in its warmth to avoid facing the aftermath.

The challenges that awaited her seemed daunting, casting a dark shadow over her already heavy heart. Despite her reluctance, Lily knew she had to confront the reality of the situation and brace herself for what lay ahead.

Hedwig let out a loud hoot, but Lily paid no attention. Engulfed in the soft shadows of Harry’s room, she was teetering on the brink of sleep, her eyelids heavy with fatigue. Suddenly, a quiet whisper reached her ears, slicing through the cosy ambiance. “Shhh, Hedwig, one more hoot, and I’ll turn you into a toad.”

The voice sent a tingle down Lily’s spine, surging adrenaline through her exhausted body. It was unmistakable. Moments earlier, she’d been drifting into sweet slumber, but now her heart thundered in her chest, matching the chaotic rhythm of her thoughts.

Whirling around to face the sound, her heart leapt into her throat. There, in the half-light, stood a figure that stole her breath. Her eyes widened in shock and excitement. “H-HARRY?!” she exclaimed, disbelieving her own eyes. The sight was surreal—her son, whom she had believed was lost to time and fate, was standing right in front of her.

Harry, with his unmistakable messy hair and worried gaze, looked equally shocked. “Mum?” he questioned, concern etching his features. “What’s happened to make you so scared?”

Lily opened her mouth, her mind racing yet drawing a blank. How could this be real? “Y-you’re... h-here,” she stammered, words tumbling out in a disjointed rush. “But... how…?”

Sensing her confusion, Harry quickly stepped closer. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, his voice now tender, as if trying to melt away the ice of disbelief that formed a barrier between them. “It’s me, Mum. It’s your son, Harry.”

The room faded around her, and for a moment, she felt trapped within her own disbelief. Images flooded her mind—the emptiness of the house without Harry, the quiet that stretched into a lonely night, the tears shed in memory of his laughter. Could this truly be him?

He stretched out his arms, and instinctively, she knew she should accept his embrace, yet she hesitated. The image of him smiling yesterday at Hogwarts flashed before her, and something within her ignited. Before she could analyse the moment, Harry pulled her into a warm embrace, enveloping her with a surprising tenderness that melted through her fears.

“It’s okay, Mum,” he whispered, sending waves of comfort through her. “It’s going to be okay.”

His words formed a lifeline, grounding her from the whirlwind of emotions within. Hesitantly, Lily returned the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder as relief began to seep in, forcefully displacing the terror she’d felt moments before. Tears dampened her cheeks, blurring the edges of that surreal scene.

For a heartbeat, they stood locked in that moment, savouring the presence of each other—the bond that never truly faded despite time and trials.

Harry gazed into his mother’s eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will miss you so much,” he murmured.

Lily gently cradled her son’s face in her hands, her eyes brimming with emotion. “I will miss you too, Harry. You have to believe how deeply I will miss you.” She wished she could find a way to convey the depths of her regret—the moments lost, the milestones skipped—but the swirling emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

“I believe you,” Harry said eagerly, clasping her hands in return. “Why don’t you come to the Burrow for my birthday instead of just missing me? You could meet everyone there.” His hopeful smile shone like a lighthouse in a storm.

But as he spoke, Lily slowly pulled her hands away, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t. “I can’t—” she stammered, glancing away as panic bubbled within her. “I can’t handle this, not one more time.”

Harry’s expression fell, the happiness in his eyes dimming a fraction. “Of course you can’t come,” he said sadly, sinking into the edge of the bed. “I understand you have a big meeting to attend.”

Lily sat beside him, her heart pounding. “I… I had a meeting, and you…” She struggled to find a way to convey the tumult inside her, gesturing helplessly toward Harry.

Cupping her face in his hands, Harry spoke softly, “Mum, please calm down. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

Tears streamed down Lily’s cheeks as she locked eyes with Harry’s vibrant emerald gaze, an ache settling deep in her chest. She felt a ferocious longing for his affectionate glance and comforting voice, acutely aware of how much she had missed him. Trembling, Lily reached out, clasping his hands tightly, anchoring herself to him as one does to solid ground during a storm.

Harry enveloped his mother in a warm embrace. “You’re well-prepared for today, and you’re going to do brilliantly.” He rose from the bed, sliding away from her grasp, heading toward the door. But a jolt of panic surged through Lily, compelling her to trail after him.

“Please don’t leave! What’s happening?” Her face betrayed a swirling mix of concern and fear, an unshakeable dread gripping her heart.

“I’m just going to prepare breakfast. It won’t take long,” he replied, turning back with a reassuring smile, trying to ease her worries.

But Lily was consumed by the anxiety of any potential danger. “No, let me handle breakfast—you stay here,” she insisted, gently guiding him back toward the comfort of the bed, her hands trembling around his wrists.

Harry furrowed his brow, confused by her uncharacteristic worry. “Please, just focus on your work. Don’t worry about me,” he said, a mix of concern and reassurance painted on his face. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Hesitation flickered in her heart, but she gave a reluctant nod, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “Alright...”

Lily stood in the dim light of her bedroom, the early rays of dawn creeping hesitantly through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the walls. The previous night felt like a dark, swirling fog, a nightmare from which she had only recently awakened. Had it really been less than twenty-four hours since the world had cleaved in two, a time when she felt she was holding her breath, balanced precariously on the edge of despair?

Now, here he was—his precious son, untouched by the chaos that had consumed her. The entire scenario poked at her consciousness like a pin, the edges raw and confusing. Yet, as much as she wanted to feel joy, it was buried beneath a tide of questions unanswered, mysteries unexplained.

In her state of confusion, Lily glanced down and realised she had accidentally put on her dark blue robe inside out. This small detail added to her bewilderment, as she distinctly remembered wearing the same robe just a day ago. Or did she? The jumble of thoughts swirling in her mind left her feeling disoriented and unsure of what to trust.

In an attempt to bring some sense of normality to the situation, she trudged toward her closet, seeking something that would make her feel more grounded. She pulled out a luxurious velvet robe—deep burgundy like the autumn leaves outside—its smooth texture calming her jittery nerves. As she slipped into it, she mumbled softly, “Hopefully, this change will usher in a brighter and more cohesive day.” The very act of putting on something new charged her with a flicker of hope, a reminder that she had the power to shape her day, even if unforeseen puddles of confusion still awaited around every corner.

After half an hour, Lily descended into the kitchen, her hands full of papers that had captured her complete attention. As she moved past the stove, she noticed Harry, his focus solely on his cooking and seemingly unaware of her presence.

Approaching him quietly from behind, Lily’s curiosity about Harry’s culinary endeavour got the better of her, and she began to ask, “What’s for breakfast—”

Without realising it, he turned a bit too sharply, colliding with Lily’s arm. The impact sent her papers scattering across the floor. Lily froze, her breath hitching in her throat. The world around them dimmed for a second while her eyes, wide and stunned, absorbed the chaos. Thoughts raced through her mind: Did this really just happen?

Harry kneeled down, his cheeks tinged pink, scrambling to collect the papers. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” He clutched one of her papers, his fingers trembling slightly as he controlled the wave of panic rising in his chest.

Lily slowly nodded, still dazed by the sudden turn of events. She watched as Harry meticulously gathered each paper, his expression a mix of concern and embarrassment.

Lily narrowed her eyes, a wave of déjà vu sweeping over her and stirring up recollections from the past. But she shoved the memory aside.

“It’s okay,” she said finally, her voice softening as she watched Harry’s earnest attempt to repair the unintentional damage. “Mistakes happen. Really, don’t stress—I’ll handle this.”

Harry straightened up momentarily, surprise flickering across his features. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” she assured him, offering a nod that she hoped conveyed her sincerity.

Lily sat at the kitchen table, the scattered papers in her hands. Glancing over at Harry, she noted the time—six forty-five. “Harry,” she suddenly said, “let’s go out and have a fun day together instead of me attending my meeting.”

Harry paused from his task at the stove, flipping a pancake with practiced ease, and looked up at Lily. “But what about your meeting?” he asked, a frown creasing his brow. “You can’t just overlook it.”

Lily’s gaze shifted to the papers before her—meeting agendas, lists of things to discuss. Each sheet of paper felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. “It holds no significance to me,” she replied flatly.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief. “But you’ve been preparing for this for weeks,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “You can’t just drop everything.”

Lily shrugged dismissively, her fingers tracing the edges of the papers like they were knives. How could she explain the gnawing anxiety? “I’ve decided it’s not important after all,” she replied.

“Mum, you seem anxious,” Harry observed, his voice gentle yet probing. He set a plate of eggs, sausages, and pancakes in front of her, the warmth of the meal rising into the air, mingling with the morning light streaming through the window. “Eating something might help.”

Despite the appetising aroma, Lily eyed the meal with a hint of sadness. She felt the weight in her chest tighten as she picked up her fork, the clink of metal against porcelain echoing in the quiet kitchen. Yet, as she began to eat, she found a small comfort in Harry’s pleased expression. His wide smile showed his contentment, and she realised how desperately she wanted to share moments like these with him.

Lily picked at her food listlessly, the golden pancake on her plate losing its charm with each disinterested forkful. She glanced up, watching her son, Harry, who was chopping vegetables with a concentration that had always impressed her. He moved with the precision of someone who had done this many times, the knife gliding through the peppers and onions like a skimming stone over water.

Suddenly, panic seized her. She jumped up from her seat and rushed to his side, her voice a strained whisper, “Oh, Harry! Please be careful; you could hurt yourself!”

His puzzled expression made her heart ache with conflicting emotions. The calm expertise he displayed only served to amplify her own swirling worry. She scanned his hands for any signs of danger, relief flooding through her when she found his fingers unscathed. In an instinctive gesture of affection, she ruffled his hair before returning to her seat, managing a small smile.

But even as she sat, the worry lines on Harry’s forehead deepened. “Is everything alright, Mum?” His question hung in the air, laced with concern.

Lily nodded while sipping her coffee, capsules of warmth easing through her chest, only to be interrupted by the sudden cry that pierced the stillness. “Ouch!” Harry’s voice emerged from behind the sink, laced with an unexpected sharpness.

Startled, Lily’s hand jerked, sending her coffee sloshing across the table, dark liquid spilling over the edge. Panic replaced her earlier calm as she bolted back to Harry’s side. “You cut yourself with the knife!” she exclaimed, eyes wide and heart racing, as crimson droplets began to stain his fingers.

“It’s nothing serious,” Harry winced, but the tremor in his voice suggested otherwise, each syllable echoing a mix of bravado and the sting of pain. “Just a small mishap. What’s going on, Mum?”

He looked at her, those piercing green eyes searching for reassurance amidst her rising tide of anxiety. For a fleeting moment, Lily battled with the shadows of her own concerns and the ills of a dream that had lingered too long. Desperation clawed at her composure, yet she knew she had to be strong for him.

With a resigned breath, she reached for her wand, the familiar wood smooth against her palm. “It’s... It’s just a small cut,” she murmured, though the tremor in her voice belied her reassurance. She waved her wand and whispered the incantation, the calming glow enveloping his hand as the blood ceased to flow, leaving behind only the glimmer of a fading bruise.

Yet the air remained heavy with the weight unaddressed. Anxiety flickered in Harry’s eyes, mirroring her unspoken fears. They shared a fragile connection, a silent understanding that unfolded in the thrum of the kitchen.

Finally, the silence snapped, and Lily’s breath hitched. “I… I had an awful nightmare,” she uttered, her tone deceptively casual as her gaze shifted to the window where the morning sun fought to break through grey clouds. “And I can’t shake it off.”

Harry’s breath stilled, the room thick with the echoes of unsaid emotions. “What was it about?” he asked gently, knowing she needed a prompt, a nudge toward the safer shores of facing her fears.

But instead of delving deeper, Lily forced a smile, her heart cloaked in unshed fears. “Just silly things… old worries resurfacing, you know?” Without another word, she turned and headed upstairs, her footsteps muffled by the worry hanging in the room.

Harry stood by the sink, his mind swirling with uncertainties. He washed the dishes, his thoughts replaying the scenario that had unfolded just moments before. He had known his mother long enough to understand when something was off. And today, something was—her worry, her abrupt rush to his side, the shadows under her eyes.

A little while later, Lily descended the stairs, her cloak fastened securely and her bag slung over her shoulder. “I must go,” she informed him. “The meeting time has been changed to seven thirty.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “I’ll see you later at the assembly.”

Lily paused. “Assembly? I’m not aware of any such event.” A mischievous smile spread across her face. “I was just teasing! See you tonight.”

Harry grinned. “Good luck with your meeting. Although I’m sure you’ll excel.” With a gentle hug, he stepped outside after her as she left through the door.

Lily’s heart swelled with happiness and satisfaction as the golden sunbeams touched her face, bidding a cheerful goodbye. In that moment, her spirit felt lifted and carefree, the world around her buzzing with the energy of the neighbourhood’s morning routine. With the first rays of daylight filtering through the trees, she took a moment to enjoy the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing.

Scanning her surroundings, her eyes landed on a mysterious figure—someone cloaked in a dark hoodie, clutching a hot coffee cup. A shiver of instinct coursed through her. It was an uncharacteristic urge, one she rarely felt, but it was an indomitable force in the pit of her stomach. Without thinking twice, she squared her shoulders and stepped towards her son, Harry, who was blissfully unaware of her internal alarm.

“Harry!” she called, moving quickly to his side. Lily felt a rush of protective adrenaline. She grabbed Harry’s shoulder and pulled him aside, shielding him with her body.

Harry frowned, confusion knitting his brow. “What’s happening?”

Lily exhaled sharply, realising how frantic she must have looked. She loosened her grip when the stranger passed by without incident, trying to slow her racing heart. “I thought he was walking too quickly. He could have knocked into you. I just wanted to ensure your safety,” she explained, meeting Harry’s doubtful gaze with sincere eyes.

“Oh, okay,” he replied, the apprehension in his voice ebbing as he tilted his head, his natural curiosity melting her tension.

Relieved, she sighed loudly, ready to dismiss the incident. But her tranquillity shattered like glass when, suddenly, someone collided with Harry—a stranger hustling past in a rush. The impact sent his coffee spiralling, its contents spilling across Harry’s shirt. The warm liquid left a splotch, rich and dark against the white fabric.

“Watch where you’re going!” the stranger shouted, the anger sharp in his voice, before hurrying off as if he hadn’t even noticed the chaos he’d caused.

Lily stood frozen, her heart racing. A chilling sensation consumed her as she processed the morning’s events unfolding before her. “It wasn’t just a dream,” she muttered, her voice trembling as she met her son Harry’s gaze, fear widening her eyes. Panic surged through her, propelling her into agitated movements, pacing back and forth before him, distress evident in every aspect of her demeanour.

Harry observed her, confusion mingling with concern on his usually carefree face. He reached out but hesitated, unsure whether to comfort or question.

“Mum, what are you trying to tell me?” He asked gently, his tone filled with patient curiosity.

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Lily inhaled deeply, the breath quivering in her chest. “I had a vision—a dream, or maybe a premonition, of today’s events,” she began, her voice still shaky. “The spilt drink, your cut finger, the scattered papers... The details were different, but everything felt eerily familiar.”

Harry listened, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. She could see the genuine distress reflected in his deep-set eyes. “Take a breath, Mum,” he suggested softly. “Sometimes we experience déjà vu. It’s like we’ve seen things before. This could just be a coincidence.”

Lily shook her head adamantly. “It wasn’t déjà vu, Harry. I predicted what would happen before it did. It was as if I had already lived through those moments.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with unresolved worry.

Harry frowned, trying to process the gravity of his mother’s words. “Can you tell me more about the dream or vision that’s upset you so much?”

Lily hesitated, an internal battle raging within her. She was unsure whether to reveal what she had seen. After a moment weighed down by hesitation, she finally spoke, sadness lacing her tone. “It was awful,” she admitted.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, attempting to decipher the turmoil swirling in Lily’s eyes. “What happened next in your dream or vision?” he gently prompted.

Lily took a moment, recalling the details painfully. “I cast a cleaning charm on your shirt to remove a stain, then I went to my meeting. On the way, my glasses cracked.”

“Okay,” Harry replied, remaining calm and reassuring. “Here’s the plan. We’ll walk to the ministry together. If your glasses crack again, we’ll know something strange is going on. But don’t worry, Mum. We’ll handle it together.”

Lily took a deep breath, grateful for her son’s steady demeanour. She nodded, allowing a small measure of trust to guide her. “Right,” she said, infusing her words with resolve. “Together.”

As they made their way through the crowded streets, Lily tried to shake the feeling of foreboding that clung to her like a thick fog. Harry chatted about school, the upcoming Recognition Assembly—efforts to normalise the tension swirling between them. Each of his light-hearted remarks was like a lifebuoy tossed into the stormy sea of her thoughts.

Yet, with every step they took toward the ministry, Lily’s dread grew heavier. Could she protect her son from what she feared was coming?

“Mum, are you okay?” Harry’s voice sliced through her spiralling thoughts. He paused mid-sentence, his brow creasing with concern.

“Just… thinking,” she replied, forcing a smile that trembled at the edges.

Within minutes, they reached the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. It was alive with the energy of witches and wizards rushing to their posts. The glow of enchanted lights flickered overhead as chatter and laughter filled the air, enveloping those in attendance in a warm, magical ambiance.

Arthur navigated through the throng with an easy grace. He stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Lily and her son, Harry, near the entrance of the lift. A smile broke across his face as he walked over to them.

“Hello, Lily, Harry—” he greeted, his voice brimming with warmth. “What has brought you here today?”

Harry, looking slightly nervous yet excited, responded, “I just wanted to ensure my mum reaches her workplace safely.”

Arthur grinned at the young man’s dedication. “How thoughtful of you. My own boys never seem to care about me in such a way. I might have to have a word with them.”

The light-hearted banter drew a chuckle from both Lily and Harry, easing the tension that clung to the moment. They stepped into the lift together, the ambience shifting slightly as the doors closed. With a soft lurch, the lift began its ascent, and the numbers above flickered, counting up to the second floor of the Auror Headquarters.

“We’ve arrived, Mum,” Harry said as the doors slid open.

Lily nodded slowly, her nerves bubbling to the surface as she walked into the bustling corridor. Following closely behind, Harry noticed the quiver in her fingers as she rummaged through her bag for her glasses.

“They’re alright,” she reassured herself, her voice barely above a whisper. Yet her trembling hands revealed the anxiety hidden beneath her composed exterior.

“You’re just a bit anxious, Mum,” Harry offered gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I believe everything will go smoothly. Just remember to take deep breaths and try to stay calm.”

His words seemed to dissolve some of her tension. “You’re correct,” Lily replied, attempting to muster her confidence. “I trust you.”

Encouraged, she took a deep breath, allowing her son’s faith to wrap around her like an invisible cloak of reassurance. Not wanting to leave him just yet, she pulled him into an embrace, holding him tightly for a moment longer than necessary, as if grounding herself in the warmth of family before stepping into the unknown.

As she pulled back, Harry’s green eyes sparkled with determination. “You’ve got this, Mum. Just remember why you’re here.”

With a final deep breath, Lily’s smile surfaced—a brave façade. “Right. For the greater good.”

“Exactly!”

Still buoyed by Harry’s encouragement, Lily squared her shoulders and began walking toward her office. The hall was filled with Aurors and figures in all forms of enchantingly colourful robes—some focused, some joking, but each a wizard or witch dedicated to rooting out dark forces. Lily felt a swell of pride; she was one of them, and today’s meeting was important.

As she approached her office door, the bright plaque reading “Auror Headquarters” caught her eye. Standing beneath it was a moment of reckoning. She could feel Harry’s presence behind her, a steadfast anchor to reality amidst her racing thoughts.

“Good luck, Mum!” he called, his voice echoing with hope and love.

“Thanks, Harry,” she replied, turning back with renewed strength. She watched him give a small wave as he walked away, each step a reminder of the life she had fought to protect—of the choices that defined her, choices steered by love.