25-June 2015 Hi Guys, thankx for your patience. Personal and health issues have been a bitch the past six months and I am sorry. I am going back chapter by chapter, improving ( I hope) the story as I work and pulling out the worst areas and errors. I hope you all enjoy the revised work. I am taking a leaf from Mr Butcher's book and enforcing an hours writing a day upon myself. Hopefully I will make some good progress. A new chapter is about halfway complete.
All recognisable characters are the properties of Ms J.K. Rowling and Mr Jim Butcher. The Dresden and Potter verse, their magic and creations are the property of their respective owners and I make no profit form my tale. I own only this random story idea.
Chapter 1
Introducing Lily
Lily P.O.V.
My name is Lily Potter nee Evens and yes, I am THAT Lily Potter. In life I was a powerful Witch, and yes, I said Witch. Potions, flying broomsticks, magic wands, the whole bit. I went to school, grew up and got married to a clever and powerful Wizard. My life, for a few years, was like a fairy tale. I went away to boarding school and learnt all kinds of amazing magic in an honest to goodness enchanted castle, full of ghosts, moving staircases, hidden passages and talking portraits. My teenage years were spent with other witches and wizards, half giants, werewolves, elves, and even goblins. I learnt how to fly, how to make potions to cure and cause disease and death, how to change one thing into another, how to make things float, and how to vanish and reappear at will. Magic was in my blood and I wanted to learn all that I could.
It wasn't all roses, I fought with and lost my older sister because I was the one with the magic and she wasn't. I got to enter a whole new world that she would forever be excluded, for the most part, from. Always on the outsides looking in. She grew to hate and resent Magic, and by association, me. It didn't help Severus, my first magical friend, treated her with such contempt. At school I battled awful ancient prejudices based on blood purity and one James Potter, and his little band of enablers, the Marauders, were the bane of my existence until my fifth year. That was the year my best friend went over to the dark side and James Potter began to grow up. Oh and there was a crazed Megalomaniac trying to take over the Magical world. He was succeeding too, gathering followers and amassing power through fear. By the time my Hogwarts career was over I was in love with James, and an honorary Marauder, though I didn't appear on the boys old map. We graduated Hogwarts with honours, Head Boy and Girl and embarked on life ready to fight for the light, justice and freedom for all. So young and stupidly idealistic. Even the reality of the numerous deaths outside Hogwarts and the ever present and dreaded black ministry envelope that came almost daily as more of the 'light' fell didn't discourage us. Holding friends as we wept for the lose of another friend didn't stop us, it just fueled our desire to fight harder. Until I got pregnant. Until we had Harry.
We fought in that war, lost friends and family, bled, sweated and killed to survive. Then we had a baby, our Harry and, knowing that Voldemort wanted him dead we went into hiding, placing all our trust in one person. We were betrayed and we died trying to save our Harry. We were so young, and so naive. Fools to trust ANYONE and bigger fools not to take Harry and flee to one of the Potter's many holiday homes. His great grandfather had even brought an island, years ago, then had set about making it impossible to find. We had stayed for the Order, for our friends. It had felt wrong to abandon our fellows and run away. We were so stupid. We should have taken our friends, Sirius, Remus, Alice, Frank, and little Neville Longbottom and gone to that island. Instead we stayed, we placed all our faith in our friend and an old man. Such Fools We Mortals Be. We died and their insane. Both our boys all alone. It all went wrong. If it wasn't for an obscure piece of old blood magic my son would have died too. I hunted for months for a charm or spell, anything, to protect my son. In an old book about ancient magicks I found it. An ancient ritual that would protect my son, an innocent, if someone willing died to save him. So James and I performed that old ritual, knowing we'd both die before letting Voldemort have our son. Two days later he attacked. It worked and we were left to watch, mostly helplessly, for seventeen long years. Bound to be helpless observers of our son's life and pain by the same ritual we used to save him.
Not helpless any more, I have had enough of that.
Now, in life my husband was the Prankster. The one always pushing the rules. In the the afterlife I am the one making trouble. You see I can SEE my son, I have been able too all along. I see him suffering, and I am so going to KILL my sister... to say nothing of her horrible whale of a husband. I think I will leave him to James and Sirius. It might keep them amused for awhile and out of my hair. He deserves whatever they can dish out to him, here, in the in-between. Right up until that big old south bound train collects the bastard. Besides, they could use a new target. Dumbledore is much too smart to be gotten the best of too often and while his paybacks are rather entertaining, I don't think the boys enjoyed being dressed as pink ballerinas and forced to dance everywhere for a day. I never want to see either of them in tights ever again... ugh.
So I have been watching it all, desperate to help my Harry somehow. I did the poltergeist thing at Petunia's a few times, staying their hands when they might have crossed a line with my son. I would sit in that horrible cupboard and sing my lonely little boy to sleep, I like to think it comforted him a little. I tried to warn him away from the Mirror of Erised and I may have manifested as a vengeful spirit and trashed Albus's office after he set up his little 'challenge' on the third floor. I felt a bit bad that Peeves was probably blamed for that one, but my Harry was just eleven and I still owed Peeves for several pranks played when I was in school, so I don't feel too guilty.
Both James and I felt righteous anger when Harry was isolated and ostracised as the Heir of Slytherin in his second year. We were stunned and upset that the Professors did nothing to help him. We knew of course what was loose, and it was terrifying, how close so many kids came to dying. I ached for the two boys, worried sick over their friends, Hermione and Hagrid. Then when little Ginny was taken and Ron and Harry went charging off to face a bloody gigantic Basilisk I was an utter wreck. I was so proud of him, standing up to first Lockhart, then Riddle and furious that both the bastards were such fakes. I would have been amused at the fact that the 'Pure Blood' Supremacist was actually a half blood, but he'd caused to much death and misery for that. And he was trying to kill my son with a dirty great snake! Throughout Harry's adventure in the Chamber, James stayed at my side, clinging to me, nearly breaking my hand with his death grip, ashen and silent. We'd both begun to cry when the Basilisk's venom seemed to be finishing off our son and cheered, through our tears, when he, with his last bit of strength, destroyed that vile diary. We'd been helpless to help poor Ginny all year and now it was finally over. We were getting ready to met our son again when Fawkes came to his rescue. As much as we'd looked forward to actually holding our son, we were so happy. He was alive, battered and broken but alive. Lockhart getting his memory wiped and carted off to St Mungo's was just the icing on the cake. James all but wet himself laughing, partially I think from relief. Lockhart was a couple of years ahead of us at Hogwarts and a total git. Well known for claiming other's work or credit as his own.
Harry's third year, was not as bad as the others as these things go, especially for my Harry. He achieved so much. It was no accident Sirius got free nor that he wasn't spotted that night. I was able to send a guide to Sirius, a tiny fairy friend played firefly and led the gaunt Grim out of Azkaban and away into the night, water sprites kept the tired Grim from drowning and the brownies left him food. He was only a few streets away when Harry blew up Marge Dursley and fled Privet Drive. How James and I cheered our loyal son. Then there was James, laughing at Harry's obvious discomfort on the Knight Bus and getting caught by the Minister of Magic himself. We couldn't believe they all thought SIRIUS would actually go dark. His name might have been Black but he was very much for the Light. And what became of our wills? We'd revealed Peter as our secret keeper in them. However the previous Minister had sealed them.. no one knew why.
What a year though! Those awful Dementors! Remus teaching and getting to know Harry, Sirius's increasingly desperate attempts to kill Peter and Harry memories of our deaths. Peter reappearing and escaping again. James screaming and using so much foul language I had to 'Silencio' him just to hear what was happening! A werewolf, loose upon the grounds of Hogwarts and Severus, throwing himself between three children he really didn't like and that same werewolf from his nightmares... Moony, poor Moony. He was always so careful, he would never forgive himself for forgetting that potion.
James was all but hysterical that night and I know he helped Harry send that patronus. He says he didn't but I know. He hates it as much as I do, being unable to touch Harry or help him. We learnt that only a great need could send us to the same plane of existence as Harry. I am sure James fed Harry power when he cast one of the most powerful patronus I have ever seen. I'll say one thing though...
It was good to see Prongs gallop through the Forbidden Forest, under the light of the full moon, once more.
Then came Harry's fourth year. One that we knew would not be peaceful. First there was The Quidditch World Cup, and the Death eater's little after party. The dark Mark seen lighting the skies again. Crouch's odd behaviour. The Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry's unwilling entrance into that accursed contest.
The Dragon had had me hiding in James's arms, my eyes screwed shut tight. I'm not sure what was worse, not watching or listening to James while he whooped and gasped. The Lake had us both proud and exasperated in our son, and then came the Maze, I remember thinking idly that the tasks were very boring for the spectators. Both James and I were watching, dreading as Harry and Cedric took that Cup. Then came what followed in the Graveyard, beginning with the senseless death of Cedric Diggory. It was so hard to just watch. That awful ritual. The resurrection of the Dark Lord. Snakeface himself, back in body and at full power. Of course he needed to gloat and boast, and for that he needed a more enthusiastic audience. He called up his minions, the free Death eaters and proceeded gloat. In his arrogance he gave my son back his wand and 'challenged' him to a duel. as if He or any of his minions would allow Harry to leave that graveyard alive. My son stood, weak but brave in the face of his enemy. At the height of battle with Voldemort, thanks to their brother wands, for just one moment we were able to go to Harry. We could speak with him, briefly when the prior-incantatem took hold. My son's emotions, shining in green eyes like my own only strengthened my resolve and when we descended on Riddle, shielding Harry from his sight, I hissed at him.. "We KNOW what you are.. who you were.. what you've done and we will see it all undone. Your time is done, you should never have broken the Elemental Law. You should have just stayed DEAD!" We aided Harry's desperate escape, raged at the false Moody and cheered Dumbledore's timely rescue. We were delighted with Hermione's revenge upon Rita Skeeter. We watched as Dumbledore and Harry tried and failed to convince Fudge of the danger and then lamented at the disbelief and persecution that followed.
The Dementor attack, saving Dudley, the flight to Grimmauld Place and that farce of a trial. We watched him in the throws of his first crush, and James cringed at his sons more block-head moves. We both railed against the Ministry, and Umbitch and cheered the Weasley twins on. Then came that Fiasco at the ministry. James yelled at Harry, over and over, about the mirror, tucked in the bottom of Harry's trunk. We held our breaths and whispered " No, Go Back" when he approached the veil. We watched those five amazing children fight and fall. We saw Sirius come to Harry's aid only to fall through the veil and we were so busy dealing with his rage and grief, we only saw the finale, where Dumbledore fought Riddle and Harry beat off Riddle's possession.
And at the end of a horrendous night that had left most of his friends hurt and his Godfather dead, finally, Dumbledore told him the Truth. He answered most of Harry's questions and we watched as our son broke a little more. Though the prophecy had smashed, he now knew it, and the weight settled heavily on him.
Sirius had joined us here in the in-between much too soon. I was so mad at the reckless fool. He was supposed to stay with Harry, he was his Godfather dammit! He was supposed to take care of him when we could not, to live for him and give him a better life. Not go chasing treacherous rats, nor to go off on hair brained schemes to play the Hero. Fool Marauder, damned Gryffindor courage. And Severus.. oh I am going to rip him into little pieces. He thought James and Sirius were bad, he has no idea. I am going to hex him till he is black and blue and singing soprano! Bullying MY son just because he is a mini James, which is hardly his fault at all. He's mine too, that stupid blind fool. Goading Sirius, he knew exactly which buttons to press to send Sirius hairing off. I have a lot to say to him. As for Dumbledore... Ooh if he wasn't already flagellating himself so much, and feeling so guilty, I'd be kicking his bony arse all over the in-between. What was he thinking, dumping all that on a grief stricken child and still not telling him EVERYTHING. The old fool. Now Harry is running around blind and Albus' is kicking himself. Daft old man.
Lupin better not get himself bloody killed. Fancy running off when your wife tells she is pregnant. James was so proud of Harry for telling him off. He'd have kicked Moony's furry butt! Sirius was fuming, Dora is family after all.
I can't stand this, I have to help. I have to DO something or all we fought have for and lost, will be for nothing. My son and his friends are wanted fugitives and running for their lives. Ron, the Pillock, took off for a while but he's back and the world is getting much harder and colder all around them.
James and I will not move forward until we know Voldemort can never harm our son again. We have stayed in the here in the in-between helping keep the Hall of Realities in order so we can watch Harry. It was here that I began making my plans.
In the after life I learnt that there are many parallel realities that briefly touch upon one another. The In-between is like a giant waiting room for all of them. The many caretakers of the Hall of Realities concentrate on preventing them becoming entangled. Think of it like a giant loom, the different realities are the threads. Most of us are here because our lives ended too soon and we still have loved ones on earth that we weren't ready to leave. The blurring of the lines between realities is incredibly complex. It is fascinating really, how we appear in other realities and their worlds appear in ours, as legends, books, movies and even TV shows. I was rather lost at first, trying to find my reality when I befriended someone who, like me had sons she was watching over, trying to help and it was she who pointed me to the one person who could and would help me. I had to await the opportune moment to approach him, and I prepared carefully. The person I was approaching was not one to be tricked or manipulated. I decide to go forth honestly and simple ask him for help. I hoped the kinship blond I'd invoked was enough to sway things in my favour.
You see I learned that long ago some Witches and Wizards could and would move between realities, they were knowns as Jumpers. Merlin was the first of them. Hence his creation of Demonreach. Apparently so was one of my distant Grandmothers and she was also the distant Grandmother of one Margaret Gwendolyn LeFay Dresden. It is her son who I was about to petition. He is the Winter Knight and will be "the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not". I just have to convince him to help my son. I have to get him to agree.