Chapter 2 – The way forward

As Dumbledore's words dissolved into the distant murmur of an indifferent world, Lily found herself drifting in a sea of emptiness, where the sharp edges of grief had been muffled to a dull ache. Memories washed over her in muted hues, each one a mere shadow of its former vibrancy. She grasped at fragments of Harry's laughter, James' lopsided smile, her father's comforting presence, but they slipped through her fingers like grains of sand, lost to the uncomfortable void that was devouring her.

The weight of their absence pressed down upon her as though her chest had been caved in, rendering her motionless, disconnected from the world around her. She longed for the warmth of James' embrace, for the reassuring touch of her father's hand, but they remained elusive, mere spectres of a reality that had faded into obscurity.

Summoning what little strength remained within her, Lily took a tentative breath and blinked, sitting up straight, her movements sluggish, as though trudging through mud. She met Dumbledore's gaze with vacant green eyes, searching for solace in the depths of his wisdom and the kindness she was so very familiar with.

'I'm sorry' she rasped.

'You have nothing to apologise for. You must be so confused' offered the Headmaster, pushing a box of tissues in front of her. Lily's temples were pounding as she lifted a tissue out of the box despite the fact that her eyes felt painfully dry. She needed to organise a funeral. She needed to get their bodies and dress them and lower them in the ground, give them a proper burial. Together, maybe. That was what James would have wanted. She needed to ask the keeper if there was a slot in the graveyard in Godric's Hollow. Under a tree, perhaps a weeping willow.

'Where are their bodies?' she forced the words from her lips, her voice a hollow echo of her inner turmoil, strained and devoid of emotion, like a dam on the brink of collapse. The soft scrape of a chair announced Dumbledore's presence before her, yet Lily's gaze remained fixed on an inconspicuous knot in the wood grain of his desk.

'James has been buried in Godric's Hollow. Harry is very much alive, Lily'

Dumbledore's words initially failed to register, lost amidst the tumult of her thoughts. Then, comprehension dawned on her, flooding her mind with a torrent of conflicting emotions. Her eyes widened in disbelief, tears welling up despite her efforts to suppress them.

'Harry's alive...?' she whispered, the world around her suddenly a little brighter with colour, the sounds of life returning in a cacophony of sensory overload. Dumbledore's nod confirmed her hopes, his gaze unwavering and compassionate.

'You saved him. Your love saved him. You gave your life for him, and the curse rebounded,' Dumbledore's explanation pierced through the fog of her disbelief, drawing a weary frown to Lily's brow as she struggled to comprehend the gravity of his words.

'My life? I-I'm dead...?' she questioned, her voice tinged with incredulity. If this was the afterlife, it offered no respite from the pain that gnawed at her soul. Yet, a glimmer of hope flickered within her as she contemplated the implications of Harry's survival. Perhaps their sacrifices had not been in vain.

'No, you are not. Though you have been, for the past thirteen years,' Dumbledore interjected, his pale hand raised in a gesture of restraint, as though predicting a barrage of questions and doubts on her side.

'The night Lord Voldemort came to your house, James died, and you begged for your son's life. You didn't step aside, you refused to let him kill your child. He killed you, but your love offered the ultimate protection. The moment he tried to cast the killing curse on Harry, it rebounded. He has been in a state of near-death ever since, until two weeks ago, when he was revived by Peter Pettigrew, who used blood magic to restore his Master. The incantation, from what Harry has told me, required his blood, and the words recited 'blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe'. I believe you are to be considered Voldemort's foe, for you have caused his downfall. Dark Magic always has consequences, and Lord Voldemort, by reviving himself, unknowingly resurrected you. Until now… I did not believe there could be any spells that could reawaken the dead' Dumbledore's voice shook at the last words, but Lily was too overwhelmed to even notice it.

… Peter? Peter had betrayed them? Lily wanted to throw up. But he was their friend… He had joined You-Know-Who…? That wasn't- and Harry- Harry's blood had revived him? And… and her?

'I… Oh my God- we've been kind to him… he sold us out? All this time, we thought…' Lily's head was spinning, her breaths shallow as the words tumbled out of her mouth, her voice strained, indicative of the sickening dread that had settled in her stomach. Anger eluded her, replaced instead by the numbing sickness that pervaded her being. She felt sick that James had died because of Peter. Sick that her only child had grown up as an orphan. Where had he grown up? Who had taken care of him? As images of Harry in an orphanage invaded her mind, Lily began to fear how lonely he must have felt, how he must have missed them… Except, he probably didn't even remember them. Did not even remember her.

'Where did Harry go? Did… did you adopt him?'

If Lily imagined him under Dumbledore's care, she could picture him cared for, loved, understood. Maybe with Dumbledore, he had had the semblance of a family even without her and James.

'I couldn't do something of that kind, it would've been too dangerous. I placed a charm on him, so that the protection you put on him would not fade until his seventeenth birthday, so long as he lived with someone who shared his blood. He is under your sister's guardianship' Dumbledore explained gently, his eyes reflecting a sorrowful understanding, which offered Lily an unwelcome glimpse into what Harry's life must have looked like.

'Tuney?' Lily cringed. Petunia hadn't wanted anything to do with her and James after that dinner; she hadn't even replied to her letter saying that Harry had been born. She had tried to send presents for Dudley, but they hadn't even let her see him, despite the child being her nephew. But Harry was just a child, and Petunia must have certainly matured, Lily thought. With a little luck, Harry had been able to grow up with a mother and father, and a brother of his own age.

And she couldn't help but think that if something had happened to Petunia, she would have raised Dudley as though he'd been her own son. Even still, it was difficult to retain that idea when Dumbledore was looking at her with a sorrowful expression in his blue eyes.

'…With Sirius in Azkaban, they were his only family' he said softly, and Lily paled, a lump forming in her throat.

'A-Azkaban?' she breathed, the word hitting her like ice water.

'Peter framed him. No one else except for you and James knew Peter had been made your Secret-Keeper, we all thought Sirius was. He told Lord Voldemort, and when Sirius found you dead, he chased after him to confront him. Peter then killed twelve muggles and staged his own murder by cutting his finger and escaping through Animagus form. Sirius was imprisoned, and has escaped almost two years ago, though the wizarding world still believes him to be guilty. …We all did. Only last year, thanks to Harry, we uncovered the truth' murmured Dumbledore, and Lily swallowed, news after news making her wonder what kind of nightmarish world she had left.

Twelve years in Azkaban, for a crime he hadn't committed. And Peter… Peter had murdered twelve innocent people. Lily thought about Harry, about how much danger he must have been in all the time. You-Know-Who must be already on the lookout for him. She had to do something. If James had died for him, and she had apparently done the same, then she wouldn't- she mustn't fail again. She would find Harry and protect him. Run, perhaps- hide, even if it was on the other side of the bloody world.

'I want to see him' Lily's voice carried a newfound resolve, a flicker of determination, a sense of purpose igniting her as she spoke.

'Alas, my dear, I cannot let you do that yet' said Dumbledore, his voice gentle yet firm. His blue eyes were fixed on nothing in particular for a few seconds before a soft sigh escaped him.

'You see, Dark Magic leaves traces. You might not feel it now, but that ritual has been very deteriorating for you. You will most likely experience moments of weakness, and I must ensure that you are safe and healthy, and that your mind was not affected' Dumbledore seemed preoccupied, as though he had spent an awful lot of time thinking about it, which only worried her more. Lily bristled at the idea of being confined, her instincts screaming to reunite with her son.

'What do you mean… my mind?' she demanded, a tremor of fear lacing her words. The thought of a curse, of her being just a puppet, sent a cold shiver down her spine.

'You might have developed a connection with Lord Voldemort. Or something else. Regardless, your safety is paramount, which is why you will be staying here during the summer. The castle is mostly empty, Minerva is here, and a few members of staff' he explained, but Lily hardly cared. Dumbledore's explanation did little to quell her growing unease. She couldn't stay idly within the castle's walls, not when Harry was in danger. She needed to let him know that she was sorry for leaving him, that she was alive again, that she would never leave him again.

'I need to see Harry. He's my son, you can't-' she said, though her usual fierceness seemed like a shadow of its former might to her ears. Dumbledore was completely unfazed by the urgency in her voice, and Lily couldn't bear the sight, for she knew that he wouldn't change his mind. She was alone in the world, and Harry was everything that was left to her. She would not give up her chance to see him, to take him with her and fulfil her role, care for him, protect him, love him. She was his mother, and she'd failed him.

'I understand your urgency, Lily, but he thinks you dead. Imagine the shock… in the whole ordeal that followed Voldemort's revival a boy has been killed in front of him. They were friends. He is very fragile as of now, as are you. Moreso, the wizarding world mourned your deaths, it has been thirteen years. I do not wish for you to live in secrecy, but I also do not wish them to connect your resurrection to that of Lord Voldemort. These are perilous times, and people are afraid. Fear makes us see and do things we later come to regret'

As the gravity of Dumbledore's words settled upon her, Lily felt a wave of revulsion wash over her, her hands clenching her arms as if to ward off the contamination she now felt within her very being. The irony of her resurrection, brought about by the very force she had spent her life opposing, left her feeling more tainted and impure than the blood purists thought her to be as a Muggleborn. She couldn't shake the sensation of filth that clung to her, staining her soul in ways she couldn't articulate. And now she really felt like her very guts and the warm blood that was just as red and thick as Dumbledore's and any other witch or wizard was tainted, dirty.

'I feel filthy, Dumbledore. That he'd be the one… that I'm somehow… connected to him-' she confessed, her voice trembling with a mixture of loathing and despair. She'd been told her blood was repugnant and vile, that she didn't belong. And now here she was, alive because of him. For the first time she felt truly tainted. She tried not to think about him, but his words from so many years before still clanged through her head.

"No, it doesn't make any difference"

Liar.

'My dear girl, in spite of the fact that you were resurrected in his ritual, you and Lord Voldemort have nothing in common. Sometimes the purest things are born from suffering, in the same way that hope is grief's best music, and love is interwoven with war' said Dumbledore, his bright blue eyes so deeply genuine and heavy with emotion that Lily could do nothing but trust him.

War did nothing but tear love apart. It bred hatred, sowed discord, and reaped only sorrow and despair. Thirteen years had passed since her death, yet the world remained engulfed in conflict. The names of those they had lost echoed in her mind, a haunting litany of sacrifice and loss.

Edgar Bones, Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn. Gideon and Fabian. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary. James. They had all fallen victim to the merciless tide of war. The world, Lily realized with a shudder, had become a slaughterhouse, its corridors littered with the bodies of the fallen.

And now, Harry. She couldn't delay seeing him any longer.

She tapped her fingers restlessly on the armrest, impatience churning in the pit of her stomach like a relentless storm. How long would she be kept waiting? The memory of James, always eager to charge headfirst into any situation, flickered in her mind. He was the one constantly straining against the constraints of their home, his impetuosity demanding release. Lily, ever the counterbalance to his fervour, had found herself perpetually tasked with reining him in, her voice a steady anchor amidst the tempest of his enthusiasm. Arguments had become a familiar refrain, the melody of their relationship punctuated by discordant notes. And yet, for James's sake, she had often swallowed her pride, tempering her stubbornness with patience and understanding.

Remus's frequent words echoed in her thoughts, and she thought of how her friend had often told her how lucky James was to have her. She had come to realise that emotional stability was the cornerstone of their bond, a foundation upon which they had built their shared life. Lily had long abandoned the notion that strength of character alone could sustain a relationship; instead, she had learned that compassion and empathy were the true pillars of enduring love. What good was her fiery spirit if it only served to fan the flames of discord? In the face of their many trials, she had learned to soften her edges, to embrace compromise over conflict.

A sheen of unshed tears glossed Lily's eyes, a poignant reminder of the time lost in futile disagreements with James. If only she had known how fleeting their moments together would be...

And Harry—her precious Harry, robbed of the chance to truly know his parents. Their time together had been a mere whisper in the cacophony of life's chaos. Now, with the weight of regret heavy upon her heart, Lily vowed to make every precious moment count.

'When can I see him?' she finally asked, deciding to have faith in Dumbledore's wisdom and experience. If there was even the smallest chance that her possible condition could bring any harm to her son, then she would wait until they knew she was safe; but she refused to give her life up now, she needed to be there for her son. Dumbledore's old face was doleful when he looked at her and joined his thin fingers on the table, exhaling softly.

'I cannot give you a set date. As soon as you're both ready; as soon as it is safe to do so. I will let you join the Order when September comes. I know you are a very skilled Potioneer, and I fear our own is currently occupied with more pressing matters. I would be grateful if you could brew potions for us. I would pay you, of course. Harry's vault is currently only accessible to him, but I am sure he'd be more than happy to lend you some money' he explained, and Lily jumped at the idea of having something practical to do to distract herself from the boundless void that threatened to consume her, even if it was just for a second.

'Will I use Slughorn's ingredients? I don't have the money to pay for my own…' she considered, and for a moment, the wizard looked as though he was about to say something, but thought better of it.

'Horace has… retired. I fear the new teacher tends to be rather protective of his own supplies' mused Dumbledore, an enigmatic expression on his face. Lily nodded, understanding the sentiment quite well. After all, Slughorn had been quite old when she had been in school. Still, the thought of a stranger as Potions Master at Hogwarts was somewhat odd to her, the unfamiliarity of it making her truly feel as though she had travelled in time.

'That's understandable. I wouldn't want to use his ingredients anyway, I know how difficult it is to find the rare ones. If someone could go to the apothecary for me, then that would solve my problems' she said tiredly, but Dumbledore shook his head slightly.

'There are private quarters on the sixth floor that you may utilise. I should think a human transfiguration might be useful, if you wanted to purchase something from Hogsmeade. You would be close to the school and could procure yourself ingredients and other goods. You have a wand, I believe?' asked the Headmaster, tilting his head slightly, his snowy hair gleaming of gold under the orangey glow of the candles scattered in the room.

'Yes. I didn't have it with me when… but I woke up and found one in the graveyard. I'm tired, Professor, I need some time to…'Lily had no strength to do anything, let alone go shopping in Hogsmeade. She wanted to go to the quarters and lay in bed, and at the same time she wanted to lock herself in the Potions Lab and brew until she wasn't thinking about James and Harry anymore, and her mind was filled with nothing but recipes and ingredients.

The expression on the old man's face was soft and understanding, and he got up, encouraging her to do the same. She didn't want him to think she was trying to end their conversation, but her mind was full of clutter and agony, and Lily didn't know where she should start trying to process it all. Trying to overcome losing a loved one more time. Only this time it was closer than ever. Something she had been dreading for years. Lily sighed, her gaze distant as she felt a heavy weariness settle upon her, a sluggish exhaustion that begged to be indulged by burrowing under a blanket and shutting the whole world out.

'Of course, dear girl. I'll escort you to your quarters. Take all the time you need. You should join me for supper, if you can bear dining with an old man' the Headmaster half-smiled, and Lily plastered her own smile on her face, trying to look positive. She could tell it did not reach her eyes. Lily knew her smile would likely not reach her eyes for a very long time.

Perched on the sixth floor, the quarters exuded a palpable sense of clean desolation. A solitary fireplace barely illuminated the room, casting faint shadows on the worn armchair and the frayed rug beneath it. A chill wind seeped through the cracks, causing Lily to shudder involuntarily. The bookshelves stood empty, stark reminders of her solitude and lack of home.

Clutching the wand she had found, Lily surveyed the room's sparse furnishings. The wardrobe and bedside drawers likely held no more than emptiness she couldn't fill, having lost all her things. The double bed, adorned with excessive pillows, served as a cruel reminder of her loneliness. Love seemed like a distant memory, the thought of it now only stirring pain. A double bed seemed only too big for someone like her now, and feeling the other side empty and cold, the pillow unruffled and the covers tidy… it would only remind her of him.

Lost in thought, Lily wondered how long it had been since she had slept alone. Was it two years since her wedding day? Time felt irrelevant in the face of her isolation. She glanced at the desk, adorned only with a flickering candle, quill, ink, and parchment.

The door to her right promised relief in the form of a bath, but she lacked even the basic toiletries. The thought of venturing to Hogsmeade for supplies felt daunting. In her grief, even simple acts like eating and brushing her teeth felt burdensome and insignificant.

'I am leaving something to get you started, Lily. Feel free to go to Hogsmeade, but please, let me know via Patronus if you are feeling weak or have any other odd symptoms. If you feel hungry you can call Dobby, he's a House Elf. He can bring you food or anything you require' said Dumbledore gently to her back. Lily was sure she wouldn't call the House Elf. Her stomach was in a knot, and the mere idea of eating something sounded revolting to her ears.

Despite its comforting amenities and provisions, the room assigned to Lily by the Headmaster felt more like a stifling cell than a sanctuary. Each piece of unassuming furniture seemed to silently judge her, their mundane presence amplifying her sense of isolation. As she gazed around the room, its familiarity only deepened her longing for the outside world and her son's comforting presence.

She couldn't shake the feeling of being confined, as if invisible bars enclosed her within those walls. Despite the Headmaster's assurances of safety, the room exuded an aura of confinement that weighed heavily on her spirit. How long would she be relegated to this solitary existence, surrounded by the trappings of comfort yet starved for the warmth of human connection?

Lily's heart ached at the thought of being separated from her son, her maternal instincts urging her to break free from this self-imposed exile. Yet, she knew that her confinement was necessary, a precaution to ensure her safety and the safety of those she loved. Still, the room felt like a prison, its four walls closing in on her with each passing moment.

'Thank you, Professor' she said, and the Headmaster left her in her new room, the wand she'd found in the pocket of her robes, nothing else on her. Lily didn't feel any kind of symptom as of now, were it not for the physical pain and anguish and her weakness that came with her grief. It had softened since that morning, when she had thought Harry had died, but she knew it just wouldn't leave her. It was consuming her, like a parasite, making her feel hollow, the shell of the person she had been two days before.

A long time ago, now, she thought bitterly.

She put her wand on the desk, looking at the pouch Dumbledore had left for her on the corner. It was fairly full, with what Lily suspected were more than forty galleons. She didn't open it. She walked to the hearth, staring at the embers. She felt very cold. Maybe that was because James wasn't there anymore. He had been warm. He'd been charismatic, and brave.

Too brave for his own good.

Maybe Gryffindors weren't meant to live long. They all seemed to die like flies around her. She herself had died at twenty-one. She'd merely been more than a child. She had just started living. What was she doing now? Withering? Waiting for Dumbledore to tell her when she could finally see Harry? What if he slipped through her fingers like rain, and she didn't get the chance to get to know her own son?

He looked so much like James, and now he must have been almost fifteen. He had her eyes. Lily mused over what he must be like: maybe he had friends like his dad, but she couldn't imagine Harry would be like that. Harry wouldn't grow up to be a bully, she doubted he'd become pampered and spoiled; she could only hope life had not made him bitter. He'd been such a happy baby, always giggling and smiling, she'd always though he'd grow up to be kind. Lily's lips twitched in a sad smile as she thought he must have played Quidditch. He'd loved his toy broom. He'd be smart. Maybe he'd be great in Transfiguration, or maybe he'd have a knack for Charms and Potions like her.

Lily shivered, hugging herself tightly. She felt so cold now, so hollow. She looked out of the window, to the sunny day and the lush mountains on the Scottish horizon, and the clear water of the Lake. Hogwarts used to be her favourite place in the entire world. Since the first day, when she had been eleven and clutching a scrawny boy's hand, scared she wouldn't be liked.

Her mouth felt bitter. That boy was long gone now. Dead.

With a determined resolve, Lily clenched her jaw and pushed open the door to the bathroom, forcing herself to confront the reflection in the mirror. But the sight that greeted her was almost unbearable. Her eyes, once bright with life, now appeared dull and lifeless, surrounded by red-rimmed and swollen lids. The pallor of her complexion shocked her: it was paler than she had ever seen it, with lips cracked and devoid of colour except for a pallid pink.

Her hair, usually vibrant with shades of copper, now hung limply around her face, the waves tangled and unkempt. Lily couldn't help but notice the purple shadows under her eyes, evidence of what felt like countless sleepless nights haunted by grief and uncertainty, and in reality was nothing but a few hours. As she stared at her reflection, the hollowness in her gaze mirrored the emptiness she felt inside.

She averted her gaze, grabbing her wand. There was no point in staying there, she didn't want to see herself, she didn't want to stay in that room and do nothing. She needed to buy some things in Hogsmeade, and postponing it would not do her any good. She looked at the mirror, uttering spells.

'Colovaria' she murmured, and her hair turned inky black immediately. Lily bit her lip, feeling as though she'd never escape the ghost of her husband. She shortened it to a wavy bob, and removed the few freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her face was slightly fuller now, with a long, straight nose and blue eyes, the colour of Dumbledore's. She transfigured her body to look tall and lissom, instead of the shorter, slightly softer one she was so used to. She used a glamour charm for good measure, because nothing would attract looks more than her puffy eyes and stuffy nose.

Lily transfigured her hospital gown into plain, blue robes, grabbed Dumbledore's pouch and closed the door behind her. The castle was silent, and Lily walked down the stairs, her soul as heavy as lead. She was near the second floor when she felt a powerful surge of dizziness, and her eyes swivelled back, her hand blindly reaching for the banister. Her pallid fingers found it finally, and she clutched it so tightly that her palms burnt with the friction of it. She wheezed, weakness overcoming her so quickly that her knees buckled and she dropped down the last three steps, panting. She groaned, getting back on her hands and knees, trying to regain some form of balance. She realised her forehead was damp with cold sweat.

Everything's going to be okay, she told herself, it's just vertigo.

Lily had always been a little scared of heights. She had never really gotten the hang of flying, but that was another thing entirely. Flying on a broomstick that had a mind of its own was one of the things that were so dangerous you had to be absolutely bonkers to be alright with. Maybe she had fallen just because she was taller than what she was used to, after the transfiguration she had done on her body to conceal her appearance. Maybe she'd missed a step and she hadn't even noticed.

She was walking more slowly now that she was out in the grounds, and the sunlight was hurting the back of her eyes. She ignored it, continuing down the path, her breath short as she got to Hogsmeade. She was perusing the shelves of a shop, her tired eyes trailing along the shelves, reading but not truly seeing the labels. She didn't even realise what she was putting in her bag, and maybe she really was purchasing random items. She bought a purse as well, just a small one that she could carry with her. She paid with Dumbledore's money and leaned against a brick wall in a side alley, closing her eyes, her teeth sinking in her bottom lip as a tight knot formed in her throat. Lily breathed in slowly, blinking away the tears.

'Capacious Extremis' she pointed her wand at her new purse and put the objects inside, vanishing the plastic bag. She gave herself a moment, letting the summer breeze blow the short waves of black hair on her cheeks, letting herself remember that she was alive. That she was going to see Harry, however long it would take.

Lily didn't have the strength to buy more than some simple robes and a pair of tapered trousers with a blouse and a dark green jumper. She also bought a plain skirt, spare underwear and a pair of low boots, thinking that they'd have to do for now.

The hike back to Hogwarts took its toll on Lily, leaving her weary and dispirited. Near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she sought refuge against the sturdy trunk of an ancient oak tree, her body slumping against it as she covered her face with trembling hands. It wasn't just grief that weighed heavily on her; she had experienced loss before, endured the heartache of her friends' deaths during the war. But this grief felt different, more consuming, as if it threatened to swallow her whole.

Memories of her fallen friends flooded her mind- Mary torn to pieces, Dorcas slain by You-Know-Who, Marlene slaughtered alongside the McKinnons. Each loss had left its mark, leaving Lily to grapple with feelings of emptiness and despair. Yet, this sorrow felt deeper, more insidious, draining her of energy and vitality.

As she huddled against the tree, shivers wracking her frame, Lily couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Was this the side effect Dumbledore had warned her about? The toll of defying death itself? It felt as though a dark force was siphoning away her strength, leaving her feeling weak and vulnerable.

Questions swirled in her mind, doubts and fears threatening to overwhelm her. Why was she the one spared when others had perished? What did she have that they didn't? Why her, and not James? Why did she deserve to live when her friends and loved ones had been taken from her?

Lost in her thoughts, Lily hugged her knees tighter, seeking solace in the midst of her uncertainty. But as she sat there, enveloped by the oppressive silence of the forest, one thing became painfully clear… she was alone, adrift in a sea of unanswered questions and unspoken fears.

Lily got up, feeling her vision blacken at the sides for a second or two. She clenched her jaw, hiking up the path from the Lake, immediately setting for the castle.

'Expecto Patronum' she flicked her wand, but only a gust of flickering silver mist emerged from its tip. She looked at it in horror. If she couldn't cast her Patronus… she should have expected it, but…

'Expecto Patronum' she said loudly, again, but only the mist could be seen.

'Shit' she cursed, feeling the sting of tears of panic blinding her. She felt like a candle, flickering feebly in the wind. She was afraid. If this "connection" Dumbledore had spoken of was feeding on her magic, then how long until she'd start to wane? She couldn't die now. She had just come back.

'Subitus Litterae' she surrendered, her spell would probably reach Dumbledore either way, 'Reach Dumbledore. I need to see him. I'll be in my quarters' she said, and the letter folded in itself, disappearing.

She had created that spell in fifth year, as a means of secret communication. She had shared it with him. It had been a fun way to send letters to each other, but neither of them had ever done it after the Lake. Lily shook her head, walking up the stairs with a set jaw. Her quarters seemed miles away. She swallowed, her mouth so dry that it felt like it was made of sandpaper, turning the doorknob with relief making her chest light and dropping on the armchair, the bag forgotten on the bed.

'Finite Incantatem' she murmured, but the strands of hair were still brushing her throat, and Lily felt nauseous. If she couldn't do wandless magic anymore…

It worked with the wand, and Lily gripped it in her hand, feeling powerless.

Please, let Dumbledore have a solution. I just woke up, I don't want to sleep again, it was dark, it was so dark… she thought. Her eyes slowly slid shut, her chapped lips parted. She startled when she heard a knock, but then the Headmaster opened the door, a worried expression on his face that did not fade when he set his eyes on her.

'Lily, have you been outside? You should rest now. You don't look well' he said, giving a slight flick of his wrist that transfigured the rug in a second, identical armchair. He sat on it, observing her, his blue eyes scrutinising her face. Lily licked her dry lips, drinking some water that did not quench her thirst.

'I needed to think, I was feeling a bit tired, but I thought … I just feel tired and cold. What you said about dark magic, is it true? I've never felt this weak, it's almost as though something is feeding off my magic, I can feel it. I can't cast a Patronus now, nor do wandless magic- what is it? What's happening to me? I'm not supposed to be alive. Why am I here? Why not- why not James?' Lily didn't really want to know, and her eyes looked wide and terrified. She wanted Dumbledore to tell her it was just because James was gone, because she was in shock and that it would disappear with time. But the old wizard seemed preoccupied, his brows furrowed.

'I fear straining yourself too much might be unwise. Perhaps this type of magic feeds on you in moments of low physical energy, when your guard and defences are down and you are vulnerable to an attack' said Dumbledore, and he ran a hand near her face, murmuring words in Latin that Lily didn't recognise. She felt a warm tingle down her body, but the general coldness did not subside.

'Why you, Lily, you ask? Why does anything happen the way it does? It could be chance, it could be fate, it could be the choices that we made along the way. Perhaps you were always meant to come back, for some purpose we may not be able to glean yet' Dumbledore mused as he observed his spellwork, his bright blue eyes scanning her face. Lily thought about his words, about the meaning they carried. What was her purpose? Could she be here to save Harry again? How could she save anyone, weak as she was right now, like a withering flower in the snow?

'I can halt the spreading for now, and I won't lie to you, it's alarmingly fast. But I can suppress it for the time being, I think. I've never seen anything of the like, but if I were to… ah, let me see…' he took out his wand, something Lily had very rarely seen him do before, and uttered spells to her face, spells that made warmth surge in her chest.

'I need you to take these potions' he took a few from a pocket in his robes, and Lily took them without even thinking, gulping them down and giving them back to him. Dumbledore glanced at the labels and vanished them instantly, leaving her no choice but to guess them by their taste. It seemed that one of them was a Calming Draught, and perhaps the other was a Strengthening Solution, and she thought the Potioneer who had brewed it had used peppermint and pomegranate juice just like she always did, to balance the outcome and improve the taste, reducing the side effects. She frowned, she hadn't thought it had been a thing that was widely known, it certainly hadn't been in their textbooks.

Lily set her eyes on Dumbledore again, the potions already starting to have some effect. She felt calmer, but it was only a façade, and she knew it. When the effect wore off, she'd be left with her pain and her fear again.

'I suspect that Lord Voldemort might be exploiting your connection, that he might be accessing your magic as he tests his new body limits. It needs to be severed before it is too late' he said, and Lily shuddered. You-Know-Who was currently using magic, which probably meant he was killing and torturing. How long before she was left with none? How long before she'd wilt and he would grow even stronger?

It didn't matter how talented Harry could be, she knew he'd be no match for You-Know-Who. No one was, especially not a fourteen-year-old boy. But she didn't feel like voicing her worries yet. She needed to think, she needed to understand what Dumbledore thought about the curse and how they could stop it. If they could stop it.

'How do we do that?' asked Lily, hopelessness etched on her face as she stared at the old Headmaster.

'I will do everything in my power to help you, Lily. Get some rest now' Dumbledore sighed, standing up and transfiguring the armchair back into a rug, 'I will be back, please use that ingenious spell of yours to contact me instead of your Patronus. It might tire you. I will come back here at six. Until then, try to get some rest, my dear' he murmured, and Lily nodded, casting her eyes to the open window as Dumbledore closed the door behind him. She sighed, her head slumped against the armchair, her listless eyes set on the mountains outside.

AN: This chapter was very focused on Lily, her conversation with Dumbledore and her struggle with grief and coming to terms with the dangers of seeing Harry right now, but the next chapter will be divided between her and Severus. Beta-read by Fyrelyght.