Wands And Wings

Chapter 1 : The Rebirth

Lyra Maeve Stark had always been enthralled by the world of magic—all types of magic. The allure of Hogwarts, the intricate relationships between witches and wizards, the triumphs, heartbreaks, and tragedies of those pages had once been her solace. They had been her escape when life grew heavy, a light she turned to in the darkness of sleepless nights.

She had never expected to find herself inside that world.

Her death, when it came, had been quiet—like slipping into a warm, deep sleep. Lyra had thought there would be peace on the other side. Maybe she'd be reunited with her dad, or there would be endless libraries filled with knowledge she had yet to discover.

Instead, she awoke to the faint glow of moonlight spilling through delicate curtains, casting silvery patterns on the walls around her. It was serene, otherworldly. She blinked, her mind foggy from the passage between death and… wherever she was now. The air smelled faintly of lilies and some other, unfamiliar floral scent. Her limbs felt small, delicate even. She tried to move, to sit up, but found herself constrained, wrapped in something soft and warm.

Swaddled. She was swaddled.

Panic blossomed in her chest as she realized how wrong everything felt. Her body was not the adult form she had become so familiar with. She was too small, too weak, too… infantile.

Lyra—or was she still Lyra?—glanced down, seeing only a star-patterned blanket bundled around her. Her hands, tiny and pudgy, barely peeked out from beneath the cloth. The horror of realization settled in her bones. She had been reincarnated.

No, she thought, I can't do this. This couldn’t be happening.

Her mind raced, spinning wildly out of control. Where was she? Who was she? Why had this happened? She hadn’t asked for another chance at life, hadn’t asked for the universe to throw her into the chaos of reincarnation. She just wanted to rest.

In a sudden surge of emotion, a cry tore from her lips—loud and desperate, the cry of a newborn forced into an unknown world. Her voice echoed around the room, sharp and piercing in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. She wanted to scream, to rage against whatever cruel twist of fate had brought her here, but her body was too small, too weak. Her voice was the only outlet for the fear and confusion that consumed her.

But then, something changed.

The room responded to her cries. The soft moonlight brightened, glowing with an almost ethereal warmth. The air itself seemed to hum with comfort, wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. And then, as if the world itself bent to soothe her distress, a figure materialized beside her cot, bathed in that same soft, calming radiance.

The woman was beautiful, her red hair glowing like molten copper in the moonlight, her features kind and full of love. She moved gracefully, with a gentleness that seemed to fill the space with warmth. Her presence was both familiar and comforting, as though Lyra had known her all her life. But she couldn’t place her—couldn’t remember if this face belonged to anyone from her past.

Then, the woman spoke, her voice soft, like the whisper of a lullaby.

"I'm here, my baby," she murmured, her green eyes filled with love. "I'm always going to be here for you."

Lyra felt something deep inside her stir. She blinked up at the woman, confusion and vulnerability reflected in her wide, baby-like eyes.

Who was this woman?

As if sensing her confusion, the woman smiled softly, brushing a hand gently against Denia’s cheek. "You're safe now, Denia. I've got you."

Denia. The name settled into her mind, nestling into the part of her that had been Lyra but was now something more. Something new. And that’s when it hit her.

This woman… she was Lily Evans. Lily Potter.

Her breath—or what could be called a newborn’s breath—caught in her throat. This was the Harry Potter universe. She wasn’t just in some random magical world; she had been reborn into the very world she had once loved and admired. The realization came like a tidal wave, crashing over her with startling clarity. If this was Lily Potter, then…

Denia turned her gaze to the other side of the room, where another cradle stood. In it, nestled in blankets just as she was, was a small baby boy with a tuft of messy black hair. He slept soundly, oblivious to the cosmic shift his twin had just undergone.

Harry Potter. Her brother.

Her twin brother.

The weight of it all pressed down on her, but she had no way to express it. Instead, she did the only thing her small body would allow—she whimpered softly, tears welling in her eyes. This was all too much. She had died, only to be reborn into a world of fiction, into a life that wasn’t supposed to be hers.

Lily’s soothing hum filled the room once more, her voice an anchor in the swirling storm of Denia’s thoughts.

"Hush, my little love," Lily whispered, cradling Denia against her chest. The warmth of Lily’s embrace was enough to calm her racing mind, if only for a moment. "Everything is going to be all right. You're safe with me."

Denia wanted to believe her. She wanted to sink into the comfort of Lily’s words, to let the soft, maternal warmth wash away the confusion and panic. But the truth gnawed at her. This world was no sanctuary. This world was filled with dangers, with darkness. And it was only a matter of time before that darkness came for them.

But not yet. For now, she was safe. For now, she could close her eyes and rest, cradled in the arms of the woman who had loved her more than anyone else ever had.

---

The days passed in a blur of softness and light. For an infant, time moved differently—without the markers of work, learning, and the constant ticking of a clock, everything felt like a continuous stream of warmth, milk, and the occasional coo from Lily or the deep, reassuring laughter of James Potter.

She had learned quickly to respond to Denia. It wasn’t a name she had ever thought of as her own, but the more she heard it, the more it became a part of her. And this life—this odd, innocent life—began to settle into her bones, too. The strange comfort of it both thrilled and terrified her.

James was larger than life, full of energy and warmth. When he held her, it was like being swept up in the sun, all joy and laughter and uncontainable love. And Harry… Harry, her twin, was never far from her. Sometimes, they were placed side by side in their cribs, and though Harry was oblivious to the strangeness of their existence, there was an undeniable connection between them. He would often reach out, tiny fingers curling around her own, as though to reassure her that he was there, too.

For a while, Denia let herself bask in the simplicity of it all. The complications of her previous life, her powers, the weight of knowledge—those things faded to the background. Here, she was simply a baby, cherished and cared for. And yet, at the edges of her mind, the memories of her former self lingered, a constant reminder of the world that awaited them both.

The reality of it all hit hardest one evening as she lay in her crib, eyes open to the ceiling while the Potters bustled downstairs. She could hear James laughing about something, and Lily’s voice, soft and loving, as she responded. For a moment, the sound was almost enough to drown out the fear creeping into her heart.

She knew what was coming. The idyllic life they had now—the warmth, the safety—it wouldn’t last. There would be darkness. There would be loss.

There would be Voldemort.

---

Time marched forward, and with it, the world around her began to shift. Denia grew, though the process felt slow to her adult mind, and she watched as Harry grew too. The connection between them was undeniable, though Harry—still the baby he was—could not understand it. She often found herself reaching out to him, touching his hand as though to silently promise she would protect him from what was coming.

But protecting Harry wouldn’t be easy.