Lilith and Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
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Born on the same fateful night as her twin brother, Harry, Lilith Eva Potter is no stranger to the weight of a famous name. But at Hogwar...
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Scotland, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 29th May , 1992
The silence stretched on, and Lilith's nerves were taut as a bowstring. "Where is Hagrid?" she whispered, glancing anxiously into the darkness. But before they could ponder his absence further, a glimmer caught her eye, shining faintly in the moonlight.
"Harry... look," she murmured, pointing toward a trail of silvery stains that led deeper into the forest. They moved cautiously along it until they stepped into a small clearing—and froze.
In the center laid the unicorn.
It was heartbreakingly still, its body pale and ethereal as moonlight, with silver blood seeping from its wounds, pooling in the grass like liquid starlight. A pang of sorrow and horror gripped Lilith's chest, and she heard Harry inhale sharply beside her, his grip tightening on his wand.
Then a chill swept over her, prickling the skin at the back of her neck—a warning. Something was wrong. She barely had time to process it before, across the clearing, a figure emerged from the shadows. Hooded and spectral, it moved with an unnatural slowness, crawling on the ground toward the unicorn.
Lilith's breath hitched, her stomach churning as she watched it hunch over the unicorn's body. With ebony hands, it reached out, then lowered its head to drink from the silver blood, the light fading from the unicorn's coat as it did.
The wrongness she'd felt earlier intensified, thickening the air around her. Beside her, Harry let out a strangled gasp, clutching his forehead and doubling over in pain, his fingers digging into his scar.
"Harry—what's wrong?" she whispered, fear spiking through her as she reached to steady him. But he could only grimace, his face twisted with pain.
The figure in the clearing suddenly stilled, lifting its hooded head toward them. Though Lilith couldn't see its face, she felt its gaze—cold, hollow, and filled with malice that sliced through the air. Every instinct screamed at her to flee, but she couldn't move, her body frozen as if rooted to the forest floor. The shadowy figure began to move toward them, gliding silently over the ground, its gaze fixed and unrelenting. She tightened her hold on her brother, trying to pull him with her, her mind reeling as she tried to think of something—anything—that could save them.
But then, with a thunderous beat of hooves, another figure burst into the clearing. A centaur with a palomino coat and bright blue eyes leapt between them and the shadowy figure, his stance protective and unyielding.
"Begone, foul thing!" the centaur roared, his voice echoing through the dark forest. The figure recoiled before slinking back into the shadows and vanishing.
