Lilith and Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
***
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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
.·:*¨✧ ☽ ✧¨*:·. ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ☆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ☆ ☆ ┊ ★ ★
Scotland, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 15th June , 1992
Exam season descended on Hogwarts, and the corridors buzzed with the tension of last-minute studying and whispered reminders. Lilith tried to focus, but her mind kept drifting back to the forest, to the centaurs' warnings, to the unicorn's blood—and to the lingering dread that somehow, in some way, Voldemort would appear right when she least expected it. She'd half-expected him to show up the very morning of her History of Magic exam, waiting to ambush her in a shadowed corner of the castle. But as each day passed, she saw no sign of him—only classmates nervously clutching textbooks and muttering spells under their breath.
In the exam hall, Lilith received a shiny, official-looking quill, its point sharper than her usual one. The Anti-Cheating spell that had been placed on it made her a little nervous, though she'd never planned to cheat. Even so, she kept glancing at her parchment, half-convinced it would know if her mind wandered. Each word she wrote seemed strangely heavy, the silent room amplifying every stroke, every scribble.
When practical exams began, things grew even more challenging. Lilith was precise with her wand work, and she felt a spark of pride when she managed to levitate a heavy stack of books in front of Flitwick with only a few slight wobbles. Conjuring charms, too, came naturally, though she glanced over at Harry, who gave her a supportive thumbs-up. Her confidence surged, and she powered through.
Transfiguration was trickier, and she felt her concentration falter under Professor McGonagall's piercing gaze. Even so, she managed to turn her matchstick into a sharp, gleaming needle after a few attempts—just in time to see Ron, a few seats down, accidentally set his own matchstick on fire. She allowed herself a small smile, relief flooding through her as she passed her needle up for inspection.
But nothing could have prepared her for Potions. She walked into the dungeon feeling immediately unsettled by the chilly air and the smell of something bitter simmering away. Snape prowled among the desks, his gaze as dark as the potions he so often brewed. As Lilith measured out ingredients, she could feel his eyes settle on her, an almost physical weight pressing down on her back. She could hardly breathe, let alone think clearly, as she tried to add just the right amount of wormwood to her potion.
Her hand shook slightly as she stirred clockwise, exactly as instructed. She stole a glance at Harry beside her, who looked equally tense under Snape's scrutiny. The professor drifted closer, his presence cold and looming. Trying to ignore him, she measured the powdered root of asphodel exactly as instructed, focusing on each step. Just as she was adding a carefully measured pinch of powdered unicorn horn, she noticed the faintest, unintended shimmer in the potion's surface—a small mistake, but Snape's eyes caught it immediately.
