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, 15th June , 1992
Silence fell over the chamber, broken only by the low roar of the fire. Harry and Lilith exchanged a glance, their expressions a mixture of steely determination and the quiet fear neither dared to voice.
"Ready?" Harry asked, lifting the tiny bottle toward her.
Her fingers brushed his as she took it. "Always," she whispered, raising the bottle to her lips.
The liquid inside burned like frost, cold fire spreading through her veins. She could feel it seeping into her bones, numbing her fingers and toes. Beside her, Harry shuddered as he swallowed, and they exchanged one last glance before turning to face the black flames ahead.
Side by side, they stepped into the unknown.
For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. The flames swirled around them, a wall of heatless fire, and Lilith's breath hitched in her throat. The icy grip of the potion held fast, rooting her in place even as her instincts screamed to flee. Then, just as suddenly as the flames had surrounded them, they were through.
The final chamber stretched before them, its air heavy with silence. Shadows loomed tall, their edges jagged and menacing. At the far end of the room stood a single figure, the firelight glinting off his pale skin.
It wasn't Snape.
"You!" Harry gasped, his voice cutting through the suffocating stillness.
Lilith froze as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, settling on the man who now turned toward them.
Quirrell.
The professor's smile was eerie, stripped of the nervous tics and stammering that had once defined him. "Me," he said with unnerving calm, his voice sharp and cold. "I wondered if I'd be meeting you here, Potter." His eyes flicked to Lilith, lingering for just a moment too long. "And your sister, too."
"But I thought—Snape—" Harry stammered, his confusion breaking through his shock.
"Severus?" Quirrell's laugh rang out, sharp and bitter. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? Always skulking about, frightening the students, swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would ever suspect poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell?" His smile widened mockingly, and Lilith felt a shiver race down her spine.
"No..." Harry whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. He glanced at Lilith, searching her face for reassurance, but she could only shake her head. Her heart was pounding.
