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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England, Godric's Hollow, October 31, 1981
The cry of a baby was heard.
It was filled with fear and pain. He didn't know what had happened right in front of his eyes, but he knew something was wrong. The lifeless body of Lily Potter laid on the floor next to his crib. He tried to get her attention and she'd usually turn around with that beautiful smile of hers and comfort them, but that didn't happen this time. Suddenly, the baby boy wailed in pain. On his forehead was a horribly-looking scar, that was shaped like a lightning bolt — a cursed scar. He cried for a little more until he felt too tired and fell asleep, still longing for his mother's soothing voice.
As the day continued its slumber, two figures emerged from the shadows, their robes billowing slightly in the cold, lingering breeze. Minerva McGonagall halted mid-step, her breath catching in her throat. Instinctively, her fingers curled into the fabric of her emerald robes, gripping tightly as if to anchor herself to reality.
The sight before them stole the air from her lungs.
The house—the home—was barely standing, its skeletal remains casting jagged shadows under the pale moonlight. Pieces of brick and wood lay strewn across the quiet street, a stark contrast to the peaceful neighborhood that had once existed here. And amid the wreckage, the undeniable truth hung in the air like a specter.
James and Lily Potter were dead.
For a long, harrowing moment, neither of them spoke. The wind howled softly, rustling through the debris, but the weight of silence was deafening.
Then, Minerva inhaled sharply, the sound brittle and unsteady. "Dear Merlin..." she whispered, her voice cracking under the sheer weight of her grief. Her normally stern expression was replaced by one of raw devastation.
Beside her, Albus Dumbledore surveyed the wreckage in silence. His usual twinkle was absent from his blue eyes, replaced by a grim determination.
"They're gone," she murmured, her voice breaking. "James and Lily... they're gone."
Dumbledore's gaze swept over the scene, lingering on the pieces of what had once been a home filled with love. His heart felt heavier than it ever had before. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice heavy with sorrow. "They're gone."
"How could this happen?" Minerva asked, her voice rising in anguish. "How could he do this to them? To their children?"
He didn't answer immediately. His eyes fell on a scorched photograph that had somehow survived the destruction. It showed the Potters, smiling brightly with their two young children. His fingers brushed the edges of the frame before he placed it gently back on a broken table.
