❝She wore her scars as her best attire, a stunning dress of hellfire.❞
In a world where children are orphaned by dark wizards and destinies are bestowed upon the most unlikely of people, Lily Potter II must choose between what is good and what is ri...
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Bonus Chapter T h e G a l a Two years after the war.
WE ARE ALL made of those who have built and broken us. Every soul that fought in the the Second Wizarding War and lived to tell the tale knew it. They felt in the marrow of their bones every time they awoke in the dead of the night, screaming out for the friend or foe that had fallen just inches away from them. They'd whisper softly, with trembling hands and a film of cold sweat over their scarred flesh: you could've saved them, you could've done better...
We are all made of those who built us.
Every hug brought with it an unspoken reassurance that all would be okay soon. A single kiss made everything feel as light as a feather on the shoulders of the broken. Every laugh, every smile, every joke, made someone's day. Life is made up friendships and love and family -- the things worth fighting for.
We are made of those who have broken us.
One spell from the lips of a madman can force someone to relinquish all control. Imperio. A single spell can take away the only definite thing in a person's life -- their own mind.
A single incantation from an angry caster can inflict unbearable pain on anyone at the wrong end of the wand. Crucio. It can make or break you. It exploits you weaknesses, corrupts your mind, burns away your soul until you exist only as ash in a broken shell of a person.
And then the breaker of all that is beautiful, of all that holds the one true miracle. Avada. Because even in death, people can ruin you; even in death, people are left to relish in the pain caused by the cruelties of the world.
Imperio. Your compliance will be rewarded. Crucio. REVEL IN THE PAIN, Potter! Avada. Goodbye, Lillian Potter! One thought, one word, one spell, can change everything and anything. We are all made of the people who have either built or broken us, but what happens when you've been broken too many times?
"It's one o'clock..." through the blanket of dyed brown hair which covers her face, the woman looks at the ticking clock. "And I'm alright."
Her back is pressed against the wooden door and her spine aches from the pressure. She's trying to feel grounded in a world where she knew it to be impossible. She digs her nails into her thighs and relishes in the pain, relishes in it because it's familiar and this room is not.
"My name is Lillian Potter." she whispers faintly. She says this to differentiate reality, and it works. She stares at the sheer white drapes ruffling in the draft cominf through the open window. The room is small with a bed and some wooden furniture, and she's the only person inside. "And I'm very much alive."
