Liapotter Stories

𝘓𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘪𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘓𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘓𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘸𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴? {𝘖𝘊/𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺}

It's a new year for Lia and her friends. New troubles arise and new friends are made. 𝑰𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕'𝒔 𝑳𝒊𝒂 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚.

The wards hummed softly, layered thickly and deliberately. Sheltered from prying eyes and listening ears. The Order of the Phoenix had assembled at the behest of their leader; their voices were kept low, expressions drawn tight with apprehension. Albus Dumbledore stood apart from them all, detached. The old man had stationed himself before the hearth. His gaze was quiet, his posture stiff, his eyes focused, appearing mesmerized and contemplative. His robes-eccentric in both cut and color-his matching cap tilted just so. A cultivated appearance that betrayed nothing of the chaos he would soon orchestrate into the fold. The rest of the Order sat gathered around a long wooden table at the center of the room, its surface scarred by age and repetitive use. Among the group was Lily Potter, heavily pregnant and deathly pale, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. Beside her, James Potter radiated barely contained agitation-his fingers drummed relentlessly against the tabletop, his jaw clenched as his gaze flicked from one Order member to the next, daring someone to speak first. His friends-Sirius Black, lounged tensely in his chair, arms crossed; his aura oozed impatience, as it was written plainly across his sharp, regal features. Remus Lupin appeared little better than Lily-drawn, weary, eyes shadowed with a fatigue that went far deeper than lack of sleep. And then there was Peter Pettigrew. He appeared hunched in his seat, shoulders drawn inward as though he wished to make himself smaller, easier to overlook. Across the table sat Severus Snape, his presence a stark contrast to Pettigrew's visible nerves. The Potions Master remained composed, posture immaculate, his expression locked behind a mask of practiced indifference. His dark eyes flicked once-sharply, briefly-to Dumbledore's back before returning to the table. Dumbledore then turned from the fire. No one saw the twitch of his lips as he tried to suppress a smirk from his face. All except one.