𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥'𝔰 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔍𝔬𝔨𝔢

War. They had dragged her into it, wrapped her in prophecy, and painted her as some messiah with a target on her back, all to clean up their mess. She was supposed to fight their battles, die their hero, and leave the world tidily saved.

But Alexandrina Potter didn't give a damn about anyone's savior fantasies anymore.

It should have ended. She did her duty, paid in scars and losses, and tried to make her peace. Yet here she was, tossed back nearly three decades by a smugly amused Lord Death, dumped into the year 1956 with a son she'd kept hidden from the world and a blood-adopted daughter who carried a legacy darker than any shadow she'd ever faced. Thomas Alexander Potter, three years old, bright-eyed, her heart's calm anchor. And Delphini Lilith Potter, fierce, sharp, and bound to her not by fate but by Alexandrina's own stubborn defiance of it. They were hers, and damn it, that meant something.

Her goals were simple, if slightly ambitious: avoid meddling wizards, rewrite the future, and raise her children without the looming threat of war breathing down their necks. Shouldn't be too hard, right? She'd already defeated one megalomaniac. What was a little time travel, a few impossible odds, and the chance of crossing paths with Tom Riddle when he was still just a snake-eyed schoolboy with delusions of grandeur?

Life had given her a second chance-no more, no less. And she was bloody well going to use it.