Chapter Text
A flicker, a haze—Lily blinked hard, trying to clear her vision as she pedaled down the street she knew like the back of her hand. But now it shifted before her, the houses and trees blurring into a distorted landscape. Her white-knuckled grip on the handlebars as uncertainty crept in. The corner loomed ahead and the bike veered off course, hurtling toward the nearest tree.
The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she remained still, trying to will her sight back to normal. Minutes dragged by as the world around her swam in and out of focus until her vision slowly returned.
When Lily made it back home, she brushed off her father’s concerned look and mumbled, "Wasn’t paying attention," while avoiding his gaze. She swallowed her simmering resentment, only nodding as her mother fussed that they’d taken the training wheels off too soon.
The years that followed were a quiet battle. A drop in her stomach as if she’d missed a step on the stairs, the scent of freshly cut grass drifting through her room when no windows were open, giggles bubbling up unprompted—all these oddities she rejected by building a wall, brick by brick until her mind was strong enough to shut them out.
But the summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts, the wall cracked.
She sat between her mother and sister, the three of them dressed in black and the weight of her father’s absence pressing down on them.
Soft and distant, a voice broke through the fog of her grief. It’ll be okay.
Lily’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced around, her heart hammering in her chest. The voice was familiar, achingly so, and for a moment, she let herself believe it was her father’s. She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a deep breath and trying to hold onto the sound.
I know you’re hurting. I’m here.
But when she opened her eyes, her father was still gone and the voice was nothing more than a fleeting memory.
And so, Lily drifted through the following months with the world around her muted, as if she were watching her life unfold from behind a pane of glass.
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Lily sat in the common room with the warmth from the crackling fire, conjuring melancholy memories of old movies watched under cozy blankets and the sweet smell of cinnamon sugar. She let her gaze drift to the full moon outside the window, glowing against the dark sky. A sense of calm settled over her, a rare and welcomed stillness in her mind.
But just as her thoughts began to quiet, her heart jolted into a frantic rhythm.
My bad, a voice shouted, distant but unmistakably real. I got way too close right then.
Lily’s head snapped around, her eyes scanning the room. But it was just Mary sitting nearby, nose buried in parchment.
Before she could rise to investigate, rhythmic thudding echoed in her ears mimicking the wild pounding in her chest, like hooves striking the earth with relentless speed. A sharp gust of cold night air brushed against her cheeks, and the scent of damp, trampled grass filled her senses. Her body pitched forward as if yanked by an invisible force, and suddenly, the roar of rushing water filled her ears. Fear and exhilaration coursed through her until it was overpowered by a bone-chilling cold.
Her body began to tremble uncontrollably, her teeth chattering as she wrapped her arms around herself, desperate to recapture the warmth from before.
“Lily?” Mary rushed to her side. “What’s wrong?”
“C-c-cold,” Lily stammered, her voice barely audible.
“A fever? Suddenly?” Mary’s voice was heavy with confusion, but she quickly grabbed a blanket, wrapping it tightly around Lily as she hurried her out of Gryffindor Tower.
The journey to the infirmary was a blur of shivering steps. It took hours of various warming potions before the intense cold began to release its grip on her. Finally, as the early morning light filtered into the room, she drifted asleep.
In her dreams, the world shifted in colors and shadows. She found herself standing at the edge of a still lake.
Lily’s foot sank into the damp earth as she stepped closer to the water’s edge. The lake mirrored the starry sky above, but something else caught her eye—a shape in the reflection. Strong and large, it stood with an unwavering gaze, eyes flecked with gold and green, like sunlight breaking through autumn leaves.
As their eyes met in the water, she felt a gentle tug at her hand. She glanced down to see a single red thread wrapped around her finger, leading somewhere far away into the shadows among the trees. Compelled, she stepped forward, a branch snapping beneath her foot.
The sound vibrated through the air causing the vision before her to blur, the reflection in the water dissolving. As consciousness pulled her back to reality, the sense of connection remained, as if she was bound to something—or someone—she couldn’t see.
She opened her eyes to see McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey standing with their backs to her, speaking in hushed words.
“Are you sure?” McGonagall’s tone was skeptical.
“It’s uncommon nowadays, making the manifestation of a bond that much easier to miss, but I’m quite sure,” Pomfrey replied.
Neither one said anything for a moment, their silence hanging heavy in the air. Finally, a sigh from McGonagall, “We should let the child rest...”
Their voices grew faint as they moved away, but not before Lily caught a fragment of her next words, “A soulmate—”
Her eyes fluttered open then, the word glowing in her mind. She peeked down at her finger, the thread nowhere in sight.
Just my luck, she thought drowsily. My soulmate is a giant deer.
As she drifted into sleep, a soft familiar laugh echoed through the darkness in response, bright flickers appearing in her mind like twinkling lights. For a moment, she could have sworn it was James Potter.