Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ A Love at Stake ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

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Lily stared out of the window in her small office. She had a difficult time focusing on her work. Her mind was still lingering on the morning she had spent with Harry, her son. It had been an uncharacteristically beautiful morning, filled with laughter and light as they meandered through the familiar streets of their town. She felt rejuvenated for the first time in years—after the darkness that had settled over them since her husband had passed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock. Arthur popped his head into her office, a warm smile gracing his lips. “So, how was your morning with your son?” he asked, stepping inside, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“It was good, actually,” Lily replied, beaming as she recalled the twinkle in Harry’s eyes. “We’ve never walked together before, which is a shame. But it was nice to spend some quality time with him.”

Arthur’s smile widened. He admired how Lily seemed to radiate joy, a stark contrast to the weary woman who had walked into his life for years. “Well, that’s wonderful to hear. Are you excited for tonight’s Hogwarts assembly? Do you have any gifts for Harry?”

As the words sunk in, a frown creased Lily’s forehead. “You forgot the assembly again, didn’t you?” Arthur teased, half in disbelief.

“I’m not sure…” she sighed, her frustration evident. “I definitely forgot yesterday, but I can’t remember if I forgot today too. I’m just so overwhelmed with everything going on right now.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, perplexed by her uncertainty. He felt the weight of her worries, though he couldn’t understand the myriad of thoughts spiralling inside her mind.

“Wait, did you wear that same outfit yesterday?” Lily asked abruptly, eyeing him up and down.

Arthur looked at his clothing, a hint of embarrassment washing over him. “Now that you mention it, I think I did. But it’s not like anyone will notice.”

Lily remained silent, her brow furrowing with thought. It was a changing of the subject, a moment of levity that felt necessary. Yet something still gnawed at her. “Arthur, may I ask you something?”

“If you must,” he replied flatly, though a tinge of curiosity sparked in his eyes.

She hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts. “Have you ever had a dream where the next day everything feels familiar, almost like it’s from the dream? Because I feel like that’s happening to me right now.”

Arthur’s knowing expression shifted; he was taken aback for a moment. “I have. And you’re not wrong. For instance, last night I dreamt you’d bore me to death first thing this morning, and lo and behold, here we are. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Lily rolled her eyes, but a chuckle escaped her. “Come on, I’m being serious.”

“Seriously?” he pressed, still half-joking.

She nodded earnestly. “I just can’t shake this feeling… I feel as if something is on the horizon, something that connects my dreams to real life.”

“Lily,” Arthur said gently, “dreams are important. You should listen to them. Who knows what they might be trying to tell you?”

“You really think so?” A glimmer of hope sparked within her.

“I do,” Arthur replied. But then he added more sternly, “But I also believe you need to hurry to that meeting before you’re late. Or else you’ll have even more explaining to do. I don’t think you want to risk that.”

Lily sighed, glancing at the clock with a start. “You’re right. I can’t let Harry down; he’s so excited about tonight. I’ll think about what you said while I’m there.”

“Good,” Arthur said with a satisfied nod, backing toward the door. “And remember, just because you’re getting through another day doesn’t mean you can’t seize the moments that come with it.”

Lily’s heart raced with anxiety as she cautiously entered the meeting room, her eyes darting restlessly to the door. Each tick of the clock felt like a hammer pounding in her chest. Today’s agenda was important; the Chief Auror was set to review the proposed research Lily had prepared meticulously for. But all of her careful planning was overshadowed by the gnawing dread that loomed larger than any potential obstacle presented by the meeting itself.

She steeled her resolve, telling herself that her fears were unfounded. The last confrontation with Harry had left her shaken, but she tried to push the memories aside. She had always trusted her instincts, and that same gut feeling screamed at her now: disaster was imminent if Harry made an appearance. Her stomach churned at the thought of facing him again.

The Chief Auror and a small group of other staff members had settled into their seats, throwing suspicious glances in her direction as she shifted anxiously from foot to foot, monitoring the door like a hawk. Did they notice her unease? Did they know the battle she fought inside her head? She forced a small smile, attempting to ground herself in the present.Focus on the presentation, she told herself.

Just as confidence seemed to crawl back into her veins, she reached for the blue folder nestled within her briefcase. The moment her fingers brushed against it, the door creaked open. Her heart jumped, and, overwhelmed by her own anticipation, she blurted out, “I knew it! I knew you’d be here!” The words escaped her lips like a wild creature, breaking free before she realised the trap they had sprung. When she looked up, horror washed over her as she saw an Auror confidently strolling in, expecting nothing more than to take his seat. The room fell into a shocked silence, all eyes locked on her as if she had just conjured a patronus in the middle of a defensive magic lecture.

Feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, Lily quickly straightened her posture, forcing herself to compose her features into the semblance of normalcy. “Sorry,” she mumbled, desperately hoping her voice wouldn’t tremble. “I must have mistaken you for someone else.”

The guard blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion before he shrugged. “No problem; it happens all the time.”

An awkward chuckle rippled through the room, but Lily could hardly appreciate it.This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.Deep down, her composure teetered on the edge of collapse. She focused fiercely on the folder in front of her, willing the chatter of her peers to fade into oblivion as she clumsily shuffled through her notes, trying to ground herself in the work at hand.

As the meeting began, the Chief Auror initiated a discussion. Lily forced her eyes to remain fixed to the pages in front of her, tuning in only occasionally to interject during critical points. Each moment felt laced with anxiety, and her heart still raced at the thought of Harry’s presence. Would he be here? Would he barge in now, unpredictable as always?

But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear that Harry was absent, leaving Lily to grapple with a mixture of relief and lingering apprehension. Perhaps her instincts were wrong this time. Maybe things would indeed proceed without incident.

Lily stared at the stacks of paperwork on her desk, the late afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window. She took a deep breath, suppressing the remnants of that chaotic meeting from earlier in the day. In her mind, she could still hear the clamour of raised voices and the reverberating echo of her own panic. It had all spiralled out so quickly; she couldn’t help but wonder what had come over her.

Arthur’s knock on the door pulled her back to the present. “Did you get the approval, then?” he asked, his voice bright and full of hope.

“Yes,” she replied, unable to rein in the giggles that burst forth, hardly aware of how ridiculous she sounded. Her heart was still racing—a strange mix of anxiety and elation. How was it that the thought of imminent doom could morph into laughter?

“What are you giggling about?” Arthur stepped inside, confusion etched across his face.

Lily simply shook her head, not ready to unravel the mess of emotions swirling within her. The absurdity of the situation was still too fresh.

“Oh, come on. What is it?” He pressed, curiosity piqued.

With a huff of breath, she relented. “Remember when I mentioned that bizarre dream I had last night? The one where I—well, it felt like that this morning.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “You mean to say you went back in time?”

“Well, not exactly,” Lily laughed again, her hands gesturing wildly. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t use a Time-Turner. I think it was just a vivid dream.”

Arthur scratched his head in bemusement. “That’s certainly odd. No wonder you were asking me about the importance of dreams.”

But just then, a shadow crossed Lily’s face, the fleeting image of Harry bleeding out in her arms flashing before her—an echo more potent than any dream. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she murmured, fighting against the swell of dread. “Harry said it was more of a déjà vu.”

“Lily?” Arthur’s voice dripped with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she insisted, a familiar lie slipping through her lips. “What are you doing here anyway, Arthur?”

He hesitated. “Well, it’s about the silver dagger—”

“The one with rune markings that can kill you with one stab?” she interjected, a nervous laugh escaping her. As if a blade sharp enough to cut through fate had lodged itself in her chest.

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, that one. Looks like someone did their assignment.”

Lily’s grin faltered as she gazed at the files in front of her, remembering the heaviness of her burden. “I just—”

“Lily?” he asked again, his brow knitted in concern.

“Yes! I did my assignment,” she chirped, but there was no masking the unease shrouding her words. “And before the assembly tonight, I should consult with Albus Dumbledore about it.”

“Do you think he knows something?” Arthur ventured thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “but I have a feeling he might have some insight. It’s worth asking.”

The expression on Arthur’s face drifted towards scepticism, but that didn’t deter Lily. She felt a pull, an urgency clawing at her heart, urging her to seek out the wise old wizard. The kind with silver hair and glimmering blue eyes that seemed to hold galaxies of knowledge. If anyone had the answers, it would be Dumbledore.

“Well, I may know of a place that could provide clues, if you’re still interested,” Arthur said, his voice brightening as he leaned forward, fumbling with her quill.

She watched as he reached for a piece of parchment. Frustration bloomed within her when he dipped the quill into the ink bottle. “It’s empty!” Lily couldn’t help but blurt, snatching it away just in time. She placed it in a drawer, her heart racing, and retrieved a fresh bottle, her smile masking the tension bubbling within.

As the light flickered overhead, glinting off the polished surface of the new ink bottle, Lily felt a wave of unease wash over her. The echo of their previous meetings loomed large in her mind, spaces filled with miscommunication and unexpected disasters. “That’s why I prefer self-inking quills. Less mess and more efficiency,” she said, attempting to keep the mood light but in vain.

Arthur shrugged, reaching for the new ink bottle with a boyish grin. But before he could lift the quill to the paper, the familiar clumsiness sprang. Lily’s heart sank as he accidentally bumped the bottle, its contents tipping and collapsing in a chaotic ink flood over the table’s surface.

“Blimey!” Arthur exclaimed, his eyes wide with regret. As Lily let out a frustrated sigh, ink trickled down, pooling ominously between individual stacks of books, as if marking their failure. “Sorry about that,” he offered, glancing apologetically at her. “I’ll clean it up.”

But as Lily witnessed his attempt to mop up the mess, her own worries spiralled. The chaotic splatter mirrored her own chaotic thoughts—what if they didn’t find the clues they needed? What if this was another sign they were meant to fail? The nagging suspicion that everything was somehow connected to her glasses began to claw at her. They were her only chance at solving the problem.

Lily pressed the button for the ground floor of the ministry, her heart racing as the lift began its descent. She glanced at the small, flickering light above the door, willing it to promise her a reprieve. A sense of determination propelled her; she needed to start her research and dig deeper into the history of the dagger. It had come into her life only days ago, and already it felt like a tarnished coin from which shadows spread, casting their gloom over her once-peaceful existence.

She leaned against the cold metal wall, allowing her thoughts to wander back to the dagger’s chilling story. As her mind flitted from one uneasy image to another, she looked up. The sight that greeted her was one that froze her breath in her chest.

Before her stood an elderly gentleman, dressed in a worn black suit and fedora, his eyes sparkling with a knowing gaze.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lily exclaimed, her voice barely a whisper of the words etched in her mind.

“Excuse me?” the old man asked, tilting his head slightly, a warm smile lingering beneath his bushy white moustache.

“You were in this lift yesterday.” Lily stepped closer, the weight of the moment threatening to drown her. “We spoke. You gave me advice.” She briefly recalled their previous encounter: the calming cadence of his words that felt ancient and wise, yet somehow tied to her present.

The man chuckled softly, a sound like leaves rustling. “That is possible. At my age, I know things.”

“Yes, you said that too,” she replied, fear creeping in, twisting knots in her stomach. She felt the familiar rush of memories—sharp, painful—overwhelming her. “If this lift is the same, then everything else today will be the same. At the end of the day, my son walks out in Hogsmeade, turns a corner, gets stabbed, and he—”

Her voice caught, and tears brimmed in her eyes as the haunting images of loss flooded her senses.

“Will that happen?” she whispered, her resolve crumbling.

The old man looked at her, his expression turning sombre. They stood in an unsettling silence, time stretching in the small confines of the lift while the flickering lights seemed to dim further with her pulse.

“What if we didn’t go to Hogsmeade?” Her thoughts raced faster than the lift could descend. “What if I took him out of London? Maybe if we stay in our apartment, he’ll be safe.” Desperation climbed her throat like the devil’s snare on a brick.

But the old man offered no answers, his silence heavy in the air, rendering her more hopeless than ever.

“Tell me, what can I do?” she pleaded, virtually reaching towards him, aching to grasp onto something solid in this suffocating void. “There must be something! Anything!”

The lift groaned, pulling to a stop, and the old man straightened, preparing to exit. “I’m sorry, but this is my floor,” he explained, an air of finality enveloping his words.

Lily watched him as he stepped out, feeling the gaping hole of confusion consume her. Just as he moved to round the corner, he turned back to her.

“Let me leave you with this,” he said softly, wisdom woven into each syllable. “You should cherish him. Cherish what you have together.” His gaze intensified, as though peering into the fabric of her very soul. “Just love him,” he beseeched, his voice laden with a haunting gravity.

With her forehead wrinkled in bewilderment, a profound recognition washed over Lily. She knew this moment—this conversation. It twisted the strands of time, wrapping around her. But before she could grasp onto the feeling, the man vanished from her sight.

In that instant, the weight of his words fell heavily upon her. “Just love him,” echoed in her mind like a solemn reminder of everything she had taken for granted—the laughter, the late-night talks, the warm embraces of her son.

As the lift doors slid closed behind the old gentleman, she felt an urgency ripple through her. Determined not to repeat the mistakes of yesterday, she pulled herself up straight and took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of strength igniting within her.

Lily’s heart raced as she burst out of the lift, her determination like an electric pulse coursing through her veins. The chaotic hum of the Atrium surrounded her, a blend of laughter, shouts, and excited chatter, but she paid no regard to the bustling crowd. The world blurred around her as she wove through the throngs of people, all caught up in their own lives. But her thoughts were singular, focused entirely on her son, Harry.

“Harry!” she called out, bursting through the front door of their snug flat moments later, the hinges creaking in protest. The familiarity of their home wrapped around her, but today it was suffocating. The absence of her son gnawed at her with each passing moment.

She scoured every room, her hands trembling slightly, desperation clawing at her heart. Each empty corner deepened her anxiety. Time was slipping away.

With renewed urgency, she rushed up the staircase, feeling the wood creak beneath her hurried footsteps. As she entered Harry’s bedroom, the familiar scents of old parchment and musty wizarding books enveloped her. But what caught her eye was something unexpected—the unmistakable smoothness of an open letter left behind.

Lily’s fingers brushed against it as she picked it up, her heart pounding. The words leapt out at her, and she quickly pieced together a message scribbled in Ron’s hurried handwriting.

The popular joke shop! Of course! It was a treasure trove of magic and mischief—a place where Harry had always wanted to go ever since he had heard about it from his friends.

Without a moment to spare, she made her way back downstairs and swiftly Disapparating on the spot.

Lily’s heart raced as she swept past the lively shops of Diagon Alley. The vibrant chaos around her—a whirlwind of laughter, shouts, and the melodious chime of incoming owls—faded into a blur as she stayed focused on one objective: finding her son, Harry.

The air smelt of fresh parchment and roasted pumpkin pasties. Normally, the intoxicating aroma would have made her pause, perhaps even indulge in a snack while watching wizards barter for spell ingredients or young duellists challenge one another to friendly brawls. But today, the comforting sights and sounds of Diagon Alley felt nothing more than a backdrop, a vivid tapestry she could barely register.

As she rounded a corner near Ollivanders, the nostalgia of her own childhood flickered momentarily. She could remember the rush of getting her first wand just like Harry did—the thrill of possibilities just waiting to unfold. Yet, there wasn’t time for reminiscing.

Turning sharply, she pushed through a group of excited first-years, their laughter ringing in her ears as they admired the newest collection of wandless spells for tricks and games. With every step that took her further into Diagon Alley, the pressure in her chest tightened like a coiling spring.

Just then, Lily caught sight of a familiar shock of dark hair disappearing into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. She moved faster. Of course—the Weasley twins had made quite the name for themselves, and their store was the heart of teenage trouble in the magical world. Surely, Harry wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of their latest pranks.

Pushing open the door, a jangle of bells announced her arrival. Inside, the explosion of colour met her eyes, and she blinked against the brightness. The vibrant shopfront dazzled with innovative contraptions and whimsical displays. However, the chaos that usually delighted Lily felt jarring today. With her heart steadily thumping in her chest, she surveyed the scene.

She took a deep breath, her heart racing as she crossed the threshold into the store. Navigating through a sea of vibrant robes and animated chatter, she felt the weight of uncertainty press against her chest. Her instincts screamed that something was off, something dangerous lurking beneath the surface of their daily lives. The tight confines amplified the chatter and laughter, yet all she could think about were the strange occurrences that had haunted her for hours—glitches in time, disjointed fates, echoes of yesterday.

As she manoeuvred around a gaggle of giggling witches in front of a sign advertising “Love Potions,” luck finally lent her a hand. There was Ron Weasley, amidst stacks of Skiving Snackboxes, clearly in his element, despite his ramshackle appearance. “Ron!” she called, relief flooding her voice.

“Mrs. Potter!” Ron replied, his smile genuine despite the sweat beading on his forehead.

“Have you seen my son?”

Ron scanned the room, ultimately pointing toward the far back. “There he is!”

“Thank you!” With renewed purpose, Lily threaded her way through the laughter and chaos towards Harry.

When she finally reached him, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. His face transformed from surprise to delight as he spun around, a bright smile cutting through the discord. “Mum?”

“Harry! I’m so glad I found you,” she said, pulling him into a tight hug, one that spoke of both love and urgency.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, bewilderment dancing across his features.

Just then, Ron emerged from the rear with precariously stacked boxes, nearly dropping them when he noticed the sudden tension. “Uh, everything okay?”

Lily’s resolve sharpened. “Ron, I need to get Harry out of here right now.”

“Uh, sure, Mrs. Potter,” Ron replied, cautiously adjusting his hold on the boxes.

“Mum, what’s wrong?” Harry’s voice masked the underlying concern swirling within him.

Lily glanced around, her voice low but insistent. “Things from yesterday are happening again—muddled together. and I can’t explain it all right now. We need to leave London. It’s not safe.”

“Leave London?” Harry echoed, confusion creeping into his voice.

“Yes!” she insisted. “We need somewhere safe to sort this out. Right now.”

Harry hesitated, glancing back at the shelves he was supposed to be stocking. “But I said I would help Ron today.”

“You’ve done plenty already,” Ron interjected, positioning a box high on a shelf. “Honestly, I’ve got it covered. You should listen to your mum.”

Harry’s brow furrowed deeper. “But I have the school assembly tonight.”

Lily seized his arm gently, her grasp firm but reassuring. “I promise we’ll be back in time. Just trust me.”

After a moment, Harry nodded, uncertainty still clinging to him as she led him toward the exit. She squeezed his arm, hoping to instill some of her confidence in him. The laughter in the shop remained a background blur as they stepped out into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.