Undivided: Blessed By The Four (Chaos Gods | HP)

[Warmaster_Abaddon]

The Death of Hope
​

The rain thundered over them without relent, as if sensing the grandeur of the moment below them.

Dumbledore's robes clung to his frail form, sodden with rain and the weight of years. His face, lined with the scars of time and loss, betrayed a deep weariness. The once-twinkling eyes that had known joy and hope now flickered with a shadow of grief, a burden that had grown unbearable as friends and family fell one by one. This war, long and brutal, had taken everything from him, and he knew it must end. He no longer had the strength to endure.

Voldemort scowled as he picked up on the man's weakness. Dumbledore's serene expression pissed him off beyond measure. Dumbledore had resisted him for far too long. beneath that aura of supremacy, frustration simmered. The pace of his conquest had been too slow, the obstacles too numerous.

No more, the two would collide in battle worthy of the Titomanchy in the ages past.

With a flick of his wrist, Voldemort began. A sickly pink light erupted from his wand, crackling through the air like lightning. Dumbledore raised his hand, conjuring a shimmering shield of magic just in time, but the force of the curse rattled through him. The shield shattered, its fragments dissolving into the rain.

"You are tired, old man," Voldemort hissed, his voice slick with mockery and malice.

Dumbledore said nothing, though the truth of it stung. He was tired—of this war, of the death it had wrought, of the endless loss. But he was not finished. Not yet.

He swept his wand across the rubble-strewn ground, transfiguring the scattered stones into eagles, their talons razor-sharp and beaks gleaming. They lunged at Voldemort, but with a flick of his hand, they crumbled to dust.

Another curse exploded from Voldemort's wand, dark and vicious. It hit the ground near Dumbledore, and the earth itself trembled as a shockwave of destruction hurled him backward. He staggered but remained on his feet, the rain washing blood from a cut on his brow.

The primal fury in Voldemort was unrelenting. Each curse he cast came with the weight of his anger, his burning desire to erase his foe. Black tendrils of magic lashed out, one after the other, as Dumbledore weaved and deflected, but each defense sapped more of his strength. He could feel it now—every fiber of his being worn thin, every breath harder than the last. His reflexes slowed, his counter-attacks growing desperate.

Another curse shot forward, and Dumbledore's shield shattered once more, the remnants flickering out of existence. He transfigured the debris again, this time into serpentine beasts that slithered towards Voldemort, jaws snapping. But Voldemort's raw, dark power tore through them like parchment.

Dumbledore's heart sank. The weariness in his limbs was more than physical. It was the weight of a life lived too long, of seeing too much suffering. He had fought for so many years, for so many people, but in this moment, he realized he could not keep up with the raw, unyielding force that Voldemort unleashed. Not anymore.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed with triumph. He could sense it too—the old man's growing frailty, the cracks in his defense. Another wave of dark magic ripped through the air, and this time, Dumbledore could barely summon the strength to deflect it. He stumbled, gasping, his wand trembling in his hand.

"You should have given up long ago, Dumbledore," Voldemort sneered. "This was always going to be your end."

Dumbledore's vision blurred as he gazed at the man who had caused so much devastation. There had been a time, once, when he believed even Tom Riddle could be saved. But that time had passed. There was no mercy left to offer here, only an inevitable conclusion.

With the last of his strength, Dumbledore raised his wand once more, summoning a torrent of fire from the skies. But as soon as it materialized, it vanished. Dumbledore looked perturbed but realized that Tom had outwitted him.

"Avada Kadevra!" Voldemort shouted and a cruel jet of green light struck Dumbledore. Killing him in an instant. With a snarl Voldemort marched over him and started stomping on his face till it was reduced to nothing but brutal pulp. He wrenched his wand away from him as if by compulsion. Voldemort brushed it off as his mind reeling from his triumph.

He aimed his new found wand at the sky and whispered, "Morsmorde!"

A grinning skull emerged, with a snake enveloping it appeared over Dumbledore's lifeless body.

A Necessary Sacrifice

1 Year Before the Death of Hope
​

Above her, a breathtaking vista of the night sky glittered with stars, and beyond that, entire galaxies spun in a slow, majestic dance. The celestial lights illuminated the hall in a dim, dreamlike glow. The ground beneath her feet was a soft, grey sand, cool and smooth, unlike any beach, more like velvet than grit. Lily Potter felt calm.

Floating in the air were strange, ethereal anomalies—swirling spheres of light that occasionally blinked out of existence, only to reappear elsewhere. Some of them hummed faintly, exuding an energy that made the hair on her arms stand on end. In the distance, she could see a mirage of an ocean, not of water, but of memory, flowing in gentle waves that seemed to ripple through time itself. Further still, an inverted waterfall cascaded upwards, droplets rising into the endless expanse above, defying gravity and sense. Each step through this hall was like walking through the very edge of reality, where the rules of magic bent and shifted.

Lily waited, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. Her mind was restless, reflecting the dissonance in the hall around her. The conclusion of the court martial had been imminent, and now she stood alone, her breath shallow as she anticipated the news.

Without a sound, Croaker, her captain, appeared beside her. The Unspeakable moved with the grace of a shadow, his dark robes flowing like liquid night. "May I join you?" he asked, his voice polite, a soft disruption in the vast quiet of the hall.

Lily turned to him, startled but quickly composing herself. "Of course," she replied, her voice steady though her heart raced beneath her chest.

They began walking together, their footsteps muffled by the strange, yielding sand. Above them, the stars shifted slightly, as if they, too, were watching.

"The court martial has reached a conclusion," Croaker began, his tone formal yet calm.

Lily's heart lurched. She swallowed, then asked, "What became of it? What… have they decided?"

Croaker glanced at her, his face betraying no emotion. "My appeal worked," he said. "They've agreed to let you resume your duties."

Lily exhaled sharply, a momentary relief washing over her. But then, Croaker continued.

"However," he added, "you'll be on probation. Your experiments will be conducted under strict supervision."

Lily stopped in her tracks, her face flushing with fury. "That's unfair!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls and disturbing the serene quiet of the hall. A few others, Unspeakables who had been engaged in their own meditations, turned their heads at her outburst, and even one of the floating spheres flickered wildly for a moment before stabilizing.

Croaker placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch firm but not harsh. "Lily, calm yourself," he urged gently, guiding her away from the others and into a quieter alcove where the view of distant galaxies provided some solace.

She clenched her fists, the anger still boiling within her. "I'm sorry," she muttered, eyes lowered in frustration. "I didn't mean to shout."

Croaker released a slow breath, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he spoke. "You must understand, your actions have consequences. The creatures released by your experiment… they injured several guards. They nearly breached the department's defenses."

Lily's face fell, the anger giving way to guilt. "House Potter will compensate them," she replied quietly, as if that would somehow make it right.

Croaker shook his head. "This isn't about compensation, Lily. It's about the darkness you've been skirting."

Her eyes flickered with defiance. "I wasn't doing anything wrong. All I wanted was to understand what our enemies were doing—their strengths, their weaknesses. That's all."

Croaker's expression hardened slightly, though his tone remained measured. "You are not the first to tread this path," he said, voice low. "Many before you—wiser and far more powerful—have tried to study dark magic under the pretense of knowledge. All thought they could control it. All thought they were bound by nothing but their own restraint."

Lily bit her lip, the weight of his words sinking in, but she couldn't let go of the burning indignation inside her. "I am restrained by protocols," she insisted. "But sometimes those protocols… they hold us back. They make us vulnerable."

"And every one of them," Croaker interrupted, his voice firm but sad, "ignored the reasons those protocols exist. Every one of them believed the same as you—that they could handle it." He paused, letting the silence grow between them. "And every one of them was wrong."

Croaker continued walking, the echoes of their footsteps muffled by the soft grey sand. The vast night sky above them shimmered with stars and galaxies, casting the hall in an eerie, dreamlike glow.

"You know, Lily," he began again, "there's a term we use in the Department. Not often, but when it comes up, it's a warning more than anything else. A concept… cognito hazard."

"Cognito hazard?" Lily asked.

"Yes," Croaker nodded. "A danger of knowledge itself. The kind of danger that grows stronger the more you know about it. It's not just a threat you encounter—sometimes, simply understanding it can be your undoing." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his voice lowering. "Dark magic has much in common with this. It feeds on awareness, on curiosity. Just being aware of certain truths… gives them a foothold into your mind."

Lily slowed her pace slightly, her heart thudding in her chest. "A foothold?"

Croaker stopped and turned to face her fully now, his eyes intense under the dim starlight. "Yes. Once that foothold is there, it doesn't stop. Dark magic works its way into your thoughts, your soul, subtly at first. It begins with curiosity, a desire for power, or simply the need for knowledge. You start thinking you can control it, but that's the first step in its deception."

Lily's gaze flickered with doubt, "That sounds more like parastism than anything else."

"It is a parasite," Croaker said firmly. "It waits, biding its time. The prospect of easy power is always alluring, especially in dire circumstances, when a mage—perhaps even a mage of light—is backed into a corner, desperate for a way out. In those moments, almost all fall." His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Lily clenched her fists, a shiver running through her. "But… not everyone falls, right? Some mages—"

Croaker cut her off, his voice tinged with sadness. "Almost all fall, Lily. Perhaps not at first, perhaps not even willingly. But the power dark magic offers comes at a price. And that price is not always apparent. The longer you use it, the more it consumes. You feel justified in the beginning, convinced that you're doing it for the right reasons. Your soul burns ablaze with the righteouness of your cause. But by the time you realize how deep it's sunk into your soul, it's too late."

He turned away from her, looking toward the endless vista of galaxies. "But that's not even the worst part."

Lily's throat tightened, and even she hesitated. "The worst part?" she asked.

And then, before Croaker could answer, she said the word that had been heavily censored in the Department since the day before. The word no one dared speak openly.

"The Neverborn."

Croaker's shoulders stiffened, and he slowly nodded, his face hardening. "Yes. The Neverborn," he repeated grimly, as though the word itself tasted of ashes. "By now, you're aware of them—malevolent creatures, entities of terrible, alien sentience. They dwell in the ether, beyond what most mages understand, waiting to latch onto any who open themselves to the darker arts."

Lily's heart raced. She had only read vague reports on the subject, nothing detailed. The information had been so tightly restricted. But she knew enough to feel the chill settle deep in her bones. "So? They tempt morons. I am not so easily cowed."

"They do more than tempt," Croaker said, his voice low, as if the shadows themselves were listening. "These creatures—when you open yourself to dark magic, when you reach for power beyond our world's natural bounds—you don't just pull that power toward you. You invite them in. They feed on your ambition, your desire. They offer you what you want most, and before you know it, you've made a bargain you can't even fully comprehend."

He took a step closer to her, his expression intense. "Many mages have fallen victim to such creatures, Lily. Some without even realizing the price they paid. They think they're gaining strength, learning forbidden knowledge, but what they're really doing is offering themselves up as vessels."

Lily swallowed hard, her mouth dry. "Vessels for what?"

"For them," Croaker said simply. "For the Neverborn. These creatures don't just grant power—they take. They slowly devour the mage's soul, their essence, until there's nothing left but darkness. By the time the mage realizes it, it's too late. They think they're in control, but they're already lost. That's why all who deal in dark magic eventually fall."

"And that," Croaker continued, his voice softer now, almost mournful, "is why we have the protocols. The restrictions. They aren't just for your safety. They're to protect you from the things you can't see, the things that want you to break those rules. The more you know about dark magic, the closer you come to their grasp. And once they have you…"

He trailed off, but Lily didn't need him to finish. The unspoken truth hung heavily between them. She felt the pull of everything she had sought to understand, and now the weight of her own curiosity seemed unbearable.

"And yet," Croaker added softly, "you aren't the first to walk this path. Nor will you be the last."

Lily stood in silence, the galaxies above swirling in their eternal dance. Her mind was a storm of thoughts, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She had always believed she could control her research, that she could push the boundaries without falling into the darkness. But now, for the first time, she wasn't so sure.

Neither can live while the other survive. That damned old raspy voice whispered and Lily flinched behind Croaker's back. Her children. Her beautiful children. Their lives were about to snuffed by a madman's whim

Her children. Her beautiful, innocent children.

Images flashed in her mind—their laughter, their joy, the way they looked at her with trust and love, unaware of the dark tides rising in the world. They had no idea how close the end was creeping. Voldemort was on the cusp of victory, his forces growing bolder every day, spreading terror like a wildfire. With the world unable to hide behind Dumbledore's robes, who would save her children.

No one. A voice whispered. Only you Lily Potter have the strength to be their champion.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she stood there, Croaker's words fading into the background, drowned out by her own frantic thoughts. Voldemort's triumph now seemed as inevitable as the rising of the sun. He would stop at nothing until every last shred of resistance was crushed beneath his heel. And once that was done, once the Order was shattered, it wouldn't be long before he came for them. Her children's lives would be snuffed out by the madman's whim, as easily as one would blow out a candle.

Her hands shook, the overwhelming sense of helplessness clawing at her. Helpless. Weak. Unprepared. She had been following the rules, hadn't she? She'd abided by Croaker's restrictions, tried to make peace with the limitations placed on her. But as she stood there now, those constraints felt like shackles—binding her, holding her back from what she knew she had to do.

She wasn't the first to walk this path, nor the last. She knew that now, after everything Croaker had said. But in the face of that prophecy, in the face of the terrible future looming over her family, Lily found herself thinking—no, knowing—that she could succeed where all the others had failed.

Why wouldn't she?

She wasn't driven by greed or power like those who had come before. She wasn't drawn to the dark arts out of some twisted ambition or desire for control. Her heart beat for her family, for her children. For them, she would do anything. For them, she would sacrifice anything. If not for her children, then who else would she do this for?

The reasoning slid into place so easily, so naturally, it almost felt comforting. Lily could feel her breathing start to steady, her pulse slowing as her mind reached its inevitable conclusion. It wasn't dark magic that was the problem. It wasn't knowledge that corrupted—it was the weakness of those who wielded it.

But you aren't weak Lily Potter. You are an amalgamation of all that is good and mighty. You have the wisdom of Dumbledore. The might of Godric and the wit of Rowena. Morgana herself would bow at your beauty. The voice whispered again.

She had the discipline, the intellect, the willpower to control whatever forces she unleashed. Croaker's warnings echoed in her mind, but they felt distant now, almost irrelevant. He was wrong. She would not fall. She would use what others feared to protect what she loved.

And that made all the difference. The ether would bow at your might, Lily Potter. Reach in and claim your prize!

Her hand tightened into a fist at her side, knuckles whitening as her resolve solidified. She would pursue her research privately, beneath Croaker's surveillance. Carefully. Methodically. She wouldn't be reckless—no, she would be cautious. The Department of Mysteries could only monitor so much, and her intellect far surpassed their safeguards. She'd been a trusted Unspeakable once, after all. She knew how to work the system, how to slip beneath the radar when necessary.

This was for her children. She wasn't seeking power for herself. It was for Harry, for her family, for all those she loved. For their future.

ANHILATE ALL THY FEARS! The voice roared in frenzy at Lily's devolving maddening thoughts.

"I will win!" Lily laughed as a voice roared with laughter alongside her.

A Thief
​

Croaker gurgled on his own blood as the wine glass slipped from his hand only to be safely caught by meteorite. Only of course it wasn't just meteorite, it was Lily Potter's codename in the Department of Mysteries. The woman who had just bought her considerable potions talents to bare on a hapless man. The poison had easily bypassed the security wards and equipment used by Croaker for such occasions. Unfortunately, none could really account for a bit of ether as a poison in their favorite wine.

Croaker glared at her with unbriddled fury even as he gasped his last breath. Lily ignored his baleful glare and carefully laid him on his back. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"It didn't have to be like this, Croaker." Lily said but Croaker didn't reply. He was dead.

With that done, she pulled out a key attached to his neckace and located a secret compartment behind inane books. With the real key in hand, she didn't need to worry about complex wards and charms. A simple click greeted her as the massive wood parted away to reveal her prize.

The Eternal Change.

 

[Warmaster_Abaddon]

The Temptation of Lily Potter
​

The wise say it's not the destination but the journey that truly matters. The book lay hidden under a thousand charms, locks, and spells. Yet somehow, someway, it was as if it spoke to her through all that. Lily had been beginning to notice things like that. The times when shadows lengthened too far when they weren't supposed to. Eyes staring back at her from the shadows when there was nothing supposed to be there. Laughter when her house was empty. Whispers lulled her to come and open the book.

Did her face just transform into a maw? Lily thought to herself. Marlene sat across from her, shuffling a deck of worn-out cards. The familiar weight of the poker chips felt foreign to Lily now, like she wasn't entirely here in this moment. She blinked and tried to shake the haze from her mind. Where am I?

"Your turn, Lily," Marlene said brightly, dealing the cards with a grin. "You've been sitting on that pile for ages."

Lily glanced down at her hand, the cards blending together, unreadable. "Right," she muttered, tossing a chip into the center of the table without much thought. Her eyes kept drifting to the corner of the room where the shadows had stretched again, a blue eye winked at her.

"What was that?" Lily snapped. She swore she saw something move.

Marlene raised an eyebrow, tapping her fingers on the table. "You alright, love? You seem... off," she commented, but without much concern. "You should be proud of yourself, you know? Croaker deserved this. All that pussyfooting around while we're losing people every damn day. Someone had to take real action."

Lily nodded absently, her focus slipping. "Yeah," she murmured. The whispers tugged at the edge of her consciousness, soft but insistent, like a hand pulling her toward something inevitable. Open me. Just once.

Marlene leaned in, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I mean, you have the book now. You don't need to keep playing their game anymore. Not with that kind of power at your fingertips."

Lily's eyes flickered toward the vault, resting under a pile of spells on the far side of the room.

"I haven't decided," Lily whispered.

Marlene let out a scoff, throwing down her cards. "Haven't decided? Are you serious? Lily, this is your chance. You can take the fight to Voldemort himself. Think of what's in there. Think of what you could do!" She leaned forward, her voice low, conspiratorial. "Croaker and his lot, they don't understand. They're scared. The Order are a bunch of pussies. But you—you're different. You have the guts to do things those cowards don't even dare to dream of."

Lily's hand twitched involuntarily, her fingers curling into a fist. She could feel it now, the pull of the book, stronger with every word Marlene spoke. She wanted to take a knife and curve a smile on Marlene's throat, ear to ear.

"I—" she started, but her voice trailed off. A low, breathy laugh echoed in the back of her mind, and she wasn't sure if it was hers or something else's. "I'm not sure."

Marlene laughed, "Come on, Lily. You've always been the smartest of us. Student of the year. Headmaster's list for all 7 years. Youngest unspeakable ever. You can handle it. You have to, for your family. For the children. For James."

Lily's heart skipped at the mention of her family. Her children. Her beautiful children. Their lives... She clenched her jaw, shaking her head as if to clear the fog that seemed to cloud her thoughts. But the whispers only grew louder. You're strong enough, you can save them.

Marlene's eyes narrowed, her tone growing sharper. "Do you want to win this war or not? Because if you do, this is how. You can't afford to play it safe anymore."

Lily looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since they'd started. Marlene's eyes were too bright, too eager. The words she was saying weren't entirely her own. Or maybe they were. The book seemed to pulse in her peripheral vision, a dark, lurking presence.

"I..." Lily's hand reached unconsciously toward the stack of parchment. The book. Just open it. Just once.

Marlene smiled, leaning back in her chair as if she already knew the answer. "You know it's the only way, Lily. You're not the first to walk this path, but you can be the one to succeed. For Harry. For James. You have to."

Lily's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers brushed the edge of the parchment, trembling. She clenched her hand into a fist. "I just... I need time," she whispered, but her heart was racing, the decision already forming in her mind. She would open it. She would study it. She had to.

Marlene watched her closely, nodding. "Take all the time you need, love. But remember—there's no time to waste. The Dark Lord won't wait."

Marlene watched her with an unreadable smile. "Take all the time you need, love," she said softly, her voice smooth as silk. "But remember—time's a fickle thing. The Dark Lord won't wait."

For just a moment, Lily saw it—Marlene's eyes flickered, glowing an unnatural blue, and behind her, a massive birdlike shadow shifted, spectral and warped. Its wings shimmered with impossible colors, and eyes blinked across its shifting form.

Lily blinked, and it was gone, but the air felt heavier, as though something had brushed against her soul.

"You have the power, Lily," Marlene murmured, her smile unchanged. "It's time to use it."

A Week Later
​

Lily Potter leaned back in her chair, letting the warmth of the sun bathe her face. Her earlier light-headedness had faded, and she was grateful for the peaceful moment. James had insisted she take a day off, and she had obliged. She watched Richard and Elizabeth, her lively twins, chase each other around Harry's cradle, their giggles filling the room. Her coffee was perfect, and for now, everything felt right.

Voldemort had taken a hard hit over the weekend. A joint ambush, led by the Order and the HIT team, had pushed the Death Eaters back. Without Dumbledore restraining their wands, they had fought fire with fire.

The sun was shining, her children were safe, and for the first time in a long while, victory seemed within reach. Her coffee felt delicious.

But the moment didn't last.

A series of rapid knocks on the door broke the calm, and a house-elf appeared, wringing its hands. "Mistress Lily, Master Remus is here. He says it is urgent," the elf stammered, its voice high-pitched with anxiety.

Lily's heart sank. "Show him in, please," she said, setting her coffee aside and sitting up straighter.

Remus entered, pale and trembling, his usual calm demeanor shattered. His hands shook as if he'd been out in the cold for hours.

"Remus?" Lily asked, worry creeping inside her. "What's happened?"

"I-I'm sorry to disturb you," he stammered, unable to meet her eyes.

Lily conjured a chair with a flick of her wand, the soft thud of wood against the floor filling the silence. "Sit," she ordered gently. "Tell me what's wrong."

Remus collapsed into the chair, shaking like a leaf, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Lily quickly ushered the children out of the room, giving them a gentle nudge toward the hallway. "Go play upstairs for a bit, alright?" she told them, smiling warmly. Once they were gone, her smile faded, and she returned to Remus, her eyes sharp with concern.

"Remus," she said, her voice softer now but firm. "You need to tell me what's happened."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the words. "Lily… it's Alice and Frank," he finally managed, his voice cracking. "They've been attacked. By Death Eaters. They're… they're in St. Mungo's, but it's bad, Lily. It's really bad."

Lily felt the blood drain from her face. She gripped the edge of the chair, her knuckles white, her mind racing. "No," she whispered, her throat tight. "When?"

"Last night," Remus muttered, barely able to keep his voice steady. "Bellatrix led the attack. They... they used something, something dark. I don't even know if they'll—" His voice broke completely, and he looked away, ashamed of the tears brimming in his eyes.
"They tortured them to insanity……."

Lily's mind went blank for a moment. The sun outside suddenly felt too bright, the world too fragile. "What about Neville?" she asked, her voice curt.

Remus nodded shakily. "He's safe. Augusta managed to get him out. But Alice and Frank…"

Lily swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "We need to do something," she said, her voice stronger than she felt. "We can't let this slide. Not anymore."

"I know," Remus whispered, his face ashen. "But Lily, they didn't just want to hurt them. They wanted to break them. I don't think they'll ever be the same."

Lily closed her eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on her. Frank and Alice, two of the bravest people she knew, reduced to this? And for what? Voldemort's cruelty knew no bounds.

But there would be time for grief later. Right now, action was needed. She had the power. Its high time she stopped being afraid to use it.

The Ritual
​

Marlene McKinnon struggled violently against her restraints, her wrists raw from the binds as she glared at Lily, who worked feverishly around the room. The air crackled with dark energy, the floor inscribed with intricate runes that pulsed with an eerie glow. Various strange devices whirred and clicked, indicating the progress of the ritual in cryptic, otherworldly tones. Potions bubbled ominously in the corner, and every so often, Lily would stride over, force-feeding one to Marlene with the wrath of a woman possessed.

A massive pentagram dominated the floor, and at its heart sat baby Harry, his wide eyes curiously tracking his mother's frantic movements. He gurgled innocently, unaware of the danger he was in, and the fact that his very existence had become the focal point of his mother's madness.

Marlene groaned audibly, her muscles protesting the strain, and Lily snapped, her wand raised in a heartbeat. "Silencio!" she hissed, silencing Marlene with a sharp flick of her wrist. Marlene rolled her eyes in frustration, the muffled noise of her protests vanishing as she fought to free herself.

"Don't interrupt me!" Lily warned, her voice dangerously low. "It was your idea to push forward with this, so don't go regretting it now."

Harry, startled by his mother's tone, let out a frightened wail, his tiny hands reaching out for her. Lily turned on him with a sudden, venomous fury, her face twisted with rage. "You!" she snarled, her voice trembling. "You're the reason for all of this. You're the one who's put Richard, Elizabeth, and James in danger. Your existence is the curse!"

Marlene's eyes widened as Lily's tirade spiraled out of control. Harry sobbed louder, sensing the anger directed at him, and Lily stormed toward him, her breaths shallow and erratic.

"I didn't ask for this!" Lily yelled, her voice cracking. "I didn't ask to be the mother of the child of prophecy. I didn't want any of this! Do you know what it's like to have a target painted on your back, day after day, because of you?"

She trembled violently, her composure slipping as the tears welled in her eyes. "I can't… I won't end up like Alice!" she cried, her voice breaking. "I have worked too hard for too long for all of this. I'm sorry but you are the price I am willing to pay. There was no other way."

For a moment, the room was silent except for Harry's whimpering. Alice. Her name hung in the air like a haunting reminder. Alice Longbottom had been one of her closest friends, a confidant through the darkest moments of the war. And now Alice was lost, broken by the cruciatus curse.

Lily wiped at her eyes furiously, her breathing uneven. "No. I won't let that happen to me. To us," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else, as she steeled her resolve once again.

With a newfound determination, she raised her wand high, the tip glowing with a sickly green light. The runes beneath her feet flared to life, burning with an unnatural brilliance as the pentagram began to shimmer.

Marlene strained against her bonds, her muffled screams desperate now as Lily started to chant, her voice low and rhythmic, weaving the spell that would begin the ritual. The air grew thick, oppressive, as the very fabric of the room seemed to warp under the weight of Lily's magic.

But Lily, lost in her fevered obsession, was deaf to all but the dark power she was calling forth. The price, the cost—none of it mattered anymore. She would save her family, no matter what.

Even if it meant losing herself in the process. With a flick of her wand, Marlene's floated over to her and without missing a beat, Lily stabbed her with a ritual knife she stole from the Black Manor. Blood flowed out in copious amounts and bathed a wailing Harry in its warmth.

"Lord of change! Master of arcane! Architect of fate!" Lily chanted, "I beseech thee! Lend me your aid! KAIROS, I summon thee!"

The runes beneath her feet flared an ominous red, and the temperature of the room plummeted. Frost crept up the walls as a harsh, electric crackle split the silence, ripping a jagged portal into existence. From its depths emerged a monstrous, towering blue avian demon, its twisted feathers shimmering in shades of azure and gold. Its many eyes blinked, all fixating on Lily with a gaze so chaotic and unnatural that it almost unhinged her mind.

Lily felt a wave of madness sweep over her as she met the creature's gaze, her breath quickening, her thoughts spiraling. The air shimmered with strange energies, and for a moment, the world bent and warped before her, as if she were staring into the heart of some cosmic nightmare. But she steeled herself, refusing to falter.

With a sharp clap of her hands, the runes encircling the avian demon glowed white, pulsing with restrictive power. The demon squawked in indignation, its wings beating furiously against the invisible cage that bound it.

The creature's beady eyes narrowed, focusing intently on her. "Well done, mortal," the demon hissed, its voice a strange, discordant symphony. "You've trapped me… here, in this feeble plane. What do you seek, little mage?"

Lily's heart raced, but she kept her voice steady. "I can free you," she declared, her tone firm. "But only if you give me something in return."

The demon let out a guttural laugh, a sound that rattled the very walls of the room. "A bargain, is it?" It leered at her, flexing its talons menacingly. "I see ambition burning behind your fragile soul. But be warned—your runes will not hold me for long."

Lily's grip on her wand tightened. "I demand a ritual—one that will give me the power to defeat Lord Voldemort."

The demon's many eyes flickered with amusement. "A simple request," it crooned, its voice dripping with malice. "But every victory has its price. My knowledge for your freedom, mortal? No, that will not suffice."

Lily's blood ran cold as the demon's eyes gleamed with hunger. "Your runes will hold for another five minutes," the demon rasped, stretching its wings against the barrier. "You have a choice—banish me, or I shall break free and rip your soul to shreds."

Panic threatened to overtake her, but then her gaze fell to Harry, sitting innocently in the center of the pentagram, oblivious to the horror unfolding around him. Instead of the warm surge of maternal love she expected, a bitter hatred rose from the depths of her soul. The prophecy. His existence had brought Voldemort into their lives, had painted a target on her family's back.

Her hand trembled as she looked from Harry to the demon, then back to the runes. She swallowed hard, the weight of her decision crushing her.

"His life," Lily whispered, her voice barely audible at first. Then, louder, "I offer you his life in exchange for the knowledge."

The demon's grin widened into something grotesque, a mockery of joy. "A delicious offer," it cooed, eyes gleaming with sinister delight. "The child of prophecy—so much potential, and yet, here you are, ready to discard it."

Lily could barely breathe as the demon's words washed over her. The room seemed to pulse with dark energy as the deal was struck, an unholy pact sealed between mother and monster.

"The knowledge is yours, mortal," the demon croaked, its eyes burning with triumph. "And the child's life is mine."

Lily's wand quivered in her hand, but she did not waver. She had made her choice.

As the demon began to chant, transferring its forbidden knowledge into her mind, Harry slept quietly through the night. None noticed a smiling headless, Marlene vanishing away into the shadows.

The Death
​

Voldemort shuddered with a morbid ecstasy as he saw a moral dilemma race in Lily's mind and soul. He had presented her with an offer, step aside or he would slay her entire family. As tempting as it was to kill James, Voldemort felt oddly merciful towards the Potter lord. There was still potential to play that little nugget towards his own will. For now, he was merely content with Harry Potter's life.

With a meek nod and a tear-stained face, Lily meekly stepped aside, grabbed the twins, and ran out from the room. The despair she exuded was greater than anything he had ever tasted. No wonder the Dementors could subsist based on this alone. He would have researched this feeling when he was free from the constraints of war.

Right then. Voldemort thought as he levelled his wand at Harry's forehead.

"Avada Kadevra!" Voldemort chanted and as a green light expelled from the wand, a bird cawed quite audibly. It was as if a massive maw had replaced the baby and roared back at Tom Riddle. Confused and unable to act, Voldemort watched in horror as the spell reflected back from Harry and collided with him.

Agonizing pain gripped him before he perished to the sound of vicious, mocking laughter.