Harry and Lilith Potter and The Chamber of Secrets
***
"Let me take you back fifty years ago."
Lilith Potter expected her second year at Hogwarts to be filled with magic and new adventures, bu...
Ops! Esta imagem não segue nossas diretrizes de conteúdo. Para continuar a publicação, tente removê-la ou carregar outra.
·:*¨✧ ☽ ✧¨*:·. ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ☆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ☆ ☆ ┊ ★ ★
Scotland, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 13th April, 1993
Four months had passed since Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified. The school's tense atmosphere had finally begun to ease. Peeves had retired his infuriating "Oh, Potter, you rotter" song, and Lilith had noticed a subtle shift in how people treated Harry. Ernie Macmillan, for one, had politely asked Harry to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools during Herbology, an olive branch that Harry had accepted with a wary nod.
Even Professor Sprout seemed lighter on her feet, particularly after announcing that several Mandrakes had thrown what she described as a "loud and raunchy party" in greenhouse three. "The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots," she explained cheerfully one morning, "we'll know they're fully mature. Then we'll be able to revive the poor souls in the hospital wing."
Lilith felt the familiar tug of hope hearing that. Soon, the victims of the attacks would finally awaken. But even as the school seemed to breathe easier, a gnawing doubt lingered at the edges of Lilith's mind. They were missing something about the Chamber of Secrets—something big—and that nagging feeling wouldn't leave her alone.
⊹⊱───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────⊰⊹
Scotland, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 16th April, 1993
The Easter holidays brought a new kind of stress: selecting subjects for the third year. The second-years were abuzz with speculation, debates, and occasional panic over what their choices could mean for their futures.
"It could affect our whole future," Hermione said one afternoon, her voice serious as she pored over the subject lists with Lilith, Harry, and Ron. She'd already marked her parchment with an alarming number of checks, her quill darting over the page like a determined hornet.
"I just want to give up Potions," Harry grumbled, leaning back in his chair.
"We can't," Ron said gloomily. He slumped against the armrest of the sofa, glaring at his own parchment. "We keep all our old subjects. Or I'd have ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts ages ago."
Hermione gasped, looking scandalized. "But that's one of the most important subjects, Ron! How else are you going to learn how to defend yourself?"
"Not the way Lockhart teaches it," Ron retorted. "The only thing I've learned this year is not to let pixies loose in a classroom."
Lilith smirked. "Fair point."
Nearby, Neville Longbottom sat at a table, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he reread the subject list. "Do you think Arithmancy is harder than Study of Ancient Runes?" he asked no one in particular.
