Chapter 1
GODRIC'S HOLLOW, 31 OCTOBER 1981
Lily's last-minute barrier of boxes and a table trembled violently, not falling, not holding, almost as if Voldemort were toying with her. Wait, wait, she thought. One more minute ... And the barrier held. She whispered the last incantation, and the final drop of blood fell onto her painstakingly carved runes, which vanished, thus completing her ritual.
"Not Harry, not Harry!" Lily protested, as the barrier imploded and in strode Voldemort, wand held aloft, his hood thrown back to reveal a serpentine, bone-white face. The ritual she had performed, anticipating this exact moment, would save her child, but she had to plead. If by any chance Harry remembered this, she wanted him to know that her love for him was demanding and angry and shrill, that she would not go to her grave quietly.
"Stand aside, you silly girl!" The Dark Lord's robes whipped about him, his eyes gleaming scarlet. Severus had begged him to spare her, she guessed. Oh Severus, you know nothing. Voldemort could easily have batted her aside, but why should he, when he could just as easily kill her? Whether she lived or died did not affect his future, nor that of the baby he intended to slaughter. Severus's wishes would not change this monster's mind. The death of innocents was his life's foremost purpose. Right?
"Why are you here?" she asked on a whim. "What about my son terrifies you so?"
His glare intensified, yet he did not finish her off for her impertinence. Instead he considered her, lowering his wand slightly. "Fate is fickle. I must strike down every obstacle she places in my path, before it has a chance to grow."
"A baby is no obstacle," she snapped.
"It could be, years from now, once it has been trained and corrupted by my enemies."
"Kill me instead!" She spat these words, gazing into those unnatural eyes.
"You do not have to die, Miss Evans. My quarrel is not with you. You have such potential. Your death only wastes it."
"Since when did you care about a dirty Mudblood's potential? Fuck you!"
He contemplated her for one final, frozen moment. His mouth twisted, as if in some measure of true regret or disgust; Lily wasn't sure which. "So be it," he said at last, and raised his wand.
But just before he cast the curse, she noticed an even stranger expression cross his face. It was ... resentment. Startled, she whispered, "Would your mother have died for you?"
Months ago, she had stormed into Dumbledore's office, ordering him to tell her precisely who this man that wanted to murder her baby was. He declined, until she cursed his lemon drops to taste like green apple drops and refused to leave. He told her. He told her of the abused, lonely young woman and the handsome man that rode past her window. He told her of the unrequited love and the love potion. He told her of the young woman's abandonment and attempts to survive on the streets. And then he told her of the young woman's death in childbirth. The young woman's son ended up far more alone than she had been. The result stood before her.
Voldemort snarled, his resentment increasing at Lily's visible pity. "Be quiet, Mudblood. That does not concern you. Avada Kedavra!" She let out a last, desperate shriek as the green light rushed toward her. Harry did not make so much as a peep as she fell.
"Lily!"
Lily opened her eyes to find herself in a flat, white ... King's Cross? The floor was neither uncomfortable nor comfortable. The silence—the absolute lack of extraneous goings-on—was the strangest part of all.
"Lily!" She heard the voice again, and turned to search for its source. Her gaze landed upon Marlene McKinnon, standing with arms crossed next to one of the many pillars, her blond hair hanging wildly about her face.
"Marlene," Lily croaked. "If you're here, then I really am dead." The Death Eater attack that had killed Marlene and her entire family had left a destroyed house and bodies so desecrated that they were barely recognizable.
Marlene smiled slightly and shook her head. "Not quite," she mused. "You sacrificed yourself to save your child. I guess that means you get to choose ... what comes next."
Lily grimaced. "Choose? I'm betting none of those choices would be returning to the place I just left."
"That's right," Marlene confirmed. "Think more along the lines of, er, bigger picture choices."
"Right," Lily grumbled. "A mass-murdering egomaniac just butchered my husband and me, and has no doubt tried to kill my infant son. I'm expected to make 'big picture choices'?" She closed her eyes, her head flopping back onto the station floor. She'd lost everyone that was dear to her, fighting in a fruitless war she could have fled. What more should she be expected to do?
"It's a fairly simple choice," Marlene replied, looking sympathetic. She approached hesitantly, crouching nearby and taking Lily's hand. "Either you go on to death, in which case your son is raised by your sister in a world recovering from a brutal war, and of which he's expected to be the savior; or you go back in time and stop it all before it happens. Which'll it be?"
Would your mother have died for you? "Go back in time? To when?"
"Interested, huh?" Marlene appeared marginally triumphant. "What time do you want to go back to?"
"I ... I want to save Voldemort's mother. Maybe if she'd survived to raise him, he wouldn't have done ... what he's done."
"Wait," Marlene said, surprised. "You want to save Merope Gaunt, rather than to kill Tom Riddle?"
"I will not kill an innocent child," Lily retorted.
"Fine, fine," Marlene said, dropping Lily's hand and jumping to her feet. "1926 it is. I trust you, Lily. You can fix this."
"I shouldn't have to. Let's get this over with."
"All right. You should end up fairly close to Merope, so she'll be easy enough to find."
“Wait!” Lily interrupted, coming to an uncomfortable realization. “Can I take anything with me? Like clothes? Or a wand?”
Marlene paused. “”Ah, that might be important,” she allowed. “Unfortunately, the power of your sacrifice stretches only so far. I think you could choose to take either your clothes or your wand, but not both.”
“Great,” Lily grumbled. “Really gives you perspective. Er, I’m choosing my clothing, because I’m not appearing naked in the middle of a public street.”
“Probably for the best,” Marlene laughed. “Good luck." Reality seemed to tilt backward. Lily slid through a whirlwind of indescribable sounds and inexplicable colors.
LONDON, 31 OCTOBER 1926
Lily landed painfully on cobblestones. Blearily looking about, she guessed she must be in Knockturn Alley. (She, the goody-two-shoes Muggle-Born, had bought potion ingredients at a dangerous but quaint little shop next to one of the creature pubs on several occasions.) The only difference between this Alley and the one she knew was the clientele. They moved about with their faces uncovered and their purchases prominently displayed, as though they had no reason to fear being recognized. The 1920s, she thought bitterly, where Grindelwald sympathizers were common, and Muggle-Borns were not. What are you gonna do?
A hunched, hooded figure exited a nearby shop, surreptitiously tucking a small purse into a pocket. Lily started as the figure passed. Could this be her quarry? She hurried after the retreating figure, catching up just before they reached the cross street into Diagon Alley.
The figure turned, letting her hood fall. It was indeed Merope Gaunt, her lank hair falling about her face, her outward-pointing eyes downcast, her rounded belly obscured by the baggy dress she wore. She watched warily as Lily approached.
"Er, good evening," Lily managed. "My name is Lily Evans, and I'm here to help."