The Past Between the Lines
It was a quiet Sunday, and the library was half-empty — save for the rustling of pages and the occasional cough of a distracted student. Wren sat at their usual corner table, fingers stained with ink, quill dancing across a blank sheet as she sketched a warding array that hadn’t been invented yet.
Across from her, James pretended to study but mostly watched her.
She noticed, of course. She always noticed him. He was subtle in every way except his eyes. Those were impossible to ignore. Bright, golden-brown, always warm — and right now, suspiciously intense.
“You’re staring,” she said without looking up.
“I am,” he replied shamelessly.
“What is it this time? Ink on my nose? Floating parchment? Secret second head?”
He smirked. “No. Just wondering how someone our age knows spell structures that haven’t been published yet.”
Wren froze.
Her quill paused mid-stroke.
James leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Also… how you predicted Lily’s Patronus before she knew what it was. And that time you told Remus exactly what the Whomping Willow’s knot would do before even Dumbledore explained it.”
Wren sighed, shoulders dropping.
“I slip sometimes,” she admitted.
James was quiet for a moment. Then: “Are you from the future?”
That surprised her. But not nearly as much as it should have.
She looked up, met his gaze, and answered truthfully.
“No. Not really.”
He blinked. “Not really?”
“I’m… from a different world,” she said slowly. “One where all of this,” she waved vaguely at the castle around them, “is a story. A book. A life I read about, once.”
James opened his mouth. Closed it again.
“No war,” she added quickly. “In this world, there’s no prophecy. No chosen one. Everything’s different. And I like it that way.”
He studied her, the way she curled her fingers when she was nervous, the way she watched him like she expected him to run.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he whispered, “Then why are you here?”
She hesitated. “Maybe to change something. Maybe to fix something. Maybe… to find something I lost.”
“Or someone?”
She looked at him. Really looked.
“I don’t know yet,” she whispered.
James nodded once. “Then let’s find out together.”
And just like that, she exhaled. For the first time in months, the weight she carried felt… lighter.