Chapter 1
Winter Solstice 1959 - Post Council Meeting
If one were to be walking past a particular corridor of the Olympian Palace on that particular day, they would not be surprised to find the two immortals sparring with the flames of their disgust and displeasure.
Although married, the two immortals, Aphrodite and Hephaestus would not be caught willingly near one another on any other day but their annual council meetings. It was for this requirement that Hera—Queen of Olympus and goddess of marriage—was able and eager to force them together. To the Queen's dismay, their forced meetings typically result in the two being further separated and only sometimes sharing a bed.
It was the 22nd of December of the year 1959, and once more time for the annual meeting of the Olympian council plus Lady Hestia, and in particular Lord Hades, King of the Underworld. It was he who the two typically at-odds gods wished to ask a favor.
If it were any other day, their lack of tension would have wrought weariness, but it had been solstice and they had recently been forced together by an overbearing queen.
The pair approached his shadowed corner—the beauty goddess, arm in arm with the disfigured god of forges. “Uncle,” the god greeted, “It is a pleasure to see you once more.”
“Yes,” it was the goddess who now spoke, “it would be nice to see you now and again on the surface with your lovely wife-”
Hades interrupted, “Lady Aphrodite, I must once again remind you, I am rarely welcomed on the surface and you see us plenty together in the Underworld when you force your company upon us.”
“You must forgive me, nephew, the love you share is simply divine. I cannot help but soak in that particular aura of marital love. I so rarely feel it on Olympus now with Dionysus banished to that infernal camp. Chaos knows why they insist on that garish neon orange-”
Hephaestus squeezed the arm on his, effectively silencing its owner, “Back on topic, please. Aphrodite and I must ask a great favor of you.” He held out a hand, a flame formed. Aphrodite mirrored her own. If possible, Hades took a step further into the shadows.
“You cannot possibly-” Hades hissed.
“It has been done before.”
“It has been done before, and now my son is lost to my brother!” he nearly yells.
“We’ve only isolated a small portion of our essence, twice what would be in an average half-blood. Our main essences would remain unaware of them until they are returned in death. We ask only to be guided somewhere we can grow together.”
“In turn, I am willing to help with construction in your realm.” Hephaestus offered.
“And when the time comes, your children shall find the love they deserve,” Aphrodite cut in.
Hades took a breath and took the two flames of immortal essence into his hands.
A chime was made.
“It is time for council,”
23rd January 1960
Lily Evans woke to the warm arms of her mother. Soaking in the love around her, the reborn goddess fell asleep once more, satisfied. As she would grow, her memories would lay dormant in the back of her mind.
27th March 1960
James woke to a burning, unlike anything he had felt before. Screeching and burning as bright as when he was thrown from the heavens. He collapsed from exhaustion.
Lily Evans was special. She had been told so by her parents, her sister, her teachers, and her friends. She had known so and felt so from a young age. Lily Evans was special, for she would feel, see, and hear the colors, sounds, the touch of emotions. From love to hate. The doctors had called it synesthesia, but the word had felt too small.
James Potter was special. He had been told so by his mother, his father, and their house elf. He had known so, felt his magic boiling, bouncing, igniting like a flame. Which was naturally the form his accidental magic took most often.
Lily was special. According to the Snape boy from Spinner's End, Lily was a witch. That felt… not quite right, but close. He, Severus, told her of magic, the wizarding world, of Hogwarts. He had shown her a new way of seeing the world, what plants and flowers could be used in potions, how to interpret the stars, and of course, proper etiquette in day-to-day interactions. Lily, in turn, shared the way she—herself—perceived feelings, through words if not in sight. An empath, he had called her, "Some sort of seer?"
James was special. To his parents, he was their miracle. Their long-awaited heir. He was also, at the best of times, a hassle to care for: “That's the seventh set of bedding and fifth couch set to ashes this month! At this rate, we’ll be fully funding the Patils by the time you are sent to school!”