Finding harry
Lily’s frantic and desperate mind cannot ignore her most innate desire. Every pulse and heartbeat aches for Harry. From the day he was born lily lived for him. Still she knew she couldn’t get Harry until she sorted somethings out. She needed to get them a place to live. She had to get Harry clothes and food and a bed.
Lily raced to find a place to stay. There’s the potter manor but she would feel too guilty considering she left James to die. She assumed Godric’s Hollow would be destroyed. That left only one place. Their old London apartment. Just the thought of that flat made memories she thought were lost coming rushing back.
She pushed the memories away in a frantic attempt to secure a place for her son.
She tredges through London wearing the clothes she was buried in. A simple black dress and hair clip. The journey to her old aparetment is tedious and filled with a longing she cannot satisfy just yet. She convinces herself that if she can just find the apartment and get a bed, some clothes and some toys then everything will be ok.
Finally the tall concrete building she once called home stands before her. She grips her wand tightly, knuckles turning white ready for the challenge before her. She walks through the lobby confidently as if she hasn’t just come back from the dead, and scurries past the front desk. She opts to take the stairs to her flat on the 5 floor. After taking one last breath to sooth the nerves she whispers under her breath, “alohamora.” The door swings open like a portal to her past and emotions that were once buried like her cold lifeless body come rushing to the surface. She hasn’t thought she could ever feel this strongly about anything again. And for just one second she thinks that maybe she was wrong. Wrong for leaving James, wrong for resenting Remus or loathing Sirius. But then she thinks of Harry. Harry alone. Harry rotting in the dark with no one to comfort him and her ruthless
demeanor returns. No matter how good of a wife or friend she was, she’ll be a better mother.
Lily spends the next 20 minutes putting every charm she can think of on the flat. Unplottable, anti apparition, anti dark magic. You name it, she probably charmed it. For the first time she doesn’t regret dropping transfiguration for charms. She then turns her attention to her clothes. For the first time it occurs to her that’s she’s wearing a black funeral dress, covered in dirt and that she reeks of death. She charms herself to be seeing a maroon knit sweater and simple jeans. And gets rid of the god awful smell. Finally the last step before she can retrieve her son, things. She needs to get food and clothes and set up his room before she can bring his back home.
She has to stick to muggle stores so that she can get the things she needs without being recognized. But there’s only one problem with that, she doesn’t have any muggle money. And to be able to transfer her wizard if money to muggle currency she would have to go to the one place she can’t: diagon alley. While lily hates the idea of stealing and every thing it entails it seems she doesn’t have much of a choice now. So she reluctantly takes one step in front of the other and prepares for the task ahead of her.
Two hours later she stands in a fully furnished London apartment filled with food and toys for Harry. Which leaves only one step of her plan left. Harry.
Lily apparates about two blocks away from privet drive, in an empty park to decrease the chances of any muggles seeing her. Wand in hand, she marches to the place her son is being kept, fully prepared to blow the whole house down. She pounds on the front door angrily. Petunia opens. Her eyes bug out of her head and her jaw goes slack. “ You’re dead!” She shrieks. Lily stands frozen in time. She’s been dreaming of this moment since the second she came back to life but when finally confronted with it she stands shell shocked. To be fair one never prepares what to say to their former sister who’s abusing their son. Still anger and guilt fill her and in the struggle between fight or flight, fight prevails. She smacks her so hard across the face that she falls to the ground. She doesn’t realize that she’s crying until much later. “Vernon! Help,” petunia calls desperately. And a sadistic part of lily feels glad for her desperation. Lily races forward pushing petunia hour of the way. She makes her way to the cupboard under the stairs. She opens it gingerly, her body going rigid and tense. The sight that plagues her eyes is one she will never forget. Harry is asleep. He’s covered in bruises of all colors from blue to purple that stain is beautiful brown skin. He’s so thin that lily believes he’ll shatter if she dares to touch him. She chocks on a sob. “Oh Harry,” she murmurs “my beautiful boy.” She’s hyperventilating now tears gently cascading from her cheek dripping onto his hair. In a burst of impulse she swiftly but gently picks him up and makes her way to the front door. With one last glare to petunia who has at least the decency to appear sheepish, she marches out the front door, to their new life.