Chapter Text
And then she is smiled. Was that an apology? The truth is that he never knows. James definitely wanted nothing more than stretch that moment of hope a little longer, but wouldn't it be just a waste of her life?
In their living room right now is a stranger (1, 2). She is sitting at the dining table, drawing directly on it. Blood and ink are dripping messily, forming lines that he doesn't recognize, and that's the whole point. James probably would want to hate her, but she has been kind in the half hour he has known her, something he wouldn't expect from a dark wizard, but her actions were what Lily didn't think about, what none of them thought about. Lily... He couldn't hate that face, but that's part of the problem. There wasn't time to reconcile, nothing but a tragic parting that wasn't and was a farewell, rough and hasty. He thought he would be prepared, but he wasn't, how can anyone prepare for something like this?
He was in despair, completely different from half an hour ago. He wasn't stupid, and he didn't consider his wife stupid, but for the first time in the years he knew her, James felt himself on a different level, lagging behind and significantly lower than everyone around him. Yes, Lily studied better than almost everyone in the class, surpassing all those who absorbed the basics of magic with their mother's milk, but this could be attributed to his wife's incredible diligence, her unconditional desire to explore the world around her.
When Lily volunteered to be the one to bind Peter as the secret keeper, James didn't dare object. Why? He considered it understandable, a desire to lend a hand in protecting their family. He would have volunteered himself, but he trusted his wife more than himself, and the realization that the charms protecting him were created by her magic, her breath and mind, was a beacon of comfort in the most troubled days. He believed in Lily's loyalty to their family, believed in her ability to perform such a spell better than he could. James was confident that the result would be a perfectly functioning spell with a predictable effect.
Except... He couldn't even imagine that she would make a modification. So when the spell was cast, Lily found out about it. Peter betrayed them, and that thought was put off for another day.
When Lily proposed a solution, one that would fully reveal the depths of their hopelessness, he agreed. A dark ritual, something that Dumbledore surely wouldn't approve of, and the idea came from a Muggle-born, one of his favorite students.
James volunteered to be the sacrifice. His wife agreed suspiciously quickly, but in the heat of the moment, he didn't notice. She loved him, she outplayed him.
They had to modify the array. She had to. Lily had clearly been thinking about it for some time, the ideas were precise and fitting.
Once she found an array used to summon a dark wizard. The array was part of Eastern magic, although it had become an important foundation of modern Western magic, it was still incomprehensible to most of her surroundings. The foundation of the array was not the part they dared to change, but that was what they had. The treatise, or to be more precise, the translation described the quirk with this ritual and warned anyone who dared to perform it against such a mistake. Back then, the sacrificer did not speak out the conditions of the deal, and although he managed to bind the spirit with desires, only by a miracle did the summoned dark wizard manage to guess and fulfill them. Lily could not allow such a thing, because even if the spirit suffered for the accidentally violated condition, the damage would already be done. They had to be sure that after conducting such a risky ritual with such a high price, the spirit they summoned would be maximally interested in carrying out the necessary instructions. Yes, one of them would stay here to convey all the information, hoping that, without understanding what was happening, the spirit would not risk killing the present person before finding out that it was forbidden...
But they couldn't actually change the array. It was a magic unfamiliar to any of them, too different for them to risk even altering a symbol. James understood, even without hints, that the array could be modified to select any deceased person, a light wizard, a dark wizard, even a Muggle. But even Lily couldn't understand which part of the array was responsible for this.
So they copied it symbol by symbol. According to his wife, the spirit summoned by the original array had surely died for the second time, no matter how absurdly long Eastern wizards lived. And since that wizard had split his soul (3), the soul would remain here, not fully dead, waiting for the faithful follower to bring the wizard back to life. They could only hope they had done it before, and that the spirit wouldn't be occupied during the ritual, because no one could predict what would happen if the person being summoned was still alive.
James was ready. Ready to die, to move on, to see Lily one last time. He would leave, and the last sight in this life would be her, and his last thought would be the certainty that he had protected his wife and son.
But James understood the array less. It wasn't being inside the array that determined who would be the sacrifice, but whose blood was used, who inflicted the cuts, and who uttered the desires.
He didn't even know about the cuts.
Above the elbow and below the shoulder, so they don't get in the way until they heal. First and foremost, the one inside Lily's body explained to him what he didn't know about the ritual. First. The cuts are a threat, but also an indicator of their deal with Lily. The one they called upon will have to not kill James or Harry, and ensure that both of them survive until Lily's firstborn comes of age. James wanted to insist on more, on including Voldemort's death in the deal, the safety of others. His wife, however, pointed out that after Peter's betrayal, she's not sure it won't leave the spirit with conflicting orders.
Secondly, the dark witch they summoned rushed to the table, while expressing her condolences for his loss, but also trying to fix what wasn't her problem.
Second. The sacrifice was not only Lily's life, but also her afterlife. James didn't expect such thinking from the dark witch, who was summoned a second time for her bloody skills, but apparently, she truly regretted the sacrifice that brought her back to life for the first time, enough to find a solution for her second life.
She cannot reverse the ritual, something tied to its very concept, other than possession, where the body literally changes owners, like your grandmother's ring bequeathed to you, it's like yours but had a previous owner. In addition, the desires must be fulfilled by the summoned spirit, and if the body changes owners before they're completed, it will become impossible, and the new owner of the body will be punished.
Along with this comes the anticipation. The Dark Lord has not yet appeared, but he will surely not delay his visit. According to the spirit in the body of his wife, Lily's soul is now stable, but if he had arrived five minutes earlier, the witch would have had to be distracted from her drawings, and what then?
James thinks he would try to delay Voldemort. He would die, giving the spirit time to gather his wife's soul, and then they would continue together. Harry would survive, the witch would take care of that, he would have a good childhood, the 333 would take care of that, and he only feels tiredness.
The witch tried to be less noticeable. It was obvious that she didn't want to be caught by him.
But now she stood up and approached him from behind, making each of her steps obvious.
“Gongzi, I don't want to scare you, but I think the one you feared is coming towards us now.”
How do you prepare to meet an enemy of unprecedented power? Someone you have feared and hidden from for so long?
“You take the child and leave. I won't repeat it,” - the witch stood at the entrance. Her expression was cold and distant, with a hint of something predatory (so unlike Lily). She clearly didn't sense magic as well as dark wizards. He tried to point that out to her.
“You can't Apparate from here. I'll stay here,” - he raised his wand, but she didn't even touch Lily's wand. Maybe the witch's soul was incompatible?
“Why do you need to teleport? The nursery is on the second floor, you can jump out peacefully and leave,” - she pushed him towards the staircase. “I just don't want you to be here if the house explodes--”
James found himself lying on the floor. The witch pushed him down, and he realized with horror what was happening before him.
The witch leaped at the Dark Lord. She dodged the green beam sent her way and closed the distance. No wizard would have expected such actions against him, dirty, crude, and vulgar as they were. Voldemort was momentarily taken aback, less time than it would have taken any pure-blooded wizard, but what do you expect from the Dark Lord?
But it was enough. She grabbed the hand holding the wand and began twisting it towards herself. There was a click, a sweet sound to the ears, and the Dark Lord's hand let go, dropping his weapon from his fingers. She kicked the wand into a corner.
Unfortunately, her body was that of a weak witch, and such a distraction was just what Voldemort needed to regroup. He threw her aside and reached for his wand.
James threw a mug at the Dark Lord. It still had tea in it, and it was still hot from the spells applied to it. At the same moment, the witch jumped up and knocked their opponent to the floor. A sound rang out, one that James couldn't describe.
The witch calmly stood up and picked up the wand. The wand belonged to the Dark Lord. It was covered in blood and a strange liquid.
The wand had been thrust into Voldemort's eye socket, where the witch had driven it moments before.
The Dark Lord was dead.
“I won't do that again, gongzi, you'll buy me a flute,” - the witch hoarsely said. Her hands were shaking. - “We have to decapitate him. You come up with an explanation yourself.”
She approached and sat on the floor by the coffee table. She took a second cup and began drinking greedily, not bringing it to her lips. While James tried to remember how to address her, she looked at him and grinned.
“You have crappy tea here, gongzi. I pray the alcohol is better. Don't try to remember my name. You didn't ask,” - she slammed the cup on the table and leaned back on the couch. - “Just call me Wei Wuxian.”