Severus slipped away silently, vanishing from the room as if swallowed by shadows. Lily's eyes followed the spot where he had stood, then glazed over with exhaustion.
She tried to move, but her body betrayed her, heavy and uncooperative.
Pain pulsed through her limbs, but she forced herself to wait.
Wait for help. Wait for strength to return.
Her gaze fell on Aster's small hand, once bloodied and pale.
But now, the wound was gone.
No scar, no mark. Just smooth skin, almost glowing faintly in the dim light.
Lily's eyes traced the flawless skin of Aster's hand, still puzzled.
Maybe… she thought weakly, Maybe his mother had some kind of regenerative power.
It was the only explanation that made any sense. But it didn't explain her own survival.
Her gaze drifted back to the children in her arms.
She held them close, silently praying she had enough strength left to protect them both.
Time had blurred, broken into pieces between pain, fear, and the silence that followed.
Then, footsteps, quiet but purposeful, echoed through the hallway.
A sharp crack echoed inside the house. Then footsteps, measured, steady.
She heard the gentle rustle of robes, the careful steps of someone who carried weight not just in power, but in purpose.
When she looked up, she saw him. Albus Dumbledore.
An old man carved from time itself, with silver hair and a long, worn beard that brushed the folds of his deep purple robes. His expression was somber, but kind. And tired.
His expression was somber, but kind.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene more fully.
James's body below, and Lily, alive.
Blood stained the corners of her mouth, though no wound remained visible. Her breath was shallow, her limbs trembling, yet she was awake, conscious, holding the children close.
Alive. He hadn't expected that.
He had planned for the worst, that she would fall protecting her son, as the prophecy demanded.
That her death would fuel the ancient protection he had hoped to shape around Harry.
But this? His mind flickered rapidly through possibilities.
Did Voldemort spare her? Because of Severus? Was that… love, or something close enough to delay a killing blow?
Even Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, could not say for certain. But he knew this much: this was not chance.
With a quiet breath, he reached into the inner folds of his robe and drew a crystal vial filled with softly glowing amber liquid.
He knelt before Lily, uncorked it, and offered it gently.
"Wiggenweld," he said softly. "It will restore enough of your strength to stand."
Lily hesitated, eyes searching his. There were questions burning on her tongue, but her hands were full of children, and her body was still failing her.
She accepted.
She drank slowly, the warm liquid sliding down her throat like light itself, soothing, mending, bringing life back into limbs she had feared lost.
Lily leaned against the shattered crib, cradling the children, her strength gradually returning.
She didn't ask the question aloud. Not yet. But it hovered in her eyes as she turned to him.
"How did you know to come? How could you have known what happened here, so quickly, so precisely?"
He met her gaze. Kind. Wary.
And unreadable in the way only Dumbledore could be. "There are forces in motion, Lily," he said softly, "that respond to great magic. And great sacrifice."
He let the words hang in the air like smoke. Not quite an answer. Not quite a lie.
As a great wizard, he could tell that a sacrificial ritual was being performed, hovering over Harry and Lily.
Then he looked at the third person in the room.
He pointed gently toward Aster.
"Whose child is this?" His voice was calm but carried the weight of unasked questions. "I don't recall him."
He could still see Severus' expression when he came to him late at night, angry and feeling betrayed.
Lily's breath caught. She glanced down at Aster, then back at Dumbledore, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She knew that answer could change everything.
"He's the child of a distant family member," she said, avoiding his gaze.
Albus's eyes softened, but a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He had heard that excuse before, used to mask truths too painful or dangerous to share.
"A distant family member, is it?" he said quietly, voice gentle but edged with understanding.
He glanced toward the scorched floor, then back to Lily's tired face.
He knew the Dursleys were her only remaining family, no distant relatives, no hidden branches.
Albus's gaze flickered again to Aster, studying the boy more closely. There was something… off.
Not just in the child, but in the invisible thread that seemed to bind him to Lily.
A strange energy pulsed between them, like a shadow beneath the light.
Dumbledore's sharp mind sensed it immediately: A sacrificial magic lingered in Aster, echoing the powerful protection Lily had invoked.
But intertwined with it was something darker, a siphoning, a slow draining of life force, as if Aster was drawing strength from her very being.
Albus studied Lily and the two children carefully, his eyes lingering thoughtfully on Aster.
He spoke softly, choosing his words with care. "Lily, sometimes the bonds between those we love carry complexities that are not easily seen or understood." He stopped to read her expression, which was now sad, knowing full well what he was going to say. "There is a delicate balance here, one that requires attention and caution."
He glanced toward Aster, then back to Lily. "For the sake of both your well-being and the boy's, it would be wise to ensure that he spends some time away from familiar surroundings… somewhere safe, removed from the pressures and… complications of this world. A place where he might learn to better understand himself before he returns."
Then, gently, he asked, "What is his name?"
Lily hesitated a moment, then answered quietly, tears in her eyes."Evans. Aster Evans."
Dumbledore's gaze softened as he considered the boy before him. "Aster will need guidance, not just protection. Isolation could be as dangerous as exposure."
He paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back.
"There's a place," he said, his eyes never leaving Lily's, "where he can grow over without drawing attention. His identity was kept hidden even from me… until today. That means no one else, no Death Eater, no Ministry eye knows of his existence."
He paused, letting the importance of that settle in. "We must keep it that way."
His voice lowered slightly, more solemn now. "Not a whisper of your 'secret' child can reach beyond this room. He will grow where he is safe, among other children."
"Let him be a boy, first. Let him learn to be human." He said, gently but seriously.
He didn't know if Lily would accept it. He didn't want to take the child by force, she was unaware that the child was slowly draining her life.
Dumbledore, ever perceptive, observed Lily's trembling hands and the quiet torment behind her eyes. His expression remained calm, but there was a gentleness in his voice that only surfaced in moments like this, moments of real human cost.
Calmly, he opened his mouth. "I know, Lily," he said softly. "To ask you to let him go… after everything, it is no small cruelty."
Dumbledore stepped closer, his tone more grave now."But you must understand, Harry is already believed to be the child of prophecy. Voldemort marked him. The eyes of the world, both good and evil, will be on him as he grows."
"To keep Aster with him, where he could be seen, questioned, compared…" He paused, then spoke the hardest truth. "It would place him in danger, Lily. Perhaps even greater danger than Harry."
Her breath caught, and she finally looked up at him. Her voice was hoarse. "He's just a boy."
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "And that is why he must remain just a boy, at least for now. Not a symbol. Not a mystery."
His eyes softened, those wise blue eyes dimmed by sorrow.
"He saved your life with a magic he doesn't understand. You gave him a name. But if we're to keep that boy alive and whole… he must live apart from what he saved."
Silence hung between them, broken only by Aster's steady breathing.
Lily leaned down. Her tears were silent now. She knew she would say yes.
It was what she had to do.
*Druuuum!*
The low, distant Druuuum of an engine broke the stillness outside. A thunderous growl against the otherwise hushed world, drawing closer through the broken night.
It came to a sudden stop just beyond the garden fence.
Moments later, heavy, hurried footsteps pounded against the ground, clumsy with urgency, boots striking the earth with the desperation of someone who already feared what he would find.
Sirius Black stood framed in the doorway, eyes wide and wild, his breath fogging in the chilled air. His wand was clenched in one trembling hand, his leather jacket fluttering with the wind still clinging to him.
His gaze landed on the body first, James.
Cold. Still. Lifeless.
"No..." Sirius whispered, staggering forward. His knees almost buckled as he dropped beside his best friend. "Prongs..."
His breath hitched, grief swelling in his throat like a scream that wouldn't come.
But even now, in this moment of heartbreak, another urgency pushed through.
Lily. Harry. And, his mind sharpened suddenly, Aster.
Sirius forced himself to his feet, stumbling past the broken remains of furniture and spell-charred walls, rushing up the staircase two steps at a time. The house still held that eerie quiet, but above, he could feel its presence, life.
When he reached the nursery, the door broken, he saw them.
In her arms were two sleeping children. Harry. And Aster. Sirius froze, as if the air had left his lungs.
Alive. All of them.
Lily stirred as Sirius knelt beside her, his breath ragged, hands trembling as he reached out to steady her. His eyes were locked on Harry and Aster, alive. Lily, alive. Relief crashed through him like a wave, but it couldn't wash away the cold knot in his chest.
Her lips parted, voice barely a whisper, hoarse and fragile. "James?" she asked.
It was one word, but it carried everything: hope, dread, denial.
Sirius didn't answer at first. His eyes lowered, his shoulders folding in slightly as if to shield her from what had to be said.
She asked again, though quieter this time. "Sirius… is James alive?"
He shook his head slowly. "No."
Lily closed her eyes, her entire body sagging, like a thread holding her together had finally snapped. A sound left her lips—something between a breath and a sob. She had known. But hearing it confirmed broke something new.
"I'm sorry," Sirius said. His voice cracked. "If I'd gotten here faster… if I'd just—"
"You didn't know," Lily whispered. "None of us knew."
Her fingers curled protectively around Harry and Aster, like she could anchor herself in them, like they were the only proof that something good had survived.
Sirius blinked back the heat in his eyes. "Dumbledore… he got here in time to save you. But Prongs… he was already…"
He couldn't finish.
Dumbledore stood quietly behind them, his face a mask of calm, though his eyes were heavy with the weight of truths not yet spoken.
And Lily knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
As the silence thickened in the ruined nursery, Dumbledore stepped forward, the soft rustle of his robes the only sound in the stillness.
His eyes, usually so warm, now held a sharper glint—piercing, searching.
"Sirius," he said quietly, "wasn't it you who was their Secret Keeper?"
The question struck like a blow. Lily turned her head slowly, confused, her brows knitting.
Sirius flinched, his face twisting with pain. "I—I wasn't," he said, the words tumbling out, raw and desperate. "We changed it. Last minute. I thought it would throw them off."
He swallowed hard, unable to meet Lily's gaze.
"We made Peter the Secret Keeper."
Sirius had shame darkening his features. "I thought no one would suspect him. He was scared. He was weak. I thought... I thought that made him safe."
Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but his voice deepened, more solemn than before. "And now Peter is gone."
Determination came to Sirius' face, "I have to go. If Peter did this... I'll find him."
Lily, barely strong enough to speak, looked up from where she cradled the boys. "Sirius… don't do anything reckless."
He paused in the doorway, casting one last glance at her, his godson, and Aster. His jaw tightened.
"I already did," he muttered, then disapparated into the night.