LILY POTTER

After spending several days subtly collecting information, Nova had pieced together a reasonably clear picture of this world's power structure. He'd slipped a few Galleons here and there to helpful Muggle-borns — both students and adults — gathering street-level rumors, Ministry policies, and the shifting social climate.

Now, seated cross-legged in the quiet heart of the Sanctum Vault, he exhaled slowly, letting his focus settle. The trunk's layered wards thrummed softly around him, shielding him from any form of magical detection.

Tonight, he was going to use an Astral Travel spell — his first major act in this world. For the occasion, he dressed accordingly: an entirely black outfit beneath a dark cloak with a hood shadowing his face. For dramatic effect, he altered his appearance, turning his hair silver and his eyes into glowing crystal red orbs.

With one final steady breath, his body slumped backward onto the bed — lifeless for the moment — as his soul smoothly separated from its vessel.

The Four-Leaf Clover Grimoire materialized beside him in the spiritual plane, its pages fluttering with a gentle emerald glow.

Nova's soul form drifted upward, passing through the sealed trunk and into the night sky, streaking unseen above the rooftops of London until the imposing structure of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries came into view.

Inside, the soul-light dimmed around him as he phased carefully through the hospital's dense protective enchantments, gliding silently down toward the long-term ward for spell damage.

There she was.

Lily Potter.

Even in her frailty, with her once-vivid crimson hair dulled but unmistakable, she looked far too young to be imprisoned in that cursed bed. Her magical aura flickered weakly — like a dying ember, barely clinging to life.

Nova's grimoire opened beside him, pages rustling until it settled on a shimmering spell — Soul Communication.

A thread of silvery light emerged, anchoring between them as Nova's soul form slowly descended, his grimoire pages fluttering like a silent sentinel at his side.

He slipped into Lily's fractured consciousness — a world of broken images, scattered thoughts, and flickering memories. The very air seemed heavy with grief and torment, as though the mindscape itself had long since surrendered to despair.

Cracks shimmered in the darkness like shattered glass, while faint echoes of distant screams hung in the air.

There.

Amid the swirling fragments sat a lone figure, curled into herself — a faint, flickering image of Lily Potter. Her once-bright emerald eyes were clouded with confusion and exhaustion. She looked up at him with the disoriented gaze of someone who hadn't truly recognized the world in years.

"W…who…?"

Her voice was soft, weak — a ghost of what it had once been.

Nova's grimoire opened again, pages flipping until the glow of the Soul Heal spell bathed the shadowed space in gentle green light. He extended his palm, casting the spell with delicate care — tendrils of soothing magic weaving through the fractured mental plane, knitting splintered fragments and dulling raw psychic wounds.

Lily flinched as the light touched her, but slowly, warmth began to replace the cold terror lingering in the corners of her mind. Her trembling eased.

Nova spoke softly. "It's alright. You're safe now."

As the Soul Heal continued mending the deeper fractures in her soul, Nova wove additional calming spells through the mindscape — Mind Soothing, Fearbreaker, and steady pulses of Emotional Balance. The oppressive storm of fragmented memories and relentless terror slowly subsided, like a great storm retreating beyond the horizon.

Lily's flickering form grew clearer by the second. Her crimson hair regained some of its luster, the tension easing from her face. The confusion lingered in her brightening emerald eyes, but the torment had begun to fade.

"Who… who are you…? Where… what's happening…?" she whispered, her voice trembling but no longer broken.

Nova's expression softened. Or rather — the persona he adopted for this visit did.

A faint, enigmatic smile crossed his lips as he spoke, voice calm and steady. "Greetings, Lady Potter." He inclined his head respectfully. "I am the Trader — a traveler and broker between three distant worlds. A man who trades knowledge, power, artifacts… sometimes even fates."

His crimson, soul-form eyes gleamed faintly in the dim mindscape, his black cloak billowing as if stirred by an invisible wind.

"I mean you no harm," Nova added gently. "In fact — I've come to make a trade with you."

Lily's brow furrowed faintly, some instinctive wariness flickering across her soul's expression. But the confusion no longer consumed her. The heavy fog of madness was receding, and something sharp, cautious, and inherently Gryffindor flickered in those emerald eyes.

"A… trade?" she asked quietly.

Nova's grin widened a fraction. "Indeed. But first — let's finish repairing your soul scape, count it as a freebie."

The Soul Heal spell flared gently again, as the last of the raw fractures sealed and the mindscape around them steadied further. The oppressive weight lifted. And for the first time in years, Lily Potter felt truly awake within her own mind.

-----

"James…"

"Harry… no… not Harry… please—"

The desperate, half-formed fragments of memory echoed endlessly in the dark. Names. Pleas. A child's scream. A burst of green light.

Pain.

An agony not of flesh, but something far crueler — her very mind and soul wrenched apart, broken and scattered like fragments of a shattered mirror.

Then darkness.

Endless, suffocating. A place where even her own name had long since blurred into nothingness. The world reduced to a flicker of old terrors and buried grief.

Until… something shifted.

A light.

Soft. Distant at first. It pushed back the suffocating black, scattering the cold emptiness.

From that growing radiance, a figure stepped forward.

Cloaked in black. A hood shadowed his face. Silver hair shimmered beneath it, his eyes twin crystals of glowing red. He moved like a phantom through the gloom, a silent predator in a den of nightmares.

Floating at his side was a book. No — a grimoire. Its pages turned on their own, glowing with a steady, emerald light that cut through the oppressive void.

Clarity.

A sudden sharpness pierced through the haze clouding her thoughts. She could feel… herself. Feel something again, after what felt like an eternity.

The figure stopped before her — not a threat, not a tormentor, but something else entirely.

His voice broke the stillness, calm and steady.

"Greetings, Lady Potter."

She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat, tangled and unfamiliar.

"I am the Trader," he continued, inclining his head slightly. "A traveler and broker between three distant worlds."

The words barely made sense.

Three… worlds? How…?

How could such a thing exist? And why was one of them standing here — in the broken remnants of her mind?

Before she could ask, his crimson gaze softened, and as if sensing her confusion, he added:

"I mean you no harm." His voice was gentle, almost kind. "In fact, I've come to make a trade with you."

A trade? With me?

After all this time — after years lost to madness and torment — what could she possibly have left to offer?

The wariness surfaced instinctively, even through the still-lingering fog. Some spark of Gryffindor spirit, stubborn and defiant, flared dimly in her soul.

Her voice was hoarse, but steady.

"... Trade?"

The figure smiled faintly — not cruel, not patronizing, but with something resembling approval.

"Indeed. But first — let's finish repairing your soul scape, count it as a freebie.."

And as the strange grimoire at his side turned another page, its glow brightening, she felt the last lingering shadows begin to lift from her mind.

-----

As the last of the oppressive shadows peeled away, clarity returned with cruel sharpness.

Memories.

Not broken fragments, but clear, merciless recollections. The night everything ended.

The sound of shattering wards.

Sirius shouting for James to cover the stairs.

The heavy clash of spells against the walls of their home.

She remembered James, wand in hand, dueling fiercely.

Sirius beside him — reckless, brilliant, furious.

The two of them fighting like men with nothing to lose.

And then — Pettigrew.

The coward's trembling hand betraying them, his wand raised behind Sirius' back.

A flash of green light.

Sirius fell.

James roared in grief, hurling curse after curse until Pettigrew's charred corpse hit the floor.

But it was already too late.

Bellatrix's shriek of mad laughter cut through the chaos as her curse struck James squarely in the chest.

He crumpled beside Sirius, both gone within seconds of each other.

She fell when her own Avada Kedavra spell hit her.

And then them.

The Lestrange brothers — Rabastan and Rodolphus — their expressions twisted with rage, madness in their bloodshot eyes as they saw their sister-in-law's/wife lifeless body at Lily's feet.

"You filthy Mudblood whore," Rabastan snarled.

They came at her, their spells relentless, the pain unimaginable.

The Cruciatus Curse dug into her bones, warping her nerves, shattering her sanity.

She remembered screaming, begging them to stop. Not for herself — but for Harry.

"Please… not Harry… please…!"

And then — through her haze of agony — she saw Barty Crouch Jr.

His cruel grin as he stepped over the bodies, making his way toward the nursery.

"No…"

She'd tried to crawl after him, her limbs refusing to move, her voice a cracked whisper.

"Leave… him… alone…"

The Lestranges laughed, doubling the torture until her world became nothing but white-hot pain.

Her mind splintering, her magic lashing out blindly, uselessly.

And then — a sudden burst of light at the doorway.

Aurors.

Too late.

Their faces blurred by the tears and blood clouding her vision.

Streaks of red and gold spells lighting up the air.

Someone shouted her name.

And then — darkness.

Deep, cold, and absolute.

Until now.

Her chest hitched as the memories settled. The phantom pain still clung to her like a second skin. But clarity returned to her mind.

And standing amidst it all, untouched by the horrors, was the Trader.

x------x

CHAPTER:- [54- THEN CONTRACT (II)] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON.

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