"Snape."
When Lily heard that familiar name, her already translucent figure wavered, as if betraying the complex emotions in her heart.
"Lockhart, can you really bring Lily back?" James Potter immediately latched onto the key point, his voice filled with urgency. His face lit up with hope at the possibility of Lily's resurrection.
For all his disdain for Snape, for all the years he had seen him as a rival, James couldn't deny that Snape's feelings for Lily were pure. And if Snape had requested this, it was because he had gone to extraordinary lengths to make it possible.
"Yes," Lockhart said with a small nod. "Snape has sacrificed a great deal for Lily's sake."
He turned slightly, his voice calm, almost detached. "Of course, his contributions are worthy of my help in bringing her back."
Lily remained silent for a moment, then hesitantly asked, "How has he been? I heard he's the Head of Slytherin House now and a professor at Hogwarts."
"Snape is doing well," Lockhart confirmed. "In fact, he also serves as the Potions Master at Kamar-Taj. He's helped me in many ways."
Lily nodded, her expression unreadable. "That's good to hear." Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added, "But as for resurrection… it's unnecessary."
Lockhart blinked, genuinely surprised at her refusal. Before he could ask why, Lily provided an explanation.
"I've been dead for years. In the minds of everyone who knew me, I already belong to the past." Her voice was gentle yet firm. "Even if I were to return, what purpose would it serve?"
The words were rational, even logical.
But James saw through them instantly.
"Lockhart, ignore Lily's excuses and bring her back," James said decisively. "If you need anything, just say the word—I'll cooperate fully."
He turned to his wife, his expression softening as he reached out, taking her ghostly hand in his. "Lily, I know what you're thinking."
She looked away, but he continued, undeterred. "You don't want to come back alone. You think that if we can't both live, then neither of us should. But Lily, that's not how this should be."
She remained silent, but James tightened his grip, his voice low and pleading. "This is a chance we never thought we'd get. You need to take it."
She looked into his eyes, filled with love and understanding. And then, he played his last card.
"Lily, Harry needs you."
Her lips parted slightly, but before she could protest, James pressed on.
"You've seen what he's going through. You know the toll this is taking on him." His voice was firm but gentle. "If anyone can help him, it's you. You're the only one who can ease the damage done to his soul."
Lily trembled. She wanted to deny it, to push away the truth, but she couldn't. James was right.
Still, sorrow flickered in her eyes. "What about you?"
James smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "One of us surviving is better than neither. Harry needs at least one of us."
She swallowed hard, but before she could respond, she turned to Lockhart. "What would it take to bring James back too?"
Lockhart had been quietly observing them, and at her question, he let out a small sigh.
"Resurrection is not a simple thing, Lily," he said. "Snape's request was to bring you back. That alone has required sacrifices beyond what you can imagine."
Lily fell silent, absorbing his words. James, too, frowned but didn't argue.
Resurrection was not some ordinary spell—it was among the most forbidden forms of magic. Many had attempted it, few had succeeded, and even fewer had done so without great cost.
"Lily, listen to me," James said softly, stepping closer. He cupped her face in his ghostly hands, his touch barely tangible. "I love you. Even in death, that hasn't changed."
His voice grew more intense. "I want you to live. I want you to look after our son."
Lockhart stood unmoved, as if accustomed to witnessing such raw emotions. "Snape, what do you think?" he suddenly asked, his lips moving slightly as if relaying a silent message.
Unseen by most, a figure in the shadows tensed.
Snape's hidden presence had gone unnoticed, but now, Lockhart had called him out.
Snape's dark eyes flickered, watching the exchange between the Potters. His face remained unreadable, yet something deep within him stirred—an emotion he had spent years trying to suppress.
Lockhart turned back to him. "Well?"
Silence hung between them. For a long moment, Snape said nothing.
Then, his lips pressed together, his voice rough when he finally spoke. "Resurrect Lily first."
Lockhart smirked faintly, nodding as if he had expected that very response. "Understood."
James closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He had known this would be the outcome, but hearing it aloud made it all the more final.
Lily looked at Snape, though she could not see him. She could feel his presence. A part of her wanted to say something, but words failed her.
"Lily, James, we'll talk about everything else later," Lockhart said calmly. "For now, let's focus on bringing you back."
Lily hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Alright."
A flicker of movement in the shadows. Snape remained silent, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away.
Lockhart rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers. "Well then, let's get started."
This was what he had promised Snape. And Lockhart always kept his promises.
As soon as the words fell, Lily opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but Lockhart moved slightly, and his wand appeared in his hand.
With a precise wave, familiar magical vibrations rippled through the air. As if reacting to the spell, the surrounding soul space began to tremble with violent fluctuations.
Not far away, James Potter's figure started to collapse, his essence disintegrating into wisps of black-red mist before fading completely. The darkness that had once clung to the space struggled to persist but was inevitably consumed by the rising tide of purple light that bathed the entire area.
The Horcrux fragment reacted immediately.
For the first time, it trembled with sheer panic, its resistance growing frenzied as its connection to Harry's soul began to weaken. The dark mist pulsed in defiance, fighting desperately to maintain its grip.
Harry, still within the soul space, clutched his head and let out a cry of pain. His spectral form wavered, growing momentarily transparent.
In the physical world, his reaction mirrored the battle raging within. Lying on the hospital bed in Hogwarts' infirmary, his body twisted and convulsed violently. McGonagall and Sirius stood nearby, watching with mounting concern.
"Lockhart, is Harry alright?" Sirius asked, his voice thick with panic.
But Lockhart gave no reply. His focus was wholly fixed on the Horcrux fragment.
"Sirius, stay calm," McGonagall said reassuringly. "Have faith in Lockhart."
She had witnessed enough in recent months to understand the depth of his abilities. In her mind, he had long since reached a level equal to, if not surpassing, Dumbledore. If he said Harry would be fine, then the only thing they could do now was wait.
Buzz!
The Horcrux fragment pulsed, its connection to Harry's pure soul visibly shifting. The two were entangled in a complex rhythm of corruption and purification, a never-ending cycle that had only deepened their bond. Each iteration had not only damaged Harry but had also strengthened him in ways no one had foreseen.
Harry's magical talent had grown immensely, particularly in the domain of dark magic. But this strength came with a price—the taint of the Horcrux had slowly altered his very essence, pushing him further and further from who he once was.
Lockhart narrowed his eyes.
It wasn't just a bond.
Somewhere within that cycle, Harry had absorbed a portion of the Horcrux itself.
A slow smirk formed on Lockhart's lips. Fascinating.
Harry Potter, inheriting a piece of Voldemort's soul and memories?
Was this the birth of Voldemort's version of Harry Potter?
Or, perhaps, Harry Potter's version of Voldemort?
The very thought thrilled Lockhart.
With another precise motion, his wand danced through the air. A gust of pale-blue, ethereal wind swept through the soul space, infused with the dream world's power. It wove around the Horcrux fragment, breaking it down layer by layer, corroding it, purifying it, altering it.
Black dust rose from the fragment, dissipating into the air.
Outside the soul space, McGonagall and Sirius watched in astonishment as Harry's trembling body grew still. His once-writhing form relaxed, his expression softening as if the torment had finally begun to fade.
McGonagall whispered, "His magical aura... it's growing."
Harry's soul pulsed with newfound strength, feeding on the remains of the Horcrux. The golden runes that had long encased the fragment gleamed even brighter, seizing their long-awaited victory over the darkness.
"So this is the Dark Lord's greatest safeguard?" Snape's voice cut through the stillness.
His tone was calm, but there was a distant edge of something else—perhaps loneliness, perhaps something darker.
Lockhart nodded, admiration lacing his words. "For all its flaws, the Horcrux is an ingenious piece of magic. A backup of one's soul—stubborn and resilient beyond belief. If it weren't for the power of the dream world, breaking it would be nearly impossible."
Snape remained quiet, his thoughts unreadable.
Then, after a long pause, he spoke. "In the face of the threats from other dimensions, could a Horcrux serve as protection?"
Lockhart hesitated, the first sign of uncertainty crossing his face.
"Perhaps," he admitted. "But that's a conversation for another time. Right now, our focus is on completing this task."
The last remnants of the Horcrux dissolved into nothingness.
The soul space was now bathed in golden light, pure and undisturbed.
Harry stood at the center, wrapped in the warmth of his mother's embrace. Tears glistened in his emerald eyes, but his face remained unreadable.
"Professor Lockhart," he murmured, his voice calm, detached. "Thank you for your help with my mother."
Lockhart observed him closely. There was something different about Harry now. He no longer carried the same innocence as before—there was something else beneath the surface. Something controlled. Something composed.
He had changed.
Lockhart smiled. "Of course, Harry. A promise is a promise."
With that, his spirit retreated from the soul space.
In the physical world, Harry's eyes fluttered open. A golden glow flickered briefly in his gaze before vanishing, unnoticed by all except one.
Snape's sharp eyes caught the trace of magic and widened slightly. He knew exactly what it meant.
Lily's soul mark had been successfully preserved.
"Harry!" Sirius rushed forward, relief flooding his voice. "Are you alright? Are you thirsty? Hungry? You've been asleep for an entire day!"
"Yes, Harry," McGonagall added, concern evident in her expression. "Tell us how you feel. If there's anything wrong, we'll fix it together."
Harry sat up slowly, his movements precise, controlled. "I'm fine," he said smoothly. "Actually, I feel better than ever."
McGonagall blinked at his composed demeanor, then turned to Lockhart, who merely gave an unreadable smile.
"Headmaster Lockhart," Harry continued, rising to his feet. He bowed slightly, his voice unwavering. "Thank you for your assistance."
Sirius and McGonagall exchanged surprised glances.
There was something different about him.
Then Harry turned, his gaze sharp, focused.
"And about my mother's resurrection... What do you need me to do?"
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