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Chapter Two: The Spark Within

  Chapter Two: The Spark Within

  Lily stepped out of Gringotts with the weight of the small silver key still warm in her hand. The knowledge that she was heir to Rowena Ravenclaw hadn’t fully settled in—it hovered at the edges of her thoughts like a word she almost remembered.

  McGonagall led her back onto the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, and the noise and color returned like a wave. Shopkeepers shouted greetings, owls hooted from high rafters, and the rich scent of roasted nuts and something sweet floated through the air.

  “Come, Lily,” McGonagall said briskly. “We have much to do.”

  Their next stop was Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, where a witch in mauve robes measured Lily with floating tape and cheerful commentary. They passed by Flourish and Blotts, where stacks of magical books towered precariously, and Potage’s Cauldron Shop, where gleaming pewter cauldrons sat like polished trophies.

  But Lily’s favorite shop—by far—was Ollivanders.

  The interior smelled like dust and lightning. Shelves upon shelves of narrow boxes stretched high above her, and the moment she stepped inside, it felt like the air grew denser, charged with something waiting to happen.

  Mr. Ollivander appeared from the back like a ghost in motion. “Ah,” he said softly, peering at Lily. “I wondered when we’d be seeing you.”

  It took several tries. One wand whistled violently and cracked a vase. Another made Lily’s arm feel numb. But when she picked up the slender wand of rowan wood with a unicorn hair core, the room fell still. A warm current surged through her fingertips. The wand glowed faintly.

  “Curious,” Ollivander murmured. “A wand fit for a legacy.”

  Lily didn’t understand what he meant, but she nodded politely, still dazed by the sensation.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The shopping trip ended with a quick stop at the Leaky Cauldron, where McGonagall arranged for her to stay until September first. The professor left after a final few instructions, promising to return before departure day.

  Lily was left with a stack of schoolbooks, a small trunk of new belongings, and the peculiar weight of expectation.

  The week passed in a strange rhythm—part school preparation, part secret discovery.

  Each morning, Lily sat in her small rented room above the Leaky Cauldron, her wand in hand and spellbook spread open. She practiced every spell she could find. First the basics—Lumos, Nox, Alohomora. She whispered the words carefully, matching the wand movements like a dance.

  But something unexpected happened.

  She didn’t struggle.

  Spells obeyed her with startling ease. Wingardium Leviosa lifted an ink bottle on her first try. She lit her candle with Lumos from across the room. By the third day, she didn’t need to speak the words aloud. Her wand pulsed when she thought of the magic, almost like it was responding to her mind directly.

  And stranger still—when she practiced without her wand, things still happened.

  Small things. The curtains fluttered when she focused hard enough. A teacup slid across the desk with only her gaze. She didn’t mention it to anyone, not even the friendly barmaid who brought her breakfast. She wasn’t sure she could explain it.

  There was another secret, too—Ash.

  Her sleek black cat rarely left her side, always watching with those silver eyes that glinted in dim light. He didn’t flinch at spells or floating objects. Instead, he seemed… expectant.

  One evening, as Lily scratched behind his ears, her fingers brushed something strange. Two small, hard bumps just above his eyes, centered on his forehead. She froze.

  They were symmetrical, as if something beneath his skin was beginning to take shape.

  She touched them again, gently. Ash blinked at her, calm and unconcerned.

  Lily said nothing.

  She didn’t know why, but she felt deep in her bones that whatever Ash was—it wasn’t just a cat.

  On the morning of September first, Professor McGonagall returned in her deep green robes, precise as ever.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  Lily nodded, her trunk packed, wand holstered at her side, and Ash nestled in his carrier—though he glared at her as if the indignity were beneath him.

  At King’s Cross Station, Lily stood before the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. She hesitated.

  “It’s quite simple,” McGonagall said. “Just walk straight at the wall. With purpose.”

  Lily took a deep breath and pushed the trolley forward. She expected impact—but instead, the world shimmered.

  And then she was standing on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, steam curling around her boots, the red engine of the Hogwarts Express hissing and gleaming under the late summer sun.

  McGonagall stepped through the barrier behind her. “I’ll take my leave here,” she said. “You’ll be safe. The prefects will assist you if needed.”

  Lily turned to her, uncertainty tightening her throat. “Thank you. For everything.”

  McGonagall offered a rare smile. “You have more strength than you know, Lily. Trust it.”

  Then she was gone.

  Lily boarded the train and found a quiet compartment near the back. She placed Ash’s cage beside her, then sat down and stared out the window as the platform blurred behind clouds of smoke.

  Ash let out a low rumble of a purr, and Lily reached over to stroke the top of his head.

  The bumps were still there. Subtle. Hidden.

  But no longer ignorable.

  The train whistled and began to move. Lily watched the world slide past, knowing nothing would ever be the same again.

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