I apparated into the small Muggle town just outside London, the night air still and watchful. A single café glowed at the corner of the street. Through the window I saw Lily Evans, her red hair catching the lamplight as she read from a worn book.
When I stepped inside, the bell above the door rang once. Conversation faded. One by one the patrons found reasons to leave until the café was silent except for the soft hum of the lights. I crossed the room and sat opposite her.
"Tom," she breathed, her hand trembling around her cup.
"You always were quick to recognize danger," I said, setting my wand on the table—not as a threat, merely a reminder.
Her green eyes met mine. There was fear there, but also curiosity, and something older—an echo I hadn't felt in years. I could feel the magic that linked us, faint but undeniable, like two notes in the same chord.
"I've come for the truth, Lily. About the Order. About Dumbledore."
She hesitated, then whispered, "Why should I tell you anything?"
"Because you've felt it too," I said quietly. "That voice inside you that isn't quite yours. The one that wonders who you truly are."
Lily froze, a faint shimmer of light tracing the edges of her aura. A second presence stirred within her—not forced, but revealed, as if a veil had been lifted. Her expression softened, her tone shifting to something more composed, colder, older.
"…So you finally found me," she said.
I smiled. "It took longer than I expected. Elaine."
Her lips curved faintly. "Elaine Riddle. I remember now."
The two of us talked long into the night—about the hidden plans of the Order, about Dumbledore's moves and mistakes, and about the tangled bond that connected us. Lily listened in silence, while Elaine, her awakened self, spoke with the calm certainty of someone who had been waiting for this conversation all her life.
When I finally rose to leave, the café was still empty, but the air shimmered with possibility.
For the first time in years, I had family.