Chapter Text
The dungeons of Hogwarts did not frighten Lily Evans. Cobwebs hung thick in the dark corners, and the scent of crushed beetle eyes and simmering brassica roots clung to the stone walls. To the other first-years, it was a dungeon. To Lily, it felt like the quiet, enclosed safety of her cupboard, only vastly larger and filled with things she actually wanted to touch.
She sat at the very back of the Potions classroom, her oversized Ravenclaw robes drowning her frail, malnourished frame. Every breath she took was a battle. Her lungs, permanently scarred by a severe bout of untreated pneumonia during her years with the Dursleys, rattled quietly in her chest. She pulled her thick green winter cap further down over her ears, burying her face into her scarf to hide the jagged, pale scars tracking across her collarbone.
At the front of the room, Severus Snape swept past the blackboards like a giant bat, his dark eyes scanning the room. The wizarding world called her the "Golden Girl," the long-lost daughter of the Potter line, but Snape knew better. He had seen her medical charts from Poppy Pomfrey. He knew about the broken bones that healed crookedly, the starvation, and the terrifying, silent panic attacks that left her unable to speak a single word of English.
"Today, we attempt the Cure for Boils," Snape’s voice cut through the damp air like a knife. "An elementary potion, yet one that most of you will inevitably ruin. Begin."
While the rest of the class scrambled for their scales and silver knives, Lily moved with an eerie, mechanical precision. She didn't read the blackboard. Her hands, small and trembling from nerve damage, sliced the horned slugs with flawless symmetry. Her mind didn't think in English; it thought in the ancient, flowing runes of Hylian. In her mind, potion-making was no different than brewing red elixir from the shops of Clock Town. It was survival.
Snape paused by her cauldron. His eyes narrowed as he watched her add the porcupine quills after taking the cauldron off the flame—a step most students missed, resulting in melted cauldrons. Lily didn't look up at him. She merely tucked her chin into her collar, her breathing shallow and wheezing.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw for proper technique, Miss Evans," Snape murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "See me after class to restock your nutrient potions."
Lily nodded once, a quick, jerky motion.
An hour later, the dungeon cleared out, leaving only the crackle of dying fires. Lily approached Snape’s desk, her boots clicking softly against the stone. She reached into her bag, not for her parchment, but to ensure her hidden treasures were secure. Wrapped in velvet at the bottom of her satchel rested a beautiful blue Ocarina and a heavy, terrifyingly realistic wooden mask with pointed ears—the Keaton Mask.
Before she could reach Snape's desk, a sudden rustle from the shadows near the ingredient cupboards made her freeze. Her hand instinctively dropped to her hip, searching for a sword that wasn't there.
A small figure stepped out from the darkness. It was a young boy, no older than twelve, with shock-blue hair hidden under a traveling cowl. His crimson eyes locked onto Lily.
"Link?" the boy whispered.
Lily’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred. The frail, sick Ravenclaw girl vanished, replaced by the ghost of a hero who had dragged the moon from the sky.
"Kafei?" she croaked. The name tore from her throat, raw and fractured.
The boy sprinted forward, throwing his arms around her frail waist. Lily stumbled back against a potion rack, her ruined lungs gasping for air as she clutched him tightly.
"I found you," Kafei hissed, his voice thick with tears. "The Great Fairy... she told me the Triforce scattered your soul across worlds. I didn't believe her until I felt your magic."
Lily pulled back, her hands reaching up to cup his face. She lifted the Keaton Mask out of her bag, holding it up between them, her eyes wide with frantic, childlike annoyance. "Why are you still a child?" she demanded, her voice shifting into a strange, lyrical tongue that was definitely not English. "The curse... the Skull Kid's magic on Majora’s Mask... I thought we broke it! I thought you married Anju!"
Kafei let out a bitter, wet laugh, raising his hands in surrender. "The curse from the Great Mask was permanent, Link. My body stopped aging. Anju... Anju understood. She told me to find you. She said the Hero of Time shouldn't have to wander the dark alone." He looked at her frail, scarred wrists. "But look at you. What happened to your strength? Where are the Kokiri?"
Lily ducked her head, her face flushing crimson as she let out a tiny, indignant huff. She crossed her arms defensively, looking exactly like the forest child she used to be. "They raised me," she muttered in a high, squeaking voice, fiercely protective of Saria and the forest children. "I was starved here. This world... it has no magic like the woods."
Kafei smirked playfully, trying to break her melancholy. "What if the moon falls again, hero? How will you fight it if you're sleep-deprived and half-dead from a cold?"
Lily scowled playfully at him. She reached into her bag, pulling out a bizarre, monstrously heavy wooden mask with large, unblinking eyes—the All-Night Mask—and leveled it at him like a weapon. "I have this. It won't let me sleep even if I want to."
"Put the mask down, Link," Kafei laughed, taking a step back. "You look ridiculous."
"What is the meaning of this?"
A voice like thunder shattered the reunion. Lily and Kafei spun around in unison, their bodies dropping into perfect, low combat stances.
Standing at the edge of the shadow was Severus Snape. His wand was drawn, his dark eyes flashing with a mix of fury, confusion, and profound wariness as he looked at the strange blue-haired boy, the monstrous wooden mask in Lily's hands, and the glowing, cream-colored fairy—Tatl—that had suddenly popped out from beneath Lily's green hat, buzzing defensively in front of her face.
With a horror that chilled her bones, Lily realized the truth. In their excitement, she and Kafei hadn't been speaking English. They had been speaking fluent, rapid-fire Terminian.
And her Potions master had heard every single word.