When it came, the mist automatically opened a path.
The beige mist was like a thin veil, its edge pinched by invisible fingers and quietly lifted at one corner.
The grass stems along the path bent slightly, then sprang back up, as if something were stepping over them.
But if one lowered their head to look, no footprints could be found.
A shadow darker than mist was slowly moving along that path.
As the shadow silently leapt over the threshold, the wind chime rang for the third time.
Lily lowered her head slightly. The firelight in the hearth flickered once in her eyes.
She pushed the window open a little more. Damp mist immediately rushed in, wrapped around snowflakes and carrying a chill.
The shadow stopped at the doorway.
First, two eyes lit up.
Emerald green, with a thin vertical pupil in the center.
Then its outline emerged inch by inch from the mist: pointed ears, a smooth back, a tail swaying lazily, the tip slightly curled like a question mark.
It was a black cat.
There was not a single stray hair on its body. It was so black that it did not seem like a color, but rather as if someone had cut out a corner of midnight and shaped it into a cat.
Mist clung to its fur and condensed into fine droplets. Each droplet reflected the warm light shining from the cottage windows, as though it wore countless tiny lamps.
"Mr. Lucky Black Cat?"
Lily set down the teapot and said it with bright delight.
It was not a question.
Her tone was very even, as if she were saying, "The tea is ready," or "The stove has started burning."
The black cat's tail swayed lightly in response.
It had just been chased and beaten all the way here by the black mist of the Borderland. Right now, it was exhausted.
It had also followed some strange pull back to this little town, then discovered this cottage at the town's edge.
Strangely enough, once it returned to the town, those mists no longer chased after it.
Dong.
A distant clock struck.
The bells here were always lingering, as if urging people to sleep.
"Good evening, Ms. Evans."
The black cat walked a little closer.
Its head drooped.
Lily felt a little awkward. With her lively personality, the first thing she should have done upon seeing the black cat was pick it up.
Then scratch its chin, touch its ears, and so on—
But when she thought of the legends about the black cat and the deity, she became a little shy.
Her green eyes shifted, as if she had thought of something.
"You're here because someone came, aren't you?"
The black cat still did not speak. Only its tail stopped moving.
"Who was it?"
Lily's eyes shone.
Several unfamiliar yet familiar names flashed through her mind.
The black cat had already walked straight to the fire. It circled once, curled itself into a perfect furry comma, and covered the tip of its nose with its tail.
The firelight fell over its body, warm and cozy.
Lily picked up her cup and sipped her tea as if to steady herself, never taking her eyes off it.
"Are you tired?"
One of the black cat's ears twitched, but it did not open its eyes.
It wanted to sleep.
Like a magic trick, Lily took a blanket from the corner of the wooden table and guided it to float gently down beside the black cat. Then she studied this unusual deity.
Were all gods this easygoing?
she thought rather cheerfully.
"Was it Harry?"
she suddenly asked.
The black cat did not move, but its tail was still swaying.
"Oh, then it was Headmaster Dumbledore. He must have had something he wanted to confirm with me."
Lily said again, staring at the black cat's still-swaying tail.
"Severus—was it him?"
Lily fell silent for a short while, then asked thoughtfully.
The black cat's tail stopped moving.
It pretended it was asleep, just as every cat would do.
Sleeping anytime, anywhere.
After a while, it heard Lily laugh softly.
Without needing to look, its nose could smell the mist drifting from Lily's side.
Salty, sweet, with a faint astringency, like someone's tears dusted with frosting.
"Is he all right?"
After a long while, Lily asked.
The black cat stiffened, its tail motionless.
It felt the scent of the mist change again, becoming a relaxed gardenia fragrance.
"I think that's enough."
She smiled brightly.
Many images seemed to appear before her eyes.
They were not too distant. They were so clear it was as if they had happened only yesterday.
"I know what you are. A witch! Just like me."
"Being Muggle-born doesn't make any difference."
"We should be friends. Best friends."
Lily was that kind of person. She always remembered the best times.
The black cat smelled sorrow, and its ears perked slightly. It slowly covered the tip of its nose again with its swaying tail.
The cottage was warm.
The crackling of the fire and the faint bubbling of the tea blended together like two different instruments playing the same lullaby.
"He regretted it."
The black cat's voice seemed to drift from the distant sky.
"Oh. When?"
"After that night."
"He wasn't a bad person. He was just a little foolish."
"I know."
Lily moved her chair closer to the fire and gently rested her bare feet on the floor beside the black cat.
She did not touch it. She was a little afraid it would vanish like a startled cat.
Some souls needed a bit of distance, even if it was only the distance of a cat.
But the tip of the black cat's tail moved on its own. Lazily, casually, it brushed across her ankle.
Very lightly.
As lightly as if someone in the far distance within the mist had called out "Lily," then immediately regretted it and swallowed the name back into silence.
The fire sank low, then rose again.
Time spread out softly, like the tiny patch of soft fur on the black cat's belly, rising and falling with its breathing.
Everything was good.
Everything was just right.
"How is my Harry?"
Lily said gently.
The black cat's tail did not move, and Lily seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
Its breathing grew long and even. It seemed to have truly fallen asleep.
Lily quietly, gently walked over to its tail.
Then she crouched down and watched the black cat's fur tremble faintly.
She thought of the black cat statue at the doorway. It did not look like this cat at all.
They thought a deity should be majestic, or at the very least, divine and otherworldly.
Now it seemed that a deity simply behaved like every child's imagined black cat, flashing past a window after nightfall.
With a fluffy body and beautiful, gentle emerald eyes.
"God loves wizards."
She suddenly thought of the legend of the Borderland.
"It travels between life and death, blurring the boundary and bringing salvation.
"And so the Borderland has three most basic directions:
"Eternity, justice, and forgiveness.
"Here, every lost soul burdened with sin will be cleansed by the mist."