Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling.
A/N: So, this is a plot bunny I've had in my head for some time. Now, I'm a great fan of genderbends of all kinds, and a huge Fem!Harry fan in particular. What I rarely see, however, is Fem!Sirius... so, I thought, "Why not both?". And here it is. Now, there are a few reasons I wanted to write this. Firstly, I find the idea of the Marauders as a "boys club" type thing to be a bit boring, one of the reasons I like the Harry/Hermione/Ron dynamic so much is party because of its diversity, as it were. Secondly, I love the Mother-Daughter dynamic, so why not turn the Godfather into a Godmother? Other than the genderbend spin, the story will be fairly canon compliant as far as worldbuilding goes (as for any ships, I haven't fully decided yet, nor would they in any way be the focus of the story, much like how they're mostly an afterthought in the canon story itself), but some changes will take place down the line based on personality differences of the changed characters the way I envision them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this first chapter. Since I'm not entirely sure about this premise or if it even has an audience, please let me know what you think in the comments. /Elin
Chapter 1
In a small, cluttered and rather dingy attic flat tucked away in a corner of Diagon Alley, a tall woman with a wild mane of curly raven black hair dressed in a patched leather jacket was limping, a singe knee-high clunky boot on her right foot, tossing piles of clothes, stacks of books and shuffling small towers of dirty dishes all the while muttering to herself. In a corner, a turntable was blaring, a womans voice all but shouting 'Amorphous jigsaw pieces, Falling into slots'.
Eyes lighting up, she gave the wand in her hand a flick and cried "Accio boot!".
Unfortunately, a split second later she found herself ducking down on the cluttered floor as, as far as she could tell, every pair of boots she owned, and Lyra Black was a woman who owned quite a few, came flying at her from all directions. As the last pair of rainbow striped wellies collided mid-air with a pair of her favorite pumps and landed on the top of her head, she dared at last to open one eye and peek out from the small pile of footwear. 'But all the signals-send me reeling, Jigsaw Feeling' went the turntable.
Seeing that the coast was clear, she let out a frustrated sigh she pushed her dark locks out of her face and stood up in the middle of the sitting room. And there she saw, perched precariously on a stack of vinyls and next to a photograph of a toddler who's hair kept changing colour, was her left boot. Grinning in triumph, she lipped it on. Checking herself once more in the mirror, she flicked her wand at the turntable and Siouxie screeched to a halt in the middle of the intro to Overground, tucked the wand back in her jacket and then turned on the spot.
With a crack, she appeared on a narrow lane in Godric's Hollow, just outside a quaint picket gate. She knew it well, of course. In fact, she and Jamie had scrubbed and repainted it summer of 6th year as punishment for taking their brooms out on a midnight flight. Mia had been *most* displeased, though Lyra thought Monty had seemed rather amused by the whole thing.
The thought of Euphemia and Fleamont, or Mia and Monty to her, tugged uncomfortably on her heartstrings. The elderly couple had all but adopted her when she most needed a family, that Jamie considered her his sister in all but blood she knew already by then, but that his parents felt the same way warmed her heart, even now though they were gone. Still, it had seemed a waste, somehow, to snuff it from dragonpox of all things in the middle of a war.
She sauntered up the lane to the cottage. It was much the same, a wild garden, though Lils was far more partial to fairy lights than Mia had been and the hedges, trees, bushes and the sides of the cobbled path sparkled like stars in the darkness. At the door she slammed the heavy brass knocker down and waited.
Shuffling on the other side of the door and then "Identify yourself." a stern voice demanded.
"Oi! It's me you tosser!" she said loudly, with some mirth.
The man on the other side of the door scoffed as the locks clicked "Might as well be your own personal password, that." James Potter said with a grin as the door swung open to admit her. She flung her arms around his neck and he swung her inside with a laugh.
"Been too damn long, Ly." he said smiling "And I've got big news and all!".
"Aw, did ya miss me Jamie?" she cooed and pinched his cheek lightly.
Chuckling and swatting her hand away, he led the way into the sitting room, picking up some butterbeers from the larder as they passed through the kitchen.
"No, but really, I know. I missed you too, both of you." she said apologetically as she sat down in the plush sofa in front of the fire that crackled merrily in the grate. "But you know how it is, department's stretched thin at the moment. As it is I only got the weekend off because I fell asleep on Moody at the briefing Thursday." James roared with laughter.
"Honestly it's not funny." she said, though grinning as well "Right terrifying he is, Mad Eye."
As James nodded fervently, still smirking, Lily came sauntering into the room with a exasperated frown on her face. "Honestly James, you'll wake the village. Hi Lyra" she greeted Lyra with a smile.
"Lils" Lyra acknowledged, raising her bottle in greeting.
"You and your nicknames" Lily shook her head, smirking at her friend.
"I like giving nicknames" Lyra grinned "Makes me all approachable like."
They chatted for a while, catching up while tiptoeing around the topic of the war.
"Look, we have something we wanted to talk to you about. I'm.." James began seemingly unsure of how to proceed "Well, I'm quitting the corps-"
"You're what!?" Lyra exclaimed loudly "And what am I supposed to do, partner with Dawlish? You know I hate the bloke." she finished with a distinct whinge.
"well, that is, you see, it's..." James spluttered
"What James is trying to say, Lyra is that-" Lily began, only to be interrupted by James blurting "We're having a baby!"
Lily rolled her eyes at her husband and then turned back to Lyra "Yes, that."
Lyra, for her part, was stunned into silence, and sat on the sofa blinking owlishly for a few moments before a wide grin slowly started to spread over her face until she finally shrieked loudly and flew at them both, engulfing both Potters in a fierce hugh.
"Oh sorry Lils." She exclaimed, backing off "But oh Merlin this is exciting, when, do you know yet, how long have you known-" she rambled, making Lily laugh fondly.
"Oi! Calm down you nutter." James laughed, pushing her back down in the sofa by her shoulders. "By July, August at the latest the healer said. But listen Ly, what we really wanted to talk to you about was... well."
"We'd like you to be the baby's Godmother." Lily added gently. Her husband, looking relieved, nodded fervently.
"Yeah, what with... everything, you never know, and I need to know the kid would be safe, taken care of, even if..." James trailed off somberly.
Lyra leaned forward and took his hand in hers "'Course I will" she said quietly "Whatever it takes, I swear it."
Suddenly a loud clap of thunder shook the house, a flash ran through the cottage and Lyra jerked. When she got her bearings again, James and Lily were gone, the grate was cold, the lights were out. "Jamie?" she called hesitantly "... Lils?". She got no answer except the howling of the wind. Making her way out through the kitchen, in the hallways, she froze.
"... no" she whispered hoarsely "nonono! Jamie, no..." with a sob, she sank down on her knees by the body of her best friend, her brother. Cradling his head in her lap, disbelieving, she cried. Suddenly, she heard a piercing cry from upstairs, a toddlers cry "Holly..." she said hoarsely, as another clap of thunder rung out.
She jerked awake as a loud thunderclap rolled over the roaring north sea outside her cell. Shivering even as the rattling breaths receded down the corridor seeking its next target. It was always the same, whenever she allowed herself to be human, to feel, to dream, they would come in the night. Resignedly, she transformed, the matted black fur providing some welcome warmth despite everything. White a soft whine she curled up into a ball, even if she didn't dream the same way as a dog, she still felt the absence of those she loved, after a moment, sleep overtook her once again.
She couldn't really tell how many hours later she woke again. The storm was still raging outside, but the sliver of light from the small window suggested it was at least now after dawn. In her canine form, she heard them long before she otherwise would have. The shuffling, clattering footsteps of the Watchman, a portly fellow who's name she didn't know but who was, at least, not overtly cruel. And someone else, a pair of finer shoes, not the clattering steel heels of the Watchmen. Transforming back into human form, albeit reluctantly, she waited for the footsteps to get closer. They stopped outside the bars of her cell, and while part of her would rather just be left alone, a bigger part of her was glad for the distraction, the break in monotony.
"Time to get up, Black!" the watchman barked, rattling the bars "We've company".
Sighing so deeply that the cold, damp air burnt in her lungs and made her let out a wet cough, she rolled over, slung her thing legs over the cot and heaved herself upright. She wouldn't bother to stand unless ordered to do so, however.
"ᚷᛉ390, Black, Minister." the Watchman said, and stepped to the side.
An in Lyras opinion quite comical looking man stepped into view behind the bars. He was dressed in pinstriped robes and cloak, with a lime green bowler hat that he was twirling and wringing in his hands nervously.
"Ah, yes" he said, a little breathlessly "Miss Black. I'm Cornelius Fuge, Minister for Magic."
Ah, so an inspection then, Lyra thought. She'd been through one of these before, though back then this man hadn't been Minister. At least she hadn't allowed herself to hope, even briefly, that she was about to be given a trial this time around. "Minister" she croaked, wincing slightly at the sound of her own, disused voice.
"Yes, well..." the minister mumbled "so, how, er, how are things ?" he finally asked.
Despite everything, Lyra couldn't help but snort. Only a politician could come to a place like Azkaban, speak with a lifer and ask the proverbial 'nice weather today, eh?'. "Can't complain." She wheezed at last, knowing that doing so would accomplish little. Not that she hadn't earned some good girl points, she was in fact, as far as such a thing existed in Azkaban, a model prisoner. No shouting, no attempts at cannibalism those times the hand that slid the meal through the bars happened to be human. Still, there were very little that could be made better in a place like this.
"Yes, well, glad to hear it." Fudge continued "We're doing an inspection of the prison today, so lots of prisoners to see, best be off" he rattled off quickly.
"Say minister" she called out just as he was turning away
"... yes?"
"Mind if I have that Propeth?" she asked, pointing with a shaking finger at the rolled up newspaper sticking out of one of the minister's robe pockets "It gets awfully dull in here, and I do so miss the crosswords." she finished with a yellowing grin.
Minister Fudge fidgeted slightly, glancing at the Watchman, who in turn shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he really couldn't care less. "Yes, quite understandable of course." he said, tossing the newspaper through the bars onto the floor.
"Much obliged." Lyra croaked, though she didn't get up to claim her prize until she heard the footsteps of the two men receding down the corridor.
Picking up the newspaper she began to scan it lazily. It was soothing, seeing other people again, even if it was just in pictures. Even the absolutely barking predictions of the Whiltshire Oracle were entertaining after 12 years of little to look at but the same 4 walls containing the same 474 identifiable stones.
Having gone through the paper once, she started over gain from the front page, scanning every detail minutely this time. On the front page, a family stood in front of the egyptian pyramids, waving frantically at the camera with broad grins on their faces. Lyras dry, chapped lips twitched slightly. The Weasleys. She didn't know them, but she was fairly certain the plump woman in the picture was Gid and Fab's little sister, as she thought she'd heard something about her dating a Weasley boy. Then she saw it, there, on the youngest boys shoulder. "... Peter." she hissed, with such venom that the word might have eroded the stones that kept her there.
A few days later, an emaciated, frozen black dog crawled onto a stony beach outside the town of Bridlington. Few people would have spotted the beast in the darkness, dewer still would have expected it to, after crawling into the brush, transform into an equally scraggly, emaciated and frozen black haired woman.
Lyra lay panting and shivering in the thick, tall grass. A ragged, hoarse laugh bubbled in her rattling chest. "Whatever it takes" she wheezed "I swear it, Jamie..."
Crawling further inland, she found a culvert that smelled absolutely fowl, even to her dulled senses, but it was dry and some form of pipe running along the top actually provided some heat. She transformed back into a dog, and curled up in one of the darker corners. The night was actually the most pleasant she had had in the past 12 years. It was quiet, she was warmer than she remembered being in a very long time once her body had dried. In the morning, she began to plan. The rat would be at Hogwarts in the fall, naturally, but that was still some weeks off, assuming the Prophet she'd been given was even somewhat curent, and she had no idea where the Weasley family lived. Holly, on the other hand, she had a good idea where Holly might be. She wasn't happy about it, but it seemed the only logical place for the girl to have been sent after her own failure.
Sighing, she transformed yet again and set out to get her bearings, and then, set a course for Surrey.