Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK Rowling owns everything

A/N: I hope to get a bit more detail and background in this chapter and future ones (thank you to the anonymous reviewer who pointed out exactly what I was thinking). They're averaging about 2000-3000 words but I'm aiming for more. Yay.

Also, everything from about half way through Chapter Three onwards is their Fifth Year in case anyone is super confused.

Chapter Six

Saturday 22nd May 1976

At eleven o'clock on the Quidditch Final morning, Remus and Peter had decided they had run out of things to keep themselves occupied. Sat on top of a ledge of one of the windows surrounding the Transfiguration Courtyard, the pair had been tasked with spending the two and half hours since Sirius and James had to leave for pre match warm-up wasting time. Neither could go back to bed because that would probably result in sleeping through the match and dealing with the anger that would ensue when the pair returned. So they wandered the castle, chatted a bit in the Common Room, Peter went to the Owlry to post a letter to his mother and Remus visited Lily in the Hospital Wing for a while. After all that, they still had about thirty minutes left before they would start to walk over to the Quidditch Pitch.

And it was raining of course.

Peter pulled his hood closer around him and sighed through his Gryffindor scarf, "I'm never listening to that rule again. There was no point in us being up when they were. Literally no point. None. No. Sirius is a liar. I hate him."

Remus nodded, "it's only another half hour."

"Yeah, a half hour of sitting in the cold. Do you know any spells to warm us up? I mean, you read enough and didn't you get an O in Charms?"

"We could always go inside, you know," Remus offered, putting his hands under his armpits for warmth.

"Inside is boring, though. But outside is wet. So any spells to fix that?"

Remus nodded and sorted through all the spells he knew. "Yeah, there's a Hot-Air charm. As long as we aren't directly in its line we won't be burned." Remus then went to get his wand.

But it wasn't in his sleeve. Or in his sock. Or in his jean pocket. "I think I left my wand in the Hospital Wing. Damnit! I'll be back quick enough Peter, if it's there. You'll last without me."

"Just make sure you're here by half or else I'm walking by myself," Peter's tone was grumpy, and Remus couldn't blame him. He stood quickly and sprinted to the doorway. Once inside, he shrugged of his jacket and began the walk to the Hospital Wing.

It was a far enough walk, the other side of the Castle no less. But the sooner Remus had his wand the better.

He hadn't said a word to anyone about finding Lyra the night before, especially not to Sirius. Thinking about what she had said to him brought up a few memories of his own. The first time they spoke was in Potions in Second Year. Slytherin and Gryffindor hadn't been together in First Year so Professor Slughorn took it upon himself to integrate the class a little more. He created the partner list himself and as they sat down on that September Monday, they came face to face with their partner for the rest of the year. Slughorn was a firm believer in consistency and made sure that the pairings were diverse enough.

Remus honestly didn't know what to think when he was paired with one Lyra Black. Sirius had only mentioned the fact that he had a cousin in the same year, at most, five times. It was something he skilfully avoided, along with talk about the rest of his family. Remus knew enough about secrets at that point not to push the subject. None of the four knew about his own problems and the thought of them snooping into his private life meant he wasn't going to do the same to theirs.

Lyra was pretty. That was the first thing he noticed. She looked a little like Sirius, but not so much that if you put a wig on him you couldn't tell the difference between the two. She looked rich as well, if there was even such a thing. She just carried herself in a way Remus never could. She smiled at him, popped her books on the desk, and got to work. They worked well together. In the beginning, they barely spoke, but she kept up her side of the deal, doing what she could when she could. There were a few changes in partners. James ended up dying his partner, Kyle Murphy's, hair pink in an apparently, and unsurprisingly, unprovoked incident. He was given detention and subsequently moved to a different Slytherin boy, who he detested just as much. It was only after Christmas, when Remus set the heating wrong and Lyra's hair caught fire, for the first time of many, that she began to actually talk to him a little. Just small talk, like where he was from and about his parents and his favourite subjects. She talked about her sisters, but not her parents. She mentioned she had three but only spoke to two. Their chatter received a few unimpressed glares from Sirius, who was partnered with her best friend Christine Drakefoot, on the far side of the room.

They hadn't really talked since. Well not until last night anyway.

BANG!

"Ahh!" he cried as he hit the stone floor hard, his right shoulder receiving quite the wallop. He was only metres from the Hospital Wing and his wand but of course, something got in the way. He pushed himself up and turned to lend a hand to the fallen student beside him. The boy on the ground shrugged off his hand and got to his feet, smoothing back his short dark hair and fixing the imaginary crease in his sleeve. He looked up at his helper, because he was slightly taller, and only then did Remus realise who it was.

Regulus Black.

Sirius acknowledged Lyra presence and hated her. But he essentially ignored his brother's existence. None of the group had ever said anything to the boy but there was an understanding between them that they had to respect and defend Sirius and his opinions. And when Sirius asked them never to speak to his brother, they all said they wouldn't.

"A little juvenile, don't you think?" Regulus said in a voice that was almost robotic.

Remus was confused, "Juvenile? What was?" he looked towards the Hospital Wing and regretted asking the question because, as Sirius asked, he hadn't much chance of getting to know the younger brother and his quirks.

"That little prank right there. Aren't you supposed to be imaginative?" his voice remained the same but his right hand began to move.

"Look, Regulus, I'm in a rush but I'm sorry if you thought that was a prank. It wasn't, I just wasn't paying attention," he began to walk backwards towards the Hospital Wing doors.

Regulus pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at Remus. "Why are you hurrying so much to see Gryffindor get defeated as always?" he began to step closer, Remus had his hands in the air, and Regulus' voice remained steady.

Almost immediately, he dropped his hand and stared at the boy. Remus stood awkwardly in front of him and dropped his hands.

Regulus said, "I'm going. Just look next time," his voice chad changed and he turned sharply and walked down where Remus had come from.

Remus, however, stood for a bit longer, taking in the incredibly odd few minutes with one of his best mate's brothers. "No wonder we don't talk to him," he muttered before turning and making his way into the large doors of the Hospital Wing. He smiled at Madam Pomfrey and, without saying a word; she pulled the wand out of her apron and handed it to the boy.

"Try and be a little more careful next time Mr Lupin," her tone was light though. And with a 'thank you' and a wave towards a dreary looking Lily Evans, he was off.

It was almost twenty to twelve when he emerged from the gates. Peter had waited for him, as he knew he would, and he joined his friend in the light jog towards the Quidditch Pitch. They reached it in time for the game and raced up to the stands. Peter ran ahead, taking two at a time. They had just sat down on the upper seats near the Gryffindor goal, along with most of their house, when the crowd began to roar. The boys stood and watched as James flew out, leading the pack of scarlet players into the air. The cheering continued as Emma Vanity joined him, along with the Slytherin team. On a normal day, the rivalry would be fierce, the crowd rowdy, but these matches had become such a spectacle, and so entertaining that there almost was no point.

"He doesn't look as rough as he did this morning," Peter noted, and yelled, about their friend who had transformed from the tired mess of a thing they had been subjected to that morning. Remus agreed. His hair was still far too unruly, but he seemed to be in high spirits and ready to go. "You don't suppose Sirius drugged him do you?" Peter joked, running a hand through his ash blond hair. Remus laughed a little, but he doubted it was heard over the roar.

The voice of Kieran Jones pierced the crowd and eventually it began to settle, "Ladies and gentlemen, students, teachers, giants and headmaster, I welcome you to the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup Final 1976!" The cheering began again, although Remus didn't see the point as he was merely stating the obvious. "As Gryffindor and Slytherin tied for points in their last few games, we are in for a treat today folks. I will now hand you over to our players. Let the game begin!" And with that, the Quaffle was released and the game took off.

Gryffindor had secured and early lead, mostly because Angeline Darby, the shortest teammate, was able to dodge the Bludgers with ease and slot the Quaffle through. Slytherin's keeper, Charlie McCormack, was a hit and miss when it came to Quidditch. Remus remembered Ravenclaw's game against Slytherin last year where he managed to break his broom, without being hit by a Bludger, but rather being hit by the Beater's bat. He had an unfortunate clumsiness about him, but when he was on and running well; Remus would say he was probably the best keeper out of the four houses, although he'd never say that to James.

Almost three hours had passed and Remus was sorry to say that he was growing tired of the game. Peter and he had been joined by their roommate Colin and the trio sat in the stands chatting more than cheering. But as Kieran Jones's voice grew louder and more excited, their eyes became glued to the game once more.

The lineout had changed since the last time he had paid any attention to the match. No one had scored in the last fifteen minutes as far as he knew; it was simple passing back and forth between the Chasers. The Seekers were trailing the pitch floor after the Snitch but there had been no sudden movements. Gryffindor were leading, and it looked like James was about to increase it. Remus watched as Lyra made a strangely slow move towards James, who was fast approaching her, and the Slytherin goals, with the Quaffle. She quickly pulled up and out in front of him and James essentially nose-dived towards the ground, dropping the Quaffle in the process. Remus was impressed by the girl's skills, especially since she had been looking much rougher only twelve hours previous. But something started to go wrong for her. James was on her tail and she was bombing towards the Gryffindor goal, Quaffle in hand and almost a clear view of the end line. The students around him were yelling and screaming. He was now on his feet, Peter was standing on the bench to get a better view and Colin was swearing like a sailor at James.

James seemed to listen as he began to fly nose to nose with the girl. But Lyra was falling and Remus could see. The Quaffle fell from her grip and he began to scream her name. Kieran Jones was yelling into the microphone for her attention but she wasn't listening. James was flying after her towards the grass. Sirius had pulled up above the two and quickly grabbed his wand. Remus stood up on the bench with Peter as he watched her broom slowly stop after Sirius screamed something at it, but Lyra's motionless body didn't.

Remus felt sick to his stomach as the girl crashed down and lay on the grass below unmoving. Jones's was still yelling. "Everyone, please remain calm! This is a serious situation and we don't want to make it worse by stressing out the girl. Lyra Black will be fine, we assure you. Professor Dumbledore has asked for Sirius Black, James Potter, Angeline Darby and Owen Aliveth to go to his office immediately. Please, I repeat to the rest of you; do not move from your seats until told! Players are instructed to wait in their changing rooms until further notice!"

The crowd began to chatter loudly once Kieran had stopped talking, but Remus couldn't speak. A group of teachers had gathered around where she fell. James had tried desperately to get a look in but he was shooed off by Professor McGonagall and he walked sullenly back to the changing rooms. The stands were beginning to clear and the chatter was lessening as more people were coming to terms with what had happened. No one knew really.

Monday 24th May 1976

"What if she doesn't wake up?"

"She will."

"But there's a chance, isn't there?"

"Well, there's always a chance that she won't. But it's a small one at that."

"You never know what might happen."

"I am confident she'll make a recovery."

"Aren't you going to send her to St Mungo's? Peter Pettigrew's mother used to be a Healer. She could help. You never what could happen."

"You don't, but I do. Unless you're the expert here?"

"No, Madam Pomfrey."

"Just as I thought, Mr Potter."

James sighed and dropped his head slightly. He was sitting inside Madam Pomfrey's office in one of the oversized armchairs she used for visitors. Lyra lay in the far right corner of the square room, behind a curtain. It had been two days since the incident and the school was still reeling. There were rumours flying around, especially throughout the younger years, about the whole thing being a prank gone wrong. And James knew that he would be a key suspect in something like that. Dumbledore had called Sirius and him to his office, along with Angeline Darby, a Gryffindor Chaser, and Owen Aliveth, a Slytherin Beater. James and Sirius were spoken to separately, but Sirius had told James everything, naturally. Dumbledore had questioned him about the spell he used and why he used it and all that goes with it. Sirius told him the truth, which was something James thought he would never hear. He was trying to save her. The cousin he hated and didn't even look at, much less actually speak to. Something in him just made him do it. James had made a joke about it of course, but he couldn't help but be bewildered by his friend's actions.

James wasn't much use to Dumbledore, considering he could hardly remember the whole incident. Dumbledore had remarked that the Firewhiskey must have impaired his memory. Of course, he knew about that. Angeline and Owen were sent together and she reported to him that they just said what they saw and that was it. No one had received any punishments, no letters were sent home and no house points were deducted. James knew it was something else. Lyra's fall wasn't just a simple coincidence. He was worried it might have been the Firewhiskey from the night before, but Dumbledore had ended that thought, in a very roundabout way.

"Nothing she did to herself caused the accident. It must have been an outside force. Pre-match jitters, as they are much more common than you think, have never once, in my years at this school, sent a player to his or her almost-death."

Pre-match jitters meaning James's awful attempt at calming her nerves by necking a bottle of Firewhiskey with him. He knew better than to take everything Dumbledore said literally. He was a man of metaphors, as Remus once said.

"You can visit if you like," Madam Pomfrey began after a pause, "but only for five minutes. Then you must leave." James nodded and stood. Madam Pomfrey walked to the corner and James followed. The curtained bed in her office was reserved for some of the most serious cases, which was the main reason for his concern. Lyra wasn't one person he really cared for dearly, but the thought of another student almost dying because of one tiny thing he did was not a comforting thought.

James pulled back the curtain and stood as he took in the sight. She lay there, with her eyes shut and her face blank. Her right arm was in a sling and her right cheek and neck were grazed. Her dark hair was splashed across the pillow. She didn't make any movement, save for the slight rise of her chest every few seconds.

"We have her under a potion, if you must know. Just to let her body heal and get over the worst. Being awake for that is not a comfortable thing," Madam Pomfrey said. James walked to the left edge of the bed, but didn't touch her. He stayed for only a few seconds and then left, not acknowledging Madam Pomfrey at all, as he strode out of the room.

James Potter didn't cry in front of an audience.

"Sir am I disturbing you?" asked a nervous young man as he peeked his head around the large wooden door.

"Yes, a little, Fredrick," replied the man inside, "What is it?"

"Well Sir" and Fredrick stepped inside slowly, making sure the door didn't bang, "Eh, we have received a letter from Hogwarts Sir."

"Yes, and?"

"Sir, Headmaster Dumbledore thinks there's been a breach of the security of the, eh, school defences."

"Any proof?" he didn't look up from his desk.

"Well Sir, there was no actual evidence but it is important."

"Fredrick, if there is no evidence, we do not investigate. Dumbledore understands this well enough," the man looked up and his blue eyes were clearly annoyed. His greying hair needed a decent comb through but his clothes were pristine.

"Sir, eh, it was Lyra Black who was attacked."

Donald Sander, the Minister for Magic's, face fell. He dropped his quill and stood sharply, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. He walked out the door, leaving his mumbling assistant to follow after at a slower pace.

"Does Cygnus know Fredrick?" his tone had changed from sharp to nervous, as he thought about the high position her father held within the Ministry. There would be outrage if he didn't act. Despite the fact that he was the reigning man, the Black's had unspeakable influence over most of the magical community.

"No Sir, I, thought you should, eh, know first."

"Very good then. Now please get Dumbledore down here immediately before we're all fired."

"Yes Sir."

They came to stop at private fireplace inside a small discrete room that the Ministry held for direct connection to and from Hogwarts.

The bright green of the flames were gone as soon as they arrived, and placed Professor Dumbledore right in the centre of the grand opening.

"Albus, thank you for your visit." Donald stepped forward and gripped the Headmaster's hand. Dumbledore returned the favour, but his face looked weary. "Please, this way." The smaller room that Donald had entered minutes ago was decorated rather plainly, with a sofa and table to welcome the Hogwarts guests. But they had been here before, so nothing seemed to have to change.

They sat and Dumbledore began to speak, "Donald, this movement of the Dark Arts was just talk twenty years ago. And maybe ten it was only a minority of a minority who actually believed in anything, but no one practiced. Well, I'm afraid to say that that has changed. Donald, two days ago a student of mine was attacked with Dark Magic. I do not care about her background. I do not care about what her family have done in the past, are currently doing now, or will inevitably do in the future. This is a serious matter that I would appreciate is not taken lightly. Cygnus Black must be informed and the protections on Hogwarts must be improved. These are innocent lives during dark times, and I want them to see the other side of this war, even it means I do not."

"This isn't a war Albus," he replied, shaking his head.

"Look outside Donald," Dumbledore said, he eyes unmoving, "the sky is blacker than it once was. This Voldemort is gaining power, and I want him stopped."