Chapter 10: A touch of irony

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

I apologise in advance for the essay of notes at the bottom. Sorry!

Lyra leaned back in the chair and peered down at her personal journal, studying her own neat calligraphy as she tried not to frown.

Tom Riddle was always going to be a pain in the arse to deal with, she'd known that, but actually going over his life with a fine-tooth comb down to the last minute detail – and trying to do so in a manner that gave her irrefutable and objective truths that she could act on without hesitation or uncertainty – was exhausting. And irritating. If she was being entirely honest, she was completely fucked off with the entire situation and the limitations she was under.

The biggest problem she had was the physical nature of herself and what she wanted to study. Lyra Black was a twelve-year-old witch who either resided at a secluded school in the Scottish countryside during term time, or in her home or the family manor under the watchful eye – and a tracking charm or two – of her extraordinarily overprotective father or her interfering relatives. She didn't yet have the magical power required to either Apparate or create a portkey, and considering the Knight bus and fireplaces in Hogsmeade could sense if someone was underage or not, they weren't much help, either. She couldn't exactly just leave to investigate what needed to looked into, meaning there was no real way for her to confirm whether or not things were exactly the same as her past life.

Whether or not Tom Marvolo Riddle was the same as her past life.

She absentmindedly tapped the tip of her quill against the parchment and frowned a little at the first sentence. Tom M. Riddle, born to Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Snr. I almost feel bad for him; his mum was an obsessed and desperate stalker, and his old man was a spoiled and self-entitled coward. Lyra knew she was probably being way too harsh on Merope and Tom; they each had their own circumstances which affected their behaviour, but that didn't mean they both hadn't made some spectacularly stupid decisions that had inadvertently yet directly made their son into something of a psycho. Even without considering the baby involved, neither Tom nor Merope had acted with much common sense or maturity.

Lyra shook of the scathing thoughts and looked back down at the page. She'd written some notes on what she remembered of the idiot from her past life, from his situation at the orphanage, what he'd done to the other children in retaliation, all the way up until the first war and the list of victims he'd accumulated.

What was most important was the Horcruxes.

What was most annoying was just how little she knew about them.

Albus Dumbledore had lived a life of holding his cards way too close to his chest, refusing to share any of his carefully-hoarded information for fear that he couldn't maintain control of things around him. That was really and truly the main issue; the old man had become so accustomed to being the one dictating and directing things for others – reinforced no doubt thanks to the mindless drones of their society who couldn't seem to wipe their own arses without being told to – that he never escaped the mindset that he had to do everything himself. He never considered that someone else might actually be able to do things that he could, or heaven forbid things he was unable to.

This particular situation highlighted the lack of information dissemination quite clearly; Lyra knew what all the Horcruxes were, she knew which of them had been created at this point in time, and she knew where they would be in the year nineteen ninety-eight.

After two wars in a world where Lyra Black didn't exist to fuck with the timeline because she wanted to change certain things.

She was fucked.

She'd never been told when exactly the Horcruxes were made – discounting Nagini and herself, seeing as she knew damn well when that crazy bastard made his pet a soul container; those visions had been awful as a teenager – rather she knew what period in time they were all done by.

It was currently nineteen-sixty, and Lyra knew that all the Horcruxes had been created in the forties by the time Riddle was only twenty. Which was disturbing on so many levels in the context of his sanity and common sense, but she wasn't even going to get into that topic. Just the knowledge that Tom Riddle was rather cunning and could have been a powerful political force that shaped the world for the better was beyond irritating to think about. So much wasted potential, but she was getting off track.

The Horcruxes.

The diary, the Gaunt ring, Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup. They all existed at this moment in time as receptacles of an insane man's soul, and they'd all been completed by the end of the nineteen-forties through various murders. The issue once more was the lack of knowledge she possessed concerning the particulars. As much as pained her to admit – which also summarily pissed her off when considering Albus-bloody-Dumbledore – she was far from having all the facts.

Lyra did know the first Horcrux created was the diary, made with the death of one Myrtle Warren, who had in fact died in a tragic accident in this timeline in the year nineteen forty-three. There was also a corresponding award in the trophy room for Riddle for 'special services' to the school. Which is complete and utter bollocks in so many ways, but of course Dumbledore couldn't just act decisively for once. For Christ's sake, he might not have been Tom's guardian, but there's no way he wouldn't have been able to convince Dippet to have the wanker properly investigated! Lyra closed her eyes and tried to stave off the migraine at the thoughts of the people in charge of their education. One problem at a time.

From what she remembered of the other Horcruxes, they were created in rather rapid succession over the course of that decade after Voldy offed his classmate in a temper tantrum of dire consequences. (Why people considered Tom Riddle to be smart, she'd never know. How was murdering someone in broad daylight while leaving evidence behind the work of an intelligent person?

… Bloody hell, I knew becoming friends with Draco would fuck me up eventually.)

The next Horcrux to be created was apparently the ring, done so with the – again, very not subtle – murders of the Riddle family and subsequent framing of Morfin Gaunt. The fact that the second soul container was made within the same year, within months even, of the first Horcrux was horrifying to even think about. The soul was a person's entire being, and for a magical it was everything about them. Their Family magic, their blood, their very essence … The soul was a sacred part of any person, and to imagine someone so casually yet deliberately tearing it to shreds made Lyra's stomach turn.

Lyra may have had a skewed moral compass, but doing that to a soul was wrong.

In the remaining years of that decade, Tom Riddle went on to ruin himself even further by desecrating priceless heirlooms from the middle ages, incredible reminders of the venerated Founders. Four infamous witches and wizards whose possessions were destroyed all for the quest of a man who refused to accept his own mortality. It was disgusting when she thought about it, but then again, even as Harry death had never truly scared her. Life was much more terrifying with its endless uncertainties and pitfalls of pain. Being mortal was … grounding for her. She thought that over and shook her head, a wry smile playing about her lips. I really am messed up, aren't I?

The girl twisted the quill in her fingers, running the soft feather over the clinical and factual words that made her feel ill.

- Diary. June 1943. Myrtle.

- Ring. August 1943. Riddles.

- Locket. December 1946 (?). Muggle tramp (?).

- Cup. December 1946 (?). Hepzibah Smith (?).

- Diadem. 1946/47 (?). Albanian peasant (?).

Myrtle was … well, it wasn't easy in any sense of the word, but it had been rather simple for Lyra to discover whether or not the girl was dead in this world, and the presence of her ghost – startlingly identical to Harry's dead fan from before – was ample proof to start with that Voldemort wasn't any different in this world. Which wasn't good news seeing as he was a mass-murdering crazy bastard, but the prospect of having at least some advantage in terms of knowledge was a nice silver lining Lyra was happy to embrace.

On the other hand, the murders of the Riddle family weren't exactly the sort of news magical beings received at all, so Lyra had no clue on that particular incident. The same with the diadem murder. How the bloody hell was she supposed to find any reports on the random murder of a poorer person from what she assumed was rural Albania? I don't even know if they were magical or not. It wouldn't be the first time he used a muggle, she thought, memories flickering back to the aristocratic Riddles, the elegant family living in contrast to their modest neighbours and surroundings.

Even if she were to find information on the deaths of Hepzibah Smith and the Riddles, that wouldn't exactly provide all the answers for the endless questions she had. Did Tom make two Horcruxes at once when he killed Smith? Which did he make first, the locket or the cup? When exactly did he get the diadem, and why did it take him years after he graduated to go and find the bloody thing? Surely The Grey Lady had already told him about the situation with her mother while in school, so why did he go to Borgin and Burkes instead of straight to Albania?

The more she thought, the more she questioned, and the less she was answered. Story of my fucking life.

What it boiled down to was this: Lyra needed more information. She needed to know the truth about the Riddles, whether or not they were even alive, and she needed to know the general consensus of Hepzibah Smith's death and how it happened. The more knowledge she had, the better off she'd be in making a decision as to the character of Tom Riddle in this life. Though knowing my luck, we'll be stuck with the same psychotic imbecile as before. She blew a stream of air out her mouth, absentmindedly watching a few dark curls sway from the force, before tilting her head back and staring at the cream ceiling.

She needed help.

Just because she knew about her version of the Horcruxes and where they'd ended up later on, didn't mean she had any clue as to where they'd be right now, if they even existed. (Though she was more or less convinced things were the same as before, but she wouldn't discount the possibility of otherwise. Despite what some people had thought, Harry Potter had in fact learnt to think things through, and Lyra didn't want to risk Gin tearing through time and space just to launch a Bat-Bogey Hex at her head and rant about her lack of self-control. The woman was friends with Luna and Hermione, time and dimensional travel was nothing to those three.)

Hence, she needed someone outside the castle to investigate for her, someone that wouldn't ask questions, and someone that wouldn't go out of their way to 'help' her in any way they saw fit. Her father was out of the question immediately; the man was too over-protective as it was, let alone if he caught wind of her investigating actual murders. She briefly imagined the reaction and snorted. There was no way she was going to deal with that hysterical panicking.

Her uncles and aunts would more than likely acquiesce to any of her requests, right before they decided to get involved for their own entertainment and probably fuck things up so much that all of Lyra's plans would be useless. Her cousins were of a similar temperament, and if Edmund wasn't so determined to keep his younger relatives safe from harm, she would have asked him to do a little digging for her now he was out of school. But he was, so no. Granddad Arcturus would go even greyer if I asked him to do this, which leaves …

The girl pictured said man in her head and groaned out loud, knowing that while he was the best person for the job, he was also someone that'd take great joy in analysing her actions and making assumptions that would piss her off. Which she damn well knew he did on purpose, those words pleading innocence were complete and utter bullshit!

Lyra closed her eyes and counted to ten and back again, repeating once more before relaxing and slouching in her chair, very much appreciating the empty dorm room for once. Propriety was the least of her concerns right now. She pulled a sheet of parchment to her and dipped her quill in her black ink, poising the tip over the page as she considered her wording.

Soon after she paused, rolling her eyes and grinning to herself. Why am I worrying about etiquette with a man who got drunk in celebration after his own wife died? Without a moment's hesitation she started writing, words flowing without thought and Lyra smirked.

I wonder what he'll find.

The man looked down at the open envelope on his desk and pondered with a smirk on his face.

The young girl – who was really and truly a woman in terms of intelligence and maturity, held captive in a growing body – was far too brilliant to ever be trapped in an arranged marriage, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure that never happened. If only for his own amusement.

Lyra was beyond intelligent, had immense bravery that was tempered by a sharp mind, and the balls to do what she wanted regardless of what anyone thought, including her family. He certainly enjoyed watching her cause chaos, more than anything because he was guaranteed a front-row seat to whatever mayhem she caused either deliberately or inadvertently. Like watching Alphard whenever he received an offer of betrothal for Lyra simply because his daughter was a gorgeous young lady. (Seriously, he needed to calm down and breathe. Said young lady wasn't as fucked up as some of their other female relatives, and he had no doubt she'd at least be of age before getting married. Not that that would stop Alphard from having a mental breakdown or anything when it eventually happened, but at least it would be fun to watch from the side-lines.)

Yes, Pollux definitely appreciated his granddaughter Lyra.

He could admit that he'd considered disinheriting Alphard after he got some French chit pregnant – French. Really, Son? – but he couldn't bear to do that to his favourite child. Not that he'd ever admit that Alphard was his favourite (his ego was bad enough as it was), but considering his daughter had always been a little … off, and Cygnus had been a pompous child more like a Malfoy – which I would have believed of the cheating bitch had the family tapestry not said otherwise – it was obvious that his laidback oldest son was easier to deal with.

When Alphard had asked about getting sole custody of his unborn child, Pollux had been more than mildly impressed; Alphard had usually been one for compromising, and rarely did he ever try to steamroll over other people to get what he wanted. Though considering his wife's personality, Pollux had understood. And sympathised – a lot.

The woman dying hadn't been expected but it fixed everything nice and neatly. The useless woman wouldn't be around to corrupt his first grandchild, and the Blacks had a brand-new generation – from his branch of the family. Not that he rubbed it in Arcturus' face or anything. Much.

Lyra was a brilliant addition to the family and she was a little genius in the making. She took well to her lessons, ended up taking her cousins under her wing as pseudo-siblings, and even managed to stop their more stupid family members from ruining them. (He still looked back on the memories of his daughter and youngest son when they were children, and wondered when exactly things had gone so wrong.)

Hearing about her exploits in Hogwarts brought back memories of her blasé father as a teenager, and he couldn't help but laugh hysterically at his eleven-year-old granddaughter getting such brutal revenge on her enemies. While he was a little pissed off that she'd been exposed to sex like that, the bigger part of him felt so proud that she'd been so vicious in her revenge. He'd almost shed a tear of pure happiness. Especiallyas nobody could prove it had been her. She was a true Black through and through, and he delighted in hearing about every scandal or situation she was involved in; seeing Arcturus resisting the urge to drown himself in a bottle of firewhiskey was just a bonus as far as he was concerned.

Lyra faced every trial with perfect grace, though she was ruthless in getting what she wanted. The Bole debacle was the epitome of callous and unrelenting revenge, even if she hadn't gone all the way and removed his worthless self from this life. Then again, if she had his poor son wouldn't have had anyone to take his anger out on, and he and Arcturus wouldn't have had that lovely afternoon of family bonding while hunting down the little shit. (Not that it was much of a hunt, truth be told, the cretin was disgustingly easy to capture. A pity, really. He'd been looking forward to something a little more exciting, but his granddaughter was happy and healthy, the brat was dead, and all was done.)

The girl tore people down without a second thought, delighted in showing everyone how superior she was, and casually – but stringently – protected her cousins to the best of her ability. He hadn't seen a Black so family oriented since his youngest sister. (Though that was something of a worrisome comparison considering Dorea had something of a reputation for doting on the cousins she liked and setting the rest on fire for her own amusement.) Just like Dorea, Lyra seemed to act in a way that was simultaneously uncaring of others opinions, while also playing everyone around her to give herself the best advantage. She was hilarious to witness, and he couldn't deny that he really did love his granddaughter.

He also knew that she was more curious than a hyper kneazle, and was why this letter was far more intriguing than was immediately obvious.

Grandfather,

Before I get into the topic of this letter, is it really okay for me to come home for the blessing ceremony? While I won't deny I genuinely want to be there for Sirius and Aludra , I'm surprised the school would allow me to miss a day for the occasion. It doesn't help that Headmaster Dippet seems to be replying on Professor Dumbledore and his 'advice ' in matters of student experience and learning more and more as time goes by. Honestly, is informing the muggle- borns about the truth of magical culture, the good and the bad, such a terrible idea? It's not as if that might cease conflicts or anything, but I digress. Ranting about the worrying education standards at Hogwarts wasn't why I wrote.

This letter is a request for assistance in a personal project of mine. I wish to know more about the death of Madam Hepzibah Smith, more specifically the general conclusion as to how she died. A year-mate of mine is a relative of hers, and while some might deem it callous to use the memory of a family member from beyond the veil to manipulate them, I am a Black and quite frankly don't give a shit. He's actually as bad as Bole was, though unfortunately not nearly as much of a threat to warrant that level of retribution. He's more like an annoying fly that needs swatting every now and then. Perhaps I should invest in one of the muggle swatters?

If you are amenable, I would also appreciate some information on the Riddle family (they are muggles) from the village of Little Hangleton in Yorkshire. I have some suspicions concerning their relation to somebody breaking the Statute of Secrecy, something which you and I both agree is a terribly stupid idea. Of course , it's such a fantastic idea to antagonise the people that invented the atomic bomb! Yet another reason why our school really needs to teach its students about the non-magical world. It might even get some of the narrow-minded muggle- borns to open their fucking eyes and realise the magical world isn't the only community with problems.

I've gotten off track again. Would you be willing to obtain this information, and if you cannot would you please direct me to someone who will? Preferably not one of our relatives with poor impulse control, if you get my meaning. There is in fact such a thing as too much help.

Your (rather stressed) granddaughter,

Lyra

The man skimmed his silver eyes over the neat writing once more and snorted, hand clapping over his mouth as the sound devolved into hysterical cackles.

Lyra was such a little shit.

Granted, her letter was incredibly cavalier – as was the norm for his blasé granddaughter when she wrote informal letters to their family – and her words seemed so casual and unplanned, but Pollux had been a large part of the girl's childhood and knew how her mind worked. Even more, he'd had a front-row seat to her mischievous nature for years, witnessing first-hand how the girl went about fucking with people without them ever realising they were the victim of a vindictive and/or bored Black. Pollux admitted his granddaughter was fairly reserved for one of their family, but he also knew a façade when he saw one and knew nothing about her was accidental. Like this letter.

She was lying.

If there was one thing Lyra had inherited from Alphard it was his penchant for using impropriety as both a mask and a dagger in the back, sometimes both at the same time. Lyra simply couldn't be bothered with perfect etiquette while corresponding to a member of their family that wouldn't take offense, but that casual diction worked perfectly as a way to manipulate the weak-minded into doing or thinking things they ordinarily wouldn't. She was being simple, how could that possibly be planned? Of course she wasn't mentioning the problems with the education system because she wanted her grandfather to start thinking about it and do something to rectify it! Pollux smirked. Dearest Lyra, you are so entertaining to see in action.

He knew full well that she enjoyed dropping metaphorical bombshells in a manner that seemed entirely unintentional, and even more interesting – especially so in this letter – was her written vernacular. Lyra had a tendency to slip further into formality the more agitated she got, so the fact that she'd been perfectly polite while asking for help indicated there was something about these particular situations that made her wary. Which was rather worrying considering his granddaughter's usual propensity for trouble; if even she was concerned because of this topic, there must be something truly worrying there.

The least Pollux could do was conduct a covert investigation himself to see what he could find out. There was no way he was going to refuse her request – at least she's got more manners than Alphard, which isn't too hard now I think about it – partly because it would be amusing if she found out something interesting or scandalous, and partly because no matter how much he joked about, he did in fact trust his granddaughter's judgement immensely.

He wouldn't interfere and mess up her own plans – clearly she had some other ideas turning over in her mind rather than what she mentioned in her letter, but he was impressed with her lies all the same; they were rather convincing, all things considered – but there was nothing wrong with arming himself with information that might benefit Lyra in the future. He knew – as Lyra obviously did– that their other relatives would probably act on anything they found without consulting her, more than likely interfering and causing her plans to crash and burn.I can't blame her for not wanting that lot involved.

Pollux wouldn't do that to her. Lyra had been single-handedly responsible for catching Walburga and spotting the behaviour of Cygnus and Druella, and instead of reacting like an emotional child, she hadn't let those in question become aware of her knowledge before going straight to Lord Black. He had no doubt his granddaughter was intelligent enough to plan appropriately, so really and truly there was no need for him to forcefully insert himself into the situation.

Pollux would ensure he was well-equipped to deal with anything his trouble-magnet of a granddaughter came across, all the while trying to figure out just what it was Lyra was investigating herself.

He'd always loved a good mystery.

Lyra walked down the halls of Black Manor, trying to forget the annoying smirk on her grandfather's face.

She'd known asking Pollux Black for help with the Horcruxes – well, help with finding information on them in a very roundabout way – would be a pain the arse, but she honestly wanted to punch him in the face. He kept looking at her and grinning, like 'I know you're up to something and nobody else does.' He was a grown man who was nearly fifty, he should really start acting like it!

… She could dream, couldn't she?

The girl sighed slightly and shook her head. No. Today is about family, and there's no way I'm going to let that crazed psycho ruin this for me. Tom was a very serious threat, but Lyra could say with perfect honesty that the idea of her relatives trying to curse her if she was late terrified her so much more right now. (To be quite frank, Lyra was glad none of the Blacks had ever seen fit to become a Dark Lord. They were way more creative than Tom-the-Unforgiveables-are-the-only-spells-worth-using-Riddle. Usurping control of Britain in a mere year? No problem! If they'd had the slightest inclination, we'd be living in the Black Empire right now.)

Lyra made her way towards the suite she'd entered terrified just a few short months ago and smiled wryly. It was strange how things could change so drastically in such a short period of time. She was now quite excited to see her baby cousins again, even if it was only for a day. Lyra wanted to see how things were getting on and if Sirius had in fact started looking more like his future self. She'd admit it would be weird to see him with Marcus' green eyes, but she supposed it couldn't be any more jarring than finding that picture of a teenage Sirius with thick eyeliner and batting his lashes at the camera. (She didn't care what Gin said, there was no way the person behind the camera wasn't Remus. And people used to call Harry oblivious?)

She vaguely wondered if Aludra had Uncle Orion's silver eyes or if she'd be like Cissa and end up with no Black colouring whatsoever. It was a little strange, she mused, that Cissa was very much a Black in terms of magic, yet still ended up looking just like Druella, though thankfully more beautiful than that bitch had ever been. Though that still didn't stop the spiteful comments questioning the paternity of the blonde girl and if she even belonged in their House. Says the hypocrites that are shagging everyone but their spouses. Yet another reason she had to essentially usurp control of Slytherin; it was bad enough for the girl to be known at least superficially as Cygnus Black's daughter, but Lyra knew full well there were going to be hateful comments and rumours when the young girl started Hogwarts. Unless of course she scared everyone into submission while grooming lovely and (slightly) crazy Bella to take over when she left. She pictured it and snorted. I almost pity them. Almost.

She knocked on the door and went in at the sound of her uncle's voice, closing the door behind her as she once more took in the nest of blankets and cushions thrown haphazardly around the sofa and on the floor in front of it. Unlike last time there were baby bottles and stuffed toys here and there around the room – Orion was obviously beyond caring about tidiness at this point – and of course the large wooden cot just next to the sofa.

Lyra smiled briefly at her uncle leaning against the door to his room before making her way over to the cot and peering down at the two infants. Closest to her was Aludra, who had in fact defied Black genetics and now sported light golden hair and dark-green eyes like her sire, though she was still obviously Orion's. Sirius on the other hand looked exactly like he was supposed to, and she couldn't help but grin and wiggle her fingers in front of those curious silver orbs. The oh-so-great, suave and sophisticated Sirius Orion Black, mysterious man who smoked and drank whiskey like there was no tomorrow, now exists as a screaming infant who has no control over his own toilet habits. If only he could see himself now, this is hilarious.

"Lyra."

She lifted her head. "Uncle Orion?"

"I wanted to talk to you before the blessings." The man pushed off from the wall and strode towards her, settling himself comfortably on the sofa. He looked serious, but thankfully a hell of a lot more settled than during the pregnancy, which she was infinitely grateful for. "You know that we planned for a singular child, hence why originally Marcus and I only chose one set of godparents. We've decided to go with Alphard and Marcus' sister Claudia for Aludra, as was the initial choice. Alphard is good with children – but please don't tell him I said that, his ego is terrible enough to deal with as it is," he muttered while rolling his eyes, making Lyra smirk, "and Claudia is an extraordinarily independent woman who'd be a good influence on Aludra.

"The issue now is Sirius."

Orion looked her in the eye with a significant look on his face. "Neither of us want any of our children to forget either side of their family, so we chose Cassius for Sirius' godfather. I would have chosen Lucretia, but my sister has managed to amass four godchildren over the past several years and I should probably give her a break.

"So I chose you."

Lyra blinked rapidly, hearing and understanding the words the man was speaking, but not quite processing them because the picture they painted really wasn't she'd been expecting from this conversation. She said the only thing her brain could manage to send out right now.

"What."

The man's lips twitched at her flat tone and no doubt bewildered face, obviously finding all sorts of amusement in the fact he'd just announced he was asking his own godchild to be the godparent to his own child. (And if that convoluted statement didn't sum up the general weirdness of their family's design, she didn't know what would.)

"I would like you to be Sirius' godmother."

"Uncle Orion," she spoke slowly, genuinely wondering if he was suffering from some sort of head injury, "I'm twelve."

A brow raised in derision. "Funnily enough, I can actually count, Lyra."

"Funny," she snorted and crossed her arms. "In the eyes of the law and magic itself, I am a child, no matter how much I despise the distinction. A godparent is someone who's seen as an authority figure, yet how can I be so if I'm underage?" (Which was all she was going to think about right now, because she couldn't address the horrific irony of this situation without crying and laughing hysterically.)

Orion rolled his eyes again – so much for a proper Heir Black – and turned unamused eyes on hers. "A godparent has no legitimate need to be of-age, people simply chose adults in case the worst happens and the child has to be adopted by the godparents. I'd rather not think about anything happening to Marcus or I, but even if it did our children would be adopted by the family and raised to Head the family in the future. Besides, if the absolute worst ever happened – which I refuse to even consider – and you were the one that had to adopt any of the Black children, my father's already arranged it so you'd be automatically emancipated."

Those words stopped her short and she started. "What? Emancipated? When did that happen?"

His face softened and he reached forward to hold her hand gently. "Lyra, we all know how mature you are, not to mention intelligent, so we all agreed if there was ever such a situation where all of the adults were unable to Head the family, you would do so until the designated Heir was old and competent enough to take over."

Lyra froze at that thought and tried to calm her racing heart. This was … this was insane. She didn't want to even think of her family dying, having to try and raise her younger cousins while keeping the Black family alive and flourishing. It was … horrendous to think about. She briefly considered a certain desk in the manor and physically shuddered.

"What's wrong?"

She turned to see a concerned look on the man's face and grimaced. "I just remembered the mounds of paperwork Granddad Arcturus has to deal with day in day out. No way in hell am I dealing with that crap, I'll do anything to keep all you bastards alive."

She paused for a second. "Until Sirius is seventeen, anyway, you're on your own after that."

Orion had wide eyes for a second before he coughed a little, the sound dissolving into roaring laughter that had tears pouring from his eyes and a red flush crawling across his pale face. Which was admittedly pretty funny – and heart-warming after the past year – to see, even if the twins didn't sound too pleased at the noise.

Lyra turned and tried to wave a stuffed unicorn in front of the babies, smiling when little Sirius made grabbing motions and held on tightly to the soft fur, small face lighting up in an infectious grin at the feeling. Aludra on the other hand seemed far more interested in her brother's smile, green eyes boring into Sirius's face with a curious expression that reminded Lyra of the Ravenclaws whenever they found something interesting. I wonder if she'll break the mould of Blacks being snakes?

"You have a stronger connection with Sirius."

She jumped slightly at the sound and stared at her godfather, the amusement on his face muted for the moment as he stared at her. The girl felt as though the words were a condemnation of sorts and winced, feeling guilty all of a sudden. She had no desire to choose between her family. "I'm sorry –"

"That's not what I meant," he interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Your magic resonates with his, it's why he's so responsive to you. When he gets older, you'll probably find that the two of you can duel well together, or cast any magic, really. It's not that well-known, but certain family members aside from parents and children have close magic, even within Family magic. It's another way people choose godparents because the synchronicity helps foster trust and the godparent bond. Aludra's the same way with Claudia despite the fact she's not a Black, which was another point in her favour for being godmother." He was silent for a second before he smirked. "Of course, you could also do what Alphard did and play politics just to piss off Lord Sirius Black."

The girl laughed lightly and looked back down at Sirius, feeling her heart warm. He was so beautiful and looked so happy, and she couldn't help the desire that rose up in her, wanting to wrap him up in blankets and keep him safe from the rest of the world. She hadn't felt like that since her own children.

That thought gave Lyra pause and she reached down with a finger which Sirius promptly wrapped in her hand, squeezing without a care in the world. Lyra closed her eyes and felt along her magic, awed at the feel of it mingling with the untrained pools belonging to the baby holding on to her. It reminded her of her magic mixing with that of her second son, the one who'd taken after Harry in every way possible, at least physically. And a lot of ways in terms of personality, even if the stubborn boy hadn't wanted to admit it. She missed them all.

She shook off the melancholy thought and turned back to Orion, pausing with a frown as a thought came to mind. "Uncle Orion, if you didn't like your grandfather so much, why did you reuse his name for your own son?"

The man smiled wickedly at her. "I think you and I both know I'd never name my son after that arsehole, Lyra." He grinned at her choked laugh before carrying on. "Did you know that Phineas Nigellus Black nearly died when he was six-years-old?"

She shook her head at the random anecdote. She had no idea.

"Anyway, his older brother – who was just eight at the time – pushed young Phineas out of the way of an errant spell – they were at a party hosted by their mother's family, which was unfortunately attacked – and took on the spell himself. As said spell had in fact been designed to cause massive amounts of damage to a fully-grown wizard, to a child it was deadly and the young boy perished.

"That boy was named Sirius."

Orion leaned back and gazed at his children with warm, loving eyes. "My grandfather carried his namesake horrendously, ruined it. The Sirius who died for his family as a mere child is someone who deserves to be remembered, which is why I used it." There was a beat of silence. "And hopefully this time we'll have a Sirius Black who doesn't make everyone want to hex him on sight."

Lyra bit her tongue to stifle her giggles. Yeah, good luck with that, Uncle. If he's anything like the other version, you'll be wanting to hex him from the moment he walks and talks. I hope you enjoy Calming Draughts and Pepper-Ups, you'll be needing them for years to come.

"So, what do you say?"

The girl turned back to the man who'd doted on her for years, almost becoming something of a second father to her – just without the over-protective melodrama – and considered the idea. Did she want to be Sirius' godmother? It was so strange to think about considering her previous relationship with the other Sirius, but perhaps she wasn't looking at this from the right perspective. Perhaps the question she should be asking herself is whether she wants to help him have a better life or not.

No shit, Sherlock.

Of course she wanted him to have a better life! He'd been screwed over so many times in Harry's lifetime, from childhood right up until his end, and Lyra couldn't fathom sitting back and trying to make things turn out okay from the side-lines, especially when she could look after him directly. Being his godmother would make that infinitely easier, and maybe this way she'd be able to curb his more morally-grey habits and ensure he ended up more open-minded than before. (Lyra loved her memories of her godfather, but she was far from blind to his faults. Feeding people to werewolves wasn't a good idea; she had to wonder if he'd been suffering from a head injury when he did that.)

Being godmother to Sirius Orion Black would be weird, no doubt – the irony is bitch-slapping me across the face now, it's ridiculous – but she loved him and wanted to protect him. Which she could do if she said the magic words.

"Okay, I accept."

The man beamed and her and stood up, encasing her in his muscled arms and hugging her tightly. She felt a pair of lips press to her head gently and buried into his chest, closing her eyes and soaking up the affection. It felt eerily like the hugs Sirius always gave Harry, and she briefly wondered if Sirius had ever been more disappointed with Orion than Walburga because they were so similar. She pushed the thoughts away and inhaled the scent of musky cologne, so different from the muggle cigarette smoke that permeated her other godfather. This isn't the same, and if I have my way, he'll never have to bury himself in vices just to cope with life.

"Thank you, Lyra."

He pulled back and brushed one of her curl behind her ears. "Now, did you want to help me get the imps to the ceremony?"

She nodded with a grin and watched as Uncle Orion bent down to pick up his daughter, cradling the unusually quiet infant against his chest as her eyes flitted around the room. Contrary to his sister, Sirius was happily making as much noise as possible, the sounds not even close to stereotypical babble as they tried to speak, but nonetheless he was looking at her and trying to communicate, which was so ridiculously cute it was unbelievable. Seriously, this grows up to be a man who attracts romantic partners like moths to a flame? His teens are going to be hell. She momentarily imagined this baby as a young man and felt her eyebrow twitch. Nobody is going to take advantage of him, not going to happen.

The party of four made their way through the manor's hallways, the older two chatting about Lyra's current Defence assignment on their way to the extensive gardens. As they made their way out the doors, they came face-to-face with the majority of their family, even though the standard blessing and naming ceremonies were considered for close family only. The issue with that description was that the House of Black was closer than ever before, and the Greengrasses were also rather amicable towards one another as a whole.

It seemed that Lyra wasn't the only one that had been given permission to miss school – she did wonder just how Granddad Arcturus had managed to pull that one off – and her Weasley, Prewett and Crouch cousins were all with their parents, mingling with their various other relatives. Aunt Cassi and Aunt Coris seemed to have teamed up to wind up Granddad Arcturus, the older man looking a second away from whipping out his wand and cursing his sister and cousin just for some peace and quiet. Though considering how good the two women were at duelling, her unofficial grandfather would probably just start some stupidly-powerful fight that would level half the manor. Or all of it.

Uncle Marius was with his wife and daughters, the two girls being fawned over by Bella, Andi and Cissa, though they were sticking close to Dorea whose icy glare was ample warning to stay the fuck away from her and her brother. Her lips twitched. My godmother's fucking hilarious.

And of course, the Greengrass contingent were all there, seeing as their family was rather small in comparison to the Blacks. Marcus' parents Cadmus and Marciana were there, the poster-perfect blonde couple who looked like they belonged in a modelling agency somewhere; she shouldn't have been surprised with Marcus being so gorgeous.

Marcus' elder brother Cassius was stood not far from his parents with his wife Corinna Greengrass nee Pucey and their two children, four-year-old Cyrus (who was the future father of Daphne and Astoria), and baby Clara who was being held in her mother's arms. Just off to the side was his sister Claudia, who had a wide smile on her face and was in deep discussion with Marcus, Pollux and Alphard.

This was her family.

They were insane, there were far too many of them to be normal – this wasn't even everyone – and they tended to cause more problems than solve them at any given time. But she wouldn't give them up for the world. Harry had grown up feeling unwanted and unloved for so long, so much so that it had taken Ron and Hermione years just to build a decent and solid friendship with him while understanding his issues. That didn't even get into Gin, and Lyra could still remember the heart-broken expression on the redhead's face when she realised the true depths of Harry's non-existent self-esteem. The woman had worked tirelessly for years, even after their divorce, to ensure that Harry felt loved and wanted, and Lyra loved Gin too much to let all her hard work go to waste. She wasn't going to let her family go to hell and she wasn't going to let them go for anything.

As she watched the druid gather her family and bless her newest cousins, inviting her, Cassius, Claudia and her father to be bonded with the children as godparents, Lyra knew that she'd do everything in her power to make them happy.

Even if they did make her want to facepalm nearly every day.

Lyra tiptoed back into the Slytherin dormitory, making sure her roommates were asleep before rifling through her trunk and getting her pyjamas. After getting ready for bed she climbed into the four-poster and closed the draped, absentmindedly casting the usual protection and silencing spells around her bed. Not only was she in a room full of vindictive little girls, she really didn't want to deal with them hearing any nightmares of hers. Though maybe that's a new way to scare the crap out of them?

She mentally shook off the thoughts of terrifying the snide girls and thought back over the day's events. The ceremony had been beautiful as expected, but it was strange thinking about the impact of what had happened.

I'm Sirius' godmother. I am now the goddaughter of my godfather's father, and the godmother of my old godfather. I'm now in a position of authority over Sirius Orion Black.

Lyra blinked and stared at the ceiling, eyes widening in realisation. Fucking hell, I'm the corrupting influence now.

The girl was very thankful for the strong silencers around the bed as she choked on a laugh, trying to restrain herself before she let loose with loud cackles that would have put the future Bellatrix Lestrange to shame. She couldn't help it, she was hiccoughing and snorting through her giggles, tears streaming down her face as laughed maniacally into her pillow. She was Sirius' godmother.

Her life was mental.

I'm totally buying him a toy broom.

A/N: Hello again!

So ... it's been a while, and for that I can only apologise and try to explain. I'm not making excuses or anything, but sometimes life just wants to screw you over for the fun of it. A good few weeks ago, I worked so much I was ill and therefore not really motivated to do anything, but then I got a couple of days off. I got up early, ready and looking forward to writing this chapter, then went downstairs to find my cat really ill. And by this, I mean she literally couldn't move and the vet couldn't get to us in time, and I had to watch my cat die right in front of me. I know some people don't understand the emotional attachments to pets, but I've had her for close to a decade and she was a part of the family. Suffice it to say I broke down pretty badly and couldn't bring myself to do any writing at all, hence why this chapter took so long to come out. I'm sorry if this isn't an adequate explanation, but there it is.

Now, onto this chapter. Yes, I actually made Lyra Sirius' godmother. I hadn't actually considered this route until people commented on the idea, so I have my readers to thank for this particular piece of madness. Thanks guys! And Lyra is trying to figure out the Horcruxes and whatnot, but her situation is a little difficult to overcome. I know some people have been wanting me to hurry up and get to the 'action' with Tom, but he is in no way the major 'villain' or anything. He's not the primary obstacle of the story and in no way shapes when this fic will end. I have plans for Lyra's life way past him, why is why I don't focus on Lyra's attempts to get rid of him so much. This story isn't about Lyra defeating Voldemort and saving the world, it's about Lyra becoming a Black and growing up with her family. This is a family story, which can be seen in the tags.

(SPOILER FREE) Which leads me on to my next point: the final pairing. (If you don't want to know anything, I advise against reading the comments on the previous chapter. I answered people when they asked because I was willing to reveal that specific information anyway.) I have had WAY more comments and questions about this topic than I anticipated I would, and I feel like this is because my readers aren't seeing things from my point of view, which is probably my fault tbh. I haven't explained things very well, so here we go. This is not a romance story, it is a family story. Romance will never be the focus of this story, and even when Lyra is in a romantic relationship, things aren't going to be cute and fluffy and happy with no problems, because real relationships aren't like that. They're about compromise and learning how to deal with another person on such an intimate level.

And speaking of intimacy, in case anybody's forgotten, Lyra is quite happily bisexual. There is no one sex I'm sticking to in terms of relationships. I also say relationships because I do in fact plan for there to multiple romantic relationships for Lyra over the course of her life. When I said final pairing, I meant the last one. She isn't going to promiscuous or anything, but the fact is that people very rarely have one relationship that magically blooms into true love and they live happily ever after. It just doesn't happen often. Lyra will in fact be a mature adult when that time comes, and it will be very far in the future. If you're reading this expecting a happily ever after romance any time soon, I'm afraid you'll be very disappointed.

(SPOILER) If you don't want to know the sex of the final pairing, this is your chance to back out and remain unaware now. If you've kept reading, then I can in fact reveal it's a man from canon. Which is literally all the information I'm giving you.

(BACK TO SPOILER FREE) I want to explain a few things. The only reason I was willing to divulge the sex of the final pairing was because some readers didn't want to invest their time in a story with a pairing type they weren't happy to read about. Which is entirely acceptable. While I and others might not care, for some people it's a big thing, everybody's different. What I don't want to reveal is their identity because I feel it'll create some sort of bias from the readers. Like, when you search a specific pairing you have an idea of the story from the pairing. This isn't a romance story as I've said, and I don't necessarily want it labelled as a (for example) Harry/Ginny story. I'm probably not explaining this very well, but I don't want people's perceptions of the story to be coloured by a couple that isn't even a thing yet and won't be for a very long time. Does that make sense? (Seriously, does it? I kind of need sleep lol)

Anyway, thanks for being so patient with me, you guys are the absolute best! :D Also, sorry for these really long notes, but I wanted to get my point fully across for once.

Happy reading, and I'll see you next time!