I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to J. K. Rowling as well as Warner brothers (For the movie rights).

Daughter of Darkness

Chapter Forty-Five

Lyra, after getting ready for the day, headed down for breakfast. She'd felt like today was a tall day. Tall, but not too tall. Maybe only five foot nine, ten maybe. She needed to make a show of pride and strength, to let everyone who was paying attention know that the House of Black was back. Quickly growing her height, she adjusted her robes with a few easy charms, and entered the great hall. Naturally, everyone who was talking near the door quieted down to stare at her as she made her way to the Gryffindor table.

Hermione was already there, so that was nice, and she grabbed herself a nice plate of toast, eggs, and bacon. She noticed, as usual, that Hermione was attempting to eat while reading, something that ordinarily never worked for her best friend.

Chuckling to herself, Lyra shoved a napkin over the page Hermione was on and forcibly closed the book.

"Hey!" Hermione protested, making grabby hands for the book.

"Honestly, Hermione, it's for your own good. Remember last year when Ron knocked over a glass of juice on your arithmancy book? You sulked all day until you found a charm to fix it. I'm just saving you the trouble, now eat," Lyra said sternly, nodding to Hermione's barely touched plate of food. Hermione ate, her grumpy face on the entire time, until she ate enough to feel more energized.

Down the table, she heard Fred and George muttering something to each other.

"They can't keep me from entering," George muttered.

"Agreed," Fred said. "We'll figure something out."

"You most certainly will not," Lyra said sternly, causing many to look her way. She maintained an even expression as she spoke again. "We're business partners now, and I reserve the right to object to any ideas I believe to be detrimental to yours or the community's health. Seeing as people have died in this tournament," she pointedly reminded the twins. "I don't want to see you entering this thing at all. Understand?" she asked with a delicately raised eyebrow.

"But think about it," Fred countered, scooting over to sit directly across from her. "If we enter, it'll put a good reputable name to the business. And if we win…" he trailed off.

"Plus, it's an extra thousand galleons we can put towards the business. We'd be set!" George exclaimed. Lyra shook her head.

"Weren't you listening to Dumbledore last night?" She hissed. "There has been no tournament where a champion hasn't died. Sometimes all three have been killed. They've been trying to make it safer for years, but it hasn't been done yet, and it most likely won't. Trying to enter, and actually succeeding in doing so, is a bad idea, and one I object to."

She'd said her piece. She didn't want her friends, her business partners, to get themselves killed going after glory and fame.

The twins said nothing as they went back to their original seats opposite Katie bell and Alicia Spinnet. Where Angelina was, Lyra had no clue. Probably seeping in if the stories Harry had told her about the oldest of the Gryffindor chasers was true.

The sound of flapping wings broke her out of her thoughts as hundreds of owls came to deliver mail. Right then, Harry and Ron rushed in, grinning for all the world as if they hadn't just slept through half of breakfast.

Lyra choked on her pumpkin juice as a small package beamed Harry straight in the head, bouncing off harmlessly into his hands. The only thing that had saved the little box was his quick seeker reflexes. He sat down right as Artemis landed graciously on the table, in between cups and plates, without hitting anything.

"Hello girl," Lyra cooed as she stroked the feathers beneath the large owl's beak. Artemis gave an affectionate nip before holding out her leg, a letter attached to it. "Thank you," she said, giving Artemis a generous nibble of toast. Hedwig landed in front of Harry and looked very expectantly at the boy before looking at the pile of bacon nearby. Lyra snorted as the two had a silent exchange with their eyes before Harry caved and fed the snowy owl a bit of bacon. "You spoil her," Lyra chucked, opening the letter. It was from Gringotts, delivered to Grimmauld, and forwarded by Narcissa.

"Lady Lyra Morgana Black, of the most Noble and Ancient house of Black," the letter began.

"We have processed and verified your claims against the houses of Avery, Rosier, Travers, and Selwyn. We were also able to drain the main account belonging to the Lestrange family, but the vault belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange is owned solely in her name. As she does not owe you any debt, any claim against the vault is invalid.

As such, all riches from these five accounts will be transferred to your vault, but the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange will not be claimed.

It should however be stated, that upon her death, you will be eligible to claim its contents as her daughter and living heir.

-Black account manager Goldclaw, Gringotts."

Attached to the letter was an invoice for her account and a detailed record of everything that had been taken from the familial vaults.

Two pensieves, hundreds of dark books (many of which were duplicates of what was in the Black vault), quite a few familial wands that were hundreds of years old at least, more than a few dark artifacts, sacrificial items like blood bowls and cursed knives, all manner of familial items that had been with their respective families for generations, and of course, a whopping ten and a half million galleons in total.

Sweet tapdancing Merlin! If this was what just five of the old families owed the Black family, what did the rest of the living ones owe?

"Waz' 'at?" Ron asked through several bites of eggs.

"Nothing, Ron," Lyra sighed. "Private correspondence." She folded the letter up and stuck it in her bag. She'd have to store it in her trunk and make sure to keep it somewhere safe. She'd asked the Goblins to keep the transfer quiet, as she didn't want to cause a panic with the old families. If this document found its way into more talkative hands, well, she'd have a lot of desperate people who were definitely former or (more likely) closeted Death Eaters gunning for her head, or trying to get on her good side in whatever way possible.

"Come on, we should head to classes," Hermione said, throwing her bag over her shoulder as breakfast began to wind down.

"Right. Double Runes first?" Lyra asked. Hermione nodded, and the two went off to Ancient Runes together.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Last year, we focused on the correct runic forms, the basics of carving, and the runic equivalent of the Lumos charm. This year, we will be focusing on the power of runes, what they can do, and later, the exploration of runic schemes and how runes are the backbone of wards. Essentially, what we'll be covering will make the light producing runes seem small in comparison," Professor Babbling explained.

Lyra sat in excitement as the professor handed out several black tiles, placing them down in front of the students as they pulled out their carving materials.

She was excited. Ancient Runes was one of her favorite classes, rivaling only her love for dueling.

Dueling, something she hadn't really had time to do this summer, something that she'd painfully been shown that she had more to improve upon if she wanted to be competitive. Mathias Parkinson, the Death Eater who tried to kill her, had easily blocked everything she'd sent his way. Granted, she wasn't trying to kill him, but it was more than a little disheartening to see that everything she tried had no effect.

"Right, now that everything has been passed around," Professor Babbling started. Lyra sat up straighter, putting her eyes on the woman. "We'll begin by going over what we learned at the end of the year. Begin with the basic Lumos rune."

Xoxoxoxoxoxox

Two hours of Runes, while enough to make anyone else groan, put a smile on Lyra's face, one Daphne couldn't help but comment on as they left the class, heading for Arithmancy.

"You've got a grin a mile wide," Daphne teased. Lyra chuckled, looking back to the blonde as they made their way through the hallways. Hermione had peeled off to go to her next class, Care of magical creatures. She was a bit sad that Hermione had dropped arithmancy so she could continue to do Care, but Hermione did what she wanted and seemed to be happy, so she couldn't complain about it.

"Well of course. Runic chaining and schemes? You didn't hear her when she mentioned staves, did you? I would love to try those!" Lyra exclaimed. Daphne grinned at her friend's enthusiasm as they stepped into the classroom.

"Well, I don't think anyone was more excited than you!" Daphne said, taking a seat beside Tracey. Lyra sat on the opposite side.

"Well of course I'm excited. Runes are some of the most interesting bits of magic, but only if you know how to properly use them," Lyra said. "According to Narcissa, my Great aunt Dorea knew Runes like the back of her hand, and I even found one of her personal journals in the library. I couldn't understand any of it, but I definitely want to!" she added excitedly.

"My mother was tutored by Dorea Potter in Runes. She's one of the more skilled private wards crafters, if I do say so," Daphne said proudly.

"Is she?" Lyra asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up a bright orangey-pink. Daphne laughed as the grin on Lyra's face got impossibly wider. One might even call it Cheshire, in a way.

"Well, undoubtedly, there are others out there that are better than her, but she's the best I know. After she became pregnant with me, my mother built the wards around our house, with the help of Dorea," Daphne explained.

"I would love to see it, someday. There are a few mentions in Dorea's notes of the Black ward stone, but it's so complicated I don't understand what even a quarter of it does. She did say though, that there was only one place she knew of that had the Black home beat, and we're in it," Lyra said, eyeing the walls of the old castle.

"That was never in any doubt. The stone here was designed by Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw. I doubt anywhere else is more impressive," Daphne replied.

"Even still, this place does have its weaknesses," Lyra muttered, remembering the experiences she'd had the last several years. Daphne merely hummed.

"Come on, let's get to class," she added as the halls began to empty.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

"So, ready to be taught by a real auror?" Lyra asked Harry as they walked to Defense. The school year had started two days ago, and already it was feeling like it was dragging on. The school was alive with anticipation for the tournament, and nobody seemed to truly be able to focus on anything.

Minerva had answered a series of questions related to the tournament before she finally banned those questions in her classroom so that she could teach.

That kind of anticipation just made waiting all the worse.

"Of course!" Ron jumped in excitedly. "Mad-Eye Moody. Dad told me he was one of the best aurors up until a few years ago."

"He's trained Madame Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a few others. They're some of the best in the Auror corps," Lyra said.

"Didn't he also train-" Harry started, but Lyra knew who he was going to ask about.

"Yes," she said, giving him a pointed look. Harry had the decency to look sheepish as he looked away from her gaze.

"Right. Sorry," he said. Lyra nodded before sighing.

"Just…don't do it again. I want to enjoy my day," she said wryly, rolling her eyes, though for a moment, a flash of sadness and anger flashed through them.

The four headed into the defense classroom, their first class of the day.

As the four were finding their seats, Lyra gave Daphne a wave, and a friendly smile towards Tracey, though she could've sworn she'd saw the former blush ever so slightly.

Lyra turned to her bag, pulling out the defense book for this year, right as the Professor waked in and declared they wouldn't be needed.

"My name is Alastor Moody," he began, his grizzled voice little more than a low rumbling. She remembered him, from when she'd met him before…when she'd visited Tonks at the Auror department. He'd had his wand trained on her, and he was no less frightening now then he was then. "Ex-Auror," he continued, scratching it out his name in chalk on the board. "Ministry malcontent, and your new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. I'm here as a favor to your headmaster, end of story," he growled, his eye peering around the room. "Now, Professor Lupin gave you a very grounded education in dark creatures, but you're woefully behind in curses. My focus this year will be on what magicals can do to each other!"

Many looked around nervously at their friends. Many of them of course knew what witches and wizards could do to each other. Their parents had told them so.

More then a few cast their gazes to Lyra.

"The ministry says your too young for such lessons, but I, and your headmaster, think different!" he barked, causing everyone to jump a foot out of their chairs. He pulled his wand from a holster on his wrist, perfectly hidden by his coat sleeve.

"Can anyone tell me how many unforgivable curses there are?" he asked. The whole room fell into silence. It had become a lot more uncomfortable than they'd anticipated.

"Three," Lyra said in a low voice.

"Correct, Miss Black," Moody said, silently appraising her before he looked around again.

"Can anyone tell me why they are called the 'Unforgivable's?'" he asked again.

"Because they're unforgivable!" Hermione called out.

"No, I want to know why!" Moody growled. "We know they're unforgivable, but can anyone tell me why?" he demanded. Lyra froze. She knew the answer to this. She'd stumbled upon it in the Black library.

"They are unforgivable because of what they do to a human being, and what specifically they focus on, and violate in turn," Lyra answered. The entire class turned to her. She refused to fidget, to look weak in front of them.

"Care to elaborate?" Moody pressed. Lyra grit her teeth. She wouldn't answer. She couldn't give the answer as it had been explained in the book she'd found. She couldn't even begin to try.

Limping over to a jar filled with spiders, Moody reached a gnarled hand in and pulled one out.

"Can anyone tell me the three unforgivable curses?" he asked, casting his eyes around the room. No one spoke, no one raised a hand. "Weasley?"

"Uh, well," Ron stuttered. "My dad did tell me one. The uh…the Imperius curse?"

"Your father would know all about that one," Moody muttered. "Gave the ministry a fair bit of grief during the war. Maybe this'll show you why," he growled. Pointing his wand at the spider, he uttered the incantation. "Imperio!"

Immediately, the spider still. It didn't so much as twitch until Moody began to move his wand around. The spider began to move in a way spider's didn't. It raised up on its two legs and began dancing around. A few students chuckled at the display before Moody growled.

"You think it's funny?!" he barked. The few noisemakers quieted down. "Total control. I can make it do whatever I want. What should I make it do next? Drown itself? Throw itself out the window?" he asked. "This is only a spider, but the Imperius curse can be fought; I will attempt to teach you how, but you have to have will, and strength of character," he said, returning the spider to his hand. "Of course, the best way to not get hit with this curse is to avoid it in the first place. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, causing the students to jump again.

"Another curse?" he asked a moment later. Everyone raised their hands this time, though Moody focused only on one student. And Lyra wished the boy had kept his hand down.

"Longbottom, isn't it?" Moody asked. Neville nodded. "Can you tell me a curse?"

"Yes, the uh," Nevile hesitated for a moment before he mustered his courage. "The Cruciatus curse."

"Correct!" Moody said. "Particularly nasty curse." He pointed his wand at the spider once again before uttering the incantation. "Crucio!"

Immediately the spider reacted in pain, flailing its little legs around, trying to escape the torment that coursed through its body.

When Moody began to hold the curse, causing the spider even more suffering, Neville began to wince, no doubt imagining if this was what his parents had been through.

"Enough!" Lyra shouted, shooting to her feet and slamming a fist down on the table.

Moody stopped the curse before turning his eyes towards her. He picked up the spider, still cowering in fear, and walked over to her desk, gingerly placing it in front of her.

"Care to give us the last curse, Miss Black," Moody muttered, though in the silence of the classroom, he might as well have been shouting. Lyra looked him straight in the eyes as she gave him the final curse.

"The killing curse," she said. Though, she took it a step further. "So named because it severs the soul from the body, and no magical barrier can protect you from it. It is as close to black as a single spell can get without actually being black magic, as it was once used to put witches and wizards suffering from some of the most horrific dark magic out of their misery."

"Correct," Moody said before looking down to the spider. Lyra flicked her gaze down right as Moody gave the final incantation. "Avada Kadavra!"

The green flash of the spell seemed to sear itself into her brain as she watched the life leave the spider's little body.

"Only one person is known to have survived the killing curse," Moody said. "And he's sitting in this room." He turned to Harry then, limping over to look at the boy before taking out his flask.

Lyra caught the faintest whiff of…something, something that made her stomach queasy, but she wasn't sure what it was.

"As Miss Black stated previously, nothing stops the killing curse except for a physical barrier. So why am I teaching you this then? Why am I teaching you about curses that have no magical defense?" Moody rhetorically asked. "Because you've got to know! You've got to know what you're up against! You've got to know that the world is full of people who would do this to you, and not even bat an eye or lose a wink of sleep!"

Despite how Lyra, and many of the students, felt about the lesson as it finally came to an end, they all knew he was right. The war was over, but that didn't mean that evil people were suddenly gone. It was a constant struggle between light and dark, and the dark was always lurking, waiting for a chance to strike.

"Come on!" Hermione hissed as she made her way out of the classroom.

"Not the library again. It's lunch," Ron protested.

"Not the library. Neville!" Hermione insisted, looking to the boy as he walked, hunched over, down the hallway. Lyra stood, frozen, as she watched the boy.

"I…I shouldn't. I'll see you at lunch," Lyra muttered, rushing off the opposite way, the longer way, to the great hall. She didn't want to make Neville any more upset than he already was. It wasn't fair to him. Today wasn't fair to him.

She was the last of her friends to arrive, of course, having taken the long way, and sat down right as Hedwig landed on the table.

"You and Padfoot sure are keeping her busy, aren't you?" she asked as she pulled a plate over.

"Yeah. I sent him a letter about my scar," Harry murmured.

"Your scar?" Lyra asked. "What about it?"

"I didn't tell you?" Harry asked. Lyra shook her head. "Oh, must've forgotten. I've been having dreams…that relate to him," Harry said, looing around to make sure nobody overheard him. "I can feel it. It's like I'm looking through someone else's eyes, though. It's…uncomfortable," he said with a grimace.

"What has he said?" Lyra asked, looking at the letter.

Harry scanned the parchment for a few moments before sighing. "Nothing really. Just let Dumbledore knows if it happens again."

"Mm," Lyra hummed, spearing a bit of her lunch onto her fork and taking a bite.

Later that night, Lyra lay awake in her bed. She couldn't seem to close her eyes, no matter how hard she tried. With a sigh, Lyra sat up, shifting over until she was sitting on the edge of her bed. She looked over to where her dorm mates lay sleeping.

Standing, she shuffled to the door, pulling it open as quietly as possible before slipping out and heading down into the common room. In the corner was a small cubby that held spare quills, parchment, and ink that one could use for any kind of writing one might need it for.

Lyra took a sheet, opened a bottle of ink, and began to write.

"Narcissa (and Amelia if you happen to show this to her),

"I know I promised I'd write as soon as I arrived at Hogwarts, but in truth, it slipped my mind in all the hustle of getting settled again.

"Everything feels wrong, strange…foreign. Maybe it's because I grew used to the comforts of having a home, a family, of knowing that I could speak my mind with you whenever I needed it. Now…now I'm uncertain, because I cannot speak my mind. Not in a way I can truly express through writing alone.

"I think that's what I really feel as I write this letter. Alone. I have Hermione, Susan, Harry, and Ron to speak too if need me, and even Daphne and Luna (though I haven't seen much of the mysterious blonde in the last few days), but I feel more alone in a way I don't think I could properly express.

"Everyone stares at me, whether in condemnation of deeds I did not carry out or scorn for simply existing, I can't tell. Is there even a difference between those two things. Not to me, there isn't. It feels the same. Like they fear me, like they wish I weren't around.

"Merlin, it hasn't even been a week and I'm already turning into a melodramatic teenager.

"I know what you'd say, Narcissa. I should keep my head high. They don't matter, only the future does. The future of house Black.

"But what is the future of our noble house, with me at the helm, if nobody will ever see me as myself, but only as the daughter of one of the most reviled, feared, and infamous witches of the twentieth century.

"I'm sorry. That turned out a bit heavier than I intended, but I suppose I needed to get that off my chest. I hope this letter finds you both well.

"With love,

-Lyra"

She sighed as she folded the letter in thirds before sealing it with a general wax seal. She didn't particularly feel like going back into the dorm, so she laid back on the couch and closed her eyes, clutching the letter to her chest. She fell asleep a few moments later.

Red=angry

Gray=nervous/anxious/irritated

Orange=happy/excited

Blue=sad/overwhelmed

Purple=worried/concerned/frustrated

Green=jealous/suspicious/grossed out

Brown=content/relaxed

Yellow=afraid/shocked

Pink=amusement/surprise/mischievous

Silver=determination

Light blue=embarrassment