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Almosts Lost to Time
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Waking up in the hospital was not a pleasant experience. Of all her trips to the hospital throughout her life, this was by far the worst. Her wounds were so severe, even magic couldn't speed up the process. The Healers at St. Mungo's deferred to the physician's orders; they could give her potions for the pain but that was the extent of their help. The muscle needed to grow back on its own and while they could help it along, it would still take time.

The Healers had her left arm in a tight sling and a regiment of potions to take for her external injuries.

It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, everything just hurt.

The next time she saw James, she promised to return the favor. This was the second time she had been in the hospital because of him. It was a pattern she wasn't counting on repeating.

"Hermione, when can I leave?" she wasn't whining but if she had to stay one more day, she would lose her mind.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend, it had been a little over a week since the attack and her healing was progressing smoothly. The doctor's wanted her external injuries to heal up before sending her home, less risk of an infection. She relayed this to Rynan for what felt like the dozenth time.

There was an argument simmering just below the surface but both knew now was not the time for it, this being the reason Ron had only stopped by a few times.

"Give me magic any day. Bullet wounds hurt like hell."

"Apposed to being tortured with a torture curse." Hermione quipped sarcastically.

Rynan conceded the point but didn't give up her argument, "At least the effects are temporary. I have to deal with this for weeks!" she motioned to her bound arm.

"Just be thankful they weren't a few centimeters closer or else you'd be dead."

Rynan was getting up from her bed, careful with her arm, "The first thing I'm doing is making bulletproof armor!"

Hermione held her tongue, instead, standing back ready to help if she needed it.

Rynan paused to catch her breath, her chest pulling in pain. She knew how lucky she was to be alive. In those few seconds of consciousness she had after she was shot, she really believed she was dead.

She gave her friend a sheepish smile as her black hair fell into her face. "Can you-?" she motioned to the bird's nest. There was no way she could deal with her hair herself.

Hermione moved behind her, careful hands carding through the tangled mess, working out the knots as she weaved it into a tight braid. It was a nice silence, giving them time to think and just relax in each other's presence.

She'd have to cut her hair. It'd be a few weeks until she had use of both arms and she couldn't deal with her long hair with one hand.

She felt a pang of sorrow, just another thing she'd have to get used to.

/

The day she was released, Ron and Hermione broke the news of Oxley's death. They had planned on telling her earlier but with everything, there just wasn't a good time to tell her.

Ron handed her the newspaper with the announcement as Hermione launched into an explanation.

"He was found a few hours after your surgery. There was no attempt to cover it up." She exchanged glances with her husband, "We think it was a message."

Rynan stared at the two weeks old newspaper, unable to throw it away. "MI6 Secretary, Charles Oxley, Found Murdered Days After Returning from an Intelligence Summit in the United States!"

"Cain is acting Head of MI6 for the moment and he's coming down hard on the investigation. He wants the culprit caught...immediately. It's a witch hunt."

Rynan barely acknowledged her comment, eyes glued to the newspaper picture of Oxley. "Does he know about me?"

They hesitated, "Yes" Hermione started, "He wants you to keep your distance. He believes you overstepped your authority and Charles, in poor judgment, aided you."

"What does Kingsley think?" Had she wasted the opportunity she had been given?

"Well, he doesn't disagree with Cain but he thinks it would be a good idea if you took a step back. You're not an Auror; you don't have the proper training."

Rynan's shoes remained untied as she processed this new information.

She had been so sure, so confident that she could pull this off. She had been arrogant, underestimating her enemy and now she had to deal with the consequences. They had been so wrong...they couldn't do this by themselves and they shouldn't. There was more at stake than James. This was HYDRA, an organization willing to kill whoever got in their way.

Why was it always the people she cared about paying for her mistakes?

"Have you heard anything from SHIELD?"

She couldn't see them letting the assassination of a high ranking intelligence officer go so easily.

"We haven't heard anything. Cain has all communication going directly through him. Director Fury wanted to speak with you but we had you transferred here before he could."

All their asses were on the line with this serious mishap. They had to tread lightly with what they did next. Ron's position was still in a trial period and there were many looking for any excuse to sack Hermione. All of that not even considering Rynan wasn't officially part of the Ministry of Magic anymore, not even in a diplomatic position.

Silence settled over the trio as they contemplated their next course of action. Mattis was the senior most Auror in the muggle world. Kingsley would look to him for direction on their next course of action. There was no telling if HYDRA had infiltrated the magical world and they needed to be prepared if they had. They clearly had people in high places but how high?

Hermione hesitated, moving behind Rynan to put her hair up, "There's something else. Kingsley has ordered Ron and myself to distance ourselves from this. It won't reflect well on the Ministry if it was discovered what we did."

"He's put Mattis in charge of the operation. He's a good Auror, he'll handle the operation and report to Kingsley directly." It wasn't his best moment as Mattis was under his command and he was being bypassed. His pride had taken a beating when that was announced.

Years of research and planning and it was for nothing. They had failed and were being pushed out. How did it come to this? They were losing, losing all the cards they held. No one was supposed to die, not for the mission, not for her. She had been too arrogant, too sure of herself. She had thought since it was muggles they were dealing with, it wouldn't be too hard. Now look where she was - being discharged from the hospital after two weeks with multiple weeks of healing, kicked off her operation, and reduced to the sidelines.

They had assumed there was a mole at the meeting, were planning on it to flush James out. HYDRA wanted Rynan silenced, why go after someone who didn't know anything? That was their thought process. But Oxley knew something, enough to worry HYDRA, enough to make a statement. His death was on them.

She had known Oxley for years, since before she worked in Russia on the diplomatic intervention in 2004. He had helped ease her into the political world, becoming similar to a mentor as she navigated the foreign world at such a young age. From day one, Oxley knew exactly who she was and refused to treat her any differently than his other agents. She had come to discover that all high ranking MI-6 agents were aware of the magical world, the prime minister putting them on high alert in 1996 and 1997, when Voldemort and his followers were attacking muggles across the UK.

Arm in a sling and bag full of potions, Rynan exited St. Mungo's with her friends, conflicted and in more pain than she had entered. She would take the physical pain over guilt any day.

/

Her home was currently roped off as the ministry took care of warding to stop muggles from entering or even being aware of her house. They would know it was there but they would forget why they were there, similar to Hogwarts. So for the time being, she was moving into Grimmauld Place once again.

It was the same dark and dank place she remembered over a decade ago. Kreature had long since passed, his old soul finding peace with the knowledge that his Master Regulus' legacy had been saved and he was seen as a hero.

Now, the house was just full of miserable memories. Memories of her godfather trapped in his hell for a year, memories of anger and injustice. Of anxiety and fear when they were on the run.

There was a reason she avoided this place for so long.

She waved off Ron and Hermione's worried looks as she led them out of the house. The entrance hall still held the portrait of Mrs. Black so they dared not argue with her.

The door shut and Rynan felt like it was a death sentence. Was this how Sirius felt when he was forced to live here? It might as well have been for him. The progress Mrs. Weasley had made wasn't even noticeable as the lack of upkeep over the last decade had restored the house to pre-Order cleanliness. Dust hung in the air, filling her lungs with every breath. She was sure the doxies had migrated down into the kitchen, and there was a high probability there was a boggart upstairs if the rattling was anything to go by.

She passed the portrait of Mrs. Black, carefully opening the curtains to gaze at the once high-society witch. Kreature had been her only company in his final years so she was sure to know about the downfall of her family. In a sense, they were quite similar: the last of a once great line. She was the last of the Potter's and the name was sure to die out with her. Mrs. Black had to watch as the last of her son's died young and childless, no male alive to carry on the Black name.

Gazing into the emaculated painted face, Rynan knew she knew. And she could see the mother in those eyes. At the end of his life, Sirius held no love for his dearly departed mother and the feeling was clearly mutual but she knew that deep down, they had once held a love for each other. No words were spoken but Rynan left the curtains open as she made her way upstairs, hand almost caressing the banister in remembrance.

She had many memories here with her godfather, both good and bad. She had a summer to glimpse a life she could've had, a life that was ripped away twice.

She stepped onto the second-floor landing, eyes darting to the engraved name Regulus Arcturus Black. She really wished Sirius could've known his brother hadn't died a coward like he thought.

The irony that she ends up in this house after what happened. She had led Sirius to his death as well. What was one more to the list?

The newspaper was still clutched in her hand, Oxley's face gazing out intensely at her from the front page.

No one else was going to die for her mistakes.

/

With her freshly cut hair, Rynan set out to make her time at Grimmauld Place as comfortable as possible. She was limited in her activity because of her arm but she still had her magic. She avoided the study, knowing a boggart was most likely in there and focused her efforts on the kitchen, entrance, and living area. Familiar grey eyes followed her movements as she effortlessly flicked her hand, moving objects into place and cleaning entire areas. It took her a day to get the kitchen back up to shape and another day for the living area and entrance.

She was getting better and better at wandless and nonverbal magic. Her time traveling the world and learning new magic having paid off; her magic becoming like a fifth limb. She still required her wand for stronger spells but everything else was effortless on her part.

Opening the curtains and cleaning the dirt and age from the walls really opened up the house. Rynan was half convinced that she was living in a completely different house. She stood in the entrance way, admiring her hard work. She hadn't used magic like that in a while and it was exhilarating, almost addicting, the joy of using magic so inanely, so purposefully, so continuancely.

"It has been decades since my house has looked like this."

Rynan started, the voice of Walburga Black unexpectedly sincere as her portrait took in what it could.

"The House of Black always demanded respect and admiration. Grimmauld Place was the envy of high society while I was alive." Nose raised high, Rynan was reminded of the woman screaming of filth and mudbloods dirtying her halls.

Humming, Rynan didn't doubt that. From what Sirius told of his childhood, everything was about image.

"The Fall of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Your children are dead, there is no one to carry on the name, no one that wants to carry on the name."

She wasn't trying to pick a fight with the portrait but she couldn't understand how this woman could ignore her children, think that Voldemort was what was best for them, how she could blast Sirius off the family tree when he was 16. For her, it was better if the name was forgotten by society.

"Black blood will always be superior." she sneered at the young half-blood, "The Black family will never be forgotten."

No, they wouldn't, because, in the end, they fought for the right side. They died doing what was right. The family had turned on tradition.

Sirius, Regulus, Andromeda, Narcissa, even Draco. They had all took a stand against Voldemort, a personal stand. And Rynan owed them her life. So she would make sure history remembered them kindly even if the name was lost.

Rynan smiled sadly at Sirius's mother. What it must be like to watch the world grow and age around you, forever bound to a portrait, unable to do anything. To watch your family die off, holed up in an abandoned house, forsaken by the word, forgotten by society. If Rynan didn't know her, she'd feel sorry for her.

"Your screams echo throughout the house at night. Those nightmares that plague you...were they worth it?"

Were a few nightmares worth saving the wizarding world? Yes.

But Walburga didn't know what her nightmares were about now. She had long since come to terms with those involving the war. Her nightmares were about phantom shooters, slugs ripping through her chest, looking James in the eye as he kills her or vice versa. Fears that she would never be able to save him.

"My - son," she grimaced as she said those words, "made you his heir. You hold the future of the Ancient and Most Noble Black family in your hands."

Rynan leaned against the wall, not really believing what the pureblood was implying.

"You want me to take the Black name."

"You don't need to take the Black name - it became your name when Sirius designated you his heir. This house isn't the only thing you inherited." When she wasn't screeching, she actually had a nice voice to listen to, Rynan noticed.

This wasn't the first time she had been asked about continuing her family line and she knew it wouldn't be the last. She wouldn't bring a child into this world just to continue 'tradition'. She wanted someone she loved and who loved her back. She had believed she had found it with Fred but the war tore that away.

"I'm not planning on having children. The lines will die with me."

A snarl ripped across the painted face, "YOU WILL NOT END CENTURIES OF TRADITION! OF PURITY!"

Right arm gripping her left, Rynan gazed at her, "The old pureblood families are gone, only a handful remain. It'll be better for our world to let these names go into history."

Saying her part, Rynan walked away, needing to take her potions. Shouting and threats followed her up the stairs. She didn't need children, she had Teddy.

/

The next morning found Ron flooing into the kitchen, newspaper clutched tightly in his hand.

Morning tea at her lips, Rynan stared at her friend in surprise. He should be at work by now, not visiting her. Hand dropping slowly, she took the offered paper, reading the headline of The Times.

Marc Pouliotte, Head of DGSE, Confesses to Murder of Charles Oxley Moments Before Taking His Life

The report went on to expose his workings with the Underworld and ties to foreign security leaks. His financials marked him as placing the hit on Oxley, the theory that he was under investigation for laundering information to the highest bidder and Oxley was closing in on him.

Oh, if only they knew the truth.

"Bloody coward killed himself after confessing to the murder." Ron grabbed a warm biscuit from the counter to munch on, "What's omitted is what he said before taking cyanide."

Rynan rolled her eyes as Ron took another biscuit without asking.

"Make yourself at home Ronald; go ahead and eat my breakfast, Ronald. Good morning, how are you, Ronald?"

Pausing, mouth half full, her friend sheepishly pulled out a chair and swallowed what was left of his biscuit.

"S'rry." He wiped his hands on his pants, brushing the crumbs away. He paused mid-brush, finally taking in the kitchen. "Blimey! Are we still in Grimmauld Place?"

It was nice to know that after so many years, Ron hadn't changed much.

"Yes, I've had nothing else to do the past few days. I needed a distraction."

Awkwardly shifting in his seat, Ron focused in on the newspaper again, clearing his throat. Nodding to the paper, he answered his earlier question.

"As he killed himself, he said 'Cut off one head and two more shall take its place; Hail HYDRA'."

That wasn't surprising. Many HYDRA agents captured declared the same. What was the interesting part was the fact that HYDRA declared itself. Why not stick with plausible deniability? Were they planning to cause discord, distrust among allies? Fear of who and where they'll strike?

It was too neat, too planned. Pouliotte hadn't needed to confess to being the mole, he could've killed himself first. He had waited for a reason. There had to be a reason.

Ron shifted closer to her, blue eyes intense as he gazed at his oldest friend, "There's more."

Green eyes met blue and Rynan knew whatever Ron had to say was serious.

"Kingsley doesn't trust anyone but us. He wants you to infiltrate SHIELD, gather all the information you can on it and HYDRA. He thinks they've already infiltrated the magical society."

Her scarred hand gripped the cooled tea mug, emotions racing through her body. Doubt took over her thoughts as pain raced through her chest.

Was she ready to do this?

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Thank you for all the kind reviews, especially the last month or so. They really helped me out. For those of you having trouble, this is the link to my AO3: users/Wandering_Mind_95