"What do you mean my brother has escaped from Azkaban?" Lyra's voice was tight, but her gaze was steady as she met the eyes of the Auror across from her.
"What I mean," Scrimgeour said, passing her a roll of parchment, "is that sometime between six last night and five this morning Sirius Black disappeared from his cell. From the entire island itself."
Lyra looked down at the proffered scroll. The man sneering back at her was gaunt, with sunken cheeks and long, shaggy hair. No sparkle danced in his eyes, no crooked smile graced his lips. This was not her brother - her Sirius.
She looked back up, "How did he escape?"
"That is what we'd like to find out."
The other Auror, Shacklebolt, leaned forward, "Ms. Black, you haven't heard from him, have you?"
He had a voice like caramel, slow and smooth. Under different circumstances Lyra would have raised an eyebrow, perhaps smirked. Now, though, her not-brother stared at her from a wanted poster, and her chest tightened.
"No," she said, "And I probably shouldn't tell you this without a solicitor, but I was here until ten last night, working with Croaker. I took floo eight home - I'm sure you can check with the floo network authority - and I went to bed shortly after. If you'd like to continue wasting time, I can have my house elf here to account for my whereabouts. Perhaps you'd like to question my cat, too."
Scrimgeour reddened, "Ms. Black, no one is accusing you -"
"Yes you are. It's what I would do, in your place. After all, I did make quite a fuss twelve years ago when you imprisoned a member of a prominent family without a trial." She felt the old anger flare up, and carefully schooled her face into a neutral expression.
"We've already spoken to Unspeakable Croaker," Scrimgeour said, "And checked with the network authority. We don't have time to question house elves, we need to find Black now, before -" He cut himself off, and took a breath, "Ms. Black, we wanted to be the ones to inform you before you heard it from other sources. Kingsley and I will be in contact; we simply wish you to inform us if you hear anything." He stood, glancing at his partner.
Shacklebolt stood as well, "Be careful, Lyra," he said, "He may be your brother, but he is dangerous. I trained with him for a time, I thought I knew his limits."
The Aurors left her office, leaving the wanted poster behind. Not-Sirius was laughing now, face torn in silent mirth.
Memory-linked time travel: Physical manifestations of memories as a conduit, a theoretical to practical application, by Lyra Black
Lyra had just stood to move to her workshop when the office door swung open, and Colin Jones, head of the Department of Artificing, subsection of the Department of Mysteries, and her boss, entered.
"Ah, good, you're still here," he said, gesturing for her to sit, "I was worried I'd miss you."
Lyra's lips twitched down at being told to sit in her own office.
"Nasty bit of business, this Black situation," Jones said, "Amelia Bones is going spare, I heard she wants to head to Azkaban herself to speak to the Dementors," he shuddered. He was a small man, a bit twitchy after nearly thirty years in the Department. He had a habit of wringing his hands when flustered, much like he was currently.
"Indeed," Lyra said, sitting down again, "I don't plan to let it impede my research, however, Croaker and I have made good progress lately. I really think next time we could push it to seven or eight hours, instead of five, and that's just with conventional turners. If I could put some of my other theories to the test, I imagine we could easily get to the point of days, if not weeks."
"Yes, I read your proposal the other evening, the idea of memory-linking seems very promising. Unfortunately, it is not my opinion on your work that counts at the moment," he paused, his hands suddenly very interesting to him.
Lyra's heart sank.
"It is the opinion of several people above me that the continued support of one Black while hunting down another could, ah, confuse the general population. It would only be temporary," he added quickly, seeing her expression, "I managed to convince them that your research was too important to let you go entirely. Just until we catch Black."
"You're suspending me?" Lyra's eyebrows raised incredulously.
Jones winced, "So it would seem. The order came from Fudge himself; my hands are tied, Lyra. His undersecretary, nasty woman, wanted to put you in Azkaban; you're lucky I managed to convince Fudge to just suspend you."
"Azkaban? For what?" There was no catching her anger before it bubbled out, her voice rose, "Does she even know who I am?"
Jones raised a hand placatingly, "Like I said, I managed to talk Fudge down. I reckon it won't be long before we catch him anyways, enjoy the short time off. Take a vacation - Merlin knows how long it's been since your last."
Lyra stared at him, mouth open.
"Please," Jones said, "Don't make this a big deal, I don't want to give them an excuse to throw you in Azkaban anyways, you are much too important to this department."
On her desk, the picture of Sirius was sneering again.
"Fine," she said, "I'll go. But I'm expecting a raise when I get back, and Bode is not allowed to have my office."
"Of course," Jones seemed relieved, "No one will touch it once you leave."
"And I expect to be on whatever publication Croaker gets out, if he pushes that far."
"Naturally."
"One more thing. I'm taking a turner, and I'm taking my notes on prototypes for memory-linking. If I can't work here, I will work on my own."
"I -"
"So help me, Jones, I will bring the entire Wizengamot down on this Department, and no one has time to deal with that on top of everything else," Lyra stood, pushing her chair away from her desk. She glared down at the man in front of her, who seemed to shrink back slightly.
"Very well," he said, "I'll take care of the paperwork for that immediately," he rose and was halfway out the door before he paused, "I am sorry, Lyra, I hope things get settled quickly."
The door closed softly behind him. Lyra sank into her chair, running a hand through her hair. Merlin help her. No, Merlin help Sirius, if she ever got hold of him.
BLACK STILL AT LARGE
6 August, 1993
It has been a week since notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black mysteriously escaped from Azkaban, and there has been little development, writes Rita Skeeter, intrepid reporter for the Daily Prophet. While both wizarding and muggle worlds remain alert, no credible sightings have been confirmed.
"We have nothing to report at this time except that the Ministry and the Aurors are working around the clock to find and secure Black," says Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror department, and current lead on the Sirius Black case.
This reporter has heard from exclusive anonymous sources that the Aurors have been seen visiting potential hiding spots of Black, including Godric's Hollow, various flats in London, and even forests in Albania.
"We can neither confirm nor deny these reports, now please leave me alone," Scrimgeour adds.
Meanwhile it seems the Ministry is cutting ties with all aspects of the Black family, including suspending Sirius Black's sister, Lyra Black, a worker in the Ministry itself. This reporter has been unable to uncover exactly what Ms. Black does for the Ministry, but it seems that she has fallen under some suspicion. Did she have something to do with the escape of her brother? Does she know of his current whereabouts? Ms. Black was unavailable for comment. The Black family, of course, is quite prominent, having held a seat in the Wizengamot for the last three hundred years, and - continued on page A3.
Lyra snorted and crumpled the Prophet, tossing it aside. Rita Skeeter was a nosy little rat whose reporting was better left to Quidditch celebrities. She wouldn't be able to uncover much further about Lyra's position at the ministry, though. 'Unspeakable' wasn't just a title, it held some power in making her unreportable as well.
To be fair, however, even she was somewhat uncomfortable with how long it was taking the Ministry to find Sirius. Subtlety had never been his strong suit; she had been half expecting him to go barreling around showing himself to everyone. Perhaps Azkaban had finally taught him to slow down and think things through.
Lyra reached for her glass of whiskey, only to discover it empty. It had been empty a lot this week, as she sat around Grimmauld Place, unsuccessfully trying to keep her mind off the past. She was considering filling it again, when a house elf wheezed into the room.
"Mistress, Albus Dumbledore is at the door," Kreacher said, "Should Kreacher send him away?"
"Dumbledore?" Lyra said, "Here?"
"Yes, Mistress, he asks to speak with you," the little elf bobbed his head, eyes narrowing, "Kreacher told him Mistress wishes to speak to no one, but he insists. Quite rude, if Kreacher may say."
"It's alright, Kreacher, I'll speak to him. Show him in."
The elf bobbed his head again, but before he could leave, Dumbledore walked into the room.
"Ah, Ms. Black, what a pleasure," he said, smiling.
Kreacher rose to his somewhat unformidable full height, "Sir cannot just enter the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black without permission, this is most -"
Lyra held up a hand, sighing "It's alright, Kreacher. Fetch us something to drink. Tea, Dumbledore? Or something stronger?" She gestured to her own empty glass.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "Whatever you are having," he said, taking a seat.
"One of the 1267 whiskeys, then."
The elf, still looking somewhat murderous, set off, muttering darkly to himself.
"I am sorry for the inconvenience," Dumbledore said, looking anything but.
"Not at all, Father collected about fifteen bottles of it some years ago, I've been desperate to get rid of it," Lyra said, "What can I do for you, Professor?"
"Please, you've been out of school for some time, you may call me Albus."
Kreacher returned, and set two full glasses of whiskey down, still muttering. He glared, and disappeared again.
"Very well, Albus. What can I do for you?"
Dumbledore ignored her, looking around the room with interest. They were in the drawing room, ornately decorated, with shelves of books and artifacts lining three of four walls. The fourth was bare, somewhat discolored, as if missing something. The windows overlooking the street reflected the indigo sky, the first stars glittering through the London haze. Lyra watched his gaze take in crumpled newspaper, the plate from breakfast, still holding half a stale piece of toast, and the empty whiskey glass. The clock ticked seconds.
"I imagine you've changed some things since your parents passed," Dumbledore said.
"Indeed, most of the cursed artifacts went into the Gringotts vault," she indicated the bare wall, "The family tapestry as well, though it was a job undoing the permanent sticking charm."
"You shall have to inform Mr. Filch how you managed to do that," Dumbledore smiled.
"Universal Solvent," Lyra said, waving a hand, "Not for sale, but I have my contacts."
More seconds ticked by, Lyra trying not to show her annoyance. She took a sip of the whiskey, frowning at it - it really was her least favorite of her father's collection.
Finally he spoke, "I also imagine you are not quite happy with the Ministry at the moment."
Lyra stifled a snort, "I am rarely happy with the Ministry, but yes, I suppose I am particularly unhappy with them right now."
"You have heard nothing from Sirius?"
"No."
"I would like to offer you a job at Hogwarts."
The abrupt topic change startled her. She stared at him, "You would like to - what?"
"Hogwarts, my dear, a teaching position at Hogwarts. I find myself in the market for an artificer. Third year and above, I think."
"I have a job."
"You have been temporarily suspended until such time as Sirius Black is recaptured. Given how well the search is going, I imagine that could be quite some time," Dumbledore took a sip of his own drink, "Not to mention, I have a student requiring the use of a time-turner this year, and your department is giving Minerva and I some grief about it. If I could show them that you were on board…" he trailed off, drinking again.
"A student with a time-turner?" Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"Miss Granger is quite responsible, I assure you, and fully understands the gravity of the situation."
Some seventh-year Ravenclaw, no doubt. Lyra stared at her drink. Dumbledore's reflection looked back at her, upside down from inside the amber liquid. She had to admit the idea was tempting; it couldn't be any worse than wallowing in the past and self-pity.
"Finally," Dumbledore said, almost an afterthought, "You would, of course, have free range of our utilities for any work of your own you wish to pursue."
A year's time to work on her memory-linking proposal, while she waited on the Ministry to clean up their mess. She found herself nodding.
"One year as an artificing professor. Fifth years and above, though. I'm not grading some twelve year old's attempts. And an office with a window - a real window, not some enchantment."
Dumbledore smiled, "I think that can be arranged."
She paused, frowning, "I can't imagine parents will be too happy with a Black teaching their students, given current circumstances."
"An excellent consideration. Do you have a different name you wish to use?"
"I never married Rosier, thank Merlin, but we were engaged for a time. Perhaps I'll borrow that name."
"Very well, Professor Rosier it is. Term begins on September first - a Wednesday, this year - but most of the other professors arrive the weekend before. When you have a curriculum drawn up, send it to Minerva, she'll review it for you, and offer her advice," Dumbledore stood, setting his empty glass aside, "Thank you for your hospitality - do apologize to your elf for me. I shall see you in a couple of weeks."
He bowed out of the room before Lyra could say anything else. She was left sitting, wondering what she had just gotten herself into.
Artificing: The creation of magical artifacts, focusing on the practical aspect.
Topics to include:
Artificing as a subset of other magic. Or: Why turning buttons into beetles is taught, but rarely ever used.
Essay: Explain how artificing is linked to your other courses - Charms, transfiguration, etc, using examples.
Wands and wandlore
Guest lecture: Garrick Ollivander
Dark Magic: Dark detectors, dark artifacts, etc
Practical: Usage of dark detectors, sneakoscopes, etc.
Time travel and time-turners
Demonstration: Time turner, a brief introduction to memory-linking
Transportation methods - brooms, floo, portkeys, etc
Essay: Pick a method of transportation, briefly describe the history and explain it in terms of artificing.
Mundane artifacts - cauldrons, quills, inks, joke products
Practical: Create some mundane artifact - color changing ink, self-correcting quill, etc.
Ancient Artifacts - heirlooms, cursed objects, etc.
Essay: Why are unknown artifacts dangerous? What are some ways to test their uses?