Chapter 1

The Fortress of Azkaban towered overhead, looming over Lyra like a gargoyle in mid-flight. The cold chilled her to her bones and the damp of the sea air settled in her lungs like leaden stone.

The Black shivered beneath her thick winter cloak as the small rowboat bumped gently against the shoreline. Focusing on thoughts of exploring magic with friends and the warmth of the Ravenclaw common room, high above the rest of Hogwarts, Lyra raised her wand.

"Expecto patronum," she intoned softly, a thrush leaping from her wand to loop around her head and alight gently on her shoulder.

The Auror guiding her raised an eyebrow. "I thought you dark types couldn't cast a patronus."

The Black pursed her lips, biting back the retort on her tongue. "I must not be a dark witch then," she said, managing to keep most of her sarcasm contained. To her disbelief, the Auror seemed to accept that, continuing to lead her through the dreary stone halls.

The quality of the common witch and wizard decreases by the day, Lyra thought acerbically as she stalked after him. She had no idea how the Auror had passed his Defence N.E.W.T without knowing the association of the patronus with the light was a common misconception.

But even biting commentary couldn't keep away the omnipresent dread and fear of the dementors' aura as they traversed deeper into the prison. Soon it was all Lyra could do to keep placing one foot in front of the other. The Auror took her from the very base of the fortress, up all the stairs to the top where they kept the high security prisoners. Moans haunted the stone corridors, and people shrieked or pleaded for release as they passed. Lyra barely kept herself from quivering, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the red cloak of the man before her.

"Here we are."

They stopped at an ominously silent hallway, the same miserable grey as the rest of the building. Summoning up her courage, Lyra continued by herself toward the room at the end of the corridor.

"Bella?" she spoke hesitantly, looking at the unmoving lump in her sister's cell. The head shifted and grey eyes peaked at her through a mess of tangled black hair.

"Lyra?" Her eldest sister's voice was croaky but familiar. "My little sister, you've come to see me," Bella cooed, standing, and moving to the bars.

Her beautiful sister was almost unrecognisable. Once, they had looked so alike they could have been twins; voluminous wavy dark hair and grey eyes set on a striking face.

"Yes." She swallowed. How are you seemed like a cruel thing to ask, under the circumstances. "Bella, why did you let them catch you? You could have pretended not to be a Death Eater and stayed out of prison."

"Why should I hide?" Bellatrix snarled, suddenly zealous, eyes wild with an unsettling light. Lyra jumped in fright. "The Dark Lord will reward me when he returns. We are his most faithful, his most loyal and trusted. You'll see, Lyra. They'll all see."

The eighteen-year-old witch had to stop herself from taking a step back from the fervent devotion on Bella's face. It was like looking at a fanatic wearing her sister's skin.

"I – yes, Bella, of course," she stuttered out, a sinking sensation in her gut. She never should have come here. She didn't linger to continue their conversation, simply making her excuses and fleeing back to where the guard was waiting.

"Are you done then?" the Auror asked uncaringly, and Lyra felt a surge of fury at his disregard. It's not like she expected him to care that her family was now in tatters, but his attitude grated. She was starting to hate him, with his washed-out blond hair, murky brown eyes, and utter indifference. She didn't know his name, nor did she care to learn.

"No," the witch struggled to keep her composure. "Take me to Sirius Black." Might as well get all her visits out of the way, and then she'll never need to set foot in this awful place again.

"A real family reunion, huh?" the man said with disgust, and it took all of Lyra's willpower to not curse him. Instead, she met his eyes steadily and smiled – slow, secretive, seductive – a Black smile.

"That's right," she agreed quietly, and the Auror swallowed before covering it with a sneer.

She and Sirius were the last Blacks of their generation to bear the name. Her sisters were all married, Regulus was dead, and even the adults were all going the same way. Her mother, Druella, had taken ill after Bellatrix was sentenced to Azkaban. Lyra didn't expect her to recover. Her father was drinking himself into an early grave, and Aunt Walburga alternated between frenzied on her good days and completely mad on her worst.

She hated it; hated what the war had done to the once flourishing House of Black.

"Here we are." The Auror's voice tore her from her depressing thoughts. Lyra nodded tightly before moving past him into the corridor dimly illuminated by his wandlight.

To her surprise, Sirius was waiting at his cell's bars. He looked just as ragged and filthy as Bella, but far less wild. In fact, his eyes were clear, though he was obviously surprised she was there at all.

"Lyra."

"Sirius."

They stared at one another for a long moment, neither speaking. Her heart sank again. She didn't why she was even here; she and Sirius had never been close growing up. Regulus had been her favourite cousin, and after Sirius ran away in her third year, she had only ever spoken to him on the odd occasion.

"Never mind," she said bitterly, turning away. "This was a mistake."

"Wait!" he lunged forward, a hand reaching through the bars though she was too far for him to touch. She turned back despite her better sense.

"Why did you come?" Sirius' grey eyes – identical to her own – watched her intensely.

"Why did I-" she repeated, astounded. "Of course I came! You're family."

Sirius' face went through a series of contortions, too many emotions at once for her to identify. "Family, huh?" he said darkly. "I suppose we are."

What was that supposed to mean? "Well I hardly think any of your friends would come," she snapped waspishly, and regretted it when a look of utter desolation came over her cousin's face. "I - apologise. That was ill-done of me."

"No, you're right," he said bitterly. "I haven't had any visitors but you."

Despite herself, Lyra felt a pang of pity. She knew how popular Sirius had been in Hogwarts, but really, what was he expecting after betraying the Potters?

"Why did you do it?" she blurted out. "You discarded our family for James Potter, and then you betrayed him anyway? Why would you-"

"I never betrayed James!" Sirius roared, his voice loud enough she was sure the entire prison heard him, and Lyra flinched away. Regret stole across his face, and he deflated as fast as he had gotten mad. "I'm sorry," he apologised lowly, and that more than anything convinced her to stay and listen. Lyra had never heard Sirius apologise for anything in her life.

"I – it's okay," she pressed a shaking hand to her chest.

"I didn't betray them," he said again, his eyes imploring.

"You – you didn't?" Lyra asked, bewildered. "But everyone said you confessed…?"

Sirius closed his eyes and moaned painfully, as if physically wounded. "It was my fault," he said miserably. "I suggested switching secret keepers to Peter. I thought it was so brilliant, so clever. No one would every suspect small, mousy Peter Pettigrew."

"Peter Pettigrew?" Lyra repeated, astounded. "Pettigrew barely knew which end of his wand was the business end. Why in Morgana's name would you trust a task of such magnitude to him?"

Sirius bared his teeth humourlessly, in a mockery of a grin. "You're right, he always was a snivelling coward, crawling around with people far greater than him. But it was him – he's the one who framed me. He blew up the muggles and cut his own finger off to fake his death."

"Are you sure?" she was utterly shaken, her face pale. Her patronus flickered with her shock, and she had to recentre herself to keep the thrush present.

"Yes," Sirius hissed, as serious as she had ever seen him. Lyra considered him intently. She had seen her cousin and his friends in Hogwarts, and it was true she didn't think he would ever betray James Potter. But…

"How did he get away? The Aurors were on the scene in minutes."

Her older cousin's face twisted in a fierce scowl. "He's an Animagus. He turned into a rat and fled into the sewers."

"Pettigrew, an animagus? Now that I truly can't believe; he had all the magical capability of a flobberworm!"

Sirius snorted with dark humour. "It's true. All of us were animagi. Unregistered of course." Before her eyes, he morphed into a large, filthy black dog.

"Oh."

He shot her a smug grin, finally looking like the cousin she remembered when he changed back.

"I will look into this, I promise," Lyra assured him, then bit her lip. "But… I don't think anyone will believe me. Pettigrew has already had a funeral, and if he is an unregistered rat Animagus as you say, he could be anywhere. And no one would listen to the word of a Black, especially now." She trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Hey," Sirius reached through the bars and grabbed her hand. Her hand looked so small in his, pale, clean, and delicate in comparison to his larger grimy one, still callused from broomstick handling. "Don't worry about me. It's Harry I need you to find. I need to know he's safe."

"But you're innocent!" Lyra spluttered, not believing what she was hearing. "You shouldn't be in here at all!"

"I can tough it out for a while yet," he assured her, though she could see his trepidation and her heart clenched. As if sensing her sympathy, her thrush flew off her shoulder and onto his, and some tension left her cousin's shoulders.

"But I'm serious, you need to find Harry."

Despite herself, her lips curved. "I thought you were always Sirius."

A look of astonishment came over his face before he laughed. The sound warmed her, and her patronus seemed to glow brighter. All too soon however, the atmosphere closed back in, swallowing the brief mirth as if it had never been there.

"Why is it so urgent to find Harry Potter?"

"He's my godson," Sirius confided imploringly, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Well, Lyra knew all about the importance of family; it was why she was here after all.

"No one knows where Harry Potter is, though I confess I wasn't really paying attention to the gossip," she admitted.

Her cousin opened his mouth to respond when a voice intruded. "Time's up," the Auror called, peering into the corridor, barely visible at the end of it. Sirius' hand involuntarily clutched her own, as if desperate to keep her. She squeezed back before stepping away.

"I'll find him. I promise, Sirius."

He smiled, as bright as ever beneath the grime of prison, and she couldn't help but smile back. Not all her family was lost it seemed.

XXX

One week later saw Lyra Black visiting Azkaban again, downtrodden and with no good news to share. Sirius looked worse than before, his hair having turned from matted to stringy, his wrists a little bonier. The shadows beneath his eyes were deeper and Lyra felt such contempt at the Ministry for their vicious prison conditions. That wasn't the only source of her hatred for their government.

"I'm sorry Sirius, I tried to get your case reopened, but the DMLE laughed me out of the office." Her face heated with humiliation at the memory. "Even when I asked them to reinspect your wand, they didn't believe what the priori incantatem was saying. They said I had probably bribed someone to clear it," she said, both miserable and furious. He was the Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! How dare they lock him away like this!

Sirius waved her apology away. "We knew it would be useless. Everyone knew I was James and Lily's secret keeper; we wanted it that way. And the only other suspect for blowing up the street is supposedly dead. Thanks for trying though. But what about Harry?"

"I haven't found him," she confessed, feeling wretched at his crestfallen face, hating that she failed in both tasks she had set out to do. "I asked around –"

Sirius spluttered. "Well no wonder, no one's going to tell a Black-"

"Not as myself," she bit out angrily, looking at him like he was a newt, offended at the insult to her intelligence. "I polyjuiced into a redhead and pretended I was one of the many Weasley cousins-" Sirius snorted, a grin reluctantly tugging at his mouth "-but even as a muggle loving blood-traitor, no one could tell me where Harry is.

"He's not with any of Potter's cousins. There are no more Potters, of course, but I checked with Euphemia's family – the Proudmores – and even Fleamont's mother's family. I even-" Lyra glanced at the guard waiting impatiently and leaned in closer, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "I even spied on Longbottom Manor through their windows in case he was with his godmother's family. Do you know how much trouble I would be in if I was caught there? They would probably bring me straight here, in a cell right next to you!"

Sirius scowled and began pacing. "Then where could he be? I doubt Dumbledore would take him to Hogwarts. Maybe Lily's family?"

"With muggles?" Lyra exclaimed, horrified. Her cousin shot her a look.

"There's nothing wrong with muggles," he said sharply, and she once again wondered how on earth anyone thought Sirius was a follower of the Dark Lord.

"Well alright, but you can't expect them to know how to raise a wizarding child, can you?" she said reasonably.

Sirius ignored her. "I gave Harry to Hagrid before going after the rat; he was going to bring him somewhere safe."

The witch was even more horrified. "You trusted your godson to Hagrid?"

"What's wrong with Hagrid?" her cousin bared his teeth, no doubt expecting a derogatory comment about his giant heritage. Lyra could care less if he was half-goat, what she cared about was –

"He's so dim!"

Sirius winced. "So he isn't the brightest lumos of the batch-" Lyra shot him an incredulous look, and he barrelled on, "-but Hagrid would die before letting Harry come to harm."

"Well, alright," she conceded reluctantly. "You would know him best."

"Miss Black. If you're finished?" A different Auror was her guide this time, a more senior one compared to the last who had probably hardly been out of training, and Lyra scowled at the interruption.

Sirius looked crestfallen, and before she allowed herself to dwell on how filthy he was, Lyra reached through the bars and pulled him in for a hug. It was awkward, and the cold iron dug into her face and chest, but her cousin hugged her back fiercely.

"Lyra. Thank you," he whispered into her hair, and the sheer injustice of the situation made her heart ache for him even more.

They parted unwillingly as the Auror cleared his throat.

"I'll be back next week, Sirius," she assured him, shooting him one last reassuring look as she was led away.

The wizard accompanying her looked at her disbelievingly. "You're coming back again?"

Lyra wasn't surprised at his astonishment. All the other criminals with family had only has a single visit, if they had any at all. Azkaban was such a miserable place, hardly anybody wanted to brave it, even to see a loved one.

She put on a faux-cheerful expression. "Whyever not? It's such a lovely place," she said sweetly, "and the company is seriously magnificent."

Her cousin's bark of laughter followed them down the corridor, ringing through the grey stone walls.

XXX

Two days after her second visit to Azkaban, Lyra finally felt up to continuing her investigation. The fact that she needed several days to recover from only half an hour in the dreaded place only enforced the fact that she needed to get Sirius out, one way or another. However, her cousin was adamant that she ensure the safety of his godson first, and when faced with a choice between another humiliating visit to the DMLE or an undercover investigation, she shamefully chose the latter.

So it was a grimace and a swig of the dreaded polyjuice later that saw Lyra Black – now disguised as Another Weasley – entering the Hog's Head.

The Groundskeeper of Hogwarts was there, drinking himself into oblivion as he had done often since Halloween a month ago, no doubt mourning the Potters. Lyra thought he showed more civility than the rest of their society, who were far too cheerful compared to how miserable Lyra herself was. She was inclined to think better of the half-giant simply for the fact he wasn't celebrating obnoxiously like the rest of Wizarding Britain.

The Black ordered a drink from the old barman, wrinkling her nose at the state of the place. She gingerly took her firewhiskey and sat opposite Hagrid, causing the already tipsy man to look up.

"Hello Hagrid," she greeted, wondering just what in Morgana's name she had been thinking. Lyra didn't know how she had ended up in this situation; not even half a year ago she had still been in Hogwarts, and just a month ago simply being in the Hog's Head would have been inconceivable.

""llo," the half-giant slurred, and Lyra had to stop her lip from curling. "Do I know you?"

"I just wanted to sit with someone else who was equally as miserable," she side-stepped the question. "I can see you are mourning as well. Your family…?" she trailed of leadingly, and Hagrid teared up.

"Not my family, no. Jus' thinking about the Potters and little Harry." He took out a truly enormous handkerchief and blew his nose noisily. It trumpeted through the dingy bar like an erumpent's mating call, and Lyra had to physically stop herself from shuddering.

The Black turned away to look at her drink, nearly forgetting herself as she raised it to her lips. Then she saw unidentifiable bits floating in the glass and instantly put it back down.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said sympathetically. "I," she swallowed, "I have lost family as well." Her throat closed as she thought of Regulus – disappearing without a trace, only for his death date to appear on the family tapestry. Lyra coughed uncomfortably .

"Terrible," Hagrid agreed. "Bloody good thing You-Know-Who is gone now."

"Quite." That was something Lyra could agree with. The Dark Lord had stolen her sister, killed Regulus if rumour was to be believed, and destroyed her House.

Beneath the table, she uncorked a small bottle, waving her wand discreetly. "Shall we drink a toast? To the- to You-Know-Who's death?"

"Aye, I'll drink to that." Hagrid clacked his huge mug against hers, the force spilling some of her whiskey onto her hand, then chugging his ale straight down. Lyra ignored the drink on her skin with immense willpower and pretended to drink, watching him with satisfaction.

"I'm glad young Harry will be safe now. Where is he, do you know?" she asked casually.

"Left him with his Aunt and Uncle now, didn't I?" he slurred out.

Lyra's heart thumped rapidly. "Where is that?"

"Number four Privet Drive. In Surrey."

Victory sung in her veins.

Lyra exchanged more small talk, gave Hagrid her untouched firewhiskey, and left as soon as was polite. Then she apparated to London and summoned the Knight Bus, where she suffered an incredibly horrible ride to Surrey. She departed from the wretched contraption, utterly sick to her stomach.

Aunt Walburga was right, she thought as she staggered off the bus. No wonder she said only squibs too weak to apparate took that infernal vehicle. The things I do for you, cousin.

It took some time to find the right street, they all looked the same, and Lyra mused it must be terribly dull to be a muggle. Muggles, it seemed, didn't promote individuality unlike wizards. Eventually – after swallowing her pride and asking for directions – the Black turned into Privet Drive and strolled down the road, heart leaping to her throat as she looked into the window of Number Four and saw a woman feeding a baby in a highchair.

She stared for a long moment, then realised there were two children. The woman was fussing over the blond child, but next to her in a crib was-

Dark hair. Green eyes. And a bold, red lightning bolt on his brow.

She forced herself to keep walking before ducking behind one of the identical muggle dwellings and apparating away.

Lyra Black had found Harry Potter. Bloody hell, she had found him.


I am on a Sirius Black craze right now – who knows what's gotten into me. But I wrote this whole story in a day and thought I might as well post it. Don't know if I'll continue, but I hope someone will enjoy the latest thing my brain has cooked up.