Chapter Two
He'd come round three minutes ago. His ribs stung with every breath and he'd purposefully kept from looking in the direction of the mirror. Just as he tried ignoring the mirror, he also tried, and failed, to ignore the warmth that still coated his right hand.
Dread, cold and heavy like wet porridge, started to harden in his stomach as soon as his eyes had opened. A fear had gripped him, one had him panting, had him sweating, he could feel every bead of it slide down his face. It was fear at a level he'd never felt before. Sure, there'd been a couple of times during the full moon when Moony had almost got away from them, but that had always had a rush of adrenaline, of fun, in it. There was nothing but horror now. If he stopped, even for a moment, he'd be stuck, helpless forever.
Sirius slammed his fists against the locked door, his eyes screwed shut.
He hadn't heard anything since he'd been jolted back into consciousness by the sound of a nearby door being slammed shut. The affinity his parents had for using silencing charms on closed doors always made him frantic beyond comprehension. But this . . . this time it was different. He was leagues beyond frantic.
Standing, legs shaking, head against his bedroom door, he tried to focus his thoughts, but his mind was blank.
Suddenly his panting hitched, eyes blowing wide in temporary relief. He couldn't believe it had taken this long to think of it. Running over to his trunk, he tossed aside old books and clothes he hadn't bothered to give to Kreacher until he spotted a glint of silver. His heart felt lighter and heavier at the same time as he withdrew the small knife and grabbed his wand off the floor.
Jamming the knife in the keyhole, he twisted until the door clicked open. With his wand in one hand and the knife in the other, Sirius crossed the narrow, dark hallway, not bothering to check the shadows as he normally would. In the distance, angry voices were pushing their way up the stairs.
'Lyra!' He banged on the door that faced his own as hard as he could. It didn't move an inch. There was nothing but silence on the other side. Sirius shoved the knife into the door's keyhole, rushing into the room as soon as it swung open.
His vision had distorted into one great, blurred scene, like a painting that's colours had bled together. Then the colours came into gruesome focus.
Lyra on the polished brown floor, white skin, black hair and red . . . so much red, everywhere . . . There was red pooling on the floor around her, staining her hands, soaking through the front of her shirt. But where there was a river of red, there was also far too much white when Sirius looked at her face.
Knife falling from his hand, Sirius dropped to her side. Her face was unmoving and slick with sweat. Sirius gripped her chin. 'Lyra! Lyra, can you hear me?' She didn't even flinch.
He looked around the room, the bookshelf had great chunks of wood missing, books lay scattered and singed around the room. Her eagle feathered quill and ink set had been knocked onto the bed, the dark ink slashing through the white bedding. The lamp that normally sat atop her nightstand lay in pieces on the floor, glass like pebbles on the wood.
'That's it,' Sirius said to himself through a painfully clenched jaw, 'we're leaving.'
With a flick of his wand, everything of importance that hadn't been destroyed flew into Lyra's open trunk. Clothes sailed from the wardrobe, parchment folded themselves in two and waited till last to place themselves on top. From somewhere in the depths of her desk, Lyra's vine and dragon heartstring wand emerged and raced across the room and packing itself in the open trunk.
Sirius quickly scanned her over again. There were dark red and purple bruises around her neck, a long cut tore down the length of her left arm, the skin there shredded and ripped open, it was steadily oozing dark, thick blood. Sirius stopped and outright balked when he reached her stomach, where the blood was heaviest. Quickly grabbing a thin blanket off the end of the bed, he tied it tightly around her middle.
With one last tug, he flicked his wand again and Lyra's trunk closed and flew towards him, shrinking as it went. He caught it, stuffed it in his pocket and lifted his sister as carefully as he could off the bloodied floor. Her head lolled against his chest.
He'd made it one step out of her room when a figure emerged from a doorway further down the hall.
'Sirius! What's going . . .' Regulus stopped at the sight of his sister, of the blood covering her and now seeping into Sirius' own shirt. His eyes widened, colour draining from his face. 'What happened!?'
Sirius ignored him. He didn't have time for anyone's false concerns. He placed Lyra down on his bed as gently as he could before flicking his wand, this time his belongings were flying around the room, placing themselves haphazardly into his trunk.
'She's hurt!' Regulus had followed them into Sirius' room and came to hover at Sirius' bedside. He only looked around the room when one of Sirius' books hit his leg on its way to the trunk. 'What are you doing?'
'What does it look like?' Sirius growled as he went over to his desk, searching through the drawers.
The only thing he could hear was his blood rushing through his veins. He could almost swear its rapid rhythm was screaming not long, not long, not long. Not long now and they'd both be free. But first he had to find – ha! He grabbed the folded bit of parchment from the desk's middle drawer and stowed it deep into his back pocket.
Regulus' ramblings had remained a constant splutter in the background.
'But – But you can't!'
The trunk in the corner clicked shut, shrank, and flew into Sirius' open hand. He hastily shoved it into his pocket besides Lyra's. By the time he turned back to the bed, Regulus' voice had grown considerably more desperate.
'Sirius, you can't!' Regulus went to block Sirius' path. Sirius grabbed onto the younger boy's shirt collar, pulling him in so that he could see the panic clearly in his eyes, their noses a hairsbreadth away from touching.
'What can't I do Regulus!?' Sirius growled, angry red sparks spitting from his wand's tip at his side. 'Because what I can't do any longer is to stay in this – this house and watch her get killed.' He pushed his younger brother away roughly, Regulus' back hitting the wall. Sirius turned, stuffed his wand into his back pocket and lifted his sister off the bed. 'We're leaving,' he snarled as he passed a stunned looking Regulus.
The walk down to the ground floor was the longest journey of Sirius' life. He tried to keep to the shadows as much as he could and paused every time he heard so much as a creak of a floorboard.
The shouting match he'd heard before was still being fought. He could only distinguish phrases, most of them in his mother's high-pitched shrill shrieking voice.
'Do you realise what you've done?! . . .You weren't meant to hurt her!'
And to what normally would have been his surprise, had it not been for his un-ending shock, Sirius heard his father shout back.
'Not even that strong! . . . She's unnatural! . . . This is all your doing!'
Sirius started to breathe a little easier when he entered the entrance hall and caught sight of the front door. It was enough to drown out all other sights and sounds.
Not long. Not long. Not long.
He was mere feet from the door – from freedom – when a flash of purple light soared past his head, catching the lantern hanging on the wall beside the door. It exploded, glass spraying everywhere.
Sirius ducked as another stream of light narrowly missed him. He shut his eyes briefly as the sound of wood splintering detonated through the hall.
'How dare you try to sneak out of this house!' Walburga Black's shrieked, demonic as she hurled curse after curse at her son.
His back now to the door, Sirius had no choice but to avoid his mother's onslaught. Both his hands were busy keeping Lyra close to him – her face becoming paler with every passing second. Sirius flinched as a picture frame hanging next to him exploded. A shard of glass caught his top lip, the taste of blood flooding his mouth.
'How dare you try to smuggle her out with you!' Walburga's advances were coming dangerously fast now. Sirius barely had time to react as he ducked, swerved, and flinched away from the barrage of curses. 'Orion, he's taking her!'
Sirius felt his heart stumble when his back slammed into the door, the handle digging into his spine. His mind whirled at what he was about to do, but with his mother's infuriated cries in front of him, her curses flying around him and his freedom now firmly behind him, he had no other choice. Walburga was getting ready for another attack when Sirius quickly turned around and fumbled with the door handle.
The air that hit his face almost made him let out a victory cry. He only caught a glimpse of dark night's sky and the glowing lampposts beyond before he let out a strangled cry. His legs almost gave way as a fiery pain tore down the back of his leg.
With the last shred of strength, he turned on the spot. The last things he recognised before he was sucked into the tunnel of apparition was his mother's voice, disinheriting her eldest children, the pain in his leg and the broken, white and red girl in his arms.
And then there was nothing . . . nothing but the sound of a symphony of hidden crickets, the smell of smoke form countless chimney tops. As soon as his head stopped spinning enough so he could stand without swaying, he faced the house, adorned with Christmas lights, glinting happily into the night.
'James! James! James!' He screamed and screamed and screamed until the front door opened. James and Remus stood on the threshold, wands alight and lifted at the ready in front of them.
They were by his side in a heartbeat, Remus taking Lyra as Sirius fell, the pain in his leg and the exhaustion over what had just happened, finally overwhelming him. James grabbed Sirius by the waist before he had a chance to hit the cement. The Black twins were quickly ushered inside and had barely made it two feet into the house before Mr and Mrs Potter appeared, dressed in pyjamas and hastily thrown on dressing gowns.
Euphemia and Fleamont only allowed themselves a moment's horror. They'd deal with that later. They directed the teenagers into the lounge room. Sirius, who had been leaning heavily into James, flung himself into the first chair he saw. Euphemia quickly dropped to her knees and set to work inspecting his leg which was now drenched in thick, dark blood.
'James, go get the medipak and your fathers potion case. Quickly!'
James nodded running from the room.
Sirius fidgeted in the seat, trying to look at Lyra over Euphemia's shoulder. Remus had placed her on the lounge, Fleamont hovering over her, removing the scarf from her middle and almost blanching when fresh blood spilled out over her already soaked shirt. Mr Potter was a fine potion master, but he was no Healer. Sirius stomach roiled.
'Hold still, dear,' said Euphemia firmly, holding Sirius to the chair with surprising strength.
James ran back into the room, handing the medipak and his father's briefcase to Euphemia. She went straight for the briefcase, flinging it open and rifling through the glass vials, all the while keeping a strong grip on Sirius' feet.
Sirius would've sat still if Fleamont hadn't let out a strangled, infuriated growl. 'That insidious bastard!'
Sirius went to stand but yelped, his leg instantly collapsing under the pressure.
Fleamont had cut through Lyra's shirt and exposed her stomach. Three long, thick, impossibly deep slashes tore through her flesh. Sirius couldn't distinguish wound from skin.
'What's wrong?' Euphemia's voice was no longer firm but urgent. Sirius tried to ignore the sliver of panic that made her words wobble ever so slightly.
'He's used Dark Magic on his own daughter!'
Sirius caught James' eye. He had never seen his friend looking so scared, so unsure. He stood beside his kneeling mother, looking from her, to Sirius, to Fleamont, and back again. Remus however was fixed on one thing and one thing only. His grip on Lyra's hand visibly tightened as she suddenly stirred and started screaming in agony – a strangled cry that pierced Sirius like a twisting knife through the heart.
'Mia! I need your help!' Fleamont yelled over the screaming. 'He's tricked it.' He told his wife as she appeared by his side, leaving Sirius stranded in the armchair. 'Every time I try to seal the wound it works itself deeper.'
It took almost two hours . . . two hours for Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, two fully grown wizards to stifle the bleeding coming from the wounds across Lyra's stomach. It was a crude patch up job, but the Dark Magic, used by an even darker man, was not easily undone.
After every passing minute, Sirius felt the weight in his chest grow. He was certain that if he just got to Lyra then it would go away. If he just got to her then this nightmare would be over, he'd wake up panting in his bed at the Potters, slick with sweat, a pounding headache the only reminder of this god-damned nightmare.
Sirius noticed every beat of his heart throughout that unearthly long night – how each one was like a warning that the next one would never come.
He watched every breath his sister took, fearing the same warning was true for her. He flinched through every one of her long screams and heaved a long sigh after each one had ended.
He kept an eye on James who looked ready to faint at the sight of his bruised, bloodied and tortured friends, but whose eyes shone with undisguised admiration as he watched his parents work in complete harmony.
And Sirius watched on as Remus gripped Lyra's hand, muttering for her to hold on, to hold on just a little longer.
Remus never looked at anyone else.
oooOOooo
'Did either of you know?'
Mr Potter's voice wadded, muffled and sluggish to Remus, as if he were underwater.
Looking across to James, Remus wasn't sure the bespectacled boy was capable of speaking. He wasn't sure he was either. All Remus' muscles, bones, innards, and everything else that used to be there seemed to have vanished. Merely thinking about talking was exhausting.
'Not this much,' James croaked, swallowing thickly before taking another sip of his Firewhiskey.
Remus had followed James into Mr Potter's work room twenty minutes ago. Potions bubbled away on a work bench in the left corner of the room, some emitting strange odours in swirls of steam.
Without saying a word to each other, both boys, blood still drying on their clothes, walked over to the desk in front of the window on the right. James had gone straight to the tall bookshelf and found an old and battered tome. He gently placed it on its side. The book grew until it took up the entire corner of the shelf on which it sat. A handle had grown where the title used to be and James opened the newly formed case, extracting a bottle of Firewhiskey from its depths.
While James had been by the bookshelf, Remus had headed for Mr Potter's desk. Normally he wouldn't dare rifle through the man's belongings but being numb had left manners by the wayside. Remus found the crystal tumblers in the bottom draw, put them on the desk and fell back into a chair.
Once James had poured a decent amount of Firewhiskey into the tumblers, taking one for himself and pressing the other into his friend's hand, he fell into his own chair.
James' parents joined them a while later, silently pouring themselves each a glass before lowering themselves into the two remaining chairs around the table. If it were possible, the silence seemed to deepen further, like an impenetrable fog.
A fog that had now started to lift with Mr Potter's question. Processing James' answer, Remus nodded in agreement. Between Sirius' sarcasm and Lyra's shrugs, none of them had realised that the twin's home life had become this bad.
Ever since the twins had received that howler after they were sorted into Gryffindor, Remus and the others had been wary about the Black family. But both Sirius and Lyra had always scoffed at the idea of sharing the wariness.
They all knew that, given the choice, Sirius and Lyra would have rather spent their time at the Potters when not at Hogwarts. Well, Sirius at least, Lyra wouldn't really have cared either way if he were being honest. But Remus had always thought that, if they stuck together, then they would be okay, they would be safe.
What an idiot he'd been.
Fleamont rubbed his wrinkled, pale face. The time for urgency and adrenaline had passed, now it was worry and fears turn to infest their minds.
Remus desperately wanted to ask the question that had slowly become his new mantra. Still, he found he couldn't open his mouth long enough to do anything other than take another shaky sip from his glass. And he didn't know whether to tense or to relax when James voiced that mantra.
'How bad . . .' He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish.
Euphemia shuffled slightly in her seat. She gave a short, soft sigh before leaning forwards, looking firmly between the two boys. 'I'm not going to lie to either of you. If the last few hours have proved anything to me, it's that both of you can handle the reality of this.'
Remus' chest squeezed painfully.
'They're both stable. We've managed to heal most of Sirius' wounds, the bruise salve is already working. We've given them both blood replenishing potions . . . But Lyra's condition is considerably more critical.'
She looked out into the hall for a moment before addressing them again. 'I'm hoping that she's on the road to recovery, but if not then we know some Healers who may be able to help.'
James caught Remus' eye briefly. They both hoped that it would not be necessary to get more people involved. Lyra would be furious if she ever found out.
As Euphemia turned back to the room, the deep frown on her lined face melted slightly.
'They will recover,' she assured them. 'But Lyra may have a tough recovery.' Her throat bobbed, the only sign of difficulty on her end. 'Dark Magic isn't exactly designed for quick healing.'
Lyra, Lyra, Lyra.
The words, that tragic melody that had been ringing through Remus' head ever since the twins had shown up in front of the house, had returned. And it was deafening.
oooOOooo
No matter how much Remus thought he'd prepared himself for all the realities of life, nothing could have prepared him for hearing the desperate, harrowing way in which Sirius had called for James. And nothing, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met them.
Blood, there had been so much blood. Remus was used to blood, from him and occasionally from the other Marauders. But not this much, not the amount that had painted Sirius' right leg, that oozed in thick coats from the jagged gash that tore down its length. But even that amount was nothing compared to the amount coming from what Sirius held in his shaking arms.
Lyra.
The name pounded through his head, a heartbeat pummelling at a terrifying pace.
Lyra, Lyra, Lyra.
The next hours were a blur. A slow-motion tumult of painful cries, hurried voices, curses, shouts and tears.
Time ceased to exist. One second, he had been taking Lyra from Sirius in the sunlight as the boy collapsed against James' shoulder, the next thing he was carrying her again, this time guided by Mrs Potter as Remus brought Lyra to the guest bedroom.
Lyra, Lyra, Lyra.
Mrs Potter had gently removed Lyra's blood-soaked clothes, exchanging them for clean, fresh pyjamas with a flick of her wand. She, with the help of Remus, had tucked Lyra into the bed, lifting the covers around the girl, placing her injured arms on top. Euphemia had brought Fleamont's potion briefcase in with her. She pulled out some vials, and poured potion after potion of blood-replenishers, dreamless slumber, and skelegrows down Lyra's throat. Remus held Lyra slightly off her pillow, balking after seeing every potion. He placed Lyra back down so Mrs Potter could apply bruise salve to Lyra's neck and face.
As she passed, Euphemia placed a consoling hand on Remus' arm. Or it would have been if he'd noticed it.
She was too quiet, too still. Remus longed for her to say something, do anything. Because then he'd know she was alright, he'd know that he was worrying for no reason. 'As per usual,' she would say. But she just lay there, impossibly pale, on the bed, the flicker of a nearby flame the only thing moving. He didn't know how long he stood over her, watching, waiting.
Lyra, Lyra . . .
'For Merlin's sake, Sirius!'
Sirius?
It was like being dowsed in a bucket of iced water, it ran through Remus' skin, strangling his insides.
His feet rushed him numbly back into the Potter's sitting room.
Sirius, colourless and sweaty, struggled in the armchair he had fallen into when he'd arrived.
James and Fleamont had hold of Sirius' shoulders pushing the boy back down in the seat. Remus could do nothing but watch on in horror.
'It's okay, Sirius! Lyra's okay!' James said through clenched teeth, all his remaining energy going in to keeping Sirius in the chair.
'Like hell she is!' Sirius' voice had been terrifying. Normally Sirius strutted through life unperturbed, joking at even the most severe things. But the hoarse, hollow growl that came from him now did nothing to melt the ice pounding through Remus' veins.
'Hold him still, Monty!'
Mrs Potter knelt on the floor by Sirius' feet. She held her wand out steady, ducking and weaving, trying to get to the gaping wound running the length of Sirius' leg. But Sirius was outright thrashing now, and the elderly witch only had so much strength left in her.
Remus hadn't even noticed that Mr Potter had moved away from Sirius until a flash of red light hit Sirius squarely in the chest and the boy slumped, unconscious, his head lolling to the side.
James had let go of Sirius as soon as he saw the stunner coming. He gave Remus a terrified look, shiny with worry and fear, whilst Mrs Potter huffed out a 'thank you, dear' to her husband.
Euphemia and Fleamont had then set about fixing Sirius' wounds. The leg wound took top priority but there was plenty else to occupy them, the least of all was a nasty purple bruise on the side of the boy's head.
Dazed and unfocussed, James left the room in silence. Remus followed behind him into Fleamont's study.
Happy Monday everyone!
Thanks to everyone who's followed/favourited this story so far and thanks for AllyCatt12 for your review, I hope you liked this update!
I'm going to try and increase the rate at which I update this story. If any of you have checked out the other two versions of this, you'll notice they're already quite long and this one will be even longer. But I don't want to dig myself into a hole and commit to twice weekly consistent updates just yet, but that's the ultimate goal.
Thanks for reading and please leave a review
