Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter and all associated characters and trademarks are the property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Entertainment.

CHAPTER TWO: SLYTHERIN CASTLE

"All misery and pain come from attachment." -Swami Vivekanda

Over four hundred miles away from St. Ursula's Orphanage, a huge construction of grey granite, stood hidden in a dark evergreen forest. Slytherin Castle had been built by Salazar Slytherin in the 10th century. A deep moat surrounded the fortress. Inside the moat, three layers of massive stone walls and towers guarded a pentagonal central keep stretching over fifty metres into the air. Wards and enchantments surrounded the castle, creating a defence even stronger than that of Hogwarts.

The surrounding woods stretched for dozens of kilometres in every direction. They were infamous, for inside grew a rare kind of mushroom that was deadly poisonous. For that reason, the inhabitants of Stonebridge, the nearest town, chose to give the forest a wide berth. Unknown to any residents of Stonebridge, hundreds of non-native venomous snakes also infested the forest. They had been introduced there by the current owner of Slytherin Castle.

Inside, Lord Thomas Marvolo Riddle-Slytherin, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort, sat on a carved wooden chair. He ran his fingers through his dark hair as he contemplated recent events.

Earlier that night, Rodolphus Lestrange had come racing into his private study in Slytherin Castle, levitating the unconscious bodies of his wife Bellatrix, brother Rabastan, and some little girl. While no longer as wand-happy as he had previously been, he was still slightly tempted to Crucio the man for barging in so uncouthly. However, the expression on his follower's face stopped him from cursing the man. It was a look of awe and horror—something that Rodolphus had only given him before. Rodolphus was shaking, whether from excitement or terror he could not tell. What could have frightened him so much?, thought the Dark Lord. Dumbledore's foolish Order, along with the general wizarding public, believed him dead, and he always made sure to cover up his few raids on the Muggle world. Rather than speak, Rodolphus simply removed a memory strand from his temple and gingerly placed it in Salazar Slytherin's thousand-year-old Pensieve, which sat empty next to his ebony desk. Dismissing him, Marvolo (he preferred to go by his middle name) chose to view the memory.

When he emerged, he was shaken. The girl, whoever she was, had deflected a Killing Curse with a piece of metallic rubble, created a tornado of shrapnel and shredded two Death Eaters with it, killed another with an powerful fire-whip, thrown more rubble at the rest, choked and levitated another simultaneously, and unleashed a storm of lightning from her fingertips. All of it without a wand or prior training. Her abilities surpassed even his own at her age.

He reached into a pocket of his dark robes and pulled out his wand, caressing it lovingly. Originally made of phoenix feather and wood from the famous Fortingall Yew, he had visited Ectorius's Custom Wands in Knockturn Alley and had it upgraded with the addition of white ash and aspen woods as well additional cores of a Manticore stinger and a banshee hair.

On his ebony-wood desk lay a worn leather backpack. The Dark Lord scanned it with his wand, before deeming it safe. With a pale hand, he carefully removed its contents.

The girl's meagre possessions consisted of a dented aluminium water bottle, a toothbrush, a few sets of torn clothes, a plastic compass, some miscellaneous schoolwork, a black fountain pen engraved with delicate gold filigree, and a Discman Player with a small bag of CDs. He opened the bag and flipped through the albums. The girl, whoever she was, had a small collection of various rock bands, including Queen, Bon Jovi, AC/DC, and Led Zeppelin. There were no names or tags on any of the objects.

There was one more thing, wrapped in a piece of stained canvas. With a flick of his wand, the canvas vanished, revealing its contents. It was a beautiful, gently curved dagger. The blade was ten inches of gleaming, double-edged steel. The handle was made of polished dark wood.

With a quick charm, all items were back in the backpack, which was zipped shut.

After examining the items, Marvolo turned to the two unconscious animals lying in front of him, both bound in magic-suppressing cuffs. After what he had seen from the girl, he was taking no chances. The snake he had identified as a fer-de-lance, Bothrops asper. Perhaps the most lethal viper in the world. And native to Central America. So what was one doing in the middle of a dilapidated London orphanage, accompanied by a girl with seemingly limitless magical potential? The other animal he had quickly deduced to be a male common raven. Unusually, both creatures had formed a Familiar Bond with the unconscious girl. Familiars, while not exactly common for Wizards, were not unusual. But two, both bound to a young girl living in the Muggle world? That was something entirely different.

"Renervate," he said, pointing his wand at the snake. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air. The snake's triangular head flicked from side to side as its burning orange eyes frantically searched for something… or someone. The snake was, after all, a familiar of the mysterious girl.

Where issss misssstressss? said the snake.

Who issss your misssstresss?, he responded.

The snake's eyes gazed at him in a cool look of surprise.

Another sssspeaker? Who are you?

I sssshall tell you later. Tell me who is your misssstressss and what issss your name?

My misssstressss is called Lyra by the two-legs. Sssshe named me Ssssybarissss.

So the girl—no, Lyra, was a Parselmouth. Intriguing.

"Stupefy." A crimson bolt of light hit the snake, rendering it unconscious.

Marvolo walked through the halls of his domain.

He soon reached Lyra's cell. Constructed of one-metre thick galvanised steel blocks, engraved with magic-suppressing runes, it was one of a dozen identical cells, located deep in the bowels of Slytherin Castle. They were designed for holding and containing the most dangerous prisoners.

The girl was bound on a leather chair, held down with iron chains and magic-suppressing cuffs. With her angelic face, it was easy to forget she was a killer of at least four people.

He took out his wand and again cast a Reviving Spell, this time on the girl.

She opened her eyes. They had glowing emerald irises, exactly the colour of the Killing Curse. Although she could not move her head, her eyes rapidly scanned the room for any escape route. There were none.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice was childlike, and smooth, but as cold as ice and completely emotionless. Rather like myself as a boy, he thought to himself.

"My name is Lord Thomas Marvolo Riddle-Slytherin. You may address me as Lord Slytherin. Tell me about yourself."

"Or?"

"Or this. Crucio!"

Lyra gave no sign of pain except for a slight tightening of her jaw. After about fifteen seconds, he ended the curse, highly impressed by the girl's resilience.

Lyra gave a macabre grin. "I've had worse." Her features then shifted into a look of concern.

"Is Umbra okay?"

"Who is Umbra?"

"My raven."

"Yes, he's fine. Now tell me about yourself, Lyra."

Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"

He ignored her. "You may continue."

She gave an annoyed huff, before continuing. "My name is Lyra Zoe Noctis. It's not my birth name. I renamed myself."

"I am eight years old. I was born on July 31, 1980."

He gave a barely visible start. No, he thought. It can't be.

"My aunt and uncle abandoned me at the orphanage when I was fifteen months old. The Matron hated me from the moment she saw me. She called me a freak, an abnormality, the spawn of Satan. She whipped, beat, and starved me for years. She had her friends, the Catholic priests, come over too. They drowned me in holy water. A few times, they even tried to exorcise me.

"Until I was six, I only had one human friend. Her name was Zoe."

"Her full name."

"She never had one. The relative who brought her there died before he finished naming her."

"Zoe was two years older than me. When I was two, Mrs. Holmes locked me in the dormitory for three days with no food. Zoe gave me her piece of bread that day. She saved my life. We were like sisters for four years, then…" Lyra hesitated. After she regained her composure, she said, changing the subject, "I assume you are magical, like me."

He raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that word?'

"I coined it myself."

He nodded. "And yes , I am magical, as you put it."

"Do you have a device that can show memories?"

"I do. It's called a Pensieve."

"Can I use it?"

"Yes."

"How can you extract a memory?"

"Think hard about your memory. I will do the rest."

"I'm ready."

The Dark Lord lifted his wand, and pressed it lightly against Lyra's forehead. After a moment, he retracted his wand, pulling with it a silver memory strand. He placed the memory in the Pensieve and tapped a cluster of runes, causing the Pensieve to project an image of the event.

Lyra and an older girl with caramel hair were walking through a narrow alley. Broken glass and metal littered the ground as weeds grew in between cracks in the pavement. Lyra looked to be about six years old, the other girl eight.

They were walking rapidly through the backstreet, scanning for any threats. Lyra saw a dandelion growing. Zoe did too, and bent down to pick it. Lyra kept walking, but bumped into something. No, someone.

A man with greasy dark hair and a pockmarked face stood in front of her. He smiled, revealing yellow teeth. "My, you're a pretty one, eh?"

Lyra screamed.

Zoe ran for Lyra, but another man emerged from the alleyway. This man had sandy blond hair. He grabbed Zoe as she tried to run, roughly pinning her arms behind her back.

The girls squirmed, but they were held in iron grips by the two men. Fear shone in Zoe's blue eyes, both for herself and for Lyra.

The pockmarked man leered at Lyra. Then he spoke to the blond man. "Hey Jake, mind if I have the smaller one first?

Jake shook his head. "Naw, that's fine. I'll hold the other bitch."

Lyra screamed and Zoe began to beg. Both men just laughed. The dark-haired man groped Lyra and began to unbuckle his pants. Then Zoe screamed, and a shockwave blasted the pockmarked man back. The two girls tried to run, but Jake roughly grabbed Lyra by her arm, punched Zoe in the face, and threw them both onto the rough pavement.

The other man hissed at Zoe. "You little bitch. I have no idea what the hell you did, but you're gonna fucking regret it!" Then he turned to Jake and drawled out, "I've changed my mind. I'll take the other slut first."

Jake held Lyra tightly, one hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Lyra tried to shut her eyes, but Jake grabbed her eyelids roughly and held them open. Lyra was forced to watch as the pockmarked man ripped off Zoe's clothes and held her down. Forced to watch as he groped Zoe's most intimate parts before roughly pushing himself inside her. Forced to watch as the man finished, grunting, and switched with his accomplice. Forced to watch as hands went around Zoe's throat and squeezed. All the while Zoe was screaming, until she went silent. When the man finished, Zoe lay still, staring up at the sky with blank eyes.

Then Jake grabbed Lyra's clothing and tried to tear it off, and she let out a feral roar. Ten stories above, a rusted fire escape gave way and fell, crushing the legs of the two rapists underneath. Lyra stood, panting while she stared at the corpse of her best friend. The men were helpless and pinned.

Lyra raised her left hand and pulled at nothing. Something slipped out of Jake's pocket and sped into Lyra's waiting hand. It was a knife. The steel gleamed in the bright sunlight. She flipped it in her palm a few times, admiring the blade's perfect balance. Holding the knife so tightly her fingers turned white, Lyra knelt facing the two rapists. They began begging, imploring her to help them. Lyra ignored the men. She moved closer, until they were almost touching. Then, there was a blur of steel.

Lyra backed off. A serene smile was on her face as she watched the rapists choke to death on their own blood.

Lyra ignored the two corpses, and moved to stand beside Zoe's still body. Lyra gently closed her dear friend's empty eyes. Then she began to bawl uncontrollably. After she had calmed herself enough, Lyra gently kissed Zoe on the lips.

Lyra stared at the sky, a cold, lifeless look in her viridian eyes. A river of fire flowed from her outstretched hands and quickly burned the three bodies to ash in seconds. The ashes were carried away by a gentle breeze. A final tear ran down her face.

Then she was walking away from the dark alleyway, a bloodstained dandelion clutched in her small hand.

The memory ended. Marvolo's crimson eyes met Lyra's viridian ones as he stared at her awe and respect. The Dark Lord quickly regained his composure. "You still have it." It wasn't a question.

"I kept the knife as a reminder. After Zoe died, my original name died with her. I chose to add her name to my own, to honour her."

"What do you mean when you said you were magical?"

"I told you. After what happened to Zoe, I began to research what had happened in that alley. I found nothing in the encyclopaedia. After I read The Lord of the Rings, I decided to call my power "magic." I thought it fit. I still do."

He stared at her sceptically. "You read Lord of the Rings? At six?"

"Yes, I did." Lyra stared resolutely at him, daring him to doubt her.

"Who was your favourite character?"

She instantly responded. "Sam. He and Frodo reminded me of well… Zoe and I."

Lyra then elaborated. "My teachers called me a prodigy. I taught myself to read at four. I a—was in Year 7."

"Impressive. Tell me more about your magic. What exactly can you do with it, besides what I saw you do to my Death Eaters?"

"Death Eaters?"

"My followers. They wear black robes and silver masks." The ones that you killed was left unsaid. Not that it was a great loss, he privately mused to himself. After all, besides the Lestranges, who had all survived, they were all raw recruits from minor families.

"I assume, Lord Slytherin, that the Death Eater who knocked me out used the Pensieve to show you what happened."

"Very insightful, Lyra. You assumed correctly."

"As for my magic, I can do many things with it. I can levitate items. Break and repair objects. I can cut things without touching them. I can read thoughts and see memories. I can give people nightmares. I learned how to steal information from people's minds. Whenever I did it, the person got awful migraines." Lyra's voice then changed to a breathy whisper, as if telling some great secret. "Once a bully I stole knowledge from went into a coma. He had to be institutionalised. It was highly amusing." Lyra's voice then returned to normal. "I can also talk to snakes. But I assume you already knew that, seeing as you probably spoke to Sybaris."

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you Lyra?"

"Why, I aim to please, my lord."

"Any other skills, besides your admittedly impressive magical abilities?

"Why, yes. I'm quite handy with that knife I took. I can do Krav Maga and aikido, which I ah, learned from a retired SAS soldier. I can swim and climb very well and I'm currently in perfect physical condition. I can also speak fifteen languages."

"Which ones?"

"French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, German, Russian, Latin, Greek, Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, Hindi, and Parseltongue. Oh, and I speak the Queen's English rather well too."

"Your abilities never cease to amaze me, Lyra. If you may humour me, may I ask you a final question?"

"Ask away, Lord Slytherin."

"You mentioned that you renamed yourself. What was your original name?"

Lyra's beautiful features contorted in a look of pure fury. "My parents," she practically spat the word, "dumped me on the doorstep of my dear relatives, who promptly abandoned me at the orphanage. As I've already told you, Lord Slytherin, my name is Lyra Zoe Noctis. But if you must know, the name I was originally given was Harriet Lily Potter."

He froze. Harriet Lily Potter. His first instinct was to kill her right there. It would be so easy. His wand was right there. Just a quick Avada kedavra and— He quickly squashed that urge. She was too fascinating to kill. She was too dangerous, too sadistic, too intelligent. But most of all, she was far too much like him.

"I must leave, my dear Lyra." He pressed his palm against the solid steel door, which quickly opened to let him through, and promptly shut behind him.

He could faintly hear Lyra's screams of frustration echoing around her cell. They faded as she went to his office.

The Dark Lord took a seat in his chair and began laughing hysterically. Five minutes later, when he had ceased, he leaned back and grabbed a parchment and an engraved fountain pen. And now, he thought to himself, now, I must think.

Author's Notes: The "rare mushroom" is completely fictitious. I am using Thomas as Voldemort's full original first name, of which Tom is an abbreviation. Tom Riddle claimed the Slytherin lordship after his failed attack on the Potters, thus making him the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin. He chose not to claim the Gaunt lordship for a reason I will explain later. The Fortingall Yew is a 5,000-year old tree tree in Scotland which is one of the oldest trees in Britain. Zoe is an original character created and owned by me. I've always believed that some Pensieves were able to project memories for cases like court trials (as it would be pretty awkward to have the entire Wizengamot sticking their heads in a stone basin). Salazar Slytherin, was, as canon states, an exceptionally talented wizard, so I find it highly likely that he would have made his family Pensieve as versatile and magically advanced as possible. Also, for those wanting a Lyra/Zoe romantic relationship, the kiss was a sign of Lyra's familial and sisterly love for Zoe, not anything romantic.