Lyra's gut told her to head outside and so she listened. Her shadows became her shield, although the werewolf could smell her he couldn't work out where the thrumming of her fresh blood was lurking amongst the wreckage that was once the living room. She held her breath and slinked out into the courtyard, successfully avoiding the battling hounds ripping each other apart. She leant against the wobbling shack wall and eased her stiff shoulder, combing her mind for her next decision.
"MOVE!"
Harry's yell turned her head but she fought the urge to peer over the fence and around the corner. Even the quickest of glances at her past self would open a paradox she couldn't close, she couldn't risk her past self connecting the dots if she caught her peeking. She stared at the mossy slabs instead and listened out for Peter's escape into the forest, actively blocking out Ron's howling. Timing was key.
"R-Ron?!"
"Harry?!"
Lyra's eyes flashed open and she backed as far away from the shack's punctured wall wound as possible, mouthing her favourite curse word. Past Harry and Hermione were awake. Was her Hermione ok?
Go and help your father.
Hermione's fine, she'd tell you to go too.
Lyra didn't question the voices, she was simply glad to not have to think for herself. She hopped over the fence and dove into the cover of trees, escaping from the scene like a wild hare fleeing from a forest fire. Her heart panged at her betrayal, she was leaving her friends behind again, but sudden roar and subsequent clash of claws affirmed that she had done the right thing.
Remus was winning, Sirius needed her now.
"Come to me!" Lyra shrieked into the black woods, the image of the creatures she so desperately sought crisp in her mind. They had to be close, they always were. "Obey my command, take Remus far away from here. Please!"
Up ahead, through the crooked trees and stinging nettles, the large black dog rolled into view and sprawled onto the mud, exhausted and cut to shreds. Lyra thought he was covered in mulch at first, her brain couldn't work out what she was staring at, but then the shiny wet coat caught the moonlight and she realised it was his fur that was peeling from his body.
Just as the werewolf came bounding into her eye line, his razor claws out ready to slash him to pieces, Lyra gave into the mean voice hissing in her ear that tantalised her darker side. A list of curses rolled through her mind like a rolodex of desperation and she picked one out at random. She supposed Tom's presence in her life had its uses.
"Expulso!" She exclaimed and jolted back as the grey light whizzed through the trees and fulminated the soil under the leaping wolf. The air buzzed with a current stronger than lightning as it cracked under the pressure of her spell. Manifesting as an almighty explosion Remus blasted backwards into the darkness, leaving Sirius to catch his weak breath.
"Dad!" She rasped, rushing over to support him in any way she could.
But the wolf had already recovered from the explosive sting and was loping back toward her. High off the fumes her delicious blood was radiating. Set on tearing her apart.
Lyra didn't care. She fell to her knees in the soft mud and hooked her arms beneath her father's bulky yet withered dog legs in an attempt to steady him, teeth gritted and eyes hardened by his subsiding whimpers. He didn't have the energy to fight anymore. "Come on! You can do this! Don't give up on me now, I just got you back!"
She didn't feel the werewolf behind her until her father's glowing, spectral eyes flashed open in pure white fear. He couldn't find his feet in time to protect her, he couldn't do it. He failed her again—
The canter of the herd of Thestrals blended flawlessly with the drumming of their hearts, Lyra didn't hear them galloping toward them until she spun around and witnessed what could be only described as a beastly equivalent to a total knock-out. The beating of their wings ruffled the hair of the pair crouched on the floor as the two largest Thestrals she'd ever seen headbutted Remus in the chest.
"Don't kill him!" She ordered as she dragged Sirius away, "scare him but don't hurt him, he can't help it!"
Lyra never thought about the strength of a Thestral, nor about the full extent of their capabilities, but as she watched the dozen skeletal horses lead the werewolf away she couldn't help but think incredibly highly of them. They owned him, Remus had no choice but to follow their lead and the creatures ran off into the night.
"Lyra…"
She didn't expect his tight grasp on her arm and she jumped, thrown by her father's silent transformation, but as she took in his critical appearance she hopped straight back into fight mode. His robes were sodden in blood now, bone-deep gashes ripped up his arms, across his chest and into the depths of his unkempt beard. His breathing was shallow, the particles around him danced as the air grew thin. He was dying.
In her arms, Lyra felt Death stir within. Sirius was dying.
"Hey! Wake up!" she slapped her father's grey face and shook some energy into him. "Don't close your eyes, keep them on me!"
"I'm sorry… Princess, I'm so sorry…"
"Don't you dare start a monologue you can't finish, this isn't happening," she spat, point-blank refusing to listen, and she traced her wand over his fatal injuries pretending that the gore wasn't real. She pictured her advanced Charms book and panicked. "Vulnera… Vulnera… Ah fuck, what was it again?!"
"V-Vulnera Sanentur," Sirius croaked. He clasped onto her free hand and squeezed for dear life. He was just as afraid as her. "I ain't dying tonight, Princess, k-keep going."
"Vulnera Sanentur," Lyra repeated, focusing on his steady breathing and the power surging through her veins. She didn't flinch as Sirius whimpered, his torn flesh fused together as though it was malleable fabric under her sewing needle. It was beautiful yet revolting, like a horror special effect she couldn't look away.
Though he still looked deathly pale, Sirius gathered enough strength to climb onto his calloused feet and he pulled Lyra up with him. Both of them knew they were wasting precious time, they should've run off to find Peter the second Sirius' wounds closed. But they didn't care. Fuck time, this was the only moment they had.
Lyra buried her face into her father's chest and threatened to never let go. She savoured the sensation of his unusually warm hands stroking her scalp in the same circular pattern like he used to. Somewhere deep within she recognised this feeling, he used to hold her like this a very long ago. She was wary of hurting him of course, but the vibrations of his suppressed heartbreak radiating beneath her cheek only strengthened her unbreakable embrace. She was hugging her parent. Actually, physically hugging her father.
"My sweet baby…" Sirius breathed, pulling himself together literally and emotionally as he cradled her bruised face. "I don't know where to begin. How did you—? What did you—? Why in the fuck did you—?"
Go!
To the lake! Now!
"I know you have questions, I do too, but we've got to go," Lyra interrupted and latched onto the dirty hands cupping her cheeks, pleading with him with the widest, most puppiest of eyes a girl could offer her father. "Do you trust me?"
"With my entire heart," Sirius promised and the pure joy ignited deep within her burned brighter than ever. Like a gulp from a stamina elixir, adrenaline flushed through them both as she flashed her charming smile and kickstarted their run toward the finale of the evening.
CLOSE… SHE IS CLOSE…
BUT WHICH WAY…
Sirius skidded to a rough stop and stuck his arm out, frustrated with the unnatural chill infiltrating the forest. Clearly he was sensitive to the Dementors' presence after his long exposure and she winced at the impulsive question that tried to escape from her mouth.
"I don't want to alarm you, although I suspect you already know, but there are Dementors close by," Sirius informed her and gauged her reaction, his silver eyes narrowed. "Care to comment on that at all…?"
Suddenly Lyra forgot how to be human.
Play dumb!
"What's a Dementor?"
Not that dumb!
"Ignore that," Lyra cringed and urged him to keep moving, "and ignore the Dementors too, they won't hurt you. I swear."
"Yes they will," he challenged, trying his best to hide his limp. His wounds weren't fully healed, blood dripped down his arms and sprinkled droplets in their wake.
"No they won't," she insisted. The familiar glow of the silvery lake down the hill triggered her queasy stomach and she tugged her father's arm in further warning. "Whatever happens tonight, the Dementors won't Kiss you at the end of it. Trust me."
Sirius clutched his weeping ribs and staggered, struggling to stand straight. But he still commanded his daughter's undivided respect as he glowered from the shadows of his pain and wild mane. Her blood ran cold, prickly and ashamed.
"Lyra, what the hell are you talking about? What happened to you?"
She avoided his intense gaze and continued to half-carry, half-drag him toward the edge of the pebbled shore where her past self and Harry were cornering the very man they should've been focusing on.
"Not important," she waved her hand as though his very serious question was a mosquito then redirected his attention to the trio splashing around in the shallow waves. "And before you ask, I'm from the future, that out there is present me. That's why I'm not bothered by the Dementors, because they're not going to Kiss you until you're back at Hogwarts and the whole fucking point of me being here is so I can save your arse and somehow save Remus from getting killed as well as capturing that bastard—," she pointed at Peter cowering before her and Harry, "over there, so if you could please hold your questions until after this mess is over I'd very much appreciate it thank you!"
Sirius closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaled as deeply as his poor chest would allow him to, and pitifully shook his head. "This isn't fair, you're not supposed to be a teenager yet, you're still my baby!"
"Aww, no," she sighed, still catching her breath from a minor outburst, "that ship sailed a long time ago, I grew up in a poverty-stricken orphanage with no funding and full of a bunch of mentally unstable children."
Sirius couldn't have looked more depressed.
"At least you're alive," he murmured, burdening her with more weight as he convulsed through another wave of agony.
Lyra neglected to comment again.
The abrupt blue glow of Harry's patronus stole Sirius' focus and he swore, captivated by the pronged ghost of his best friend. Lyra blinked away the tears as she studied his expression. So much love, so much loss, something she recognised all too well in herself.
"Everyone says that Harry is the spitting image of James," she muttered, catching her father's wet eye.
"Oh without a doubt," Sirius sniffed, "but Harry is much nicer than James was at his age, he's got Lily's green eyes and golden heart. Despite everything that happened, the fact that you two have each other… I couldn't recommend having a Potter as a best friend enough."
Lyra wrapped an arm around his waist, wishing she knew how to ease his grief. She would be just as heartbroken if Harry was no longer here, not that she planned on outliving him. She promised down in the chamber that she would keep on living for him, and she still meant it.
If Harry died then Lyra would be there to greet him on the other side.
WE ARE HERE…
LET US HAVE HIM…
IT IS TIME TO FEAST…
"Ok Daddio, it's your time to shine," Lyra grimaced and gently encouraged Sirius to make his long-awaited appearance once their tears had dried. He was horrified by the massive Dementor turnout, in their hundreds the dark creatures bled from the darkness in a chorus of rattling moans and drifted toward the trio on the shore. Begging to siphon the magic from the traitor.
Sirius looked down at Lyra as though she had just suggested he go and drown himself.
"I've got your back," she assured him, shooing him from their hiding place, "we'll see each other in about two hours tops. I'll meet you in the North Tower. Trust me…"
Lyra watched with a bitten lip as Sirius nodded, limped out into the open and dropped to his knees, giving in to the spasms racking his feeble body. She ducked down as Harry spun around and ran to him, but the rustling in the bushes behind her stole her full attention.
"It's me! It's just me!" Hermione jumped out with her hands up and fresh tear trails down her grubby cheeks. Lyra lowered her wand and dove at her, rasping in amazement. Hermione looked significantly more dishevelled than before, wood chips and leaves stuck out from her afro and even more blood stained her jeans, but she promised she was unharmed.
"I passed Snape on my way down here, he'll appear over there at any second," Hermione pointed to the shoreline parallel to them. In spite of the fact that she couldn't feel the bone-chilling frost of the Dementors, she noticed how badly Hermione was shaking and swung an arm over her shoulders, lightly rubbing her cold arms.
As they waited for Snape's arrival, Lyra couldn't resist bringing up the obvious. "You really thought swapping places with Ron would–?"
"Don't," Hermione growled but she didn't move away from her warmth. It was still a touchy subject and Lyra decided not to press further. She began to wonder whether there was something more to her and Ron's friendship than they let on but now was definitely not the time to attempt to breach that subject with her best friend. Perhaps when they weren't fighting for their lives in a timeline they shouldn't be in, it was more of a 'dormitory after dark' question.
Hermione's questionable actions were swiftly shoved from her mind when Snape appeared across the lake. Trails of deep red stained half of his waxen face, he swayed slightly on the pebbled shore but only for a moment. When he realised what he had stumbled upon, however, Lyra's stomach squeezed as though fighting the urge to vomit and she slithered through the bushes to catch Harry's attention. He looked like he was about to combust on the spot, he could see past the outer circle of Dementors and caught a glimpse of her past self. He raised his wand high above his head, his malicious intent dazzling clear even from their restricted vantage point.
"HEY!"
Lyra sent a silent prayer out to Harry's past self who had arrived to cuss Snape out, distracting him for the slimmest of seconds, and Lyra let out a sharp whistle.
"Potter! Get in here right now! Leave Dad, he'll be fine," She shouted-whispered, and her heart skipped when he whipped his head around and sagged in raucous relief. His green eyes brightened with tears, he directed his stag to clear a slim path between the hungry Dementors. The cloaked monstrosities hissed and cowered away from his patronus and he crawled to the safety of Lyra's protection. The second he breached her tight-knit circle he gasped for breath, free from the misery and piercing echo of his parents' last moments.
The stag pawed the ground and bowed toward the children before fading away. They couldn't risk Snape seeing his protective gleam.
"What happened at the shack? Did you save Ron?" He asked, and Lyra felt Hermione's scorching vision on the side of the face. She bit her tongue and let her answer.
"We'll explain later," Hermione brushed him off instead.
The trio ducked down and recoiled when Snape pushed Past Harry aside and blasted a red hot curse toward the girl at the centre of the Dementor's cluster. Lyra wondered when she first heard about his attack whether Snape realised who she was attempting to subdue, she supposed she could give him the benefit of the doubt. But now, as Lyra slowly nudged her friends around the shore's edge to get a clearer view of her murderous Potion Master, she had no doubt in her mind that Snape could see Peter.
Lyra's past self was rocketed into the air and she instinctively winced as she hit the ground only a few metres from their hiding spot. Peter transformed and fled through the hems of the Dementors' cloaks in his rat form, heading straight for them. He wasn't aware that the future trio were there and she broke into a nasty grin as she caught her friends' eyes.
They had to try.
"Incarcerous!"
"Impedimenta!"
Harry and Hermione didn't hesitate directing their hasty spells at the rat and Lyra swore loudly when they missed his scrawny bones by millimetres. Peter froze, painstakingly close but not close enough, and hightailed it back into the frenzied Dementor huddle.
Back into Snape's view.
Fuck it! Her mind was made up and neither of her protesting friends could change it, she knew what she had to do whether it screwed up the timeline or not but as she chased Peter into the flurry her gut applauded her for making the right decision.
SHE'S HERE…
STAY WITH US, WE WILL LOOK AFTER YOU…
RAT… RAT… FIND THE RAT…
Their rasping breaths became one voice as she ran through them, her eyes firmly on the icy pebbles searching for three paws and a stump. Peter couldn't help but squeak as he scurried, the creatures were absorbing so much of his magic already he couldn't stay silent.
Lyra tried to ignite her wand to combat the sheer pitch blackness failing to smother her, as it would to any human that would be so foolish enough to touch a Dementor, but her light evaporated as though she was surrounded by dozens of mini vacuums. Their cloaks numbed her skin as she passed through, like a field of jellyfish tentacles.
"Grab him! Devour his fucking soul!" Lyra screeched, her fury rising fast as she started to push the creatures out of the way. There were too many of them, she couldn't see her own hands let alone the path Peter was taking. "Get out of the way, quickly!"
The words had barely left her tongue when a twisted path appeared before her through the Dementors. A white icy line leading her out onto the ice. The frozen lake was frosted but slippery, Lyra wasn't pleased with their chosen path — she jolted — but it was a path that Peter was taking full advantage of. Despite the brilliant white sheen from the lake contrasting with the black cloaked invasion, she spotted the rat scurrying as fast as he could across the ice toward safety.
Aw shit. Not toward safety, toward a dumbstruck Snape who was watching this unfold at the other end of the cleared path. If he stuck his head out of his greasy arse then he could've killed two birds with one stone. If he caught Peter, Lyra would then immediately surrender. End of story. It was that easy.
Pretending that the lake was nothing but hard, unbreakable white marble, Lyra took off running toward them and shouted anything she could to persuade Snape to help her for once.
"Professor, please, I'll do anything you say if you help me catch him. I swear on my life!"
Snape flinched once, the deep frown lines on his sour face were visible even from a distance and Lyra tried not to swear. Peter lost his footing a third of a way and skidded, unintentionally gaining more speed, and she wobbled, losing confidence fast.
"Just this one time, hear me out and help me!" She cried, and despite the blaring alarm ringing in her head she aimed a fierce severing charm at Peter's hind legs. She sliced his tail and splattered the ice with pinkish drops of his blood. "What are you waiting for?! GET HIM!"
Snape wound his arm in a broad circle and summoned his ethereal guardian to protect him from the haunting guards crowding them. The ghostly four-legged animal dove onto the ice and charged at the Dementors, widening the path's edge so its caster could walk onto the ice unharmed.
Was he helping? She couldn't tell.
"Sir—!"
CRACK!
Suddenly her Potions Master was inches from her face, scaring her with his sharp Apparition talents. Lyra choked as he lifted her off the ice by her throat, her eyes bulging and face slowly turning a sickly greyish blue. She didn't quite understand what was happening until she saw the shadow of a rat breaching the opposite shore and disappearing into the woods as though he had never existed.
She failed again…
"You let him get away!" She gargled, fighting against his grip, but with a violent shake she fell in line.
"Listen to me very carefully," Snape murmured, looking deeply into her bloodshot eyes, into her soul, "where are Granger and Potter?"
"I don't know what you're—,"
"I said listen to me!" Snape was foaming at the mouth, seconds from seriously injuring her, "I know you've been meddling with time, you nasty brat, I know you're trying to save your worthless father. You thought I hadn't noticed that the bruise on your face magically disappeared when I found you in the shack? That I hadn't realised there are two versions of your dim-witted sheep friends running around after you?"
Lyra stayed silent, she simply listened to the protesting wallows of the Dementors failing to stand against the lithe, glowing blue animal prancing around them and herding them into the leafy abyss. Her vision was blurred, she couldn't quite make out what her professor's patronus was except that it looked somewhat similar to Harry's. Wait, was it Harry's? Was she confunded?
She hoped her friends wouldn't interrupt. Better yet, she prayed they couldn't see any of this.
"You and your father are a plague on this earth and I cannot wait to get rid of you," growled Snape, dull and void of emotion. She couldn't help but be drawn in. "I do not care that he may be innocent, I do not give a damn if the man I saw tonight is supposed to be dead. Letting Pettigrew escape isn't punishment enough for what you've done, you can try and save Sirius all you like but I will go to the ends of the earth to ensure that you won't succeed."
Lyra wasn't sure it was possible for her to hate Severus Snape more. Move over Tom, she had a new entry at the top of her list of people she wanted to see dead. Her blood was apoplectic, fizzing like a molten volcano top ready to erupt. He didn't care about the truth, he just wanted to see her lose.
"I may not know how you've done it but I know only those with a blackened soul are able to access the Dark Arts, whether it was the Dark Lord's influence or not you've continued to study them without him," Snape accused. He threw Lyra down onto the ice, unable to stomach her anymore. "I'm taking you straight to Fudge myself, let's see you try and get yourself out of this—,"
Lyra drew as much saliva as her dry mouth could produce and spat at his face, giving her a miniscule head start. The ice made sprinting hard but not impossible, she felt like a cartoon trying over her own winding legs.
The next thing Lyra knew she was waking up in the shade of the woods, awkwardly splayed in the mud with her two friends guarding over her, panting and muttering under their breaths in a panic. They were alone despite the dismayed groans of the Dementors echoing around them.
"—what if she doesn't wake up?! What do we do?"
"She's going to wake up, she's— Lyra!"
She moaned in discomfort as Harry strangled her with a hug, preventing her from properly catching her breath. Her lungs felt flatter than pancakes, smushed against her rib cage like batter, and her tender back was screaming out for critical support. Did a bull ram into her spine? What the hell just happened?
"Help her sit up," Hermione pulled Harry off her and hooked her arm under Lyra's armpit, scanning her from head to toe in the same fashion as an infirmary matron. "What hurts? Can you stand up?"
"I think so," she winced, cradling her ribs as she endured each punching pulse of her injuries. "What happened?"
"Snape happened. Again," explained Hermione, her voice thick with emotion. She clamped a hand on Lyra's shoulder when she attempted to draw her wand, "there's no use. He's already gone and he's taken all of us with him."
"What did he say to you? We couldn't hear anything over the Dementors," Harry shivered, offering Lyra his arm as she pleaded with her ankles not to give up. It appeared that Snape's final attack was the final straw for her muscles, she needed to rest.
Not yet.
"He knows we went back in time," she mumbled, leaning against Harry as she massaged her sore back. She was already thinking ahead to the hot shower she was going to demand once they made it back to the hospital wing.
"Shit," sighed Harry, cupping his forehead in distress. "If Sirius escapes then he'll know it was us."
"He will know but no one else will," said Lyra, locking eyes with Hermione who had been staring off into the distance with a disgruntled pout. "You need to get rid of the Time-Turner, we can't risk you getting caught with it."
"I can't destroy it," said Hermione flatly, close to giving up.
"Jeez, I'm not saying you have to break it," Lyra wheezed, trying to cheer her up, "Kreacher!"
Pop!
Hermione perked up and rushed to remove the golden necklace. She fiddled with the hourglass and mouthed something to herself before handing it over to the befuddled house elf who was side-eyeing his injured mistress. Kreacher looked less than impressed that they were still running amok in the spooky forests with a killer on the loose.
"Can you please hide that in Hermione's bed?" Lyra instructed him, snubbing the start of what she suspected to be his tirade of questions. Kreacher recognised the Time-Turner, rolled his eyes, and bowed until his floppy ears grazed the weeds beneath his feet.
Pop!
After a brief pause to calm their nerves and discuss their next move, the trio took advantage of having a house elf on staff and apparated back to the Forbidden Forest just as Snape entered the castle with his unconscious trophies and his split head held high. They had exactly forty five minutes until they had to be back in the infirmary, this was the final stretch.
"How are we going to get him out of the office? The Aurors will be posted outside, they'll hear Kreacher," Harry asked the girls as they perched on a cluster of tree stumps.
"I can fly a Thestral up there?" Lyra suggested, cleaning as much of her father's blood off her clothes as her basic spells would allow.
"You're not going alone," Harry frowned, earning one of her eye rolls. She felt a little better about his inclusion when she remembered he could see the Thestrals too.
"I'll wait for you at the clocktower, that'll be the easiest way back to the hospital wing," Hermione pointed at the only entrance into the school blanketed in darkness. It seemed as though the lanterns never reignited after the Dementor invasion and Lyra persuaded the shadows to strangle the moonlight cast over the misty grounds that would give them away. She scanned the distant paths for signs of the fated group of Dementors that were being summoned to Kiss Sirius. Once they reached the North Tower, then she'd take to the skies.
For the first time tonight, the trio enjoyed the peace and sat together to count down the minutes, occasionally standing up to check their surroundings.
"Are you scared?" Harry asked Lyra out of the blue, nudging her foot with his across their small circle, and she cocked her head.
"Of breaking dad out of the tower?"
"Of potentially being expelled tomorrow," he clarified but in a soft voice. One full of hurt.
"She won't be," Hermione answered first, sitting up straighter. "Under the Dark Arts Constitution, she hasn't done anything wrong. Snape cannot prove you've used dark magic, your wand holds no traces of any malicious spells. The Dark Arts is defined as magic intended to corrupt, destroy or manipulate, its unethical magic. And when ethics are brought into the conversation, that's where people tend to move goal posts. We can argue that you have not been using dark magic, there is no solid guideline."
"That's because there is no such thing as dark magic," Lyra explained, hoping she didn't sound too much like Tom as she shrugged her shoulders, "which is awfully rich coming from the girl who seems to attract the dark and the macabre, I know. But it's true and the Ministry won't take that as an excuse. it's all one big grey area and they will never accept that."
"This is bullshit, you can't help it though," said Harry sadly, "you're cursed. Maybe it's time we ask Dumbledore what he knows about Death or possessing extra souls. He's pretty old, I'm sure he's met Death a couple of times."
We think he has.
And not for a good reason.
Lyra rested her chin against her bent knees and studied Harry's honest expression, summoning the courage to agree to his idea. She kinda had to tell Dumbledore about the Dementors anyways, he'd then figure out that her soul wasn't exactly normal and she was frightened of how he would react. As much as she respected the famous headmaster and all of the grace he had shown her in the past, a part of her couldn't shake the fear Tom once instilled.
"You're not Voldemort, your soul isn't as dark as his fragmented one," Harry noticed her drifting attention and snatched it back by accurately guessing her thoughts. Lyra blinked and nodded, promising him that she was listening.
"Ok, say I tell Dumbledore that I possess a manifestation of Death," she outlined her process, "what if he decides that I'm a threat?"
"He won't," affirmed Harry, "if anything he should be happy that he could have Death on his team."
Surprisingly, Lyra liked the concept his answer inspired in her brain. She possessed more power than most could ever dream of, the only thing that stopped her from unlocking her full potential was lack of knowledge. Dumbledore was a fountain of knowledge and more. If he was willing to share then perhaps she could make some sort of agreement with him. He wouldn't expel her if he knew who she truly was…
Do not offer yourself as a weapon.
Especially not to the Ministry, or to anyone looking to exploit it. Expulsion is far more painless.
"The voices don't like this idea at all," she confessed, rubbing her dry eyes.
"Why?" barked Hermione, concerned.
Because Death's presence in the living world should be kept a secret.
People will do anything to obtain this much power. It's happened before, and it'll happen again.
You're a priceless vault begging to be broken, sweetheart.
Lyra shivered away the execrable icky feeling that flushed all over her skin like sticky sweat and swallowed hard. "Because if everyone finds out that I have power over death, my life will be in serious danger. People will try to take it for themselves."
Harry looked sickly and Hermione huffed, annoyed as though she had an inkling this would happen. "So, it's possible to transfer Death's soul out of you and into someone else. So you can be saved from this awful fate?"
It will kill you.
"I don't think I would survive the transfer, if you catch my drift," Lyra's laugh sounded empty and Hermione fell silent. Crushed.
"What happened with Ron? You guys haven't said," Harry prompted, changing the subject to save Lyra from dwelling on her impending doom. "I take it you weren't able to save him?"
"No," Lyra answered in a sigh, remembering their journey to school with a small smirk, "he always did say he'd sacrifice himself for us if Remus attacked."
"Yeah I guess he did," Hermione sniffed, ruing the day she brushed shoulders with fate. "Do you suppose Dumbledore will let him stay? Using the same agreement he had with Remus?"
Lyra nodded and couldn't help but look out into the vastness of the forest, wondering where her godfather was. Praying he would recover from all of this.
"He will, and he'll let you stay too," Harry was unwavering in his confidence and he kept the girls motivated by instructing them to stand and warm their muscles up again. The temperature was plummeting fast around them and Lyra scurried through the bushes for a clearer view of the distant turret on the other side of the school.
A cluster of black cloaks drew close to the tower, like a plague of locusts clinging to the high turrets in ragged black clouds. God helped anyone stationed outside of the room guarding her father, she could only imagine the atmosphere.
"We have exactly fifteen minutes until we need to be back in the hospital wing," Hermione checked her watch, stretching her knees in preparation for her run back to the castle. "I don't know where the Aurors are so be wary of any eyes on the ground. The Tamers will be here soon."
"Take this," Harry pulled his rather dirty invisibility cloak from his jeans back pocket and extended it with a harsh flap. "We'll be as fast as we can."
Lyra beckoned an eager Thestral out from the thicket of gnarled oak roots that ran through the veins of the forest. They bowed toward their master and enthusiastically offered their services with a helping wing. Warmth burst in her chest as she mounted her first Thestral but she felt guilty for enjoying the special moment.
"I'll be in charge of this evening's flight," Lyra informed her co-pilot as she helped him up. She conjured a set of reins and scratched the creature's crown in gratitude. "Let's see how fast these babies are."
"So far they're comfier than a broom," Harry gave his opinions as he debated wrapping his arms around Lyra's waist. She felt him hesitate and she rolled her eyes, showing him he didn't need to be so shy with a polite pat.
"Good luck," Hermione waved them off before disappearing under the cloak. Lyra saw the shimmer of her outline whizzing out into the open grounds as she kicked the Thestral into a steady gallop. Harry yelped an apology as the unaccounted extension of the Thestral wings forced him forwards and he tightened his grip around her, stunned by the vicious motion. Suddenly Lyra couldn't feel her stomach anymore.
"Definitely prefer a broom!"
Once they were soaring through the night sky, Lyra embraced the whooshing force spiralling through her as they rode the winds, camouflaging themselves amongst the shadowy clouds. She hardly felt the bruises on her sore back as Harry pressed into her, preserving their body heat against the Dementor-infused frosty winds hundreds of feet above the castle. In order to evade as many Aurors as possible they needed to climb higher than the tallest Astronomy Tower.
"Don't worry about the Dementors, they won't harm you," Lyra instinctively told Harry as they approached the North Tower.
"They're a lot easier to be around after earlier, it's sad but I'm almost getting used to them," he assured her, "you're getting better at controlling them."
She appreciated his observation and kept it at the front of her mind as she steered the Thestral toward the second window to the left. Maybe it was possible for her to use her abilities for good.
Three shrouded hoods peeled away from the window and the darkness retreated from the glass panes like sunbeams against a Devil's Snare. Despite the constant flapping of the Thestrals wings to stabilise them, Lyra quietly unlatched the window and swung them open. She slipped into the room and adjusted to the darkness.
"And he she comes, right on time," Sirius croaked, gawking at his daughter standing tall in the pale moonlight. "Unless you are a hallucination and I'm about to die…"
He crawled up from his sorry spot on the floor between a stack of circular tables and overturned armchairs, beaming ear to ear at his opportunity to see her one last time.
"I'm not a hallucination, I'm something even better," she grinned and crept over to him. She severed his shackles with an expert swipe and escorted him to the window where Harry was waving at them. Sirius blinked hard and suppressed his bark of laughter, tears in his bright eyes.
"This is your captain speaking, I would like to remind my passengers to keep your hands and feet inside the Thestral at all times," Lyra announced as she hopped into the driver's seat and gently closed the window once her father had secured himself behind Harry. "Thank you for choosing to fly with Bad Bitch Airways!"
Their descent felt as though it lasted all of ten seconds, Lyra wished she could've savoured her father's presence just a little bit longer, but time wasn't kind. They had exactly seven minutes left. It was like the Thestral could sense how precious their rapid anonymity was, they slipped through blind spots and dark slivers to the best of their ability. Lyra couldn't have been happier with their silent performance. She wanted to fly on a Thestral all the time now, it was gonna be hard for her to resist calling them for a ride whenever she was bored.
As soon as they swooped into the deserted courtyard, Lyra's hope rose as she spotted the shimmering figure sneak out from their perch and greet them with rapid fire update.
"I heard a group of Aurors through there roughly three minutes ago. The Head of the Aurors and Tamers are here. You need to head straight west, toward Hogsmeade," Hermione whispered to Sirius. He tried to dismount so he could say goodbye properly but all three of them protested by shoving him back on.
He was speechless.
"How can I ever—?"
"Go!" Lyra pleaded, forcing his hands around the reins and slapping the Thestrals hind. "Find Peter and write to me, that's how."
Lyra couldn't quite catch her full breath until she watched her father glide away into nothingness, blending in with the heavy black clouds full of rain coming in from the lake's western crest. She didn't tear her gaze away from the night sky until Hermione covered them all in the invisibility cloak and reminded her that their stressful night was about to end. Five minutes.
"Shouldn't we wait for Professor Dumbledore?"
"I am the head of the Auror's Office, sir, not Albus. We do not need his permission to start our search for the werewolf."
The trio made it up to the first floor without running into anyone, but before they could turn the last corner they heard a gruff voice that preceded a grumpy, slightly hunched man with a wild mane of grey and tawny hair that instantly reminded her of a lion. The wizard was quite majestic but unseemly, his yellow eyes were unnerving but his thin spectacles muted their brutish glow. He burst forth from the direction of the Grand Staircases with a team of deep violet and orange robed witches and wizards, signalling to the trio that they were surrounded.
"Get back!" Harry hissed, shoving the girls out of the way of the stream of Aurors coming from the direction of the hospital wing. Lyra's heart fluttered as Tonks and the suavely-dressed, daunting wizard who was still reprimanding her for abandoning her post marched past them by mere inches.
The wizard's voice was distinctively deep but warm. "I understand that you wanted to make sure your cousin is ok but–,"
"-but Scrimgeour gave us a direct order. Yes I know Kingsley, give it a rest yeah?" Tonks moaned back at her colleague, not as peeved by his moody upbraiding as she looked. A lightbulb flickered in Lyra's head and she smirked after the pair. Her cousin had mentioned her work best friend Kingsley before, he was her unofficial mentor and he obviously had a lot of issues with her unconventional style of work judging by how much she would complain about him.
"We have three minutes left," Hermione pointed to her watch face, eyes wide in fright, "Fudge and Madam Bones are still in there."
"And there are a couple of– oh no," Harry ended his whisper by clamping his mouth shut and indicating to them to stay as silent as possible. Lyra frowned but she obeyed his instruction just as Snape came storming past, blatantly ignoring the two burly Aurors flanking him.
"I'm perfectly capable of walking unassisted," He snapped at the men, ripping his arm out of their strong hold so he could widen the breadth between them. The three Gryffindors pressed into the corridor wall as though hoping to phase through it, afraid of Snape perchance figuring out the source of all of his stress were hiding right next to him.
Snape turned at the end of the corridor and glared at the doors to the hospital wing, debating whether to march back in there and continue his argument with the child half his age, but the taller of the two Aurors rolled his eyes and nudged Snape onwards.
"Come on Professor, if you play nicely then we'll let you watch the Dementors Kiss in person," he said as though he was doing the man a favour, and Lyra's blood boiled when the smallest of smirks lit up Snape's face. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!
"He's actually psychotic," Harry dared to whisper once they were alone in the first floor corridor, milling around the infirmary atrium. The muffled voices of the Minister for Magic and Head of Magical Law bounced around the main wing as they bounced on their heels, wishing they would hurry up and leave. Surely they should've left by now?
"I genuinely think I might have to drop Potions, I can't deal with him anymore," Lyra said roughly, scowling at the door.
"Good luck with that," Hermione murmured, on the verge of mentioning that Potions was a core class that couldn't be dropped, but she thought against it when Lyra snarled. "We have less than two minutes left, what's taking them so long? I can't hear Dumbledore–,"
OH FUCK!
Lyra slapped herself in the face and ripped her wand out, frustrated with herself for forgetting. This evening felt as though it had lasted an entire year, it was hard for her to keep track of every little detail.
"Volverba!" She conjured the miniature Thestral note, her message vibrant and full of purpose in her mind, and she directed it out of the nearest window.
"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Hermione whispered and Lyra nodded.
"I promise I haven't just screwed everything up," she said as she scooped her friends hands up and squeezed them, softening their alarmed expressions.
"What did you write?" asked Harry, unable to rein in his curiosity, and Lyra blushed.
"That I've told the Dementors not to Kiss Sirius, and that I will tell him everything if he gets rid of Fudge and Bones," she revealed. Even now, saying it out loud, she knew she couldn't go back on her word.
"That's incredibly brave of you, well done," Hermione tightened her clasp in her hand and smiled at her, unequivocally proud.
"He will help you," Harry murmured low enough for their ears only. Lyra held onto their hope with all of her might and prayed that they were right.
Let's wait and see…
I hope you are right… For everyone's sake, I pray that Albus can be trusted.
The creaking of the hospital wing doors swinging open gave the trio enough warning to stand clear. They watched with bated breath as Cornelius Fudge and Madam Bones exited the ward and locked the door behind them, whispering amongst themselves as they left.
"…he's not telling us everything, Amelia. If the girl is cause for concern then we should act now," Lyra caught the end of Fudge's pompous snide comment as they whisked away but the tension he brought melted when Madam Bones tutted and rolled her eyes.
"Please trust me on this one, Minister. Miss Black is not who we should be focusing on. I've said this before and I will say it again, Dementors are not suitable guards and it's high time we reconsider reviewing the prison legislation. It's not been touched since the 1700s, Neil…" and the bickering pair vanished down the hall.
"I think it's possible that Susan's aunt is the only competent person working at the Ministry," Hermione noted, watching the spot where they disappeared in reverence for the woman she prejudged a little too harshly. Lyra pouted alongside her, moved by Amelia's trust. It was nice that someone had her back amongst the sharks thirsting for her blood, especially someone in charge of the bloody law.
Harry looked astonished by the new information and frowned. "She's related to Susan?"
Hermione decided not to acknowledge his stupid question while Lyra merely offered him a gentle pat on the shoulder, charmed by his slow brain. To be fair, they had been through a lot tonight and his eye bags were darker than bruises, he needed sleep.
Eventually the hospital doors opened once more and revealed the headmaster. They waited until he closed the door to reveal their faces, and Lyra shook out the anxious flutters when Professor Dumbledore met them with an exhausted smile of his own.
"So?"
"He's gone," Lyra hissed, her own lips curling as his stretched into a jocose smirk, as though they were about to share their first inside joke. "He should be miles away by now."
"And you weren't seen?"
"No," answered Harry.
Lyra winced. "Snape knows we time-travelled."
Albus sighed but his smile never dampened. "Ah. Miss Granger, your Time-Turner? Perhaps it would be best if I took it from you."
"It's already hidden in my dorm, sir," Hermione smiled shyly, "and I removed its last use from its memory."
He blinked, inspired. "Using a memory charm?" She nodded. "Exemplary, Hermione, truly. Well done, all of you. This was no small feat."
Professor Dumbledore pressed his ear against the door and beckoned them to sneak through the small gap he opened.
"It appears you have already left, so for now, I shall leave you three to recuperate. No doubt you will want to see Mr Weasley, once Poppy gives her permission of course," he ordered them, a sliver of his authority sneaking into his tired tone to remind them that he was still their teacher after all. Lyra warmed to the idea of seeing Ron and thanked Dumbledore with a humble half-bow, wanting to make sure he looked her firmly in the eye one more time.
Thank you for believing me.
Albus' gaze thinned by a fraction and her stomach twirled into oblivion as he followed her to her cot and reshackled her handcuffs to evade further suspicion. She'd forgotten about the damn handcuffs. She ignored Harry who was smiling at her from his own ruffled bed.
"I'm looking forward to our conversation tomorrow," muttered Albus for her ears only, and her insides hardened like concrete. "But for now, try to rest and gather your strength. You've made your father extremely proud tonight."
Although it was much easier said than done, Lyra dwelled in her thoughts as the headmaster wished them a good night and locked them in. The echo of the lock lingered in the air as the trio laid down and processed what they'd accomplished this evening. The clocktower bell finally rang twice and Lyra savoured the sound of time moving forwards from this awful nightmare. Her gaze drifted to the private ward doors and her heart panged.
"I thought I heard him leave," sighed Professor McGonagall, poking her head from out the private ward to check the coast, but she stepped out completely to join them once she realised they were all still wide awake. "You three really should get some sleep."
"I can't sleep with these on," Lyra lightly shook her handcuffs and displayed a couple of her fine acting skills. "Professor Snape tightened them and it feels like my fingers are going to explode."
McGonagall looked aghast and directed her fury in her spell. The cuffs sprung open for the third time tonight and she faked a groan of relief. "Thanks Professor, love you."
"Can we see Ron yet?" asked Hermione, smothering her yawn with the crook of her elbow.
"Not yet," Madam Pomfrey appeared behind McGonagall, looking equally as fatigued as they all felt. Blood stained her pinny but no one dared to point it out. "Not until I'm satisfied that you've received enough"
Three bowls full of various types of Honeydukes chocolate floated from her office and slid onto their bedsides, encouraging them to dig in. Lyra ignored the bowl and pouted at the steaming teapot and cups making their way to the adults' outstretched hands instead, longing for a hot cuppa.
"Actually, can I have a cup of Earl Grey please?" Lyra raised her hand, surprising the matron, and her friends oohed at the delightful prospect of warming up with a hot beverage.
"I'd love one too, thank you," Hermione yawned again.
"I'll take a regular, normal tasting cup of tea please," Harry couldn't resist poking fun at her taste levels, and he managed to laugh when Lyra grabbed a random bar of chocolate from the bowl and threw it at him, nearly taking his glasses clean off his face.
The contrast of the warm, calming lavender-scented infirmary to their hectic evening was pretty jarring at first. No chill from the Dementors, no howling, no screams of terror. Lyra's heart hammered in time with the speed of her frantic thoughts, she listened out for any indication of trouble outside of the hospital while she falsely laughed at whenever McGonagall was saying to them. They must've discovered the empty office by now, surely…?
The muffled bang of the atrium doors slamming open broke the soft ambience Pomfrey and McGonagall had created for them and the three bedridden Gryffindors jolted and stared at the doors, hoping they looked suitably confused by the oncoming drama. Lyra rushed to gulp down the rest of her tea and doubled-down on their innocence by catching McGonagall's eye and pouting.
"I swear to God, Professor. If this is Snape coming to gloat to us about my father being Kissed, do I have your permission to swear at him?" She requested, brows puckered in distress, and Professor McGonagall paused mid tea-sip to gawk. She was genuinely considering saying yes. Haha, nice!
"Lyra, I hardly think Professor Snape would—,"
BANG!
"HOW DID YOU DO IT?!"
In a fierce flurry of black robes and rage, Severus Snape barrelled back into the hospital wing spitting flames and accusations Lyra's way. She froze, distorting her initial urge to laugh so it sounded more like a scoff of disdain, and met her Potions Master head on with a passionate sneer. Her shielded mind fared well against his pummeling mental punches. He couldn't break through and she knew he wanted to scream about that too, but he couldn't without incriminating himself.
"Huh?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Snape shrieked before rounding on a petrified-looking Hermione. "Granger! Your Time-Turner – hand it over now!"
"Severus!" McGonagall rushed over to stand between her irate colleague and her lions. She glanced at Harry who, by a stroke of pure luck, remembered he wasn't supposed to know about Hermione's extra resources and exaggerated his bafflement.
"Her what?" he asked.
"I don't have it!" Hermione squeaked, shrinking away from Snape and the gaggle of people who came running in after the Potions Master. "It's the Easter holidays, professor, why would I have it on me?"
"LIAR!" He yelled at her, and Lyra swung her legs down, intending to jump to her friend's rescue, but McGonagall held her back.
"What on earth are you doing, man?!" The deputy head escorted Snape away from the children and she looked to Fudge who was blushing and laughing awkwardly at the scenes. "What now?"
"It appears that Black has escaped us again," he admitted, shaken by Snape's overreaction. "He is not in the North Tower, and the Dementors do not know where he has gone."
"Are you joking?!" Lyra decided to ham up her charade and forced a delirious laugh. "What do you mean, he's gone? You've killed him, haven't you? You're trying to cover up your own mistakes by executing him, just to save face because there's a chance he's been wrongly imprisoned!"
"No, that's not true," Fudge tried again, nervously stepping forward with his arms out, "let's all just calm down—,"
"Calm down?!" Lyra jeered, staring the Minister down. His throat bobbed. "This feels like a targeted manhunt, you're purposefully painting myself and my father as dangerous individuals just because the rest of our family has a bad reputation! My teacher who hates me and my family has accused me of using dark magic, something I categorically haven't done, and you all have listened to him without any proof!"
"I SAW YOU! I AM THE PROOF!" roared Snape.
"NO YOU'RE NOT! YOU THINK YOU'RE SOME TRAGIC HERO BUT YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A TRAITOR. YOU ARE, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, A DEATH EATER! YOU'RE THE DARK ONE HERE!" Lyra chose to go full-throttle and chucked everything and anything at the adults to distract and divert the subject of their involvement in Sirius' escape.
She ignored her raging professor and spoke only to the Ministry, her silver eyes watering with desperation and indignation. "This is calumny and I won't stand for it. If you decide to expel me because of what that man says, then I will sue. I'm going to send a letter to the Daily Prophet right now and tell them the true story, I promise you I am not bluffing."
Pandemonium broke the stunned silence that followed Lyra's very serious accusation. Nobody at the Ministry was prepared to expect the threat of their abysmal handling of the Black situation going public, Lyra was glad to see her words hit Fudge the hardest and he jumped into action without faltering. She found his greatest fear and latched on tightly, twisting it in her favour.
"That really isn't necessary, Miss Black," Fudge slapped on his cheesiest smile and perched on the end of her bed, anxiously waving at his staff crowding around them to take notes, "it is apparent to all of us this evening that Professor Snape has been under a lot of stress recently, we've all taken his accusations with a pinch of salt. Please, informing the papers of this mess won't help anyone. You should sleep on it at the very least."
"Just to clarify, you're not thinking about expelling me?" Lyra asked, scrutinising the faces watching her with a wrinkled nose. She dared to draw her wand. "You can check all of the spells I've done but you won't find anything that warrants expulsion."
Fudge forced a chuckle and pushed her extended wand back into his lap, patting her hand in reassurance. "Please, that won't be necessary."
"We've already scanned your wand–," one of Fudge's staff blurted out, but his face swelled with heat as Fudge's face cracked and he shot daggers at him.
Lyra couldn't believe it and she blinked, losing whatever respect she had for the Ministry in seconds. They knew what spells I cast tonight and they were still considering expelling me?! JUST BECAUSE SNAPE SAID SO?!
"Right, if you are not a professor at this school, or a student, then I must ask you to leave this ward immediately!" Madam Pomfrey cut across the rabble of the Ministry scrambling to work out their next steps to clear the room. Bodies started to file out and Lyra caught her cousin's illuminated gaze near the door. Tonk threw up a hand sign that indicated that Lyra's outburst at Snape was hilariously entertaining, and followed her colleagues out, laughing to herself.
"There's no way he'll ever let you back into his classroom now," Harry applauded her dramatic efforts once the hospital wing doors were securely locked and they were left alone with McGonagall and Pomfrey once more. "Your Potions grade is fucked."
"Potter!" McGonagall scolded him, lips pursed from his colourful language, but she eventually looked to Lyra and exhaled through her flared nose. "Unfortunately, Black, I think Mr Potter might be correct in his assumption. I've never, ever, seen him behave like that before."
"Do not worry about your Potions grade, Miss Black," Madam Pomfrey finished organising the trio's upcoming dose of medicines and politely instructed them to gulp them down in-sync. "If your Potions Master refuses to teach you then I shall offer my expertise in his absence. Potions is one of the most valuable and rewarding branches of magic, it would be a shame for you not to continue on your path of learning."
Awww. Lyra obediently swallowed her muscle relaxing potion and flashed Pomfrey her sweetest smile. She never thought about whether the infirmary matron actually cared about her most accident-prone students, but judging by her warm smile in return she was invested in her tumultuous life.
"We've finished our potions," Hermione highlighted as they handed back their metal goblets, "now can we go and see Ron? Please?"
"Of course," Pomfrey nodded to McGonagall and instructed the trio to tread as lightly as they could. The second the private door inched open, Hermione forced her slim stature through the gap and rushed into the warm light glow pouring out. Lyra chewed on her bottom lip to stop her jitters, preparing to see the worst, and side-eyed Harry who was also having trouble crossing the threshold.
"To answer your question earlier," she whispered, catching his attention, "no I'm not scared of being expelled."
Immediately his heart-wrenching guilt and sorrow was replaced with pure joy and he bit back a genuine laugh, their shoulders brushing and their fingers flirting with each other.
"Honestly, girl, I don't know whether you have the best or the worst timing in the world," he teased, his quiet voice gruff, and Lyra successfully hooked her fingers around his, hoping the physical contact would inspire enough courage within them both to see Ron.
Harry intertwined his fingers with hers and led the way with his head held higher than ever before.
Just one more chapter until the start of the my fave book/least fave movie! Who else is excited lol!
Thank you for reading! xxoo