"Expellia—,"
"Impedimenta!"
A turquoise jet shot out of Lyra's wand and froze Harry in place like a fast-acting adhesive, his wand arm half-risen and his parted lips never meeting to finish his incantation.
"Expelliarmus!" Lyra rubbed salt in his wound and used his favourite charm against him, a technique she'd been itching to try. She caught his wand and bowed, ending their duel with her attempt at a humble smile as her Impediment Charm melted away. Harry shook feeling back into his limbs and conceded his loss with his own bow and crooked smile, a gracious loser for once.
"So that's sixteen to Lyra, and nine to Harry," Ron read out the results of their duels from his hand-drawn table and shook his head at Harry while he circled the winner's name. "Mate, you've got to use a different spell."
"What do you mean? It's literally the most effective defensive spell," Harry argued, pointing at Lyra who was taunting him with his wand. "She used it and won."
"Only once you were impaired," Lyra pointed out, "Duelling tip number nine; short spells are fast spells."
"Those spells have the same number of syllables," he shot back.
"Yeah but I'm a fast talker — watch," Lyra wriggled her brows in jest before she tossed his wand back and bowed, insinuating that she wanted him to attack her again. "Hit me if you dare..."
Harry rolled his shoulders, matched her bow, and twirled his wand. Her duelling manual instructions ran through her mind as she watched his wand hand very carefully. Was he going to do it again?
Harry was much faster this time.
"Locomotor W—,"
But not fast enough.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The pink spell wrapped around Harry and he collapsed back like a knocked mannequin, his arms and legs rigid and unmoving and his expression incredulous. Lyra cheered, exuberantly happy that he used a different spell. To be fair, it didn't work for him but it was the effort that counted!
It was an unusually warm and sunny Easter afternoon at Hogwarts, only a handful of students stayed over the break and all but four of them were out in the grounds making the most of the sun. The four sun shy Gryffindors overtook one of the disused Muggle Studies classrooms on the fifth floor and were using the space to practice for their upcoming hunt. Not that Ron knew, of course. He was under the impression that they were simply exercising their right as students to learn how to defend themselves with their own unofficial Duelling Club. Their oblivious friend was a good sport though, he kept his begging to go out and fly to a minimum.
Leaving the boys to their duel, Lyra slid into the spare seat opposite Hermione and watched with intrigue as she shuffled her playing cards over and over, her soft eyes squeezed tight and her lips mouthing words she couldn't quite catch. It was a fascinating sight to behold, Lyra could almost feel the divine magic she was attuned to in the air around their table.
Just as Lyra went to pull her half-completed dog lead from her backpack, Hermione's eyes flashed open and she spread the deck of cards across the table in an impressive uniform line. All but one card was facing downwards and Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight of the white card glaring up at them.
"That's the seventh time in a row that card has appeared!" Hermione hissed under her breath and she plucked the anomaly from the black rose row with a slight frown as she flashed it at Lyra. "The Ace of bloody Wands again."
"Maybe it keeps appearing because I'm here? Do you want me to leave?" Lyra suggested, feeling guilty for tainting her friend's hard work, but Hermione shook her head and began to shuffle the rest of her deck sans the ace of wands. She slid it toward Lyra, asking her to keep an eye on it.
"No need," she said, trying not to grimace, "your presence shouldn't matter."
"What exactly are you trying to do?" Lyra wondered, abandoning her craft idea altogether. She still had a couple of days until their predestined search and the discomfort on Hermione's face was far more important.
"I'm trying to predict the results of our hunt," she whispered, her nervous gaze flitting from the duelling pair across the room before meeting hers, "I'm predicting what will happen once we catch them both and… Well, the universe's answer is a simple one but I don't like it. It's not good enough."
Lyra traced the ace of wands with her eyes, the lone knotted wand swished against its pearlescent background and a cloud of black sparks engulfed the card before it slowly faded away. She quite liked the depiction, it reminded her of her own wand. How fitting, it seemed that Ollivander was very good at his job at helping wizards and witches find their true wands.
Remember when Ollivander didn't want me to have this wand…?
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione nudged her and asked over the noise of Ron and Harry duelling, recognising the same distant fog that clouded her silver eyes.
"I'm thinking that our answers are staring me right in the face but I'm too blind to see them," admitted Lyra, revealing her wand and rolling it between her fingers. "Have I ever told you about the day I got my wand?"
"No?" Hermione pouted, uneasy with the coming story premise. "I assume it wasn't as straightforward as the rest of us, knowing you?"
"Duh," Lyra snorted, unfazed by her meaning. "Ollivander didn't want me to have it. It wasn't originally for sale."
"But the wand chooses the wizard so he had no choice but to sell it," Hermione murmured, the wrinkle on her nose deepening as Lyra nodded in confirmation, "did he say why he didn't want you to have it?"
"Of course he didn't, that would have been the wise thing to do but you know what these old wizards are like. They've always got to be difficult and mysterious," sighed Lyra.
"Sounds familiar," Hermione teased and Lyra couldn't help but smirk. "What's the wand made of?"
"Reed," Lyra said proudly, "and hair."
"Unicorn hair?" Hermione prompted only for Lyra to shrug. Ollivander never specified.
"I guess?"
"You mean you don't know?" Hermione looked perplexed.
"Wait, you know yours?"
"Of course I do!"
"He didn't want to give it to me let alone explain what it was made of, I didn't know that was a thing?" Lyra countered in defence of her ignorance. Maybe she should have been firmer with the creepy wandmaker but the day they met was overwhelming in itself. "Maybe I'll visit him over the summer and demand he tell me everything about it. I vaguely remember him saying that he based it off a wand he heard about once…"
A peculiar buzzing filled Lyra's ears as she pondered on the fuzzy memory she neglected to reminisce. She wasn't keen on Ollivander, his first impression rubbed her the wrong way so why would she take time out of her day to think about their interaction? But now, as she pictured the day she acquired her treasured wand, her heart thudded out of time and her palms grew sweaty.
"…I styled it after a wand I heard about once in an old poem and wondered if I could recreate it…"
Yes!
You're so close it hurts.
"I think that's a fantastic idea, if there's a reason he doesn't want anyone to have it then you deserve to know," Hermione nodded, returning to her card shuffling, but Lyra stole the ace of wands before she could add it back into her deck and studied it as though the picture had suddenly changed into something far more interesting.
Death's wand. The first wand. That was the wand he wanted to recreate, the wand she held in her moist hands. She habitually grazed her fingertip across the bottom of her wand, trying to trace the faint rune that had faded from view. Ollivander tried to scratch it off, that's why she couldn't work out what it was. He didn't want her to know what he'd done.
And the poem he was referring to wasn't a poem at all. A lie. How many lies did he feed to her naive eleven year old self? Was it even made from reed? Her wand wood was paler than most, a light, pasty brown. What colour were reed wands?
You know what he tried to create.
Say it.
"Hermione?" Lyra took a stab in the dark and finally handed the card back, hoping she didn't look too befuddled with thought, "I don't suppose you have a copy of Beedle's storybook on you? His tales?"
"No, why?" She was quick to pick up on her agitation and pocketed her deck.
"Because I think… No, I know why Ollivander didn't want me to have this," Lyra twirled her wand around her finger and scoffed. "Ollivander tried to recreate Death's wand. Unless there genuinely are poems out there about some other mystical wand?"
"There most likely are, wizards are some of the most dramatic and self-absorbed beings on this planet," Hermione pointed out, and Lyra raised her hands.
"Amen to that."
"But considering what you possess, I think you're correct in your assumptions. Your voices wanted you to acknowledge Beedle's Three Brothers story for a reason and this may be it. I know not to trust even the slightest of coincidences," she said with a touch of breathless awe, and she slammed down a fresh piece of parchment and a glitter gel pen in front of her. "Write to Ollivander. Ask him, you deserve to know either way."
"As you wish, my dear. I haven't written any provocative letters lately so this will be a hoot," Lyra accepted her new task with a wink and addressed the letter accordingly, flourishing the wandmaker's name with the same loopy font he used on his shop signage.
"Uh, girls?"
"A little help?"
Ollivander's letter was swept to the side when Lyra and Hermione realised the boys had somehow upset the training mat with their enthusiastic offensive spells and it began to chase them, its stitched seam rippling with a feral growl as it nipped at their ankles and backed them into the corner of the classroom that displayed the history of the lightbulb.
"Be careful!" Hermione jumped up and scolded them first as she protected the elaborate glass bulb displays, "those are Joseph Swan originals!"
"Ascendio!" Lyra flicked her wand and sent the training mat flying above their heads, narrowly missing the swinging chandelier before directing it back into the storage cupboard where they found it. "Really? You can't even fight off against a mat?"
"It took us by surprise!" Ron directed them to the stinging scratches on their ankles instead of their blushes, "how were we supposed to know they had teeth?"
"Let's just take it as a sign that we're done duelling for the day," Harry chose to ignore his own incompetence and changed the subject before Lyra continue to tease them, "let's go and find the others, we've got a couple of hours until the sun goes down yet."
"I kinda need to go to the Owlery so we will need to take a detour at some point," Lyra added, struggling to tear her eyes from Ollivander's letter as they collected their things.
"They're likely still out flying, let's head there now," Ron suggested, eager to pry the Firebolt from his siblings' grips. "You haven't got your map on you, have you?"
"No, it's still their turn with it," Lyra scuffed her trainer against the floor as they exited the classroom after checking for any damage they'd missed. The twins begged for the map back even though it was her turn. "It's cool, I haven't even written the letter yet so the Owlery isn't a priority."
"Who are you writing to shout at now?" Harry guessed.
"Mr Ollivander."
"Sure, why the hell not," Harry decided not to ask any follow up questions as the four ventured out of the castle and into the grounds in search of the three flame headed fliers hiding somewhere amongst the sparse clouds.
There were two small groups down by the Black Lake, splashing in the shallow end as they laughed at the beetle blue Billywigs twirling above their heads, but none of their hair caught the scorching sun rays. The Gryffindors decided to follow along the path of the lake nevertheless, despite its lack of Weasleys they knew they couldn't be far as a couple of older students helpfully informed them they had seen the twins and Ginny flying nearby.
"We should hang out down here more often, it's nice," Ron sighed, breathing in the freshwater breeze wafting off the lake to ruffle their hair. Hermione took her place in the shade of the less aggressive willow trees near the shore and Lyra was quick to follow. She sat down with her back firmly to the Black Lake, enjoying the distant view of the tip of Hagrid's hut over the crest of the grounds instead. Maybe we should drop by…?
"That's probably because someone can't swim," Harry pointed at Lyra's turned back, and Ron pulled an awkward face.
"But she lives by the sea?"
"Not everyone who lives by the sea can swim," Hermione interjected, sensing Lyra's imminent snappy retort by the emerging dimples on her face. Lyra decided to stay silent instead as she continued to write her letter.
"Can you swim?" Ron asked Harry as he found his old Fanged Frisbee in his bag and flung it at him.
"A little bit, my primary school organised a couple of swimming lessons," replied Harry, his sharp reflexes kicking before it spun into the lake's lapping waves.
"Mine too," Hermione added, peering over Lyra's shoulder as she wrote, "they were compulsory but I already knew how to swim, my parents took me swimming a lot as a child."
"I was offered lessons but I refused them," Lyra said offhandedly, thinking more about the correct adjective to describe Ollivander's negligence than her fear as she tapped her pen against her chin. "I had a full-blown meltdown when my teacher tried to force me to go and I ended up biting her."
"Have you ever actually tried to learn how to swim? I'm a pretty strong swimmer, I can teach you," Ron wondered in a genuine attempt to help her, but regrettably his helping hand wasn't well-received. Lyra whipped her head around and scowled at him as though he had just called her something rather misogynistic and altogether disrespectful.
"Do you want me to bite you as well?" She threatened, sucking her teeth to show how serious she was being, "I'd rather pitch myself off Gryffindor Tower again than set one foot in there. No way in hell! No!"
Ron caught his frisbee and laughed off her nipping response, hoping she was just joking.
"You can try. I'm used to being bitten, Scabbers' teeth are way sharper than yours," he chortled, but he quickly deflated and ended their short frisbee game so he could pout out at the bittersweet beauty of the lake.
"Poor Scabs, I hope he's ok out there…" he lamented softly, his bent knees tucked under his wrinkled chin.
Like a punch to the stomach, all three of them hid their recoils and flinches of deceit. Lyra read over her paragraphs to deter her from meeting either Hermione or Harry's eye, the urge to ruin everything and spit the truth out danced on her silver tongue like a forbidden joke. No, don't do it. Don't say anything.
"Hmm, I'm sure he is," Hermione broke first. The strain in her voice was frightfully present, and Lyra instinctively glanced up to shoot her a look—
Movement. In the corner of Lyra's eye, by the trees… She swore she just saw…?
Lyra snapped her head toward the line of swaying evergreen trees and blinked hard, mistrusting her sight. Seconds passed and doubt settled in, nothing stood out amongst the line of trees, she must've imagined it. None of her friends would have seen it either, they were still staring out at the Black Lake as if expecting some great creature to breach the water and perform a triple backflip or something. She never quite understood the appeal of vast bodies of water but she supposed that was trauma's everlasting footprint in the soil that made her.
I could've sworn that looked like Harry…?
Maybe it was wishful thinking or something else entirely, but whatever it was had wonderful timing. If Lyra hadn't been staring at the trees like a paranoid bird watcher then she wouldn't have noticed the four figures stomping up the hill from the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Professor McGonagall led the trio of red headed misfits who were sulking in her shadow and even from the impressive distance Lyra could tell McGonagall was reprimanding Fred, George, and Ginny for whatever it is they'd done. Lyra savoured the sight for a moment, inherently proud.
But then she spotted her Firebolt in her head of house's shaking fist and she squeaked, fearing the worst. Was she about to lose her broom?
"No!" Lyra's exclamation caused her friends to flinch and she scrambled to chase after the retreating group. She didn't bother waiting for her friends to catch up, the sullen trio and chief punisher were already halfway up the hills by the time she hit her stride and decided to yell at them.
"Wait!"
"I thought I recognised this broomstick," McGonagall held up her hand to stop the grumpy Weasleys in their tracks and humoured the newcomer by slowing down. "Bold of you to assume you're able to help here, Miss Black"
The twins were baffled by Lyra's choice to get involved but they closed their mouths and allowed her to do the talking. Ginny however openly gawked at Lyra, excited to see what she was going to say. Judging by their stained clothes, the three of them looked as though they had been tussling in the mud but she decided not to ask in case McGonagall took more points away from them.
"Help? Oh no, I'm sure whatever these guys have done has warranted a punishment," Lyra exercised her best Snape impression just to see the trio lose their grins and glare at her, "but whatever they have done, please – don't take it out on her." She pointed at the shiny broom that she'd only ridden twice. "She didn't mean it."
"We didn't mean to fly into the forest either, by the way," Fred burst out, highlighting their innocence, "but these highland winds are cosmic! Talk about rapid speeds, the Firebolt should be renamed to Scottish Storm. We had no choice but to fly in there."
"Nonsense, Weasley," McGonagall jabbed the broomstick at Fred and snapped her fingers, ordering them to continue on their walk of shame, "I read all the news articles when the Firebolt was released, I know they are charmed to brake whenever its rider commands it to, these winds are child's play compared to the tests they were put through. The three of you went into the forest on purpose, don't test me today."
"Yet another reason not to take it out on my baby, blame the riders," Lyra chirped, skipping after them with extra pep in her step. "Please may I have my broom back?"
"..." Professor McGonagall readjusted her square spectacles and glanced over her shoulder at Lyra as they reached the peak of the hill. She scanned the grounds only once, then looked her up and down before continuing onwards. "...No."
"You shouldn't punish her for our crimes, it really isn't Lyra's fault we–," Ginny tried to protest but with another daggered scowl from her head of house she let her words die out and pretended to watch the cawing murder of crows take their perch on the clock tower courtyard's bridge instead.
"I am commandeering this broom for all of our sakes," McGonagall explained, her glass lens flashing in the orange sun that was starting its downward curve toward the horizon. "I cannot trust the four of you not to fool around while the Minister for Magic is here–,"
"Wait, Fudge is here?" Lyra surprised herself with her interruption and she politely mouthed her apologies when McGonagall's nostrils flared.
"With the majority of the students at home this week, the Ministry thought it would be appropriate to enact a full-scale investigation into your father's whereabouts. The Minister and a selection of Aurors are on school grounds this evening and I do not – I repeat, I do not – want to hear that my Gryffindors have been interfering with their investigation. The Dementors will be on Hogwarts property tonight. Curfew is at sundown today and the four of you will be inside that tower," she pointed at the spiked turret of Gryffindor Tower peeping over the tops of the castle. "Understood?"
"Like we would ever!" George guffawed but he soon quietened down when their professor's stiff face hardened as though the wind had changed. She wasn't angry, Lyra saw it flash in her eyes. She was afraid.
"Miss Black, may I suggest you find your friends unless you wish to join Mr, Mr, and Miss Weasley in detention?" McGonagall posed the question and accepted Lyra's sharp intake of breath as a sufficient enough answer. "I thought as much."
Lyra watched her cousins stalk off after McGonagall for a moment, torn between curiosity at what the trio had now done to earn detention during the Easter holidays, annoyance that her Firebolt was now a prohibited item, and genuine relief that she hadn't been dragged into the situation. But she grinned again when one of the red heads stopped in their tracks.
"FRED! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!"
"I'll be one second, Minnie! Keep your wig on!" Fred yelled as he jogged back over the bridge, one hand rustling around his robe pocket. Lyra jumped up to meet him, using her body to shield whatever it was he was handing over — her heart skipped. YES!
"Just in case she searches us," his wink was subtle as Lyra hastily shoved the Marauder's Map into one of her combat trousers' many flaps.
"Enjoy your detention!" Lyra shoved Fred away before McGonagall combusted from fury and she escaped the view of any more angry teachers. She refrained from using the map until she blended in with the bushes, but it wasn't until she revealed the map that it hit her like a bolt of lightning.
The map was blank. Professor McGonagall wouldn't have guessed what it was if she came across it. Fred knew that.
Lightning struck twice when Lyra suddenly realised that she was alone, her friends hadn't followed. Very unlike Ron, he was desperate to ride the Firebolt?
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," Lyra muttered, tapping her wand against the aged parchment. Her fingers moved on muscle memory. She knew the map by heart, she was sure she could navigate parts of Hogwarts in total darkness at this point and she honed in on her own name at record speed. The parchment stretched and her anxiety settled when she found them still by the lake, and with Hagrid too! Awesome, I bet he has gossip about Fudge!
Just out of frame, a label was moving at rapid speed and she scrolled back to her own name. The runner was close by.
Remus Lupin.
The blur of her godfather's footprints left tracks the map failed to render. He crossed the clocktower courtyard before she registered who she was watching. Something hardened in the pit of her stomach and she tried not to jump to the worst conclusion. He might be going for a jog! A harmless run, a peaceful sunset run!
"Lyra?"
Lyra nearly dropped the map when Remus materialized from within the sheltered bridge and picked out her pale freckled face amongst the greenery. He caught his breath and beckoned her to come out of the bushes, not even questioning her hiding technique as he grasped his knees. He didn't seem like an athletic type but for a man his age he shouldn't have been so depleted.
"I just saw the twins, they said you were looking for me? Is everything ok? Have you seen someone?" He asked between rasps. Lyra only blinked back, severely confused now. What was Fred playing at?
Remus recovered from his wheezes the very second his eyes darted to the map in her hands. Lyra didn't react fast enough.
Aw Fred?! You set me up! The devilish twin must have told him she had something special on her. Blood drained from Remus' face as he stormed over, snatched her arm, and dragged her across the bridge in a manner McGonagall would have been proud of.
"Before you say anything, you have to know that Fred was actually the one who—,"
"Not out here!" He hissed into her ear, not a drop of warmth in his voice. Fatigue. Or fear, she couldn't tell.
Lyra held her tongue and allowed Remus to march her into the first empty room the clocktower offered. There wasn't much inside except a pair of large trunks and a dozen rolls of medallion rug carpets. Lyra dumped her backpack by the trunks and leant against one, trying to think of something to say that would ease the tension but Remus jumped straight to it. He placed a silvery charm over the door and turned to face her, his hand out between them for the map. His silence was crushing.
She had no choice but to tell him the truth.
"It's a magical map, it—,"
"—shows you where everyone is, and what they're doing, at every single moment of every single day? Yes, I am very aware," he spoke over her, impatient but soft, "I didn't know you had it… How did you get it?"
"Fred and George found it years ago, we share it," she scoffed, not quite believing her ears, but she surrendered it without a fight, "wait, you know about this? Fred didn't snitch? You—?"
Lyra's arm fell slack and she let out a deep groan, one birthed from the very depths of her dark soul. Because of course, she should have seen it coming! It's not like it's been staring her in the face for many, many months?!
"Ok! That's it! You have got to tell me everything about you and my parents, everything! Is this your fucking map?" Lyra lit up like a firecracker and whined, her cheeks resembling spotted strawberries and her nose crumpled. She snatched the edge of the map and jabbed a finger at the creators' signatures as though rubbing it in his face, "is this you?"
Remus slid her finger from James' nickname to his own and sighed. "Indeed it is. That's James, that's your father, and that's… Pete. We were a very creative bunch when we wanted to be, as you can see."
Although a part of her was furious for not realising sooner, Lyra couldn't deny that her mind was blown. She was looking at the map through new eyes. Through their eyes. And she adored their paper point of view.
"Are you confiscating it?" She didn't want to ask in case it spurred him to change his mind, it just slipped out. Remus shook his head and her hopes skyrocketed.
"I wouldn't dream of it. I thought we lost it," he managed to crack a smoother smile as he unfurled its secrets, feeling very much like a teenager again, "but I should have known it would somehow end up in another mischief maker's hands. I could've sworn James had it all this time, I always thought he was taking the mick..."
Lyra tucked a curl behind her ear and softened her smirk too, endeared by the image of her parents using it when they were here. "It's a seriously impressive piece of magic, you should be proud of it."
"I was until I saw it in your hands," Remus dismissed her attempt to compliment him and snatched it back, rushing to search every square metre as though for the first time. "I assume you've used it this year?"
"Duh," Lyra rolled her eyes, "you don't think I've used it to hunt them? Come on, Remus, who do you think I am?"
"Then how come you didn't see Peter's name hanging around with yours? The map is enchanted to tell the truth, it never lies. You should have seen Pete while he was in his Animagus form, part of the reason we created this map was so we could keep track of each other. So we knew who was close to us during my transformations," he reeled off, his eyes nothing but a haze of cedar confusion.
Lyra snorted, partially offended but wholly entertained by the new lore drop. "Um, excuse me? Your map most definitely lies, we've never seen Peter on there, or Sirius. I would have told you straight away if that were the case, we wouldn't be standing here if that was true."
"No," Remus refused to hear her out at first but the longer he spent reading the map the faster his assured expression faded. Lyra knew the situation called for a case of the 'I told you so's but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Whatever Remus was piecing together inside his head wasn't good and she had a sinking feeling that they had been played for fools.
"What are you thinking?" She whispered.
"Not everything is showing up on here, there's a cloaking spell on it that I don't recognise," he analysed, spurred by the tone of voice he used in the classroom. Authoritative. Factual. Trustworthy. "Someone has jinxed it. You said that Fred and George found it?"
"During their first year here, they found it in Filch's office," she elaborated on the minor details. "Scabbers has been with them for years, you don't reckon he—?"
Lyra's throat squeezed, she didn't need to say it. Remus revealed his wand and unfolded the map to its largest configuration, inked parchment brushed the floor in a vanilla blueprint waterfall. Her heart tickled the ivories of her ribcage, the rhythm of her anticipation grew and grew as she watched him.
"Prior Incantato."
Grey mist seeped from the Marauder's Map, as though the drawn halls of Hogwarts had been infested with city smog it oozed out from the pores of the pages and onto the floor. The map became brighter, shinier — and utterly graffitied to filth!
"Professor! I didn't know you knew that word?" Lyra gasped as she noticed a particularly rude scribble margined beside one of the broom cupboards in the Entrance Hall. "You did what in there with who?"
"Not now!" He swatted her hand away, shaking the map straight in order to momentarily hide his blush behind its rustling edges, "dare I say that I'm glad that Peter jinxed the map if it means you didn't have to read all this. Please bear in mind when you read our notes that we were four stupid hormonal teenage boys with too much time on our hands."
Lyra hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to touch the map with that added context, but it only took one glimpse of the map's true appearance to hook her back in. Remus unfurled the paper to uncover the entrance to the castle and found the footprints of Cornelius Fudge flanked by what Lyra assumed were Aurors entering through the school gates, but she calmed her fast breathing when she picked out her cousin's full name.
"What if they find Dad before we do? What if we don't get a chance to speak to him?" She rattled off some of the many questions whizzing around in her head. "Tonks is here, if I could somehow get her alone and explain the situation she might be able to blag us a minute to talk to him."
Will you be alright if you speak to Sirius?
Yes.
Are you absolutely sure?
Yes.
Lyra didn't care if she was strong enough, she had no other choice. She needed to talk to her father.
"I don't know," Remus pursed his lips and watched the headmaster's label stroll through the courtyards and down the gravelled main path to greet the Ministry. "They've been ordered to hand your father over immediately so the Dementors can administer the Kiss, she would be going against direct orders from her boss. I don't think we should risk Nymphadora's career for our sake."
"It's not for our sake though, it's for Sirius," Lyra reminded him.
"Your father might not be innocent, Lyra," Remus said with a great deal of strain, but at her eye roll he huffed and stared her down. "Listen to me, young lady, I don't want you to get hurt again."
"The truth will hurt me either way, don't worry about me," she shot back, brows furrowed.
"But I do worry about you," Remus matched her intense gaze and commanded her to hear him out, "I worry about you a lot. I worry about what lasting effects this will have done to you, about what you've already been through and what horrors you've yet to face. When I saw the newspapers announcing that you'd been found all I felt was fear. For you."
That wasn't what she expected to hear.
Lyra's unamused frown piqued and she tilted her head. "You were afraid for me? Why? Because of Dad?"
She knew Remus was about to lie to her, he instinctively wrestled with his tie knot.
"Yes."
"Liar," her laugh was empty, "why are you scared? You're not telling me something."
Remus distracted himself from admitting a truth that had been stuck to his insides like another affliction he couldn't cure. He looked down at the map and began to neatly fold its edges, fumbling from one soundless word to another, but something caught his eye and he stopped dead.
Lyra followed his gaze and the world slowed to a fatal stop. She felt every molecule of air that left her lungs, she sensed each droplet of willpower that floated from her body as though surrendering to her initial manic reaction. It was happening, right now, the very moment she'd been waiting for had finally arrived in the form of a pair of black ink footprints.
The label marked Sirius Black traipsed through the Herbology walled gardens and hopped over a wall that Lyra knew for a fact was hard to jump. He was in dog form, that much was obvious, but that didn't matter. She was a fast runner, she'd reach him in no time at all. Could she use Kreacher to slow him down? Probably not, the chances of Sirius attacking him off the bat was pretty high. And she had the unexpected upper hand, he didn't know she knew—
"Lyra," Remus broke free from his shock and attempted to take charge of the situation once he realised what her whitening face meant. He wasn't playing around, "don't."
But she did. It was all she could do. Everything inside of her was pealing like the bell atop a warning tower. All senses pointed to go, so she had to go.
Lyra ripped the map from Remus and tore the door open before he had the chance to physically restrain her. She set her sights on the closest exit into the grounds, an uneven stone stairwell that spat her out in a random outdoor courtyard, but it was enough. When she emerged outside she spotted the familiar glass tips of the greenhouses over the way, her father wasn't far. For a split second Lyra considered waiting for Remus to catch up with her but by the increasing volume of his swears tumbling down the stairs behind her she knew she didn't need to. As much as she wanted to face off against Sirius by herself, she swore a vow to herself to never overestimate herself again. Her ego was her folly, she understood that now.
"Come on old man! Keep up!" She yelled over her shoulder and bulleted out into the glowing orange sunlit grass, the map firmly in one hand and her wand in the other.
A more responsible idea popped up in front of her as she ran but it only stayed for five seconds since the map ruined the probability of it coming true. The headmaster was walking alongside the Minister around the other side of the castle; she couldn't send him a miniature Thestral origami proclaiming the good news without Fudge getting involved. And he was the very last person she wanted to know about this.
Her breath was shallow by the time she peaked over the rolling hills, the fierce rays of the dying sun stabbed her in the eye but she raised a hand to block its stubborn beam from spoiling the view. The walled gardens were directly to her right, the beams reflecting off the greenhouse were dazzling this evening but she ignored the beauty of the scenery in favour of her pounding heart and compared Sirius' path to her own.
He wasn't running anymore. His name hesitated in the valley just before the gnarled line of forest trees, in the very same grass her and her friends usually cut through if they decided to visit Hagrid after a Herbology lesson. But when she looked up, he wasn't there. Was he invisible? He should have been standing right there, in the empty patch of grass she was currently glaring at.
"Lyra!"
Remus attempted to apprehend her one final time as he jogged, his scarred face gleaming from sweat and something happier than discouragement. But she never acknowledged him. Her blood jumped as though she'd been zapped by a powerful electric current weaving through the grass and she struggled to catch her breath when, from within the long blades, a head popped up.
A black, shaggy head with piercing ears and pointed ears.
It took everything in Lyra not to collapse on the spot.
She locked eyes with the dog, wondering what he was going to do— but then Remus appeared behind her and the dog disappeared into the trees in a pitch black blur.
"No! Wait a second!"
Fully expecting Remus to drag her away, Lyra ran after the Animagus without warning and her godfather wittingly followed.
"Don't run away! Please!" Lyra shouted, fearful that the dog would never slow down. Some of the thorned bushes tried to prick her as she blasted through them and she stumbled a little when she tried to vault over a particularly obtuse fallen stump.
"SIRIUS!" Remus' bellow ricocheted off the trees, and an animalistic roar rose within Lyra at the sound of his agony. The same agony coursing through her veins.
"DAD!" It came out before she could stop it. Before she could process in human time who she was about to see.
The emotion in their voices was what finally caused the dog to stop. As soon as Lyra entered the clearing, he backed against the largest tree and waited, as though testing to see if she was truly alone. To see if Remus was a threat or not.
"Y-You're safe," Lyra despised the shake in her voice so she pocketed her map and wand and raised her hands as though in submission. "I'm not going to do anything to you, no one else is coming. I swear."
She realised there were tears in the dog's ghostly eyes when he lowered his head as though showing her he meant her no harm. He had the innocent stray act down to a fine art, it took her a second to remember he was, in fact, human. And not just human either…
"Dad…" Lyra breathed, her feet moving of their own independence, "it's ok…"
Remus burst into the clearing and reacted the only way he knew how. His white spell hit the dog in the ribs and she went to lurch at him when Remus wrestled her back.
"What did you do?!" She screamed at him.
Remus didn't need to answer, he could have simply clamped his arms around Lyra and steadied her, urging her to watch without a word, but when he felt her tremble he remembered her condition and tried to calm her down.
"I didn't hurt him, I promise. Just watch…" he hissed, and Lyra let Remus hold her tight as she watched her father transform.
At first, Lyra was genuinely afraid that Remus lied to her, that he had injured him. Slumped against the oak tree roots, with his dirty calloused hands held out in front of him to ensure they could see he was unarmed, was Sirius Black. He was real. The wanted criminal whose gaunt, lifeless face was plastered on posts around the world. The soulless man who murdered her mother… was sitting in front of them, and he was crying.
His dark wood wand laid abandoned like the other twigs around them and a beaten leather pouch the size of a coin purse fell from his tattered pockets, but he didn't acknowledge his pathetic belongings. His clothes, and Lyra knew she was being nice here, were more depressing than his sobs. The torn, grubby prisoner robes told a dark story, she winced when she realised it was his blackened ribs that were poking through the tears, not leather armour or something more malicious pinned to his skin. The soles of his feet were torn to shreds, blood and mud were indistinguishable from each other, but Lyra chose to focus on them instead of his face…
"Princess…"
Something inside of Lyra sparked when she heard her father's voice, something that was hidden so well in her subconscious that she was certain it didn't exist. Echoic evocation, her past rushed back to her like a fever and her skin burned up as though the sun was blasting onto the back of her neck. Out of everyone left in this world, this man was her closest kin, her blood — she came from him… She wouldn't be here without him.
Remus' grip tightened and he yanked Lyra away from Sirius before she took in the details of his emancipated face shrouded in the darkness of his wild mane of hair. Out of everything, his hair seemed somewhat unaffected by the grime he was caked in, it was kind of an astonishing feat.
"You have one minute to explain," Remus said in a voice stripped bare of emotion. He readjusted his grip on his wand and ever so slowly pointed it at Sirius. "Sixty seconds… tell me why in less than sixty seconds or else I will call the Dementors here myself."
Sirius used ten of those precious seconds to straighten and scrape his locks out of his way, revealing his face in its entirety so they couldn't deny his truth written all over it. Lyra couldn't hide from him now and what she saw looking back at her broke her heart. The young man from Harry's photos who shared her silver eyes and dimpled smile, the boy who loved his wife and friends with all of his heart. He was staring at her with the same love in his bright eyes, the same look he gave Giselle in that damn photo, so much so that she nearly forgot he was more skeleton than human. His love was blistering and it punched a hole through her chest.
I don't think he did it…
Neither do I, but who did?
"I swapped with Peter," Sirius growled, unable to drop his canine tendencies, "Pete was their Secret-Keeper, I did not betray them..."
It was Remus' turn to tremble but Lyra wrapped her arm around his, silently cheering him on. You can do this, you're stronger than you think.
"Why?" Remus emphasised his anger with gritted teeth, his clenched fist remained hidden behind Lyra. "Why did you swap with Peter without informing me? Without informing any of the other members—?"
"Do you want the long version or the short?" Sirius cut across him, still urging Lyra to keep her eyes on him, he hardly flitted his own to Remus, "either way, I'm going to need more than sixty seconds."
"Thirty seconds," Remus threatened.
"A lot happened after you left," rushed Sirius, cautious of the wand pointed at his face. "Edgar and his wife were killed, and our secret died with them. All of us were unprotected that night."
Remus looked as though he'd been shot. "Edgar was your keeper? But Emmeline said—,"
"Giselle told her to lie, to protect you. We needed you to stay away, we wanted you to survive."
Lyra flinched at the mention of her mother's name and she shook her head. She wanted to ask him there and then whether he committed the crime he was imprisoned for but their conversation was dangerously juicy. She didn't know who half the people they mentioned were but regardless she kept her mouth zipped. He may say something useful to her own cause.
Sirius noticed her flinch and inched closer, climbing to his feet with the speed of a turtle so as to not spook her.
"Lyra…"
"Do not speak to her," Remus blocked her from his view, triggering the convict's temper.
"You can't stop me," Sirius challenged in a tone almost as familiar as her own. Full of determination. Lyra squeezed her eyes shut, battling against her guilt and broken heart. "Remus, you know I'm telling the truth. I did not do any of the unspeakable things that everyone has accused me of. Peter is alive, and he's been hiding as a rat for over a decade. He's the reason they're all—,"
"We know," Lyra answered, impatient and jittery with a thousand and one different types of anxiety. "He's been pretending to be Ron's rat, you don't have to tell us."
She peeked around Remus's arm and watched as her father deflated, helplessly staring at them.
"You already know?!" Sirius croaked.
"We've been trying to trap him without him knowing," Remus dared to let Sirius in but he kept him at arm's length. "I figured it out when I was invited to one of our student's pet's funeral."
Through his beard Lyra saw the hint of a smirk on her father's face. "You had a funeral for him?"
"Not important right now!" Remus snapped at him, but his wand was no longer pointed at him, "why Pete? Why? After everything Regulus said, you didn't tell James and Lily? What the hell were you thinking?!"
Excuse me? The mention of Regulus threw Lyra completely off-guard and she stumbled away from her human shield to gawk at the trepidatious men as a pair. She hadn't noticed how dark the forest had grown until she sensed the shadows around them creep closer, desperate to comfort her. The dying orange sky was bleeding purple and pink through the canopy of leaves, the indigo twilight on its heels.
"Regulus?" She repeated.
"My brother," Sirius clarified, displacing the deep frown lines on his daughter's face. "He's—,"
"Yes I know who he is," she interrupted, "what did he tell you?"
Remus and Sirius exchanged concern, turning to her in unison as though they were young again.
"Um, what?"
"Why?"
"What do you know about Regulus?"
"Should we be worried?"
Ah shit. Lyra couldn't think of a lie fast enough but she stood her ground and stared back, unwavering in her confidence. She inclined her chin and pursed her lips, thinking of a way to change the subject, but unfortunately the universe beat her to the jump and decided to intervene.
By the time they heard the rustling of bodies heading their way through the thicket, it was too late for Sirius to transform. Lyra panicked and scrambled to find their group on the animated map, afraid of what labels she may find encircling the trio hidden in the forest while the men readied their wands, but the newcomers' desperate pleas sounded like music to her ears.
"It's ok! It's just us!"
"Please don't stun us!"
"How the fuck did you find us?!" Lyra pushed the gobsmacked men aside and threw herself at Harry and Hermione, double-checking to see if they were real or a figment of her imagination. Of all the people to happen across them, she couldn't even begin to think about her luck! Chilling relief melted from her centre and wriggled until it reached the tips of her fingers and toes, she stepped back to smile at them.
But then it hit her. Lightning struck thrice and she reeled from its stupendous sting. Her relief retracted like a trap wire until it was a heavy ball burrowing itself way into her gut.
Fuck. A trap, this is one hundred percent a trap!
Harry's t-shirt was bloodied, his jeans were torn, and the copious cuts and grazes on his bruised face were already dressed with small stitches. Hermione's arms were wrapped in dirty bandages, more blood stained her cardigan and her bottom lip was busted. They weren't reacting to Sirius — like, at all. They weren't even looking at him! Harry, the boy who vowed to make her father pay for what he did to her, was merely standing there next to her father as though they were pals. In fact, he looked mildly excited to be in his presence?
This isn't real.
"Who…?" Lyra backed away from the potential imposters, sneaking her wand from her pocket. "Who are you?"
"What's going on?" Sirius was transfixed by Harry's arrival and he stepped toward him, "you're bleeding…"
Harry ignored the adults and reached out to Lyra while Hermione fiddled with something beneath her shirt collar.
"Breathe, it's really us," he said gently, "we're not trying to trick you."
None of this is real. It's all an illusion… Remember, you're still down here in the chamber with me…
"Why are you hurt? Where's Ron? What's going on?" She shut down the nasty venom-filled memory attempting to sink its teeth into her to provoke a self-inflicted attack, but she continued to back away from her friends. Dusk had settled and night descended over the forest, but the darkness was never a problem for Lyra. She was more afraid of what lurked behind it.
"Don't listen to that voice, Lyra. Don't listen to him. Listen to me," Harry bravely took another step and urged her to come to him. Like a vet approaching a feral kitten he couldn't spook her. "This is real, we're not a threat."
He shot a glare over his shoulder at his partner in time, "She's going to bolt any second now, Hermione, we have to tell her. She said we told her. She can handle it."
Don't listen to him, he's lying. All lies, all just pretty pictures I'm creating in your scrambled brain…
Lyra braced, pushing away Tom's clammy hands that wanted to grope his way into her fragile state of mind. She needed to get out of here. She couldn't breathe.
"Someone needs to explain what is going on right now," Remus demanded, igniting his wand and bathing their small clearing in inconspicuous light. The type of light the full moon was going to bathe them in a couple of hours. The shadows around the clearing rippled, anticipating their creator's imminent mental breakdown, and Sirius joined his ex-partner on the prowl. Like two old wolves they were alert but weary, on guard to protect the young cubs who were bickering amongst themselves.
"You're scaring her!" Sirius barked at the newcomers, affronted by his daughter's behaviour.
"Hermione!" Harry pleaded, getting ready to chase after Lyra. Her legs twitched and her eyes darted away, he knew her as well as he knew himself.
"Fine! But if she loses her mind because of this then I'm blaming you entirely!" Hermione ripped the Time-Turner out from beneath her shirt and held it at Lyra, "We can explain, please don't run! I understand this might be triggering but we're running out of time and you all need to listen!"
"We're from the future," Harry revealed, saying everything he could to keep Lyra here with them, even if it was just for a moment. "Check the map, you'll see our names down at Hagrid's if you don't believe us. Don't run away, please…"
Lyra's urge to flee vanished and her mouth fell open. That WAS Harry I saw in the trees earlier?!
Sirius abandoned his defensive stance and stared slack-jawed at the shiny golden necklace dangling in Hermione's hand, inspiring her blush. "Am I missing something here? Not only are you children taking part in funny little death rituals, but you're meddling with time now? What the hell are they teaching you at this school?"
Trauma left her body like a sudden sneeze. Lyra caught Harry's panicked eye, jumping from one extreme to another. Sirius was in the tower when they discussed the seance, what else did they say in front of him?!
"Again, I am asking for one of you to please explain what is going on or else I'm going to lose it," Remus exclaimed, shifting to his teaching voice to suit their discombobulated situation, and Hermione helpfully came to his aid with a semi-thought out plan. It was the best they had.
"I understand this is very confusing but we don't have time to explain everything," Hermione babbled, her wide eyes trained on the map in Lyra's possession, "you need to go, we're about to leave Hagrid's any second now."
"And we're not alone," Harry added, taking charge with a tone of voice Lyra had never heard before. Commanding, resolute, fearless. She had no choice but to listen. "The three of you need to find the present us, Hagrid found Scabbers and we are about to leave his hut."
"You need to find us, don't let Peter get away," Hermione choked out, hopping from one foot to the other, "go now!"
"What about you guys? What are you doing?" Lyra resisted the fury festering in her blood and turned to her best friends before she followed her father and godfather back through the forest. The second Scabbers left Harry's mouth; they were already gone.
"You'll see," was all Harry replied. The fervid glances from Hermione kept him from unleashing a paradox they couldn't close. But when Lyra pouted, his tight thread of secrecy loosened a fraction. "And before you ask, yes you came with us, and no we don't know where you are."
"Remember that you cannot interact with your future self. Remember that," Hermione insisted, crushing her with an impromptu hug before shoving her out of their hiding spot. "Now go and give Peter hell."
"Where's Ron?" Lyra tried one more time but the future duo ran away, leaving her question to die in the earthly air like the hoots of a distant screech owl. Dread filtered into her stomach but she ignored its weight as she chased after Remus and Sirius.
It didn't take her long to find them crouched amongst the bushes that ran along the forest's edge, Sirius back in his dog form and Remus massaging the persistent stitch in his side. The grounds were deserted, nothing stood out as unusual in the deep purple night and Lyra took the rare moments of peace to reassess their situation.
"They're still in there," she whispered, showing them the footprints down in Hagrid's hut, "what do we do? Do we call for Professor Dumbledore?"
"He's still with Fudge," Remus clicked his tongue and found them on the map, pacing the castle halls near the headmaster's office. "I can handle this for now."
The dog nudged the map with its snout and made a sound similar to a scoff, as if to remind them that he was also here. Lyra patted the dog's head, ensuring he felt included, and set her sights on Hagrid's front door. A flood of warm light spilled into his front garden and her heart leapt into her mouth when Hagrid waved goodbye to what looked like nothing.
Actually not quite nothing, Lyra squinted and caught the shimmer of Harry's invisibility cloak and the hint of a shadow trailing down Hagrid's garden path.
"Ah shit, they're using the cloak," Lyra wanted to complain but she was relieved they were being cautious. "Don't worry though, I can sort of see it so follow me."
Remus and Sirius exchanged a silent look, but their attempt to question her spectacular eyesight lost to their intentions to kill. They had to be extremely careful…
"Stay back and stay low, if he sees either of you then he'll figure it out," She hissed instructions at the men twice her age and raced ahead, quickly coming up with a cover story. She encouraged the shadows slithering through the grounds to shield them as much as possible, and so a gracefully pale mist rolled through the trees and into the grass. A cold, foggy April evening, there was a new chill at Hogwarts tonight.
Although the invisibility cloak was a fantastic shield, it appeared to impair the trio's peripheral vision. She managed to get within a few metres of them before they showed their faces.
"There you are! You'll never believe it! He's here! He's alive!" exclaimed Ron, bursting forth from the cloak to present the squeaking, squirming rat in his tight grasp. His freckled face was effervescent, exuberant, glowing with delight as well as sweat. "You missed it! Hagrid found him, he nursed him for me as a surprise— can you believe it?!"
"Gosh," Lyra gulped, hoping she looked believable as she clutched her chest and came closer to stare the traitor directly in his scrawny watered eyes. For a split second, she debated grabbing the rat and ripping his head off. "That's incredible, Ron!"
"I really think we should get back to the castle," Hermione hissed, still hidden by the cloak to conceal her urgency and fidgety hops. "Scabbers doesn't look well, he needs to rest."
"Hagrid said the Dementors are due to pass through soon, we really need to go," Harry emerged from the cloak and pulled them under. Lyra stiffened as he tried to persuade her to join with an arm slipping around her shoulders. She balanced on the tips of her toes and almost brushed her lips against Harry's ear. She couldn't tear her eyes from Scabbers, not for one second did he leave her sight.
Harry was as still as a gargoyle.
"Castle isn't safe…" she breathed for him and him only. "Keep him here—,"
"No way, is that Remus?"
Ron caught their professor red-handed sneaking toward them and unknowingly triggered a chain of events that none of them were prepared for. The moment Remus' name left his lips, Scabbers emitted a high-pitch screech that sounded similar to noise Crookshanks made whenever his tail was trodden on.
"No! Scabbers!"
The four Gryffindors panicked and lurched after the flying rat that shot out of his owner's hands like a cannonball. Lyra tripped over Ron's legs as he dove in front of her, and Hermione unknowingly knocked Harry off his feet as she threw the cloak from their heads which smacked into his face. It was one golden slapstick move away from turning into a total shit show and the rat took liberty with their bumbling act to run like the wind.
"He's getting away!" Lithe like a fox and buzzing from the darkness of her domain, Lyra jumped into action first and threw the first spell that came to mind at the fleeing ball of fur whizzing off into the night. "Impedimenta!"
The turquoise jet clipped the rat's leg and he froze mid-leap, giving Ron the perfect chance to scoop him up and stuff him into his hoodie's front pocket. YES!
But it wasn't enough.
Lyra wasn't entirely sure how it happened. One moment she was watching Ron wrestle with the rodent trying to tear through his clothing, and the next he had been tackled by the humongous black dog that sprung from the tall grass around them. Another dose of adrenaline caused her knees to knock but she pushed through the exhilarating yet petrifying sensation with only one goal in mind. The truth. They needed to do whatever it took to uncover the truth about that historic night.
"GET OFF HIM!"
"RON!"
Her friends' shrieks went in one ear and out the other, obviously they were terrified for their friend who was being dragged into the darkness, but she knew he was safe. Her father wouldn't hurt him. She instructed her shadows to guard them, to herd the escaping rat down a path he had no choice but to follow, and ran after them.
"DUCK!"
As though they were back in their Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, the three remaining Gryffindors obeyed their teacher's instructions as something hurtled out of the darkness and took a swipe at the children. Whatever attacked them weighed more than a tonne, it thudded the ground and Lyra covered her head, rushing to catch up with her surroundings. The dirt was firm and wet beneath her, she heard the lapping of the Lake nearby— but it wasn't until she heard Hermione scream that she figured out where her father had led them.
The Whomping Willow? Really?!
"Move! Get out of its way!" Remus yelled at them, using himself as bait to lure the gnarled twisted branches into punching him instead. Lyra rolled toward her friends and shoved them out of the willow tree's path, praying to the forces above that they made it out of this alive.
"That was—?! And he—?!" Hermione was in a state of mild shock. She pointed at the monstrous tree trunk where Sirius and Ron disappeared into and blabbered incoherently, refusing to acknowledge Remus who had to physically drag her out of harm's way.
"You don't look shocked," Harry wheezed, glancing up at Lyra as he tended to the new tears in his jeans. "Where did you go earlier?"
"You'll find out later, I promise," Lyra dismissed his question and the pair dodged another slap from an especially violent vine, "how do we follow them without decapitating ourselves?"
"Like this," said Remus, leaving Hermione's side now she'd finally calmed down. He rolled up the muddy sleeves of his patched cardigan and aimed his wand at the bulbous knots near the tree's spidery roots. A burst of purple light struck the largest round knot in the wood, causing the animated tree to shiver and slow its punches. It looked as though it was dancing in the chilled breeze that swept in from the Lake. A black hole opened up in its base, as though something was peeling back its bark with its giant claws.
WE CAN FEEL YOU NEAR…
WE ARE COMING… THEY TOLD US TO COME…
STAY AWAY! DO NOT COME TOO CLOSE!
"Lyra! Come on!"
Lyra snapped back to reality when she realised Harry was calling for her from inside the new passageway, Hermione and Remus were long gone. Gods only knew where Sirius, Ron and Peter were. She shook the Dementors' song from her mind and scurried after Harry just as the Whomping Willow recovered from the temporary tickling charm holding it hostage.
"You know what I'm going to say," huffed Harry, shooting her mean side-eyes as they set off after their eccentric group, "do I even need to say it?!"
"No, you don't, but I will say this," Lyra gasped, accepting each of his glares with a crooked smile. Despite the urgency of their situation and the fear galloping through her veins like a herd of splenetic mares, a bead of hope was beginning to take root inside of her. It was irrefutable at this point, her time in the Forbidden Forest proved it – in fact, she'd happily bet her entire inheritance on this wager.
Sirius didn't kill her mother, and he and Remus were hiding something from her. Something undeniably important, something that might change everything she thought she knew.
"Things are about to get very, very interesting…"
to avoid this chapter becoming 100 pages long (fml) I will split this up into three parts - so enjoy!
thank you for reading! xxxx