The Echoes Of Us

It was finally the week before Christmas, and the Great Hall at Hogwarts was alive with warmth and the soft hum of chatter. The long tables were adorned with wreaths, candles, and garlands, casting a festive glow over the room. Students and staff moved about, preparing for the holiday celebrations, but in one quiet corner, three familiar faces sat huddled around a large chessboard.

Lyra, Peter, and Lily were deeply engrossed in their game, their expressions focused and serious. The pieces—white and black—were meticulously placed, each movement deliberate as they strategized their next moves.

“Checkmate,” Peter declared triumphantly, his eyes gleaming with victory.

“What? How did you do that?” Lily asked, her voice laced with surprise and frustration.

“I told you, Lily, he’s really good,” Lyra said, shaking her head in amusement. “But not as good as me,” she added with a sly grin.

“Well, this isn’t fair,” Lily grumbled, her brow furrowed in frustration. “I’m still getting used to the rules of Wizard’s Chess.”

“Aw, come on,” Lyra teased, leaning forward. “You’ve had weeks to practice.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Lily insisted, glancing down at the board with a huff. “You know, with actual magic and the pieces moving on their own.”

Peter chuckled softly, his gaze steady on the board as he planned his next move. “You’ll get there, Lily. It just takes time.”

“He’s right,” Lyra said with a small smile as she moved her piece. “Look, let’s go do something else.”

“But you and Peter are still playing,” Lily said, puzzled.

“Yeah, well, we’re done,” Lyra replied with a shrug, moving her final piece into place. “Checkmate.”

She glanced up at Lily with a satisfied smile.

Lily’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the board. “Wait… what? You did that already?”

“Yup,” Lyra said with a smug grin. “Told you I was better.”

Lily shook her head, laughing despite herself. “Alright, fine. You win.”

“See?” Lyra said, standing up from her seat. “Now, let’s go do something fun. This game is over.”

Before Lyra, Peter, and Lily could leave, James and Sirius came rushing into the Great Hall, Remus slowly trailing behind them.

“If anyone asks, we’ve been here the whole time,” Sirius said with a playful smirk as he plopped down next to Lyra.

“What did you two do?” Lyra asked, her tone unimpressed as she raised an eyebrow.

“Wow, I can’t believe you would assume that we did something,” James said, feigning offense as he pointed between him and Sirius. “What if Remus was the one who did it?”

“Well, did he?” Lyra asked flatly.

“Not exactly,” James replied sheepishly.

Before Lyra could respond, a Slytherin student burst into the Great Hall, his robes torn and disheveled, his face flushed with anger.

“Who did this?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “I swear, if I find you—”

His gaze locked onto the group, his expression turning grim as his words hung in the air. The festive atmosphere of the Great Hall fell into stunned silence.

James glanced nervously at Sirius, then at Lyra, his playful demeanor fading into something more serious. “Uh… maybe we should go,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Sirius shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “It’s not like we’ve done anything.”

“But—”

“It wasn’t us,” Sirius insisted, his voice calm. “Besides, look at Remus. He couldn’t do anything if he tried.”

Remus, looking bewildered, gave a small nod. “I’m innocent,” he said quietly, though his expression betrayed his confusion.

The Slytherin student took a deep breath, clearly trying to compose himself. “I’ll find out who did this,” he said firmly, his eyes scanning the group before him one last time. “Mark my words.”

With that, he stormed out of the hall, his robes billowing behind him.

James let out a relieved breath, slumping back into his seat. “Well… that could’ve gone worse.”

“Who cares? That prick deserved it,” Sirius said, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he leaned back in his seat.

Lyra’s expression shifted to curiosity, though a flicker of suspicion crossed her features. “What’d he do?” she asked, her tone measured.

“He’s been picking on Peter the entire week,” Remus replied, his voice steady but laced with disapproval.

Peter looked down, fidgeting with his hands, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention. “It’s fine, really. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he mumbled.

“Wait,” Lyra said sharply, her brow furrowing. “Is he the one that stole your book?”

Peter hesitated before nodding reluctantly. “Yeah… but it’s no big deal. I got it back eventually.”

Sirius scoffed, his smirk turning into something sharper. “No big deal? That git ripped the cover and laughed about it. He deserved more than what we gave him.”

James, who had been unusually quiet, finally chimed in, his arms crossed and his tone uncharacteristically serious. “We didn’t hurt him. Just gave him a little… reminder not to mess with any of us again.”

Lyra sighed, her eyes narrowing at her brother. “What exactly did you do?”

Sirius shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing too bad. Just a few adjustments to his wand. It’ll wear off eventually.”

Lyra turned her sharp gaze to the group, her expression unreadable. “Remus,” she said slowly, “did you help them?”

Remus hesitated, his hand halfway to rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…” he admitted, his voice uncertain, as though bracing for her reaction.

For a moment, Lyra’s face remained serious, her eyes scanning each of them. Then, to everyone’s surprise, her expression shifted into a grin.

“Good job, guys,” she said, holding up a hand to Remus for a high-five.

Remus blinked, caught off guard, before cautiously meeting her palm with his own.

“You’re not mad?” Peter asked, looking between them in confusion.

“Mad?” Lyra echoed, her tone light. “Why would I be mad? That git deserved it.” She turned back to Remus, her grin widening. “Did you use the new spell we tried out the other day?”

Remus nodded, his lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah. Worked better than I thought it would, actually.”

“That’s where you got that spell from?” James exclaimed, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. He looked between Lyra and Remus, his mouth slightly agape.

Lyra shrugged casually, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “What, you thought we just sat around reading textbooks all day?”

“I mean, that is what Remus does,” Sirius quipped, elbowing his friend.

Remus rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. “And look where it got us—a flawless execution.”

James gaped at them, still processing. “You’ve been sneaking off to test new spells without us?”

“You were too busy planning your next prank,” Lyra shot back, her tone playful. “Besides, you’d just try to make it bigger and risk getting caught.”

Sirius grinned, clearly delighted. “She’s got you there, James.”

James crossed his arms, pretending to pout. “I can’t believe you two are conspiring without me.”

“James,” Lyra said, tilting her head. “You’ll survive. Besides, you’re benefiting from it, aren’t you?”

“She’s got a point,” Sirius added, grinning. “That spell was brilliant.”

James sighed dramatically before breaking into a grin. “Alright, fine. But next time, I’m in.”

“You guys can’t keep doing things like this,” Lily said, her voice tinged with worry as she crossed her arms. Her green eyes darted between the group. “Even if he’s a git, you’re just giving him more reasons to come after you.”

“Not after this,” James said confidently, grinning again. “Pretty sure he’ll think twice before trying anything with Peter—or any of us.”

Lily sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I still think there were better ways to handle it.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said, his smirk returning, “but ours was more fun.”

“So, we’re all going home for Christmas?” James asked, seizing the chance to change the subject.

“Yep! Mum and Dad are already preparing an amazing roast. Oh, and I can’t wait to see Petunia—wait, why am I even telling you this?” Lily’s words came out in a rush before she paused, narrowing her eyes at James.

“I don’t know, you tell me, Lily bear,” James replied with a grin, his eyes softening as he gazed at her.

Lily froze for a moment, her face turning red as she processed the nickname. Without a word, she stood abruptly, brushing imaginary lint off her robes. “I’m going to go. Bye, Lyra! Bye, Remus! Bye, Peter!” she said in a clipped tone, shooting smiles at everyone except James before storming off.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Sirius turned to James, his face a picture of disbelief. “Good job, mate. Way to scare off the girl you like,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“ 'Lily bear?' Seriously?” he added, his tone dripping with mockery.

James shrugged, attempting to play it cool, though his reddening ears betrayed him. “What? It has a nice ring to it,” he mumbled, avoiding their amused stares.

“Whatever makes you happy, James,” Lyra said with a laugh, shaking her head.

“Ugh, whatever,” James muttered, rolling his eyes. “Back to my question—so we’re all going home for Christmas, right?”

Sirius and Lyra exchanged a glance before both let out simultaneous groans, causing the rest of the group to look at them in confusion.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t like Christmas?” Remus said, chuckling—only to be met with the twins’ deadpan expressions.

“We don’t,” they replied in perfect unison, their tone flat.

“What?” Peter exclaimed, his mouth agape.

“How can you not like Christmas?” James asked, looking thoroughly appalled. “It’s bloody Christmas! Who could ever hate it?”

“Yeah, what’s there not to like?” Peter added, wide-eyed. “The lights, the trees, the presents!”

At that, Sirius let out a hollow laugh and turned to Lyra, his smirk devoid of humor. “Presents, he says.”

Lyra snorted, shaking her head. “Please. The only gifts we’ve ever gotten on Christmas are whatever new ways our parents find to remind us how much we’ve disappointed them.”

Sirius leaned back in his seat, his usual mischievous grin replaced with something more bitter. “The only real gifts we ever got were the Christmas cards we made with Regulus when we were little. We’d sneak off and exchange them with each other. That was it. But now...” His voice trailed off, his gaze distant. “Now, with us being sorted where we are? I doubt he even wants to talk to us anymore.”

The table fell silent, the weight of Sirius’s words settling over them. Even James, who always seemed to have a cheerful retort, was at a loss for words.

“You’ve never gotten presents?” Peter asked softly, his face etched with concern and disbelief.

“Not the kind you’d expect,” Sirius replied, his voice unusually subdued. “Unless you count lectures about ‘upholding the family legacy’ or whatever heirloom they decided to throw at us that year to remind us of our duty.”

Lyra shrugged, her tone light but her words heavy. “Honestly, it’s better that way. At least you’re not disappointed when you know exactly what’s coming.”

“That’s awful,” Peter whispered, his brow furrowed.

“Yeah, it is,” Sirius said with a humorless chuckle. “But it’s just how things are. You learn to deal with it.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” James interjected, his voice firm as he leaned forward. “Christmas isn’t supposed to be about any of that rubbish. It’s about—about family, fun, ridiculous sweaters, and stuffing your face with food until you can’t move!”

Lyra gave him a small smile. “Maybe for you, James, but not all of us have that luxury.”

James looked like he was about to argue but stopped himself, his eyes flicking between the twins. “Well,” he said after a moment, his tone softening, “if that’s the case, then this year is going to be different. We’ll make it different.”

“What do you mean?” Lyra asked, tilting her head.

“I mean, just because we can’t spend Christmas together doesn’t mean we can’t exchange gifts,” James declared, his grin wide and mischievous, though a spark of determination burned behind his hazel eyes.

Lyra raised an eyebrow, already amused. “And how exactly do you plan on pulling that off, Potter? Gifts don’t just appear out of thin air, you know.”

“Oh, I’ll figure it out,” James replied, waving her concern away as though it were the simplest problem in the world. “I’ll make sure everyone chips in!”

Lyra let out a laugh, shaking her head. “James, don’t be daft. How on earth are you going to convince everyone to get us gifts? That’s just mad!”

“Mad or genius?” he countered, leaning back in his chair with a mock-serious expression.

“Mad,” Remus interjected.“Definitely mad.”

“Come on, Remus, have a little faith in me,” James said, throwing his arms up in mock exasperation. “I’m an innovator, a trailblazer! I can charm anyone, even Mcgonagall”

“Sure, mate, charm her like you charmed Lily into storming off,” Sirius quipped, earning a round of snickers from the group.

James glared at him but ignored the jab. “Mark my words,” he said, pointing dramatically at each of them. “By Christmas eve, I’ll have worked some magic of my own, and there’ll be gifts for everyone. It’ll be the best Christmas we’ve ever had!”

Lyra smiled despite herself, her laughter softening. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, you’d miss me if I weren’t,” James shot back with a wink.

And so, the mission began. James, ever the ringleader, took it upon himself to spread the word, rallying their friends with his boundless enthusiasm. Even Lily, who was rather reluctant at first, eventually softened when she heard who the gifts were for. With a small smile and a roll of her eyes, she agreed to chip in, muttering something about how "even Sirius deserves a decent Christmas."

James didn’t stop there. Somehow, he managed to charm Professor McGonagall, enlist Hagrid’s enthusiastic support, and even rope in Dumbledore himself. James didn’t entirely know how he’d pulled it off, but in his words, “I’m magical, what can I say?”

The days leading up to the holiday buzzed with quiet anticipation, and soon, the fateful day arrived. Trunks were packed, robes were folded, and students bustled about the castle, eager to return home to their families.

“Lyra! Sirius! Come down! Come on!” James’s voice echoed through the Gryffindor common room, loud and full of excitement.

Upstairs, Lyra and Sirius exchanged an amused glance. “What’s he on about now?” Sirius asked, smirking as he slung an arm over Lyra’s shoulder.

“No idea,” she replied, laughing softly. “But knowing James, it’s bound to be something ridiculous.”

Together, they made their way downstairs, their footsteps light against the stone steps. When they reached the bottom, they stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening in surprise.

The common room was filled with their friends, each one beaming as they stood surrounded by gifts of all shapes and sizes. Piles of brightly wrapped parcels spilled across the room, their colors shimmering in the firelight. The sight was almost overwhelming.

“Surprise!” James shouted, throwing his arms wide.

“What... is this?” Lyra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“This,” James began, grinning proudly, “is Christmas. Your Christmas. And don’t even try to say you don’t deserve it because you do.”

Sirius’s mouth opened, then closed, as he struggled to find the words. “James, this is—”

“Brilliant? Fantastic? Completely amazing? Yeah, I know,” James interrupted, his grin growing wider.

“It’s... too much,” Lyra said, her hands fluttering uncertainly.

“It’s not enough,” Lily chimed in, stepping forward with a small smile. “You both deserve to know what it feels like to have a proper Christmas. And now you will.”

Sirius let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You lot are mental, you know that?”

“Maybe,” Remus said, grinning. “But we’re your kind of mental.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, and we wouldn’t have it any other way!”

For a moment, the twins were silent, their gazes sweeping over the room and the faces of their friends. The warmth in their chests was unfamiliar but welcome, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile holidays they’d grown up with.

Finally, Sirius spoke, his voice softer than usual. “Thank you. All of you.”

Lyra nodded, her eyes shining. “This really means a lot.”

“Good,” James said, clapping a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Now stop getting all sappy and start opening your presents. We’ve got a feast planned before you lot leave, and I’m starving.”

The room filled with laughter as the twins stepped forward, surrounded by the people who had, in their own way, become their family. For the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like something to dread.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

At last, it was finally time to head home—a thought the twins had been dreading since the moment the term began. They slowly made their way down the hallways, dragging their feet as if trying to delay the inevitable.

“Blacks! Blacks, stop right there!”

The voice broke through their somber thoughts, causing them to turn sharply. Professor McGonagall was sprinting down the corridor, her robes billowing behind her as she caught her breath.

“I’ve heard about your situation from Potter,” she began once she reached them. “So, here.” She reached into her bag and handed them a small, neatly wrapped bundle. “It’s nothing special, just a sweater I managed to knit for the both of you. I hope it will keep you both warm.”

The twins looked up at her, their eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Without warning, they both pulled her into a tight embrace, their gratitude spilling out in unspoken words.

“Thank you, Professor,” they mumbled in unison.

“It’s nothing big, don’t worry,” she said softly, patting them gently on the back. “Now you should head off. Wouldn’t want to miss your train, now would you?”

Reluctantly, they pulled back, their faces still touched by emotion. Lyra gave her a small smile, the weight of her thankfulness evident in her gaze. Sirius gave a quiet nod, his voice catching slightly as he replied, “Goodbye, Professor.”

With one final look, the twins turned, their steps slower than before, but lighter. They walked hand in hand toward the train, the warmth of Professor McGonagall’s gift clutched tightly between them.

“Hey! Where have you two been? Come on!”

James’s voice rang out as he stuck his head out of the train window, followed by Remus and Peter, grinning and waving.

The twins couldn’t help but laugh as they climbed onto the train, the weight of the moment melting away in the company of their friends.

Hagrid stood by the platform, a gentle smile on his face as he gave them a final nod of encouragement.

“Take care now,” Hagrid said softly, his voice thick with affection. “Don’t forget to send some owls, yeah?”

“We won’t!” the twins shouted back in unison as the train began to move, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels picking up speed.

With one final wave, they turned away, the roar of the engine drowning out Hagrid’s figure as the Hogwarts Express steadily pulled away.

Inside the train, the warmth of the carriage was a comforting contrast to the chill of the platform. The twins made their way down the narrow corridor, weaving through the crowd of students already settled into their compartments. As they stepped into theirs, they were met with impatient smiles and eager eyes.

“Merlin, we thought you two got lost!” James exclaimed as they slid into the compartment, laughter bubbling behind his words.

“Shut up,” Lyra shot back playfully, tossing a crumpled piece of paper in his direction.

“Missed me already?” James teased, catching the paper mid-air and giving her a grin that hinted at his usual cheeky charm.

Sirius rolled his eyes, leaning back against the seat. “We were held up by a certain overly enthusiastic Hagrid,” he said dryly, though a hint of amusement played in his voice.

“Well, next time, try to move faster,” Remus said with a smirk, his quiet laughter blending into the chatter of the compartment.

Peter, ever the enthusiastic one, eagerly pulled out a deck of cards, eager to break the silence with some impromptu wizarding games. “Come on, let’s play something! It’s a long ride.”

Lyra settled back into her seat, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched her friends laughing and chatting.

“Wait!” she suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Me and Sirius have something we want to give the three of you.”

Sirius reached into the bag beside him, pulling out three carefully wrapped boxes. He handed one to James, one to Remus, and the last to Peter.

“It’s your Christmas gifts,” Lyra added with a smile. “Our uncle Alphard helped us get these. We hope you like them.”

James unwrapped his box first, revealing a sleek, leather-bound journal with delicate, intricate engravings on the cover.

Remus’s box contained a well-loved book—one he had been talking about for months, his eyes lighting up as he carefully flipped through the pages.

Peter tore into his box next, laughing as he pulled out a set of spell components for potion-making—a collection far more extensive than anything they could find at Hogwarts.

“Bloody hell, you guys didn’t have to!” James exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine surprise.

“We wanted to,” Sirius said with a grin. “It’s not much, but we thought you all deserved something special.”

Lyra watched their reactions, her heart full. “Even if it’s just a little token, we wanted to remind you how much we appreciate you,” she said softly, her eyes flicking from one friend to the next.

Remus smiled warmly. “You two really didn’t have to, thank you.”

Peter’s face lit up with excitement, holding the potion kit close to his chest as if it were a treasure. “This is the best gift ever! Seriously.”

James leaned back with a satisfied smile, pulling the journal into his lap as if it were something he’d cherish. “Thanks, both of you. This means a lot.”

Sirius raised a brow, his smirk returning. “We don’t do sappy moments often, but you’re welcome.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The train came to a slow halt as it finally reached King’s Cross Station. Students began disembarking, many reuniting with their families eagerly waiting on the platform. Remus and Peter said their goodbyes, quickly rushing to meet their own parents.

Lyra and Sirius scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face, but no one came to collect them.

“Seriously? They couldn’t even be bothered to pick us up?” Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes in frustration.

James approached the twins, his brow furrowed as he noticed them standing alone.

“Hey, where are your parents?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

“They didn’t want to pick us up,” Lyra replied, her tone calm but tinged with disappointment.

“I mean, do they really think two eleven-year-olds are capable enough to head home alone from the train station on Christmas eve?” Sirius added, his disbelief clear in his voice.

James glanced back at his parents, who were waiting near their car. “Hey, how about we give you a ride home? They won’t mind,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Lyra and Sirius exchanged a brief, grateful look before nodding. “Thanks, James,” Lyra said softly. “We’d appreciate it.”

James ran ahead to his parents, quickly explaining what had happened—how Sirius and Lyra had been left waiting at the station with no one to pick them up. Sirius and Lyra followed behind him at a slower pace, taking in the bustling station as families were joyfully reunited.

As they reached the sleek black car waiting for them, James opened the door, stepping aside to allow his parents to greet their guests.

“Hi!” a warm, welcoming voice called out. “We’ve heard a lot about you two. I’m James’s mother, Euphemia, and this here is his father, Fleamont.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” the twins said in unison, smiling politely.

Euphemia’s smile grew even warmer, her eyes kind and understanding. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you both. You must be exhausted after everything.”

Fleamont chuckled softly, placing a hand on James’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands now. Let’s get you home.”

James grinned, sliding into the backseat while Sirius and Lyra settled in beside him. The ride home was filled with polite conversation and the occasional light teasing from James, easing the tension that had lingered earlier.

As they reached Grimmauld Place, Sirius and Lyra said their quiet goodbyes and reluctantly stepped out of the car. The weight of the night pressed heavily on their shoulders, and for a moment, they stood silently on the cobblestone path. The streetlamp flickered softly above them, casting elongated shadows against the ancient, foreboding walls.

Sirius and Lyra’s hands instinctively found each other’s, gripping tightly as if the mere act of holding on would ground them. Each of them carried a trunk, their belongings weighing heavily with the memories they carried inside.

“Are you ready?” Sirius asked softly, his voice steady but low, as though speaking too loudly might break the fragile moment between them.

“Nope,” Lyra replied with a faint smile, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“Neither am I,” Sirius admitted with a small, rueful grin.

“Let’s go,” they both whispered, their voices barely audible, as if they feared the house itself might hear them and drag them back into its oppressive grasp.

Together, they made their way to the grand, looming door of Grimmauld Place. The house seemed to stretch before them like an ancient, sentient creature, waiting for its next occupants. Lyra rang the bell, the sound sharp and hollow against the heavy silence of the night.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a dimly lit entrance hall. A single candle flickered on a small table, casting long, shifting shadows that danced eerily across the walls. A small, familiar figure stood just inside—Kreacher, the house-elf, his wide, weary eyes staring at them with a mix of recognition and a tinge of sorrow.

“Welcome home,” Kreacher whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, as though the words carried the weight of generations past.

Sirius and Lyra exchanged a brief glance, their expressions solemn but resolute. The house seemed to envelop them as they stepped inside, the creak of the old wooden floors echoing through the stillness. Kreacher closed the door behind them, shutting out the world beyond.

"Ah, finally. You've arrived. I was wondering when you'd get here. Thought you two were stupid enough to get lost. Though that really isn’t all that surprising." Walburga’s voice cut through the tense air like a sharp blade as she descended the grand staircase.

Sirius clenched his jaw, biting back a sharp retort as he fought to keep his composure. Lyra stood silently beside him, her expression neutral, though her grip on her trunk tightened ever so slightly.

"Mother," they both said in unison, their voices steady despite the underlying bitterness that threatened to rise.

Walburga waved her hand dismissively as she continued past them, her dark robes flowing like smoke. "Yes, well. Don’t just stand there. Head up to your rooms and get ready for dinner. If you aren’t there when I call for you, then expect to starve for the night."

Without waiting for a response, she disappeared into the living room, her voice fading as if her presence alone could command the house itself.

Sirius exhaled slowly, his eyes darkening as he followed Lyra up the grand staircase. The weight of the moment hung heavily between them, the echo of Walburga’s sharp words lingering long after her departure.

As they reached the hallway, Sirius glanced at Lyra, his lips pressed into a thin line. "What did she expect? I mean, she didn’t even bother picking us up, and then she expects us to magically appear home?" he muttered quietly, lowering his voice so that Walburga wouldn’t overhear.

Lyra sighed softly, her gaze flickering ahead. "You know how she is. Maybe Father told her not to pick us up," she said, attempting to defend their mother. Though she didn’t outright say it, there was an unspoken truth beneath her words — deep down, Lyra had always wanted to make her mother proud, to earn her approval, even if it seemed like an impossible task.

Sirius shook his head, a faint bitterness flickering in his eyes. "Pride isn’t the issue, Lyra. It’s about control. They only care about their reputation, not us."

"I know," she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked onto someone down the hallway. "Regulus..." he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

Lyra turned quickly, following his gaze. At the end of the hall, their younger brother peeked his head out from his room, eyes briefly meeting Sirius’s.

But then, without a word, Regulus quickly retreated back into his room, the door shutting softly behind him.

Sirius stared at the closed door for a moment, his jaw tightening. "He... he doesn’t want to talk to us," he muttered, a flicker of sadness in his voice.

Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder, offering silent comfort. "Maybe he’s just scared," she said softly. "I mean we haven't seen each other in months. Come on, let's get ready before we both miss dinner."

Sirius let out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the door for a moment longer before nodding. "Yeah. Let’s get this over with."

Lyra was sprawled across Sirius’s bed, watching him carefully pen a letter to James, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows across the room. The quiet was soon broken by the sharp, commanding voice of Walburga echoing from downstairs.

"Lyra! Sirius! Dinner. Now!"

Sirius let out a long, frustrated sigh, setting down his quill with a weary shake of his head. "She talks to us like we’re her dogs," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Lyra chuckled softly, sitting up and brushing a strand of hair from her face. "At least she didn’t scream 'Blacks' this time," she teased, though there was a hint of resignation in her voice.

Sirius groaned. "That’s only because she knows we’d ignore it." He grabbed his letter and folded it neatly before tucking it into an envelope.

"Come on, let’s see what mush Kreacher’s cooked up this time," Lyra groaned, dragging her feet down the grand staircase behind Sirius.

"I just hope it’s not green," Sirius gagged, making a face as they reached the dining room doors.

Lyra smirked, shooting him a sideways glance. "Knowing Kreacher, it probably will be."

As they entered the dining room, Sirius quickly adjusted the stiff collar of his suit, sighing in frustration. "I can’t believe we’re back to wearing these ridiculous outfits! I mean, who’s even going to be looking at us eating dinner? The Minister?"

Another tradition of the House of Black was evident in every meal. Regardless of whether there were guests or not, they were expected to be impeccably dressed, always presentable—an image that mirrored the family’s obsession with purity and status.

Lyra rolled her eyes, taking her seat at the long, ornately carved table. "No use complaining about it," she muttered. "It’s not like we have a choice."

Sirius let out a huff, slumping into his chair. "Well, it’s ridiculous." He glanced down at his plate, already imagining the concoction Kreacher had prepared for them.

"Let’s just get through it," Lyra said, taking a deep breath as Walburga swept into the room, her eyes sharp as ever.

"Stop slouching," Walburga spat as she took her seat which was next to the head of the table, Regulus following closely behind her. "Your father is on his way. Now sit up straight."

Regulus made his way to his seat, his eyes flickering over Sirius and Lyra with a cold, calculating stare. The tension in the room thickened as the twins exchanged a brief glance, their posture stiffening.

"Good, you are all here," Orion said as he entered the dining room. His presence alone seemed to command respect and fear, his icy voice cutting through the air. "Walburga, Regulus," he greeted with a curt nod, his tone indifferent.

Turning to Sirius and Lyra, his expression remained unchanged. "You’re home," he said simply, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Well, let’s eat," Orion said, taking his seat at the head of the grand dining table. His voice brooked no argument.

Kreacher scurried forward, placing dishes on the table with meticulous precision, each dish eerily similar to the next. Silence fell over the room as the family began their meal, the weight of Orion’s gaze lingering over the table like a shadow.

Kreacher moved with a quiet efficiency, his fragile hands delicately handling each dish as though they were precious artifacts. The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the soft clinking of porcelain and silverware.

Orion’s voice broke through the stillness again. "Kreacher, it is time for dessert."

The house-elf paused, a shadow of sorrow flickering across his face as he set the last dish down carefully. He knew his place, knew the weight of his role, and performed it without question.

Orion’s gaze finally settled on the twins. His cold, piercing eyes seemed to scrutinize every detail of their appearances with utter disdain. "You two may go now. You don’t deserve to be having dessert. If I’m being honest, you shouldn’t have been allowed to sit at this table in the first place. You’ve brought nothing but shame to this family. Your foolish rebellion, your disrespect, your defiance—it stains our name. The House of Black is no place for weaklings, and you have proven time and again that you are unworthy of it. You’ve embarrassed us, tarnished everything we stand for. You should be grateful we allow you to remain within these walls at all. Now, leave," he said, his voice a cold, calculated dagger that twisted into every word.

Sirius clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he stared at the floor, refusing to meet his father’s gaze. Lyra stood beside him, her expression a fragile mix of sadness and defiance, though her hands trembled slightly as she fought to hold her composure.

Without a word between them, they rose. Their steps were heavy, weighted with the burden of his words, but they moved forward nonetheless.

As they reached the hallway leading to their separate rooms, Sirius paused, his brow furrowed with concern. The weight of their father's words still hung heavily in the air, and though Lyra was trying to put on a brave front, he could see the cracks in her facade.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Lyra gave him a forced smile, her lips curling upwards in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, of course I am," she said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed the lie. Anyone who knew her well enough could see right through it.

Sirius watched her for a moment, his concern deepening. He knew better than to push, knew that sometimes words weren’t enough to fix the hurt their family inflicted.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice gentler this time, "but if you ever need to… you can sleep in my room tonight. No questions, no expectations."

Lyra’s smile softened just a touch, and her eyes met his for a brief moment. "Thanks, Sirius," she murmured before making her way into her room.

Sirius stood in the dimly lit hallway, the quiet click of Lyra’s door shutting reverberating in his ears. He could see it—the quiet ache in her eyes, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, the small tremor in her hands as she closed the door.

He knew that beneath her tough exterior, Lyra wanted more than anything to make their family proud. She wanted to be the daughter, the sister, who could finally earn their approval. She wanted to prove to their parents—and maybe even to Regulus—that they weren’t just a disappointment. That they were more than the labels they were given. But the harder she tried, the more she seemed to fall short in their eyes.

Sirius clenched his fists, his own frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He wanted to protect her from it, to shield her from the weight of their family’s expectations. But he knew deep down, no matter how hard they fought, they couldn’t escape the suffocating shadows of the past.

The thought twisted in his stomach. That they would never truly be enough in their parents' eyes. That no matter how many times they tried to prove themselves, they would always be viewed as the failure, the disgrace.

He let out a shaky breath, his gaze softening as he imagined Lyra behind the closed door—just as lost, just as desperate as he felt. And in that moment, the heaviness of their shared pain settled deeper into his heart.