Chapter 13
Sirius:
Sirius wasn’t blind.
Maybe he had been an idiot (especially in his younger days), but he wasn’t stupid. He had grown up in a house full of Slytherins until he was thirteen; he knew how to read signs, how to spot inconsistencies.
That’s why Sirius knew Lyra was... peculiar. Not in a bad way, but different.
Lyra managed to do what Sirius once thought impossible: she made him feel empathy for his uncles, Cygnus and Druella. It was a disturbing thought, one he preferred not to linger on.
Most people seemed to think that the infamous Black Madness involved torturing small animals and children, eventually escalating to mass murder. Well, in Bellatrix’s case, that was true. But many in the Black family had been touched by the Madness, and only a handful turned into serial killers (the fact that there was more than one was troubling enough). No, the Madness manifested as obsession—a desperate need to be or do something.
Lyra was obsessed.
The first time Sirius truly considered this was when he stumbled upon what she called her "office" in one of the supposedly empty rooms of Dubh Castle during those early weeks. There were perhaps hundreds of newspaper clippings about Dumbledore, student records from Hogwarts that Lyra definitely shouldn’t have had access to (he was almost certain her grandfather had helped her acquire them). Specifically, she had hundreds of records of students who, in some way—good or bad—had crossed paths with Dumbledore during his time at the school, whether as a professor, headmaster, or even as a student himself.
Papers were pinned to the walls with red markings and threads connecting certain pieces, forming a web of connections. On a corkboard, a list titled Plan of Action detailed steps, the first being "Discredit Him," marked as complete (this had been shortly after her trial).
Most people wouldn’t dedicate years of their life to a methodical, clinical revenge.
It was during Lyra’s extensive research on Dumbledore that they uncovered Voldemort’s true name. Discovering the connection between the two men—and how Dumbledore’s influence had indirectly shaped one of the darkest wizards in history—was a crushing blow to the small part of Sirius that had hoped the headmaster’s recent negligence was a one-time lapse. That, deep down, he was redeemable.
For a fleeting moment, Sirius wondered if Lyra might pity Voldemort, convincing herself he wasn’t as evil as he seemed. But that never happened. She had an entire board dedicated to her plan to "Take Down Voldie," placed right next to Dumbledore’s. At the top of the list was their joint research into soul magic, aimed at dealing with the Horcrux inside Harry.
Sirius couldn’t help but wonder if his uncles had felt this same mix of awe and dread when they first realized what Bellatrix was capable of.
Sirius had seen Lyra kill, and he knew she would do it again if someone pushed her too far. He had watched her deceive and manipulate countless people (if her plans to bring down Dumbledore were any indication, she had already manipulated thousands). Yet he was certain he’d never uncover the full extent of her schemes.
She was too intelligent, too cunning for someone her age.
Some of it could be explained by independent study, books, and observation—but not all. At times, she seemed to possess knowledge that only experience could grant, experience she was too young to have.
Lyra was born this way. Whatever it was, it was intrinsic to her.
Despite everything, Sirius chose to protect his daughter, even aid her in her plans. He chose her, and he would choose her again.
He wondered if that decision would send him to hell—knowing what he did and doing nothing to stop it.
He wondered if his uncles had felt the same.
Was Bellatrix like Lyra in private, before she was consumed by her madness? The Bellatrix Sirius knew bore little resemblance to his daughter. But then again, they had never gotten along; Bellatrix’s Madness had fixated on blood purity and family traditions, after all.
Yet every time Sirius questioned whether he should try to rein Lyra in, he remembered how she would crawl into his bed at night just to hold him because she knew he hadn’t experienced any physical touch for six years. That having someone’s touch reminded him he was still alive.
He remembered how she would send a Patronus to watch over him when she had to comfort Harry after one of his nightmares. On those nights, Sirius would wake up to see her butterfly fluttering peacefully above him, radiating a calm he had come to associate with her.
He thought of the way she would hum while brushing his hair—or Harry’s—by the fire after their baths. How she laughed on rides at Muggle amusement parks. The way she sang and danced in the kitchen to one of his favorite old rock songs while they prepared snacks for a game night with Harry.
And he remembered that one time (just once) when he found her in the forest, having a panic attack. He’d considered stepping in to help, but before he could say a word, she turned, wiped her tears, and forced a smile. “It’s fine now,” she’d said, a lie that fooled no one. He also noticed the raw, scratched skin on her arm. He never saw it happen again, but he was sure it was only because she had gotten better at hiding it.
Sirius knew Lyra wasn’t a saint. She never would be.
He’d never know everything about her, and that was okay.
What he did know was that Lyra loved him enough to spend six years fighting to free him from Azkaban. She loved Harry enough to stand against two of the most powerful wizards in history for his sake. She had fought to give Draco choices beyond those Lucius laid out for him. She had gone out of her way to help a Muggle-born girl because she thought Hermione deserved more friends. She had offered the Weasley twins what she valued most—knowledge—simply because she saw potential in them.
On the flip side, her anger was cold and scalding. She didn’t believe in sugarcoating things and had no qualms about calling out a dire situation for what it was, no matter who was involved. She would rub salt into a wound until it either festered beyond saving or was purified. In the former case, she would end it herself (as she did with Walburga); in the latter, she would help heal it (as she did for him and Remus).
Ignorance wasn’t protection, he thought, but I know what I need to know about my daughter.
When Sirius scheduled the meeting with the Hogwarts Board of Governors to discuss Lyra’s situation, he felt confident it was the right move. The doubts he’d harbored in the beginning had faded over the years. The longer he spent with his family, the less the rest of the world mattered.
***
Sirius decided to meet Remus at a Muggle bar they’d been frequenting lately before the meeting with the Board of Governors. It seemed like the right thing to do: keep his friend in the loop.
Despite his initial reservations (likely lingering effects of the Dementors), he and Remus had grown close again. They often met in Muggle London or at home to avoid reporters who constantly sought Sirius after the media frenzy surrounding his trial. They’d visit bars, restaurants, shops, or simply wander the streets.
Sirius had even gone on a few dates with Muggle women, though he was hesitant to pursue anything serious yet. He was never one for relationships before, but he figured it might be nice to have an anchor.
“So, why’d you call me?” Remus arrived with a pint in hand, wearing that curious but relaxed look, like he was expecting some amusing gossip.
Well, it wasn’t going to be that simple this time.
“I know Dumbledore sent you to keep an eye on me,” Sirius said calmly.
“What? No, I—”
“Remy.”
“I mean it.” Remus sighed, exasperated. “He just asked me to check in on you and let him know if something seemed off. He’s worried, that’s all.”
Sirius couldn’t blame him. He’d been the one who entrusted the lives of James, Lily, Lyra, and Harry to two of the worst possible people in hindsight. He hadn’t seen the signs either. For Remus, it was worse—Dumbledore was the man who saw him as more than a werewolf, gave him the chance to study among other kids, defended him when things went wrong.
Sirius truly understood. It wouldn’t be fair to fault Remus for overlooking the Headmaster’s flaws when Sirius himself turned a blind eye to his daughter’s actions.
But it still hurt that Remus chose Dumbledore over him.
With a heavy sigh, Sirius resigned himself to what he had to do. He wouldn’t betray Remus.
“I’m going to oppose Dumbledore at the next Board of Governors meeting,” Sirius confessed.
He wouldn’t make Remus pick sides. He wouldn’t put him in a position where they’d have to walk on eggshells around each other.
Remus hadn’t betrayed him before, so Sirius would trust him now, as he should have from the start.
“Your grandfather put you up to this—” Remus began, frowning.
“No.” Sirius glanced down at his half-eaten sandwich. “It was Lyra.”
“Lyra?” He saw the momentary confusion on Remus’s face before the man recalled how Lyra could be when she disagreed with something. Never one for half-measures. “What happened?”
“She advocated for teaching Dark Magic at Hogwarts,” Sirius admitted, watching as Remus’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I know.”
“You’re backing her just because she’s Lyra?”
“Partly,” Sirius said. Seeing Remus’s expectant look, he felt compelled to explain. “I’ve left her to fend for herself too many times. I can’t do that again. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
“So it is because she’s your daughter.”
“Yes, but she wasn’t wrong,” he admitted, bracing for judgment. None came. “Have you ever thought about how many of our friends, Order members, and Aurors died because of Dark curses? Not the ones that killed instantly, but the ones no one knew how to heal? Or because they didn’t know which defensive spells would work best?”
“I can think of a few,” Remus said after a pause. “I remember the frustration of watching curses slip through our shields like they were nothing.”
“Just among our friends, it was nine. I counted. I started looking into it after Lyra wrote to me—it’s one of her habits, digging into the numbers.” He chuckled darkly. “I’ve found forty so far, but I haven’t had time to go through all the records. That’s forty people who might still be alive, or who could’ve had a few more days with their families.”
“So her argument is that we need to understand Dark Magic to defend against it,” Remus said, blinking. “That’s not news to anyone who’s fought on the front lines, but it’s not something anyone says out loud.”
“You know Lyra.” Sirius waved a hand dismissively.
“Yeah, she’ll shout it from the rooftops precisely because no one else would dare.” Remus smiled, though it was weary. “And you’ll stand by her, shouting right along.”
“Like a couple of lunatics, but yeah.” Sirius laughed bitterly. “I got out of Azkaban after being cleared of being a Death Eater, and now I’m about to advocate for teaching Dark Magic. I’m so screwed.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“They’ll want to throw me back in prison, furball.” Sirius shot him a narrow look.
“You’re forgetting there are people on the Board who lost loved ones in the war. People you could convince that their relatives might’ve been saved with more knowledge of what they were up against. That should sway the Light families,” Remus noted with a deliberately innocent expression, despite Sirius’s stunned look. “And the neutral pure-bloods, or those from families that practice Dark Magic, would back you too. They’ve always complained about how limited Hogwarts’s curriculum is.”
Sirius was at a loss for words. His voice failed him as Remus grinned knowingly.
“I’ve traveled around Europe, and in most countries, Dark Magic isn’t feared the way it is here,” Remus said, shrugging. “I’ve learned a lot on my travels. Not that I’m a big fan of Dark Magic, but I understand the world isn’t black and white. Magic isn’t either—a spell that slices vegetables can also slit a throat. It’s not about the magic itself, but how it’s used.”
“Blaming magic for harm is like blaming a knife for cutting. If someone wants to hurt another person, they’ll find a way, Dark Magic or not,” Sirius said, regaining his voice before lowering his head. “I didn’t bring you here to make you pick a side. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I know.” Remus was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “You brought me here so I could bow out before everything hit the fan.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that…”
“But you thought it.” Remus smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been running from the unknown for too long. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m choosing differently now.”
Sirius regarded him warily.
“You… you know you’ll have to pick a side eventually, right?” Sirius said, his voice tinged with sadness. “At some point, they’ll ask you to spy on us. You’ll either have to agree or face rejection.”
“They? Not us?”
“The Order and I haven’t been ‘us’ for a long time, Remus,” Sirius said. “Not since Azkaban.”
“But you chose to give me a chance,” Remus pointed out, hope glimmering in his eyes. “I think a lot of members would agree with your arguments about Dark Magic if you tried.”
“No one will stand by me as long as I’m opposing Dumbledore, and you know it as well as I do,” Sirius said with a tired sigh. “Besides, I forgave you because, deep down, I understand why you did what you did. I wish it hadn’t been that way, but I get it. I know how you grew up and how you feel about Moony. I can even follow your logic, step by step, to the conclusion.”
“Don’t do that—it’s depressing.”
“Don’t put yourself in a position where you’ll end up cornered.”
“If they force me to choose, then they’re not good friends,” Remus decided. “They’ll have made the choice for me.”
“You’re saying ‘they’ now, too?”
Remus blinked, as if realizing this for the first time, then sighed. In hindsight, it had always been “they” for Remus. He’d always been the outsider, the man who didn’t fit. The werewolf without a pack. The dark creature fighting for the light.
“Yeah, I guess.”
***
The meeting turned out to be much larger than necessary. Sirius had invited individuals from various fields in addition to the usual members of the Hogwarts Board.
Unexpectedly (and Sirius never thought this would happen), having the Malfoys preside over the Board proved advantageous. Aligning himself with a former Death Eater, even post-war, and even if their current cause was unrelated to the war, made his skin crawl with discomfort.
Sirius tolerated Draco's presence—he was a decent kid—but his father was another story. He preferred to keep his distance, though at this moment, joining forces toward a common goal (the enemy of my enemy is my friend) was beneficial not only for them but for the wizarding community as a whole. Rationally, Sirius knew this was the right move, but his heart accused him of making deals with murderers.
Lucius might not have been directly responsible for the deaths of James, Lily, or his younger brother, Regulus, but he was complicit in a way. It felt wrong to be civil with him.
You decided they were the enemy before they even had the chance to choose otherwise. You made them the enemy.
He sighed and forced himself to set the discomfort aside. He would give them a chance, but he wouldn’t trust them—not fully.
The only thing in this world we can control is our own choices, our actions. What others decide to do in response is beyond our control and not our responsibility. Don’t base your decisions on how you think others might react.
The hall for the meeting was within Hogwarts but in a secluded area far from the main corridors where students typically bustled between classes. It was spacious (magically expanded for the occasion) and held far more chairs than usual.
Sirius had summoned renowned Healers from St. Mungo’s, Aurors who fought in the war like Mad-Eye Moody and Smith (the latter not an Order member but a war veteran nonetheless), as well as reporters from The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler. There were also merchants who had been victims of Death Eater attacks and several influential wizarding families. Even Arthur Weasley was present.
All of them had experienced the war in one way or another.
Dumbledore and the Heads of House sat in their designated seats, as did the Board members, while the extra attendees filled the remaining chairs, leaving Sirius standing. The atmosphere felt almost like a trial at the Ministry.
“Why are so many people here?” Malfoy sneered in disdain.
Well, just because Sirius knew the man would back him didn’t mean they were colluding. Sirius simply recognized that his proposal aligned with Lucius's interests, ensuring the former Death Eater wouldn’t sabotage the effort.
The others, however...
“They're here because I believe they all have a stake in the education their loved ones receive,” Sirius responded calmly. “After all, whether the decision is favorable or not, what this Board decides will determine the survival chances of future generations—whether it’s Voldemort’s return or the rise of another Dark Lord.”
“Voldemort’s return? What are you suggesting?” Augusta Longbottom furrowed her brow in disbelief. “He’s dead. Harry Potter killed him.”
“Where’s the body? What evidence do you have that my godson defeated a Dark Lord at the age of one?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Just because he survived doesn’t mean he was the cause of Voldemort’s downfall.” Everyone flinched at the name. “And no body was ever found. Call me paranoid if you like, but I’ll sleep better at night knowing my children can defend themselves if that madman returns to finish what he started. Better to know and not need it than need it and not know.”
“Well, well,” Dumbledore interjected before anyone could reply, his usual serene smile gracing his face—a smile Sirius no longer trusted. “For those unaware, this disciplinary meeting was called to discuss an incident during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class involving Professor Goldhorn and Lyra Black. Miss Black defended the use of Dark Magic.”
“That’s absurd!” one of the merchants stood up, outraged.
“My daughter defended the teaching of Dark Magic, Headmaster,” Sirius corrected coldly. Dumbledore knew this full well but had deliberately used misleading language. He knew what kind of reaction such a proposal would provoke. Lucius, realizing the nature of the meeting, swiftly commanded silence, suddenly very interested in hearing Sirius out. “I’ve called you all here because you’ve seen what war does. How many friends and family did we lose because no one knew how to properly defend against a curse? Because Healers didn’t know how to treat or mitigate the aftereffects? You can’t learn to defend against Dark Magic if you refuse to understand how it works.”
“The Dark Arts are too dangerous to teach children,” argued one of the civilians, Field Doves.
“The same spell that housewives use to chop vegetables can slit a throat. The same fire that cooks our meals, lights a birthday candle, or keeps us warm can burn down a house and kill everyone inside,” Sirius countered, his gaze fixed on Doves. “Magic isn’t inherently good or evil. You don’t blame the sword for killing; you blame the one who wields it.”
“But the sword’s purpose is to kill. That’s what it was made for,” Mitchell Barracus interjected. “Similarly, Dark Magic was designed to cause harm.”
“True,” Sirius conceded, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “Let’s conduct a small simulation, shall we? A hypothetical scenario.” He paused as the attendees exchanged confused glances before nodding for him to proceed. Sirius pointed to Mad-Eye. “In this scenario, I’m a Death Eater—or simply a Dark Magic fanatic—launching a terrorist attack. I aim my wand at Mr. Moody and cast the Vulnus Nectizing curse. What do you do?”
All eyes turned to Moody, who stared back with his usual grim demeanor. His magical eye roved over the room as he considered the question.
“I’d cast Protego,” Moody eventually replied, though his tone indicated he knew the shield would be ineffective against such a curse. Perhaps he’d seen its effects firsthand during the war.
“For those without Auror training,” Sirius addressed the room, “Moody couldn’t physically dodge the spell without risking those behind him, so he’d need to use a shield. Unfortunately, Protego wouldn’t stop a slicing curse like Vulnus Nectizing. Continentiam would have been more effective. As a result, Moody is now bleeding out on the floor, with lacerations all over his body. His blood is draining at a rate of 200 milliliters per minute, giving the Healers 7 to 8 minutes before he loses consciousness and 10 minutes before he dies. In this scenario, I’ve been subdued before I could continue my attack, so you have the luxury of thinking without the chaos of battle. Cliff Raywood, what do you do?”
Sirius directed his attention to the head of St. Mungo’s. The room was tense, the weight of the hypothetical sinking in. Whispers spread as attendees began to wonder if their loved ones might have survived had they known more. Ignoring the consequences of ignorance was easier when you didn’t have to face its outcomes directly.
“Time is ticking, and Moody is still bleeding,” Sirius reminded, his voice grave. “If you don’t act quickly, the patient will die.”
The murmurs grew louder as people tossed out suggestions to Raywood, who looked at Sirius with a somber expression. Sirius had done his research. No one in this room had been invited by chance, and he knew Raywood had lost numerous patients to unknown curses during the war—including women and children. Those scars lingered.
Raywood turned to Moody, deep in thought.
– Vulnera Sanentur – Raywood said, looking at Sirius, and the suggestion surprised Black, who knew that chant was an ancient Dark Magic spell, as it used the healer’s life force to apply the cure. It wasn’t exactly a spell—it was more like a short ritual.
And that was illegal. Not that anyone there knew it. No, it would require knowledge of rituals and Dark Magic that no one in the room had in order to judge it.
As surprising as the suggestion was, it still wasn’t the right answer.
– The bleeding slowed, but it hasn’t stopped. Moody’s already lost 600 ml of blood in the 3 minutes it took you to help him. We have about 2 more minutes before he loses consciousness. Moody’s no longer able to control his body properly or speak, so he can’t follow instructions or assist. The blood flow is now 110 ml/min. Now you’re seeing a new symptom: necrosis – Sirius said, looking at the doctor – Vulnera Sanentur heals open wounds, but it doesn’t cure infections or poison. While necrosis is present, the wounds won’t close. The slowing of the bleeding also means that the infection is contained within the patient’s body, which is actually killing him faster. Moody has 5 minutes left to live, 2 minutes less than originally predicted. What do you do?
– Blood replenishment potions – Raywood said. He was intense, fully immersed in this hypothetical situation as if it were real, as if someone really would die if he failed. Maybe they would – We can let the contaminated blood out while the Sanguinis potion does its work.
Sirius sighed. Raywood had indeed thought of that, and it made Sirius reflect on how much time he’d spent wondering what he could have done differently to save a patient. But it was hard to prepare if you didn’t have the knowledge to know what works.
– The Vitalis Sanguinis potion’s main ingredient is Dragon’s Blood Root – Sirius said, with regret – It accelerates the regeneration of lost blood. Professor Snape, could you tell us what effect the Vitalis Sanguinis potion would have on a patient struck by the Vulnus Nectizing curse?
Snape stared at Sirius for a full minute of silence, during which Black did nothing but wait. As much as they had hated each other in their youth (Snape still hated Sirius), he knew that the Slytherin had always been interested in learning Dark Magic, and was talented at it as well. Making that area of magic legal would allow him to work on his “secret” projects (Dumbledore knew everything) without interference.
– The Dragon’s Blood Root would stimulate the creation of defective blood, spreading the poison like cancer – Snape said, though he didn’t look pleased with the attention of the room, let alone with Sirius being the cause of it – The patient would be dead in under a minute, and by then, nothing could be done to reverse the damage caused.
The silence that followed was heavy.
It might have been a hypothetical situation, but it made the consequences of ignorance clear. Everyone had haunted expressions. In those few minutes, everyone’s minds had worked as hard as they could to find a solution to the problem—and they still failed. Because of their lack of knowledge, a man (hypothetically) died.
– Our Aurors don’t have the knowledge to fight and defend themselves. Our healers don’t have the knowledge to heal us if some remnants of Voldemort come back to attack, or if some other power-hungry lunatic decides they want to rule – he spoke to everyone in the silence that followed, his voice dominating the room, though he wasn’t shouting. He saw Dumbledore’s face tighten, wanting to speak but holding back – Do you still feel safe?
He could see the conflict in the eyes of every Council member, even the civilians and even Arthur Weasley. Sirius remembered Molly’s brothers. They died because of a curse no one knew how to heal. They died slowly and painfully.
– Ignorance doesn’t protect us – Sirius said, all eyes fixed on him, and he felt his heart race in his chest – I’m here so my children learn whatever they need to know to ensure they’ll survive. So that they’re the ones to bury me, not the other way around. My. Children. Will. Not. Be. Defenseless.
At the end of the meeting, it was decided that Hogwarts would return to teaching the theories of Dark Magic and magical rituals to assist in Defense lessons. Of course, it would all be highly regulated, but they were taking baby steps here.
Lyra:
Lyra wanted to laugh when she heard about the Council's decision. Her father had done it!
Defense classes would not include dark magic yet since they had already started the school year and it was a little late to change the entire curriculum, but there was a promise that there would be more subjects next year. Not nearly as many subjects as Lyra thought would be ideal, but it was better than what they had now.
For now, however, she needed to plan things for the next few years. Harry and the other children would be coming to Hogwarts soon and Lyra needed to make sure the school was in the best possible condition.
Defense, Potions and the complete lack of physical activities other than Quidditch (which she wouldn't play even if they paid her) were the biggest problems and she thought, during the first month of classes, of a solution that could solve the first two. She had time to plan things considering she had been excused from Defense classes and Sprout had said she didn't have to attend classes as long as she passed her exams (usually attendance was mandatory, but her circumstances were quite unique).
So in the days following her resolution, Lyra began planning things including the necessary paperwork to make it a reality. She had to send letters to influential people (reporters) to make sure her proposal wouldn't just be rejected just because it was Lyra who proposed it (Dumbledore still didn't like her for some reason...). The letter basically talked about how Lyra Black, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, was creating two clubs at Hogwarts and one of them was focused on a typical Muggle activity. It was in the newspapers and would have ruined the Headmaster's image as a Muggle-lover if he had rejected the proposal when it appeared on his desk.
Muggle martial arts classes would be a good physical activity besides Quidditch and would give students an alternative way to defend themselves so they wouldn't have to rely entirely on their wands. She had managed to defeat those Death Eaters when she was three because they refused to learn more and Lyra found that unacceptable. She hadn't spent the last few years teaching Harry, Draco, Ron, Ginny, Fred, Hermione and George how to fight only to have all her hard work thrown out because of the sedentary lifestyle that is encouraged at this school. Fuck no.
The problem with Defense was the curse on the teaching position. This made the classes confusing due to the lack of continuity of content, leaving out many subjects. Defense was the subject that drove all the students crazy during OWLS and NEWS because they had to learn everything that no teacher taught (everyone thought they could leave the subject for next year, but that never ended up happening).
Unexpectedly, the solution for Defense and Potions was the same: Snape.
That was what led Lyra to find Snape in his quarters with his arms full of papers.
“What are you doing here?” Snape wrinkled his nose in displeasure.
As much as he disliked her, Snape never insulted her or Harry again. Ever since he arrived at Hogwarts, the professor was as hostile to her as he was to all the other students, but it still wasn’t good enough.
“I have a mutually beneficial proposal,” she declared. “May I come in?”
“No.”
“I don’t think you want to discuss this out here where other students can hear, professor,” Lyra warned without letting her smile waver.
Snape stood there for a good minute just staring at Lyra before silently opening the door and letting her in. His private potions lab was exactly the stereotypical potions lab that made it seem like all those Muggle stories were true and a poisoned apple would soon be offered to him.
“Speak up.”
“I want you to teach Defense in my Independent Study in Defense club,” she declared as she continued to look at the shelves full of potions, memorizing the contents of each one so that, with luck, she could identify them later. Snape didn’t answer, so Lyra continued, “I’ve been investigating you and I know that you were a Death Eater, and I also know that you changed sides at some point and became Dumbledore’s spy.”
This meant that Dumbledore knew what would happen the night Harry and Neville were attacked and yet he did nothing about it. Whatever prophecy dictated the old manipulator’s movements, Lyra needed to find out and she needed to find out soon.
“You must know that Voldemort is not dead, so you are trying to maintain your cover as a double agent by acting hostilely towards families that opposed your former Lord,” she continued, indifferently, still busying herself with reading the labels on the potions. Is Snape really going to let her continue mapping his laboratory? He probably thinks she won't remember the information later "That's the only reasonable reason an abusive teacher like you would be allowed to continue teaching when it's something you obviously hate doing. Just because you're good at potions doesn't make you a good teacher. Just because you're good at something doesn't mean you enjoy doing it."
"You jump to conclusions. Do you really think Dumbledore cares so much about the well-being of his students that he'd fire me?" Snap laughed derisively.
"No, I know he doesn't care at all" Lyra said with contempt "If he cared, he would have found a way to deal with the curse on the Defense Professor position a long time ago. If he cared, he wouldn't have abandoned my brother for 6 years in an abusive home. If he cared, Voldemort probably wouldn't even exist, just Tom Riddle."
She heard more than saw Snape's gasp at the name. She also felt the man's tension increase.
Finding out these things about Snape wasn't as hard as people seemed to think. Sirius knew that Severus had been on trial after Karkaroff had ratted him out (apparently the man was a blabbermouth in Azkaban) and that Dumbledore had interceded on his behalf. And since Lyra knew that Dumbledore had done nothing out of the goodness of his heart or justice, then she knew that he hadn't helped Snape because it was the right thing to do for the man who had risked his life to spy on Voldemort. No, he had helped Snape because the man still had a use. After that he had the Slytherin teaching potions at Hogwarts (where he hated being), in a job (which he hated), surrounded by children (whom he didn't like). It wasn't hard to connect the dots.
It was a little disappointing that no one else had noticed. The wizards' deductive skills left a lot to be desired.
“We’re getting off topic,” Lyra interrupted the spy’s silent outburst. “You must be a good fighter or you wouldn’t have survived the war as a double agent. Those kinds of people are always the first to be eliminated... almost always because they know too much dirt on both sides. So you have practical experience, combat skills, and circumstantial intelligence. You would make an excellent Defense teacher.”
“Wouldn’t an Auror be better?”
“An Auror can teach us how to fight, but you can teach us how to survive.”
Snape had a strange look in his eyes as he studied Lyra as if it were the first time he had seen her. She met his eyes for the first time since she arrived, confident that her mental barriers would keep him out of her thoughts.
“Anyway, Defense teachers never last more than a year, and most of them graduated from Hogwarts. That means none of them have any knowledge of Dark Magic, which makes the Council's permission to teach it somewhat futile, which I'm sure they already knew." She snorted humorlessly. "But the curse doesn't extend to clubs. You could teach Defense and Dark Magic in the club to anyone who signs up without being threatened by the 1-year time limit."
"So you want me to teach two subjects full-time?" Snape asked skeptically.
"No, you won't teach Potions anymore." Snape raised both eyebrows. That must have come as quite a surprise to him. "You're a terrible Potions teacher and no one is learning it properly. My plan is for you to give the 6th and 7th years extra credits to act as assistants and watch over the younger years as they practice what they learn from the Potions books and the recipes you can write down. You can give monthly goals for which potions should be turned in by the end of the month, as well as any essays." This means that you would not have to interact directly with any students other than a few of the higher grades.
Questions can be answered through a shared grade board where people can leave their questions and other students can answer what they know. You can go through and correct them from time to time.
“You want to turn potions into a self-study class with minimal supervision,” Snape stated in shock. “It’s a dangerous subject, I don’t think Dumbledore will agree.”
“This method will allow the upper years to review the most basic potions, earn extra credits, and give the first years better teachers.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather. “If Dumbledore refuses to do something to improve potions classes, then I’ll have to arrange for your dismissal, Snape. No offense, but if you’re just a bad teacher, then you should accept your departure with grace. But if you insist on staying, I’ll consider it intentional sabotage of the education of the next generation of witches and wizards in the United Kingdom, and you know how I deal with threats.”
“Are you threatening me?” – I am – his smile could not be seen anywhere – You should already know that I always follow through on my threats, even if it takes a while. If you make me follow through on this one, I guarantee you will regret it.
- And what could you do to... what did you say I was again? Oh yes, someone who worked for both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, who betrayed them both – he sneered – What could you do to me that those two have not already done?
Lyra bowed her head without looking away. Her ninja training and her experience in dealing with temperamental jonin and kages was very useful in moments like this.
- Test me and you will find out – she turned and left, leaving her plans for the classes and the documentation ready on the laboratory table. If Snape was going to help her with this, he would convince Dumbledore.
The next thing she had to figure out was what she could do to carry out her threat to Snape.