LYRA I
Chapter 2
REGULUS
Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, April 1st 1978
Regulus Black had to admit, Hogwarts had become boring. Ever since the school year had begun, the whole place had gotten a lot less fun. He’d even go so far as to describe it as bleak. Dumbledore had imposed a number of rules onto the school, aiding mudbloods yet suffocating the rest of the student population. Every pureblood had complained. Even the half-bloods in Slytherin were complaining about these rules. And Regulus and his gang, they felt positively stifled.
Which is why they’d taken matters into their own hands. It was a harmless prank that had been planned out – for once, he’d decided to take inspiration from that wretched man he happened to be related to. And they’d managed to do said prank with ease. Now, on the doors to the Great Hall was a promise written in dried blood and mud.
Mudbloods, it had said, you know who you are. We will find you. And we will end your reign of terror.
It mirrored a prank of the Marauders a few weeks ago, where instead of Mudbloods, they promised to eradicate the followers of the Dark Lord. Of course, the Marauders hadn’t said it was them, but Regulus had been raised with Sirius – he could recognise his brother’s handwriting anywhere. He, of course, had gotten Evan to write out the message instead of himself, as his brother had no sense of familial loyalty, and would accuse him of following Lord Voldemort in a public setting.
“I can’t believe we were able to do that!” Barty says with a giggle. He takes off his mask, his cheeks flushed.
“You’d have thought with the Marauders and everything, they would have upped their security.” Rabastan remarked.
“If they did that, then their precious Marauders would actually get in trouble. And they can’t have that, can they?” Evan mutters.
Severus Snape, who walked on the outskirts of the group, clenched his fists. Regulus didn’t blame him – it had only been a couple of years ago where one of their pranks had almost killed the half-blood. Yet nothing had been done to the Marauders – they hadn’t even gotten detention.
A scream rings out from downstairs. Far sooner than they’d been expecting. And far closer too. Had anyone gone looking, then they would have found them in an instant. Cursing, their friend group disperses, running in different directions. At one point, he loses count of how many staircases he’d climbed. All he knew was that by the time he’d reached his destination – a room which seemed to change every time he went to it, he was extremely out of breath. He opens the door and this time, it seemed to be full of junk.
Taking off his mask, he finds it’s a lot easier to breathe.
“Had a rough day Reg?” A light, familiar voice asks.
After making a strange noise, Pandora Travers, a pureblood in his year, steps out from behind a pile of books.
He chuckles. “I’d say I’ve had the opposite Pandora – it's been a brilliant day. I’ve finally got back at him for what he did.”
The Ravenclaw tilts her head to the side. “How so?”
And so, in a moment of youthful hubris, he tells her what they did. He’d been friends with Pandora since first year, so he knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. Besides, she’d heard far worse from him before, and they both knew that.
“So you did all of that to get back at your brother?” There’s an edge to Pandora’s voice, one that he hadn’t heard before. She reaches into her bag. “Look what I found.” Then her voice changes back to its original tone, and he wonders if he imagined it.
He walks over to where she is. Peering down at the object, it appeared to be some sort of sphere. “Just what on earth is that?”
“I’m not sure, but it looks like it should open.” She holds it out to him. “Want to try?”
He takes it from her, spinning it around to try and find a button. He doesn’t find one, but when he squeezes it, it clicks and something blue flies out. Crouching down to pick it up, he noted that it felt warm to the touch. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be some sort of precious stone.
“Is that moonstone?” Pandora asks, leaning closer.
“No. It’s too blue for that. Perhaps some sort of blue sapphire?” He twirls it over. “Though why would something as precious as that come out of such a bland sphere?”
“I’m not sure. Though I intend to find out.” She takes the sphere back, putting it back into her bag. “Keep the jewel Reg, I’m sure I’ll get much more out of this thing.”
“What on earth would I do with this?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps turn it into a fancy necklace or something? I’m sure the witches you see would enjoy something made by you.”
The only witch he could see liking something as stupid as a handmade necklace was Narcissa, but he doesn’t say that aloud. Instead, he follows Pandora out of the room, wondering whether she’d be willing to provide an alibi for him.
LYRA
King’s Cross, September 1st 1991
“I can’t believe my little boy’s all grown up.”
Lyra looks to the Hogwarts Express, willing the announcement to sound out that it was leaving. That way she could leave this scene without upsetting her mother further.
Then again, she wasn’t sure if anything else could.
For the past ten minutes her mother had been crying and holding onto Draco as if he was her lifeline. It was a sight that was surprising to her if she had to be honest. Especially as her mother was normally the most composed person she’d known. Even in Regulus’ memories, her mother had always been fairly put together.
Perhaps it was because Draco was the youngest? She wasn’t entirely sure. All she knew was that it was embarrassing. And they were beginning to garner attention from nearby families.
“Narcissa.” Father says, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “They only have five minutes before the train leaves. Perhaps we should Draco find his friends?”
It seemed that he had noticed the attention they were drawing also.
With a nod, her mother lets go of Draco. “Oh, alright then. Have a nice first year my little dragon. Remember, you’ve got this.”
“Yes, mum!” There was a whine to her brother’s voice. He looked annoyed by this whole interaction, likely assuming that their mother was embarrassing him on purpose. “See you at Yule!” With those parting words, he runs off.
Mother smiles bitterly. “It feels like only yesterday he was taking his first steps. Now here he is, getting onto the Hogwarts Express.” Her eyes flit towards Lyra. “And look at you my sweet girl – a woman grown already!”
“I’m not quite a woman grown.” Lyra murmurs into the hug her mother gives her. “I’m only thirteen. I’ve still got four more years.”
“Four more years that we’ll make sure to treasure,” Mother promises, her eyes growing shiny once again. “Now go board the train my lyre. And make sure to have a great year!”
“Make sure to write!” Father calls.
Lyra smiles as she walked away. Her parents were good parents here. They cared – unlike Regulus’ parents. Orion Black’s apathy towards his children was something that had given her nightmares after she’d first seen it.
Stepping onto the Hogwarts Express, her smile grows wider. She liked her home, she really did. But it was nothing compared to Hogwarts – with the sheer amount of knowledge the castle held. There was always some sort of secret to uncover within its walls, and she relished in the adventures the place would bring.
Making her way through the carriages, she passes a few first years and balks. Had she been that small in her first year?
A memory of Regulus’ flits her mind – of him befriending some tiny female first year. Yes, he seemed to be saying, we all were.
(He had a tendency to do things like that. It was very annoying.)
The weight of the upcoming year settled heavily on her shoulders, but she hid it well behind a mask of indifference, a trait she had mastered growing up a Malfoy. As she walked down the narrow aisle of the train, her keen eyes scanned for familiar faces. It didn’t take long before she spotted the compartment she was looking for: the one filled with her closest friends. Or, rather, those who she was expected to associate herself with. These people shared her upbringing, and their parents had the same expectations.
Ailsa Travers, Concordia Rowle, Adrian Pucey, and Cassius Warrington were already settled in, lounging with the kind of casual grace only those raised in pureblood circles possessed. The other members of their party was missing, but she assumed that they had found a compartment of their own.
"Lyra, finally," Ailsa drawled, leaning back into her seat. Her long fingers twirled a strand of her dark hair, her eyes glinting with amusement. "We were wondering when you'd deign to re-join us."
Lyra gave a small smile as she slid the door shut behind her and took a seat. "Please, Ailsa. It’s not as if I kept track of the time you spent waiting."
The compartment hummed with an undercurrent of tension, though it was the sort that came from the unspoken politics of pureblood society. Lyra had been raised among them, steeped in the traditions of their world. They were, after all, expected to not only carry the mantle of their families but to also manage the subtle web of allegiances, power plays, and social dynamics that defined their ranks.
They catch up with each other about their respective summers, and she was pleased to note, none of them were boring. Which meant that she didn’t have to feign interest. Instead, she could listen to her friends’ accounts of their holidays in Australia and the Bahamas with rapt attention, learning all that she could about the wizarding worlds there.
Cassius shifted in his seat, looking over at her with a knowing smile. "So, Lyra, ready for the year? Have you finally come to your senses and dropped some OWLs?"
She snorts. “I’m still doing all twelve Cassius. What do you take me for, a quitter?”
He sighed. “I don’t think preserving your sanity can be classified as quitting, but you do you Malfoy. Let’s just hope you have a breakdown during an exam or something, so we all get more time to revise.”
“I’m sure Lyra will be fine,” Concordia chimes in. “She’ll handle it all flawlessly, like she always does.”
“Thank you.”
“Perhaps Lyra will become Percy Weasley 2.0,” Adrian remarks. He shrieks when she sends a stinging hex his way. But in her opinion, he deserved it.
The trolley witch stops by, and Lyra decides to treat herself to a pumpkin pasty. The others order a ridiculous amount of candy, but who was she to stop them? They decide to share a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, and the gods seemed to be favouring Lyra today, as the only flavours she got weren’t terrible. Ailsa in contrast wasn’t so lucky, and had gotten dog food, sweat and sick before she’d quit their game.
The compartment door slides open mid-game interrupting their laughter. Pansy Parkinson steps through, who for all intents and purposes, looked rather nervous.
“Lyra, you might want to hear this,” Pansy says. “Draco’s gone to find Potter.”
“Potter? As in Harry Potter?” An image flashes through Lyra’s mind – of a cackling boy with speckled glasses. Who looked almost identical to all of the books she’d read about Harry Potter growing up. This wasn’t one of her memories – it was Regulus’.
“The one and only. Rumour has it that he’s on the train.” A glimpse of Pansy’s usual self seemed to return to her. “Another rumour is that he has a Weasley with him.”
“I suppose it makes sense, what with both their families being Blood Traitors.” Adrian murmurs. “Though why on earth is Draco seeking him out.” The unspoken words in the room was that Draco was knowingly consorting himself with Blood Traitors. Which quite simply wouldn’t do.
With a sigh, she stands. “Do you know what compartment Potter’s in Pansy?”
Parkinson looked sheepish. “All I know is that it’s around the middle of the train. Sorry Lyra.”
“It’s alright.” She looks to her friends. “I’ll see you all shortly.”
“You’re not going to intervene, are you?” Ailsa asked with a raised brow.
“I’m going to save him from making a complete idiot of himself,” she replied curtly. “I’ll be back.”
She swept out of the compartment, her robes billowing behind her as she made her way through the crowded train.
Lyra found Draco, as expected, in the middle of an argument with Harry Potter and a Weasley. Crabbe and Goyle flanked her brother, looking every bit the dull enforcers they were, while Draco spat out insults in that arrogant tone he’d perfected over the years.
The Weasley’s face was already red with anger, but Harry Potter seemed more exasperated than enraged. Lyra rolled her eyes as she reached them.
"Draco," she said firmly, cutting through the tension with a cool voice, "that’s enough."
Draco glanced over his shoulder, surprise briefly flickering across his face before he masked it with indifference. "I’m handling this, Lyra."
"No," she said, stepping forward, "you’re making it worse. Vincent, Gregory, you two can leave now."
The two hulking boys glanced at each other, uncertain but unwilling to defy her. With a nod from Draco, they shuffled away, leaving the compartment tense but notably quieter.
Harry Potter and Weasley exchanged amused glances, and a faint smirk tugged at Weasley’s lips. "What, not going to send Malfoy packing too?"
Lyra turned her cold gaze on the pair of first-years, clearly unamused. "Potter, Weasley, you’re not worth the energy it would take to argue. I suggest we all just move on."
“But he started it!” Harry Potter says, motioning to Draco. Briefly, she notes how alike the boy had looked to the one she’d seen in her vision.
She sighed. The worst part was that she knew the boy was right. As much as she loved him, Draco was a little drama queen in the best of times. “And I am ending. Again, let’s just move on and calm down.”
Before anyone could respond, the other compartment door slid open, revealing the banes of her existence, the Weasley twins. One of the boons of being friends with Cedric and Selene meant that over the years, she’d had to deal with their presence. Fred, grinning as always, leaned against the frame, looking between Lyra and his brother with thinly veiled amusement.
“Well, well,” Fred said, his voice dripping with mock formality. “What’s this? A Malfoy trying to mediate?”
Lyra narrowed her eyes at Fred. “And what business do you have here, Weasley? Aren’t you usually busy trying to prank the first years?”
Fred’s grin widened. “Oh, we’re always multitasking.”
George, however, remained unusually quiet, standing just behind Fred, his eyes fixed on Lyra. He looked as if he was staring at a stranger. The silence between the three of them grew noticeable.
“George?” Fred nudged his brother, raising a brow. “Distracted, are we?”
George blinked, as if snapped out of some deep thought. “Yeah. Just... thinking,” he muttered.
On the same page for once, Lyra and Fred exchanged confused looks. It wasn’t often that George seemed so lost in thought, and the strange atmosphere lingered in the air
“Well, then. You guys can handle this.” She says after a beat, her voice a touch softer, “if you’ll excuse me.”
As she turned to leave, Fred tossed one more light insult her way, but she doesn’t answer, already half-distracted herself. Just what on earth was that about?
Was it a result of the accident Selene had mentioned? If so, what were the others like? Selfishly, she hoped that they weren’t as affected as George had been. She could cope with a new Weasley, but a new Selene or Cedric? That would devastate her.
--
The Sorting Ceremony went by as expected. She nodded to both Cedric and Selene when they made eye contact, and watched the new first-years enter the Great Hall. Draco got into Slytherin, so she was sure their parents would be pleased. In contrast, much to no one’s surprise, Harry Potter got sorted into Gryffindor. Once the last person – Blaise Zabini, got sorted, she realised that she hadn’t heard the Weasley twins hiss at the new first years once. Sure enough, when she looked over at them, George was watching her with the same expression he’d had on the train.
“So what do you think Quirrell’s going to be like as a teacher?” Ailsa asks the group once they’d started eating.
“Didn’t he used to be the Muggle Studies professor?” Elizaveta Burke asks from her seat across from them. She scrunches her nose. “If so, then I doubt he’ll be any good.”
“He could be though!” Concordia, ever the optimist, chimes in.
Looking over at the teacher’s table, Lyra watches the man in question jump when Hagrid claps his hands next to him. “I doubt it.”
This year was looking to be fun.
--
At the end of the evening, as the students began to rise, Professor Snape approached her. As he did so, she got yet another vision of the man when he was a student himself. For some reason Regulus’ memories deemed it important to show her whenever he was near.
“Miss Malfoy, stay behind.”
She did. As the students cleared out of the Great Hall, she noticed Professor Flitwick standing with Selene.
“Any idea as to what we’ve done?” She asks Lena, who chuckles.
“Nothing. We’re just getting our time-turners.”
Lyra almost trips over her own feet. “Our what?”
They followed their professors to the Deputy Headmaster’s office, where Professor McGonagall awaited. True to Lena’s word, the teacher presented them both with time-turners, the delicate devices glinting in the candlelight.
So this was how you got to study all twelve OWLs? Interesting. Though that did beg the question, wasn’t it irresponsible to leave something as dangerous as a time turned in the hands of thirteen-year-olds? McGonagall gets them to add their names to a time turner registry, but privately Lyra thought that it still wasn’t enough of a check to keep a teenager from using one for stupid reasons.
Then again, looking through the list of people who’d signed up to use a time turner – Sean Fawcett, Lily Potter, Bill Weasley, she doubted that they were much cause for concern.
“I expect you both to manage these responsibly,” McGonagall said firmly, and had Lyra not expected it, she would have been offended that the older witch seemed to be looking at her more than Lena. “If you have any questions, I recommend speaking to Percy Weasley. He’s managed the use of a time turner quite well.”
“Understood professor.” Lena chirps. After a moment’s pause, Lyra does so as well.
As they were dismissed, she’s surprised to find George Weasley waiting outside the office. His expression was still distant. He gave Selene a nod as they passed but said nothing, instead choosing to enter McGonagall’s office.
“What’s going on with him?” Lyra asked as soon as he was out of earshot. “He seems different.”
Lena hesitates before she says anything, which peaks the Malfoy’s interest. “He’s just taking his studies more seriously. Isn’t that a good thing?” Selene had never been good at lying, and as an afterthought, the witch added something truthful. “George was the closest to the accident, so he was the first hit. He’s had some strange symptoms too.”
“And how are your symptoms?”
Getting out her wand, Selene levitates a nearby bench. With horror, Lyra watches the definitively blue aura that radiated off of said bench. That wasn’t the colour of the spell.
“That’s certainly interesting.” She remarks after a pause. “And both Cedric and George have had similar side-effects?”
Selene snorts. “Something like that. Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There was something she wasn’t telling her, but instead of pressing it, Lyra watches the other witch leave. She’ll find out eventually, she was sure. Even if she had to do some digging to find it.