Abandoned and Rescued
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Lyra didn't know when Minerva McGonagall found her. She had made her way up on top of one of the beams above the gears of the clock tower, and sat there, listening to the dull tick of the huge clockwork, turning to measure time. It soothed her, the clicking.
Lyra took a deep breath and sighed, remembering her previous conversation with Sirius. What happened in Sirius's first summer as a Gryffindor was...horrendous, bloody and disgusting. She sighed.
Sirius and James had arrived at King's Cross Station, and Regulus, Lyra, Orion and Walburga were waiting for him. Walburga had sneered at James, and Orion whispered "Blood Traitor" at him under his breath. This didn't go unnoticed by Lyra. When they got home, Sirius was locked in his room with Walburga and Orion. Lyra and Regulus didn't know what happened in that room, but their parents came out, smirking evilly, muttering that Sirius had not yet learnt his lesson, and told the twins that they were forbidden to see Sirius.
Regulus created a distraction, and Lyra sneaked into the room, armed with the family's first aid kit, which Kreacher had taken for them. Or rather, stolen. The sight that met Lyra was horrendous. Sirius's face was marred with scars and blood; his shirt was all bloody, and he kept twitching.
"Lyra," Sirius whispered. "Why are you here? You aren't supposed to... "
"For Merlin's sake, Sirius shut the hell up and let me help you!" Lyra murmured scoldingly, plopping onto the bed next to Sirius. "How did they... curse you?"
"Cruciatus, cutting hexes and magical whips," Sirius replied, with his head down.
Lyra gasped in horror. Father wouldn't let Mother go that far, she thought, but ignore her thoughts and immediately started to work. "Sirius, I'm no expert healer, but I've read some books on healing, so please lie down and I'll fix you as best as I can," Lyra promised.
That had continued for two months until the week before Sirius left for school, Walburga had instructed Kreacher to heal Sirius so that no one would know about his torture at home. Lyra looked terrified as Kreacher half-lied to Walburga about Sirius's wounds. She wasn't supposed to heal Sirius.
Lyra sniffed. and curled up harder. Why did the Dark Lord have to come and destroy everything? Why was there such a bias between Slytherin and Gryffindor? It just wasn't fair.
"Mrroww" Lyra heard from the ground and promptly replied, "Hello, Professor McGonagall," without looking at her.
"Miss Black," the Transfiguration professor said, "You are not supposed to sit there."
"I've got nowhere else to sit in solace." Lyra sniffled.
"You do, but you won't find it up there." McGonagall retorted.
Lyra sighed and uncurled herself, sliding off the beam and landing on her feet, using a quick arresto momentum to slow herself.
"What happened?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking at her from head to toe, scanning for any injuries. It wouldn't be the first time any professor saw her walking around with a curse or injury and ignoring it because it "wasn't that bad".
"Ran into my brother," Lyra muttered, looking down at her feet.
"He said something?"
Lyra nodded, a bit afraid to speak.
"Come with me, Miss Black." Professor McGonagall gestured for Lyra to follow her into her office, and she went in, standing beside a wing-backed chair. The Gryffindor Head's office had a large, warm fireplace set into the stone wall at one side, and there were two old-style armchairs turned slightly towards it but still facing each other. The far wall was almost entirely made up of windows, looking out towards the Quidditch Pitch and the Forbidden Forest. The desk in front was small but functional—nothing like the grand oak desk in her father's study.
Gently, a wrinkled hand landed on her shoulder and softened eyes looked at Lyra, and Lyra noticed that the Transfiguration Professor's features had a strange kindness painted over them, unlike her usual stern, sharp, and calculating one. "Why don't you sit, Miss Black? I'll be with you in a minute."
"Yes, Professor," Lyra responded, and drifted over to the fireplace, settling herself in one armchair, and hugging the throw pillow slightly.
"Do you want a biscuit?" McGonagall asked her as she sat in the opposite chair, holding out a tin. Lyra blinked, looking at the small metal box. I admit I am rather hungry right now. This isn't a trap, right? Lyra thought as she reached out and took two shortbread biscuits.
Lyra munched on the dry and sweet treat, and leaned back, careful not to get any crumbs on her robes. She noticed that Professor McGonagall seemed perfectly at ease in her presence, her posture was relaxed and calm, unlike during class.
"Am I even worth saving?" Lyra said, staring at her uneaten biscuit pointedly.
Professor McGonagall started and her head snapped back, lips parting in shock. "Who on earth gave you that idea?" she demanded.
"I'm just an insignificant Slytherin, right? A pureblood girl who's going to be married to Lestrange when she's of age, and my brother's just another Slytherin heir of Black. A family hat historically bloody specializes in the 'dark' arts. There's nothing special about me, or Regulus."
"Yes." McGonagall stressed. "Miss Black, you are nothing like your mother or father. I was her schoolmate back when we were at Hogwarts, and they were definitely not a pleasant person to spend time with. You two, on the other hand, are a joy to teach."
Lyra blinked in shock. "But I'm not doing that well in your class," she murmured, nto knowing what she was getting at.
McGonagall gave a rather inelegant snort, and reached over and sipped at a cup of tea. "You're getting EE's, and that's hardly called failing."
"It is not an O either." Lyra objected, confused. She knew she always had to get top marks even though she will never use them to their full extent – she was going to be an ordinary pureblood wife anyway.
McGonagall nodded, lips pursing slightly. "I suppose if you look at it that way, there will be an argument towards you not doing well. However," she added as Lyra nodded, "that is only if you wish to continue with Transfiguration past Hogwarts and get a Mastery. You do grasp the concepts and well for someone your age, better than your brother ever did. "
Lyra's mouth opened and shut, then opened again. "But Sirius is a prodigy in transfiguration. He's already a–" Lyra covered her mouth quickly and flushed as she realized what she was about to reveal. As much as she hated her brother, she wasn't that low-down.
She looked back down at her biscuit, taking another bite. Sirius is already an animagi. It wasn't that hard for Regulus and Lyra to figure that out. Lupin had been at Hogwarts for six whole years and there weren't any werewolf attack except for one, and Snape was really an idiot. Lupin couldn't be that bad – he was the only one that the Black twins hated less. Anyway, that was why the pair of them always called Sirius a dog – his name was literally the dog constellation and his animagi looked like a grim, a big –merlin!-- black dog.
It was apparent that Lyra wouldn't budge on that topic, and so McGonagall sighed and seemed to push it to the side. "Whatever your brother had done, it does not cancel out your own progress." She said rather displeased as if she already envisioned what Sirius had wreaked havoc this time. "Yoru brother understands things without having to work for it, but gets stuck when he comes across things that does not immediately click."
Lyra's eyes fluttered, never having heard Sirius being described this way. But it was true. McGonagall smiled, as if she knew what Lyra was thinking. "On the other hand, you are intelligent in a totally different way, much like your other brother Regulus. You both work hard to grasp a concept, and that means that you have a strong foundation when you do come across difficult things. You are definitely not a bad student, Lyra."
Lyra blushed at the compliment. Teachers didn't always praise her for her hard work, only focused on her status. McGonagall handed her a cup of tea – where did that come from – and Lyra took it gratefully, raising it to her mouth so that she wouldn't have to look at her transfiguration professor.
"Now," McGonagall said, staring at Lyra. "Why are you asking if you deserve to be saved? What caused this? "
Lyra winced. She was hoping that McGonagall had forgotten about that. Forcing herself not to sigh or cry, she recounted the run in she and her brother Regulus had with Sirius and Potter.
James has been more of a sibling than you both had ever been resounded over and over again in her ears, making pain stab in her heart. Sirius didn't care about them anymore.
"He said what?" McGonagall shrieked in horror, her usually calm composure cracking in half. Lyra blinked, startled at the professor's reaction. Professor McGonagall looked furious, and her face was twisted in displeasure. "That idiot," she hissed, "No matter how much you dislike someone or a situation you do not, you never, hurl such insults at someone," she lectured darkly, her eyes fixed on the door and reduced into slits. Lyra had the impression that she wanted to march out and bite her brother Sirius out at moment. In cat form, of course.
At a loss of what to say, Lyra sat there quietly, fiddling around with her teacup, blinking away tears. "Lyra?" "Look at me," Professor McGonagall said gently, and as Lyra did so, she was surprised to see her blink at her. "Ignore Sirius's words. I assume that you both had said and did things that was meant to hurt." I'm not judging, Godric knows we all have our own arguments with our own siblings. Sirius loves you two very much, Lyra, only that he doesn't know how to show it. He did come and ask me a few times how you and your brother's classes were going and if you two seemed happy at all."
"He did?" Lyra questioned disbelievingly. "Why?"
"Because he does care about Regulus and you, Lyra. He has no idea how to show it, however."
Lyra gave a sound which sounded suspiciously like a sob and a laugh at the same time.
"As for your inquiry," McGonagall continued, "of course you two deserve to live. You are both children, Lyra. I know that most people your age don't think of themselves as that, but you are really too young to be considered an adult." Professor McGonagall added in an undertone, "seventeen is still too young but that is the law."
Lyra stifled a laugh. I don't think I was supposed to her that, but well. It was nice to see another face of McGonagall.
"Regulus and you are only both fifteen," Her transfiguration professor said, "whatever crime you believe you've committed cannot and will not be placed on your shoulders. The blame will fall on your parents. Seriously, you shouldn't have to decide something like this at your age – but as you said yourself that if we don't, you will die."
"If Regulus becomes a Death Eater like my parents want him to, his death is guaranteed. He wouldn't make it to his twentieth birthday," Lyra confirmed, "and I would die with him doing the right things, even though I am already betrothed to Rabastan Lestrange." She wasn't that uncomfortable having this conversation with her professor and coming to think of it, this was just sad. Lyra was more comfortable talking about her and her brother's death than if they were worthy of living.
McGonagall stilled, processing the information, and she paled. "Right," she said, tersely. "What is your decision? I assume that you would want to talk about this?"
"I... Regulus agrees with me that if we do go with you, the rest of the Blacks will definitely hunt for us. They've lost Sirius, the eldest, and they wouldn't let the only heir and betrothed go that easily." Lyra said, rather downcast. Nothing would stop them, Lyra thought, nothing.
"My family home in the Scottish Highlands is very heavily warded. We can strengthen them and make it harder for them to track you two."
Lyra stared at McGonagall. "You really will take us in?" She confirmed, voice trembling slightly.
"Of course." Her Transfiguration Professor nodded.
And Lyra sprang to her feet, losing her self control and wrapped her arms around her Professor. "Thank you."
Regulus and Lyra might survive this after all.