Shades of Silver and Black

WALBURGA BLACK WAS ANGRY. And tired. Additionally, it would please her greatly to rewind time to nine months ago and ask her past-self to be careful so that her current-self did not need to experience the torture that was child-birth.

Her breathing was irregular as she gazed around her hospital room. Dull, white wallpapers with soft, flowery patterns in pastel colours stared back at her, a stark contrast to the decor at the many Black manors which were filled with greens and shades of silver and black.

Theoretically, she had known that child-birth was supposed to hurt. She had heard accounts of its fall from the mouths of the women in her family and even some of her friends, plus, the fact that she would have to push a literal human being out of her body also played an indicator to foreshadow the pain.

If only Walburga had known how much pain she would have to undergo pre-hand. Maybe then, she would have contemplated following in the footsteps of her aunt Cassiopeia or her ancestor, Araminta, and live a blissful life with her husband without the pitter-patter strides of children running around their manor.

A jolt of burning pain coursed through her veins and Walburga had to bite her lips to refrain from yelling death threats to her husband, Orion, who was peacefully seated in the waiting room while she was blanketed with such excruciating agony.

While Walburga would have loved to shout just where she would like to shove a piano inside Orion, she didn't think that her mother-in-law, who was assisting the healer through Walburga's labour, would like that very much.

Eventually, her temporary suffering receded. Beads of sweat dropped from Walburga's forehead as she breathed heavily. The opportunities to lament her decisions or feel apologetic for herself were drawing to a close because soon, she would receive the blessing of being a mother.

The child better be worth the torment that she was undergoing, Walburga thought in the solace of her mind, offhandedly wondering which was worse: being put under the crucatious curse or childbirth?

Childbirth, she decided a moment later when her contraction flared up again, throwing her head back and closing her eyes, wishing nothing more than the earth to swallow her to avoid experiencing this agonising misery any longer. Her belly felt tight, her body felt like stone and there was great pressure all the way from her back to her lower abdomen.

Soon after that dreadful minute that Walburga felt lasted forever, she felt a hand gently placed over her shoulders lovingly. She looked up, meeting the face of her mother-in-law, Melania.

Melania smiled down at her. "You are doing a wonderful job, Walburga, really. I'm so proud of you darling. It's hard now but I promise, children are the loveliest treasures you'll receive."

"It doesn't feel like it right now." Walburga panted out as Melania giggled, using her free hand to pick up a cloth and wipe the sweat from Walburga's face.

"During labour, it never does, but when you are standing on platform nine and three quarters, waving them off, you'll recall every cherished moment you spent with them and regret every second that you didn't." Melania softly told her before informing the healer, "I think the contractions were seven minutes twenty-two seconds apart, correct?"

The healer nodded her head. "Indeed." she looked towards Walburga. "There will be a few more rounds of this, I reckon. When your dilations have reached around ten centimetres, you can start pushing."

Walburga absentmindedly voiced an acknowledgement. Melania started rubbing soothing circles on her back in an effort to calm her and Walburga tossed her a smile.

Walburga had heard so many stories about monstrous mothers-in-law from the vents of her friends and she was incredibly grateful that she was fortunate enough to gain a wonderful mother-in-law like Melania, who had always been an idol to her while growing up.

Melania Black née Macmillan was born to a prestigious family who, like the Blacks, were part of the Sacred 28 and like the rest of her clan, the Sorting Hat had declared her to be a Hufflepuff. However, during her fourth year at Hogwarts, Melania had put the sixth year Slytherin under the illusion that he was being chased by his worst fears due to him having uttered some rude things about Hufflepuff. This vicious act of hers had fascinated the mentioned boy's best friend, one Arcturus Black, who wrote a letter home to his father that day demanding a courtship between himself and the spit-fire Hufflepuff.

Melania and Arcturus had a relationship worth envying and Walburga hoped that she would become even a minute percentage of the caring mother that Melania was, while somehow retaining her fiery personality.

Walburga was nudged out of her internal thoughts by Melania, who adorned an encouraging expression. "You might have another contraction soon. Are you ready?"

"No," Walburga responded honestly, wincing as she remembered the pain.

Melania nodded understandingly. "Then brace yourself."

Walburga heeded her advice.

Orion flinched every time he heard Walburga drop a curse on his name or threaten to throw a piano at him. His sister, Lucretia, was no help to what he considered a genuine threat to his life. Rather, she tried predicting the number of perilous remarks that Walburga would utter with a frightening accuracy and exchange bets with their father, Arcturus, on whether she got it right or wrong.

His mother, Melania, was perhaps the only person who would have been empathic to his concern and would have been comforting him had she not been standing by Orion's wife through her labour. The remainder of his borderline insane family was nonchalant regarding the whole thing, making jokes and sharing stories to pass time as they waited for the newest addition to their large kinsfolk.

Noticing Orion pacing back and forth along the hallway, Walburga's brother, Alphard, stood up from his chair and walked up to Orion, startling him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

Orion spun around to meet Alphard's concerned face. "Are you okay?"

Orion's countenance instantly smoothened, shoulders straightening and back becoming erect. "Of course I am."

Alphard stared at him knowingly.

Orion sighed, throwing a lingering glance to his wife's labour room before grimacing when she yelled bloody-murder once again. "That sounds painful," he noted.

"I would assume pushing a person out of your body would be," Alphard chimed dryly, making Orion flash him a glare.

"You know that's not what I meant." Orion released another sigh. "I'm just worried about both of them. I hope they're both alright."

Alphard nodded, uncharacteristically serious. "Me too." Then, a smile broke through. "Everything is going to be alright."

Orion scoffed. "I know," he said and because Alphard was capable of performing small mercies, he didn't comment on the manner with which Orion kept pulling on the skin of his palm, one of his well-known anxious ticks, or the way he repeatedly glanced towards the door with barely concealed concern.

At last, after Orion nearly burning a hole on the carpets of the hallway, Lucretia emerging victorious in her bets against her father, Walburga yelling murder, Melania yelling encouragements, Alphard yelling for Orion to stop scabbing his hand, Walburga's mother Irma hearing the results of the Quidditch match against the Ballycastle Bats and the Pride of Portree, Pollux reviewing documents regarding his upcoming case and one Dorea Potter née Black lamenting on why she even chose to come; a cry cut through the air and this time, it did not belong to Walburga.

The door opened slightly and Melania peeked her head through it, face beaming and usually neat blonde hair in disarray as her blue eyes shined with joy. "The princess is here," she informed them cheerfully, inclining her head towards the room as she opened the door wider. "Come on."

Orion wasted no time in dashing inside, offhandedly noticing his father plant a chaste kiss onto his mother's cheeks. Orion met Walburga's flushed face first, her dark curls were wild, some locks of hair sticking on her forehead and cheeks. However, her starling grey eyes, so alike to his, twinkled like the stars his family was named after her.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he strolled over to stand beside the bed she laid on.

"I am," Walburga's lips tugged upwards, eyes soft. "We both are."

It was then he noticed the precious bundle that she held in her arms which was wrapped in a light pink blanket.

Orion's eyes widened. "Is that...?" his voice faded and he felt stupid for asking the question. What else could it be? A snake?

Walburga, however, giggled at his expression, motioning with her head for him to step closer. "It is. Meet your daughter, Orion."

Orion wordlessly nodded, following her command before shunning his gaze downwards to see the pink baby who matched the blushing colour of the blanket she had been wrapped in.

It was strange how much he could love someone who he just met. He kept staring at his daughter who was blissfully asleep, unsure what to do, when the sound of shuffling feet diverted his attention, bringing him to swivel to where the rest of his family were entering the room, carrying compliments for his daughter and praises for Walburga's strength with them.

"Walburga!" Lucretia called out as she approached the couple and their new-born daughter.

From Orion's perspective, Lucretia and Walburga's relationship with each other could be compared to the ocean. Sometimes, it was beautiful and calming. Other times, it would swallow ships whole without remorse. This interaction, Orion hoped, was the former.

And thankfully, it was.

Having had a daughter and recently given birth herself to a set of twins, Lucretia walked over to Walburga's side and smoothly struck up a conversation using safe, mutual topics.

Meanwhile, Orion's daughter stared at him. Orion stared back at her red, wrinkly face.

Alphard appeared beside him, peaking over Orion's shoulder to glance at his niece. "Wow." He breathed out before pausing. "Is it just me or does she look like a potato with eyes?"

Orion looked at him oddly, while this remark caught the attention of Lucretia and Walburga, who halted their discussion to scrunch their faces at him with a striking resemblance.

"That's your newborn niece you're talking about," Lucretia pointed out but Alphard unapologetically shrugged his shoulders.

"I know, but that still doesn't change facts."

Orion tossed him a glare. "Don't talk about my daughter that way," he warned, silently thanking the higher deities that Walburga was too exhausted from pushing a person out of her body to throw a vase or a piano at Alphard. But by the look on her face, she seemed to be wishing to do just that for daring to call her daughter a potato.

As if realising that she was unable to do so, Walburga scowled momentarily before plastering a forced, sickly sweet smile onto her face. "Oh, Alphard, dear brother, if you had wings, you'd be an angel," she stated before muttering under her breath, "or a nasty arse dragon."

Lucretia laughed and so did Dorea, Arcturus and Melania who had evidently eavesdropped on them. Orion, along with Pollux, covered his chuckles by turning them into coughs while Irma looked like she couldn't care less that her grown children were arguing like...well...children.

Alphard was unamused, directing a honeyed look towards his sister. "Funny," he said in a tone that juxtaposed the word.

"I know." Walburga grinned.

It was then that her daughter made a gurgling sound, an indication that the noise had woken up from her slumber. For the span of a heartbeat, everyone in the room tensed, preparing themselves to hear crying but surprisingly, the new-born thrust her closed fists towards Orion.

"I think she wants you to pick her up." Dorea chimed.

Walburga tried to hand Orion their daughter but Orion froze, having never picked up a child before and showing ignorance of the knowledge of how to. Fear suddenly gripped him. What if he dropped her? What if she got hurt?

As if reading his thoughts, Melania assured, "Don't worry. It isn't as hard as it looks. One moment, darling, I'll help you."

Before Melania could approach Orion, it seemed that the newborn baby wanted to be held with no patience. So, in a burst of immensely unique and very young accidental magic, she floated out of Walburga's arms and landed into Orion, who caught her solely on instinctive reflex, adjusting his hand to support her head and weight.

Silence engulfed the room, mirroring shock reflecting on everyone's faces after witnessing the miracle magic that had occurred roughly five minutes after her birth.

Then, Pollux's voice cut through the air, commanding the attention of the room as pride intertwined his features. "Of course my granddaughter can do magic so early! She's a Black, after all!"

Identical smirks soon appeared on all their faces at his comment, bar the baby.

Some unwritten rules revolved around being born under or bearing the Black name, such as how they always recognised talent and made it their own. Every member was raised with the knowledge that they had to do their part to continue making the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black successful and triumphant.

The Blacks were famously known for their power, beauty, ruthlessness, remorselessness, and a recurring trait of insanity with a hint of madness as they aged due to incomprehensible reasons.

And the little girl born into the family was glaringly talented and clearly powerful, which made her special and consequently, favoured. Although, perhaps, none of them knew just how exceptional she really was and how much she would change the events of the future.

On the sixth winter after that fateful day, number twelve Grimmauld Place was decked with Yuletide garlands and expensive ornaments, decorated to show off while being covered with fairy lights and blanketed with heating charms to keep the occupants warm. The trees were clothed in snow, blending in with the white landscape. Snowflakes danced in the dim morning light in a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind.

Inside the manor, a woman with wild hair, startling eyes and lovely aristocratic features sat on a seat in front of the window, watching as the feathery snow kissed the ground. The black, silk dress she wore had a gold-accented waist which matched the theme of the decor of her house perfectly and each breath that she exhaled formed mist on the window. Her name was Walburga Black.

Between her arms were a bouncing-year-old baby boy with rosy cheeks, soft skin and a toothless smile. Regulus possessed the same curling dark hair and stormy grey eyes as most of his family did and was completely fascinated with his mother's hair, grabbing some in the fist of his hands and playing with it while she gazed outside expectantly.

On the other side of the room, sitting on the royal green love-seat near the fireplace were Orion and Sirius Black, the latter of whom could have been mistaken for a miniature copy of his father with their near-identical, classic good looks. Their resemblance was furthered by the identical, deep green dress robes that they wore, the colours of which mingled with that of the sofas in harmony.

Sirius was wide-eyed with awe as Orion entertained him, performing simple light and levitation spells, summoning mystical wisps and transforming them into various animals and making them dash around Sirius' head.

"They're here!" Walburga's announcement averted the father-son's attention towards her. Her flowy dress kissed the hardwood floor as she stood up from her seat, a smile plastered on her face as she expertly balanced Regulus --who seemed invested in the task of chewing his mother's hair-- on her hip. "Come on. You know how my mother gets if she is welcomed by the house-elves rather than us. I would rather avoid a lecture on how our generation has lost mannerisms and respect with our elders."

Orion half-smiled in agreement, rising and prompting Sirius to do the same. After being joined by Walburga and subsequently Regulus, the family walked towards the front door just in time for it to be drummed with a knock.

Kreacher dutifully popped into existence, opening the door before quickly sliding to the shadows until the next time he would be summoned.

The first person they saw was Melania, wearing clothes costing the same as the revenue of a small country, and adorning pearls around her neck and a winning smile on her face. Her blonde hair was intricately braided into a bun and held together by pins that held diamonds while her sparkling blue eyes matched her stunning dress. Wordlessly, she pulled her son and eldest grandson into an embrace, proceeding to kiss their cheeks afterwards.

Arcturus fondly smiled at his wife's antics, greeting the couple kindly and affectionately ruffling Sirius' hair, earning him a grin from the young boy. Melania, by now, had moved to give her daughter-in-law and youngest grandchild a warm hug.

Through the gap between Melania's shoulders and head, Walburga spotted her mother, Irma Black née Crabbe, never being one to speak much, acknowledge her with a curt nod before heading towards the parlour.

Walburga's father, Pollux, however, ignored the couple and his grandsons, rushing towards the parlour, seemingly searching for someone.

"Hello to you too, father," Walburga stated dryly as she moved towards the parlour, her in-laws, husband and son following her.

"We are doing lovely, thank you for asking," Orion added, mirroring Walburga's tone.

It was then that Pollux noticed them, blinking as he did. "Oh, good day," he responded distractedly, eyes continuously darting everywhere.

Rolling her eyes at her father's behaviour which was becoming increasingly common lately, Walburga directed her attention towards her mother, voicing a question while frowning her brows. "Mother, where is Alphard? I had assumed that he was spending Yuliete with us?" she asked upon noticing her unbearably annoying brother's absence.

"Alphard has to attend an emergency in France. You can expect him to arrive in a few hours hence," Irma answered, her words as short and precise as always.

"What about Lucretia?" Walburga's mouth twisted as she pronounced the name and everyone else could decipher from that that the two girls were going through one of their infamous moods where they loathed each other once again.

It was Arcturus who answered this time. "Gideon came down with an unfortunate cold last night and Molly being Molly, sat beside him to make him feel better while Fabian, being inseparable from his twin, climbed into bed beside him. Hence, now, poor Lucretia has three ill children to deal with, four if you count Ignatius who originally passed his cold to Gideon considering he embodies a child despite his age. I don't think she'll be joining us this year."

"And Aunt Dorea?" Walburga's lips curled into a smile without her consent as she mentioned one of her favourite relatives.

Irma responded again. "No. Dorea and James are spending Yule with Charlus' family this year."

"Yes, yes, no-one but us, Cygnus and maybe Cassi are arriving," Pollux said distractedly, swivelling to face his daughter. "Speaking of those who aren't here, where is Lyra? I have some sweets to give to her." Upon noticing the pointed glare Melania was directing at him, he added, "And Sirius, of course. Is he old enough to eat chocolate?"

"Yes," Melania replied instead, a tinge of coolness knitted into her voice. "Sirius is old enough to eat chocolate but why don't you try greeting the grandchildren you have in the room first. You haven't even bothered to look at them."

Pollux flushed. "Of course I will pay attention to my grandsons, Melania. I was merely concerned when I couldn't spot all of my grandchildren instantaneously. Not that one could accuse you of forgetting that you also have a granddaughter considering you weren't even bothered to find her whereabouts, of course."

The scorching look Melania awarded Pollux would have reduced any other person to a blubbering mess. "Oh, I'm the one who is negligent now when you haven't even wished your daughter or your grandsons a hello? Are you serious?"

"No," Pollux replied slowly, lips stretching into a grin as he pointed a finger at the little boy hugging Orion's legs. "That's Sirius. I'm Pollux, remember?"

"Okay!" Orion interjected quickly, sensing another one of his mother and uncle's nuclear arguments which usually ended with a full-on duel on the verge of breaking out, capturing their attention. "Mother, you are the most loving grandmother in the world. The children adore you, trust me, and they are immensely fortunate to be shadowed by your influence," he assured Melania who beamed before, as an afterthought, said to Irma, "No offence."

Irma looked unbothered and responded with an effortlessly elegant shrug of her shoulders from where she sat on one of the sofas, the white dress she wore standing out in contrast to the attire of the room.

Orion resumed speaking, turning towards Pollux to answer his initial enquiry. "Lyra locked herself into the library soon after breakfast. Walburga read her Grumble the Grubby Goat last night and today, she seemed perfectly insistent that she would like to read the book herself and refused to exit the library until she perfected the art of reading."

"For a six-year-old, she's quite ambitious, isn't she?" Arcturus mused aloud.

Melania pouted as she sat beside Irma. "Well, there goes my hope of having another Hufflepuff around!" she sighed theatrically, causing laughs to fill the air. "But, this can be taken as hard-working, can't it?"

"Sorry, dear, but Lyra is dead-set going to be a Slytherin. I'm betting my fortune on this. But that doesn't mean that she won't embody your traits. She certainly has your ruthless streak if the way she demolished poor Alphard last week with her words is anything to go by," Arcturus consoled, walking over to his wife, who smiled at his attempt to lift her spirits.

"Indeed."

"Does she know that we were scheduled to arrive?" Irma quizzed the couple.

Walburga was the one to respond, face showing pain as she futilely attempted to get baby Regulus to loosen his grip on her hair. "Yes, mother, we had informed her during breakfast that you were due to arrive sometime before lunch. I suspect she would be arriving soon. After she tries her hand at reading that book, of course."

Pollux chuckled. "She's six. We can't expect much from her now but something tells me that she will bring the world to their knees when she grows older."

"First correct thing you've said all day! Good job, Pollux," Melania remarked complementarity with a symphony of sarcasm, prompting a glare out of Pollux.

Pollux opened his mouth to tell her exactly how he felt about that comment when he was cut off by a melodic, "Grandfather!"

All attention was commanded with ease by the little girl who strolled into the parlour, the hem of her navy blue white polka-dotted skirt flaring outwards and long, dark hair swinging from side to side with every step she took while rebel strands danced on her forehead. Her liquid mercury eyes shone with delight and the crescent-moon curvature of her smile put on display the deep, radiant dimples embedded onto her cheeks. Even at a young age, Lyra Cassiopeia Black was truly a beautiful child, at least in the minds of her family members.

"My, my, Ly," Melania started in a teasing tone as Lyra approached them. "You've grown so much since the last time I saw you!"

Lyra's countenance flushed. "You saw me just two days ago, grandmother."

"And yet, you've grown so much, and so wonderfully. I hear you're reading by yourself now, that's phenomenal!" Melania gushed.

Lyra shunned her gaze downwards, the pink in her rosy cheeks deepening. "Thank you, grandmother," she mumbled. She should have been used to receiving compliments by now --Morgana only knew she was showered some daily by a plethora of people-- but hearing them still managed to get her flustered.

Melania's heart cooed at her adorable granddaughter and before she could express her thoughts aloud, Orion spoke first, the crease between his brows visibly deepening.

"Lyra," Orion started slowly, absentmindedly smoothening Sirius' hair with his hand as he gazed at his daughter with perplexion. "I don't believe I remember buying you a snake-skin scarf... Did you nick it from your mum's cupboard, perhaps? Darling, you know how exasperated your mother becomes whenever you rearranged the clothes in her cupboard."

Lyra's smile stretched to the ends of her cheeks and reached the twinkle that burned in her eyes. "You didn't buy me a snake-skin scarf, father. This is a real snake!" she announced giddily and as if to prove her point, Lyra lightly caressed the 'scarf' wrapped around her neck. Her 'scarf' moved at her touch, lifting its head and hissing at the other occupants of the room, revealing itself to be a venomous black mamba.

The reactions of her family were instantaneous and soon, the wands of Orion, Pollux, Arcturus and Melania were pointed at the snake, their expressions fearful for Lyra. Walburga, still carrying Regulus, moved back, clutching Sirius' hand and pulling him with her. Irma watched the scene unfolding calculatingly.

"Lyra, honey, don't worry, we'll take care of it," Melania assured, raking her mind for a spell that she can shoot at the snake with enough accuracy that her granddaughter would not get injured.

"Don't panic," Pollux added, his voice juxtaposing his command. "Make no sudden movements and stay calm."

Lyra cutely tilted her head. "But why would I panic?"

"If you haven't noticed, darling, there is a snake on you," Arcturus chirped in a dry tone.

Lyra rolled her eyes, unfettered by their comments or the snake she was using as a scarf. "Of course I noticed, especially considering I'm the one who asked Sally to come with me, anyway. Snakes aren't that active in cold months so I offered to take care of her. She was too big for me to carry and lazy to follow me so we came up with this system. It's neat, isn't it?"

"Sally?" Pollux echoed, baffled. "You named a venomous black mamba snake Sally?!"

Melania shot him a sardonic look from the corner of her eyes, wand still fixed towards Sally the snake. "Out of everything Lyra just said, that is what caught your attention?"

"Everyone has different priorities, alright? I just think that there are better names that could be bestowed on snakes." Pollux defended himself.

Lyra released a huff, capturing their regard once more. "Sally is a nice name, okay? I like it. Besides, I originally wanted to call it Salazar but then, it told me that she was a girl snake and thus, I changed it to Sally. Anyway, can I keep her? Can I, can I, can I, please? I'll feed her and everything, promise, but I want to keep Sally!" she demanded with a stomp of her feet, presenting the perfect picture of a spoilt child who was used to getting whatever they wanted with a bat of their lashes.

Meanwhile, the adults in the room froze, a thought resonating in each of their minds that Walburga gathered the courage to voice aloud, back still touching the wall, far away from her daughter. "I'm sorry..." she began, trying to keep her tone airy and light. "But did you say that you can...understand...the snake?"

Snippets of swallowed memories fleeted through Walburga's mind of one of her classmates back at Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin had been acclaimed for his ability to speak to snakes, along with those belonging to the Gaunt family, who were rumoured to be direct descendants. But the only person who she had actually seen speaking to snakes had been a certain, handsome Head Boy. A chilling feeling shot through her spinal cord as she forcibly blinked away the intrusive thought.

Lyra was oblivious to everybody's sentiments and commendable carried on answering calmly, dark brows bunched up. "Of course I can speak to snakes," she paused, confounded, adding, "Can't everyone?"

She received stunned silence in reply. Then, Melania slowly banished her wand, bringing the others to do the same. Afterwards, Arcturus spoke softly to Lyra, "No, no they cannot. That makes you very special."

"Wasn't I always special, though?"

"You are, definitely," Melania jumped to reassure. "But...let's call your ability unique? Hardly anyone has it, Lyra, and that makes you one of the little few who has been gifted with this trait."

"Oh." Lyra's eyes shined ethereally, visage brightening. "Really?"

"Really, really," Pollux confirmed with a faint laugh. "You, my dear Lyra, are going to grow up to make the Black name immensely proud. You are going to be the best of us all," he finished with a smile like gold dust painted on his face, pride blossoming in his chest that his granddaughter had the same powerful trait as the great founder of his house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Arcturus took that as his cue to delve into giving Lyra some background information regarding her new-found ability. "The language of the snake is known as Parseltongue. A person who can speak it is called a Parselmouth. It is a very rare gift, and I cannot express in words how happy I am that you have inherited this wonderful ability."

Lyra's face grew serious as she contemplated the true gravity of the matter in her mind. "I'll use my ability to bring honour and pride to the House of Black, grandfather, I promise."

"You've already brought honour and pride just by being yourself, never think otherwise," Orion responded before they could, smiling a warm, close-lipped smile towards Lyra who returned the sentiment.

Walburga released her grip on Sirius' wrist, relieved that a rogue snake wouldn't hurt her children before adjusting Regulus on her hip again, who was now twirling locks of her hair around his chubby little fingers. She stepped closer towards Lyra but then, Sally hissed dangerously at her, threatening anyone who dared to disturb or near its cuddle buddy.

Lyra plastered a scowl, exchanging hisses with the snake that sounded more like she was spitting out angry words. But then, she smiled at her mother. "Sorry about that, mummy. Sally was just being cranky for no reason. She's sorry about the rude words she said, though."

"Lovely," Walburga commented solely because she was unsure of how else to respond.

Lyra frowned suddenly as if recollecting something and spun towards her grandfather Arcturus. "Grandfather... You said earlier that being a parmesan--"

"--Parselmouth," Arcturus corrected with a chuckle. "Parmesan is a type of cheese, darling."

Lyra's cheeks pinked as she resumed talking. "You said earlier that being a parselmouth was an inherited ability. Grandmother Melania also said that nobody could speak this language... I'm not quite sure I follow..." her voice faded as she trailed off.

"My mother." Everyone swivelled towards Irma. An exhausted sigh escaped her lips as she resumed speaking. "The Most Ancient and once upon an extremely long time, Noble, House of Gaunt were very proud of their lineage to the House of Slytherin. They paraded it around like a weapon that only they possessed and considered it sacred, a virtue they needed to preserve and protect. To do so, they frequently intermarried, more so than any other purebloods, more so than the Blacks."

She halted her explanation, and her audience patiently listened, hanging onto her words like they were spoken from Lady Hecate herself. Irma watched the flames dance in the fireplace, casting shadows and transmitting warmth.

"My mother was one of the lucky few to escape that cycle of inbreeding, only because the then Lord Gaunt had owed a life debt to my father, the then Lord Crabbe. Although my mother was a Gaunt by birth, she was not a parselmouth. I had suspected that the ability might pass on to one of my children. I did not, however, consider my grandchildren." Irma met Lyra's mystical eyes. "You, Lyra, have gained the treasured gift of speaking parseltongue after three unsuccessful generations. So, congratulations are in order, I suppose because you are the only person other than those born to the House of Gaunt to be a parselmouth in more than six centuries."

Eyes brimming with barely concealed pride turned towards Lyra again but Walburga was shocked as this was the longest she had ever heard her mother talk. But, she cleared her throat, directing a smile at Lyra. "My darling, you are going to be the greatest of the greatest, and the House of Black will support you along the way, making sure you complete your destiny."

Lyra nodded her head slowly, still processing the information even as smiles were levelled in her direction. Sirius Black looked confused by the whole ordeal. Regulus Black didn't care what events took place as long as he had his mother's hair. Meanwhile, Melania's eyes glimmered with unvoiced schemes, delighted that she had found another partner-in-crime, much like Lucretia had been.

That fateful winter day sealed the position and opinion of Lyra in the viewpoints of her family members, becoming the apple of their eyes. Due to everyone primarily concentrating on Lyra, none would scold Sirius for his rebellious ways. In fact, he would secretly be encouraged to perform them with his sister using her silver tongue to subtly push her parents to praise him rather than punish him.

Dorea Potter née Black was chosen as Lyra's godmother, a title that she held with the utmost seriousness, spoiling her with presents and providing a cover for her after Lyra, James, Sirius and Regulus painted the main Black Manor, fondly dubbed the Planetarium, a bright, Gryffindor crimson for fun and merriment.

Subsequently, Sirius Black and James Potter would meet before Hogwarts due to this special connection, forming a bond stronger than ever. Only this time, Regulus Black would also be included.

With a childhood filled with the likes of those her age belonging to the Sacred 28, Lyra lived an eventful life with petty drama at every corner. She would grow up with a loving --albeit, insane-- family teaching her the traditions and ways of their ancestors along with a budding collection of dangerous pet snakes. Lyra carried the weight on her shoulders so well, one would have assumed it to be a feather rather than a lineage. With family values deeply infused into her blood, Lyra was willing to do anything and everything to keep them safe, no matter the cost, no matter anything.