Shades of Silver and Black

STANDING ON THE BALCONY connected to her room with her elbows resting on the railing, she stared at the snowflakes as they performed a choreographed dance with the wind as they fell. Lyra traced the movements of one as it landed on the bridge of her nose. The cool breeze caressed her skin. Flushing due to the cold, a shy smile that's small and sweet tugged at her lips, causing her pearly white teeth to peek out as she focused on the snowflake with the utmost fascination, trying to carefully balance the snowflake as to not let it fall.

Donning a boatneck ivory coloured dress with a golden belt that hugged her waist before flaring out, and with her platinum hair up in a chignon, Lyra blended with the white ambience in the early morning of the winter wonderland.

Every breath that she exhaled was released in the form of mist. Another snowflake landed on Lyra's lashes. The corners of her eyes creased and crinkled in a hidden, childlike grin. Despite the warming charms she had applied to her clothes, Lyra habitually wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill.

There was a symphony of serenity present in the scene around her. The air thrummed with glee at the way the pretty snowflakes fell. Streaks of sunlight faintly gleaned over them, causing the snowflakes to glitter. Lyra closed her eyes as quiet contentment spread through her.

A familiar shriek pierced through the air the next moment, prompting Lyra's eyes to flare open. Her shoulders tensed momentarily, recollecting the striking similarity to back in her fifth year, when Lyra had rushed towards the infirmary wing, Sirius' screams getting louder and louder.

Instinctively, her arms fell and her fingers tangled into each other, trying to find the cold feel of the diamond ring that she had possessed for seven years. But in its absence, Lyra relaxed, reminding herself that such an incident would never occur again.

After all, neither she nor her brothers were at Hogwarts.

They were at the Potter Manor. Lyra reasoned that either James or Regulus had replaced Sirius' shampoo with honey again.

A warmth that juxtaposed the weather spread over her chest, and let out a long, slow breath. She viewed the falling snowflakes and white scenery once more, her grin growing as she hugged herself. Satisfaction settled in her soul and Lyra felt like she was floating like she was flying and there was nothing that could—

"—JAMES CHARLUS POTTER!" Her godmother's voice cut through the sky like lightning and Lyra fondly wondered what stunt her godbrother had performed this time to earn the ire of his mother.

This was followed by a muffled voice, who she deduced to be Sirius saying, "Ohhh, she called your middle name..."

A thud sound succeeded it, accompanied by the sound of somebody yelping loudly. Loud, incoherent voices rang into the air and Lyra repeated the action of rubbing her arms to ward off the chill, the corners of her lips began curling upwards.

Then, she spun on her bare feet and exited the balcony and her room, stepping onto the array of woollen rugs that had been matted on the hallways and intending to witness the theatrics that would no doubt unfold herself.

As she strolled down the long hallway, Lyra spotted Charlus in the distance, stepping out of his private study. She quickened her pace to catch up to him.

His face was flushed and he looked disconcerted and groggy, still dressed in the baby blue robes and casual attire he had been wearing last night. His already unruly hair was now matted, sticking up at all angles while shadows hung from his eyes and creases were present on his forehead.

"Good morning, Uncle Charlus," Lyra greeted pleasantly when she was beside him, cocking her head to one side and grinning.

Charlus yawned loudly, holding up a finger to shush her before using a palm to cover his mouth. The lack of pureblood propriety, which had been drilled into him as a child so much that it became natural, spoke volumes of the exhaustion that slowly seeped into the lines on his face. Charlus shook his head and blinked a few times, sniffing his nose. It was then that he acknowledged her existence. "Oh, hi Lyra. Had breakfast yet?"

"I'm on my way now," she replied, adding, "Brushed your teeth yet?"

"I'm on my way now," Charlus echoed, sniffling again and proceeded to chortle until he dissolved into a coughing fit. Lyra laughed at his words before taking to observing his tired demeanour.

Lyra knew her godmother had placed a bed in Charlus' study to encourage him to take frequent naps between work and she was also aware of how he had barricaded himself in his study soon after dinner. The question left her mouth before she could stop it. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"If Dorea asks, I did." Was Charlus' response before a yawn escaped his mouth.

"Tough day preparing for the Wizengamot?" Lyra asked him knowingly. After all, the sessions were scheduled to resume on the second day of January, which was only four days away.

"With idiots disguising themselves as politicians, what else can it be?" Charlus grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes while sniffing his nose again.

There were two bills due to be introduced on the day it opened, one from the light and the other from the neutral tier of the Wizengamot, the latter of which Charlus was currently sacrificing his sleep and time for to polish the bill and make it as loophole-free as he could.

No longer obligated to keep up with the messes of the Wizengamot, Lyra had mostly tuned out the discussion at dinner the previous night when Charlus had expressed his frustrations regarding the bills to the rest of the occupants at the dinner table, but she gathered that it was connected to setting up magical orphanages due to the skyrocketing amount of parentless children or parents who were mistreating their children, the numbers increasing thanks to the war.

"Ah," Lyra intoned sympathetically before hugging him. "Good luck."

Charlus lightly shivered. "Thank you, I'll need it."

"You need to apply some skin potions, by the way," Lyra said when she stepped back. "Your skin is really rough. As is James and Sirius."

"Winter does do that," Charlus reminded, chuckling as he pulled the collar of his robes closer and slipped his hands into its pockets. "It'll pass. Me having rough skin is no biggie."

"I'll be sure to convey your response to Aunt Dorea."

"Then again, having smooth skin is very important," Charlus hastily spoke with a sombre note in his tone. "I'll ask Fleamont to create some sort of potion which will give permanently smooth skin instantly."

"Based on my experience, creating potions is difficult and younger brothers don't listen to their older siblings."

"With proper motivation, potions can be created with ease, and with enough blackmail material, your younger brothers can become your most loyal followers," Charlus advised with a wink.

Lyra's dimples were etched into her skin like little craters. "How were you not a Slytherin?"

"Because if I was, I wouldn't have been able to experience the forbidden romance trope with Dorea back at Hogwarts," Charlus mused as an answer.

Thunderous rattles of cackles and pitter-patter of feet snapped Charlus out of his nostalgia-tinged daze and alerted Lyra to the task she had set out to observe in the first place.

Bidding each other a temporary goodbye, they departed onto their separate ways.

By the time she had glided down the spiralling staircase, much to her dismay, the live entertainment had faded into a subdued act. Primly seated in the formal dining room, Regulus, James, Sirius and Aunt Dorea ate their breakfast in peace, waiting for neither Lyra nor Charlus.

Light flooded into the room courtesy of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the near-transparent curtains did little to hurdle them, creating incandescent glows of halos around the occupants. Colourful streamers dominated the ceiling with sporadic garlands of pinecones which Lyra, her brothers, Aunt Dorea and Uncle Charlus had strung by hand a few days prior. Obnoxiously large bows in a variety of shades decorated the pastel walls while unlit scented candles littered the dining table, in the centre of which was a basket filled with fruits.

The Potter Manor conflicted the Black estates in many manners, the most glaring of which was how the entire house was seemingly spun from the rays of the sun with light present in every nook and corner, a stark contrast to the heavy curtains, dark furniture and shadows which clung at the Black properties. And even at the bleak of winter, a welcoming warmth engulfed the house.

"Good morning," Lyra said again, seating herself in an empty seat opposite to her godmother, who cheerfully returned the greeting.

As a response, Lyra received a grunt from a half-asleep Regulus, a grumble of "What's good about this morning anyway," from James along with a sigh from Sirius, who winced every time he had to move his arm.

"So," Lyra started after piling up her plate with pancakes, "any plans for the day?"

"Sleeping," Dorea chirped first, adding in a low baritone, "I noticed the light in Charlus' study was there at even three in the morning. I doubt he got much sleep, he's terribly worried about the bill. I suppose I'll have to spend the day trying to force him to sleep and hibernate myself. I haven't gotten much sleep since this one was born," she explained, motioning with her head towards James, who would have grinned had his morning not begun with a scolding.

Lyra nodded understandingly. "I did hear that loads of animals hibernate all winter. Sleep well."

"Thank you." Dorea beamed, leaning forward and propping her elbows on the table. "I haven't blessed you with much god-motherly advice, have I? Well, here's one: don't have children until you're mentally prepared to sacrifice your sleep."

"That's the most wisdom I've ever heard. You are truly great beyond your years," Lyra praised with glittering eyes, making Dorea laugh. A surge of gratitude overcame Lyra as she gazed upon Dorea, thankful that as she had promised, her godmother had not brought up the events that had occurred on the day of her surprise party and had also informed James, Sirius and Regulus not to pester her about it until Lyra herself initiated a conversation regarding it.

Lyra levelled a gaze at her brothers. "What about you three? Any plans for the day?" She asked, having none herself considering how Lucius had gone on a short trip with his parents to Ireland and the fragile state of her family bonds.

"Remus can't visit," Sirius groused instead, channelling his frustration as he stabbed his pancakes with his fork. "Neither can Peter."

"And Amal is visiting her extended family," Regulus complained, scowling, suddenly awake.

"We could go out somewhere then?" Lyra suggested, straightening her spine. She glanced at Dorea for permission, who nodded her head. Then, Lyra listed off ideas, "Perhaps, to the dragon sanctuary, or—"

"—I'm not allowed to go out anywhere for the next few days," James cut in, whining. With a roll of his eyes, he elaborated, "Apparently, it's rude to play harmless pranks now and freedom doesn't exist."

"You nearly set the house on fire, James. I'm being literal on that," Dorea said, piquing a brow.

"And harmed my poor, precious hair," Sirius added, shooting him a glare.

"And harmed Sirius' poor, precious hair," Dorea accepted, setting her cutlery on the table as she folded her arms. "As much as I detest confining you during the holidays, darling, you must receive some sort of punishment for your extreme behaviour today. So while I am sorry, I stand by my words: you are not allowed to take a step or fly out of this house."

Sirius guffawed at Dorea's statements and James threw a blueberry on his face, which Sirius ignored. Regulus paid them no heed, still sulking—because a Black does not brood, they sulk—with the sunken disposition of a person waiting for their beloved to return from war.

"Is it alright if James is still within the property?" Lyra queried Dorea. "What if he's outside the house but within the boundaries of the estate?"

Dorea hummed thoughtfully, picking up her fork once more. "I suppose that's alright."

"Excellent!" Lyra clapped her hands together. "We should go outside sometime after lunch, perhaps? It's snowing and it all looks ever so lovely."

Regulus' countenance perked up a bit. "That sounds fun," he said.

"Oh, you're going to regret this proposition," Sirius warned her, a competitive glint entering his gaze. "Because snow and siblings equate to snowball fights."

"It's going to be a battle Royale soon," James added in agreement, before telling Lyra, "I hope you're prepared to lose. From what I've noticed, you tended to be a sour loser, so brace yourself."

"That's funny," Lyra quipped, bearing her teeth and pointing the butterknife she was holding at him. "I was about to tell you the same."

Sirius and James adamantly refused to apply warming charms, insisting that they wanted to feel the cool breezes. Lyra and Regulus were smarter and thus, took precautions for themselves, applying warming charms on their coats and scarfs.

The second they opened the front door and stepped outside, Sirius promptly turned on his heel and navigated his way up the stairs. He returned a half-hour later, bundled in at least nine layers, two scarves wrapped around his neck, a woolly hat on his head and overall, distinctly resembling a snowman. As a courtesy, he handed James—who possessed a greater resistance to cold—a set of mittens and fluffy ear-warmers, which he wore. Lyra stifled her laughter, Regulus did not.

"Sirius, honey, I know it's freezing but you're gonna die of hyperthermia if you dress like that," Lyra said in between laughs.

Sirius huffed, jamming his hands inside the pockets of his coat as he rocked back and forth. "I'm going to die from the cold if I don't wear all this."

"I could put a warming charm on you?"

"No."

Then, they stepped into the blanket of snow, and Sirius began to run. James chased after him while Lyra first picked up a bunch of snow and balled it as she followed James. Regulus lingered in his spot for a moment before imitating their actions.

Lyra stuffed snow down the back of James' coat as soon as the opportunity was presented to her and doubled over with laughter as James squeaked, frantically displacing the snow as his teeth clattered.

Sirius stopped running, turning to the commotion and pointing a finger at James as he fell to the snow-filled ground with laughter.

Regulus sneaked up behind Lyra and stuffed snow down her coat, supplying the same treatment she had meted out to James. And because the warming charms were applied to clothes and not her skin, Lyra got a taste of her medicine. Lyra shrieked and shivered, shaking her body hysterically in hopes of getting rid of the snow, all the while chanting, "Cold cold cold cold cold cold— Regulus, I'm going to kill you!"

Regulus dashed, leaving laughter in his wake. Lyra chased after him, leaving snow in hers.

James, having recovered by now, crept over towards where Sirius had taken to making snow-angels and was flapping his arms around. Collecting as much snow as he humanely could with his woollen hands and ignoring the way his fingers became slightly numb under, James dumped them all on Sirius, burying him in snow.

James chortled while Sirius jumped back to his feet, covered in snow from head to toe. His arms wrapped around himself and teeth grinding. His cheeks were flushed a rosy taint, more from anger than due to the cold, and molten rage rolled off him. "You. Are. Dead."

Sirius lunged at him and James copied Regulus' action and rushed away.

In the meantime, Lyra and Regulus' chase-fest had evolved into a snowball fight. They weren't even throwing proper balls of snow, just grabbing clumps of snow and hurling it in the general direction of their opponent, peals of laughter floating in the air the entire time. The 'snowball' would break at the midpoint, causing splatters to fall at worse.

They needed to take more time to shape the drifts of snow for it to have greater impact, but the two of them were lost in their indescribable joy, favouring flinging barely composed handfuls of snow instead.

But then, Lyra finally, quickly, created an actual snowball, aimed for Regulus' nose and launched it into a bullseye.

The impact was immediate, and she almost jumped for jubilant joy, but her visage fell like the snowflakes around them when Regulus clutched his nose, falling to his knees.

Lyra's shoulders hunched while her eyes widened, a hand leapt to cover her open mouth as her heart leapt into her throat. Her stomach clenched, her hands became cold and clammy while a bead of sweat appeared on her forehead and her blood went icy with panic.

Lyra sprung forward, her terror mounted with every step while her voice was thick and edged with fear, "Oh Merlin! Regulus, I'm terribly sorry, are you—"

A snowball hit her straight on her face, stilling her.

Regulus victoriously grinned, jumping back to his feet and dusting his clothes. "Yes, I'm okay."

Lyra closed her eyes, proceeded to inhale a long, deep breath before reminding herself that killing her brother wasn't an appropriate response to her rage.

But it was tempting.

So, so, tempting, as if a golden apple was dangling in front of her.

Opening her eyes, Lyra told Regulus while embodying the calm before the storm, "Run."

"With pleasure."

He ran, she chased after him as fast as she could and yelled, "I hope the devil uses your backbone as a ladder to pick apples in the garden of hell!"

"Why would you be using my backbones? You have enough House-Elves to make them pick apples for you!" Regulus shouted, never halting his running.

"I've been trying to get more hands-on while serving revenge, which is a dish best served cold. Speaking of which—" Lyra pulled out her wand, which had been kept in a holster tied to her knee, and pointed it to Regulus' running frame, a vicious grin breaking out on her face.

She performed a circular motion with it before slashing it diagonally and then, towards the sky. Her retaliation was swift and evident as a sudden, short avalanche of snow piled upon Regulus, who shouted swears.

Happiness streaked through Lyra like a comet as she smugly returned her wand, crossing her arms over her chest. "You should have hidden, not ran."

On the other side of the field of snow, Sirius had now gathered a ridiculous amount of snow and made a horrifyingly large snowball, still embarking on his quest to chase after a screaming James.

When the snowball got too heavy for him, Sirius knew he had to get rid of it, preferably at James' loss. Sirius quickened his pace until he was near James, but was still unsure whether it would make an impact or if the force at which he threw it would be too little.

But thanks to the beater skills he hadn't known he had inherited from his grandmother Irma, Sirius launched the absurdly huge snowball with frightening accuracy, hitting James' back with enough force that he fell to the ground.

Sirius fist-bumped the air, jumping triumphantly. "And that, wizards and witches, is how a snowball throwing champion does things. In your face, James! Well, actually, the snow is in your face, but metaphorically, in your face James! Woo-hoo!" He cheered, dancing.

But James didn't move.

Sirius faltered. "James, come on, get up. I'm not done yet. It's no fun if you're just going to lay there."

James was still motionless and unresponsive to his words, laying on his back on the bed of snow, his eyes shut and arms lifeless in a random position.

"James?" Sirius' hesitant voice was barely above a whisper.

When James didn't make any sort of movement, Sirius shivered and this time, it wasn't because of the cold. His legs wobbled and dread twisted in his gut. Terror sealed his throat and his face grew ashen. Sirius felt his bones turn into jelly and his eyes widen with alarm as fear trickled down his spine and panic seized his brain.

He rushed to James' side, believing the worse to have occurred, but then—

Then, that bastard very, very slightly shifted, adjusted himself to a more comfortable position to play dead.

Sirius' gaze narrowed, expression hardening as a vein popped out in his neck.

Well, if he wanted to play it that way, then who was Sirius to hurdle him.

"Oh, James!" Sirius cried, falling to his knees beside James and cupping his cold cheeks with his colder hands. "Oh, poor, poor, precious James! Succumbed to a snowball, who knew? Oh, you lovely, pure baby, taken away from this world too soon!" Sirius made a show of wiping non-existent tears from his eyes while James' body lightly shook as he bit the inside of his cheeks, trying to suppress a giggle.

Sirius pretended not to have noticed and placed a hand on his forehead, the palm facing outwards, getting ready to embody his inner Victorian. "Oh you sweet, sweet summer child, taken away during the bitter winter! Oh, what a tragic twist of the tale! Oh, what cruel irony! Oh, woe be to this world! Let the skies cry with this snow to honour a fallen role model to young pranksters everywhere!" He declared ominously and a snicker nearly escaped James' lips as he struggled to keep his eyes closed and tried his very best not to react and continue to play dead.

Not that Sirius was intended to make it easy.

"Oh, James!" He laid his head onto James' stomach, fingers deadly close to James' tickle spot. "Oh marvellous, magnificent James whose fortune I shall now have to inherit! Oh, you brave, courageous Gryffindor whose casket will be in Slytherin colours because our family is filled with snakes! Oh, you pathetic excuse of a human being!" Sirius bellowed mournfully, sobbing in a faux manner.

He used James' sleeves to blow his nose before standing on his feet, picking up snow as he rose. "Well," his voice gained a tinge of coolness, "I suppose, as your best friend, I'll have to resurrect you." Sirius proceeded to shove a load of snow in James' face, whose eyes flared open as he jumped to his feet.

"Sirius!" James exclaimed, simultaneously hugging himself while trying to shake the snow off his body.

"Hope you had a fun time in hell," Sirius intoned. "But unfortunately, now you're back on earth. Run."

The red present in James' face grew. "Not this time." He lunged forward and Sirius couldn't escape him in time.

Both of them fell on the blanket of snow and started wrestling, pushing and pulling each other, tumbling around until they were covered in white from head to toe and numb from cold and washed over with adrenaline but were also enjoying themselves.

"I won!" James beamed after a while, standing up only to find himself tackled down again by Sirius.

"First time," Sirius added in panted breaths in the middle of his attempt to over-power James. "You won the first time. Now, it's round two."

"And you're going to lose," James said matter-of-factly, his hair in disarray but his grin bright enough to replace the sun.

Much later, when the sky became a canvas of pink and was streaked with blues, the edges blurring into purple, Regulus, Lyra, James and Sirius had re-united and accepted the trepidation-inducing task of building a snowman.

They rolled the large balls of snow together, promoting teamwork when it had to be stacked upon one another. After that, Regulus scouted for circular black pebbles to use as eyes, Lyra sacrificed her scarf for the snowman and Sirius gave up his woolly hat while James found twigs for them to use for providing the snowman hands and a mouth.

As a finishing touch, Lyra conjured a carrot from the kitchen of the Potter Manor using her wand and Regulus was given the honour of putting it on the snowman. The four of them gazed at the final product with visible pride, huddled together for body warmth.

"We should name him," Sirius declared, rubbing his palms together. "And since I suggested naming him, we should name him Snuffles."

James shook his head. "Leo sounds better," he proclaimed, a misty breath of air leaving his mouth.

"I think Leo is a fetching name," Lyra agreed.

Regulus shot her a look. "Where is your Slytherin pride, woman?"

Lyra raised her hands in the universal surrender motion. "All I'm saying is, Leo is also the name of a constellation. And before my Slytherin pride comes my pride in being a—"

The word was right there on her tongue, Black. A heritage she had considered as her identity ever since she inhaled her first breath. Lyra could pinpoint precisely which moment they had begun to taste bitter.

Since all of us were in the same place, we absolutely had to take a family portrait.

Lyra ran her tongue over her teeth wondering if it would brush the words off. They still clung to her, the taste heavy and burning to get out. So, she swallowed her disappointment and absentmindedly twirled a stray strand of platinum hair that had slipped from her bun, plastering a sweet smile on her face.

"And although Leo sounds lovely, I believe I'm partial to naming Mr Snowman Marcus or Aurelius. He was one of Rome's greatest emperors after all, just as Mr Snowman is the greatest snowman," she said.

"Wait, I actually like that name," Sirius said.

"Which one? Marcus or Aurelius?"

"Neither. I like the name Mr Snowman," Sirius intoned, beaming. "It fits him perfectly! Mr Snowman," he tested saying the name and became satisfied by the way it rolled off his tongue. "It's perfect! It's elegant, fancy, and it's everything a name should be."

"I second the name," James piqued.

As an afterthought, Regulus chimed, "I third it."

As a union, they glanced at Lyra, who heaved a sigh. "Well, my opinion doesn't really count, considering a majority has already been formed."

"It counts to us," James stated. Sirius and Regulus firmly nodded their heads at his words.

The corners of Lyra's lips quipped up. "Mr Snowman is a fetching name. And not to brag, but I came up with it all by myself," she bragged.

Then, she stretched her arm to lovingly wrap it around the newly dubbed 'Mr Snowman' with the intention of giving it a hug only to accidentally cause the large, middle snowball to collapse and in turn, bring about the death of Mr Snowman.

Lyra appeared horrified, her brows threatening to disappear into her hairline, eyes wide and a hand over her mouth.

Her brothers were mirror images of her expression. "Lyra!"

"I'm so, so, so incredibly sorry."

The next day, the six occupants of the Potter Manor were coughing and sniffing messes with pulses.

Lyra, James, Regulus and Sirius' snow day had caused terrible side-effects which included but were not limited to coughing, sneezing, sniffing, tiredness, lethargy and a fever.

Additionally, as it had unfortunately been revealed, Charlus had had a cold the previous day, something Lyra should have noticed considering she prided herself on being a healer. And considering Dorea had spent three hours trying to get her husband to sleep and not work before ending up falling asleep on the bed with him when she finally succeeded in her task, she too had become ill.

None of them got out of bed the entire morning, but Dorea did have the forethought to ask the house-elves to send them light breakfasts in bed along with a vial of pepper-up potion to consume, before resuming her slumber.

Around noon, Charlus forced himself out of bed, made rounds to the occupied rooms and placed a folded wet cloth on everyone's foreheads before returning to his nap.

A couple of hours later, it was Lyra's turn to do something. Hugging a quilt around her body like it was her lifeline, Lyra dragged herself first to the master bedroom. Charlus hadn't closed the door so she sneaked a peek inside, smiling when she spotted the old couple cuddling and snoring, only occasionally coughing. Then, she continued to walk, face flushed but feeling more lively than she had prior.

Lyra leaned against the archway of one of the rooms, this one specifically possessing three beds with a bedside table beside each of them containing a plate of apples in various states of uneaten, and was greeted by a series of coughs. This room, decked in pastel wallpapers and having trunks of toys, housed James, Sirius and Regulus, whenever the latter two spent nights in Potter Manor.

Pulling the quilt wrapped around her body tighter, Lyra's eyes swept over the scene, noting that Sirius was softly snoring on his bed while Regulus was leaning against the headrest of his, lips twisted to form a scowl and James was laying on his bed, wide awake and the wet cloth still on his forehead. As a side-effect of the pepper-up potion, steam emitted from their ears—and Lyra's—although it had been hours since they had drunk it, which she chose to ignore.

Armed with a handkerchief, she asked no one in particular, "How are you holding up?"

"I can't even hear my own coughing thanks to him," Regulus replied irritably, jerking a thumb towards James.

"Ignore it, Regulus," Lyra suggested, her voice slightly hoarse. She took a moment to sneeze into a handkerchief, her platinum hair which had been tied into a ponytail flying high in the air as she did and held onto the door frame for support. "It's not a competition of who can cough the loudest."

"Because if it was, I'd be winning." James managed to summon a grin before he dissolved into a coughing fit.

Regulus' patience dwindled to new lows. He grabbed a nearby pillow and hurled it towards James, who being the chaser he was, caught it with ease.

"Thank you for this pillow, Regulus," James mimicked the Cheshire Cat and then, purely for spitting purposes, coughed on Regulus' pillow, much to the boy's horror.

"That's it!" Regulus exclaimed, aghast, ready to jump out of the bed only to start coughing.

Lyra tossed James an amused glance. "You do realise that there is now an 87.35 % chance of you getting hurt, right?"

"I guess I just have to be the 12.65%." Was James' response after a moment.

Lyra's brows furrowed. "That's not how—"

"Too late."

Regulus seemed to have decided that James wasn't worth the trouble and lay back onto the bed, hugging the quilt before soundly falling asleep, adding his own set of snores to match Sirius'.

"You should sleep as well," Lyra told James. She sneezed once more and blew her nose, proceeding to make her way over to James' bed, tucking him into the blanket before smiling down at him. "I'll wake you up in a couple of hours when you need to take the potion again."

"Okay," James said, a yawn slipping from his mouth. "And Lyra?"

"Hmm?"

"You should sleep as well. Don't forget you're also sick."

"I know, don't worry." Lyra waved him goodbye and sneezed again before strolling out of the room, adjusting the quilt closer for warmth.

But she didn't sleep.

She walked back to her room at the Manor and called a house-elf, asking for the Bye Bye Cold Potion. While the Pepper Up Potion was used to cure common colds within three doses and warm up their bodies, the Bye Bye Potion, while significantly more expensive, prevented the drinker from catching a cold on a long term basis of six months.

Given how there was another week of holidays left and snow was still falling, Lyra deduced that after they recovered, her brothers might even indulge in another snowy day, this time dragging her godparents in it as well, which she was admittedly looking forward to.

Like her, neither the Potters nor her brothers had visited any of the Blacks since that fateful day, not even on Yule. Allowing them to create delightful memories and caving to their every whim when they made a huge sacrifice on their part for a war that wasn't theirs to fight, was the least she could do.

The House Elf spluttered as it informed her that they didn't have the Bye Bye Potion in the Manor but then assured her that it would get it in a moment.

"No need," Lyra told it. "I'll go and get it myself. I'm overdue for a walk anyway."

Ignoring the House Elf's protests, Lyra dismissed it.

After the House Elf left, she stepped in front of her mirror, produced her wand and took care in applying numerous glamour charms to disguise how exhausted she felt and lessen the red in her face. Then, she changed into formal robes and waved her wand in specific motions a couple more times, causing her near-white hair to tumble down her shoulders like a waterfall before fixing her appearance a little more and adding gold accessories.

Remembering to carry her pouch of galleons, Lyra apparated to the packed ground floor of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries where a potion apothecary was present, before returning her wand to its holster.

A line of house-elves stood outside the apothecary, waiting to buy the potions required by their masters. But upon spotting her, they gave a wide berth, allowing her to skip ahead in line and thus, get the potions she required quicker.

Lyra passed the House-Elves and walked ahead to the counter, where a man greeted her, surprised that his customer was a human being rather than a House Elf.

"Six vials of Bye Bye Potion," Lyra told him before she sneezed.

But within the lapse of a moment, she felt somebody bump shoulders against hers, pushing her backwards to replace her in front of the counter. Lyra's jaw clenched, hand hovering over where her wand rested.

"Seventy-four Blubbers Potion," the witch demanded before saying, "Actually, you know what, give me every Blubber Potion you have."

It was after the man behind the counter nodded his head and turned to supply the potions did the witch swivel towards Lyra, "Sorry," she said, and Lyra noticed the lime-green colour of her outer robes and the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed. A healer.

"It's alright," Lyra intoned understandingly to the witch, who flashed her a grateful smile.

Another person barged into the apothecary, "Emily! What's taking so long? We need those potions now," the person said in a voice Lyra recognised all too well: Madam Pomfrey who volunteered at St Mungo's during the holidays.

"Mr Groff is taking too long," the now identified Emily irritably responded, tapping her feet impatiently.

"Mr Groff! Quicker now!" Madam Pomfrey ordered, a hand on her hip. It was at that moment a fit of coughs escaped Lyra's throat without her consent, bringing Madam Pomfrey to notice her old student, her eyes lighting up. "Lyra! You're back from Argentina!"

"Peru, actually," Lyra dimpled and blew her nose in the handkerchief she carried with her as Emily grabbed the container of vials Mr Groff provided before rushing out of the apothecary.

"That's nice. Very lovely place." Madam Pomfrey commented, briefly hesitating before questioning out of the blue. "How are your healing studies going?"

"Very well, I suppose," Lyra replied with a sniff, collecting the bag of Bye Bye Potions that Mr Groff kept on the counter. "I'm enjoying it tremendously and its—"

"—Yes yes it's fun," Madame Pomfrey waved away her words. "But have you participated in surgeries and healed serious injuries successfully and that sort?"

"...Yes," Lyra answered slowly with another snuffle, adjusting the strap of the bag on her wrist and shifting on her feet. "Might I ask why you're asking me all this, Madam Pomfrey?"

In response, the matron sighed. "Normally we wouldn't allow anyone who worked outside St Mungo's to assist here but... Well, circumstances change." Her features grew gaunt. "An attack happened on some of the departments in the Ministry. The entirety of employees who worked there have been wounded, some small injuries but most major ones. The Aurors had it worse. The majority of them are going to be hospitalised, I reckon. Ceilings collapsed. They're still fishing survivors. It's a busy time for us and we need all the help we can get." She paused and scanned Lyra's glamorised face. "You look ill," Madam Pomfrey deduced before shaking her head. "You know what? That's alright. I'm sure you took the Pepper Up Potion and we're much too short on staff. Come along."

Madam Pomfrey swirled around in a blur of lime green and strolled out of the apothecary, expecting Lyra to follow, which after Lyra covered her mouth to cough once more, she did, swinging the bag of potions as she walked.

The hospital was crowded to the point where it was hard to navigate through the rows of wizards and witches with a variety of various injuries. In one instance, Madam Pomfrey had to hold Lyra's hand so she wasn't lost in the sea of faces.

When they reached the intensive care unit, Madam Pomfrey informed her that this was the place where they lacked the most healers, especially since the majority of the victims had dire wounds. Giving her a lime green robe and allowing Lyra to temporarily store the bag of potions in the healer's lounge, Madam Pomfrey whisked Lyra away to assist her on a number of surgeries, the first one being a classic case of being hit with the Skin Decaying Curse, invented by the ancestor of yours truly.

The Skin Decaying Curse was created by former Minister of Magic, Araminta Black, and used against a rival candidate. Once the victim was hit with the curse, every single one of their skin cells would individually die a microsecond apart from each other. While this was happening, blood loss would start to occur simultaneously, the estimated time of death would be within twenty to thirty minutes. Inspired by the emblem of the House of Slytherin, this curse would allow the victim to be alive just enough to see their skin shed right in front of them.

When she entered the operation room, Lyra stilled in her steps for the span of a second as much to her consternation, she recognised the patient. With floppy red hair and cheekbones alike to Grandmother Malania, there laid Fabian Prewett, eyes closed and breathing uneven as layers of his skin peeled off.

Gripping her wand tightly, Lyra and the healers in the room concentrated on their task of saving Fabian's life.

Hours passed in a whirlwind.

Fabian would have to be hospital-monitored and on bed-rest for at best another month and at worse, three. It would be a long and hard road of recovery ahead for him, each minuscule movement made would hurt like the cruciatus curse. He'd have to completely depend on somebody else for everything, wouldn't be able to talk since each syllable that slipped from his lips would be equivalent to the slashing curse on his eyes. Growing skin back was a Herculean task with pain greeting him at every nook and corner. Even mundane actions like sleeping or sitting up would cause a jolt of throbbing to torment him, anything that touched his skin would cause aching. There were some things magic could not speed up, and there were only so many pain-reducing, body-numbing potions one could consume.

Shoulders hunched, Lyra gulped down a bottle of water and calmed her laboured breathing before she picked up a clipboard and made rounds around the ocean of patients, asking questions and taking notes. A little later when Emily from earlier thanked her for helping them during a time of dire need now that the situation could be handled, silently conveying that she could leave.

"It was my pleasure," Lyra intoned with a smile and then paused. "Although, if you don't mind, before I go, could I visit one of the patients—if they are here, in the first place."

"I suppose..." Emily responded hesitantly. "It depends, to be honest. Who do you want to visit?"

"Gideon Prewett."

Gideon, it turned out, was present in the hospital. Lyra entered the room she had been informed he occupied, holding a vial of the medicine he was scheduled to drink to help heal his injuries.

Gideon had been laying on his back with his eyes vacantly facing the ceiling. He averted his gaze when he spotted her arrive, having been alerted to her presence when he heard loud coughs. Fixing a smile on his face, Gideon winced as he sat upon the bed and leaned against the headrest.

According to Gideon's medical report, his ribs had been cracked, bruises lined his face and arms while deep gashes marked his legs. It was horrific for Lyra to see her cousin in such a state, but all she could do was exhale a relieved breath that Gideon wasn't hurt as gravely as his twin brother, who would face life-long mental—and if treated improperly, physical—trauma due to the curse he had been hit with.

"You work at St Mungo's?" Was the first thing that Gideon said as she approached him. He frowned. "Okay, are you really Lyra or are those potions having some wonky side effects on me."

Lyra cracked a smile at that. "I'm really Lyra," she confirmed before her lips twisted. "Remind me why you choose to become an Auror again?"

"It's the Gryffindor complex," Gideon explained jokingly. "See, we brave-hearts want to save everyone we can, despite the consequences we may undergo."

"Everyone but yourselves." Lyra's lips thinned into a straight line. "You count as well. It's completely okay if you only save one person, it's more than fine if that one person is you. Save yourself first."

"And that's why you're a Slytherin and I'm a Gryffindor," Gideon managed a grin.

Lyra rolled her eyes and sneezed before standing beside his bed. Holding the potion in one hand, she produced her wand and cast a few diagnostic charms, among others.

"You don't have to tell me what happened to Fabian," Gideon quietly quipped after the lapse of a heartbeat. "I already know. Emily told me. I don't want to talk about that."

"So, you're on a first-name basis with Emily," Lyra noted instead, the left corner of her lips curling into a smirk before she sniffed.

It was Gideon's turn to roll his eyes. "Given how alike you and Fabian are, I'm sure people will be confused regarding who is his twin," he grumbled before clearing his throat, "And as I've told him a thousand times before, Emily and I are just friends."

"Of course. I believe you. Completely. Totally."

"How was your surprise party?" Gideon asked her, changing the topic and grimacing as he adjusted himself. "Sorry, we couldn't make it. Mum and dad were abroad and there was an attack in a muggle neighbourhood that day."

"Let's just say I was truly surprised." Lyra lightly laughed, placing a palm on her mouth when she coughed again. "It was...not what I was expecting."

"Ah," Gideon said and there were a few beats of silence before he told her gravely, "Bellatrix was there."

Lyra suppressed the urge to ask him if she got hurt, still applying charms on him.

"She might have been wearing a mask but what's the point when the spells she used screamed Black," Gideon continued. "I found her laughing as she used the organ liquifying curse on a pregnant woman whose only crime was being a muggle. I suppose I got away with it easily considering I duelled with who I'm bloody sure is Mulciber. But... Fabian was the one who helped the lady, Bellatrix..." The crinkles beside his dark eyes tightened while his features hardened. "Well, you already know what she did to my brother." He took a long breath, exhaling it slowly. "It's not right. What she's doing, what they are doing. It's so, so cruel." Gideon's tone wavered. "It's so inhumane and they do it anyway. That's monstrous and it makes me absolutely disgusted to know that I'm related to the majority of the Death Eaters."

"I know," Lyra said quietly before she sneezed.

Gideon furrowed his brows, having paid attention to her action and instantly appeared concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Just a little ill," she responded, giving him a vial of medicine to drink.

"Go home and take a long nap, okay? Don't worry about Fabian or me. We're Prewetts. Good looks and superhuman strength comes naturally to us. We'll be alright," Gideon said after he finished swallowing the bitter liquid and complained about the taste as he returned the now empty vail to Lyra, who accepted it.

"As your healer, that's for me to judge," Lyra told him, sniffing due to her nose-block. "Take rest. I'll come to visit both of you tomorrow. Get well soon."

"You too," Gideon remarked with a soft smile as she exited the room with the empty vial.

By the time Lyra returned to the Potter Manor, the sky was gold and the sun was setting. The occupants of the Manor were seated on the floor of the parlour playing a round of exploding snap, their faces considerably less flushed and more lively.

"I nearly got a heart attack when we didn't find you," Dorea said as she greeted Lyra with a hug, taking the bag of potions from her.

Charlus nodded as a witness before he joked, "Thank Merlin the house-elf informed Dorea on time. Otherwise, she would have called the poor Aurors and demanded a search."

Lyra laughed, even as warmth spread over her chest at her godmother's concern. "Sorry about that. You all looked so peaceful when asleep and I didn't have the heart to disturb it."

"What took you so long though?" Regulus asked curiously as Lyra sat down in the little circle. "It's nearly dinner time."

Lyra watched James shuffle the cards to start a new round and Sirius try to sneak a peek at the cards as she responded, "I crossed paths with an old friend and lost track of time."

Regulus hummed in acceptance of her answer, not giving it more thought as James began distributing the cards of exploding snap.