xiii

13

S  C  O  U  R  G  I  F  Y

( SKUR - ji - fy )

" to clean "

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LYRA NEVER USUALLY receive owl mail, the folded parchment in front of her was the first new development of many that day. She had squeezed herself in between Harry and Ron who, once again, were not on speaking terms.

At least it's not a howler, that was the only plausible thought when Lyra reached for the parchment with quivering fingers. Harry's interest had peaked when he watched her internal struggle of unfolding the ominous letter.

The parchment smelt damp, like it had been left in a corner, forgotten, for far too long. It reminded her of an unsigned birthday present she received on her tenth birthday. A toy broomstick. Her father, James, seemed to know where it had come from, but had never told her.

Dear Lyra Lily,

I saw your name in the Prophet and decided it was time for me to introduce myself to you. The only pictures I have of you are fourteen years old. (I've put the picture in the envelope).

I was there when you were born, screamed like a banshee, you did. I even got to hold you for a while. Such a gorgeous little baby, I imagine you've grown into a fine young witch.

I'm assuming your father hasn't mentioned me, he works too hard! Nevertheless, i'd still wish to meet you, and your father says I can. As your Godfather (Yes, yes Godfather) I'd like to meet you, today?

Three Broomsticks 1 o'clock. Bring a friend if it would make you feel better.

Your godfather,

Uncle Sirius.

(Yes, I have made myself uncle).

Her eyes stung with fresh tears as she read the letter. She scoffed lightly in utter disbelief and caught Harry's attention.

"Everything alright?" He questioned, smiling at her.

"Positively mad." She grinned back, "Three Broomsticks at one. I have to meet someone and I'd like you there."

Harry nodded from behind his goblet of pumpkin juice, his green eyes sparkled.

Lyra had quickly lost her appetite, her stomach was too busy seeing how many knots it could tie. She deemed it excitement, possibly sheer terror, but her lunch had now become an afterthought.

She was snapped back to reality by Professor McGonagall's call for all students attending the Hogsmeade trip to gather at the Entrance Hall.

Harry watched whilst Lyra traced pattens on the frosted glass of the carriage window. She occasionally scratched her skirt vigorously before switching to folding and unfolding her black turtle neck.

Hermione had already told her to stop biting her nails, twice.

Harry gripped onto Lyra's hand, stopping it from scratching her black tights. She smiled fondly at him, her teeth peaked through her cherry glazed lips.

"I'm glad you're my friend, Harry." Lyra whispered as Hermione digressed onto S.P.E.W, again.

"Oh, right..yes." Harry stumbled, shocked by her odd honesty, "Best friend, you mean."

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At five minutes to one, Lyra was pacing outside The Three Broomsticks. It only resulted in more festering nerves and scuffs of the tips of her patent boots.

Harry waved goodbye to Ron and Hermione, it had taken a lot of convincing, and a spot of bribery, for the two to leave Harry with Lyra.

The small restaurant was quiet for a change, only filled with small clusters of teachers; who were only there to say away from the students for a few hours.

A familiar man caught Harry's eye, he was sat off in a recluse corner, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger. He was no longer scruffy and gaunt. His sallow skin has a youthful radiance and his matted hair cut to reach his shoulders, creating waves of dark brown.

"I'm just saying hello to somebody, umm be quick, promise." Harry whispered to Lyra.

She nodded and offered his a tight lipped smile. Lyra knew exactly who he was saying hello to. As each customer left the queue, her nerves bubbled and brewed like a potion left on a flame, never given a chance to simmer down.

The two mugs of Butterbeer shook dangerously in her grip, the foam threatening to spill from its glass confinements. Her lips had patches of gloss missing from her constant nervous nibbling. Her bottom lip bore a painfully red shade, one side plumper that the other.

The two wizards looked up at her, her eyes drifted to the older of the two. His eyes twinkled with mischief and mirth. His curled moustache had the remanence of the honey coloured liquid that was gripped in his hand.

"Here you are, Harry." Lyra slotted herself into a small wooden chair and slid the tankard of Butterbeer to Harry, who thanked her joyfully.

"This is Sirius Black." Harry announced after a sip of his drink, "My godfather."

Lyra smiled a jaw aching grin and offered her hand for him to shake. He smiled widely as he shook her hand. "Lovely to meet you, Mr. Black."

"And you, miss," He studied her intently, "Weasley?"

Lyra laughed, but didn't deny it.

"Although, you dress an awful lot like a cousin of mine," Sirius noted, "Although that sneering Malfoy changed her significantly. Mind you, Bellatrix always liked her black clothes too."

Harry sat with his face covered by his half empty Butterbeer. Lyra's still sat untouched.

"Well, how fitting both our names are derived from stars then isn't it?" Sirius quirked an eyebrow in interest.

"Lyra Lily Fairfax, pleases to meet you, Uncle Sirius." She smiled timidly.

The glass that shattered on the floor brought everyone attention to the secluded table. Both Harry and Sirius had dropped their drinks at the statement. The former was too busy spluttering to get out any words.

The three remained in an unwavering silence while Madame Rosemerta cleaned away the glass and left significantly happier after a five Galleon tip from Lyra.

"Of course it's you!" Sirius chided himself, "You look just like her."

Lyra furrowed her eyebrows with a confused smile plastered on her freckle dusted face. "Like who?"

"Your Godmother." He nodded, shuffling his chair closer to her.

"And that would be.."

"Lily, Lily Potter." Sirius finished, "You're named after her and your father hadn't even told you."

Lyra and Harry fell into a conversation, both wide eyed and in utter disbelief. The drone of chatter in the room faded into static for the older wizard, with two fingers pressed against his chin, he marvelled at the similarities of Lyra and Lily.

Both unconventionally beautiful and eerily similar smiles. Fair skin, both wore a grove in their left cheek with every laugh and smile. Harry got his dimples from his father. Lily Potter somehow worked her ever present magic to give Lyra her one dimple.

They even wore their hair the same. Two piece pulled back and a few to frame the face. It was becoming a little frightening to see the resemblance as his two godchildren became giddy and gleeful at the revelation. Lily and Lyra had one notable difference.

Lily had piercing green eyes, the kind that remind you of spring and morning dew.

Lyra's were a subdued blue, rare and homely. Christmas by the fireplace and dancing in the rain.

"Well then," Lyra clasped her hands, bringing Sirius back to reality, "Uncle Sirius, we're off for a bit of shopping. Harry here can trot back to Ron and Hermione."

They parted ways outside the pub, Lyra still had the warm, fuzzy feeling fluttering in her bones from the Butterbeer.

Sirius and Lyra walked in silence. The frost-laced stone crunched underfoot, as they meandered through Hogsmeade, receiving the frequent odd stare.

"Did I ever meet her?" Lyra chirped finally.

Sirius felt a weight lift of his shoulders in relief.

"You did, she was the only one who could settle you, not even your mother could."

Lyra sucked in a hiss of air through her teeth, nodding with pursed lips. The same way Lily Potter looked when she was in thought.

"No surprises there," Lyra sighed and kicked a hefty amount of snow. "She left when I was seven, Uncle Sev told her I was a witch and she lost her marbles and pissed off."

The two stopped outside of Madame Malkin's while Lyra gazed at the array of ball gowns.

"Did you say, Uncle Sev?" Sirius asked thickly.

"Yes, Uncle Severus."

"Snivellus?" He exploded, "James will be getting an ear full."

The yellow gown in the window had caught Lyra's eye through the frosted glass. Her gazed lingered wistfully. She disgusted with her nimble fingers that had become stiff from the cold.

Her uncle smirked at the shop window and clicked his tongue for a moment. Lyra shook her head and walked to stand beside him.

An ill timed family of three strutted down the cobbles towards them. The familiar smacks of a cane made Lyra's eyes roll with ease.

"This should be fun." Sirius muttered before she could.

The Malfoy's were parallel to Sirius and Lyra. Draco and his father wore strikingly smilies expressions. Mrs. Malfoy, as always, was mesmerisingly beautiful and walked with a certain poise that commanded attention.

Draco's features appeared sharper in the biting, cold wind. Unlike Lyra, his face wasn't tinted pink on the nip of his nose or cheeks. Instead, he fit perfectly with the season, flakes of snow dusted in his blonde hair and settled on the ends of his eyelashes. His grey eyes prominent.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy." Lyra smiled politely, "Ferret face."

Sirius sniffled a snicker, Lucius growled like a feral animal at the girl. Draco sneered perfectly at her.

"Calm down." She laughed, "If it wasn't for me, he'd probably still be a ferret."

Lucius sneered at her again, flicking his platinum hair behind his shoulder.

"What did you do?" Sirius asked, with no stern undertones.

Lyra rocked back and forth on the snow, her hands folded together. She bore an innocent look.

"Nothing much, just threatened a Professor," Sirius looked immensely impressed, "Told him he was scarier that the time I met Voldemort, nothing too crazy." Her voice had raised a few octaves.

Lucius Malfoy stiffened at her comment and raised his almost invisible blonde eyebrow. Narcissa was too busy looking at her cousin to take in what the young witch had said.

"Sirius, you look well." She said in a clipped tone.

"Azkaban does wonders." He smirked.

An uncomfortable silence floated down on the group of five. Lucius was still sneering at Lyra, but she was too enthralled by the box in Malfoy's clutches. Sirius was revelling in making them feel guilt. Narcissa let her eyes flit from random shops in the background, occasionally trailing an unsuspecting student with her stare.

"Dress robes?" Lyra finally broke the tension, "Who are you going to the ball with?"

"Parkinson." He seethed through clenched teeth. Lyra bit back her chuckle, although it pried open her lips for a split second.

"Found a dress yet, dear?" Narcissa questioned, much to the aggravation of her husband.

Lyra beamed, "I've seen a lovely yellow one, but I'm burned of wearing yellow. Why can't I be a Hufflepuff and wear green," Lyra gasped, "Oh, maybe a black dress."

"Can't look too Slytherin, Fairfax." Draco said in a cold, snappy tone, "Don't want to give people the wrong idea."

A playful retort was dancing on the tip of her tongue, readily waiting to be flung into the frosty breeze. It never quite got chance.

"We're giving people the wrong idea by talking to these sort." Lucius spat in a lofty tone, "Blood-traitors and Mudbloods."

Lyra whimpered and curled in on herself, feeling far less confidence after the 'm-word' had inevitably been used. The cruel wind bit her pink cheeks and stung her watery eyes.

"I'd like to leave now," Lyra muttered, "Uncle Sirius, please can we just go."

He uncle straightened his suit, folding his arms over his chest. He walked towards Lucius, towering over him by a small margin.

"She's a child!" He roared, "You leave her be."

Sirius never let him reply instead he stood back beside Lyra, stuffing his hands into his pockets roughly.

"Mrs. Malfoy, you look lovely, by the way." Lyra started timidly. "I'll see you at school, Malfoy."

She had turned around but her throat was itching to say something to Lucius Malfoy. Against her better judgement, she did.

"Mr. Malfoy." Her voice was kind and soft, her eyes brimmed with tears. "I hope one day someone rams that cane down your throat, along with your stupid supremacy ideals."

"Don't talk about my father like that!" Draco snapped, pointing his finger at Lyra.

"Don't call me a mudblood." She spat, "I'm not filthy, or dirty. My blood is the same as yours."

Sirius pulled on Lyra softly, she was too out of sorts to notice. Her tears were hot against her frozen skin.

"I can't help it." She muttered, "I'm sorry, didn't mean to upset you, Malfoy."

He, and his mother, were taken aback.

"Look at what you did, Lucius!" Narcissa scalded him like a child, "You made a poor girl cry."

Lyra walked away without another word, her body shivered against her Godfather's side as he tried to comfort her the best he could. She had immediately trusted him, their relationship had Godfather and goddaughter was already blossoming.

He could see more parallels between Lyra and Lily, especially after her outburst.

"You threatened a teacher?" Sirius began, guiding the girl back towards Madame Malkin's, "For Draco Malfoy?"

She blushed underneath her wind-burnt and tear tracked face, "He was being treated unfairly." She muttered, It wasn't right, even if he is a stupidly attractive, cocky, self centred, attractive, part."

"You said attractive twice." Sirius teased like a young wizard.

She flushed a light pink, her freckles disappeared in the sea of embarrassment. Snow was settled in her hair, lightening certain sections, giving off an ethereal aura.

"I...no I, well." Lyra stuttered, "Shut up!"

She bumped into his said purposely, a grin plastered on his face.