Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XX

A deep-rooted tug flashed through Lyra's mind as she felt her entire body fly forward from her position with Marlene. Words screamed through her head and her entire body felt sick as they shot around her like bullets. The words describing complete and utter heartbreak and betrayal danced around her like unreachable dandelions, begging for her to give in and allow them to settle into her skin, taking root and sprouting their roots like weeds.

The feeling of brick against the back of her head caused the scene to go black.

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Scampering feet skidded across the wood and carpet floors. So low to the ground, you could hear a hair pin dropping. Words echoed and the dodging and ducking between people became near impossible. Feet came close to crushing while people shrieked when the sight came into view.

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Ringing in her ears startled Lyra from her sleep as an unfamiliar room greeted her when her eyes peeled apart. Her limbs were stiff and contorted awkwardly as a throbbing dulled in the back of her head. The room was dark and barely any candles scared the shadows away that licked up the side of the couch she inhabited. The air was damp and cold, and the smell of old books and fire danced through her senses like a drug, trying to lull her back to sleep.

"You're awake."

Lyra flinched at the sound of his voice, not entirely expecting to wake up to her Headmaster standing just adjacent from her, staring at the Phoenix on a pedestal. When the blonde regained her bearings and realized she had been asleep on Dumbledore's couch, she hopped up onto her feet without a second thought in her mind. How she ended up there was a mystery, but the younger twin would be damned if she stayed laying down a second longer.

"No need to be startled," Dumbledore hummed, "I brought you in here."

"If you don't mind me asking, Professor," Lyra began, "But...what happened?"

"Nothing," Dumbledore nodded curtly, not even turning his head as the letter that Lyra had constructed weeks ago floated from his desk, "Nothing is happening."

The blonde went to speak, but the paper lighting itself on fire cut her short. Her mind could hardly process the things she saw while away from the world and the things she heard when watching Pierre and Scarlett hover over Peter like lions above a gazelle. But watching her headmaster destroy the one thing that could end the Black family line and bring attention to the Death Eaters plans and what their next move was...that sent Lyra into overdrive.

"Professor no," Lyra quickly added, her voice shaking, "Please, I wrote that to you because of what I saw over winter break. It can take down the-"

"Medalling in things you do not understand is the downfall of every great witch or wizard," he began, finally turning to face the blonde that stood just a few meters away, "Do you understand?"

"I can't say I do."

"Stop what you think you're doing," Dumbledore continued, hands folded behind his back, "You will only hurt them more."

"But I know what they're doing," Lyra tried to reason, the injury on the back of her head pulsing with each word, "Who's a part of it, what they plan to do. I can stop them!"

"You will not!"

The room fell silent. Lyra swore she heard the scamper of a mouse running away as Dumbledore raised his tone with the blonde. She had rarely heard the Professor yell; it was a sight she was sure would appear repeatedly in her nightmares at night. The sound was that of a thunder boom and a crack of lighting. The pure rage that found its home in his eyes sent shivers down Lyra's back, as though she were a sheep staring a wolf right in the eyes as his jaw hung open, drooling.