Defining the difference between someone who was good and who was evil is a toxic way of segregating society. Not everyone is terrible, and not everyone is good; it's always a mix. Sometimes some people lean further one way or the other; it's never one or the other. People can have genuine intentions but go through with them with horrific actions and grotesque consequences.
People are inherently selfish and want to preserve their lives before giving themselves over to a cause. They want security and safety so that they can keep living their lives without risk. It doesn't matter if they claim to be the kindest and most morally good people in the world; there will always be selfish and corrupt parts to them. It was human nature to be more concerned about your safety or well-being than others. It's not always a bad thing, but people try to run away from that fact, thus creating a worse problem.
Self-preservation is human; it's that simple. The difference is, some people lack it more than others. Some people would rather sacrifice themselves for power, a selfish goal. Other people will sacrifice themselves to save people, thus selfishly making themself a hero. Everyone has a secret motive for their actions. Especially when it came to things such as war or battle. There is no light or dark side in the Wizarding World; there are those who want power and those who don't want that person to have it, to save themselves.
Lyra was one of those people who were willing to do unspeakable things if it meant saving her family, friends, and herself. She would give herself up if it meant keeping people like Voldemort out of power, but her means of doing so could lead people to believe she was a morally corrupt person. She was planning on lying and manipulating her way into the good graces of the Death Eaters, thus learning their deep secrets and plans.
Lying was a sin, thus making Lyra a sinner and a bad person. But the real question is, is she really? Her motives are clear and concise. Takedown Voldemort and expose those who wish to betray her and those she loves. Good intentions, questionable course of action. The issue is, there is no other way to go about it. She either acted now and became a lying, deceitful, double agent alongside Regulus or sat back and watched the Dark Lord take power. Regulus Black was double-crossing his own family for the means of saving the Wizarding World from Voldemort's clutches. He followed the same corrupt lying path that Lyra was sauntering down, thus making them both bad people, right?
There was no line between good and evil; they were twins who followed different paths but still walked hand in hand.
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Lyra had wished she had gone against Regulus's wishes and wore her pyjamas to go to Grimmauld Place. Apparating in a dress and heels wasn't exactly a pleasurable experience, especially when a random stranger was doing it. The carriage ride from the Potter Manor to the undisclosed location that the apparition would take place was anything but pleasant, especially while a terrifying house elf stared at you with small beady eyes that seemed to see through Lyra as though she were made of glass.
Kreacher was the...creature's name and he grumbled about his masters and what they were doing by bringing someone like Lyra around the Black family home. It was probably a mistake on their end, Lyra knew it. It was a mistake on her end as well and every piece of her wanted to yell out and turn around the carriage, racing back like a horse into Sirius's arms. The way his breath fanned across her cheek still felt fresh, warning her of the dangers she was waltzing into with an open heart.
Regulus once described her as a Venus fly trap. Unassuming and open at the start, luring in the innocent to its deadly grasp. But when the trap is set, and the prey falls into it, she clamps down and sucks every piece of light from their bones, leaving them lifeless and confused as to where they went wrong in their life. She was also the bright beacon that drowned out the entirety of the darkness that flood within the minds of the wicked, leaving them elated and open to the glowing light that flooded the world.
"Get out."
Lyra watched the house elf hop from the velvet seats of the carriage, pushing open the door with a fervour that took Lyra aback. For such a small being, Kreacher had an intense behind him. She didn't dare go against the elf and followed behind quickly, hissing as the harsh cold sliced across her cheeks like a bad curse. The carriage driver placed his top hat over his face, leaning back against the snow coated carriage as Kreacher tugged the blonde along towards a slight hill in the grassy field around them.
Before Lyra was truly aware of what she was committing to, her feet landed on snow covered concrete in the centre of London.
-----
There were stories about the ancient Black family home. Some say it was haunted with the most horrid ghosts within the Wizarding World. Others said it was a vast mansion behind an acre long cemetery full of the Black family's victims. No one ever gave the possibility of a townhouse that looked as though it was one harsh gust of wind away from falling over. Bricks were crumbling around the windows and the door was chipping its paint.
The inside was something beautiful, however. It was a gothic home with deep plum wallpaper filled with various rosary designs, ancient paintings of previous Black family members littering the walls. The carpets were pristinely cleaned, and the onyx trim was gleaming bright. Witches and wizards draped in massive hoods scuttled around in front of Lyra, whispering to small beings in their hands. Harsh voices sneered at one another from the kitchen, yelling at Lyra to turn around and run back home to the warmth of her mother's embrace and father's words. The only thing keeping her from completely throwing in the towel was the fact that Kreacher was watching her like a hawk, waiting to strike on his prey.
"The guest has arrived," Kreacher snarled as he and Lyra arrived at the threshold of the kitchen, "Master Black's guest, that is."
"Lyra," his voice whispered, "You look lovely."
The Regulus Black that stood in front of Lyra was not the boy she had become close with over the previous months at Hogwarts. He no longer wore his loose-fitting black dress shirts, instead, he wore a terrifyingly dark button up that hugged his trimmed figure like a second skin, dark green accents covering the collar. A flattering fitting pair of slacks covered his pants and a long trench coat with the Black family emblem on the front pocket, dark green lapels on the raised shoulders. His unruly hair was no longer unkempt, but neatly pulled back into a low bun at the nap of his neck, carefully placed curls escaping to frame his face. He looked like Sirius.
The look on his face was that of something from Lyra's nightmares. It was an exact replica of the imposing man that sat at the very head of the table, staring down Lyra with a devious glint in his eyes. Orion Black was the very being that Lyra feared the most in the world. He was terrifying, the hard-set look in his eyes made shivers run down her spine, reminding her of the power the people in the room held.
What scared Lyra the most, however, and would keep her up at night, was the woman sitting just to the right of Orion. Walburga Black was the opposite of the mother that Lyra was fortunate enough to call her own. She had a cold demeanour and the look that could kill. Walburga had cold and dead eyes that reminded Lyra that this was the woman who made Sirius Black cry. The toughest and most thick-skinned boy that the blonde knew had been abused and mentally tortured by the woman sitting in front of Lyra. She was the reason he had made Lyra's life so miserable, all because she didn't understand that her son required compassion.
"Lyra Potter," Walburga began, her voice as smooth and appealing as venom, "It is an honour to meet the acquaintance. Someone of your esteem will be an excellent addition to our...family."
The sound of the word family falling from Walburga's lips felt like an oxymoron in action. For a woman who would rather keep a Slytherin dynasty than love her actual son and give him the love he deserves. It was up to Lyra's family, her mother and brother, to fix the broken boy that Walburga Black had created. Perhaps she was letting her emotions lead her actions, but she more than desperately wanted to whip out her wand and speak those unspeakable words.
"The pleasure is mine," Lyra choked out, attempting to calm her breathing as she tucked her hands neatly behind her back, "The Black family holds my ideals close, unlike my own. It was due time I took my place in the ranks of the superior status."
The words felt poisonous on her tongue, seeing as her very best friends were the ones that were being harmed by the Black families will. She was giving into the world that was dead set on destroying the lives of those she held dear to herself. Remus and Lily were at risk because of Lyra's reckless and impulsive decisions to go down in history may backfire and result in her being labeled a traitor by those who have held her hand through even the darkest times. Regulus had warned her of the vitality of keeping it secret, but she felt dirty not telling her found family the truth about what she was doing behind the scenes.
"Everything alright, dear?" Regulus questioned, hesitantly approaching the blonde, his face no giving away a lick of emotion, "You seem flustered."
Lyra lifted her eyes from Walburga, meeting the warmth of the hazel-green ones of Regulus. His eyes deceived the cold exterior he was exhibiting, reminding Lyra this was still Regulus. She allowed her shoulders to relax from their intense stiffness, relaxing them in a sophisticated demeanour. Lyra nodded and offered a cold smile, mirroring the same look that Walburga had given to her when she entered the room.
"Being in a room with such idols is a bit overwhelming, darling," Lyra lied, giving a small and curt nod to the boy, "I suppose I allowed my excitement show. My apologies, Master Black."
"Well mannered," Orion piped up, catching both teenagers' attention, "Very concise, sly. You sure you're no Slytherin, Ms. Potter?"
"I suppose the hat noticed my bloodline and assumed the worst of me," Lyra suggested, taking Regulus's now outstretched arm, and walking with him towards the side of the table he was just occupying, "Even hats make mistakes. I can assure you; I am no brave heart lion."
"You speak as though you were raised by a Black," Walburga commented, a sinister smile tugging at her fanged lips, "You will do just fine here. Sit, Lyra, our guests will be joining soon."
Lyra nodded gratefully at Regulus when he tugged a chair out for the blonde. She took the seat in silence, tugging herself closely to the ink-coloured tablecloth. Various people swept into the dining room, dropping, and refreshing drinks all the while placing food and various dishes around the table. Lyra glanced warily at the boy next to her, only to find him staring directly at his lap, not daring to even peak over at the Potter girl beside him. She was risking her entire livelihood and family for his under-developed plan, the least she asked for was the smallest bit of reassurance that everything was fine.
"Lyra," Orion began, causing the Gryffindor to lift her head, "Your parents, wealthy?"
"Quite," Lyra nodded, "But a far cry from that of your family, Master Black. They acquired their generous wealth through cowardice, deciding to follow a hair dynasty, versus one that would actually change the Wizarding World for the better."
"I see," Orion nodded, "Your brother, he is set to inherit it, no?"
Lyra swallowed thickly and nodded, crossing her legs underneath the table, "That is correct."
"Shame," Walburga picked up, "I feel as though you would put such old money to actual good use. Instead of throwing it around as though there wasn't filthy mudbloods gobbling it up."
Lyra forced a laugh out at the comments the woman made. A queasy feeling settled deep within her stomach at the way that Walburga spoke about those born by muggles. Lyra knew that the entire room around her was made possible because of the buildings from muggles that surrounded it. If it weren't for the non-magical, the Wizarding World would have fallen ages ago. They offered up new prospects and allowed them to live a variety of different lives through the world and everyone to fall in love with whoever they pleased. But alas, the blood supremacy might as well have been a biological gene within the family of the Blacks. It seemed a few handfuls of them were good apples, not allowing the poison of their parents to seep into their roots, rotting away the good roots they could plant within the world.
"You are in the house, Gryffindor," Walburga prompted, "Sirius, you are aware of him?"
"I am," Lyra sighed, a forced disgusted look taking over her face, even if her heart fluttered at the mention of his name, "Not much to him. Lacks a strong sense of morals of what is right and what is wrong in the wizarding world."
The disgusting lies that Lyra spat made her want to burst into a fit of tears. The soft and calloused feelings of Sirius's hands ghosted across her waist and hip, reminding her of the moment they shared not too long ago. The way his lips pressed to hers just barely, teasing her for what was truly brewing between them. The way his voice whispered into her ears and told her to stay, to stay with him. Even if the words were not spoken, both Sirius and Lyra were becoming actively aware of what was truly bubbling up to a boil between them.
The use of the word love was nothing to take lightly, but Lyra had fallen in love with the goodness that Sirius black represented. Regulus may have seen the blonde as the brightest star that shined within the galaxy, but she was the bleak night that sucked away the goodness and allowed the evil to lurk around at night. It was Sirius Black, the son of two tyrannical blood-supremacists. The one who had the most reason and the biggest right to truly act as terrible as he must to handle the grief and trauma he relived on the daily.
But he was the shining star within the dark and starless night, illuminating the way for the lost lovers who were unable to find their way home. He was the reason Lyra could see in the dark, shining her path to the salvation she so desperately longed for. She wanted the security of his touch and the gentleness of his words. There was a shift in their relationship and Lyra felt the fear of allowing her love shine slip away with the words that fell from her lips. Just as she was purging the poison within her, she was clearing up space for the intense love he held.
"Severus," Walburga hummed, lifting her head as the other Slytherin slid into the room, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Lucius following close behind, "How lovely of you all to join us."
"Wouldn't it miss it for the world, Auntie," Narcissa beamed, sliding into the seat across from Lyra, refusing to let her eyes meet the Gryffindors, "Why is she here?"
"She is Regulus's guest, don't be rude," Orion scolded, causing Narcissa to shrink back into the chair in shame, "Lyra here will be the newest addition to the family, if things go well, that is. If not, I suppose there's a casket waiting for her in the attic."
A chorus of laughter echoed around the kitchen and Lyra didn't hesitate to follow along. It seemed Regulus was trying to keep himself composed, but a small smile tugged at the side of his lips. Though she wasn't entirely sure if it was forced or if he genuinely found his father threatening his fake girlfriend amusing. Despite the warning that Lyra had received, she wouldn't deny that seeing Regulus act like his parents was sickening.
Various other Death Eaters flooded into the room, two wearing heavy masks with matching velvet hoods covering the tops of their heads. Lyra didn't speak as the final stragglers flooded in, flanking around the sole empty chair at the opposite end of the table from Orion. Lyra felt her heart drop a few inches closer to her stomach as she clued in just who it was that they were waiting for to enter. The man who was the head of it all, waiting for the perfect moment to strike on the Wizarding World, inflicting his disgusting ideologies on the world that was peacefully living their lives beforehand.
The entire room fell silent, even the staff went still as the creaking of the floorboards announced his imminent arrival. Lyra was positive that if she truly saw his face, the table would be covered in a bright shade of green, filled with various biscuits and sweets that her mother had shovelled into her before she slipped away from the house. The blonde let out a deep sigh, relaxing as a warm and smooth hand slid across the top of hers, his cold rings reminding her of just who it was beside her. Regulus had hands that were crafted from pure satin but lacked the proper roughness that Sirius's did.
"Everyone," Orion boomed, "Lord Voldemort has arrived."
Lyra knew she was too far in now to escape.