Word Count: 2,283
Warnings: None
"Lyra?!" a panicked voice woke me from my slumber, my body being moved as someone flipped me over onto my back.
When I opened my eyes, I found Harry knelt by my side, his face flushed with worry. Ron and Hermione stood behind him, their eyes locked on something in the sky. I tried to follow their gaze but all I could see was a green hue in the air.
"Hey Potter." I breathed. "How you doing?"
He laughed lightly, taking my arm and pulling me into a sitting position. I was soon on my feet, my eyes meeting the picture in the sky.
It was a colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As I watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing its haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation, all the others being hidden by the cloudy night.
"What the fuck is that?" I heard Harry ask, his face paling. Hermione was shaking her head aggressively and Ron simply started.
"It's the Dark Mark Harry." I answered the boy. "The symbol of Voldemort and his Death Eaters."
Harry gave me a shocked expression, facing the snake and skull in the sky. I followed his gaze, watching as the pair moved together as if in a newspaper or photo. Mechanical, as thought controlled by something other than itself.
Before we could say anything else, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.
I instinctively reached for my wand which I had placed in my boot and pointed it at the nearest wizard. Crouch.
"DUCK!" I heard Harry shout and suddenly I was pushed into a crouching position.
"STUFEFY!" roared twenty voices, their wands igniting.
"Stop!" yelled a voice I recognized. I raised my head a fraction to see red hair running towards us. "Stop! That's my son!"
I watched him approach us quickly, looking terrified. "Ron – Harry –" his voice sounded shaky, " – Hermione – Lyra – are you alright?"
"Never better," I found myself muttering.
"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice and I immediately knew who had spoken.
It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on us. I got to my feet, pointing my wand towards the Enforcer that seemed to be moving quicker than the others. His face was taut with rage.
"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between us and fixing on me with my outstretched wand. "Put your wand down Ms. Black."
"I will when you stop looking at me as thought I was the culprit."
"Were you?"
"We didn't do anything Mr. Crouch," Harry spoke up, placing a hand on my arm and lowering it slowly. I didn't fight him, now holding my wand firmly at my side.
"Do not lie, sir!" he shouted. He pointed his wand directly at Harry, and his eyes were popping – looking slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime."
"And what crime is that?" I asked. His head shot to me.
"The conjuring of the Dark Mark!" The man all but shouted. His gaze was now firmly fixed on me.
"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woollen dressing-gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to –"
"Where did the Mark come from?" Mr. Weasley asked quickly.
"Over there," Hermione spoke shakily, pointing at the place the stranger had been standing, "there was someone behind the trees... they shouted words – an incantation –"
"He muttered something and vanished. Apparated." Ron added. "And then we found Lyra unconscious on the ground."
Crouch's face turned on me. "What happened?" he asked, moving towards my figure.
"They told you. A man cast the spell and then vanished." I answered him, swallowing.
"And did you see this man?"
I hesitated for a moment. "Yes, but I didn't recognize him." Crouch turned from me.
"Is there anything you can tell us about him?" Mr. Weasley asked.
I weighed my words carefully. "There was a gesture he made. A distinct one." I watched the Enforcer in front of me carefully. "Like a snake."
Crouch straightened, turning back around to me. His face paled. "A snake?"
"Yes. With his tongue. I thought it odd and took note."
"Not as odd as you'd think," Crouch muttered. He went to speak again.
"Lyra!" I heard a shout, my head turning quickly to find Draco sprinting towards me.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled me into a hug, looking over the cut on my forehead. "Are you okay?" he asked.
I noticed Harry's feral look towards my cousin, but Draco had completely ignored Potter this time, instead focusing on me.
"Mr. Crouch. I apologize for my son's intrusion. He was quite worried about his cousin." I heard Lucius' voice speak.
"Not at all Lucius. I have no further questions for her." Crouch had returned to his original expression of worry and faced the remaining three kids. Draco started to lead me away from them.
I sent a look towards Harry, who's focus was still on the man in front of them. Draco pulled me into his side, holding me close to him. Lucius was still in conversation with the Aurors, but Draco was quick to leave the group. We made our way back to Malfoy Manor.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
When we walked through the doors of the Manor, we were greeted with Narcissa's worried antics.
"We're alright mother, just a little shaken up." Draco spoke up, calming her.
"I'm fine, it's just a scratch." I told her as the woman began to prod at the fresh wound on my head.
"I'll get my wand to fix this up." Narcissa announced, making for the kitchen, "follow me."
"There is entirely no need Narcissa. It'll remind her not to wander off." Lucius spat, heading straight for his study,
I watched my aunt tense at his words, face turning sour. She flinched when the door of his study closed.
"Draco, you may head up to bed. I'll send Lyra up once I've finished healing her wound," Narcissa spoke up, turning to face us.
Draco attempted to protest but his mother simply held her hand up at him. "She will be fine. Off to bed."
Draco sighed, giving me a quick smile before obeying his mother and making his way up the stairs of the house. Narcissa led me into the kitchen.
"What happened?" she asked, taking her wand from the counter and moving towards me.
"I fell." I lied. She tilted her head at my response, taking a chair out from underneath the table and gesturing for me to sit.
"Now, why do I highly doubt that is the truth?" she asked, moving the hair from my face so that she could get better look at the wound.
"Because it's not." I sighed, hissing as he touched the cut. "I was knocked out. By the man who cast the Dark Mark."
Cissy sighed, dropping her hands from my face and placing them in her lap. "Why do you always get yourself into the worst situations?"
"It's what I do."
"You're lucky he didn't kill you." She picked up her wand, bringing it to my forehead. "He surely wanted to."
"I don't think he did." Light emitted from my aunts wand and a tingling sensation blossomed on the side of my head. "He claimed to be a dead man."
"And what dead bastard did he claim to be?" she asked, focus entirely on her work.
"Barty Crouch Jr." I told her. The light faded along with the sensation and Narcissa moved back to look at me.
"That man is dead a decade." Cissy told me, placing her wand down onto the table. She rose from her chair, heading for the kitchen. Taking a glass from the counter, she began to fill it with water.
"Did the man know my mother?" I asked. "Crouch."
"Why do you ask?"
"Crouch Sr. seemed to know her. I was only wondering if his son would have. They would have been the same age." I lied.
Narcissa nodded. "Yes. He knew your mother. He knew her well."
"How come?" She handed me the glass of water and rose it to my lips.
"They were engaged to be married before the war started."
The glass froze at my mouth as I swallowed nothing. I placed the cup of liquid onto the table. "Interesting."
"But your mother broke off the engagement when she suspected him of being a follower of the Dark Lord."
I nodded, feeling my chest begin to tighten. It made sense for the man to be who he said he was. His father certainly knew of the gesture he made, and the engagement to my mother would explain how he knew so much and how he recognized me.
"So the dead man isn't actually dead," I muttered quietly.
"What was that dear?"
"Nothing." I shook my head, rising from the chair. "If you'd excuse me, I am quite tired and must head to bed."
"Of course Lyra." Narcissa rose with me. I made for the door.
"Thank you," I paused, "for patching me up."
"Anytime dear." Narcissa stood with her hands clasped firmly together over her stomach. She smiled brightly at me. I made my way to my room.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
When I entered the room, Draco was sat on my bed, reading through a book.
"Didn't know you could read," I announced myself, alerting the boy to my presence. He jumped up from the bed, closing the book firmly and throwing it down onto the covers.
"I can read, yes, but I choose not to." He was rather nervous.
"So, what were you doing then?" I asked, moving closer to the book on the bed. I picked it up.
"Simply trying to figure out what it is you like about books."
"With a romance novel?" I held the cover of the book up to him, showing off the title of Pride and Prejudice.
"Yes," Draco replied. Unconvincingly. I nodded, placing the book back in my suitcase.
"Why do you never unpack?" Draco asked, sitting himself back onto the bed.
I shook my head, zipping up the top of it. "It's a habit, I guess. We never stay in one house long enough to get settled."
Draco nodded. "What happened tonight? You disappeared at the match."
"I followed a suspicious looking guy." I told him.
"And did you catch up with him?"
"No. I just tripped and knocked myself out." I sat down at my desk, taking a new piece of parchment from the pile on my left.
"Who on earth are you writing to after what happened tonight?" Draco asked, leaning over my shoulders to watch me take out my quill.
"Moony will be worried." And my father. "He knew I was going and he's surely seen the headlines."
Draco nodded, heading for the door of my room. "I'm glad you're alright Lyra. I know we have our arguments, but I do worry." I smiled.
"I know. I love you too." Draco shook his head, going to leave the room.
"Draco?" I asked. He turned his head. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"
He passed me a confused expression. "Of course I would. We both know I can't hide anything from you."
I nodded. "Good." Draco walked away, confused.
I turned back to the piece of parchment, my smile fading. "Now to tell Moony and my father that I got myself in trouble again."
There was a knock at my window, and I jumped, turning towards it. Sat outside the glass was a black owl. It was carrying a letter in its grasp.
"You're not the Malfoy's owl." I stood from my seat, opening the window and taking the letter from the bird. It left immediately.
I quickly opened the letter, beginning to read.
Ms. Black,
Our conversation was rudely interrupted earlier tonight. I had hoped to get to know you better, but it seems that it was not the time.
I know that you have no reason to trust me but know that if there is anything I can help you with, I'm only a letter away. I owe it to your mother.
Sincerely,
None of your business.
"Barty Crouch Jr." I breathed, knowing who it was that had sent this letter.
I let out a shaky breath, reading the letter again. And then again. And then again. It was obvious that the letter shouldn't be trusted if this indeed was the man I assumed, he was a follower of Voldemort and a dangerous man.
I threw the letter onto the desk, finding my gaze falling on the letter from my father. I ripped it from the side of the table and tore open the seal, opening the note before I could second-guess myself.
Upon unfolding the parchment, a piece of paper fell out of it. I quickly took it up, looking it over. It was a picture. My father stood beside a woman. A very beautiful woman, and in their arms was a small baby. I looked to the parchment, finding only a single sentence written.
May 24th 1980. The first photo we could get without you crying.
I fell back onto the bed, my eyes focusing on the moving picture. They were smiling brightly, but their smiles weren't for the camera. Instead, they were for the little baby in the mother's arms. Me.
I watched the older woman's face move from looking at the camera to the baby she held in her arms. They were right. I looked exactly like my mother. Almost a perfect copy.