Disclaimer – any recognisable characters, settings and spells are the property of JK Rowling. The title of the fan fiction is in no way tied to Jo Abercrombe's fantasy novel of the same name.

This fan fic is a rework of my other fic LYRA!

Longer AN at the bottom

27th August 1981

'I don't know if you've noticed Lily, but Sirius and Lyra are closer than your average pair of twins. All twins share a bond, but you're right . . . this war has always been more personal for them . . . The truth of it is, I don't know what kind of bond they share, but it might just be deeper than any of us could ever imagine.' Remus tried to bury the sinking, hollowing cavern burrowing through him. He tried, the problem was, he didn't think he had anything to fill it with.

1st November 1981

Sirius Black Incarcerated

1st November 1981

By Anderson Cronkite

Mass-murderer Sirius Black will not face trial after being found at a crime scene where approximately fourteen people were murdered. Among the victims was Peter Pettigrew, one of Black's former school mates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Whether this incident is tied to the events that occurred last month at Fawley Estate, leaving Fawley Manor devastated, to which Black was centrally involved, is yet to be determined.

Black faces life imprisonment at Azkaban Wizarding Prison in response to this horrendous crime. Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror office are still investigating the events surrounding the crime and are not ruling out the possibility that this is linked to the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which occurred on the same night.

Black the Barbaric

1st November 1981

By Ruvea Skeeta

On a night that should have been a celebrated one world-wide following the fall of You-Know-Who, it will now forever be marred by the mass-murder of thirteen muggles and one wizard. The culprit, one Sirius Black, was arrested immediately following the attack by the Auror team.

Exact details are still yet to be determined, but having gained inside knowledge from a source within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement itself, it can now be said with some certainty that Sirius Black had been a member of You-Know-Who's inner circle. This may not be all that surprising considering the family's sordid history concerning the Dark Arts.

Black's rage may have been fueled by the events that transpired just last month, or it may have been orchestrated by Black who we now know was conspiring with You-Know-Who. One thing is for certain, Sirius Black, considering all that he has done, and all the more that he might have been involved in doing, should never be allowed to see past the hood of a dementor again.

December 1977

Sirius couldn't stand still, he rattled the door handle furiously. Dread, cold and heavy like wet cement, started to harden in his stomach. A fear had gripped him . . . fear that had him panting, had him sweating, he could feel every bead of it slide down his face . . . it was a fear at a level he'd never felt before. Sure there'd been a couple of times during the full moon when Moony had almost got away from them, but that had always had a rush of adrenaline, of fun, in it. There was nothing but horror now. If he stopped, even for a moment, he'd be stuck, helpless forever.

Sirius slammed his fists against the door, screwing his eyes shut tight as he tried to think of anything else instead of the horrendous pictures that kept flashing one after the other in his mind.

He hadn't heard anything since he'd awoken, lying bruised and bloodied on his bedroom floor ten minutes earlier. The door across the hall being slammed shut was what had jolted him awake and pulling at the door handle in the first place. The affinity his parents had for using silencing charms on closed doors always made him frantic beyond comprehension. But this . . . this time it was different. Frantic didn't do what he was feeling justice.

Sirius stood, legs shaking, head against his bedroom door, he tried to focus his thoughts, but his mind was blank . . . Of course it is. What a perfect time for me to become a complete and utter idiot.

Suddenly his panting flickered. Of course! How could he have forgotten! Running over to his trunk he tossed aside old books and clothes he hadn't bothered to give to Kreacher until he spotted a glint of silver. His heart felt lighter and heavier at the same time as he withdrew the small knife from the mess that was his trunk.

Running over to the door, he stuck the knife in the key hole and twisted until it clicked and swung towards him. With his wand in one hand and the knife in the other, Sirius crossed the narrow, dark hallway, not bothering to look if anyone was lurking in the shadows. In some distant part of his mind he registered that a shouting match was being had from somewhere downstairs.

'Lyra!' He banged on the door as hard as he could . . . It didn't move an inch. There was nothing but silence on the other side. Sirius shoved the knife into the door's keyhole, rushing into the room as soon as it clicked open.

At first everything seemed to mesh into one great blurred scene, like a painting of a gruesome scene that's colours had started to bleed into one another: A girl lying on the brown floor, white skin, black hair and red . . . so much red everywhere . . . There was red pooling on the floor around her, staining her hands, soaking through the front of her shirt. But where there was a river of red, there was also far too much white when Sirius looked at her face.

Lyra's face was white, sleeked with a film of sweat and unmoving, even when Sirius gripped her chin. 'Lyra! Lyra, can you hear me?' She didn't even so much as flinch.

He looked around the room, Lyra's bookshelf had great chunks of wood missing, books lay scattered and torn around the room. Some had drops of red on them, others were striped with it. Her eagle feathered quill and ink set had been knocked onto the bed, the dark ink streaking the white sheets like great tears. The night stand had fallen to the floor, the lamp that had been sitting on it now lay in pieces, glass like pebbles on the wood. It was a scene of complete destruction.

'That's it,' Sirius said through a painfully clenched jaw, 'we're leaving.' He flicked his wand and looked back to Lyra as everything that hadn't been destroyed flew into her trunk. Sirius quickly scanned his sister. There were dark red and purple bruises around her neck, a long cut tore down the length of her left arm, the skin there shredded and ripped open, it was oozing blood slowly but steadily. Sirius stopped and outright balked when he reached her stomach, where the blood was heaviest. Grabbing a scarf off the bed, he tied it tightly around her middle.

With one last tug of the scarf he flicked his wand again and Lyra's trunk flew towards him, shrinking as it flew across the room. He caught it, stuffed it in his pocket and lifted his sister as carefully as he could off the bloodied floor. Her head lolled against his chest.

He was halfway to his own door when a figure emerged from a doorway further down the hall.

'Sirius! What's going . . .' Regulus stopped at the sight of his sister, of the blood covering her and now seeping into Sirius' own shirt. His eyes widened, colour draining from his face. 'What happened!?'

Sirius ignored him. He didn't have time for anyone's false concerns. He placed Lyra down on his bed as gently as he could before flicking his wand, this time his belongings were flying around the room, placing themselves haphazardly into his trunk.

'She's hurt!' Regulus had followed them into Sirius' room and came to hover at Sirius' bedside. He only looked around the room when one of Sirius' books hit his leg on its way to the trunk. 'What are you doing?'

'What does it look like?' Sirius growled as he went over to his desk, searching through it's drawers. The only thing he could hear was his blood rushing through his veins.

His heart beat loudly in his ears. He could almost swear it's rapid rhythm screamed Not long. Not long. Not long . . . Not long now and they'd both be free. But first he had to find – ha! He grabbed the parchment from the desk's middle drawer and stowed it deep into his back pocket – he'd be damned if he left without the thing he'd come home for in the first place.

Regulus' ramblings had remained a constant splutter in the background.

'But – But you can't!'

The trunk in the corner clicked shut, shrank and flew into Sirius' open hand. He hastily shoved it into his pocket besides Lyra's. By the time he'd returned to the bed Regulus' voice had grown firmer and louder.

'Sirius, you can't!' Regulus went to stand in front of his brother but Sirius grabbed onto the younger boy's shirt collar, pulling him in so that he could see the panic clearly in his eyes, their noses a hairsbreadth away from touching.

'What can't I do Regulus!?' Sirius growled, angry red sparks spat from his wand's tip. 'Because what I can't do any longer is to stay in this – this house and watch her get hurt anymore.' He pushed his younger brother away so roughly that Regulus' back hit the wall. Sirius turned and lifted his sister off the bed. 'We're leaving,' he snarled as he passed a stunned looking Regulus.

The walk down to the ground floor was the longest journey of Sirius' life. He tried to keep to the shadows as much as he could and paused every time he heard so much as what could have been a creak of a floor board.

The shouting match was still being fought. He could only distinguish phrases, most of them in his mother's high-pitched shrill shrieking voice.

'Do you realise what you've done?!'

'We weren't meant to hurt her!'

And to what would have been his surprise, had it not been for the shock he was immersed in, Sirius heard his father shout back.

'Not even that strong!'

'She's unnatural!'

'This is all your doing!'

Sirius started to breathe a little easier when he entered the entrance hallway and caught sight of the front door. The appearance of the thick wooden door was enough to drown out all other sights and sounds.

Not long. Not long. Not long.

He was mere feet from the door – from freedom – when a flash of purple light soared past his head catching the lantern hanging on the wall beside the door. It exploded, spraying glass everywhere.

Sirius ducked as another stream of light narrowly missed him. He shut his eyes briefly as the sound of wood splintering detonated through the hall.

'How dare you try to sneak out of this house!' Walburga Black's shrieked, slightly demonic as she hurled curse after curse at her son.

His back now to the door, Sirius had no choice but to avoid his mother's onslaught. Both of his hands were busy keeping Lyra close to him – her impassive face impossibly coming paler – his wand was stuffed in his back pocket. Sirius flinched as a picture frame hanging behind him blew up. A shard of glass caught his top lip and the taste of blood quickly followed.

'How dare you try to smuggle her out with you!' Walburga's advances were coming dangerously fast now. Sirius barely had time to react as he ducked, swerved and flinched away from the barrage of curses. 'Orion, he's taking her!'

Sirius felt his heart stumble when his back hit the door, the handle digging into his back. His mind whirled at what he was about to do, but with his mother's infuriated cries in front of him, her curses flying around him and his freedom now firmly behind him, he had no other choice. Walburga was raising her wand, getting ready for another attack, when Sirius quickly turned around and fumbled with the door handle.

The air that hit his face almost made him let out a victory cry. He only caught a glimpse of the muggle world outside before he let out a strangled cry. His legs almost gave way as pain tore down the back of his right leg.

The last things he recognised before he was sucked into the tunnel of apparition was his mother's voice, disinheriting her eldest children, the pain in his leg that had him close to tears and the small, fragile, white and red girl in his arms, who had the tears that had threatened to spill from before come streaming down his cheeks.

And then there was nothing . . . nothing but the sound of a family of birds in a nearby tree and children laughing out of sight down the street. As soon as his head stopped spinning enough that he could stand without swaying violently, he faced the modest two-storey house, the Christmas lights still lining the roof.

'James . . . James . . . James!' He screamed and screamed and screamed until the front door opened. James and Remus stood on the threshold.

They were by his side in a heartbeat, Remus taking Lyra as Sirius fell, the pain in his leg, the exhaustion over what had just happened, finally taking over. James grabbed Sirius by the arms before he had a chance to hit the cement. The Black twins were ushered inside and had barely made it two feet into the house before Mr and Mrs Potter were upon them.

Dorea and Charlus were quick to slip into their professional mannerisms. They'd deal with the horror they both felt later. They ushered the teenagers into the lounge room, Sirius, leaning heavily into James, flung himself into the first chair he stumbled upon. Dorea quickly set to work inspecting his leg which was now drenched in thick, dark blood.

Sirius fidgeted in the seat, trying to look at Lyra over Dorea's shoulder. Remus had placed her on the lounge, Charlus hovering over her, removing the scarf from her middle and almost blanching when fresh blood spilled out over her already soaked shirt.

'Hold still, dear,' Dorea told Sirius firmly, holding Sirius to the chair with surprising strength.

Sirius would've sat still if Charlus hadn't let out a strangled, frustrated, infuriating growl. 'That insidious bastard!'

Sirius went to stand but yelped, his leg instantly collapsing under the pressure. Charlus had cut through her shirt and exposed Lyra's stomach, it was riddled with long, thick, impossibly deep slashes. They ran impossibly deep, the blood that slipped out from them was dark, Sirius couldn't distinguish wound from skin.

'What's wrong?' Dorea's voice was no longer firm but urgent. Sirius tried to ignore the sliver of panic that made the question wobble ever so slightly.

'He's used Dark Magic on his own daughter!'

Sirius caught James' eye. He had never seen his friend looking so scared, so unsure. He stood beside his kneeling mother, looking from her, to Sirius, to his father, and back again. Remus however was fixed on one thing and one thing only. His grip on Lyra's hand visibly tightened as the young girl suddenly stirred and started screaming in agony – a strangled cry that pierced Sirius like a twisting knife through the heart.

'Dorea! I need your help!' Charlus' yelled over Lyra's screaming. 'He's tricked it.' He told his wife as she appeared by his side, leaving Sirius stranded in the armchair. 'Every time I try to seal the wound it works itself deeper.'

It took hours . . . hours for Dorea and Charlus, two fully grown wizards – an ex-Auror and an ex- Healer – to stifle the bleeding coming from the wounds across Lyra's stomach. It was a crude patch up job but the Dark Magic used by an even darker man was not easily undone.

After every passing minute, Sirius felt the weight in his chest grow and grow and he was certain that if he just got to Lyra then it would go away. If he just got to his sister then this nightmare would be over, he'd wake up panting in his bed at the Potters, slick with sweat, a pounding headache the only reminder of this god-damned nightmare.

There were a number of things Sirius took careful note of in that unearthly long afternoon.

He noticed every beat of his heart – how each one was like a warning that the next one would never come.

He watched every breath his sister took, fearing the same warning was true for her. He flinched through every one of her long screams and heaved a long sigh after each one had ended.

He kept an eye on James who looked ready to faint at the sight of his bruised and bloodied and tortured friends, but whose eyes shone with undisguised admiration as he watched his parents work in complete harmony.

And Sirius watched on as Remus gripped Lyra's hand, muttering for her to hold on, to hold on just a little longer. Remus never looked at anyone else throughout the whole ordeal.

Later, when the candles of the house had been dimmed and doused . . . when James and Remus had retreated to the former's room . . . when Mr and Mrs Potter spoke in hushed voices behind closed doors . . . when Lyra's breathing had finally, finally returned to deep, even inhales and exhales as she rested in a single bed in one of the Potter's guest bedrooms and when Sirius lay in the bed adjacent to hers – watching her chest rise and fall – he finally let out a long shuddering breath and allowed himself to be devoured by the silent black that he knew was only a brief respite from the harrowing future he and his sister were now destined to live.

But even he wasn't safe in the darkness. And all too quickly, reality invaded.

'Enough with your excuses! Despite your most ardent beliefs, I am not oblivious to everything that goes on within my own house!'

Sirius knew it was dangerous. There were a great many things he could do within this house that could put him in potential danger, but listening to his parents engage in what could only be described as an intense argument (his parents – along with all other polite pureblood families – never argued, as Sirius had been reminded on multiple occasions throughout his childhood), was decidedly more reckless than usual, even for him.

And he had been intending on turning around and retreating to his room and finish packing. This was only supposed to be a short visit. Get in, get what he came for and leave. If it hadn't been for the surprise dinner his parents had arranged then he would have left days ago like he'd planned with James.

James was a good friend, his best friend – his brother – but he tended to worry to the point of recklessness. Chances were that he would have mounted a full-scale rescue mission if he hadn't received Sirius' letter telling him about the delay.

That damned dinner.

It had been days since it happened. He'd had days to think about it, to try and decipher it, to figure out exactly what had taken place over the last course of that meal. Dayss of endless thinking and he was still just as confused, just as angry as he had been when it had happened. Maybe his parents were now finally going to let it slip, they might finally be about to explain just what it was that Madam Rosier was talking about that night.

'Orion, I have no possible idea what runs through the minds of everyone who comes into this house.' Walburga's biting voice was rising with every word. 'Our eldest son should be proof enough of that!'

Sirius gritted his teeth at this slight. There were more important things to focus on than the well-known hatred his parents had for him.

'It is not our eldest son that I was referring to … neither was Madam Rosier that night, if my translation of the situation is to be relied upon.' Where Walburga's voice rose, Orion's voice was being drawn lower, like a bucket into the well of his formidable fury. 'Why is it that I always get the impression that everyone knows much more about my own blood than I?'

Sirius heard Walburga scoff. 'You've never taken an active interest in her before. Why now?'

Up till this moment Sirius had been merely curious, now his curiosity mixed with worry, water and oil starting to swirl in his chest.

'I am interested in what interests others. I am simply attempting to uncover what the Rosier's find so interesting in something I have hitherto dismissed.' There was a pregnant pause, Sirius wasn't sure if anyone on the other side of the door was breathing – he wasn't too sure he was breathing. 'What interests you about her, Walburga?'

'Other than the fact that she's my daughter?' Sirius was sure that Walburga had meant the question to be just as biting as her previous comments, but he could hear her waiver, even if it was the smallest possible amount. He tried not to scoff at the obviousness of the lie.

'You really think I am a simpleton, don't you?' Orion asked, his voice full of venom. 'I have heard the rumours, ever since they were born I have heard them. I chose to ignore them thus far because I have reassured myself that my wife could never be that foolish. She knows better than that, I told myself when I caught them whispering. She would never associate with the people required to be able to carry out what they've said you did. You would not taint our bloodline, a bloodline that has remained pure and strong for so many centuries, on such an irrevocable level.'

Sirius heard the squeal of a chair leg being dragged across the wooden floor boards of his father's study and it took all his strength not to jump at the sudden noise. He took a half step closer to the door so that his cheek was almost pressed flush against it.

'Perhaps I have been wrong.' Orion's voice was almost at a whisper now. 'You've always been an ambitious woman, Walburga. At times so focussed are you on your goal that it flirts with the point of brutality. I have always admired this about you. But,' a short yelp was suddenly stifled and Sirius' hand instinctively flew to the door handle, 'if I have discovered that you have used this ability to turn this family into a magnet for ridicule and scandal, if that girl should be anything other than a disappointment, just like her brother, then …'

'Master Black should not be spying.'

Sirius whirled around so fast he was momentarily dizzy. Kreacher stood not two meters from him, his wide eyes glowering up at him.

Sirius moved toward him, 'Kreacher, wait . . .'

But he was too slow. Kreacher popped out of sight before Sirius had the chance to take another step and the next second his scratchy voice was coming from the other side of the study door.

Sirius didn't have time to turn and run back to his room before the door opened. Orion Black, in all his towering, twisted rage, glared daggers at his eldest son.

Sirius jolted into awareness. The image of a clawing hand reaching for his throat burnt the insides of his eyelids. He jumped again when he realised that there was a figure kneeling at the side of his bed. Somehow, he knew who it was even in the dark and the moonlight.

'Did you get it?' James whispered.

Sirius blinked, his mind – still reeling from his memories – was slow to realise what James meant. When the confusion lifted though, Sirius pointed to a dark mass on the floor next to the bed. It was the clothes he'd been wearing this afternoon, clothes that were now torn and bloodied beyond recognition.

James scooped them up and handed them to Sirius. As carefully as he could – the muscles throughout his entire body seemed to be bathed in soreness and pain – Sirius found the back pocket of his jeans. He reached in and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He laid back into his pillows, clutching the parchment like it was his only tether on life.

'Got it,' he said before closing his eyes, letting the darkness pull him away again.

Okay, so this story is a rewrite of my other story LYRA. For anyone stumbling upon this for the first time, welcome! I came up with (a version of) this first chapter on a whim about a year ago and didn't really mean to continue with it, but I have and here we are.

Each chapter will begin with a snippet from a much later chapter, feel free to try and decipher them and guess what/who they may be about. I know there are going to be some obvious AU moments – Sirius being disowned in seventh year for example instead of sixth ext. – but I do want to try and stick to cannon as much as possible (but we'll see how that turns out).

I've got the first eleven chapters of this reworked version ready to go so I'll be updating weekly whilst I work on the remaining chapters before I start continuing on with the story past the previous seventeen chapters. If you used to follow LYRA please read this story as there are extra scenes that weren't in LYRA.

Thanks if you've reached this far and I really am excited to continue with this story and one day click the completed button.

Please leave any thoughts you may have and the next chapter will be up next week!

Next chapter – We see just what was going on in Remus' head ;)