The Great War // Sirius Black

Chapter II

Lyra thumped her foot against the banal wood of the library floors, staring at the lengthy book coated in a thin sheen of dust. Inside it laid pictures upon pictures of her past like a sick melody that wouldn't stop playing in the back of her head, keeping her from finding peace in sleep. She had roamed the predominantly vacant aisles of the library, looking for any source of amusement as the day dragged on; when she had spotted it, it had been laid out almost deliberately on an empty desk. A history book for the ages that had yet to grace the age of fifteen, awaiting her to unlock the box of secrets and release the sins and tragedies that haunted her.

She remembered the day she had seen the final product put together, sliding it under Sirius's childhood bed, thinking she would remember to grab it on her last way out of the Order's Headquarters. It felt like just yesterday that the fever dream of her teenage years and early twenties swam around her. Some nights she would sit with her photobook and thumb through the eclectic mix of photos of her friends and the halls of Hogwarts. She would linger on images of her brother, admiring the sparkle of excitement in his eyes and the mischievous grin they shared. It broke her heart and healed it simultaneously to relive those cherished moments.

Lyra flipped open the book and let out a choked cough as the dust wafted into her face. Inside sat the pictures of the order and most of the journal entries they would write, even old and stained maps with markings as to where the Death Eater camps were or where Voldemort planned to strike next. Lyra had compiled everything that she could while a part of the Order, knowing that perhaps one day she may want to reflect on it. She guessed someone thought she needed to before she even knew. She slid her finger along the worn photographs and letters, smiling at the drunken photos Sirius would take of them all after a successful mission.

Just as her thumb slid along the marker that pinpointed the envelope she had hidden inside the book, the doors to the library pushed open and interrupted the solemn nostalgia that shrouded Lyra. The intruder startled the blonde, and the book crashed onto the floor, a few letters and photographs scattering behind her desk. The faded envelope she would risk opening disappeared into her back pocket as she cleaned up the mess she had made.

"Didn't mean to scare you, deary," Professor McGonagall hummed as she floated towards the desk, "I wanted to come to visit you on my free period and see how you and Remus were settling into the castle?"

"Oh, we're settling in just fine, Professor, thank you," Lyra hummed, tucking the book underneath the desk and dusting off her shirt, "Remus's quarters are much nicer than mine, so we decided we'd stay there."

"I would think so," the Professor chuckled, her smile tight and worn with weary lines, "And please, Lyra, call me Minerva when the students aren't around. We are colleagues now, after all."

"I don't think either of us will ever be ready to see you as anything other than Professor McGonagall," Remus's honey voice sang as he wandered into the library, hands tucked into his pocket, "I believe it was only James and Sirius who referred to you as anything else—How are you two fairing, with the news?"

A chill slid down Lyra's spine at the mere mention of the rampaging headlines overtaking the entire Wizarding World. It was a given that people would bring it up to her; it was no secret to anyone who knew anything about the infamous Gryffindor friend group that Lyra and Sirius were a burning couple at Hogwarts. Two firecrackers were put into one room and lit shortly after, with only one window open for only one of them to escape. The answer as to who managed may vary depending on who you ask.

Lyra still reminisced on Sirius, that one missing part of her aching and yearning to see his crooked smirk again or the charming glint of his eyes. To hear those honeysuckle words slip into her ears and tickle her neck, lighting the embers within her heart. He made everything inside Lyra flicker and burned like a scarcely controlled fire. He was the stars at night she would whisper to in hopes that someone might hear her one day; unbeknownst to her, the moon was listening in just as well.