“Lily, take Lexa and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off –”

James dies, straight-backed and proud.

Lily runs to Lexa’s room, where she is in her cot. She can no longer hear her husband down below fighting for his family, and all of a sudden, the door bursts open, followed by a cackle of high-pitched laughter.

“Not Lexa, please no, take me, kill me instead –”

Voldemort’s shrill laugh fills the room once again, “Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now.”

Lily doesn’t move, “Not Lexa, please no, take me, kill me instead –”

Voldemort doesn’t acquiesce to her demands; his wand is still held high, a snarl across his ghastly face.

“Not Lexa! Please… have mercy… have mercy…” Lily begs.

A shrill voice laughs, and Lily screams. It is through love that we conquer all threats, or so we were made to believe with a mother’s love. Or at least that was the logic in which Lily Potter applied when she took her final breath. Another victim of Lord Voldemort and his tyrannical Death Eaters.

Her husband had fallen before her, ever the protector - a true Potter. But little did Lily Potter know, her sacrifice, along with that of her husband, would be enough to protect their young daughter. Little Lexa survived that dreadful night, an orphan, the last of House Potter. But fortunately for her, she was not the last of House Black.

And that’s all Lexa will remember of that traumatic night: a blinding green flash, a burning pain in her forehead, then a high, cold, cruel laugh. Voldemort had used the Killing curse on both Lily and Lexa.

And only one of them survived.

Sirius Black is the first to arrive at the cottage, having known there was something wrong when he couldn’t find Peter. He just knew that the friend they’d known since their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had betrayed them. Sirius had made haste as fast as he could to Potter Cottage in Godric’s Hollow, but it was to no avail. He was too late.

The young man storms through the house in desperation, a fading hope that he’d find someone, anyone, alive.

At the foot of the staircase is his brother. His best friend. James Potter lies on the floor, a ghastly pale white colour. His eyes were wide open, and his glasses skewed on his face. A cry leaves Sirius’s throat, and he grapples uselessly at the wall to hold himself upright. He barely held himself together as he stood over his best friend’s body, the corpse of his brother in all but blood.

His thoughts turned to that of Lily and then to his young goddaughter - and her adorable little grin. He knew that there was absolutely nothing that could prepare him for the sight of the young girl’s body. Her death was all but inevitable - unless by some miracle Lily had managed to escape.

Sirius takes a deep breath; he feebly attempts to reinforce his occlumency shields as he just about brings himself to step over the dead body of his best friend. The walk up the stairs feels like the longest climb of his life. And as his eyes level with the dead body of his best friend's wife, he can’t help the cry that leaves his throat. Lily’s body had immediately shattered any hope of finding the remaining Potters alive.

His knees buckle as he drops to the floor, his body heaving forward towards the strewn red hair across the floor. He’s almost crawling towards her, devastation tearing through his body as tears well and truly fall down his face. He nearly screams in shock when he hears the mutter of “pa ’foot.” he thinks for a moment that he’s imagining it. But he hears it again, and at this, he’s flying to his feet, stumbling in the rush.

But he wasn’t imagining things, because they were standing in the beautiful white crib he and James had spent forever assembling. ‘Because it has to be done without magic,’ and because James and Sirius had been too proud to ask for the Muggleborn’s help with the stupid Muggle instructions. Because they were men. Strong, independent men. And no crib was going to beat them.

But the little girl, with her long jet-black hair almost to her shoulders, mesmerising green eyes, is staring back at him, and Sirius’s breath catches in his throat. Lexa’s alive. His goddaughter is alive.

Sirius isn’t sure how long he just sits on the floor, staring at his little girl. His blood adopted daughter, his god-child. But it hits him like a brick, all of a sudden, the thought that they could still be in danger. The little girl could still be in danger.

He moves across the room faster than he thinks he’s ever moved – even on a broom. The little girl clings to him, her tears still trickling down her face. But her cries have long stopped, her throat no doubt hoarse with her pain.

He was about to leave when he couldn’t help but notice the empty robes on the floor in front of the crib, or the very familiar wand of the Dark Lord next to them. His mind went blank for almost a moment, the most ridiculous idea entering his head. Had Lexa killed the Dark Lord? He shook himself. How ridiculous would he have to be to think that? Lexa was only two.

But then again, James had told him that they were being targeted by the dark lord because of a prophecy about young Lexa. And so the fact that she’d survived, dazed, bleeding but still alive, meant that maybe just maybe his original theory wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he tried to soothe the sobbing child.

“Mamma!” was the little girl's only response as she reached in the direction of Lily’s body on the floor. At that, Sirius knew they couldn’t stay here any longer. Knowing that they would have to walk over James' body, and in an attempt not to traumatise the poor child any further, he cast a light sleeping charm on the child.

As he wondered who to turn to for help, it occurred to him that only he and Peter knew about the switch in secret keepers. Given that James and Lily were dead, that meant that Peter was the spy. And since everyone else knew he was the secret keeper, it would be he who was held to blame. And given his last name, well, there would be no benefit of the doubt. And in the current climate, he wasn’t even sure he’d get a trial.

And no doubt Peter’s new Death Eater buddies would be all too happy to help point the finger. And with the likes of Lucius Malfoy’s son set to inherit the Black family title, well, he’d be all too happy to help imprison Sirius. And kill Lexa. And he couldn’t go to prison; he'd sworn a god-damn oath to protect this little girl. He’d die first.

And James had begged him - on his hands and knees. That if anything were to happen to him and Lily that he’d be there for her. To teach her everything he knew, and then to find teachers to teach her everything else. That he didn’t want Lexa to be a pawn in the political world, the unprotected daughter set to inherit the world. She’d be red meat in the eyes of the likes of Lucius Malfoy and Nott.

So who could he turn to help? The idea came to him surprisingly fast. And Sirius quickly used his Patronus to send a message to the man he hoped would be their saviour. In the meantime, getting as far away from here was the plan. Or it would have been if Sirius hadn’t bumped straight into Hagrid as he headed down the garden path.

“Sirius! Dumbledore sent me. I'm going to take the young tyke to her aunt and uncle’s!”

“Like hell you will, Hagrid! I’m her godfather.”

“But Dumbledore said.”

“Means nothing.” Said a new voice.

Sirius could have sighed in relief, his Patronus had delivered - and Lord Black had answered his desperate call for help.

“Alexandra is a daughter of the House of Black, and in the absence of Lord Potter, she falls under my purview.” He said.

“Mr Black.” Stuttered Hagrid, his eyes widening at the sight of the older wizard.

“That’s Lord Black Hagrid, now send my message to the headmaster, will you?” asked Lord Black.

Though the man didn’t wait for a response, he wrapped his arm through Sirius’s, and the two disappeared in a flash. Sirius had always loved the practicality of portkeys – much better than the floo, anyhow.

“Tell me what happened, lad, don’t dawdle.” Commanded Arcturus as he led Sirius through the antechamber of Blackmore Manor.

“I don’t know, Sir,” mumbled Sirius with a slight shrug, his hold on the little girl still firm.

“James? Lily?” he asked, though they both knew he already knew the answer to that question.

“Dead. He killed them. Both of them,” said Sirius, his voice quiet, tears appeared in his eyes.

“How? You were, after all, the secret keeper?” said Arcturus, and despite his love and trust for his grandson, he couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“We switched. It was to be the greatest prank of all time. Peter. Peter betrayed them. I’ll kill him.” Said Sirius. “I’ll kill him.”

“You shall do no such thing,” said Arcturus, his tone firm.

“Why?” asked Sirius. “He deserves to die.”

“Of no doubt, but right now there’s a little girl that matters more, and you’re all she has.”

Sirius nodded. That was true. Lexa had him, and only him who would put her first.

“They’ll think it was me.”

Arcturus nodded, of that there was no doubt.

“We will simply hide, and then we will secure you a trial.”

“Remus.” Said Sirius suddenly.

“Ah, yes, where is your mate?” asked Arcturus.

“At the Black family cottage, I left him there, in case something were to happen.”

“I will fetch him if you stay here.” Said Arcturus. “And I mean it, Sirius. Do not leave.”

Sirius nodded; it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go.

When Arcturus reappeared in the antechamber with a concerned and confused Remus Lupin, his anger reached boiling point.

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK THE THIRD!” he yelled, “WHERE ARE YOU?”

Crying could instantly be heard as a frustrated Sirius rushed around the doorframe at the opposite side of the room.

“I’d just got her to sleep naturally. You know sleeping spells aren’t good for them,” whined Sirius. “Remus!” he exclaimed excitedly as he rushed across the room to embrace his mate.

“Lexa’s here?” asked Remus. “Where’s James and Lily?”

Remus watched in horror as Sirius’s face fell; he’d never seen his mate look to be in so much pain. And all of a sudden, he knew, after all, if Lexa was well enough to be screaming in the other room, then only one other thing could cause his mate to look that way. James. James was dead.

“They’re dead, Remus. He killed them,” Sirius’s words were barely audible.

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” said Remus as he clung to his mate.

“We need to plan,” said Arcturus, breaking up the mourning party. “I know it’s sad, I’ll miss James myself, but right now we need to plan because Merlin knows what Albus Dumbledore wants with that little girl.”

And so in the early morning light,  as Remus watched over a sleeping Lexa, the two Black men had taken up office in Arctrus’s study - an open bottle of fire whiskey on the desk.

Arcturus had disappeared for several hours, and Sirius had not asked why - assuming the man was out gathering intel.

“The dark lord is dead,” said Arcturus as he reached for the early morning emergency prophet, throwing it across the desk in Sirius’ direction.

“The girl… who-” Sirius trailed off in disgust.

“It gets worse, son. Dumbledore is blaming you.”

The conversation did not get any lighter from there, as the Black duo argued back and forth of the correct course of action - Sirius wanting to clear his name, to trust in the system. Arcturus argued that it would be nothing but throwing himself into Azkaban.

“What of Bellatrix and Narcissa?” asked Sirius - suddenly thinking of his cousins and their Death Eaters husbands.

“You should sit.”

“Grandfather, do not be so naive as to think I care for either of them.”

“Sit down, Sirius.”

And the man sat, annoyed at being treated like a child and confused at what could possibly be so bad that it needed him to sit.

“Bellatrix is being thrown in Azkaban.”

“Good riddance.”

“Along with her husband and his brother, for the torture and use of the cruciatus curse on Frank and Alice Longbottom.”

Sirius sat staring at his grandfather for several moments in silence.

“Are they alive? Their son, Neville? Augusta?”

“No one is dead, beyond several elves, the Longbottoms are in St Mungo's, I haven’t heard anything else,” said Arcturus.

Silence fell as both men stewed over the news.

“I should have remained a secret keeper; I would have died for them.” Sobbed Sirius, his emotions finally getting the better of him.

“Pull yourself together, boy. We have to deal with this.”

Arcturus was right, the house of Black did have a lot to deal with over the coming days. The trio of adults had to deal with newspaper after newspaper dragging the family name through the mud. First, Bellatrix, Sirius betraying the Potters, even briefly, was Narcissa before Malfoy somehow put a stop to that.

Arcturus wasn’t quite sure how the blonde ponce had managed to weasel his way out of his crimes, but he had done so - and seemingly quite successfully.

It was on the third day that Arcturus received an owl from the Ministry demanding that he hand over custody of Sirius Black or face trial for aiding and abetting a criminal. It was at this that Arcturus made a decision - one that his family might not entirely be behind, but one that would work best for the family's future.

To disappear from Wizarding Britain.

The days following the death of the Potters went quickly. The entire wizarding community was in an uproar, the biggest celebration ever recorded. And all of a sudden, Alexandria Potter went from being a relatively well-known pure-blooded heiress to the most well-known name across magical Britain. Alexandra Potter – The Girl Who Lived. Conqueror of Voldemort and the only known person to survive the killing curse. The Last Potter.

With all the celebrations that went on, it was only down to sheer damn luck that the statute of secrecy wasn’t blown to smithereens, and a war with the muggles, well, that was just what they’d have needed.

The Black Family hid within the heavily warded Black Family Manor, which raised some questions for Lord Black. “Why didn’t the Potters hide in Potter Castle?” to which Sirius had very subpar answers, “Dumbledore said the cottage was less likely to be targeted.”

Arcturus had been furious, to say the least. But unfortunately, what had been done couldn’t be undone. There was only the future to look to now. And as far as he was concerned, his future rested on the shoulders of the adorable and completely innocent little girl who likes to chase house-elves around his dark, gloomy manor.

Since that dreadful night at Godric's Hollow, the newly formed family of four had made permanent residence in Blackmore Manor. And whilst Arcturus would have preferred to keep Lexa’s status as a blood child of Sirius Black and as such his heir a secret. It had been necessary to reveal in court to obtain custody of the young child. Dumbledore had been very trying in his attempts to have custody given to the Dursleys.

But that too was in the past. And right now, the small family was happy and content with the knowledge that Lexa was theirs. And there was nothing anyone could do about it – short of James and Lily returning from the dead anyway. Even then, though, Arcturus had his ways.

However, there was a small worry for the family. Arcturus wasn’t overly concerned; it was quite common after trauma to have setbacks in both a child’s physical and magical growth. So Lexa’s sudden lack of accidental magic hadn’t concerned him too much. But as the days went on without incident, his concern did grow.

The young family sat around the family dining table at Blackmore Manor, feasting on a gorgeous dessert of strawberries, vanilla ice cream, and meringue. Arcturus was discussing the recent re-addition to the black family, the Tonks.

“What on earth-” Arcturus suddenly said.

“Grandfather?” queried Sirius, looking up from his bowl to send his grandfather a questionable glance.

“I swear I had strawberries here a moment ago,” said Arcturus, looking rather dumbfounded.

“Just ask Banky for some more?” questioned Sirius with a shrug. He could only hope his Lord wasn’t losing his mind.

Arcturus did as suggested, questionably shaking his head as he watched the house-elf replace his bowl with a fresh one. He had always enjoyed strawberries.

It wasn’t a minute later when he was requested to the floo. The ministry, no doubt. Upon his return to the table, he once again looked aghast.

“I swear, Sirius Orion Black, if you’ve eaten my strawberries!” exclaimed Arcturus.

Though no threat was stated, it was heavily implied.

“Why, I never!” mocked Sirius, “I didn’t touch them!”

Arcturus sent a menacing glare at his grandson, but even Remus looked innocent.

“Oh my lord-” trailed off Arcturus.

The other two men looked confused for a moment, but quickly following his gaze, their mouths dropped open.

A three-year-old Lexa was looking at Sirius’s bowl with a look of dire concentration across her face. And three wizards stared mouths agape as the strawberries in Sirius’s bowl floated across the table and into Lexa’s.

The little girl giggled at the attention but wasted no time in grabbing the strawberries and pushing them into her little mouth. Her cheeks puffing out as she consumed them as quickly as possible.

“Well, at least you're not going crazy, grandfather,” deadpanned Sirius.

“She’s doing accidental magic again,” said Remus excitedly, he, too, had been worried about the young girl's regressive behaviour.

“That’s not accidental magic, though, is it? She’s intentionally doing magic,” replied Arcturus.

Sirius had been worried at first about moving in permanently with Arcturus. The older gentleman was well known for his gruff, harsh exterior. He’d worried that the environment would be too much like his own upbringing, but hell hath frozen over.

Because Lexa had his grandfather wrapped around her little finger. And for Grandpa Arcturus, well, as far as he was concerned, Little Lexa, as he called her, was an angel from heaven. She would want for nothing. Though Remus had been quite adamant that whilst the little girl deserved to be pampered, he wouldn’t raise a spoilt brat.

And Remus was always the one to caution against second desserts and too many sweets. This is why both Sirius and Arcturus had been amused when they’d found Remus smuggling the little girl sweets. At least Arcturus had been until he’d found out what they were.

“Muggle sweets!” he exclaimed.

“They’re good,” replied Remus with a shrug. Being a half-blood himself, he’d been raised in both the Muggle and the wizarding world. And had found an equal enjoyment in both.

“You’ll be turning her into the second coming of Dumbledore at this rate!” said Arcturus, “Muggle-loving fool.” He deadpanned.

“Grandfather,” cautioned Sirius. He’d said point-blank many times before that he wouldn’t stand for pureblood supremacy around his daughter.

“I have nothing against muggles, Sirius,” repeated Arcturus, “I just think they should keep themselves to themselves.”

It was an old argument; one they’d agreed to disagree on numerous times. It didn't, however, stop it from being brought up again and again.

“She’ll be fine, once she’s seen her first chocolate frog,” Sirius promised.

Arcturus nodded. Adamant that it should be the case. And so the next day, when Arcturus presented his great-granddaughter with the popular chocolate sweet. He’d barely contained a growl of displeasure.

The young girl had struggled to get it out of the wrapper, and Sirius had been required to help. And when the little chocolate bounced around, the little girl excitedly chased after it. Until the frog had jumped towards her, and Lexa had burst into a shower of tears.

And well, so much for magical sweets topping Muggle ones. And if Sirius had turned a blind eye when Remus had smuggled the young girl a few smarties, well, what Arcturus didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And well, who could blame Lexa? What three-year-old didn’t love Smarties?

The Black Family had finally recovered from the scandals of the war, or at least as much as they ever could when Bellatrix Lestrange had permanently hospitalised the Longbottom Lord.

It had taken a new Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, for Arcturus to finally pull some strings before he willingly escorted his grandson into the court's antechamber. Arcturus had made it so that, despite the outcome, Albus Dumbledore had nothing to gain. Guilty or not, Alexandra Potter-Black belonged to the House of Black, and he would never touch a hair on her head.

Whilst the newly formed family had become very much reclusive, very rarely leaving the manor, Arcturus had maintained his prominent position in court. Sirius found enjoyment entertaining his young pup and decided to cherish the moments with her that he could. After all, the good years always do go by so fast.

—---------------------------------------------

Sirius wakes with a start, attempting to both wrestle the young child who’d jumped on him and check the time. It had only just turned 7:00 am.

“7 is progress, Siri,” said Remus with a laugh as the man next to him sat up in bed.

That was true. Last year, the young girl had woken them up at something at four in the morning, excitedly informing them both that she was now four. Four little fingers had been thrust in their face to emphasise the fact.

“Papa! Papa!” squealed the little girl as Sirius flipped her into the bed, tickling her sides eagerly as peals of laughter filled the room.

“Enough, Sirius, she’ll wet the bed,” Remus said firmly with a laugh as he flung back the covers and climbed out.

“But it’s so early,” whined Sirius.

“But it’s my birthday,” said Lexa in response as she flung herself at her father again. A whine in her voice as she copied her father’s tone.

“Is it really?” asked Remus, pretending to have forgotten.

The little girl's brown furrowed as she looked up at her other parents. “Yes.” She deadpanned.

“Oh, how silly of me to have forgotten,” teased Remus with a grin on his face.

“Moony!” whined Lexa in exasperation.

“Of course, we didn’t forget, sweetheart, how about you go wake grandpa up?” suggested Sirius with a wicked grin on his face.

“Will Grandpa be mad?” asked Lexa, her brow furrowing once again as she looked between the two men.

“Of course not,” said Sirius.

Lexa, the trusting little girl, nodded eagerly before darting out of the room in the direction of Arcturus’s chambers.

Not ten minutes later, the two were greeted with the sight of a gruff Arcturus standing in the door of their bedroom. He had a pointed glare on his face as his eyes narrowed at the two younger men; the gruff look was somewhat ruined by the excited little girl clinging to his waist.

“You’re lucky I like you, lad,” said Arcturus before disappearing again with the little girl in his arms.

Once dressed, the small family met downstairs for breakfast.

“Presents?” asked Lexa an adorable expression on her little face.

“After breakfast,” said Arcturus, and the tone in his voice was one Lexa knew meant no arguments. The five-year nodded and let Remus help her up to the table.

Banky appeared a second later with Lexa’s favourite – runny egg and elves. The pieces of toast had been made into the shape of elves, and Lexa was over the moon. Thanking the little elf at the same time as diving into her breakfast.

“You’re welcome, Miss Lexa,” said Banky before disappearing.

After breakfast, it was present time – at last! Lexa unwrapped several picture books from her Grandpa and a small collection of chocolate frogs. Thank god the young girl had gotten over her initial fright of the jumpy things.

However, her present from Papa and Moony was undeniably her favourite. A child’s broom. The smaller model was bigger than the toddler version Sirius had bought her whilst she's still lived with her mama and daddy.

Her new present would allow her to fly a little higher than before, and more importantly, faster! Sirius and Lexa flew around the manor’s full-size Quidditch pitch. This left the other two men, who were quite happy with their feet firmly on the floor, to happily watch from the garden terraces – books in hand.

The Tonks came after lunch, and whilst Dora was 7 years Lexa’s senior, the two got along quite well. After all, Dora had always wanted a little sister. The two played with a children’s snitch, which floated at about Lexa’s eye level and moved away from you at a surprisingly fast speed.

Sirius had always been proud of Lexa’s quick reflexes, and Arcturus couldn’t wait to teach the young girl to duel.

“Is Nymphadora looking forward to Hogwarts then?” asked Arcturus. He’d long since given up on trying to convince Andromeda to send the young girl to Durmstrang. But he wouldn’t give up on convincing Sirius. He was, after all, rather determined in that matter.

Sirius tuned out of his cousin's response to busy watching his daughter laughing as she ran about chasing the snitch. She’d fall – several times, no doubt. But each time she’d pick herself back up and keep on running.

“Sirius!” At the increased volume used to say his name, Sirius was snapped out of reverie.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking between the group.

“Arcturus here was just saying that he hopes you’ll send Lexa to Durmstrang?” asked Andromeda, finding it hard to believe that Sirius would do such a thing. Durmstrang was well known for being a male-targeted school, even if there was no such policy to prohibit witches from attending, only Muggle-borns.

“Lexa is five,” reminded Sirius, “We haven’t decided anything on her schooling yet.”

Andromeda shared a pointed look with Arcturus, who looked smug at his grandson's response.

“But you are considering Durmstrang?” she questioned.

“We are considering all magical schools; I won’t just limit her to Hogwarts.”

Arcturus looked pensive at the statement, before suddenly smug, almost as if he’d hit the jackpot.

“So you’ll allow Lexa to make the final decision?” asked Arcturus.

Sirius looked constipated for a slight moment before nodding hesitantly. “We can discuss her education as a family. If she wants to go to Durmstrang, I won’t stop her, the same for Beauxbatons, Hogwarts or anywhere else for that matter.”

“You’ll allow her to be educated by that muggle-loving fool?” queried Arcturus.

“Grandfather!” scolded Sirius at the same time his mate said “Arcturus” in a similar manner.

“My apologies, Andromeda, Ted, I just do not like Albus bloody too many names, Dumbledore.”

“We know,” said everyone. This caused laughter to filter around the group at their uncanny synchronisation.

—-------------------------

Sirius had unknowingly set forth Arcturus’s grand plan. Ever since he’d admitted on Lexa’s fifth birthday that he’d allow the final decision to be Lexa’s, Arcturus had switched course.

He didn’t need to convince Sirius; he needed to persuade Lexa. And over the next couple of years, that would prove to be too easy. Whilst it was hardly a secret that the little girl had the old man wrapped around her finger, hell, even Arcturus knew it himself. It was also quite equally well known that Lexa adored her Grandpa, looked up to her grandpa. Hell, she went around telling everyone she wanted to be just as cool as him and have everybody like her.

Sirius couldn’t even complain. As much as he wanted the young girl to idolise him, he supposed there were worse idols. He just needed to sway her to the world of pranking. Which, too, had proven quite easy to do. Remus had fallen victim to far too many pranks courtesy of Padfoot and the officially dubbed Prongslet.

And whilst Arcturus taught the young girl chess, he’d tell her grand stories of his friend's tales of Durmstrang. And prattled on and on about its prowess and magnificent teaching. It produced only the best the world had to offer.

Because Arcturus, in his prime, had wanted nothing more than to attend the rumoured Bulgarian school. Whilst its founder was Bulgarian, the school's actual location was the best-kept secret of the millennium. It was rumoured only the headmaster knew of the school's actual location – to everyone else, it was just unplottable.

And as such, far more secure than Hogwarts could ever be – a clear selling point. And with Severus Snape's appointment as head of Slytherin house and potions master, convincing Sirius to support his idea had been far too easy. After all, he surely couldn’t want that greasy bat to have authority over his little girl, right?

Arcturus had always been a typical Slytherin.

And through chess, Arcturus found his little heiress’s first downfall. The girl was no strategist – but they could work on that.

—---------------------------------

The trio of adults had originally worried about the effect of not having many playmates of Lexa’s age. Dora was seven years older than her. But Lexa flourished without the usual social interaction of people her age.

Sirius and Remus occasionally took her to a Muggle park, allowing her to play with a young girl on the climbing frames and swing sets. And that seemed to settle Lexa’s innate desire for social interaction with people her age.

From her seventh birthday, Lexa had begun magical lessons. From the basic principles of magic to behaving like a respectable lady within society. Remus had been responsible for Muggle education since she’d turned four. Ensuring that the young girl could read and write to the best of her ability – and by god did that girl read.

Sirius was severely worried that she’d be a Ravenclaw. Heaven forbid. Then again, it was far better than Slytherin, and Lily had once said she’d nearly ended up in the house of the bookworms.

On her eighth birthday, Lexa was presented with her mother’s wand. Whilst it wasn’t a perfect match, it would work well as a secondary wand. And with the wand came responsibility and a whole new set of lessons. From basic transfiguration to charms, to her new favourite – duelling.

And whilst right now she might not be very good, one day she’d wipe the floor with her Papa and then who’d be laughing! Not him – that’s for sure.

—-------------

Sirius, Remus, and Arcturus sat in heavy silence in the drawing room. Lexa was practising the latest spell Arcturus had taught her in another room in the manor, guarded over by no doubt numerous house elves. All of them seemed to be enamoured with the young girl, not that any of the men could particularly judge them for such, as they often too found themselves wrapped around the little girl's finger.

It was a regular joke of Sirius’s that the young girl would have had James bending over backwards for his little princess, all whilst Lily stood behind him rolling her eyes as he bent to her every whim. No doubt a proper spoiled child, well-loved and not too arrogant, only that would have been Lily’s input, certainly not her husband’s.

“If we are to exclude her for any length of time from pureblood society we at least need to help her foster relationships with her future peers,” argued Arcturus, and the other two men new it was true, but having Lexa spend any time with these families would always pose a risk, even if Arcturus had managed to clear Sirius’s name - only by the skin of his teeth. Dumbledore’s claws ran deep, and they had no true way of knowing exactly who the man had in his pocket.

“So exactly who are you suggesting?” asked Sirius with a frown etched across his already aging face. “She already has Nymphadora.”

“Nymphadora is family Sirius, and not an heiress.”

“Then who?” retorted Sirius as he dropped his head back against the top of the chair in a huff, like hell his grandfather better not suggest the Malfoy Brat.

“What about Neville?” suggested Remus, knowing that Frank’s boy would be an ideal friend of Lexa’s.

“Not ruddy likely.” Muttered Arcturus.

“What’s the problem with the Longbottoms?” asked Remus, but a dawning realisation sank over him as he said, or perhaps just a whoops moment as he mentally facepalmed at the suggestion – of course, Neville wasn’t an option.

“As if Augusta would allow us anywhere near her son’s boy,” replied Arcturus, though it was gruff, it lacked his usual malice.

“Even with my innocence now known, I fear the Lestrange’s crimes will forever be held against our house,” added Sirius with a touch of melancholy in his voice. Frank had been a good friend.

“Perhaps Lexa can change that; she is, after all, a Potter too.”

“Perhaps, but only time will tell.” Said Arcturus.

“Then who, Grandfather? Amelia is an unknown,” started Sirius.

“Cyrus Greengrass has a daughter the same age.”

That statement stopped Sirius in his tracks. Cyrus was a terrifying man, tall, handsome, and what he lacked in natural magical power, he made up for in charisma and pure political prowess. The man was no slouch and was believed to be almost as capable of blackmail as the Black Family.

“You can’t be serious!” snapped Sirius, outraged. The risk was ridiculous, the man was dark, as dark as they came.

“House Greengrass would make for a powerful ally, Sirius,” and with a slight pause, the older man continued, “And it is about time the Old Guard was reformed.”

Sirius froze in his seat, and Remus watched somewhat amusedly, his gaze flickering between his mate and the older man. He, of course, knew of the Old Guard; any Historian or trained politician knew of the power they had once wielded, but a return of such an alliance would shake the world as we know it.

“Greengrass is a dark man capable of dark magic.”

“Well, of course he is, as am I, but does that make me the enemy, Sirius, or all the more powerful ally?”

Silence dropped over the room, the temperature seemingly dropping with its arrival as Sirius pondered the question. He knew his grandfather was dark; most Blacks were. Sirius himself was the first light wizard in a generation, though Nymphadora quickly followed.

“If you need a lesson in the difference between Dark and Evil Sirius, I am incredibly disappointed in you.”

“Of course, I bloody don’t. But” started Sirius.

“But nothing, Cyrus was neutral in the war. I am not denying he has blood on his hands, but so does every man in this room,” he replied, his gaze flickering to Remus and back.

“Charles was Dark, did you know that?” asked Cyrus.

Sirius could swear his brain malfunctioned for almost a minute as he processed the news, the defence of the dead man dying almost immediately on his tongue. Hard to believe, yes. But Sirius knew that Arcturus would never lie to him, and certainly not about that.

“No, I did not. James…”

“As far as I am aware never got tested, but between you and me, his affinity for defence and transfiguration and his bloodlines would indicate that both he and very likely Lexa may possess dark magic.”

“Lexa is…”

“The future, and a brilliant young witch, but you and both know that Grey magic exists for a reason, very rarely, but it does.”

“Grey magic is make-believe,” inputted Remus.

Arcturus shot a look at the werewolf; of course, Remus didn’t believe in the old magic.

“It’s a myth.” Snapped Sirius, “The last known supposed true grey magic-wielding wizard was Merlin.”

“You know better than to question Lady Magic Sirius Orion.”

Sirius had the decency to look away in shame at the use of his old name. “Lexa is already one in a million, is it so hard to believe that she could truly wield both light and dark magic?” asked Arcturus.

“All wizards and witches have an affinity for one or the other Arcturus; she’d be an outcast.” Stated Remus bluntly, whether he did or not, believe in old magic, he had heard the tales, he knew the myth well enough. What young witch or wizard didn’t care for the tales of Avalon and the mighty Merlin?

“Did you know that many believed Morgana to also be a grey witch?”

“No,” said Remus.

“That a true heir of them both would one day reign havoc and chaos down on wizarding kind,”

“Chaos?” asked Remus.

“The legend never states whether that chaos would be good or bad, just a pure display of raw, beautiful magic at its truest self. To right all wrongs, I suppose.”

“So you wish to forge an alliance with the Greengrasses?”

“No.”

“But.” Started Sirius only for the older man to once again cut him off with a short cough.

“I wish for my granddaughter to be provided the opportunity to reignite the Old Guard to pick up where her grandfather left off,” stated Arcturus, and I do not mean my useless son.”

It was common knowledge in pureblood circles that Charles and Arcturus had a somewhat cold as ice but iron-clad bond. Though whilst Arcturus had fathered his heir straight out of Hogwarts, Charles had waited long enough that it was Arcturus’s grandson who went to Hogwarts with his brother in all but blood son. And to this day, it was a blessing Arcturus hadn’t known he’d need. Sirius and James had ensured that the Potter-Black’s somewhat tentative alliance would continue to flourish in a way Orion would have no doubt destroyed.

Sirius did not know how Arcturus had arranged it so fast, but the group quickly went from discussing the possibility of it to suddenly arriving at Greengrass manor, Lexa somewhat nervous about meeting the slightly older girl.

“Lord Black, Heir Black. Consort Black, Lady Black,” Greeted Cyrus upon their arrival into the Greengrass Antechamber, “Welcome to Greengrass Manor.” Lord Greengrass bowed his head slightly in greeting of Lord Black, whilst Sirius and Remus bowed there’s to their host and Lexa performed a slight curtsey.

“Thank you for your invitation, Lord Greengrass,” said Arcturus in acceptance.

“Well, now that that is all over with, Cyrus is fine, my wife and daughters will meet us in the drawing room.”

The introductions seemed to go well; at Cyrus’s suggestion, both Daphne and her younger sister took Lexa off on a tour of the estate.

It was partway into the discussion that Cyrus looked Arcturus straight in the eyes, “I know what you are doing, and I approve.”

Arcturus and Cyrus seemed to have a silent conversation as the two looked pensively at each other.

“Approve of what?” asked Eleanor Greengrass, whose long blonde hair matched both of her daughters, her petite frame looked almost ridiculous next to her husbands incredibly tall, wide build.

“Daphne will be attending Hogwarts.” Stated Cyrus choosing to ignore his wife’s inquisition, he knew he’d face her temper for it later – but Arcturus Black had his full attention.

“It is my wish for Alexandra to attend Durmstrang.”

Eleanor inhaled sharply in shock. Cyrus, too, showed a minuscule flicker of surprise before he schooled his features.

“It is her choice, grandfather, as I have said.” Said Sirius calmly, but his voice held a note of finality.

“You will answer to your Lord, as you should.” Said Cyrus, not one to interfere with the politics of another house, but he also would not allow such disrespect in his home.

“It is fine, Cyrus, I encourage my heir to stand on his own two feet, and he is also correct. I will honour my great granddaughter’s wishes, but I do believe I will win this one.”

“Durmstrang is…”  trailed off Eleanor, unsure of which word she’d choose to use, but she also knew better than to risk upsetting Lord Black.

“Barbaric?” is that the world you’d like to use?

“Alexandra is a girl.”

“She is also the one who defeated the Dark Lord, even if I believe that to be a temporary feat, but alas, no matter.” Said Arcturus into silence. The group stared at him, breaths caught at the top of their throats.

“More so, she is the future Lord of numerous houses that I have no intention of discussing with either of you at this moment. She is to be a symbol, a leader, and more importantly, the future head of my house, and House Black does not raise weak children.”

“House Greengrass supports House Black in its endeavour to raise its future leader. My wife means no offence, she only meant to show care.”

“Enough, Grandfather, you promised to behave.” Said Sirius. Once again, Cyrus raised an eyebrow at the relationship between Lord and Heir. He himself had a friendly relationship with his children, but he hadn’t expected such a bond between Sirius and Arcturus. Especially as the older gentleman was known for being set in his archaic ways.

“My grandson speaks the truth. We came here to build bridges, not start disputes. And as to your wife’s previous question, I will clarify House Blacks intent.”

Cyrus nodded; it would, after all, be appreciated, though he hadn’t expected the man to talk in anything but well-phrased prose and riddles.

“Alexandra will play to no one's game but her own; she and her houses will not be the playthings of the so-called Light Lord Dumbledore, too many ruddy names.”

Cyrus couldn’t help but snort. Eleanor had quickly brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“It is our intent that upon my death, which is coming in due time, my Grandson will be reorienting House Black to the grey side of the Wizengamot.”

Cyrus didn’t often find himself at a loss for words, but this was perhaps the biggest shock statement he’d ever heard. House Black leaving the dark faction?

“Your house has belonged to the traditionalist bloc for as long as we have had such alliances; this would be unheard of.”

“And it is about time things changed.”

“What do you have to gain from this? You practically lead the dark bloc!” exclaimed Cyrus.

“I have no intention of usurping you, Cyrus,” stated Arcturus. Cyrus had a very firm control of what little of the grey faction remained. “As I have said, this will not come into effect until my death, and I primarily intend on letting Lexa lead this.”

“But Sirius will be the next Lord Black?” queried Eleanor.

“Sirius has no interest in politics.” Stated Cyrus, though he looked lost in thought and only just realised he had spoken that allowed, “I apologise, Heir Black, I didn’t mean to offend.”

Sirius laughed, his hair seemingly bouncing with his body movement.

“It is true, I have no interest in politics.”

“Then why?”

“Why such a big change?” asked Arcturus. Cyrus nodded. Arcturus seemed to be about to explain when Sirius butted in instead. Perhaps looking the most solemn Cyrus had ever seen him.

“My daughter will obviously never bow to the dark lord,” said Sirius, at this, the group all seemingly nodded in agreement, such a statement was obvious: “our family is also no fan of Albus Dumbledore.”

That was somewhat of a shock. Cyrus knew Dumbledore was adored by most of the public, and although there had been problems surrounding Sirius’s trial, Cyrus though Dumbledore had done enough to cover up his negative interference and enough crowd control that he’d span the narrative that he’d served justice and ensured the freedom of an innocent man.

“So obviously the light faction led by Dumbledore is not an option.” Cyrus was not convinced. Surely, that could not be the sole reason.

“I find that House Black is, as per usual, keeping secrets.” Stated Cyrus quietly, whilst said somewhat politely, the accusation was still that, an accusation. Remus and Eleanor both waited with bated breath, hardly breathing to see who would speak next.

“House Black considers House Dumbledore a threat to its safety and believes them to be responsible for the orchestrated death of the late Lord and Lady Potter.” The room fell silent at Arcturus’s statement. Cyrus was horrified at the implication, “Two times over.”

Cyrus stared. Aghast at the implication, but also needing clarity.

“Two times over?” he asked.

“At this time, House Black cannot prove its accusation but will seek justice.”

In the days after her tenth birthday, her family sent off applications for all the wizarding schools they could think of. After all, it’s far better to keep your options open than just select a mere few. They knew she had a guaranteed place at Hogwarts, but as to the others, well, she’d crossed her fingers and hoped.

On the 31st July 1991, the atmosphere of Blackmore Manor was intense, to say the least. Lexa bounced up and down excitedly by the window that the black family owl Artemis would fly through.

The adults, or Remus and Arcturus, waited patiently. Sirius and Lexa, like father, like daughter, bounced up and down nervously.

But it was all unnecessary as letter by letter they all arrived. And the adults sorted them out into piles for her, her options, and those that had been applied to as backups.

Lexa, in the end, was left with her four main choices: Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Ilvermorny.

“Okay, so where do we go from here, pup?” asked Sirius as the group sat around the dining room table, glancing between the options and the young girl making the decision.

“They are all good options,” reassured Remus. He wanted her to know that they’d be proud of her no matter where she went, happy so long as she was happy.

“Ilvermorny is a little too far away,” said Lexa.

“Okay – but we have portkeys?” questioned Sirius.

“I guess – I just didn’t feel it when we were researching it, I just don’t think it's for me?” questioned Lexa with a small nervous shrug.

“It’s okay, pup, that’s good, we’re down to three,” reassured Remus as he reached across the table to take away the Ilvermorny invite.

The group was surprised that the American school was the first to go. Remus, less so than the others, he’d noticed her lack of interest when they’d been researching themselves. The curriculum was vague, and he worried she’d be discriminated against due to not being American-born.

“Beauxbatons...” started Lexa, but she trailed off.

“What about it?” asked Arcturus, hoping to Merlin that his little girl didn’t want to go to that stuck-up up frilly, good-for-nothing, only just better than a dancing academy… okay, so he supposed that wasn’t entirely true. Beauxbatons was a respectable school, if not a little too feminine for him. Dance classes? A proper lady should be taught at home, not wasting her magical education on it.

“It’s too… girly.” She said with a shrug. “I don’t care for the performing arts, or studio arts, or even the culinary arts and humanities.”

The adults all nod; her points are all valid. And they were all pleased she was thinking this through – not that they’d expected anything less from the young heiress.

“So no to the stuck-up girly school?” asked Arcturus with a teasing grin.

“It’s a no from me,” teases Lexa, and Remus bursts into laughter.

Sirius and Arcturus just look confused.

“I don’t get it,” said Sirius, looking oblivious.

His statement only causes the other two to laugh harder. Remus had taken Lexa to watch a live viewing of the X-Factor. And Lexa had fallen head over heels for Cowell’s bluntness. Even if she did think he was a little rude.

“Never mind,” said Remus.

“Okay, so Durmstrang and Hogwarts?” asked Arcturus, “Is it really a competition?”

Sirius’s shoulders sagged; he knew exactly where this was going. Lexa looked to be thinking rather hard.

“Not really,” she said. “Durmstrang’s curriculum is a lot faster-paced, in-depth, has a much wider range of subjects, and covers the important things,” deadpans Lexa, “Like Duelling.”

And even Sirius couldn’t deny that. Hogwarts' curriculum was lacking in comparison. And he knew for a fact a lot was down to Dumbledore and his predecessor – I mean, how could they remove duelling from the curriculum?

“But Daphne is going to Hogwarts,” said Lexa somewhat sadly. Over the last few years, the two had become incredibly close, almost like sisters. Both Cyrus and Eleanor had been overjoyed with the duos close bond, Daphne had already been referred to as the Ice princess by her peers, no doubt spear headed by Malfoy. She didn’t particularly enjoy the company of any of her peers, but Lexa had broken down her walls, matching her both for intellect and enjoying blunt, honest truths.

“You can still see each other out of term time,” said Remus with a shrug, “and you will no doubt make many new friends regardless of where you go.”

“True, and there’s no Dumbledore at Durmstrang,” agreed Lexa.

“Durmstrang it is then!” said Sirius, trying to sound enthusiastic. Which he was mostly. Durmstrangs' curriculum was excellent, and he knew that his daughter would flourish, be challenged, and grow up to be a wonderful witch. He just couldn’t help but cling to the nostalgia that Hogwarts held for him, to give her another connection to James and Lily.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” said Lexa, sounding disheartened – she really didn’t want to disappoint him, and she knew how much he wanted her to go to Hogwarts.

“No,” said Sirius. “Honestly, I think Durmstrang is for the best – I just wish Hogwarts put up a better fight, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” asked Lexa, frowning slightly as she took in his expression.

“I’m happy so long as you’re happy.” And he meant every word. Her happiness was all he ever wanted, and he knew James and Lily would want the same.

“Me too,” said Remus, fully prepared to support Lexa in all her endeavours, no matter what they might be.

“I’m happy it’s Durmstrang!” said Arcturus smugly.

The other three rolled their eyes playfully. Of course, he was.

“And of course – I’d have supported you no matter your choice,” said Arcturus, “But I’m very happy you’ve picked the right one.”

“Oh, stop being so smug, Grandfather,” whined Sirius as he rolled his eyes again. But then again, what had they expected from the man? He’d only been pushing Durmstrang on them for the last decade.

—-----------------------------

They stepped through the Leaky Cauldron mostly unnoticed. And as Sirius led his daughter into Diagon Alley for the first time, he couldn’t help but enjoy her gasp of genuine amazement.

He could only mourn that the political climate had prevented him from introducing her to the wonderful experience that was the alley before today. But he knew that they couldn’t spend too long here before they resulted in a crowd - even with the slight glamour he’d put on them. Dumbledore and his minions were no doubt on the lookout as it was - perhaps even the Ministry. Everyone wanted a piece of the girl who lived, and he would do everything in his power to keep her away from it - at least until she was old enough to fully understand.

Sirius held her letter from Durmstrang with the list of things she’d need. It was similar to Hogwarts, but also not.

Durmstrang Institute

Uniform

Two sets of plain work robes (black)

Two sets of plain work robes (blood red)

One plain fur hat

One pair of protective gloves (dragonhide is recommended)

Two winter cloaks (black)

Two outfits appropriate for physical exercise (plain, tight-fitted pants accepted)

Other Equipment

One wand

One cauldron (standard size 2, Pewter or Copper)

Two sets of glass or crystal phials

One set of brass scales

Set Books

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

A Beginner's Guide to Potions by Orrick Vane

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Funghi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Knowing and Besting Your Opponent by Rick Mortimer

Offensive Magic by Mikhail Ahlstrom

A Beginner's Guide to Combat by Luka Hayes

Students may bring a familiar and/or an owl. A broomstick is recommended but not required.

The book list was similar to Hogwarts, but with numerous additions. And whilst Lexa would have loved to rush straight to the bookshelves of Flourish and Blotts, Remus took a more practical approach.

“A trunk first, sweetheart, y’know to put the books in,” he’d teased, knowing that on his own first visit to the alley, he had been very much the same, eager to learn and eager to buy half the book shop.

But the idea had merit, and so off for a trunk they went. In the end, they selected a large, black trunk upon which both the Potter and Black crests were emblazoned. It had a library compartment that automatically stored books and was capable of providing an inventoried list. Lexa’s favourite part was that all she had to do was reach in and request the book she wanted, and that was the one you’d pull out. Every Ravenclaw's dream.

There was a storage compartment and a secure potions section. And it was a big enough trunk for a first-year, she certainly didn’t need the apartment section that had been offered for a steep price. Lexa was happy with her portable library.

The trunk had basic defences and a feather-light charm on it. Sirius and Remus had both promised to add protective jinxes and wards, respectively, before she left for Durmstrang. And no doubt when they got back to the manor, Arcturus would also want to add his own.

“Now I know I said we’d probably be in there a while, but I think we ought to go to Gringotts next,” said Remus.

Lexa nodded, albeit reluctantly; a visit to the bank was no doubt going to be boring. But how wrong could she possibly have been?

—------------------------------

“The heir of Gryffindor?” exclaimed Sirius. And only then did he seem to cotton onto the rest of what the goblin had said, “SLYTHERIN!?” he exclaimed, a tone of disgust in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide. He winced at the glare he received from both his daughter, his mate, and the goblin.

“The Potter line has long descended from Gryffindor; however, the ring has yet to accept a Potter child.” Explained the goblin.

“And Slytherin?” enquired Remus in a much politer tone than Sirius had used.

“By right of magic and conquest,” explained the goblin.

And they all knew exactly how that had come about.

“Arguably also by blood, as the Blacks are distant descendants of Slytherin, Heir Black,” the goblin said with a smirk on his face at Sirius’s obvious discomfort.

“So you're telling me that my daughter is Lady Alexandra Lilith Potter Black Gryffindor Slytherin?” questioned Sirius, his mouth dropping slightly at all the titles.

“Yes,” said the goblin, “And then of course whatever family she marries into.”

Sirius’s eyes widened at the mere mention of marriage. Boys. God. He was sending her to a school full of boys. What on earth had he agreed to? Was it too late to change his mind? Of course, it was.

“Not that, that will be happening any time soon,” Remus added, seeing his mate's distress.

“Of course not,” said Sirius quickly, sending his daughter some side-eye to ensure his warning got across well. Lexa just rolled her eyes. God, sometimes she acts like a teenager. And she’s not even a teenager yet. ‘BUT BOYS,’ he whined to himself.

“I’d offer a magical abilities test, but I believe your daughter is attending Durmstrang?” questioned the goblin.

“Yes, why?” asked Sirius, confusion fluttering across his face.

“Durmstrang tests all students for magical abilities; their skills are built into their curriculum,” said the goblin. Durmstrang used the tests to test all students at the beginning of their second year. They believed it to help students identify the best elective classes for them if they had a particular gift set.

Sirius and Remus were surprised that the goblin even knew that; they certainly didn’t. But it was another bonus point for Durmstrang; Hogwarts certainly didn’t do that.

Remus wondered how the goblins would have known that was the school Lexa was attending, but he supposed Arcturus could have already made payment or have set things in motion to make payment to the school.

“Well, we already know I’m a Metamorpmagus,” said Lexa with a slight shrug. She loved that ability.

“And a parselmouth,” added Remus.

“Two very powerful gifts,” commented the goblin, a slight smirk on his face.

“Well, here are your heir rings, unless you wish to claim the last of the rights act?” asked the goblin.

“We do, actually,” said Sirius.

It had been a long discussion at home, but at Arcturus's insistence and Remus’s agreement. Sirius had finally cowed. Being Lady of House Potter would be an extra standing at Durmstrang, more respect than just being the heir of Potter and a descendant of house Black.

“For all three houses?” asked the goblin.

Shit, they hadn’t thought of that.

“Yes.” Said Lexa before Sirius could even think of a response.

“But…” started Sirius.

“Why not?” asked Lexa. “I don’t have to tell anyone; I don’t even have to claim the seats.”

“She makes a good point, Siri, better to have it in case she ever needs it,” said Remu, and it was true - saved another visit to the bank later for it as well.

“Oh bloody hell – what’s grandfather going to say about this?” said Sirius, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure whether Arcturus would even believe them at first - not that he’d blame him for that, it was pretty unbelievable.

“You do have to be accepted by both rings first,” said the goblin.

Whilst the wizarding world was backwards in many ways, Lexa would be able to wear the Head of House rings until she married. At which point, depending on the type of contract under which she married. If she married equally, she would be allowed to continue to wear the family ring, even though her husband would attain the title of Lord. Or if she didn’t, then the rings would be forfeited until a male heir became of age.

It was only due to her being the last of her line that she’d be able to wear the rings anyway. Otherwise, she would simply be considered Lord Apparent and Head of House. This was the situation that Madam Amelia Bones found herself in. She wasn’t the last of her line, as she had a niece, Susan, who was the heiress. And as such, Madam Bones would be Lord Apparent until the day her niece married, in which case her husband would then be Lord Bones.

This entirely sexist situation meant that it was very important that Lexa chose her husband well. And not in the likes of Lord Malfoy or Lord Nott, who would kill to attain her titles.

To the surprise of the goblin, Lexa was accepted by all three rings, which merged and became one. Tapping it with a wand would make it disappear. Sirius did so for her, as they had yet to visit Ollivander’s.

She didn’t even think of what having so many titles would mean, but Remus did, and he knew of the burden that being required to have so many children would result in. He could only hope she was strong enough - many purebloods weren’t. It was one of the many reasons the Weasleys were so hated, for being so-called blood traitors, but also having the ability to have so many children made many jealous.

They visited the Potter Family Vault, where Lexa collected a few of her parents' journals and some money before heading back up to the surface to complete the rest of her list.

Finding a wand took a while, but Lexa left the shop bonded to her new 11-inch, holly and phoenix feather wand. It was here that the small group separated, Sirius to complete a quick errand whilst Remus would take Lexa to get her books. They were both pretty sure Sirius had just come up with an excuse to avoid visiting the bookstore.

As they leave the bookstore, Sirius bounds up to them with a beautiful white owl in a cage. “Sirius?” questions Lexa.

“I saw her and I just couldn’t not.” He said as a way of explanation, not that he

“She’s beautiful.”

“I expect lots of letters,” said Sirius, and at Remus’s pointed look, he amended his statement, “We expect lots of letters.” Or at least that’s what he thought his mate was getting at.

“You told her she could choose,” said Remus with a scolding tone in his voice.

“I know, but I’m going to let you choose something better instead!” said Sirius excitedly.

“Better than an owl?” asked Lexa curiously.

“Come!”

To their surprise, Sirius led them back into the pet shop. The shop assistant waved them on through to the back. Lexa couldn’t hold back the squeal at the sight before her, in a cordoned off pen were two litters of adorable baby crups. Cruppies!

“Consider it your leaving present, seen as the broom was for your birthday,” said Sirius, “But only one.”

“You can climb over,” suggested the shop assistant.

Lexa was worried about how on earth she’d pick just one, but as soon as she was over the fence, they climbed all over her. Lexa knew exactly which one was hers. There were in total six crups, and Lexa learnt from the shop assistant that Crups almost exclusively breed in litters of 3, and are never all the same gender.

Lexa’s Crup in the end was decided when she was lucky enough to form a familiar bond with the small black but blue-eyed male at the back of the litter.

The shop assistant helped them bring him out and get the necessary equipment to look after him. As they were paying, they bought a collar.

“Do you have a name for him? I’ll engrave it on the collar.” Asked the shop assistant.

Lexa looked between her parents, who looked pointedly at her, then to her family, and thought about her choice of the name.

“Prongs – if you guys don’t mind?” asked Lexa, looking back at her parents.

“I love it, kid,” said Sirius with a weak smile on his face. Remus nodded along with him. And maybe this was the way that James would get to explore Durmstrang with his daughter – and protect her, of course.

—------------------------

“The heir of Godric Gryffindor?” exclaimed Arcturus from where he sat in his office chair, the older gentlemen looked gobsmacked at the revelation.

“Oh it gets better,” said Lexa with a smirk.

“You mean worse,” teases Sirius.

“Out with it! How can it possibly get any bigger than this?” asked Arcturus, avoiding using either of the terms better or worse until he knew exactly what they were about.

“I’m the heir of Salazar Slytherin, by magic and by conquest!” exclaimed Lexa with a twice as big smirk.

“What?” Deadpanned Arcturus, his expression breaking through his very strong occlumency shields. “Well, isn’t this great news!”

—---------------------

The air shimmered with the warm haze of late August. Sunlight poured like golden wine over the manicured hedges of Black Manor, the scent of roses and fresh parchment drifting on the breeze. Daphne sat cross-legged on a stone bench beneath the shade of a willow tree, her pale blonde hair tied back in a ribbon of Slytherin green — not because she was Sorted yet, but because everyone already knew where she’d end up. Too cold, ambitious, and driven for anywhere else. The Gryffidors would drive her up the wall, she’d kill the Hufflepuffs with a glare alone, and Ravenclaw’s lacked the common sense to do anything with those overly inflated brains of theirs.

Across from her stood Alexandra Potter, dressed in the high-collared black coat that Arcturus Black insisted made her “look the part.” Her dark hair was swept into a loose braid, her green eyes dancing with mischief as she held something wriggling under a small silk blanket.

“You’re not bringing a baby Niffler to Hogwarts, are you?” Daphne drawled, arching one elegant eyebrow.

Lexa smirked. “Please. I’m not insane. This one bites harder.”

She swept the blanket aside, revealing a small, foxlike creature with a forked tail and sharp, intelligent eyes. It barked, once, something between a yap and a growl, and wagged its tail with menace.

Daphne blinked. “A Crup. Merlin, Lex, those are banned at Hogwarts. You're definitely going to get detention before classes even start.”

“Not if I'm not going to Hogwarts.”

There was a beat of silence. Daphne straightened slowly, the cool Greengrass poise slipping just slightly. “What?”

Lexa crouched next to the bench, letting the Crup, who promptly tried to gnaw on the laces of Daphne’s boots, explore. “I’m going to Durmstrang.”

Daphne stared. “That ridiculous winter fortress? Full of dueling maniacs and blood-obsessed descendants of war criminals?”

Lexa grinned. “Exactly. Sounds like home, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Daphne said flatly. “It doesn’t. It sounds like the sort of place you come back from missing a limb.”

“Oh, please.” Lexa rolled her eyes. “You say that even Aunt Walburga wouldn’t applaud. Besides, even father approved in the end.”

Daphne looked at her best friend in disbelief. “You’re serious.”

Lexa only grinned wider. “Deadly. They teach wandless combat and Dark magic defense. Real magic. Not that sugarwater they'll be handing you at Hogwarts.”

“But—” Daphne looked away, blinking hard. “We were supposed to go together.”

Her father had warned her of the possibility, said that as a Black she’d get in - no problem. There was also no way her mother would ever let her go with her. That she was to build a network at Hogwarts.

Lexa's smirk softened into something gentler. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I know. I wanted that too.”

Daphne didn’t speak.

“But I need this,” Lexa said, quieter now. “I need to be sharper than them. Smarter. The Black name might scare them, but Alexandra doesn’t—yet. And if I'm going to survive whatever's coming, whatever Voldemort didn't finish, I need more than what Dumbledore will teach me.”

Daphne looked at her, lips pressed tight. “You always talk like there's a war coming.”

Lexa shrugged. “There usually is.”

“We’ll still be friends, right?” and there was an insecurity in the question that Lexa hadn’t heard before.

“Always.”

A pause stretched between them. The Crup tried to dig a hole next to Daphne’s heel.

Then, finally, Daphne asked, “What’s his name?”

Lexa smiled. “Prongs. After my dad.”

Daphne’s face twitched, maybe a smile, maybe something else. “That’s… sentimental.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Lexa said dryly. “It would ruin my reputation.”

—---------------------

September rolled around far faster than Sirius would have liked. Hell, even Arcturus seemed to mope about the idea of Lexa leaving. But the young girl, whilst nervous, was extremely excited.

Today was the day. Today was the day she’d be moving into the impenetrable fortress that was Durmstrang.

She stood in the antechamber of Blackmore Manor. To her back on a small table was the gold necklace that would transport her to Durmstrang. It had been delivered just the day before. In front of her was her family. The three most important men in her life. Sirius Black – her blood adopted second father and his husband, Remus Lupin. And well, Sirius looked like he wanted to lock her in her bedroom till she was thirty. And Remus, well, even the much calmer and level-headed male couldn’t hide his worry.

Durmstrang, after all, wasn’t something they'd had any experience with. This wasn’t Hogwarts, where they could walk her through every step of the way. Ruin the tradition of the sorting hat just so she wouldn’t have to worry about fighting any Trolls. Durmstrang… well, they couldn’t tell her she wouldn’t have to fight any trolls. Because God knows exactly what was going to happen when she got there.

And on that note… why was she going to Durmstrang?

“It’s not too late, you know,” Sirius said.

Fear laced the Gryffindor's voice, after all, his daughter was both his greatest strength and his biggest weakness. From her puppy eyes when she’d wanted a broom, too, this. Despite his best attempts to sway the girl, Arcturus had her wrapped around his finger, much like she had him. And Arcturus believed that Durmstrang was a far better school than Hogwarts could ever hope to be – especially with that blithering idiot as headmaster. His words, not mine. And even Sirius had to admit after the arguments had been laid out before him, Durmstrang was the better option – the better school.

“Papa. I want this.” She said.

Her smile never wavered, and despite the fear in her eyes, she stood headstrong. And Sirius didn’t doubt for a second that his girl would have been adorned in red colours at Hogwarts.

“Ever the Gryffindor,” Sirius said.

The smirk that laced his face had her laugh.

“Hah!” said Remus. “I’d take you on that one, Siri. She’d be a Ravenclaw. Hands down.”

“I agree!” chimed in Arcturus. He, too, could have easily been a Ravenclaw.

Sirius laughed and pulled a face at his lover. But even he couldn’t deny that his daughter had her mother’s smarts.

“I’ll have you both know that I’d be neither.” She said.

The three men turned their attention from one another to stare at the young girl in disbelief.

“Not a Slytherin!” said Sirius. His exclamation was accompanied by a dramatic sigh as his hand went to his chest and he staggered back, struggling to contain his laughter.

“Not that you wouldn’t be a good one!” commented Arcturus.

“Maybe I’d be a Hufflepuff, I can be kind.” She said, with a slight shrug.

Though the smirk on her face gave her away. As she laughed at her papa’s antics, humour had always been his favourite way of diffusing a situation.

“Well.” Said Arcturus. “Alexandra Potter-Black. You have the bravery of a Gryffindor, the ambition of a Slytherin, the intelligence of a claw, and the loyalty of a puff.”

Pride could be seen in both her parents' faces at the older gentleman’s words.

“And we.” Said Remus.

He looked to his husband, and Sirius stepped closer to the man, an arm sliding around his waist as he looked at him lovingly.

“Are so. Proud of you.”

The girl looked like she could cry.

“As am I,” said Arcturus in agreement as he stepped to stand next to his grandson.

“And James and Lily would be too.” Said Sirius. Remus and Arcturus nodded in agreement.

The girl looked to her papa with a small, yet somewhat uncertain smile on her face. Doubt coloured her mind; she couldn’t remember them, of course, but she’d been told all the stories and she loved them. And she missed them. So much.

“Really?” she asked.

The three men nodded as Sirius stepped forward and dropped to his knee in front of her. Despite being tall for her age, presumably Sirius’s genes stepping in there, the man still towered over her.

“Really,” he said.

His voice was full of such confidence that she couldn’t help but believe him. He pulled her in for a hug, and she sighed, whether that be of relief or just genuine happiness, she wasn’t quite sure.

The small family said their final goodbyes as Lexa reached for the gold chain. Her trunk was shrunk in her pocket, and she now held an excited Prongs in her arms. He had turned out to be her best leaving gift – it felt like she was taking a small piece of home with her. Lexa and Prongs had bonded almost immediately.

And his name, despite being both a way to honour her late father and because of the crups' pronged tail, had turned out to be quite fitting. The young crup was just as mischievous as James Potter had ever been.

Whilst she was nervous about possibly being the only girl in the school, having been forewarned that very few women ever attended Durmstrang, the program was considered too masculine and too harsh. The last known female student of Durmstrang was Athena Novak, and she’d dropped out at the start of her Fourth year. And that was almost a decade ago.

Lexa began walking the moment the portkey activated. A small trick Arcturus had taught her to land on her feet. He’d been insistent that Alexandra was a lady and, as such, she should be able to behave as one where and when necessary. Sirius had, in the end, bought into the old man, informing him it would make people all the less suspicious of her when it came to pranks. And the Gryffindor had fallen for the mastermind Slytherin's words. Even if it was technically true.

The sea groaned like a wounded beast beneath the ship, waves slapping hard against the iron hull as fog curled around them. Alexandra Potter stood at the prow, her black coat buttoned to the throat, House Black’s silver embroidery glittering faintly against the mist. Behind her, other first-years muttered in a dozen languages, their voices drowned beneath the howling wind.

Durmstrang did not offer warmth.

It was not a place that welcomed children. It dared them to survive.

“Landfall,” a gruff voice called. One of the ship hands, weathered and silent, pointed toward the jagged coast. Atop a sheer cliff of black stone loomed a massive fortress, its towers twisted and spiked like a crown of thorns. Fires burned behind arrow-slit windows. Cold lightning forked above the turrets.

Durmstrang.

Lexa’s fingers curled tighter around the railing. Prongs sat perched beside her feet, tail wagging slightly despite the wind. Only a few weeks old, the magical creature already had a stubborn streak. "Just like his namesake," Remus had commented. "Only less likely to burn the house down."

She smiled at the memory, then tucked it away.

“Now isn’t this a rare occurrence,” someone said behind her, in accented English.

She turned.

A tall boy with pale hair and silver-ringed eyes stood watching her, lips curled in amusement. He looked maybe thirteen, older than Lexa. And dangerous.

Lexa arched a brow. “Good.”

The boy blinked, then gave a small smirk. “I’m Andrei Vranova. You’ll learn names matter here.”

“I already have one,” Lexa said coolly. “And mine’s older than yours.”

It earned her a genuine laugh, light and predatory.

When they disembarked, the climb to the fortress was brutal, nearly a thousand steps up sheer stone in freezing wind. Magic didn’t cushion their path. Durmstrang demanded strength.

By the time they reached the great hall, more a war chamber than a dining room, Lexa’s cheeks burned from the cold, and her boots were soaked. The hall had no floating candles, no twinkling banners. Just torches, long tables, and a vast mural of dragons battling giants above a raised dais.

No Sorting Hat greeted them. Instead, a robed professor with steel-grey eyes stood and called names from a scroll. Professors here were Magisters and Magistras. The old traditions.

“Alexandra Potter-Black,” he read, the accent thick and Slavic. Murmurs broke out immediately. Whispers in German, Russian, and Hungarian. One boy outright laughed.

“Red Cohort,” the Magister said, and pointed to a table with crimson banners hanging behind it.

She could feel the weight of their stares but didn’t flinch. As she passed others on her way to the table, she heard a muttered comment about Potter blood. Another about House Black. She ignored them all.

She took her seat with almost regal grace, the embroidery of her coat catching the torchlight. The boys beside her shifted uneasily. Prongs wedged himself beneath the bench, his head on her boot. Growling.

"You have a Crup," someone whispered.

"Yes," Lexa said, cool as the wind outside. "He bites."

The whisperer paled. Prongs yawned, flashing sharp little teeth.

The boy beside her snorted. "They’ll get over it. Or they won’t. Either way, it’ll be entertaining. Josef Mikkola."

"Alexandra Potter-Black."

His eyebrows lifted at the full name. "Quite the lineage."

"It has its uses," she said.

As the last names were called and the final students seated, a tall man with shoulders broad enough to block the torchlight took the centre of the stage.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. One clearing of his throat, and silence fell like a dropped curtain.

"Welcome," he said. "To Durmstrang."

A pause followed. Not for applause, he clearly expected none. But the weight of his voice settled on every shoulder.

"The next seven years will be brutal. I will not lie to you. We are one of the most elite magical institutions in the world, and that excellence is forged through hardship. We will not coddle you. We will not spare you. We will test you."

Lexa felt the tension ripple through the room. Prongs pressed closer to her leg.

"Some of you will rise. Some of you will fall. But all of you will be shaped by this place. We train Aurors, Unspeakables, Wandcrafters, Healers, Warriors, and Politicians. We forge futures in steel and fire."

The silence was his only response; people didn’t dare to breathe. Many questioned what they had gotten themselves into, and others stared in awe. Admiration. Jealousy. After all, Blake Dobrev was one of the most powerful men in Europe.

He continued, speaking of rules, customs, and expectations. Lexa tried to absorb it all, but exhaustion clouded her mind. She tuned back in at the mention of duelling.

"All conflicts here are settled through formal challenge. Honour duels. Violence outside of sanctioned conditions will be punished. First-years are exempt from challenges—for now."

He waved his hand, and refreshments appeared.

"Enjoy them. Make allies. Learn who you can trust."

The room exploded into chatter.

“Feliks Grigoriev.” A voice said.

Lexa turned to face the direction the voice had come from. A tall boy was sitting to her left, and going off the pointed looks of the others, the only one brave enough to even speak to the only girl.

“Alexandra Potter-Black.”

“Pleasure.” He said.

The smile on his face was cute; he had a scar on his lower jaw that she couldn’t help but notice as he flashed her his white pearls.

“Grigoriev?” she said.

The boy's smile faded slightly, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was related to the other Jarl. They looked like they could be, same messy light brown hair, both long faced and pale.

“He’s my older brother.” He said. “Unfortunately.”

Lexa couldn’t help but laugh. Being an only child herself, she couldn’t imagine what a sibling relationship would be like, but she’d always imagined being close if she’d have been lucky enough to have any.

“He’s annoying and perfect.” He spoke. Lexa glanced up at the table where the older boy could be seen chatting with those around him, and he did look well respected, well-liked. He sat with a strong posture and seemed to radiate power.

Lexa nodded. She supposed being compared to an older sibling would be awful, almost like being cast in somebody else’s shadow.

“That must be a pain.” She said,

Feliks introduced her to Luka, a wiry blonde boy across the table, and within minutes, they were deep in Quidditch talk. Lexa, amused, let them ramble. But her attention sharpened when someone called her a "fresh blood."

“What’s a legacy?”

When silence fell around them, Lexa realised, she’d perhaps made herself out to be an idiot with what they all presumed to be common knowledge. But fortunately for her, Luke took pity on her.

“Oh, my entire family attended Durmstrang, a lot of us are legacies.” Said Luka, “Legacies are… respected. Everyone else must earn their place.”

Lexa nodded; she supposed that made sense.

“So I’m an easy target?”

"Probably," Feliks said. Then he grinned. "But it’s more fun that way."

She was glad that the first years were exempt from honour duels. A duel of honour was the only way to settle an argument in Durmstrang, or so her new friend told her, outside of the duelling arena and combat training, there was a very strict no violence policy. After all, Durmstrang trained warriors, not barbarians.

As for duelling in the future, her lithe body and agile feet would be a great advantage. After all, Remus always said the best way to avoid a curse is to dodge it, don’t shield unless you have no choice. Papa sometimes disagreed, but Lexa had found that dodging was a skill that came naturally.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of introductions and observations. She quickly noticed that the arrogant boy from the ship continued sneering at her, but Feliks sat a little closer every time.

As the meet and greet concluded, the headmaster once again took to the stage. Dobrev introduced them to the Jarls. The two students in their final year are responsible for the fresh intake. They split them into two groups.

“Tonight, Jarl Grigoriev and Jarl Edmundson will take you to your new dormitories. They will take the introduction from here.”

The two Jarls took centre stage, and they looked at the group with what could only be described as mild distaste. Jarl Edmundson was broad, tall, and a little on the skinny side. His dark, unruly hair fell in waves to his shoulders. Yet despite this, he looked smart, somehow. The other Jarl looked harsh; his head was shaven, and his build was big. He reminded her of the man in the comic book Remus was obsessed with… what was his name – the Hulk?

Soon, they were herded out by their appointed Jarl—Edmundson, a wiry boy with clever eyes—who led them through twisting halls lit by blue flames.

As Lexa followed Jarl Edmunson with her two new friends, she couldn’t help but admire Durmstrang's architecture.  The castle was alive with detail. Murals shifted subtly on the stone. A suit of armour tilted its helm slightly as they passed. The ceilings led into vaulted arches, and tapestries billowed in drafts that came from nowhere.

Inside the North Tower, which the group had been assigned to was a smaller version of the dining hall. Similar décor with beautifully designed pieces of armour lining the walls. Overall, it had a homey feel to it, if not a little too… Viking for Lexa’s tastes. A man cave came to mind. And she couldn’t help but think that Papa would have loved this. Prongs and several other familiars roamed around the room, and Lexa couldn’t help but try to picture this as her home for the next seven years.

Off the homeroom, there was a long corridor with rooms off to the side. 14 rooms. Everyone was doubled up except Lexa and one other person. Luka and Feliks quickly chose to go together and picked the room opposite Lexa’s.

To her left was a lithely built boy who introduced himself as Viktor Krum, who, because of an odd number of boys due to her presence, got the room to herself. Viktor’s friend Josef had partnered with a boy no one seemed to know the name, in a room opposite Viktors.

Their trunks once again magically appeared in the correct room. A cute little crate bed was at the foot of Lexa’s bed. Her beautiful stand for Hedwig was also by the window.

“You can change your rooms however you wish.” Had been what Edmundson had said.

So long as you and your partner agreed, then it was entirely up to you. And Lexa had every intention of making her room remind her of as much as homey as possible. The evening was spent unpacking and altering some things in her room. Edmundson was kind enough to shrink the second bed for her so she could easily put it into the spare furniture storage at the end of the corridor.

She decided that despite the older student's initial gruff appearance, he was kind and helpful. And experienced. She couldn’t help but ask him lots of questions, enough questions that he eventually groaned and told her that she’d asked enough for today.

She was pleased that each room had an en-suite bathroom, having been told enough horror stories of having to share at Hogwarts by Remus. Apparently, both her fathers like to spend a long time in the bathroom… God knows what. Lexa didn’t want to picture it.

The group, after unpacking a little, returned to the homeroom as instructed. The Jarl had more to tell them.

“Alright, listen up!” shouted the Jarl.

Edmundson informed them that for the first year, there were no electives, and no customisation of the schedule either. Classes were as follows: Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defensive Magic, Offensive Magic, History of Magic, Flying, and Combat. Flying was only mandatory until you had proven your capabilities on a broom. Combat was mandatory until the start of the fourth year and included numerous styles of hand-to-hand combat and general fitness.

Lexa was surprised that something so – muggle – would be included in their curriculum. Not that she was about to complain, she was looking forward to such a class even if she was at a big disadvantage.

Edmundson answered many other questions before he left them to mingle, informing them he would return when it was time to lead them to their evening meal. One boy dared to ask Lexa why she had chosen not to attend the alternative, Avania School for Witches, which was where most of their sisters and mothers had attended. She’d told them that the curriculum here was more to her liking, and after all, somebody had to be the first female to successfully graduate from Durmstrang.

They’d laughed and jeered, but she got along well with most of them. The arrogant boy from earlier was still getting on her nerves, but his dislike for her was greatly outnumbered by the rest of the group, who were quite content with her presence.

Feliks had quickly proven to be quite protective, and she found herself endeared to the slightly older boy. He had a protective brother feel to him, not that she’d know what one of them was. But she reminded him of Sirius in his rush to defend him. They even had the same sense of humour and black wavy hair.

By the time Edmundson returned, the large group had splintered off into smaller groups, and Lexa found herself becoming friends with Feliks, Luka, Viktor, and another much, much shorter boy, Josef, who’d come from Finland. So, all in all, the group had quite a mix of nationalities.

“If you follow me, I will lead you to the dining hall.” Instructed Edmundson. Upon arriving at the dining hall, he led them towards double doors marked with the impressive Durmstrang crest.

The doors opened into a massive room, impressive wooden beams ran up the walls, leading to the vaulted ceiling, which was supported by three rows of columns spread across the outer walls. There were in total eight tables lined throughout the hall. The ones further from the entrance were slightly smaller until the one furthest away; clearly, the staff table was the smallest. The centre chair of the head table was an impressive oak wood build, silver inlays formed the Durmstrang crest, with runes littering the arms.

Lexa couldn’t help but compare it to her parents’ memories of Albus Dumbledore's gaudy golden chair – what a monstrosity compared to this beautiful design. Even if she was a little biased – you know, being a Durmstrang student and all. And not exactly Albus Dumbledore's biggest fan.

Banners hung from the ceiling, roman numerals on the crest hung on a banner over each table, indicating which year group sat where. Not that they needed the guide, as every other year group was already seated, leaving only one table empty. Edmundson’s group was first, so the group sat and talked quietly among themselves as Grigoriev led his group into the hall.

Lexa enjoyed watching the amazement on her peers' faces as they took in the hall for the first time, wondering if she had looked just the same. She couldn’t help but notice that the chatter had increased amongst them, and people were murmuring to one another and looking in her direction.

God, she could not wait for them to get over the fact that she was here. She had been told there might be a little fuss, but eventually, it would die down, and as far as she was concerned, the sooner the better.

Dinner was a quiet affair, Lexa enjoyed further getting to know her new friends, and she was surprised she did not feel at all like the odd one out. They even complimented her on her seamless Bulgarian accent. She quietly admitted she’d practised a lot because she’d been shocked to start with. They laughed in good taste.

After dinner, the first years were led on a quick tour of the castle in their groups and Lexa was amazed at the library quickly informing her friends that she was moving in much to both their amusement and horror. Her inner bookworm squealed in delight. And okay, yes, maybe Remus was right. She would have gone to Ravenclaw just for the in-house library. Though she would not tell her Gryffindor-loving Papa that any time soon.

Upon returning to their dormitories, a tall man stood at the foot of the stable closest to Lexa’s room. The group fell silent upon noticing him. The group stood staring at him awkwardly as the man continued to menacingly glare at them.

It was after a few minutes of tense silence that the man began to speak.

Magister Stanislav stood at the foot of their tower. Tall. Severe. Like someone carved from glacier ice.

"I teach Potions," he said. "I will also be your mentor. My job is to ensure you survive Durmstrang. That task alone may take most of my energy."

No one laughed.

He handed them each a rule book with a flick of his wand.

"Read it. Memorize it. If you break it, you'd better hope your Jarl gets to you before I do."

As he said this, his voice slowed down, the warning clear in his tone, his gaze felt like it burned into every one of their souls.

He outlined the council system—Jarls, Thanes, and the various student responsibilities.

"Disputes are handled through duels. No exceptions. No excuses. You are in your first year. You are protected—for now. But watch. Learn. You’ll be called upon soon enough."

Lexa groaned aloud at the mention of 0500 starts.

"Don’t worry, Potter-Black," Edmundson said dryly. "By year seven, you’ll think of that as a lie-in."

She muttered something very unladylike in return.

But inside, she smiled.

Let them underestimate her.

She was her father’s daughter.

And she was just getting started.

The following morning, Magister Stanislav was back. And he handed out a map to each student as well as their schedule. Lexa unfolded the paper and hoped that it would be relatively easy to memorise.

Monday:

0600: Breakfast

0700: Mandatory Study (Library)

0900: Herbology

1100: Potions

1300: Lunch

1400: Defensive Magic

1600: Transfiguration

1800: Dinner

1900: History of Magic

Tuesday:

0600: Breakfast

0700: Defensive Magic

0900: Charms

1100: Herbology

1300: Lunch

1400: Potions

1600: Mandatory Study (Library)

1800: Dinner

1900: History of Magic

Wednesday:

0600: Breakfast

0700: Defensive Magic

0900: Combat

1100: Mandatory Study (Library)

1300: Lunch

1400: Offensive Magic

1600: Charms

1800: Dinner

Thursday:

0600: Breakfast

0700: Offensive Magic

0900: Combat

1100: Mandatory Study (Library)

1300: Lunch

1400: Transfiguration

1600: Potions

1800: Dinner

Friday:

0600: Breakfast

0700: Transfiguration

0900: Flying

1100: Offensive Magic

1300: Lunch

1400: Charms

1600: Herbology

1800: Dinner

Lexa was pleased to note that weekends were completely free time. At least they were in your first year.

Lexa groaned. 0600 starts every morning for bloody breakfast. And Friday looked like hell on wheels. At least the other four days the mandatory study period should be some form of relaxation but Friday was class after class after class.

And Monday and Tuesday were so long, with the extra history of magic classes after dinner. God Remus was right; this was going to be downright brutal compared to Hogwarts. At least astronomy wasn’t added till the third year. They’d have to be late at night – or Lexa supposed very early in the morning. And she couldn’t help but cringe at the thought.

Monday's schedule had been thrown out of the window, with it being their first day, and so her first-ever official magical lesson would be defensive magic. And she was excited, to say the least.

And so the group headed from their dormitories to start their first day.

Whilst defensive magic was a good class, and the Magister knew what he was talking about, it certainly wasn’t Lexa’s favourite. Luka, on the other hand, seemed to think it was the best thing since sliced bread. By the time lunch rolled around, they’d had their first three classes: Defence, Charms, and Herbology. The latter two Lexa thoroughly enjoyed it. Charms' class was by far her favourite of the three, and Magister Eisen was an excellent teacher; she had enjoyed asking him five hundred questions, dragging out the lecture to the annoyance of her friends. They’d even been made to wait behind at the end whilst she questioned him, so more. And well, Magister Eisen, he’d found his new favourite pupil. And if Sirius had been there to comment, well, he’d have told her she took after her mother. “Beauty and brains.”

“I can’t believe you think charms are better than defence.” Luka had whined.

“I don’t mind defence; besides, we’ve only had one lesson.”

“You got all the spells on the first try in defence, though.” He replied, a bit of a whine in his tone.

“Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“True.” He said.

It was accompanied by a nod and a pensive expression on his face.

“Besides, I have every intention of doing well in history, and I already know that subject is going to be a bore.”

The group of five all nodded at that. History was going to be their worst class. Remus loved history, but to his chagrin, he hadn’t been able to pass that love on to his step-daughter. Lexa despised it. Papa had tried to cheer her up by saying that it at least wouldn’t be taught by a ghost. But she’d thought that’d be better, at least then she’d be able to nap. Remus had been mortified at such a suggestion to the amusement of the others.

Potions had gone well. Magister Richmond was an American scholar who’d been teaching at the school for only a few months. He was rather the odd one out among the teachers. His code of dress was much more relaxed than the others, and his short-cropped blonde hair was by far the messiest. But no one could deny that he knew his subject. His discoveries and inventions rivalled those of Europe’s best, and he put his soul into teaching.

By the end of their first lesson, Lexa was in love. Well and truly so with the tall, handsome, dashing blonde that was the tall Magister. And well, Charms was all but a blink in her mind’s eye.

“Potions Class is my new favourite!” she said.

Her exclamation as they walked out of the class was met with groans by her friends.

“I swear, Potter, you love just about everything.” Viktor had replied. Lexa liked that Viktor had seemingly attached her to the Potter name, whereas others seemed to rarely use both, mostly using Black. It was nice that someone recognised her for her birth father and his lineage.

The others nodded as Josef swung an arm around Lexa’s shoulder.

“At this rate. History will be your new favourite.”

Lexa’s mortified expression had the boys cackling in laughter.

“It bloody well will not.”

She could almost hear Remus’s whines of ‘Language, young lady!’ whilst Sirius sent her an eager thumbs up. But the boys just laughed as they followed the rather detailed map in the direction of the library, or in which they hoped was the direction of the library.

The library was beautiful. Lexa stopped dead the moment she stepped into it. It was found at the back of the castle. And spanned three floors. Beautiful wooden staircases took you up each floor. Impressively designed tables and chairs littered the centre of the ground floor. Students lingered around everywhere.

The group checked in with the librarian as they’d been told they had to – for the register after all, this class was mandatory.

“I’m going to get started on the potions work.”

The boys laughed as Lexa went off with the library map in her hands to the potions section. The group collected their necessary books and then met back downstairs, claiming one of the tables. Overall, the session went productively, and the group decided that maybe just maybe mandatory study sessions could be beneficial. Lexa would have to ask Papa if they had them at Hogwarts; she hadn’t heard either of her parents mention them before.

After Dinner, they had their first History of Magic class, and well, Lexa was right - it was a bore. Nothing much else to be said. Roman history was soon to be the bane of their existence. Who the hell cares how they built their roads, or how the bloody Egyptians forgot half the spells they used to hide their stupid houses? Lexa certainly didn’t anyway. As for Magister Rohan, well… he might. Weirdo.

Wednesday morning once again started with defensive magic, quickly followed by combat. And combat was not a lesson Lexa would be enjoying any time soon. By the end of the session, she was pretty sure she’d be bruised for the next decade, had broken her hip, torn a muscle in her back, and splintered all the bones in her right arm. Viktor was heavy, big, and well heavy, okay. And being slammed into the floor again and again, even with a mat and a cushioning charm, hurt. Okay, it hurts. But keeping fit was important, and she wouldn’t be giving up any time soon, even if the Magister was a hard ass.

Lexa spent the entire session in the library moaning about her back. Feliks, eventually having heard enough, threatened to lock her in the tower if she didn’t either shut up and put up with it or go to the medical bay to see the healer. And well, that wasn’t happening, so shutting up it was.

Offensive magic was much more fun, as she spent half the time firing stinging hexes at Viktor’s behind. Let’s see him moan for the rest of the day, she’d thought to herself cheerfully. Magister Ahlstrom was a very friendly Magister; he looked to be in his mid-forties but was a kid at heart. Another thing that reminded her of her Papa. She’d been taking notes when her attention was distracted by another student's question.

“So, Sir, is it true that Grindelwald went to school here?”

The rest of the class's eyes widened, disbelieving that the subject had even been brought up. Yet they all turned their attention to the Magister, most eager to hear an answer. Viktor looked angry at the man’s name even being mentioned, and Lexa made a mental note to find out exactly why it was such a touchy subject for her friend. Subtly, of course. The magister’s eyes narrowed at the student who’d dared to ask the question. Lexa didn’t know too much about the reign of Gellert Grindelwald; her only studies on Dark Lords had been with Voldemort, and that was a very touchy subject for her.

“Yes. He was. He was also expelled during his final year.”

His voice was cold. It was clear he did not wish to discuss the subject but had answered anyway.

“So Durmstrang trains Dark Lords?”

Lexa couldn’t believe the audacity of the student to ask such a thing. The Magister himself had snapped his quill in half in his hand. Ink splattering across his palm. Viktor, next to him, seemed to be barely breathing.

“You okay?” Lexa murmured.

Viktor nodded, and she returned her attention to the Magister, catching in on the tail end of what seemed to be a rant.

“No more than Hogwarts trains Dark Lords, I can assure you!”

The man yelled, and Lexa’s breath was inhaled sharply.

“The Dark Lord was trained by Hogwarts, though.”

The stupid student pointed out again, clearly oblivious to the rising temper in the classroom. Lexa didn’t want to discuss Voldemort. She hated it any time it was brought up. It wasn’t that she was scared of a dead man per se, she just didn’t like the memories that regurgitated with the conversation. Not many would if they could remember watching their parents die.

“He has a name. Fear of a name only increases fear in the things themselves.” Said the Magister.

“Volde… Voldemort was weak. If a baby could kill him.”

Lexa inhaled sharply once again at the mention of herself. Half the class seemed to give her some side-eye, and even the Magister’s eyes seemed to linger on her for a while.

“Voldemort tore apart half of magical Britain, killed hundreds of thousands of non-magical people, and his wrath extended far further than Gellert Grindelwald could ever imagine. You would do well to remember that the Dark Lord had many victims. Many of whom are in this room. The same could be said for those whose families suffered under the actions of Grindelwald.”

The Magister said he barely left a pause before continuing. “Learn to keep your mouth shut, boy. Before someone shuts it for you.”

And that was all that was said on the matter. The Magister left them in silence for a few moments before he continued his lecture on the proper use of engaging your opponent and the benefits and drawbacks of riling your opponent up.

Charms class was much quieter; they went over the basic theory and then practised levitation charms for those who hadn’t already been taught such a charm at home.  And learning using your own wand was much easier, yet somehow more difficult than having practised before with a parent's wand. Lexa’s own wand reacted to her magic much quicker than Papa’s. She had to focus or she put too much magic into the spell, and her textbook would go flying into the ceiling. A problem shared by many of her classmates.

“So why a crup?” Luka had asked her as they got back to their dorms.

“Papa bought him for me; he’s my familiar.”

“An actual familiar bond?” he asked. They were rare in people so young, after all, only a few of the first-year students had brought a pet that wasn’t an owl.

“Yeah, I got lucky, I guess,” she replied.

“Prongs? Because of his pointy tail?” he asked her.

“After my father, actually, his nickname at school used to be Prongs.”

“Oh, that’s cool – guess he’s happy you named him after him then.”

“I wouldn’t know,” replied Lexa.

“Oh, I thought you said you were close with your dad?” asked Luka. Somehow, he’d missed the memo of Lord Potter’s death, or he just wasn’t thinking. Probably the latter.

“My dad’s dead.”

“But-” stumbled Luka, unsure of what to make of the situation, especially now he was well and truly confused.

“I have three biological parents,” replied Lexa, gauging the boy's reaction as she began to explain. When they just looked thoughtful, she prepared to continue – did they not know the story?

“You do?” asked Feliks. “I know Lord Potter and his wife were killed,” he added.

“Sirius Black, blood adopted me when I was a couple of days old.” Replied Lexa.

“Why?” he asked.

“We were at war, and Sirius didn’t have an heir. An extra blood relative would make custody arrangements easier if someone were to happen, and my father and Sirius,” started Lexa, “Papa,” she added, “They were as close as brothers.”

“That makes sense,” agreed Luka with a slight shrug.

“Wait, so you're heiress Black?” asked Viktor, butting into the conversation.

Lexa and Luka jumped slightly, having not noticed that the boy was there, let alone listening.

“Not quite,” replied Lexa.

“Why is that?” asked Viktor.

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Viktor, we’ve studied this.” Said Feliks, the only one of the group who seemed to already know the entire story. His rebuttal seemed contradictory as the boy hadn’t known her connection to the Black family tree - though he did seem to know more than the others did.

“My Papa is Heir Black, my great-grandfather Arcturus is the current Lord Black,” she explained.

“Ah, yes, Lord Black is an excellent politician,” complimented Josef as he joined the conversation, flopping down on the sofa next to them.

“What do you know of politics, Josef? Your uncle is a brute,” said the arrogant boy from earlier, having heard the tail end of the conversation.

“Oh shut up, Raedler – your father is Austria’s Minister’s lackey.” Deadpanned Viktor in response as he came to his new friend's defence. The tall boy stood behind the sofa Lexa was seated on, his hands resting on the back of it.

Emanuel Raedler went red in the face before he stormed off towards his room like an immature little boy. The group of boys laughed, and Lexa’s smile widened. She enjoyed mixing with people her own age. Maybe Durmstrang wouldn’t be so bad.

As it got closer to Dinner, Lexa found herself penning both a letter home to her family and one to Daphne. She found herself eager to know whether Daphne had been sorted into Slytherin as everyone expected. And she knew better than not to contact her family lest she get another lecture about the importance of staying in touch.

Both letters touched on similar topics, as Lexa joyfully wrote about her new found friends, how amazing classes had been going so far, and inquiring how the recipient of the letters was doing.

She made sure to stress to Remus that history was still equally boring at Durmstrang as it was at home so it hadn’t been his teacher, and to complain that politics was an elective, she thought all students should be required to study such a valuable subject - so she’d unfortunately have to wait to develop her knowledge further on that. Though she knew her grandfather's response would be that there is very little Durmstrang can teach her that she doesn’t already know or needs to learn from doing, not just studying.

But still - she was always going to want more classes - on everything, except History.

Dinner was once again a tasty affair. Lexa and her group had claimed the far-right end of the table and were discussing Quidditch. Viktor wanted to go professional and had been having performance level training since he was six. Lexa herself was rather talented on a broom. Papa had told her she’d inherited her skill from her father. James had been one of the best chasers Gryffindor had ever had, and his daughter had certainly inherited his throw. Even if she had wanted to be a seeker at first, the extra connection to her first father had swayed her. And she was now of the opinion that Chaser was the best position on the pitch. Also meant she wasn’t after stealing Viktor’s position.

Transfiguration, the following day, turned out to be a class that Lexa also performed well at, and Feliks would be competing for the top of this class too. And competing for the bottom of the class in history. Magistra Dimitra Azeroth was their only female professor, and she seemed overly delighted at the presence of Lexa in her class. The poor woman had probably had enough of all the raging testosterone of teenage boys.

“Welcome to Transfiguration. I am Magistra Azeroth.”

The Magistra had long red hair, not quite ginger. It was braided into a tight fishtail down that reached her lower back. She had hazel brown eyes that carefully gauged the class's reaction. Informing them that Transfiguration would be by far one of the hardest disciplines they would study at Durmstrang. Enough skill and you could accomplish anything, though.

Her induction speech was accompanied by numerous feats of magic. From the transformation of one of the desks into a beautiful orange tulip plant to the woman’s Animagus transformation, who stood before them as a brilliant white horse. When the woman resumed her seat, she had a class staring at her in awe. Desperation to be able to complete such feats themselves and an eagerness to learn. Mission accomplished, the Magistra might even say.

Though Lexa couldn’t help but wish for something slightly more magical than a horse, after all, she’d never taken to riding. Papa could ride horseback almost as well as he flew a broom. But Lexa’s distrust of the horse had always caused a rift between herself and her ride, and she’d been bucked off far too many times than she’d like to say. A horse rider she most certainly was not – a broom, however…

The lesson began, instructing them to open their books to chapter one. Today, they would be discussing the theory behind the transformation of one material into another. And only when such a theory could be fully understood would they ever use their wand in her class.

The class had groaned at the news. After all, they came here to perform magic, not to read from books. Lexa had now had at least one of all her classes except for flying. Flying was only once a week, and she hoped that tomorrow she’d perform well enough, which, let's be honest, all of her friend group knew how to fly, or at least the basics. Feliks wouldn’t be doing any fast-paced manoeuvres any time soon, but he could fly.

And so, when Friday rolled around, all five of their group had passed, they no longer required lessons and had permission to play for or even form a team. Not that any of the lower years ever formed a team. Viktor and Lexa were both going to try out for Marius Blattner’s team. They’d spoken to him when they’d gone looking for Edmundson the day before, and he’d told them that if they passed flying, he’d let them try out. No promises, but he’d agreed Viktor was good. And well, he was willing to give Lexa a chance, even if she was a girl.

It was that evening that the group was introduced to all the extra-curricular opportunities that Durmstrang had to offer. From the Quidditch league that they’d been told about in flying to swim classes, duelling, arts, politics, language classes, and dancing. As they got older, they’d be allowed to join clubs that taught occlumency, fencing (she could hear Papa cringe and call it a blood sport in her head), and several others.

Lexa opted to take dancing because the boys thought it would be a laugh, politics because she was a British noble, duelling because she’d need all the practice she could get, and she’d be trying out for the Quidditch team on Sunday. Remus and Papa had ensured she was already fluent in English, French, Bulgarian, Latin, and German. She did not need to learn any more languages – at least not at the moment anyway.

When their fourth Sunday rolled around, Lexa and Viktor rushed through their morning preparations. Their first Quidditch match was at 9 o’clock, and the honour duels would start at two. They were hoping they’d be able to make both of them.

The whole dining hall was abuzz, everyone was looking forward to the first match of the Quidditch season, and this afternoon was sure to hold some good duels. There were a lot of older years duelling today.

“You’ve got to eat some breakfast, Lexa.”

“No thanks.”

“Just a bit of toast then.” Suggested Luka.

“I’m just not hungry, okay,” snapped Lexa, unable to keep the bite out of her tone.

The other boy sat back quickly, his eyebrows shooting up – someone was clearly in a bad mood.

Lexa felt terrible. In less than an hour, she’d be walking onto the pitch. Viktor, on the other hand, looked impatient in his excitement to fly in front of a crowd.

“Look, Lex, eat something, okay, you need your strength.” Said Viktor, “We both do.” He added as he took a particularly large bite from his buttered toast.

By 9 o’clock, seemingly the entire school was packed into the stands, and the cold air whipped their hair around her face. Lexa had hers pulled back into a tight ponytail, but even still, her baby hairs whizzed about in front of her face.

The entire student body was wearing the same massive wintery overcoat, and so picking out her friends in the crowd had proven to be nigh on impossible. But she knew they were there… somewhere.

Lexa’s team was the underdog, especially as they had two first years on it. And whilst the team themselves didn’t expect to win, they certainly wanted to put up a fight. Which they did.

Lexa managed to score eight goals with the quaffle. Securing them 80 points, and whilst Viktor didn’t catch the snitch, he put up an excellent chase.

The game wasn’t particularly dirty, but then again, the winning team wasn’t known for underhanded tactics; they usually won due to skill. And Lexa’s team, well, it was full of younger players. Younger, much smaller players. And as such, dirty tactics would hardly work for them either.

They lost 170 – 280. But it was a good game, and Lexa walked off the pitch with a smile on her face. Not as big a smile as if they’d won, but she’d played well – her captain had said so. Especially for a first game. Viktor, on the other hand, was sulking.

The match had only lasted just over 3 hours, and so the group found themselves with some time to kill before lunch at 13:00, before the honour duels would begin at two.

“Welcome to the fourth formal challenge of the year,” Dobrev called to the students. The whole school appeared to be in the hall. The tables had disappeared, and centred down the hall was a grand duelling platform.

“We have six duels today. The first being the seventh year, Aaron Dion challenged Nikolas Vanek for a supposed insult to his family.” Dobrev stepped aside to allow the duelling master to take his place. The two seventh-year boys approached the platform, snarling at each other.

“Bow,” the Magister’s voice bounced around the room. The two students, still angrily glaring at one another, bowed. “Begin!” The start command was issued, and immediately the two launched into a serious barrage of spells. Their methods were vicious and ripped through each other’s shields like they didn’t exist. Bone-breaking spells flew in all directions, piercing spells. An explosive spell shattered from Vanek’s shield, causing the young man to falter, yet he followed it up with one of his own.

Vanek suffered a bone breaker curse, yet despite the severe pain he must be in, he ploughed on. The fight continued aggressively.

“What the hell did he say to insult him?” asked Lexa, looking at her friends. She hadn’t heard anything, but something had gone down. Clearly.

“Their parents are in marriage contract talks. Vanek wishes to marry Dion’s older sister. But Dion is fighting his father over the contract. He believes his sister can do better. Vanek supposedly called him a festering bell-end and he’d take his sister by force if necessary.”

Lexa looked at Viktor in disbelief – she’d be pretty fuming herself. But she didn’t need to worry about such a situation. Sirius was well aware of exactly what would become of his favourite anatomy if he so much as mentioned marriage contracts in regards to her. He’d only ever mentioned it once, and the dog had begged for her forgiveness several weeks later after a barrage of pranks had been suffered.

And Arcturus, well, to her surprise, the older gentleman had never mentioned it to her. Not at all, they hadn’t so much as ever been brought up in conversation. And whilst Lexa found that very surprising, she wasn’t about to complain.

The fighting went on until Dion was a whimpering, bloody mess on the floor. Vanek grasped both wands firmly in his hand as he kicked his whimpering opponent.

“Vanek.” Cautioned the duelling Magister.

Dion whimpered as he rose to his feet, his glare still on his bloody and bruised face.

“Bow,” was repeated. Both students managed just about to bow.

“Winner Nikolas Vanek!” announced Dobrev as he shook hands with the student. The crowd remained silent – it had been clear throughout the match exactly whose side the student body was on.

“It matters not,” said Dion. “For my sister will never marry you.”

With that, Dion left the platform and trailed from the room, leaving the still seething winner feeling somewhat broken in his defeat. Dion had once been a close friend of his, and it had only been over talks of marriage that the two had fought.

Lexa, having watched the fight from the sidelines, was glad that first years were exempt. She couldn’t imagine being in such a fight in front of so many people just yet. It looked bloody intimidating to say the very least.

“I’d expected more dark arts.”

Luka looked at Lexa with a slight tilt of his head. “They used to be friends, brothers in all but blood.”

“Really?” asked Lexa with a tilt of her head, disbelief colouring her face. If they were such good friends, why was he so against the marriage?

“I’ve been to enough balls with them present, they’re supposedly inseparable – Vanek’s father wishes him to marry Alia Dion, a beautiful witch, but the boys fight over it. Dion wishes his sister the chance to marry for love.”

“Well, if that’s what she wants…” deadpanned Lexa.

“And you, Miss Potter – do you wish to marry for love?” asked Luka.

“Why Turgenev? Are you proposing?” teased Lexa with a grin on her face.

The group laughed at the colouring of Luka’s face as he blushed in embarrassment.

“My parents know better than to force me into a contract – I told Papa that I’d take great enjoyment out of separating him from his favourite anatomy,” said Lexa with a shrug.

The group of boys around them listening to the conversation all winced in sympathy for Sirius Black. They did not doubt that the young girl had every intention of following through on such a threat if necessary.

The rest of the duels flew by, none of which were quite as good, or anywhere near as hostile as the first one. Everyone was fighting about something – after all, that was the point of the duels. So there was nothing friendly about any of them – but no one looked quite as serious as the first. Dion had looked ready to kill his supposed ex-best friend.

As she sat in her bed that night, she tore open her letter from Daphne.

—----------------------------

Lexa,

Hogwarts is fantastic, classes are going well, and I am truly enjoying potions. Hogwarts is fantastic, classes are going well, and I am truly enjoying potions. Defence against the dark arts is a bit of a joke, the classroom absolutely reeks of garlic, mother would die upon entry, I swear to you!

Astoria is still writing letters complaining that I have left her behind, no matter how often I or our parents remind her that it will be her turn shortly.

Draco Malfoy is an incredibly annoying boy, and a very spoiled one at that. He has started a feud with the youngest Weasley, who is obviously in Gryffindor. They are both stupid boys.

I cannot begin to imagine how you are coping with so many of them! I swear, boys just act like immature 5-year-olds the majority of the time!

What are your plans for Christmas? It would be great if we can plan a get together. I’m hoping we don’t have to attend any Balls, but I believe we’ve been invited to the Bones Family Manor, and Father says it would be rude to miss it for a second year in a row.

Your best friend,

Daphne Greengrass.

—--------------------------

Lexa smiled to herself. She actually really missed the blonde, a hell of a lot more than she’d anticipated. It was somewhat boring being surrounded only by boys, even if Tonks claimed she’d really appreciate that in a few years. Only she’d been hexed with a spot jinx when Sirius had overhead. Lexa had found the whole thing doubly amusing.

—-----------------

Tonks,

Hope you're doing well! Congrats on making it through the first stages of Auror training! Papa messaged to tell me, I can’t believe you didn’t write to me yourself! Consider me very annoyed. Some cousin you are!

Joking, of course, love you lots.

Jokes aside, though, very proud of you! How is it going otherwise? Is Auror Moody still giving you a hard time? He’s not wrong, though, you are very clumsy. I’m glad I didn’t inherit those genes!

I managed to prank the boys again by changing into a duck face and waking them up. I think Viktor still gets nightmares! And I didn’t even get told off, the boys kinda like it when I get involved in the pranks. Not entirely sure I’m ever going to live up to both my fathers' reputations, though. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if Mum and Dad had survived. Would I be different? Josef wants to know how I can ever be sure what my natural appearance is. I said this is what I look like without effort to change something, he says he read an article about metamorphuses mimicking parents when they’re little (to look like them), that if I’ve held such an appearance from such a young age, would I know? What if I have red hair? What if I look more like Mum, actually? I’m a little confused.

Lots of love,

Alexandra Potter-Black

Your favourite cousin

The lead-up to Christmas was exciting, to say the least. Durmstrang went all out on its décor, and for once, the slightly gloomy Viking atmosphere was overrun with the brightness and happiness of Yule.

Tonight was the North Tower Party. Lexa could only assume that all the tower blocks would have some sort of event. But the older years in her tower had arranged for fire whiskey and plates of food to be snuck into the tower.

The music, which wasn’t exactly Lexa’s taste, was broadcast around the tower at full volume – silencing spells being used to avoid it being heard outside the tower. Genius. But also a little obvious – magic was great. And so was fire whiskey.

At first, Lexa thought it was disgusting – it certainly tasted disgusting anyway. But after a while, the buzz kicked in, and between the group of five of them, they worked their way through one of the bottles that they’d taken off the seventh year. Who’d given them strict warnings that they didn’t get caught – and if they did, it didn’t come from him.

But whoever thought giving alcohol to a bunch of eleven and twelve-year-olds – well, they needed a common-sense check.

—------------

Lexa was happy to arrive home to Papa, Remus, and Grandpa. They made a big fuss, which she wasn’t really surprised about, but she was happy to be home. This Christmas, they were to attend the Bones family Christmas ball. Which Lexa wasn’t particularly happy about - though she was hoping to see Daphne.

She hated schmoozing her away around Lords and Ladies are their stuck-up heirs. But apparently, Madam Bones was a rather down-to-earth, fair-minded politician, and the head of the DMLE. So, someone you wanted to be your friend. Sirius hadn’t taken her to a ball in years, preferring to keep his daughter out of the limelight.

She managed to spend all of half an hour with Daphne before her parents swept her away for something work-related, to both the girls' disappointment.

The ball went smoothly, Lexa was introduced to a lot of people – too many people for her to count, let alone remember them all. She was fortunate that about halfway through the time they were expected to spend there, she managed to escape into the gardens.

Sneaking along the terrace, it was here she bumped into another young person. Someone she also didn’t recognise. The boy was round-faced and shorter than she was.

“Sorry,” he stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” replied Lexa, “Should’ve looked where I was going.” She added.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked surprised – almost like he’d expected her to be mad at him.

“I’m Lexa,”

Neville swallowed and nodded. “I’m Neville,” he managed to choke out. The young girl beamed at him, and Neville wondered if it was possible that his head just might combust if he blushed any more fiercely.

“Longbottom?” queried Lexa, recognising the name.

“Yes,” Neville said as he looked down at the floor, causing Lexa’s brows to furrow – why was he so damn shy?

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Lexa said with a shake of her head and a grin. Neville smiled shyly back at her. The girl was nice enough right now, but she knew that’d change. It always did when people realised how pathetic Neville was. His stomach sank, and he frowned back down at the floor, his hands twisting nervously.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lexa with a tilt of her head.

The boy shrugged. He hoped she’d leave him alone, move on to someone else sooner rather than later. He couldn’t bear how concerned and worried she looked – not when he didn’t feel worthy of it. But the girl didn’t disappear.

She led him by the arm to a garden bench. She kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She genuinely did look concerned.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” asked Lexa, not even registering that he could ask the same of her.

“Well, Gran doesn’t like it when I show her up, and I don’t have any friends,” he said quietly – his voice was barely above a murmur, Lexa had to strain to hear him.

“Well, I’ll be your friend then! I hate these balls too,” she said with an enthusiastic grin. “I take it you go to Hogwarts? My friend Daphne goes to Hogwarts.” Lexa hoped that she would be able to encourage the boy out of his shell - she was always happy to make a new friend.

If possible, Neville seemed to shrink in even further on himself – he didn’t have friends, he wasn’t good at small talk, and he certainly wasn’t good at talking to girls. Though he assumed Daphne was the Greengrass heiress, a Slytherin, and a girl. Someone he definitely didn’t talk to.

“I go to Durmstrang,” continued Lexa, watching as the boy's eyes widened in shock. “It’s not actually that scary, but it’s weird being the only girl.”

“Oh, yes,” said Neville, but realising that his statement didn’t make sense, “I go to Hogwarts,” he added, finally responding to the girl's previous question.

“What’s your favourite subject?” asked Lexa, hoping to get the boy less nervous.

“Herbology.” He said.

Lexa was about to reply when a shrill voice interrupted them.

“Neville!”

The two children looked up to see a woman standing at the edge of the veranda, and she didn’t look pleased. Lexa watched as the young boy flinched.

“What are you doing out here, boy – get in!”

Neville hurried after the woman, presumably a relative of his, leaving Lexa alone in the garden once more. Neville Longbottom seemed nice, and she was supposed to be getting to know her peers in Britain more.

When Sirius finally decided it was time to go home, he led Remus and Lexa out of the floo and back to the manor.

“Papa?” said Lexa as she stood at the entrance to his office.

“Come in, sweetheart,” said Sirius as he sat behind his desk. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you’d tell me about the Longbottoms?” asked Lexa.

She watched as her Papa’s brow furrowed as he looked at her in surprise.

“The Longbottoms?” Sirius asked, confusion evident in both his expression and his tone. Why was she interested in Frank’s family?

“Well, I met Neville at the party, we were talking – or we were until some old lady told him off and made him leave,” replied Lexa with a shrug. She’d enjoyed talking to the boy. He wasn’t like any of the others Lexa had been introduced to.

She’d been introduced, albeit reluctantly on her Papa’s part, to his cousin's son, Draco. And whilst the young blonde, spoilt as he wasn’t particularly horrible. She didn’t like his father. Narcissa was a kind and doting woman, but she was well under the blonde Lord's thumb. Trapped, one might even say.

Susan had been nice enough, but her friends had seemed a little too bitchy and into gossip for Lexa’s liking. And she’d met the Weasleys, and hadn't exactly been a big fan of the family; they were a little too loud for Lexa’s liking. Though she couldn’t deny that the twins were hilarious.

“Augusta, I assume,” replied Sirius.

Lexa knew who that was. Arcturus had spoken at great length about the intimidating older woman. Lord Regent of the Longbottom estate, weirdly enough, she could not recall her grandfather ever discussing her heir.

“So Neville’s the heir?” asked Lexa. He didn’t seem to act like one. He was rather meek.

“Yes – what’s the sudden interest?” asked Sirius. Surely it couldn’t just be curiosity?

“I’m going to write to him – he said he doesn’t have any friends,” said Lexa, “So I’m going to be his friend.”

Sirius smiled; it was moments like this that he couldn’t help but see Lily. It was something he could have imagined the redhead doing. But then again, what had he and James done with Peter? They’d been his only friends, too. The rat. But he wasn’t about to tell that to his daughter.

“Your mother would be proud, and I’m sure Frank’s son will make a great friend,” replied Sirius.

“You know his dad?” asked Lexa, tilting her head slightly.

“Frank and Alice were at school with us; they both became Aurors too, and fought in the war,” explained Sirius, avoiding mentioning that the two Aurors were currently incapacitated in St Mungo's at the hands of his cousin. Bitch.

Lexa decided she’d leave it until after she’d returned to school to owl her new soon-to-be friend. After all, it might be a little weird if she did it now.

Fortunately, Sirius had managed to arrange for her to see Daphne for a short period of time on a visit to Diagon Alley, the two girls had caught up properly over ice cream, gushing about all things school and, unfortunately for Lexa, fashion.

“What do you know of Neville Longbottom?”

“Longbottom?” asked Daphne with a confused look on her face. “He’s in Gryffindor, keeps to himself,” she adds, “Why?”

Lexa had not expected Gryffindor, she’d thought the boy would most definitely have been a Hufflepuff - not that there was anything wrong with that.

“I met him at the ball, he seemed,” she trailed off, “lonely.”

Daphne looked pensive for a moment before replying, “Wouldn’t surprise me, don’t think I’ve seen him really with anybody, other than perhaps the know-it-all.”

Lexa laughed, “The know-it-all?”

“A muggleborn - Granger, she’s also in Gryffindor, but she one hundred percent should have been a Ravenclaw.”

“You know there’s more to people than just the initial trait they show right?” asked Lexa, though she was mentally scolding herself too; she’d judged Neville pretty quickly, too.

“I suppose, but she’s honestly awful, sometimes even more annoying than Malfoy.”

Now that was an insult, and Lexa couldn’t help but snort.

“Honestly, Daph, sometimes you talk about him so often you’d think he was your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” spluttered Daphne around her drink, “Malfoy!” she seemingly chokingly added. “I’d rather die.”

Lexa couldn’t help but roll her eyes; she’d had little to do with the Malfoy heir, Sirius had done everything in his power to keep them apart, but she couldn’t help but assume Daphne was over exaggerating.

“You’ve met him,” argued Daphne.

“Twice, once when we were like 5, and the other not that many years later,” replied Lexa, “barely remember him, don’t like his father though.”

“Nobody does.”

The rest of Christmas flew by, and before she knew it, she’d been back at school for nearly three weeks. She’d missed the gloomy castle and all her friends. Even if they were stinky, annoying boys.

It was how she found herself penning a letter to Neville, worrying if he’d respond or not.

—--------------

Hello Neville,

It’s Lexa. Or I suppose Alexandra Potter-Black. But I go by Lexa. I said I’d write, so here’s my first letter. I got back to Durmstrang two weeks ago, and it's going great.

I like herbology too, but I think my favourite subject has to be charms! But transfiguration and duelling are great too! My last herbology lesson was about Devil’s snare – what have you been learning about?

My Papa said that Hogwarts has four houses, which house are you in? Is the Great Hall as big as everyone says it is? And do you really have a ghost as a teacher? I’m not sure I believed Uncle Moony when he said so.

Do you like Quidditch? I’m a chaser for one of my school teams, and my friend Viktor is the seeker!  Quidditch is amazing, but I’m not as big a fan as Viktor. He wants to play professionally, but I don’t know what I want to be when I’m older yet. But Papa says I have plenty of time to decide.

Your new friend,

Lexa.

—---------------------

Hedwig, Lexa’s white snowy, took the letter. And when she arrived back, almost an entire day later would a reply Lexa wasn’t sure she’d get one. And when a day turned into a week, Lexa wondered if maybe the other boy just wasn’t interested in being her friend.

It was during breakfast that day that Neville finally did reply. The owl looked a little peeved as it let her detach the letter. But Lexa assumed it was because it’d been forced through Durmstrang’s wards – after all, they did have to ensure the castle remained unplottable.

The owl didn’t even wait for a reply, disappearing back in the direction it came. Lexa eagerly tore open the letter.

—------------------------------------

Lexa,

I am very sorry for the late response. Herbology is the only subject I’m any good at. My family thought I was a squib for a long time. I’m back at Hogwarts, too, and I never thought I’d say it, but I miss home.

The boys in my dorm are very loud and rude. They don’t seem to like me much, but that’s okay. A girl in my house is being nice to me, she’s called Hermione, and she doesn’t really get along with anyone else either. She’s a bit of a bookworm, and we’re both very quiet, so it’s okay.

I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never had a pen pal. I don’t mind watching Quidditch, but my feet belong firmly on the ground. I can’t fly – at all! I can’t say it's surprising that your friend wants to play Quidditch when he’s older, don’t most boys want to? Except for me, of course.

We do have a ghost teacher. He teaches History of Magic, but most people sleep through that class. And I’m a Gryffindor, though I think the hat might have put me in the wrong house. The Great Hall is really big, and you can see the night sky in the ceiling.

So what’s Durmstrang like? Is it cold? You mentioned duelling, do you have lots of different classes? We don’t have duelling or anything like it – other than defence against the dark arts. But the Professor isn’t very good. Is it true that your lessons aren’t even taught in English? How many languages do you speak?

Neville Longbottom

—-------------

Neville and Lexa exchanged letters numerous times throughout the remainder of the year. And in the approach to exam season, Lexa’s friends had finally stopped teasing her about her new pen pal. Only after she’d called them jealous.

And before Lexa knew it, she’d sat all of her exams and was eagerly awaiting her results along with the rest of her year group. They sat on benches whilst Magistra Azeroth handed the schedules out. It should have been Magister Stanislav’s job, but the man had fallen ill just before the week had begun.

Viktor tried to say it was because he wanted a longer holiday, but no one believed him on that one.

Lexa’s Magistra couldn’t help the slight laugh that left her lips as Lexa practically snatched the report out of her hands. Tearing it open with a nervous flutter in her stomach – fear of failure causing bile to rise in her throat.

Alexandra Potter-Black (First Year – Pass)

Charms (Outstanding) (First)

Combat (Exceeds expectations) (Eleventh)

Defensive Magic (Outstanding) (Second)

Flying (Complete)

Herbology (Outstanding) (First)

History of Magic (Exceeds Expectations) (Ninth)

Offensive Magic (Outstanding) (Third)

Potions (Outstanding) (First)

Transfiguration (Outstanding) (First)

Not counting flying because who did, Lexa was first in four out of eight classes. And had received an outstanding in six of them. Whilst she was a little disappointed in her grade in combat, it was a subject she faced an unfair disadvantage in – but she’d have to work at it.

History of magic, well, she didn’t have an excuse for that one; she couldn’t think of a more boring class if she tried. She was even adamant that half the time she’d rather watch paint dry.

Yet Lexa was much more eager to show her family her report card now that she knew she’d done well.

The last two weeks of school flew by, and before Lexa knew it, she was in the queue to floo home. She’d said goodbye to her new friends, already missing them before she’d even stepped through the fireplace, yet eager to hug her parents.

They’d be reunited next year, but it was going to be weird not spending every waking minute with them. And they’d all made promises to keep in touch, and maybe even come and visit one another.

When Lexa stepped through the fireplace into Black Manor, Prongs beside her, she was yanked off her feet by an overly excited Sirius Black.

“You’ve grown!” he exclaimed.

He’d finally put her back on the ground and took a step back to give her a proper look over.

“We’ve missed you, sweetheart.” Said Remus, and he really had. Sirius wasn’t the most active participant in any kind of intellectual conversation, not that he was thick by any means; he was just never one to enjoy a good theory, and as for Arcturus, they didn’t really see the man outside of meal times.

The werewolf took his turn to step forward and give the young girl a proper hug whilst his husband greeted the crup by the girl's side.

“You have to tell us everything!” said Sirius.

The two men lead her into the living room whilst Remus requested a house-elf to bring cocoa and biscuits for them to enjoy. Lexa filled the two in on as much as she could remember to tell them, despite having been sending them weekly updates by owl. Which reminded her.

“Did Hedwig arrive?”

Sirius nodded in response, “She’s out hunting, I think.”

The small family of three enjoyed their catch-up, Sirius hugging his daughter several times, struggling to believe she’d been gone for three months and she was back, even if it was only for a couple of months. He’d have to make Summer ruddy awesome, in the hope, she wouldn’t want to leave him again.

“And how is it – being the only girl for most of the year?” Remus asked.

Though the question was said hesitantly.

“It’s not actually that bad – it’s like having five hundred brothers!” And she wasn’t the only girl, there was a female Magistra – not that, that, really counted.

Sirius sighed in relief, quite loudly to Lexa’s confusion. Sirius was clinging to the word brothers. Thank god he didn’t have to worry about boyfriends any time soon, god, why the hell didn’t he send her to an all-girls school? Okay, why the hell doesn’t he still send her to one?

“Are you sure – we can send you to Beauxbatons?” Sirius offered.

Remus laughed. Whilst Lexa shook her head quickly.

“I love Durmstrang!” she said. “It took a while to settle in, but I’m happy there, and I have friends. And I’m on a Quidditch team!”

Sirius smiled again. He loved Quidditch; it was just a shame he couldn’t come see her play. Parents weren’t allowed on site. Except in dire medical emergencies, and even then, students were usually transferred to a magical hospital if it got to that stage. Sirius had wanted to spectate his daughter playing just as many Hogwarts parents had done, Sirius swore down there was not a single match that James played that the late Lord and Lady Potter didn’t attend. And Lady Potter hadn’t even enjoyed Quidditch, she spent half her time whincing at the prospect of her son getting injured.

“We take our magical inheritance tests at the end of the second year,” said Lexa with a small shrug. She was both excited and nervous about hers. She knew she was a metamorphus and a parselmouth though she'd kept the latter of those a closely guarded secret all year. 

Summer flew by, much to Sirius’s disappointment. The trio visited France for a week to explore the magical communities, though to Lexa’s delight, they did visit the Muggle world for a day at Disneyland. Sirius had the time of his life and found a new love for cotton candy. Remus, on the other hand, having no love of heights, broomsticks, or adrenaline, spent most of the day holding their bags - not that one really needed such help when they were a wizard.

Lexa wrote letters to all her Durmstrang friends as well as Neville, who was apparently enjoying his summer by spending his time in his family's greenhouses. Doing his best to avoid said family.

She spent a large amount of time at the Greengrasses listening to Daphne mostly complain about subpar teaching and Draco Bloody Malfoy.

—------------------

“I just don’t think you understand, Lex, he never shuts up.”

Daphne was lying on a blanket in the garden, sounding incredibly frustrated. Her best friend lay next to her with a playful expression on her face.

“You spend so much time talking about him, you’d think he was your boyfriend!” exclaimed Lexa with a playful grin as she nudged her friend's shoulder.

“Boy— boyfriend! Absolutely not, no,” she retorted with a mortified expression on her face, “Malfoy?” she questioned, “My boyfriend?”

Daphne made a mock gagging motion, and Lexa continued to laugh at her friend's expense.

“Daphne and Draco sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” sang Lexa, a silly muggle song that Remus had taught her to sing about Sirius and himself in the mirror. It had driven her Papa up the wall, and she and Remus had spent many a minute rolling in fits of laughter about how easy the man was to wind up.

“Alexandra…” she trailed off. “What is your middle name? How do I not know it?”

“Lilith,” replied Lexa with a shrug, “After my mum.”

“Alexandra Lilith Potter-Black,” said Daphne, testing out the name on her tongue, “Better than mine.”

“Daphne Eugenice Greengrass,” teased Lexa, knowing all too well how much her friend did not like her middle name.

“Why did grandmother have to have such an awful name?”

“It’s classy,” replied Lexa, “And no doubt better than your boyfriends.”

“What Draconis?” asked Daphne with a laugh as the two girls broke out into fits of giggles.

“Not denying he’s your boyfriend then?” asked Lexa.

Daphne whacked her shoulder with more force this time. “He is not my boyfriend, and you will understand why I hate him so much when you meet him.”

“Is his name actually Draconis?” asked Lexa with confusion. She thought she’d have known if it was. Malfoy was an important heir after all.

“No,” said Daphne, “It should be, though.”

—------------------

Sirius and Arcturus had had a massive row halfway through summer about Lexa’s presence in the British aristocracy.

“Alexandra must get used to it!” Arcturus snapped.

“She’s a child.”

“A child who will inherit several of the biggest estates in Britain.”

“A CHILD NONETHELESS!” and whilst Remus knew Sirius had a point, she was just  a child, he understood the disadvantage Lexa would face having not been to school with her future peers.

“She isn’t too young to begin networking, hell, to children it’s making new friends, and most certainly too young to be on the lookout for a partner.”

“Lexa has friends.” - It was true; apparently, she was in communication with the Longbottom heir, and she was incredibly close with Daphne, who would no doubt take her under her wing.

“She needs allies in Britain, not just those that attend Durmstrang.”

“What’s next, Grandfather, a marriage contract?” asked Sirius, anger flickering through his tone.

Lexa, from where she was hiding behind the door, inhaled sharply; fortunately, they didn’t hear her.

“Sirius,” cautioned Remus. Lexa couldn’t see them, but she could picture the trio. Sirius and Arcturus stood up in each other's faces. Sirius would be foaming at the mouth whilst Arcturus looked as stone-faced as usual. Remus would be sitting on the sofa, worrying as per usual.

“No, Remus, Lexa is my daughter, I won’t let him control me on this.”

“Alexandra is a member of the house of Black.”

“SHE IS THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE POTTER!” yelled Sirius.

“And your heir.” Retorted Arcturus.

“ENOUGH.” Remus finally said. “Arguing will get us nowhere,” he added. His gaze flickered up at the door, where he knew his stepdaughter stood.

“Keep your nose out of this, this is Lord and Heir Business,” snapped Arcturus, for the first time in a long time snapping at his grandson’s consort.

“Then you shouldn’t be doing it where the entire house can hear,” said Remus, his eyes flickering to the door.

“I would never impose a marriage contract on Alexandra that she did not want; I have not even mentioned it once,” replied Arcturus, his voice still as cold, but he did lower it.

Sirius and Remus shared a look, for the old man had a point there. He hadn’t mentioned it. It had been Sirius who had brought it up. They had anticipated it being  a conversation a long time ago, especially as the old man was so set in his ways, but Lexa always had him wrapped around his little finger.

“I want what is best for Lexa,” said Arcturus, and the use of the young girl's nickname showed that he was being honest. A grandfather rather than her head of house.

The two younger men nodded; they could all agree that they wanted what was best for the young girl. Even if they didn’t always think it was the same thing.

“And Sirius,” said Remus, turning to look at his lover, “Lexa does need to spend time with children her age, that she will one day attend court with,” said Remus, albeit reluctantly. It was not often he disagreed with his husband, but in this matter, Arcturus had a point and a strong one at that.

“Fine, then you shall inform her.”

Remus nodded, whilst he wasn’t about to point out his step-daughter's spying, he knew she was there. Telling her wouldn’t exactly be a problem when she already knew.

—---------

Lexa didn’t grumble; she didn’t even kick off to Sirius’s surprise when he stood to the side as Remus informed her that she was required to attend Diggory's Summer ball. Lexa had nodded and said okay, before asking if she could go to Diagon Alley with Feliks on Friday. He was in England with his family for a few weeks whilst his father dealt with foreign business at the ministry.

Sirius agreed.

And Lexa attended the ball.

Cedric was a charming young man, a couple of years older than her. But he was kind, a Hufflepuff true and true. He led her around the ballroom for a dance, and she couldn’t help but admire him. He was tall, handsome, and attractive. She could see where Susan and her friends had got their gossip from. A true ladies' man.

But he was polite and courteous, enquiring about her friends at Durmstrang and what classes they taught. So when he’d asked at the end of their third dance if she’d like to accompany him for a drink, the young girl had said yes.

Cedric had led her to a table and had disappeared to go and get their drinks.

“So do you play Quidditch?” asked Cedric as he placed the drinks down and sat down next to her.

“I’m a chaser – you?” asked Lexa.

“Nice, I’m the seeker for Hufflepuff,” replied Cedric with a grin on his face. He was obviously proud of both his position and his house.

“So what’s Hufflepuff like?” asked Lexa. There was a big part of her that wished she’d gone, if only for the lore and connection she would have had to all of her parents. To learn and explore, and grow up in the halls her mother and father once had done.

“It’s the best. We’re near the kitchen, so there’s loads of food.” He replied. “And everyone’s really good friends, and we all get along.” He added.

Lexa grinned. That did sound nice. Sirius and Remus had always said Gryffindor was rather cliquey. And from what Neville had written, the people in his year didn’t all seem to get along either.

“That sounds nice,” commented Lexa, and it truly did. Whilst she had many friends at Durmstrang, the year group often felt rather segmented.

“Are you any good?” asked Cedric.

“I fly well, I guess. I’m working on it, but I don’t want to go professional, unlike Vik,” replied Lexa with a smile on her face.

“Vik?” enquired Cedric, wondering if this was her boyfriend, though he did have to remind himself that the girl he was conversing with was only 12. Tall and mature for her age, she appeared a couple of years older.

“Oh, Viktor Krum, he’s trialling for the Bulgarian Youth team next summer, he’s very excited,” replied Lexa, her smile was wider this time. She truly was very proud of her friend; he had been putting a lot of effort into his training. Lexa only worried that his grades would suffer as a cost. But he’d argued as a Professional Quidditch Player, his grades wouldn’t be the most important thing.

She’d been very annoyed at him about this. But they’d agreed to disagree. Lexa couldn’t fathom how grades couldn’t be someone's biggest priority, especially to lose out to Quidditch of all things. Her family had agreed; they liked her hard-working ethos, and most definitely did not wish for her to play Quidditch as anything other than a hobby. Well, Sirius might, but Sirius is Sirius after all.

“He’s your friend?” asked Cedric, wondering if this was a boyfriend or not.

“He’s one of my best friends!” replied Lexa enthusiastically. She couldn’t help but grin at the idea of seeing them all again. She’d spent the entirety of the day before with Feliks, whilst Remus had trailed around after them a little distance away.

“Is it not weird? Being the only girl?” asked Cedric. He couldn’t imagine being the only boy in an entire school of girls, though he supposed it would make finding a date easier. Not that he seemed to struggle anyway. Girls liked you if you were polite and helpful.

“I guess, at times.” Admitted Lexa.

“Guess there’s less gossiping,” commented Cedric as his mind drifted to all the gossiping that went around Hogwarts.

“You’d be surprised, but yeah, we solve fights with duels,” replied Lexa with a small shrug. She scolded herself, and Andromeda and Arcturus would have her head for behaving in such an unladylike manner.

“Actual duels?” asked Cedric, his eyes widening in shock. Did people die at Durmstrang?

“Not till death, just till the other either yields or cannot continue,” replied Lexa. It had taken a while to get used to the idea herself. And Cedric didn’t seem the type to appreciate violence.

“Have you,” he faltered, “Have you taken part in one of these duels?”

“No. First years are exempt.”

She couldn’t help but smile as he sighed in relief at that news.

“I can’t say I’ve seen you at many of these balls?” asked Cedric with a slight tilt of his head. His parents made him attend every single one of them. As the heir to his family, it was his duty to network and build his image according to his father, and to be on lookout for any potential matches to be the next Lady Diggory. At first, he’d hated it, putting on a show, and the prospect of finding a future wife had not thrilled him in the slightest.

“Papa thinks sheltering me from Britain will keep me safe.”

“Safe from what?” asked Cedric.

“I guess he was worried a lot of people would be interested in the girl-who-lived,” she replied. As soon as she said it, Cedric realised his question was somewhat stupid. Of course, Lexa would be expected to have all sorts of politicians showing an interest purely out of self-gain.

“That’s fair, sorry I hadn’t thought,” he replied.

“And there was the whole situation initially, with people believing Sirius had betrayed my parents.”

“Yeah, but that’s stupid because he’s your oath-sworn godfather, isn’t he?” asked Cedric with a pensive look. An oath-sworn godparent couldn’t endanger or betray their godchild without risking their magic.

“Yes, and my blood adopted father.”

Cedric nodded; the community had made that educated guess a long time ago. Sirius Black had no other viable heir.

“I don’t mind the networking, I found it boring at first, but I’m quite sociable,” said Cedric. Lexa nodded in agreement. He seemed charming and sociable enough that something like this wouldn’t daunt him as much as it did others.

“I’m hoping I’ll grow to like it, I know it’s important,” said Lexa with a shrug, “besides, I’ve met quite a few new friends this way.”

Cedric grinned, hoping he was included in that statement.

“How was it?” asked Sirius as Remus flung himself on the bed.

“Surprising.”

“What did he want?” asked Sirius, having only just held his tongue from snarking that the second his mate entered the room.

“To apologise.”

Sirius nearly choked on air.

“To apologise?” repeated Sirius, and Remus couldn’t decide if the man was having an aneurysm - it certainly looked that way.

“That is what I said.”

“You expect me to believe that after a decade, Severus Snape crawls out of the woodwork to -” falters Sirius, “Apologise?”

“Yes, and whilst I cannot speak for you, I have agreed to attempt to move forward.”

“I want nothing to do with snivellus.”

“Grow up, Sirius,” snapped Remus. The old insult seemed exhausting; Remus had no desire to continue feuds.

“James would agree with me,” retorted Sirius.

“Would he?” asked Remus with a tilt of his head as he looked seriously at his lover.

“Of course he would. James couldn’t stand the greasy-haired…” started Sirius, but Remus cut him off with a slight shove.

“Grow up!”

Sirius looked shocked at Remus’s outburst.

“James is dead. Lily is dead. Half of our friends died in that godforsaken war, and we know it’s coming back.”

“James would…”

“James would have matured by now. We watched him basically become a whole different man the second that little girl was in his arms.”

Sirius could not; he couldn’t disagree, but still, forgiving Snape was preposterous.

“He was Lily’s best friend.”

“James loathed him.”

“We grew up,” argued back Remus with a shrug.

“He had them killed.”

“We do not know how that happened. Dumbledore has been pulling strings.”

Sirius couldn’t refute it. Just as Remus couldn’t evidence it.

“What?” asked Sirius, “Does he want?”

“Nothing really, he’s building a bridge, implied that he hopes Alexandra is doing well. Dumbledore is incredibly annoyed she’s not attending Hogwarts.”

“So he’s not in Dumbledore’s pocket?” asked Sirius with a confused expression - Dumbledore had rescued the man from a stint in Azkaban, he’d expected him to worship the ground he walked upon.

“It sounds not, he wants to meet Lexa.”

“No.”

“Sirius…” trailed off Remus.

“Why would Lexa want to meet the greasy-haired bat?” snarked Sirius.

“Because he’s another connection to Lily, because he grew up near Lily’s parents, because if Lily had her way, he’d have been a second godfather.”

“Preposterous!” barked Sirius, disgusted at the prospect.

“He is a well-respected potions master and a professor; it should be Lexa’s decision,” said Remus, “not ours.”

“Fine.”

—-----

To Sirius’s horror, his daughter had seemed eager to meet the man - another connection to her mother, grandparents she’d never met. Sirius had refused to be present, trusting Remus and house elves to ensure his daughters' protection. It was only after Remus had ensured him that the Black family magic and wards would protect a member of the house, he’d been reassured - and left.

“Snape,” greeted Remus as the potions master stepped through the floo.

“Lupin,” he greeted in turn before his attention turned to Lexa. The duo watched as Severus took her in, from her tall, athletic build, Quidditch training paid off, to her long dark hair and her mothers green eyes.

“You have your  mother’s eyes,” he stated quietly, “A perfect mixture of them both, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” said Lexa as she stepped towards him, “Alexandra Potter-Black, but you can call me Lexa.”

Severus balked at the informality; he had expected the girl to despise him, that Sirius would have ensured the hatred would plague the next generation.

“Severus Snape, I suppose Severus is also fine,” replied Severus, knowing that he had little choice in the informality; had he not offered the same courtesy, it could have been taken as an offence.

“Shall we go through?” asked Remus. Lexa nodded and both she and Severus followed him through to one of the smaller sitting rooms.

“Where, may I ask, is Black?” asked Severus as they sat down.

“Being an immature child elsewhere,” said Lexa with a slight shrug as she also took a seat. Remus couldn’t hold in his laugh, though Severus caught the slightly scolding glare he sent the girl.

“Alexandra,” he intoned.

“It’s true,” replied Lexa as a house elf arrived with refreshments and biscuits, the young girl helping herself to them eagerly.

“I don’t find it hard to believe,” agreed Severus, already liking the young girl for her blunt honesty - more and more like her mother, even just from the way she sat. Though she held herself like a refined pureblood who knew she belonged, something Lily had always longed for, feeling like she belonged, that is.

“Sirius is out; he is struggling to let bygones be bygones.”

“I’m surprised he even allowed this,” said Severus, indicating to the young girl.

“They asked me, I said yes,” inputted Lexa as she stared at the potions master.

“May I ask, why?” asked Severus.

“One of my going to school gifts was some mum's journals,” replied Lexa. Severus’s head snapped to Remus very quickly.

“We haven’t read them, but she’s got access to journals that are roughly written at a similar age. They were gifted to her in the will, we’re just restricting access to later years - temporarily,” explained Remus quickly, knowing that the later diaries were likely to contain significantly more mature content than pre-Hogwarts and first year.

“Mum speaks highly of you,” said Lexa, looking Severus up and down slightly. She knew, of course, that Severus had been a spy in the war. Sirius and Remus had yet to broach the subject of his betrayal of her mother - albeit unintentionally. In particular, as they were unsure of what exactly had occured, only something to do with the prophecy.

“As I would only speak highly of her,” replied Severus gently, “Your mother was one of my greatest friends, and the world is most definitely a poorer place without her in it.”

“Most people say that about dad,” replied Lexa.

Severus bit his tongue; offending her dead father would no doubt not be a good relationship builder.

“Your father was loud, popular, and outgoing. People often remember the people who lead. Your mother was quiet, kind, caring, and enjoyed making a difference behind the scenes.”

Remus looked shocked. That was perhaps the most positive he had ever heard Severus speak about James.

“That’s… quite well put, I guess.”

“The question is, though, who are you?” asked Severus.

“What do you mean?” asked Lexa.

“Well, many children, in particular those that attend Hogwarts, well, they get sorted, and then I suppose there's peer pressure to conform to house standards. Gryffindors are bold and brash, Ravenclaws are clever and insightful, Hufflepuffs are loyal and kind, and Slytherin, Slytherins are ambitious and cunning.”

“Well, I’m not sorted, and I don’t want to be just any one of those things,” replied Lexa with a frown, “We don’t do that at Durmstrang.”

“Durmstrang?” barked Severus aghast, turning to look at Remus in horror.

“Snape,” started Remus warningly.

“I’d expected Avania, or Ilvermony, hell even Beaubaxtons, but Durmstrang? You agreed to that?”

Remus was prepared to defend their parenting decision to send her to Durmstrang, but it was Lexa who jumped to their defence.

“I enjoy it there, and who are you to judge?” asked Lexa.

Severus stared at her intently. He genuinely had meant no offence to the young girl, only worried about her safety - the pressure, the stereotypes, the boys.

“I meant no offence, I only meant that as a friend of your mother's, I doubt she would ever approve of…” he started to explain, but the girl cut him off.

“Being happy?” asked Lexa, “Because I am. I love Durmstrang, yes, it was scary at first, but it’s partly home now, I have great friends, fantastic teachers, the school is beautiful, and my academic prospects are significantly superior.”

Severus paused, “Your mother would most definitely want you to be happy. I think she’d have been distraught at the prospect of you going to school and being so far away, regardless of where you went, but Durmstrang is challenging and violent.”

“What would you know?” asked Remus. He knew Snape didn’t work off rumours.

“You are aware of my blood status?” asked Severus.

“We don’t care about that in this house,” snapped Lexa, her back up in defence, both of herself and of her late mother. Remus, too, was a half-blood and a werewolf.

“I meant no offence, I am a half-blood myself.”

“What?” asked Remus, absolutely gobsmacked.

“My father was a Muggle,” said Severus reluctantly, “but my mother was a Prince.”

“A Prince?” inquired Remus. Lexa mistakenly took his shock as confusion.

“The Pureblooded family Remus, not the title.”

Remus laughed, “I know, sweetheart.”

“Well, anyway, yes, my mother was Eileen Prince, firstborn daughter of Lord Octavius Prince.”

“What has this to do with anything?” asked Remus, confusion filtering his tone, whilst the man loved History, Political History was not something he knew particularly well. He knew enough to get by as future Lord Consort, but actual political training he had left to his mate and grandfather in law to ensure Lexa’s education was vast.

“Octavius Prince had two daughters, no sons, Eileen and Rosalie,” said Lexa, attracting both men's attention. “Octavius was a Durmstrang graduate.”

Severus nodded, surprised at the girl's information, and Remus now realised the connection.

“The Prince Family is British, but they have always sent boys to Durmstrang and girls to Hogwarts.”

“Then why didn’t?” asked Remus, trailing off the end of his question, but his line of thought remained clear.

“Eileen Prince was disowned in 1960; there was no given reason,” said Lexa as she looked at the potions professor somewhat sadly.

“My mother was disowned for falling pregnant with me, and marrying a muggle.”

“That’s… barbaric,” said Remus.

“That’s how it is, though,” replied Lexa, “In most pureblood families.”

“It’s wrong,” said Remus.

“It is unfortunately normal,” replied Severus as he looked at the intelligent young girl, clearly following in her mother’s footsteps, though it hurt him to think it, but James Potter had always been intelligent too - intelligent and powerful. It had been no surprise that the Dark Lord had wanted to recruit him. Power, intelligence, blood.

“Rosalie Prince died with no heir.”

“If Snape was disowned…” started Remus, prepared to explain that a disownment would have disallowed Severus from any claim.

“She died several months prior to Octavius’s death.”

“Clever,” said Severus at the girl's inference. He looked at her, barely concealing a smirk - she truly was her mother's daughter.

“Are you Lord Prince?” Remus asked, confused.

“There is no Lord Prince,” said Lexa as she rose to reach for a refill.

“There is not,” agreed Severus.

“It does not mean that you are not able to claim such a title, though.”

“It does not,” agreed Severus.

“Why would you not?” asked Remus.

“Because Voldemort stole several family names, plunged more and more of them into chaos, and destroyed the name for many.”

The two men looked at the young girl in shock, for a combination of reasons. Severus looked aghast at the use of the name. Both men were shocked at her surprising insight at such a young age.

“You are older than you look.”

Lexa looked at the potions master with slight disdain, “Age should never be a limiting factor for education.”

“She’s been raised on books, manners, and academics, I’m afraid,” said Remus with a slight laugh, “Wise beyond her years.”

“The future Lady Black should always be well educated.”

The trio turned to look in shock at the arrival of Arcturus as he stood by the door.

“Grandfather,” greeted Lexa as she stood to make introductions.

“Grandfather, this is Professor Severus Snape, Severus, Lord Arcturus Black.”

“We’ve met, sweetheart, but thank you,” said Arcturus as he seated himself at the table.

“You have?” asked Remus.

“Life debt business is taken seriously by House Black, and my grandson paid greatly for the situation,” stated Arcturus, looking Severus in the eye.

“Oh, was it ever repaid?” asked Remus sadly, he had presumed it must have been, but he nor Sirius had ever received confirmation.

“No,” replied Severus. Remus gulped, realising the implication.

“Life debts don’t get cancelled, not even by death.”

“I am aware of that, Lord Black.”

“Excuse me, what’s going on?” asked Lexa.

Arcturus held his tongue, and Severus looked for a second like he was going to explain, but Remus beat him to it.

“When you are older, we will discuss it; in the meantime, it is of no precedent.”

“But life debts are barbaric!” exclaimed Lexa, horrified.

“Life debts are a currency not matched by anything else,” inputted Arcturus, about to scold the girl for her outburst.

“Why are they barbaric?” asked Remus, knowing there must be a reason.

“One of the seventh years, he holds a life debt; he’s forcing the young girl to marry him.”

“That is wrong, yes, but unfortunately, the way magic works.”

“Who owes who a life debt?” asked Lexa, a look of fear in her eyes, cancelled by death, that implies one of her parents may have owed a life debt.

“Lexa, when you are old enough to understand…” started Remus.

Arcturus was just sitting back watching the scene unfold like a train wreck.

“Can’t you see she's terrified?” snapped Severus angrily.

Remus fell silent, “Lexa, Papa will want to have this conversation with you later.”

“No,” she snapped, “Don’t you dare, you promised me you wouldn’t keep things from me that weren’t too protect me!”

“This is to protect you!” snapped Remus.

“That I owe a life debt!? To whom?”

“No one,” said Severus.

“Snape,” warns Remus.

But Arcturus has had enough, “Go for a walk, Remus.” It was a pure dismissal.

“She is my daughter,” cautioned Remus.

“She is not.” It was cold, it was blunt, and Remus looked like he’d been sucker punched. Remus glanced at Lexa with what could only be described as a hurt puppy look before he left sadly.

“I’m not here,” said Arcturus after what was nearly 2 minutes had passed after the door closed.

“You don’t owe anyone a life debt, Lexa,” said Severus after a short moment.

“But why was Remus so angsty about it then?”

“Because you are owed one.”

“But that’s not a big deal, right, like I don’t have to do anything with it, I’m not a bad person,” she replies, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he thought she looked small. But he knew the second she said it he would not doubt her; she was not a bad person, and she’d never mean him any ill intent - at least not in this way.

“It is a long story, and I do not know what you have and haven’t been told, but I owed your father my life. And I didn’t get the chance to repay it before his death, and so I owe it to you.”

“So you have to save my life?” asked Lexa.

“There are numerous ways to satisfy a life debt, Alexandra,” inputs Arcturus.

“I don’t, I don’t want to marry him,” she replied.

The two men laughed.

“It’s not funny! I don’t really know you, and well…” she trailed off.

“And I don’t want to marry you; there are numerous other ways to satisfy a life debt, as your grandfather states.”

“You gay son?” asked Arcturus with a laugh.

“What?” asked Lexa, confused, “Why does that make him gay?”

“Lord Black is implying you are a catch, of which you are, but I am not interested in marrying Lily’s daughter.”

“What’s wrong with my mother?” snapped Lexa, offended.

“Nothing, nothing Lexa, I loved your mother, for a very long time, and I lost to your father, but it was nothing I didn’t deserve,”

Lexa fell silent. That was quite a sad admission. Also, a weird one, he loved her mother?

“I’m here because of the life debt, and because I deeply cared for your mother, I wanted to make sure that you were wanting for nothing.”

“She wants for nothing,” states Arcturus as he stands.

“I can see that, but my offer of family friend duties still stands. I will be a wand to call on in need, a potions tutor, not that I can see you needing it. But alas, my skillset isn’t as advanced as Lord Blacks here.”

“Thank you for your visit, Heir Presumptive Prince,” Arcturus said with a smirk. “You can see yourself out.”

Severus departed from the room quickly.

“What’s the difference between a life debt and a godfather bond grandfather?” asked Lexa, though she was sure she knew the answer.

“There isn’t one - not really.” It was a simple answer to an incredibly complicated question, and not as easy as that - but he knew it was enough for what she wanted to hear.

Lexa shared a look with her grandfather before shooting after him.

She caught up to the man just as he reached for the floo.

“I will write to you,” she said.

Severus turned in confusion and surprise at her statement.

“I look forward to reading it,” he said, reaching for floo powder.

“Remus told me that if my mother had been able to contact you during the war, she’d have made you my godfather.” It was one of the main reasons she’d wanted to meet him - other than what she’d read in the journal, of course.

Severus paused; the admission felt like a suckerpunch to the gut. Lily had still trusted him that much, cared for him so much that she’d have given him such a valued and honourable position in her daughter's life. Her firstborn daughter.

“I’m sure Lupin has been more than adequate a substitute.”

Lexa smiled sadly at the man.

“Remus is a werewolf and as such ineligible.”

“Then who?”

“Father wanted it to be Frank Longbottom,” replied Lexa. Severus winced; he, like everyone else, knew what had become of the Longbottoms.

“But my mother stuck to her guns; if it wasn’t you, she wanted no one else.”

“So you have Sirius? And no one else?” asked Seveurs, confused, both at the decision to only have 1 out of 3 godparents and why he was being told this.

“Alice Longbottom is my godmother.” Remus had told her that too in the same conversation - another secret they had kept from her - presumably because the woman was dead. But Remus had refused to discuss it further.

Severus’s wince was visible this time; he knew how close Lily and Alice had been, and he didn’t doubt for a second that Lily was Neville’s godfather.

“I’m sorry, that must be hard, but why are you telling me this?” asked Severus, floo powder still between his fingertips.

“I thought you’d want to know.”

And the girl was right, he was honoured to have known that Lily would have trusted him.

“Thank you, I look forward to your mail.”

Severus turned, but Lexa wasn’t done.

“The godfather's oath would cancel the life debt.”

Severus whirled round in shock. This couldn’t possibly be where the girl was going with this.

“Black would never allow…” he trailed off at the smirk that flickered across the girl's face.

“My parents Will stated their intention,” she said, “Sirius’s hands are tied by Lord Black, who is more than aware of this conversation.”

Severus was still struggling to get his brain in gear at the prospect of the girl actually wanting him to be her godfather.

“You don’t know me.”

“But my mother did, and she wanted this, and well, I can get to know you.”

“This is borderline insane, Alexandra,” he cautioned her.

“I’m 12, I have parents, so you don’t have to do anything parental, you can just be there to cancel out Sirius’s overdramatics, stand up for what my mother would have wanted.”

“When?” asked Severus. A Godfather’s Oath? Not in his wildest imagination would he have guessed that as the outcome of today’s events. But there was no way he was going to say no. Lily had wanted this. And a life debt was not much different anyway.

“Now, if you both would like,” said Arcturus from where he was invisible in the door.

Arcturus couldn’t decide whether he was or wasn’t looking forward to his grandson finding out about this - but it sure would make for an amusing family dinner. The sooner it was done, the sooner it couldn’t be stopped.

She returned to school with an eagerness she hadn’t possessed the first time around. Of course, she’d been excited, but there had been a strong sense of nervousness that had seemed to dampen every other emotion.

And well more than happy to get away from Sirius and Arcturus, who had stopped arguing over her new godfather.

This time, however, as she knew what to expect, she felt nothing but excitement. She’d bound up to her homeroom, desperate to see her friends again.

And so, several hundred letters back home, and to Hogwarts later, Lexa found the second year having flown by. She was pleased to note that Neville had seemingly come out of his shell a little more at school, having made friends with Luna Lovegood and a Muggleborn by the name of Hermione Granger.

Daphne had spoken highly of her friend Tracey Davis, whom Lexa apparently just had to meet. And also of Pansy Parkinson who Lexa was blessed by having never met. Apparently, the girl was even worse than Draco Malfoy, and by god was that saying something if Daphne was saying it. Apparently, she also followed Draco around like a lost puppy. Lexa had teased that maybe Daphne was just jealous. Hedwig had returned with no letter, and Lexa found herself ignored for almost an entire month as a result.

She’d had many a conversation with Severus about her mother, her maternal grandparents, and potions. It turned out to be incredibly useful to have a potions master as a godfather; her grades whilst already impressive, were now stellar.

Before Lexa knew it, she was in a queue with her friends to have their magical inheritance test carried about. A goblin from the Bulgarian Gringotts branch had visited solely for the purpose.

Her friends went in one by one, coming out either disappointed that they had no magical abilities or excited. Viktor had a natural affinity for air magic, which explained his natural flying abilities and the ability to become an animagus. Viktor was delighted by this news as it supported his plans to pursue a career in playing Quidditch professionally. Even if he was a little disappointed, there was nothing else special about him. But their Magister had reminded him that there is more to being special than one's magical abilities.

Feliks had gone next; the Estonian was exceptionally excited and had been annoyed that Viktor had beaten him for the chance to go first. Feliks came out of the room with a wide grin, a natural Occlumens, the ability to become an animagus like Viktor. And a strong affinity for defensive and offensive magic. His father would be exceptionally pleased.

Luka, on the other hand, had been reluctant to get tested. Lexa assumed it was fear that he wouldn’t have anything to make him exceptional, which she could fully understand as she was feeling it herself. But it turned out he worried for nothing; he had an affinity for both Defense and Transfiguration, as well as an eidetic memory, which they all assumed Lexa also possessed. And with the affinity for transfiguration, there was no way Luka wouldn’t be able to become an animagus either.

Josef and Lexa had argued over who went next. But in the end, Lexa, albeit reluctantly, agreed to go last. Josef, who was perhaps their weakest link, was surprised to find that he too had an affinity for air magic like Viktor. The ability to become an animagus and a semi-developed ability to be a natural Occlumens.

Lexa came out of the room looking as pale as a ghost.

“Lexa?” asked Luka, standing up quickly and reaching for his friend. The girl truly did look like she was about to fall over.

“That bad?” asked Viktor with furrowed eyebrows.

“Exceptional Potter-Black!” barked Stanislav, “And to think I worried about your position at this school.”

The four boys raised their eyes at this as their mentor walked straight past them.

“Make your elective choices over summer, send an owl.” He commanded before slipping out of the door.

“Well?” asked Feliks, “What’ve you got?”

“It’s gotta be something bloody exceptional to have praise from Stanislav!” exclaimed Josef, “I thought he hated you.”

“I can be an animagus,” said Lexa. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

They all nodded, and Viktor and Feliks even rolled their eyes. The ‘tell us something they didn’t know’ was clearly intended.

“And I have an affinity for Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration,” she added.

“That’s impressive,” said Luka, but he’d expected something more astounding to have had Stanislav look so excited.

“And I’m a metamorphus,” she said. Grinning slightly when the boys all looked excited at that, “And a parseltongue.”

Silence filled the room as the boys just stared at her.

“Really?” asked Josef who to her surprise was suddenly looking exceptionally excited.

The others were still staring in disbelief, and Lexa could only hope they’d get over it at some point. Preferably within the next century or two.

Depending on how full they wanted to make their timetable, they could pick a selection of elective classes for the start of their third year.

From the third year, classes started at 0600, which would move their breakfast slot to 0500 with the rest of the school. Lexa was going to miss the quiet breakfast atmosphere that came as a result of only having to share the dining hall with the first and second years.

Upon returning home to Black Manor, her family was absolutely over the moon with her magical inheritance results.

“However, it’s a shame you're not a natural Occlumens,” said Arcturus, looking slightly put out by the fact. Natural occlumens were quite common within the Black family.

“She can achieve occlumency with effort; it’s not impossible,” replied Sirius. He’d had to learn the hard way himself. He was quick to defend his daughter, he was proud of her results, and she didn’t need to be a natural Occlumens.

“Of course,” replied Arcturus.

“And your grades were as exceptional as last year,” complimented Remus as he moved to hug his step-daughter. She hugged him back eagerly.

“However, we need to talk,” added Arcturus.

“Not now.” Snapped Sirius.

“Yes, now Sirius.”

“What about?” asked Lexa.

“In the office, Lexa,” requested Arcturus.

The trio followed the older man into his office, all taking seats around the desk.

“What’s going on?” asked Lexa.

“Voldey-shorts.” Muttered Sirius grumpily.

“Do you remember when we discussed the Dark Lord and his followers?” asked Arcturus, barely able to keep from rolling his eyes at his grandson's answer.

Lexa looked between the three older men before settling her gaze back on her great-grandfather.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He said. “Then you know that the Dark Lord  is not dead.”

“What’s going on?” asked Lexa. She was well aware that she hadn’t completely stopped the Dark Lord and that her family was going to great lengths to ensure that he couldn’t return.

“The Dark Lord was possessing a Hogwarts Professor last year.”

“What?” asked Lexa, looking aghast. How could they not have told her this already? Why had Severus not told her this as well?

“We assume it was in search of the Philosopher's Stone, which Dumbledore was foolishly hiding within Hogwarts.” Said Remus before anyone else could reply.

“What happened?” asked Lexa.

The group of men shared a look, and Arcturus took a deep breath before continuing with his explanation. And Lexa, well, she couldn’t help but worry.

“Fortunately, I am well acquainted with Nicholas Flamel,” said Arcturus, and Lexa knew that was the alchemist who had created the Philosopher's Stone. “We ambushed him, and Quirrel is dead. The stone is safe.”

“How can it be safe from Voldemort?” asked Lexa. She knew that if he was trying to resurrect himself, then he’d go to any means.

“Nicholas is destroying the stone,” replied Arcturus sadly.

“But then – won’t he die?” asked Lexa.

“Nicholas and his wife have enough elixir left to set their affairs in order,” replied Arcturus solemnly.

“And there isn’t another way?” asked Lexa, not wanting people to die unnecessarily.

“Nicholas would never forgive himself if it was his doing that brought Voldemort back, and the stone isn’t something he’s willing to risk,” said Arcturus, and Lexa could understand where the alchemist was coming from.

“Okay, why would you tell me this now, and not last year?” enquired Lexa, wondering what had brought it up.

“Voldemort made a second attempt this year,” replied Arcturus.

“At Hogwarts,” added Sirius.

“What? What did he do?” asked Lexa, not liking the adult's reluctant participation in the conversation.

“Using a diary, Voldemort possessed a Hogwarts first-year student into attempting to open the Chamber of Secrets,” replied Arcturus bluntly, and Lexa couldn’t stop the shocked expression from flickering across her face. An 11-year-old?

“What happened?” Why hadn’t Daphne said anything? “Why didn’t Daphne say anything?”

“Fortunately, a number of us, including Severus, managed to thwart the attempt,” said Arcturus. “And it is likely Dumbledore was filtering communication into and out of Hogwarts.”

“That’s good then?” asked Lexa, unsure why all the adults looked so distressed. This was good news; the plan hadn’t gone ahead.

“In stopping him this time, we discovered exactly how Voldemort was still alive,” said Remus quietly after the other two adults remained silent for a little too long.

“How?” asked Lexa.

“He’s created what is called a Horcrux,” said Remus gently. Lexa’s full attention was now focused on the weary-looking werewolf.

“A what?” asked Lexa.

“It’s a soul tether, an anchor, whilst his Horcruxes exist, he cannot completely die,” replied Remus.

“How do you make one?” asked Lexa.

“Desperation, I suppose, one must commit a heinous act and tear apart your soul,” replied Remus, “Planting it into something else,” he added.

The group sat in silence as they watched the young girl process.

“So we have to destroy them then?” asked Lexa, “How many are there?”                

“We’re not entirely sure,” replied Remus.

“But you have a guess?” asked Lexa, wondering how much they did and didn’t know.

“Seven,” said Arcturus, finally speaking again.

“The magic number?” questioned Arcturus.

“6 things, and the one in Voldemort himself.”

“Okay, so how do we destroy them?” asked Lexa.

“We don’t know,” admitted Remus.

“But what we’ve decided to tell you,” said Arcturus, but before he could carry on, Sirius interrupted.

“You mean you’ve decided, and overruled my opinion!” He was incredibly annoyed, hell, even Severus had agreed with him, that it was too early, that she didn’t need to know this yet.

“What – what’s going on?” asked Lexa, looking rapidly between the two Blacks.

“Voldemort's soul attempted to make another split,” said Arcturus, “We, and when I say we, I mean myself and the Goblins, believe a failed Horcrux was what the Goblin medical team tore from your scar when you were all but a babe.”

Lexa didn’t even know how to react to that news. Shock? Horror? It was gone now, but what damage had it done? Sirius looked angry, Remus resigned, and Arcturus looked cautious – almost like he was expecting a bomb to go off.

“Now there’s nothing to worry about, it’s gone, and the Goblins have always said your health is perfect,” said Remus, quickly detecting her stress.

“Okay,” she nodded numbly. Her father still looked angry, but she was a little mad at him for wanting to keep it from her, even if she did kind of understand.

“Now we don’t want you to worry about it, okay?” asked Remus.

“Prophecy or not, your focus should be on school and your friends,” added Sirius, speaking for the first time since his angry outburst. She nodded mutely, and her father moved forward to hug her tightly.

—---------------------------

Lexa, after being advised by her mentor that parsel magic had originally been an adapted form of healing, chose to undertake the healing elective. She’d been interested in it before she even knew about the origins of parsel magic, and so this just solidified her choice. Even if she was going to be the only one of her friends choosing the healing elective.

In addition to this, she chose Runes, which Feliks, Luka, and Josef had all chosen as well. Her third choice was Artithmancy because it was widely applicable in the wizarding world after school and was a common choice among the British Aristocracy.

To Viktor’s mortification, the rest of the group also chose one of the Saturday classes. Magical Law was a three-hour class every Saturday morning. And then the entire group, along with 95% of the school, were enrolled in the Sunday afternoon class – Duelling.

Viktor had taken the magical creatures class, and fortunately for all their sanity, nobody had chosen History of Magic or alchemy. Even if their potions, Magister was very disappointed Lexa hadn’t chosen to pursue it. It’d be weird not having all of her classes with her friends, but she supposed the world would be boring if they all liked the same things. And she had at least someone she knew in all her classes except healing. And as for Viktor, well, he’d begun his next level of Professional Quidditch training, so he was in barely any of their classes now.

Severus had reassured her that potions alone would be enough for a career in healing, and if she wanted to pursue alchemy later, he’d find her a tutor and would ensure it could be done.

She’d spent a week of her summer with Auntie Andromeda, or as she’d been dubbed when Lexa was very young, Auntie Andie, and her husband, Uncle Ted. They’d been telling each other their favourite stories about Arcturus.

Lexa didn’t remember many of these herself; they were memories she’d viewed in a pensive or stories she’d memorised from having been told them so many times. Arcturus had always teased her over the amount of time she spent getting ready. Telling her that it had been a trait she’d developed as a toddler. Apparently, like all small children, she seemed to never, ever, ever want to get in the bath, right up until the moment that she was actually in the bath. And then, well, she never, ever, ever wanted to get out.

She’d loved the stories, the small tidbits of her life she didn’t remember. But more so, she’d love Arcturus’s stories, a young Sirius, Hogwarts, and the stories of knights and dragons. Hell, Arcturus’s stories had been one of her main motivators to go to Durmstrang.

Because she wanted one day to be able to tell her own stories. She wanted a life that was about more than just her mother’s sacrifice and the destruction of the Dark Lord. She wanted to be able to forge her own destiny, and she wanted the best education.

She wanted to be the best she could be. She wanted to make her mother, her father, her Papa. She wanted Remus to be proud of her – Auntie Andy even. But most importantly, she wanted Arcturus to be proud of her.

Andy had once told her that Lexa was Arcturus’s Achilles heel. His one true weakness, because whilst yes, he loved Sirius like a son, he truly loved Lexa. More than anything else in the world. She was much like she was to James, his reason for living. Arcturus saw the future in his great-granddaughter; he wanted her to have the entire world at her feet. The best of the best.

She’d once heard Auntie Andy say, ‘Heaven help the boy that’s lucky enough to date her, he’s going to have to go through Moony, Sirius Black, even Severus Snape, and then finally he’s going to have to go through Lord Arcturus Black.’

At the time, she’d not really understood what Andy had meant, but now it both made her smile in amusement and sadness. Because even though her family was hiding it from her, she knew he was dying. Not why, or how soon, but she knew it to be true. And chances were that by the time she ever got round to dating, there would be no Arcturus to give his approval to. Because, despite what Andy said, Lexa was well aware she had the old man wrapped around her finger. And heaven help anyone who ever pissed Alexandra Black off.

She’d also spent a week at Spinners End, not that Sirius had been particularly thrilled at the prospect. Both because it was Snape, and it also meant he had another week less with his little girl. But she’d genuinely enjoyed her time with the significantly more... boring wasn’t world, perhaps self-contained would suffice. They’d practiced potions, explored her plans to pursue healing as a subject, maybe even as a career. They’d talked till late at night about her mother, about their friendship as children.

“Why don’t you ever speak about your own parents?” asked Lexa.

Severus inhaled sharply.

“My parents are long gone from this world.”

“You don’t miss them?” asked Lexa. “I miss mine, and I don’t remember them at all.”

Severus acknowledged the statement with a small smile, though on his pale, razor sharp features it appeared more of a grimace, but Lexa had learned better.

“Your parents loved you, and that is why you miss them.”

Lexa looked at the man carefully, understanding what he was saying without saying.

“My mother was a kept woman, confined to this very house by father’s abusive hands. Violent and aggressive. Such actions he regularly turned on me.”

“No child deserves that.”

Severus nodded, but he also knew that no child should be anywhere near as mature as she was. Even if her family had little choice, raising her to fight and lead in a war she could yet to even fathom.

The start of year three rolled around far faster than Sirius would have liked. But Lexa was over the moon to return to school.

When she arrived at Durmstrang was with a newfound sense of excitement. New classes! And an extra band on her library pass. Third-year students were allowed to take more than one book from the library and had access to additional sections. And as such, more reading was to be done, and more magic was to be learned.

Her new classes were amazing, and she couldn’t wait to share the news with her family. Hedwig flew off with the letter to deliver to her parents, but she’d have to wait for her to return to send her next letter – to Neville. She also needed to write to Daphne before the older girl accused her of neglecting her again.

It was a shame they hadn’t been able to meet up over the summer, but Neville’s family had taken him to France for most of the summer. He’d finally spent too much time in the ruddy greenhouse for Augusta’s liking, and so she’d whisked him away.

Lexa ended up getting extra instruction for healing, her Parsel magic had her making leaps and bounds as far as improvement went. And she was now in regular contact via Owl post with a family friend of one of her Magister’s who studied in the art of Parsel Magic despite not being one himself.

The third year was otherwise even more uneventful than the last. Or at least it was until Arcturus wrote to inform her of the horrifying news that Peter Pettigrew had escaped from Azkaban - the anti-animagus shields on his cell had failed.

So despite the constant worry of her father and his husband putting himself in danger in attempting to track down the traitor the year went by fast. And it was with genuine relief that Hedwig had arrived with a letter for Remus informing her that the Ministry had ordered Sirius to stand down, that he was too close to the mission. Sirius was fuming, but at least Lexa didn’t need to worry about him as much now.

She’d asked her father if she’d be allowed to invite Neville to the Quidditch world cup. Her Durmstrang friends were already going, but she didn’t see Neville getting to go if she didn’t ask him. His grandmother didn’t sound like she enjoyed Quidditch. And whilst Lexa knew Neville himself wasn’t a player, though he didn’t mind watching, it would be an excellent excuse to meet up again.

Sirius replied in earnest, allowing her to invite Neville, and informing her that whilst Arcturus’s health was still poor, it wasn’t rapidly deteriorating as it had been. And that the older gentleman couldn’t wait for Lexa to be home for summer.

She’d also be able to see both Daphne and Cedric at the World Cup as both had secured tickets with their families. Cedric was apparently to be attending with the Weasleys, or well, they’d secured transportation with them, Cedric’s father, Amos, apparently intended on disappearing quickly to meet other friends.

Exam season approached, and the group of young scholars could be found in the library if they weren’t in classes. Pouring over books in a desperate desire to one-up each other in the league rankings. Whilst the group was competitive, they were also supportive.

“I just don’t get it!” snapped Luke with frustration after a while.

Lexa looked up at her friend. His copy of their potions text was propped open in front of him, a rough draft of an essay at the side of it, most of his work seemed to be crossed out. Lexa let out a gentle sigh, despite his eidetic memory, Luka almost always seemed to struggle with potions and herbology. He lacked the patience required for the two, and it wasn’t helpful that he found both subjects boring, and as such put minimal effort into them.

Lexa was about to reluctantly get up and help him, not because she didn’t want to, but because she too had too much work due the next day. But fortunately, Feliks beat her to it.

“What’s up, Luka?” he said as the older boy moved over to aid their friend.

Lexa smiled; the duo reminded her of Papa and Remus. The loud, obnoxious, outgoing and humorous Luka and then the quiet, studious and patient Feliks. It was kind of uncanny. Especially if Lexa’s intuition that they were both gay came to fruition.

Lexa and Josef quietly worked together on their transfiguration work whilst Viktor worked independently on his defence. The group spent several good hours studying, sharing tips, and improvements on each other's work. Egging each other on with arrogant claims that they were going to smash the exam out of the park.

And the exams went well. They all ranked in the top 15, Lexa coming first in 3 classes this year and joint first/second in transfiguration along with Luka to the loud boy's annoyance. Lexa made a mental note that she’d have to invite him to stay for a few days over summer, as Luka and Papa would get along very well. Or perhaps better not to, they might get along too well.

Before she knew it, they were once again in the queue to floo home for the summer. And by god, where had three years gone? She absolutely loved being at school with all of her friends; she didn’t want it to be over.

“Neville!” said Lexa enthusiastically as the older boy, by just one day, stepped through the fireplace into Black Manor.

Despite being extremely shy and worried about the visit, Neville answered the shout with a grin of his own before he found himself engulfed in a hug by the slightly taller brunette.

“Eh hem,” tutted Arcturus from his chair in the manor’s antechamber.

“Neville, this is my grandfather, Lord Arcturus Black.”

Neville looked to the much older man with a wary look. Many had heard of the fearsome and easily angered Lord Black. Many a stronger, older man had been reduced to nothing but a wreck by him, but to Lexa’s immense delight, Neville held firm as he stepped forward with a shaking hand.

“Neville Longbottom,” said Neville, “Sir,” he quickly added a stutter in his voice.

“Aye.” Said Arcturus, “Frank’s lad,”

Neville seemed to straighten at the mention of his father, and even Arcturus noted. A slight grin, not noticeable by those who didn’t know him, at the boy's reaction. He was proud to be his father’s son - as he should be.

“Yes sir,” said Neville with a firmness that wasn’t present before.

“Good man, Frank, and Alice was a bright witch,” complimented Arcturus.

Neville looked slightly upset at the continued mentioning of his parents, and Lexa made a mental note to approach her friend about it later. He’d always done his best to avoid talking about them before. And her line of enquiry with Sirius had quickly dried up, Remus butting in to tell Lexa that she should ask her friend about what had happened to his parents. Which had left Lexa under the impression that Neville too was an orphan like herself.

Lexa finally managed to drag Neville away from her family, leading him to a guest bedroom in the family wing for him to leave his belongings.

“Thank you,” said Neville as the girl helped him abandon his belongings in the guest room.

“We can go see the greenhouse now, you know, to get it over with.” She said with a teasing grin, but Neville didn’t seem to care.

“Yes please!” he said eagerly.

Lexa led him to the greenhouse and was about to start pointing out plants she knew of when he spoke first. She couldn’t help but admire his genuine enthusiasm as he oohed and ahhed over the plethora of different plants throughout the greenhouse.

“So are you still interested in working with plants and potions when you're older, then?” asked Lexa.

“Potions not so much,” he replied with a disappointed shrug.

“Why not?” Lexa asked, genuinely confused, Herbology and Potions usually went hand in hand. And the slightly older boy, by just one day, had seemed to know all the potions that the plants would be useful for.

“I’m not very good at it,” Neville replied with another shrug, a tinge of embarrassment coating his cheeks.

“The practical side?” queried Lexa, knowing that his theory seemed to be spot on.

“Professor Snape is rather terrifying, and he doesn’t teach us anything,” admitted Neville, his face visibly displaying his embarrassment now.

“A teacher who doesn’t teach?” queried Lexa, “What does he do then?” She was finding this hard to believe. Severus was exceptionally patient and understanding with her. Not that she needed much teaching.

Neville seemed to think about how to phrase his answer before abruptly shrugging, turning his attention back to the plants before him.

“Nev?” asked Lexa.

Neville couldn’t help but like it when she shortened his name. The girl was as endearing as she was kind, and oh so thoughtful. Unlike everyone else, she genuinely did seem to like him, even if he wasn’t quite sure why.

“He puts the instructions on the board and then yells at us to get on with it,” said Neville, finally answering with his third shrug since they’d got in the greenhouse. A habit his grandmother would most definitely not approve of.

“Papa doesn’t like him either,” replied Lexa. “But he’s my other godfather.”

Neville blanched in horror, “I’m sorry I misspoke.” He had been raised to be polite, and to have insulted a Godparent to someone's face - his grandmother certainly wouldn’t have been impressed with him.

“It’s no worries, I’ll have a word with him.” Lexa teased.

“Please don’t,” said Neville with a fearful look, and Lexa mentally made a note she’d be having a word with her Uncle Severus.

After a moment's pause, Neville resumed the conversation.

“He taught your Papa? I didn’t think Snape was that old?” Why would Sirius have made a teacher he didn’t like his daughter's godmother?

“Oh no.” said Lexa, laughing a little, “They went to school together, he was a good friend of my mothers.”

“Oh,” said Neville, “that makes sense.” Lexa’s first parents had made him a godfather, not Sirius.

“Arcturus said your dad was the year above my parents.”

“That means my mum was in your parents' year,” said Neville.

“Yeah, Sirius said your mum was my godmother and vice versa.”

“Really?” asked Neville, he wasn’t surprised at such information being withheld from him. Augusta refused to discuss anything to do with Lexa or House Black. But Lily Potter wasn’t House Black, and so he found himself quite frustrated with his grandmother.

“Yeah, I wonder why we’ve never met before.”

“My gran, she’s not exactly a big fan of the House of Black,” said Neville quietly, not wanting to have this conversation if he didn’t have to.

“Why?” asked Lexa, genuinely confused.

“What?" asked Neville, sending an equally confused look back at the younger girl. Was she genuinely telling him she didn’t know - he hadn’t for a second cosnidered Lord Black having not told his friend.

“What?” repeated Lexa with a pointed look. What had she missed?

“You genuinely don’t know?” said Neville.

Lexa sent the boy a baffled look as she wracked her brain for the missing piece to the conversation, but nothing was jumping out. Why didn’t Augusta like the Black Family?

“About my parents?” queried Neville quietly.

“Didn’t they die in the war?” asked Lexa.

Neville sat quietly, staring at his friend in disbelief.

“I thought for sure that you knew,” said Neville, his disbelief clear on his face.

“Did they not die in the war?” questioned Lexa, lowering her voice.

“My parents are still alive,” said Neville quietly. He was speaking barely above a whisper now.

“But you live with your gran?” asked Lexa, completely baffled. Purebloods would never abandon a child - it was unheard of.

Lexa cringed, she probably could have asked that question in a better way. Less bluntly, but she was struggling to grasp what he was trying to tell her.

“Bellatrix Lestrange, she tortured them.” Murmured Neville.

Lexa inhaled sharply. She knew of Bellatrix Lestrange, of course, she did. How could she not? Sirius’s insane cousin is currently serving life in prison for being an avid follower of the dark lord.

“The cruciatus curse,” added Neville after the silence continued.

“Neville – I,” faltered Lexa, unsure of what to say. “I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault.” Said Neville after a moment of silence, “And it’s not your family's either.”

“Is that why your gran didn’t want you to come then? She doesn’t like me?” asked Lexa.

The more Lexa thought about it, the more she supposed it made sense. Even if it was a little unfair to blame someone's family for another's actions.

“You?” asked Neville, “No it’s your Papa and Lord Black she has a problem with.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad she still let you come, and I’m genuinely sorry to hear about your parents, Neville.” Lexa’s face was clouded over with sadness; she had studied the long-term effects of the cruciatus curse, which she assumed Neville had meant by torture.

“Me too,” said Neville, glad that they weren’t going to dwell on his parents. It wasn’t exactly something anyone could fix. Not that he hadn’t spent his entire childhood, and even now hoping.

They fell into a peaceful silence as Lexa followed Neville on his exploration of the greenhouse.

“Merlin!” Neville suddenly said. “Is that Eegrort?”

Lexa looked in the direction that Neville was heading. She didn’t know all of the plants in the greenhouse – only the ones in her courses, anyway. A potioneer she may be, but a herbalist less so. Too much dirt was involved. Though that wasn’t to say she didn’t get fantastic grades, she tended to stick to the curriculum.

Lexa let Neville explore the greenhouse for a while longer before she suddenly had an idea.

“So what grades have you been getting in Potions?” she asked.

Neville suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“D,” he said reluctantly.

Lexa had never spun around so fast in her life, her mouth dropping open.

“A D?” she asked, a look of pure horror crossing her face. Potions was a vital subject!

“Yeah.” He said quietly.

“Severus really must be struggling in a group setting.” Said Lexa, noting that he was downtrodden over his grade, she just couldn’t understand. “What about your other subjects?”

“Err – an O in Herbology.” He said, starting with his best grade.

“That’s brilliant!” said Lexa as she grinned widely at her friend.

“Yeah, I guess,” Neville said, knowing that the rest of his grades were poor in comparison.

“And the others?” asked Lexa.

“EE in History of Magic.”

“That’s good, to say your teachers are ghosts, really good actually!” exclaimed Lexa with a quiet laugh. She couldn’t imagine being taught by a ghost.

“An A in Transfiguration, A in Charms, D in Defence, EE in Astronomy. I got an EE in care of magical creatures, too, and an EE in Muggle studies.”

“So you’re doing quite well in all your theory classes, did you not take arithmancy or runes?” queried Lexa.

“They looked hard, and I didn’t want to fail them.” Admitted Neville.

“Well I’m happy to help you practice, and I got an Outstanding in potions, so we can work on that too?” offered Lexa not wanting to overstep but happy to help her friend if he’d accept it.

“Really?” Neville asked?

“Of course, you’re one of my best friends!” exclaimed Lexa as she began to lead the way out of the greenhouse.

Fortunately, she wasn’t facing Neville to see his face go bright red at her comment. One of her best friends? Neville was over the moon.

That evening, when she left Neville to write a letter to his friend Hermione, Lexa stepped through the floo to her other godfather's home, storming into his office.

“Lexa?” queried Severus. He most certainly hadn’t been expecting her.

“Are you aware Neville Longbottom is a good friend of mine?”

No, he was not; he could easily guess where this conversation was going to go.

“No,” admitted Severus as he indicated for the young girl to take a seat.

“Why is it that he can get an O in Herbology but is flunking your class?”

Severus raised an eyebrow; he was not aware of Gryffindor having shown any academic ability in any class.

“He lacks effort, he’s seemingly incapable of following the simplest of instructions and spends half of every lesson in the hospital wing.”

“And whose fault is this?”

“I believe other members of the class tend to sabotage him,” said Severus, "Occasionally."

“He’s absolutely terrified of you!” shouted Lexa, frustration clouding her face. “Why is he terrified of you?”

“You are aware that Dumbledore has me put on a front, I am bound by my duty to protect my Slytherins, every other house favours their own.”

Lexa barely contained a growl of annoyance; it sounded like excuses.

“I was not aware of his performance in Herbology,” admitted Severus.

“I’m going to tutor him, to help him catch up.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. Send Mr Longbottom to me in the first week of term. Tell him I will not bite his head off. Enjoy Quidditch,” teased Severus.

Lexa beamed at the man, assuming this was his agreement to also help Neville. She darted around the desk to give the man a hug before she quickly made her way home, knowing her Papa wouldn’t be happy she’d left as it was.

She wondered how Neville would take the news as he seemed to be quite scared of the potions professor. Lexa had invited the potions master to attend Quidditch with them to Sirius’s utter horror; however, the Slytherin had declined the invitation, opting to remain in his lab, successfully avoiding the mongrel.

Lexa grinned. They’d started right at the beginning with a simple Boil-Cure potion. Lexa had informed Remus of her plans to teach Neville potions, and the werewolf had been very supportive. Informing her that he and Sirius were going out for the day, but Arcturus and the house-elves would be on hand if needed.

“Okay, so this should be the easy part. Can you select dried nettles, snake fangs, stewed horned slugs, porcupine quills, and Flobberworm Mucus?” asked Lexa.

Neville nodded with a grin; this he could do.

Lexa led Neville through the preparations; they each had a cauldron and set of ingredients as they worked through the instructions together.

“Okay, so make sure we’re following each stage carefully, reading ahead so we can prepare for the next step.” Instructed Lexa as the boy nodded enthusiastically, he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Breathe, Nev, you’ve got this,” encouraged Lexa with a smile.

They completed the potion without any major difficulties, Lexa stepping in only to remind him to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the quills unless he wanted the cauldron to melt.

And for the first time, Neville held a vial holding a correctly brewed potion that he had made. And Neville’s proud little smile may have made Lexa’s day.

“Okay, so I’ll supervise, let’s see if you can make the Wigginweld Potion?” asked Lexa.

“Okay, I’ll give it a go,” replied Neville with a small smile.

—-----------------

​

In the afternoon, Lexa offered for them to work on some defence practice in the training room in the basement of the mansion.

“I’m not very good,” replied Neville nervously.

“That’s okay,” said Lexa, “We can only get better, right?”

Neville nodded, but he wasn’t quite sure.

“Okay, so do you want to start at the beginning?” asked Lexa.

“That might be best,” muttered Neville quietly.

Lexa, deciding it was best to go through them in the correct order, requested a house-elf to collect Sirius’s old first-year Defence book.

“Okay, so the knockback jinx, do you remember the incantation and movement?” asked Lexa.

“Flipendo?” questioned Neville.

“Is that a question or an answer?” teased Lexa.

“An answer,” Neville said after a moment of hesitation.

“Well done, okay, so cast it on me?” requested Lexa.

Neville’s eyes widened, “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, this room is padded, so we’re all good,” said Lexa, “Promise,” she added with a jokey grin on her face.

“Flipendo!” shouted Neville as his wand jerkily pointed towards Lexa.

Unfortunately, nothing happened.

“Okay, so shouting doesn’t make a difference,” teased Lexa. But she regretted it when Neville turned as red as a tomato.

“It’s okay, here, let me show you.”

Lexa moved to stand next to Neville, summoning one of the abandoned sandbags from the other side of the room. It landed just before them. She enlarged the small sandbag, and Neville couldn’t help but be impressed with her ease when it came to magic.

Lexa explained the wand movement again, down and a flick into a slightly smaller bending flick. Though the visual explanation was much better than her verbal one. She explained the importance of emphasising the ‘pen’ in ‘fli-pen-do’.

She demonstrated perfectly, before summoning the bag back to them and stepping back to let Neville have a go. She watched as he failed the first three times before his patience began to wane and his temper flared. His movements became jerky again, his incantation harsh and laced with anger as his wand was jabbing uselessly at the bag. The bag had only moved a fraction of an inch the entire time.

“Maybe they're right – maybe I’m a squib.” He snapped as he angrily stomped his foot on the floor, his arms dropping to his sides as he exhaled sharply.

“That is not true.” Said Lexa firmly.

“Then explain why I can’t even do a simple first-year spell?” asked Neville, trying not to be angry at his friend.

“Where’d you get your wand, Nev?” asked Lexa. She was no expert on wands, but the wand seemed to be almost fighting him every time he tried to cast a spell.

“It was my dad's,” Neville said, that familiar look of pride flickering across his face whenever his parents were mentioned.

“Neville,” started Lexa, unsure of how to explain how a wand chooses a wizard without offending the boy.

“What?” asked Neville, confused. She opted not to be the one to break the news to him.

“Let’s go find Grandpa, he’ll know how to fix this!” exclaimed Lexa as she walked towards the stairs.

“Fix what?” Neville called after her, but he was already moving to follow the girl.

Arcturus had been downright fuming when Lexa had explained the situation. Neville had cowered back in fright when the man had roared out in anger.

“He’s not mad at you, Nev, right, Grandpa?” asked Lexa.

“No, of course not, this has bloody Augusta written all over it!” exclaimed the older gentleman.

“She won’t let me get a new one, she said that I should use this and make my dad proud,” answered Neville quietly, not wanting to turn the older man's ire on himself.

“Lexa doesn’t use her father’s wand,” said Arcturus. The two teenagers turned to look at him questioningly. Where was he going with this? “Do you think that means James isn’t proud of her?” queried Arcturus, his gaze settling on the younger man.

“No!” exclaimed Neville, “Of course,” he added. “I’m sure he’s very proud of you,” reassured Neville, fear lacing his tone.

“Precisely, boy, so take it from someone who knew your father quite well. Frank would want his son to be happy, looked after, and his own man.”

Neville nodded.

“But you’re right, Augusta won’t like it coming from me.”

“So what do we do?” asked Lexa.

“What do we do?” repeated Arcturus, looking at his great-granddaughter. “We buy him a damn wand ourselves, as is his bloody right!” exclaimed Arcturus.

“What’s all the yelling?” asked Sirius, slipping into the room.

“Augusta refuses to buy Neville a wand of his own; he’s been using his father's!” exclaimed Arcturus. Sirius’s mortified expression at the news summed the entire situation up.

—------------------------------

The trip to Diagon Alley was done the same day. Remus took them to avoid the stares they’d get if Sirius and Arcturus accompanied them. Lexa used her metamorphus skills to blend in.

And Neville was overjoyed with his wand, informing the Black’s that he’d pay them back when possible. Lexa refuted the offer before Remus could even respond.

“Not necessary,” Remus said, reaffirming what his step-daughter had said in considerably fewer words and minus the rant about him being a friend and deserving of his own wand. Not that what she’d said wasn’t true.

Over the next couple of days, Neville’s magic flourished. And whilst they may not have had time to do much else but study, they had successfully worked through all of the first year's practical parts for the entire curriculum.

Neville would have to work through the second and third-year curriculum on his own. All the while hiding his new wand from his grandmother.

“Why can’t Neville just claim the head of the house right and overrule her?” Lexa had asked one night.

“I know full well I have taught you better than that young girl, so think it through.” Arcturus had deadpanned gruffly one night at the dinner table.

“But he’s fourteen.” Replied Lexa.

“And his father, while incapacitated, is still alive.”

“Oh,” replied Lexa quietly.

“Neville will have to wait until he’s seventeen, and even then, he will have to officially ask his house magic to declare his father incompetent as head of the house.”

“Oh,” Lexa repeated equally as quietly, all the while Neville looked down at his plate.

“And there’s nothing that can be done?” asked Lexa, “To help them get better, I mean?” she added when she got a questioning look.

“Very little research has been carried out into the long-term side effects of the cruciatus curse; a lack of funding and a lack of trained healers have led to harsh prioritizations, usually in fields outside of the mental wards of St Mungos.” Answered Remus, wanting to ensure that Neville didn’t have to answer the question.

Lexa, who had pretty much decided already that she wanted to be a healer, had suddenly found a newfound interest in the field. She wanted to know everything. She’d told Arcturus last week that she wanted to cure his disease when she was older, and he’d told her she should focus on more prevalent magical diseases. Mirek’s usually only affected the elderly. There were more important diseases to be cured, and Mirek’s well wasn’t contagious.

And well, Lexa wanted to cure her godmother. She wanted to cure her friend’s parents. Or at least ensure that in the future, other people wouldn’t end up just like them.

—----------------

Lexa had arranged to meet most of her Durmstrang friends once they arrived at the campsite, but Josef would be flooing to the manor to travel with them. His family had no interest in Quidditch, and as such, Lexa had offered to let him come with them so he wouldn’t have to arrive on his own.

“Hi, I’m Josef,” said Josef as he reached to shake Neville’s hand.

“Neville,”

“Oh, I know, Lexa’s told us all about her British friend,” replied Josef with a teasing smirk as he winked at Lexa. The girl rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Neville and Josef seemed to get along well enough, but to Sirius’s amusement, they both seemed to be jealous of each other. And what made the whole situation all the more amusing – Lexa hadn’t appeared to have noticed.

They portkeyed straight from the manor to the campsite. Lexa felt the familiar jerk as the floor gave away from beneath her, a tingle behind her navel pulling her into what a muggle would no doubt call a black hole.

Almost as quickly as the sensation started, it stopped. Lexa and Sirius were the only two to land standing up. Remus had, despite spending a ridiculous amount of time practising, never completely mastered the art, even after Sirius had shared the walking trick.

Sirius laughed playfully as he tugged his mate back up to his feet. Lexa leaned down to help Neville, and Josef threw himself to his feet grumpily – he wasn’t a fan of embarrassing himself clearly.

“Welcome, kids, to the Quidditch World Cup!” Sirius exclaimed, and Lexa felt her eyes widen as she took in the sea of brightly coloured tents. They filled the vast fields in front of them almost to the brim, and Lexa couldn’t help but wonder where they’d possibly fit.

They began the short journey to the campsite, and Remus, being the most familiar with the Muggle monetary system, paid the campsite owner. They were provided a map with a circled area that was the designated place for their tent.

The group ambled through the crowds, Josef spotting a group of his friends.

“Don’t get lost, and don’t be left on your own,” Sirius had instructed the younger boy. Josef’s family hadn’t come, but he wouldn’t be camping with them; his cousins were staying with the Krums, and as such, he’d arranged to stay with them.

Neville smiled in relief when the louder, significantly more confident boy departed. The group set up the tent and headed inside.

“It’s brilliant, Papa!” Lexa exclaimed. The group decided to wait a little before having lunch, setting themselves up on some chairs outside the tent. They spent a lot of time people watching. It wasn’t long before the campsite was a flurry of activity, excited witches and wizards rushing around, laughing and talking amongst each other.

Between Remus and Sirius, they kept up a reasonable running commentary on everyone. After a while, the group decided to collect firewood and water, so they wouldn’t have to do it later.

Lexa and Neville, having been released from Sirius’s watchful eye to do some exploring, bumped into several people on the way around.

“Lexa!” someone yelled. Lexa looked quickly around the crowd, doing her best to spot whoever was yelling for attention. “LEXA!” the voice yelled again.

“VIKTOR!” she yelled back excitedly as she took off through the crowd to throw her arms around the other boy. Neville hurried behind her so he didn’t lose his friend.

“Isn’t everything great?” asked Viktor as he pried himself from the girl's grip, grinning as he waved around at the campsite.

“It really is!” she exclaimed happily.

Noticing the slight awkwardness between the two boys, she could have facepalmed. They’d never met before – silly her.

“Neville, this is Viktor Krum. Viktor, this is Neville Longbottom.”

“Pleasure,” said Viktor as he stuck his hand out to shake the British boy's hand.

“Lexa says you play Quidditch?” queried Neville after a moment's silence.

And any awkwardness between the two waned immediately. Neville, to his credit, not being a Quidditch fan, listened closely as Viktor began to excitedly rant about the Bulgarian team, whom he hoped to play for one day.

And Lexa grinned, looking between the two boys. She was glad her friends were getting along. She’d been a little concerned when Neville and Josef hadn’t hit off, but Josef was rather closed off.

“Have you seen Feliks and Luka yet?” asked Lexa when there was a pause in the Quidditch discussion.

“No, not yet.” Said Viktor, “What about you – where’s Josef at?”

Lexa rolled her eyes.

“He couldn’t have disappeared any quicker if he tried, saw some of his friends, and some vela.”

Viktor laughed.

“That sounds like Josef, alright, he’s been grumpy all summer though – testing my patience.”

Lexa looked concerned.

“You’re fighting?” she queried.

“He’s just being an egotistical sod, we’ll see how it goes when we're back and school. But Feliks isn’t impressed either, to be fair.”

Lexa nodded; she knew Josef and Feliks hadn’t exactly gotten along all of last year either. The two were nearly always at loggerheads, and not in a good way either. But she didn’t like the idea of her friendship group splintering, as they were growing up. Doing different things and having different goals. Remus had told her it was to be expected. But she’d hoped it wouldn’t happen.

Daphne came careering into the group not long after, muttering her apologies that she unfortunately couldn’t stay as her parents had plans, but she’d wanted to say hello, and to complain about having been forced to make niceties with Draco Malfoy and his uptight parents.

Lexa was dreading meeting the blonde Prince of Slytherin, Severus. He had been attempting to arrange a meeting between his two godchildren for months. Sirius had been blocking each attempt, and for once, Arcturus had kept his nose out of the situation.