(A/N Hello! Bit of extra on this story, it will have a healthy dose of secrets, lies, being mean to first years, similarities to PoA, a little bit of swearing, bit of incest humour (I'd like to remind everyone that this is Black story after all ;) how could there not bit) but no actual incest, inheritance from unlikely sources and Hufflepuff bashing for a few chapters, but if you happen to be Hufflepuff at heart I apologize and assure you this becomes pro-Hufflepuff toward the end) this story isn't in chronological order and therefore may be confusing, but I hope that after 59 MS word pages of first draft it will all become clear and you will forgive me for confusing you all the way to the end. I plan to write a sequel to this and not all ends will be tied up at the end for that reason. You've been warned! Thanks very much for giving it a look and I'm sorry for any mistakes -unbetaed.)

Chapter One

1stof September 1997

Strolling through the castle at night was one of those privileges only given to the Head Boy and Girl, but something every student that had ever passed under the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts School had dreamed of.

Every student who ever sat down for dinner in the Great Hall had once wished that they could be the one who knew the castle best, who knew every step, every alcove, every gargoyle-the ancient secrets hidden in the walls, the rumours of secret rooms, hidden passageways and treasure beyond imagination. All the students at Hogwarts marvelled at the beauty and intricacy of the castle and named it as there one, true home. Every student thought that somehow, they belonged in the castle. That Hogwarts was the missing piece in their lives and that it would mourn the day they left as if they were any different from any other student leaving its prestigious halls. The fact of the matter of course was that everyone felt the same, distinct pull towards Hogwarts, it had been the home of thousands of witches and wizards and most of them didn't know the castle half as well as they thought they did.

Some of course knew the castle as well as any, Filch, who popped up from everywhere at the first sign of mess making, the legendary Marauders and their nifty map, the Weasley twins and Harry Potter, both avid readers of said map had also seen more than their fair share of the castle- and they had all crept through the castle whilst the other students were in bed.

But there were more secrets to discover within the walls of Hogwarts which just sneaking around could never show you.

Lyra would know, she had coveted the right to wander through the winding halls since her first night at Hogwarts- and had done it anyway since her second.

It was the first night of her seventh year, she had already been shown around her new dorm, looked distastefully at the new Head Boy, Harry Potter, poked fun at the dreary Hufflepuffs and scared most of her new little snakes silly.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a cracked mirror which hung on the wall, the lantern in her hand illuminating her hauntingly beautiful face, her dark, intelligent, heavy lidded eyes and her wild raven curls which fell to the waist band of her school skirt. Aunt Cissy always commented on how much she looked like Aunt Andromeda.

Lyra had grown up in Malfoy Manor, with Draco, her fellow Slytherin Prefect and Harry Potter, Gryffindor Head Boy. Of course, Aunt Narcissa was not her real Aunt actually her second cousin, but for all intents and purposes she was Lyra's mother. Her own, she knew nothing about except that she was a powerful, pureblooded witch and that she had died shortly after she was born and her father was Sirius Black, who had died when she was just three on an auror mission in wintery Russia.

His cousin, Narcissa had taken in the two of them, her and Harry, the poor little orphans who Sirius left behind.

Lyra trusted Narcissa explicitly, but sometimes there was a niggle of doubt in her mind that what she had been told about her parentage was not actually the truth.

1st of September 1990

"Ah… Another Black I see. What an interesting heritage, even if it's not what you think… Cunning, intelligent and a thirst to prove yourself, yes…. SLYTHERIN."

23rd of December 1989

Great Aunt Druella looked at her though narrowed eyes, she was a very odd woman. Very dark, very tactile. The ghosts of her good looks still present on her face, withering in her old age. She extended a hand, dripping with silver and emeralds, a necklace clutched in her fingers toward a young Lyra, just ten years old.

"Only a true Black can wear this locket little Lyra," she said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Go on, put it on." Lyra nodded and held her head high as she fitted the clasp with slightly shaking hands. The heavy plain silver locket dropped onto the front of her dress, resting heavily on her heart, the metal surprisingly warm. It gave the young girl a most odd, yet pleasant feeling of completeness.

Lyra smiled at Aunt Druella.

"Black by blood, Black by nature," the old woman said, a smirk forming at her lips. "Keep it, it's yours now. Wear it always."

"Of course," Lyra said, grinning more at the pride she could see in her Aunt's eyes. She looked down at it and went to open the clasp, but it was stuck. She pulled harder, but it was as though there wasn't even a seam to come apart.

"But I can't open it?" she said, perplexed.

"When you turn eighteen you will open it and be pleased by what is inside," she replied cryptically. "So much knowledge and power will befall you on that day. "Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black…" she said, rolling the syllables over her tongue. "Let me tell you a story about your namesake… Elladora."

Later that day, whilst the adults were taking high tea Lyra and Draco had taken it upon themselves to explore the house and after inspecting, but definitely not touching, they knew better than that, many dark artefacts filled Draco's grandmother's house, they found, hung on the wall of a study the Black family tree.

The tapestry was an emerald green, with shining bronze lettering.

"I'm not on here," Draco sulked, pointing at the names of his mother and father.

"That's because you don't make it onto the family tree until you turn seventeen," Lyra pointed out in a bossy tone. "Aunt Druella told me it was a new rule that was enforced in the hope that they would figure out whether or not they were true Blacks before being put on the tapestry. Like my father, who was blasted off and then they couldn't put him back on again when the family reconciled, if they had just never bothered to put him on after he ran away, they could have added him on after."

"She lied to you. You can't just 'add him on' even if he hadn't been blasted off, powerful ancient magic updates the tree. All Blacks go on as soon as they turn seventeen. It's because infant mortality rates were high when it was made, therefore they cluttered up the tree with what grandmamma calls 'the weak'," Draco said haughtily, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at her.

"Where did you learn big words like that Draco?" the dark haired child demanded, crossing her arms and stamping her foot in irritation that he knew more than her. He just sent a smug and arrogant smirk her way.

"Look," she said huffily, still annoyed at Draco but pointing to Orion and Walburga's names on the tree. "Those are my grandparents... they were second cousins. Is that allowed?"

"Yes," Draco said with a nod. "Grandmother said that seconds are allowed, they keep the blood pure. First cousins aren't because they make children with extra toes. We could married Lyra, we're second cousins too."

"No," Lyra said, holding up her chin even higher. "We are third cousins, as if I would ever marry anyone who didn't know the difference between second and third."

"I do know!" Draco replied indignantly, but was cut off from replying further by the call of their names from downstairs. Lyra just stuck her tongue out at the blonde before turning and running out of the room, towards the sound and Draco raced after her- the rest of the tapestry untouched and unread

21st of September 1993

Many years later, Lyra aged thirteen would sit in the Slytherin common room, brooding and twiddling the necklace between her fingers and thinking about that day.

If her father had been blasted off the tree that did not make her a proper Black… Andromeda's daughter could not command the elves or wear the jewellery because her mother had been blasted off the tree- despite the fact the family had reconciled after the war and were now on strained, but relatively good terms.

She pondered just how she was allowed to wear the necklace that was currently around her throat when her father had been blasted off. But soon shook off the ponderings and rose from her chair, she was just being silly after all and it was about time she snuck into the restricted section again.

1st of September 1997

Those worries and doubts had always been there, lying dormant in the far reaches of her busy mind but usually that is where they stayed because Lyra knew that Blacks only looked after their own and if she was not a Black, then she would not be so well looked after.

Silently she slipped through the heavy door of the trophy room, after years of sneaking about the castle at night she had learnt how to make sure her heels did not click on the stone floors. It was better to use muggle ways to sneak around, most of the time teachers used magic-detection spells to locate rule breakers. Holding the lantern high she wandered about the room, looking at the trophies, she wondered whether this year would be her own chance to have her name engraved in the smooth silver of a cup and be immortalized up here, for thousands of years of Hogwarts students to look upon.

Her name should have already been carved somewhere, it was what she had come to see and she spotted it, a long, ever extending list of Head Girls, mounted upon the wall. She crossed the room and looked up and sure enough, her name Lyra Black 1998 was right there at the bottom, with a small smile gracing her features she looked up the list, checking for names she recognized.
Katie Bell 1997 was just above her own name, she kept on reading until she found a cluster of names which intrigued her.

Bellatrix Black 1973
Andromeda Black 1974
Lily Evans 1975
Marlene McKinnon 1976
Narcissa Black 1977

She blinked in surprise at this list of names. Who was Bellatrix Black? Close enough to Narcissa and Andromeda that must be aware of her existence. There was a very slim chance that Bellatrix was an unrelated witch with the surname Black, unless she was Muggleborn. Her own name was flung to the forefront of her mind.

Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black

There was no way that was a coincidence. Blacks were always named after their ancestors in some way, Elladora was a prime example, but no one had ever told her the origin of Bellatrix. Who was she and why hadn't any of her family ever mentioned her?

Cogs were whirring inside of Lyra's head. Narcissa and Andromeda were close in age and almost certainly related to Bellatrix Black, some distant cousin perhaps? A lump in her throat formed when she realized that there was a high chance of her being even closer related to her Aunt Cissy and Aunt Andy. Sisters couldn't be ruled out.

There was only one thing for sure; that she was important enough to Lyra for her to be named after.

It could just be coincidental, she could have died, it could be a difficult and traumatic thing for her family to talk about.

But Lyra knew her family and knew it was not the case.

Bellatrix Black had been kept a secret from her and she wanted to know why.

She pondered for a moment, how could she find out more about Bellatrix? There was only one immediate answer- the filing cabinets in the adjoining room. All prefects, past and present had their school records stored in there.

She paused, opening the door with the toe of her shoe and slipping though the crack. She set the lantern down on the cabinet labelled A-D and started to rifle through the second of four drawers.

Most of the B drawer was taken up Blacks, some from centuries and centuries ago, but she did not have time to appreciate her heritage. Finally she found the one she was looking for, Bellatrix Black with shaking fingers she opened the file and read the small amount of information on the card.

Name: Bellatrix Druella Cassiopeia Black
Born: 9
th of November, 1956
House: Slytherin
Head of House: Professor H. Slughorn
Titles: Beater, Prefect, Head Girl
NEWT Examinations:
Transfiguration: O
Defence Against the Dark Art: E
Potions: O
Charms: E
Herbology: O
Astronomy: O
Ancient Runes: E
Care of Magical Creatures: E

Lyra had to supress a gasp of shock, if she were to view her own Prefect card she would see most of the same information. They both had two ancestral middle names, star related first names, both in Slytherin, same house, same Quidditch position; she even took all the same NEWTs that Lyra herself was taking. The only differences were their birthdays, head of house and the fact that Lyra did not have her grades for her NEWTs yet.

She ran her fingers through her unruly curls and slid the file back into the filing cabinet. She had to find out more about who this woman was, what had happened to her… but how?

Her musings were interrupted by the echoing sound of hasty footsteps in the armoury which abutted the trophy room- those were hurried, frightened student footsteps. Quickly Lyra blew out her lantern and crept toward the sound, eyes narrowed and footsteps light and noiseless.

Sure enough, there in the armoury was a student, dressed in Gryffindor coloured pyjamas and trying to force their way through a locked door. A cruel smirk spread across Lyra's face and she crept toward the child who in his frantic struggle to open the door did not notice who was creeping up behind him.

"Student out of bed?" Lyra asked the boy in a low, slow voice as she pressed the tip of her wand to his neck. The Gryffindor gave a strangled yell and spun round, so that the wand was now on his throat, eyes wide with fear.

"Miss Black," he stuttered bowing his head and trying not to tremble. All the lower school called her Miss Black, as if she were a professor; they were far too terrified of her to risk using her first name.

"Name," Lyra prompted, jabbing her wand into the tender flesh of his throat and holding the pressure through her integration.

"Dennis, Dennis Creevey," the boy stammered, painfully aware of the weapon cutting into his air supply.

"Now do tell me, Dennis Creevey, what gives you the right to walk the castle at night?" her voice was blasé as if she were enquiring about the weather, but Dennis Creevey knew enough about the Head Girl to not be fooled by her seeming indifference.

"I don't have the right Miss Black, I'm sorry," he said quickly, looking with wide, frightened eyes at the wand at his throat.

"You're forgiven dear Dennis," she replied in a dark tone, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

"Th-Thank you Miss Bla-"

"On one condition," she interrupted, Dennis fell silent. "Very soon I am going to need a Gryffindor, like yourself to run a little errand for me. Would you agree to do a little favour for me in order to earn my favour?"

"Of- of course Miss Black," Dennis replied.

"Excellent," she said, her feral smile broadening. "In return for you promising to do that favour for me and keeping your mouth shut about seeing me here tonight I will let you go… unscathed."

"Thank you Miss Black," Dennis said quickly as the tip of Lyra's wand was removed from his jugular.

"Scurry back to Gryffindor tower this instant dear Dennis," Lyra said in a sing song voice. "But remember to tell none of your little lions which witch caught you wandering around in the dark, lest a …disturbing accident happen."

"Of course Miss Black, thank you, goodnight" he said, bowing his head again.

Lyra stood, twiddling her wand in her fingers and grinning as the anxious footfalls of Dennis Creevey got fainter and fainter. Oh how she enjoyed eliciting terror into the hearts of young students. It was with the same smile that she lit her lantern and continued on her way back to bed.