Chapter Text
Kyra hoists her satchel up as she walks down the courtyard. Cold sharp wind blows against her cheeks and the dense canopy of leaves bears down on her as her mind races.
The Labyrinth shouldn’t still exist. It has been a long time since it has been built. Why would it appear now and in the center of camp, right when there is a war looming over them?
It can’t be a coincidence. Nothing is ever coincidence for children of the gods.
Despite what Lee has been telling their siblings, there isn’t a possibility of war. There is going to be a war. She has foreseen it— the mass destruction of Manhattan. The Great Prophecy is in motion. Thalia Grace is no longer a contender, with her initiation into the Hunters of Artemis. But Percy and Nico- the new kid, still are.
She’s seen it, a blurry figure leading an army against the troops of monsters. Arrows, thunder and lighting raining down like fireworks as shouts and roars of battle echoes; it plagues her dreams. And then right as Luke and Percy both swing for the killing blow, fate of the world hanging in the balance over who will yield first, she wakes up in a cold sweat.
Kyra tried to ignore it then, pretended the dreams were just nightmares. An overactive imagination going wild. Not all of her father’s children can peer into fate, most can’t even. She just happened to be one of the unlucky ones.
Lead weighs down her chest.
She can’t tell anyone about her visions, otherwise she will end up like Halcyon, and more people would die. Tears sting the corner of her eyes, blurring the students she walks past. What will happen to her and her siblings? Will they all die?
She takes a deep breath and blinks through her blurry vision. Still, she must do what she can. The future is not yet set. Her visions could just mean collateral damage, not complete destruction of the Western Civilization.
Her left foot catches onto something on the last step of the stairs and she yelps as she comes crashing down onto the hard grassy floor. Her ankle twings. Dust flies up and into her eyes. She pulls herself up and feels blindly for her bag, one arm rubbing her eyes. The clink of vials draws her mind to a stop. Her eyes would have widened if it hadn’t be powdered with dust. The Whimsy potion! She was planning to submit it early to Slughorn before she gets her excused absence! Has it been broken?
“Looking crusty, musty and dusty, aren’t you, shoelace?” Kyra groans internally. Not now! Footsteps circle her. She counts four. There was a small clank somewhere four feet above her on the left and swishing on the right. The footsteps are even and strong, no sense of weakness. The full moon is a week ago. Remus Lupin must still be recovering.
She opens her eyes and looks up.
James Potter and Sirius Black sneer down at her.
”Look what we have here, James. A rat that crawled itself out of a sewer.” Sirius Black, in all his glory consisting of a raunchily worn shirt, messy ebony hair, glinting-steel grey eyes and cruel smirk.
”Hello, Shoelace.” Potter kicks her bag away from her reaching hands. Kyra hisses as his boot scrapes her fingers.
Anger swirles in her gut before the guilt clouds it into a simmering numbness as grey eyes loomed over her.
Smell of sulphur, sparks glinting off blades, deep ragged breathing, terrified dove grey eyes—
Ah.
She is jolted out of her thoughts by a sharp pain. A sharp throb snakes up her leg. Shit. Is it broken? Her mind scrambles for a moment before realizing the level of pain is not high enough for it to be broken or sprained. The bell rings, signaling the time.
Faintly, she hears Black mutter “Let’s go.” With a disgusted curl of their lips, they turned and walked away, leaving her in the dust.
Blinking the last of the damp-fear-blood-sulphur, she grabs her satchel and feels around for her pack of vials.
Thank Apollo, her vials were not broken. With a whispered prayer, the sun shone a little brighter. She smiles as her scraped and bruising ankle tingled with a sunshine-home-heal warmth before the throb disappears. The unique mix of healing hymn and warmth.
Being a protector of Hogwarts is a thankless job, she thinks as she dust her skirt off.
Besides what was she; an American witch-demigod, doing at Hogwarts- a British wizarding school anyway?
Most demigods are usually born to Muggle parents, but some gods has affairs with witches and wizards as well, creating the need for experienced wizard-demigods to be enrolled in Wizarding schools. While Wizarding Schools has a modicum of protection for demigods, there’s always a risk of monsters roaming just around the edge of the barriers. And magic doesn’t work on monsters as effectively as Celestial bronze. Apparently, Ilvermorny has more than enough American demigods to watch out for late-blooming demigods among in their midst whereas Hogwarts has none, their five demigods graduating, dropping out, transferring or dying within the same year. What charming prospects for her future.
So Hogwarts offered her, Malcolm Pace and Katie Gardner full scholarships to attend their Wizarding school when they turned 11, as well as a guaranteed position in any field they chose to study in.
Kyra accepted, knowing she is the only child of Apollo currently at camp that is also a witch. It’s much safer for the demigods when a healer and a combatant is on standby in case of any nasty monster surprises. It also didn’t hurt that her older brother Will is going to medical school and having one less child to support for their education would be easier on her mum.
She sighs, looking up at the white stone ceiling blankly and feeling distinctly exhausted. She’s just shy of 15 but when you're a demigod, it’s rare to get time to grow up, to enjoy school or have lighthearted fun. Sometimes she looks at the students of Hogwarts, smiling and joking with friends, their biggest concern is a potions exam or a hard transfiguration paper… .
She snaps back to reality, shaking down her sleeve to read her watch.
15:07
Fuck , she swears under her breath as she makes a dash towards the Headmaster’s Tower. They had arranged to meet in front of Dumbledore’s Office at 3.
”Where were you?” Katie demands when she stumbles up to the pair of them, panting. All those sausage rolls were definitely not good for her health. “You’re late!”
“Mar— puff —auders,” Kyra huffs out. She rests her hands on her knees, blinking the sweat out of her eyes.
“Kyra, are they still bothering you?” Malcolm’s thunderstorm grey eyes peer into her own worriedly. His hand is raised towards her, as if wanting to assess her for anything amiss. Protectiveness has always been written in every sinew of Malcolm’s body, as if being the eldest of the three demigod students at Hogwarts means he is their leader. In a way, he is.
”Don’t worry about me,” She says with a well practiced fake smile. They have better things to worry about than some petty schoolyard bulling, Apollo knows she does. Honestly its barely a blimp compared to everything else. That’s the honest truth, and maybe if she repeats it enough it will feel true too.
She gazes up at the black and golden statue of the griffin that blocks the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office. The sculpture looks down at them with beady eyes and she suppresses a shiver. For all that other students think that griffins are magnificent, Kyra hopes she never has to fight one. Malcolm steps forward in front of the griffin.
“Lemon Drops,” he murmurs. The sculpture creaks, then rotates slowly counterclockwise, revealing a small staircase. Kyra ignores the feeling of claustrophobia as she descends behind Malcolm and Katie, missing the warmth of the sun already. She shivers thinking about the darkness of the winding paths of the Labyrinth.
“Ah hello, my children. What may I do for you?” Stepping into Headmaster Dumbledore’s office is like walking into a hurricane of mismatched items. Charms, books and trinkets that bounce off candlelight lie splayed in organized chaos. Kyra has to blink several times to refocus her gaze on the wizened old man with long gray beard. His eyes twinkles as he peers at them over his half-moon spectacles.
“Professor.” Malcolm draws himself up. “We need to go to Camp Half Blood. We have heard news of an impending attack on the camp. We must return to aid in the defenses.”
Dumbledore smiles. Kyra has the niggling feeling he already knew. “I am assuming you three will not be returning in time for your final exams?”
The three exchange a glance. Malcolm takes a deep breath. “I do not think we will return in time for our finals, Headmaster. If we could take them early, that would be great.”
Dumbledore waves them off. “You are more than welcome to take them anytime, as long as it is before your next year. I will inform your teachers that you are excused from the rest of your classes.”
None of them know if they would all make it through the battle. Yet, seeing Dumbledore, an old wizened demigod, a son of Hecate, gives Kyra hope that it is possible to grow old. He must have gone through just as many battles during his own lifetime.
Malcolm dips his head. “Thank you professor.”
Kyra raises her hand, “When is the soonest we can leave?”
Dumbledore gestures towards the crackling fireplace. “As soon as you are ready. The Floo portal is always ready for you.”
Katie runs a hand through her brown mousy hair. “Any updates from camp?” She asks as they strode up the stairs leading to their dormitory. “Beckendorf and the others are getting ready for defenses. Annabeth and Percy have already gone into the Labyrinth and we are organizing patrols to monitor the entrance to the maze in Zeus’s Fist.” Malcolm’s voice is tight, worry for his older sister evident. Ananbeth’s kidnapping was just a year ago.
Kyra’s head reels at how fast developments occur. Dionysus away on business, the Labyrinth reappearing and strategically being positioned near the heart of the camp, Quintus, their new swordsman trainer, a new prophecy and the increasing attacks on the borders…
Everyday, she wakes up and wonders if today is the day the war will begin. Will there be a definitive herald to war? A surprise attack? Her eyes sting from the dust and debris in her vision. Her throat seizes. Fear has been a constants companion for the past year, ever since Zeus’s lightning bolt was stolen and now, it feels like a cook that weighs her down until her bones break.
She shakes her head in an attempt to clear the muddiness.
No. Focus on the present.
She must do whatever it takes to prevent war from taking her siblings and friends.
They pack quickly, and lightly. Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey, respective daughters of Athena and Apollo, siblings of Malcolm and Kyra see them off alongside Headmaster Dumbledore. “Good luck, demigods.” Professor McGonagall says. Her wizened face is solemn.
The fireplace crackles and green powder lights up in a flurry of sparks against their skin as she yells:
“Camp Half-Blood!”
Coughing and stumbling out of the Big House’s fireplace is never ideal but the Floo network is the fastest way to get to camp. With how dire the situation is, there is no time to waste. When her vision clears and the dust has been coughed out of her lungs, she looks around. Chiron’s office looks the same as the last time Kyra has seen it; pinochle cards stacked neatly in a corner, a bookshelf spanning the wall; a wheelchair near the door. Simon the leopard gives their little dust-covered group a friendly purr before closing his eyes. Do animate stuffed heads need to sleep? Kyra does not know.
Kyra stands up and dusts herself off. The bright morning sunlight filtered from the window into the room. The warmth of the sun, the rumble of noises—the campers— coming from outside, the smell of eucalyptus from the infirmary two doors down the hall takes her breath away. She’s home.
Katie opens the door and they step out. Some campers milling about the hallway stare at them, a few coming over to greet them. Lee laughs as Kyra throws herself at him. Her big brother squeezes her in a big bear hug before lifting her up. Kyra giggles, kicking the air beneath her feet. She misses these hugs that Lee gives, and eagerly anticipates them every time return to camp was close.
“Hey, sunbeam.” Lee ruffles her hair as soon as he sets her down. His golden hair glints in the sun. “How have you been?” he nodded at Malcolm and Katie.
“Hi.” Malcolm has a bit of red spreading across his nose. He blinks several times and shuffles on his feet, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “I have been fine, considering—” he makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, “---everything.”
Lee’s eyes cloud over as he nods. “Right, things aren’t looking great.” When he faces Malcolm, his eyes are bright and easy again, “but Annabeth will be just fine. She’s a smart one. Now,” he turns to Kyra with a cheeky grin. “There are alot of people who have been waiting to see you again. Come on!”
They stop by their cabins with their luggage. Will is the first and only one she sees and he barrels into Kyra and sweeps her up in his arms. Kyra breathes in the eucalyptus scent of her brother, the herby scent Cabin 7 and its inhabitants seem to carry with them everywhere. Her brother hugs her extra tight and it is apparent he is worried about the dangers that lie ahead. But when he pulls back, he still gives her a sunny smile and a reassuring squeeze, and he and Lee update her on what is going on in the camp while she is gone as she unpacks. Midway through their catching up, the door opens again and two more of her siblings tumble in. Kayla runs into her arm with the force of a charging Golden Ram and Michael gives her a smirk from where he leans against the wall, watching Kayla pelt her with questions about what Hogwarts is like. Lee kisses her temple and gives her hair a final ruffle before making his way out of the cabin, probably back to the Infirmary to finish up some charts. Something passes between the look he shares with Michael that Kyra doesn’t have the time to decipher before Kayla tugs her sleeve insistently.
Kyra hasn’t had much of a chance to bond with her little sister; she had only appeared in camp two weeks before her third year started and she is bursting at the seams with questions about her magical school.
“Can you make pigs fly? Is it possible to bring back the dead? Can you magick your hair blue?”
“Yes, no, and definitely yes.” She brings out her wand and spells the ends of Kayla’s hair a cobalt blue and her nine year old sister shrieks in delight. She runs out to show Miranda Gardner her new hair, Michael ruffling her hair fondly as she skid towards the door.
“No,” he says pointedly, when Kyra turns on him, her wand outstretched towards his direction, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “No,” he repeats, wagging a finger at her, a stern look on his face. She pouts, but relents, tucking her wand back in the pocket of her jacket. Michael is not someone you can cross—he would probably put burs in your bed. The last time the Stolls put neon green box dye in his shampoo, they accidentally got maimed with arrows during archery practice. Strange, no one was thinking. Michael Yew never misses.
“You owe me an archery competition.” Michael punches her shoulder, nearly knocking the folded clothes out of her hands. “I want to see how much you retained.”
Kyra rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me, I have been practicing in my spare time.” She folds the clothes into her trunk, closes it, and pushes it under her bed, next to her brother’s. It has been so long since the two of them get to share a bunk bed again. She catches Will’s poorly hidden smile in the corner of her eye as she sits down on her bed, appreciating how the mattress bounces. She looks up at her two brothers staring down at her.
“Never hurts to be prepared.” A dark cloud passes over Michael’s brown eyes and Will’s lips stretch into a small frown at him. But before Kyra can question it, Michael reaches around her and claps her on the back hard. “Clean up quickly, I can hear people out there waiting for you. Will,” he addresses their brother, “you and me in the archery range. I want you to shoot ten rounds. Let’s go.”
Will groans but he gets up and the two of them leave. When they open the door, Kyra sees a flash of familiar pale blonde hair. Michael’s annoyed “gods, give her a minute.” causes the blonde hair to disappear and a series of giggles follow. Not the golden hair that belonged to most of her siblings, nor the dirty blonde of Clarisse. Kyra recognizes the giggles as those of Kelly, Dove, and Silena. Which means—
Kyra quickly checks her appearance in the bathroom. She dabbles a bit of Holly’s lipgloss on her cheeks and lips and sprays Gina’s honeysuckle perfume—Kyra has always liked that scent and she and the rest of her siblings have absolutely no shame using it without asking for their sister’s permission— a couple times. With a final look over in the mirror, she rushes out the door.
A flash of blonde hair, a glimmer of violet eyes, and Kyra is tackled into the grass. The distinctly familiar scent of strawberries and grapes fills her nose and Castor looks down at her, a wide grin unfurling on his lips, making his eyes crease up adorably. “Hi.” he breathes. Warmth blooms from her chest to her cheeks and Kyra is sure her face was splitting from smiling so hard as well.
“Hello, you.” She wraps her arms around his necks and pulls him down as she tilts her face forward so his lips meet hers. For a moment, everything dulls into white noise, background sensations. All she can sense, feel, taste is soft lips and grapes.
When they separate for air, all she sees is a sea of violet. They stay in that bubble for a while, until whistles and giggles rang out from around them. Dove yells at them “Go get a room!” Her sister, Silena Beauregard shoves at her, but her eyes filled with mirth.
Castor helps her up. “Come on,” her boyfriend grins as he leads them to the Arena, where yells and shouts get louder. “Clarisse’s on a rampage right now. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed. She’s beating people up.” Kyra laughs and lets him pull her away. She missed this. She missed him, them spending time together. For a moment, she’s just back
The clang of metal and the scent of dust swarms the air. A small crowd gathers in the largest combat ring, where Clarisse and two of her brothers circle each other, their faces grimed with sweat and dust. There’s a small nick on Clarisse’s cheek, the blood shiny by her crackling electric spear. Her brothers are worse for wear. Tristan, with strawberry blonde hair and close set eyes, scowls as he swings his sword arms.
She spots Travis and Connor in the corner of her eye, talking to Katie. Well, Connor is rambling about one thing or the other to Katie whose mouth is set in a scowl like they annoy her but the soft line of her brow is apparent to anyone with eyes.. Travis stares at Katie with a glint in his eye like trying to capture every microexpression on her face, cataloging what sets her face in a certain way.
She rolled her eyes at the three before turning her attention back to the fighting ring. An unfamiliar middle aged man —perhaps early forties— stands at the edge of the ring, arm crossed, observing the three Ares kids. A metal sword hangs at his belt.
Cold washes over her like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on her head. Goosebumps rise over her arms. Tangy sharp metal explodes in her mouth. Something about his stance and his narrowed eyes makes her stomach twist. Then, just as it appears and the chill and taste of mental slips away. She hopes it wasn’t a sign.
“That's Quintus.” Castor is at her side, pointing at the man. His hands snakes up her back and he hangs them over her shoulders. Her shoulders instantly untenses. “Our new swords instructor. He’s good. Chiron likes him.” Kyra slowly nods. If Chiron likes him, then what happened was just anxiety. Many things have happened in camp over the past few years. Any newcomer raises her guards— any one of them could be Luke’s spies. But Castor’s hand slips into hers, and the worries dissipate.
The sun is still high up in the sky, and the warmth washes away any lingering dampness Scotland’s weather and whatever premonition has set into her bones. She breathes in the scent of freshly cropped grass, the metal singing in the air and the strawberries that lined the valleys of the camp. She’s home.
Just then, a dryad cries out.
A lone blonde figure stumbles out from between the woods, covered in soot.
The fighting stops and everyone turns towards the direction of the newcomer. Annabeth’s grey eyes glitters in the sun— with tears. Kyra’s stomach drops.
Chiron pushes his way through the throngs of demigods crowding in on her. “Make way, everyone. My child,” he kneels next to Annabeth, who had crumpled to her knees. Lee makes his way towards her as well, Will not far behind him with a first aid kit. “Where’s Percy?”
Annabeth lets out a sob.
“He’s—. Percy, he’s—”
It feels as if someone has yanked the world out from under her feet. No, no, nononono—
“He’s gone.” Annabeth whispers.
The camp erupts into chaos.
Notes:
Hello, hello! It's been a while since I posted. This is a fic I have been working on for a long time; I actually first wrote this first in middle school. Now I'm in college, but I still haven't been able to shake the story out of my head, so I decided to rewrite this fic.
Kyra Solace is an OC, and the fic will be told from her POV and Sirius's POV.
Also, Peter Pettigrew will NOT exist in this fic. I ain't writing a 100k fic with a character I can't fit into the narrative well.
Chapter 2: Sirius Black - I swore lips were made for lies
Chapter Text
Care of Magical Creatures is particularly dreary today, Sirius thinks. Professor Kettleburn keeps droning on and on about a specific spell that helps repel Humdrumgumbugs.
“Why can’t he just tell us how to summon them instead,” James mutters as he squints at the cage in front of the class in which a juvenile Humdrumgumbug buzzes around.
It looks like a cross between a wasp, a dog and a bumblebee. It’s about the size of a palm. The creature cocks his head and twists its body around. Its tongue lolls out as it chases its long wasp-like tail.
Remus picks at a scar on his elbow. “It is cute though,” he murmurs. James slaps his hand away. Sirius sighs, tapping his foot onto the ground. He always has to have something moving, otherwise he loses focus. The words jumble together on the board and he blinks them back in place.
Year end exams are coming up, and Sirius dreads them. Not because he has to take the exams—they are easy and he just hates having to concentrate for those classes—but because those exams are an indication of what is to come soon: summer. Back to spending endless tortuous days in that dreary building with the screeches of crows and Walburga Black’s constant hissing and snarling.
Sirius certainly isn’t looking forward to summer. While the Potters always welcome him into their home as if they are part of the family, Walburga and Orion forbade him from visiting the “Muggle-loving” family and Remus’s elderly grandfather is too protective of him to let him visit his friend during the summer. So not only is he trapped with his suffocating family over the summer, but he won’t even get to see his friends.
Then there’s the one person in his family that he moderately liked — Regulus. Since he’s become a Slytherin, Sirius can feel the distance between them growing. Every day, they see each other a little less. What began at the start of the year as regular catch-ups—Sirius guiding him to classes, showing him all the hidden passageways in the castle—has slowly unraveled into awkward, strained greetings once a week, if they happen to cross paths at all. ,
They’re filled to the brim with accusations of Sirius’s unworthiness as an heir, branding him a disgrace and a traitor to the family. Regulus, on the other hand, is showered with praise: congratulated endlessly for being sorted into Slytherin, for upholding the family name, for earning the grades expected of a true Black. It’s only natural that Regulus would eventually choose a side.
Honestly, his family are barely more than strangers these days—Regulus is aloof, and his parents have all but disowned him. But Sirius hardly cares. The Marauders are his true family: James and Remus. They’ve been with him through thick and thin, through detentions and late-night adventures, laughter and heartbreak. With them, he feels seen. Known. Like he actually belongs somewhere.
He intends to spend every moment of the last few weeks before they have to separate together. Even if it was just breathing the same air, Sirius was content with it.
With the Quidditch Cup awarded to the Ravenclaw, Sirius feels as if there is nothing bright on the horizon. Not even picking at the brunette with frizzy hair and a bad American accent could fix it. Speaking of which…
“Have you seen Shoelace?”
James pushes his glasses up his nose. “She wasn’t at breakfast or lunch today. We didn’t see her in Potions class yesterday. Nor in Defense Against Dark Arts yesterday, did we, Remus?”
Remus shakes his head. “I dont think so.” He blinks. “I don't think I saw her in Herbology today either.”
Sirius grunts. “Maybe she finally decided to drop out and go to Ilvermorny instead. Good riddance honestly..” She’s all the way from America, she doesn’t need to come to Hogwarts, she could have just gone to Ilvermorny and leave him alone—
He hopes he will never have to see her face again. Every time he catches a glimpse of those baby blue eyes, it brings him back to that darkness, dust choking him, screaming in his ear, blood running down his arms—
He shakes the memory off.
The trio are the first ones out the moment class is dismissed. A whirlwind of red hair flashed in his face before a wand was pointed under his chin and fierce green eyes appeared in his vision.
“Where is Kyra?” Lily Evans snarls. “What did you do to her? Merlin, Sirius, I don’t know what you did but if you hurt her—”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Evans.” Sirius pushes the tip of her wand away with a sneer. “We did not do anything to her.”
“ We haven’t seen her all day or yesterday. Say, Evans,” James butts in, sliding himself between a fuming redhead and Sirius, “go on a date with me?”
“ Not a chance, Potter,” Lily Evans spits, before turning her blazing eyes back to Sirius. He sees James’s eyes flicker with hurt before plastering an easy grin back on his face. “ What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.” Sirius lies.
“I know you hexed her with that Hilyrues spell last week. She was in the Hospital Wing with boils all over her arms!”
Sirius just shrugged, making sure the burning rage is kept shoved down and there is not a trace of it on his face. “It was just some fun, Evans. Don’t be such a do-gooder. Have some fun!”
He ignores James’s look at him and crosses his arms.
“Now, if you will excuse us, we have homework to do.”
“I haven’t seen Katie Gardner nor Malcolm Pace yesterday or today either.” Remus says as he rifles through his books. “They are usually together.”
“Really, mate? You seem to notice the weirdest things. So what if they are missing together?”
“We don’t know where Pace’s dorms are, and Lily doesn’t know where Solace and Gardner are either.” Remus remarks.
James rocks back on his chair, tapping his chin with his wand. “Do you think they are part of something?” he murmurs. “Solace has always been a bit strange. It’s like she got a few screws loose in her head.”
“Who cares?” Sirius throws himself on his bed. “If she disappears, all the better.” He rolls over, picks up his textbook and flips it to the page he’s assigned to read.
“Sirius?” James' voice flits from behind the screen, where he is changing out of his school uniform. Sirius hummed. “What is the deal between you and Solace?”
Sirius scowled. “No reason, mate.” He keeps his voice steady. “She messed with me and my family big time, once.”
He turns a page with a bit more force than necessary. The paper threatens to tear.
“And I intend to make her life as miserable as possible.”
Chapter 3: Kyra Solace - I know it’s weighing on your conscience
Chapter Text
With Percy’s track record surviving the most ridiculous odds—including winning a fight against a Minotaur at the good ol’ age of twelve — Chiron decides to give it some time before declaring the son of Poseidon as dead. Lookouts and patrols are increased, not just for the borders that are getting more frequently targeted by monsters. Camp activities are still held to boost morale but no one has their heart in it, except the Ares Cabin. They still hold their sparring lessons with the same ferocity as before and Clarisse organizes all their patrols. She seems more motivated than anything and Kyra gets a weird feeling that there’s something off about how the daughter of Ares keeps staring at the Apollo Cabin when she thinks no one is looking.
Quintus becomes more and more distracted as the days pass, just like everyone else. But even so, while the rest of the camp seems to warm up to the new swords instructor and his hellhound (who has a hellhound for a pet anyways? Maybe only someone who would name a hellhound Mrs. O’ Leary)—
“He’s loads better than Tantalus.”
“The bar’s all the way down in Hades, anyone would be better than that guy.”
— something about him rings alarm bells in her head. The taste of old rusty metal floods her tongue whenever he speaks, and his gaze reminds her of those clay sculpture’s eyes, open but unseeing, souls trapped in inanimate objects. Whenever he steps closer to fix her form, as soft as the sound of a feather floating to the ground, she can hear a mysterious tick-tick-tick echo in her ears. One night, when she looks out the window during the early hours of dawn after a nightmare, she sees Quintus stalking around Zeus’s Fist, poking at the rocks with a stick.
Finally, it is determined that Percy is not coming back. It has been a whole week since Mt. St. Helens erupted and there is no sign of the son of Poseidon. Kyra still can’t believe that Percy Jackson, the guy that survived far too much craziness (even by demigods standards) isn’t coming back.
But this is it. He’s gone. What will happen to the prophecy?
Annabeth is unconsolable when Chiron gently tells her that there is no way Percy is still out there alive. She hasn’t left her cabin ever since they had started preparing his burial shroud, The only time she does leave is when Chiron calls her to the Big House to gather more details about the quest or to plan their next steps.
The Apollo Cabin, as customary for dead demigods who have no siblings that will make their burial shrouds, begins preparing Percy’s shroud.
“Has anyone been able to reach Tyson?” Lee asks as he kneels down next to Kayla who has a piece of chalk in her hands. Kyra remains quiet, trying to keep her hands steady so that she can thread the needle.
She still can’t stop shaking.
The sense that everything is falling apart; the semblance of a somewhat peaceful life, is gone, and the fear of the future invades every crevice of her mind and chokes her. How will she make it out of this war?
Her little sister leans on her and Kyra gives up, letting the heavy weight settle the thoughts and fear swirling in her guts. The nightmares, of Manhattan's destruction, demigods’ screams and her siblings’ deaths, have returned with full force. Most mornings since Percy disappeared, she woke up gasping, sweat sticking to her skin. A few nights ago, she woke up screaming so loud it took Will, Lee and Michael to shake her out of her nightmare. After that, Will insisted she sleep in his bed, where he could keep watch and be there the moment she needed him. It is like they did when they were younger in their home in Texas, not a clue of their true parentage.
They are waiting for her answer; she was closest to Percy out of all of them, but she can’t muster up any sound. She can’t even piece together her thoughts— Will answers for her. “We couldn’t reach him; Annabeth tried. Travis and Connor said they will call him again tonight.” No one wants to call Sally Jackson until the shroud has been burnt.
“Here.” Her brother gently takes the thread and needle from her hands and she rubs her cold fingertips together. Will’s eyes cross as he slowly threads the needle, his movements as precise as a surgeon’s. He’ll be a good doctor one day.
Lee nods. “We should try and contact him again before we burn the shroud tomorrow morning. Let’s finish up the stitching before it’s light out.” He shuffles close to her on his knees before placing a warm hand on top of her head. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Kyra.”
Kyra shakes her head, dislodging the comforting hand. Kayla sits up and frowns at her. She knows her little sister is worried for her, but this is something she wants to do, her tribute for Perseus Jackson. If he hadn’t saved all their lives two summers ago, she and Will wouldn’t be here. She gestures for the needle and Will places it in her hands after a pause.
And she does need to do this. She needs to do something to distract herself from the images of dead bodies in her head, faces blurry and facing away from her, hair too matted and dirty to hint to her their identities. She needs to keep her hands busy; she can barely focus enough at the archery range, but stitching the funeral shroud. This is something she can do; she needs to and she wants to.
“I want to.” The white chalk outline is stark against the deep sea green fabric. She picks up the edge of the shroud and pushes the needle in through fabric. Will and Kayla keep her company for a while until Will has to leave for his shift in the Infirmary and Kayla has to get ready for bed.
Castor joins her a couple minutes after her siblings leave, and his silent company soothes something thick and viscous clawing up her throat. He doesn’t know about her nightmares or her increasingly frequent visions, but he knows when something is off about her. He fidgets with his magic ring and watches her work on the funeral shroud. When she finishes the final stitch, she turns and buries her face in the crook of his neck, letting him pull her closer. She wants to drown in his embrace and forget everything that has been going on. Percy’s death, the visions that just get worse and worse, and the impending fear of what is to come.
The next morning, Kyra stands next to her brothers as the finished shroud lays on top of the wood logs in the middle of the camp. Her stitched Golden Fleece shone in the sun, next to the trident that Annabeth had stitched just an hour before. The sun is high up in the sky, the weather perfect as ever but she thinks it could have at least been a little bit more somber for the death of a hero that had saved Olympus and diverted disaster several times now.
“ I can't believe he’s dead.” Travis murmurs.
Connor nods. “He always walked out of the craziest quests or battles inexplicably alive. Looks like this one got him to kick the bucket.”
Next to the shroud, Malcolm has his arms around Annabeth, whose eyes are bloodshot. Her face is pale and her lips badly chapped. He whispers something in her ear and she nods, taking a shaky breath.
“Gather everyone.” Lee says. “We will start at noon.”
One by one the cabins fill in. Chiron stands next to Annabeth, who is closest to the shroud. The Athena Cabin stands behind her, and next to them, the Apollo Cabin. Castor and Pollux stand next to Chiron. Her boyfriend’s eyes search for her and he gives her a reassuring smile. The Aphrodite girls sniff and sigh about the tragic death of a handsome demigod like Perseus Jackson.
“They always take the pretty ones first.” Tilly hiccups.
“He had the nicest eyes.” Hillary blows her nose daintily.
“His arms were so incredible to look at too.” Irene dabs at her eyes.
Malcolm shoots them a glare.
Quintus is nowhere to be found. Chiron’s eyes seem to have aged a thousand more years as noon ticks closer, and Kyra cannot tell if the sword instructor’s mysterious disappearance was part of the reason.
Just as Lee begins the first note of the funeral hymn, a torch lit in Annabeth’s hand, Peleus roars. There is an alarmed yelp and there Perseus Jackson stands, trying to bat down the flames licking up the hem of his chiton.
Where he got that chiton, Kyra has no idea, but she can’t take her eyes off of him as he walks up to them, healthy and glowing as ever.
“Hey guys!” He puts his hands on his hips and look around. “Why does everyone look like they saw a ghost?”
She wills her jaw to close and blinks several times. Percy does not disappear after she rubs her eyes. It’s real. As he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, it clicks: he is alive and this is not a vision. He’s—
Everyone surges forward, Annabeth at the front of the crowd. “You bastard,” she screams, and Kyra’s eyes widen at the brutal judo flip she delivers.
The Stoll brothers ooff at the loud thud.
Judging by his groans, he is as healthy as ever. No injuries. Nothing that proves that he was blown up in the mountain and magically resurrected. Can gods do that?
Well, perhaps there was some divine intervention, considering Percy thinks he had only been gone for a few days when he was missing for a whole week. And that chiton.
After Annabeth finally lets him out of a bone-crushing hug —Kyra winces at the crack she hears, maybe something is broken after all— Chiron clops towards him. He places a hand on Percy’s shoulder and smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth disappearing. Annabeth wipes her eyes and Kyra finds that her cheeks are aching from the force of her smile.
“We have much to talk about, child. Everyone,” Chiron turns towards them. “Percy has returned from his quest. Let us burn his shroud and celebrate.” Amid the cheers and shouts, Chiron leans down next to Percy and whispers something. Percy nods, lips pressed tight together before the tension melts away from his face. His face splits into a wide grin as he gets pushed towards the shroud. Annabeth hands him the torch, eyes sparkling, and the crowd goes wild as Percy burns his shroud.
As the shroud burns a bright blue, Percy turns.
“A battle is coming.”
The camp falls into a hush. Kyra’s heart thumps. When? Now? Tomorrow? He continues. “Luke and Kronos’s army are planning to use the entrance at Zeus’s Fist to invade. We weren't sure before if they were planning to use that as an invasion route, but now we are sure.”
Beckendorf nods. “It’s only a matter of time.” He crosses his arms. “We need to prepare for an attack as soon as possible.”
Percy looks around at them. His sea green eyes are bright and sure as he repeats Beckendorf’s words. “We need to get ready as soon as possible.”
That night, Lee comes back late. Kyra hears him softly close the door behind him. Will stirs next to her but doesn’t wake; he has always been the heavier sleeper between the two of them. Lee walks over to the bunk bed next to them, and sits down heavily. He puts his head between his hands. The gesture makes Kyra’s eyes widen, all traces of prior sleep gone. What happened in the Big House? Why are Lee’s shoulders shaking?
Michael suddenly bends over the railing of his bunk to peer down at Lee. Kyra quickly shuts her eyes.
“What happened?” he hisses. Lee sniffs and shakes his head. There was a soft thump—Michael probably jumped down from his bunk bed. Fabric rustles. “What is it?”
It takes a couple moments before Lee responds. His voice is choked up. Kyra slowly opens her eyes to peek over Will’s chest at her two brothers. “I don’t think we can save Chris.”
Kyra jerks in surprise. Will grunts and shifts. She shuts her eyes when Lee and Michael look at her. She attempts to control her breathing.
“I know you’re awake, Kyra.”
Damn Michael’s perfect hearing. She slowly sits up, untangling herself from the blanket. Will shifts again, kicking the blanket off. A limb drops off the bed. Michael walks up to them and she watches as he tucks Will’s arm over his stomach and pulls the blanket over Will’s sleeping form. Michaels likes to portray himself as a rough person, but only his siblings get to see his softer side.
Lee meets Kyra’s eyes when she sits down next to him. There is only one Chris in the entire camp.
“How did Chris Rodriguez get back here?” she asks.
“Clarisse found him while investigating the Labyrinth. Whatever he saw in there,” Lee takes a ragged breath and Kyra’s heart tears at how helpless her older brother looks. “It drove him insane. We have been trying but he’s not responding to any of our treatments. Hymns, nectar, ambrosia, potions, Castor and Pollux’s magic— none of it worked. He will not eat or drink. We can only feed him through a tube, and that’s only when he’s sedated. When he’s awake, he tries to rip everything off.”
Lee, the golden demigod, the definition of what every child of Apollo is supposed to be like. Whereas most children of Apollo are only proficient at one of their father’s domains, Lee excels at both archery and healing. To see her strongest sibling—who she has looked up to ever since she arrived at camp at seven years old— look so utterly defeated fills her with terror.
“Why Clarisse insists on making us treat him, I don’t know.” Michael crosses his arms. His dark brown eyes glint almost obsidian in Kayla’s night light. “He’s a traitor; he should have been left out to die, instead of making us waste our resources and energy on him.”
A shiver runs up Kyra’s spine. She’s reminded of another set of obsidian eyes, a mop of black hair framing his pale face. Nico di Angelo had disappeared last summer and no one has seen him since. Thalia Grace, nymphs and satyrs spread across the States agreed to look out for him but there is no answer yet.
Lee breathes out and stretches his arms over his head. Two satisfying cracks later, he replies, “He could have crucial information regarding the Labyrinth, Michael.”
Michael grunts and looks away. “Clarisse is just infatuated with him. She’s been heckling us, trying to make us spend more and more time healing him when it’s obvious to everyone that Chris is a lost cause. Why do you keep indulging her?”
“Because he’s still a demigod, and—”
“He’s a traitor. There are other demigods that are on Kronos’s side as well—”
Michael’s voice rises in the end and Kyra hisses at him to quiet down. Kayla sighs and the three of them watch as she turns to her side. Only when they hear her soft snores does Lee says, “Chiron wants us to try. And whatever he did, he deserves a chance. So we are going to keep healing him, and that is final.” Lee’s tone is absolute, authoritative, and Kyra sees the moment Michael relents. “Besides,” Lee rubs his face, “I don’t think we can heal him completely, not without Mr. D. The most we can do is keep Chris stable until he is back.”
“Where is Mr. D?” Kyra asks. She hasn't seen him since she got here. Sometimes the wine god is off doing who knows what but in times of crises like this, he has never really disappeared. Until now, it seems. She should ask Castor about his dad, he and his twin have always been close.
“Away on some business, that’s what Chiron said.” Michael climbs up the ladder to the upper bunk and Kyra hears the thump as he shuffles on the mattress. “We don’t know what the hell is going on with the gods. Absent, as usual.”
She does not like how these new developments happen while she is in school. She doesn’t like not knowing what is going on. Will leaves out some details whenever they Iris-message, and while she appreciates him wanting her to focus on school, she still has the right to know what the Hades the camp is going through.
“You should go to sleep, Kyra,” Lee tells her. “It’s late. I know you probably cannot sleep, but… just try.” She nods.
“You’re helping us build the towers tomorrow, sunbeam.” Michael says from the top bunk as she climbs back into bed, willing her brother not to wake up as she settles in next to him. Lee’s snore echoes from his bed within minutes, followed by Michael’s.
Kyra does not receive the same blissful darkness.
Chapter 4: Kyra Solace - Told me you can’t fight against fate // I get the feeling I’ve been lied to
Chapter Text
The dark skies in her dreams haunt her every breath as the days pass. Every sunset she wonders: is this the end? Her hands tremble as night draws closer. The sounds of battle and cries roar in her ears and she has to take several moments alone to calm down. In her dreams, monsters and enemy demigods wage war against them under the blanket of darkness. It’s obvious that the battle is fierce, rubble scattered everywhere, white crumbled marble pillars on the concrete roads. Broken bows, torn-off limbs, bloodied lifeless bodies flash in her peripheral as soon as she sense the incoming sunset. Chaos, she hopes she can fight against the destruction her dreams foretell.
The sun is setting when Kyra and her siblings finally finish building the support towers. The Hephaestus Cabin are still trudging towards Zeus’s Fist, heavy machinery pulled in a trolley. They still haven’t finished setting their traps. She wipes the sweat trailing down her chin. Percy, Annabeth, Tyson (who they finally managed to locate after Percy’s miraculous return), and Grover went through the Labyrinth a few days ago, but there is no sign yet of what has happened. The camp is focused on reinforcing their defenses, creating towers, shields, traps and anything they can do to hold their position.
A sharp yelp is heard from above and Kyra whips her head around just in time to see…. blue ends of hair whip at her face as Kayla nearly brains her. She’s panting, her eyes wide with fear when she looks up at her face.
“Kyra, are the big bad monsters going to get through the defenses?” Her lips wobble.
Her heart breaks for her younger sibling. Kayla’s only nine years old with baby fat still firmly clinging onto her cheeks. While she and the older campers have tried to keep the atmosphere in their Cabin and the camp lively and optimistic, everyone has no doubt that a fierce battle is approaching. The younger ones are gently pushed into the camp activities while the older campers gather around to build defenses, organize patrols and plan attacks. But everyone knows some big storm is brewing. She can taste it in the air. If not in the air, then she sees them at night.
But, she reminds herself, that doesn’t mean all is lost. Prophecies are thinly woven threads of fate, visions even more so. They predict the future, but they don’t completely determine it. The Great Prophecy come into fruition centuries later. Maybe her vision is of the far far future, decades from her own generation. She clings onto the hope. Maybe this battle isn’t the one from her dreams?
….who is she kidding, the Fates?
“Of course.” Kyra grins down at her. Kayla grumbles and shoves away her hands when she tries to pinch her cheeks. “We are smart. They won’t be able to beat us. We got it all under control, and we got a Big Three with us, okay?”
The Battle of the Labyrinth will happen. And it will be ferocious. The casualties remain to be seen, the faces of the dead blurring in her dreams; she cannot differentiate between the campers and enemy demigods. Kyra can only hope that most of them are the later.
Footsteps approach from behind her. Castor appears in her field of vision and sits down next. His hand finds hers on the ground. “Hey,” he grins at her.
She laces their fingers together. “Hi.”
Kayla takes one look at them and scrambles up. “Ewww, I’m going to find Lee!” she yells. She takes off towards the direction of the Big House and Kyra laughs. Castor’s body is soft and warm at her back and he smells like strawberries and grapes with a hint of sweat. The Dionysus and Demeter Cabins have been building their vines all week. They haven’t yet had a single moment to themselves outside of evening hours and sneaking around during lights out. She tilts her head up for a kiss and sighs when he deepens it. She has missed him, and she knows he does too. Their weekly calls during the school year doesn’t compare to having the other by their side.
Even with the battle looming forward, her worries melt away at his touch. As they watch the sunset dip below the horizon and the harpies swooping around lighting the torches: “Do you know why your dad is gone?” she asks.
Castor’s hand around her waist stiffens. His heart picks up pace through the thin fabric of his shirt at her back. “No,” he murmurs. “I’m not sure why he disappeared. I don’t know if he is allowed to be at camp.” His voice is strangely hollow, but also defeated. The gods, their parents, have never really been present in their lives.
The idea feels preposterious, but part of her understands. The other part of her wants to scream. The gods cannot fight the demigods’ battles; it is against the rules of the universe.
But this is also their battle, Kyra wants to scream. Why are they, the campers, not allowed to have the help of the gods? One tiny blast of divine power could easily kill off most of the monsters in their impending battle. But of course, nothing in their lives is easy. They would have to fight for the camp, and themselves.
But this is the whole reason why the war is happening in the first place, why Kronos is able to garner so much support. Demigods fight for their survival ever since their scent emerges and monsters start taking notice of them. They fight for their lives and for gods who can barely remember their names.
At least her father was somewhat present. Every two or three weeks, Apollo would appear in his kids’ dreams like a news channel, reciting the latest haiku he composed, the hottest new discovery in the medical field, or just rambling about his day. Sometimes the dreams would become more personal, like giving her tips on how to improve her aim, some help with her Potions homework, and chiding her not to overstrain her neck and shoulders. Those dreams are her favorite; she at least knows her father is watching and cares about her. But she feels a sharp divide from the campers have turned their back on Olympus, resenting their parents absence; she never had to deal with not knowing who her parents are or if they even know or care about their existences.
But far too many demigods do not know or are loved by their godly parents and with each bitter demigod, Kronos’s army grows stronger. With how cramped the Hermes Cabin used to be compared to now, Kyra fears for the strength of their army. Will she survive the invasion? She looks up at Castor, his violet-colored eyes looking out at the beach, a faraway gaze. Will he be able to survive the battle?
After several moments, Castor meets her eyes, his smile strangely melancholic. His eyes roam her face, down her neck and shoulders. Alarm bells ring in her mind. Her heart jumps to her throat at the way he looks at her, as if he’s drinking in the sight of her, like a parched man in the middle of the desert with a single precious drop of water left in his cup. He cups her hand in his face and rests his forehead against her.
“...Castor?” she whispers. His movements are tender, but jerky, almost desperate.
“Shh…” he shushes her, stroking her cheek with his thumb, calloused from long hours of tending to the strawberry fields. Her eyes flutter close. The crickets chirp in the stillness. Together, they breathe in the cool evening air.
He gently tilts her face and slots his lips against her in slow caress. Kyra thinks she tastes salt on his lips but when she opens her eyes, his cheeks are dry. The moon shines silver in his violet eyes.
“I love you.” he whispers. “I want you to know that. Whatever happens.” He grabs her hands. “Whatever happens, I want you to be happy, okay?”
Something about the way he says those words feels wrong, different from their usual sweetness. A sense of foreboding presses down and grips its claws on her shoulders before sitting heavily on her chest. “I love you.” she says back. She doesn’t dare think of the reason why he is saying this to her, when the day of the battle approaches. “Whatever happens. Castor, we will be fine. We will be fine.”
He smiles, eyes tight and lips pressed. When they walk back to their Cabins in time for the curfew, he kisses her, hot and desperate, making her knees weak and head light.
She just doesn’t know that is the last time they will share a kiss.
The next morning passes in a haze, a blur of last minute preparations that pass like a movie montage. There’s one sharp moment of clarity, where the world holds its breath, when the entrance at Zeus fist shakes. The commotion stops, preparations are hastily readied and…
The next day, the battle happens, and the chaos— the screams, the shouts, and the clangs of metal, just like in her dream. Monsters spill out from Zeus’s Fist into the camp, like a dam that has been opened. Kyra’s breath is taken away at the sheer number of monsters; they are like a tsunami looming over a couple small houses.
Still, she can’t let them get to the hearth. She lets out a roar with the campers and jumps into battle, stabbing, unhanding, and knocking out any and all monsters and enemy demigods coming her way. She keeps an eye on her younger siblings; they are all scattered, where are they, where— her thoughts quiets for a singular moment when she lays her eyes on his body, the once-vibrant violet eyes dull, his blonde hair matted with blood, and brain matter splattered on the green grassy field they used to run over. The Cyclops yells in triumph, brandishing his nail-studded club. The static in her head grows louder and louder in her ear, and her mind fills with white noise like that of a broken TV channel with each passing second.
She hits the dirt when Michael pushes her down before Cyclops manages to bash her head in. Michael shoots an arrow at his eye, but a Stymphian bird gets in the way, turning into dust. Then, everything clicks. The white noise turns into a raging inferno, the low static turning into a high-pitched scream that deafens her ears.
Then, everything is silent.
Her throat burns.
Campers and enemy demigods look at her wide-eyed, crouched on the ground holding their ears. Blood streams through their fingers and down their necks. Most of the monsters in her vicinity have disappeared. Monster dust flies instead as she gulps down air. A dracaena clutches at her ears and wails before dissipating into dust.
Something drips down her neck. Her hands come away bloody.
Oh.
The scream came from her.
“Hypersonic scream.” Michael stares at her. He quickly snaps out of it, marching towards her, just as her knees crumple.
He catches her when the ground sways beneath her feet. He shakes her shoulder roughly. “Come,” he hisses. His eyes are hard. “We need to go, there’s more coming.” He blocks her line of vision towards Castor’s body and together, they stumble through the dirt, blood and bodies towards the heart of the battle. Monster after monster hellhounds, dracaena, Cyclops, enemy demigods in black Greek armor streams out of the tunnel. The traps lay battered and used. The support towers they built over the last week have been reduced into a pile of ash and broken wood.
Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Tyson, and a giant with a hundred hands fight in the entrance of the tunnel. Nico di Angelo has his sword out, slashing at the monsters that cross his path. Skeletons emerge from the ground, making her stop and stare for a split second, as they knock enemy demigods out. Still the monsters keep pressing on. The demigods holding the front lines fall back.
There is a scream, and Kyra’s heart stops.
Will .
Her eyes search the battlefield, and there she sees him, cradling Lee. By his wails and his blood-soaked hands clutching at Lee’s still and pale form — Kyra’s stomach plummets. Lee is dead.
No.
No, no. No, no, no, nononoNONONO —
Michael lets out a yell and darts forward, shooting arrows as he runs across the battlefield towards Will and Lee. His arrow hits the hellhound closest to Will, killing the monster, while her alive brother scrambles to his feet and strings his bow. Michael lets multiple arrows fly in a deadly arc, screaming and cursing, and each lands on their targets. The monsters turn into dust. Yet, more and more monsters seem to emerge out of the tunnel, spilling like an ocean forced into a dam, just waiting to come out and destroy their camp.
The archery towers burn and in a distance, she sees Kayla on the ground, eyes wide as a Cyclops tower over her. Her bow lays on the ground behind the Cyclops. She scrambles backwards, limbs jerkily shuffling backwards, eyes wide with fear.
Rage slams into her with the force of a freight train. The world blurs and she barely registers herself moving. She sprints towards her sister, slashing, ducking, rolling, jabbing and slitting the throats of the monsters and those godsdamned traitors that dare get in her way. Only when she has her little sister sobbing into her chest, hands clutching the back of her shirt tightly, shivering like she’s drenched into ice-cold water, scared but alive , and that blasted Cyclops dead on the ground in several pieces, does her surroundings shift back into focus. With a litany of “ she’s alive ” and “ no more dead siblings ” ringing in her ears, she looks around the battlefield. Her quiver is empty and her sword is mucked with so much blood the glow of the celestial bronze cannot be seen.
She quickly pats her sister down, scanning her head to toe for injury. “Are you okay?” She has to force herself to focus on her own voice over the ringing in her ears. Her mouth tastes like blood.
It takes Kayla a couple minutes before she can whimper out a quick yes and Kyra pulls her into her arms, eyes still watching out for throats while her sister’s heart hammers a mile a minute through her shirt.
She rolls her burning shoulder. She needs to be ready for the next wave. A sprig of desperation roots deep into her lungs. She doesn’t know how much longer she can fight. The wave of adrenaline is fading, and her arm and lungs ache with exhaustion.
Then, there is a cheer; Percy Jackson and his quest-mates hold their weapons up in victory, his face worn but bright. Gone are the horde of monsters. The tunnel has collapsed.
They have won.
The sun brightens imperceptibly.
It’s over.
The battle is over.
But just as she looks down, face scanning the ground for the fallen, the shape of the rubble snaps something in her mind. It’s wrong, it’s all wrong. Her eyes go blurry, unable to see the faces of the fallen just like her dream, but the shapes don’t match, the rubble doesn't match. This wasn’t the battle of her dreams; there’s no white marble, no broken bows, no— the ground finally pulls away from under her feet and she plunges into the darkness.
When Kyra comes to, moonlight shines through the window. Will is by her bedside, hunched over her bedside. When she nudges him with her hand, he stirs, before shooting up.
“You’re awake!” he gasps. He immediately starts checking her over, shining a light in her eyes, feeling her forehead. She bats away his hands, and opens her mouth to ask for water. Pain explodes from her chest and up her throat and she wheezes. No sounds come out.
The Infirmary room starts closing in.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” A glass of water is tipped towards her lips and she lets the cool water trickle down her inflamed throat. Her grip on her chest loosens. Her brother’s worried blue eyes peers down at her. His eyebags have grown since the last time she saw him.
She attempts to ask him what time it is, but no sounds come out, only gasps and wheezes. She looks up at her brother and he seems to understand her panic, because he hurriedly says, “Your vocal cords are inflamed for now because of that sonic scream. You won’t have your voice back for a week.” When she taps her wrist with a finger, “Four in the morning. You were knocked out for over twelve hours.” Will reaches for her chart and pulls out a pen.
“Lemme check on some things. Any nausea?” She shakes her head no. “Dizziness?” She shakes her head. “Pain?” She nods, pointing at her throat, shoulder, and right arm. “You have a couple strained muscles too. Your shoulder is bruised badly, ice for a week. No strenuous exercise with your arms, so no shooting. No ambrosia or nectar, I already gave you as much as you can handle while you were out. Lift your arms as high as you can.”
When he finishes the questionnaire, Will sighs and sits down heavily next to her on the bed. She shifts to give him space. Her brother closes his eyes for a while, head buried into her undamaged shoulder, and comforting silence washes over them. She looks around the room. The cots are filled with sleeping patients; she spots Silena with a bandaged head on the bed closest to the wall, sleeping peacefully. Ria from Cabin Nine has bandages on both arms and a leg in a cast and Nyssa, with bandages wrapped around her chest and stomach.
There are so many people in the infirmary, and judging by how exhausted Will looks, there’s more injured campers outside. Bile rises to her throat. She nudges her brother with a sudden urgency, panic seizing her chest. They aren’t in the Infirmary. They couldn’t be, could they? Are they —“Wha-what?” Will turns around, eyes heavy. She shakes him harder and makes a cutting motion at her neck. Her eyes are starting to blur and Will seems to get the message because she is suddenly engulfed in a hug.
The next words he utters halts her thoughts. “I’m sorry.” No, no, nonono— . She saw the bodies, but she had hoped, it could have been an illusion, she had hoped—
“Both of them are dead. Both Castor and Lee.” His voice is thick and she feels her own tears starting to choke her. “ We couldn’t save them; they died immediately upon impact.” A ragged gasp tears through her. She turns her face towards her brother and fingers card through her matted hair as she weeps.
“We are burning their shrouds tomorrow,” he whispers.
The funeral is a blur. Lee’s and Castor’s faces are pale and stiff, and Kyra traces their features and kisses them both on the cheek one last time before Michael and Pollux slowly cover their bodies. Her brother’s eyes are red and his shoulders heavy with the responsibilities of a camp counselor. Lee’s simple gold shroud burns into wisps of gold in the air, and Kyra has to hold Pollux up as Castor’s violet, grapevine-embroidered shroud burns next. Pollux is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks and sobs openly amongst the crowd. Kyra’s eyes are dry. She has no tears left in her.
They aren’t the only ones who have lost their siblings. One of Malcolm’s siblings died as well, and Annabeth solemnly lights his shroud. Another from the Hephaestus Cabin. Four casualties in total.
When she wakes up the next day, her eyes are red and puffy from crying both awake and asleep, because there will be more soon.
War is coming.
Chapter 5: Sirius Black - I'm not the one to normally play the fool
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Fourth year starts.
Sirius breathes in the smell of the gleaming black steel and grey smoke of the Hogwart Express as he steps onto the London King’s Cross Station Platform ¾ . The red locomotive train gleams in the morning night.
After a long, tedious summer, when his only reprieve was to locate and gather the ingredients necessary to become an animagus, he is more than ready to set foot into Hogwarts again. Even the tooting of the train sounds cheery to his ears.
James and Remus are already there when he enters their compartment.
James greets him with a huge grin and a strong hug while Sirius has to lean in to gently wrap his arms around Remus, who looks like he had been run over by a troll. The most recent moon was a few days ago.
They spend the first few hours catching up— James recounts the story of a broken garden shed involving himself, his father and a horde of pixies and Remus tells him of the incredulousness he felt at his uncle refusing to let him eat any chocolate.
“You surely are not allergic to chocolate, Moony.” Sirius wheezes. The story forces tears out of his eyes.
“The idea is preposterous.” Remus agrees with a huff. “I am not a dog.”
“Let’s go say hello to our friends. You up for it, Moony?”
Remus’s face is still pale, lips nearly bloodless. Sirius spies bandages under his collar and the hem of his sleeves.
He manages to smile at them. “Think I want to sleep, mate.” James pat his shoulder sympathetically. Sirius vows to stuff his friend with Pumpkin pasties and Cauldron Cakes when the Trolley Witch passes them.
A few hellos to their Quidditch teammates and a few flirting remarks at Marlene and Victoria, they make their way down the train. Giovanni, their Quidditch vice-captain, swears that they will win the Quidditch Cup this year and he will run them into the ground at each and every practice day—he and James back out of that compartment as quickly as they can with terrified smiles plastered on their faces.
As they make their way back to their compartment, Sirius finds himself checking each of the compartments they pass for a head of brown curls.
“Hey, we haven’t seen Shoelace, have we?” James mutters. He always knows Sirius’s moods, and the annoyance on his face is indication enough. “I have not seen Malcolm Pace or Katie Gardner either.”
“They left Hogwarts early as well.” Sirius notes thoughtfully. They were nowhere to be found during their finals and Lily Evans cornered them as soon as their first exam was over to question the brunette’s whereabouts.
Sirius had sneered in her face despite James’s reservations. How was he to know where she is? Perhaps she had withdrawn from Hogwarts and all the better—no. No. Not yet. He has not exacted his revenge on her to his satisfaction yet.
She does not show up in the first week of classes. Nor the second. Lily bites her lips and glares accusingly at him and James whenever they cross paths, but Sirius only rolls his eyes while James reassures her that they sincerely do not know where she is and that they have nothing to do with her absence.
He has more pressing matters to deal with. Quidditch practice starts early in the mornings and Sirius grins as he hefts his Nimbus up his hand. The early cold morning of Scotland's only wipes away any traces of sleep left, and he soars the skies with James by his side. This is going to be a good year; he could feel it.
Marlene McKinnon, after several months of flirting and banter, finally snogs him behind the broomshed in the Quidditch fields the second week and James bemoans his own lack of a certain Lily Evans at his side. Sirius himself does not know the exact nature of their relationship now or where it will lead, but butterflies fly in his stomach whenever Marlene grins, shark teeth-sharp, at him.
His good mood is only ruined when Kyra Solace stumbles into their DADA class ten minutes late, looking like the gargoyles have stomped all over her. Her clothes are neatly ironed but lacks tidiness in the way it is worn. Her thick sweater hangs loosely over her shoulders— in this sudden turn of weather? — and her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. What gives him pause is her eyes. They have nothing of the sparkle, the urgency, that she had the last time he saw her, when he tripped her down the corridor. They are now dull and clouded, as if she is barely conscious of where she is. Indignation rises in his chest and he scoffs. Four weeks absent and she has the gall to walk into class looking a mess?
Professor McGonagall, who has been substituting for their DADA class until a suitable professor has been found, rushes over to her and whispers something into her ear. Behind her shoulder, she throws all of them a stern glance. “Read page 359 to 373 whilst I am gone. I will be back shortly.” Sirius and the rest of the class look on curiously and muttered whispers of confusion rise in volume when Professor McGonagall takes Solace by the arm gently —Solace stiffens at the touch as if burned and they walk her out of the room.
“Mate, what was that about?” James says next to him. He looks curiously at the doorway where the two had left. “Did she just arrive Hogwarts today?”
Remus leans in from his other side. “I’m not sure. I heard Malcolm Pace and Katie Gardner arrived a week late, but I didn’t see her until today. She wasn’t in our shared Herbology class yesterday either.”
“Or in our Divination class the day before.” James murmurs. “What on Earth is going on with her?”
Sirius bites back a few choice words; just the sight of her sorry self sends an acrid trickle of disgust down his throat. Why couldn’t she just disappear for good then? “Who knows and who cares.” he snaps. He turns the pages of his textbook. “Let’s read this before Minnie comes back and we end up having a pop quiz.”
They end up having a pop quiz.
Curses.
“Professor?” Emma Fregill raises her hand. Professor McGonagall points at her. “Why has Kyra Solace arrived late?”
“That is none of your business, Ms. Fregill.” Professor Mcgonagall sets her gaze on the brunette. Something in her voice betrays the worry behind her tone. That has Sirius’s interest piqued. What happened that made Professor McGonagall so flustered over Solace’s rather late arrival? “Now class, remember to do your readings and write a two-foot length of parchment on the mechanics behind the Woolifying charm. Class dismissed.”
Solace is not present in their Potions class. Sirius saunters up to Lily; surely she would know about why Solace arrived so late. They are Potions partners after all, and from what he knows of James rambling about the redhead, they are something akin to friends, although Sirius hears that Solace is rather closed off from Lily.
But then again, Solace is closed off from almost everyone, except for Malcolm Pace and Katie Gardner. Still, she must have heard something .
“So, Evans.” Lily’s head snaps up. Her eyebrows scrunch up to see him; usually James is the Marauder that comes up to bother her. “What have you heard about Solace?”
Her entire demeanor changes and Sirius feels annoyance lightly coat his mind at seeing her hackles rise. Same old, same old. But his reasons for his interactions with Solace does not concern her. It is merely between them after all.
“Why would you want to know? Trying to make her more miserable than she usually is?” she sneers. “You need to stop messing with her.”
For all that Evans is protective of Solace, she’s not around her all the time. It doesn’t help that Kyra keeps to herself. It is only out of James’s embarrassing crush on Lily Evans that Sirius—and James—makes sure to… talk with Solace when she isn’t around.
Sirius fights to keep his face cool and unbothered. “Everyone is talking about her disappearance and sudden reappearance, but Pace and Gardner are tight-lipped. I assume you heard something, since she is your Potions partner and all.”
Her lips curl. “I heard nothing.” She looks apprehensive.
Ah. If she does not know, then only Pace and Gardner do.
Despite his reservations about Solace, Pace and Gardner are not people that can be messed with. During their first year, a Slytherin somehow woke up his hair and hand in the spiky mouth of an Evipekum plant. The perpetrator went unpunished, but everyone knows that Katie Gardner is the only first year capable of growing that plant and the Syltherin had called her a “filthy half-breed” the day before in the hallways.
No one forgot about that one time Malcolm Pace knocked out a sixth year stupid Hufflepuff twice the size of him last year, all because he joked about the lack of his mother’s presence at his presentation at the Hogwarts’s yearly Charms Symposium.
Kyra Solace only appears the next day in Remus’s Herbology class. Remus recounts her to have looked a little better since the last time they saw him in DADA although she keeps to herself. Professor Sprout had assigned him to be her partner and he notes that her face looked rather drawn.
“There are some rumors saying that someone in her family died.” James murmurs. “But it didn’t come from Malcolm or Katie, so it’s probably just a rumor.”
Annoyance laces through his veins at seeing her walk down the corridors. They now barely ever cross paths and he rarely sees her in the common rooms anymore. The glimpse he manages to snatch of her are fleeting; somehow she manages to evade him. Something about her avoidance irks him to no end. How dare she come back so late yet avoid him? Does she feel so guilty that she cannot stand the sight of him? Of all times, now she feels guilty, when she spends years denying what she did to Andromeda?
No, he decides as he walks down to his own class, an eye trailing after her disappearing form, he is going to figure out the reason behind Kyra Solace’s absence, even if that’s the last thing he does.
Notes:
I always thought that Sirius and James were smart enough to become Animagus even before their fifth year—they only took as long as they did because they were helping Peter Pettigrew. Since Peter Pettigrew does not exist in this AU, I took the liberty of shifting the timeline back a little.
Chapter 6: Kyra Solace - And in her mind, she’ll drown
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Her birthday is a solemn affair. No one feels like celebrating a week after the battle, the losses still too fresh. Still, her brother bakes her a cake, and as she blows out the fifteen candles, she thinks about how Lee and Castor could have been behind her, cheering. If she had been faster, stronger, better—.
Perhaps she could have trained her sword arm better, practiced more shooting, improved her healing abilities. She has to be ready. She cannot lose any more siblings. She needs to get better, stronger, before the war comes.
Some days, the taste of grief gets so heavy she is in the Infirmary and the shooting field from dawn to dusk, just so she can feel a bit more capable. Before Hogwarts, where she cannot devote all her time to preparing for the war.
Will makes her sleep in his bed when her injuries permit her to, and Kyra tries not to think about the little time she has to inevitably leave again for Hogwarts.
And when summer break ends and weeks pass from the term’s start date, her injuries heal sufficiently enough to leave and she hugs each of her siblings and friends tight and makes them promise to call once in a while.
Pollux gives her a weak smile and she bursts into tears when he hugs her goodbye. He looks and smells exactly like Castor, and she pretends the hug is from Castor himself. Pollux must have known what is going through her head because he leans in and whispers, “He loved you.” He pulls away and claps her on the shoulder. “Take care.”
Mr. D, who only arrived in camp for the shroud burning but looked a hundred years older during, gives her a nod from behind Pollux before disappearing. He has always been cold to her, even after she started dating his son, but when their eyes met at the funeral, an understanding passed between them. Dionysus loves his sons, and Castor’s death has also hit him hard, just as it has hit her.
The only good thing that comes out of this war is Chris Rodriguez’s recovery from his insanity. All it took was a snap of Mr. D’s fingers and the son of Hermes’s eyes becomes clear and alert. All this power, and the gods still need their kids to fight their battles.
But then again, Mr. D didn’t want Castor to die.
Her mother insists on sending her off through the Floo. She tries to smile at her reassuringly in front of their fireplace in their apartment in Long Island, but it is also sad. “Promise me you will be careful, sweetheart.” Her mother’s eyes bore into her, fearful and pleading. “Promise me.”
She was there when Michael, Will and she informed Andrew Fletcher of his son’s death. It is apparent in her haunted eyes that her mother knows how easily she could have been in his place, whether it be losing one or both of her children in the attack. Andrew’s anguished wail had rattled through all their bones. She doesn’t want Kyra to leave for Hogwarts so soon after the battle and decides to let her miss the first few weeks of class just to keep her at her side.
Kyra is grateful. She doubts she can keep her composure in the train, where she would have to interact with other students, all oblivious to her inner turmoil and the past few hellish weeks. Malcolm and Katie has gone ahead of her; they missed the Hogwarts Express too so instead had Floo’ed there. Their parents preferred to have them assimilated to a normal routine after the battle.
“Yes, mama.” Her mother pulls her into a hug and Kyra breaths in her lavender scent when a fresh wave of tears hits.
Her mother, hair flying out of her hastily done braid, shushes her, “It’s okay, baby.” Her mother’s guitar-calloused fingertips wipes away her tears and her touch and the tenderness behind her action releases more tears down her face.
“Shhhh, shhhh.” Her mother rocks her gently side to side standing up, and Kyra could feel the stares of the other students and parents at the pair of them. “We will call often, okay? If things get bad, just Iris message me anytime, alright, baby? You will be okay baby.”
Kyra doesn’t care how she looks in front of Chiron, crying as a fourth year student about to go to school. He would understand.
Kyra barely remembers the green flames of the Floo, stepping out of the office of the sympathetically smiling Headmaster or walking to her dorm. There is no memory of her first class of the term. The cover of her textbook in her hands, the weight of her satchel digging into her shoulder, the chatter of the students in the hallways all blur together in the first week of her Fourth Year. All she can think of is the smell of burnt eucalyptus and grapes and shrouds, Andrew’s pained howl when he learned that his elder son is never coming back, and the hollowness in her chest that grows bigger and bigger with each passing day.
The food tastes like ashes.
Professor McGonagall takes one look at her as she enters her first Transfiguration class of the year ten minutes late and immediately pulls her out of the room and walks her straight to the Hospital Wing. There, only when her older sister pulls her into an embrace does everything come crashing down, for the first time since she boarded the train.
“I wasn’t strong enough, Poppy—! I didn’t, I couldn’t reach Castor in time, or Lee. If I — oh gods— if Michael wasn’t there, Will wouldn’t have—” The air is not reaching her lungs fast enough. The white wooden beams on the ceiling of the Hospital Wing presses down on her and shecan’tbreathohgodsshecan’tbreath—.
She can barely hear Poppy speaking to her or feel her tapping her chest in the rhythm she wants her to breath. Time passes, and Kyra doesn’t know how long—everything still feels like she’s moving underwater—but the last rays of the sun are filtering through the windows when she finally manages to lift her head up from her elderly sister’s shoulder, eyes stinging.
A cup of water is pressed into her hands, and she gratefully takes it. She can feel Poppy’s gaze as she watches her drink. She can feel the pity radiating from her gaze.
“The grief will pass, Kyra.” she says quietly. They are sitting in her office. Poppy looks like she just aged a decade in the hour they spent together. “The grief will pass. It will seem like there isn’t any hope of breathing a little easier but trust me. It will get better.”
Kyra’s gaze falls on the porcelain cup. The lamplight shines off the rim. “There will be a war.” She manages to say. She repeats it. The admission doesn't make her feel any bit relieved. “There will be a war. I am sure of it now.” She sees the enchanted fogs over the Empire State Building, unnatural lightning and hurricanes on the Central Park Reservoir, and redred red red — of the pavements in the tunnels and bridges leading to Manhattan in the reflection of the water.
Poppy’s eyes reflect the steel resolve she feels settle in her chest. “Poppy, I need to get better.” She finds herself saying. Kyra barely recognizes her voice getting higher and higher with desperation, like this is her only hope. For Castor, for Lee, for her siblings. “I need to get stronger. Please,” she pleads, her voice choking up again. She can’t lose another friend or sibling. “Help me get stronger. Teach me how to heal.”
They have about one year before the war. One school year. She may be at Hogwarts, but she can still train. She needs to train.
“You have to take care of yourself first and foremost, Kyra.” Poppy beckons for her cup. She refills it with more water. “Then, yes, I will teach you.”
The Gods of Olympus and Camp Half-Blood need to win this war. The Western Civilization is counting on it.
Hogwarts feels even grayer than before. The dampness creeps back into her bones the longer she stays in the school. Hogwarts’ gray weather always saps at her strength. Weak sunlight shines through the open arches in the courtyard. Kyra hoists the strap of her satchel over her shoulder and makes her way across the courtyard to the stairwell to Poppy’s office. They are moving on to student patients in the fourth week of healing lessons. Every moment of her spare time has to be allocated to training. There cannot be another loss in front of her. She can barely register the colors around her, much less the faces. Her eyes ache. Her nose burns.
She winces as the sunlight flickered into her eyes. Gods, the weather is sporadic again, the constant rainy weather breaking apart for just minutes of sunny weather. Kyra blinks the white spots out of her eyes and lets out a yelp as she feels herself crash into someone. Remus Lupin’s wide eyes turn towards her.
“Sorry.” Her voice does not come out as fast as she wants it to.
“What was that for?” Sirius Black snarls. His hand reaches out to shove at her shoulder. Without thinking, she flinches backwards. His hand did not connect. His eyes widen a fraction before his lips contort into an ugly sco. Both his hands come up to shove at her.
This time she does not dodge. She let herself stumble back. Suddenly, Sirius Black was in her face. She spies his wand tucked into his hand. He sneers. “Just who do you think you are? Apologize to Remus.”
She slowly raised her head to look at Remus’s brown orbs. His eyes are pitying, like he wants to stop them. But no words come out of his mouth. She doesn’t need pity. She needs to get stronger. She needs to be training, not dealing with these dumbheads. She wills her voice to be clearer and louder. “Sorry.”
“That’s it? Add some more words.” Another shove lands on her shoulder. “Come on, apologize.” Another shove. She takes a step back. He steps further into her face, face twisted into a scowl. “Come on, Shoelace, where is it? Where’s the proper apology?” Whispers rise in the courtyard, students staring. The sun shone brighter. Rage creeps up slowly in her chest. She did not have time for this.
“I said sorry.” She snaps back. She immediately regrets it as soon as the words left her word. Shit. She just aggravated him. Now she has just made things worse. Sirius’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback at her boldness before a snarl washed over his face. He opens his mouth but before he can utter a word, she feels someone breeze by behind her. It takes every ounce of control in her not to unsheathe her dagger and ramitintowhoever—
“Mr. Black.” Sirius stumbles back into his duo of friends. Poppy stands behind her, arms crossed. She raises an eyebrow at the Marauders.
“30 points from Gryffindor.” The courtyard gasps. “For disrupting the peace.” Everyone turns towards Sirius Black whose eyes darken in rage before managing to school his features into something more formal. “Apologies, Madame Pomfrey.”
Poppy’s eyes turn even colder, like frost on the windowpanes in winter. “Apologize to Ms. Solace as well. She merely accidentally bumped into Mr. Lupin.”
Sirius grits his teeth. He looks like he was about to argue with Poppy about who was at fault before he sees Poppy’s eyes turned downright glacial .
He nods his head jerkily at Kyra. “Sorry.” She waves it off. She doesn’t look at him. She doesn’t even have the energy to speak. She just pulls at every ounce of her willpower to not break down from the exhaustion of everything.
“Off to class, all of you.” This is directed towards the entire courtyard. “Ms. Solace, follow me.”
“How are you, my dear.” Poppy asks when they made it out of the courtyard and are well on their way into the corridor that leads to her office. Kyra shrugs. It’s not a physical exhaustion, not really. Her vocal cords are not cooperating in helping her voice her words. She’s barely holding back from screaming .
“Not in the best shape.” she manages to rasp out after a few long minutes.
Poppy turns. Her face screams sympathy and Kyra wonders again if she had fought in battles and wars during her time in Camp Half Blood. Had she lost her siblings too, just like Kyra has?
“Will you be up for a healing session?” Poppy asks, her voice soft. Her hand came up to rest on Kyra’s shoulder. “You mustn’t overstrain yourself. You look like you’re barely eating or resting.”
“I—“
Castor’s lifeless purple eyes flash in the forefront of her mind. Lee’s dented head, brain matter spilling down onto the bloodied grass. There is no question whether or not she is ready.
“Yes.” She says. It comes out as a croak. She tried for a firmer, stronger tone. “Yes. I am ready.”
Poppy nods. “Good.” She opens the door to the Hospital Wing. She gestures for her to come closer to a bed, where a sleeping student lays.
Hufflepuff, by the yellow and black tie. One of the younger year students, perhaps a second year? Kyra haven’t seen him around before.
Red tints his cheeks and neck. His forearms are wrapped in bandages and Kyra spots a few specks of blood on them.
“He came in an hour ago. Got himself badly scratched by a Gulipome plant.” Poppy murmurs. Kyra shudders. Those plants are horrendous, with their spiky leafy limbs and even spikier mouths. They have a voracious appetite for bigger insects but an unsuspecting young wizard or witches with rough hands will find this way into their mouth and hands as well. How this poor Hufflepuff found his way to the plant’s jaws, Kyra has no idea.
Poppy fills a syringe with some dark liquid from a vial and injects into the student’s elbow.
“There.” She draws back. “I have now administered a fever reducer.” She turns to Kyra. “I want you to undo the bandages, and heal him using your own power—none of those hymns, that’s using half of our father’s power— and re-bandage him.”
She moves over the side so Kyra can step closer to the injured younger student. That Gulipome certainly did a number on this poor student. The gashes from its spiky limbs were half-healed, still oozing clear liquid and some blood along the length of his arms. Teeth marks scatter across the forearm, particularly deep near its wrist and elbows. Bright green snaked around the veins. The smell of Gulipome poison wafts in the air—a sulfuric,rotting meat smell. Kyra’s eyes nearly watered, from a different cause than the last few weeks.
Gulipome poison has no antidote, and recovery for the inflicted is often slow and painful as the wizard’s magic has to heal and overcome the poison on its own. Unless there’s a different magic that helps fasten the healing process.
Matrons of Hogwarts are often children of Apollo due to their healing abilities that rely on their father through hymns or on their own magic. Their powers can heal wounds that not even Wizarding magic could. Every child of Apollo has the innate ability to heal, only the proficiency of it differs from each child to another. Most children of Apollo are also only gifted in one of Apollo’s domains. Only Will can heal very well; he isn’t good at archery or singing (despite their mother being a singer). Kyra’s strength lay heavily on the bow and marksmanship, not much on healing. Michael excels at the bow and while he is not half bad at healing, he has terrible bedside manners. He also heals the fastest out of his siblings.
Lee is–was gifted with both marksmanship and healing.
Poppy had explained that their innate proficiency doesn’t mean their abilities couldn’t be cultivated. It just takes a lot of practice.
Kyra hovers her hands over the worst of the wounds: the wrists. She closes her eyes and concentrates.
Pulling at her godly abilities is like pulling on a string from a well of godly essence in her gut. Kyra doesn’t need to pull on any strings to launch a perfect bullseye—the perfect aim has been there in the edge of her consciousness ever since she lays her hands on the smooth wood of her first bow. Her other abilities, however, need more strength to tap into.
Kyra envisions an end of a golden thread connected to her fingertips, and tosses the other end into the well of her godly essence. She mentally directs the string towards part of her essence that speaks of invigoration, strength, health, life— and tightens the thread when it touches the power she was looking for.
She starts humming before the sound of Poppy clearing her throat reaches her. She jolts. Oh. Right. No hymns. No using their father’s power. Solely her own. She tugs harder at the thread and it pulls taut, whipcord-tight.
Heat—warm, rich, vortex of strengthhealthlife streams from her gut and blooms down her fingertips. A golden glow lights up from behind her eyelids. She keep the stream of that healing magic going, and peeks at the wound.
The purple, red and oozing bite mark is closing up, but it is too slow, and the green tracks have yet to recede, much less disappear.
“Use more strength. You need more to fully close up the wounds and neutralize the poison.”
The most Kyra has healed was broken ankles, arrow punctures and small dagger wounds. Never poison. Still, she has to try.
Kyra focuses harder on the thread. It is already taut. She needs more. Kyra envisions the thread into becoming thicker, woven tightly like a bungee-jumping cord, and digs harder into her gut. She envisions one end of the cord tearing through whatever that’s blocking her from using her healing magic.
Come on, she whispers to herself and the string. More. Lee’s voice floats into her mind. You can do it, Kyra. He says. Lee. Castor. Her dead brother and boyfriend.
The cord anchors itself deeper. Currents of power flows along it even brighter. Kyra gasps as the warm pulses at her fingertips explode into the heat of a firestorm.
She opens her eyes to see the warm and gentle golden glow from before turning into a bright shining light.
And just as quickly as power explodes from her fingertips, it vanishes.
Her vision blacks out. Kyra feels herself list sideways, almost stumbling into the bedside table. Poppy just manages to grab her before she hits her head on the wood.
“Very well done, Kyra.” An aged hand wraps itself around her shoulder and Kyra leans into it blindly. Her head spins. Her ears are still ringing. Her mouth is dry. It takes several long deep breaths for the black to slowly retreat to the corners of her eyes. When she finally manages to blink the remaining black spots out of her vision, Poppy’s eyes, framed by a few stray-away golden-gray ringlets, are the first thing she sees. She then turns towards the bed.
The skin is completely smooth. The green has vanished, the bruises and teeth marks and gashes completely closed up. The Hufflepuff’s face doesn’t even have traces of a flush that even Poppy’s fever reducer couldn’t get rid of.
She turns weakly towards Poppy. Pride glinted in the Matron’s eyes. “Very well done, sister. Come now, let us get you up.” Strong hands hauls her up and she stumbles, trying to find her footing. Her knees feel as wobbly and weak as those of a newborn faun. She grips the nightstand for balance.
Poppy sits her down on the adjacent cot and shoves a foil-wrapped square of ambrosia into her hands before bustling towards the Hufflepuff to proceed with remaining procedures. Kyra sighs at the taste of fudgy brownies.
She misses her mother, her brownies, and her comforting hugs. Naomi must be busy now, taking care of Andrew Fletcher, who had fallen into a deep depression after the news of his son’s death.
Gods, Andrew. His crumpled face when she, her mother, Michael and Will went to his apartment on an uncharacteristically rainy summer evening, with news of a son that will never come back home. Michael finally broke down when the first tears dripped down his adoptive father’s face, and let the older man pull him into a hug.
Michael hadn’t let anyone touch him, or even comfort him after Lee died. He sang the funeral hymn, but he didn’t cry, just angry, angry eyes staring at their brother’s shroud as he warbled shakily through the verses. Only when Andrew mourned did he mourn as well, as if he had been waiting for the right time, when the first person who should have known Lee died knew, and cried.
She shudders and wraps her arms around herself. The Hospital Wing feels colder now, the clouds obscuring the fading light as the afternoon turns into evening.
“All healed.” Poppy raises her head to look at her from where she is leaning over the Hufflepuff, wand hovering in the air. “You may go now. It’s almost dinner now, is it not? Go wash up.”
Kyra stands up and twists her hands over head. A satisfying pop greets her. “What time next, Poppy?”
“Four pm, on the dot everyday, my dear.” Poppy rearranges the sheets on the sleeping form.
Kyra hums in satisfaction before shuffling to a table near the door to grab her bag. Finally, her sister agrees to train her more extensively.
Kyra flexes her fingers, willing feeling back into her numb fingertips. Silence hangs over the corridor with an occasional student or two passing by. She shakes her still-numb hands and walks quicker down to her dorm for a shower.
She has a Herbology research paper to write.
Notes:
clicked the wrong button while editing in drafts and accidentally posted another chapter 😀
But chapter 5 was pretty short so, er—
You’ve been served!
*scurries away*
Chapter 7: Sirius Black - A thousand miles and poles apart
Chapter Text
Sirius’s gaze trails over the heads of the Gryffindors in the Great Hall. Where is she? Discontent rises up from the pit of his stomach. He taps a finger rapidly on the table. He still had not given her a piece of his mind for today. Gallivanting through the stairs, leaving the school year weeks early and then flaunting into the school nearly a month late like nothing’s amiss? She isn’t next to Malcolm Pace nor Katie Gardner, who has a nervous look in her eye as she keeps checking her watch and looking around. Weird, the whole lot of them.
The flash of brown curls flits from the corner of his eye. There! He tracks Solace’s form as she flits down the aisle, and sits down in front of his line of vision a table away, next to Pace and Gardner. Gardner immediately pounces on her, her mouth moving rapidly. He feels his lips stretch into a frown. She looks drained. Her curls hang limply around her face. Where did she go that left her looking like she’s going to fall over at the slightest breeze? She finished her classes early today, bumping into Remus after her final class. But she looked like she was in a hurry.Pace just looks over at her, checking Solace’s face before wordlessly pushing a full plate of food in front of Solace and muttering something towards Gardner. It’s probably to stop her from assaulting Solace with more questions, since Gardner finally shuts her mouth. Solace’s face disappears from view when she digs into her food. Still, Pace and Katie hunches over her, faces oddly sympathetic.
What happened?
His mind drifts back to that afternoon. She had followed after Madam Pomfrey, didn’t she?
A pastry with a shiny flaky crust is shoved into his sight. “Mate, you’ve got to try those mince pies.” James mumbles from beside him. Pieces of crust dots the corners of his lips. “Absolutely divine. The kitchen elves have outdone themselves again.” On his other side, Remus makes a noise of affirmation. Sirius takes a bite of the proffered pie and hums in agreement as the flavor melts in his tongue, the meat perfectly spiced and the flake buttery. “It is bloody delicious, mate. Not as good as your mum’s, though.” Nothing beats Euphemia Potter’s mince pies.
A few seats away from him, their Quidditch captain Hilda Turringmont clasps her hands loudly. “This year,” she grins. Sirius and the other Quidditch players turn in her direction, “we will win the Quidditch House Cup. Mark my words.” Her eyes stray over to the Slytherin table, and she lets her voice carry. “We will leave the Slytherins in the mud!” The entire Gryffindor team lets out a cheer. The Slytherins boo and send them nasty glares.
“Such bold words you say.” A voice drawls. Gilbert Ewerin. The Slytherin Quidditch captain sneers at Hilda. His ebony-dark hair glints in the candlelight. “Yet I remember,” his finger taps his chin, looking up as if he were deep in thought. “That we were the ones who left you all in the mud last year.” He jeers, and the Gryffindors retorts.
“Everyone knows they cheated.”
“Hexed a broom or two, I’d say.”
“Didn’t they lace Georgie’s Butterbeer with laxatives before our game?”
Pamela Paxton sneers in the Gryffindor's direction. “We do not need to resort to such underhanded methods to win.”
Sirius grins right back with teeth on display. “How’s that head, still, Paxton? Do you need a checkup? Everyone knows what happened.”
Amid the commotion, Solace stands up. She murmurs something to Gardner and Pace before hurrying towards the door, bag fluttering behind her. Lily Evans, who sits ten seats away on the other side of his table sees her leave and frown.
Something curls in Sirius’s chest. So she doesn’t know what’s going on with Solace either. Perhaps only Gardner and Pace do. “What is going on with Solace?” James speaks up. His mouth is still full, so the words come out garbled. Remus gently nudges his shoulder. “Chew your food before speaking, mate.” It takes James a couple more seconds to chew and swallow. “I said, what is up with Solace? Lily Evans looks incredibly worried for her.” Sirius shrugs. “ I wouldn’t know.” He stabs at a sausage with more force than necessary. “I’m not her keeper.”
The familiar bitter taste of resentment claws up his throat at the thought of her, again. He is so sick of that viscid anger lining his throat, but he still has not gotten what he wants from her. What happened is something that he can’t just brush away, even after two years has passed since that day happened. She still hasn't given him or Andromeda a single damned apology.
Dinner ends not much later. Pace and Gardner are among the few to leave just a few minutes after desserts are served. Gardner holds a cup of gelato and a plate of chocolate pudding as she and Pace leave. Sirius has no doubt the desserts were for Solace. I’ll give her a piece of my mind later, Sirius grumbles in his head.
He can’t find her the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Sure, she is in their shared Potion and DADA classes. Remus says he saw her enter the Study of Ancient Runes classroom. But they still can’t corner her. She arrives at class before they do and darts away right after lessons are finished. They don’t see her arrive for breakfast and she’s barely present in the Great Hall for lunch and dinner. Where she is eating—or if she is even eating enough becomes a question they do not have an answer to.
The next time they—well, Sirius and James—manage to corner her is when they visit Remus in the Hospital Wing two evenings after the full moon. Poor Remus, he’s barely recovered from the previous moon before the second one hits. The scene that greets him in the Hospital Wing shocks him to his core, and nearly has him stumble sideways into James.
Solace’s eyes widen when she sees him. She’s standing beside Remus with Madame Pomfrey, holding a tray full of bloodied bandages and a pair of scissors.
“What—what is going on here?” He snarls before he can wrangle his shot brain cells that had too little sleep worrying over his friend from saying something that could land him in detention. Why are her hands on Remus?
He makes a step towards Solace, whose eyes dart towards Madame Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey’s eyes turn towards him and any rage vanishes, leaving ice-cold fear. The coldest winter in Scotland cannot compare to the frost in Madam Pomfrey’s eyes. For a moment, Sirius wonders why Madame Pomfrey is angry, is it because he came barging in and causing a ruckus?
“Ms. Solace here.” She says, “is merely assisting me in healing Mr. Lupin. You may stay, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, if you behave very quietly. I will kick you both out of the Hospital Wing if you disturb my work, my assistant or the patients.”
Sirius swallows and nods. He opts to sit on the cot next to Remus’s. James, after a moment of hesitation, joins him.
Solace does not meet his eyes. He watches as Solace holds the bandages in place as Madame Pomfrey cuts them away. She dabs the towel at the angry, bleeding gashes on Remus’s arms.
“Now,” she beckons Solace closer. Only then, did they make eye contact. “Heal him.” Solace’s hands slowly lifts up to hover over Remus’s arms and begin to glow.
Ice runs down his veins. The cot squeaks when Sirius jumps to his feet, a sneer making its way to his lips. Solace stiffens. Madame Pomfrey shoots him a warning glare. A hand tugs at his sleeve. James’s eyes are worried from over the rims of his glasses. He clears his throat. “Apologies, Madame Pomfrey.” He gives the Matron a stiff smile. “Sirius is just worried for our friend. We will be quiet.” He shoots Sirius a warning look. Sirius sat down and cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He muttered.
Madame Pomfrey gives them one more glare before turning to look at Solace kindly. “Go on my dear.”
Solace bites her bottom lip, blinking faster than usual. She peeks over at Sirius from under her lashes before averting her eyes to Remus’s wounds. She places her hands in the air over Remus’s wounds.
“What is she doing?” James whispers.
Solace closes her eyes.
She takes a deep breath, the sound gently whistling through the empty air of the Hospital Wing. Then, her hands begin to glow. A soft golden light emanates from her palms and fingers and showers over Remus’s arms. For an instant, despite it being a windy autumn Sirius can’t see what was happening to his friend’s arm. For a fraction of a moment, sunlight light up the Hospital Wing through the windows. Sirius glances at his watch, then outside the window. Isn’t it already six and the sun setting? He turns back towards the bed. The soft golden glow encasing Remus’s arm and Solace’s hands light up for a few long moments more before flickering then fading.
Solace grunts before withdrawing. She blinks rapidly. Sirius frowns, jolting from his seat. Confusion, shock, with a hint of something else swirls in his gut as he stares at Remus’s pale, bare—unblemished—arm and Kyra’s pale face. She straightens her back unsteadily before lurching forward but Madam Pomfrey grabs her before she could faceplant. The Matron sits her down on the cot on the other side of Remus’s.
“Well done, my girl. You are improving very well.” Sirius hears Madame Pomfrey say. Kyra murmurs something back but it is too quiet for him to hear. James is staring gobsmacked at Remus’s arm, his jaw dangles to the floor.
“M-Mate, did you see that?” He stammers. He shakes at Sirius’s shoulder. “Mate, she just- she just placed her hands over Remus’s arm and just—there’s a golden glow, and then he’s all healed—“
“Yeah, mate, I saw as well.” Sirius mumbles. He squints at Remus’s arm. Not a trace of those deep gashes are left on his arm. Only tiny, near-invisible, white lines remain where the wounds once were.
“How in Merlin’s underpants does that work ? I mean, I heard about wordless magic, but never about wordless healing magic.”
“It does exist, Mr. Potter. Your mother and I can both perform wandless healing magic, just like Ms. Solace can. Some people are simply gifted with them. And may I also remind you that I only allow you two to come in after visiting hours because of your friend being a special case, but your permission only relies on you not being disruptive to me or my assistant’s work. Ms. Solace has become my assistant starting this school year. I expect you two to behave and not interfere with her or my concentration.”
Solace slowly stands up from her cot. She does not spare them a look as she passes them, back straight, and walks through the doors.
Sirius tears his gaze away from where she walked out of the room back to Madame Pomfrey. “—understand Madame Pomfrey.” James is saying. “There won’t be a next time.”
“And–” James hesitates. Then, “Does that mean Ms. Solace knows about Remus’s special condition?”
Madam Pompfrey shakes her head. “No, she does not.”
Her gaze lands on Sirius. “We won’t be disruptive, Madame Pomfrey. I’m sorry for anything we did that disturbed you or your assistant.”
Madam Pomfrey’s stern expression rests on him a moment longer before sighing. She turns to tuck the sheets under Remus’s chin.
“Run along now, the two of you. You have classes tomorrow and I am sure that both of you have a lot of homework. Mr. Lupin will be transported back to the dorm since his wounds are mostly healed.”
After a long look at their friend, the two leave. The evening night air greets them, the quiet reminding them that it is dinnertime.
“I’m glad Remus’s on the mend” Sirius barely feels James nudge his shoulder. Nausea still rolls in his gut, seeing Solace so close to Remus. He doesn’t like the idea of seeing her near his best friend when he’s obviously weak and cannot defend himself. But if Madame Pomfrey is nearby, he doubts she would try to hurt him.
“Mate?” James is staring at him. “You alright? You look mad.”
Sirius unclenches his jaw. His fingers prickle pins and needles and he realises they had been curled into a fist for who knows how long.
They meet Solace at the entrance of the Great Hall, plates piled high with food in hand. She glances at them quickly before scurrying off into one of the corridors.
“Where is she going?” James mutters. “Wanna follow her mate?”
Sirius turns to his friend. “You hungry?”
James shrugs. “We could always grab dinner from the kitchens later.” The invisibility cloak proves to be really handy.
They follow Kyra down the corridor she went through, James pulling out the cloak from his bag as they walk. Within seconds, they are trudging down the darkened hallways, invisible. The hallway leads them to a crossroad, the Astronomy Tower, classrooms, and to the fields.
“Which way?” James asks. The torches light the faint silver etchings on the cloak onto James’s face, making him look ethereal—like ghosts.
Sirius pauses for a moment. Solace has a plateful of food and it is getting dark, she wouldn’t be on the fields. Which student would want to go to the classrooms after dinner anyways? The Astronomy Tower it is.
The hike up the tower is full of curses, muttered grumbling and half-serious insults. Walking upstairs in pairs, hidden under the same cloak was tricky—they have to match their steps or their limbs would be exposed to the world. There won’t be any teachers here at this time—Professor Mudiwai Onai and the Astronomy Professor who they couldn’t remember the name of are notoriously early sleepers—but they aren’t taking any chances.
By the time they reach the top of the Tower, both Sirius and James are drenched in sweat. Sirius shrugs off the cloak, trying to catch their breaths. The cool air feels cool on his face and sweaty neck.
“Bloody hell, mate.”James wheezes. Sirius grunts back, panting. He leans on a stone brick for support. He hopes Solace is here or all that walking will be for naught. Why is she at the Astronomy Tower anyways? Right, because he’s bloody curious and she looks like she’s about to do something fishy.
No, him and James sneaking around in the Invisibility Cloak to spy on one of their classmates is not fishy.
James slowly edges up towards the entrance of the Tower, looking around.
“Do you see—“
James’s hand shoots out to clamp his mouth shut. He puts a finger to his lip, his eyebrows scrunched.
Be quiet, you idiot.
Sirius cranes his neck and focuses. Solace’s voice flits quietly from a corner of the Tower.
Sirius licks the hand over his mouth and steps up towards the ledge, ignoring James’s furious side-eye. He tugs the cloak around himself and James more securely.
Come on, he mouths.
They walk up in tandem. Kyra’s voice gets clearer as they walk into the Tower. Moonlight streams in through the open window, illuminating the room. Telescopes, textbooks, pens, and equipment are strewn all over the desks.
Kyra Solace is sitting down on the floor in a corner, her back against the wall. In front of her is a holographic, fading around the edges into colors of a rainbow. A blonde boy stares at Solace from the holographic, his arms crossed in front of his chest and mouth grim.
“—eating enough.”
“I’m eating enough, aren’t I?” Kyra holds up a chip in front of the holographic before shoving it into her mouth. She holds up a sausage puff before biting down on it. “Oh, this one is good.”
Who is that? James mouths.
I have no idea, he mouths back.
The boy in the holographic sighs. He looks around their age. Sirius squints at it. What method of communication are they using? It doesn’t look like fire magic. Perhaps it’s a type of American communication?
A thought crosses his mind. Was it Solace’s boyfriend? A sting of annoyance runs through him unbidden. Why does she have a boyfriend? She shouldn’t —
“I’m serious, Kyra. I know you don’t eat enough when you’re not feeling well.”
Kyra shrugs. She licks the crumbs off her thumb before reaching to dip a chip into ketchup.
“I have been eating when I am supposed to be, Will. And I am taking care of myself. Gods, you didn’t have to be such a worrywart.”
The boy—Will—sighs. He looks like he wants to argue but by the way his lips visibly curl, he barely manages to refrain from doing so. His hand reaches up to rub his forehead. “I know, I know. It’s just…” he breaks off and stares to the side. He seems to be in a cabin of sorts. Sunlight streams into a window, bathing him in a golden light. He runs hand through his hair and Sirius sucks in his breath.
He has the same eyes as Solace. The same exact blue. And the same curls.
They are either siblings or cousins.
Something deflates in his chest at the realization. He finds that he’s not sure how to feel about it.
“How are you doing at school anyways? Everything okay?”
“What are you? Mom? Even mom doesn’t nag me that much.”
Will gives her a stink eye and Kyra rolls her eyes, lips tugging into a small smile.
“I’m just… You had to go back to school so soon after the battle. I’m really worried about you, Kyra. We just-we just lost…” He breaks off, looking to the side.
Sirius blanches. The stone tiles underneath gives way. What battle? There was a battle? Who did they lose? Did someone die? Sirius turns towards James, who is staring at him with a what the fuck did we hear, mate? The glint of the hologram makes Solace’s eyes shine.
With tears, he realizes a few long moments later.
The room fills with silence. It stretches on and on until Kyra reaches over to her plate and grabs a sausage. The snap of the meat when she bites into it breaks the thickening tension. She chews and swallows.
“I will be fine, Will.” She says softly. She sets down her half-eaten sausage and rubs her fingers on a paper napkin.
“You know, I… I still dream about them.” She shifts in her seat, leaning forward towards the holograph.
Sirius has a feeling he and James are intruding on something private. More importantly, what battle. Was it one of those fights he heard about in the Muggle world that include firearms? Was it a crime? Were Solace’s… family or friends involved? Were they Aurors? So many questions spin in his head.
Solace tosses the spoiled napkin to the side of the tray.
“Castor and Lee. And well, I dreamed about them, you know, when they…” she trails off. She looks off to the side, at the open window. Will takes a shaky breath. The sound echoes across the small room. “Almost every night.”
Sirius has a sinking feeling Solace had dreamed about whoever Castor and Lee were, dying. Had she seen them die? Was it an attack?
She continues. “But it was a good dream last night. A good memory.” She smiles wistfully. “Me and Castor at the strawberry fields, just a few months after we first met. He was teaching me gardening.” She laughs, a soft bittersweet smile. “I thought I saw a snake and I freaked out so badly. I screamed enough to wake the dead itself. And it was actually a centipede. Here I was, trying to impress a cute guy, who happened to be our camp director’s son, and I mistook a tiny centipede for a snake.”
A boyfriend? Solace has a boyfriend? He is probably someone Sirius doesn’t know, since there is no one in Hogwarts named Castor. This Castor was probably from America, that summer camp Solace mentioned. Somehow, the idea of Solace having a life that he doesn’t know about, a life outside of Hogwarts curdles his blood.
Will smiles, and nods encouragingly. He looks a bit sad though, Sirius thinks.
“The dream then changed to Lee, who was teaching us how to heal. Our first time. We were so tiny then. It was Sharman Yang, I think. I think he got a spear in his thigh.”
He got a what ? How a person got a spear in his thigh is beyond Sirius as he watches as Solace recounts her dream.
Solace’s voice becomes thicker. “Lee was—he was so kind and gentle. We were terrified of the wound and I know Sharman was trying not to cry so he doesn’t scare us—“
“—no, he just didn’t want to appear like a wuss in front of us.” Will interrupts, snorting. He reaches up to wipe away a stray tear.
Solace snickers. “Well, Lee was teaching us how to heal him and we did. He was so proud. Telling us we did great. And I just—“ Solace’s voice breaks. She starts sobbing, curling into herself, her hair fall falling down like curtains to hide her face. She wraps her arms around her knees.
“—I just miss him so much.”
Sirius watches tears drop down Will’s face as well. His hand reaches out towards Kyra, as if he wants to give her a hug, but retracts when the mirage starts to shimmer.
A melodious voice floats out of thin air. “You have five minutes remaining.”
Cold air rushes into his lungs when Kyra’s tearstained face peeks out from between her arms. Sirius strains to hear what she is whispering.
“I wish they were still here.”
“Me too.”
Kyra takes a shaky breath and blots her face with a paper napkin. “How’s Andrew?” she asks. “And Michael?”
“Michael is Michael.” Will exhales. “Andrew… he isn’t doing so well. Mom is with him.”
It finally dawns on Sirius that Will and Kyra are siblings.
Kyra nods. “That’s good. I don’t think Andrew should be alone now.”
WIll purses his lips, as if he is picking his words carefully,
“Honestly, Kyra, he was so depressed last time I saw him. Lost weight, and barely talking. Michael wanted to stay but Andrew and Mom said he would be safer at camp. I heard he is doing better now though.”
Sirius is so confused. What did he mean by safer at camp?
“Don’t you have places to be? It’s late right now in Scotland, right?” Will turns to check the clock on the wall.
“It’s only 8pm, Will.” Kyra groans. “Classes finished hours ago.”
“What about homework? You were complaining about that one class, Trans… the one taught by—”
“Transfiguration, and I already finished all my homework, Mom.”
“Yeah, yeah. I gotta grab the kids from their activities now. Good night, Kyra.”
“Good night, Will.” Kyra blows her brother a kiss before running a hand through the image and her brother’s face disappears in the scattered rainbow-colored mist. Sirius spots a prism reflecting light from Kyra’s wand, bathing the wall Kyra is facing in rainbows.
Kyra sighs. She runs a hand through her messy, greasy, hair, squeezing her eyes shut. They are red-rimmed. Her lower lip trembles and she curls into herself even more. At that moment, she looks so achingly lonely. Something shifted in his chest. It rolls around his lungs then sinks down. The annoyance, bitterness, rage— he feels the coil in his gut loosened at the sight. Whatever happened, it must have been bad.
No, he decides. No one deserved to see their brother and boyfriend die in front of them.
James nudges him and he jumps. The cloak makes a swishing sound and he feels the edge of the fabric brush his calf. Cool air brushes his ankle.
Shit—
Solace scrambles up, looking around. She widens her stance. “Who’s there?” She calls. She takes a step towards where James and Sirius. Sirius creeps back, taking a step down the stairs leading to the entrance.
Shit. Shit shitshitshit—
James wraps an arm around him, a hand gripping his shoulder tightly. He slowly bunches the fabric in his hand, adjusting it so the fabric touches the floor. There’s a warning squeeze. Don’t move.
His breath lodges ice-cold in his throat as Solace’s face peered through the doorway. She leans forward, wand gripped in her hand.
His heart thuds in his chest. Her face is just inches apart from his. He doesn’t dare breathe out lest his breath alerts her. She looks around, eyes narrowed.
She leans in closer. Despite the dark shadows the cloak casted on her face, he can see flecks of —gold?— in the corners of her irises. Is it normal for people to have gold in their eyes? Her gaze is intense, even when she is staring at what sees is nothing but thin air.
The moment stretches on. His lungs burn. His head throbs. He doesn’t dare turn to the side to see how James is doing.
It takes another two, three long moments before Solace slowly retreats from leaning out the doorway. He waits until he hears the clank of utensils. That’s their chance. He grabs James’ hand—James grabs on his shoulder first— and runs. They sprint down the staircase and the corridors. They don’t look back behind them, not until they reach the painting of the Fat Lady.
“Brussels sprout” Sirius hears James gasp out. Sirius puts his hands on his knees, bent forward as he wheezes.
The Fat Lady gives them a reprimanding look, but the door still swung open. Sirius gives her an attempt at a charming, thankful grin as they clambered through.
“Mate,” James says finally, after catching their breath. They barely managed to get past Filch when they ran back to their dorms. He slumps against the wall beside their door. “What was that?” His arm comes up to gesture in the air.
Sirius stumbles down next to him and fall back against the wall next to him. He let his head hang forward. “I don’t know.”
Truly, what was all that?
His mind is reeling from the newest implications about one Kyra Solace. There is something more to her than that meets the eye. He has always had a feeling that something about her was unusual. The deal with the spear and the battle and er, camp? That is as confusing as Advanced Divination. Meaning, he does not have a clue on what was going on. Perhaps it could be related to what happened two years ago.
Remus’s head pokes up from between the curtains. “What did the two of you do?” he asks.
“Oh, you’re awake!” James flops down on his bed, still dressed in his outer robes. Sirius sets down his wand on his nightstand after checking Remus over. Thoughts swirl turbulently around in his head; the next exchange of words buzzes over his head in nondescript noises as he changes into his pajamas.
And Sirius, despite his misgivings about the brunette, is determined to know.
His neck prickles and he turns to see James staring at him, his eyebrows scrunched up in consternation. Sirius jerks his chin up. Whatever it is that is confusing him, he better say it.
“Why do you hate Kyra Solace?” Sirius opens his mouth but James cuts in. “I know she hurt Andromeda and created a lot of pain for her and her husband, but what happened exactly, Sirius?”
Remus adds in. “Yeah, I never really understood why you guys went after her. She wasn’t antagonistic towards us, ever. It started during our second year, right?”
Rage blooms from his chest. “She – she— “ His teeth crack from how hard he is gritting his jaw. A strong breeze blows into the room, flipping an opened textbook closed. Crickets shirp in the night air. Sirius gathers his thoughts amid the tornado of rage, anger, and bitterness and searches for the right sequence of words.
James must have known whatever he is trying to say must have been bad, because he pushes himself into sitting upright. Remus gestures at Sirius to continue. Sirius squeezes his eyes hard. He hates remembering what happened, but he can’t forget it either.
“Andromeda lost a baby because of her.”
He hears James suck in a sharp breath. Remus gasps. “It was during the summer break. I was in America, alone. My father sent me to a small private summer school to improve my magic, because and I quote, ‘an absolute to the Black name’. So I went.”
He takes a steadying breath. When he’s sure his voice won’t crack, he continues. “During the weekend, Andromeda and Edward decided to surprise me and sneak me out to visit the Gateway Arch.”
Remus’s face lights up. “The Giant Arch in Missouri?” When James turns to him, he adds, “It’s over 430 feet tall, built by Muggles without magic. It’s pretty famous too. But, continue, Sirius.”
Sirius manages to crack a smile at Remus’s delight at being able to share something from his Muggle world.
“Yeah, I was in the Gateway Arch. Solace was there, but with two other older people, a young man and a woman. They were all dressed in Muggle clothes.”
James tilts his head to the side. “She was there? I didn’t know she comes from a Muggle family.”
“It makes sense,” Remus muses. “I think her mother might be a country singer. Naomi Solace? She’s pretty famous in Texas.”
Sirius did not know that. It hits him that he doesn't know much about Solace. He clears his throat.
“Yeah, so anyway. We were all waiting for this contraption called the elevator to levitate us to the top of the structure, right? Then there was this explosion, everything was shaking, and then a bunch of giant hounds just appeared.”
“Wait wait wait, giant hounds?”
“Yeah.” The scent of decay that radiates off those monsters still haunts him at night.
“I didn’t think the Muggle world would be attacked by magical creatures.” James mutters.
“Could you describe it? We can figure out which magical creature it exactly is and how it ended up there.”
“I don’t know, Remy. Everyone was screaming and moving towards the exits. It was pure chaos, I didn’t take a good look at it. Andromeda, Edward and I were swept up in the crowd, and we tried to make it out of the building, but the exits became jammed and the giant rotating door just crumbled into pieces. Edward was outside, and Andromeda and I were trapped inside.”
Sirius traces the seams along the corner of his comforter with his fingers. His vision blurs. It takes some effort to shake the screams and rumbling of the instructure from his ears.
“Andromeda and I couldn’t use our wands; there are too many Muggles around us. Our family can’t know about us being here either. So we hid behind a collapsed pillar. Then, there was shouting. I looked out and Solace and the two older people that were with her were running towards the giant hounds.”
“They were running towards the hounds?”
“Yes. Towards.” James mutters a quiet apology at his clipped response. “They were holding some sort of weapon, daggers I think, that were glowing green.”
“What?” James screeches. Remus gasps.
“I know,” His best friends’ eyes are wide and disbelieving but he forges on. “They were surrounding the hounds, and trying to attack them. They managed to kill one, it dissolved into golden dust, but the other— listen, yes, I know it sounds preposterous and unbelievable, but I swear it happened. Now, the other hound was much harder to kill. He managed to bite the shoulder of the young woman.” That scream still echoes in his nightmare when he has his bad nights.
“Solace managed to get the attention of the hound and was trying to get it to move away from the woman. She led it right near us.”
James’s lips parts in horror. Anyone could guess what happens next. “She somehow tripped the hound on the rubble and some slippery substance leaking from a store and it crashed into the pillar where we were hiding. Andromeda shielded me with her body and ended up getting badly hurt.”
Solace’s wide blue eyes as she takes in a whimpering Andromeda and their bloody clothes bloom to the forefront of his mind.
“Solace dug us out of the rubble. Andromeda was in pain, she was bleeding from several places, and I think some of her bones were broken. I was frozen. I couldn’t move.” He had cracked a couple ribs from the impact of the hound, but with the rush of adrenaline, barely felt it.
“These people dressed in red and blue—Muggles call them firefighters and paramedics?— were outside the door trying to get in. The bloke Solace was with called for her, and she left. But I know—” he grit his teeth. “ I know she saw me. And she recognized me.”
He takes a shaky breath. The next part of the story was what destroyed his beloved cousin and her husband. “ Andromeda was pregnant at that time.”
His throat chokes up. It’s a long moment before he trusts his voice not to waver. “She was three months along. But she lost the baby. Her injuries were too severe— she had broken several bones and had gaping wounds all over her body.”
Silence reigns over the room. Tension thickens with each passing seconds at the admission.
James moves to sit on his bed and Sirius is pulled into a hug. Over James’s shoulder, Remus looks at him with sad eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Andromeda was going to tell me that evening.” Instead, they ended up at a Muggle hospital, with Andromeda having to go into emergency surgery, while Edward stayed with him as the doctor prodded at his purpling ribs. Everything after that was a blur.
“ I tried to get an explanation out of Solace when I saw her again on Hogwarts Express. I need answers. I wanted to know what the whole thing was about. I wanted an apology. Andromeda and I deserved that, at least. Instead, she denied the whole thing and tried to avoid me.”
“That’s so messed up.” James says. His voice has taken on an angry edge. “She should have apologized or said sorry. She needs to clear up what really happened. I can’t believe she’s that much of a horrible person.”
“But we don’t know why she denied it in the first place,” Remus points out quietly. “We don’t know why she was fighting them in the first place.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Sirius snaps, glaring at Remus, who shrinks back. “ Andromeda miscarried because of her. Maybe she shouldn’t have even been fighting those damned monsters. But instead, she tried to be a hero, and fucking killed Andromeda’s baby! They were so,” he sobs, his chest aching at the memory of his cousin’s tear-stained face, “they were so happy to have a baby, but now it’s all ruined.”
“What she did was wrong.’ Jame’s eyes are fierce. “She should have explained what happened. She really made a huge mistake.”
“And that’s why–” Sirius takes a ragged breath. Why should he feel sorry for the loss of her boyfriend or her brother? Why should he feel sorry for her at all, no matter how lonely and sad she looked back in the Astronomy Tower and healed Remus a couple hours ago? Why should he, when she has wronged his family— “ I want to make her suffer. I want to make her feel as much pain as my cousin did, as I did, that day. I want her to hurt, and feel sorry. I want her to apologize.”
The rage coils into something solid and resolute in the pit of his stomach.
“I will do whatever it takes to make her pay .”
Notes:
Whelp, now you know why Sirius hates Kyra!
I'm so grateful for your comments and support! It makes my author heart so happy. It also gives me the energy keep writing despite my classes. T^T
FYI, Kyra and Sirius will go through a crap ton of angst before they get together, so be warned! It is an heavy angst after all and a slow-burn; I've written about 60k so far and there's no kiss in sight ;3 Alot of yearning, though! I want to explore how their childhood and their environment shaped how they think and act and have them understand each other to the deepest level before they fall in love.
Chapter 8: Sirius Black - Running in circles, now look what you’ve done
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Recounting the reason behind why he hates Solace rips away the poorly scabbed over festering wound and is only escalated by the following suffocating nightmare of being back in that blasted place. He actively seeks her out among the throngs of students more often, going out of his way to run into her with the intention to dole out a couple bruises and hexes.
But surprisingly, she manages to evade him, blending in seamlessly with the pillars and students. It is a huge difference from the previous year, where he could easily locate her. He barely finds her in the Great Hall for meals, or between classes. When he does with the help of the Marauders’ Map, she flits away as if she senses him nearby.
That pisses him off.
This never happened before, but now, she dares to avoid him?
He needs to bring her down a couple notches.
Meanwhile, James, Lily and Snivellius are having their own little spat. Normally, seeing the three of them in their mess of a love triangle is enough to bring up his spirits.
“Lily, go out with me. Leave him and let’s go to Honeydukes this weekend!”
“As if she would go with a halfwit gargoyle like you.”
“Really, Snivellus, you should get some treatment for your hair. The grease in your hair is enough to wipe out the Madam Yulebone’s entire shampoo aisle.”
“Potter, that’s enough, Severus, let’s go—”
“Shut up, you lousy git! How dare you—”
Huh, maybe those three should just shag instead.
He immediately regrets that stray thought. Nope. Nope, nope, nope, noppity nope . That is a disturbing thought he shall never let cross his mind again. He shivers.
“Sectumsempra!”
James hisses and Sirius turns to see blood dripping down his cheek. A cut sits high on his cheekbone, too close to his eye. Blood thrums in his ears and he whips out his wand.
“You bloody slimeball—”
“That’s enough!”
Professor Sprout stands between the two of them, hands on her hips. “Do you not have class or homework? Off to your classes, all of you.”
The crowd disperses and with a parting nasty glare at Snape, Sirius hauls James and Remus to a corridor. They have Divinations and it’s all the way on the other side of the building. Remus quickly casts a healing spell while James bemoans about Lily’s vivacious red hair and — Merlin, they really should get moving.
Nothing in that class makes sense, but something about seeing Professor Onai’s pointed glance at tardy students makes his skin crawl.
The sickly sweet scent of incense hits his nose as soon as he walks in. The curtains are drawn, casting the room into darkness. The class is illuminated only by the candles floating eerily in the air, the glow glinting off the porcelain of the tea cups on each table.
“What in Merlin’s saggy ballsack are we doing today?” James mutters. He wipes the last of the blood on his cheek with his sleeve. “And what was that spell? Never heard of it.” Remus sighs and whispers a Scourgify .
Kyra Solace is already there, seated alone at a table with her head down on her folded arms, and the simmering rage threatens to rear up and choke him again.
“Settle down, settle down now.”
Professor Onai walks to the front of his class, her blue robes fluttering behind her. The fabric shimmers dimly in the candlelight. Her dark skin glows a dark bronze and her milky grey eyes flit across the room aimlessly. Sirius once heard that she comes from a long line of wizards from Africa that had immigrated to Scotland to escape the witch hunts back in the 14th century.
“Alright, everyone, get into groups or two, each at a table. Ah yes, Mr. Black, join Ms. Solace, she needs a partner—”
Oh, no. Absolutely not. He cannot be partnered with her.
Remus raises his hand. “Professor Onai, I could—”
“Oh, no, no.” the Divination professor waves a hand airily. Her patterns on her sleeve shine like the shell of a blue beetle. “Mr. Black, you will be Ms. Solace’s partner. You and Mr. Potter cannot be put together. I do not fancy an explosion in my class today.”
Perhaps , Sirius grudgingly thinks as he flings his bag on the ground next to his chair, this is penance for that one time they hid exploding snaps between the divination cards.
How were they to know that the scrying powder would enhance the volatility of the cards?
He can feel the worried gazes of his friends on his back and tries not to pay attention to it. Solace blinks up sleepily at him before flinching upon recognizing him. She scrambled to sit up and sets her gaze firmly on Professor Onai. Her shoulders tenses and she presses her lips together—she looks nervous at his proximity.
Good.
“Today, we will be performing Tasseography, divining our future in teacups.” She waves her wand and steam floats out the teapot spouts. Another flick of her wand and words appear on the blackboard. “
Follow these instructions and read each other’s fortunes. Happy divining!”
Truly, what is the point of this class; all of this feels like a farce. At least this is the last class of the week. He wishes to be done with this class already.
He sighs. Solace glances at him before taking the box of tea leaves. She picks up some leaves with the wooden tweezers and drops them into her cup. She then sets the box in front of him and he levels her a glare before grabbing it.
Solace stares absentmindedly at the swirling tea leaves as they wait for the cups to cool. Sirius taps a finger on the edge of the table impatiently. Why does he take this class again? Ah, yes, so he could graduate. Stupid requirement.
“This is a load of crap.” Sirius mutters to himself. “How are we to know the future from a cup of dregs?”
“There is some truth in it.” He looks up at her. She shifts in her seat and her eyes meet his for a moment before returning to her steaming cup. She looks forlorn at the idea of having to look into the porcelain, as if afraid to see what it will foretold. “Otherwise, why would it exist?”
He scoffs. “It is just fairytales and tricks for people to make a living. Muggles and wizards use it for entertainment.”
“There is a bit of truth and magic in every attempt at looking into the future.” Behind the soft voice was an unmistakable steel of certainty. Something about the hardness of her mouth and the stiffness of her posture gives him pause. What does she mean?
He doesn’t have time to divulge into that mystery. When the tea cools enough to drink, they pick up their respective cups and sip. Sirius drains the bitter liquid quickly and swirls the porcelain with his left hand before tipping the remaining liquid onto the tray.
The grainy black patterns give him pause. A vortex? He flips through his textbook.
A cup is slid towards him. Solace looks at him expectantly. “We have to read each other’s cups.” Sirius contemplates not giving her his. She already brought so much bad luck into the family, why should he give her a piece of his future? Blue robes appear in the corner of his eye and he shoves the cup into her hands before grabbing hers.
A cross is stark on the cup. He flips the pages and trails a finger down the list of portents under the pattern that starts with a ‘c’. “Cat, cello, chair, cistern…. Cross.”
“You will face–” his tongue feels heavy in his mouth— “trials and tribulation.”
“Ah.” Solace merely looks resigned. She doesn’t seem surprised or scared. Simply resigned, as if she has already known and accepted it.
She hands him back his cup. “Yours have a club in it. It foretells…an attack.” Her gaze holds something complicated and deep.
Sirius reads the meaning. Will you be attacking me? Or, do you think I will attack you?
Seriously? After all that she did to him and his family? He still has scars on his legs from the broken glass and shattered concrete, from her stupid bravado and attempt to be a bloody hero. She and her friends brought only pain to his family instead of helping.
Solace smiles wryly into her own cup and dumps the dregs onto the tray.
“That was a waste of time,” Sirius groans as they walk back to their dorm. “ I was partnered with Solace of all people too. The cup says that there will be an attack. An attack? What attack? By Snivellus and that greasy mop on his head?”
“Mine have an acorn in it. A windfall, an unexpected gold.” James skips a step. “Perhaps, lads, Lily Evans will soon finally accept a date with me.”
Remus rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t be so sure of the tea leaves' ability to foresee the future. It could just be mostly untrue.”
Sirius claps James on the shoulders with a grin. “Let’s listen to Remy on this, James. Perhaps Lily Evans will accept a date with you, but most likely not.”
“Oh, sod off—”
“Brother.”
Regulus stands in front of him, hand clasped in front. He sweeps his gaze uncomfortably between his friends, before tilting his chin up defiantly.
“Regulus.” Sirius breaths. “What is it?” He takes a step forward. “Why are you here?” Has something happened? He searches his brother’s face for any clues of what might be wrong with him. Is he hurt? Are the other first years bullying him?
His brother pulls out an envelope from his bag. “The owlery has a letter addressed to you. I believe it got mixed up with mine. It’s from cousin Andromeda; there is no possibility that it is addressed to me.”
Sirius takes the proffered envelope. It sits heavy in his palm, the contents no doubt full of details – Andromeda is known for her extremely long letters. Sirius enjoys them; it makes him feel closer to his cousin. Shunned by their family for eloping with a Muggle, she is no longer welcome to any pureblood’s residences, but Narcissa and he still keep in close contact with her. Regulus is far too young to have many memories and did not know her well enough to miss her. For all his younger brother knows, Andromeda has disgraced The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black so much that her name shall never appear in any of the Black family genealogy books.
“Wait, Reg—” Regulus turns and leaves without a word.
That night, when James is occupied with his homework and Remus is asleep, Sirius breaks open the seal on the letter. Moving pictures and little charms tumbles out of the envelope. A seahorse and a dog charm lays glittering on his desk. The letter itself comprises six pages, written in a purple cursive.
The usual well wishes; tales of her and Edward’s travels across Europe, Africa and Asia rich in detail; about how he must accompany them on a boat to Venice to see the friendly sea serpents, and Norway, to look at glacier sea horses that dance above and below the ice.
I do so wish you are here with me, dearest cousin, as well as my beloved sisters. It gives me so much comfort to know that you and Cissy love me still despite the shame I brought upon the family. I do not think Bella has much love for me; she cursed me to never send her any sort of correspondence. Lately, I have been feeling a bit lonely. I wish the travels around different countries were not just the two of us, but with another family member; perhaps a young cousin, nephew, or a child to spoil. Edwards and I do wish for another child, but I’m still unsure if I am ready, despite the incident taking place two years ago.
Do tell us whenever you feel ready to partake in another adventure with me and Edward or need a place to stay in America; you are always welcome in our home. Be good; don’t cause too much trouble in school.
Much love,
Andy
Ah.
He needs to breathe. Memories of that particular day rip itself from the dark recesses of his memories to the forefront of his mind. Ash and dust coats on his skin. Darkness swims in the corners of his eyes. The paper in front of him disappears, and the concrete and shattered tiles fill his vision. He can feel feather-light breathing on his back, hands clutching his arms. The smell of something evil permeates through the air. There’s shouting coming from the corridors. Another pillar groans and falls, the noise deafening his ears. The ringing in his ears makes way for screams .
The steps of the hound get closer.
Thud. Thud. Thud Thud—
“Sirius?”
He opens his desk drawer and sweeps the letter and trinkets into it. “I need to go out for a bit. Take a breather. Don’t,” he interrupts, holding a hand up, “follow me. I want to be alone.” He grabs his wand and marches out the door.
“Here.” James tosses him his Invisibility Cloak and their Map of Marauders. Sirius almost forgets it is already past curfew.
The hallways are devoid of people as Sirius wanders down the long corridors. The night air feels cool on his face. Moonlight streams between the pillars, and he is reminded of the giant pillars back at the Gateway Arch.
An owl hoots softly in the distance. He stops in front of the overarching pillars and takes off the cloak. The forest rustles in the distance, and its breeze carries over the high walls over to the open-air windows.
The atmosphere is somber.
He needs to breathe, to recenter himself. A strange melancholy pierces his chest; loneliness aches in his core. His brother barely acknowledges him. His beloved cousin is still struggling with the trauma. He still has nightmares. As much as he loves James and Remus, they cannot understand– they had not encountered the horrors that he did that day. An unimaginable anguish sets a scorching fire throughout his body. Why can’t his mind be quiet? The sirens, the rumble of broken architecture, the acrid smell of rotten meat, the glow of those eyes— it echoes in his head, bounces around his skull with no sign of stopping.
Footsteps echo in the corner of the corridor.
He turns to see Kyra Solace step out from the spiraling staircase, eyes wide as she takes him in. She is dressed in casual clothes, sweaty, with hair sticking to her forehead and neck. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Something sharp spikes in his gut—why was she crying—, before his mind clouds over with a tsunami of emotions.
Disgust at her appearance, disbelief at her audacity to weep, and cold fury at the whole bloody farce at the dregs in his divination cup.
She destroyed Andromeda and her peace of mind; who knows how many countless hours his beloved cousin mourned over her unborn child? He stalks towards her in cold fluid motion with a furious expression on his face that has Solace taking a step back.
She turns around behind her as if to search for students to blend into, or columns to hide behind.
There is none.
“Hiding?” Sirius calls after her. “There’s nothing for you to hide behind.”
The desire for vengeance races up his veins, quicksilver and electrifying. He will have it, now. She can neither run nor hide. She is bare, devoid of any protection. He can feel his lips stretch into a mockery of a smile, all sharp edges and no humour.
Solace takes another step back.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is quiet, meek, and fury rose hot up his throat.
“Am I not allowed to walk around here? Free? I am a student here, you know. Oh, no, no. Look at me. Look.” he takes a step forward. “At. Me.”
Solace shakes her head minutely and sighs. She rubs at her eyes. She looks more tired than he has ever seen her.
“What do you want, Black?”
“You know what I want?”
Her furrowed brow only stoke the fire lacing his veins. It burns and burns. “I want to know what happened two years ago.”
Her expression shutters. Spot on. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
His laugh comes out maniacal. She shrinks away when he takes another step forward. “You don’t? Truly? You,” he points at her. Spittle flies everywhere, “hurt my cousin. Her baby died because of you. If you didn’t try to get that hound to attack us, she would have a toddler now. Tell me, what was that hound?”
Her lips tremble and again, the lie tumbles out of her mouth. “Again, Black. I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Seriously? Bloody seriously? Fuck,” he grabs her arm and shakes her, “you would not even give me an explanation after all that you did to my cousin and me? I have scars from that day and I still see those teeth and eyes in my dreams and do you know my cousin is still too scared to try for a baby in case she loses another? When you—”
“Let me go!” she rips her arm out of his hold. Her eyes blaze blue fire and her cheeks redden. “You don’t know what you are talking about. And I— some things, you can’t know. Now, get out of my way.”
He cannot let this opportunity pass. She has always been a slippery eel, all his attempts at trying to get a response out of her has been unfruitful so far. Everytime he tries to corner her in these past two years, she finds a way to flee— he could never get time alone with her. What transpired between them is to stay between them; he does not want James or Remus to get involved.
This is about blood, about family. This is about The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and what harming a Black entails. But finally—he breathes out— finally, he has Kyra Solace in front of him, answers ripe for pulling out. And he’s not letting her go until he gets his answer.
He yanks her arm back. “Oh, if you think I will let you off without an explanation, you are sorely mistaken.” He can smell the citrus and steel off her breath. Her mouth twists into a snarl. “I have tried to corner you all these years, and finally I have you where I can get an answer out of you. You have been avoiding me too long, Kyra Solace.” He snarls. He jerks her arm so she stumbles towards him. Her pulse quickens under his fingers. “Now, TELL ME,” he roars, “ WHAT HAPPENED THAT DAY?! ”
“Bloody Merlin, why won’t you just leave me alone?!” She screams back. The moonlight shoots through the window and lights up her eyes. She wrenches her arm out of his grasp and turns around.
Sirius’s mind stutters.
A second passes.
Two.
The wind rustles the trees. Solace huffs and turns, her curls flying as she walks down the hallway.
Blood roars in his veins.
Leave her alone?
Alone?
After everything she did?
Fire roars up his gut and down his arms, in intricate directions of the veins and arteries his body allowed, like a volcano erupting and spilling down the crevices of its mound and down into the volcanic ash-strewn earth.
The wind whistles softly.
Three.
Static screams in his ears.
Something wet trickles down his hand. He can barely feel the indent of his family ring against the underside of his palm.
The taps of her shoes against the stone tiles grow fainter.
Sweat drips down his temple.
Saliva floods his mouth.
Red.
Red, redRedredredRedred
He does not recognize his own voice. The fire, pain, anger fear rage purepurerage slams up his throat and past his lips.
” Sectumsempra. ”
That fire flickers out into a cold night air like a plunge into outer space among the stars, far from the warmth of the sun, as she screams.
Notes:
Sooooo, how are we feeling about this chapter, guys?
Please leave a comment, I love hearing your thoughts and theories on the story!
I had to change the updating schedule to the weekends because college schedule sucks rn.
Chapter 9: Sirius Black - Feels like we had matching wounds// But mine’s still black and bruised
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The flickering flames from the Madam Pomfrey’s fireplace still can’t shake the cold snaking into the crevices of his bones even as he sits right in front of the embers. Voice rises behind him in a cacophony of whispers, haunting and hollow. The dampness of the Hospital Wing, not usual during this time of winter, hangs over him like a cloak, a miasma of despair, horror
….and numbness.
He zeroes in on Professor McGonagall’s voice. “We need to prepare for her arrival. And explain… “ her voice drifts into a sigh and that sound crushes anything solid left in his resolve. He can feel six pairs of eyes on his back. He didn’t mean to go that far. He didn’t know what came over him. The rage that had bubbled and filled up, the monster it had created—. It had moved his hand.
It couldn’t be him, could it. No, it couldn’t. He isn’t his mother. He isn’t a monster, a ghoulish figure that haunts his nightmares and whose mere presence pours molten silver into his veins to paralyze every muscle in his body. Dried blood crinkles in the crease of his elbow. The white of his nails are stained red. No matter how long he spends scrubbing the blood off of himself, it seems the evidence of the past two hours were still there. It felt like a lifetime. Will he still feel like this, like there is a vortex in his chest that sucks out every feeling that came out, a lifetime later? Will there still be this guilt, on his deathbed? How will he live, breathe, drink, eat, with the crushing, hollow feeling that now accompanies his every breath?
An owl hoots.
The clock strikes 12.
The sight of her unmoving slumped form still haunts him everytime he closes his eyes. The dark pool of blood underneath her figure grows larger and larger in the darkness under his lids. He doubts he could get any sleep tonight.
He does not.
Euphemia and Fleamont arrive three hours after he carries her into the Hospital Wing. James found Sirius staggering back to their dorm, drenched in blood. to his credit, James did not panic, scream or faint. He— and Remus, who had woken up after Sirius broke down sobbing at their door—got him into the showers and helped him clean up. While Remus made sure Sirius wasn’t spending hours under the showerhead —which he might have done if he hadn’t been gently nudged each time the screaming in his head took over his senses— James contacted his parents. Now, Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall—the interim headmasters while Dumbledore is off to Merlin knows where—, the three Potters, Remus and himself gather in Madam Pomfrey’s tiny office, waiting for Naomi Solace.
At 2 in the morning, what Sirius, and possibly everyone in the room, has been dreading, begins.
“Where is she?”
James and Remus shoves Sirius behind them, almost as if instinct possessed them to do so. The doors to Hospital Wing flies open and a woman stalks in. Her curly brown hair is pulled up into a messy bun, a dress shirt wrinkled at the sleeves and hems. There are remnants of dark glittery eyeshadow in the corner of her brown eyes.
Kyra Solace’s mother. Same brown hair, same arch of her eyebrows, a pair crunched up in agitation, the other lax on the white cot. Naomi Solace turns slowly towards Madame Pomfrey, eyes wide like an enchanted marionette. “ Poppy, where is Kyra?” Madame Pomfrey steps away from the bed, revealing the brunette unconscious on the bed, and Naomi Solace goes pale. She hurries towards her daughter’s side and immediately drops to her knees. Her hands rise up to cradle her daughter’s pale, still face. Her voice breaks.
”Oh, Kyra. Oh, my baby. My sweet girl.” Her hands shakily clasps Kyra’s hands and brings them towards her cheek. That already battered, bruised thing in his chest shatters as he sees Naomi’s eyes moistened. Fleamont spares him a glance before turning towards Naomi.
”Mama’s here, baby. Mama’s here, okay? Everything's gonna be alright. How did this happen?” Her eyes does not leave her daughter’s face.
”She got hit by a curse. One that was unfortunately,” Professor McGonagall takes a deep breath. “strong. She sustained deep lacerations over her torso and chest. But she will make a full recovery with time.”
”And how did that happen?” Her voice trembles, high-pitched with horror. Naomi’s eyes are bloodshot when she faces the Transfiguration Professor. When Minerva opens her mouth and closes, seeming to try and find the right words, she turns towards Madame Pomfrey. “How did my daughter get injured?”
Euphemia takes a step towards the older Solace, hand stretched out. ”Naomi—“
Her head swivels towards Euphemia. Her head jerks back as if this is the first time she sees her. Perhaps it was. “Euphemia? Fleamont? W-What are you doing here?” Her eyes land on James, then Remus. Then him. Her eyebrows scrunches in confusion, before a glimmer of understanding shines in her eyes. She turns towards Professor McGonagall. A crow caws into the night air. The cross and the club comes into his mind.
”Was it the children? Them? D-Did they cast this malicious curse?” Her tone is low, fused with disbelief, confusion and the beginnings of incredulity.
Then, her eyes narrow at Sirius.“Orion and Walburga Black’s son.” She hisses. As if those names are an explanation enough.
Orion and Walburga Black’s son. Is the son like the mother raised him? Is the son like the father’s whose seed sired him? It doesn’t feel right, to hide behind his best friends, and one of his best friends’ parents, when he is at fault.
“It was me.” He shoulders past Remus and James.He sees James open his mouth but he doesn’t give his best friend a chance to speak. “ I did this.” He hangs his head. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. The quiet apology rings out stone-cold in the quiet but freezing atmosphere. James takes an almost imperceptible step in front of him.
Naomi Solace’s eyes are unreadable. She looks at Professor McGonagall. “We have to talk.” Her voice is firm, and the air rising in tension. “This –” she waves her hand at the direction of the trio in a circle “ —needs to be addressed. Kyra told me about some-some pranks going on, but I did NOT expect it would escalate to this.” Her voice pitches to a high crescendo at the end of her sentence. Naomi Solace’s brown eyes glints steel, the same way Kyra’s does in the specific moments where Sirius thinks she is about to shed her mask of weakness and timidity. The remnants of smudged eyeshadow sparks. “What will the consequences be, Professor McGonagall?” Her voice takes on a ragged tone, rage coloring her breath. “Surely, expulsion?”
Wait, no.
No.
Nonono no .
He can’t be expelled. What will he do? He needs to stay in Hogwarts; he can’t go back to the Black Manor expelled.
“Naomi, Naomi.” Euphemia steps forward between Naomi and Professor McGonagall, hands held up in an effort to soothe. “Please, let’s calm down. It does not need to go that far.”
“Why are you even defending him?” Naomi’s brown eyes shine with unshed tears as she rounds on her. “He is not even your child; where is Walburga and Orion Black?” She demands Professor McGonagall.
Madam Pomfrey coughs lightly into her fist. “ We should have this conversation in the Headmaster’s office. Let us leave Kyra to rest.” She places a hand on Naomi’s elbow to lead her out of the Hospital Wing, but Naomi twists out of her hold.
“Wait,” she snarls before kneeling next to Kyra’s bed. She gently strokes the few hairs that fell on Kyra’s face with the back of her fingers before leaning over and kissing her forehead. The display of tenderness makes the knife twist deeper into Sirius’s chest. He has to strain his ears harder to hear what she is murmuring to her daughter. “Mama will be back, okay, baby? Just get better, sweetheart. I love you.” With a final kiss on her forehead and a final smoothing down of her brow, she stands up and marches towards the door, with Professor Mcgonagall and the Potters trailing after her.
“Go back to your dorms and try to sleep. We will figure it out.” Fleamont tells them. He ruffles Sirius’s hair, then James’s, then Remus’s. Sirius cannot stop the blood rushing in his ears. His parents cannot be told of what happened. He is already a hair’s breadth close to being kicked out, where will he go if this disgrace reaches their ears?
He’s almost too afraid to ask. “Will I be expelled, Fleamont?” he manages to spit out. “What do I—” Fleamont sighed. “I don’t know. Naomi is usually a very kind and understanding woman—we were in Hogwarts the same year and she’s a childhood friend of Effie— but under the circumstances.” His lips set into a grim line. “There will be consequences but we will try to minimize them. Go, get some sleep.” He claps Sirius' shoulder. It is the most stabilizing he has felt the entire time since encountering Kyra Solace on the corridors.
The way back to their dorms is a blur. James and Remus each have a hand on his back as they silently make their way down the dark hallways. They pass a couple students, who probably are sneaking out or returning. Sirius wonders if they heard Kyra’s screams. The sound is still reverberating through his bones. All the rage and bitterness have vanished, only emptiness remains. He never meant to go this far.
What has he done?
Notes:
This chapter is kinda short, so this week is a double update!
Yeah , Sirius is gonna be going through it. He’s gonna feel so so much guilt. Hint: Kyra’s going to be pissed at him for taking away her ability to train for the war.
How the roles have changed.
Please leave comments and theories! I need validation lmao.
Chapter 10: Kyra Solace - Made it out alive, but I think I lost it
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Fallen branches and dry leaves crunch under her feet as she sprint through the unfamiliar woods that sprawls to as far as her eye can see. Cold bites her skin, her sleeves are torn and threads fray from where the low lying branches snag into her clothes. The hellhound is gaining on her, no, gaining on them .
Sirius Black is behind her, eyes frantic and face pale with fear in the dim moonlight. His breaths are loud in the dark night.
“Run faster.” she finds herself screaming at him. Why or how they ended up being chased by hellhounds, she has no idea, but it is gaining on them. Her lungs burn with exertion; she doesn’t have much energy left. She looks around at their surroundings. Where are they?
Sirius yells; she turns around and her heart skips a beat. His leg is caught in a vine and he pants wide eyed at his trapped leg and at the hellhound gaining over him. Her body moves of its own accord and she scrambles towards him to pull him up. A shadow looms over the two of them and she freezes. The hellhound’s maw opens and moonlight glints off his canine sharp teeth. A brush of warm acid breath and she squeezes her eyes shut as they descend—-
She jolts awake. The first thing she registers is the sunlight gracing the back of her eyelids. Then, pain .
Lightning bolts zigzag and flares up her navel to her torso and she curls up as if she could block out the pain. She opens her mouth to cry out but only a low moan escapes. Her lungs constricts, something’s pressing down on her limbs, why does everything feel so heavy, why does her head spin— Suddenly, there is rustling next to her, and something is pushed into her lips. The taste of caramel brownies trickle down her throat. It takes her longer than it should to recognize the familiar substance.
Nectar.
The fuzziness subsides. With it, her mind clears and the pain increases tenfold. She let out a low whine; everything’s too much—she’s drowning, she can’t breathe — until another potion is forced through her lips. She counts to seven before the pain levels off to a dull buzz and she slowly blinks her eyes open. Her right ankle is in a cast and her right wrist twings when she moves. What happened ?
Her eyes refocuses to Poppy looming over her, looking tired but relieved. Her aged sister presses the back of her hand onto her forehead, mutters a few spells she thinks are diagnostic ones, fusses with her blankets, and clucks disapprovingly. “Poppy?” her voice sounds small to her ears. She can’t shift in her bed—something tight is wrapped around her torso.
“Hush. Do not talk. Drink.” Only after she manages a few sips of water through her painfully parched throat does Poppy say, “You were hurt, Kyra. How much do you remember?”
Kyra closes her eyes and frowns. She tips her head to the other side. What is the last thing she remembers? She had walked down the spiral staircase from the Room of Requirements— Dumbledore has told her to avail herself of it to train whilst in school. She was sweaty, she needed a bath. And then— oh. Black. Flashes of screaming and angry silver grey eyes that glint steel and bloodlust appear in her mind. A green flash of light, then a gut-wrenching scream that ripped itself out of the bottom of her chest and pain that blinded her every sense before she crumpled to the cold stone floor and everything went dark. Even with the painkiller potion every little movement — even just breathing— stings and aches.
She wants her mum.
“Mum—? What about—?”
“I have already sent a Patronus after her.” Poppy smiles. “ She will be here soon. I believe Naomi has already told your brother, but he cannot come within the following few days for certain reasons.”
Kyra has so many questions.“How bad is it?”
Poppy looks at her steadily. “You got hit with a curse. You have deep lacerations on your midsection. You also hit your head when you fell, and your right wrist folded under you and twisted. Your ankle also dislocated when you fell backwards.” She brushes the invisible lint of her blanket. Dread fills her gut. So she would not be able to shoot or spar anytime soon. She cannot even run, train her stamina. How much time has she actually lost? At her questioning gaze, “No training for at least a week. You were in a medical coma for five days as well.”
Her breath catches. Her mind reels. “What?!”
“You lost a lot of blood, Kyra. If Mr. Black has not brought you in as fast as he did, you would have bled out. I had to put you under a medical coma so that I have enough time to undo the curse so that the blood replenishing spells actually hold.”
“What curse was it?”
Poppy sighs. “It’s quite a novel one, something he heard once. ” Her mouth wrinkles. “I do not think he knew the extent of the damage the spell could cause.”
Something curls in her chest before spiking into something red, hot and sharp. So he hit her with a spell he does not know well. She is now tied down to her bed, in no condition to pick up a sword or a bow. Something lodges in her throat. She wants to laugh or cry, she doesn't know which one will happen first. Everything’s falling apart — but when is it not? — faster than she can pull things together. For the first time when thinking of Sirius Black, guilt does not coat her lungs, but rage. Scorching fury has blood roaring in her ears. Sirius Black has gone too far. She had let him take his anger and pain out on her, let him imprint a couple bruises and hexes on her because she considers it her penance for Andromeda Black’s miscarriage and the price for not revealing the existence of Greek mythology. She didn’t see anyone behind the pillar—that was the reason she lured the hellhound there.
The guilt she feels when she hears them scream as the hellhound crashes into their hiding spot had intensified to the point of unbearable when she sensed the fading breath of life in Andromeda Black’s womb as she touched her. She tried to calm her down the best she could in the few moments she had before Andromeda cries for her to pull out Sirius Black as well. After that, there was too little time — she didn’t know how to heal a fetus and Jenna also needed medical attention. The police would be arriving anytime soon and the Mist would not cover their presence for long. If anything, it might make her look as if the cause of the destruction. She endured all his harassing and bullying, thinking it would dissipate over time. Yet it didn’t, and now it has come to this, when he breaks her body the only time she needs it to be functional.
Angry tears spring to her eyes. The war will be upon them soon and she needs to be ready, to prepare, to train but now she can’t. She wants to scream and wail and howl her frustration and fear. How will she protect her family like this? But just as fast as rage comes, it extinguishes. An insurmountable exhaustion descends upon her. She’s so tired; why must she keep fighting? Her hands are tied. She can’t tell Sirius Black about the existence of hellhounds or Camp Half-Blood, he is only a wizard. The Mist does not work as well on wizards as they do on mortals— the Wizarding World originates from children of Hecate after all. If Sirius Black knows more about the existence of the Monsters, he could become a bigger target than he already is. Gods, how has all of it come of this? Poppy is quiet, folding some linen towels on the cot beside her.
“What will happen to Black?”
Something changes in Poppy’s face. Kyra watches her sister’s face as she rearranges her blankets and pillows. The resulting silence and her sister’s shuttered expression only stokes the flames in her chest. She shouldn't be worried for him. Not when he destroyed her body like this. But the vision she has of them being chased by a hellhound niggles at the back of her mind. “Poppy, what will happen to Black?”
“Your mother was going to press charges but the Potters managed to talk her down—”
The Potters, but not the Blacks? From what she gleaned from accidentally eavesdropping some of the pureblood Sytherins, Sirius Black does not have a good relationship with his parents. Walburga and Orion Black loathe their eldest son for being a Gryffindor and being friends with the likes of a halfblood like Remus Lupin and blood traitors like James Potter.
“ — but right now, he might still be expelled.”
Panic seizes her chest. No, she thought immediately, this cannot happen. Where the thought comes from or why she feels so strongly against it, she is uncertain. Yes, partly because expelling a student who does not have a good home life sounds too cruel, even for her. Then, a dulcet voice whispers in her ear.
“Do not let him go...”
The voice washes over her like a cool tidal wave. No, Sirius Black must not leave Hogwarts.
“Make him stay...”
She doesn't know the reason, but she agrees with the voice. Whatever the voice says, that is what should be done. Sirius Black must stay in Hogwarts. But who said that? She twists her head to look at either side. There is no one. “Did you hear that?”
Poppy looks alarmed. She flutters over and immediately starts muttering more spells. Kyra takes that as a no. Is she hallucinating?
“Rest, Kyra. We can figure out the rest later.”
Whatever it is, she resolves as multicolored magic mist swirls in the air and around her head, she must make sure Sirius Black does not get expelled. That is her last thought before darkness consumes her again.
Notes:
I've been writing alot these days only because I'm procrastinating from studying for this stats exam and chem homework lol. I just realized while writing the chapters ahead that the entire draft is already about 60k in and there’s no kiss in sight. Or Sirius’s confession (yeah, he’s gonna be the loser that gives in first and confess). Or anything resembling them tolerating each other’s presence due to Sirius’s guilt complex and Kyra’s grudge-holding prowess. I'm considering how long each chapter should be- I don't want to make it too short, but I want to give the characters their own chapters so we can see their perspective better. Let me know how long you guys prefer your chapters.
As always, please leave me a comment and let me know your theories!
Chapter 11: Sirius Black - Too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores
Notes:
TW: Mention of miscarriage
Surprise update because I just watched the latest episode of 9-1-1 on the ABC show "Lab Rats" and guys, I could not focus on my chem homework for an hour after. Because of the emotional damage, I needed to get the angst-demon's voice out of my head; so here's a new chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
In the end, the professors and Naomi Solace decide that Kyra Solace will have her input on his punishment. The fact that Sirius’s fate hinges on how forgiving Kyra Solace will be terrifies him to the core. Every passing day that she does not wake up, Sirius just barely manages to stave off a hysteric episode.
“Mate, she will be fine, Madam Pomfrey is one of the best healers in Scotland— if anyone has the skills to heal Solace, it’s her.” James says. Sirius runs his hands through his hair. The curls bounce into his eyes. He hasn’t washed his hair in days. “I didn’t know that spell was a curse or that it was so strong— Severus used it on you and it was only a cut!”
Remus tries to console him. “Madam Pomfrey stabilized her. She is only in an induced coma. She will wave up, Sirius, and will get better soon.” “But that doesn’t matter if she decides she hates me. She can get me expelled!”
When the Potters manage to glean the entire story from him, they make him contact Andromeda. His cousin’s disappointed expression on the Fire Talking only sinks his heart further.
“I appreciate you feeling sad on my behalf, Sirius,” she begins, “but what is done is done. I had a miscarriage. There is no reversing that. Let’s not forget she is also as young as you are when trying to fight such a huge creature. She must have been scared too.” “But she hurt you!” Now, the excuse seems far-fetched.
She takes a deep breath. The licks of fire surrounding her visage seems to illustrate her frustration. “Sirius, she didn’t see us while she was luring the hellhound over to where they were. I remember praying that she doesn’t come to where we are, because we were in her blindspot. Her back was towards us. She was only trying to survive a monster that was trying to kill her.”
“But—” “She actually tried to calm me down, sweetheart. I was in pain and was about to go into a panic attack. She made me do breathwork in the few moments she had before the police came.
“She didn’t have to fight them! She tried to be a hero and we got hurt.”
She smiles sadly. “No, Sirius. Those monsters were trying to kill her and her friends. They were not aiming for us— they were aiming for her and her friends.” Sirius is stunned. “Wha–” “You didn’t see it, but the monsters were only looking at her and her friends. Never at us.”
“She left! “The police were there. She must have been scared.” A part of Sirius wants to scream back, we were scared too. “She didn’t tell us anything.” he says instead. “We deserve an explanation! Everytime I try to get her to talk, she just denies or straight up just ignores the questions!”
Andromeda tilts her head to the side. Instead of agreeing, she looks thoughtful. “She must have had her reasons, Sirius. But, the thing is, what is done is done. There is only moving on from it. I can’t believe you went after her like that.”
Sirius rubs his forehead. Everything he has been doing, thinking he was doing the right thing, and merely taking what was owed to him— are they all wrong? “You owe her a big apology, Sirius.” Andromeda’s voice is gentle. She smiles sadly at him. “She doesn’t deserve to be bullied like that. We don’t need an explanation from her, if it is something she cannot give. You hurt her alot, Sirius. Not just now.” Shame blooms in his chest. His face burns, and not just from the flames.
“Yeah. Still,” he searches for another argument. “She should have said sorry!” “If anything, Sirius. I should thank her. It was an accident, and again, I do not think we need an explanation that she is unwilling to give. But for you to understand and let go— yes, I forgive her. Now, you should ask for her forgiveness, as soon as she wakes.”
She does not wake up for a full five days, and only family is allowed to visit when she does. From what he hears from the Potters, she’s expected to make a full, but slow, recovery.
He cannot concentrate the entire week. The professors drone on and on in class and reprimand him to pay attention but nothing registers in his brain. His appetite is nonexistent, and his nightmares of the hellhound, funnily enough, is replaced by the crumpled form of Kyra Solace. Everyone still treats him the same, none the wiser of the crime he committed.
When he is called, alone, into the Headmaster’s office— Dumbledore still absent— Naomi Solace, the Potters and Professor McGonagall stand behind the great mahogany table. A council of judges to damn or pardon him. Naomi Solace’s eyes are cold but her face is set in a mask of calm. Sirius can feel the rage seething underneath. She glances at him before turning her head firmly to the giant windows spanning the rooms. He swallows. Professor McGonagall gestures to a chair. “Take a seat, Mr. Black.”
He sits down. Blood is roaring in his ears. He can’t bring himself to meet the Potters’ eyes. He knows they are disappointed in him, and he hates it. He hates making his parent figures disappointed in him.
He awaits the verdict.
“Ms. Solace has recovered but she is put on bed rest for another week. She has been excused from her classes.”
He nods. Part of his feels relieved but he mostly feels scared of what Kyra has said to the professors. What did she say about him? What is his punishment?
“After discussing the professors, Ms. Solace and her mother, we have decided that you will not be expelled.” Relief washes over him. Not expelled. Thank Merlin. He clears his throat. It takes everything in him to keep his voice steady. “Will my parents be informed?”
Professor McGonagall’s face softens as she lays her eyes on him. “No.” she says kindly. The air is knocked out from his lungs, his fears dissipating into his breath. “I would like to add that your classmate is the one who spoke for you to not be expelled and for your parents to not be informed. I hope you will thank her for it.” She spoke for him? An unfamiliar gratitude for the brunette rises in his chest but is quickly shadowed by his confusion. Although, why didn’t Kyra Solace push for his expulsion? Surely, he deserves it. Naomi Solace keeps her gaze firmly on the window. He thinks the sunlight streaming into the room from the ceiling length windows dimmed for a moment.
“I- thank you.” He mumbles. He looks at Naomi Solce in the eye. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for what so did to Kyra. I didn’t think it would go this far.” The mask slips for just a moment and she softens. “There will still be consequences, however.” Professor McGonagall begins. “You did seriously injure a fellow student after all.” He nods. If it is not being expelled and his parents not being told, he can accept anything else.
“Ms. Solace will miss class for several weeks. She will be behind on her studies. We have decided that you will be in charge of helping her catch up on her classes.” That sounds fair. Except— he freezes— he would have to be in close proximity with her for the whole time she is on bedrest. That is weeks.
Professor McGonagall opens her mouth and apprehension coats the back of his throat. “We have decided that to ensure the satisfaction of her tutoring sessions, Mr. Black, you will need to make sure she has E and above on all her classes. Otherwise,” she pauses. Sirius’s heart hammers in his chest. He needs to make sure she gets E and above? What if he fails— what if she gets lower? “you will be dropped from the Quidditch team.” The words hit him like a Bludger to the face. Dropped from Quidditch?
“Is that understood, Mr.Black.?”
His voice sounds far away from his ears as he murmurs. “Yeah. Yes. Yes, Professor. I understand.” “We will tell you when the first lessons should start. You may go.”
He bows his head before sweeping out of there. James and Remus are waiting outside the office and are elated when he tells them of what happened in the office, although confused. “I can’t believe she vouched for you,” Remus muses. “That’s certainly interesting.” James looks worried. “You are going to have to tutor her personally, Sirius.” he murmurs. “Do you know when you start?”
Sirius shrugs. “Minnie said she will tell me when.”
“Ah, there you are.” Fleamont and Euphemia Potter round the corner and join them. Sirius could barely look them in the eye. “Hello, children.” Remus greets the Potters and excuses himself, citing his class for his departure. “Sirius, sweetheart, could we have a moment to talk?”
He hopes the ground would swallow him up, if it is another reprimand for what he did. But instead of a stern gaze, Fleamont’s face is open. “Er, yes. Of course.”
James looks at his parents, eyes wide. His face spreads to a wide smile when Fleamont winks. He bounds over between his parents and slips his arms between both of them. It dawns on Sirius that something big is about to happen. “We have an announcement.” James declares excitedly. Fleamont chuckles at his son’s bouncing on his heels.
“This has been a long time coming. Our family has been discussing this for a few months now, and I think with this incident, it simply moves executing our decision forward. Euphemia and I would be more than happy to have you in our home.” His heart jumps to his throat. Fleamont smiles. “We would like you to live with us and James.” Are they saying— Even after —?
“We reckon you don’t have a good relationship with your parents, Sirius. And we love you and want you to be comfortable and happy, instead of going back to a house you hate. You don’t have to go back to the Black residences either for summer or winter. You can stay with us.”
A sprig of hope grows in his chest, but he refuses to water it until he is sure. “I— W-Would I be intruding?” Euphemia rests her hand on his shoulder. “We are already like a son to us.” Her blue eyes are kind. James is between his parents, nodding excitedly. He looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. Sirius feels the same. But if he were to run away from home, how would he—
“We will cover any fees associated with living with us and your school supplies.” Fleamont grins. “We have more than enough anyways. What do you say, my boy? Come live with us starting now?” Tears spring from his eyes. His throat is closed up—he can barely get the words out. “Yes.” He whispers. “Yes, yes please. A thousand times yes.” He chokes up. “Thank you. Please.” He collides into James’s outstretched arms and when Fleamont and Euphemia wrap their arms around him, it feels like coming home.
Euphemia gives him one last smile, eyes twinkling, before they say their goodbyes and take their leaves. A sense of deja vu stirs in the back of his mind. He feels as if those eyes, the particular shade of blue, is familiar. James’s carefree whoop of joy rips away the dark cloud ever present upon his shoulders—he no longer has to endure torturous summers back in the Black Residence.
He is free.
The first thing Sirius meets when he enters the Hospital Wing for the first tutoring session is a fist to his face. He barely manages to dodge, and the punch lands on the side of his jaw rather than square in his face. His attacker is a short Asian teenager with long jet-black hair and obsidian eyes. His eyes are furious. Solace is yelling from her bed, “Michael, stop. Oh my gods—”
“So you’re the one who hurt my sister.” Sirius hears him snarl from the ground, as he tries to blink the stars out of his eyes. The world spins again when he feels his collar yanked up and he is pulled to his feet. Solace is yelling, telling Michael to let him go and a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes —Solace’s brother, Will, from a month ago at the Astronomy Tower—is yelling too, trying to pry Michael off of him.
Suddenly, Michael is lifted in the air and Madame Pomfrey glares at them all, wand raised and eyes blazing. “What is Merlin’s name is happening here?”
“I need to give him—” Madam Pomfrey’s frown silences Michael and he sulks midair. He wiggles his arms and legs, as if trying to crawl back to the ground. It doesn’t work. Hah, serves him right, Sirius thinks. He brushes off his shirt and readjusts his tie, making sure it remains crooked the way he likes it.
“You will not be fighting anyone in the room, Michael.” Huh, Madame Pomfrey is on a first name basis with the new bloke? “Otherwise, I will kick you out of this room. Do you understand me?” Michael glares back at Madame Pomfrey. He sure got the guts to look at the fearsome Matron in the eye like that. But he relents, giving one quick firm nod, and Madame Pomfrey lowers him to the ground.
“So, um—” Kyra fidgets. Her hair is in a braid and lays hanging over her shoulder. Her gaze flits nervously between Michael and Sirius. Sirius’s stomach drops when he realizes her eyes don't meet his, only lower. “This is Sirius Black. Black, these are my older brothers. Michael Yew, he’s my half-brother.” The tiny angry black-haired bloke folds his arms and glares. If he hadn’t had the living daylights punched out of him, Sirius wouldn’t consider him very intimidating. But now, he’s just glad for his reflexes that spared him from the damage that could have occurred if the punch had landed flat. “And this is Will.” The blonde hair blue eyed teen nods, glancing at him before returning his gaze to his sister.
“We couldn’t come earlier because there is some—” Michael glances at Sirius, “things going on at camp.”
“What things?” Kyra’s eyebrows knit together, and she looks as if she had aged ten years at that moment. “What things?” she repeats when Will presses his lips together, clearly hesitating on whether or not to tell her whatever it is. Sirius feels as if he is not supposed to be here, but this is the only time he is free to tutor Kyra without it cutting into his Quidditch practice time.
“Nothing bad.” Michael touches her shoulder. Kyra searches his eyes. “We are just busy. I am not lying, sunbeam, I promise.” Kyra holds his gaze for a moment longer before dropping it. She looks at her hands silently and Sirius notes the faint white scars on the fingerpads and calluses on the flesh of her palm. “You have to tell me anything new that is happening at camp.” she says softly, her head bowed down.
Questions whirled in Sirius’s head. What is so important about camp that Kyra looked so scared and desperate to know about what’s happening there? He knows that the camp is somewhere in America. Maybe the camp is a big deal over there?
“It’s just preparation, Kyra. Nothing else. We were helping out with–” Michael side-eyes Sirius again and Sirius stares back at him defiantly. All this tiptoeing is making him also annoyed. He is here to do his job as fast as possible and leave so that he can go to Quidditch practice. He can’t be stuck in whatever secret conversation they are having. “—testing the bronze and bows.”
Kyra nods. “Alright. Well,” she gestures towards him. “I have a tutoring session right now. Unless you want to hang around for that, you should probably go back to camp. Help out with the testing. I need to get back into studying." Sirius takes this as his cue to drag the side table and a chair to the side of Kyra’s cot. He pretends he doesn’t hear her whimper when Will helps her sit up from her reclining position.
Michael and Will end up leaving within the first ten minutes of the session. The two of them hug Kyra and murmur well-wishes, and Sirius loudly rummage through his bag when he hears Will softly shushes Kyra when she sobs quietly into his neck. “Call us often, okay? And be good.” Michael says. He pats Kyra’s head. She looks up at him and pouts. The tension on the lines of her eyebrows and around her lips melts and her face looks softer than he had ever seen her in all their time at Hogwarts. “I behave perfectly at school.” she grumbles. “Much better than you for sure.”
“What was that, you brat?” Michael reaches out to pull her into a headlock that is more of a gentle caress and Kyra lets him, an unfiltered smile beaming from her face. Sirius remembers with a pang how he and Regulus used to play-wrestle, back before Regulus became a Slytherin and they grew apart. Both of her brothers give Sirius a downright nasty glare each before walking out of the giant Hospital doors. As the door closes, Sirius realizes that they are all alone in this giant room.
“Well,” Sirius clears his throat. The entire time he has been here, Kyra still has not met his eyes. “Let’s start with Transfiguration.” Kyra flips her notebook open. Her eyes tense at the corners when she tries to open the heavy textbook, and Sirius wordlessly opens it to the right page for her. “So, on Monday, we learned about—”
Despite the awkward air between them, they actually managed to get a lot of work done. Kyra had missed two weeks of classes with her being unconscious for over a fourth of it and the rest spent recovering her energy. Even then, fatigue lines her shoulders as the hour goes by. She needs a lot of help catching up before her midterms, and Sirius needs to make sure she passes with at least an E in all her subjects if he is to stay on the Quidditch team. At least she is a O’s and E’s student. Otherwise, Sirius will have to kiss his Nimbus goodbye.
When they near the second hour, Kyra’s head is drooping to the table. “We can stop here for today,” he says. They went through an entire day’s worth of class in just two hours.
“I’m not tired.” she mutters, and Sirius graciously does not mention how she nearly faceplants on the textbook just fifteen minutes ago.
“Well, I need to go and you probably er, should rest.” Sirius stands up and gathers the books and quills. He turns his face away so that he does not see her flinch and grit her teeth as she shifts herself on to the side of the bed. He freezes, hands twitching at his side. For what? She wouldn’t even meet his eye the entire session; trying to help her will just cause even more tension between them.
She suddenly careens to the side with a cry, and his arms fly out and wrap themselves around her waist before he realizes what happened. Kyra stares at him, her eyes wet and wide, her pale lips parted. Sirius distinctly feels the layers of bandages beneath her hospital shift and the sick, twisted feeling of guilt makes the bile rise up his throat. She gasps. Sirius tries not to stiffen as she twists out of his arms with a full-body flinch. She quickly turns to the side to face away from him while stifling whimpers of pain and pulls the cover over her head. Her voice is muffled under her blanket.
“Get out.”
Sirius doesn’t need to be told twice. As if he is in a trance, his body moves. He stuffs all the stationery and books in his bag and makes a beeline towards the doors. He has overstayed his welcome. Goosebumps rises along his arms from the phantom itch from the thick layers of bandages he felt. Merlin, what did he do? He shouldn’t have touched her—but it was instinctive, like his body was compelled to protect her, soothe her pain and make sure she doesn't get more hurt than what he had already dealt to her. Sirius turns over his shoulder to give one last look at the bundle on the hospital cot. He wets his lips. “Tell me when you want our next session to be.”
He leaves without an answer.
The answer comes to him two days later in the form of an animate plant that nearly makes him faceplant in the empty Quidditch field. Katie Gardner sneers down at him. How she manages to make that vine appear out of nowhere, Sirius doesn’t know. They haven’t learned wordless magic. James moves to pull out his wand, but Katie is faster. She raises her wand at him, eyes narrowed. At least she had the sense to ambush them when there is almost no one around. Without keeping her eyes off James, she tilts her head in Sirius’s direction. “Today, four o’ clock. Our dorms this time.” Her green eyes glint maliciously, like the teeth of the Puglihut plant.
She turns and walks away. Sirius immediately pulls down James’s arm. Retaliating will only make things worse. What Katie and Kyra's brother did to him is nothing compared to what he inflicted on Kyra. The irony tastes sharp on his tongue.
James huffs. “Well, I guess we better get going.” He picks up his Firebolt. The afternoon sky is heavy with the smell of ozone and petrichor. “It looks like it's going to rain soon anyways.”
Kyra is discharged just this morning from the Hospital Wing. Sirius learns that she, Malcolm, and Katie have their own separate dorms from the rest of them due to their scholarships. “Blimey mate, I didn’t know they get completely separate dorms from the rest of us.” Remus remarks when Sirius told him about his new tutoring location. “But now it makes sense why we don’t see them in our Common Area.”
Katie meets him in front of the door, arms crossed. Sirius tries not to be rankled by her attitude. “She’s in there.”
Yes, she is. Why else would he be here?
The interior of their dorm is not much different from the Gryffindor rooms. Their common area is less spacious than what Gryffindor suites share, but only three students live here compared to the Gryffindor suite six. Kyra is seated at the table, books and scrolls spread out around her. She is looking through the open window as he walks in, her eyes clouded over. There are thunderclouds brewing outside. The trees rustle and dance in the wind. Sirius shivers at the gust of wind that blows into the room. Winter is approaching.
Only when Sirius slowly sets his schoolbag on the table does she turn out, wide-eyed. It is as if she didn’t hear them come in at all. What could she be thinking, he mused, that she is completely aware of him and Katie walking in.
Kyra taps the edge of the table with a fingernail. She clears her throat. “I was looking through chapter 16 for Transfiguration,” she starts, “I’m not sure which pages will be on our finals.” She looks up at him. Her eyes are still slightly clouded over as she gazes up at him, as if she is not really seeing him. He ignores the strange pang in his chest. “Professor McGonagall expects us to know everything in that chapter.”
“Ah.” Her eyebrows scrunch down at the textbook. She shivers as another gust of wind blows through the window. Sirius grabs the scrolls before they fly away. “Shall I close the window?” he suggests. Something about how she curls into herself, among the soft layers of clothing, skin stark white in the glow fireplace makes something in his chest ache.
Kyra shakes her head. “I’ve been stuck in a room for so long.” Her voice is sharp and sure. “I need fresh air.” Her eyes flicker to the window once again, and Sirius wonders what is outside that captured her attention so strongly. That fresh air is going to get you sick, he doesn’t say. He stands for a moment longer in case she might change her mind. She looks up at him quizzingly. He sits down in front of her. “We can go through Herbology.”
She shakes her head. “Katie already taught me that. Let’s go through Defense Against Dark Arts.”
Tension thickens in the air between them. Sirius’s voice is barely a whisper. “Very well.” Ironically, the chapter was on curses, of all subjects. Kyra sits up in her chair, back straight, head bowed. She writes down notes in the margins of her textbook and squints multiple times. A couple leaves fly through the window, and he can see her shivering under her sweater. Her lips are still pale as the day before yesterday in the Hospital Wing.
He stands up, “I can clo—” Kyra’s head snaps up. “No.” she says. “Leave it as it is.”
Sirius slowly sits down, while Kyra glares down at the paper. Confusion whirls in his chest. He rubs his hand down his pants leg. Why wouldn’t she close the window, despite it being cold.
There is a knock near the door. Katie approaches them, a throw blanket bunched up in her arms. “You’re going to get sick, Kyra.” she scolds. Yes, Sirius wants to say, what she said. The wind has only picked up with a thunderstorm approaching. In half an hour, there might be rain. “You need to stay warm." Katie wraps the pink blanket around Kyra’s shoulder and places her hands on her shoulders. She mutters something into Kyra’s ear that Sirius couldn’t catch, but Kyra does not stop her when Katie closes the windows.
Kyra seems to have aged a decade the moment Katie closes the windows. She taps her feather end of her quill on the table rapidly as he begins explaining the procedure of reversing a curse. Sirius pretends not to notice how her bottom lip quivered and shoulders hunched up. When Katie walks out of the door— “Where did you learn the curse you attacked me with?”
Sirius’s heart stops. His mind races. He thought they weren’t going to be talking about this. Pretend like it never happened. How does he answer the question? He decides to keep it vague. In case it could be used against him. “I came across it in a book.” He lies.
“You're lying.” Her voice is cold and sure. She is looking him in his eyes now, right into his very soul. Her gaze sets him alight with cold fire and sends shivers down his spine. She has never looked at him like this before. His stomach flips. “I know you are lying.”
He fights not to flinch at her words. “Why do you want to know?” He knows she can hear the tremor in his voice. Has she always been this observant? He never expected Kyra Solace to be like this. Every time he hexed or pranked her; she always had her head down and never fought back. Her eyes are always downcast. Now, faced with a fiery blue on an ice-cold facade, he can’t help but feel like the rug had been pulled from under his feet. “I think I deserve to know.” She adds softly.
Sirius swallows. “Severus Snape used it on James. But it was only a small scratch on his arm. I didn’t- I didn’t think it would—” He stumbles over his next words. He still can’t put it into words. He didn’t think the wounds would be this severe.
“Curses are determined by the strength of the wizard’s emotions.” She glances down at her textbook. Her voice is detached. There is no emotion behind her words. She sounds like a scholar objectively describing a disease of which there is no cure. Clinical.
He doesn’t trust himself to speak. What does he even say to that? Does he say sorry? His stomach drops to the ground. Oh, Merlin. He hasn't even apologized for that evening yet. Kyra’s eyes flicker back to him. The next words that leave her lips knock the wind out of his chest.
“I guess we are even now.” She never even apologized for — no. It was never Kyra’s fault. Andromeda’s voice murmurs in his ear. She never owed him anything. Horror burns its way down his throat, like acid corroding away at skin. If anything, he owes her. The next words feel like sandpaper rubbing his throat on its way up. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t meet his gaze, but her eyes harden. The scribbling stops. The soft pitter-patter of the rain ceases, just for this moment. Silence hangs between them. The tension lies between them, thick. He finds himself focusing on her lips. They are trembling. What will she say? She doesn’t say anything. He shifts backward in his seat until his back meets the wooden back of the chair he’s sitting on. He doesn’t even know when he had leant forward. After a moment—
“Why are Calgary pixies involved in the makings of an Irish moon curse?” She points to an illustration of the elvish-looking creatures.
“Wha-what?”
“Why are they mentioned in the passage?” She pushes the book towards him. She still does not meet his eyes. Their session finishes an hour later. By then, it is pouring, the sound of the raindrops hitting the tiles fill the backdrop of his mind. It doesn’t look like it is going to stop any time soon. He resigns himself to studying for his own finals. As he is packing up, he asks, “what time next?”
She is looking outside again, unblinking. Her blanket wraps around her like a protective serpent. Her brown hair cascades down the front and back of the fabric. With her stillness, she looks like a fragile china doll that would shatter with a single touch.
He hesitantly knocks the table. The sound jolts her back and she turns her head back towards him. Kyra stares at him as if she didn’t expect him to still be there. Once again, Sirius wonders what is going on in her head. He repeats his question. Her voice sounds far away, like her gaze. “Tomorrow at 2 o’ clock.” She is still looking out the window when he walks out.
Notes:
Other than giving the Marauders and Kyra all happy endings and taking out Peter and good ol’ Voldy, I adhere pretty closely to the canon, down to the very year. I shifted the Marauders' Era to Percy Jackon's 21th century, but with how the Wizarding World functions, there’s not much of a change in the magical world.
I want the events of the PJO, HoO and ToA to fit all in while Kyra is in Hogwarts and boy was it hard to make sure it aligns with the timeline. Thankfully, Uncle Rick made the series pretty close to each other in time, so I could fit everything in. Kyra can’t catch a break.
Sirius’s fatal flaw is protectiveness. It’s canon that he would happily die for James and Lily Potter and Harry and despite his irresponsible personality, he will stop at nothing to exact revenge on people who wronged his loved ones. This comes from having so few people around him that loves him growing up. His parents are horrible, Regulus is slowly estranging from him and he doesn’t have anyone in his corner growing up. His only solace (pun unintended) is Andromeda, James, Remus and James’s parents. He’s going to do whatever he can to keep those around him safe and happy.
Sirius will never feel guilty about hurting Kyra for Andromeda— he only feels guilty for hurting an innocent person.
Also, because of their new proximity and the intimacy of physically hurting each other and regreting it, Sirius starts to see Kyra as 'Kyra' and not 'Solace'.
I hope you have enjoyed the recent chapters. Please leave a comment, I love reading your thoughts and theories!
Chapter 12: Kyra Solace - I don't ever ever wanna look back // The future's blurry but the past is a trap
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Every jab of pain down her side reminds her of her failure, her uselessness, her stupidity. Why, she thinks, why was she so stupid that she couldn’t control her mouth around him that one time? Why was he supposed to be there? Why did she decide to take that particular corridor? Why did she let his hatred fester this far? How did she not notice that?
Then, rage.
Why did she let him walk over her this long, to this extent? Why, why, why why why why — Poppy refuses to train her, not even when she begged her. Until your body heals completely , she had said. Every second she lays useless in her bed, she is losing precious time, the war is just seven months away, she needs to heal better, fight better, be bloody better—
A knock jolts her out of her thoughts. Sirius Black is still there. The world slowly shifts back into focus, one thing at a time. The smell of ink and parchment permeate the air. The rain pitter-patter softly in symphony with the crackle from the fireplace. She blinks away the drops that sprays at her from the window.
“What time tomorrow?” His eyes are expectant, as if he had asked this question before. Did he say something? “Tomorrow at 2 o’ clock.” Her throat feels dry and she swallows. The tea Katie made for her sits in front of her, unfinished and tepid.
She stands up slowly, to not aggravate her stitches. She was lucky, Poppy said, that she was a daughter of Apollo. She heals quicker than normal demigods and the few drops of anchor in her blood burn away the lingering dark remnants of curse. Still, the lacerations are deep enough that she could have bled out in the hallway in the dead of the night if it weren’t for Sirius Black carrying her unconscious body to the Hospital Wing and banging on Poppy’s door. It takes her a while to clean up her table, having to pause each time the stitches pull. Katie and Malcolm come back just when she finishes wiping the table down from any ink splatters.
“How are you feeling?” Katie’s hair is tied back, her face and neck shiny with sweat. At her belt hangs a sword. Malcolm places his dagger on the wipes at his forehead.
She shrugs. The blanket falls off her shoulder and she clutches it back. Before her incident, the three of them would take turns sparring every day. Kyra bites back the guilt as she watches them leave. She should have been training with them, instead of being stuck at a table, unable to twist her body without blinding pain flare up her spine and making her eyes water. She stifles the urge to cry, scream, throw things. Her heart pounds in her chest, as if it will leap out any moment from how hard it was beating. She wants to shove it back into her chest, force it to beat normally. She wants to hit herself. Why, why was she so stupid. She wants to throw her mug at Sirius’s Black’s head. She wants to curse him, scream at him, make him beg and grovel for her forgiveness. But what good will it do? The fire leaves her veins and leaves only ice in its wake. Her body screams at her everytime she tries to train, to heal. There’s nothing she can do. Just rest, and rest, and restrestrest—
Tears trail down into her pillow the moment she pulls the covers over her head.
It takes three long weeks for the stitches to stop hurting with every little movement. By the time winter descends upon Scotland, the nausea at the pain has all but abided. Poppy changes her bandages and pokes at the neat row of stitches, and mumbles under her breath at the black jagged lines that extend over the expanse of her stomach and curls around her hips. They reach up towards her chest and threads itself through the ridges of her ribs, skimming her right breast. Out of all the battles she has gone through, this remains the most obvious scar— a battle that she loses in the most embarrassing manner. She gets caught off guard by a spell casted by an untrained wizard of all beings, and when she finished training in the dead of the night.
He comes to her dorm again, then again. He comes once every two to three days during the weekdays to give her the daily rundown of topics they cover in class and the assignments and homework they have to complete. Malcolm helps her with Transfiguration and Katie with Herbology, so Sirius Black has less to worry about. She’s also a diligent student, she tells him during their third session when she can hear his heart rate spike every time she frowns in confusion, he doesn’t have to worry about his Quidditch position.
She knows the professors had set the condition that if he fails to help her get at least an ‘E’ in every class, he would be dropped off from the team. So far, he has been diligent in teaching her. She hates to admit it —no, she doesn’t even want to think about him at all, in any manner— but he is actually a decent teacher. Still, she has nothing to do—she is barred from all types of training —so all she can do is sit there and study.
When she goes back to classes, her fellow Gryffindors crowd around her desk. They pester her with questions and while their evident worry makes her chest warm and fuzzy, she wishes that they wouldn’t pay her that much attention. She just wants to forget about whatever happened that night, and the long days spent in bed. Only when Slughorn starts the class do they all retreat to their own table. This leaves only one more person to deal with.
“What happened?” Lily’s eyes are wide.
She manages a smile, although it doesn't reach her eyes. “Just something I need to take care of.” She tries to wave it off. “I’m fine now, Lily.”
Lily’s eyes narrow. Bless her beautiful heart, Lily Evans never knows when to back down; she only gets more and more focused on unearthing the answer behind the layers and layers Kyra weaves. She has tried to push her off, gently, but the redhead is never hindered. Where the protectiveness springs from Kyra does not know. One fine afternoon in their second year, in which they were assigned Potion partners because the Slytherins no longer had the same Potions class as the Gryfindors, Lily Evans came up to her and declared that she wanted to be friends with her. Kyra, intimidated and confused, only dumbly nodded and the two struck up some sort of a one-sided relationship. If Kyra’s gaydar hadn’t remained simpy inactive the entire time Lily was around her, she would have thought the redhead had a crush on her.
Which wasn’t the case, thank goodness. She already pissed off one Sirius Black, she didn’t need more reasons to rub against James’s Potter ego and give the Marauders more ammunition
“Was Black part of it?” she asks, and without waiting for an answer and leans in. Kyra fights the urge to flinch.
“Wha—“
Her voice drops to a whisper. “You know how Marlene and Sirius have something going on?”
That is new.
“She’s saying that he’s been distant, and quiet. He disappears at odd hours and without James Potter or Remus Lupin. She thinks he’s depressed—” She gives her a shifty gaze—“because of something”
Kyra does not know how this matters to her. Why should she care? The debt is paid. The scales are balanced. There is no need to care about how he feels. She glances at the pair a couple tables away from them. Sirius’s hand taps on the edge of the table, back straight and lips pressed together. She doesn’t think she has ever seen him this tense. She averts her gaze when James meets her eyes.
“You were out of class for a month, and the entire time Black looks like a kicked puppy. Coincidence?” She tosses her red curls over her shoulders. “I think not.”
“Beats me.” She mutters. She does her best to look confused.
Shit . Lily knowing about the truth will only complicate matters. She will undoubtedly blow up in Sirius’s face, Sirius might not react favorably, James is going to get involved if Sirius reacts to Lily, and Kyra will be caught in the middle of that shitstorm.
Lily looks at her from under her eyelashes. “Do you know something?” Why does she have to be so smart?
She shrugs delicately. The fabric brushes against her stitches and she bites the inside of her cheek as it itches. “I was in America the whole time. Family emergency.” Being transferred to a private room in the Hospital Wing and having separate dorms have its perks. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Lily.”
“Oh—“ Lily’s face softens in sympathy. Kyra gives her what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s all good now.” Before Lily could ask more questions, she interrupts.“Now, what is the next thing we add?”
Lily looks down at her notebook. “Dragonfly wings.”
It takes two months after she is discharged from the Hospital Wing for Poppy to resume her training. They go slow at first, working on minor injuries on clumsy students with Potion burns and Herbology mishaps before Poppy starts bringing her to the Quidditch players who did not see the Bludger, or did a nosedive too fast and forgot to steer back up.
The Slytherins and the Gryffindors are having a nasty go at it, and with the winter break coming up, it only becomes worse. The tension rises as the two teams jostle for Cup points before they have to leave.
“Why are they so dumb,” Kyra mutters under his breath as she dabs at Isaac Dalloway’s cuts and bruises on his legs. Isaac has a rare genetic disorder that makes his body somewhat immune to healing spells but the half-blooded Gryffindor still somehow managed to get himself scraps, bruises and broken limbs at almost every opportunity presented. In this match against Slytherins, he ended up breaking both of his ankles. Said Gryffindor is currently lying down on the cot a couple feet away from her. He lifts his head and pouts. Kyra groans internally. Isn’t he in his fifth year?? Why is he acting like a kid?
“Hey,” he says. He wiggles his fingers at her. She plasters on a professional smile. It’s not that Isaac is a difficult patient; he’s actually quite sweet and cracks great jokes. If only he could stop stumbling face first into situations that wounds him up in the hospital. How hard is it to not get yourself hurt?
“What is it, Isaac?”
He brushes back a strand of hair. The towel on his head is soaked through from the rain and Kyra makes a mental note to bring him another towel. The last thing she needs is him down with a cold. “My bandages are itching and kinda hurting around the edges. I think the wrapping is rubbing on the skin. Could you take a look?”
Poppy had to leave for a healer conference just a few minutes ago, leaving Isaac’s post-care in her hands. She gently pulls up his pants leg to look at the cast. He is right, the skin around the cast pulses a faint red. The lubricant gel must have worn off.
“I’ll get you some gel. Hang tight.”
“I’m not going anywhere!”
Just as she starts applying the gel underneath the bandages around the edges of his left ankle, the Hospital Wing doors open. A bunch of Gryffindors walk in, heading straight for Isaac, whose eyes brighten considerably. The smell of sweat and grass clings to their Quidditch gear and trail after them. They push and shove at each other, crowding over their injured teammate.
“We won!”
Isaac lets out a whoop and tries to sit up, although the casts prevent him from doing so.
“Hey, mate.” A sixth year Gryffindor that Kyra did not know the name of says, clapping him on the shoulder. “How are you doing?” He turns to Kyra. “He will live, yes?”
“Yes.” Something fierce aches at her temples. Bloody Gryffindors. Yes, they are her Housemates but couldn’t they keep it down? There is a Hospital Wing!
Kyra twists the lid back on the container. She should come back later.
“Oh, no, Kyra.”
Kyra turns around. Isaac grins at her. “You can keep working on it. It’s been bothering me a lot.” When he sees her hesitating, glancing at the rowdy Gryffindors beside his bed, his eyes widen into an imitation of unfortunately destructive puppy eyes. “Pleaseeee?”
The Gryffindors all look at her and she opens and then closes her mouth. Five pairs of eyes stare back at her expectantly. She shifts her weight on her feet.
“Sorry, should we leave?” The captain—Kyra thinks her name is Hilda— looks at her.
Isaac had spent the first thirty minutes of being in the Hospital Wing pouting. She waves their hesitation away. “Oh no, I’ll be fine. Just lower your voices, please.”
Hilda nods. The Gryffindor standing at the foot of the bed, tan skinned and dark-haired with an Roman nose, scrunches his eyebrow. You’re Kyra? Kyra Solace? The Kyra Solace?” Giovanni Ricci , her mind supplied.
Kyra blinks. “Yes, I am.”
“As in, the Kyra Solace that Sirius has to tutor into getting all Es otherwise he would get kicked off the Quidditch team?”
Her stomach rolls and Kyra couldn’t quite hide the grimace that flits across her face. Hilda reaches over to whack a hand over the back of Giovanni's head.
“Ow!” Then his eyes widen and he looks at her with a hint of embarrassment. “Oh. Sorry.”
Kyra doesn’t reply, just focusing on applying the gel. The tension thickens in the room and becomes almost tangible in the room, before the doors open again and —oh gods, of all people — Sirius Black and James Potter walk in. Sirius Black’s hair is slicked back, wet with rain. The raindrops drip down the curvature of the veins in his neck and disappear under his uniform.
“Hey, Dalloway! How —” His smile disappears when he sees her. He stops a couple feet away and stares at her. She suddenly feels conscious of the fact that she’s holding the applicator and a tub of gel in her hands.
“I didn’t—. Oh.” Sirius stammers. He rips his gaze away and looks at anywhere else but her. Kyra quickly checks over the bandages; all areas are covered with a good amount of gel. She pulls the pant legs down and tosses the applicator in the bin.
“All set.” Her eyes flicker up to his wet hair. “Let me grab you a towel.” She leaves with her back straight, restraining from flinching at the many eyes that follow her back. Isaac grins at her reassuringly when she returns. Sirius is nestled behind Giovanni, James, and another Gryffindor, as if they are trying to hide him from sight. The players are all whispering among themselves. She lifts her chin up and makes her way up to the head of the bed, Giovanni skidding out of the way. Isaac murmurs a quiet thank you when she hands over the towel. Then she remembers that he also has a sprained wrist, so she carefully wraps the towel around his forehead.
“Keep your ankles elevated and make sure to rest. You can stretch your upper body and your legs but don’t overdo it. You won’t be putting much weight on those ankles for a week or so.”
Isaac salutes her. “Yes, doc.” His grin holds none of the awkwardness that exudes out of the other Gryffindors. Kyra manages a smile despite the circumstances. “I’ll be in the office. Hit the button if you need anything.
As she walks away, she hears Sirius ask “I didn’t know you guys are close.” She closes the door to Isaac’s squawk of “We’re not!”
Poppy walks into the office thirty minutes later, face worn with exhaustion. “I’ve shooed the other Gryffindors out; they are not letting the patients rest.” Poppy sets her bag on the tea table and sits down heavily on the couch. Kyra silently pours her a cup of tea and hands it to her with a Pepper-Up potion.
“Thank you.” Poppy gulps the potion in one go and chases it down with the tea. “That was a long meeting. So much reorganizing of the healing facilities and protocols around here in Scotland.”
“Did it go well?”
Poppy nods.“How’s Mr. Dalloway?”
Kyra hands him his chart. “Did a basic post-care check. Looks all good. He does need to stop trying to get himself killed, though.”
Poppy lets out an undignified snort. “Why don’t you do the same, Kyra?”
“It’s not the same, Poppy. I’m not actively searching for trouble— it’s finding me!”
“Excuses, excuses.”
Kyra rolls her eyes. Poppy sets her tea cup down and lace s her fingers together on her knee. “You do have the authority to kick them out if they start causing a ruckus, yes?”
“I don’t really want to deal with him,” Kyra murmurs. So far, out of all the patients that end up under her care, the Gryffindors are the rowdiest, most of which are Quidditch players. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She’s always in close proximity with him, one way or the other. School, House, classes, hallways. Now the Hospital Wing. Why can’t she escape him? She wishes she never met him.
There is a beast pacing and growling warningly under her chest every time she crosses Sirius Black's path. She doesn't know if she wants to attack or run away from him. She can’t wait to get back to camp, if only to escape from him.
Notes:
Kyra’s dark swan arc. Next up is a hefty chapter, you guys. It’s gonna have an intimate conversation between Kyra and Pollux and the start of the Battle of Manhattan. Buckle up, because it’s gonna be an angst-fest, perfect for my finals season!
Chapter 13: Kyra Solace - You leapt from crumbling bridges, watching cityscapes turn to dust
Notes:
Hi hi hi! The Battle of Manhattan is here! My updating is going to have to change because of my college classes. Good news though, I got two beta readers! We are all busy people so it is going to take a bit more time than before to update, but rest assured, I already have a handful of chapters written ahead. From now on, it's one new chapter every two weeks!
Grab your tissues and enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Kyra chews on the granola bar and stares down at the book on her lap. It was already filled to the brim with text, but alongside that Poppy’s annotated notes are scribbled almost illegibly in the corners and Kyra leans down to scrutinize the tiny black font.
Her elder sister had given her reading to do while she spends her winter break at camp so that they won’t lose time on training. Training on using her own magic instead of relying on their father’s has slowly increased the strength of her other healing spells and magical reserve. When Poppy was satisfied with her magic reserve and of Malcolm and Katie’s basic healing capabilities, she enlists McGonagall to teach herself, Malcolm, and Katie proper dueling.
The Cabin is completely empty of any campers except for her. Michael is leading the archery classes at the moment with Nathan. Similarly, Will is in the infirmary teaching the younger campers who are decidedly too young to be on the front lines how to perform first aid. Outside, Clarissa is directing the Ares Cabin’s signature ‘Bootcamp From Hell’ with Chris at her side. She can hear her yelling all the way from the Arena. Everyone is almost as busy as Hades himself, trying to train themselves as fast as they can to be ready for what’s to come. So much is at stake here.
Their lives. Their parents. The fate of the world.
It all rests on their small shoulders.
Hades, the eldest of the campers, is no older than twenty. Being older is a testament to survival, of skill, speed and luck. Looking at the younger campers, Kyra feels her heart seize. The younger campers do not have much training nor field experience yet. If this is their first field experience, there is no doubt that a lot of the younger ones will die.
There’s a knock on the door. Her focus shifts as she gets up to go open it. For a moment, she thinks it’s Castor —- pale blonde hair fluttering in the dying sunlight and violet-colored eyes shining when he comes into view.
He gives her a small smile. “Hey.”
Castor’s voice isn’t this deep. The illusion breaks.
“Pollux. Hey.” Disappointment weighs down her heart, but she opens the door wider. “Come in.”
“No, I’m good, just came over to say hi. I just got back today.”
She nods. Pollux went on a backpacking expedition in the Alps after she left for Hogwarts. Kyra wonders how that conversation went with Dionysus.
They stare at each other for a while. It’s been awkward between them ever since Castor died. They were friends before Kyra started dating Castor. They both loved him so much, and his death had hit them both hard to the point that seeing each other only led to pain. But this has to change. They can’t keep toeing around the Minotaur in the room like this. Kyra knows the instant she sees the determination in Pollux’s eyes that they need to fix the distance between them before the war. Gods forbid, they need to go back to how they were, before the war possibly takes either of them away.
Demigods knew better than anyone that leaving business unfinished was a temptation for fate. Pollux shifts on his feet and wrings his hands. He wants to say something, she can see it.
“Walk with me to the Amphitheater after dinner?” She suggests. Pollux nods, agreeing easily. “See you then.”
They arrive at the Amphitheater early. Dinner had just ended just an hour ago. The Apollo Cabin is setting up some musical instruments in preparation for some post-dinner partying. Pollux sticks his hands in his pockets and leans into the backrest of his seat. He has gotten paler. His hair is growing in longer now, and several strands fall into his eyes, prompting him to keep brushing it back.
“How have you been?” He asks. It’s a small icebreaker.
Kyra looks down at the new calluses on her palm. There are some potions burns on the sides of her fingers and phantom pain in her wrists from hours of holding a bow and brewing potions. “Training. A Lot.” It was a given- they were demigods.
“No,” Pollux says. “I didn't mean what you did during the school year. I mean how are you feeling?”
Kyra shrugs. “Good.” Her words are clipped, but she really doesn’t know what else to say. The fireplace flickers a dark grey. There’s almost no one here but them.
Pollux raises his eyebrows pointedly at the fire. “Really?” he asks rhetorically.
Kyra huffs, throwing herself back into her seat and crossing her arms. It’s hard for her to relax like this in Hogwarts. Something about the place being so full of surprises and weirdness makes her always sit with her back straight and arms on her lap, unable to loosen up. Here, she feels safe. At home. The Golden Fleece shines brightly near the camp border. The fairy lights hung in the porch of the Big House flickers merrily in the night sky among the stars.
Camp Half-Blood is where the truth about herself can be revealed. There’s nothing to hide here. Half-blood in two ways. Daughter of Apollo, Greek god of the sun, and Naomi Solace, healer witch-turned-country singer. Demigod and witch.
Although, maybe he’s right. How much has she been pushing down herself while at Hogwarts? How much of herself has she been suppressing…no. It’s time to be true to herself again. No more pretenses. She is home.
“Not the best.” she finally admits with a sigh. She rubs her face. “Nightmares are still there.”
“Mine too,” Pollux agrees quietly. He thumbs at his camp beads. No— Castor’s. Pollux never wore his around his neck.
“I want to give you this.” Pollux holds out a ring. It’s a solid gold band, about half a centimeter thick. Grapevines curl in shades of amber, running down the middle. Her breath escapes in one large swoop as she recognized it. The person attached to it practically haunted her every waking moment. Castor’s enchanted ring.
Of course she knew the ring would be handed off to someone else. That was just how things went for children of gods. Relics, armor, tools, all got handed off to others once the first had died. Be it right after their death or years later, they were just one of the things that didn’t stay buried. That doesn’t mean she expected to get anything of his.
“I can’t accept this.” Kyra looks up at him. “You should keep it. He’s your brother. I’m just—”
“He really loved you,” Pollux interrupted her immediately, giving her a look full of something she couldn’t decipher. “You meant so so much to him. He would want you to have it. To keep you safe. Me too. And dad too.”
She can’t hear the fireplace crackling over how suddenly thick the air feels. “Your dad? Mr. D?”
Pollux laughs a little wetly. Despite the topic, part of his face lifts into a tiny smile. “I only have one dad, Kyra. He gave it to us when we first arrived at camp.” He turns the ring in his fingers and the tiny amber stones glow in the firelight. “It’s a pair with mine.”
He hands it out to her gently and Kyra carefully takes it. She isn’t going to refuse twice. The familiar ring settles solid and warm in her hands. The weight settles something in her soul.
“He also would want you to move on too, fall in love again with someone.” Pollux says quietly.
Kyra doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry. “It’s only been six months.”
“I know. But don’t you dare not let him go. He wouldn’t want you to cling on to him. He would want you to live your life.” His words hurt a lot more than they should, because she knows how true they are.
Pollux’s eyes glow in the firelight. “And you know I’m right.”
She knows he’s telling her right now because they don’t know if they will both make it to the next summer, with all the attacks and covert missions increasing. Neither of them know if they will both make it out of the war. It might be their only chance to speak about this. It still feels too soon, but it’s better than too late.
Kyra doesn't trust herself to speak. Yes. Castor would want her to be happy. She misses her friend, her boyfriend, and her partner in crime. She might love him forever for the rest of her life.
But he would want her to move on. She takes a deep breath.
And so, she will.
For the first time in months, she feels a little less like drowning.
Fourth year passes in a blur and then, it’s August.
August 16th.
“Happy early 16th birthday, Jackson.” Kyra grins at Percy. The campers are running around, organizing the armors and supplies. Her hands are full of masking tape and Sharpies.“You know, in case I kick it.”
Percy’s eyes dim at the morbid joke, and he puts his hand on her shoulder. “You won’t die, Kyra.” He squeezes her. “No one will. We are all going to make it out.”
Kyra knows they won’t. The gesture is sweet.
Instead of contradicting him, she asks, “Have you found the traitor?”
The realization about a spy within the camp has been at the forefront of her mind ever since Percy tells them. Beckondorf’s death only increases the fear and rage at the fact that one of them is willing to sell them all out to the enemy.
Percy’s face does this complicated thing where he’s trying to act confident and sure, but is barely managing to not buckle under the pressure. It doesn’t back up the confidence of his earlier statement.
Being a subject of the prophecies is certainly no fun. The flashes of the future and the past she gets and the moments of foreshadowing certainly don’t compare to the experience of being told you will either save or destroy the world on your 16th birthday.
She feels bad for him. The guy isn’t even at the legal age of drinking.
Percy steps back and surveys the supplies being organized into boxes and labeled. His eyes are glazed over, so she knows he’s not just thinking about the distribution and setting up a base.
“Hey.”
Percy jolts, before looking down at her.
“It’s not your fault Beckendorf died.”
He nods, but it’s a lame agreement at best.
“Yeah,” he says absent-mindedly. He thumbs the sand dollar hanging around his neck. “Yeah.” Oh, who’s not listening to who now?
Kyra sighs. It’s hard to get Percy out of his head when he’s stuck in there. She’s glad Annabeth got his back. And his heart, although Percy hadn’t realized it himself.
They better get together, for Merlin’s sake. She got three drachmas riding on them getting together right after the battle. She’s not losing another bet to Pollux.
Percy looks at the direction of Cabin 5. Clarisse sits on the metal-wired porch, glaring at the general direction of the Cabin 7. Kyra despairs at the mess that one stupid chariot made. Yes, both Cabins fought in the battle, but her Cabin actually commandeered the chariot.
Clarisse decides that her Cabin won’t participate in a war that would change the fate of the Western Civilization? Over that—?
That’s so not cool. Not cool at all.
Kyra usually gets along with Clarisse, but this has gone too far. Still, her chiming in will just escalate the problem so she doesn’t get involved. Percy’s the leader, someone that Clarissa respects. She just hopes the daughter of Ares will get her head out of her ass and listen for once. Maybe a Clazomenean Sow will fly by and help it happen.
Of course, she doesn’t.
On the way to the Empire State Building, the entire car is quiet. Kyra grasps Kayla’s cold and shaking hands in hers. Michael is in front, driving. Will, second-oldest and therefore second-in-command, is rattling off directions in the front seat.
“Will we be okay?” Lucy asks from her seat next to Kyra. Recently, it seems like Kyra’s getting so many questions she can’t answer.
She tries to give her younger sisters a reassuring smile. “Of course.” She tries to muster up as much confidence as she can. “We will be okay.” She feels like a hypocrite, but there’s no use going into battle believing they’ll die.
Kyra can see the pink fog that encapsulated Manhattan spread wider and wider. The layers of magic hovering over the skyline pulses at her fingertip. It’s not good that Hecate is not on their side. She feels for her wand in the holster on her sleeve. There are magicked suitcases of healing supplies and rolls of gauze in the pocket of her cargo pants; Poppy had stuffed it with as many healing potions as she could. The vials are carefully packaged with a cushioning charm, along with Ziploc bags of ambrosia, more rolls of gauze, IVs, and needles.
She had barely managed to stop her mother and Poppy from joining the war. They had insisted that they would be useful as combat medics. But this isn’t their fight. Mum is not a demigod and Poppy has long since aged out of camp and had had her fair share of battles; she deserved her rest.
Empire State Building looms over them imposingly as they clamber out of the trucks. Lucy, Kayla and Austin, the new sibling that came in just three weeks ago, stares up in awe. The innocence in their faces as they carry weapons better fitted to people thrice their ages has rage build up in her chest again.
Even 14, twice their ages, would be still too young to be fighting in a war.
Hades, she’s too young to fight in a war herself; she’s just shy of turning sixteen. What age is a good age for war? She doesn’t want that answer.
The campers all surround Percy and listen to his assignments.
Kyra’s rage rises again at Clarisse and her Cabin’s absence. All over a fucking chariot, what the Hades? Merlin, Michael even apologized and returned the chariot back to her, and he has the pride as big as Texas.
So she’s going to let them all die because of her pride. She better show up some time during the war or Kyra is never going to forgive her.
Cabin 7 moves out to Williamsburg Bridge, Michael doing a full check on all of their quivers and gear. Her eighteen year old brother looks every inch a leader. He hands out special arrows that look different from their normal arrows, blunt tipped with magic pulsing through the shaft.
“Trick arrows,” he explains, “Dad appeared in my dreams last night. He gave me this and said some things.”
“Is he okay?” Kyra blurts out. No one had seen their dad appear in their dreams since he’s been fighting Typhon with the other Olympians.
Michael grips his bow tighter, hesitating a second before he answers. “They are still fighting Typhon; it’s a stalemate. He could only spare enough of his consciousness to give us the arrows and encouragement. He said he loves us.” He looks at all of them, the bridge looming behind him. “All of us.”
Something lodges in Kyra’s throat.
“Everyone, start setting up traps. Distribute them in five rows, ten feet in between. Kyra and Will, I want you on the third row of defense. Kayla, Austin, and Lucy, I want you all to go to the base and help with distributing supplies we got. No, I will not have you in the front lines, you’re too young for this.”
Kyra takes a shaky breath. Good, they are too young for the front lines. Better to get them in the back and provide support. It's safer there.
“Healers! Will, Phoebe, Kyra, Helen, and Bea, all stay in the second and third line.
Holly, Fiona, Cassie, Mia, Lexie, Cleo, Gina, Nathan, Joshua, and Kelly, you guys are with me. We are the first row of defense. Alright, everyone, move out!”
“Michael.” Kyra scrambles towards the front of her camp counselor. “Michael, put me in the front line too. I can heal and fight. I’ve got magic, I can- I can protect myself too.”
Michael frowns. She knows he hates putting the younger ones in front. But this is war. He gives her a sharp nod. “Okay, be careful. You have the potions from Poppy and magic. We are going to need you.”
“Now, let’s get out there and kick some ass.” He raises his bow, rallying all of their spirit together. “Cabin 7!”
They roar in unison. “Cabin 7!”
The monsters crowd the bridge as long as she can see. For a moment, Kyra couldn’t breath or feel her bow. There are far more enemies than the Battle of Labyrinth, and it’s all against her Cabin.
“Oh, gods.” Nathan whispers next to her. Dracaena, hellhounds, Cyclops, Laistrygonian giants, Hyperborean giants, Stymphalian birds, empousai, and demigods in black armor march toward them. The traps start setting off, blowing the monsters off the bridge, but more keeps coming. They won’t have much time before the last traps are set.
“We cannot panic.” Michael’s voice is grim. “Olympus depends on us- Archers! Nock the sonic arrows and aim for the middle of the horde! Draw!”
The purple glowing arrow vibrates on the metal rest of her recurve bow. Her gloved hand pulls the drawstring and she exhales, relaxing her shoulders. She waits for his signal.
“Fire!”
The arrows make a screeching sound that has the monsters clutching their heads. As soon as an arrow hits a monster, a ten feet radius around them erupts like a detonated bomb, throwing them off their feet. Monsters scream and fall over the ridge of the bridges, some disintegrating on the spot.
“Draw!”
Kyra takes another shaky breath. There’s too many monsters, they won’t have enough arrows for the whole army. It’s going to have to be close combat soon. This is the beginning of the storm, the start of the worst night of her life.
“Fire!”
For every monster that goes to Tartarus, more monsters seem to emerge in their place. They approach in fast speed and large numbers. A hellhound leaps over the front line, and Nathan draws his barebow at the speed of light; the hellhound disintegrating before it could land.
Stymphalian birds flies over them, making a horrible screeching sound. Metal feather cuts through the air, and Kyra ducks behind a car as it launches. She nocks three arrows at once, aims, and fires, hitting three targets at once.
Michael and the second line aims for the birds circling around them, but then ends up leaving the front line unsecured. Cyclops are gaining on them, fast. One has its club above Holly and before Kyra realizes what she is doing, she has her wand pointed in its direction.
“Protego!”
A brilliant blue shield forms and the Cyclop’s hit bounces off. Holly scrambles back. The shield also slows down the rush of monsters, holding back the hordes while her Cabin deal with the Stymphalian birds. Still, cracks are already showing in the shield despite her trying to put as much magic into it.
“Shield won’t hold!” She screams. Her wand arm is running red hot under the force of the magic streaming from her wand.
Bea draws her compound bow, a thin trickle of blood running down her pant leg. “Kill the birds, now!”
The shield breaks and the monsters roar, charging towards the front lines. The Stymphalian birds are not letting up on them, so Kyra runs towards the front lines, where she can fight with magic better. She needs to stop the incoming monsters while her siblings kill the Stymphalian birds flying over them.
“I’m going to the front,” she yells at Michael, “I will slow them down. Take care of the birds and cover me!”
Michael curses but says, “Okay, everyone, cover Kyra!”
“Confringo!” The hellhound to her left explodes, taking down with it some of the enemy demigods.
The spells McGonagall has her memorize and practice flash through her mind one by one. She has trained for this moment.
She points at the Cyclops at the forefront of the enemy army. “Everte Statum.” He flies backwards, flipping in the air and taking out several of its smaller allies. But the monsters are still approaching, fast. Ten seconds before it reaches their front line. She needs to keep them back to give her siblings time to fight the Stymphalian birds and regroup.
“Expulso! Stupefy! Diffindo! Confringo!”
The monsters scream as the spells hit their mark, and disintegrate.
Gina screams, “Take out the big ones! Cyclops and giants!”
She needs a higher vantage point. She swings her quiver over her shoulder and holds her wand in her mouth before clambering up to the back of the black Toyota. Sweat beads down her cheek as she straightens, keeping her wand aimed at the monsters. While her magical reserves are now much more vast than normal wizards and witches, the concentration required to fire the spells in rapid succession are starting to wear her out.
She’ll burn through her strength at this rate, but needs to slow them down first. She points her wand at the incoming wave of monsters.
“Arresto momentum! Arresto momentum! Arresto momentum!”
The monsters in the front row slow and the monsters at the back trip over them. The Laistrygonian giants roar as they fall over the dracaena, taking them out.
A hellhound leaps over the monsters and descends in the middle of their ranks. Gina manages to kill it, but other hellhounds seem to have the same idea now. The hellhounds start leaping over the ranks.
Kyra points her wand at the hellhounds in midair.
“Depulso!” The hellhounds fly back, falling into the ranks and crushing several demigods and monsters.
“Confringo! Confri— “ Her arm falls limp, like the tendons in her arm have been cut. The spell sputters from her wand. Her head swims. Her chest is pounding a mile a minute. Her legs give out from under her and she hits a hard surface before slipping off —Someone grabs her and pulls her back.
Someone is yelling something in her ear but it sounds like she is underwater. Muffled, and full of garbaling she can’t catch. Then, the taste of brownies trickles down her throat and the fog clears from her mind.
Will’s eyes are wide and worried as he looks down at her. His hand is patting the side of her face while the other has a vial in them. The voice finally comes back into focus.
“Kyra? Kyra? Can you hear me?”
Kyra pushes her brother’s hand off her face. She needs to get up, the monsters are still coming. Her heart sinks when she manages to pull herself to her feet and survey the enemy ranks. There’s too much, and everyone’s quivers are almost empty.
Bea runs towards them. There is a cut on her cheek and her face is pale from exhaustion. Her bow is slung over her shoulders. “We are running out of arrows. Michael says to save them and be ready for close combat.” She looks back at the incoming army.
“Hades, there’s too many.” Bea swears under her breath.
Kyra grunts, “Wait.” She takes a small box out of her pocket and points her wand at it. “Engorgio.” The little box enlarges into a giant suitcase and Kyra unzips it open. Inside is an entire apothecary’s worth of vials, glowing faintly in the night air. Bea whistles appreciatively.
She selects a green one, uncorks it and downs it in one go.
Will stares at the suitcase and then the one in her hand. “What is that?”
“Invigoration Draught. Helps with fatigue. Taste like Hades though. Here, take three. Bea, take six and hand them out to the rest. Get them to drink all of it. Here, take my arrows too.”
Bea takes the proffered arrows and rushes off with the vials.
“I’m fine, Will.” She pulls herself to her feet. Adrenaline is pumping through her veins, the nectar and the draught clearing up any of the fuzziness. “We have to keep going.” She had to push through it, doing anything but her best would only result in more lives lost.
The ground shakes with the force of another sonic arrow. Someone runs in. “It’s Jake Mason.” Holly’s chest is heaving. “They need a medic. They’re up against dragons and empousai!”
Her heart drops, and somewhere deep inside her whispers “This is it.”
Kyra grabs a couple of potions, a small wooden container of salve and a vial glowing golden. “The red ones are blood-replenishing potions. The salve is for burns and the golden one is Phoenix tears for poisons. Keep them on you.” Dumbledore had given her a couple vials from Fawkes before she left.
She kisses her brother on the cheek, just in case. “Good luck.”
Will pulls her into a hug. “Stay safe.” He turns and runs through the buildings. She minimizes the suitcase again and stuffs it into her pocket. She then turns around at the approaching army.
Close combat it is. There’s no time to scrounge for arrows. She gave Bea most of her arrows, so she only has four left in her quiver. She stashes her wand in her holster and flexes her right hand. Castor’s ring shifts into a celestial bronze sword. If nothing else, she’s happy to have it by her side in this battle.
“Alright,” she shifts on her feet, taking an offensive stance. She spins his sword. “Let’s do this.”
A Cyclops swings his nail-studded bat at her and Lee’s dead body flashes into her mind. Fury scorches through her veins like liquid sun. She rolls, ducking the blow, before slitting both of his Achilles tendons in two fluid strokes. The Cyclops drops to his knees with a furious roar, and Kyra slits his throat. She stabs the empousa in the thigh before the Cyclops bursts into a shower of dust.
It’s a blur after that. After the first two opponents, her body moves on autopilot. It pushes through the corrosive burn of exhaustion like nothing she’s ever experienced before.
Slash, parry, duck, roll, swing, stab.
Castor’s dead body flashes in front of her.
There’s a yell, and Kyra whirls around. Cleo lies motionless in a pool of blood, a sword sticking out of her back. A little to the left of her, Cassie is slumped against the bridge railing, her body crushed from waist-down.
No, no, no—
Holly is screaming, shooting arrows in rapid succession. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. A black flash runs across the bridge, leaping over the enemy ranks.
The explosions, roaring, and yelling all deadens. The sensation of being drowned spreads through her body. Nathan’s tattooed arm and leg hangs limp and pale between the hellhound’s teeth. His bow is crunched between the hellhound’s jaws.
She barely manages to duck a Laistrygonian giant when he makes a grab for her.
Kyra has a blade stuck in a Laistrygonian giant’s aorta before an enemy demigod comes charging toward her. He gets an arrow slotted under his helmet and stabbed right into his carotid artery. Blood splatters over her face and her armor as he slumps. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, but Kyra doesn’t even have it in her to flinch. She just pulls the arrow out. They are running out of arrows. Every functional one needs to be salvaged.
An enemy demigod looks around her age, he doesn’t even have facial hair. She couldn’t find it in her to care. That bone deep fury continues to fuel her as the battle rages on.
The ground trembles and throws her back. Cracks infect and grow on the concrete and the bridge groans. Percy . The monster roars as the earthquake throws them off the bridge.
The Son of Poseidon appears in the air, riding Blackjack. “Is everyone okay?” he yells. His voice is almost drowned by the wind. A hurricane?
Holly is sobbing. Her bow drops out of her hand and she crumples to her knees, wailing. Michael runs to her, patting her down for injuries. Something drops on her shoulder and Kyra swings her sword behind her.
“Hey-Hey! Kyra!” Percy ducks, raising both hands. His eyes are wide. “It’s me. A-are you… hurt?”
“Huh? “ Her voice sounds so far away. “Yeah, no. No.” At least, if she was then she wasn’t about to let it stop her.
Percy gently wraps an arm around her shoulder and pushes her forward. Michael’s arms feel solid and warm around her.
No, she breathes in the cold acrid, sulfuric air. Not now, she can’t break down now. Not now, not now, not now, notnownotnownotnow. The ground sways under her. Someone squeezes her elbow hard.
Michael’s eyes are tight at the corners, his jaw clenched so hard a vein pops out in his neck. His eyes meets her, and the resolve under the grief and rage put steel in her legs.
Percy clears his throat. They all turn towards him.
“Kronos is crossing here.” Ice spreads in her lung. How are they going to—?
“We need to hold them back.”
Michael snarls. “And how are we going to do that?”
Percy scratches his head, looking all the way like their normal and clueless Percy- but his eyes are deeper than the oceans. “I’m still figuring that out.”
“Yeah, well. Any day now. We are running out of time.” Gina snarks from where she’s kneeling on the ground, wrapping Fiona’s arm. Red dots the bandages.
The roar of monsters brings them back to reality.
“These dumbasses just won’t stop.” Michael grumbles before snapping”Get in position!”
Kyra is about to nock an arrow when the radio in Michael’s hand crackles.
“This is Cabin 10. We need backup and a medic! There’s too many of them!” Silena’s voice was panicked and out of breath. “Send as many people as you can.”
“Kyra, you go.” Kyra snaps her head at Michael. He gives her a sharp look. “They need a medic.”
When Kronos is using this bridge to cross? “We have a Titan coming on this bridge.” Her voice is trembling, taut as a bow string. “You need everyone we can gather here.”
“We have Percy andaren’t injured nearly as bad.” Michael crosses his arms and she knows she’s not going to win this argument. “You can both fight and heal. Use magic. Go.” His voice isn’t asking anymore, it’s demanding.
Her vision blurs, She suppresses the urge to cry. She can’t leave her siblings. What if they die and this is the last time she sees them?
“I’ve got them.” Percy reassures her. His sea-blue green eyes are determined and sure. “I will make sure we all get out alive.”
But will she?
“Go,” Joshua claps her on the shoulder, “We got it handled here.” She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she just yanks Joshua into a tight hug. Her other siblings crowd around her, sparing a moment in the lull of the battlefield to offer her comfort and while no one says it, assure her of their love in case this is the last time they see her.
Some of them feel cold to the touch and Kyra suppresses the sharp barb of fear at what that could mean.
The lights lining the ceiling of the tunnel are flickering when she arrives to where the Aphrodite Cabin have set up their resistance. The clang of metal, roars of monsters and demigods crowd the air and Kyra winces.
The scent of Givenchy —so the Aphrodite Cabins did end up using perfume in the battle — hangs thick in the air.
Lacy finds her, her face smudged with dirt and plaits halfway undone. There’s a nasty gash on her arm and Kyra quickly brushes healing magic over it so that it stops bleeding. “Oh thank the gods, you are here.” Lacy pulls her to a dark corner of the tunnel. “There’s too many of them, and some of us are badly hurt. Please, help!”
When she arrives at where the wounded are laying, Kyra understands the gravity of what she meant.
Hillary lays on the ground, a parka jacket under her head. She’s whimpering and her legs twitch, but she doesn’t seem to register Kyra. Half of her face is burned, her left eye milky and unseeing. Parts of her arms are scorched, the fabric of her clothes and pieces of armor set in her skin.
“What happened?” Kyra drops to her knees and hovers a hand over the burned flash. She pushes her healing magic into the girl under her, trying to see how bad the damage is while easing some of the pain. Hillary’s breathing deepens and her body relaxes. Kyra quickly summons her suitcase and takes out a salve and vials of nectar. “Give her a vial of nectar. Put this on her face. ”
“A dragon.” Lacy’s voice is trembling but her hands are steady when she takes the items from her. “It’s dead now, but it—”
Definitely did some damage , Kyra thinks, when she sees Wren sitting next to them with similar burns on her body.
“Casualties?”
Lacy starts crying. “Renee and George.”
Kyra nods. Her tongue is too heavy in her mouth to offer the younger camper any comfort. Renee’s laugh rings clear and bell-like in her head when she sees her limp purple hair surround her burnt face like a halo.
Shouts and yells echo off the walls as the Aphrodite Cabin fights off the monsters, but she can tell they are losing time. They need time.
Sydney, a thirteen year old camper, scrambles towards them. “Kyra. You’re here, thank the gods. We got some more hurt —.”
Kyra grabs the younger girl by the arm and points at her vials. “I’m going to go use my magic to slow the monsters all down. When I do, I need you to deliver these to everyone. Green for energy. Give those who bleed a lot the red ones, and direct them to me after I slow them down.” Sydney nods, gathering the vials in her hands. “Let’s go, stay behind me.” Kyra orders, before dashing off towards the battle.
Sebastian, Drew and Mitchell are at the front lines, slashing and stabbing at the monsters. Sebastian’s armor is badly damaged and small rivulets of blood roll down between the scratches as he dodge and parry against dracaenas. Drew’s hair is braided back and flies in the air in sync with the swings of her celestial bronze wakizashi. A bandage is wrapped around her arm and her right leg but she shows no sign of slowing down or in pain. An enemy demigod nearly manages to sneak up on her when Mitchell’s daggers cut through the air and hit him square in the face.
Silena stands in the second line of defense, firing arrow after arrow. There are small pouches tied onto the arrowhead. It smells like patchouli. Silena’s beautiful face is twisted in a furious snarl as she shoots.
“Silena!” Kyra calls.
The Aphrodite Cabin counselor’s head snaps towards her, her hand reaching for another arrow. The relief on her face is palpable. “Oh gods, Kyra— you’re here. Good, who else is with you?”
“No one. I’m all they can spare.” Kyra presses a Invigoration Draught into her hands after she sends another loaded arrow into the tunnel. It explodes into a cloud of pink when it hits its target. “Drink, it will keep your energy up.”
“Wha-what? We need more people!” Silena’s eyes are wide. “We won’t have enough—”
“Well, I’ll have to be enough!” Kyra yells back, equally as unhappy to be here by herself.
She brings her wand out. “Confringo!” The spell blasts a row of monsters back ten feet, and Drew and Mitchell turn towards her in varying degrees of shock and relief. “Get back! Drink the potions and regroup. I’ll buy us some time.” Not much, but some.
Drew nods and limps towards where Lacy is distributing the potions.
“Confringo! Stupefy! Arresto momentum!”
There’s still too many. For one that falls, three seems to replace it, like a Hydra. One massive hydra with too many limbs, too many heads, all dividing and conquering. They will be overwhelmed soon.
The blasting spells won’t do much if the enemies are replacing those who fall the moment they do. The ones in the front will only get run over by the ones in the back. She needs to clear them all.
The monsters are getting up but she does not have any intention of them standing. It was only then that Minerva McGonagall’s final lesson came to mind.
The strength of a spell is dependent on the magical reserves, the will, and the height of the emotion they are feeling during the moment the spell is cast.
She whispers a quick fortifying spell on the walls of the tunnel. She can’t have the whole thing falling down on them.
What she’s about to do was extremely risky, but they’re dead anyway if she keeps to her usual tactic, so there was a little bit of hope that it might just work. If not, well. Spontaneous combustion is a fast, although grisly, way to die.
Nathan and Cleo’s dead bodies flash into her mind. Lee. Castor. Good thing she has all three.
“Everyone, get behind me! Give me two of those green potions.”
The children of Aphrodite scramble behind her. Mitchell hands her two uncorked Draughts and she downed both of them in one gulp.
She tosses the vials to the side and as energy races into every sinew of her body, she forces every ounce of rage and willpower into the next spell.
“Bombarda Maxima!”
The blast shoots out of her wand and cuts through the Titan’s army like a red-hot knife through butter. It fills the entire cavern and the monsters scream as they explode into dust, or in the demigods’ case, into masses of flesh and blood. The passage lights up like a fireball and the tunnel walls glows green with magic, resisting against the force of the explosion. With the tunnel re-enforced, the blast has only two ways to go.
Kyra’s head spins but she steadies herself against Silena, who is standing behind her with an arrow nocked, and casts another spell just before the blast reaches their end.
“Protego Maxima!”
The brilliant bright blue shield blocks the incoming explosion, forcing the shockwave and fire in the opposite direction. The screams that echoed in the tunnel forces the potions she drank back up her throat.
She retches. Her head spins violently. The ground tilts under her feet, and she nearly face-plants into the pavement if not for the sturdy hands under her armpits lifting her upright.
“Nectar…” she manages to whisper, and a cool rim is tipped between her lips. Her head clears but then a scorching heat races through her veins and sends her heart into overdrive.
“You’re smoking!” Silena yelps. “Hades, what do I —”
Yeah, Kyra thinks as she is slowly laid down on the ground, Silena, Drew and Mitchell scrambling over her. I definitely overdid the potions and the nectar .
There’s a sound of a thermos being opened, and another liquid is trickled into her mouth. “It’s water. Drink.” Kyra doesn’t have the energy to tell Drew that she will drink it without needing to be charmspeaked.
After her head somewhat stops spinning and she’s not seeing double of everyone, all the campers assigned to the tunnel are gathered around. Silena somberly finishes their headcount, while Drew carries her dead siblings’ bodies next to them.
Kyra instructs those with two working hands on how to perform first aid on their injuries. They are going to have to be treated later. If she tries to use her healing powers now, she’s most likely going to fade from overexhaustion.
The radio crackles, and Percy’s voice echoes into the tunnel.
“It’s a stalemate. Everyone, retreat to Plaza Hotel.”
Relief floods through Kyra and her knees would have given out if she wasn't already lying on the ground. If Percy is alive, then her siblings must be too.
When they arrive at Plaza Hotel, Kyra directs the Aphrodite campers into a corner and gets to treating them more thoroughly. Silena stitches Drew’s leg while Lacy runs to find more bandages. Sebastian’s armor sticks to his chest when she tries to pry it apart. It must have been a combination of claws and corrosive poison. “We’re going to need to get that off,” she mutters. They need to mitigate the risk of infection now.
She grabs a wash bottle of saline and a wash bottle of nectar. Sebastian groans. His skin is clammy under her hands and his chest is heaving. “Just patch up so I can keep fighting.” he says, half requesting and half complaining.
She nods. “I’ll do what I can.” She hands him her leader scabbard. “Here, bite down.”
When he nods and does as told, she begins irrigating his chest. A muffled scream escapes his lips. His body trembles in his effort to hold still as she rinses as fast as she could the areas the armor is fused to his skin. The numbing cream is not going to be enough for wounds this big, and Kyra needs to get that poison treated now.
The armor and undershirt slides off with the saline and nectar washing away the dried blood and poison. The claw marks are pulsing a sickly green, but doesn't look too deep —thank Dad, she doesn’t have enough in her to heal bone-deep infections.
Yeah, she thinks as she rolls her sleeve up. She can do this. Sebastian is looking up at her with glassy eyes.
She swipes an Invigorating Draught and downs it.
“Didn’t you take like, four of that already?” Sebastian pants. His eyes are fluttering close. “That can’t be good, right?” he whispers.
She slaps him hard, twice on each cheek, and he blinks up woozily at her. “Hey. Hey. Stay the fuck awake. No, it’s not good for me, my liver is probably gonna be shot, but I’m gonna need all the extra energy.” Being a little unhealthy once in her life for the sake of a single battle was well worth the lives lost if they won. Sebastian groans when she prods at the claw marks. “I’ll just sleep it off before the next wave. Now, brace yourself.”
Kyra takes a deep breath and yanks on the fraying thread nestled deep in her very essence. As long as she has one breath, one ounce of strength left in her, she will use it to heal her friends and fellow campers. She hears Sebastian’s breath hitches, then bodily relaxes as the healing magic pours down from her fingertips into his system. The glow dies down a second later and the burst of energy she manages to summon scatters. She withdraws her shaking hands and squints at skin— the traces of green are gone, only pink healthy flesh remains. Sebsatian’s eyes are closed, but color returns to his cheeks.
Cold sweat beads down her temple. She feels like she got stomped over by a giant. Her breaths are coming short—air’s not getting into her lungs. Did she just give herself an arrhythmia from overdoing it? Her vision dims and static fills her ears as she lists to the side.
“Woah, woah, woah, hey. Hey.” Someone grabs her around the waist and her head is gently placed onto something soft. She can hear the heartbeat of the person holding her and warmth seeps into her. It feels as if the sun had graced her skin after a long cold and gloomy winter. Her heart slows from its rapid pace. Her body feels less worn and fraying at the edges.
It’s a nice buzz of coffee after a toiling morning, or a refreshing drink of water on a hot day.
She opens her eyes. Will looks down at her, eyebrows creased. The corners of his eyes are tight and his lips are pale. But his hands feel solid and warm, and alive .
Will’s alive.
Kyra lunges into her brother’s arms, sobbing.
“Oh Hades, Kyra. What were you thinking?! You were fading!” Will begins patting her down, searching for any injuries. Despite looking like he’s about to keel over, he’s still worried about her. Other than his exhaustion, he seems fine. “If I hadn’t given you my energy, you would have been in a coma now.”
Her cheeks hurt from smiling. He’s okay. Will’s okay.
Then, she remembers. “Sebastian?” she turns around and nearly throws up on her brother’s lap. “W-Where is he?”
Will forces her to lean against the wall. “He’s fine! He’s fine!” Will says, words tumbling out of his lips frantically. “We got him transferred to another room for recovery.” His jaws are clenched tightly, veins popping out from his neck and his temple.
Ah, he’s mad. He’s mad at her for prioritizing healing the other campers instead of worrying over her own health.
Her brother is such a hypocrite.
Kyra feels her heart rate return to something less problematic. Sebastian’s fine. Good. Wait, what about Cabin 7?
She turns around, trying to catch a glimpse of her other siblings. Bea is in a corner, injecting something into a groaning Hunter’s arm. Holly is dressing the nasty gash, and Austin is stripping the curtains off the windows.
Kayla scurries around the ballroom, distributing energy bars and water. Joshua hops over to help Mia stitch up Kelly’s arm. They look mostly okay, just a few scratches here and there.
The others must be around helping or resting.
She looks around, hoping to find their eldest brother. “Will, Where’s Michael?”
“Kyra….” Will grasps her shoulder. Kyra’s world grinds to a halt. Static fills her ears but not enough to drown out his next words. Her vision narrows down to a single point—- Will’s eyes are red and puffy.
No. No, no, no, nonono—
“Michael. He’s gone.”
Notes:
Yeah, Michael’s death lowkey killed me while I first read TLO. Kyra’s going to have very mixed feelings about Percy now.
Oh and I made Drew badass. You can’t tell me this girl did not fight in a war alongside the campers and became a whiny weakass in LoH. She is the second oldest after Silena and she must have been close to her. She is still going to be a bitch in the later chapters after Silena’s betrayal is revealed, but I’m going to build up her personality and her redemption arc.
I did a couple months of archery so that I would be able to write how bows are used properly (my dedication to this story amazes me sometimes). Kayla uses a compound bow which actually takes longer to nock than what popular media shows, so I had Kyra use a recurve bow. However, compound bows are extremely accurate. Recurve bows have spaces for additional equipment to be added on it, but Kyra only has the sight in here because other things will weigh it down. I also made her rest steel because doing archery made me realise that there’s almost no way they can shoot that many arrows with a plastic rest. Relaxing the shoulders is a big thing in archery because that’s how the arrow goes straight and accurately. Otherwise, the throwback from drawing it will affect the tailend of the arrow and make it wobble midair. Did you guys know that arrow rests can sometimes be made from beaver fur?
A big thank you to MountainShark for beta-ing this chapter!
And as always, thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and share your theories and thoughts, I love to read them!
Chapter 14: Kyra Solace - It turned into something bigger // Somewhere in the haze... Got a sense I’d been betrayed
Notes:
Hihihi! The second part of the Battle of Manhattan is here! I’ve been so busy these days I haven’t been able to write more chapters ahead, but rest assured I’m locking in for summer break and I have enough buffer chapters till then. Thank you for all the lovely comments and support. Big thanks to @MountainShark for beta-ing!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Clarisse storms the battle in the war chariot their Cabins fought over, glowing red with her father’s blessing and trailing a drakon’s carcass and too fucking late.
Silena’s too far gone by the time Kyra gets there; the drakon’s poison has already corroded her organs and burned through her major arteries. Clarisse still screams at her to do something —“ Figure something out with all that magic you say you have ”— and Kyra barely restrains herself from snarling that she is a self centered coward who has already caused too many people to die.
Silena’s betrayal takes them all by surprise, but is brushed past in favor of focusing on the war. They’ll sort out their dead at the end of the battle.
They lose ground as the night wears on and are pushed back to the Empire State Building. Her wand sizzles warningly as she fires spell after spell, and then bursts into flames after her forty-something Confringo . The surprise attack leaves them all scattered and disoriented. Luke— no, Kronos — manages to catch them off guard and the campers are cornered to the front steps of the Empire State Building. Kronos’s space-time blast sends her flying along with her fellow campers.
The wind is knocked out of her lungs when she lands on the crumbled wall of a nearby building. Her head pounds like the sounds of the forges of the Hephaestus Cabin and her vision swims before dimming.
She barely manages to roll out of the way before an enemy demigod’s spear finds its way into the center of her chest. Still, the spear grazes her ribs and blood trickles down her chest as she thrusts her sword up blindly. Judging by the gurgling sound followed by a heavy thud, she hit her target.
Vision near-black and the sounds of battle still thundering around her, Kyra scrambles, trying to get a feel of her surroundings. The vibration of the footsteps are near, but not approaching her. She can’t feel the breeze or the air, so she must be in a corner. Suddenly, a clattering emerges and she raises her sword in front of her.
She still can’t see— oh gods , she can’t see .
The realization bounces around in her skull as the clattering increases in volume. Something hard and bony brush against her arm and she slashes at the approaching form. There’s clattering as something drops to the ground. It makes a hollow sound when it hits the ground, and Kyra does not remember seeing any monster that would drop to the ground like that. It certainly isn’t a demigod.
There are more clattering, and then “Kyra!”
Relief trickles down her spine as a familiar hand curls around her bicep. She would recognize Will’s voice anywhere. A litany of he’s okay repeats in her ear as she hugs her brother back. The war rages on outside, but she takes a moment to soak in the scent of her brother. When she pulls back, Will pats her down for any injury, and then curses when he feels the wet spot on her shirt.
“Will, everything’s dark. I can’t see .” If her voice is trembling, she can’t hear it. She can barely hear anything over the roar of blood in her ears.
“Let’s take care of the cut first, it looks deep,” he murmurs as he gently presses against the bleeding wound. “You have broken ribs too—” No wonder it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on her chest. Kyra winces when Will tightens the bandages. “But I stopped the bleeding. Your vision will be fine, it’s temporary.”
A little relief, a small one among many, many problems.
“Will, what was that?” she points her sword to the direction of the monster she attacked. She feels Will’s bony shoulders brush against hers as he turned.
“Oh, those are skeletons.” He says mildly, with no hint of concern.
…what?
“Yeah! Nico summoned them. He got Hades, Persephone, and Demeter to help us in the war.” Will’s voice lifts into something hopeful. It feels like a small ray of sunshine after a cold, dark night.
Damn.
She doesn’t need to see his face to know he is awestruck. In a way, she is too- it might just be the perks of being the son of a more powerful god, but she feels impressed. “He’s so cool,” Will sighs, and despite the circumstances, she arches an eyebrow.
He touches the back of her head, near the occipital lobe. A warm sunshineglowhappyheal trickle into her head and her vision slowly clears. When the blurry field of vision sharpens into hyperfocus, she turns around and sees a pile of bones where the clattering was. To her horror, it’s already reforming itself, bones building upon themselves before a full skeleton stands and dust itself off. Kyra raises her sword, but the skeleton just tilts his head.
If anything, it looks concerned … for her?
“She’s okay.” Will reassures… it? him? her? This dead soldier was once a person, now giving them willing support. She can hardly wrap her head around it. “I’ve got it. Thank you for checking up on her.”
The skeleton nods and salutes, before grabbing the dead demigod’s spear and jogging out of the rubble.
Kyra thinks she will be seeing an image of a running skeleton in her dreams for a while.
There’s a rumbling outside the little cave they are in, and Kyra wastes no time grabbing her sword. Will doesn’t have a weapon on him, so she has to be the one to fight the threat.
But just then there is a roar, a short silence, and a heavy thud.
The scent of Black Opium infiltrates her nose and as Drew emerges from the entrance. Monster guts drip down from her tanto.
Her injured leg is wrapped and her eyes are drawn with exhaustion, but she looks relatively okay. “You good?” Her sharp eyes rake over Kyra’s form. When Kyra nods, she presses her lips together. Her face is stony and Kyra realizes she’s thinking about Silena. There’s gonna be a lot to unpack there. “Then, let’s go.” She flicks the gore off her tanto, her wakizashi sheathed and hanging from her belt.
She turns to head out without another glance. “We have some more cleaning up to do.” Kyra couldn’t do anything but nod, she and Will both followed her out quickly.
The battle stretches on and the monsters keep coming, as if the gates of Tartarus are open. Kyra’s ribs ache and her ankle twists the wrong way when she trips over a dead demigod while dodging a Laistrygonian’s hands, but she keep fighting.
Friends and family continue to drop like stones. The dead are beginning to pile up, but no one can afford to stop and mourn.
An Athena kid falls off the car when an arrow impales square through his chestplate and exits out the back, and she doesn't spare a moment for shock or grief, nocking an arrow and sending it flying towards the demigod who shot it.
Some of them are campers she talked to a few days ago, some of them had no idea what they were heading into. Some of them didn’t even know what their life would become one or two years ago.
The dread that she’ll recognize one of those bodies has already been replaced with the numb acknowledgement that however much they’ve already lost- they can always lose more. That’s the only reason they continue fighting.
She can feel her body protesting. Her head pounds. Black spots still dances in her corners of her vision. The graze on her ribs is bleeding again and every breath feels like inhaling ground glass. But if she stops now, she will be dead.
But how long before she runs out of strength to lift her sword?
Then, the pink fog in the skyline clears and a sea blue color lights up the sky. A mirage of mount Olympus appears a moment later in gold, shimmering in the air. For a brief second she wonders if it’s real, or if perhaps she’s also fallen in battle.
The hoards of monsters hiss and growl, turning to run off into the distance while they still can. Enemy demigods look towards each other and scatter. Chiron raises his bow in victory, and Kyra feels the tears finally pour out of her eyes.
The longest day of her life is finally over.
Percy’s refusal of immortality and his counter-request shocks her and the camp —but when is he not full of surprises?— and it’s the right choice. All of this mess happens because of the children that feel neglected and abandoned, unrecognized until someone comes along and gives them a chance to be. Percy exacts promises out of all of them, wrangles them into agreeing to new Cabins at camp and the Council dismisses them to rest and heal, then prepare for a well-deserved celebration after.
Kyra finds that she still doesn’t know what to think of… all of this celebrations. She feels the weight of battle and loss deep into her bones and wonders what it will change, if anything.
The aftermath is a mess. The grounds of Olympus is used as an infirmary, too many injured to fit in Plaza Hotel or too unstable to be moved to the Infirmary at camp. Every available non-critically injured demigod and minor gods helps with healing the wounded and retrieving bodies. Some of the campers take chariots and Pegasus to find survivors and recover bodies.
Kyra is later told that the Williamsburg bridge is far too destroyed for any possibility of survivors. Should she have casted a fortifying spell on the bridge before she left? Would it have made a difference? Still, Percy destroyed the bridge at Michael’s request—there were too many monsters.
Couldn’t Percy have made sure Michael was safe before he brought the bridge down?
He promised—
The guilt in the son of Poseidon’s eyes did little to quell the anguish building up in her chest. She had believed that he is strong enough, with the invincibility from the river of Styx, being a child of the Big Three, the hero of the prophecy—
Percy broke his promise and Michael is dead .
With the end of the battle finally comes the tallying. Cabin members, friends, and siblings all find each other in the aftermath, as well as find their loved ones laying in the rubble. They all knew it was coming, but it was finally time for those losses to truly sink in.
Kyra doesn’t dare venture into the morgue, fearing a complete breakdown before she has expended all she can to heal the living. Most demigods made it off with broken bones, stab wounds and burns, but some had too much internal bleeding and too much poison in their systems. It is without doubt- the biggest loss the camp has had in decades.
Katie and Malcolm come out mostly okay, and aid what remains of the Apollo Cabin in administering potions and performing healing spells. Katie has a couple deep cuts and Malcolm a broken arm and dislocated shoulder but otherwise, will both live.
The same can’t be said for some of the Hunters and campers. Some pass overnight from their extensive injuries, and Kyra feels nothing as shrouds are pulled over their faces. She can’t bring herself to look as they are transported out of the infirmary.
More of them might die in the coming days, though some will live with life-long injuries. It is nothing new to demi-gods, but the picture it paints is still gruesome.
When Will kicks her out to rest with a juice box and a Happy Meal, she loiters near the entrance of the infirmary, not wanting to leave her patients.
“You better not be back in when I return,” Will reprimands her when he steps out. His scrubs are surprisingly clean although blood is caked under his fingernails and spots the expanse of his arms. When he passes her, she sees the fabric shimmer. Must be a gift from their father. “Or I’m putting you on charts.”
Kyra groans. Still, she can’t bring herself to leave. Now being one of the most capable in their ranks put so much responsibility on her shoulders, every loss was beginning to feel like a place she faltered.
“You know, you shouldn’t have drank that many potions.” Kyra turns around from where she is leaning against the wall. Her father, dressed in khaki shorts and a linen shirt sits down next to her. He looks cheerful and relaxed, hair tousled and smiles bright, but Kyra can sense the exhaustion humming around her father. Seeing him after so many months of no communication lodges something hard in their throat. “You’re heading for a crash, sweetheart.”
She smiles weakly. “I need to heal them all first, dad. I can rest later.” It was the truth, the healers never get their break first.
He hums. Her eyes flutter close and she leans into his hand when he presses a cool hand against her forehead. Despite her throbbing head, his touch feels nice as she presses against it.
“You already drained your magic reserves —quite impressive and dangerous, I must say—today, not to mention blood loss, twisted ankle and broken ribs. Horrible concussion too. It’s not good to keep holding it off with the draughts and nectar. Here, I can help with the headache and concussion, but the rest, you’re going have to flush it out yourself.” Her father taps her forehead and the pounding at the back of her eyelids recedes.
She blinks, the world becoming more and more clear as the seconds pass. The faint fuzziness at the edge of her eyes disappears, and her ears aren’t hearing through static anymore.
“Thanks, dad.”
“Of course, my little sunbeam. Oh, and your mother is here. She Iris-messaged, demanding to send her here to help. She just entered the building now.”
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly she bursts into tears at the mention of mum coming. “Thanks dad.” she sniffles for a second time. Her dad coos at her softly.
He gives her a quite literally blinding grin before pulling her into a hug. His embrace is warm, just like sunshine on a clear spring day. “Of course. Now, I need to check on your other siblings.” His smile dims for a moment, and Kyra knows he loves and mourns his dead children the way she does.
Though it breaks her heart, she cherishes it, because at least some children will have their parents mourn them.
“But here, a little gift for you.” He holds out his palm. Inside is a gold necklace with a single bow charm attached to the chain by a magnet. It pulses with magic and she knows it’s enchanted.
“Detach the charm and it will turn into a bow and a quiver Kyra. Everytime you pull off the charm, the quiver will always be full.” her dad explains. He beckons her to turn around and she lifts her dirty matted hair while her father clasp the jewelry around her neck. “Beautiful.” he smiles. “Now, greet your mother and your sister, and take a shower. I’ll see you at the party.”
He kisses her forehead and ruffles her hair before disappearing in a shower of light, leaving behind a baggie of clean jeans and a camp T-shirt.
“Kyra?”
Mum and Poppy step into view. Kyra scrambles to her feet and throws herself into their embrace, forgetting for a moment that she is filthy and looks a fright. Mum is sobbing and Kyra bursts into tears at seeing them again. For a moment, everything in the world is okay. She, Will, and her mum are alive. Then, she remembers once again.
“Mama,” Kyra gulps, her hands gripping the front of her mother’s robe. She has to fight to get the words out, her body doesn’t want to say them. It takes a few tries before her half hearted, choked-up blubbering turns coherent. “Michael’s dead.”
Her mother’s lips part in surprise before tears fill her eyes. Kyra nearly bursts into sobs again at how devastated mum looks. “Merlin,” she breathes, “What am I going to tell Andrew?”
Andrew has two dead sons now. Kyra hadn’t even thought about him, too busy with her own mourning.
Poppy gently places a hand on both of them. “We will think of that later,” she says softly with a small quiver of her lips. “Right now, we must tend to the injured.”
Yes, because despite their grief- the living always take priority over the dead.
After checking over her injuries and patching her up, they send her off to shower. The two middle-aged healers then kick the exhausted healers out of the infirmary.
When Will returns, perhaps having heard of their mother and sister’s arrivals, Kyra shoves her Diet Coke towards him. “They say no one but them inside.” Her brother huffs and sits down next to her.
Somehow he looks remarkably put together, even though Kyra knows he must feel the crushing hopelessness she also feels. Maybe she looks put together to him. They both stand as incredibly sturdy pillars, supporting the weight others cannot.
Will tilts his chin up towards the sky, dotted with beautiful constellations and birds. “We lost Michael, Nathan, Cleo, Cassie and Lacy.” he whispers. He looks down at his hands, wrinkled from washing his hands too many times.
Kyra’s world screeches to a halt.
“Lacy?” Her voice rises into a high-pitch. Her hands start shaking. No, that can’t be. Lacy’s supposed to be in the back with the rest of the younger campers, providing support and helping heal injuries. How–?
“She snuck off and followed me to help the Hephaestus Cabin… I didn’t see her until it was too late.” her brother scrubs at his face. He looks far older than his sixteen years of age. The leadership that passed onto him after Michael’s death weighs him down already.
Will's eyes stay locked with hers and she sees the crushing depths in them.
She stands up shakily, her legs threatening to buckle. She needs to see for herself.
“No.” she puts her hand on Will’s chest when he attempts to stand with her. “I want to go alone.”
Cold air blasts into her face when she opens the door to the morgue.
There are twenty four shrouds neatly lined up on the porcelain tables. Eight of them are silver, indicating the Hunters underneath. The remaining sixteen shrouds are the campers’, with various colors and designs stitched into them. Silena’s hot pink shroud is the closest to the wall and despite what other campers whispers about her, to Kyra, she is not a hero.
There are some shrouds that Kyra knows are empty, like Nathan and Michael’s whose bodies could not be recovered. She looks for the smallest gold shroud. With a trembling hand, Kyra slowly peels off the front. The air is sucked out of her lungs and she grabs the edge of the table before she could crumple to the ground. Half of Lacy’s cold grey face is dented in, as if a heavy blow had landed on it.
Her adorable, shy and nerdy little sister, who was abandoned by her birth mother at the age of two and had been living at camp all her life. Her breaths come out ragged. Hot tears silently stream down her cheeks, salty on her lips.
She closes her eyes and she can still picture Lacy’s face when she’s happy. Lacy sat in front of a mirror, poking her tongue out while she tries to braid her hair the same way her sisters do. Lacy swinging her legs on a picnic bench because she’s bored and wants training to be over already.
Lacy’s smiling features as she goes about her day, completely indifferent to the knowledge of what her life could’ve been because being a demi-god is all she has ever known. Never getting to experience what she was robbed of, never going to.
There is a tsunami raging in her chest, raging to come out, but no sound could ever pass her lips. She wants to grieve, to relieve the ache building up and up in her chest, but she doesn’t have the energy to. Lacy was only twelve. She was only twelve!
But now, she will always be twelve.
Before the Battle of the Labyrinth, there were fourteen campers in the Apollo Cabin. Now, there are only eight of them left. Their Cabin has suffered the highest number of losses within the two years.
It doesn’t feel fair, even among the rest of the Demi-gods. Kyra wants to scream at the unfairness of it all, that she knew she’d have loss but she didn’t want it to be any of them. Didn’t want it to be this many of them.
The door opens but Kyra could not tear her eyes away from her little sister’s still face. Only when she hears a vaguely familiar set of heavy footsteps does she turn around.
She finds Clarisse staring at her and can see her own bitterness and grief reflected in the daughter of Ares’s brown eyes. Kyra feels something ugly in her throat rear up its head and ready to burst forth. She doesn’t give a damn about the other’s grief.
Clarisse does not scoff and cross her arms, and Kyra wants for her to just turn around and leave. Instead the taller demigod steps towards her and Kyra raises her chin up when she stops three feet away from her.
There’s an empty golden shroud next to Lacy’s.
“Kyra—”
She doesn’t give her the chance to speak. “Michael is gone.” she says, her voice hollow. Clarisse’s eyes fall to the ground. Seeing the Ares demigod not fighting against the accusation brings her a dark twisted sense of joy. “And it’s all your fault.” She turns around before Clarisse attempts to explain herself.
The party itself is gloomy, but Kyra’s mood lifts a little at seeing her younger siblings talk to their father for the first time. Apollo is all smiles and cheer, carrying Austin on his hip and ruffling Kayla’s hair. Holly clings to their father’s side, red-eyed but looking lighter than she had seen her since Lee’s death and he drops a kiss into her hair.
Her heart falls in on itself when she wonders how many times Lacy got to meet him.
“Kyra,” Poppy wraps her arms around her and Kyra breathes in the familiar scent of her sister. Despite their age difference and how long ago Poppy must have graduated from Camp Half-Blood, she still smells like eucalyptus, like the rest of Cabin Seven. “How are you?”
Her ankle twinges and her lungs won’t expand without her ribs protesting, but still she responds “Breathing and not in a shroud.” Mum gives her a small reprimanding whack on the arm at the same time Poppy levels her a stern glare.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Kyra huffs. Gods, she nearly died and she’s not allowed to make some morbid jokes? “I took too much nectar and potions so I’m gonna have to heal the slow mortal way.” She shrugs. “But I don’t think I’ll be missing too much of school.” There’s no way her mother is going to let her leave for Hogwarts next week.
All the better, because Kyra certainly isn’t going to leave her siblings behind after such a disaster. She turns towards Poppy.
“Are you going to talk to Dad?”
Poppy shakes her head with a smile. “I have already talked to him. I’m just here to say goodbye before I leave for Hogwarts.” Poppy gives her one last hug before she leaves for the elevator.
She turns to her mum. “Are you going to talk to Dad?” her voice probably betrayed the uncertainty she felt at the moment- but it was kind of hard to get a god in person and willing to chat.
Maybe there’s a small part of her that wants her parents to still be in love with each other. She knows her father still sporadically visits mum and mum fondly talks about their father from time to time and they gather for family dinners whenever all of them are in one city.
Still, Kyra hopes they don’t have another kid. She loves her siblings to Tartarus and back but she doesn’t want them to be subjected to life as a demigod.
It’s… unfortunately a short one.
Mum smiles indulgently at her siblings and her father. “He’s with his children. I imagine they need his attention much more than I do.” She places a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Your father will come visit me when he wants.”
Her mother isn’t jealous of her father’s many other lovers, not anymore, Kyra thinks. She grew to accept them, and even became friends with some like Andrew. She takes the time to host huge Cabin Seven dinners in her penthouse whenever she’s in New York and gives free music lessons to her musically inclined siblings.
Mum squeezes her shoulder. “I need to go,” she whispers. “I need to prepare the house for you and Will. You guys are staying with me tonight, no excuses. I will come get you two from camp in three hours.”
Kyra watches her walk up to her father, who had shooed his children to terrorize the banquet tables. They converse for a bit, Apollo’s eyes fond and sad and her mother wiping her eyes. They exchange a hug and Dad kisses mum on the cheek before they part.
The funerals are somber. The mood of the camp plummets after the relief at surviving the war and celebratory mood at the party. Chiron reads out the list of the dead with their full demigod titles as their shrouds are lit.
None of her siblings had the energy to sign the funeral hymn. With their gold shrouds gleaming proudly, it was glaringly obvious which cabin took the biggest hit. A third of her siblings were taken in a single night.
No one has the energy to cry either. Michael, Nathan, Lucy, Cleo, Cassie and Marcus’s shrouds burn in golden flames before shimmering into the air as wisps of gold. Ethan Nakamura and the enemy demigods are also given shrouds, but Kyra still can’t feel the same amount of sympathy for them compared to the other campers.
Traitors. Her mind hisses.
Nor does she feel that for Silena Beauregard. Any good memories of her are now shadowed by her betrayal. Was it all a lie? Was she pretending the entire time? Were all her little acts of kindness actually carefully planned manipulation?
Any one of them could’ve been a direct or indirect cause for the many deaths among them. For what? In the end, everything is exactly the same.
How had she not foreseen it?
Her gift does not fix anything. She didn’t foresee Michael or her siblings' deaths. She didn't know Selena was the spy. What good does this foresight do if she cannot do anything, change anything about what she sees?
It is no gift; it’s a burden . This was what her father said to her. She met him for the first time in a dream, at seven years old, in the Infirmary after the Stymphalian birds attacked her and Will on their way to camp.
She understands now.
Notes:
Kyra’s fatal flaw is her attachment to people she cares about. She cares for them very deeply, even forgetting herself at times. It’s not the same as Percy, where he would give up the world for his select friends. Kyra will give up every drop of her blood and strength to make sure her loved ones are safe. This has to do with her own attachment issues, low self-esteem and losing her loved ones to the war. Naomi Solace is a loving mother, but having two powerful demigod children means sending them to camp for their safety at a very young age.
Kyra’s afraid of losing the people she loves and her patients, which is why she takes Andromeda’s miscarriage, Lee, Michael and Castor’s deaths so badly. Sirius mirrors her in this sense. Sirius is protective of people he loves because he’s afraid of the people that cherished him leaving. Their vicious, all-consuming love for their people is their common ground.
Michael’s death hits her really hard, actually even harder than Lee’s, because she believes it could have been prevented if Clarisse had fought in the war in the first place. There would have been Hunters at every entrance reinforcing the defense if Ares Cabin had defended one of the entrances like the other cabins. Kyra will never forgive Clarisse or see the Ares Cabin in good light again, even when she moves on from the war.
She doesn’t think of Silena as a hero either, because she believes that the very definition entails doing the right thing and sticking to your side, your family, no matter what, from the very start. Yes, Silena managed to bring Ares Cabin to war and died in the process, showing great bravery, but she also led to Lee, Castor and Beckendorf’s deaths. Kyra will only ever see her as someone who was naive enough to believe Kronos would spare the campers’ lives and died trying to fix her mistakes. Nothing more, nothing less.
Personally, I don’t think Silena is a hero either. I agree that her story is tragic and she made a really big and disastrous mistake that caused a lot of death. She trusted Luke just like the other campers but she wasn’t able to cut him off when the other campers could.
I also think Clarisse didn’t refuse to fight out of pride - I would say it’s more out of fear. She knows there will be casualties and that her siblings might be part of it and as a leader, she feels responsible for her siblings. They follow her orders and they would go into war if she asks them to but they are all scared. Clarisse doesn’t want her Cabin to fight, but she has to maintain their reputation of being brave and macho. So, she takes the dispute over the chariot as an excuse to walk out of the battle. Kyra will understand this much later, but will still not forgive her.
Oh, and I made Apollo a good dad, because in ToA, we can see how he actually loves his kids. He is a god and yes, still have flaws, but he genuinely loved his kids and took it hard when Austin and Kayla were kidnapped. He loved Commodus and Daphne and Hyacinth. He has his loving humanistic side and I intend to flesh it out. Kyra needs a source of comfort and while Apollo isn’t that involved in her life, she knows he still loves her. Of course, Zeus’s rules about godly parental involvement are still there, but Apollo will try to be there for his kids in ways that he can.
Now, Kyra’s going to be an absolute mess when she goes back to Hogwarts. What do you think will happen that will alert the Marauders? As always, please leave your thoughts and theories in the comments; I love reading them!!
Chapter 15: Kyra Solace & Lily Evans - My knuckles were bruised like violets
Notes:
Hallelujah, I'm BACK! Finals were insane, but I'm finally in summer break! The updates will still be slower while I am gathering my will to live, but otherwise, the fic will progress on as usual. I wrote some stuff for August's AU gust challenge 2025, but I somehow forgot it was like June when I wrote them. My brain was fried at the time, lmao. But please check it out, I tried my hand and writing after a severe burn out and writer's block.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Summer in Camp Half Blood is long over, and despite it only being autumn, it is colder than any of the dead winters in America.
Frost ghosts upon the windows where Kyra has her cheek pressed. She wets her lips and tugs the chapped skin between her teeth. The lights of houses lined along the streets glimmered in the distance, like the candelabra of a Christmas Feast, yet the mood inside the car can’t be more somber. She supposes that it’s fitting.
Katie shifts on her seat next to her, her hands adjusting her scarf. Bandages peek out from the underside of her arm. Malcolm has his head nestled against the sweater bundled up between him and the cold window, quietly snoring. Kyra’s neck aches at the sight of his sleeping position, curled up against the door seat and neck craned at an awkward angle. Still, Kyra can’t bring herself to disrupt his sleep—it has been one of his rare moments of actually getting some rest without nightmares.
Mum's gaze flickers towards her in the side mirror. Her eyebrows are creased for just a moment before forcibly smooth and she offers a smile when Kyra meets her eyes in the foggy side mirrors.
The smog had thickened as the night wore on. An owl hoot sounds from a window. The car drives on and on until they reach Naomi’s house and into her driveway. Kyra reaches over Katie to gently jostle Malcolm awake.
“What—who—?” Malcolm's eyes flash open. He looked around wildly for a second, his hand gripped his dagger inside his coat pocket, but he settled down once he realized where they were.
“We’re here.”
Katie readjusts her sweater with her injured hand. She sleepily looks around as she shuffled outside after Kyra, mouth widening in a yawn. Kyra steps forward to unlock the door and turns on the lights while mum opens up the trunk of their car and levitates their backpacks into the living room.
The fireplace crackles cheerfully inside. Mum ushers the halfbloods inside and locks the door behind them, casting several warding spells after they’ve all started to settle. Seeing them all after the battle must have made her more wary. Malcolm resists another yawn, hands stretched forward in a half stretch and winces. The broken ribs haven’t fully healed yet, despite the Apollo cabin’s best efforts and the godly food.
The long days since the fighting have almost been just as worse as the battle itself, but somehow they’ve managed to keep going.
They strap on their backpacks while her mother gets the fireplace prepared for a Floo. Kyra can feel her worried eyes on her as she fiddles with the strap of her backpack. Mum hands the Floo powder bowl to Malcolm who steps closer to the fireplace.
Just before Malcolm is about to grab a handful of the green coarse powder, Naomi lunges forward and wraps him tightly in her arms.
“Be careful, okay?” She murmurs, softly and full of concern. She pulls back and squeezes his shoulders. Malcolm nods and tries to give her mother a reassuring smile, just barely hiding a wince. He sniffs and limps towards the fireplace before disappearing in a whirl of green fire and ashes.
Kyra makes a mental note to get him to drink more nectar when they get back to their dorm as she watches Katie hug her mother. Naomi carefully smoothes down Katie’s matted, bed-head hair before turning towards her. Each of them get their own special little goodbye.
Her mother gently takes her hands into hers and Kyra’s breath catches in her throat when she sees tears in her eyes. Mum's fingerpads stroke her cheek, before pulling her into a hug. Faintly, Kyra hears Katie mutter “Hogwarts” and feels a wash of heat from the resulting green flame in the background as her senses become muffled by the scratchy wool of her mother’s brown sweater.
Kyra’s eyes close as her head dips to cradle against Mum’s shoulder. She takes in a full, shuddering breath of the comfort she’d been craving for quite some time. Battle or not, the feeling of her mother’s gentle and warm affection breaks a dam inside of her she’d barely been holding back.
Everything comes crashing down. Kyra sobs, arms flying to wrap themselves around the shaking back of her mother as the losses and the memories of the battle three weeks ago pile up and press down on her shoulders. Faces of Lucy, Michael, Silena, Luke, Nathan, Castor and Lee flashes in her mind’s eye, and a keen left her lips.
Will’s back, stiff and unbending at the shroud-burning half heartbreak and half rage, unable to show any weakness because he is the head counselor now, because their two older brothers are dead and he’s the eldest alive. Pollux’s empty eyes as he looked on his friends, mourning or dead under their shrouds, his twin already long gone. Michael’s bow and empty shroud. Nathan’s arm, the only thing left of him at the bridge.
Alive campers, feeling just as dead as their fallen loved ones.
Tens and hundreds of campers and Hunters with varying amounts of blood-stained dressings everywhere she could see, the whimpers and screams from the infirmary, the medical tents on Mount Olympus, the Plaza Hotel, the Apollo Cabin when everywhere else was full—. The light flickering out of the dying camper’s eyes like a fading embers of a fire.
They press into the walls of her chest, filling her lungs with despair, loss, rage. They were all godsdamn too young.
The walls that are pulled up hastily and holding on by the loosest, most fragile threads—she is now one of the oldest members at camp and there are still the little ones; she needs to be strong, she has to—comes crumbling at the scent of her mother’s lavender shampoo and the warmth of her arms and body, just moments before she has to leave, again. She wants nothing but to break down screaming and crying at the gods, at the Fates, at Chaos itself, (why? why, whywhy why —) right then and there, in front of the fireplace where she inevitability has to Floo through and continue walking down the stairs of Hogwarts with books under her arms like nothing even happened. Through her tears and half-stifled wails, she faintly cognizes the wetness on her shoulder.
They stay like that for a while, her mother rubbing circles into her back and her trying to muffle her sobs. Finally, mum steps back, her eyes red as she takes in the sight of her daughter. Kyra has no doubt she looks ghastly, with her red rimmed eyes and dark circles. The small cut on her forehead tingles from the heat emanating in the fireplace. Her mother takes a deep breath, visibly struggling to reel in her tears.
Unfortunately, both of them know that if one breaks down again then Kyra will never get to Hogwarts on time.
“You should go,” she says quietly, her voice a little choked up.
Kyra nods. In a distracted daze, she picks up a handful of Floo powder and walks towards the fireplace. The smell of ashes flies in the air among the crackles from the fireplace.
“Hogwarts.”
When the flames and ashes clear, she is met face to face with the broken, grieving faces of Katie and Malcolm and they all break down crying, again, for the umpteenth time since the Battle of Manhattan, in Dumbledore’s office.
——
Lily can’t stifle her gasp when she sees Kyra shuffle into her Potions class. The other girl looks gaunt, cheeks pale, eyes pink and lips bitten bloody. There is a dressing on the side of her forehead. It had been so long since she had heard from her, her last owl a month ago, asking her where she is and why she isn’t on the Hogwarts train, along with several others before, asking how her summer is going. All unanswered.
“Kyra, what—? Why are you so late—?! I mean…” she shakes her head. “ How are you?” She restarts softly, trying to be more polite.
Kyra just shakes her head and gives her a shaky smile. Her hair doesn’t look like it has been washed in a while. She also looks thinner. Concern blooms once more in her chest, and Lily surges forward to hug her friend. She is glad that Kyra doesn’t pull away and instead reciprocate after a few seconds. She blinks. Kyra never wore thick layers before.
They stand there hugging as students begin to mill in. Some give them curious looks. Some of their fellow Gryffindors, Marlene, Mary, and Alice among them, stand near them, awkwardly, no doubt waiting for a chance to check in on the brunette. Someone clears their throat.
Slughorn nods at Kyra. “Good to have you back, my girl. Settle down now everyone, we have a new potion to make today.”
The small circle of Gryffindors gathered around their table scatters. Kyra takes a shaky breath and Lily offers her a small smile. Her eyes are still pink and slightly swollen. “Sorry I was late. There was a big family emergency in Manhattan. Couldn’t leave.”
Her eyes fly to her forehead, the skin visible around the dressing an inflamed red. Lily nods absentmindedly, fear growing and reaching even deeper down her lungs and gripping her stomach. What could be that family emergency? A niggling voice at the back of her mind reminds her of the collapse of the Williamsburg bridge. Kyra mentioned attending a camp in Manhattan every summer, didn’t she? The brunette had spoken fondly of her memories at the camp and the friends she made. Lily hopes that Kyra hadn’t been there at the bridge. What about Katie and Malcolm? They are both from America and go to the same summer camp. They were also missing in classes.
Alice gives Kyra a quick hug. “Good to have you back Kyra. Hope everything is okay.” Her concern is a lot more concise and less touchy, probably for the better.
Kyra nods. “Katie’s back as well.” She grins, eyes clouded over in what was exhaustion, Lily realizes. Alice gives a quick thanks before going back to her desk, no doubt glad to hear that her Herbology partner is back.
She keeps an eye on her Potions partner as she catches Kyra up on her missed assignments and the latest gossip. Kyra huffs a soft laugh at some of the more outrageous bits, but the normal amused sparkle usually present in her eyes is absent.
Kyra is still quiet throughout the lecture, dutifully jotting down notes. When the application of the lesson begins, Kyra slips away to grab the ingredients from the supplies cupboard along with the other students.
She lets out a strangled cry. Lily’s head whips up from where she is setting up their instruments to see her partner grimacing, right next to a boy who looked quite surprised, one hand pressed gingerly at her ribs. Tears are beading on her waterline and the Slytherin’s eyes widen as he takes in Kyra’s hunched form.
He looks around with his hands held up. “I-I didn’t do anything,” he stammers. “I just bumped into her from all the pushing. I didn’t mean to—“ he steps closer towards Kyra, a hand reaching out, “Are you okay?”
It takes a couple seconds and the entire room falls into a hush in waiting but Kyra nods. She slowly straightens up, looking like it takes all of her willpower not to whimper. Slughorn appeared at her side, clucking and frowning. Lily couldn’t hear what they are saying but Kyra makes her way slowly back to their station with ingredients in hand, waving off Lily’s questions.
“Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?” Kyra just shakes her head and sets down the ingredients gingerly. She’s already started measuring the moondust and huckleberry thorns. “I already went to her; I’m fine.”
Her answer leaves a twist in Lily’s gut, but she isn’t sure whether or not she should press further.
The way Kyra’s gingerly shifting her weight to her left foot and stiffly holding the scales does not convince Lily, but Kyra doesn’t look like she’s willing to answer or tolerate anymore questions by the tightness in her jaw. Lily takes the nectarine leaves and begins grinding them. She decides to take over the more demanding tasks for the other girl.
Right after Slughorn grades their finished potions, Kyra sits down heavily on their stool. She leans her left side on the edge of their table. Sweat dots her hairline and she blinks slowly, like she couldn’t see anything even with her eyes open.
Lily’s fear is threatening to choke her now. “Kyra?” Kyra leaves quickly as soon as class is dismissed. Lily, armed with a persisting need to make sure Kyra is… Kyra is fine, barely managing to keep up with her as she walks staccato down the corridor —Lily notes that she’s limping, favoring her left—, before disappearing when Lily rounds the corridor.
The crowd of students milling in the corridor blankets her vision and Lily scans the crowd of red, yellow, blue and greens, trying to find a brunette with a Gryffindor tie limping slowly.
When the search serves futile, with five more minutes before her next class, Lily clicks her tongue in annoyance. She turns around and bumps promptly into the Marauders. Mainly, she smacks directly into James.
Lily yelps in shock at the impact and hands reach out to steady her. “Look where you’re going, red,” James grins.
Lily prepares herself for whatever teasing came her way but Sirius speaks first. “What happened to Kyra?” he questioned.
His grey eyes are cloudy, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at the crowds of students hurrying to their next class. Lily shrugs, albeit a little taken aback. Were they following her like she was? She has no idea Sirius Black of all people would look… worried for her Potions partner. Even James looks concerned as well. His usual teasing is absent. “We’re confused as to why she arrived so late in the year.” His blue eyes are steady and curious. Lily can see concern hinted along his small frown. “Is she alright?”
Remus pokes his head in from between the other two. “Did she say anything to you?” He adds, “We thought she was in pain.”
Well, Lily definitely did not expect that concern from them. Remus, maybe. But James and Sirius? Definitely not. Not after their feud got so bad Sirius nearly got expelled for attacking Kyra with a spell classified as a curse.
After all, the rumor mill is run after the Gryffindor Quidditch players.
Lily considered it for a moment, before finally shaking her head. “I don’t know anything about what happened, other than that it was a family emergency.” And she couldn’t say more than that because it was the honest truth.
Part of her worries are that they would still go after her, right now in her vulnerable moments, even though they had become neutral last year after the “accident”. She glares at them, especially Sirius and James. “Don’t you dare go after her, you knobheads. She said it was a family emergency.” She exhales shakily, hopefully they would have some empathy for Kyra. “A bridge collapsed in the city she was living in.” A few beats. Then their eyes widen, understanding what she is implying.
The writing between the lines was clear. She was very late, she had an emergency, and most importantly- she looked nearly like she was about to join the ghosts in Hogwarts.
Lily hastily looks at her watch, two minutes until Charms. She gives them one last warning glare before hurrying towards the direction of her Charms class.
She can ask Kyra about what happened later, when she is more settled and some time has passed.
It’s time Kyra lets her in.
They have a Potions paper due within the next three days and Lily cannot find Kyra.
She isn’t present in the Great Hall for dinner, and Lily knows Kyra is not at the Quidditch celebrations. As she walks down the hallways, the tiles echoing her scatato footsteps, she wonders where she could be hiding. The staircases are not as crowded as it is during the afternoons, but her Potions partner is still nowhere to be found. Then a familiar face flits from behind a corridor and Lily quickens her steps. She needs to grab his chance.
“Katie!” the Herbology prodigy turns around. Katie Gardner isn’t someone she knows well but she has heard about her prowess in herbology. She’s also one of the three students Hogwarts gave full-scholarships to from America. With their shared homes and specific situation, it’s natural that Kyra and Katie would be close. But judging from the other young woman’s dull eyes and strained lips, Lily wonders if Katie also went through the same family emergency Kyra did.
“Lily. Hey,” She shifts on her feet. A finger thumb at the keychain hanging from her satchel, jiggling the metal charm. “What’s up?” she asked tentatively.
“I was wondering if you have seen Kyra?”
Katie slowly shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. “No, I haven’t all day.”
Lily shakes her head. “ I have checked the library, the Astronomy Tower, the gardens and the main Common Room.”
Lily didn’t realize until third year that Kyra and the other full-scholarship American students had different dormitories than the rest of them. She always thought was intriguing that Kyra never invited her to her room to study or prepare for their Potions exams, but maybe the brunette didn’t want to boast about it? Lily doesn’t know.
“Then, I’m not sure,” Katie says. “Let’s go find her then.” Something flashes in the other Gryffindor’s eyes and Lily adds to her list of ‘instances of American studentsacting strange’. “Then maybe she isn’t studying.”
She probably doesn’t even need to study. Even with Kyra’s introvertedness and shyness, Lily can admire her intelligence. Somehow always arriving late to the term and leaving Hogwarts early, she still has excellent grades and the professor’s glowing regards to boot. Merlin, she could give Lily a run for her money in terms of Potions too. Then starting an apprenticeship under Madam Pomfrey in fourth year? That’s impressive.
It’s more than impressive actually, it’s near spectacular.
But, the shift in her behavior, the sudden depression and frailty, raises Lily’s hackles. She doesn’t know how to fix whatever is hurting her friend or if she can help her navigate the tragedy of the Williamsburg bridge. Has she lost someone? Lily’s heart drops. She must have, there’s no other reason she would look this devastated.
“Do you know what’s going on with her?” Lily blurts out. Katie’s expression shutters but she keeps her face neutral. Lily likes Katie. They aren’t close but she can tell she’s a no-nonsense Gryffindor and Professor Sprout’s favorite student in their year. However, when she is not fussing over her few friends or plants, she has this impenetrable poker face that has most people shying away.
Still, Lily clocks the faint tension lining the edge of her mouth. “I do,” Katie acknowledges, “-but it is not my place to say.” So, Katie does know what’s going on. That makes her chest loosen. Kyra isn’t alone. Lily hopes Kyra confides in Katie even if not her. Perhaps Katie knows enough about Kyra’s family and what happened in America?
Despite her outstanding achievements and transcript, Kyra’s personal life isn’t well known among the campus. Lily, Marlene, nor Victoria know much about her despite their best efforts to get to know her better. Her mother, however, is famous in the pureblood society.
Naomi Solace is a pureblood certified healer who had a lucrative job in St. Mungo’s before leaving everything in the Wizarding World to pursue a music career. Lily’s knowledge of the music industry isn’t the strongest, but she knows the older woman is famous in America.
…and how she was disowned by her family for having children out of wedlock with a mysterious Muggle.
Still, the disgrace of being associated with a disowned pureblood bastard doesn’t deter even the snottiest of the Slytherins from asking Kyra for an autograph of her mother. Or mooning over the Gryffindor. Lily thinks half the reason those Slytherins antagonise the Marauders isn't because of their background but because of what they do to her.
Lily and Katie were walking down the hall to check on the owlery when Isaac Dalloway came speeding, almost running into them. His hair is stuck all over the place and he’s still in his Quidditch shirt. The air is sucked out of her lungs. In his arms is an unconscious Kyra.
She’s pale, limp, and for a second Lily thinks her heart stops completely.
“Dalloway, what —”
Confetti is sprinkled into his hair but any hint of celebrations on his face are gone. “I found her unconscious at the owlery! We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey now!”
Katie immediately grabs his arm and stops him before he can run. Dalloway’s eyes are confused and frustrated. Kyra lays in his arms like a ragdoll.
“You can’t transport an unconscious student like this! You could be aggravating her injuries.” Injuries—? Before Lily can open her mouth to ask, Katie turns to her. Something about Katie’s tense shoulders tells her about how she has done this before. “Get Madam Pomfrey to come here. Dalloway, here, set Kyra down, gently. Merlin, I know what I am doing.”
“Here, Dalloway, keep her neck still, we need to—” Katie is still speaking when Lily sprints towards the Hospital Wing.
With her luck, she runs straight into a horde of Quidditch players coming out of the Common Room as she and Poppy rush to where Kyra is. Of course, the bloody Quidditch players just had to be nosy bastards and follow, but Poppy’s forehead is knitted too tightly to spare a moment to tell them off.
They arrive to see Isaac doing mouth to mouth resuscitation on Kyra while Katie has her hands on her chest, starting compressions as soon as Isaac stops.
Poppy immediately kneels next to the unconscious brunette and starts murmuring diagnostic spells. “Keep going with the CPR. Gardner, status.”
When Isaac resumes, Katie turns towards the aged healer. Her eyes are full of tears but her voice is steady and hard. “Isaac found her unconscious at the owlery. She stopped breathing a minute ago, and we have been doing CPR.”
“It’s good that you didn’t move her more.” Poppy nods. She starts chanting spells, wand in one hand and another glowing gold hovering over Kyra’s prone form. Katie’s resuming CPR but it’s clear that she’s tiring. Lily turns to see James Potter stumble out from the group of Quidditch players.
“I can sub in. I know CPR.” His eyes are dead serious and his hands are held out appealingly. Lily sees Sirius and Remus’s shocked faces from behind their friend.
Katie’s eyes narrow. However, the most crucial part of CPR is making sure assistance is speedy. They don’t have time to argue. It’s clear that Katie still doesn’t like it, but Poppy grunts at James, so Katie scrambles out of his way.
Lily walks over to put a hand on Katie’s shaking shoulders as they watch Poppy work on Kyra. Tendrils of gold and blue magic furl out of Poppy’s wand and intertwine around Poppy’s free hand, which hovers over Kyra’s body. Then, a flash of light blasts from the tip of Poppy’s wand and into the center of Kyra’s chest. She jolts as if being shocked, then lets out a ragged gasp as her eyes flutter open. Cheers erupts but peters out quickly when Kyra scrunches her eyes and lets out a pained whimper. Madam Pomfrey gives them all a reprimanding glare.
The healer crouches down to speak softly and quickly to Kyra, who still looked weak and dazed. Poppy looks up at the two Gryffindors huddled around Kyra.
“Could one of you carry Ms. Solace to the Hospital Wing?”
“I’ll do it.” Dalloway says immediately. Lily stares as he scoops Kyra up carefully in his arms, murmuring apologies when his movements cause her to groan. Katie scrambles up, eyes trained on her friend. She helps Dalloway adjust his hands around Kyra more securely.
“I didn’t know Dalloway had it in him.” James says as he and the Gryffindors watch the four of them walk away. Dalloway has Kyra’s head nestled on his shoulders and he gazes momentarily down at her, eyes soft and concerned, lips moving. Kyra’s arm weakly comes up to touch his neck, and he bends down to better hear her.
“Well, she’s been patching him up often at the Hospital Wing ever since she became Madam Pomfrey’s apprentice.” Hilda remarks. “I guess something must have happened in there.”
So, Lily’s not the only one to notice the sudden bout of closeness.
Giovanni grins, slinging an arm around his captain’s shoulders. “He’s been spending a bit too much time in the Infirmary, you know. I have caught him going there for the most banal reasons the past week.” His smile is very teasing, annoying. He seriously couldn’t wait a single minute after she was alright!
James raises his eyebrows at that, turning towards the Quidditch vice captain. “Really? He hasn’t said anything in the locker rooms.”
Giovanni shrugs, “Yeah, well, he never really talks about girls with us. Maybe this is a new thing.” His smile takes on a mischievous edge. “We can bully it out of him when he comes back from acting like a prince.” There is a chorus of laughter around the room, but Lily sees a couple of the other players clenching their jaws or crossing their arms.
She puts a hand over her mouth. It is quite improper, but she sometimes forget Kyra is so… popular. Academically of course, but there's also something else.
One of them grumbles, “Isn’t it weird Dalloway is going for someone a year below?” Everyone turns towards that player in confusion, although Lily sees Giovanni sporting a knowing smirk. He’s found his target.
“Well, it’s only a year difference for most of us. Perhaps we are a bit too old for her, unless she prefers older men. And-” Giovanni’s smirk has taken on a sharper eye, “I heard there’s a Slytherin Bludger and two Chasers fancying her, some from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs too.” Several heads snap into his direction and Lily fights to keep her giggles in.
Giovanni continues to stir the pot. “They even invited her to their own parties. I don’t know if she went or not though.”
All eyes turned on Lily and she couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face. “She went to a party or two, but I don’t know which one.” The crestfallen faces nearly breaks her composure.
To think Kyra had so much of the quidditch team wrapped around her fingers.
Anyone with eyes can see that Kyra is attractive. Her eyes sparkles a perfect sky-blue when the light hits just right and the flecks of gold in the corner of her irises enrapture whoever meets her gaze. Her hair, however messy, always looks perfectly styled and even when it’s apparent she is not feeling her best, she still looks so beautifully undone, like a tragic Greek heroine. Something about her exudes an effortless grace, and her flighty personality doesn’t detract from her genuinity.
It isn’t just her beauty that wins Lily and the Slytherins over though— it is also her kindness. Always willing to help the younger years and her classmates, the brunette gives out a warm presence—like the sun, Lily mused— that is calming to the fidgeting and stressed students that come to her in the Hospital Wing. She isn’t a bright, bubbly person that people that are often described as the sun are, but she is the steady beacon of light everyone can come to for comfort and help. Even the Slytherins couldn’t stay away from the Gryffindor that doesn’t discriminate.
Of course, she doesn’t seem to notice any of it though. Kyra always ignored the attention fiercely, and if anything- that reaction made her even more attractive.
“We are so grilling him for details after.” With the Hospital Wing-bound four out of sight, the Gryffindors disperse, no doubt to continue their celebrations or to call it in for the night.
The Marauders remain back, with James walking over to her. Lily doesn’t realize she’s shaking until he opens his mouth.
“How are you doing, Evans?” James peers down at her, blue-green eyes searching hers. “It must have been shocking to you.”
She takes in a deep breath, but still finds the effort to roll her eyes. “I watch my Potion partner be carried unconscious by your teammate after Merlin knows what she went through. I’m not fine.” she says. She feels a little exposed under his understanding eyes and shuffles her feet in an attempt to disparage it.
She feels obligated to say this. “Thank you.” Lily looks down at her shoes, suddenly unable to bring herself to meet his eyes. “For doing that for Kyra.” she breathes and chances a glance up. “You saved her.”
There is no teasing grin or crowing of his praises. He didn’t even ask her out for a date in return. James merely smiles down at her. When did he get this tall? “It’s nothing.” he says with a wave of his hand. “It was an emergency. I’m happy to help.” Something about how he nonchalantly dismissed his life-saving efforts has heat pooling to her cheeks.
Maybe because of how fascinating it is, she honestly never would have taken him for someone who could be humble about anything. Especially when it came to saving a life.
Combined with the fact he was already concerned about Kyra before Lily even pointed anything out… maybe there is a genuine heart in there after all.
She tucks her hair behind her ear, conscious of his eyes tracking the movement. “Well, Potter.” she says, taking a deep breath. She almost does not manage to stumble over her words. “See you around.”
“See you around, Evans.” With that, he walks away, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin behind. Sirius Black has his arms crossed, looking sullen as he follows his friends.
Something stirs in the back of Lily’s mind at his behavior. Interesting.
Notes:
I saw this reel about how Percy’s perception of himself is very different from others' perception of him. Apparently, he thinks of himself as a scrawny, dorky guy just trying to get on with life, while others see him as this macho dark and serious demigod. No wonder he got fans.
I wanted to show how Kyra is seen by other people, particularly people who care about her like Lily. And yes, Kyra’s a bit of a Slytherin princess despite being terrified of snakes.
As a STEM major, I felt obliged to make sure that mouth-to-mouth is recommended for Kyra’s condition (but I'm not sure if it's the standard). Why does Isaac do mouth-to-mouth while Katie does the CPR? Isaac had a Quidditch game and had been carrying Kyra around too; CPR is actually exhausting. And it was also for plot device. Katie knows CPR because it is taught to all campers.
Chapter 16: Chapter 16 - Kyra Solace - Dreamers dream until they don’t
Summary:
Hi guys, I'm backkk. This chapter is lowkey one of my most favorites to write; and we are starting to get closer to the progression of Sirius and Kyra's relationship! Before this chapter, Kyra wants nothing to do with Sirius. Sirius has to respect her boundaries after what he had done, and deal with not getting to obsess over her.
I hope you guys like this chapter, and like every other ao3 writer, comments give me life!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Kyra barely manages to dissuade Poppy from telling her mother about what happened. She is sitting on the backrest of the sofa in her sister’s private quarters, balancing herself on the narrow edge underneath her as she watches her sister work. Poppy hunches over a cauldron that is bubbling happily away as she drops various herbs and ingredients into it.
Apparently, Kyra had Acute Potions Toxicity. Coupled with nearly overdosing on nectar and the injuries and grief putting strain on her body, her magic reserves had too many foreign influences diluting and manipulating it to the point her heart gave out. She had forgotten to go to Poppy with everything that’s happening in camp that almost as soon as they returned to Hogwarts, she ends up in the Hospital Wing within the week of her return.
Still, she feels like Poppy is overreacting. What’s a little more danger after the war? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. “It wasn’t that bad,” She insisted yet again.
Kyra might have been half convinced that the anger was just leftover fear from her collapse, but clearly it wasn’t because Poppy snapped her head in Kyra’s direction. The glow from the bubbling cauldron deepens the lines on her sister’s face and Kyra regrets her words the moment her sister opens her mouth. Oh, it’s going to be bad .
“Not bad? Not bad? Kyra, you went into cardiac arrest!” Poppy usually never raises her voice, choosing to reinforce her tone with steel most of the time. Now, with her voice high and wobbly and hair flying out of her usual neat bun, her sister looks absolutely terrified for the first time since Kyra has known her. “If Mr. Dalloway hadn’t been there, you could have been in a much more serious situation!”
Well, with the house elves and Mr. Filch always patrolling the owleries, it wouldn’t have escalated to her in a shroud, but Poppy is right; it could have been more serious. But hey, after her 20th? 21st? Near-death experiences in her sixteen years of life, Kyra’s just starting to wonder what the next one would come, just for shits and giggles.
Maybe she should take it as a sign not to work so hard on her homework. Hogwarts was a nearly seven year long program, statistically speaking it was unlikely she’d get to the end.
McGonagall sweeps into the office, wrinkling her nose at the smell emanating from the room. She turns towards Poppy with a slightly disappointed look and a furrowed brow.
“Are you really brewing potions in the middle of our living room?” The professor asked.
Poppy doesn’t even look at McGonagall when she responded. “Yes.” Still staring holes into the side of Kyra’s face.
McGonagall sighs and moves to sit on the couch next to the sofa. She waves her hand when Kyra attempts to climb down from her seat. Kyra grins as she settles back on the edge of the sofa. Here is just Minerva, not Professor McGonagall, her Head of the House, or her Transfiguration professor. A rare side that not many got to see.
“I would have thought with all these years at my side, you would have been used to the smell of potions by now, Minerva.” Poppy stands up and stretches. She walks over to the table, hand brushing against Kyra’s shoulder to pour a cup of tea for herself and Minerva.
“No, and I still do not like having the smell sink into every crevice of the living room. Especially from potion accidents,” Minerva stares pointedly at Poppy over the rim of her cup and Kyra giggles at Poppy rolling her eyes. Watching the two elderly witches bantering with each other gives her a fuzzy feeling, demigods getting to live past twelve and age together. Something right out of a fantasy.
“Just what are you making, sweetheart? I don’t think I remember this particular smell.” Minerva walks around the table towards the bubbling cauldron, brushing her knuckles over Poppy’s cheek in passing. Poppy smiles at her back, “An Essence-Cleaning potion. Something similar to an antibiotic.It’s to flush out the metabolites from the potions Kyra took.”
Minerva looks over at Kyra with an eyebrow raised. “This is what happens when you overdose yourself on them, Kyra.”
Kyra mockingly salutes back at her. “Won’t happen again, professor. Promise.” Poppy shakes her head disbelievingly. “Not on River Styx though.” Kyra adds cheekily and Poppy sharply pats her arm reprimandingly.
“They taste horrible and I never want to take them again,” Kyra amends. “Therefore, I will make sure to not overdose ever again.” Unless it was life or death.
“Better.”
“So,” Poppy leans forward and Kyra instinctively does not trust the lilt in her voice. Poppy’s eyes glimmered with mischief. “How are you and Dalloway?”
Oh right. Dalloway. Kyra remembers Isaac’s arms wrapped around her back and under her knees as he princess carries her to the Hospital. It was all quite fuzzy and overwhelming, but her face still warms a bit at the memory.
“We are fine…?”
“It sounds like a question at the end, sister. What does that mean?”
Kyra groans. Oh, she is not going to get teased about her lovelife by her elderly sister. “There’s nothing going on, Poppy. He’s just being a good person.” How could she really think about romance in a situation like that? She almost wants Poppy to go back to reprimanding her for being reckless. She could deal with recklessness. Not a inquiry into her love life!
“Well, you two looked awfully cozy when he was carrying you. Don’t think I didn’t see him comforting you while you are in pain.”
“He’s just being nice.”
“Could be something more.” Poppy’s teasing increases, Kyra snorts.
“Yeah, but,” she shrugs. It makes her uneasy to think about the future, when it is always so uncertain. She never knows when it will be the last day in the mortal realm. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. There might be another thing coming.”
As fun as it might be to debate about who likes who, it was less fun considering the very real reality that a relationship like that would have little to no way of lasting. Far more demi-god relationships end from death rather than heartbreak.
“The war is over, Kyra.” The sentence is starting to lose all meaning. Minerva walks over back to them and sits down next to Poppy. Kyra tries not to look at where Poppy links her foot over Minerva’s. “But I hear from Malcolm that there is another prophecy?”
Kyra sighs. “Yeah.” There’s always another prophecy. She slides down onto the seat of her sofa, and reaches for a bakewell tart. “The new Oracle— Rachel Elizabeth Dare—she released the next Great Prophecy as soon as she became the Oracle of Delphi.”
Poppy rubs her forehead, looking a little perturbed. “My goodness, another one? Recite it for us, please.”
Kyra licks her the almond crumbs from the corner of her lips and recites:
“ Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.
To storm or fire, the world must fall.
An oath to keep with a final breath,
And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. ”
There’s a short but resounding silence after she finishes, and Kyra lets them both take it in. As far as prophecies go, it’s not a particularly inspiring one- which is saying something. The idea of not one, not two, but at least seven half bloods being involved brings an air of foreboding that Kyra doesn’t know if she’ll be able to shake off.
But for their sake, she tries her best. “It doesn’t have to happen in our lifetime, though, right?” Kyra asks. This Great Prophecy better not happen anytime soon. She just barely went through one, why must she go through another devastating prophecy?
Perhaps that’s the same things other Demigods in the past thought about. Heracles, Perseus, Achilles- all thinking to themselves, ‘maybe this will be the last one;’ or ‘maybe this isn’t about me’.
“Of course not. But the world must fall doesn’t sound so good,” Poppy muses. Which is a very large understatement. With a phrase like that they could be expecting anything from a landslide to the end of the earth itself. Kyra mouths ‘no shit Sherlock’ .
“The last line, it mentions the Doors of Death…” Minerva trails off a little, thinking about it for a second. “I do not like this.” she says the words in all of their heads thoughtfully. She must have seen Kyra’s fear, because she hurriedly adds, “-but that doesn’t mean it will happen immediately or in the near future Kyra. The Great Prophecy took three centuries to be fulfilled.”
“Hopefully, I’ll be in Elysium by the time that comes around.” Kyra nods. As scary as the idea was that a giant prophecy was going to end the world, the chances of it happening while Kyra was still alive were low. Eternal bliss while the world burns up there? Sounds good to her.
Kyra gets up to pace around the room. “I can’t wait to be old and grey like you two. I want retirement, I want the monsters to stop following me. I want to just leave everything .” She makes two half circles, then throws herself back on the sofa and crosses her arms.
She knows she looks like a first year with how she’s pouting, but she doesn’t care. “I’m so tired.” Kyra means to say it with some bratty grouse, but the words come out more forlorn than intended.
Poppy and Minerva look as if they are going to reprimand her for calling them old before the other words catch up to them.
Minerva softly sets down her cup. “Kyra,” she begins, and Kyra gears herself up for another Minerva lecture. Professor McGonagall’s lectures are structured and objective. Minerva’s lectures are no-nonsense but kind.
“You will grow old.” She starts, and dismisses Kyra’s skeptical look. “No, you will. Because you have the qualities of a survivor. Yes, you jump headfirst into danger, but it’s always for a good cause and you have the skills and strength to get out of it too. You should be proud of yourself, Kyra. And have faith.”
Minerva leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees and stares at her intently, “Because I have faith in you. I know you will make it out alive and grow old. I’m a demigod myself. I’ve protected, trained and fought alongside demigods. I know who lived and who didn’t and you possess all the qualities of those who lived. You,” she says and Kyra’s throat bobs up at the sincerity in her voice, “-will make it. Don’t you worry.”
But you don’t know that, Kyra wants to say. Being a Demigod doesn’t mean rhyme or reason. The ‘qualities’ are strength, paranoia, and dumb luck. If my siblings had all of those qualities, would they have survived? There are a lot of words that she wants to say but they all clog in her throat and come out as terrible wretched noises.
Kyra lowers her head, trying to hold her sobs in. She doesn’t know where this-this fear comes from. “I’m scared I will die. A-And I’m scared I will fail many people.” She’s scared she will leave the people who love her before she is ready. Life as a demigod is so short, she can’t bear to crush her loved ones’ hearts by dying at the hands of a monster and no one being able to explain why. Pushing this terrible grief onto someone else is the last thing she wants.
“You won’t.” Poppy sits down next to her. An aged hand wraps around Kyra’s shoulder and she turns her head into her sister’s shoulder. “You have many people in Hogwarts who love you and you love them. Yet, you push them away because you are scared you will die after you become attached, and they will become attached to you. But that is not the case, Kyra. Look at me and Minerva and Pomona. We are from the same year, we survived. We are here, alive. You will be like us too. Okay?”
Kyra feels the seat next to her dip and a warm hand rests on her shoulders. The hope that comes with that warmth slams into her like a tidal wave. Perhaps for the first time in a while, she feels truly reassured.
“Let your friends in, Kyra.” Minerva starts rubbing circles into her back. It feels quite nice. She misses her mum. And Will. And dad. “You have many people worried for you. Not just Gryffindors, I know several Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and quite some Slytherins who are fond of you.”
Kyra can’t believe it. Surely there were a few that noticed her absence, but that many? She turns her wet face towards her. “Really?”
Minerva snorts. “Yes, Kyra, really. You must have noticed how you kept getting invited to parties and how many Slytherins try to talk to you in the hallways.”
She hasn’t noticed. Kyra had honestly been in her own little world made up of papers and problems for the past who knows how long. Minerva sighs in a put-upon way. “Well, you are always in a rush.” She has been so busy ever since third year started. The Titan War was coming and every day was another day to prepare.
“But now that the war is over,” Minerva continues as if she picked up on Kyra’s train of thought. That phrase again, the war is over. “You should get to know your fellow students more. You help them with their homework and heal them and are incredibly friendly and nice, but you never linger long enough to connect and build deeper relationships.”
That was true. In all fairness, she didn’t imagine there would be deeper relationships to build.
Poppy runs a hand through her curls. “It’s time, Kyra, to make friends. Let yourself linger. Don’t be scared to grow attached. You just survived a war. Whatever comes next, you will survive it too. Live a life you won’t mind ending anytime soon.”
Kyra nods. They are right, she decides. She had loved her siblings and even when they had died, she doesn’t regret getting to know them or loving them. Her siblings’ and Castor’s deaths still hurt; the pain comes and goes in varying degrees, but she won’t ever regret getting to know them and loving them. Lee’s lullabies, Michael’s teasing remarks, Nathan’s patience, Castor’s laugh—she will carry with them in her wherever she goes, however long she lives.
She has been so stupid, not letting Hogwarts friends in. She had felt safer with letting in the campers because they all know the risks and dangers of being demigods. Witches and wizards don’t, but Minerva and Poppy are right —
Better to love and lose than to have never loved at all.
Settling back to Hogwarts gets easier over time. With the war over, she now feels more at ease to relax and let her fifth year sink in. Hades, it’s already been more than halfway through her time at Hogwarts.
The time had really flown by without her truly aware of it.
“You should consider what you want to do in the future, sweetheart,” her mother says over the Iris message. She’s in Andrew Fletcher’s living room. Bows hang in the wall behind her and in a corner, she spies the photo frames of Andrew, Lee, Michael together. Some of them have Kyra or Will. One of them has Dad in it. “You have to take your OWLs very soon.”
“Yes, mum.” Kyra rolls her eyes. “I know, I know. I’ve been studying for them.” Since the war is over, she feels a little less pressured to study ahead. Before, not knowing when the camp will need her or if there’s been an attack, she had to go through her syllabus and study the topics for the entire year during the summer and the first three months of the new term. Yet, something about the release of the new prophecy still has her studying ahead for the next month or two.
Vigilance, that was one of the key parts of the life they lead. Damned if a single war will let her lose one more thing.
“Well, have you thought about which career you want to join? Your OWLs will determine your NEWTs and your NEWTs will determine your career.”
“Yes, mum, I know. Please, don’t worry about me.” Kyra groans into her folded arms. “I always bring back at least an E in everything. Even with what happens, don’t I?” It was something she took a little pride in, at least.
“Of course you do, sweetheart, “ her mother says soothingly. “And I am so proud of you. Your father too. Oh, here’s Andrew. Want to say hi?”
The last part is directed towards the owner of the home her mother is living in. Andrew’s face appears in the Iris message. He looks better than three months ago when Kyra iris-messaged to check on him. His cheeks are more filled in, even though there are more smatterings of grays in his hair.
He waves. “Hey, kid. How are you doing up there?”
“I’m good, Andrew! And you?”
He shrugs. “Eh, doing better. Thank you for checking on me, Kyra. Your mother has been a huge help.”
Kyra smiles sadly. Losing two sons in the span of a year devastated the other man; Kyra’s glad he’s starting to heal. Her mother had moved in initially to make sure he doesn’t spiral into depression, although by the way the two older adults have been looking at each other, Kyra suspects there may be another reason why. Will and Kyra have a bet going on when their mum and Andrew will reveal their relationship to them.
“I have a jogging group to meet up with, kiddo. Have fun and take care. Don’t worry your mum and I. Talk to you later!” Andrew gives one last wave before backing out of the shimmery visage.
Kyra waves back at him, and when she hears the click of the door, she raises her eyebrows at her mother. “Jogging group?” She inquires with a small eyebrow.
“Yeah.” It’s easy to see how pleased her mother is at Andrew socialising again. “He started a month ago. They jog around the parks every week or so. It’s been helping him.” Exercise and people, what better combination for a good time?
Kyra nods, feeling a bit of happiness to hear that he’s made a hobby. “That’s good.” She exhales. “I’m glad he’s doing better, mum.”
“Me too.” A pause, then. “Do you know what career you want to do, Kyra? The war is over sweetheart, you should think about your future, after Hogwarts.”
Kyra hadn’t really thought about life after Hogwarts. Life after Hogwrts meant she is above the age levels monsters target. Life after Hogwarts means she will live. It’s still hard, accepting that she will live. All her life, ever since she was told that she might not live past twelve, she had been thinking: when will I die?
Right before the war, she had been so sure that would be when it happened. Maybe she was a little reckless with that idea. She hasn’t really considered what to do with her life because up until this point her life had been survival.
“I don’t know, mum,” Kyra answers honestly. “Maybe something that involves helping people.” All her life, she had been healing and protecting. She already knows that that is her calling. Her healing abilities from both her magic and demigod power makes her an unique case, and with her knowledge, tactical skills and marksmanship? She could go into any field she wants.
“Alright,” her mother concedes. She tucks her curly brown hair behind her ear, the smattering of freckles on her cheekbones extending to her temple. Will had inherited their mother’s freckles. “As long as it’s not something dangerous, Kyra. I have had enough of you and your brother throwing yourselves in danger.” There’s a tinge of irritation in the last part, but it’s not directed at Kyra or Will.
To be fair, they aren’t throwing themselves in danger, danger finds them. But Kyra decides her mother would not like hearing that so she keeps quiet. An alarm rings in her nightstand and she reaches over to turn it off. It’s already six? Merlin.
“Do you have something to do, sweetheart?”
“Yes, mum. I’m going to Honeydukes with Lily and her friends and Katie.”
“Really?” A gleaming smile spreads across her mother’s face. “Oh, honey. I’m glad you are getting closer to them. I know you’ve been so occupied with your camp and the gods’ problems, you haven’t been socializing with your school friends properly. Now, go, go. I’ll call you later.” Mum shoos her off pretty quickly after finding that she has plans with friends.
“Bye mum. Love you.” Her mother blows her a kiss and the Iris message disappears. Kyra quickly changes into a warm sweater and jeans.
Katie is wrapping a scarf around her neck when Kyra arrives at their meeting spot. Scotland winters are always brutal. Lily, Marlene, and Victoria are also all bundled up. They all clamber into the same carriage and set off.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on some Fizzing Whizbees,” Marlene exclaims. Her red hair is braided and pinned up, some strands escaping to frame her face. “I’ve been itching to go all week! I’m so glad you guys decided to come with us.”
Katie gives her a polite smile. Kyra knows she is still unused to socializing with people outside her and Malcolm. Katie has more than enough things on her mind to be concerned about her lack of a social life when she is the camp counselor amid a war. Still, Kyra manages to persuade her on this trip with her. “Thank you for inviting us, Marlene.”
Marlene smiles but then the air quiets into an awkward silence. Kyra groans internally, even though a smile is fixed on her face. Lily breaks the silence like usual.
“So,” she claps her hands together excitedly, “how are you all feeling about our OWLs?”
Marlene immediately groans and Victoria slaps her hands on her ears chanting “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you.” in repeat.
Kyra rolls her eyes good naturedly. She can’t fault them for not wanting to study, but at the same time she feels like if they’re so disheartened they shouldn’t be going out in the first place. “I have been studying ahead for them, but it looks hard.” Katie nods. “There’s a lot of subjects to cover and I’m not very confident in Charms.”
“Oh, but I can help!” Victoria pipes up. She moves her hands away from her ears. “I’m good at Charms, that would be great. But in return, you will have to help me in Herbology; I have no idea what’s the heads and tails of the plants.”
“Of course,” Katie nods, it’s an easy deal on her end.
“OWLs are going to really occupy our time,” Marlene sighs. She picks on the loose threads on the cuff of her sleeves. “Hilda is pushing us really hard this year. I have to balance both my classes and practice. She says she wants to go out with a bang.”
Kyra huffs a laugh. “She’s joining Thestral Thunders after graduation. She’s going to keep flying anyway.”
“I know!” Marlene says, throwing her hands up with exasperation. “But she’s determined to win the Quidditch Cup in her final year. And,” she shudders. “Giovanni is going to be captain next year and I can already feel my arms hurting from how hard he’s going to push us.”
“That’s on you for joining Quidditch.” Victoria teases. “Although, with how busy you are with Quidditch practice and OWLs, how are you going to have time for Sirius Black?”
Lily’s smile freezes the same time Kyra feels ice spread in her stomach. The carriage goes silent, Marlene glancing at her. Victoria’s eyes widen when she realizes what she had said.
The joke- quite obviously, doesn’t land.
“I- I mean, forget what I said,” she chuckles awkwardly and Kyra feels bad and how guilty Victoria looks. Kyra waves her hand.
“It’s alright.” To break the tension, she relaxes the corner of her eyes and leans forward conspiratorially. She fixes her smile into a teasing smirk. “So what is it that we hear about you and Black?” Kyra manages to keep her voice light on the aforementioned person’s name.
The tension breaks. Katie relaxes, and Kyra feels her thigh bump into hers. Lily giggles while Marlene, without missing a beat, leans against her seat with an exaggerated salacious grin. “Oh, it’s here and there.”
Kyra keeps her tone light. She may not want him in her life, but she will not let him control her life. She doesn’t want anyone to tiptoe around her when it comes to Sirius Black. And by talking about him, Kyra is going to let them know that she is not afraid of Sirius Black.
“Oh? Do tell, McKinnon. What is here or there?” Kyra questions, raising her voice to a gossipy tone.
Marlene giggles and waves a hand dismissively. “Oh it’s nothing. We just snog in a closet or two. Do some things. But we are not dating.” Huh, somehow it didn’t really surprise Kyra that Marlene would snog someone in a closet. But Sirius Black? Ugh.
Lily ahhed in proper interest that Kyra didn’t have. Kyra mentally thanked her for that. “So it’s just a passing fancy?”
“Oh, we have done things that ‘passing fancy’ doesn’t justify. But let’s just say, it’s on and off.”
Well that wasn’t really appealing to know, but Kyra still waggles her eyebrows suggestively while Lily and Victoria guffaw. Katie manages a brittle smile.
“But Kyra,” Victoria begins, lacing her fingers together on her lap, looking every bit prim and proper. “What about Isaac Dalloway?”
There’s a jolt in Kyra’s chest. Oh not this again!
Kyra feels her cheeks burn. “Oh, it’s—” to her horror, her voice cracks, and the other Gryffindors pounce on that. “ —nothing.” she finishes lamely, feeling the hungry eyes beading into her very soul.
Marlene whoops. Victoria gives her a disbelieving look. Lily chortles, “What is that voice crack?”
Kyra groans. One princess carry- just one! Now suddenly the entire school seems to think they’re set up for the aisle! “I don’t like him like that, guys.”
“Not even after him princess carrying you all the way into the Infirmary? I was there, you know.” Katie cackles. Kyra flops into her seat in an exaggerated manner, grinning at her friends’ screeches of laughter. It feels weird thinking of Lily, Marlene, and Victoria as friends, but perhaps, Kyra thinks as Lily goes into minute detail of what happened that particular night, they have always had their back, she just hadn’t seen it with how preoccupied she is.
Honeydukes is packed, so they go to Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop to wait out the crowd. They chat about their shopping lists in Honeydukes and Lily and her friends are surprised to discover Kyra has a bad sweet tooth.
Katie snorts beside her.
“She has the worst sweet tooth out of anyone I know. Even the Stolls don't have it as bad.” Katie drawls, laughing at their surprise.
“The Stolls?” Katie falters at the confused faces. Kyra quickly jumps in. “Our friends at our summer camp. They are two mischievous brothers, always playing pranks on us. One time, they put hair dye into my bro–er, camp counselor’s shampoo.”
“You guys go to the same summer camp, right?” Lily asks, cocking her head a little bit.
Kyra nods. “Malcolm too. Every summer. It’s a really nice place, over in Long Island.”
“So tell me about the Stoll brothers,” Victoria says curiously, “What pranks did they pull? Are they like the Prewetts?”
“Worse,” Kyra groans. Just thinking about the twins and their antics is ready to put a headache back in her skull. “But they get their just desserts though. My counselor nearly turned their asses into pincushions.”
Michael had been furious when his black hair had turned into a muddy green. The Stolls barely managed to get away with only a couple scratches, although Kyra knows if Michael had his way, the brothers wouldn't be able to sit for a week.
Lily nearly spits out her drink. “Turn their — what?”
Kyra has to think of something quick. “My camp counselor,” she explains, “He used to lead Cabin 7, which specializes in archery. Each Cabin—there’s twenty of them—have their own specialty, although some of them are not really in use.”
‘Wait, can you do archery, Kyra?”
“Yes,” Kyra says, pride swelling in her chest. It occurs to her that this is the first time she’s really shared a bit of what Camp Half-blood really consists of. “I teach it to the other campers too. My brother isn’t very good at it, but he’s the new camp counselor and has his own duties, so I lead the classes.”
“That’s so cool. You’ve got to show us some time. Katie, what’s your Cabin?”
“I’m Cabin Four,” Katie says. There’s also a hint of pride in her voice. “We are gardening-focused. I've been the camp counselor for two years now.”
“Wow,” Victoria murmurs. “What do camp counselors do?”
Katie launches into her duties and Kyra adds in what Will does. They keep everything mortal-friendly, and their friends keep the conversation going, asking questions and adding little comments. When the crowds at Honeyduke finally thin out, they enter the candy shop. Kyra heads straight for the Sugar Quills and Nougat Chunks.
Despite the wide selection, Kyra isn’t very adventurous with the candy. She can’t stomach Chocolate Frogs or Bertie Bott’s crazy flavours. Jelly Slugs are fine only because they are shaped like slugs and not actually magicked slugs. Malcolm called her a wuss and she nearly threatened to put Mr. Spindle's Lick "O" Rish Spiders in his bed. Katie isn’t an experimenter either, but she selects some Elephants on a Bicycle, Cockroach Clusters, Shock-o-Chocs, Peppermint Toads and Exploding Bonbons for the Stoll brothers.
Kyra knows Katie likes the Stoll brothers more than she lets on. Particularly a certain singular Stoll brother, but she isn’t so uncouth to open that can of worms right now next to three gossipy gooses.
When they finally walk out of the building, feeling giddy and pleased with their treats, it’s already nine in the evening.
“We should do this again some time,” Lily says to Kyra and Katie. “We really enjoy spending time with you.” Somehow, that still manages to surprise Kyra. Maybe because she felt a bit guilty knowing how much time she spent focused on herself until now.
“Of course.” Katie’s eyes are sparkling. Sharing about camp, even with the concealed details, had pulled down her walls. Even Kyra feels more at ease with Lily, Victoria and Marlene. “Call us anytime, we will be there.”
They begin their trek to where the carriages are, gossiping and recounting tales of their childhoods. She is laughing at a joke Victoria repeats from her brother when her eyes glances to the ground.
She gasps. The bag of sweets slips out her hands and drops to the pavement.
Static fills her ears. Distinctly, Kyra can hear Katie and the others asking her what is the matter.
No, no. She must have hallucinated it, right? There’s no way there’s a face in the ground. Her skin tingles in that telling manner and her heart drops to the pit of the stomach. This can’t be a sign. Right?
A woman’s face peers up at her from the grey pavement. Her eyes are closed, but her eyebrows are scrunched up like she’s trying to wake up. The surrounding rocks fan around her face like hair, curling and weaving over each other.
She can feel her breaths coming short and fast. Cold sweat drips down her temple. Something about the woman’s features raises goosebumps along her arms. She looks both familiar and unfamiliar. Energy thrums from her visage and —
“Kyra!” She gasps. Katie is staring at her worriedly. Her hand grasps her arm in a grounding grip and another hand comes to steady when her knees wobble.
She looks back down. The face is gone.
“Kyra?” Lily steps closer. “Are you okay?”
Victoria bounds forward with an opened thermos. “Here, have some water.” She fusses.
“You should sit down. Do you have low blood sugar?” Marlene asks. Her hand rests on the small of her back. All four of them are now huddled around Kyra, hands ready to catch her should she kheel over.
Kyra takes the proffered water bottle but waves their concerns off. “I’m fine,” she insists. Her head spins with the implications of her visions. She needs to think. Understand what she saw. She has an inkling that the woman on the ground is related to the Great Prophecy.
“You look green,” Lily murmurs. Her eyes are pinched, and she looks half a step away from suggesting that Kyra go back to the Hospital Wing.
Kyra shakes off her fear and musters up a smile. “Must be indigestion. Come on, I want to go back.” Luckily, the sweets are all safely in the bag. Kyra pushes her thoughts to the back of her head on the ride back, trying to pay attention to the conversion.
When she and Katie return to their dorm, Kyra stops her. In the clearest and calmest voice she can muster, Kyra askes “Did you see a face on the ground? When I zoned out on our way to the carriages?”
Katie frowns at her. “No? Kyra what is this about?” She takes a step forward. “Is there something wrong?”
“I–” Kyra averts her gaze.
“Kyra, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”
Kyra shakes her head. “Nothing, nothing. Must be my imagination. I didn’t sleep well last night.” There’s no use in worrying her friend when she doesn’t know what is going on yet. “Let’s just go to sleep, I’m tired.”
Maybe that was a trick of her imagination. But she has a terrible feeling something is about to happen.
The war is over, she tells herself.
Then the news came like a truck. Percy has disappeared. What the Hades.
Annabeth is inconsolable in her manic search for him while Kyra, Malcolm, and Katie promise to keep a look out for Percy in Scotland, but there isn’t much they can do while in school. Still, she makes a point to visit the Great Lake and checks on the Giant Squid. The only reason Percy would end up anywhere near their school would be because of the Squid but he isn’t there. Search parties are being sent out. The camp, the Hunters and the satyrs are asking everyone they know about Percy’s whereabouts. Kyra has a bad feeling about what Percy’s disappearance means.
Coupled that with Olympus suddenly closing, and none of her siblings having heard anything from their dad for the past month? There’s an icy dread climbing its way up her spine the more dreary news comes in.
It has only been four months since the second Titan War. Maybe Percy got kidnapped by his aquatic cousins, Dad went on an obsessive spiral about something in his many domains, and Zeus is just feeling bitter that his kid is not the hero of the prophecy and decided to throw a hissy fit?
Kyra hopes so. She really, really hopes so.
She has a niggling feeling that the recent events might be connected to the next Great Prophecy although she doesn’t dare to voice it out loud. It feels like bad luck to even suggest, despite the fact that the idea itself is preposterous. The last great prophecy had barely ended! This should be the least likely time for the next one. But will—
The nightmares from the war have only receded from five nights a week to two and they are probably already headed for another war. The world must fall and the Doors of Death and all that. She’s jumping at shadows just because of the thought.
Malcolm has some concerning news about the latter.
“Monsters aren’t going to Tartarus.”
Kyra blinks. “I’m sorry, what?” Malcolm explains that there have been multiple instances where after the demigods have dealt the monsters a killing blow, they don’t disintegrate immediately or they resurrect. Gold dust clumping together like sand castles trying to build themselves.
“Hades,” Katie murmurs in horror because she doesn’t know what to say otherwise. Kyra echoes that sentiment. Slain monsters not actually dying? The room falls ten degrees lower as they mull over the situation. It couldn’t be—could it?
Kyra thinks of how many situations she’s been in that would have been made monumentally worse if the monsters had been able to regroup and continue chasing. She shudders ever so slightly, feeling filled to the brim with a feeling she can’t even begin to name.
“Maybe it has something to do with the Doors of Death,” Kyra murmurs. When the other demigods turn to look at her, she reiterates, “I don’t understand what the last line of the Great Prophecy is talking about, but it mentions the Doors of Death.”
“The Doors of Death are open?” Malcolm shifts. Fear pierces through Kyra’s chest. Something inside her starts screaming ‘I knew it! I knew it!’ but she keeps her mouth closed. If the Doors of Death are open….
“We are so fucked,” Katie groans, throwing herself back onto the couch. A hand reaches up to scrub at her face, a look of pure exhaustion blooming across her face. She stares at the ceiling like it’s an open abyss, clearly thinking about the results of the last “great” prophecy.
“It needs to be closed,” Malcolm thumbs the black bead on his camp necklace. The names of the fallen shine in gold Greek letters. “But it’s all the way in Tartarus. How…?”
No. That’s a pit they aren’t even going to begin to look at today. One thing is clear between them, they’re going to be far too busy in the future to even stop and consider the implications of whatever is causing this.
Kyra sighs, tiredly pushing a few stray hairs out of her face.. “We don’t know. But we will find out more when we go back to camp for the winter break.” It’s already a given that in this situation, it’s best to regroup with the other demigods and figure out their next move together.
Even without considering the cause or meaning, onsters regenerating means that the camp will need all the fighters and healers they can get. She isn’t going to waste a second thought that isn’t about returning home and protecting them.
“Kyra,” Katie leans forward, resting her elbows on her hands. “Do you think… we might be headed for another Great Prophecy fulfilling?” Malcolm looks at her intently. Kyra sometimes wonders if Malcolm ever suspected that she had a gift of foresight.
She looks down at her hands, the callous on her palms. She thinks back to the monsters regenerating, the son of the god of storms disappearing, the Olympians suddenly becoming unresponsive.
Kyra wants to say no. She really, really wants to. But a Demigod who doesn’t consider the facts of the situation is a soon-to-be dead one.
She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she gives her a nod. Katie lets out a ragged sob, hands coming up to cover her face. Kyra wants to join her, but feels too tired. Her chest aches at the losses from the last war; they are already be on the way to the next one.
Malcolm walks over and sits down next to Katie, pulling her into a hug, although tears are forming in his eyes too. Kyra can’t even muster the energy to refute her prediction to reassure them. Something about seeing the same sleeping female face from their Honeydukes trip emerging in her more recent dreams chills her to the bone.
Now that they have confirmation something is going on, nothing feels coincidental anymore.
“Let’s get some sleep, guys.” Malcolm says. Kyra nods wearily. There isn’t anything they can do right now. There aren’t even definitive signs that the second Great Prophecy will happen in the near future. Most importantly, they aren’t going to get any good plans laid out while still freaking out over this news.
A full night’s rest, and a little time to feel haggard over what’s to come. Then they will get a better idea of what’s happening when they get to camp.
Kyra wakes up with a jolt. She sits up in bed, panting. Her heart is rabbiting in her chest like she’s being chased. Sweat drenches the back of her shirt. She blinks at the clock. 12:15am. Moonlight streams in from the window and softly lights the floor. Faintly, she can hear the wind blowing outside.
Why did she wake up like that? She didn’t have a nightmare. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. A shiver runs through her body. Goosebumps rise on the flesh of her arms. She isn’t cold either; the fireplace crackles merrily in a corner.
Willow hoots softly from her cage. Its gold pupils shrink as it looks at her.
“Not just me, huh?” she sighs. There’s something seriously wrong. The night air is too still and a sense of foreboding presses down upon her. Her legs itches to walk, somewhere. Her vision blackens.
The Forbidden Forest flashes to the forefront of her mind. A giant hellhound sniffs along the edge of the forest, drool dripping down from their canines. Thirty feet to the side of where the hellhound is, one lone figure stands. Regulus Black’s terrified face zooms into her vision, as he crouches behind one of the trees. Sweat beads down his face and drips down his chin. His breath is visible in the cold air. He glances at Hagrid’s Hut. Kyra’s stomach drops. It’s too far, he can’t make a run for it with a hellhound at his heels.
Kyra lurches forward as the vision ends. She blinks rapidly. Shit. She has to get out there. Not a second passes before she’s scrambling out of bed. She quickly wakes Katie up by giving her a quick shake.
Katie stirs before blinking up at her, “What?” She groans, turning to smoosh her face deeper into her face deeper into her pillow. Kyra shakes her harder.
“Hellhound.” is all Kyra had to say.
That wakes up her immediately, Katie’s eyes darts up as she finally sits up straight. “What—? Where—?”
“One at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, there’s a student there. I dreamed of it. Send an IM to McGonagall.” Kyra grabs her cloak and runs over to Malcolm’s room.
He is still up, book in hand. He raises his eyebrows when she dashes in wearing her night clothes and coat. “Hellhound, a student’s there.” She rushes to whisper. He wastes no time opening the third drawer of his desk and grabs a dagger. Kyra leaves him to put on some warmer clothes and IMed Professor Sprout. When she gets to the door, Katie is already there, a satchel at her hip and wrapped up in a cloak. The knight in the painting nods the three of them out.
The cold air stings their cheeks as they dash across the field to the Forbidden Forest. “Why the bloody Hades is a third year out so late in the godsdamned Forbidden Forest of all places?“ Malcolm groans from in front of Kyra. He runs a hand through his curls and swipes them away from his face. The bridge makes a rickety groan as they run over it.
“Where is he?” Katie inquires. She clutches a baggie of seeds in one hand and a sheathed sword in the other. Small white flowers sprout behind her as they approach the tall dense oaks. Her voice lowers. “Do you think he might be one of us?”
A demigod? That’d be a rude awakening for the victim for sure. They haven’t encountered a single demigod since they started their studies at Hogwarts, but then again the Greek gods don’t usually venture to Britain or Scotland. This new demigod will be their first. “I don’t know.” Kyra grips the bow charm on her necklace. The night air was still. “I saw him hiding behind trees, about sixty feet away from Hagrid’s Hut.”
“There’s still too much land to cover—“ A scream cut through the air. All three of them immediately double their speed, spurred on by confirmation that something is afoot.
They run towards the sound and is greeted by the sight of a trembling Regulus Black crawling backwards as he faces a snarling hellhound. It was practically already on top of him and only getting closer by the second. Drool dribbles down and lands on Regulus’s boots.
Malcolm runs over to the side of it. “Hey!” He yells, waving his hands. His dagger shines in the darkness of the woods. The hellhound’s head swivels to the side. “Over here, you ugly mutts!” Malcolm screams to draw its attention.
Kyra runs to the other side, and pulls off the bow charm. A golden bow materializes in her hands and she nocks three arrows.
The hellhound rumbles, taking a step towards Malcolm, who is still screaming insults and dog jokes. Katie made a break towards Regulus. She hauls him up by his arm and they stumble away from the hellhound.
Regulus steps on a twig which made a loud crack. The hellhound’s head turns back towards Katie and Regulus. It roars and makes a move towards its original prey. Katie whips out her sword, pushing Regulus behind her. “Run!” She yells at him.
But Regulus is rooted to the spot, his face completely devoid of color. He is shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. “Go!” Katie urges. Regulus' eyes are wide, staring frozen at the hellhound approaching them, who has completely forgotten Malcolm.
Kyra lets the arrows fly. It finds its mark on the hellhound shoulder and it howls, turning its head towards her. Kyra’s fingers thread another arrow on her bowstring. She aims for its neck and lets the arrow fly. It hits its mark and instead of completely dissipating, only its lower body did, its head and upper body still solid.
The hellhound still stands, snuffing at them angrily.
The dust where the lower body is supposed to be churns. Ice shoots down Kyra’s veins as the lower body slowly but surely regenerates until its hind legs stand steadily again on the grass. Her eyes widen. Her heart rate speeds up. The Doors of Death—.
The hellhound lets out a terrifying roar. Kyra scrambles to the side just as it pounces. The dust flies from where the hellhound lands, obscuring her vision. Her eyes water. The growl came back closer towards her and she grabs blindly for another arrow and shot. A roar reverberates in her skull, hitting her with the stench of rotting meat butshecan’tseewhereanythingiswheredosherun—
“Hey!” Something lands on where Kyra presumes the hellhound is with a thunk, and the hot air disappears. Instead, the sound of something soft and small raining down on the ground in front of her fills the air.
A hand clamps on her shoulder. “You good?” a voice asks. Kyra nods reflexively. She isn’t ‘good’ but she is unharmed which was the important part.
Malcolm’s hand guides her back towards presumably where Katie and Regulus are, from the hushed reassurances and shaky sobs.
Having finally blinked out most of the dust, Kyra attempts to give the third year a smile. She taps the edge of the bow twice on the ground. The bow disappears, leaving only a charm in her hand, and the quiver turns back into a necklace. She hooks the charm back in its rightful place. “Are you hurt?”
Regulus manages to nod jerkily. His hands are shaking from where they clutch Katie’s cloak around himself. He is still as pale as a ghost, looking like he might throw up. “M-my ankle.” He sputters out.
Kyra kneels down on the damp grass, hands feeling at the swollen ankle. Regulus whimpers and flinches away from her as she prods at different areas of his ankle. Kyra nods at him. “Nothing broken, just a twisted ankle.” A light flashes in the corner of her eye and Kyra’s hand flies over the charm. Malcolm steps in front of Regulus, dagger held in front.
Fortunately it is only Professor McGonagall, her pale face and auburn hair illuminated by the lamp. Professor Sprout stand next to her, clutching a bag of what Kyra thinks are seeds.
“Goodness, child. What happened?!” Professor Sprout kneels down next to Regulus and gently places her hands on Regulus' shoulders, searching for injuries. In less than a second, Regulus moves to latch onto the Herbology professor, sobbing into her cloak.
It takes some time for them to gently hustle the young Slytherin back to the Hospital wing. The younger Black clutches onto Sprout’s cloak the entire time, with Kyra supporting his weight. It is only when Poppy manages to get Regulus to calm down and sedate him with a sleeping potion that McGonagall looks at them, eyes questioning.
Katie gives her a rundown while Poppy fusses over the rest of them. Sprout frowns. “The Forbidden Forest usually doesn’t house big monsters like hellhounds. And you say it didn’t completely dissipate? It regenerated?” Sprout wrings her hands. “That isn’t normal.”
McGonagall hums thoughtfully. “It certainly is concerning. Chiron should be contacted about this.” She folds her hands over each other, grey eyes glittering with concern.
“Hellhounds don’t exactly attack witches and wizards either… unless?” She turns towards Poppy and quirks an eyebrow. Poppy nods, agreeing with her silent theory. “He could be a demigod.”
Silence hangs in the air. Kyra looks at the sleeping figure on the cot. Poppy makes her way towards Regulus’s side. “I’ll perform a paternity test on him.” Better to find out as soon as possible and maybe have a couple of hours to sort this out before he wakes up.
Malcolm’s eyebrows raise in surprise “We can use magic to find out if someone has a godly parent?”
Poppy rolls up Regulus’s sleeve. “We can figure out who the mortal parents are. Godly parents will not show up. If the results come up with only one name, then the other parent must surely be a god or goddess.” She taps the inside of Regulus’s elbow, particularly the median cubital vein, with her wand.
McGonagall nods in Kyra’s direction. “Well done figuring out about the attack.” Kyra avoids mentioning that she didn’t exactly have a choice in having those visions. It’d only bring the already tense mood down.
McGonagall sighs, running a hand through her hair. Strands of greys stand out from between her auburn hair. “I will have a talk with Mr. Black about sneaking out of the castle past curfew. An appropriate punishment will be given.” She frowns, tapping her wand against her chin. The room falls silent.
“It seems he is indeed a demigod.” Everyone turns towards Poppy. Golden letters spelling only one name float in the air: Orion Black.
The air is sucked out of the room in less than a second. Another demigod? Here at hogwarts? Now of all times? Kyra wishes she’d gotten more sleep.
“We have to get him to the camp this winter break.” Professor McGonagall says, looking at the trio. “We must inform his parents.” Her cloak makes a swishing sound as she makes her way towards the door.
Everything turns black. A scene flashes in her eyes: A dim study with the setting sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A young Sirius Black is thrown backward into a wall in a study, a table skittering back at the impact. Walburga with her wand raised, a sneer impressed on her lips. An aching younger Regulus huddles near the door. Orion leisurely sits at a plush couch, looking entirely disinterested, at the chaos in front of him. Then, quickly as the vision flashes in, the black sucks away to the corner of her eyes.
Kyra gasps when the sensation of her body floods back in, hunching forward with the force of the visual intrusion. Her ears are ringing with high pitched noise. The cot frame faintly brushes against her wrist and she grasps it, trying to tether herself to the ground. She blinks rapidly. Muffled voices rose louder and louder next to her and she cranes her neck in that direction to try to make sense of them.
Her sight comes back into focus, to see Poppy staring worriedly at her. Malcolm had his arms poised around her, as if preparing to catch her if she falls. Katie has a vial in her hand, eyes alarmed.
Professor McGonagall’s eyes are wide. Poppy quickly has her sit down on the nearest cot. Kyra flinches as a cold finger touches her eyelid. “I’m fine,” she pushes away her elderly sister’s hand.
“What was that then?” Poppy mutters, shoving a potion at her. “Bottoms up.” The pushy woman orders.
Kyra groans and obliges. The haziness at the corners of her vision disappears and Poppy and Malcolm’s faces become brighter and clearer. Professor McGonagall appears in her peripheral vision. “Are you well, Ms. Solace?” Kyra nods, even though the loud sucking noise is still in her ears. Professor McGonagall clears her throat. “Well I must get going then.”
“Wait.” Kyra blurts. Her hand reaches out on its accord. Professor McGonagall turns around, a questioning glint in her eye. “Excuse me?”
Kyra curls her fingers, hand still hovering in the air. “I-I— I don’t…” she takes a deep breath. “I don’t think their parents…t-the Blacks, should be notified.”
“Why not? It is protocol.”
Kyra shakes her head, “No,” she lowers the intone of her voice. Something told her that the Blacks cannot be told about camp—
McGonagall pauses, taking a second to look Kyra up and down, meeting her eyes intensely. There are silent questions in them, especially since they all knew how much that could risk the lives of the boy and his family in question.
Kyra gulps. “From what I know of their family, and-and,” she glances around nervously at curious faces, “I accidentally stumbled across the information”, she shoots Minerva a pleading look, “-but it is not a good idea to include them.”
A few beats of silence. Minerva blinks. “Then I suppose we should fake a reason then?”
Malcolm cocks his head to the side. “Well…”. He puts his hands on his hips and casts a quick glance over to the cot, “We can figure out what to do when he wakes up.” He gestures at the sleeping Regulus.
“I will inform you all when he wakes up so that we can sit him down and explain.” Poppy nods. “Now get out, all of you, and go get some sleep. You all have classes. You too, Minerva.” She points at the Transfiguration Professor with an especially harsh look.
“I know you have been up grading papers but you need sleep too. Do you need a potion?” The lady continues, even though Minerva looks completely fine to Kyra.
“No need, Poppy.” Professor McGonagall smiles. “Come along, all of you, to bed. Good night to you Pomona. I’ll be with you soon, Poppy.”
Katie and Kyra share a look, lips pressed together to stop giggles from coming out. Malcolm rolls their eyes at them. They are ushered to their rooms hastily by their Head of House. The knight at the door greets them quietly. Kyra thinks she could see the relief lining from his forehead.
“Good night, all of you,” she whispers. The trio says their good nights.
Just right as the doorway is almost all the way closed, just at the corner of her eye, there is a rustle. Kyra peeks her head out.
Silence. She frowns. She starts reopening the door.
“Are you coming, Kyra?” Katie’s voice floats from their room.
“Coming!” Kyra calls back. She surveys the corridor again, one last time, before closing the door all the way. She rubs at her eyes. The sleep must have been getting to her. Willow hoots softly from her perch. Katie is already dead asleep, soft snores coming from her bed.
Kyra wraps her blanket around her, turning her face towards the window. Sleep would be a good idea, but how can she possibly go to bed now? A new Hogwarts demigod is going to shake up her life, that is for sure.
The inevitable talk with Regulus Black niggles at the back of her mind. What should be told to Sirius? Could he—?
Her eyes flashes open. Could he also be a demigod? Her chest tightens. The question hangs heavy in the air. She blinks up at the canopy. What will she do if he is a halfblood? She will have to escort both him and his sibling there, and oh gods, he’s going to be part of her life that she wants no one she knows at Hogwarts, the outsiders—
Willow coos. Kyra blinks. The sound breaks through the storm of thoughts swirling. She sighs, hugging a pillow to her chest. “I’m thinking too much, aren’t I?” She whispers. Willow cocks its head to the side, gold eyes set on her. It lets out a purr. Kyra smiles, yeah. Sleep would probably be the best idea for right now.
“Good night, Willow.” She closes her eyes and lets herself drift off into Hypnos’s domain.
While Kyra lays down, gently lowering into the depths of sleep- trouble brews just outside her doorstep.
Right outside the door in fact. Just moments after the door closes, the rustling comes back, louder.
“Prongs!” Sirius hisses. ”You have too much of the cloak. Give me some!” The bag of food dangles from the crook of his elbow.
“Ow!” James yelps. “You jammed your elbow in me.” The edges of the cloak brushes past Sirius shoes. Sirius grunts, pulling the cloak back. James murmurs, “Coast’s clear. Look, McGonagall is back in the Teacher’s dorm with … Madame Pomfrey? Huh, what are they doing together?”
Sirius removes the cloak from his head, tossing his hair back. The cool night air washes over him. He rubs the back of his neck and wipes the sweat on his pants. “That was so close.”
He looks at James, who is still fumbling with the cloak, glasses tethering dangerously off the edge of his nose. Sirius pushes them back in place for his idiot friend.
James huffs, before finally managing to unwrap himself fully. He jerks his head at the painting towards which Kyra Solace, Malcolm Pace and Katie Gardner went through. “What was that about? Why was McGonagall escorting them?” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Do you think they got caught sneaking out?”
Sirius shrugs, honestly not even having the faintest idea. “I don’t know. Pace seems too much of a teacher’s pet to do. McGonagall also doesn’t seem mad or annoyed.” “If anything,” he frowns. “She looks very worried.”
“We can figure it out tomorrow. Come on,” James wraps the cloak around the elder Black. “Moony’s waiting for us and my stomach’s growling at the smell of these Danishes!”
Without another word, the two continues trundling off into the night.
Notes:
I wanted to highlight why Kyra’s so distant from people in Hogwarts. With how dangerous life as a demigod is, she doesn’t know if she will be alive the next day, and she doesn’t want to up and disappear from her Hogwarts friends. She loves Lily and her fellow students, but she’s too scared to suddenly die on them and they don’t know what really happens to her. I headcanon that if you become aware of one aspect of Greek mythology, you become exposed to everything. If Lily and the other Hogwarts students know that she is a demigod, they could become prime targets for monsters and the like. They already have drops of Hecate’s blood in them, they will be painting bigger targets on themselves. So, Kyra distancing herself from them is so that they will not be too hurt when she does not return to Hogwarts and so that there is less chance of them being exposed to her demigod world and becoming a target. With the campers, everyone knows that survival is not a guarantee, so Kyra feels comfortable enough to get close to them. Here, Kyra is finally learning that she should let people in.
Any guesses to who Regulus Black’s godly parent is? In the next chapter, the Hogwarts gang and the professors debate on who might be the godly parent. And a reminder that Kayla and Lee have two dads! Also, the god/goddess is hinted in the previous chapters but it's kinda subtle!
Chapter 17: Sirius Black & Kyra Solace- I’m So Good at Telling Lies // Told a Million to Survive
Notes:
Hey again! Wow, it's been a crazy month. I got into a lab, summer class's kicking my ass, and the round of antibiotics I'm taking made me sleep 10~ hours a day. But this month's chapter is up! Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
For the record, Sirius did not know how wild his day was going to be when he woke up this morning.
McGonagall finds him later in the day on his way to DADA class and asks for a talk. James immediately shoots him a worried look while Remus’s eyes are drooped in disappoint. “What did you do now?” His werewolf-y friend chides immediately, as if Sirius can name it off the top of his head.
Well, Sirius has broken many rules, mostly sneaking out after curfew, but the puzzling part is that James has always accompanied him on any escapades. So why is Sirius singled out?
James seemed equally confused when McGonagall held up a hand to stop him from following.
“It is a private matter, Mr. Potter. This way, Mr. Black.” She says sternly before turning to continue marching off. Sirius can feel his blood pressure rising with every new corridor they walk through. He rounds a couple more halls trailing after McGonagall, until he realizes he is on his way to the Hospital wing. His heart dropped down to his stomach.
Has something happened to Regulus? He hasn’t seen him in a while. Sirius thinks back to when he had last seen him. A memory resurfaces; they had passed each tower in the library three weeks ago. A pang of worry strikes through him. He hasn’t been keeping that close of an eye on his brother recently.
McGonagall stops suddenly and Sirius nearly crashes into her back, barely stumbling back to avoid his face in her robes. McGonagall clears her throat, arching an eyebrow and Sirius smiles sheepishly. He runs a hand through his hair, untangling the knots accumulating at the bottom. Midterms are almost upon them— he hadn’t had time to take care of his locks.
Minerva knocks on the door. Engraved upon it was the plaque with a name: Poppy Pomfrey. Said Matron answers a few moments later, a smile spreading on her face and she quickly ushers them in. Sirius steps into a beautifully decorated room.
A setting table is surrounded by couches. A glass cabinet holds many trinkets and frames decorate part of the wall facing the door. A small spiral staircase sits in a corner of the room. Interestingly, there is a bow mounted on the wall with a quiver filled with glowing arrows. The room smells like eucalyptus, and the scent melts away the tension gathered in his shoulders.
Regulus is sitting on the couch with Kyra Solace, Malcolm Pace and Katie Gardner squished together on the opposite couch. Between them were chocolates and candy bars, some red and white Muggle cans opened.
Malcolm is gesturing animatedly, his eyes glittering with excitement. Katie adds in a word or two at occasional intervals. Kyra is staring at some spot on the table, absentmindedly fiddling with her ceramic beads on her necklace. There seems to be two new additions on the leather chain. A brown bead with some maze etched into it and a black bead with tiny—indecipherable even—letters in gold. Sirius zooms into Regulus’s face amidst the chatter. He seems fine. His grey eyes are soft and open, as he leans back, nodding at whatever Malcolm is talking about. Sirius’s eyes narrow at his reddened cheeks. He seems fine otherwise though. Why is Regulus here then, in Madame Pomfrey’s living quarters?
The chatter stops abruptly when they walk in. Multiple pairs of eyes stare into him as McGonagall closes the door behind him with a click.
Sirius frowns, wanting to raise an eyebrow at the scene. He doesn’t know why the trio were here, with Regulus of all people.
“Hello.” Regulus says softly. He shifts in his seat, as if unsure of what to do. After a moment of hesitation, he stands up. Sirius nodded at him, eyes looking up and down the frame of his brother before landing on his wrapped feet. Before he realizes what he is doing, he is right in front of his brother, his hands gripping his brother’s arms.
“What happened?” He demands, staring at the white bandages. Sirius looks at the couch his other are seated on.
There aren’t any crutches in sight, so the injury most likely isn’t that bad, but how did he get this hurt outside of school hours— oh if it was that gang of fifth year Slytherins he saw crowding around Regulus a month ago, he’s gonna—
Madame Pomfrey taps his shoulder and gestures for him to follow her into a backroom. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.
Right before he enters through the door, he looks back. Regulus and Katie and Malcolm resume their conversation but Kyra is staring at him. She flinches when their eyes meet and turns away. Something shrivels in his chest at the way she averts his eyes. Does she really think he is still going to attack her? He and James had steered clear of her after that incident and that had been a year ago. She and Remus got along well in the few projects they had been partnered for in their shared classes.
“Mr. Black.” Sirius hurries through the door. His heart thumps when Madame Pomfrey closes the door behind him. McGonagall is also sitting on a sofa, a cup of tea in her hand. She pointed to the seat across her. “Sit.” Sirius sat and watched, befuddled as McGonagall poured tea to another cup. Faintly, he could hear Madame Pomfrey telling the other students to lower their voices.
Questions churn in his head. Why is he here? Why is Regulus here? Is he in trouble? He can’t think of anything he did that is bad enough to get called to a Matron’s office.
His heart drops. He isn’t going to get some bad news about Regulus, is he? Separating him off from his friends like that…
“Calm down, Mr. Black.” Minerva sips her tea. Grey eyes glitter over the edge of her tea cup. They look like dark clouds heralding a thunderstorm. “You are not in trouble. Here, have some tea and sandwiches.”
Sirius accepts the proffered tea cup. He glances down at the dark liquid. His hands burn with how tightly he is holding the cup. If he isn’t in trouble, is Regulus? Ice floods his veins. Is something seriously wrong with Regulus? Is he sick? Is this going to be something they need to inform their parents of?
The thought makes him jittery, he brings the teacup to his lips. The bitterness and the warmth sooth him from the questions bouncing around in his brain. He looks up. Minerva is staring at him critically over the rim of her silver framed spectacles.
He forces his tongue to work. “Why am I here, Professor?”
McGonagall sighs and takes off her glasses. Sirius’s heart thumps in his chest as the Head of his House sets them down on the table and leans back, lacing her fingers together. She seems to be searching for the words. Sirius wishes she would just blurt it out. Fear is beginning to claw at his heart.
“Have you ever had trouble reading, Mr. Black?”
Sirius blinks, he was expecting something serious like a diagnosis or warning of upcoming danger. The odd question about his bookishness leaves him near stupified. What? “I-I— um,” he stumbles over his words. What is McGonagall getting at? He searches for the words to the questions.
Eventually he finds a response. “Not really, Professor.”
McGonagall hums. “Do they swim around, sometimes? Letters changing positions within the words and such?” She adds, “There’s no shame in it, it is something several of my students struggle with.”
Sirius’s eyes widen, she’s seen straight through him. How had she known—? James had always checked his essays for any mistakes. But then, she has been his teacher for five years now. Perhaps she had picked up on it?
Well, no use in hiding any longer. “Yes, it does.” He rubs the back of his neck.
McGonagall nods. She sets down her teacup and leans forward. Dread creeps up his spine at the way McGonagall’s eyes pierce through his. He swallows dryly.
“Do you know who your parents are, Mr. Black?”
He immediately wants the strange, softball discussion about book skills back. This new and frightful question bounces off the walls of the small room. Sirius can’t breathe. What? How? She can’t have found out from him. How did McGonagall of all people—
Something lands on his pant leg. Sirius yelps and straightens his teacup. He brushes off the wet drops as fast as he could, trying to grin apologetically at the Transfiguration professor. To his surprise, McGonagall just waves it off and hands him a box of paper napkins.
Sirius stares at the darkened wet patch of his pants. He barely registers the tissue in his hand. He can’t conjure up a single thought; everything is so fuzzy.
McGonagall reaches out and places a hand on his. The fog clears. Her grey eyes are steady.
“Mr. Black. This is important. It could very well be the matter of life or death. I need you to tell me the truth.”
Sirius can barely hear her over the blood roaring in his ears. How can he tell her? This might just be his last day among the ranks of pureblood socialites depending on how he answers, but she already knows. There’s no putting the cow back under the cloak.
The grip on his tightens. “Please, my dear.” Sirius looks into his professor’s eyes and sees nothing but true concern.
“No,” he admits quietly. The reveal of a family secret is soft and lingers hauntingly in the air. He has to take a second to suck in a deep breath because if he doesn’t, he feels like his own admission will choke him.
“I am not Walburga Black’s son. But Orion Black is my father.” There. That was the root of it, the very core of his and his family’s shame. The bastard ‘pureblood’.
Minerva simply nods. She pats his hand gently. It is an oddly comforting gesture. By now Sirius knows there’s no going back, he can tell this conversation is going to be something he remembers for a long time.
Because there was no doubt about it. A professor knowing was one matter, but what they do with that information and how it concerns his future was another entirely. He doubts she would’ve called him up here if she intended to do nothing.
“Did your father tell you anything about your real mother?” Sirius feels himself straighten. He shoots a single wary glance to the door before his attention is back on Minerva.
“He only mentioned that she appeared with me one day after a year that she left. I was a baby. The same—“ his voice catches.
Secrets are power. Secrets are dangerous. What he is revealing can upend pure blood society itself. Sirius can’t even fathom what the repercussions of this information getting out. He can’t care less about Orion and Walburga, but he doesn’t want more eyes on his cousins Andromeda and Narcissa.
“—the same for Regulus.” He finished.
And what of Regulus? His little brother is drenched in pure blood society, whether he likes it or not. Sirius has a way out with the Potters but what about Regulus?
It takes exactly five heartbeats—strangely steady in his ears—for McGonagall to respond. She nods and lets go of Sirius’s hand to pick up her tea cup. She takes a long sip.
Sirius does the same.
The uttered words hang in the air like dust motes.
Sirius has to consciously remind himself to breathe. His mouth feels dry as bone. The aftertaste of tea seeps bitter into his tongue.
Well.” McGonagall sets down her cup. Sirius does the same, unconsciously mirroring her. His arms fold as soon as he places the delicate china on the table.
“I may just know your real mother.”
The world fades into white noise. The cotton under his pants feels like air in his hands. This conversation is both something of his greatest curiosities and a cruel joke.
He forces his tongue to work. He can only manage a croak.
“H-How? Who—?”
McGonagall stands up. His eyes follow up at her. His throat squeezes at the torrent of emotions—disbelief, fear, excitement, bitterness, then rage—flooding through his body. At her gesturing, he walks out the door after her to where Madame Pomfrey and the other four students were waiting.
“Sit there, Mr. Black. Next to your brother, please.”
Regulus gives him a wary glance and averts his gaze when Sirius meets it. As if eye contact with him would burn his eyes out.
Knowing what he knows now, he struggles not to stare at the three others. He understands why Regulus is here, but his skin crawls at the idea of anyone else being involved. Sirius forcefully shifts his focus to McGonagall who sets her hands on the backrest couch seating the trio.
“Alright, you three.” She pats the couch with both hands. Malcolm, Katie and Kyra all turn to face her. Malcolm raises his eyebrows.
Katie curls her lip. She spares him a glance, eyes filled with trepidation. Kyra’s eyes searches McGonagall’s. Then, seeing something in them, the blood drains out of her face. In the span of five seconds, Kyra’s face shifts through many different emotions. First, her eyes widen and her lips part in pure shock. That quickly morphs into horror, which then slides rapidly into panic, which is visible for only a split second before becoming rage, which quickly chills into a cold fury that quickly bleeds into a mask of icy stoicism.
“Explain to them everything.”
The trio turns towards him. Regulus scoots towards the end of the couch, elbow resting on the arm. He looks like he was readying himself for a show. What show, Sirius doesn’t know. Him?
He feels like he’s being pushed out into a spotlight for everyone to laugh, and he doesn’t know what the punchline is yet.
Kyra takes a shaky breath. She looks three breaths away from hyperventilating and he almost feels like joining her. Katie purses her lips but remains silent. She nudges Malcolm with an elbow, who is studying him. His eyes are careful and assessing, sharp like steel. Sirius realizes with a jolt that Malcolm and McGonagall have the same eyes.
Malcolm nods at Sirius. He starts with a single, tentative question. “How much do you know about Greek mythology?”
“Right after the last day of the semester, you should stay with Euphemia and Fleamont Potter before going to camp.” McGonagall rubs her glasses with a cloth. The rays of the moon filter in from the windows of her study. They had adjourned to McGonagall’s quarters after a quick dinner. Professor Sprout joins their little group of demigods and she and Poppy are talking to Sirius and Regulus, answering their questions about camp and sharing their own experiences. Kyra blinks at her. Why would she stay at the Potters’ house?
Satyrs usually reside in the United States as that is where the Olympian’s influence is strongest. The scarcity of satyrs in England, especially the Wizarding World, is why demigods who are present in Hogwarts were in charge of protecting potential demigods and escorting them to camp.
She waits until McGonagall puts her glasses back on. “Is Hogwarts not safe enough?”
“Staying longer at Hogwarts—you know how Sirius Black is and his younger brother just sneaked out to the Forbidden Forest past curfew—“
Well, Kyra can’t deny that staying at Hogwarts is just waiting for a bomb to inevitably blow up. The Blacks can’t be trusted to stay within the curfew and away from forbidden areas, and they can’t all keep an eye on him all the time.
Just as well, Kyra doesn’t feel like fighting another hellhound for its human-sized treat. Been there, done that in the war.
“—The Potters are more than capable of protecting you all. Euphemia is a child of Apollo. Fleamont is a child of Hermes.”
Kyra feels her eyes widen. There is a faint crack .
What?
Sirius wheezes, sounding like he’s deflating. That …is something new. Kyra isn’t quite sure if the Fates are having more of a laugh at him or her right now.
Kyra hadn’t realized Euphemia Potter is her half-sister. That means James is her nephew. Her stomach flips. Her mother and Jame’s mother were close friends back in Hogwarts. That means her mother slept with her friend’s father and hadtwochildrenbyhimohmygods—.
The thunk of a Coke can on the table breaks her out of her thoughts. Regulus’s nervous “Why are you choking?” flits from behind her. She glances back to see Sirius hitting his diaphragm with his fist, face red.
Kyra can understand, she also wants to hit something. It is just like the gods to play a cosmic joke on them like this. Taking away so many of her siblings only to give her a cousin who is an absolute git!
Judging by Malcolm’s pinched face, he is likely thinking of the same thing. McGonagall continues talking. “Their house has enchantments and traps specialized to keep out any monsters.”
Katie tilts her head thoughtfully. “They must be fairly powerful or insanely lucky if they survived to adulthood.”
Poppy makes a sound of agreement. “I will give Euphemia a call to escort you all to their house.” She smiles wistfully. “It’s been quite some time since I have seen her.” She moves up from her seat to sit next to McGonagall.
“Minerva, myself, and Pomona were the one who escorted her to camp 30 years ago.” She adds.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sirius grins. No doubt he is excited to spend more time at the Potters’ house. “What about James?” Malcolm asks. He fiddles with a loose string, twisting and pulling at the ends. The motions Kyra have seen from his fingers a thousand times, poised to weave, crochet, knit or craft.
“James already knows of the existence of demigods. His parents had told him the basics and about camp. I believe he also received some sparring training.” Minerva taps her chin with a finger, glancing up at the wooden beams. “But he has never been to the camp from what I know. Or know that the three, well, five of you are demigods.”
Katie shakes her head immediately. “He has never been to camp. I would have known. I have been there since I was 8.”
Sirius nods. “Do you think he could come with me to camp?” He tries to sound firm, but his voice is honestly one step away from trembling. “I-I-“ his voice falters. “I would like him to come with me and I can’t imagine him saying no to it.”
Poppy hums. “If his parents agree, I suppose. There is now no reason for them to not let him go. Chiron will not mind.”
Kyra frowns, nose wrinkling at the idea of having them inside her home. She supposes camp is safer now, with Kronos defeated. But, Percy has been missing for close to five months now.
On top of that there was a new prophecy happening. Considering how green they are, she almost wants to say they were safer at Hogwarts.
Her mind flicks back to the hellhound, regenerating continuously like a giant angry dust devil. Doors of Death. With tired annoyance, she acknowledges that they have no idea how to fight monsters properly. Much less the new harder-to-kill variety that dragged them into this bloody mess.
But there is also the tiny, angry part of her screaming at how cruel it will be that they got to come in and invade her home. The truest part of her life, where she had nothing to hide. If James got in, he is absolutely not staying in her Cabin.
“Do you think you could guess who our parents are?” Regulus pipes up. He looks around nervously when everyone turns towards him. “I mean we won’t know until, you know, we are claimed. But can we, um, guess?”
Sirius snaps his fingers. He is grinning. “There has to be some traits that are passed down, right? Siblings share the same features. Maybe we can guess who our parents are.”
Malcolm nodded, confirming Sirius’s suspicions. Greek gods all had certain characteristics and quirks, if he is correct. From what he knows of demigods, the gods tend to pass on traits down to their children.
Sirius himself isn’t sure what kind of genetics he will have inherited from his godly parent. Some sort of special power perhaps? Briefly, among the chaos in his head, his heart leaps a little at the idea of a longer lifespan, or perhaps aging flawlessly. Oh, to have the skin of a god!
Poppy leans back on the couch. “I very much doubt you are one of my siblings, Mr. Black. Children of Apollo usually have golden hair and blue eyes.”
Michael had black hair and brown eyes and Nathan red, Kyra feels the need to point out. Her stomach feels queasy at the idea that Sirius Black could be her sibling. She can’t imagine sharing a cabin or camp activities with him. “But there are exceptions.” She cuts in a little sharply.
Regulus cocks her head to the side. “Can a god have a child with a man?” He asks incredulously. Pink dusts over his cheeks. “That doesn’t make any sense. They do not have the required, er, stuff to, um, make a baby.” He squeaks. Kyra’s heartstrings pull at how he sheepishly ducks his head and hunches his shoulders up. He reminds her of Kayla and Austin. And Lucy.
Sirius clears his throat. “Our father said it was a woman.” He adds, which should narrow the pool of immortals down quite a bit by half.
Poppy snorts a little fondly. Oh sweet, sweet children. “ There are ways, I’m sure. I myself have two fathers, one mortal and one godly. Gods could perhaps shapeshift into a woman, or—.” She shrugs, “your father could be lying about the sex of his lover.”
Both brothers look like they’d just had a bucket of ice water dumped over them, but in all fairness, Orion had already lied about quite a few things. What is one more to the list?
Kyra stifles a snort at the long incredulous glance Sirius and Regulus shared with each other. For once it is their turn to be taken off guard. It’s a satisfying feeling watching them goggle at the idea of their father with a man.
“Not one of the Big Three, either.” Malcolm tilts his head to the side, studying the two Blacks. “He doesn’t look like Percy, Nico or Thalia. I don’t pick up anything strange from either of you and monsters only attacked Regulus now, at thirteen. Children of the Big Three are targeted earlier in their lives and, well, the war is over.”
The mood of the room falls somber at the reminder of the war. Kyra shakes off the images of Lee’s split skull, Nathan’s torn-off arm, Lucy’s grey face, and Michael’s bow. They sometimes feel burned into her mind.
The war is over.
Sirius and Regulus shift in their seats. Kyra almost feels bad for them at how awkward they must feel, but petty satisfaction overrides the pity.
Malcolm sets down his Coke with a “Hermes?” He looks around. “He—“, he points at Sirius. “—pulls pranks. And he—“ He points at Regulus. “sneaks out.”
“Hey!” Regulus starts. He scowls indignantly at the other boy. “It was one time, and I was double-dog-dared!” Like the stakes were so high.
McGonagall nods absentmindedly. Sprout grunts. Kyra toys with the Labyrinth bead between her fingers. It does check out with Sirius, but Regulus isn’t much of a troublemaker. But that could be due to the environment he grew up in. Regulus always seemed more leaning towards the pureblood society that he grew up in, although Kyra doesn’t detect purist views from him.
The room falls silent, thinking over the prediction.
Katie frowns up at the ceiling. “But what did Orion Black do that captured Hermes’ attention?” She shrugs. “Most of the Hermes Cabin’s mortal parents are thieves, journalists, or hotel owners.”
Sirius scoffs and tosses back his head imperiously. His curls bounce and partially obscure his eyes. “My father is, unfortunately, handsome enough.”
Malcolm points out, “I don’t know enough about Hermes to know his taste. But—,” his eyebrows knit together, “— you two don’t have the typical elfish features of Hermes Cabin either.”
That is true; while quite a few of the pantheon passed down various features beautiful and handsome alike- the children of Hermes mostly have a sort of permanent mischievous curl to their features.
The room hushes because it’s a good point, but otherwise they are all stumped. They would have only thought Hermes would be their godly parent.
“Was your father a gardener of sorts?” Katie inquires. She leans forward towards them. “Was he interested in any sort of trees or crops?”
Regulus shakes his head. “He never goes out into the gardens except to smoke.”
“Does he eat cereal?”
“He hates it.”
Katie’s face scrunched in discontent, falling back on the backrest of the couch. “Definitely not Demeter’s.” She mutters with a bit of distaste.
After a second or two of consideration Sprout speaks up again, “Dionysus?”
“Father doesn’t have a vineyard? He isn’t crazy either?” Sirius mentions, as if being crazy is a requirement of being Dionysus’s one night stand.
“Well, Father is a little insane.” Regulus suggests helpfully.
Sprout rubs her forehead. “Perhaps not then.”
Poppy snaps her fingers. “Athena? You have grey eyes.” Everyone turns to look at Minerva.
McGonagall glances to the side and snorts derisively. “Orion Black only lounges in his chair and performs the most dour affairs related to his status in society. My mother isn’t interested in those sorts of men. Definitely not Hephaestus?”
Regulus takes a sip of the Coke, his face scrunching. Sirius folds his hands under his head and leans back on the sofa. “Father wouldn’t touch a tool with a five meter lamppost, not to mention create one. He thinks it is beneath him.”
Kyra makes a face, the very idea of saying that in front of Hephaestus’s kids- much less the god himself… definitely out.
This guessing game isn’t going very well. Not only did neither of them show any primary godly traits, but most of the main signs are things their father wouldn’t get within 20 meters of.
Malcolm rubs his eyes. ”There are also minor gods and goddesses to consider as well.” He suggests tiredly, but no one is even willing to start listing them off again so silence reigns once again.
Sirius groans, throwing his hands up. “We will figure that out later then, when we get to camp.” He grumbles, “It doesn’t matter if we know either, since they weren’t even in our lives.”
Kyra stifles a yawn. Aside from their midnight tryst through the woods, today had been exhausting, with too many new revelations. She still doesn’t get enough sleep, waking up at the crack of dawn despite getting back to their dorms late yesterday. Perks of being a child of Apollo. No matter how late you sleep, you still have to get up at the crack of dawn.
McGonagall stands up. “I believe it is time for bed, all of you. Mr. Black and Mr. Black, you will be moving into the dorms set aside for demigods.”
Kyra’s eyes widen so large they nearly pop out of her head. What?
“What?!” Sirius echoes, snapping his head towards McGonagall. “What about James and Remus? I can’t just leave them.” He looks around the room. “Can’t I just keep staying with them?” He pleads.
“I-I don’t want to leave my friends either.” Regulus’s eyes are wide it makes him look like a scared hamster. She wants to put him in her pocket. Forget about the older Black, Regulus Black needs to be protected.
McGonagall pursed her lips. She laced her fingers together. “It is protocol, Mr. Black.”
“Maybe it is better if they do not stay with us.” Malcolm says. He meets her eyes for a split second. “The three of us—“ he gestures towards Kyra and Katie and himself, “—have been through a war, and quite frankly, our nightmares are still showing up almost every night. We might disturb them. It would also raise suspicion for the others if Sirius and Regulus Black change dorms suddenly .”
“I second that, Minerva.” Poppy says from where she leaned against McGonagall’s desk. Moonlight lights her golden ringlets ice-blonde. “The three veteran demigods still have nightmares from the war. Moving the Blacks in with them may inflict undue trauma on them. They shouldn’t have to experience seeing others having flashbacks.” She tilts her head towards Sirius with a secretive smile that Sirius returns with a grin, relief evident in his eyes. He turns towards McGonagall, his face lit with hope.
McGonagall drums her fingers on the edge of the desk. Her fingers are inches away from Poppy’s. She looks up at Poppy’s gaze with an unreadable expression. The room falls quiet with the anticipation of the answer.
“Alright, fine. Both of you.” She relents.
Sirius lets out a loud whoop, before blushing and grinning sheepishly at McGonagall and Poppy. “I mean— thank you, Professors.”
She gives him a terse huff but lets him have this. Just this one little thing.
“Alright, out. Out. All of you.” McGonagall announces. She makes a shooing gesture. “Out you go, back to bed.”
Sirius and Regulus are out the door first. They share a couple glances as they stride down the hall. None of the three try to stop the brothers as they run off.
“Hades of a day, huh?” Malcolm stretches his arms over his head. His gray eyes gleam. “Merlin, I didn’t think they of all people would be demigods. With all the pureblood crap, one of them having an affair and producing children?” He snorts. “Sounds like a giant scandal in the making.”
Kyra knows exactly what he is thinking, because it is the same as hers. He is imagining the spectacular disaster that would sweep throughout the school- most especially the Slytherin House if it were to get out that Orion’s children weren’t purebred. Such chaos might’ve made her a bit gleeful at one point but now only served to churn her stomach.
“That is exactly why it cannot get out.” Kyra puffs in annoyance at the hypocrisy, knowing they are going to have to keep up the lie as well. “The last thing we need is more attention upon us. It will get very messy when people start looking in.”
Katie turns towards her. “Are you okay?” She asks softly. Kyra takes a deep breath, willing the air into her lungs. The Blacks being demigods meant she is going to see them, one of which actually nearly killed her , somewhere she didn’t want to, somewhere she feels normal, at home at . She doesn’t want to taint the place that is her second home with people who have seen her around at Hogwarts first as a student. She doesn’t want to mix her two worlds, where she has to be two different people. Camp Half Blood is the one place she can fully be herself, an American teenager and all the weirdness that comes with being half-god. Having the clear lines she had set blurred with the reveal of two demigods made her feel like throwing up.
Something feels like its been stolen out from under her, some sense of peace that she didn’t realize was there until suddenly faced with the idea that it might be gone.
“Kyra?” Katie is close up at her, her green eyes wide with concern. She gives her friend a shaky smile.
“We have to help them.” She says. “They have to learn how to fight. And it is our job to make sure no demigod dies on our watch.”
No more demigods, at least.
Notes:
Okay, we took out some of the contenders. What are your predictions for who their other parent is?
Hint: One of the earlier chapters about the conflict between Sirius and Kyra alludes to a particular god/goddess.
Please leave a comment, they give me life.
Also a note from my beta reader while editing this: “Time to play: Which god did Orion Black shag?”
Chapter 18: Sirius Black & Kyra Solace - Shining like Gunmetal, Cold and Unsure
Notes:
Hey guys, surprise early update! My classes are going to happen soon, so I wanted to get this update done early. Hope you guys enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Professor McGonagall gathers them again a week later in Madame Pomfrey’s office when Quidditch season is over, exams are finished, and Sirius and the demigods have nothing to do. In two days, the semester will officially be over. Hence, they are meeting the Potters today.
James looks quite surprised to walk in and see so many people waiting for him.
“Ah, Mr Potter. Welcome.” James’s eyes widen when they land on Sirius. Sirius grins back at him.
“Mate, what are you doing here?” James questions. He then notices Regulus, Kyra, Katie, and Malcolm on the side of the couch. He stands stiffly at the doorway, gaze trained on his best friend. Madam Pomfrey nods at him from her seat. “Professor McGonagall, what’s going on?” he says warily. He swears he hasn’t done anything to warrant this!
Professor McGonagall ushers him into the plush chairs. “Make yourself comfortable, child. We have a lot to discuss. Your parents will be here in a few moments.“ James turns in her direction, eyes widening at the prospect of getting in trouble.
“Professor, why—”
“We are demigods,” Sirius cuts in. Better to hitch the carriage up before the horse runs away. James certainly looks like he wants to bolt out of the room the moment everyone’s attention is away from him.
The words still feel strange coming out of his mouth, but the strange taste makes way for uncertainty when James physically reels back. Shock, confusion, then something somber flashes through his face. His mouth opens and closes several times but no sound comes out. His gaze falls to his palms and as the moment grows longer, doubts start creeping into his mind. James knows about the existence of the demigods, and the Greek gods, but what does this do for their friendship? The fear swirls in his gut like the contraption that Muggles call a windmill. He knows James comes from a demigod family but what would he think of this development?
James’s gaze flickers over to Regulus who shrinks under his gaze. His younger brother turns his ancestral Black ring faster and faster the longer James’s eyes rest on him. Sirius punches down the urge to shield his brother from his best friend’s line of sight. “Him too. In theory.” He decides to shift Jame’s focus to the trio sitting opposite him. Regulus’s shoulders slump when James turns his attention towards the three.
“I didn’t know you three were…” James trails off before his gaze sharpens. “That’s why you guys have been missing classes around the start and end.” he breathes.
Malcolm crosses his arms and nods. “It does have to do with that, yes. But that was because of some extenuating circumstances.”
“What kind of—” Once again, the question is cut off before it can form.
Kyra interrupts. “We should wait until your parents are here. Then, we can give you all a full story.” Something about her changed in the few minutes that James is here. She is no longer withdrawn and contemplative. Her eyes are sharp and burning, muscles deceptively relaxed. Her posture rings bells in Sirius’s head. He can faintly discern the tension and alertness in the lines of her shoulders and back; the leaning against the sofa and the bouncing of one knee is almost like a disguise to how she’s ready to lash out or fight at a second’s notice.
He had seen it in his father. A vision of his father languidly sitting before he is out his chair with his wand pointed within a second appears in the forefront of his mind.
Kyra looks like a coiled viper, ready to attack and Sirius doesn’t know what. Her gaze feels like being held at wand-point; his neck aches under the phantom press of the wand tip, despite never having experienced it himself.
Then, the Floo network opens and the Potters arrive with a bang.
“Hello, Minerva.” Euphemia brushes the green powder off her cardigan. She tidies her flyaway hairs and surveys the room. “What do we have here?”
Professor McGonagall waves a hand in the direction of the couches. “Sit. We have a lot of things to discuss. About camp, and, well, everything.”
The Potters greet the other inhabitants of the room, kissing James and Sirius on the cheeks before sitting down. Sirius feels the tension leave his shoulders as Euphemia and Fleamont’s presence and voice fill the room. He feels more at ease with his parents here.
After the pleasantries are done, Professor McGonagall grunts, walking over to look down at the Potters. She is eyeing them the same way she eyes James and Sirius as if she is not sure what to do with them and is mildly annoyed. Sirius wonders if Professor McGonagall has to deal with them being pranksters back during their Hogwarts years. Fleamont, perhaps.
“So,” the Transfiguration professor begins, “Just to start off. The two young Blacks are demigods. And—”
Euphemia raises her eyebrows as she looks at Sirius.
“ — Ms. Solace here is the daughter of Apollo.”
Fleamont’s eyebrows climb onto his forehead while Euphemia looks like she just swallowed something unpleasant. Sirius stiffens while James’s eyes pingpong between his still mother and Kyra cringing on the couch, looking like she wants to disappear. Euphemia clears her throat.
“Well,” she wheezes and Sirius sees Katie stifle a giggle. “It’s going to be interesting the next time I meet Naomi.” She turns to Madam Pomfrey who demurely sips on her tea with her eyes dancing with mirth. “Did you know about this, Poppy?”
Sirius still has trouble wrapping his head around the fact that Madam Pomfrey and Kyra are related. Now Euphemia Potter too? Malcolm Pace and Professor McGonagall are half-siblings. Katie Gardner and Professor Sprout share the same mother. What has his life come to?
“I did,” Poppy admits. “But I don’t think our father would appreciate me telling either of you.”
“Just how did we not know your dad slept with your best friend?” Fleamont wonders out loud and Euphemia slaps his shoulder. Kyra pinches the bridge of her nose. Euphemia smiles warmly at the brunette. “Well, Kyra, I suppose that is quite a surprise, but I’m Euphemia Potter.”
Kyra nods and shakes Euphemia’s hand. “I’m Kyra Solace, but you know that already.” She smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Potter.”
“Oh, don’t call me that, I’m your half-sister. Call me Euphemia or Effie.”
Kyra’s smile stiffens but she manages to murmur something appropriate back before sitting down. Sirius tries not to visibly cringe at how uncomfortable she looks. Euphemia turns towards him.
“So Sirius, dear. And Regulus. When did you two know?”
Poppy speaks up.“Regulus got attacked by a hellhound in the Forbidden Forest.” Pink dusts Regulus’s cheeks and he hunches into himself when Euphemia and Fleamont turn to them. Sirius' world blurs. His brother got what?
“Kyra and the others found them and managed to fight the hellhound off. We had a suspicion, so we did a test. Orion Black is his father but Walburga Black is not his mother.”
James shoots him a concerned glance. Sirius had told the Potters and Remus what he knew about his true parentage but other than them, no one knows he and Regulus are bastards. “Well,” Fleamont smiles comfortingly at Regulus. “That’s not a pleasant way to find out. How are you doing?” he gestures at Regulus’s ankle.
“I’m fine.” Regulus murmurs quietly.
Fleamont turns to McGonagall. “You said there have been a lot of developments at camp.” Fleamont begins. “What does that mean?”
McGonagall gestures at Malcolm, who clears his throat. Sirius sees that look emerge back in Kyra’s eyes. Her back is stiff as if she’s gearing up for a fight, even with a biscuit in her hands.
Malcolm gives them a detailed summary of everything that happened in the last four years. How this Percy Jackson appears at camp and is discovered to be a son of Poseidon, which is apparently rare. He explains the Great Prophecy, about how a child of the Big Three could potentially destroy or save the world.
Fleamont’s eyes are grim and Euphemia has a hand on her chest, their faces both stricken. “We have heard of that prophecy before,” Euphemia murmurs. “It has been around for a very long time,” McGonagall agrees. Katie shrugs. “Well, it ended up in our generation.”
Malcolm’s voice becomes colder when he explains about Luke and how he became a traitor, hurting his friends and joining Kronos’s side. Malcolm tells them about how the camp’s protective barriers are made from a magical pine tree that used to be the king of Gods’ daughter and how Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Tyson had to go and get something called the Golden Fleece to heal the poisoned tree.
“Zeus turned his daughter into a pinetree?” Regulus asks.
“Yeah,” Kyra huffs. She gives his younger brother a small smile. “Don’t ask. Our lives are weird.”
“Understatement of the century.” Katie grumbles. She takes over the narrative, explaining the whole thing from the beginning. The Bad-Luck-Gang, as Sirius has mentally dubbed Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase and Grover Underwood, manages to save the camp with the stolen Fleece. But then, the Fleece works a little too well and “ —we ended up with another contender for the prophecy.”
Fleamont swears under his breath and Euphemia not glaring at him is a testament to how horrified the two elder demigods feel about the whole thing.
“Thalia is cool though.” Kyra grins. “She, Percy, and the Hunters went on another quest to save Artemis and Annabeth from Atlas.”
“Ah, I remember the Hunters.” Euphemia’s eyes glimmer. Fleamont lets out a loud grunt next to her, annoyance flashing through his face. His wife grins mischievously at him. “I got scouted for it, but ultimately didn’t join because they require you to swear off men. They are pretty badass though. They always beat us at Capture the Flag, even during our time at camp.” Somehow, Kyra can tell the fact that she chose her husband over the Hunters has been used to win more than one argument from Fleamont’s pouty scowl.
Tell me,” the Potter matriarch leans forward curiously. “Is our sister Phoebe still there?”
Kyra’s eyes light up in recognition. She nods. “Red hair, right? Oh yes! She was supposed to be part of the quest to save Lady Artemis but got pranked with centaur blood by the Stoll Brothers. Hermes Cabin.” She says to Fleamont.
Fleamont lets out a small cheer while Euphemia rolls her eyes. “Those two nearly got their butts turned into pincushions but Phoebe didn’t want to inconvenience the Apollo Cabin so she restrained herself. She did beat them up pretty good during Capture the Flag before she left.” Kyra finishes.
Euphemia hums. “That is the middle of your third year, yes?” Kyra nods. Sirius remembers how tight-strung Malcolm looked near the end of their half-term. He must have been terrified, not knowing if his sister is alive or dead and being unable to help because he’s all the way here at Hogwarts. The memory must still be bothering him because Malcolm inhales sharply at the reminder. Kyra’s eyes dart at him, giving him a moment to gather himself before continuing.
“Annabeth and Artemis are saved and everyone survived except for two people foretold to die in the quest’s prophecy.”
“Does every prophecy include people dying?” Regulus pipes up.
Kyra shrugs, “I’m not sure. Euphemia, do you think so?” She looks toward the elder again.
James wonders for the umpteenth time if he must have been under some hallucinogenic spell. Here is his schoolmate- apparently his half-aunt- chittering away with his mother like they were old gossipmates! He feels as if he’s going to faint at any moment.
Euphemia tilts her head to the side. “I’ve been on some quests myself and most of the time, there were casualties. I suppose it depends on fate and luck.” She thinks back to some of her own adventures and sighs.
“Joy, because we always have luck on our side,” Kyra grumbles sarcastically. “Thalia decided that she doesn’t want the prophecy so she joins the Hunters. That way, she will never turn sixteen. But now… we have another contender. Nico di Angelo, the kid who was escorted to camp by Percy and whose sister died on the quest, is the son of Hades. He disappeared and we all didn’t know if he would join Kronos’s side and become the demigod of the prophecy.” Just the thought of it made Sirius feel queasy, grief was an overwhelming driver.
“By the way,” Kyra turns to Euphemia,“Does Dad still appear in your dreams?”
Euphemia snorts. “Once every two weeks, like clockwork. Although,” her lips thin. “Before the winter solstice in your third year, his messages only came once a month. After this summer, he started again regularly—every two weeks—but they suddenly stopped a month ago.”
Madam Pomfrey nods at Kyra. “I noticed that too. Father keeps in contact with almost all of his children through dreams, but he has been silent for a while.”
Kyra looks down at her hands. “Well, Dad and Artemis were ordered to hunt the magical monsters before they could join Kronos’s army. That was during the winter solstice of last year. That’s probably why he has not been talking to us. But I’m not sure why he suddenly stopped a month ago too. My siblings say the same.” It wasn’t like Apollo to be so distant unless something required all of his attention.
Sirius raises his hand. “Do your parents appear in your dreams? Do you see them often?” His eyebrows were knit together in thought.
Kyra shrugs and Sirius hears the coolness in her voice when speaking to him. “It depends on the gods. Zeus mandated that godly parents cannot be too involved in their children’s lives to avoid favoritism and war among the demigods. Our father,” she gestures at Madam Pomfrey and Euphemia, expression warming, “-is pretty involved in our lives compared to most gods. He regularly appears in our dreams and he claims his children very quickly.” A faint smile graces her lips. “He’s also pretty nice. Helps out with Potions homework and give tips on archery.”
Euphemia grins. “Don’t forget the haikus.” Kyra groans while Madam Pomfrey sighs. “They are just as terrible 50 years later from when I first met him.”
“Just when did our father get into a haiku phase? He was into limericks before, right?” Kyra turns to Madam Pomfrey. The elderly matron shrugs. “He was still reciting haiku’s even when I was 11 years old.”
Euphemia looks at the confused faces all around her. “Our father always recites at least two haikus in every dream without fail. All of us think they are terrible.”
“They are terrible,” Kyra moans. “Sometimes, I think he just writes bad poetry to mess with us.” She wouldn’t put it past that warm and smug face of his.
Sirius tries to tamp down the jealousy rearing up in his chest. Apollo isn’t even allowed to be close to his children, yet he is still a much better father than his biological one. Kyra, Euphemia and Madam Pomfrey speak fondly of their father and laugh at his habits. Would his own relationship with his godly parent be as good?
He wonders if a godly parent would be proud to have him as a son, or if there is a trial he’d need to pass to earn their attention. Gods seem fickle things after all.
James’s turns to Katie and Malcolm. “What about you guys?” he asks. Then he shifts in his seat, probably realizing how awkward he could have made the conversation. “You don’t have to tell us if you aren't comfortable.”
Katie crosses her arms, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Demeter is not as present as Apollo is.” she starts. “Persephone has all her attention, so it’s very rare that she even talks to us. She never interacted with me or my siblings outside of the winter solstice.” she explains.
Sirius feels a pang of sympathy for Katie and her siblings, he can certainly relate to the feeling of having scheduled attention. Privately, he wonders if Demeter feels much attachment to her mortal children compared to her immortal one.
Professor Sprout grunts. “Our mother is a strict but nurturing woman. Like the earth. She does visit her demigod children, but it’s when she thinks that we aren’t eating enough. But most of the time,” Professor Sprout shrugs. “She isn’t really in our lives.”
“The nice thing is that children of Demeter don’t really attract much monsterly attention, though,” Katie points out. “We got pretty good chances of survival.” Compared to most others, that is.
Well, Sirius guesses that is still an advantage.
“Mother is not really involved in our lives either.” Malcolm says. He smiles wryly. “But she does leave special items for us when we stumble into a situation when we need help. Otherwise,” he shrugs. “Never really talked to her.”
“She did appear at my Hogwarts graduation and my appointment ceremony as the Transfiguration teacher.” Professor McGonagall says. His teacher’s face softens at her memories. “She gives each of her children a magical gift to survive the world though. I suppose that is how she shows us she cares.”
Fleamont hums. “My father is a very busy man. He’s got far too many domains. I could count on one hand how many times he talked to me my entire life.”
The room falls back into an uneasy silence. What a riveting topic to compare the distance between each child and their parents. McGonagall clears her throat. “Let’s get back to where we were. Nico di Angelo disappeared?”
Kyra nods. “And then, right before summer break of third year, the Labyrinth appeared.”
Sirius hears Minerva suck in a sharp breath while lines deepen on Madam Pomfrey’s face.
Fleamont flinches. A shadow haunts over his eyes. Euphemia holds her husband’s arm and murmurs soothingly in his ear. Kyra pauses, her hand coming up to rub at one of the clay beads around her neck. This particular one has a geometric design of a maze painted on it. Oh, Sirius realizes. It’s a Labyrinth.
“Luke could have gone through the Labyrinth and right into camp, bypassing the barriers. The secret entrance is too close to the hearth. If he manages to destroy the hearth, the camp’s protective magic will die and the camp will be exposed. There wouldn’t be any safe haven for demigods.”
The room falls into a somber silence. Malcolm nudges her with a look but Kyra shakes her head. Her voice is steady but her eyes are misty. “The three of us went back to camp as soon as we heard that Luke might have a secret entrance. We built the defenses while Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson went into the Labyrinth to locate Daedalus and get him to destroy the Labyrinth.”
She goes on to explain the Labyrinth's tricky nature and Percy’s close brush with death after blowing up an entire volcano. Sirius cannot decide if this Percy Jackson is really unlucky or lucky. She explains that the battle happens anyway because part of Kronos’s army managed to use the entrance, and her eyes fill with tears when she mentions how some of the campers died in battle including her brother Lee, who is a camp counselor, and Castor, her boyfriend.
James’s eyes found his at the mention of the last two names. So that’s why Kyra was crying in the Astronomy Tower during their fourth year. Kyra takes a deep breath and dab her eyes with a tissue. Euphemia reaches forward and places her hand on her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Kyra.” she murmurs with sorrow and pity in her voice. Her eyes are downcast as she thumbs circles on Kyra’s shoulder. “Believe me, I know what it is like to lose a sibling and loved ones to monsters.” Kyra nods and blinks back her tears, this isn’t the time or place for it. She nudges Katie, who takes over.
Katie takes a shaky breath. Sirius wonders if she also lost a sibling in that battle, perhaps multiple. “We are now certain that war would happen the following summer. Which was last summer.”
Sirius feels the breath leave his lungs. James’s eyes are wide. Malcolm looks at them. “That was why we missed school the first few weeks. The battle ended just a week before school started and there were so many injured—we were also injured— that we couldn’t come.”
“There were seventy five demigods on our side. There were also thirty Hunters and hundreds of satyrs, naiads, and dryads. We lost sixteen demigods and some hunters. So many satyrs and nymphs lost their lives.”
Tears are falling out of Kyra’s eyes despite her attempts to blink them away. She hunches down, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She quickly stands up, murmuring a quiet “excuse me” before walking into another room. Madam Pomfrey follows her, giving Professor McGonagall a look.
Katie breathes through her mouth, tilting her head up and blinking rapidly, as if trying to suck the tears back in. Malcolm smiles wryly, gaze empty as he stares down at his hands.
Sirius’s mouth runs dry. He… has no idea what to say. Finally getting such a large glimpse into their lives was interesting, but at the same time startling.
They are just sixteen and they have already fought a war bigger than themselves and the whole world. And they fought against a Titan and his army? It’s almost impossible to wrap his head around but now, all the little things he noticed about the trio starts to make sense. The way they carry themselves, their eyes tracking entrances every time they enter a room, their almost superhuman ability to sense their surroundings without looking around. And their mysterious injuries. Sirius may not have gone through a war, but he did grow up in an abusive home and with hypervigilance as his shadow. He knows what trauma looks like. Their reveal completes the picture he paints of their confusing and suspicious habits. He now sees what the three demigods in front of him actually went through, but doesn’t think he will truly understand.
And now he is one of them.
Sirius shifts uneasily, watching the entrance that Kyra walked through. Regulus squirms in his seat, clearly having the same thoughts as Sirius. “Will we–?” Malcolm turns to him, silently encouraging. His eyes are wide and more than a little frantic. “Will we die?”
The air left his lungs the same moment Katie’s head snaps towards his brother, eyes flashing cold steel. He can feel the airy edges of her focus sharpen into fierce conviction. “No,” she says vehemently. “We will teach you how to fight and protect yourself. Camp Half-Blood is a safe haven for all demigods to train and learn about our powers. You,” she leans forward, gaze intent and fierce, “will live. Alright? We will teach you.”
Sirius sees Regulus nod but his blood turns into ice when Malcolm gives him a side eye. Will they teach him how to fight too, or is it just for Regulus? He hurt Kyra, will they not train him and leave him to the monsters as payback? They don’t have to save him, they don’t have to do anything for him. The godly world is so hidden that nobody would know if they just stood by while a monster just so happened to sink its claws into his flesh.
The sickly acid taste is rising in his throat and Sirius is two breaths away from spiraling into a panic attack when Kyra returns.
“Okay,” she takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’m good. I’m good now. So that is the entire story so far. Now,” her eyes, dry but red and puffy, glimmer with annoyance. “We might have another Great Prophecy going on.”
Euphemia’s tea cup clatters against her saucer and Sirius hears Fleamont’s sharp intake of breath. Euphemia’s eyes are glazed in horror as she sets down her tea on the tea table with trembling hands. The heartbreak on the Potters’ face is clear to everyone, but Sirius doesn’t understand why. Professor Sprout sighs, scrubbing her face with a hand. Madam Pomfrey presses her lips so hard the flesh itself turns pale.
Fleamont grips Euphemia’s hand as he turns to the three demigods, “Explain.”
Kyra recites the prophecy, and tells them of Percy Jackson’s disappearance a couple months after the way. Then, how Olympus is closed and the gods not being responsive. Euphemia’s eyebrows draw closer and closer together as the story goes on and Fleamont has his elbow on the armrest, propping up his chin. Malcolm’s absentmindedly thumbs the clay beads around his neck, eyes gazing at nothing. Katie crosses her arms, tilting her head up with her eyes closed. Seeing how worn-out the three of them look makes something in his chest squeeze in sympathy. All the losses and deaths, and they are headed into what is potentially another war.
“We are going back to camp for the winter break.” Kyra’s eyes almost glow in the firelight. “Will you two like to come with us?” Regulus nods.
She turns to Sirius and Sirius turns to James. “Could you come with me?” he whispers. Sirius can make himself loud and confident all he likes, but it won’t hide the truth that he is scared. He doesn’t think he can protect his brother, he isn’t sure he can protect himself.
James turns to his parents and they shoot the Potters pleading glances. Euphemia takes a deep breath, clearly worried. Even if Camp half-Blood is the safest place for a demigod, with the new prophecy looming over them…
The room is quiet as the Potters mull it over. Euphemia and Fleamont share a look. It’s hard and heavy, filled with too much silent discussion even though both of them are on the same page.
“You can,” Euphemia says slowly, but before they could cheer, she turns to Kyra, “-if you could watch over them, Kyra.” she says.
Sirius’s voice dies in his throat as he dazedly stares at Kyra’s wide-eyed expression. Shock is clearly shown on her face, but there’s something warring in her eyes. Euphemia looks at her steadily. “I know you and Sirius have… history. But, I want to ask that you watch out for them, at least a little bit. Just until they get their feet on the ground. I know I’m asking a lot of you and we have just properly met, but they are my sons, and at the very least as sister to sister…will you look out for them?”
Kyra stares into Euphemia’s eyes, searching for something. Euphemia looks back at her, although there is something unsaid reflecting in her irises. Her gaze is different somehow, not just thick with emotion, but almost like there’s something else…
Kyra’s eyes widen, mouth opening into shock before quickly masking it. Sirius can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn't know how he’s going to survive this crazy, half-murderous camp without James and if Euphemia won’t let him go…
“Okay.”
Sirius turns in the brunette’s direction. Her voice is cool and her face betrays nothing as she crosses her arms and looks straight at Euphemia. “I will do that.”
Euphemia blinks for a second. Then she smiles and turns to her son. “I suppose that means you can, James,” she says airily. James stutters, blinking owlishly at Kyra then his mother, before turning towards Kyra again.
“I-I thank you,” he murmurs. A hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck. Kyra gives him a thin smile, she looks a little bit like someone put a rat on her dinner plate.
Silence ensues. Sirius is aware of the eyes on him. Malcolm and Katie are openly staring at him while Kyra gazes forward, perfectly poised. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey share a look but Sirius knows they are communicating telepathically about him.
Fleamont coughs awkwardly. “Should we tell Kyra’s mother that we are also demigods?” Fleamont asks. The tension breaks. Katie sniggers, while McGonagall huffs in amusement. Malcolm rolls his eyes before patting Kyra on the back. Kyra’s facade breaks into a nervous amusement, her eyes darting at Euphemia and Poppy. Mischief glimmers in Fleamont’s eye and Sirius knows he’s going to make sure he’s in the room when his wife breaks the news to their friend.
“I do think that would be beneficial.” Minerva agrees. “Naomi helped out after the Second Titan War as a medic. With whatever is happening with Tartarus and the Second Great Prophecy, we might need all the help we can get.”
“Mum is pretty chill with Dad’s other kids and his other lovers.” Kyra adds. Sirius watches the pink bloom across her cheekbones and dust her neck and ears. The paleness from their long conversation has all but disappeared under her shyness, and Sirius likes that she looks healthier with her blush. “She likes to host dinners for Cabin 7 whenever she is free and she has a group chat with all of Dad’s other exes.”
Euphemia raises an eyebrow. “And they all get along?” she asks skeptically, knowing a little about Apollo’s… tastes.
Kyra shrugs. “She only talks to the friendly ones.”
Euphemia nods in agreement. “Then, I will owl her to visit me soon. And,” A dark cloud passes over her cornflower blue eyes —Sirius wonders how he has never realized the similarities between Euphemia Potter, Kyra Solace and Madam Pomfrey’s blue eyes — “next time I see our father, I’m going to rip him a new one about sleeping with my childhood best friend.”
Kyra cringes visibly. Madam Pomfrey snorts, hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her shoulders are shaking with silent mirth. “Well,” she says when she manages to hold in her laughter. “They only met after Naomi was in America. He probably doesn’t know she is your childhood friend.”
“Still,” Euphemia grumbles, looking like she’s running through a mental list of insults for next time they come face to face. Or she sees him in her dreams.
The Potters agree to let the demigod students stay in their residence for a couple nights after winter break starts in two days.
Sirius can’t shrug off the itch in the back of his head telling him that it’s a bad idea to live with Kyra Solace.
Despite that, he knew there is no turning back now.
Notes:
Well, Kyra is put into a tough spot by Euphemia...
What do you guys think of this chapter? Please leave a comment, they give me life!I just realize while 100k into this draft that the proportion of angst to fluff is a bit too unbalanced T^T. Currently editing to fix that; our girl deserves to be happy.
I’m very thankful for all your kind comments and sticking to this fic despite my slow updates. This fic is on a ‘one chapter a month’ schedule because it’s the only way I can provide consistent chapters without burning out. Yours truly is taking two different language classes this semester so pray for me y’all.
Also, you can now find me on tumblr at @watchmedancingintherain! Come say hi!
Chapter 19: Kyra Solace - We were two Worlds Apart
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Kyra is grateful the Potter manor is spacious enough that she barely sees Sirius Black. The only time they see each other is during their meals, when Euphemia makes them all eat together at the dining table. Euphemia is an incredible cook, Kyra and the veteran demigods are happy to find, and she and Fleamont regales them with tales of their own experience at camp and their quests.
She almost feels a little bit indignant that Potter’s parents are so lovely and charming, having a hard time wrapping her head around how they managed to raise him for a son. A small part of her would have loved to be vindicated in her hatred for him.
Kyra learns more about how the Cabin’s dynamics were, the different rules Capture the Flag had, and how Chiron had disguised himself when wheelchairs hadn’t existed in America yet.
“How come the Mist can hide some things but not the satyr’s hooves and horns?” Regulus asks on the first night when they tuck into decadent beef stew and herby roasted vegetables. “That doesn’t make sense.” There’s a new cheerful lilt to his voice. Ever since Minerva had contacted the Blacks to approve Regulus for a “secret study abroad” trip to America, the sallowness of his skin and gloominess in his eyes slowly disappeared as the days went past.
Kyra smiles at him wryly. “Nothing in our life makes sense, Regulus.” She says- because that is practically the Demigod code. Regulus smiles back at her shyly. Kyra decides she likes the younger Black.
He may be a Slytherin, but he doesn’t exhibit the typical pureblood supremacy ideals that his fellow Slytherins do. He’s a shy one, and he looks up to the older, more experienced demigods with wide lost puppy eyes, and Kyra cannot deny that he melts her heart.
She’s relieved to find that she and Euphemia share some similarities as daughters of Apollo despite being extremely far apart in age. When they do their chores together, her older sister tells her tidbits of her own challenges in balancing her duties to the camp and her studies at Hogwarts, and Kyra is glad there’s someone who understands her. She has Katie and Malcolm, but being a healer is much different from a regular camper.
Poppy doesn’t spare much details of her own time at camp, and Kyra quickly surmised that Poppy didn’t enjoy her time at camp and stopped poking at her for details.
The three nights she stays with the Potters are actually… tolerable. Even with seeing Sirius at the dinner table, something about living with her sibling that lived long enough to have greys in her hair, a husband and a child, full of knowledge and still retaining her sharp wit and humor makes her feel a little more settled in her skin.
It soothes a tension in her that she didn’t realize was there. Looking at solid proof that one can live past the danger and build a life for themselves outside of what being a Demigod is, Kyra’s emotions tussle restlessly inside her chest.
It isn’t quite hope, but it’s something tentative that soothes the fear ever so slightly.
But when the time comes to travel to Long Island to meet up with their satyr guide, whatever hints of a good mood that had been creeping up upon her vanishes instantly. The situation she’s about to be in washes over her like a bucket of ice water.
A simple request for such a heavy burden that crushes her completely. The words ring in her ears, piercing like a blade through her chest. An unimaginable pain that set a battering ram against the defenses she built to separate Hogwarts and camp. She’s already in the proximity of Sirius Black in Hogwarts and now, she has to personally escort him to camp and guide him on how to be a demigod that will survive. She wishes it wouldn’t be like this for the thousandth time.
“Can’t we Floo directly into the camp?” Sirius murmurs as they secure their luggage. Malcolm has only told them to bring at most a week’s change of clothes and some toiletries.
“We only Floo to camp during emergencies,” Katie explains. “It messes with the camp’s magical barriers if we use it too much.” Kyra stays silent, mentally checking off her luggage. Privately she agreed with him that it would be far more convenient if they could Floo in and out. It would save her a world of misery with homesickness.
Then, it was time to go. Kyra mentally grounds herself as she steps into the green flames. Here is a new beginning of something, whether she likes it or not.
….
“Where are we?” Regulus asks. He is scrunched in on himself, clutching at his satchel. He teases his bottom lip through his teeth and Kyra softens at the nervousness he exudes.
“Welcome to Long Island.” Kyra murmurs. Cold sharp air hits her nose at once and despite the chilly weather, the dampness that Hogwarts coats her lungs with instantly disappears as she takes the refreshing crisp air in. It always felt nice to breathe the air of home again.
The satyr is arranged to meet them at a small quaint coffee shop. The cafe is quiet, with a few customers milling about. Kyra and Katie go in, while the rest stays outside. Kyra keeps an eye on the customers, discreetly squinting to see if they could be monsters in disguise. After deciding that they are not, she looks around the cafe for any satyr-like behavior.
There! A customer sitting at the coffee bar is chewing on his paper cup.
His pants legs are skewed, not set straight like healthy human legs would be. He’s wearing a large-brim hat in the middle of a cafe. There is a bulge in his jacket that looks big enough to be a windpipe. She and Kyra approach the stranger.
“Donald Warmwood?” The stranger turns with a slightly surprised look. His eyes widen when he sees Kyra and Katie. “I’m Kyra, and this is Katie. I believe you are our tour guide.” He nods, immediately getting out of his seat to join their hurried stride outside.
When they walk out of the cafe towards where the others are gathered, Kyra can see the camp’s new additions eyeing the satyr with interest. “This is Donald Warmwood.” Kyra introduces.
The satyr gulps. “Yup, that’s me!” His eyes flit nervously at Kyra and Euphemia as he fidget nervously with his windpipes. Kyra fights the urge to roll her eyes. She feels bad for the poor satyr, but gods, she isn’t going to flay him like her father did with Marsyas.
She flashes him a warm smile. “Could please confirm if those two are demigods?” She gestures towards Sirius and Regulus. Part of her delusionally wishes that she is wrong, that they are wrong, but—
“Yup they are!” Donald perks up from where he’s sniffing Sirius’s shirt. Sirius had shoved Regulus behind his back right after Donald advanced on him, features twisted in disgust. “Right, shall we go? Ms. Solace? Mrs. Potter?”
She gives him a reassuring smile and the satyr relaxes minutely. “Alright, let’s go!” he says. “Stay close, and if you feel like something’s wrong, tell us immediately.” The last part is emphasized with quiet importance. Donald leads the way, Kyra directly behind him. Sirius, James and Regulus are positioned in the middle with Eupemia and Fleamont hemming them in. Katie and Malcolm take up the rear.
They must look like a tour group with the way they all are following a single person as one large mob.
“Why is he so afraid of you and Kyra?” She hears Sirius whisper to Euphemia. Of course he caught that, the satyr was practically shaking in his fake shoes. She doesn’t wait to hear her response, choosing to survey their surroundings as they make their way to a car rental. With this many demigods, they are going to need a car. And fast. Seven demigods and a satyr could make for a tasty snack; so much energy in one place was a surefire way to be attacked.
They weave through the crowds, not stopping to admire the New York scene. When the city melts away and they spot a discreet car rental most demigods use to get to camp, Kyra looks over her shoulder to make sure they are not being followed.
“Are we going to get attacked?” Regulus whispers, and the moment Kyra opens her mouth to reassure them, three Cyclops emerge.
They aren’t subtle, bursting out of the nearby alleyway in a clear ambush. Thankfully, their definition of “ambush” leaves them with at least several meters between them and the demigods. It gives them all time to put space between them and the monsters.
James, Regulus and Sirius let out a collective yelp of shock while Fleamont and Euphemia look grim. “Hades,” Malcolm swears, and they scatter as the monsters bring their clubs down.
Kyra curses under her breath as she rips her charm out of her necklace. It feels as though all the saliva in her mouth has evaporated. “Get them out from here,” Kyra screams at the Potters. Fleamont grabs James and Sirius while Euphemia grabs Regulus and they haul them away from the scene.
Three Cyclops against three demigods and a satyr. The odds aren’t too bad.
She nocks an arrow and sends it flying to the nearest Cyclops. He bats the arrow away and roars, club coming down towards her. Kyra ducks and rolls between his legs and shoots another arrow. It hits his rotator cuff and the club drops out of his giant hands.
Cyclops lets out a furious snarl, hand coming up to grab at the arrow embedded in his shoulder, and Kyra uses that distraction to aim right for his eye, and the Cyclops disappears into dust.
“Need some help over here!” Katie yells. Kyra turns around to see her friend brandish a sword against another Cyclops. Donald is playing on his pipe furiously, poison ivy growing around the Cyclops ankles, although it does little to halt the Cyclop advancing on her friend.
Katie’s holding her side gingerly and Kyra remembers the large mottling bruise Katie had from the war. Had she been injured in the same place? Kyra quickly races over to her friend, summoning her sword and slicing at the Cyclops’ Achilles tendon. The Cyclop stumbles and she takes the chance to shoot his neck and eye as he comes down. He disappears into a small tornado of monster ashes and Kyra turns to check on Malcolm and the others. Where are—
“Behind you!” Kyra turns around and her eyes widen as the club comes down—
There’s a sharp twang of released bowstring, and five arrows find themselves embedded in the Cyclop’s head and neck, perfectly vertical and definitely fatal. The monster finally disappears into dust and Kyra dodge the club, dropping from the sky. A gray van screeches into a stop next to them.
Euphemia stands out from the sunroof, a gleaming bow in her hands already nocked with three golden arrows and a furious sneer on her lips. Fleamont shouts at them from the driver’s seat. “Let’s go!” he yells. Malcolm, Katie, Donald and she race into the van and Euphemia immediately checks them over for injuries the moment they all clamber in.
It’s a mad scramble to shove everyone in and the car was already moving before the door even shut. Y’know, normal Demigod Getaway driving things. Malcolm sits in the front row next to Fleamont while Katie, Donald and Kyra pile into the middle row.
“You are right,” The elder daughter of Apollo grunts as she presses a glowing hand on Katie’s darkening bruise. “They aren’t disappearing like they used to.” Donald is stammering nervously over Euphemia’s shoulder, gnawing on his knuckles. His windpipe swings around his neck as Fleamont drives the car on full throttle.
Kyra quickly looks over at the back row where James and the Blacks are all huddled together. James and Sirius’s eyes are wide and they are pale with fear but Regulus is shaking. His breaths are coming in fast and Kyra feels her heart drop. He’s going into a panic attack.
“James, go to the front. Now.” She commands, trying to leave no room for argument.
Jame’s head snaps towards her, he’s already opening his mouth but something in his mothers’ clipped tone must have made him move. They switch places and Kyra immediately sits down next to Regulus, pushing the poor shaking boy to the middle between her and his brother.
“Regulus. Regulus? Regulus, you need to breathe,” she urges. He’s hyperventilating, the black in his eyes almost swallowing the grey, with only a thin ring of silver glimmering in his teary eyes. “Regulus, can you hear me?”
The younger Black stares unseeing at her. His hands are numb and cold in his grip on her bicep and Kyra bites back a hiss at the nails digging into her skin. She pulls him into a hug, placing her head under her chin and starts breathing deeply.
“I need you to follow my breaths for me, Regulus. Okay? Try, just try. That’s all I’m asking for. You can do it, okay, kid? Now, breathe with me. Let’s do box breathing. 4 seconds in, 4 seconds hold, 4 seconds out, 4 seconds hold, 4 seconds in and repeat. Let’s do it together.”
She loses track of time, trying to calm the young child trembling in her arms. Regulus hiccups, hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt and Kyra keeps her voice cool and steady, even as memories of comforting her siblings from a nightmare evade her mind. She loses track of time, vision and hearing tunneled into Regulus’s trembling lips, wide blown-eyes and wisp-like breathing.
When he finally calms down enough that his death grip on her shirt has loosened and the color has slowly returned to her cheek, she presses the back of her hand on his forehead and checks his pulse.
She looks up to tell Euphemia that Regulus is going to be fine when she sees James’s and Sirius’s eyes trained on her. Sirius’ gaze is fixed on where her hand is wrapped around Regulus’s back, holding him steady as he curls into her space.
It suddenly feels far too much like she’s overstepped, and she doesn’t know how to explain that this is normal for people like them—demigods burdened with far too much in their fates that they know how to calm a child in the throes of a panic attack. She shifts uncomfortably, and Regulus murmurs from where he’s still half-curled up on her lap.
She stares them down until they look away. Euphemia is looking at her with a glimmer of pride in her eyes. She opened her mouth and—
“We got company!” Malcolm yells from the front. His eyes are wide with alarm and Kyra feels her stomach drop. What now? “Stymphalian birds!” The car veers to the left of the road overlooking the cliffs and Kyra quickly notes that they are almost at the camp.
Euphemia opens the sunroof. “James, open your window and use your wand to blast those things.” Magic spells aren’t as effective in killing monsters as celestial bronze, but it’s still better than nothing. “Be careful, they shoot metal feathers!” Kyra can’t see much of what’s going on, but she hears plenty.
The Stympahalian birds screech and Kyra gently leans Regulus on Sirius. With a reassuring smile at the younger Black, she moves back next to Euphemia, bow summoned.
Aiming out the window is awkward but it isn’t the hardest position she has had to shoot froom. The wind whips into their hair as the daughters of Apollo fire arrow after arrow at the birds. Kyra is reminded of her and Will’s own arrival to camp. It was also Stymphalian birds that chased them on their way to camp for the first time. Hades.
The birds are persistent and they don’t retreat until over three quarters of their numbers dissipate completely into dust. They could have been dealt with faster if it weren’t for their new annoying ability to regenerate and not stay dead.
The sprawling hills of strawberry fields greet them as when she and Euphemia finally steps back down into the car. Her skin cheeks sting from the wind blasting into her face yet she grin as when they approach the barrier. Finally, almost home.
“Alright, everyone.” Fleamont says as they all climb out of the door. “We’re here.”
“Where is the camp?” Sirius asks. He is frowning confused at the rolling hills of strawberry crops. He points at a nearby sign that says Delphi Strawberries Service. “We are at a strawberry farm.”
Kyra rolls her eyes. Does he really think that a camp full of tasty monster snacks would just be out in the open like this?
“Follow me,” she says, and walks past the barrier. She hears the gasps and stuttered words of surprise, but when she turns around, all of them have followed.
Kyra takes in the Blacks’ flabbergasted faces and feels a twinge of bittersweetness rise up in their throat. Here in Camp Half-Blood, they might find their home, but now she no longer has a safe haven away from him. Away from her life at Hogwarts.
They lead the demigods over to the Big House, Malcolm explaining each part of the camp they pass. Donald immediately takes off his fake legs and shoes to the yelps of surprise from the newcomers. The satyr quickly says his goodbyes before clopping over to the woods to meet up with some dryads emerging from their trees. There are curious onlookers staring particularly at Fleamont and Euphemia but no one stops them as they make their way to Chiron’s office.
Just as they are about to enter the Big House, the door swings open and Will stands frozen in the doorway. His face splits into a huge grin and he crashes into Kyra’s arm with a happy cry. “Hey, sis!”
Kyra feels the tension that has been crawling under her skin like a low voltage sparking wire finally calm as she takes in her brother in scrubs, healthy and happy. “Good to see you, Will.”
He smiles at her but his eyes flit over her shoulder and the mirth slowly fades. “What are they doing here?” His voice grows more serious, looking back at her as if confirming they aren’t being invaded.
Kyra swallows the urge to sigh. She turns to gesture at them. “Sirius and his brother are demigods. James Potter is the son of Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter are children of Hermes and Apollo.”
The tension in Will's face softens at the introduction of the Potters. Seeing older demigods with families of their own always gives the younger demigods hope and joy. Euphemia steps forward and extends her hand. Will takes it and pumps a firm handshake. “Will Solace,” he introduces himself. “Son of Apollo, Kyra’s full brother and the camp counselor for Cabin 7.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Will,” Euphemia says warmly. “Euphemia Potter, daughter of Apollo.” The door softly opens and two teenagers step out. Kyra’s eyes widen at the almost identical Hermes brother. Their faces morph into a matching expression of shock before glee takes over their face, and they bound up to her, Malcolm and Katie for hugs.
“You guys are back!” Connor cheers as he steps away from Kyra. His brown hair sways in the wind and Kyra feels her cheeks aching with how happy she is to see them again. In the corner of her eyes, she sees Katie and Travis whispering quietly, heads bent together and foreheads almost touching. Connor turns towards the camp’s newcomers, putting his hands on his hips. An almost predatory glint flashes across his eyes and Kyra wonders how long it will take before the Stolls decide to prank the Blacks. She will make sure they stay away from Regulus, but Sirius? He’s on his own. “And who are these?”
Introductions are made again and the Stolls’ eyes glimmer as they stare at Fleamont. “Wow,” Connor breathes. “You are ancient.” Demigod lives were basically measured in dog years, over 30 was nearly unheard of.
Fleamont laughs. “I suppose I am in demigod years,” he says easily. Something akin to awe shines through the Stoll brothers. They quickly look at each other with something like childish glee, then look back after their invisible conversation.
“You have got to tell us stories about pranks you pulled back when you were a camper,” Travis demands.
“We plan to stay here for a night, so I’ll tell you all during the campfire.” Fleamont promises. Euphemia sighs with disappointment but her exasperation is betrayed by the fondness she clearly holds for him.
Katie crosses her arms. “If you decide to prank my Cabin again, we are going to make your entire Cabin’s underwear turn into cotton plants.” she warns.
“It was just chocolate eggs on your roof—”
“And if you prank mine’s, your butts will ‘accidentally’ become pincushions during archery training,” Kyra adds for good measure, just so they don’t get any ideas. “And we will not be healing you.” Will adds with a wink. The Stoll brothers roll their eyes. “How will you know it was even us?” Travis sing-songs.
There is a loud crash and the Stoll brothers’ signature impish grin spreads across their faces.
“And that’s our cue to leave!” Connor says cheerfully. The two pranksters wave goodbye at them, Travis pecking Katie on the cheek to Kyra’s surprise, before they hustle away, giggling mischievously.
What the Stolls did before they crossed their path is revealed when the door opens to Chiron in a bedazzled pink suit. His tie is a neon pink with a cursive “Best Camp Director Eva”, although the letters are switched in some places. Kyra thinks she sees a bow in Chiron’s tail. Yeah, the Aphrodite Cabin are definitely involved in this. Her camp activities director and trainer’s eyes are tired but they light up when he takes them in.
“Kyra, Katie and Malcolm. Good to see you again. Euphemia! Fleamont! My goodness, children, look at you! Oh, how you have all grown!” Even the pinkness doesn’t dampen his enthusiasm in seeing his current and former charges back in one piece during this harrowing time.
Fleamont and Euphemia step forward to give Chiron hugs; the centaur’s face glowing with pride and warmth as he steps into their dual embrace. “You look good as well, Chiron.” Fleamont says. “You are totally rocking this new look.” he adds jokingly.
Chiron sighs, although his lips curl into a fond smile. “It was the Hermes Cabin again, although I’m sure the Aphrodite Cabin is also involved.” They certainly lived to spruce up other people’s wardrobes.
Euphemia snorts before waving her son and the Blacks forward. “This is my son, James Potter.” James is frozen, staring at Chiron’s horse legs. “You are a half-horse.” he says faintly.
“I’m a centaur, dear boy. My name is Chiron and I am the activities director and the main trainer for Camp Half-Blood. Welcome. And your names are?” he looks over at the Blacks who have their jaws on their ground in stunned silence.
Kyra doesn’t point it out, but Sirius is staring down at Chiron’s horse half like he’s expecting it to grow teeth and bite it. Really, how was this any stranger than the wizarding world?
“Sirius Black and Regulus Black. They are Hogwarts students and demigods. Regulus was attacked by a hellhound and Poppy did a paternity test. Only one parent is revealed and Sirius confirms it.” Kyra reports blandly. She doesn't spare any more words than she needs too.
With luck, this might be the only summer they spend here. At least, she prays it is.
“We were hoping James could spend the winter break at camp with Sirius and Regulus. We didn’t want them to feel completely lost and we want James to also have some more training.” Euphemia explains. “Kyra says the new prophecy is afoot, and with James being a legacy of two demigods, we want him to learn how to protect himself too.”
Chiron nods, his hands coming up to stroke his perfectly trimmed beard. His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Of course. James is welcome at camp.” He turns to the newcomers. “You three need to watch the orientation video. Fleamont, Euphemia, we have much to catch up on.”
Malcolm shifts on his feet and for the first time since they stepped into camp, Kyra realizes how antsy he looks. “Um, I need to go.” he says when she turns towards him. “Annabeth needs me, with what’s going on with Percy. I hear there is a new quest that she wants to tell me about ASAP.” Chiron looks as if he aged a decade at the mention of Annabeth and he waves him off. Malcolm nods at them before taking off to the direction of his Cabin.
Katie and Kyra look at each other. New quest? With all the new confusion around the Black’s demigod status, they hadn’t even known there was a new quest afoot. They are so going to grill Malcolm about this later.
Chiron looks to Euphemia and Fleamont with an exhausted smile. “There are some things I want to make aware of for you two first. Katie and Kyra, please show the young men the orientation video.”
Kyra thinks she does a very good job at not stamping her foot childishly. Foolishly she’d been entertaining the idea that someone else could take the reign of wrangling the new demigods off her hands.
Woodenly, Katie and Kyra walk them to a room with the projector set up. James and the Blacks marvel at the technology while Kyra wonders how the hell has her life come to this. They watch through her father’s painfully long rendition of the camp’s founding portrayed through limericks and haikus and Kyra cringes internally when Regulus asks incredulously. “That’s the god of music?”
“Yup,” she nods. “That's Poppy, Euphemia and my dad.” James nod faintly, looking a little green at the megawatt cheesy smile her dad sports on the wall.
After the orientation video, they adjourn to Chiron’s office where the newcomers are told that the three Potters will have to sleep in the Big House’s spare rooms while the Blacks need to stay in Hermes's Cabin until they are claimed.
Malcolm comes up to her and Katie as they all walk out of the Big House for dinner, giving them a meaningful tilt of his head. Something in his ashen face gives her pause. She turns to the Potters.
“Could you show them the dining pavilion? I need to discuss something with Katie and Kyra.” Malcom asks, immediately catching both of their attention. Kyra wonders if it involves Annabeth, and the reason that he ran off earlier.
Euphemia nods, giving them a concerned frown before ushering the others away. When they are out of earshot, Malcolm turns towards them. “Hera’s been captured.” He takes a deep breath and Kyra realizes he’s shaking. Katie sucks in a breath. “What—”
“Three new demigods that arrived just yesterday are on a quest to save her.” Malcolm hesitates, eyebrows scrunched up and lips grey. “One of them is a son of Zeus.”
Notes:
Dun dun dun!!!
Editor's note: Sirius is probably still wondering if the demigods farm strawberries as a side hustle
Early update because I got a midterm on Friday and my usual update schedule is on the Thursday! Like, comment, and enjoy!
Chapter 20: Sirius Black - Grieving for the Living
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius isn’t yet sure how he feels about the demigod camp.
He’ll say one thing for sure, it’s lively. But he hasn’t decided if that’s a good or bad thing. The hustle and bustle between activities reminds him a lot of the hallways between classes but there’s an odd closeness between all the occupants here.
Sirius supposes that it’s to be expected when one grows up in a lethal summer camp in the woods.
His first dinner in Camp Half-Blood was tasty after he got over the harpies flying over them and the magic cup filled with a mysterious fizzy concoction Muggles call Diet Coke. What’s even more confusing was burning food for the gods into the campfire and murmuring a god to dedicate it to. Sirius decides to go with “the gods”.
As the smell of burning food reaches his nostrils, he hopes his other parents would notice him and his brother. Regulus copies him, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth nervously. James dedicates his offering to his godly grandparents.
He has half a second to wonder if James’s grandparents were the siblings of his own parents before once again shutting down the idea of any coherent family tree. His blood is pure and godly, that is all that matters. But advantages will that blood give him?
Thankfully the Hermes Cabin is much nicer on the inside than the outside and Regulus and Sirius are regulated to bunk beds immediately upon arrival. They had arrived at the camp late, so the most they could do that day was just unpack and sleep. Regulus is on the top bunk, and tosses and turns all night, creaking their bed.
Sirius gets fed up at some hour past midnight and climbs up to tuck his little brother under his chin. He holds him until he falls asleep, taking advantage of their close sleeping quarters with other campers so that Regulus cannot complain out loud.
It might be childish, but it felt safer. He thinks they’ve earned it after the week they’ve had, full of doomsday prophecies and mysterious revelations left and right.
Sirius gets to know the Hermes Cabin pretty well during breakfast. Learning that he comes from the same magic school that Kyra, Katie and Malcolm go to immediately gets him brownie points. He answers questions fired at him at a rapid pace, before asking his own about the camp.
The Potters leave after breakfast. They kiss them all on their cheeks, even Regulus, and make them promise to be careful and take care of themselves. Fleamont hands them all three a pouch full of gold coins called drachmas and explains they are for calling them whenever. Sirius sees Euphemia and Kyra exchange a few words before they leave, and when Kyra walks back she passes them without looking at any of them in the eye. She disappears through the trees while Malcolm shows them around. Euphemia had already pointed out to them the Camp General Store before they left, and the Big House is already something they know, so Malcolm skips those.
The arena is the first spot where he brings them to. The invading noise and smells of the woods are a bit overbearing compared to the quiet and studious halls of Hogwarts, but he supposes he’ll just have to get used to it.
On the way, Sirius sees a picnic set up at the edge of the woods. Kyra is sitting down with some girls, chatting about something he’s too far away to hear. Plates piled with sandwiches are scattered across the blanket underneath them and the girls all have cups of orange juices in hand or by their side.
He has to take a second to look at her, because Sirius has never seen Kyra so light. He watches her laugh free and unburdened at the story her friend is telling animatedly, bodily shaking. He honestly didn’t know she could laugh like that, if she had a sense of humor at all.
Someone clears their throat. Malcolm glares at him and Sirius cringes, feeling an awful lot like a child with their hand in a cookie jar. He jogs to catch up with the other two.
“We do a lot of training here.” Malcolm says, gesturing at the arena. He looks at them over his shoulder. He nonchalantly avoids the elephant in the room, though his grey eyes gleam steel in the sunlight. “It’s very important that you all train hard. This isn’t fun and games, this is survival.” He warns. Something in the son of Athena’s voice turns the contents of his stomach into stone.
Sirius heard the stories of the war and the monsters. He even saw the Cyclops and the Stymphalian birds attack them, but seeing their training grounds make the danger in their lives all the more real.
He wouldn’t say he’s defenseless, far from it. However, being excellent at Defense against the Dark Arts was entirely different from fighting monsters on his own. He also didn’t know the slightest thing about Greek monsters, which all had tricks of their own Sirius would need to learn.
“Most demigods don’t live past twelve.” Fleamont had mentioned the night before they arrived. “And many of those who do die before eighteen.” The whole demigod business is no joke. Sirius isn’t sure if he even wants to be at camp, even if it’s for his safety.
Naiads wave at them as they pass the beach. There is a net set up—for beach volleyball, Malcolm explains. The heat from Hephaestus Cabin’s forges ripple into their skin the moment they step within the ten feet radius of it, and probably noticing how Sirius steps in front of Regulus, Malcolm directs them elsewhere. Regulus’s eyes shine with wonder at the pegasus grazing peacefully in the stables. Katie is already there, feeding the animals. She gives them a nod before turning towards her siblings, instructing them to bring more hay.
The lava wall certainly looks interesting; James and Sirius share a look: they will definitely be trying that out later. Malcolms points out a pile of stones and calls it Zeus’s fist, which Sirius doesn’t understand. Then, he takes them into the woods, where he explains the rules of Capture the Flag.
“You all are going to have to wear full armor because we use real weapons here and yeah, the rules say no maiming, but that’s not very well followed.” Malcolm’s eyes dart towards him, seizing him up for the fourth time that day. “Sometimes, people with grudges brush them out here.” He pulls up his sleeve. A jagged line of raised skin stands out from his tan skin.
James winces in sympathy. “That looks deep.”
Malcolm grunts, his face twists in reminder of a bad memory. “Clarisse’s electric spear.” He turns and marches across the woods, leaving them scrambling behind.
Over an American lunch of something called burgers and mac-n-cheese, Travis and Conner give them tips on how to deal with each Cabin and their assorted classes.
“When you take gardening classes with the Demeter Cabin, make sure you don’t say anything like ‘plants are stupid’. You don’t want them making your underwear grow plants.” A Hermes camper shudders. Sirius makes a face, wondering exactly what kind of fools he’s been lodged down with.
“Katie’s pretty strict when it comes to gardening, so be responsible and clean up after yourselves. Respect the plants.” Travis says like he’s imparting great wisdom by telling them not to insult plants in front of the plant goddess's daughter. His eyes take on a shiny sheen when talking about the other girl and Sirius spies a couple of his siblings making kissy faces.
‘Gross.’ He thinks mildly, mostly because he already considers Travis far below the likes of Katie. The other boy seemed quite… jittery.
Maureen, a Hermes kid with curly red hair, leans in. “Travis has had a thing for Katie since forever. He’s been trying to find the courage to ask her out, but well,” she shrugs. “Katie’s terrifying. But we all know she likes him too.” Maureen grins.
Connor shoves fries into his mouth. “As for the Athena Cabin, do not doubt their intelligence. They will prove it to you, painfully. Do not prank them with spiders. It’s a mortal sin or something.”
The other inhabitants of the Hermes Cabin all chime in with their own stories of what to do and what not to do. To Siruis’s growing horror, they seem to be talking from experience.
“Do not piss off the Ares Cabin, they will maim you and no one will say anything.”
“Isn’t that, like, illegal?” James stutters. Regulus’s face has turned into the color of puce.
The camper Sirius cannot remember the name of shrugs. “Yeah, it’s part of the rules and if it’s pretty bad, you are on dishwashing duties and no desserts for a week. But,” his eyes cloud. “It helps us learn to fight better and trains us to tolerate pain.”
Merlin. What have they gotten themselves into?
This camp isn’t just a training ground, it sounds like a den of wolves!
Ashley leans in. “Don’t worry,” she says. “The Apollo Cabin is there to heal us. They patch us up real good.” She takes a sip of her Diet Coke. “But that also means you have to stay on their good side, or they won’t heal you as quickly. They are very protective of their own.”
Sirius stiffens. Ashley must have caught it, because she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, the camp knows about the accident between you and Kyra. Michael was in such a bad mood he made us go through that archery obstacle course.” A couple campers groan. Merlin, that must have been a bad memory. “My arms and knees hurt just thinking about it. Michael always targets our knees. But I don’t think Kyra is the type to hold a grudge.”
Travis butts in. “You should be more scared of her brother. Will Solace. He’s the camp’s best healer and very protective over his sister. But even if he refuses to heal you, Kyra will.” He scratches his head. “I think. Didn’t she save you?” he points at Regulus. His younger brother nods, eyes wide. “Yeah, then I doubt he will let your older brother suffer that much.”
The amount of new information that’s swirling around in his head is making him nauseous. Sirius wants a Butterbeer.
Maybe if he hopes hard enough, the world will stop buzzing for just a few hours so that he can get his bearings back.
After lunch, they all escorted to the small library nook in the Hermes Cabin, where shelves are filled with books that Sirius could actually read without pausing. “Greek letters.” Travis explains. “Our brains are wired for Greek and Latin. That’s why you can read them without the letter jumping around or switching places. Oh, and—” Travis takes out a watch from his pocket and James yelps in shock, eyes flying down to his bare hand. “For a grandson of Hermes, your situational awareness sucks. But that’s okay, we can work on it.”
His tone is oddly considerate and far too mischievous- like it’s a great sin that James isn’t paying attention but that was okay because Travis would kindly fix it all.
James looks like he doesn’t know whether to be insulted or attempt to swallow his pride with dignity. The Hogwarts’ Prankster downgraded to a mere peon in front of the children of Hermes.
Next to Travis, Connor mock-salutes. “We got the Bootcamp from Hell with the Ares Cabin in an hour, so enjoy the rest while you can.” Sirius suddenly couldn’t make out the letters on the encyclopedia in his hand.
“Alright, weaklings!” A buff bloke with meaty arms the size of a Bludger yells. “He crosses his arms and Sirius winces at the volume of his voice. “Get into position, we are starting the Bootcamp from Hell. In line!”
Sirius, James and Regulus join the group of demigods, all dressed in the blood orange Camp T-shirts and shorts. Sirius still cannot figure out why their shirts are so bright and attention-grabbing when they are already in danger from the monsters. Body recovery, maybe? “I mean,” Malcolm had said that morning. “They can already smell us. It’s not like other clothes will help us hide from them.”
Connor gives them a wave when they catch his eye.
“Bootcamp from Hell?” James murmurs. “Well, it can’t be as bad as the Quidditch training Hilda puts us through.”
Sirius hums in agreement. Compared to the other campers in the bootcamp, they have better muscle mass. Regulus might struggle a bit, but how hard can it be?
Travis and Connor —Sirius can still not figure out who is who— share a look before they turn back to the front. A sea of blondes join them. All of them have tan skin and blue eyes except for a couple with brown hair—-oh. Kyra stands in the middle of the group, arms crossed as she listens with rapt attention to the Ares demigod yelling out orders to file in. When her eyes wash over them, she pauses and Sirius feels his heart race when she slinks over to them and slots herself between James and Regulus.
“How are you doing?” she asks Regulus, looking down at him with a warm smile unlike the frigid air she leaves between herself and Sirius as she passes him. When Regulus mumbles out a small I’m okay, she nods before looking straight at James, “and you?” She completely ignores Sirius. Sirius is going to die in Capture the Flag.
At the sound of the whistle, they start jogging around the camp. One circuit. Then two. Then ten.
“Move it, move it!”
Sirius’s thighs are burning by the fourteenth circuit. His lungs are squeezing out every drop of air, his throat cold and mouth dry. Regulus is wheezing behind him and James doesn’t look much better. Sherman Yang must have seen them lagging behind, because—
“Run faster! You posh British boys are not used to a lot of exercise, huh?! Well, we will whip you up to shape so you don’t die a pathetic death! Run!”
Sirius would have flipped him off if every ounce of his brain wasn’t focused on willing enough air into his lungs. In the corner of his eyes, he sees Kyra jogging. Beads of sweat are dripping down the sides of her face and her skin is slightly flushed from exertion, but she isn’t wheezing for breath like him, James and Regulus are. If anything, she looks mildly refreshed from the run. None of the other campers are in as bad of a shape as them either.
Merlin’s ballsack.
Quidditch training is no joke, but do all demigods train like this?
After completing thirty circuits, Sherman Yang puts them through drills of burpees, situps, pushups, and squats. Then, ladder drills and an obstacle course. By the end of the bootcamp, his shirt is drenched and his knees are wobbling. They stagger behind the chatting Hermes Cabin and hit the showers. When Sirius walks back into the Cabin with a towel over his wet hair, fully intending to knock out at just two in the afternoon—
“You guys need to be in the armory in thirty minutes.” Connor says. “You need to pick out your weapons for sword training tomorrow with the Ares Cabin.”
Training with the Ares Cabin twice in one day? Sirius is going to die.
“And after you pick out your weapons, it’s basic training with the Ares Cabin.” There’s something sadistic in Connor’s eyes. The manic gleam sends shivers down his spine. “Clarisse’s going to be teaching it.”
Wait, what? James’s eyes bug out. “We have training with them three times in two days?”
Connor crosses his arms and shrugs. “Well, their training is the reason most of us have survived this far. Yeah, it’s crazy hard and they increase the difficulty level every year.”
“And everyone has to go through them, regardless of how long you have been at camp; whether you’ve been here for a decade or if you have just joined.” Travis says brightly. “It makes you want to die, but it’s better than actually dying.”
The armory is a glorified toolshed brimming with all sorts of weaponry. There were swords, spears, bows, quivers, daggers and throwing knives. There’s even a couple scythes and curved blades in a corner, which Travis explains are mostly used by children of Demeter. The mental image of Katie Gardner decapitating monsters with a scythe makes him shudder.
“Pick one of them,” the older Stoll says.
Sirius stares at the piles upon piles of weapons. What is he supposed to pick? James voices the question bouncing around his head.
“Well, it depends on your skillset. Children or Athena use daggers mostly because they are smart enough to fight close range effectively. Travis and I personally use shortswords, because as children of Hermes, we are pretty agile and fast. You guys have to pick something that fits you and your fighting styles.” Connor explains.
Sirius feels like they are missing one crucial piece of information. “But I haven’t been claimed yet.” He doesn't know if he’s a child of Hermes, or a child of Athena, or—.
The door to the armory opens, and in walked a tiny guy and a girl with her hair in a bandana. In their arms are giant bundles of cloth wrapped around something. It’s obvious that they are siblings, with tanned skin, dark brown eyes and a really buff musculature. Sirius feels envy curl up in his stomach at the rippling muscles under the shirt of the kid that couldn’t be more than ten years old.
Travis waves at them, “Ah, Nyssa and Harley. I’m glad we caught you here. Is that a new batch of weapons for us?”
The very buff kid grunts, before hauling his bundle onto the table and unwrapping it. Bronze metal shines as the light from the window bounces off it.
“Nyssa and Harley are children of Hephaestus. They are in charge of making weapons for us.”
“Yep,” for a buff kid, he sure has a squeaky voice. It’s obvious the kid hasn’t gone through puberty yet. “We got new swords mostly, and a couple spears and daggers. New guys here for weapons?”
He points in Sirius’s direction.
“Yup,” Connor grins. “Actually we were wondering if you could help—”
“Oh there you are!” The door swings open again, and Sirius couldn’t stop his mouth rom dropping as Kyra walks in. Her hair is tied up into a high ponytail and she’s in scrubs.
“Nyssa, Harley? Jake is asking for you to come. He said he wants to speak with you about Leo.”
Connor perks up. “Is there news about Leo?” Travis grins. “Is it about the dragon?”
Kyra shakes her head. “No, not really, but I think Leo told him a couple ideas he had before he left and Jake wants to discuss it with you two. Could be about the dragon. I’ll see you later for that muscle strain, Nyssa, yes? And Harley, I want to check on those bruised ribs. Connor and Travis, don’t bother Jake too much, he’s had a bad night.” She waves away the pairs of siblings before turning her full attention back to them.
“Who’s Leo?” James cut in. Sirius nods empathetically. They have been hearing left and right about murmurs of a new prophecy, but what is going on right now?
Cornflower blue turns into his direction and the intensity of the gaze could have set his gaze alight. “Leo is a son of Hephaestus. He went on a dangerous quest a few days before we arrived. It has something to do with the second Great Prophecy and they have to get back before the winter solstice, which is, like, the day after tomorrow.”
“What happens if they don’t come back before the winter solstice?” Regulus pipes up from behind him and Sirius swears he sees fear quickly flash across Kyra’s eyes before she schools her face to something warm. He can tell that the quest failing would have catastrophic levels of consequences for them. It might be better to not even think of the alternative.
“They are strong demigods,” Kyra reassures him. She puts her hands on her hips and looks around the toolshed. “Now, have you guys picked out weapons?”
Regulus shakes his head. “No,” he says, glancing at his feet. “We really don’t know what to get.”
“Well, it does take time,” Kyra reassures him. “Weapons are an extension of your own body. You use them to protect yourself and attack your opponents. It’s a little tricky to figure out what best fits you, but once you do, it’s like a limb.”
James clears his throat. “You use the bow and arrow, right?” Silence falls over the four of them as they stare at him, and James immediately looks away sheepishly. They literally saw her decimate those Cyclops with the arrows!
“Yes,” Kyra deadpans. “Yes, I do.”
“That’s because you're a daughter of Apollo, right? Your dad is the god of archery?”
Kyra’s eyes soften as she looks down at Regulus. “Well, yes and no. Great question, actually. I do use bow and arrow because I’m naturally gifted at it, because of my father. However, not every child of Apollo uses a bow and arrows to fight. Some use their musical instruments as their weapons, like Austin and his saxophone—”
Sirius can’t believe his ears. “How do you use a saxophone to fight?”
Kyra gives him a reprimanding stare at his interruption but answers. “He can create soundwaves to attack monsters, by playing music at frequencies that hurt their eardrums. Most monsters have ears much more sensitive than ours, so we aren’t affected but they are. Also, they can club them on the head with them. But of course,” Kyra turns back to Regulus.
“We also use other weapons. My late older brother Lee used throwing knives and a sword apart from the bow and arrow. A nice thing about our dad’s domains is that it includes marksmanship, so our aim is very accurate. I also use a sword.” She flicks her wrist and a sword appears in her hand.
Sirius and Regulus flinch in surprise. James takes a step back and rattles a table full of bronze daggers. Regulus’s eyes take on a new shine as he bounds up to Kyra.
“Wow, is that a magic sword—? It’s from your ring, right? Your necklace also turns into a quiver and a bow, yes? Wow! Can we get a weapon that transforms like this as well?”
For the first time since Regulus has been to camp, there is genuine excitement in his eyes. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, Regulus has been terrified the entire time he has been in camp. Unsure if he could use his wand, how to fit in with other demigods who come from the Muggle World, not knowing if he’s being likeable or not. Not knowing who to turn to.
That had hurt, when Sirius was right there.
Merlin, Regulus hasn’t been able to sleep at night, tossing and turning next to him. Back at the Manor, James offers to room with Sirius but he refuses. For Regulus. Regulus faces away from him when they sleep and doesn’t insist on sleeping on the same bed as him, like a long time ago.
When they were younger and before their Houses ended up distancing them, Regulus used to sneak into Sirius’s bed in the middle of the night whenever he had nightmares or couldn't sleep. He would curl up under the covers with him, nestle himself under Sirius’s chin. Sirius would hiss at him for taking most of the quilt but pull him tighter to his chest to warm his little brother up. Regulus was always cold. Sirius doesn’t know if he still gets cold at night now.
He wants Regulus to be able to ask him for help, tell him what's bothering him, even if their relationship gets more distanced the longer Sirius has been a Gryffindor. Still, with their new current shared situation, Sirius has been hoping that Regulus would come to him for help. But no.
He goes to Kyra Solace instead. Thankfully, for whatever animosity that she rightfully bears towards him, none of that seems to apply to Regulus. She happily takes Regulus under her wing, making sure he’s alright and adapting well to camp. Sirius knows Regulus is grateful for it, preening under her warmth like a plant starved of the sun.
Kyra laughs, the sound tinkling in the air. “I’m afraid magic weapons like this are quite rare and they are usually given as gifts by the gods.” Sirius hears that most demigods don’t meet their parents in their lifetimes. Chances of Regulus getting a magic weapon seems pretty rare. But he keeps those thoughts to himself. His brother needs something fun to hope for in the future, with how tumultuous their lives have become.
While Euphemia asks Kyra to watch out for Sirius, Sirius sometimes thinks Kyra is focusing more on Regulus as a way to cope with dealing with him. Which is fine. Completely fine.
“ —I got my necklace from my father after the war. The ring—” Her eyes dim and she falls quiet. She thoughtfully rotates the golden band around her finger. Grapevine etchings catch light in the afternoon sun.
Regulus blinks at her. James and Sirius exchange a meaningful glance. Whatever the story is behind the magic ring, it doesn’t sound so good.
“Kyra?”
Kyra blinks, suddenly coming back to herself. She shakes her head with a small smile. “Ah, I must have zoned out. This was my late boyfriend’s.” the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “He died two years ago.” She twists her ring again, and Sirius ignores how her hands tremble.
Regulus’s shoulders fold into themselves. It’s clear that he feels bad about asking. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Kyra shakes her head. “Well, that was war.” She says, taking a deep breath. “There are always casualties. Anyways,” she gestures to the tables spanning the shed behind them, brimming with glowing bronze weapons. “Shall we pick something out for each of you?”
She gives them all swords at first. Regulus can barely lift him. James manages to brandish it, but it’s still clunky in his hands; apparently, his parents taught him how to use a dagger but he is rusty from lack of practice. The weight of the sword feels right in Sirius’s hands and Kyra nods in approval as he tries some of the moves she shows them. It feels good.
“It looks good,” she offers. “But we could still find you a secondary weapon to use. Let’s try spears next.”
Sirius tries not to snort at Regulus holding a weapon taller than him. Kyra seems to have realized her mistake too because she looks abashed as she takes the spear away from the younger Black. James pulls a face as he tries swinging and Kyra shakes her head. Spears are definitely too unwieldy for Sirius, so that's a no.
Daggers. Regulus blinks at the small weapon in his hand and tries out a couple experimental swings before breaking out in a grin. Kyra lets out a small cheer. James tries a couple turns with his, but looks thoughtful.
“I think it feels okay, but not you know, great. I’m not sure if daggers are a fit for me,” he explains.
Kyra hums. “Well, you could keep practicing with it. I do think it could fit you; you just might not be used to it yet. Let’s try a couple days with it and maybe it will come to you. But we can definitely find you another weapon too, just to be thorough.”
Sirius palms the leather-wrapped handle of his dagger. The blade is short and triangular, made with glowing green bronze. The moment he touches the dagger’s steel, electricity zings through his fingers. He barely manages not to let it slip through his fingers.
The weight of the blade… it feels right in his hands. “I think,” Sirius clears his throat. “I think this is a good fit for me.”
Kyra looks over as he emulates some of the stances she shows them with a dagger. She nods approvingly at his movements. “Looks good,” she says. The confirmation feels good. “Now, we should start figuring out a schedule for you to practice with your new weapons.”
Sirius couldn’t wait anymore. “You think Leo will be fine?” Sirius blurts out. The insisting voice in the back of his mind will not shut up until he gets his answer. Kyra’s face shutters.
She sighs, and Sirius feels a concern curling in the pit of his stomach at how worn out she looks. There are darker bags in her eyes, and her cheekbones stick out more prominently in the lighting. She has always looked tired whenever he manages to pay enough attention to look at her face properly but this is a whole another level of exhaustion.
“I will tell you and Regulus and James about it later,” she sighs. Her eyes are on the group of demigods huddled near the Big House. Among them is her older brother, who turns towards their direction and raises his hand.
“I need to go,” she says suddenly.
“Wait, why? Where?” She had just gotten here and helped them pick weapons. Now she’s going to disappear again?
Kyra blinks at Sirius, dumbfounded. Oh, right. Since when did he care where she goes? He looks away sheepishly. His hand goes up to rub the back of his neck.
“It’s just that you are always so busy that we barely see you. And you look, well, like you need a break.” Merlin, did he just imply to a girl that she looks tired? He mentally facepalms. What is wrong with him?
Kyra stares at him, her expression incredulous like she cannot believe his audacity, Her cornflower blue eyes so intense that Sirius could practically feel the heat shooting out of them. The air hums softly. Goosebumps rise along his arms. The hairs on his arm feels like they have all turned into tiny tuning forks and has just been struck hard. Gods, he feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.
“I’m busy because I’m both a healer and a fighter. I’m the second in command to my brother who is our Cabin’s head counselor and I have a lot of younger siblings. I need to train them and myself in both healing and archery. Since there are more campers in winter break, there’s a lot more training going on and therefore, a lot more injuries that need healing. So yes, maybe I do need a break, but I’m not leaving my brother to deal with all of this by himself. Oh, and we might have something big coming at us soon. Keep in mind that I am not your personal maid or caretaker.”
James opens his mouth to ask “what big thing” but Kyra holds a hand up, effectively silencing him.
She turns around to walk away but not before throwing back a “Also it’s rude to tell a girl that she looks tired, Black.”
Sirius' skin remains tingling uncomfortably as he stares after her, all the way until she disappears from his line of sight.
Notes:
Yeah, Sirius is being an attention whore for Kyra. As he should. Comment your thoughts on this chapter, and I'll see you next month!
Chapter 21: Kyra Solace - bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put ’em.
Notes:
There is going to be some sexual content in it, and if it reads weird, sorry guys; I’m an ace virgin. I had to go off what other smut fics I read says and my editor’s contributions. Might have a more explicit version written later. If you are my best friend, please skip over the smutty part, thanks!
And the long-awaited parental reveal is finally here...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was almost too easy to walk into the Aphrodite Cabin. After whatever the Hades that happened today, she needs a well-deserved distraction. And that distraction comes in the form of a six feet two drop dead gorgeous Italian demigod by the name of Sebastian.
She’s currently sitting on his lap, legs thrown over either side of him, her face buries her face into the crook of his neck. She sighs, letting out all her unsaid emotions in one breath.
“Gods, I can’t believe it’s already been like five months since the war,” she mutters into the tanned olive skin and feels Sebastian huff a breath over her hair. He rubs little circles to her lower back and she melts further into his embrace. Sweet comfort sinks straight into her skin.
“There have been many changes to the camp,” he says quietly. They take a moment of silence over the statement. Emptier cabins, worn down weapons, nightmares gracing their dreams, a miasma of distrust for children of Hermes and Aphrodite and what Luke and Silena—
“Drew’s been an bitch since Silena died,” Sebastian murmurs. She feels his finger tangling into her hair, teasing out the knots and curling the ends. She wraps her arms around him and burrows further into his neck. She feels a throaty chuckle under the healthy beating pulse.
Selena's death has hit them all hard, and in death she left behind a mixed legacy. No one had expected a traitor like her to blend in among them, posing as someone on Olympus’s side. Even her closest sister had been blind-sided by the turn of events; Drew, descended into a dictatorship of the Aphrodite Cabin and has been keeping everyone in line. She was dramatic but a girl’s girl through and through.
Now she’s a terror like they’ve never seen before. Upholding the old Aphrodite rituals of breaking hearts and terrorizing poor souls that couldn’t resist the allure of the children of Aphrodite. Kyra needs to talk to her at some point before she leaves camp at the end of winter break; she has known Drew for such a long time; this isn’t the real Drew. Kyra needs to bring her back to her senses and make sure the camp doesn't end up isolating her even more after Silena’s betrayal.
She’d known for a while that these things might spring up after the war. But who could blame her for not wanting to think about it? They all lost people, but dealing with the drama that sprung up in the wake of the war was one of the worst parts.
Sebastian told her about how Drew tried to go on a quest with Jason and Leo, right before Piper was claimed. Kyra knew Drew made the preemptive attempt to become part of the quest so that none of her other sisters could be chosen and lose their lives— Kyra could just imagine her train of thoughts: she is the camp counselor, the eldest, the most experienced and the best fighter the Aphrodite Cabin has to offer in two hundred years. None of her other sisters should risk their lives so fast after the last war to go on a dangerous quest to fight giants that they couldn’t even kill without divine intervention.
Then Piper McLean, daughter of Tristan McLean and Aphrodite, was claimed in front of the entire camp.
Kyra draws back, looking into Sebastian’s blue-gray eyes.
“I’ll have a chat with her,” Kyra murmurs. Sebastian doesn’t look too convinced at how much of an effect she would have on his sister, which rude, but Kyra still has to try. Drew loves too hard and is too important to camp for her crumble down over paranoia. Kyra doesn’t think Piper means anything bad, so she has to step in if Drew decides to lash out.
“How’s the new campers doing?” Sebastian murmurs and Kyra swats at his arm. He rumbles out a low laugh and Kyra pouts. He knows that she came here as soon as night falls so that they could fuck and she could forget about whatever the Hades is going on.
She doesn’t want to think for a second about new campers, gods, or literally anything outside the cabin door. The world could go without her babysitting for at least a few hours.
“Are we going to talk about them, when I’m on your lap?” she pouts petulantly before mouthing at his neck. She can tell there’s a smile spreading on the other demigod’s face; she has walked into his trap. “Enough about them, about the war, about the camp,” she says. “Now, focus on me.”
Sebastian grins down at her, his cuspids gleaming in the fairy lights adorning the walls of his room. Kyra wants to feel it sink into her neck, breasts, stomach, everywhere.
“Don’t you want to check your handiwork?” he asks. He moves her hand from his bicep to his chest, right over his injury. Kyra remembers the poisoned scratch raked over his pecs. “I thought as my doctor, you should be following up on my injuries.” His breath was hot right in her ear.
She moves her hand off his chest and starts undoing her braid. Her scalp tingles as she frees her hair from its tight hairstyle. The tension in her head eases, allowing for blood to flow to more important places.
Kyra already knows the shape and the depth of the healed flesh, she could trace it in her sleep. She has seen it many times, writhing underneath and over it in the dimness of the night.
She shakes her head, tossing her long curly mane back and letting it tumble down her shoulders and smirks at Sebastian’s darkening eyes. She presses her knee between his legs and listens to his voice hitch. Satisfaction curls within her as she feels him squirm excitedly within her grasp.
They first hooked up a few days before she left for Hogwarts. Both Sebastian and she were drowning in grief, and Kyra wanted to—no, needed to— feel something other than the overwhelming ache and emptiness of loss. Sebastian was right there and going through the same. They needed comfort. Both of their injuries had sufficiently healed enough for them to fuck and while Sebastian had refused at first, stating her first time shouldn’t be carried out under such circumstances, Kyra had all but pleaded for it and Sebastian finally relented.
It was messy, quick, and probably way too reckless considering the emotional state they were in. But the high of endorphins was enough to distract her for just a few hours.
She didn't care, she needed to feel another alive human body pressed down as close as possible onto her, to hold the broken pieces of her together. She needed to feel a pulse thrum under her finger and everywhere she touches, the warmth of a body with blood circulating healthily under skin. The rush of mindless passion intertwining with animalistic desire. Sebastian was luckily far more experienced, and they managed to wrangle out a good night of sex in Kyra’s bedroom before her fifth year.
Then, Sebastian visited Scotland for his grandmother’s birthday and they fucked in his childhood bedroom every night that he was there.
Then more times again, when Kyra visited her mother in New York.
And now, the first night she gets back to camp. Sebastian’s roommate Harrison is not due to arrive at camp until a week later, and Kyra plans to take full advantage of that. Sebastian certainly isn’t complaining, judging by the way he mouths at her neck at every private moment they get together.
“Nippy,” she complains mildly even though she makes no move to stop the lips making their way up her throat;
Something about sex with Sebastian glues together the small jagged edges of pieces of herself that have chipped over the years and the increasing list of dead campers. She would have never thought sex itself could be a healthy treatment for depression or PTSD, but she supposes the medical field is evolving day by day. The more you know, she muses. Not that she would ever tell her brother of that. Or anyone.
It might not be ambrosia or nectar, but it does the job of healing her just fine.
Now, as Kyra lets him kiss her neck and cup her ass with his hands, she lets her mind drift away from the thought of Sirius Black and what his presence means at her own refuge in the world. Every squeeze unwinds something in her chest, letting all the dizzy thoughts slip away into the pleasure of the handsome boy in front of her.
Sebastian certainly likes to caress her body more than a normal lover might. He’s handsy in the best way, all concerned with making sure she gets her fill just as much as he gets his. Thighs, ass, breasts, stomach. Everywhere feels the silk of his skin. Sebastian almost takes too long getting to the good part and by the time they get there it’s almost like they’ve become ravenous wild animals.
She repays the favor as well as she can when they get there. Both with her arms around his chest and other places that make sparks of pleasure race up and down each other’s body, and their blood turn into fire.
She almost wants to curse him for being too good at this. But she supposes he is a son of Aphrodite for a damn good reason.
When all is said and done, they collapse back onto the bedding, tired and still lazily tangled together until she finally finds the bothersome idea of rolling over to stretch her limbs.
Kyra sneaks back into her Cabin a few minutes before sunrise. Will blinks sleepily at her and gives her a slight look but doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s sleeping with someone but doesn’t pry. She guesses Will didn’t want to confront the idea of his baby sister having sex.
Telling him it’s to help her deal with her nightmare could either go wrong or very wrong. No matter which one it is, she’s not going to bring it up unless directly confronted.
When the breakfast is over, she pads to the Infirmary behind her brother. Kayla told her last night that Will has been overworking himself, taking up as many shifts as he is allowed, and hovering over the other healers when off his shifts. Losing as many people as they did in the Second Titan War has caused a scar on his psyche; he couldn’t bring himself to lose another patient, and would not let any injured camper leave the Infirmary before being fully healed.
Part of her heart breaks that her brother feels that way, the other part understands exactly what he is going through. She'd be a hypocrite if she tried to tell him to stop, but Kyra hopes that she could at least persuade him to take a break while she is here.
Of course, it would be a Sisyphean task to ban Will from the Infirmary, what with his camp counselor status and being the best healer in camp, but she can make him sit down while she performs her tasks.
While Camp Half-Blood doesn’t have as many campers during winter break as summer break, they still have enough campers to keep the Apollo Cabin busy. Sprains, broken bones, burns, stab wounds and various injuries from scuffling among campers greet her within the first two hours.
Will, predictably and stubbornly, does not let her handle all the patients. Although she has proven that her healing capabilities and stamina has increased the last time they met.
It’s because of this that she manages to extract an agreement to let her take the more heavy cases from Will; he takes care of patching up small sprains and burns as a form of a break and she handles the broken bones, bigger burns and more severe injuries that come from the Arena.
She had promised Euphemia that she would look after James and the Blacks, but she needed time for herself away from them. Katie is watching over them today, which allows Kyra to spend some time with her brother and force him to rest.
Of course, the Fates hate her because the three all end up in the Infirmary at the same damn time.
“What the Hades happened?” She looks at Katie and she knows she looks downright murderous. She couldn’t care less. Her scrubs are caked in dust, cactus spines and specks of blood. She spent the last two hours plucking out cactus spines out of Amy and Stacy, the twin daughters of Hermes, after an annoyed Josie from Demeter Cabin threw a cactus plant at them for spray painting their rooftop rose bushes bright jail-orange.
The twins are currently grumbling on their cots, bandaids plastered all over their arms and legs. And before the twins, she had to deal with bloody noses and badly scraped knees from the children of Ares who sparred too hard at the Training Grounds. Oh, and she had to break apart the start of another fight between the group of Ares campers in the infirmary. Needless to say, she’s not keen to deal with Sirius and James. After telling them about the new prophecy and the dangers of the ongoing quest, she would have thought they would be more serious about their training.
But nope. Here stands trouble, right before her.
“Potter and Black” —their two classmates avoid her eyes— “decided to use the levitating spell to try and beat the Stoll brothers at the lava wall. They didn’t realize that the lava wall is spell-proof and ended up falling and burning themselves. Sirius fell on top of Regulus Black who was watching them.”
Like bloody Pachinko balls.
Regulus Black is gingerly holding his clearly dislocated shoulder, eyes full of tears. He sniffles and Kyra feels a pang of sympathy for him. Despite her desire to avoid the older two of the new arrivals, she can’t deny she is fond of the younger Black, with his large grey eyes and lost expression. She directs him towards a cot and asks Will to reset the shoulder; Will doesn’t look too enthusiastic at the idea of treating Sirius and James, and he has always been better at relocating shoulders anyways.
She turns towards the other two, assessing their injuries. Katie stands watch beside her, arms crossed. Kyra’s glad she’s there; Katie’s presence grounds her and reminds her to keep a cool head and be professional.
The two people she wanted to see the least of always manage to land directly in her lap, don’t they? Kyra takes in a long breath and uses her years of self control to not sigh loudly in their faces.
“Alright, both of you sit on that cot.” She can feel Will’s eyes on the back of her head as she goes to retrieve the burn kits. She ignores the concern radiating from him and Katie as she drags a chair and sits down opposite of them. She places a cool compress on the worst of their burns, luckily all of them are first degree burns and on their arms. While the cool compresses are on, she checks on their other wounds. Blood oozes slowly out of various scrapes on their elbow and legs. She needs to clean out the dirt and debris from their wounds, lest they end up getting skin infections.
She looks at James, who sports darker bruises and scrapes than Sirius who had Regulus to break his fall. “Put your knees up, I need to clean out the scrapes.” When James does, wincing at the pull in his skin at the movement, Kyra wipes the scrapes with a wet cloth. She uses a pair of tweezers to extract the debris inside some of the wounds, ignoring the whimpers of pain from James.
He’s so big and loud at Hogwarts, but such a baby in the infirmary…
“I’m afraid this is going to hurt,” she murmurs when he flinches as she pulls out a thorn out of his calf. “There’s no way around it.” Pain is a given in a demigod’s world; James and the Blacks need to know this. It would serve them well in battle to develop a high pain tolerance. She dabs iodine solution on the wounds and applies bandaids over the deeper cuts. She nods to signal that she’s done with his scrapes and moves to replace both of their compresses before turning to Sirius.
Sirius puts his knee up wordlessly, turning from watching Regulus to her as she sets on disinfecting his scrapes. He watches her face as she works on dressing his wounds; his unblinking stare sends shivers down her spine.
She doesn’t care to know what he’s thinking, but he could stand not to burn holes into her face.
The infirmary is quiet, aside from the sounds of the inhabitants’ breathing and the quiet bickering between the Ares campers. James and Sirius don't talk, just exchanging glances at intervals, as if communicating telepathically. James glances towards the cot where Regulus is lying down, sniffling while Will gently soothes him and helps him drink his nectar. Sirius’s eyes flit to where Regulus is at times, but stays focused on her for most of it.
Was it really so odd to consider that she had medical knowledge? The more he stares, the more she wants to run and get his eyes off of her.
Sirius’s scrapes are not as deep as James’s, but their burns and scrapes would heal much faster and have a reduced risk of infection with nectar so she hands them both a vial of nectar each. “What’s this?” Sirius asks, peering at the golden shimmery liquid from the clear vial.
“Nectar,” she murmurs. She throws out the dirtied compresses and the gloves. “Drink of the gods. It tastes like your favorite memory. Only gods and demigods can consume it; and even we demigods cannot drink too much or we would burn up. Like Muggles do if they even have a single drop of it.”
Sirius, who was sniffing at the contents, looks up at her, eyes wide. She huffs at his alarmed expression, does he think she doesn’t know what she’s doing? “This dosage is safe; drink all of it.”
He looks towards James. “Bottoms’ up, mate.” They clink their vials and down the nectar. Ugh, boys. Can’t stop joking around even when they land in the medical ward. Kyra turns to check on Regulus, leaving behind the exclamations of what the nectar tastes like to the new campers.
“How are you feeling?” she murmurs. Regulus blinks up at her sleepily. Will glances at her, eyes soft. Even her older brother cannot harden himself against Regulus Black. His bambi-wide grey eyes and pouty lips gives him the look of a cherub. The red rimmed eyes and rosy cheeks from exhaustion only makes her want to squeeze his cheeks.
“He’s just tired. He’s going to need a cast, that was a nasty hit.” Kyra nods and sits down next to Regulus on the bed, nudging the bandages from Will. Will tries to flap her hands away but she gives him a hard glance. He knows she’s worried about how much he’s been overworking and hovering in the Infirmary- even if he isn’t going to do anything about it.
Like brother, like sister, she supposes.
“I can’t learn if you are not letting me do this.” She offers as her excuse and Will relents. He watches her, eagle eyed, as she wraps a cast around Regulus’s arm.
“It’s just to keep your shoulder and arm stable so it heals faster,” she reassures Regulus, who scowls in confusion at the white strips of fabric. He grimaced when she tightens the bandages and she starts to hum a hymn softly, layering her healing magic between the fabric and lacing the song with prayers for peaceful sleep. Regulus’s eyelids droop and by the time she finishes setting a cast, he’s dozed off. Will looks at her appraisingly and her chest swells with pride.
“Good job, almost like a child of Hypnos” he says and Kyra smiles. There’s movement behind her and she doesn't need to see Will’s suddenly guarded expression gives her all she needs to know what is happening. At least their footsteps are soft; Kyra watches as Sirius tucks a stray piece of hair from Regulus’s face.
“Is he going to be okay?” Sirius asks. When she looks up at him, his eyes are downcast, focused on his younger brother. Guilt warred with the hesitation to show vulnerability and something twists in her ribs.
“He will be.” Somehow her voice comes out gentle, as if she is reassuring any other camper’s worried sibling rather than Sirius Black himself. Sirius turns towards her in surprise and meets her eyes intensely.
Somehow, even between all of the monster attack and revelations he manages to look so much more open and honest with his surprise. His look like polished gemstones.
Abruptly she stands up, rolling back her shoulders. Fatigue weighs down on her. Her eyes are stinging from hours of focus and her fingers are trembling. They never tremble unless she’s exhausted. She faces the other two patients stiffly. “You guys should be fine now. Just don’t go using magic freely in the camp; specific places have anti-magic spells, for everyone’s safety. Things might blow up.”
“Why is this place so dangerous?” James murmurs and Kyra fights the urge to snap. This is Camp Half-Blood. This is where demigods, who have a life expectancy of twelve, come to train so they can survive long enough for their scents to disappear and monsters to stop hunting them. The camp is the safest haven demigods have; the world outside is far more dangerous. Most aren’t even completely safe in their schools or homes.
Just being in this camp is a huge privilege, and to make it into the camp during the onset of puberty is a miracle of itself. The Infirmary and camp borders have seen too many dead campers and satyrs who bravely took the risk to rescue children most gods aren’t even aware of.
His own parents had to take those risks themselves and he knows absolutely nothing of them. She really wishes that they could’ve left him behind at Hogwarts to deal with whatever monsters himself. It’s like all their explanations have gone in one ear and out the other.
She tears herself away from them. “You guys can leave now,” Kyra throws behind her, not looking back at them. She turns towards the door. “I’m going to do inventory and charts, Will. Go to lunch without me. I’m not hungry yet.”
She needs to get out of there, the rage is pulses on her skin, at their entitlement and ignorance. There’s an ugly worm of jealousy in her heart, at the idea that they could have grown up with cushy childhoods that didn’t even begin to comprehend what some of them had lived through. She doesn’t have time for their stupidity, when there is so much to do, so much to improve on, and so much to learn. Her powers had been acting up too and have been mysteriously evolving ever since Castor’s death.
First, the sonic scream that hasn’t returned yet. Then, literal sparks have taken to flying out of the corner of her eyes when she’s fuming with rage. Katie recently told her about how when Kyra had snapped at her from frustration, she felt her skin vibrate in a frequency that feels mildly painful. Kyra still couldn’t quite forgive herself for hurting Katie like that.
The water in the birdbath near the open window ripples, despite the lack of wind. The marble basin clinks softly against the windowsill and gods, she needs to get herself to calm down.
It doesn’t work, at least not at first.
She spends the next hour filling out charts and sorting out patient files, making sure the Ares Cabin’s files are in order and their papers are not mixed up, despite each of their files being overstuffed. Then, she spends the next hour sorting through the infirmary stocks and recording what they have and what they need. Kayla comes in while she’s halfway through rummaging in their bandage drawer and helps her go through all the cabinets and double check her records. By the time she finishes, lunchtime is over and she feels calmer. But she isn’t hungry; she just feels gross.
The anger has gone away, but in its place is emptiness. It feels like her skin could break apart and she’d feel nothing. She decides to take a shower to try and scrub all these feelings away.
The spray of the hot water feels soothing on her scalp and skin, washing away the dust and blood and the anger from her shift. The sun is still high in the sky and she would have preferred to wash up before night, but she feels like she’s about to crawl out of her skin with how dirty she feels. The scars on her stomach aches; the black marks stark against her tanned skin. They itch and ache whenever she pushes herself too far, whether mentally or physically. A reminder of what she went through and who put her through this.
She wishes she could scrub the mark off her; she doesn’t want the reminder of Sirius Black on her body a minute longer. However, even with the best creams from the Aphrodite Cabin, the dark magic still cannot be washed away, so Kyra is stuck with dark spiderwebs snaking all over her midsection. She leans against the tiled wall of the shower and closes her eyes. The murmurs or the world outside washes over her, and is replaced by the warmth flowing down back.
Then, a group of campers walk in, whispering. Judging from the click-clack on the tiled floor, it’s highly likely the newcomers are children of Aphrodite. Their voice rings out in the air. Kyra turns off the water, and wraps a towel around herself, they probably need to shower too.
She is just about to open the stall when she hears them say, “The new campers that Kyra brought in? I can’t believe they are our brothers now!” Kyra nearly drops her towel. She stalks outside so fast it could put harpies to shame.
“What do you mean Sirius and Regulus Black are your brothers?” Her voice is like a whip crack, but it feels so far away in her own ears.
The girls turn, shock splayed on their startled faces. Clearly, none of them thought she would be here. Their mouths open and close like a fish, their eyes darting towards each other. Kyra gives them the time to collect their thoughts while she dresses. When she finishes pulling her hair into a loose french braid, the oldest of the bunch, Isabella speaks up.
“They were just claimed a few minutes ago; the younger one, Regulus, was chasing his brother after he drew on his face while asleep. When Regulus got him cornered near our Cabin, a dove appeared above them.”
The youngest of them sniggers behind her hand. Her bracelets clink against each other. “Then their clothes transformed into chitons and they immediately tripped over them.” She was giggling over the image.
Kyra couldn’t feel her feet. Panic grips her chest. They had been claimed. Sirius Black is a son of Aphrodite. It feels like a joke; that he is now the half-sibling of some of her closest friends and Sebastian.
Why does she never get any peace? Is it some kind of joke? Could this really be the normal brand of terrible demigod luck, or is there something out there specifically crafting fate so that she would ever have good things be clawed away from her in the stupidest ways possible.
Gods. She hates them, this is her home. They don’t even know the slightest thing about it and she has to roll a red carpet out for them just so they can survive. The anger she’d spent the last hour and a half cooling comes flooding back like a tide of lava.
A cold hand touches her wrist. She must have moved too fast because Clara flinched when she turns towards her. “Are you okay?” Concern is etched on the beautiful chiseled lines of her face and Kyra only manages to give a shaky twitch of her mouth.
God, this means when she visits the Aphrodite Cabin for a good gossip session or to help heal their cosmetic-related issues—or to visit Sebastian— she’s going to see him.
Why can’t he leave her alone?
She sighs, and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Kyra gives the girls a nod. “Thank you for telling me. I should congratulate them.” she murmurs as if it's an afterthought. Regulus might be ecstatic now.
He’d make a good son of Aphrodite, all cute and chubby cheeked like a little angel. The other one though? He certainly lived up to his mother’s drama.
Isabella tilts her head, her hazel eyes peering at her. Her black hair spills over her shoulders as she frowns in consternation. Kyra looks questioningly at her. “You are–” she hesitates and shifts uncomfortably, “You are still going to visit us, right? He won’t— This won’t change anything, right?”
The fury dissipates as the meaning of her words settle in. The other girls look at her, eyes worried and dreading. Fiona picks at her fingers, while Helena twists her hands together. Isabella has a melancholic but hopeful look in her eyes.
They are scared she would stop visiting and talking to them. The Aphrodite Cabin had been under severe scrutiny after Silena's betrayal, and most friendships between their Cabin and other Cabins either broke down or were on thin ice. Too many people had lost siblings partly because of Silena, and even Clarisse’s defensive upkeep of the previous Aphrodite head counselor’s legacy cannot cut through the miasma of deception.
Drew’s paranoia-induced dictatorship over her Cabin only caused more cracks in the sibling-hood of the Aphrodite Cabin. The entire cabin has been a wreck ever since the war ended, and now they have three more siblings to include.
Kyra is one of the few people whose relationship with the Aphrodite Cabin hasn't changed. While she doesn't think of Silena as a hero like some in the camp, she didn’t let it affect her view of the other Aphrodite girls. But with Sirius becoming their sibling, he would be staying in their cabin —Does that mean Kyra would stop coming over to them?
Part of Kyra is hurt by how they thought she would stop being friends with them because of one person, but then she remembers how they must have seen Malcolm crash out badly over her incident with Sirius. Still—
“No,” Kyra says. She touches Isabella’s arm. “No, we are okay. We still got our spa day tomorrow, alright? You might see me visit Sebastian too.” She certainly had to let him know that he better not get too close to his new half sibling.
Isabella smiles then, relief shining in her eyes but also a teasing twist of her lips.
“Yes, Sebastian. Tonight, too?”
Kyra groans and stalks out, leaving the laughter behind.
Notes:
So... what do we think about this? Please leave kudos and comments! You guys' opinions truly give me the motivation to keep going <333