A/N: Hello! I am really excited about this story, it's a lot different than Out of Time but I think it has just as much potential. Charlie is one of my absolute favorite characters, and I'm sure you all know (if you've read my other fics) I'm a bit of a champion of the Black family and can't stay away from them. Please read and review!

-Morrigan

I own nothing recognizable.

It was so loud in the Great Hall, so many people were shouting and screaming. It was difficult to focus on one thing for very long before a shriek or a crash stole your attention away. The thick smell of dark magic hung in the air so palpable you were practically swimming in it.

Lyra hadn't been in there long, as soon as she had made her way inside she was pulled into helping her fellow Slytherin defectors move some of the dead out of the way. There were so many people still dueling, but there were two major fights going on. Voldemort was dueling with McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once and she felt a pang of worry for her professors, she didn't think there was anyway they would make it out of that duel alive.

The second duel, which she was trying very hard to ignore, was Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood; they were fighting against her mother, Bellatrix Lestrange.

She was busying herself with moving the people who had fallen, trying not to look at their faces in fear that she would recognise an old classmate or even a friend. In her attempts to ignore what her mother was doing, she looked down at the face of the woman she was helping Blaise Zabini carry.

The woman was her cousin Nymphadora Tonks, or she supposed it was Lupin since she had married. Lyra hadn't known Tonks very well, they had been at Hogwarts together until Lyra's fifth year but they were little more than acquaintances, certainly not friends. She couldn't help the pang of guilt and sadness in her heart. They may not have been close, but Tonks was just as much her blood as Draco was.

"No," she whispered as they laid her down, out of the way. She brushed a bit of mousy brown hair out of her cousin's closed eyes. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She felt Draco's hand on her shoulder and turned around to look at him, when she heard her mother shriek with delight and her eyes instantly travelled to where she stood. She saw the flash of green light pass dangerously close to Ginny Weasley.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!"

The room fell silent, or it seemed like it did, as Mrs. Weasley ran towards her mother, wand in hand. She felt nauseas. Her mother laughed dangerously as she began to duel with the plump redhead. Her grin faded into a snarl, as it often did, when the fighting became serious and she knew, she knew one of those mothers wasn't going to walk away from that duel.

She didn't know what propelled her feet forward, but suddenly she was running, running towards her mother. Maybe she was going to help her; maybe she was going to try to stop her, she didn't know. She made it as far as halfway before Draco realised what she was doing and he shouted for someone to stop her.

Before she could react her Aunt Narcissa had her arms around her, holding Lyra tight to her chest. In hindsight Lyra probably could have overpowered her but she barely even struggled.

"Lyra," Narcissa whispered into her ear. "It's okay sweetie, it's okay."

When she had ran towards the two women, others had done the same but Mrs. Weasley was shooing them away. "No! Get back! Get back! She is mine!"

Lyra's heart plunged into her stomach at her words; she was a mother fighting for the lives of her children, to avenge the death of already one son. Lyra's mother who still had the same deadly snarl on her face wasn't fighting for her daughter she was fighting for him.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" her mother taunted and Narcissa's arms tightened around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

"Mum no!" she tried to scream but it came out as more of a whimper.

"You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" Mrs. Weasley screamed.

Her mother laughed and for just a breath of a second she was as Lyra remembered her, beautiful and smiling.

Then Mrs. Weasley's curse hit her square in the chest.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room with one of those Muggle vacuum things. Lyra's ears popped and it felt like her whole head was ringing. She watched as my mother's body fell to the floor, dead.

Narcissa's arms went lax around her and she screamed, jumped to her feet again and ran to her mother. She was facedown on the cold stone floor when Lyra reached her and pulled her into her arms.

She was shaking as she turned her body over and hugged her to her chest, her long black hair getting tangled in Lyra's.

"Mummy," she whispered the word over and over like it was a spell that could bring her back to her.

"Mrs. Weasley no!" she heard Granger shout from behind her.

"But the girl!" Mrs. Weasley shouted back.

"She is just a girl!" Narcissa said, coming to stand in front of her as she held her mother's body. "A girl whose mother just died, leave her be Molly!"

She could hear the tears in Narcissa's voice but she didn't look up when she knelt down next to her. She knew her aunt was sad and probably angry just like she was, but she couldn't open my eyes because then she would see the way her mothers dark eyes stared at the ceiling, empty.

She cried and rocked back and forth, still clinging to her mother's body that was getting colder by the second. She hardly noticed when Potter killed the Dark Lord, she looked up when she heard Narcissa gasp but through her tear-filled eyes she couldn't make much out.

She felt it when he died though, her Dark Mark burned for several agonising seconds before turning ice cold. She didn't look at it until the next day, but it had faded into an ugly scar, the same shape and size as it had been.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, in the Great Hall, holding her mother's lifeless body. Her eyes fluttered halfway open and she could just barely make out a man's jaw, covered in stubble and longer bright red hair hanging down against his face.

The last thought she had before drifting back to sleep was that this man must be a Weasley, though he was no Weasley she had ever seen.