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

James dies, straight-backed and proud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And only one of them survived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Dumbledore said.”

“Means nothing.” Said a new voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’ll think it was me.”

Arcturus nodded, of that there was no doubt.

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

“Remus.” Said Sirius suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should sit.”

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

“Sit down, Sirius.”

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

“Bellatrix is being thrown in Azkaban.”

“Good riddance.”

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

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

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

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

Silence fell as both men stewed over the news.

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

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

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

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

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

To disappear from Wizarding Britain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What on earth-” Arcturus suddenly said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though no threat was stated, it was heavily implied.

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

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

“Oh my lord-” trailed off Arcturus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Muggle sweets!” he exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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