Prologue

Elphinstone's snores resounded through the room, though Minerva wasn't bothered by them. She had gotten used to them. She never seemed to sleep nowadays. It was understandable when war still raged, but now that You-Know-Who was gone and the Wizarding world was at peace, she expected herself to be able to sleep. But no, she still spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, worrying for her pupils or thinking about that little boy who she had left on a doorstep almost two years ago, Harry Potter. That July would be his second birthday, though she doubted those rotten people she left him with would celebrate it.

At the thought of Harry, Minerva sat up in her bed. She walked over to the vanity and stared at her reflection. There were bags under her eyes and her skin was wrinkled. She was undeniably old, but the war had most definitely taken its toll on her. She had fought long and hard, only for two of her favourite students to end up dead with another in Azkaban. There were some days where the thought of James and Lily Potter lying dead in their home got to her so much that she didn't feel she had the strength to face her students, knowing that only five years before, she had looked at Lily and James the same way.

Tea, she thought. She could make some tea to get her mind off it. She clutched to the railing as she made her way down the stairs. She and Elphinstone had bought that cottage when they were first married. It was large enough for the two of them and close enough to Hogwarts. She walked a narrow corridor before flinging open the kitchen door. She lit two candles with her wand and filled the kettle with water. She never used magic to do that. She had fond childhood memories of helping her father with household chores and magic never had a place in them. She listened closely for the kettle to screech, but something rattled her before it did.

There was a knock, soft, no doubt, but it hung in the air. Minerva nearly leaped. She looked out the window above the sink. From there, she could see nobody. She must have been imagining it. It was probably the wind. But then it sounded again. After she heard the thump again, Minerva etched towards the kitchen door, towards the front door. Making sure to make no noise, Minerva peered through the peephole. What she saw astonished her. She impulsively opened the door.

"Mary Macdonald?" she whispered, almost not believing it. The dark-haired beauty made an attempt at a warm smile, but she didn't seem to have the power to. Minerva noticed the red rims around her eyes and the sallowness of her face. Her chestnut brown hair seemed to be piled on top of her head.

"Prof- I mean, Minerva. Thank you," the young woman murmured, looking at her feet. At the moment, Minerva realized the stupidity of her actions. She hadn't even asked Mary a question before allowing her in. What if she was an imposter?

But after that revelation, Minerva made another. In the darkness, she hadn't noticed the bundle in her former pupil's arms.

"Who is this?" she asked softly, peering down at the infant. A child that couldn't have been older than two weeks lay sleeping soundly. "Is this why you've come?" Minerva inquired. It did strike her as rather bizarre that one of her brightest students would come in the dead of night, but she always rather liked Mary and didn't have the energy to be cross with her.

"Yes. Minerva, you- you need to help me," Mary pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. Minerva looked at the young woman with deep concern. What could bother a girl who was once so vivacious and full of life?

"Mary, why are you here?" Minerva took a step back from the girl. Tears began to roll down Mary's face.

"Please, please, just take her!" She shoved the bundle towards Minerva. Minerva didn't move.

"Take her and hide her. She needs to be far away."

"I don't understand, Mary. This- this is your child, is it not?" Mary didn't respond, but instead continued to beg.

"Leave her with a Muggle family or drop her at an orphanage! I don't care! Nobody can know." Mary began shaking as the tears began to flow even faster, rolling down her face and onto the floor. Scared that Mary might faint, Minerva took the bundle. The infant remained asleep.

"She's not safe. I have no one, Minerva. She'd be better far away. Promise me." Mary implored desperately.

"Are you in danger?" Minerva, baby still in hand, moved towards her. Mary recoiled, brushing her away.

"Her name is Lyra. Lyra Black. She was born two days ago, on the eighteenth. Please- just keep her safe." Mary's deep brown eyes bore into McGonagall. With that gaze, how could Minerva refuse her?

"I'll try, Mary," she said quietly. "To the best of my abilities."

"Thank you," Mary said in a rushed, hushed tone. She quickly scurried out the door. Minerva stepped into the darkness for a moment, watching the young woman hurry out of sight, knowing full well it would probably be the last time she ever saw her.

She turned her attentions to the infant in her arms. She had made a promise to Mary. Lyra Black. Lyra Black.

"It couldn't be?" She looked at the baby. As she slept peacefully, Minerva felt her fears lessen. What did it matter? She had promised her former student that she would keep Lyra safe, far away.

When she was growing up, she had a friend, Daisy, who she played with in the fields of Caithness. Daisy was an orphan, Minerva remembered. She lived in Hinshaw's Home for Girls. The orphanage still remained, Minerva knew. She had seen it when she was back there last Christmas. It was secluded, but close enough to keep an eye on the child. She would leave the child there and bribe the matron for regular updates.

She clutched the child tight to her chest as she Apparated, now certain of what she was going to do.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is just the prologue. We'll meet Lyra in the next chapter, which will be written by my friend, wildernessgirl, who is collaborating with me on this.