It happens everywhere. And no matter what happens, I have to tell them the truth eventually. I can't lie about my own name, it's far too confusing.
"What's your name?" they ask, interestedly.
"Lena," I smile back.
It all seems like it's going well. Until someone asks me for further contact details, like my last name. I sigh. I try to sound lighthearted about it, because this is the question that has given me grief my whole life.
"Lestrange," I sigh, and their smiles freeze.