Lydia found herself unable to sleep that night. She drifted in and out of consciousness until she finally roused herself a little after midnight, sweat causing her nightgown to cling to her skin.

She wandered out of her room and paused at the door of the room that Isaac was staying in. Earlier on she thought she had heard crying, but he was quiet now, causing Lydia to go downstairs, afraid she would disturb him.

Ava had still not returned from her hospital shift and Lydia found herself pressing her face against the cool glass of the living room window, gazing out at the few muggle stragglers hurrying to get home. A homeless man had set up outside on her doorstep and she had no heart to move him. In fact as she took in his patchwork clothes and thin frame shivering in the cold London air, she found herself pitying him more than she usually would. Lydia wondered if encountering Isaac today had left her heart more open to sympathy then it usually was.

She went into the kitchen and boiled the kettle, pouring the steaming water and putting tea bags into two mugs. She only put milk in hers but dumped sugar as well into the second, reckoning that the man needed it. As she to open the door to give it to the man, on an impulse she pulled one of the blankets of the couch and handed it to him as well, not wanting the man to die of exposure on her front doorstep.

She curled up under the remaining blanket on the couch in the living room, happily warming her hands against the mug. She was tempted to put the TV on, but fearful it might wake Isaac, flicked through one of the trashy muggle magazines that Ava so loved, using the lamp next to her as a light source.

When she was finished with her tea, Lydia got up and stared at all the photographs on the mantelpiece, wrapping the blanket around her.

Nearly all of them were of her and Ava, some at Hogwarts, some on holiday and one at Ava's university mixer. They tended to take them down when muggles came over to visit. Having to wipe their memories because of moving images was not something that Lydia wanted to go through again.

The only one that did not include Ava was a photograph that was taken when Lydia was seven, accompanied by her mother and grandmother. She got a shock as she studied the picture, amazed at how she had never noticed the resemblance between her and her mother. While Dorcas Meadowes had been an extremely talented witch, a great beauty she was not with her widely spaced eyes, sharp nose and broad mouth. The physical differences that Lydia could see between them was that Dorcas's hair was a lighter shade of brown, her eyes were a paler blue, and she was much shorter then Lydia's five foot ten. Her grandmother had always said that she must have taken after her father in height, for Meadowes women were renowned for their miniature stature. Lydia liked to joke that there was pixie blood in the family.

Lydia wondered if her mother was here what she would have said about having Isaac to stay. She could have imagined her grandmother's reaction all too well, braying about the immorality of Dark Creatures and that the only placed they belonged was Azkaban. Her mother would have been different though, surely a pure-blooded witch that had spent her adult life working for the Order of the Phoenix would have been more forward thinking then that.

What Lydia knew for sure was that it would be pointless raising the death of Isaac's family to the Ministry of Magic. After all why would such a pure-blood, prejudiced organisation care about the death of a muggleborn and his squib wife? She also vaguely remembered when she was much younger, hearing stories of how when Voldemort first came to power, the Ministry was infiltrated and compromised. She couldn't risk it, especially with Isaac to think of. She could only imagine what the Ministry would do to him if informed about his existence, probably lock him in a cage or hand him over to a savage like Greyback. But Lydia knew she needed a game plan. Caring for a traumatised little boy was one thing, caring for one that turned into a slavering beast come full moon was quite another. She needed someone to talk to, but who?

When Ava returned home, a little after six in the morning, Lydia was waiting at the door for her.

"I'm going to go and see Dumbledore," she announced to her bemused friend as she struggled through the door.

Ava looked at her blearily. There were dark bruises under her eyes, her hair was pulled back from her forehead and her scrubs were violently creased under her lime-green coat. "Jolly good," she said sarcastically, "mind if I get in the door first?"

"Rough night?" Lydia asked with concern, taking her friend's coat and hanging it up on the coat rack.

"Why people think it is a great idea to get smashed and drive I'll never know," she said, her thin lips compressing into a hard line. "Also had to take care of a schizophrenic guy who was shrieking all over the place while we waited for the Psych ward to send someone down to pick him up. Had to give him my coffee and half of my chicken sandwich before he would be quiet and stop freaking people out."

"I hear NHS hospitals are a nightmare," Lydia said, hoping she had read that correctly in a muggle newspaper.

Ava threw her handbag onto the couch and loosened her ponytail before asking, "Why are you going to visit Dumbledore? I thought the beauty of graduating from Hogwarts is that we are unlikely to encounter our headmaster again."

"I need advice about Isaac."

"Why? Just put him in the cellar at full moon and everything will be as right as rain."

"Does he need a special diet though? What about healing spells? If we're not good enough come full moon he could cut himself and bleed to death. What about comforting him? We're not therapists. I just to find someone I can talk to about this and I'm sure he'll know someone."

"You want to tell him about the murders don't you?" Ava said, cocking one eyebrow as she flopped herself onto the couch.

"Someone has to," Lydia said, "those people deserve some justice and Isaac needs help."

"I have a day off today. I can watch Isaac if you want to apparate up."

"Thank you," Lydia told her gratefully, "But you might want to rest up first."

"Do you think the kid can get breakfast himself?" Ava asked, curling up into a ball. "Maybe lunch as well?"

"I think I'll leave after he's woken up, so I can explain to him how to use the TV and where the food is kept."

"It's 1995, don't all kids now know how to operate electronics?"

Lydia chuckled, "only if you're a muggle child. Wizardkind remains sadly clueless."

They smiled at each other, only to be interrupted by creaking coming from the landing above them. Isaac was awake.