Joyce's daughter was born in the early hours of the morning on January 19th 1927. She was a strong child, with light golden hair and a piercing cry which she used to great effect. Joyce named her Buffy Anne Summers. Buffy, in honour of Hank's mother – a woman she had yet to meet – and Anne because Hank suggested it. Her husband doted on the little girl in the way most Muggle men did at that time. That is, he liked her best when freshly washed, fed and asleep.

Joyce stayed home while he went out to work each day; devoting all her time and energy to her daughter and him. Occasionally, she'd push her baby around in the big pram that he'd bought from a Muggle department store. It was far too large to take inside the local shops and too wide to take on public transport. When she visited shops, she's leave Buffy outside with the rest of the babies in their large prams.

March came and brought with it warmer weather. One fine day, Joyce decided that she'd had enough of the local shops and wanted to venture further afield. She caught a tram that took her to Charing Cross and, from there, walked up to the Leaky Cauldron. Since she was a Squib and had been shown where the pub was on numerous occasions she'd no trouble locating it.

Once inside, she was blocked by two old Hags lurking at the back of the pub. They demanded to see 'the little darling baby'. She'd warily allowed them to peek at her daughter and waited politely as the Hags muttered in their own language. Suddenly, one Hag jabbed a finger at Buffy's face. Her daughter's tiny fist shot out, grabbing the finger and refusing to let go.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, slowly peeling off Buffy's fingers. "She learnt how to do this last week and won't stop."

"Nothing will with that one," the second Hag observed, watching her friend wriggle her finger.

"Yes. Excuse me. I'm meeting a friend." There was no friend, but their interest alarmed her. Her father used to tell stories of a time when Hags built houses of gingerbread and stole away babies and young children to cook in hot furnaces. It may have only been a scary tale, but Joyce wasn't about to risk her daughter.

The barman came out to let her through the wall, and Joyce spent hours browsing all the shops in the alley and stalls in Carkitt Market. She stopped at one of the tea shops before leaving. Taking a seat near the window, ordering tea and cake and then thinking of redecorating the flat. She was just thinking of the Hags' strange interest in Buffy when she became aware of a figure at the window.

She stilled, her cup poised in the air, all of her breath leaving her. 'Please go away, please don't see me.' Bracius Lestrange's eyes locked onto her, and before she could move, he was pushing the door open and striding towards her.

"Joyce, fancy seeing you here!" Pulling out the next chair to hers, he called for a pot of tea, nodded at the sleeping child in her lap and asked, "Is he yours?"

She had the mad urge to say no – not wanting him to start counting backwards and do the maths. Yet that meant denying her daughter and that she wouldn't do. Instead, she replied, "She's a girl. And yes, Buffy is mine."

"We had a son in January." There was a proud smile on his face. "A honeymoon baby."

"Congratulations." January? That's the same month Buffy was born.

"We've called him Marcus."

The waitress greeted Lestrange by name and brought over a floating tea service. Bracius waved the sugar bowl away.

"The boy is a nightmare already," he said, talking as if it was an achievement. "Screams the house down all night and keeps Katcher on his toes. Merlin only knows what he'll be like when he starts walking."

"Katcher?"

"House Elf." He sipped from his cup. "Ah, I needed that. I've been calling in here since I started at the Ministry. Did you know I've been promoted twice already. I'm being fast-tracked by one of my uncles."

"That's nice," she replied politely. Nepotism at its finest.

"I'm here to meet a contact in Knockturn Alley, but I'm too early." He squinted down at Joyce's left hand, checking for a wedding ring. "Who's the lucky man? Anyone that I know?"

Buffy stirred in her blanket and Joyce rocked from side to side so that she'd fall back to sleep. "His name's Hank Summers. You won't know him, he's an American." She didn't say Muggle and Bracius didn't ask. Quickly, she changed the subject. "It must be easier for Nanette with a House Elf to help her." Hank didn't believe in looking after babies or doing housework, he thought it was women's work.

"Nanette says so." Something akin to sadness passed over Bracius' face.

It made her ask, "Is something wrong?"

Bracius avoided her eye. "It's Nanette. You know that her mother is a Greengrass?"

Joyce shook her head. She'd heard of that family, of course. Wizarding Britain was a small place after all. The Greengrass family were Purebloods who liked to marry other Purebloods. No, not liked to, only married other Purebloods, she corrected herself. But what had her mother's family to do with it? She waited for him to explain.

"There's a blood curse on the Greengrasses. Those affected never seem to live long. It poisons their blood and cause them to grow steadily weaker until... Well, they don't usually live long."

Joyce's grip on her daughter tightened, her fingers clenching the knitted shawl. "That's terrible." She'd heard about blood curses from her parents – cruel things created by forbidden magic. Whilst most curses ran out of magic after a generation or two, some seemed to spring from one generation after another without any signs of it relenting. In the past, entire families had died out because of blood curses.

"We didn't think she'd have it being a Lestrange and not a Greengrass," he explained. "But she started showing symptoms during her pregnancy and..."

He was visibly upset and Joyce reached out, touching his arm to comfort him.

He responded with a tight, little smile. "She's determined to fight it, and... well, she's stronger and stubborner than..." His voice cracked and he gulped his tea.

"I'm so sorry, Bracius." She didn't know what else to say. "Is Marcus alright?"

He nodded. Making Joyce relieved for the innocent baby she'd never seen. "I hope she can find a way to break it. I think having a son will help her. I know, I'd do anything to stay in my daughter's life if \i became ill."

Bracius was silent for a while, staring out the window at the people passing and taking sips of his tea. Joyce was just thinking of leaving when he shuffled his chair closer to her, leaned in, and whispered, "Joyce, we think someone laced the drink at that party we attended."

Although he didn't say the name Grindelwald, Joyce's heart skipped a beat.

"Laced? Do you mean... to make Nanette ill?"

"No. We think the wine was laced with Fertility potion. One that could over-power any Contraceptive Charm."

Horrified, Joyce stared at him with wide eyes. Fertility potion? Please don't let her be Gellert's, Please don't let her be Gellert's. "Why would anyone do that?"

"It was probably some idiot's idea of a joke. You hear of that sort of thing going on, but don't you expect it." Bracius was looking down at Buffy. "Nanette wasn't the only one dealing with an unexpected pregnancy after that night. And here you are."

Joyce chewed at her lower lip. Had it just been a Fertility potion with her? There'd been that glass of champagne that Grindelwald had insisted she drink. She'd acted like a Kneazle in heat afterwards. Still, Fertility potion or Lust potion, none of it meant Buffy was Gellert's child.

She smiled brightly at Bracius. Perhaps, too brightly. "Yes, here I am. My husband was pleased we had started a family so quickly."

Bracius gave her a sharp look. "When you went off with him that night, where did you go?"

"Oh, only as far as the corridor. Remember, I wasn't feeling too well?" Don't ask me which corridor or mention elevators!

She went on before he could ask awkward questions. "A man came over while we were talking and told Grindelwald that the Aurors were on their way. He,"she said with heavy emphasis, "told me to find you and go. And that's what I did."

Because of the contemplative look on his face, she added, "I think it would be better for all of us to forget we were ever at that rally."

"Yes, I believe you're right." A Slytherin knew how to keep a secret, especially if it negatively impacted on them.

Buffy stirred in her blankets, stretching out an arm, her little fist waving. Joyce decided it was her cue to leave. "I need to go. When it's rush hour there's nowhere to sit on the trams."

Bracius pulled a face. "Those things are dangerous, Joyce. I'd Apparate you back, but my contact is due any time."

An owl hooted, making them both look up. It flew into the shop over the head of another customer and landed in front of Bracius on the table.

Joyce had picked up her shopping and was on her feet when she had a sudden feeling of unease. "Is it from Nanette?"

"No. That's a Ministry owl. MACUSA was transferring Grindelwald and he's escaped."

Joyce slumped back down into the chair. "Escaped?" When they'd caught him for impersonating Percival Graves she'd thought he'd be facing a long sentence.

Bracius put the letter down and frowned. " Are you alright Joyce? You've gone pale."

"I'm fine." She needed to cover the reaction. "I... Since the birth I keep having dizzy spells. I must have stood up too fast. I'll be fine in a moment."

"Perhaps I should Apparate you home." Bracius looked at his watch, working out how much time he had.

"Just go," Joyce said. She needed time alone. Time to process what she'd been told. "I'll order another cup of tea before I go."

…...

After a few days of feeling on edge, Joyce decided to put the news of Grindelwald's escape behind her. If she stayed in Muggle areas, she'd never see The Prophet's headlines and could pretend Grindelwald didn't exist. So she did just that, concentrating on her home and her daughter, and living each day as it came.

She heard nothing more until Peregrine and his dainty, Irish wife, Breda, brought their son to visit a few months later. Lovell was placed in the cot beside a sleeping Buffy, while the adults sat in the living room speaking of old times, people they knew and babies. Eventually, Peregrine mentioned Grindelwald. Her brother told her that he'd been sighted in Paris and many were wondering what his next move would be.

Paris! Had he gone there looking for her or was it a coincidence? Joyce thought knowing Grindelwald, he was there to do something dangerous and devious. Hopefully, he'd be too busy scheming and avoiding the Aurors to think of a Squib who he'd once had sex with a year ago. Joyce decided that she was panicking over nothing. Gellert had probably never given her a second thought.

That night, after her brother and his wife left, Joyce went in to feed Buffy and found two toy pigs flying in circles above Buffy's cot.

"No!" What if Hank had come in, and seen them? Scared her husband might appear, she ran to her daughter's cot, grabbed the pigs and stuffed them under a cushion on a chair. Then she sat down on the chair and waited for her heart to stop beating so wildly.

Flying pigs? Why had Peregrine bought Charmed toys for her daughter? He knew Hank was a Muggle and knew nothing about magic. Annoyed with her brother, she fed Buffy and put the two toys away inside the toy box.

Two days later, she walked into her daughter's room and found a teddy bear – bought from Harrods – floating over Buffy's cot. Hank wasn't home, so Joyce took her time; watching her daughter laughing up at the floating bear. Hardening her heart to Buffy's cries, Joyce took the bear and locked it and the rest of Buffy's toys inside the wooden chest. She then sat on the chair by the window and wondered what to do next.

Should she tell Hank his daughter was a Witch? Or should hide it for as long as possible? She decided to keep it quiet. Hank would never be a hands-on father. He worked long hours and only saw his daughter for a short time each day. No, she wouldn't tell him. She'd cover up for her daughter's magical accidents. When they got to America, she'd tell him then. Buffy could study at Salem.

Days passed by and one warm day Joyce went back to Diagon Alley. The last time she'd been here, she'd bought a packet of self-cleaning nappies to try and found they'd made her life so much easier. The problem was Buffy had outgrown them and she needed to buy more in a larger size.

With that in mind, she popped into Gringotts to visit her vault. Holding Buffy tightly against her chest, the little cart bounced and sped along the tracks at breakneck speed. Slowing down was worse. The goblin seemed to take delight in braking sharply, almost throwing Joyce and Buffy out of the cart. By the time they reached the vault level, her legs were shaking and she had to hold on to a nearby pillar until she'd composed herself. Luckily, Buffy hadn't been at all frightened by the ride; she'd thrown back her head to watch the lights flash past, giggled wildly and had kept reaching for the wizened goblin steering the cart.

Once her legs wouldn't give way, Joyce used her key to open her vault. It was only a small vault as her parents hadn't left her much and she only expected to see small piles of bronze, silver, and the odd few galleons. What she didn't expect to see was the vault bench piled with gleaming gold gallons.

"Am I in the right vault?" she called back over to the waiting goblin. Buffy was making soft crooning noises, her daughter loved shiny objects.

The goblin scowled. "Gringotts don't make mistakes" he replied sharply. "Nor are any two keys the same. This is the vault of Joyce and Buffy Lovegood."

She nodded. Then realised what he'd just said. "Oh, but Buffy's name isn't on the vault, just mine. There has to be a mistake. This gold isn't mine."

The small goblin's face contorted with fury and he stalked along the ledge. Joyce held her ground, determined not to let the small creature intimidate her. In her arms, Buffy swivelled, her attention going from the gold to the goblin; she gave him a wide smile before lunging for his ear. Joyce had to grab her, to stop her from falling.

The goblin scowled neatly sidestepping out of Buffy's reach. Keeping his distance, he placed a pair of spectacles on his nose, clicked his fingers and a file magically appeared in his hand.

"This file bears your name and vault number," he snarled. Opening the file he read on. "Originally opened in the name of Joyce Lovegood who is described here as the main account holder. It also says wand identification not required, due to you being a Squib." His magnified eyes regarded her with contempt.

"Your daughter's name was added later due to the large amount transferred into her name on the March 25th this year. The money came from..." he squinted down at the paperwork. "An anonymous benefactor." He gave the squirming child in her arms a hard look. "The benefactor transferred the sum of thirteen thousand galleons into the name of Buffy Anne Lovegood, with smaller payments to be deposited every January 19th until the girl gains her majority. The money comes from our branch in Bern."

Joyce, nodded numbly. Since Buffy was agitated – she'd gotten it into her head that the goblin's ears were edible and kept waving her hand at him in a grasping motion – Joyce took her child back into the vault and stared at the galleons.

This is bad.

There was a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach and her heart thumped so hard that she thought she might have a heart attack. This is very, very bad.

The goblin had said Bern. Grindelwald's family had originated in Switzerland and Bern was the capital. It had to be from him. Maintenance? Or worse, payment for the baby? He'd known his daughter's name and date of birth. How? Joyce knew that some Purebloods had family trees, they bore the names and dates of birth of all offspring born into marriages, but what if his family's tracked illegitimate children?

'The Grindelwalds always protect what is theirs,' he'd told her. At the time, she'd stupidly thought he meant her and felt flattered. Now, the memory of those words made her want to retch.

Gellert Grindelwald would never allow his daughter to be brought up by non-magical parents. He'd take Buffy from her. The only reason he hadn't taken her before was because MACUSA had him imprisoned and it mustn't be convenient for him to take her yet. He was so close... only across the channel. A short hop on a broom for a wizard like Grindelwald.

And there was no way of stopping him when he came. Even if she took her daughter and ran to Devon, he'd find them. He'd kill Peregrine and Breda if they got in his way. He was too powerful for all of them. Who could help her? The Ministry? No, not the Ministry. Too many there with blood prejudice ideals. They'd rather see her daughter brought up with a dark wizard than by a Muggle and a Squib. There was no one she could turn to...

Unless...

One person might help – if the rumours about him were true. She'd find him and tell him all. If it meant keeping her child safe, she'd get down onto her knees and beg. Blindly, Joyce took a few coins off the bench and put them into her purse. Her next stop would be the post office – to owl Albus Dumbledore.