Chapter 11: A Letter
Groaning softly, the sudden introduction of light into the room caused Lyra to stir from her comfortable slumber. She opened her eyes and the room came into focus. Lyra was back at the Malfoy Manor, back in her room, away from the danger.
"Mistress is up?" the house-elf asked. Lyra jumped, not having noticed the presence of another in the room. Lyra's sudden movement caused a wave of pain to travel from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes, leaving her teeth clinched in horror. Not daring to move her head, Lyra's eyes darted down to left hand, which was heavily bandaged. Her legs were stiff, as if they had never been used, and her chest hurt with every breath of oxygen intake.
"Would you please get Narcissa?" Lyra managed to say, rather weakly. Even the muscles in her face refused to contract enough to get comprehendible sentence out of her mouth. The house-elf nodded and left with a crack.
Lyra again closed her eyes and attempted to reconstruct the events that led to this misery. The restaurant. Fudge. McGonagall. All brief flashes in the mind. The images were like still pictures, each resting on a private scene none wanted to remember. More flashes. Lucius. Fudge. Voldemort. Lyra's mind seemed to stop spinning with images and seemed to pause on one particular. A loud, maniacal laugh. Then, a flash of black hair.
Lyra laughed to herself. It couldn't have been her mother. Black hair could belong to more than one person. It wasn't owned or copyrighted... But Lyra's stomach sank. How many black haired witches are currently in the company of Lord Voldemort?
Reflecting on the creeping disappointment, the door to Lyra's room slowly opened. Lyra couldn't turn her head to see who it was, but by the sounds of the dainty footsteps it was Narcissa.
"You are awake," Narcissa said. She said carefully on the edge of the snow white comforter next to Lyra's injured hand.
"How long?" Lyra managed.
"Nearly a week. Lucius brought you back," Narcissa said. "We didn't dare take you to St. Mungo's... you would have been taken straight to Azkaban." Narcissa made a motion to stroke her niece's hand, but recoiled when she realized the large bandages that covered the once delicate skin and bone. Lyra attempted to move, but stopped in pain.
"I hurt... so much..."
"I would imagine so. Nearly half the roof fell on you before Lucius could get you out."
Silence plagued the room. It was Lucius who had cursed her, thrown her backwards into the wall. It was he who rescued her, despite the fact her own mother had been in the room.
"Rest up. You'll be going back to Hogwarts in the next week. If you don't feel up to it by then I will understand, however I think it would be best if you left... with Draco, I mean," Narcissa added quickly.
If Lyra had any confusion she hid it well, for within the moment proceeding Narcissa's exit from the room she was asleep again. The next few days had become a swirl of semi-consciousness. Lyra could remember hints of sunlight, the bobbing ears of house-elves, and a distinct pain in her left hand.
It was night when Lyra was finally able to get out of bed on her own accord. It was nearly midnight, if the clock on the wall was correct. Sitting up slowly, Lyra was relieved she felt no shooting pain rocking her body. Feeling confident, she allowed her feet to dangle above the floor. Breathing deeply, she stretched, allowing nearly two weeks' worth of movement to flood her body.
Lyra's knees nearly gave out as her full body weight was upon her two feet. Steadying herself against the bed with her good hand, Lyra stood up once again, and made her way out the door. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she noticed a pale and gaunt former version of herself. Her cheeks looked hollow and her eyes sunk into her face.
I am never getting cursed again, Lyra mused. She opened her door and slowly walked into the hallway. Her stomach rumbled. Lyra felt as if she hadn't eaten in months. Making a mental note to stop in the kitchen first, Lyra made her way, much more slowly than she wished, down the stairs. It took longer than expected for her sore feet to trudge their way to the kitchens, but when she finally made it, she was greeted by a small staff of house elves.
"Miss Malfoy!" the one closest to the stove cried out. Soon Lyra found herself sitting in a very comfortable red velvet arm chair.
"Oh please, I just want a turkey sandwich and perhaps a glass of milk. That's all I really need..." In the bSooty of an eye Lyra found her two simple requests tottering towards her on a simple wooden tray. It took just as long for Lyra to devour her food, for she had been much hungrier than she previously thought.
"Would you like more?" the same house elf asked.
"No, I'd better not overdo it," Lyra replied, setting her tray down. "I still want to fit into my dress robes." Lyra laughed.
The house elves went on their way preparing food for the day's meals. They seemed uninhibited by Lyra's presence.
"Now, now, Lyra. Are we making friends with servants, too?" Lucius's drawing voice shook the room. The house elves stopped what they were doing and stood to his attention.
"No, I was hungry. I hadn't eaten in days," Lyra replied, somewhat scathingly.
"Go back to your work! Did I tell you to stop?" Lucius spat at the attentive house elves. A chorus of "Yes, Master Malfoy" rang throughout the room.
"I don't understand you, Lyra. You claim to be on our side, but your motives are muddy. You are either with us or with Harry Potter. The Dark Lord is not merciful to traitors."
Had the conversation topic been different Lyra would have been apt to laugh at Lucius's dress: he was wearing a bright blue night shirt and a white night cap, his hair pulled back into a simple, low ponytail. His white, fuzzy slippers matched his night cap, and his wand appeared to be nowhere in sight. For a man so proper and regal as Lucius Malfoy, his current state was laughable.
"I am not siding with Harry Potter. He is a fool-" Lucius raised his chin and smiled, "-that I do not wish to side with. I do, however, feel some sense of compassion. I will not allow innocent bystanders become victims to your agenda. Minerva McGonagall is too talented a teacher and witch to die for a sad excuse of a Minister of Magic. Cornelius Fudge is dead, is he not?"
Lucius looked curiously at Lyra, who was now standing up. The armchair had vanished.
"He is."
"Good. Who is Minister now?"
"Amycus Carrow," Lucius replied.
Lyra smirked. "A bold and somewhat surprising decision. I would have guessed an Imperiused Auror or Department of Mysteries worker myself."
"The Dark Lord has his motives. I do not question. Neither should you."
"I do not, just expressing my surprise." Lyra stared into the cold blue eyes of Lucius Malfoy. The two stood in silence for a long while.
"So, are you going to keep me in suspense or do I have to ask the big question myself?" Lyra said coldly.
At last, her cold and distant feelings for her uncle began to bubble to the surface.
"My mother was there, the night you nearly killed me. I saw her. Don't try and lie to me, Lucius," Lyra said in his silence.
"What?" he said wildly. The house elves jumped and his night cap had fallen off and landed softly at his feet.
"You're just delaying our reuniting," Lyra said offhandedly. "I don't think my mum would be too happy to learn you lied to her. What'd she go to Azkaban in the first place? Oh yeah, the Cruciatus Curse. What a shame, Lucius. I wouldn't want her to use that on you. You might end up in St. Mungo's like the Longbottoms."
"How dare you… I rescued you from that damn orphanage… I have allowed you to live in my home…"
Lyra rolled her eyes. "Please, spare me the guilt trip. I probably would have found my back eventually. Durmstrang was going to expel me anyway."
"Expel you? For what?"
"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." Lyra's eyes, now lit by the small fire to her right, glistened with malice. The door to the kitchen opened once more, and now Narcissa stood in the entryway. She appeared to have been woken quite quickly and with a start. She was not nearly as prepared as Lucius. Her wand was nowhere near, she had no slippers, and her hair was disheveled.
"I'm sure I can persuade my mother to go easy on you. She does have a nasty temper from what I've heard, but maybe she'll be so glad to see me she might just curse you into next month, if you're lucky. But perhaps not. Us Blacks… we are tempered women," Lyra said.
"Is that a threat?" Lucius asked, taking one step closer.
Lyra saw his set and moved up two more of her own. "No, that is a promise."
"Get out of my house," Lucius seethed through his teeth.
"Lucius, no!" Narcissa said.
"She is not welcome here. I want her out, Narcissa. I should have left her to rot in that Muggle orphanage!"
"Voldemort came from a Muggle orphanage too and look how he turned out. Can you risk it, Lucius?" Lyra taunted.
"GET OUT!" Lucius bellowed.
"With pleasure," Lyra replied, sweeping to curtsey. Lucius made a sound of frustration and Narcissa looked horrified. His wand was still pointed at Lyra as she made her way, quite quickly, seeing as she was still sporting a very weak body, up the stairs and into her room. She packed everything, without discrimination, into her Hogwarts trunk. A swish of her wand, and Lyra was wearing her school robes. Another swish, and her trunk was airborne.
Lucius stood, watching, as Lyra made her way out on to the front lawn. The air was chilly and Lyra could see every sharp outtake of breath. Her feet made the snow crunch at her feet. Lyra made her way out of Lucius's sight and near the road. Allowing her trunk to rest on the gravel, Lyra pointed out her wand. Soon enough, a loud humming sound came closer, and within seconds a large red triple-decker bus had stopped in front of her.
A young man, barely older than Lyra, stepped off the bus and onto the gravel. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, cleared his throat, and began to read.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus. All your transportation needs for the stranded witch or-"
"I know, I know. Just get me out of here!" Lyra handed the young man twenty sickles and floated her trunk onto the bus. She sat in the back on an old blue and gray armchair. With a loud bang! Lyra felt as if she was in a long side-along Apparation; she was going to be sick.
"Next stop, The Leaky Cauldron!" the man who greeted her cried. What seemed like an eternity had passed, the bus lurched, and Lyra found herself outside the Leaky Cauldron in London . She had heard about this place from Draco, it apparently led to Diagon Alley. But Lyra would not stop here for a room, she felt there was another please she was obligated to go.
"Where you goin'?" The greeter's name was Stan Shunpike.
"Well, I don't know where it is, exactly… but I know the address," Lyra added.
"Let's here it, then," he said impatiently.
" 103 Benton Place ," Lyra replied. She half-expected him not to know where she was talking about, but to her surprise, he did. A quick nod and Stan had gone back to the front of the bus, whispered something to the driver, and another quick bang, they were off once more.
Lyra had braced herself for the uncomfortable ride but still felt it pulling at her weakened body. Lyra made a mental note to learn Apparation and to never, under any circumstance, ride the Knight Bus again. Her eyes closed tight, Lyra lurched again as the bus drew to a stop. She found herself waiting outside the house she had visited what seemed like years ago with Narcissa. Shakily thanking the driver and Stan, Lyra got off the bus. It disappeared into the darkness, leaving only Lyra and an empty house. A fresh intake of cold air seemed to waken her senses. Lyra opened the iron gate (I'll have to fix that, she thought to herself), walked up the front lawn, opened the door, and set down her trunk into the place she would now have to call home.
With no house elves attending to the home it was very chilly, but a quick wave of the wand fixed the problem; there was soon a lovely fire raging in the living room fireplace. It had occurred to Lyra that she had only seen this room and the room of her mother. Perhaps, in the morning, she would explore the house that had once been home. Tonight was not the night, however. It was much too light and little would get accomplished. Shivering, Lyra located a few moth eaten blankets in an old chest next to the fireplace. She would sleep on the couch tonight, next to the firelight. Lyra dared not divulge her deepest fear of the dark, even to herself. Within a matter of moments Lyra had fallen asleep next to the roar of the fire.
She awoke the next morning, shivering. The fire had died sometime during the night and the blankets had been kicked to the floor. It was the first time Lyra was completely and utterly alone. She had not learned to cook for herself; that was done by the orphanage and later the house elves. Another flick of her wand and the fire was going again, chasing out the winter cold. Draping the blanket around her, Lyra followed the door in the back of the room into the kitchen. It was nothing compared to the kitchen at the Malfoy Manor; it had no formal dining room, the table was seating in the middle of the room with six chairs surrounding it. Lyra ran to the cupboards and found nothing but cobwebs and dust.
"All this money and blood purity and I can't even get a decent house elf?" Lyra said to herself. She had barely finished her sentence when she heard a loud crack!, causing her to jump in alarm. To her immediate left she saw three house elves. One was very young, wearing nothing but a white pillowcase. This one was a girl, because it had a very ugly bow made out of old string in her hair. The other two were much older, one very old, it looked as if it had served at the House of Black when her mother and sisters were young.
"Mistress Lestrange, we are here to serve you," the eldest said. "I is Sooty, miss, and this is Mabel-" he pointed to the older female house elf to his left, "-and this is Lenny. We are here to serve the most ancient and noble house of Black." The house elves bowed to their master.
"Were you here when my mother was?" Lyra asked suspiciously.
"Of course, Miss. I served your mother," Sooty replied. "I is been in this family for generations." Sooty smiled, lopsided. He had many teeth missing, but sounded fairly coherent for a house elf.
"Excellent. Well… I'm new to this whole 'Mistress' thing. I don't know the house very well. Would you please show me around? And I don't know how to get food or anything. I have no money…"
"Not a problem, Miss!" Mabel squealed in delight. Her voice was quite high pitched, like an annoying whistle. "You have money left by Master Cygnus! He left it for the Black heir who owned this house!"
"I don't own this house. Narcissa does, and her husband just disowned me," Lyra said. "I just need a place to stay."
"You asked for a house elf, didn't you?" Sooty said. "You asked for a house elf and Sooty came."
It took Lyra a few moments to completely comprehend the idea. "So, because I asked for a house elf, I own the house? I thought this place didn't have any."
"Oh, the Blacks have house elves, Miss. When Mistress Narcissa and Master Lucius got married the house elves went to Master Lucius. We is here from Malfoy Manor," Sooty replied.
"This is nuts," Lyra said as she found herself on a proper house tour. Just off of the kitchen, to the right, was an old study with two bookcases put up against the back wall. There was also a door with no handle or lock on it. None of the house elves knew how to get in, and Lyra shuddered to think what would behind such a door.
From there, Lyra went upstairs and explored the other three bedrooms: Narcissa's, Andromeda's, and her grandparents'. It was an odd feeling to be given full reign of a very foreign house. Lyra was intruding upon the daily lives of those who were either died or long gone. Andromeda's room was very messy; it looked as if she had simply stepped out of the room for a moment and would be back any second. The bed was still unmade, a trunk was open at the foot of her bed and spell books were everywhere. The only peculiarity was the lack of clothes; the wardrobe was wide open and all that remained were a few items of clothing.
Narcissa's room was the tidiest of them all. A large silver and green snake twisted about the room, coming together at the large Slytherin crest on the wall directly above where Narcissa's head would be. There was an old picture of a very young Narcissa and Lucius on the bed-side table.
"When did my grandparents die?" Lyra asked Sooty.
"Oh, before Mistress was born!" Sooty cried. His large eyes began to well with tears. He blew his nose on his pillowcase outfit.
"Okay, well I'm going to sleep in my mother's room, Sooty. Would you mind moving my things up there? And I need to go into London. Where do I get my money?"
Sooty bowed to Lyra and left the room. He went into Cygnus and Druella's room, rummaged through a drawer, and came back with a large golden key. Lyra smiled, and her happiness pleased Cooty.
"Is this house connected to the Floo Network?" Lyra asked. Sooty nodded.
Encouraged by her good fortune, Lyra changed her clothes and went to the fireplace. In a small plant pot were ashes, which Lyra would use to travel by the Floo Network. Taking a handful of ash, she stood in the fireplace, said "Diagon Alley" very clearly, threw the ash down, and soon found herself in a maze of people.
Her first stop would be Gringotts. She had been there only once, with Narcissa, but it had only taken two steps into the building for Lyra to realize she detested the place. She did not trust goblins and knew the distrusted the Wizarding race. Taking the key out of her pocket, Lyra went to the first open counter she saw.
"Name?" The goblin asked.
"Well... I'm Lyra Lestrange. I am here to open the vault of Cygnus and Druella Black," Lyra replied shakily. She put the key on the counter for the goblin to examine. He gave her an odd sort of look, as if she wasn't supposed to exist. He whispered something to the goblin next to him, who then in turn stared at Lyra. She gulped.
"This way please," the goblin finally said. Lyra followed the goblin to a cart. She sat down, shivering as the cold metal touched her skin. She knew it would just get colder. The time Lyra ventured to the Malfoy vault it was held deep in the heart of Gringotts, miles underground and guarded by two very large trolls. With a jolt, Lyra felt herself holding on for dear life as she raced down the track. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach her vault, and when she finally arrived she was very surprised to see a very large dragon guarding the vault.
"Key please," the goblin said. He was already out of the cart and walking toward the dragon. The dragon seemed oblivious to the goblin's presence, and Lyra's too, she noticed, as she got out of the cart. Keeping a maximum distance away from the dragon at all times, Lyra watched as the goblin turned the key in the lock. A sound of clangs from the friction of metal was soon heard, and the door to the vault opened very slowly.
In the very middle of the vault was a large pile of gold Galleons. Next to that, two nearly equal piles of Sickles and Knuts. This was only the beginning of the vault, however. There was a large amount of room behind this money. Putting just enough money into her leather money pouch for the next few days, Lyra made her way around the piles of money. Behind it were mounds of furniture and family heirlooms. There was a bench with two blast marks where a butt would have gone; Lyra made sure not to touch it. A self-playing piano played softly in the corner. During her Durmstrang years, Lyra had heard of a similar piano: anyone besides the owner of the piano would be sucked in and become part of the music. That's how it was self playing, the poor souls would play from the inside. Shuddering from the coldness, Lyra decided she must go back to Diagon Alley.
Another very uncomfortable twenty minute ride and Lyra was back up on surface level. She thanked the goblin and hurried out of Gringotts. Despite the winter coldness, Lyra was thankful to be outside again. She looked around Diagon Alley and suddenly realized the pang in her stomach was trying to tell her something.
Lyra had missed Christmas.
She had been unconscious for the festivities, and when she awoke she was thrown out of the house. Any remnants of Christmas had long since been taken down and all that was left was the cold and the snow. Lyra had turned left and gone into Eeylops Owl Emporium. She was greeted by the strong smell of animal dung and straw. The screech owls were going crazy in the corner, apparently upset over a small mouse.
"Can I help you?"a witch in a tall black hat asked. She rushed forward, her robes speckled with bits of straw and owl dung, and nearly ran over Lyra with a large cage. She took it to the front of the store and set it down on the floor.
"Well, I wantto buy an owl. The best you have," Lyra said prominently. The witch rolled her eyes, but Lyra did not notice.
"Eagle owls are our strongest breed. Deadly reliable. They travel long distances quite well," the witch said, pointing to easily the largest cage in the store. It was filled with amber colored owls.
"I'll take one," Lyra said. "How much are they?"
"20 Galleons for the biggest. I've got a runt I'll give you a discount on. Poor breed. It might die early, but I'll give it to you for ten," the witch said. She pulled out the smallest owl in the cage. It looked like a bald baby, but Lyra instantly fell in love with it the moment she saw its two different colored eyes.
"I want it," Lyra said, smiling brightly. She paid for her owl, and took it out of the store in a white cage. Her owl, afemale, had been named 'Artemis'. Feeling her stomach rumble, Lyra made her way to the Leaky Cauldron. It was eerily empty when she entered except for an old vampire sitting at the bar. He looked at Lyra strangely but did not make any motion to move.
She sat in a booth across from the bar and put Artemis directly across from her.Pulling out the menu from the napkin holder, her eyes gazed the long menu of cuisine,whichincluded raw liver and blood juice.
"What do yeh want?" her waiter said gruffly.
"Just cheese soup, please," Lyra said, slightly cowering in her seat. He glared at her before leaving.
Lyra scooted closer to her owl. "I swear, Artemis. People these days..."
"Talking to yourself? That's a sign of madness, you know," a loud voice said behind her. Half-expecting it to be the vampire at the bar, Lyra made sure she had a firm grip on her wand before turning around. But it wasn't the vampire, it was Professor Snape.
"Sir, I didn't expect you to be here," Lyra said, standing up. She bumped the table on her way up, which in turn hit Artemis's cage. The owl began to screech loudly. Professor Snape raised his eyebrow.
Lyra clamoredto move her owl to her side of the table so her teacher could sit down.
"What are you doing here? I highly doubt Lucius sent you," Lyra said.
"On the contrary. Your mother did," he said.
Lyra stared at Professor Snape. "My mother?" The words poured out slowly, like molasses out of a jar.
"Lucius has made it no secret you are no longer welcome in his house. Bellatrix found out, and was unable to come here herself-"
"I don't care what she has to say. She did nothing to rescueme that night in the restaurant," Lyra said harshly. "I am tired of her middle-men tactics, Professor. She has made no contactwith me despite her knowledge of my desire. She was there the night I nearly died."
"You speak so soon, Miss... Lestrange," Snape said carefully. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of parchment. "A letter, from your mother." He placed it on the table in front of Lyra.
Professor Snape stood up. "It is your choice on whether you read it. I could not care less. I will see you in two days."
"Thank you, sir," Lyra replied, sighing.
He put his hand on Lyra's left shoulder. "And, for the record, you made a wise decision by not attacking Minerva McGonagall."
"Did she make it out okay?" Lyra asked.
Snape laughed quite acidicly. "Of course she did."
He was gone, his black robes billowing behind him. Lyra fingered the letter tenderly, as if she would break it. Her soup had come but Lyra did not eat. She stared at her letter. The envelope was sealed in a hurry, it was not completely closed.
Swallowing, Lyra opened the letter and began to read.