Chapter 12: Love, Mum
To Lyra,
No doubt you are furious with me, as I am quite positive you have inherited the Black temper. Your life has not gone according to plan, with a large thanks to LuciusMalfoy. But, I feel I owe you an explanation. After your father and I were sentenced to Azkaban, I asked Lucius and Narcissa to raise you as a pureblood witch. The Blacks and the Malfoys are two ancient and well-respected wizarding families. It has come to my attention that Lucius did not follow through on his end. I would never allow any daughter of mine to be raised by Muggles or taught by that traitor Igor Karkaroff. While I am pleased you received an excellent Dark Arts education at Durmstrang, I am horrified to hear rumors of what happened between you and Karkaroff. He has been taken care of, as I'm sure you've heard. Lucius will receive punishment for his actions, be sure of that. I heard of your involvement at the Hogsmeade incident earlier in the year and was quite disappointed in your choice of loyalty. However, the young and foolish are expected to make mistakes. The Dark Lord disposed of Cornelius Fudge and I am very proud of you for helping. I would have taken you home with me that very night, but the Dark Lord had work for me to finish.
I promise we will meet as soon as possible. Do not lose hope; I have not forgotten my only child.
Love, Mum
Lyra suddenly became aware she was sobbing as her tears hit the table. Her soup was cold now, so she pushed it aside. She quickly scanned the messy letter once more, noting how easily this letter could have been written by her own hand, the 'A's and the 'G's, respectively. Lucius harbored a burning hatred for Lyra, one he had managed to keep for a very long time. But the truth was out now, out for everyone to see.
Tucking the letter safely into her pocket, Lyra grabbed her owl and headed for home. It was nearly four o'clock when she reached Benton Place. The light had already begun to get dim. It would be another lonely night before the start of second term. Unlocking the door, Lyra entered the home to see a blonde figure sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of tea.
At the sound of the closing door, Narcissa turned around. Her eyes had large bags underneath them and the wrinkles on her forehead spoke tales of worry. Her appearance did not surprise Lyra. Underneath the Malfoy cliché of money and pure-blood politics, Narcissa Malfoy was one of the most caring and devoted people Lyra had ever met.
"Lyra, I was so worried about you. This was the last place I checked… I was so relieved…" Narcissa set her cup of tea down and stood up.
Lyra set down her cage. "Well, here I am. I didn't really know where else to go…" She moved towards the couch, but sat down in the armchair directly across from the fireplace. "I really didn't have anywhere else to go..."
"I wrote to Severus hoping you'd gone back to Hogwarts-"
"He found me today. He delivered me this," Lyra said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter. Without emotion, she threw it on the table in front of the couch Narcissa was sitting upon.
Without opening it, Narcissa spoke. "She contacted you."
Lyra nodded. Sooty was now entering the room carrying a serving tray. Despite his age, he held the large wooden tray quite still. It contained a single, petal-decorated cup with steam arising from the top. Without a word, he put the tray down on the table and left the room, leaving just as quietly as his entrance. What a good house elf, he was.
The two sat in silence for a long while. Lyra had just finished counting the brick tiles in the fireplace (there were sixty-six) when she finally spoke.
"It seemed so much real when she wrote to me. About this whole situation, I mean. She knew Lucius sent me away. She's furious," Lyra said. She took a big sip of her tea and allowed it to burn her throat.
"My sister is highly intelligent. I have not spoken with her since the summer. There is no doubt she figured it out on her own. Lucius and Severus send her weekly letters, updating her on your life," Narcissa said. "I'm sure one of them has inadvertently told her."
"I don't understand one thing, Narcissa. Didn't she get suspicious that the letters only started this year?" Lyra asked.
"Of course not. My sister had been in Azkaban for years. The letters started immediately after her escape. When you're in Azkaban…you receive no incoming mail. You cannot send mail. You are nothing in Azkaban." Narcissa shuddered, allowing images of the prison to fill her head.
"I'm not coming back to the Manor, if that's what you're here to ask me," Lyra said.
Narcissa laughed. "Lucius does not want you back. I think you are safer here. This is your home now, I see you even have house elves."
"Three of them. You remember Sooty? Well, he works for me now. I'm afraid you've lost a house elf."
"Is he still living? I remember Lucius taking him to work at the manner, but I haven't seen him in years. Although, I do suppose it is the mark of a good house elf…"
More silence. Tonight would not be the night Narcissa stood up for her husband. Lyra did not feel like listening to her aunt drone on about what a wonderful man Lucius was and the pride he felt for his family. It made her want to vomit.
"I suppose you should go. Lucius might have you sent to Azkaban for aiding and abetting a fugitive. Although, it really wouldn't do any good seeing as the Dementors are no longer guarding it," Lyra mused.
"Do not be brash, Lyra. It does not suit you," Narcissa said, standing up. "Would you like me to escort you to the train on Sunday?"
"If you wish. Since Draco apparently needs no license to Apparate underage, he can manage himself. I'm still dead weight."
"Very well. I will be here at ten-thirty. Please be ready," Narcissa said.
"I will. Good night, Narcissa," Lyra said. With a polite nod, her aunt was gone and Lyra was along once more. She sipped her tea quietly, tracing the outside edges of the mug with her index finger. The letter was still on the table where Narcissa refused to touch it. It was like a cursed necklace in Borgin and Burkes no one wanted to acknowledge. Lyra watched the fire until it had nearly died out. Once the winter coldness had hit her once more, she decided to turn in.
The next day was nothing more than Lyra packing up her things and moving the letter around the house so it would be near to her location. She never opened it, she hadn't since the first time she read it, but somehow its presence calmed her, as if her mother had been in the room right there with her. It was a promise for a real family and a promise for reuniting.
Narcissa had come precisely at ten-thirty on Sunday morning. The sky had been a dark shade of gray since the previous afternoon. It couldn't decide whether or not to snow and the resulting indecision caused the coldest day of winter yet. Traveling back to Hogwarts was not a glorious affair; rather it was a long, uneventful train ride.
The arrival back couldn't come soon enough and the instant the train had stopped Lyra had been one of the first off. She had the first carriage back to the castle, and within no time was she sitting in the Slytherin Common Room. Even though Lyra could count Benton Place, and even to some extent the Malfoy Manor, her residence, Hogwarts had always felt like home.
"And then I said, 'oh please, do I really want to look like a Muggle?' You should have seen what he tried to give me," drawled Draco. His voice carried down the stone walls of the dungeon. He walked in with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, who were laughing loudly at Draco's joke. He stopped, quite suddenly, at Lyra's presence in the room. Crabbe and Goyle ran into Draco, causing him to nearly fall over.
"So, you've decided to come back," Draco said stiffly.
"Apparently," Lyra replied.
He scowled at her, wanting to say something, but thought better at the last moment. He walked off to the boys dormitory with Crabbe and Goyle, leaving Pansy behind.
"He's mad at you, you know," Pansy taunted, taking a seat by the fire.
"Yes, I realize," Lyra replied, not looking up from the book she was reading.
"So his dad kicked you out, then? It's really true?" Pansy asked.
"It's really true," Lyra responded in the same manner. Twenty questions was never her favorite game. Pansy shrieked with delight.
"So where did you stay? Did you have to live with Muggles? Draco said you've got no family left!"
Lyra threw her head back and laughed. "Is that what Draco told you? Well, I do suppose it is the blind leading the blind. You really should check your information."
"Well, where did you stay then?" Pansy asked, tapping her foot lightly on the stone floor.
"My grandparents' house. I guess Draco never told you who my parents were—are. I suppose you know of Rudolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange?"
Pansy shrieked. Whatever conversations were going on in the Common Room had ceased and looked at Pansy and Lyra. "She's your mum? She's your mum?"
"Did I stutter? I believe that's what I just said," Lyra replied calmly.
Pansy opened and closed her mouth several times, but then suddenly decided what Lyra had just said deeply offended her, and rushed off to her dormitory. Lyra rolled her eyes.
"So it's true then. Lyra Lestrange," a fifth-year spoke up.
"I didn't realize we were in a Muggle zoo, Fredericks. Quiet ogling and perhaps do something more… constructive," Lyra replied. "Go find a Gryffindor to cure, I don't care."
Getting the hint, the dirty-blond boy did not bother Lyra again. In fact, the room was relatively quiet for the rest of the night. Whether or not they were scared of Lyra was unknown. The Common Room had emptied very quickly, leaving Lyra to be the last soul in the room. She had gone to bed well past midnight, hours after the room had gone completely quiet.
The morning came too early and the day's classes did not look promising. A double Potions followed by Transfiguration with the Gryffindors was what Lyra had to look forward to. She had taken a spot next to Pansy at the Slytherin table during breakfast Pansy turned up her nose and turned her back to Lyra.
Sighing, Lyra stabbed the toast she was supposed to be buttering. It slowly became bread crumbs over the course of the passing minutes. The teachers were beginning to leave their seats now, a token sign the bell was going to ring and the first class was going to begin. Pushing away her toast and taking a last swig of her orange juice, Lyra threw her bag over her shoulder and followed Professor Snape down to the dungeons.
"Sir, wait! Professor!" Lyra panted, trying to catch up with the billowing black robes. He turned slightly, inviting her to attempt to catch up, but continued on his brisk path to the classroom. It took five large steps for her to match his stride and she was panting heavily when she finally did.
"Listen, about the other day," Lyra panted. "My mum. The letter. How did you know? You must've met with her or seen her or had some contact with her-"
The two had reached the dungeon, but Professor Snape did not slow his pace. The door opened with a flick of his wand and he continued into the dark and damp room.
"Did she mention anything about when she would see me? Does she even plan to? What about my father? There was nothing in the letter about him!"
Professor Snape turned on his heel and made every word perfectly clear. "Did someone hit you with a Confundus charm, Miss Lestrange? I have no idea what letter you are talking about." He glared at her once more and went into the storeroom, the door slamming shut behind him. The bell had rung the instant the door slammed shut, and Professor Snape did not emerge from his hiding room until it had rung again to signal the start of class.
The room filled very slowly, people trickling in one or two at a time. The bell had nearly rung when Draco was the last to come in. He sat in his seat next to Lyra but ignored her. He faced Crabbe, who was to his right, and resumed their conversation.
"Draco, I know you're mad at me, but this is bloody insane!" Lyra hissed.
Draco pretended not to hear his cousin and continued with his conversation. Professor Snape had emerged from the storeroom and was now lecturing the class on the importance of their new assignment.
"A Calming Draught, if made too strong, can cause eternal sleep. It is essential that you follow the instructions," Professor Snape was saying. "Your instructions are on page 174. The ingredients are in the cupboard. You may begin." A wave of his wand and the storeroom was open. There was a mad rush to get the best ingredients. Draco had pushed and shoved his way through, being the first to accumulate his needed ingredients, which included glumbumble parts and powdered horn.
Lyra attempted to concentrate on the instructions before her. She was never particularly talented at Potions. It required much more focus and patience that Transfiguration or Dark Arts. In those classes you could practice until you got something right. Potions just came naturally to everyone but Lyra.
It was halfway through the double-class period and Lyra's Calming Draught was now a dark green instead of a misty blue shimmer. Professor Snape walked past her bubbling cauldron and stopped.
"Miss Lestrange, would you please explain to me how you have managed to turn your potion this color despite following the directions?" he sneered.
"I don't know sir," Lyra replied. It looked like a green glob of mud… and smelled like it, too.
Her potion vanished with a wave of Professor Snape's wand. Draco sniggered behind his cauldron.
"Detention, Miss Lestrange. See me after class," he said and walked away.
The remaining class period seemed to inch by. Lyra began to count the stones that made up the south wall (five hundred and twelve) and when that task had finished, she stared at the directions on the front board. The Calming Draught was an immensely difficult potion that required work up until the end of class. Lyra watched as Professor Snape took small beakers and took samples of everyone's potions. Lyra smiled to herself as Malfoy's potion had cracked the glass it was behind held in; Professor Snape glared at Malfoy.
The bell rang, and as everyone began to pack up their things and leave, Lyra slowly made her way to Professor Snape's desk. He waited until the class had cleared out to acknowledge her presence in front of him. The door closed suddenly, causing Lyra to jump. She smiled nervously.
"Sit," he instructed.
Lyra sat in the rickety wooden chair that now levitating a few inches above the ground. Lyra sat down and she felt the chair sink to the ground.
"I don't know what happened, sir. I just- my potion- I mean, I did everything right," Lyra began.
"I'm not going to waste my time talking about your abysmal potion making," he said, putting up his hand to stop her. "That is unimportant at the moment."
"If you've kept me here to talk about Lucius, I don't-"
"Do not speak unless instructed, Miss Lestrange." His tone was venomous.
Lyra fell silent, unable to look her potions master in the eye. She suddenly became aware she was now wearing shoes and looked intently at them.
"The only reason I delivered the letter was because it would look rather odd for an escaped Death Eater to come waltzing into the Leaky Cauldron. Have you mentioned the incident to anyone?" he asked.
"Just Narcissa.," Lyra said.
Professor Snape nodded. "I am going to instruct you to keep this incident to yourself. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir," Lyra replied.
"I want a foot and a half of parchment explaining each ingredient of Calming Draught and where you went wrong. It will be handed in tomorrow, understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Now get to class. Transfiguration next? Tell Professor McGonagall you were with me. I will contact her later for confirmation."
Without a word, Lyra walked out of the Potions classroom. The prospect of writing anything about Potions was daunting, let alone to have it done for tomorrow. Lyra didn't even have Potions tomorrow. There would be more Transfiguration work on top of that, no doubt. Following her meeting with Professor Snape, it took Lyra nearly ten minutes to get from the dungeons to the Transfiguration classroom on the fifth floor. Panting, Lyra opened the door to the classroom and found the class hard at work.
Professor McGonagall had evidently already given them their assignments for the remaining part of the class. Each person was quietly writing at their desks, sometimes pausing to look at their book, and then looking back again at their parchment. Lyra's footsteps seemed magnified by at least three times their sound as she made the way from the back of the classroom to the front. Professor McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, grading papers, when Lyra approached her.
"I was with Professor Snape. He says he will contact you later to confirm," Lyra said.
"Very well, Miss Lestrange. Your classmates are working on an essay on self transfiguration. The assignment is on the board. It is due next Thursday," Professor McGonagall said, returning to her previous work.
As Lyra sat in her seat next to a Patil twin (she always got them mixed up despite their difference in Houses), she glanced up at the board. She squinted to see the tiny writing: Please explain, in three feet of parchment or less, the essential theory in human transfiguration. Include the benefits and dangers of human transfiguration, including the spells and remedies for such. Animagus information will be accepted but will not result in full points.
It wasn't a particularly difficult essay, but it would require several hours in the library to do the research. Assuming a comfortable position in her chair, Lyra opened her book to chapter 7, Human Transfiguration, and began to read. If anything, she might be able to scratch down a rough introduction.
The words seemed to blur together on the page, becoming tiny blotches of ink on Lyra's desk that made no sense at all. She tried to focus intently on the page, reading and re-reading the same opening passage on page one hundred and seven. Human transfiguration is often a dangerous and daunting task to undertake. It requires at least one year of solid practice to safely transfigure a human being…
Despite having nearly the entire class period to work on her essay, the bell rang and Lyra had nothing written. Groaning, she shoved various pieces of parchment into her bag, put the cap on her ink bottle, grabbed her quills, and threw them on top of the parchment.
"Miss Lestrange, a word if you please," Professor McGonagall's voice rang through the noise of chatty students.
The second time today, Lyra thought. She gritted her teeth and made her way to McGonagall's desk.
"I'm glad to see you're not injured, Professor," Lyra said, attempting to break the awkward silence.
"Behavior like that will get you expelled from Hogwarts. Never in my years of teaching have I seen such a blatant display of disrespect! In the name of Hogwarts! You were in public!" Professor McGonagall's voice shook the very room they were in.
"Well, where did it get me, Professor? Lucius kicked me out of the Malfoy Manor. For attempting to save you," Lyra spat.
Professor McGonagall sat up straight in her chair. "I am perfectly capable-"
Lyra laughed. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? Well see, Professor, they eat people like you for breakfast."
Professor McGonagall's lips were as thin as Lyra had ever seen them. Anger was boiling in her eyes.
"I did not duel you because I knew I would not win. I will not disagree with the power you possess… You are too talented to be wasted in the name of Cornelius Fudge." Lyra's voice rang on the last two words, Cornelius Fudge.
"What side are you on, Lyra?" Professor McGonagall's fingernails tapped the wood underneath her hands. Lyra had been braced for this question since she arrived at Hogwarts, yet no one had asked her. She was ready to answer.
"I side with my family," Lyra responded.
"Which is as good as siding with the Death Eaters! I taught both your parents and your extended family. I know what they all turned out to be!" Professor McGonagall replied.
"What, do you think I'm going to throw down and curse every Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw within sight one morning during breakfast?" Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow. She was half-joking, but the slight look of horror on McGonagall's face made Lyra realize that's exactly what McGonagall was thinking.
"I urge you to watch your behavior, Miss Lestrange," Professor McGonagall warned.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Lyra mumbled.
"I will be alerting Professor Snape-"
"You do that."
"And Professor Dumbledore as well."
"Go right ahead."
Professor McGonagall and Lyra stared at each other for a long moment. Lyra looked as if she were about to say something so nasty her grandchildren would subsequently be in detention, but she thought better of it.
"Is that all, Professor?" Lyra asked. A nod of McGonagall's head was all Lyra needed to escape the Transfiguration classroom.
Lyra couldn't help but notice the grand irony in her situation: she had helped Lucius, and thus Voldemort, dispose of Fudge, allowing Voldemort to take over the Ministry of Magic. In return, she had been kicked out of the Malfoy Mansion faster than a mudblood. And now, Professor McGonagall, the woman she had attempted to "save" during Voldemort's raid, was putting a tail on her every move.
Professor McGonagall was right, as much as Lyra hated to admit it. She must pick a side. Family was a foreign concept, made up for people like the Weasleys who crammed too many people into too small of a space. Lyra was going to pick a side, and she was sure it would bring her more trouble than it was worth.