***This story contains elements from Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and writings from Pottermore. I own nothing. The wizarding world belongs to JK Rowling in all of her glory***

October 2008
Wizarding London, England
Ministry of Magic of Great Britain
Friday

Lyra stepped tentatively out of the red telephone booth that lowered her into the lobby of the British Ministry of Magic. The entrance funneled into a great atrium made of black marble, steel and glass. It reminded her of a more opulent version of the grand hall at MCUSA in New York. She technically worked there, but always used back entrances and side routes to gain entry to the Aurors office which was hidden within the building. The department itself was charmed and would change locations periodically to avoid predictability in the event of an attack. She wondered if that would be the case here in England.

The British Ministry of Magic was notoriously tight-lipped and it was only by chance that she had discovered that the Boy Wonder had become an Auror. Apparently Patrick had met him at a conference in New Delhi where Britain had made a showing for Commonwealth reasons. Regardless, they had exchanged contact information and Lyra was able to reach out to him directly. She expected, given he was a celebrity, that he would simply blow her off. That was far from the case, to her surprise. He had agreed to see her on her request, as soon as she was able, no questions asked. It made her nervous.

She stepped up to an information booth housing a small goblin. She was always struck by how much British goblins resembled American Pukwudgies that worked at Ilvermorny, her school. She always had a soft spot for them.

"Hi. My name is Lyra Black. I'm here to see Harry Potter in the Auror department. He's expecting me."

"Well, Lyra Black. You'll wait here like everybody else." The goblin replied in a grumpy, decidedly bureaucratic tone.

"Uh. What?" She asked, confused. The Puk...er...goblin suddenly disappeared behind his tall stand. Lyra assumed he had ducked off for a smoke or something. He reappeared moments later in a huff, nearly startling the briefcase out of Lyra's hands.

"Auror Potter is expecting you." He stated plainly.

"I know. I said that before."

"Now I'm saying it."

"Great."

"Take the elevator west to level RQ-6, then the stairs 3 flights down to AUR-8. Have a good day."

"Wha...thanks."

Lyra arrived, finally, after getting lost several times, at AUR-8 and walked into a spacious stone receiving area that reminded her very much of the common rooms at Hogwarts. She mulled around taking in the space until she felt a light hand on her shoulder. She turned and came face to face with the chosen one himself.

Most American witches and wizards knew a bit about Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The young man who defeated Voldemort in the Second Wizarding War in Brittain.

"Ms. Black?"

"Auror Black." She clipped

"I see. I'm -"

"Auror Potter, yes I know." She interrupted nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Auror." Lyra said, flexing her hands around her briefcase.

"And you, Auror." He replied, evenly.

She supposed that, while they were meeting formally for the first time, she had possibly passed him in a corridor at Hogwarts at some point during her cumulative time there. She took a moment to look him over, and she assumed he was doing the same. Aurors, you know...constant vigilance and whatnot. It was a habit. He was 5'10", late 20's, dark hair, green eyes, wedding band, dressed like a dorky dad (like her dad, actually) complete with terrible khakis. She paused in her scrutiny to wonder what he was seeing when he looked at her. 5'6", long black hair, hazel eyes, high heels, red lipstick, resting bitch face...did Brits even know about RBF? They should, she mused, it's quite British actually...He snapped her back to reality suddenly -

"Let's talk in my office, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, lead the way." She said.

Once settled in a chair in Auror Potter's office with a cup of coffee she asked him the question she had been holding in since she walked in the Ministry of Magic that morning.

"Why did you agree to see me? A random American witch you've never heard of looking for ear time with Harry Potter? That sounds like some fangirl bullshit to me, and I'm the one doing it."

"Is it some fangirl bullshit, as you say?" He shot back.

"No." She chuckled.

"Why did you want to see me Auror Black?"

"I have a problem. I was told you would help me. That simple."

"Ok, let's see what I can do then. Call me Harry"

She narrowed her eyes. "Ok, Harry."

"Talk. Tell me what's happening."

Talk she did. She took him through the linear sequence, like any good Auror would do. This is when it started. Here are the letters. Their frequency. Typewritten. Lack of magic. When she went to her supervisor. The search in her apartment. She had to pause here because Harry got hung up on MCUSA aurors collaborating with no-maj (or muggle) investigative agents. She thought it was cute. She carried on, ending with the scroll she received at her parent's house. She produced the scroll for Harry and laid it on his desk. He studied it carefully before speaking.

"Auror Black, I haven't been completely honest with you."

"I know." She stated plainly.

He sighed heavily. "You asked me before why I agreed to see you and I didn't give you an answer."

"No, you reversed the question and used the false familiarity of being on a first name basis to distract me. Yeah, I noticed."

"Right." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "I need to show you something."

Harry then produced a small scroll that appeared very similar to the one already on the table. He laid it flat for Lyra to read. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw her father's spiky, ornate handwriting before her once again in so many weeks.

Mr. Potter,
My daughter Lyra is in danger. She will come to you. You will help her.
Regards,
Severus Snape

Composing herself, Lyra looked up at Harry, who was regarding her sadly.

"You're his daughter."

"Yes," She replied.

"Bloody hell."

"Yep."

"So...someone is harassing you. Threatening to what? Expose you as the daughter of a sodding war hero?" he inquired.

"Well to be honest, I'm not sure...but it would appear so, at least in part. It makes little sense to me."

"Why don't you just expose it yourself? Severus Snape was an incredible man. He saved countless lives. I named my son after him."

"Awww. That's really nice." She remarked sincerely.

"Answer the question, Auror Black." He clipped.

"I had considered just coming out with it, until I got the scroll from Severus. I mean...I'm not the only one in danger here, Harry. I'm at a loss."

"That's right. Frog. Who's Frog?"

Lyra hesitated. Who was frog? That's a loaded question, she thought. A friend. An...Ex...kind of? Someone she hadn't spoken to in about a decade. Her occlemency partner. Someone she had loved with the kind of wracking intensity that only a 16 year old girl can muster. She could still feel the deep scars he'd left on her heart, long hardened by time but still sore with provocation. Provocation like knowing he was in danger. Because of some maniac? Because of her? She balked. He knows about Severus. He knows and apparently so does this stalker. Why would they hurt him? Lord, if he's already told them, what's left to keep him alive? What is the end game here? Her head was spinning by the time Harry snatched her like a mother Wampus from her doomsday analysis.

"You still with me?"

"Yeah. I, god...he's my friend, a friend from Hogwarts, Frog is a nickname. When I was young, I would go to the castle twice during term on my breaks from Ilvermorny in the states and once during the summer to study. Occlemency/legilimency mostly, under Severus. I was no match for him as a partner, so he brought in another student he was instructing and we would practice together. He knows, Harry. He knows who my father is. If this lunatic sending me letters already knows too, which his letters would seem to suggest that he does, why would Draco be in danger? What does any of this matter, anyway? Death Eaters are pretty much done and most other people remember Severus Snape as a kind of dark hero. So why would that information coming out be dangerous? I don't get it."

"Wait a minute. You said Draco? As in Malfoy? Draco Malfoy is your Frog?"

"You know him. I mean, it makes sense that you would." She replied.

"Yes I bloody well do."

"Ah. I see."

"You have no idea." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, running his hands through his dark hair in exasperation. "Snape knew I hated Malfoy. Probably why he coded him in your message and didn't even mention him in mine."

Maybe," she mused dismissively. "Look, I'm not an idiot. I don't want to do anything that could aggravate this psycho, even more so if Draco's involved. I respect that you don't like him. I was his friend for years and most of the time I didn't even like him, but I'll not have him hurt for this. I'm afraid that if I call this guy's bluff and out myself, he'll hurt Draco. Plus, I don't even know what he wants."

Harry nodded then speared Lyra with a pensive glance. "Are the two of you still close?"

"No, not at all. I haven't talked to him in like 10 years." She replied honestly.

"Hmmm, interesting."

"Tell me about it." She quipped.

She and Harry spoke awhile longer about her situation, making little headway, before she retired to her comfortable room at the Leaky Cauldron, a short way from the Ministry. It reminded her so much of Seven Bells that it made her stomach clench with homesickness. She sprawled on the large bed, staring absently at the ceiling, thinking about the day. Harry had agreed to have a member of his staff make inquiries to see if anything was amiss with Draco or his family.

Lyra sighed, letting her thoughts turn to her old...friend. She recalled reading somewhere that he had married and had a son. Thinking of Draco as someone with a wife and family made Lyra feel even more guilty that he could be in danger because some psycho was obsessed with her or her father. Speaking of, she wondered if he had worked anything out with his own father. Awful man. Hateful. Lyra had only met him once, but it had been enough. He was vile and the amount of pressure he put upon his son was inhuman.

She knew that Draco and his family had been on the wrong side of history with respect to the second wizarding war. His father was a known Death Eater and a desperate social climber, from what Draco had told her. She had never considered Draco a blood purist like his father. She saw him more as someone acutely self conscious who desperately wanted to live up to the expectations placed upon him. She wasn't blind, plus she was an incredible legillimens and spent a fair amount of time poking around Draco's mind and memories as part of their studies with her father. She saw the false bravado, the bullying, the insults, the anger, but she also saw fear, confusion, thoughtfulness and fierce loyalty all bubbling in tumultuous complexity inside his head. Interesting kid, she yawned, reluctantly letting sleep take her. She remembered only flashes of her dreams, but nothing that really stuck. Severus Snape's distinctive voice, bubbling potions, the smell of sandalwood, soft blonde hair, nervous kisses…


Lyra woke with a start shaking away the remnants of her dreams. She padded over to open the door to grab the morning paper and then proceeded to flop gracelessly back into her bed flipping open The Daily Prophet to the society pages, call it a guilty pleasure. All this old money, she thought. Rich people are weird and gross. She read through birth announcements, deaths, engagements and then continued on to weddings, which were her favorite.

Nott-Greengrass
Ms. Astoria Greengrass married Mr. Theodore Nott at a lovely ceremony in Devonshire on the 3rd. The bride was resplendent in emerald haute-couture and the groom was well vested in classic Italian robes, The bridal party consisted of Matron of Honor Daphne Greengrass-Iver and bridesmaids Gemma McNair, Sirena Sutton, Freya Bloodgood and Isolde Carlesen, Best man Blaise Zabini and groomsmen Damon Ivashkov, Lucas Iver, Salazar Harmon and Abel Bennett. Featuring as junior attendants were the grooms niece Illaria Nott and the bride's son, Scorpius Malfoy.

Lyra glanced down at the press photograph. She saw a beautiful high society wedding party with a small blonde boy in the front, maybe 3 or 4 years old, dressed to the nines, shyly clinging to his mothers extravagant and gorgeous wedding dress.

Huh. I'll be damned. He got divorced? I can't believe that woman let him name the kid Scorpius, I always thought he was joking about that. You know what? Nevermind. That's enough news for today. As she flipped the paper closed quickly, a no-maj white envelope came tumbling out of the pages. She picked it up slowly, a hard pit of fear and anger welling up in her stomach. It was Friday. One of the days the letters came. She looked at the typed envelope addressed to her and noted the lack of a post-mark. This was number 6. She opened the letter and read, face passive but mind racing.

My beloved Lyra,
Welcome home, sweetheart. How I've missed you.
Thank you for bringing your beautiful self and your dark secrets all this way.
I remain, your most devoted servant.

Ugh. This is the grossest yet. Your devoted servant. She rubbed the side of her face roughly, lost in thought. She was to meet Harry this afternoon and they could go over this latest foray into bad stalker poetry together. She had to admit, it was unsurprising the behavior didn't stop once she arrived in Britain. She had all but painted the walls of her little efficiency with protective wards when she got in yesterday, making exception only for the ancient housekeeper who kept her in fresh towels.

She thought that physical proximity with her stalker seemed of lesser consequence to her than the emotional proximity he conveyed in his letters. Like she was precious to him. Precious for what purpose? Inevitable destruction and exploitation? It made her feel so drained, so exposed...which is almost certainly what he wants, she thought. All the more reason to get the hell out of this room and do something normal.

She left and wandered the shops on Diagon Alley, feeling familiar but not comfortable with her surroundings. The last time she walked here, she was with Draco, mulling around the shops and all but begging him to take her dancing in Muggle London for her 16th birthday. She smiled to herself recalling how she had won that fight and spent the evening in a crowded club in Chelsea wrapped in his arms, pressing her face into his neck. She shook the image from her head and concentrated instead on reviewing the new variations on the Incarcerus charm she and an Auror colleague had been working on to improve and standardize the methodology for restraining suspects during an arrest. She, in particular, had been working on an anti-occlemency application to transfigured restraints that would prevent a suspect from shielding their mind from the clumsy, often poorly tuned leglimency of some of the junior arresting Aurors. She wasn't being mean with the criticism. It was just true. Occlumency/Legilimency were her specialties. She had been been educated on them consistently since she was 10. Her father had been a master of both. It was in her blood, and she was unapologetically good at it.


She met Harry later in his office with a coffee in each hand. He accepted his gratefully at the door and thunked warily down behind his desk after they greeted each other.

"You look...good?" She opened

"For the daughter of a spy, I'd have thought you'd be a better liar."

"I'm an American. Insincere platitudes are akin to breathing for us, I'm afraid. Trouble sleeping?"

"Eh, no more than normal." He dismissed.

"You've been thinking about Severus." It wasn't a question.

Harry looked at her thougfully. "I just can't help but wonder how he's doing this...being that he's…"

"Dead, Harry. He's dead. You were there when it happened, if what I've read is true." Lyra stated, wincing internally at her own harshness.

"Auror Black, I…" Harry started, but Lyra cut him off again.

"No, Harry. Let's not. My point is that he's not doing anything in real time. These scrolls, they've got to be some kind of automatic contingency, like a ward, triggered in the presence of danger. What it says to me, more than anything else is that he trusted you. Trusted you with me, in the event of a crisis, which is something he didn't take lightly when he was alive."

Harry swallowed hard. Lyra smiled.

"Look," she said softly. "When this is done and we get this nutcase locked up, you and me will talk as much or as little about it as you want. I want to know about your relationship. I know he was very important to you, but it's not the time. What needs to be established right now is that he trusted you and I trusted him so...you know..." Feeling too awkward to continue she took to looking uncomfortably around the room.

"I think I do, Auror Black." He answered with a small smile.

"Call me Lyra."

"Ok, Lyra."

They descended into the mother of all awkward pauses, for what seemed like an eon, sipping their coffees, before Lyra spoke -

"So, any word from your staffers about the Malfoys?"

"Not yet. I don't know if that's because they have something to hide or they just want to make us plebeians wriggle before being graced with a response." Lyra rolled her eyes, as Harry continued. "I had one of the blokes make a file for you though. Catch you up, maybe fill in some holes about the family since the war."

Harry grabbed a file from his desk and passed it across to her. Lyra's mouth twitched as she reached for it, flipping to a report sheet. Harry observed her silently as she poured over the document intently. He caught some of her quiet mutterings as she read that revealed to Harry which part of the report she had reached. Things like 'frigging fiendfyre' and 'a years house arrest...makes me feel bad for the house.'

So, it was bad. I mean...no, I mean nothing...it was just bad. Damn. Turns out her...friend had been a nearly unwavering bastard right up to a final defection during the battle of Hogwarts when he and his parents fled prior to the last siege. She read abridged sections of court documents detailing how Draco had let Death Eaters into the school culminating in the Death of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at the time. A man she didn't remember but who had held her in his arms and delivered her to her own parents. Yes, she was aware that her birth father actually killed him in the end, but she also knew that Dumbledore had been dying and they had agreed that Severus should do it to make a show of loyalty to the Death Eaters providing him deeper cover as a spy.

What Lyra hadn't known was that he had also done it to spare Draco from having to do it himself at Voldemort's command. She also learned that Harry himself had testified before the Wizangamot both for and against Draco and his mother, Narcissa. Apparently, Draco had taken a momentary break from being a weapons grade idiot long enough to conceal Harry's identity from the Death Eaters when Harry was captured during the war. His mother, likewise had lied straight to Voldemort's slitted nose holes by saying Harry had died when he was still very much alive.

Draco's terrible father had been sentenced to 4 years in prison, but Draco and Narcissa had received only a year of house arrest (at their ginormous mansion) and probation. Draco had quietly married a witch named Astoria Greengrass and they had a son, Scorpius who was 3. They had divorced after 5 years. Thankfully, the only headlines Draco had made in the years following his notoriety had been for being drunk in public or thrown out of a club. Oh so that's all, she thought to herself.

"All caught up, then?" Harry said, breaking her from her reverie.

"You a legilimens or something?" She inquired.

"No, I'm rubbish actually." He replied.

"Hm."

"But, out of curiosity, what are you thinking?" He asked.

Lyra raised a skeptical eyebrow before sighing heavily and scratching her forehead. "Honestly? I'm thinking that life sure is rough for the rich and idle. Light prison sentences. Huge mansions. Drinking away your failures with 100 year old scotch..."

"That's an odd observation to make about someone you considered a friend." He retorted.

She huffed. "Look, our friendship...Draco's and mine was predicated on truth. We've spent countless hours inside each other's minds. When he disappointed me, made me angry, frightened me, I tended to tell him the truth. I didn't really have a choice. If I didn't, he'd see anyway. I imagine that probably sounds odd, considering the kind of person he is...was."

"You mean like a Slytherin person," Harry offered.

"Hey. My father was a Slytherin person."

"Yes he was," Harry said fondly.

"I cared about Draco a great deal. I was critical of him as well. Those 2 things are not mutually exclusive, you know? I wanted him to be…"

"Better?" Harry questioned

"Not really. Just happy." She shrugged.

A knock sounded at the door and a disheveled looking young wizard entered at Harry's command. "Colin! What have you got for me? Is this about the Malfoy thing?"

The young man eyed Lyra suspiciously before nodding.

"It's fine," Harry said. "She can hear it."

Colin nodded. "Right, well I've heard back from Lucius Malfoy who basically told us that everything is fine and pretty much to sod off in a stuffy oldblood sort of way. But we checked in with the ex-wife as well who said that Malfoy'd missed his last 3 exchanges for their son and she's been unable to reach him for weeks. It checks out, she's got a petition pending for an investigation in the family courts. Told us he's a right bloody mess, but it's abnormal for him to miss time with the boy."

"Right. Anything else, Colin?" Harry inquired.

"That's all we have now, sir." He replied.

"Thanks Colin."

Colin stepped out leaving Lyra and Harry staring at each other pointedly. Lyra broke the silence-

"You cannot give any credence whatsoever to anything Lucius Malfoy says. That he's denied that anything is wrong is as damning as what came from the ex-wife."

"You don't need to tell me not to trust that man. He's horrible." Harry rebuked.

"Good. We agree. We need to treat Draco as missing." Lyra stated flatly...maybe a little too flatly.

"What?! That is not what I said!" Harry exclaimed.

"Are you kidding me right now?!" She broke, shooting Harry an incredulous look.

"I think we need more information. Malfoy is not exactly a picture of stability these days. How do we know that he's not on holiday somewhere drowning in drink?"

"BECAUSE HES NOT, HARRY!" She erupted. "I know him. Like from inside of his own frigging brain know him. He would never run out on his kid. Ever. If he's missing from that, he is missing, period. We need to talk to his Ex. And his mother. I want to talk to his mother." She began to ramble.

"Alright, alright. We'll get on it, but have you considered that you're playing into this guys hands? Or..." Harry hesitated and Lyra felt the thought broadcasting out of his mind.

"It's not him, Harry."

Harry's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Stay out of my head."

"Stop thinking so loudly then." She said coldly.

He shot her an icy glance before moving on. "Ok, from what you've told me, the only people who knew Snape is your father were Snape, Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore, Malfoy and yourself. Three of those people are dead and unless you're stalking yourself it seems logical that Malfoy could be doing this to you."

Lyra pinned him with an eyeroll that could've come Snape himself.

"Ok, I'll bite but if Draco was behind this, why would he be in danger too?"

"I don't know. My money's on he's off his bloody rocker and is a danger to himself." Lyra scoffed. "Or maybe he's being coerced to do it," Harry added as a conciliatory measure more than anything.

"It's an idea." She conceded. "I need a face to face with these people. The mom, the ex, the old man too. I can read them..."

"Not a chance! It's too dangerous, plus what if they're involved? You could be walking dead into a trap!" Harry fired.

Lyra seethed. She wanted to launch into the girl-power 'I can take care of myself' speech. That self-righteous tirade that was essentially the smart-girl version of 'hold my beer and watch this.' She knew Harry was right. Unlike her new friend across the table (if his reputation was to be believed) she did have some self-preservation instincts.

"Ok. You're right there." She conceded.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief

"Well you are, don't get all smug..." she trailed off.

"I am not smug! I was just…er..."

"Expecting a fight?" She offered.

"Something like that."

"Ah."

"So, we need an alternative." Harry replied. "Because your father would rise from the dead and kill me himself if I let you do something like that."

"I believe he would", she laughed, glad the tension between them had passed. "So, if I was a disgraced aristocrat living in a huge manor, likely protected by centuries of security spells and buttload of dark magic, what would be the best way to eavesdrop on me?"

"I honestly have no idea," he said.

"Neither do I, she replied," defeated.


MCUSA - Magical Congress of the USA
Ilvermorny - The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Pukwudgie - An American creature that resembles a goblin. Many of them work at Ilvermorny in support roles. Pukwudgie is also one of the 4 houses at Ilvermorny.
Wampus - A magical panther like creature native to North America.
No-Maj - Non-magical person, muggle.