October 2008
Grimmauld Place, Wizarding London, England
Sunday

Lyra waited anxiously, bottle of brandy in one hand, suitcase in the other, outside the spelled door of 12 Grimmauld Place, waiting for Harry to greet her. She had all but apparated out of her room at the Leaky Cauldron after her rude awakening but managed to resist the urge to tear over to him first thing that morning and demand he take Lucius Malfoy, Draco and the whole damn family into custody at once.

She didn't know the ins and outs of British wizarding law but she imagined they'd have some kind of stuffier, more tea and crumpet-y version of American due process that would have to be adhered to. The thought had her huffing in annoyance. Not that she took issue with procedural inquiry as a matter of course, she just felt rather itchy knowing what she knew about Lucius and also the little issue of her being stalked by his son, who apparently spent last night in her room, sketching her as she slept. She felt, with the confirmation of her previous fears, that time was running out. The sentiment made her thoughts run chaotic to the point of incoherence.

Before she could go any deeper down the rabbit hole, the door in front of her swung open revealing the Chosen One himself, in all of his dad-sweatered glory. Hmmm...argyle. What year is it, Potter? She thought to herself as they greeted each other. After accepting her gift, Harry ushered her into a narrow hallway, covered in textured navy wallpaper with lush gray carpet. Rather than lead her down the passage, Harry remained on the landing.

"We have an animated ward," Harry explained, pausing. When Lyra raised her eyebrows in confusion he added, "Just give it a second. Stupid thing. We've had loads of spellbreakers, even some aurors try to remove it, but it's too old. Seems nobody can manage it. "

As he finished speaking, Lyra saw what looked like a tornado of sand form suddenly at the end of the corridor. It started moving rapidly towards them. The shape of a face materialized within the torrent of sand hurtling in their direction. The sand creature opened its mouth to bellow when it suddenly paused, appeared to regard Lyra before speaking in a deep, echoing baritone,

"Ms. Black you are most welcome to the noble and ancient and home of your ancestors," the ward moved closer to Lyra and Harry and made a sniffing motion in her direction before stating "I see...though your blood is powerful, sadly it is not ours. In our great kindness we will offer you protection within these walls but no access to the family grimoires or archives, nor access to the restorative magic of the house itself." The expressionless ward lingered before them a moment longer before disintegrating into nothing.

"What the hell was that?!" Harry inquired, voice raised.

"What do you mean? Isn't that kind of what it does?" She asked

"No! It usually just yells, blows my hat off my head and disappears. "That's unbelievable!"

"So it doesn't...sniff you?"

"Never."

"Huh."

"Oh wait. I get it. It's you! Oh, that's actually quite brilliant!" Harry said ushering them down the narrow passage to the comparatively spacious kitchen at the end, warmly done up in orange bricks and copper.

"What's me?" She asked.

"You're a Black! This house used to belong to the Black family."

"Really?" She said looking around. "That's odd. This house actually kind of reminds me of my parent's house in Brooklyn."

"When did your dad's family leave England?"

"Some time in the late 1800's. My dad's only third generation American. My great-great grandfather Phineas left England after falling out with his family over no-ma...er...Muggle Rights. My uncle Orion is the family historian. He still has some letters to Phineas from his brother, Sirius. Sirius was heartbroken that his brother had left, but was unable to say so publicly for fear of punishment from the family. He missed him something fierce. It's sad, really." Lyra explained.

Harry regarded her knowingly before replying.

"My godfather Sirius left me this house. He was a good man." He said sadly. "He also fell out with the family over their ideas on blood purity...and their just being hoity, insufferable prats in general. If he hadn't willed me this house it would've gone to the only remaining Black heir on this side of the family." Harry hesitated and Lyra inferred his meaning with a roll of her eyes.

"Let me guess. Draco. Half Black, half Malfoy, all frog. As if he needed another house. I'm glad it's yours, Potter." She said with a smile. "To be honest, I'd love to rummage around for more family history, but you heard the Sandman. As a faux Black, I'm out." She shrugged.

Harry glanced down at her suitcase and raised an eyebrow. "You moving in there, Black?"

"Right. About that," Lyra started.

At that moment, a young child bounded into the room carrying on about chocolate frogs followed by a heavily pregnant, red-headed woman who was yelling at him whilst carrying a babbling toddler. The collective noise was incredible.

"Muuuuuuum you said! YOU SAID!" The oldest child lamented.

"Stop running! I said after dinner. Now if you can't behave yourself, you'll get crust o' bread, two tight slaps and straight to bed." The woman said

Harry cleared his throat. Lyra grinned broadly.

"Ginny, Ms. Black is here." Harry said.

The red-headed woman looked over Lyra briefly, and whatever assessment she made seemed to be satisfactory enough to warrant the sharing in child-care duties.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Black. Now, I've got to use the loo, Harry fetch James, Ms. Black, would you mind holding Albus here?" She asked, already pushing the child into Lyra's chest, causing her to drop her suitcase with a dull thud.

"Hey, why not. Please call me Lyra. Nice to meet you too." She replied.

The elder boy, James apparently, started running circles around the large kitchen protesting further about chocolate frogs. The toddler in her arms looked up at her. Dark brown hair, almost black. Big green eyes. All Potter. Cute, she thought.

"Ba-ba-ba!" He announced to her, unceremoniously.

"Oh, you don't say!" She said, bouncing him gently. Pacing with him around the room with him while Harry rounded up the older child.

They settled in for dinner, passing dishes and sharing brandy. They talked like old friends. Bickering about the weather between New York and London, discussing annoying coworkers and the best way to spell a perfect poached egg. Lyra got thoroughly trounced by her married companions when she dismissed Quidditch as both boring to watch and a good way to break an arm.

Despite their disagreements about Quidditch, she found that she liked Ginny Potter. She reminded her of her mom. Kind and honest, with a good laugh and a penchant for force feeding her guests. She was beautiful and had that infinite ability to multi-task that seemed natural to all good mothers.

For his excellent behavior at dinner, James's long suffering was ended by the presentation of the highly anticipated chocolate frog. Tragedy struck again soon after when the Famous Wizards trading card he got with said frog was none other than Harry Potter, of which he already had dozens. Lyra discovered this firsthand when he showed her every card in his possession followed by every toy he owned, seeking her approval. They were excellent toys. The best she'd seen, she assured him.

Ginny and Harry left Lyra in a warm, fire lit sitting room while they put the children to bed. Lyra sat, sipping steaming tea and mulling over the day. For the terrible way it started, it had ended up much better than she'd hoped. Almost made her forget she was being stalked by a possibly insane, possibly compelled ex-lover. Almost...but not really.

Harry joined her after several minutes, dropping down exhausted on to the chair across from her.

"Long day?" She inquired.

"Honestly, I don't know what makes me more tired. A boring day at work, a night raid or a regular Sunday with my kids." He huffed.

"They're sweet."

"You want any?"

"Are you trying to sell me one of your children?"

"Now that's an idea."

"Fine. Albus. He's cute and he doesn't say much."

"For now." He replied.

"For now." She smiled.

"So...do you always walk around with a suitcase, Mary Poppins?" He asked.

"Mary Poppins?"

"Nevermind. Old muggle story."

"Ah. I have to show you something." She began, reaching out and offering him the drawing she'd received that morning.

Harry looked it over, anger visible on his face. "How...how did he get into your room? Tell me that you warded it and spelled it properly." He exclaimed with an implied admonition.

"Of course I did! Don't be ridiculous. I think he used the maid somehow, but I'm not sure."

"So it is him."

"It's him." She replied sadly.

"So he's lost his mind then."

"I...I don't think so. Harry, I think he's being compelled."

"What?!"

She told him what she'd learned from Lucius's mind in the market the day prior. His willingness to lie to his wife. The need for moss for something called a 'blind.' His impatience at how long his plan was taking. His presumption about Astoria, that she should have been involved but is not. She also divulged that the Malfoy's perceived that their former daughter in law was trying to keep them from their grandson.

"You think he's being compelled to what...kill you? He was in a room with you, seemingly for hours last night. If he wanted to kill you…"

"Possibly, but I think he's being compelled to hunt me first. Torture and destroy were the words I picked out of his father's mind."

"Blimey. But why you?"

"I don't know."

"It can't be random. You two were really just friends?"

"No...not just" She said, looking away from him.

"Ah." He replied clearing his throat. "Well, it can't be Imperious. The ministry, we'd know."

"I figured as much." She said, grateful for his not dwelling on her admission."

"A curse? Potion? Poison?" He questioned.

"No idea. But I think I found a solution to our problem from Friday. How do you spy on a pureblood aristocrat…"

"Go on." He said.

"You use the thing they'd least expect. Something they can't fathom. Something nomaj."

"Like Mary Poppins." Harry said

"Uh...why not. Like Mary frigging Poppins." She laughed.

"Can't wait." He replied.

"Can I stay here?" She said hesitantly. "I was going to find another room somewhere, but I...I feel safe here. With you and Ginny...and the Black family Sandman." She suddenly felt stupid. Like a child. Insipid.

"Like we would let you out that door, are you barking mad!?" Ginny exclaimed from the doorway. She advanced on her, grabbing her suitcase from the floor, next to where she sat, complaining at her husband the entire time.

"Unbelievable, you. This poor thing, scared half to death and you're chatting her up about Mary bloody Moppins." She started dragging Lyra's suitcase towards one of the spare rooms, still admonishing Harry. "Trying to sell the children too, Potter? I've half a mind to sell you. I could get a second house, an army of nannies, oh that would be nice…" She was out of the room by them, muttering to herself down the hallway.

Lyra turned, wide-eyed, back to her friend. "She is fantastic!" she exclaimed.

"I know." He replied warmly, his chin in hand.

Lyra typically abhorred people knowing more about her than she deemed essential, but found herself relieved to have someone else know. Know that she was vulnerable. That she was afraid. It made it seem less terrible to her somehow.