Hikari-Chan- Thank you. I try to keep this one at least different enough where it's not like the same drone others use sometimes! But thank you again, your review was wonderful and I will feel special, haha. As someone else who doesn't really review I know what its like.

Guess- Thank you as well, I do so love guesses! But Veela? Nice try, but no. I guess you'll be stickin around for chapter 14 when I finally tell right? Haha

Thank you to those who review. They make me happy, neh?

So sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed. It's a break and I'm anxious to finally let you know what Lyra is! Chapteer 14/15 are the ones to read! Mwahaha!

Disclaimer: I'll eventually get over not owning the twins of or the Harry Potter Universe. Until they, I'll write and write and write...

To be a Gryffindor

Despite the wind rushing past her ears, she could think clearly or as clearly as she could with the tangled ball of twine she called her thought process at the moment. The old coot had given her a near-death heart attack with the news he'd conveyed so nonchalantly. But he could use that tone, he already knew what she- sorry, they- were. Though according to the old goat she was more of whatever they were. Which made almost no sense; her mother had been a human witch whatever Lyra was she should have been less than half. The most she could figure was that it being the concentration of magic females of her line was able to hold. Being the first female heir in a long time, it was only natural then that she would be powerful half of whatever she was.

But the mechanics were already giving her a headache, so instead of investigating in the extensive private library (one she was sure had enough rare books even Hermione Granger would kill for) she'd grabbed her broom launching into the air without a second thought; testing out a few spins she'd noticed Harry doing at practice that day.

It was the easier decision just to push that thought to the back of her mind. Let Wicky keep resetting the stupid charms. Daniel had pointed out that she wasn't old enough to feel whatever 'heat' he meant so obviously she had a few years before that happen; thankfully. Even if she did burn on the inside to know what her other half was. Lyra didn't exactly feel as if something was missing within her, or sleeping. But every time she thought of that illusive other half, something stirred within her and oddly enough felt the echoes of that dark chuckle that only seemed to visit her at 3 a.m. So if it had to do with that annoying ass voice, curiosity could tickle her pink, purple and green, kill her cat and Lyra was damn sure she wouldn't be trying to find out anything especially if he was involved.

"Lyra-Love!" Her grandfather called out to her, and despite the rushing adrenaline in her head she heard him perfectly clear. Him and the slow Parisian drawl he was using, echoing the disdainful disinterest she'd heard on her few trips to France. But from the way his eyes shifted slyly, Lyra knew he was anything but uninterested in the things going on around him.

Really, Lyra wondered if one day he would forget his own voice with all the times he changed his accent. "Yes?" She called, shifting her weight slightly to lean toward the end of the broom, lowering herself carefully down to the ground just high enough for her to jump off safely. He sprung forward with an energy most would envy at his age as he caught her up in his large arms with a laugh, pressing a kiss to her wind-blown hair. "Mira's holding down the forts, fancy a trip to the ministry with me, ma chère ( my dear)? I need to have a word or nine with good ol' Cornelius. He doesn't owl, doesn't floo. Not the makings of a good friend eh, love?"

Lyra snorted, ladies and gentlemen her grandfather the story-teller. He must get at least a hundred owls a day from the Ministry alone. So that meant he was going to go and verbally manhandle the Minister of Magic for the DADA Professor, after he'd hoodwinked her during breakfast for the story. She huffed just thinking about it, he'd caught her when she was still half asleep.

"I'll go..." Watching the verbal match that was going to take place might be just what she needs to lift her spirits. There was too much going on.

"Meraviglioso (Italian for wonderful)!"

Lyra eyed him wearily. "Really?" Daniel shrugged offering his arm. "It keeps you on your toes, love."

"More like giving me a headache." Lyra muttered causing Daniel to pause mid-stride glancing her down with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "Are you sassing your grandfather?" "That's the only way to talk to him." Lyra said cheekily as he laughed heartily leading her back inside to make use of the floo network.

The Ministry of Magic was not the quiet, business-like solemnity she expected. Well, it had been last time she was here. Instead the only word that came to mind when she looked around the place was most certainly…frazzled. Everyone seemed to look important, going about their business at a brisk pace. At least, on the surface it was like that. Lyra, however, noticed how everyone seemed to be watching one another. Not with distrust (though there was certainly some of that going on) but cautiously taking their cues from one another all the while making sure not to draw attention to themselves and the quick scans of their eyes.

Honestly the place looked like one big headless chicken running about with no one person in charge but the head was being held teasingly just out of reach.

Morbid, yeah, but it somehow worked for the Ministry.

But Daniel MacKade was on a mission and effectively ignored the crumbling legs of the ministry only he and his heiress seemed to see. Lyra sighed jogging a bit to keep up with his long, quick strides. It seemed as if he was running to the minister's office, but he looked unconcerned taking his own pace. But his pace was making her run like hell to keep up as she weaved through random witches and wizards.

"You don't have to do this." She really wished he wouldn't. Lyra wasn't exactly after special treatment. In any case the damage was done; there was nothing he could do now. Besides she didn't want to be untouchable while everyone else had to go through with their punishments.

Not that he was only petitioning for only her to be looked over, really he'd been out-raged at the barbaric, ancient torture (his words) they were using on the future generation (or young-lings as he'd ranted over his morning coffee). But Fudge, she was certain would try to appease her grandfather by writing a letter to Umbridge, who she feared would allow Lyra out of her punishments and not the others.

Which would be unacceptable to the MacKade family. Daniel glanced down at her briefly. "Do what? I'm not doing anything…" He explained patiently winking at some of the younger witches walking by. The giggled and moved on as Lyra scrunched her nose up.

"Ok. That was weird, if you're going to look for a mistress, please make sure she's not my age…and I mean talking to Fudge. You know he's not going to do anything…" She pointed out tiredly. Really, it was a useless argument; her grandfather would and could do this. And much to his delight, get away with it.

He chuckled pausing to put an irritating pat on her head (how dare he! She was not some five-year-old needing to be appeased!) And resume his pace. "Even we ol' folks need love. Aside from that, little one, you've no business to dictating the who's and why's. But…I like them a little older than those pretty birds. But you're never too old to appreciate the of-age ladies of the world." His eyes were doing that mischievous merriment again, and Lyra rolled her eyes. "I'm not even going there…" She muttered shoulders slumping in defeat.

Pausing within the office section devoted to the Minister he laid a hand on Lyra's shoulder. "Perhaps, chere you should wait here. We don't want to come on to strong." Snorting as he gave her his best innocent smile (which oddly enough, the pure white of his beard added some credibility to him), Lyra shook her head. "Honestly, I came to protect the minister from the old dragon about to go try to fire him to a crisp." The laughter was quick and loud as it always was as he kissed the top of her head. "There she is. Now, shall I find you a good bloke to spend some time with?" Sly old devil! Lyra panicked, knowing he would. She was not standing here awkwardly with some stranger while he tore into the minister! She'd rather see that! "No! Not nec-"

But he pointed, waving over a red-head shaking his hand. "Aye, Lad. What be yer name? Daniel MacKade." And Paris was gone as ancient Irish man floated right back in. More than that, Lyra could have killed him. She knew the trademark red anywhere, and she was sure he was doing this to tease her calling Fred and George's brother, Percy over (She might have accidentally blushed when adding in how she'd gotten detention to which Daniel complimented on their 'good stock' and 'fine families' with a sly wink)

Percy, recognizing the powerful name (and no doubt scenting an opportune moment to gain a future ally), began to answer "Percivil.-" "Percy. Wonderful to meet you. " Oh yeah, he did that on purpose. Her eyes blazed as she glared large holes in the back of his head. Any more heat behind her eyes and her grandfather's lovely periwinkle ones would melt in his head.

"Be a good one, and watch over my Lyra-Love. All I have left in the world." He murmured dramatically the etch of Paris back in his tenor. Percy looking decidedly uncomfortable but unwilling to insult him nodded with a small smile. "Of course sir, anyway to be of assistance…" Though he looked completely confused by the change in accent as Daniel thumped him on the back with a conspiratorial wink. "Be good now." Quickly he left them bursting into the Ministers office, a screeching secretary behind him.

Lyra stared after him silently hoping he tripped on the way in, slowly turning back to Percy who was staring at her.

Oh boy….this could not get any more awkward could it? The old man was dead when they got home... Dead, Dead, Dead. Oh Merlin this was awkward.

She offered him a shy smile, but his lips seemed unwilling to offer the same. "You don't…you don't have to watch me. I'm sorry, he's a little eccentric…I'm quite capable of watching myself." Lyra told him, shifting from foot to foot her head falling and she absently started her mental reprimands as she raised her head up again.

"No. That's quite alright. I'm sure we can satisfy his requirements. Come, my desk is over here. Can I offer you water, or tea?" Lyra politely declined but followed him over to the cramped desk that had been pridefully organized to his specifications.

While he dived back into his work with a vigor that would only come from someone who seriously loved looking through the piles of papers stacked on his desk. She gave a shudder of horror. No, Godric no she wouldn't ever be getting a job that had that much paper work. Observing him she noted aside from the curled crimson on the top of his head he kept it short, unlike his other siblings (or the ones she'd met) who let it grow out to muse and mess as the strands saw fit. His straight nose only seemed to add an air of aristocrat about him. The others had the added beauty of royalty about them too, put Percy looked more the part of court prince. His lips were thin and neither smiled nor frowned, a good mask for one vying for a spot within the Ministry, but Lyra had spotted that eagerness about him. He reveled in the power games, he wanted the power but he was missing the spark of corruption (which relieved her).

His eyes, a pretty hazel color with faded blue dancing around his pupils not the bright dodger of the twins but it worked for him all the same. "You…have your mother's eyes." She concluded aloud, flushing brightly as he froze, his shoulders tightening as he looked up slowly. Oh sweet Merlin she had not meant to say that out loud! Her eye obsession was seriously going to get her into trouble one day. He nodded his lips thinning and Lyra continued nervously, wanting to explain. Well, might as well dig herself a deeper hole..."I'm sorry…I take notice of these things, everyone else seems to have such gorgeous eyes and mine are well…not." She was babbling, she knew but she couldn't seem to stop ever since the blue of his eyes turned the clearest shade; as if his eyes were in mourning for the women. But he didn't seem to consciously acknowledge it. Ah right, problems with the family then but hadn't realized he missed them… "And I'm friends with Fred and George (that still gave her a small rush every time she spoke that aloud) and they have these beautiful dodger blue eyes…and yours are more like the flooded forest floor and oh, I'm making a mess of things aren't I?" Nervously she played with her fingers, linking them and twisting them as she stood nodding her head. "I'll go wait over there.."

"Wait." The word loud enough for her to hear as she turned back to him. His expression wasn't so unreadable now, he looked…confused actually. She slowly sat down and he stared at her for a moment. "Your eyes are familiar. " He said quietly and Lyra's lips curved up into her trademark coy smile. "I remember you now…" Percy concluded thoughtfully leaning back in his chair quill firmly in hand. "Your second year, you fell asleep in the library and-" "You promised not to give me detention and helped me carry my things to the common room." Lyra finished with a soft smile the memory sliding in. Pleased at the smile Percy nodded his head. "Indeed.."

Silence lapsed and Lyra slowly gathered her courage. "You do though, have your mothers eyes, correct?" She questioned knowing the answer already. He nodded quirking a brow. Ah not the talkative sort then. At least on the subject of his family. "Will you be seeing them for Christmas?" Lyra asked trying to gauge his reaction, he stilled again shaking his head as he looked down. "No I don't think so, there's plenty of work here to be done. Sometimes family cannot understand our obligations." He sniffed like lord over a peasant and Lyra cocked her head to the side. "Sometimes family is the only obligation we need." His eyes were sharp as they glared up at her briefly but for once she didn't recoil.

The twins mentioned Percy in passing, their tone full of contempt but there had been hurt there as well. Hurt was what made her ache for them, and if the pranksters missed (on some level) their proper older brother, than on some level his missed them too. From the glare, it seemed he was trying to push all the family affection he had away.

And Lyra briefly wondered why this mattered to her so much. Percy could make his own decisions, wrong or right, it wasn't his job to guide him. There was just this…need in her to set him on the right path before he was trapped in the cave in when the Ministry went tumbling down.

"Unless that family cannot understand the way things need to be done." He said stiffly causing her to flinch back. Was he convinced of that? She wondered staring at his stormy eyes. Ah, so he did have something in common with the twins after all. Driven with that large glittering Gryffindor pride as well.

"Lyra-love!" Her grandfather called pleasantly, but it was tight and agitated. His talk with the Minister hadn't gone well at all. But he beckoned her to return home and Lyra stood, reaching into the pocket of her cloak pulling out one of the two canary crèmes. Laying the brightly wrapped candy in the middle a small canary picture right on the page Percy had been diligently working on before her (embarrassing) interruption. "A mother feels beautiful when the child has her eyes." She said simply and turned to run to her grandfather. "Lyra." Percy called her again and she turned around expectantly waiting for him to throw in the last dig. He didn't instead he spoke "Your eyes are pretty. Dark, but pretty." He said and pulled another piece of parchment in front of his face, leaving the candy she'd left.

Lyra blushed and grabbed her grandfather's arm. His voice was dark, lacking a forgien accent as he said. "Dark days are here love. And we don't need You-know-who to make them so. When the Ministry is corrupt and fallen, my dear, it's when we'll truly be in trouble because power is what you make it. Good or evil."

Lyra nodded her head in understanding as she glanced back toward Percy. "But it only takes a few with good to find a way around the evil, right?" Daniel clicked his tongue and nodded slowly. "If good is still present." He decided with a shrug. "But we can't be sure who has what anymore."

Lyra smiled coyly as he tugged her through the ministry. "I don't know…it seems possible. Eyes are the windows to the soul." She explained and Daniel glanced down at her in surprise at the statement. "Yes, love. I guess they are…but what do you do when there is no soul behind the eyes?" He questioned and Lyra paused.

What did you do, then? Eyes flickered and danced, darkened and sparkled. They held feelings even the one who had them didn't understand yet. So what did you do with eyes that lost the sheen of life and emotion like her father's eyes?

"We protect the vessel until it returns." Lyra said looking up at Daniel to see if she'd passed the test. He glanced down at her in response. "And if it never does?" Sighing, she bowed her head shaking her shoulders in confusion, a half-hearted shrug.

Looking up she said softly. "Then all is lost in the void." He chuckled musing her hair again shaking his snowy head. "So dismal love. Most just hide, they can all be found with the right song." He winked and tugged her to the Ministry exit and when she turned back around to take one last look at the headless chicken that was the Ministry, I thought I caught sight of Percy watching blankly as we disappeared.

But maybe not.

"Get up." The dark voice littered with power shatter the dream she'd been having into tiny pieces as it echoed and when she sat up grasping at her throat (because her heart decided that was a good place to be) and she sat up looking around wildly for whatever or whoever had woken her.

Her shoulders still tingled as if someone had shaken her for a moment to revive her. She glanced at the clock, it was only 2 in the morning. The voice usually waited until three (and she did not like how easily she pointed that out as if she was becoming use to it, she wasn't!) so it couldn't be him…Right?

"Calm down, little one and get up." Wrong it was him. Lyra groaned and fell back on her plush bed, curling around the mound of pillows hoping they would hide her lethargic body. "No.." She moaned helplessly. "It's not three yet. Go away. I want that hour before you start with your shit, damn you!" She hissed to the darkness.

Alright so she wasn't kidding about the 'wasp tongue' thing. She could get quite bitchy for lack of a better word, that would probably shock a few people as they tried to match up the seemingly bi-polar witch.

His chuckle was slow and rolled over her slowly, causing her to peak an eye open. That kind of chuckle only promised darkness and Lyra only wanted the kind of darkness that came with falling back asleep. "Get up and go downstairs little one, you'll thank me." He cooed the words but there was an urgent compulsion in the words.

She sat up feeling weary. "Alright I'm up." What the hell was going on now? "Your grandfather, little one. Find him. Now."

And now she was freaked. Why did she need to find her grandfather, and why would a voice in her head know if something was wrong! He didn't even have a body!

"I have a body. A delicious one actually.." He purred seductively and she cringed in disgust. "But that is neither here nor there. The old one, find him."

And now she was really freaked out. She slid from her bed, stumbling in her hurry to wretch open her door and down the hall to her grandfather's room. She didn't knock; bursting right into the empty room panting from the terrified run. Her eyes only widened in fear and she turned around rushing down the stairs, catching herself on the railing as her foot caught the end of her silvery nightgown.

"Breath." The voice cautioned as she choked from her throat being dry as she panted. But Lyra wasn't concerned with gathering oxygen at the moment. The voice had woken her up an hour early, scaring the wits out of her (and smashing a dream she couldn't remember but felt that it had amazed her), urging her to find the old man (who was not sleeping) and now he wanted her to breath!?

Forgive her if the urgency the pervy voice used alarmed her just a tad.

Thrusting the door of the throne room open with a bit more force than necessary if the bang that probably woke the household was any indication, her grandfather was there in his chair, pensive as he stared into the flames. He looked perfectly fine, if a little pissed off.

If that was all the voice called her for..

"Be patient." He cooed and she could feel his hot breath ghosting (pun completely intended) over her ear. "You alright, old man?" She questioned as he looked up, not even surprised as he regarded her evenly.

"Me, yes." She could hear the resounding 'but' coming before his lips even formed the beginning of the letter.

"I just got word…Arthur Weasley's been attacked." He told her bluntly.

She felt the shift and slow bubbling of rage appear again, strange but slightly familiar. And she knew her eyes had shifted to the triad coloring it had, the mark of her hybrid state.

"Say….say that again?" She questioned, surprised by her tone. It was enough to frost the flames her grandfather transfixed on moments before. "Arthur Weasley was attacked during a mission for the order. He's in the hospital. His children were just taken from Hogwarts…it doesn't look good love." He said and she knew he meant the war was here, and Arthur Weasley was a casualty. Alive, but injured.

And the Order of the Pheonix, right. This was serious if her grandfather was called into his old Order.

Meeting his eyes she said quickly. "Let me go and help. You know I can. Please? They're my friends." Lyra pleaded staring at her grandfather seriously.

He only shut his eyes.