Chapter 29
Identity
Lyra had spent a sleepless night consumed by thoughts of discovering her true origins, the mysterious Marks, and the web of unanswered questions that surrounded her existence. Were they really called Marks? Were they good people, or could they have been dark wizards? Was this the source of her own magical skills? What if they were just a kind elderly couple who had faced hardships? How did they know her mother? Would they be happy to see her if she ever found them? Were they even still alive, or had they met a tragic end? If they were gone, was it due to foul play, an illness, or natural causes? Did she carry any dormant genetic illnesses in her bloodline?
At 5 in the morning, Albus apparated into headquarters, dressed in a sharp grey suit with a deep maroon tie speckled with gold. His beard and hair were meticulously groomed, reminiscent of his younger days. Lyra couldn't help but comment, even in her sleepy state.
"You look...sharp."
"Do I need to change?" She added, glancing at her simple muggle attire – jeans, a white crop top, her customary denim jacket, and boots.
"You look perfectly fine as you are. Let's go." He replied. Lyra grabbed her small black rucksack, slinging it over her shoulder, and picked up her car keys and thermos of coffee. They stepped out together.
The stars still adorned the sky, as dawn had yet to break. Embarking on their five-hour journey to France, they engaged in a multitude of conversations. It began with the most pressing topic at hand – Grindelwald. Albus shared the story of its beginnings and eventual demise.
As the sun rose, Lyra donned her aviators and continued driving. Traffic dwindled once they left London.
Their conversation shifted to Minerva. Lyra continued to argue that Albus had made a grave mistake by breaking her heart under the guise of protecting her. He agreed with her.
"I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time with her lately. Did you take my advice?" Lyra inquired, trying to read his expressions.
He remained silent, but his countenance spoke volumes.
"Merlin, you did, didn't you? I knew she'd forgive you, Albus. I could see it in her eyes – I knew she still loved you!"
"Yes, yes, she still loves me."
"And you told her you loved her too!"
"I did." He replied, a smile gracing his lips. Lyra's excitement burst forth.
"Yes!" She exclaimed happily, giving the steering wheel an excited slap.
"Even after it's scorned me so terribly, I can't help but be happy for those who've found love."
"So, when's the wedding?"
"What?"
"When's the wedding?"
"You're getting ahead of yourself, Lyra." Albus scoffed.
"What, she doesn't want to marry an old man like you?" Lyra laughed in response.
"I don't think either of us are thinking of such a grand..."
"Oh, come off it!" Lyra exclaimed joyfully, a British accent mysteriously surfacing.
Albus chuckled, finding her unusually excited by this. But he assumed it was because, more than him, she was happy for her aunt.
They continued their journey and, within a few hours, crossed into France, where they presented their fabricated muggle passports to a disinterested immigration officer before continuing on. Lyra navigated the village's winding streets, eventually parking the car at the end of a road on the outskirts. Albus directed her toward the cliff's edge, where a solitary cottage stood. They left the car and proceeded through a small wooden gate, climbing the slope.
Albus knocked on the cottage door, and they awaited a response. Lyra removed her aviators and admired the breathtaking view from the cliff, taking in the entire village, with Normandy's beaches on one side and the village on the other.
The door opened to reveal an elderly man with wild, unruly hair and a thin French mustache, dressed in mismatched muggle clothes and a long, open sweater.
"Albus!" He greeted, embracing Dumbledore like a long-lost brother. Lyra stood behind Albus, feeling somewhat apprehensive about meeting the man who held the key to her answers.
"You must be the illustrious Ms. Lyra Marks that Albus wrote to us about?" He inquired, casting an enthusiastic gaze in Lyra's direction.
She smiled and extended her hand, which he shook with gusto, wincing slightly at her firm grip before she loosened it.
"I'm Nicolas Flamel. Please, do come inside." He warmly invited, offering a welcoming smile.
Upon hearing his name, Lyra couldn't believe her eyes. Nicolas Flamel was one of the world's most renowned alchemists, and he, along with his wife, were supposed to be ancient. Vampires crossed her mind, but they didn't fit the profile. They looked old, yes, but not 600 years old!
"How old is he supposed to be, exactly?" Lyra whispered under her breath.
"Not the politest question, now is it?" Albus muttered in reply.
"How is he still alive?" She whispered again.
"The Philosopher's Stone, my dear girl. My wife and I created it. It was destroyed a few years ago. Now we wait for the sweet embrace of death." Flamel explained with a smile.
Lyra raised an eyebrow. Who waited patiently for their own death? She began to question the man's sanity.
"Shall I bring the two of you some food? A drink, perhaps?" A female voice interrupted, and Mrs. Flamel entered the room.
"I could use a drink!" Lyra declared, raising her hand.
"You're driving!" Albus admonished her.
"Liquid courage?" She shrugged. Albus shook his head.
"We're fine. Thank you, Perenelle." Albus declined politely.
Nicolas Flamel continued to fix his gaze on Lyra, as if attempting to place her. Lyra blushed under his scrutiny.
"Um...Mr. Flamel?" She ventured cautiously.
"Huh? Oh, yes! Apologies, Ms. Marks. Shall we proceed to my lab? It's right this way." Flamel said, leading her to the basement. Dumbledore gestured for Lyra to follow him, and she reluctantly obeyed, shooting a worried glance at him.
She descended into the basement with Flamel, and her eyes widened in awe. The basement had been magically expanded, with various elements displayed on the walls. Each section was dedicated to an element – earth, with soils and sands; water, with a babbling brook teeming with fish; fire, with a furnace roaring on one side and bottles filled with fireflies and dancing flames; and air, with a corner where a small tornado swirled.
"This is the most fascinating thing I've ever seen!" Lyra exclaimed, taking in as much as she could.
"Thank you." Flamel replied cheerfully. He settled at his workstation in the center of the room.
"Please, have a seat..." He offered, extending a welcoming gesture to Lyra, who accepted, still captivated by the surroundings.
Flamel continued to observe her closely, as he had before. An uncomfortable silence descended upon them. After a few seconds, he blinked, then waved his wand, causing a massive book and a large cabinet filled with various ingredients and vials to fly toward them. Suddenly, the previously empty workstation was crowded with numerous items, each representing an element. A metal cabinet, filled with clinking vials, rolled toward them and opened its doors, revealing vials of blood labeled with names.
"This...magic we're about to perform is rare and unique. Do you consent to giving me your blood?" He asked, donning gloves and brandishing an enormous knife in a manner that seemed sinister.
Lyra's mouth fell open in shock, and she could only nod silently. Before she could react any further, Flamel grabbed her hand and sliced her palm open. Her deep red blood flowed into multiple vials, quickly being collected.
"This might take a while, my dear. I will have to test it many times until your blood matches any of the others." Flamel explained, rubbing a leaf onto her open wound. Lyra was about to object, to his methods of healing, but when she removed the leaf, the gash had completely disappeared.
"Now, I've never heard or seen any Marks in my collection. However, there may be some magical roots in your ancestry, I presume. There must be, given what a powerful witch you are."
Lyra stood there as Flamel continued his work, moving from one end of the room to another, mixing and matching, examining the contents under a magnifying glass. He then poured the mixture into a conical flask, adding various ingredients. He mixed multiple other vials of blood with some of hers. He discarded multiple. Before he picked up a vial from his cabinet, looked at her and smiled. He repeated the process with it. After a few minutes, the colour began to change. Unlike previous tests, Flamel didn't consult the names in his book; he just stared in disbelief at the flask.
"What? What is it? Is that bad?" Lyra asked urgently.
"I need to speak with Dumbledore. I need his help going through my records. No, Ms. Marks, you can't assist me. I suggest you fetch Albus."
"Okay...uh...alright." Lyra replied, frowning at Flamel as she made her way to the basement door. He continued to stare at the conical flask in amazement.
"Mr. Flamel needs your help." She informed Albus, looking slightly shaken. Albus frowned, wondering what Nicolas might require his assistance with.
Albus left his conversation with Perenelle and headed to the basement.
Lyra took the seat Albus had vacated as Mrs. Flamel initiated a conversation with her. Still bewildered, Lyra found herself too preoccupied to provide meaningful responses.
Albus walked into the basement and approached Nicolas, curious about what the old alchemist could require his assistance for.
"You requested my presence?" He inquired.
Nicolas gazed up at him, his eyes filled with wonder.
"In your letter, you mentioned that young Ms. Marks was adopted by an American family...?" Nicolas began.
"Yes, but her roots are British..."
"As is her adoptive mother's?" Nicolas interjected.
Albus furrowed his brow, not yet connecting the dots regarding Margery's involvement.
"Yes, her adoptive mother is a..."
"McGonagall. I recall you mentioned that in your letter." Nicolas replied, giving the flask filled with forest green liquid a gentle shake. Albus peered at it, attempting to comprehend the significance.
"So, Lyra is a McGonagall?" Albus wondered, his confusion evident.
"Partially." Nicolas responded, walking closer to him.
Albus struggled to grasp the implications of this revelation. Why would Margery pretend to adopt her own child and keep it a secret? It made no sense to him.
Nicolas then took Albus's hand without warning and sliced it open. Albus winced, clutching his wounded palm. The alchemist swiftly collected drops of Albus's blood into the flask. Instantaneously, the flask's color shifted from forest green to deep purple and finally to clear.
Albus watched in astonishment as Nicolas smiled at him.
"She...is a McGonagall? I don't understand. What are you trying to say, Nicolas?"
"She isn't just a McGonagall, Albus. Her blood matches the exact components of my sample collected from one specific McGonagall."
Albus frowned but then, within seconds, his jaw dropped as realization washed over him. Nicolas had cut his own palm to prove a point.
It couldn't be! She couldn't be!
"Minerva... Albus..." Nicolas said with a smile.
"And just to be sure of my theory, I called you here. The moment a drop of your blood was mixed with theirs, the potion cleared...just like the truth, my boy. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Nicolas questioned. Albus remained silent, staring in dumbfounded shock.
"Albus...?"
"Albus!" Nicolas called more urgently, shaking him out of his stupor.
"She...can't...she...can't be...my..."
"She is your daughter, Albus. Yours and Minerva's. A perfect match. In all my years of helping people discover their lineage, I've never encountered such a perfect match before." Nicolas declared.
Albus shook his head in disbelief. There must have been a mistake; Minerva wouldn't have kept something like this from him. Numerous thoughts raced through his mind as he muttered to himself, trying to piece together a timeline. The proof was undeniable, and he had witnessed it firsthand. She was born in November, exactly seven months after he had parted ways with Minerva. Minerva had disappeared shortly after their breakup, only to resurface six years later, precisely when the Lincolns adopted Lyra as their own. Everything fell into place so perfectly.
"She..."
"She is your daughter, Albus. She's a Dumbledore! You've been wondering where her powers came from. They come from a very powerful witch and wizard..."
"My daughter..."
"Yours!"
"Does she...? Does she know?" Albus inquired, still struggling to fully comprehend the news, or rather, the betrayal.
"No...I think...perhaps it's best if you told her." Nicolas suggested, patting Albus on the shoulder. Albus tried to formulate words, but none emerged. He was rendered speechless, unsure of how to navigate this situation.
Suddenly, the basement door flung wide open, causing both men to jump from their stools.
"Albus...Fawkes has appeared. I assume we've overstayed our welcome." Lyra urgently stated, her wand in her hand and the phoenix perched comfortably on her shoulder.
Albus simply stared at her, studying her from head to toe. Up and down, he took in every detail. He felt like a complete fool; she had his eyes, his hair, his cheekbones, her mother's nose, her lips, and even Minerva's sharp chin. How had he never noticed these similarities, how had he, the great Albus Dumbledore, missed something so obvious? The looks Minerva gave her, the way she treated and defended her, the countless hours she spent with her – everything suddenly made sense, and it infuriated him. This news, Minerva's betrayal, Lyra's ignorance of her parentage – it was all too much to bear.
"Albus...what do you want me to do?" Lyra asked urgently.
"Albus...? We need to hurry?"
"Albus...?"
She continued to call his name, but he offered no response except for an angry glare. It was greatly unsettling. Why was he looking at her like that?
"ALBUS!" She yelled, attempting to regain his attention. What was wrong with him? They didn't have much time, something or someone was approaching, and they needed to act quickly. They needed a plan of action, but the man in charge simply stared at her with intense anger.
"Albus...?" Nicolas finally said. Albus looked away, attempting to clear his mind, but it didn't help. He forced himself to focus on the situation.
"Take Fawkes...he'll take you to the next safe house...hurry!" Albus urged. Nicolas nodded and waved his wand, causing items to pack themselves up in a matter of minutes. The entire basement was soon cleared and packed into a magical suitcase. The three of them, along with Fawkes, rushed upstairs.
The phoenix flew over to Nicolas and his wife, who grabbed onto the bird's tail before disappearing in a burst of flames.
Albus then stormed out of the house, and Lyra quickly followed.
"Get in the car!" He snapped. Lyra complied, and he took the driver's seat, speeding away as quickly as possible.
For the next few hours, what had started as a fun road trip had turned into stifling silence. Lyra didn't know if she should say anything, sensing the anger radiating from him and the turmoil in his magical aura. She didn't understand what had transpired in the basement.
Albus drove in silence, breaking numerous muggle laws along the way. Lyra kept her mouth shut, uncertain of what might trigger him. She didn't want to mess with his emotions, but she was desperate to know what had put him in such a state.
And then, it dawned on her, and she couldn't resist; she had to know.
"Albus...?"
He didn't reply.
"Albus...did you receive some bad news?"
"Was it about me? Did Mr. Flamel discover their identity?"
"Are they terrible people?"
Still, he gave her no response.
"Albus! Please, I need to know!" She snapped at him, growing irritated by his silence.
"Albus! You promised to tell me!"
"You promised...you'd help! I want to know, whether it's good or bad...I deserve to know!"
"Why won't you say something?!"
"All in good time..." He finally snapped, and that was the only thing he said, leaving Lyra frustrated, with more questions than answers
Hours felt like days as they zipped through the London traffic, Albus navigating it like a man possessed, drawing furious curses from the Muggles he narrowly avoided colliding with.
When Albus eventually parked the car, it was in a rather reckless manner. Slamming the door shut, he stormed toward headquarters, Lyra hot on his heels, her questions still nagging at her. Her own anger was brewing beneath the surface. Albus seemed to be overreacting; how bad could the situation really be?
As they entered the living room, any occupants who had been there quickly made their escape. Dumbledore's demeanor was far from his usual self, and when Lyra followed him in, equally furious, no one wanted to be caught in their crossfire. They assumed there had been an argument of some sort and wisely decided to give them space.
The fire in the living room roared, and Albus stood silently by it, lost in thought for what felt like an eternity. He scribbled something on a parchment. Abruptly, he turned and tossed floo powder into the fireplace.
"McGonagall Manor!" He snapped as the flames leaped higher.
"Please give this to Mistress McGonagall and ask her to appear immediately." He ordered the house-elf whose head had appeared in the fire. Albus threw the parchment into the fire. The elf bowed and vanished.
Then, without a word, Dumbledore exited the room, leaving Lyra behind, utterly bewildered. Why had he summoned Grandma M? He detested her! What was he up to? Could Grandma M be involved in whatever was happening?
"Albus, what are you doing? What is happening?" Lyra demanded.
Dumbledore re-entered the room, his grip on Minerva's hand uncharacteristically harsh as he practically flung her into the room.
"Get your brother here." Dumbledore snapped at Lyra, who stood her ground, anger radiating from her.
"Just tell me what the hell is going on!" She retorted.
"Lyra, do as you're told!" He snapped back sharply. Lyra huffed and returned moments later with Michelin.
"What's going on?" Michelin asked with concern.
"I don't know...but he's summoned Grandma M." Lyra hissed. Michelin raised an eyebrow in surprise. A few moments later, Magnolia McGonagall emerged from the fireplace. She surveyed the room and scoffed.
"Took you long enough..." She muttered resentfully under her breath.
Albus, usually polite and non-confrontational when it came to Mrs. McGonagall, had clearly lost his patience.
"You...you did this...you filled her head with lies..."
"I did no such thing! She came to me with an abomination after you so heartlessly let her go...as if she meant nothing to you...and you think for a second...I was going to let that...that stand!"
"Who do you think you are?" He snarled at her.
"I was looking out for my daughter." She snarled back.
"WHAT ABOUT MY DAUGHTER?!" Albus thundered.
The room fell into a heavy silence after his outburst. However, Albus's anger remained uncontainable as he turned his rage towards Minerva.
"Did we not love each other? Did we not promise to be there for each other?! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?! All these years...knowing about her...being in the same room with me...endless conversations...and even now...you stay silent?! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME, MINERVA? I DESERVED TO KNOW! WHY WON'T YOU SPEAK?!" He snarled, his fury close to madness. Minerva averted her gaze and clutched her throat, her face filled with anguish.
"What the fuck?!" Michelin whispered, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He rarely used such language, but the gravity of the situation warranted it. He pieced together the reason for their gathering. He held Lyra's hand tightly; it was ice-cold. Michelin looked at his sister, a deep concern etched on his face. She stood there, stunned and astounded, her mouth hanging open. Her usual confidence had been replaced by confusion. Michelin couldn't bear to see her like this. He grew tense, determined to protect his sister, as he had sworn to do since childhood. This mystery needed to be unraveled.
Mrs. McGonagall let out a nasty laugh, drawing everyone's attention.
"She can't speak; she made an unbreakable vow. All the sisters did. Poor Franklin got entangled in this mess as well. They swore never to reveal...the identity of this child! And I ensured they did it! I made sure my family's reputation remained untarnished by your reckless mistake!"
Albus suddenly paused, rubbing his face in frustration. He couldn't believe his ears. Had Minerva been so desperate to hide their love? Yes, he was the one who betrayed her. Yes, he was the one who had left. But why hadn't she reached out? Why hadn't she explained? They had a daughter—Lyra was their daughter! And Minerva had kept her from him. How could she? How dare she? Albus looked at Minerva with a mix of anger and resentment. When she met his gaze, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He had abandoned her. He had betrayed her. He...
"I have a surprise for you..."
"I need to tell you something, Min..."
"Let's have dinner first though...I think you're going to love what I'm about to tell you!"
"No...Minerva...no dinner...I have to tell you that..."
"Merlin! Albus...it can wait for another hour..."
"NO! It cannot...I'm done waiting, Minerva...I'm done...we're done...I don't love you anymore."
"Not this again, Albus..."
"Why can't you understand that?"
"Why do you keep lying to me?"
"I'm not lying! Does this look like a lie to you? I'm in love with someone else!"
He had manipulated his memories, making her believe in things that had never happened. Then, he had left her there alone.
It took him only seconds to realize that, beyond Mrs. McGonagall and her archaic views, Minerva had been the most affected. He finally understood how terrified she must have been to turn to the last person she would ever ask for help. How utterly alone she must have felt when he had left her, concerned only with securing his own heart. He knew that what he had done back then had been impulsive, a misguided attempt to keep her safe. But he had lost her. He had lost her and their child. He had lost the chance to be a good father. He had lost everything he had ever wanted, everything they had planned during those countless nights in each other's arms, dreaming of a future that he had ruthlessly shattered. He couldn't blame Minerva. He couldn't blame her mother either. They were probably right; he didn't deserve to know. But he had always felt unworthy of Minerva. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he had always felt undeserving of that blessing. He still did, even after her forgiveness. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, not from her and now not from Lyra either.
Albus looked at Lyra, who appeared frightened and confused. He wanted to embrace her, to reassure her that everything would be okay, to be the father he should have been. But he couldn't. He didn't know how to be her father. That role had been brilliantly filled by Franklin Lincolns. He didn't even know if she would want him as her father.
The anger inside Albus was no longer directed at Minerva's omission; it was aimed squarely at himself for being foolish and selfish. He hadn't just ruined his own life; he had destroyed Minerva's. And unwittingly, he had destroyed Lyra's life as well.
"Are you...are you saying?" Lyra finally muttered, looking back and forth between Albus and Minerva.
"Oh, you've always been a bit daft, haven't you? Of course, that's what he's saying." Mrs. McGonagall chimed in.
"Is it...is it true?" Michelin asked on behalf of his sister, his gaze fixed on Grandma M, who finally acknowledged him. She immediately softened, having always loved him unconditionally. For her, he was her only legitimate grandchild, and, like any good grandmother, she had never denied him anything.
"Michelin, you don't need to concern yourself with this..." She began gently.
"HOW DARE YOU?! LYRA IS NOT A CONCERN! SHE'S MY SISTER! AND YOU'VE BEEN TOYING WITH HER LIFE!" Michelin yelled at Grandma M for the first time in his life.
He didn't care if Lyra tried to hold him back, as she had done numerous times before. He wouldn't hold back in the face of this injustice any longer. Michelin typically disapproved when Lyra broached the topic of her real parents, recognizing the pain it brought to their family. He had scolded her many times for being so heartless. But this was different. This was the truth coming to light, and if there was one thing Michelin would stand up for, it was the truth.
"She's not your sister!" Grandma M declared vehemently.
"From what I've just heard...she's still my family! AND SHE WILL ALWAYS BE MY SISTER! NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY TO DENY IT. SHE'S YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER. WAS. IS. AND ALWAYS WILL BE!" Michelin staunchly defended Lyra. The room shook as his magic began to spill out through his emotions. Grandma M cast Lyra a disgusted look.
"Michelin, please calm down...your anger isn't helping." Lyra pleaded, rubbing his arm gently in an attempt to soothe him.
Michelin was astonished that Lyra had not erupted in rage, screamed, shouted, or torn the place apart as she usually did. She hadn't reacted at all. But this was Grandma M, her greatest fear. Michelin looked at his sister with uncertainty about her behavior. He hoped she understood that he would always be by her side, that she didn't need to fear this woman anymore. In fact, she never had to fear her. Fear usually stemmed from irrationality.
Michelin turned to Minerva, who remained silent. His anger grew stronger. He wouldn't stand for this mistreatment of his sister, or his aunt. Grandma M's tyranny had to end tonight, and he was determined to ensure it did.
"Break the vow!" Michelin hissed at his grandmother, brandishing his wand at her. She glared at him, affronted by his outburst. He appeared enraged and prepared to defend his sister against their grandmother by any means necessary. Michelin, the usually calm and collected one, had a wild look in his eyes, something Lyra had never seen before. She looked at him with aching uncertainty, as the gravity of her guilt weighed heavily on her. This was all her fault!
"Michelin!" Lyra exclaimed in shock at her brother's actions, shaking her head. He shot her an angry look, hoping she'd realise that he was not going to back down.
"Break the vow...before...before I sever my ties with you!" He declared with unwavering determination.
"Michelin!" Lyra exclaimed, her shock evident as she shook her head. He met her gaze defiantly.
"I've had enough, Lyra! I'm done with her treating you like...like you're trash! You are a beautiful person. Grandma M, in her misguided efforts to protect the family, can't see that. And for what? So she can keep spewing those hurtful lies at you? So you'll keep building walls and pushing away the people who love you? Mom, Dad, me, Zee, Sarah— we all love you, Ly! We'll always love you, no matter what! No matter how hard you push us away. No matter what she says or does. Grandma M, you owe Lyra an apology for what you've done. And your own daughter too! You're her mother, for heaven's sake! How can you treat your child this way? She went to you seeking acceptance, and you abandoned your own flesh and blood? All for a name...so that people would continue to look upon your name with pride? You sold her soul for a word?! How can you call yourself a good mother? How can any parent do this to their own child?" Michelin passionately defended Minerva. No matter how much Sarah may have messed up, he'd never do something like this to her. He was her father. He loved her. He couldn't fathom how Grandma M could be so heartless.
Michelin then turned to his sister.
"And you...you need to stop acting like this doesn't affect you. Like she doesn't affect you. She doesn't deserve a place in my life if she can't accept my sister. And if she can't, then that's her loss. But I won't let her keep ruining your life like this!" Michelin snapped at Lyra. Tears welled up in Lyra's eyes as she placed her hand on her brother's outstretched one.
"Michelin...she's your grandmother...please, stop..." She pleaded with him to retract his wand.
"She's yours as well. It's high time she accepted it!" He barked. Shoving her aside and shaking his head. This was final. There was no changing his mind. Lyra sighed.
Grandma M regarded Michelin with exasperation and disappointment in her aged eyes—something she had never done before when it came to him. She couldn't believe her ever-loving grandson could utter such cold and cutting words.
Grandma M glanced around the room. Her eyes landed on Minerva and then shifted to Lyra. Michelin couldn't discern if it was a pitiful look aimed at both women, but Grandma M sighed in defeat. For the first time in her life, she obeyed. She retrieved her wand from her bag and whispered an incantation, conjuring a long, magical golden thread that wrapped tightly around both Minerva and her, forcefully pulling them closer together. Three other threads floated in the air, as if to indicate that Minerva wasn't the sole party bound by this vow.
Muttering under her breath, Grandma M released the golden strands, causing them to shatter into a million specks of light. The Unbreakable Vow could only be undone by its maker, the one who had been vowed to.
Both women were thrust backward as the powerful binds shattered. They gently rubbed their necks, feeling the magic dissipate. Grandma M then approached Lyra. Digging into her bag, she produced a large, ornate golden case and, with her wand, unlocked it. She extracted a vial containing wisps of shimmering silver. Opening it cautiously, she used the tip of her wand to collect them. Lyra's eyes widened; these were her memories—her cherished childhood memories with Minerva. Grandma M touched her wand to Lyra's temple and softly chanted a spell as the silvery wisps slowly flowed into Lyra's mind.
Lyra stood in silence as tears welled in her eyes. A flurry of visions raced through her head, and those cherished memories played like a rapid film reel. She could see it all, remember it all—the moments spent with her mother, her laughter, her tears, her scolding, her teasing, her love.
Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions, Lyra couldn't remain standing. The weight of reality hit her like a freight train, deep in her chest, and she collapsed into a plush armchair behind her. Michelin knelt beside his sister, who sat with her head in her hands. He draped an arm around her, gazing up at her with care.
"Don't be so weak..." Grandma M spat at Lyra. Michelin shot her a furious glare to silence her.
"Don't talk to her like that!" Snarled Dumbledore, his tone dark. Grandma M sized him up and then spewed her venomous words.
"A sudden surge of affection hitting you, Albus? I don't seem to recall the same sentiments after you abandoned my daughter! You never once bothered to check on her...never once! And here you stand, all high and mighty, trying to tell me I was wrong...you dare to tell me what to do!" she sneered.
"That's not true. I searched everywhere for her. Knocked on every door...you turned me away every time I knocked on yours! You made sure she never knew! You made sure of that, didn't you?!"
"I did!" Grandma M snapped.
Albus fell silent, his argument cut short.
"You've always put everything else before the people who should have mattered most to you. You deserved this, and if you're as clever as they say, you know you deserved this! You should never have found out about her...never. And you wouldn't have if this reckless, foolish girl weren't just like you! Always curious, always meddling where she didn't belong. Always trying to prove to the world that she's amazing. Compensating for your brokenness, your stubbornness...you're nothing but a nuisance, Lyra! Arrogant to the core, Dumbledores! You know why I despise you so much, Lyra? Because you're just like him! Constantly trying to tear down and ruin anyone who has ever loved you! Where did Margery lack in raising you? I told her not to. I told her she was making a mistake! I told Minerva that having you was a mistake! But none of them listened...and now, look where that's got us! A stain on my family's name! That's all you'll ever be! Is this the reward Margery deserves from an ungrateful bastard like you? You think you're this big and powerful being, so impressive...but you're nothing, you were never anything! Are you happy now? Satisfied? That you've destroyed everything? You've destroyed Minerva's life. You've destroyed Margery's life. You've destroyed anyone who has ever loved you. And yet, you've always demanded more..." Spat Grandma M, her wand retrieved as her temper flared.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Minerva snapped, stepping between them. Her mother halted, regarding her with extreme distaste.
"That's enough!" Minerva reiterated as she advanced toward her mother, who began to retreat. This time, it wasn't Michelin or Albus's magic that filled the room with tension—it was Minerva's power, radiating forcefully, felt by everyone present.
"She deserves to know the truth, if anyone does!"
"Minerva, you're making the same mistake you made years ago..."
"I've had enough of listening to you about this, Mother! When I turned to you, I was helpless, lost, and young. Naïve enough to believe what you were doing was for my sake and my child's. I allowed anger and selfishness to cloud my judgment, thoughts I should never have had in the first place..." Minerva thundered, causing the window panes to rattle dangerously.
Grandma M listened in silence to her youngest daughter. For the first time that night, Minerva spoke with the fierce determination that defined her character. She would not tolerate anyone speaking to her daughter like that. NO ONE had the right to treat her daughter this way! Now that she was free from her secret, there would be no stopping her!
Minerva faced the silent room, where all eyes were fixed on her, waiting for answers. She clenched her jaw, her nostrils flaring. Uncertain where to begin, she summoned her courage and started at the beginning—with Albus.
"That night...when you told me...that..." Minerva began, pausing to regain her composure.
"That you were with someone else. A few days ago, I discovered I was pregnant. That dinner was supposed to be a celebration for us, for me to tell you..."
Albus looked deeply ashamed. Minerva approached him and gently raised his head with her finger. His eyes reflected shame, but hers radiated only love.
"When you left, Albus, I had no one else to turn to, nowhere else to go. I couldn't force myself into your life any longer, not even with the excuse of aiding in the war effort. Besides, you didn't want me there, and I wasn't in any condition to contribute as I would have liked."
"So, I returned home, to my mother. Instead of helping me understand my situation or offering the advice I needed, she treated me with disdain and horror. I was unmarried and pregnant, with a child I refused to give up. Margery and Athena fought for me, as they always had, and convinced my mother to let me have my child, to let me raise my child. She made us all swear never to reveal or speak of this to the world—an Unbreakable Vow she extracted in her rush to agree."
"I never wanted to leave you, Lyra. I never wanted to part with you! You must believe me!" Minerva declared, turning to Lyra. She moved towards her daughter.
"When I held you in my arms for the first time, I promised I'd be there for you forever. And for the first few years, I was. I raised you until you were six. We were happy, just you and me."
"But you were growing older, smarter, wiser. You constantly pushed and asked, wanting to know about your father—his identity, his whereabouts. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't tell you. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't tell him either."
"That year, we visited America to meet Margery and spend a few days with her family. It was right after your birthday, Michelin. You were too young to remember, probably eight or nine. Throughout the trip, all you did was follow Lyra around, playing with her, feeding her, reading her stories. You fell in love with that small child like I've never seen before. We all noticed it. My mother likely erased that memory from your mind after that trip, she didn't want Lyra to be a part of your life. You were too precious to be tainted by all of this."
"However, my mother's hopes were shattered when Margery proposed this arrangement. You were growing up and would soon want to know things beyond my control—things I couldn't tell you. You'd be on your way to Hogwarts, where the man you demanded to know was. If he saw you, Lyra, if he ever realized who you were, the truth would come out. And my mother would never allow that. It was best for all of us to separate you from my world, and for me to return. My mother knew, Albus, that you would never give up your search for me. To avoid further suspicion, she spoke to Professor Dippet, who was looking for someone to fill the Transfiguration position. He knew I was gifted in that area, and he was pleased to have me on board. At first, I wasn't sure I could ever face you again, Albus. I didn't know if I could be around you without revealing the truth. But I had to. I knew that if you found out, you'd demand to be in Lyra's life, demand her time, and the whole world would discover her existence, our history, and my mother's reputation would be tarnished. She made sure I'd never say anything." Minerva spoke, turning from Lyra to Albus and back to Lyra.
"You were so happy with Michelin, Lyra. Besides, Margery and Franklin were trying for a baby. It all made sense. You could forget about me; you were only six. It didn't matter if you were happy and safe, surrounded by people I knew, people I loved, people who would care for you as if you were their own." Minerva continued as Lyra's eyes welled up.
"So, with a heavy heart that I still carry today, I did what I believed was best. You deserved a happy childhood with loving, caring parents who could be there for you in ways I couldn't."
"Margery embraced you with open arms, instantly making you a part of her family. You were far removed from my past, tucked safely away where it could never reach you."
"It was best if you forgot about me. It was best that I became a mythical aunt you'd heard of but never seen."
"I hid from you, Lyra, so you wouldn't have to hide from the world." Minerva broke down, cupping Lyra's face in her hands.
"I don't blame you, but I'm glad I found you." Lyra replied softly, holding Minerva's hands in hers. She then enveloped her in a tight hug. Minerva couldn't hold back her tears as she returned the embrace.
Albus stood there, observing. What else could he do? Minerva had systematically excluded him from this relationship from the beginning. Over the past year, she had built a strong bond with their daughter. He instead, had shunned her away and broken her trust.
Albus turned away, anger bubbling inside him once more.
"Albus..." Minerva called out to him, and he clenched his fists.
"Albus, please..." She urged softly. He turned to her but refused to meet her eyes.
"Albus, I know I was wrong, but..."
"You were not wrong..." He replied with a sigh, recognizing that his anger was not directed at her but at himself. He had been the one to leave, the one to give up on her and their unborn child, the ones who should have mattered most to him. All for what? To fight for a world that would turn its back on him in an instant?
"I was wrong, foolish, and selfish. I was the one who..."
"Who left!" Grandma M interjected, cutting him off. Everyone ignored her.
"Yes, but you're here now." Lyra said softly, looking at him with a glimmer of hope. A hope Albus wasn't sure he deserved.
Their eyes met, and it felt as though he were gazing into a mirror. He sighed, unable to believe that he had a daughter, that he hadn't recognized her as his own. He felt incredibly foolish for being so blind. But as they looked at each other, Albus's sense of worthlessness began to fade. He might not have been responsible for her upbringing, but he was responsible for her existence. Magnolia McGonagall had said she was just like him, despite everything. And Albus could see why.
The universe was presenting him with the greatest second chance. Was he ready to accept it?
AN/- Next Chapter will continue from here. Keep reading to know what happens next :)