A little flame sprung from her thumb, hovering in the chill of the evening breeze, yet unaffected as it lit her cigarette. Andromeda knew these things were poison, the smoke always acrid in her lungs, yet it soothed and warmed her in a way, in mind and body; for a moment, at least. A sigh escaped her as she hung back her head.

The London smog almost completely covered the sky, the stars hidden behind black clouds. Narcissa hadn't visited, though she supposed she understood why. The stain of her husband's former allegiance still colored the Order's perception of her. And while Andromeda believed that both Narcissa and Lucius would act in their daughter's best interests, the latter especially was far too ambitious and self-serving to ever actually trust Dumbledore or sit down at the same table as him.

For a short while she stood and smoked, staring at the stars in the sky above. Sirius should've just burned this stupid house down to the ground and salted the earth beneath, but the old enchantments placed around the property by Black ancestors made this place rather ideal for a conspiracy's headquarters.

After one last inhale of her cigarette, she dropped it and crushed it beneath her heel, snuffing out the flame. Then she stared at the pack of cigarettes in her hand… and after a long moment, she dropped that on the ground too, drew her wand, and Vanished it. She'd undoubtedly come crawling back to satiate her addiction, but for now maybe this token effort at personal growth would make her feel a little better for longer than the cigarette did.

The door opened and shut silently, aided by magic, and all sound of evening traffic and the whistling wind cut when she stepped back inside. Carefully maneuvering herself through the clutter of the back hall, she stopped in the doorway next to the kitchen. Whispers drifted just barely around the corner to her ears.

"I checked," said Lyra's quiet voice, "all the world's official Time-Turners are stored here in our Department of Mysteries. There's only a good couple, and only a few of those were made with government approval. The rest were made independently and then collected later by officials."

"But isn't keeping them all in one place like putting all your eggs in one basket?" said James. "The Department of Mysteries isn't even guarded that well."

"Well, all that stuff we know isn't common knowledge. And it's usually heavily guarded by the Unspeakables just being there."

"Yeah but still, I'd think a few would've been stolen over time or used irresponsibly."

"And I'm sure it could have happened," said Lyra. "And I'm sure many of those don't exist anymore. Time is too great to meddle with in any way but meticulously. You've got to be subtle. Don't let time know there's a mistake. The type wanting to steal it usually try for a big reason. Anybody who understands the risk isn't going to steal a Time-Turner in the first place."

"Except you," said James pointedly.

Andromeda heard a small noise of disgust, and then Lyra hissed, "I'm not going to steal one, I'm just trying to study it under supervision to create a non-time-manipulating device that may help me help people —"

Then James said flatly, "Sometimes I feel like you just come up with pseudo-clever ways to sugarcoat something actually pretty messed up."

There was a moment of silence, then Lyra said, "Do you — do you not do that?"

"Christ, the Malfoys messed you up."

"Yeah, I know," said Lyra, and Andromeda could hear the grimace in her voice. Then there was a moment of silence, before Lyra called out, "Auntie Andy?"

Rolling her eyes, Andromeda came around the corner and levelled a look at Lyra. "I don't know how you do that, but what sounds more important is you wanting to —" She looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear.

"Find love?" said Lyra.

"No," said Andromeda, "to study — to study what, again?"

"How to not be a colossal bitch?" said James. "You have to take baby steps before diving straight into the dating pool, you know," he said to Lyra.

Andromeda sighed, said, "Lyra, just don't do anything stupid," and moved past the two of them into her seat as they began hurling insults at each other. In the great dining room, thirteen sat; she chose the spot next to Sirius, who sat at the end of the table closest to the kitchen.

The plates disappeared just as she sat down, replaced a moment later by steaming cups of coffee or tea. Andromeda inhaled the scent of the espresso that had appeared in front of her and felt a little warmth return to her bones.

At the far end of the table, Dumbledore sat, stirring his teacup, stopping only to respond to whatever Nymphadora was asking. It only took a few seconds for Lyra and James to join them, sitting on Sirius' left side to make the table sixteen; next to Lyra sat Mei Chang, the older sister of some girl Cedric apparently knew, dark-haired and somewhat stocky; and next to her, Penelope Clearwater, the older sister of some girl James apparently knew, blonde and lithe.

Down further that line were Cedric, Remus, and Moody, and on the other end from Dumbledore and Dora were Kingsley, and Grace Abbott, a Ministry worker that Lyra had somehow sniffed out as trustworthy and likely willing to join the Order. And beyond Grace, Molly, Arthur, Bill, and finally Andromeda — who couldn't help but catch the way Dora's eyes darted to Lyra with an emotion she couldn't describe, though it didn't seem positive. Dumbledore seemed to notice and he said something to Dora, whose eyes darted back to him and turned shuttered. Before Andromeda could observe more, however, Dumbledore gathered everyone's attention by lightly tapping his spoon against his teacup. The dull murmur of conversation faded away.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal, Molly," said Albus, and Molly flushed a little, waving it off. "I would dearly love to hear the recipe you used for that soup in the future. But before we get started on dessert, I thought perhaps our new members would like this opportunity to say a few words?"

There was a brief silence, then —

"I always hated that bullshit," said Lyra.

But Mei shrugged and said, "I've just always wanted to be invited into a conspiracy." A few chuckles arose from those around the table. "Right," said Mei, running her fingers through her hair, "for those who don't know me, I'm Mei Yu Chang. I graduated a few years back, and now I play for the Tornados."

"The Tornados?" Bill muttered from beside Andromeda, his tone almost offended.

Shooting a quick glare at him, Mei continued: "I joined because I've always wanted to help people. I've never had much of a problem with blood discrimination myself, but my friends — even some of my family — they get bullied, refused entry to places, get overlooked when applying for certain jobs — not to mention, you know, the whole attempt at genocide thing. But I've never been much alone, so yeah, when I found out there was a secret organization to fight back against the likes of You-Know-Who? It wasn't even a choice, really."

Dumbledore beamed at her. She lowered her head to look at Penelope, who sat straight and cleared her throat. Though her clasped hands seemed to fidget a bit, her face only showed a calm, confident smile.

"I'm Penelope Clearwater," she said. "You can call me Penny, if you'd like. I graduated Hogwarts last year as Head Girl, and I plan on a Ministry career. Whatever I end up doing there, I'd like to make Wizarding Britain a better place for all of us. The Order shares the same goals I do, and is filled with wiser, more experienced individuals; I believe I can help more people and learn much more in the Order." Her smile turned a little softer as she looked around the table, finishing with Dumbledore. "Thank you so much for having me."

"Thank you, Miss Clearwater," said Dumbledore warmly, and Penelope flushed a little as she sat back and relaxed. "And our last newcomer?"

Andromeda had to turn a bit to see the woman stand from beside Kingsley, her hair straw-colored with the first streaks of grey running through them. There was nothing particularly dangerous-looking with her — frankly boring — features. However, when those sharp blue eyes passed over Andromeda, it almost felt as if she were an insect being pinned to a board.

"My name is Grace Abbott," she said. "I am currently the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. One fact I generally keep to myself is that I am a Muggle-born." Seeing only polite stares reflected at her, she continued, "I lived through the previous war. I survived, but not all those around me did. Even after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I remained skeptical of the Ministry's, and Wizarding Britain's, commitment to the wellbeing of all its residents. I was pleased to see that there are those willing to upset the status quo. Although," she said, looking unflinchingly at Dumbledore, "I was disappointed it took the threat of the Dark Lord returning for this organization to reform."

Dumbledore bowed his head in respect and a few people shared looks as Grace sat down, smoothing out her skirt as she did.

"Thank you three," he said, and whatever lingering tension there was dispelled when slices of strawberry pie with generous scoops of cream and a fork on the side materialized in front of them. Whatever Sirius had opened his mouth to say to Andromeda was forgotten as he too grabbed a fork, his eyes alight with anticipation.

"Your daughter — is that Hannah?" Cedric asked as sounds of silverware scraping against china filled the room.

"Yes," said Grace, her smile doing wonders to soften her features. "Are you in Hufflepuff?"

"Prefect," said Cedric with a nod.

"I hope she's not causing too much trouble," said Grace. "She and her friends — Susan and Kasey, I think — can be rather terrible when left unsupervised."

"They're not that bad," said Cedric, then thumbed in Lyra and James' direction. "I'm used to those two, so everything else feels tame by comparison."

"Hey, are you allowed to give out Apparition licenses?" said James. "Say, if one already knew how to Apparate?"

Grace gave him a frown and said, "Please tell me you didn't practice on your own."

"I didn't," said James. Then he elbowed his friend. "Lyra was with me."

Grace sighed and muttered something under her breath that Andromeda didn't quite catch, but she agreed with the sentiment anyway. Sirius heard Andromeda's matching sigh and smiled into his goblet.

"I suppose if you can prove to me you can safely Apparate," said Grace, and James gave the woman a damn-near saintly smile. "There's a reason why we insist on having Ministry-approved instructors on the scene, you know."

"Oh, tell me about it," said James, glancing at Lyra, who rolled her eyes.

There was a brief moment in which the people around her focused on their food, and Andromeda caught a snippet of conversation from the far end of the table.
"— getting more frequent," said Kingsley, mostly to Dumbledore. "The Warden's been stationed there for decades, if anyone knows what they're talking about, it's him. I doubt the ICW will do anything about it, if they even can do anything about it —"

But she could make out no more past all the other chatter.

"Did your mum make this, Bill?" said James, stabbing at his pie with his fork.

"Well, yeah," said Bill. "Wasn't Dad, that's for sure."

"I'm going to marry her," he declared, and Bill looked at him with thinly-veiled disgust.

"Don't mind James," said Lyra with half her mouth full. "He lusts after everyone's mother. I would know."

This didn't seem to reassure Bill at all.

James scoffed. "Like you're any better. Don't make me bring up some of the things you've said."

Sirius and Mei both leaned forward and said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," said James, grinning.

"Shut up, James!" said Lyra, her pale cheeks actually turning red. "Seriously — I'll gut you like a pig if you squeal."

James laughed.

"Damned bureaucrats!" Moody cried out suddenly, cutting over everyone else. "Constant interference!"

James laughed even harder.

Mei leaned past Lyra and said to him, "Is it worse than what she did when I arrived?"

"I didn't do anything!" said Lyra, her pie left forgotten in her disbelief at being attacked from all sides.

"Weird," said Mei, half on Lyra's lap still. "I suppose I could just feel your eyes on my —" But she was cut off by Lyra's hand grabbing all of her face and pushing her back to her seat.

"She probably fancies someone in this room," said Sirius without care.

Andromeda couldn't help but smile at the look of wild indignation on Lyra's face, nor could she herself help adding, "Maybe it's Hestia? I hope that's not the only reason you're aiming for the Auror Corps at your age."

"— author of the anti-werewolf legislation," said Arthur to his wife. "Very unpleasant woman, very proud of herself, and considering how deep her hatred runs, I'm inclined to call her a fanatic —"

"It's probably just that French girl she rejected me over," said Mei, rolling her eyes. "You should've heard the poetry she waxed about her — what was her name, James?"

Then Cedric cried out from down the table, "You rejected Mei?"

Lyra stuffed her face full of pie, so that her cheeks looked like tomatoes.

"She's racist," said James, and Mei laughed.

Then Lyra swallowed hard, and turned to James with a look of disbelief and said, "How can I have been friends with you for the last five years and have a problem with British-Asians?"

"Because you colonized me," said James. "I think and act like a white woman now. I don't even count as Asian anymore."

Laughs sprung up around him and for the moment a pleasant lightness came over Andromeda, with the smiles and the smell of sugar and strawberries and all the talk filling the dining room. She glanced over at Dora, who caught her eye and gave a small smile, very small, though it seemed genuine at the least.

"It's okay, though," Mei said, rubbing Lyra's shoulder. "It was only a passing curiosity anyway. Besides, you won't need to deal with my grandma's inevitable fit. Too pale, too barbaric!" Mei laughed at her own impression. "Unfit for my blood!"

Sirius let out a low chuckle and said, "So who is it, really?"

"It's not anyone!" said Lyra, looking suddenly wild-eyed and full of disbelief that the subject kept returning back to this. "I make a few jokes about French veela and suddenly I'm madly in love with someone I've never even met?"

"Yet," said James with a deliberate air of mystery.

"Veela?" Sirius said, then turned to Mei and added, "No wonder — you never stood a chance."

Mei gave a one-shoulder shrug and half-smile.

"Don't underestimate Lyra's love for muscle," said Bill, hiding his own half-smile behind his mug as he took a sip. "I saw the way you checked out Charlie sometimes. You weren't even trying to be subtle."

Lyra looked at him in exasperation, sighing as her eyes trailed to Molly, who had, of course, caught that bit of the conversation.

"Charlie?" she said, looking at Lyra as if with new eyes. "But — I thought —"

"No no, Molly," said Lyra, almost soothingly, as though Molly was a hippogriff getting a little too excited. "I mean, he's definitely hot — but I don't think I could ever settle with a boy."

"There are sex-switching potions for that," said Sirius. "Better luck with that than some veela you've never met. And might not ever meet —"

"She's not a veela!"

"So there is a specific she?"

"She'll definitely meet her," said James.

"James!" said Lyra.

"How do you know that?" said Mei.

"Maybe she's been taking Divination," said Sirius, tilting his head and half-squinting at Lyra. "Got a look at her future and whatnot."

Dora's eyes again darted at Lyra, some kind of confused bitterness flashing through them, and all of Andromeda's joy at Lyra's expense washed away with worry instead.

"I haven't been taking Divination," said Lyra, rolling her eyes. "Not like Trelawney can teach me anything anyway. If she Saw herself getting drunk on cooking sherry every weekend just to deal with keeping teenagers in line during her stupid classes, you'd think she would have done something to avert that future."

Now Dora's eyes weren't leaving Lyra, an intensity beginning to build in them, as if Lyra had some nerve joking around about this. Which was odd, as Andromeda remembered Dora making fun of Trelawney before as well.

"You know," said Andromeda, wanting to take the conversation elsewhere, "I don't believe you've told me what N.E.W.T.s you took. You took your exams, didn't you?"

"Just six," said Lyra, holding up fingers and counting as she said, "Defense... Transfig, Potions, Charms... and Herbology and Care." She put her fingers down and shrugged. "I frequently fantasize about owning an island full of magical plants and creatures — and veela."

"Oh?" said Sirius, eyebrows raised and a sly grin sneaking onto his lips. "Veela as in plural?"

"She's counting her future kids," said Mei, snorting.

"Have you received your scores yet?" said Andromeda.

"Nope," said Lyra as two Order members let out loud laughs at something one of them said.

The conversation had caught the attention of Bill too, who had been talking to Arthur, and Bill said, "Wait, you've taken your N.E.W.T.s already? Why?"

"I want to get into Auror training," said Lyra, drawing a finger in lazy circles on the tabletop's wood. "Not much left to learn at Hogwarts, not that I care about anyway." Then she tilted her head and her eyes drifted down the table to Dora. "And there are far prettier sights in the Auror offices."

Andromeda grimaced, but Dora just put her fork down, and without another word stood up and swept out of the room. Lyra blinked and Andromeda, sighing, also got up and walked out, following Dora's path to the front door.

"That was rude," she said as Dora put on her shoes.

Dora threw her a flat look and said, "What was?"

"Well, leaving without at least thanking Molly for the food, or saying goodbye to anyone, including your own mother — and cousin." And there it was, with the mention of Lyra the uncaring facade Dora put up flickered for a second. "Okay, what happened, Dora — what'd she do?"

"Who?" said Dora defensively, reaching for the doorknob.

"I thought you two were past this childish rivalry of yours," said Andromeda, feeling suddenly annoyed and done with Dora's attitude. But then Dora let out a flat, clearly forced laugh.

"Why don't you, Mum, go and just ask Lyra that," said Dora. "And really pressure her. She'll give in to you if she gave in to me."

"Ask me what?" said a voice from just behind Andromeda, and she sighed, for she knew Lyra wouldn't actually help whatever foul mood Dora was in.

"Oh, look," said Dora, giving Lyra a faux-innocent look, "it's the pretty little liar."

As if Lyra knew exactly what she was talking about, the furrowed brow relaxed into understanding and the particular look of someone who didn't like what was coming next. "Ah."

Dora threw her a tight smile and said nothing.

"Can either of you tell me what's going on?" said Andromeda, looking between the two girls. Dora continued to stare at Lyra, who shifted uncomfortably.

"If you don't tell her, I will," Dora said finally. "Maybe you don't care about how I feel, but I trust my mum to act in your best interests. More than my own, sometimes."

Andromeda's eyes flickered to her daughter, but she swallowed back the words she wished she could say. It wouldn't help any of them to hurl insults at each other. Andromeda took a deep breath before looking at Lyra expectantly.

But Lyra looked to be going through some intense internal conflict. She looked for a moment as though she was ready to bolt, then plead, then defend herself stubbornly — a mix of emotions all flashing across her face until at last Dora let out a small breath of something like disappointment and disdain.

"Figuring out what other lies might work this time?" she said, then she scoffed and opened the door and swept out. Lyra was dashing past after a moment of silence, snatching a sky-blue coat off a hanger and sliding out the door before it could close on her. And then Andromeda too, after pulling the door open for herself, was chasing after the both of them outside.

"Dora!" called Lyra, wrapping her coat tightly around her as the chilly wind blew her hair about.

"What lies is she talking about?" said Andromeda as she caught up.

Lyra ran a hand through her hair, bringing it out of her face, then said quickly, as if to get it over with: "When I was young, about a million different memories — visions — whatever you want to call them — all got thrown into little Lyra Malfoy's head, all at once. I've never told anyone that, except James, and as of not too long ago, Dora. And now you."

Andromeda slowed as her mind fought to make sense of what she had just heard. "What —?"

"I saw the future," said Lyra, and she sped up.

"You mean — you're a Seer?" said Andromeda, her thoughts flying right away to what Narcissa had said once, of her suspicions that Lyra held some gift in divination.

Lyra immediately let out a breath of contempt, though for what Andromeda didn't know.

"More like I just saw a different timeline of events." And before Andromeda could ask for elaboration, Lyra reached out as they caught up with Dora, her fingers gently pulling Dora's shoulder back. "Dora —"

And then Dora was whipping around, her eyes a mess of emotions.

"Just how much did you see?" she said, almost an air of desperation in her voice, though again, for what Andromeda didn't know.

"W-what, you mean everything?" said Lyra, eyes wide. "It's a lot."

"I — I just couldn't stop thinking about it," said Dora, then she lowered her voice, "You asked me what I wanted from you, that night after Azkaban, and I said I just wanted you to not lie — and — and you remember what you said? I'm not lying," hissed Dora, and Lyra actually winced."And come to find out, it turned out you were lying there too, all along. Dumbledore doesn't know, does he? You never told him about all this. It certainly didn't seem like he did when I hinted at it. Unless he was also lying to me."

"I —" Lyra's breath gave out immediately. "No. He's not lying."

"And then I began thinking," continued Dora with a mirthless laugh, "what other times might have Lyra lied or omitted things? And I couldn't help but wonder just how much you already knew about people before you met them, how much you knew about me before you and I ever saw each other, and then how much of it all was even real or just you saying and doing what you thought needs to be said or done for the hope of some better future."

"It wasn't like that," said Lyra swiftly, her eyes pleading, "I've always cared about you, from the beginning."

"I'm not doubting you care about me," said Dora, "but I can't stop wondering just how much you knew." She raised her eyebrows. "So what'd you know about me before you met me?"

"I… I knew you'd want to become an Auror, knew you'd apprentice under Moody," said Lyra, her voice struggling to stay steady, "and I knew who you'd marry, about your first child, and how you — and just a few other things. I didn't know that much. And I never used you, I swear on my soul, Dora —"

That snapped Andromeda out of her daze, and out of instinct she said, "Don't swear on your soul, Lyra." Then the way Lyra stuttered caught up in her mind and she knew at once what was meant. Her own voice came out nearly lifeless: "You were going to say how she died, weren't you?"

Lyra's eyes shot to hers, and she nodded.

Then Dora snapped out of her own daze, and said, "You saw my death?"

Shrugging, her eyes a bit deadened, Lyra said, "Yeah. People's lives, deaths, loyalties — secrets they never told. Events from decades ago. Events decades from now."

"And when was my death?"

"Dora," began Andromeda, not wanting to hear this at all.

"When did I die, Lyra?"

"Four years from now," said Lyra.

Though there was plenty of wind, it felt as though there was suddenly no oxygen.

Dora observed Lyra carefully. "I was supposed to die in four years?" she said. "After being married and a mother?"

Stuffing her hands deeper into her coat's pockets, Lyra looked down and said, "Yeah."

"Who else?"

Lyra gave Dora a look, but said, "Half the Order, if not most. Moody. Dumbledore. Sirius. Mostly in the same year, really. Voldemort really hit hard when he came back."

There was another moment of silence from them three, only the wind and distant cars and people heard.

"Did he kill me?" said Dora, her eyes wide but apparently not without a morbid curiosity. But of course, she had known some of this before, had time to process it. Andromeda hadn't.

Lyra looked as though she was wondering if she should answer or not. Seeing Dora's narrowed eyes, however, she said, "No. It was our aunt, actually."

The silence after rang in Andromeda's ears, the remaining air in her lungs seeming to vanish. Only Nymphadora noticed her tension, while Lyra seemed to be lost in her own mind. Andromeda slowly exhaled, calming herself, or trying to.

"Lyra," said Dora, and her cousin looked up. "I… bloody hell. I understand. Bloody hell, I do, but did you really think that I'd prefer to be kept in the dark about the fact that Bellatrix was meant to kill me? Or that I'd appreciate not knowing that while looking into her eyes?"

"Everywould-be murder victim would want to know who their killer is," said Lyra, looking wry. "You know, Voldemort became obsessed with his destined killer too, and look what happened to him —"

Dora scoffed and opened her mouth to say something, but Andromeda spoke first:

"So when you first came to our house…" she said, the depth and gravity of this confession suddenly hitting her. "You knew already. Didn't you? You knew my sister would kill my daughter?" Every second she waited for Lyra's answer felt like a hammer against her chest.

Lyra closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Under different circumstances, yes."

"And you know for certain you've been able to change things, that the same outcomes don't just happen somehow anyway?"

"I know," sighed Lyra.

Andromeda looked at her niece, wondering if there was some subtext she had missed. Lyra's mind was clearly on something else bothering her, and for the life of her, Andromeda couldn't figure out what was more important than this discussion. This wasn't even remotely heard of; perhaps forms of divination, but not this.

"How much have you changed?" said Dora.

Lyra shrugged weakly and gave a slightly exasperated expression. "I don't know. One change can lead to several. Butterfly effect."

Dora waited a moment before saying, "So you don't know what the future looks like anymore."

"No… not except for some events that are going to happen anyway," said Lyra. "But they're not related to Voldemort or Bellatrix. And I did take measures against the two of them."

"I still don't understand," said Dora. "Why couldn't you tell me? Did I do something? Whatever I did in that — that other future, I'm not her."

"No, of course not —"

"Then just tell me why," said Dora. "Why did you lie about Dumbledore knowing? Lyra, what happened in Azkaban? What'd you do to Bellatrix? What did you want to know about her vault?" When she didn't get an answer, she hissed, "I spent weeks lying in bed nearly every night trying to grasp the full magnitude of what you told me, feeling terrible for you." She let out a little laugh of disbelief. "I kept thinking about how hard it must have been, to think you're all alone, just you versus the world — because that's how you see it, isn't it?"

"I —"

"I wanted to help you," said Dora, tears in her eyes. "I did. And I still do. But apparently I'm an idiot for thinking you would ever trust anyone but yourself."

"Nymphadora…" said Andromeda.

"No, she's right," said Lyra, quietly, and then, "How many secrets do you think a man like Dumbledore has? He's been nothing but kind the whole time I've known him, but how can I trust him unconditionally, given what I know? I trust him with my life, sure, but I don't trust him to not ultimately do what's necessary to accomplish what he thinks is right, even at the cost of me and my wants. And I trust you with my life, Dora, and so much more, but I didn't trust you not to go to Dumbledore, or someone else who'd go to Dumbledore, or someone else who'd go to someone who'd go to Dumbledore —"

"Yeah," said Dora, tilting her head back to look at the sky, "I get it. I just…" She trailed off, whatever left of her fire shrinking to embers, leaving only resignation and melancholy.

"I'm sorry," said Lyra softly.

Dora sighed, running her fingers through her hair, its color having slowly faded through the conversation. "It's just, all those years, all the little lies, all the little manipulations — I — I don't even know if I can trust whatever's going to come out of your mouth next. And you still won't be fully honest with me."

"Oh, come on," sighed Lyra, looking weary with it all. "There weren't years of lies. You really weren't that important in those memories; why would I manipulate any part of your life outside of this little thing?"

"A metamorphmagus wouldn't ever be useful to you?"

Lyra threw her hands up in the air. "And yet! Despite how useful you could've been in the past, I have never asked you to use your abilities for me."

"Yet," said Dora impatiently. "It doesn't even matter. I would do it. Or would have. I'm not trying to vilify you, but I feel like I'll never stop questioning how much I really know you."

"Dora," breathed Lyra, "I'm not — how many times have I ever really done wrong by you before this?"

"It's not about how many times you've done me wrong," cried Dora. "Don't you get it? We practically grew up together, Lyra. Yeah, we fought, but we made up. And then you requested me for Azkaban, and I went. I could have declined. I could have told you, rightly, 'Lyra, this is too much.' But I didn't. I went, and I still don't even know why! You dragged me through that hell, then —"

"I didn't realize how bad it'd be —"

"And then!" said Dora, "after you realized how bad it was, you still lied. I —" She let out a breath of disbelief and sadness. "Then I thought about it, and realized you've been some special seer this whole time, that every interaction between us has had this earth-shattering secret. And I still gave you the benefit of the doubt! I tried to put myself in your shoes, but whatever decisions you've made that I can understand, this whole Azkaban thing was cruel."

"I know," said Lyra, her voice breaking on the words.

"And whatever problem you have with Dumbledore," she continued, "it doesn't make it any less stupid to try to take on the future alone. You could have convinced me to just not tell Dumbledore, you could have —"

"To do that, I'd have to tell you why I don't fully trust Dumbledore," said Lyra, "and for whatever problems I do have with him, I still respect him enough not to go telling you and whoever the worst of him."

Dora pressed her lips together as her hair darkened, but eventually her shoulders slumped and she looked like she just wanted everything over with.

"Whatever," she said. "Just, if you're going to become an Auror, please don't involve me in whatever you're doing anymore." Then she let out a quiet, ugly laugh. "You know, for all your issues with Dumbledore, you're really not much different."

Lyra swallowed, a grimace pulling across her face's side, and said only, "I'm sorry."

Dora met her gaze again, nodded, looked around, as if to check if anyone was looking, and Disapparated without another word.

Andromeda stared at the spot she had vanished from.

"She'll need some space," she said quietly, almost absently. "She's always been a brooder. She won't appreciate either of us intruding on her right now. But she's not wrong to feel this way, Lyra... I'd rather not restart the argument, but this is… I don't even know what to think." There was a moment of silence as neither felt comfortable speaking. Instead, Andromeda opened her arms in invitation, and Lyra, after a moment of hesitation, stepped into them. "I'll talk to Dora. I think I have some apologizing to do too. And to you. I would have done what I could to help, you know."

But Lyra was shaking her head, a sad smile playing on her lips as she pulled back and gave Andromeda the most crestfallen look.

"Dora's right," she said, then coughed to clear the tightness in her throat. "And if I'm going to lie or omit things, then I shouldn't… I don't know, I just — I don't think it's right to hug you like there's still not things I haven't told you which you probably should know. I just —"

Lyra gave a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes, which held some combination of pity, regret, and an inexplicable fear.

"I'm gonna go," she said weakly. "Love you, auntie."

"I… Okay…"

And then Lyra too disappeared into thin air; and though the city was full of life, Andromeda felt alone in London.