"You can do this, Black, you're the head of the family! You have to do this or else you'll have to get rid of him and you will never see him again. He is a part of this family whether you like it or not so suck it up and get this over and done with! Just call him and ask him why he did what he did!" Lyra exclaimed at her reflection in her bedroom mirror, hyping herself up the best she could despite her fragile mood.
It was time to face Kreacher, she couldn't put it off any longer.
Having just finished her fifth consecutive counselling session, Lyra returned to her cramped box bedroom with a lighter chest but an excruciatingly heavy heart, her mind stuck on something Danielle told her.
She didn't want to hear it at first — facing the truth was agonising when it was the only pastime she had while she was at Coles — but she knew she had to accept it when all she could think about was her secret house elf and his unbelievable actions.
"An abuser will try to isolate their victim by cutting off everyone around them, thus making them easier to manipulate. Tom made sure you had no one to turn to, he did that on purpose."
But Lyra wasn't completely isolated. Kreacher was in on it too.
How did he find out? Why didn't he help me? What happened between him and Tom?
Lyra should have been able to trust Kreacher without second-guessing his intentions because his intentions should have manifested out of his love for her, not his hatred.
She treated him like an equal, right?
Unlike the rest of her family before her. She gave him no cause to turn against her… in her opinion, at least. It was his opinion that mattered the most and Lyra got lost in her own head as she started to doubt everything that had ever happened between them. Was there anything she could do to gain his trust and love…? Did he even know her?
Or did he genuinely think that she, best friend to the Boy-Who-Lived, vocal hater of Lord Voldemort, wanted whatever Tom was doing to her? That she knew who he was? Because clearly, he knew!
…Actually, that's not the craziest thought I've ever had? He served my family who were known followers of Voldemort, he might just be a fan of his, duh! You fucking idiot, Black!
Either way, Lyra knew it was time to call Kreacher and start the conversation she had been avoiding since the day everything unravelled. She needed to know.
Apollo hooted from his handmade perch made from old hangers on her scruffy desk, sensing what his owner was about to do with a fierce furrow to his nonexistent brow, and Lyra hurried to give him a kiss.
"I'm sorry bud but he's our family. I know you've been enjoying the peace but it's nearly been a week since Egypt and I'm going crazy here!" defended Lyra, appealing to her owl as best she could. Apollo had been in extremely high spirits since Kreacher stopped coming by and he couldn't believe she was subjecting him to the horrid elf again. His second hoot sounded wounded and he flapped his wings like a toddler not getting their own way. Lyra shot him her best bitch face, hands firmly on her hips.
"I don't like your tone, mister! You're not so innocent yourself, Danielle told me who you brought around to her flat while I was away!" She countered, laughing as he shied away as though embarrassed. "Exactly! Now please, do not antagonise Kreacher while he's here."
Apollo shuffled a little, narrowing his shiny black eyes and clipping his beak with some attitude, but he eventually quietened down and returned to his food bowl without any sass. Lyra planted one more kiss of gratitude against his feathers, glad that at least someone in her immediate family liked and listened to her.
It was past curfew now, the deep purple sky glistened with stars beyond her window and Lyra flicked the lock on her bedroom door out of nerves. Danielle retired to bed an hour ago, the likelihood of her interrupting was low, but not impossible. She still hadn't told her key worker about her house elf, and after this impending conversation, Lyra assumed she wouldn't have to. It was going to end in disaster, she could feel it in her bones.
Lyra cleared her throat and wrapped her thin dressing gown tighter over her mismatched pyjamas, imagining a draft that was never there.
"Kreacher!"
Pop!
Ok, so far so good.
A part of Lyra wondered whether her elf would refuse her call, and her heart started to thump painfully when she took on his appearance for the first time in weeks as though expecting the worst. He was still wearing the luxurious black smoking jacket she made him, and the matching tasselled hat looked cleaner than ever. He actually took care of them.
"Mistress," Kreacher croaked, assuming a low bow that cracked his aged spine. He looked as wrinkled as last time, not much had changed about him during their estrangement, but she did notice the fear in his eyes… That was new.
When he stood up straight and met her intense gaze, she saw the flecks of terror form like tears despite his bloodshot appearance. It was undeniable and she started to pout.
Kreacher was scared of her.
"I'm sorry it's been a while, I've been busy…" Lyra started awkwardly, quite thrown by Kreacher's gentle body quakes, "Kreacher, I'm not going to hurt you."
Her curtness soothed his tremor, and he stared back in utter confusion as though he was expecting a totally different reaction out of her.
"Mistress isn't going to hurt Kreacher?" He asked, sounding more offended if anything, and Lyra scoffed.
"No! Jesus Christ, I would never!" She jumped down to his level on her paint-splattered floor and grasped his shoulders, considering whether a hug would be appropriate or not, "look, obviously, we need to talk about Riddle and everything, and also what you and Narcissa have done because what the fuck was that about—,"
Lyra realised she was slipping off track. Draco's taunts muddled her mind all summer but she quickly reconfigured her trajectory, "but what I'm trying to say is that nothing you've done justifies me abusing you! Sure, I'm pissed off but that doesn't mean I want to hurt you! I told you before that we're family and families aren't supposed to hurt each other. Please don't be scared of me, bud."
Kreacher absorbed her flood of words and blinked hard, shaking the nerves out of him until his ears flapped.
"So… the Dark Lord is actually gone? Mistress isn't his anymore? This isn't him speaking through you?"
His specific choice of words sickened Lyra to her stomach and she slumped back, letting go of him to clutch her weighted chest. The pressure was back and it squeezed her till she choked. If she knew he was going to acknowledge thatso soon then she would've prepared herself.
Hot tears snatched her vision and she cowered away from him, hating how rapidly they fell down her burning cheeks. She was exhausted enough from crying during her five days of counselling sessions, she didn't have the energy to repress her intense sadness now. The faucet on her emotions was already loose, Kreacher merely gave it a soft knock and it came gushing out.
"H-He's gone! Riddle is gone and he's not coming back! I'M NOT HIS!" Lyra wheezed through her sobs, avoiding Kreacher's face like he was the sun. She couldn't let him see her like this. "Why did you help him?! WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME, KREACHER?! It hurts so much…"
The questions burst out of her mouth before she could help it and she looked up instinctively to see if Kreacher would humour her with an honest answer for the first time in his life. She didn't mean to shout, the last thing she needed was someone banging on her door and ruining the moment.
But her house elf seemed to be just as unpredictable as his mistress, and his reaction shook her so intensely that her tears stopped almost at once.
"I'VE DONE IT A-AGAIN!"
Kreacher wailed and collapsed onto the floor, cradling his head to shield her and reverting to a child-like state. "KREACHER FAILED! KREACHER IS WEAK! A SPINELESS COWARD, UNLIKE THE FAMILY HE SERVES! K-Kreacher deserves to be punished for failing his masters again! Stupid! STUPID STUPID STUPID!"
He hammered his fists against the floor, experiencing a meltdown that Lyra recognised all too well in herself. His pallid skin grew rosy as he worked himself up further, making him look a lot like one of the crying spirit masks decorating the mummies tombs she saw in Egypt. Lyra leapt at her stereo so she could drown out his sorrows and keep suspicions low.
A classic and incidentally cheerful Dolly Parton track skipped to life as Lyra attempted to peel her inconsolable house elf from the floor. It was funny how easily she fell back into a calm mindset when someone else was freaking out worse than her, and she was fascinated to hear what he was bottling up. The toughened container in which Kreacher held his secrets finally cracked, and she tried to decipher his coherent words through the verses of 'Here You Come Again'.
"Kreacher never wanted to do it, never ever ever!" He wheezed, resorting to hiding his puffy face inside of his jacket as Lyra forced him to sit, "Not again! But Narcissa promised that Kreacher's mistress wanted this! Kreacher didn't want to serve the D-Dark Lord, Kreacher only wanted to keep his mistress happy!"
"Happy?! I didn't know who Riddle was!" Lyra insisted, losing her cool when she heard what Narcissa had done, "she knew what was going on? How?!"
"B-Because Kreacher told her Mistress was dark, that she likes the Dark Lord. A Black can always get Kreacher to tell the truth and Kreacher was weak!" He spluttered, fraying at the seams, "She demanded Kreacher to obey her, it was necessary!"
"Well— don't do that anymore?! Don't listen to her! Please! Jesus Christ, dude, I thought that was given, you know how much I hate the Malfoys. Narcissa isn't your mistress, ok? Neither is her sister Bellatrix, neither is Andromeda or even Tonks, and neither is my father — I'm your mistress, your family, the one who loves you and cares about you the most, don't listen to them unless I tell you to. Please try to understand that, Kreacher," Lyra took a deep, soothing breath and waited until he emerged from the quilted velvet to finish, "I want to keep my love and trust in your hands, and I hope that you can trust me with your love too. Please don't ever lie to me again, bud, because you broke my heart..."
By the appearance of an adoring gleam in Kreacher's red inky eyes, Lyra genuinely felt that she had finally gotten through to him, but her stomach twirled in panic when he started to bawl again. He's definitely family, what a drama queen!
"Kreacher begs for Mistress' forgiveness, although it is not deserving," he whimpered, shakily reaching forward and clutching onto the hem of her dressing gown, but Lyra scooped his hands up instead, hating how he always went for her clothes like he was a domestic pet that was beneath her. His hands were leathery and warm, and she stroked them like Danielle had been doing to her all week.
"Tell me the truth, did you honestly believe that I wanted Tom to possess me and for Voldemort to come back to life?" She asked, and Kreacher nodded his head, ashamed.
"Kreacher knew that Mistress Lyra loved the Dark Lord Riddle… Kreacher was only trying to protect the family he cares about the best he knew how… but it wasn't good enough, Kreacher was hoodwinked," he grumbled and clutched at his weak chest, succumbing to more tears. "Kreacher failed his good Master Regulus, and now he has failed his mistress too… all because Kreacher is afraid of the Dark Lord… Kreacher should have told his Mistress Lyra about his darkest fears."
That was the first time Kreacher was truly honest with her, he said her name. Lyra dwelled in the sting of the realisation that this wasn't his first dark encounter with Voldemort. He failed Regulus…? He's scared of Riddle too? What did they do to him?
Lyra knew of her paternal uncle only by name, Andromeda never dove into great detail when she spoke about her sinister cousins and Lyra regretted not pushing her further.
Between Andy and Molly, Andy tended to be more open with the truths of the past as she believed Lyra could handle it. After revealing that her uncle Bartemius was alive and worrying about Lyra's reaction, Molly changed her perspective on reliving the past and brushed past many of her questions away with brief answers. All Lyra knew was that her own uncles on both sides of the family were dark, and they were dead. Nothing more needed to be said.
"You've met Voldemort before? While you served my grandmother? When he was Riddle?" Lyra inquired, studying his face for hidden information, and Kreacher caught his breath without trouble. His wilting ears fell limp like a serene cat and he watched their hands in awe. Her affection was his kryptonite, he wanted to make amends.
"Not as Riddle, Kreacher was unaware of his previous name, but Kreacher has been in the presence of the Dark Lord many times, and…-," Kreacher let out an agonised puff of air and squeezed Lyra's hands to help him through his confessions, "Kreacher has kept dark secrets for him before, for his Regulus."
"My uncle?" Lyra clarified, unsure whether there were any duplicate names she should be aware of.
"Indeed. Master Regulus was a great man, he loved Kreacher very much, treated me as an equal… and he cared about the Black family more than any of them. He was so very brave, Mistress would've loved Master Regulus just as much as Kreacher does," he muttered, connecting with the dusty memories he had of his favourite master. Lyra yearned for more, there was something else to this tale, and she could feel it in the air between them.
"What happened to Regulus?" Lyra prodded, offering Kreacher a seat on her bed as she crawled onto it. He graciously joined her side and let his secrets spill out, thankful that she was his kindred spirit. At times it was like Regulus was here with him again and Kreacher's soul sang. He had to honour him in some way.
"Kreacher was forced to perform a task for the Dark Lord, to help him fortify one of his many ghastly defences, and Kreacher almost died in the process. Master Regulus saved Kreacher out of luck and discovered what the Dark Lord had planned…" he whispered, afraid that Voldemort was somehow eavesdropping, and Lyra blinked hard, compelled by his heartbreaking story. She began to recognise the signs in the elf's weary expression that verified that he wasn't lying, but she struggled to comprehend what Kreacher was talking about. What secret?
No way?! No fucking way! MY WHOLE LIFE I TRIED TO UNCOVER WHAT HE HAD DONE AND THE KID HAPPENS TO STUMBLE UPON SOMEONE WHO WAS DIRECTLY INVOLVED?!
I was directly involved at one point and I still had no idea, let's be grateful that Kreacher helped him because this will be huge.
What is going on?
Lyra's mind was racing, and her conscience was hysteric, but she ignored the voices and forced herself to concentrate on what Kreacher was admitting to. She really needed a cup of tea.
"Master Regulus died trying to stop the Dark Lord, he ordered Kreacher to abandon him and Kreacher had no choice but to leave his Regulus… Kreacher regrets that every day," he sniffled, getting more emotional as he dwelled on possibly his biggest regret, but Lyra's shoulder rubs helped tremendously.
"What were you doing? What secret of his did you discover?" Lyra dared to ask, and Kreacher automatically glanced around Lyra's room, searching for something.
"The diary that belonged to the Dark Lord, it's just like that — they feel the same when Kreacher holds them," he murmured, his voice hoarse from all the tears but his face was bone-dry, talking felt natural again. "Master promised me not to tell anyone about the object we recovered, but Mistress found one too. Mistress is so much like sweet Regulus, he would have wanted Kreacher to trust Mistress."
Lyra nodded, finding herself agreeing with his comment. It sounded as though her uncle once was a fanatic of Voldemort but then he switched sides, he had a change of heart. I wonder what convinced him. Something major must've happened, because from what Andy inferred Regulus was just as brainwashed as the rest of the family.
"So this object you and Reg found," Lyra drawled, vocally connecting the dots so she could follow along, "it was another diary?"
"No, it was a locket," Kreacher elucidated, bloody eyes blurry as he got lost in another memory, "Master Regulus made Kreacher promise to destroy it but… Kreacher couldn't."
"How come?"
"The Dark Lord's personal belongings are not what they seem, they are created from dark, dark magic that even Kreacher's former mistress wouldn't meddle with. It is the same dark magic that defiled Mistress' journal, and Kreacher wasn't strong enough to fight it like he couldn't fight the locket," he explained, breathing more life into his lungs now he was getting all of this off his chest.
Lyra mashed her knuckles into her temples and copied, engrossed in the details Kreacher hoarded for years.
"Ok, firstly," she began after a moment, "please may I have a cup of Earl Grey, and by all means summon one for yourself too. It'll make you feel better, I swear."
"…Kreacher would like that."
Pop!
"Brilliant," Lyra sighed, smacking her lips after a fresh gulp of citrus tea, and Kreacher followed suit, clutching his mug with both hands. Lyra felt as though she could take on the world now, "secondly, thank you for telling me. I'm sorry that you've had to deal with Tom before, it was totally brave of you to share this with me. Regulus would be so incredibly proud of you, I'm sure of it."
Kreacher tried his best not to break down again. "Mistress is too kind… Kreacher feels foolish for believing their lies," he admitted, and Lyra scoffed lightheartedly.
"You and me both, dude! Welcome to my world! So, this locket, do you still have it? What's it like? Is there another Riddle trapped in it as well?" She wondered, adopting the attitude of someone who seemed unbothered so she wouldn't freak herself out.
Please, for the love of God — please say there's not another one of him lurking around?! That prospect terrified her most of all. Riddle returning… That specific Riddle coming back to destroy her once and for all.
"Kreacher has the locket, but he has never been able to open it. Maybe Mistress can help destroy it like the diary?" He asked hopefully, his deep voice crackling with warmth, and Lyra felt rather faint.
Fuck!
She never wanted to see Riddle ever again, it would ruin her, but naturally, she couldn't say no. Voldemort almost came back through the diary, he most definitely could try and come back via the necklace.
For a moment Lyra tried to think of the last time she physically saw Riddle's diary—
"Of course I will," she vowed, disregarding her true feelings for the greater good, "but, uh… I don't know whether I'm sane enough to do it right this second."
"Kreacher understands, Mistress must heal first," he agreed, assuming a more protective demeanour as he took his turn to pat her free hand. Lyra almost cried, his gesture meant the world to her.
"Thank you buddy," she sniffed, "once I'm feeling better, bring me the locket. Oh! And don't tell anyone else about this ever," she added for good measure, still feeling a bit salty that she had to use her power over him to ward off any potential Malfoy attacks.
"So Draco told me you and Narcissa have been lying to me all year?" She couldn't help but drawl.
Kreacher's thin lips curled into a devilish smile that didn't feel inherently malicious. It was a good devilish smile, and Lyra was glad to feel his loyalty for once.
"It sounds to Kreacher that Master Draco had believed Kreacher's own lies. The Malfoys do not know what the diary was, they were only aware of its link to the Dark Lord… Kreacher knows that Lucius is suspicious about Riddle's existence but Kreacher lied to protect his mistress. Kreacher used Potter's interest in Dobby as a ruse. They know Mistress Lyra did something, but they do not know what," he elaborated, chuckling darkly to himself, "Kreacher knows of the Malfoys' fondness of the Dark Lord and Kreacher hates it. They do not believe the Dark Lord has ruined the family, they don't know what happened to Regulus, and they do not need Kreacher aiding them to ruin again."
Lyra laughed, proud of his backstabbing tendencies for once.
"Ha! Serves them right!" But then it dawned on her. "Wait — you lied to them? I thought you had to tell us the truth. You're bound to the family?"
"Kreacher lied to protect Mistress because Kreacher believed that Mistress was in love with the Dark Lord Riddle. Kreacher will do anything to serve you," he repeated, and his reiteration of the dark truth made her feel dirty again, and it got worse when her house-elf continued, "and Kreacher hopes he does not offend Mistress by assuming that Mistress knows about the dark magic that was performed? Kreacher noticed that Mistress Lyra likes the Dark Arts…?"
Lyra's skin crawled and she tried not to hurl.
"I don't like the Dark Arts," she mumbled, unintentionally taking offence.
"But Mistress is gifted, she does not react to dark magic as the wizards Kreacher has seen before, a pure and good heart should struggle with the Dark Arts but Mistress executed them flawlessly," he croaked, gazing at her in curiosity. She suddenly felt like an animal in a zoo, unable to escape the situation.
"But… I don't…" she didn't know what to say, "I didn't mean to use dark magic! I thought you had to study the Dark Arts in order to use them?!"
"Kreacher thought so too," he shrugged, "Please Mistress, your secrets are safe with Kreacher. He will take them to the grave."
"But I don't have any secrets!" She exclaimed, laughing a little at the ridiculousness of it all, "Seriously, Kreacher! I don't know what I did, and I don't want anyone hearing you say this because they might get the wrong idea!"
"Kreacher understands," he muttered despite his suspicious side-eye, "Kreacher only wants to protect Mistress from the Dark Lord like he should have protected his Regulus, that is all."
Kreacher didn't believe her, but Lyra decided to deal with that at another time. The lost memories of what she and Riddle had done were still returning to her, she wanted a clearer picture before she asked more about the dark magic she conjured. Kreacher was present for some of them, but she didn't know what exactly. She didn't want to drop a bombshell, like the fact she brought Lockhart back from the dead, on him out of the blue.
Very smart, I like it.
Honestly, I reckon you can trust him with it.
"That wasn't so bad," Lyra breathed deeply, relieved that their friendship was repaired, "but it sucks to know that the diary wasn't the only thing Riddle created. Do you know if Regulus found out about any other cursed objects he created?"
"Master Regulus told his Kreacher that creating a Horcrux is exponentially dangerous, no wizard has ever had two before… It is impossible that the Dark Lord produced more than two," he said, grimacing as he remembered one of their last conversations, and Lyra snorted. There was always a funny word mixed in amongst the darkest of subjects.
"A what?"
"A Horcrux," Kreacher whispered, taking a peek over his shoulder to scowl at Apollo as though suspecting him to be a double agent, "they hold part of a wizard's soul, it is the most gruesome piece of magic Kreacher has ever heard of and Mistress must take care when dealing with one. It is a miracle that you survived…"
A deathly chill settled over Lyra as she gawked at him, deeply disturbed by the theory. It was his soul she felt. But only a fragment of it.
The most despicable act one can do is to force a soul to split.
It's against the rules. They don't like that, and neither do we.
"Gross, that explains why he's so inhuman I suppose, and the fact he can't seem to die," Lyra gagged, her freckled nose wrinkling as she began to wonder what Riddle did while at school that allowed him to destroy his humanity. It had to be worse than murder, surely?
"That is precisely what Kreacher thinks too," agreed Kreacher, glad his mistress agreed, "which is why Kreacher was astounded when Mistress told him she wanted to help the Dark Lord Riddle resurge after the many nasty names Kreacher heard Mistress call him."
"Duh," Lyra scoffed, giving Kreacher her meanest pout, "I mean, I do understand where you're coming from because I had feelings for Tom," saying the L word was something she was trying to coax out of her vocabulary, "but let's just cover this now in case something happens in the future," Lyra readjusted her crossed legs and sat a little taller.
"If I'm ever possessed by the evil soul fragment of Lord Voldemort, or any other dark wizard, then do not listen to me and get help immediately, ok?"
A soft force rolled through Kreacher and enveloped him like a warm blanket, and his ears twitched. He accepted her order with immense pride and nodded for extra reassurance.
"Absolutely, Mistress."
"Wonderful!" She sighed, stretching back on her bed and smiling at him, "Now that's sorted, please can you check in on Harry? I know it hasn't been long since I left him but I need you to make sure he's being looked after."
"Kreacher already dropped off Potter's care package," Kreacher admitted, stiffly jumping down from her bed and massaging his worn joints. With his extra tuffs of white hairs sticking out of his bat ears, he looked even more like an old man, and Lyra awwed.
"Aw dude! You're so sweet, do you like him now? Would you like a signed picture?" she cooed, needlessly pinching his cheek before he swatted her away.
"Kreacher merely wanted to thank Potter for destroying the Dark Lord's diary, and for saving Mistress," he defended, trying not to seem too considerate, and he disapparated with a sulky groan before Lyra could tease him further.
Pop!
"-And so I wake in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath and get real high and I scream from the top of my lungs, what's going on?" Lyra sang to herself as she tried to get to grips with her latest quest for the perfect distraction. Her new roller skates were definitely not built with seaside town streets in mind, but surprisingly it was a hell of a lot easier to navigate than her skateboard. It was so much fun!
The scorching weather was relentless, and the current heatwave blowing through the country was one of two reasons why Lyra was forced out of her tiny room and into the streets instead.
The other reason was that the atmosphere at Coles had been quite tense lately as it turns out Johnny, one of the pains in Lyra's arse that lived there, hadn't forgotten about their little encounter before she left last year. He badgered everyone at the home insisting that she was a witch, he was determined to find a way to kick her out and ruin her life, and Danielle suggested that it would be beneficial for her progress and the Statute of Secrecy to avoid Johnny at all costs. Lyra wholeheartedly agreed and offered to steer clear of the home whenever she could, and most of her afternoons ended with her crashing at Danielle's flat. It was a great compromise in her eyes.
While Johnny was attempting to rally a witch hunt, Rachel pretended that Lyra didn't exist. It was amazing, more than amazing — it was a dream come true!
Danielle told her that her main bully picked up a part-time job while she was in Scotland, and she was rarely seen at home when she was off shift. Lyra encouraged this glorious new routine by avoiding the posh botanical restaurant up near the old battlements where Rachel worked, and soon she began to forget all about her as she started to enjoy her summer.
Besides the traumatising nightmares that came at night, her summer was working out pretty well!
"And that was What's Up by the 4 Non-Blondes at number five, just climbing up the charts there!"
The radio DJ's voice was crystal clear through Lyra's headphones, and she mentally thanked Harry for the awesome gift for the thousandth time. Whoever charmed her new red Walkman made sure to include a perfect radio signal, no matter where she was she could pick up any radio station that her heart desired, Muggle and Wizarding.
"Coming in at number four — it's Haddaway with 'What is Love'." The next tune began to pump into her ears as she skidded to a stop at the start of the pier, a place Lyra promised never to venture. Despite the energetic house music, Lyra shivered and spun on her circular heel, deciding against going anywhere near the rickety, old boardwalk crowded with tourists. As expected, Weymouth was swarming with city folk eager for a taste of the sea, and she skated off before she found herself in the back of multiple family pictures.
Engrossed in the song, Lyra didn't pay much attention to her surroundings as she headed towards a local park only a few streets from the main seafront. She chose the quiet public flower garden as her meeting point since it was the only interesting landmark that wasn't eclipsed by the ocean, and she rather liked the bizarre-looking metal statues that the local art club recently installed on the grass.
Lyra skidded through the dusty gravel paths, avoiding an elderly woman and her Pomeranian before she sprayed them with stones, and caught her breath by collapsing on the nearest wooden bench.
She glanced up at the nearby clock tower and grinned, impressed with her time. She was actually early! She was visiting Andromeda and Ted today, she couldn't wait!
The Tonks' letter arrived just ten days after she returned from Egypt, offering Lyra the chance to visit them and possibly enquire into fostering her during the summers she wasn't at Hogwarts.
She snatched up the chance immediately, and Danielle issued the paperwork needed to add the Tonkses to her family file. Considering Lyra's secret background and current vulnerable state, trying to remove her from the Muggle care home system was frightfully difficult when the truth couldn't be explained to the Muggle Child Protection officer, but Danielle assured both Lyra and the Tonkses that she was hurrying her case through as quickly as she could.
Knowing she had ten minutes to spare before Danielle pulled up, Lyra rooted around in her backpack for her photo album out of fear that she had forgotten something. One of the personal objectives she set for herself on her visit was to extract as much information about her family as possible.
After her talk with Kreacher, Lyra realised that it was high time she found out the specifics, she knew basically nothing about her dark family relatives and she wanted to know if Regulus was the only one who showed potential to change. Not to mention the family secrets that were floating around — if Reg knew about Voldemort's disgusting soul vessel thingys, then what else were they hiding?
She found the photographs of her parents Harry helpfully sent here as she owned none and aimlessly flicked through them, taking in the features of strangers that appeared a few times throughout. None of the photos had labels, it was infuriating!
Just as she reached the photographs she had seen before, the ones from Harry's parents' wedding, goosebumps appeared on the back of her neck as though stimulated by a pair of eyes. Someone was watching her… is Danielle here already and trying to sneak up on me?
Assuming she was right, Lyra tried to stifle her smirk as she pretended to tend to a bothersome tag in the collar of her polo shirt, and glanced over her shoulder to catch the pair of eyes red-handed.
Oh…?
It wasn't Danielle. In fact, it wasn't anyone she knew at all.
Standing by the entrance to the park stood a stranger who looked unusually out of place surrounded by wild palm plants and lavender bushes. The man must've been in his sixties with dark grey salted hair peeking from under his bowler hat, and a trimmed horseshoe moustache that matched. He was formally dressed in a pinstriped suit that looked far too proper for a hot day like today, with a pressed leather overcoat that looked quite like a cloak, and he was staring at her as though he recognised her. There was definitely familiarity twinkling in his dark eyes—
OH! Duh!
The stranger wasn't a Muggle, he must've recognised her from The DailyProphet! Wow, a wizard sighting here in Weymouth! Wait, are there other wizards living here?
Lyra didn't know what to do. Should she react? She couldn't exactly walk over and ask the stranger whether he could perform magic or not because that would be way too awkward to explain if she was wrong… But if she was right?
For goodness sake Lyra — don't talk to strangers.
Have we not learnt our lesson already?
Lyra dropped her attention to her backpack and thought through her options as she shoved her photo album away. The responsible thing to do was to ignore the old man and pretend she hadn't seen him, as a normal person would do, but on the other hand, her heart was racing in exhilaration from finding a tiny piece of her world in her hometown. It was a sliver of hope that she could find an escape and become the real her while she was stuck in Weymouth.
"Aw fuck it, it's a public place! What's he gonna do, possess me?!" Lyra justified out loud to herself, and she spun around to find him again. "Hey!"
But it was too late, the wizard was gone.
She couldn't see his bowler hat beyond the hedges along the fences nor was he wandering through the park. He simply vanished, and Lyra slumped against the backrest, disappointed that she didn't get a chance to at least acknowledge him. He looked sad, maybe he just wanted someone to talk to.
Definitely a wizard.
The beeps of a car horn shook Lyra out of her daze and she turned to see a rusty silver Ford waiting by the entrance to the park where the stranger was standing moments ago, and Danielle waved at her through its open window, showing off her new braids from the hair appointment she came from. Lyra instantly cheered up and skated over, almost denting her car door in the process.
"Wow, pretty! Blonde really suits you, I love it!" Lyra greeted cheerfully.
"Please tell me you brought an actual pair of shoes with you," Danielle sighed, judging Lyra with a softer side-eye than usual, and Lyra pulled her dirty white trainers from her backpack, showering the passenger side in dry mud.
"You have so little faith in me," she sighed back, rolling her eyes with more attitude, and Danielle scoffed.
"And rightfully so, little miss! Trainers? With a skirt?"
"It's a perfectly good look! I was going for an edgy tennis player vibe," Lyra described, gesturing to her outfit. She wore a hand-dyed black polo shirt that she chopped off at her midriff, a black and white chequered skirt that she improved by adding secret pockets, and her hair was glossy and smooth as she wore it down with two pigtails. "You don't like it?"
Danielle nodded approvingly, admiring her vision once she got the full picture. "Actually it's quite cute, the flames you've painted on your skates go with it too," she praised, appreciating that her influence was rubbing off on her.
"See! Creative genius! This is why you should trust me and not because of anything else I've done recently," Lyra exclaimed, pointing at herself, and Danielle decided to switch the radio on instead of answering back. They had roughly two and a half hours of driving ahead of them and she didn't want to set off on bad terms.
Andromeda, Ted, and Tonks' hometown was just as lovely and friendly as they were, Lyra wasn't sure why she was surprised by the pretty buildings and curvy roads that unwound from the horizon as they drove up towards Herefordshire. Danielle knew these roads like the back of her hand as they were the same she used when visiting her parents back in Wales, it didn't take her long to shave off time from their journey as most of the traffic was heading towards the coast. The emerald hills grew taller than the redwoods in Dorset, Lyra gawked at the impressive cliffs overlooking the carriageway and appreciated the rocky landscape that offered them shade during their sweltering drive.
They entered the small, hilly town called Upper Dewstone just as the sun reached its highest point in the sky, and Lyra took charge of reading out Ted's directions, matching her tempo with the upbeat song pumping through the car. They passed fields upon fields of sheep and jolly country farms that guarded them, but once they piqued the last hill they spotted a wonky, wooden road sign shaped like a pointed hand directing them towards a spindly gap in the hedge lining the road.
As they drew closer Lyra realised that the sign was floating without support. Danielle jumped slightly in her seat when the hand began to exaggerate its points as though it was alive, silently telling them to drive through. Lyra shrugged.
"I think we better do what the ambiguous sign says, I'm sure it'll be safe," she announced, buckling up her seat belt again, and Danielle looked nervous.
"Why do you say that?"
"According to the map, on the other side of that hedge is a pretty steep drop," Lyra pointed out with a devious grin, "I hope you like flying!"
"Maybe it's not this exit guarded by a mysterious wizard sign, maybe there's another one. Let's keep going?" Danielle suggested, but Lyra stuck her head out of the window and inspected the sign up close. A scroll detailing whose land they were approaching unravelled from the hand and Lyra oohed appropriately.
"Nope! It's definitely this way — 'Mrs and Mrs Fickle, Mr and Mrs Upton, Mr Houndslowe, Mr and Mrs Tonks—!' Yup, they're on the list, let's go!" She cheered as she climbed back into the car, anticipating her fun day of exploring the hidden wizarding hamlet.
"If Ted can drive his car through here with no problems then you can too Greene!" Lyra hooted, encouraging Danielle, "But if we do start flying then I can help you out, don't sweat it."
"Like you've ever driven a flying car before," tutted Danielle, gripping the steering wheel extra right. Lyra chose not to comment, it looked like Molly didn't snitch on her in the end.
Once through the prickly bush (both of them groaned as they forgot to close the windows and ended up getting stabbed in the face) they opened up onto a thin dirt road overlooking a lush green valley inhabited by six charming Medieval English houses. Lyra noticed immediately that one of Andy and Ted's neighbours owned an array of animals judging by their extensive chicken wire coops and sheds crowding their enchanted garden. A pair of knobbly gnomes ran alongside the car as they drove down the hill, hopping and laughing as they chased after the squeaking tyres and Lyra stuck her head out again, scrambling for her camera before they rushed off into one of the many blackberry bushes.
"That's number one, so this must be them," Danielle announced as they pulled up in front of — in Lyra's opinion — the prettiest of houses in Thistledown Hill.
The Tonks' house looked pretty conservative in contrast to the other eclectic wizard houses around them, with traditional Tudor-style character and a neatly-kept front garden, but Lyra spotted the overflowing, brightly-coloured garage attached to the side and chuckled at the state of it. That must be Ted's workshop!
"Girls! So wonderful to see you!" chimed Andromeda the moment she burst out of the front door, dressed in a suave blue linen dress and gold sandals, "I hope you found us alright, sometimes the sign plays up and sends our visitors down the wrong path."
"That sign is wicked!" Lyra rambled, bouncing around as she jumped out to greet her first, "Who made it? Your house is beautiful, I'm guessing no Muggles live around here? I love your dress, blue is so your colour!"
"I'm terribly sorry, we made a pit stop for a drink and I think someone's had a bit too much caffeine," Danielle hurried to tame the child before she fatigued their host so soon. Andromeda seemed unfazed as she beckoned them to follow her away from the blistering heat.
"You haven't seen my daughter when she's had too much sugar, trust me, dear, this is nothing," she assured Danielle with a laugh, "it's so good to have you both here! Welcome to Thistledown!"
The Tonks' house was better than Lyra imagined it to be, it was the perfect family home. Family photos hung in clean frames on the periodic panelled walls, each room was adorned with beautiful Persian rugs and inviting furniture, and their ornate dining room opened out onto a kitschy patio decorated with a white metal table and dainty matching chairs. Ted abandoned his task of maintaining their pond at the back of the garden once he realised they arrived and bounded over, his roasted face glistening with sweat and a glittering smile to match.
"You're just in time, Andy's made a beautiful batch of her famous sweet iced tea," he greeted, gesturing to the sparkling jug of iced tea that began to pour out fresh glasses for them, "how was the drive?"
"Not as bad as driving to Harry's, there's way more to look at around here, Surrey is boring," Lyra answered first, happily taking a glass of tea for herself, "this is delicious! Damn, already you've outdone your sister — Narcissa could never be this nice!"
"Mhmm and her iced tea isn't anywhere near as good as this either, trust me," Ted commented with a chuckle as he and his wife exchanged a knowing look. Lyra wanted to pry by asking what he was referring to but the subtle prod from Danielle telling her to behave dissuaded her.
"Let's try and avoid talking about my darling little sister, we don't want to ruin this lovely weather we're having," Andromeda decided to gloss over the comment and grinned at her visitors, "let me give you a tour while Ted starts the barbecue."
"Yes, Ted!" Lyra whooped flashing her uncle a smile of gratitude, "Aw man, I love barbecue food!"
"You've never had barbecue food," Danielle pointed out, and Lyra blinked.
"So? I already know I love it!"
"You will, my husband sure can cook a mean burger," Andy said excitedly, rubbing her hands together as Ted summoned the prepped ingredients from the kitchen. It was astounding to see how neat and prepared a person could be, Lyra noticed how orderly and organised Andromeda kept everything in her house — not a single item was out of place and she suddenly understood why Tonks complained about her mother in so many of their letters. She was a clean freak.
Lyra awkwardly scraped as much mud from her shoes and propped them against the back door as they whisked off on their tour, trying not to ruin anything. She couldn't be too messy, they might not want her.
But her anxieties vanished when they eventually reached the first floor and arrived outside Tonks' bedroom door. Andromeda apologised profusely before swinging it open, and Lyra swore she was hallucinating. Her cousin's room looked as though it had been ransacked, her possessions sprawled onto the floor as though her dressers had vomited clothes, and graphic posters of punk rockstars and crude art statements were pinned to every wall. She spotted a bass guitar in the corner and her heart skipped — Was she in a band?!
"She claimed she was late for work this morning but it always looks like this," Andromeda tutted, judging her daughter's choice in underwear as it hung from the nearest lampshade, and Danielle patted her shoulder sympathetically.
"This one's no better," she sighed, and Lyra turned to scowl at her and point out that it was an affliction she couldn't help, but then she remembered the state she left it in this morning. Note to self, ask Kreacher to clean.
"As an artist, you must understand that having a messy bedroom is a part of the process," she drawled instead, and gestured to the smears of makeup on Tonk's wall-length mirror, "clearly I get my creative flair from her, it's hereditary, we can't help that."
"Actually I'd say you get your creativity from your mother," Andromeda commented as she led them out of her daughter's bedroom and towards one of their two spare rooms. Lyra virtually tripped over herself and tried to act nonchalant as she took it in.
"What? Was she an artist?" Lyra blurted out, and Andromeda rolled her lips together, realising that she never brought it up before.
"Giselle was a remarkably talented pianist, and I believe she used to paint too. Your father showed me some of her work once, and she played piano for hire sometimes," she said carefully as she showed them the first room. The view of the back garden was stunning, the walls were adorned with soft blue wallpaper, and the dark panelled floors matched the wood of the small double bed flanked by two matching spindly tables and a sturdy chest of drawers.
Lyra tried not to dwell on the latter comment as the irony was way too confounding, but she kept her face passive as she inspected the room.
"Oh, that's good to know," she murmured.
"And this is our final room," Andromeda rushed to move on as she and Danielle swapped an awkward look, and she beckoned them into the bedroom down the hall overlooking the front garden.
Like the other spare room, the wood was dark and thick beams framed the ceiling, but the walls were a deep forest green that soaked in the natural light. A broad wardrobe etched with leafy designs stood beside a large, gold-framed mirror on one wall, but the main focus of the room was certainly its small double bed. It was dressed in pale furs, dark jewel-toned pillows and the plumpest aubergine bedding Lyra had ever seen. It looked heavenly and she fought against the urge to jump onto it.
"What do you think?" asked Andromeda, fidgeting with her nails nervously as she watched her, and Lyra simply smiled.
"It's gorgeous!"
"Great, because it's your room," she continued, snatching the air from Lyra's lungs, "Dora chose the colours, and Ted painted it last week. If you want to add decorations then by all means do, you can paint on the walls. We want you to feel at home while you're here."
Lyra wandered over to the window to give herself a moment to blink her tears away, she didn't want to cry in front of them. She couldn't find the words to explain how much that meant to her but as she turned back to face them she knew she didn't need to. Danielle was grinning ear to ear and Andromeda was almost glowing from her smile.
"Thank you, Andy, I don't… This is… I can't…" Lyra mumbled, still trying to convey her gratitude, but Andromeda quickly waved her hands as though she didn't need to hear it and escorted her from the room with a gentle side hug.
"Enough has been said, don't worry dear," she told her and Danielle helpfully changed the subject to ease the tension.
"Why don't we go and see if Ted needs any help?"
The rest of the afternoon zoomed by in an abundance of food, board games, sunshine, and a lot of laughter.
Stories of Lyra's holiday abroad were shared over second helpings of sticky ribs and grilled fruit skewers, along with a tale or two from Andromeda and Ted who had their fair share of hilarious vacation anecdotes that would have turned Tonks bright pink if she was there too. Danielle chipped in with her own retelling of the time she visited Barcelona as a child and she almost got her family arrested for asking the Muggle locals where the nearest Wizarding plaza was, causing her another round of giggles.
"Dora should've been home over an hour ago, she really wanted to see you," Andromeda noted once they realised shadows were creeping into their sunlit garden, and Ted double-checked his shiny watch.
"She's fine, darling, she's only a trainee Auror. I'm sure she just had some paperwork to do," he assured his wife, trying to coax her into sitting back down, but Andromeda was already in her panicked cleaning mode. Lyra jolted as though she had only just realised it was getting late and sprinted inside the house to fetch her backpack. She couldn't let the opportunity slip out of her grip, this was of dire importance.
"I hope you guys don't mind but I've got some questions that I've been meaning to ask you," she started as she sat back down and slammed her heavy album onto the table, forcing their cups to rattle. Intrigued, Andromeda stopped collecting plates and took her own seat, using it as her own distraction.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Danielle cautioned, worried that she might not like what she hears, but Lyra nodded with more determination than ever before. She had never been more certain in her entire life. Her afternoon with Andy and Ted gave her a shimmer of hope that there were more family waiting for her out there waiting to join in with this wondrous feeling she had in her stomach, that there was more to her family than they had let on. What if Regulus wasn't the only one who had a change of heart?
She had to know.
"Positive," she flipped the book open. "Now, I don't have a lot of photographs personally, most of these are from Harry so I will happily take a copy of any you guys own, if you don't mind of course."
"I'll search for them tonight," Andy assured, shuffling closer with a touch of excitement in her mousy features, "I'm sure we have some packed away in the attic."
Lyra picked out the first photograph that caught her eye and tapped it, looking at her aunt and uncle hopefully. All except two photographs seemed to have taken place on the day of the Potter wedding, her mother wore the same delicate green dress in all of them. In this particular one, Giselle was standing amongst a group of women all crowding around the bride and shouting something at the camera. Her smile was radiant, and Lyra adored the way she flicked her middle finger up at her at the last second, she would've done the same thing. "Who are they?"
"I'm sure you're already aware who Lily is," Andy pointed to the beautiful redheaded bride, "and Giselle, of course. I believe these are your mother's school friends, I recognise Emmeline, and – gosh! Look at Amelia! You may know her already, she works at the Ministry?" She gestured to the dark-haired lady in her late twenties rocking what Lyra could only describe as the most Farrah Fawcett hairstyle she had ever seen. The bounce of her curls was impeccable as she reached over to kiss Lily's cheek, and the cute roundness of her cheeks unlocked a memory. That's Susan's aunt! Aw, they look so similar!
"Oh right! Madam Bones, that Amelia, the one that works with my grandfather that hates me?" Lyra clarified bluntly, and the three adults scoffed.
"The very same," Ted managed to recover first, "great woman, she was the one who interviewed Dora and got her the job."
"Speaking of," Andy murmured, growing antsy again as she re-remembered what she was worrying about, "maybe I should send a patronus—,"
"No, sweetheart, Dora went ballistic the last time you sent an emergency patronus. We can't embarrass her again," Ted interjected, and Lyra helpfully pulled out a second photograph to distract her further.
"What about this one?"
Andy glanced briefly at the picture before zoning in on its contents and grimacing in distress. At her reaction, Ted and Danielle snuck a glance and Lyra locked onto Andromeda's face, trying to read her emotions before she had the chance to refuse. Sadness, disappointment?
To be fair, Lyra didn't blame her. She didn't particularly want to bring her father into this either but she needed answers.
The photograph depicted a group of teen boys, Lyra estimated they must've been at least eighteen judging by their matching albeit scruffy Gryffindor uniforms, who were messing about in some sort of village square. It took Lyra a second to recognise one of the signs in the background and her heart skipped when she read the words The Three Broomsticks.
They were in Hogsmeade, the Wizarding village she was due to visit this year for the first time. Great! Now when I go I'll be thinking of this the whole time!
"Obviously the one who looks like an older version of Harry is his dad, I know that, but who are they?"
Andromeda clearly didn't know how to answer without stating the obvious.
"They are… were your father's best friends. The little chap there," Andy pointed to the smallest of the group who had his arm draped over James' shoulders, "is Peter Pettigrew, and I'm not sure if you know this but—,"
"That's the guy he killed," Lyra finished quietly, heat flushing her cheeks, "oh…"
An intense sadness fell over her as she inspected the photo again. Light shifted and she saw the true horror behind each of their bright smiles. Peter looked incredibly happy, possibly the happiest out of all four of them, and she tried not to pout. She didn't want to bring the mood down but there was no stopping it.
"So everyone except him is dead in this photo?" She asked, repulsed by it all of a sudden, and Ted shook his head when Andromeda struggled to reply.
"I don't think he is," he reached over and pointed out the boy beside Sirius who was staring at him as though he had just said something outrageous.
In the weak, aged sunlight streaming over them she noticed the smooth scars running all over his face, but the wider he smiled the quicker they disappeared. He looked kind, with shaggy brown hair that kept falling into his soft brown eyes. He vaguely reminded her of a teddy bear but she couldn't figure out why, besides perhaps the ugly brown sweater he was wearing.
"Who is he?"
"That's Remus, Remus Lupin. He and your dad were… very close," Andy said with a slight strain in her voice, her eyes darting everywhere, and Lyra nodded thoughtfully. She supposed everyone who was friends with her dad had distanced themselves from him and his family, that was expected.
Ok so they're not technically family, good to know.
"So, if he's not dead…? Where is he?" She questioned, her mind running wild with theories. Why did he have so many scars? Was he getting into a lot of fights? Did something attack him?
"Sorry, darling, I haven't a clue," Andy sighed, "I met him only once, he was quite a shy yet polite fellow, but from what I recall, your father mentioned he suffered with an affliction of some sort. The last I heard was that he moved away, I couldn't tell you where."
"An affliction?" Lyra repeated, fascinated. "Like a wizarding affliction or a Muggle one? Is that why he's covered in scars?"
Her stomach somersaulted and she snatched the photograph up and gawked at him.
WAIT?!
"Is he a vampire?!" Lyra exclaimed, making Danielle laugh.
"What is it with you and vampires?" She muttered and Lyra rolled her eyes, not quite understanding why she wasn't as obsessed as she was.
"You try growing up thinking beings like vampires and mermaids and werewolves aren't real and then one day — boom! — yeah they exist now!" She scoffed, flicking her long hair over her shoulder with a side-eye, and Danielle stayed silent.
"Fair point."
"Oh, that's it! He's a werewolf, bless him. Your father didn't mean to let it slip but he told us he struggled with it," tutted Andromeda, shaking her head in sorrow as she started to clean up again, "I think he needed some space after it all happened. Werewolves commonly tend to devolve themselves due to their condition, but as you can assume, the added trauma of losing his best friends to… Well, you know what I mean."
"Werewolves withdraw from society, they're not as accepted by the community as you'd expect," Ted elaborated as Lyra continued to stare at the teenage werewolf laughing before her.
Oh my God… A real-life werewolf was best friends with her parents?! Wow! Way to fuck up your coolest friendship ever, Dad! Now I'm never going to meet him!
She couldn't wait to write to Harry.
After that downer of a conversation piece, Lyra decided not to press Andromeda too hard about the past as it was clear there was still a lot of emotion attached to the subject. She debated bringing up Kreacher just to see what her aunt knew about him, but it would have been suspicious if Andy called him and Lyra didn't freak out at the sight of him. It would have been too out of character, she adored having Kreacher all to herself.
She did, however, attempt to talk about Regulus.
"I'm sorry I keep going on about the past and stuff, you're probably sick of it already, but I just need to know," Lyra burst out suddenly as they retired to the kitchen to share one final cup of tea before Danielle and her set off, "what was Regulus like?"
"I'm not sick of it, you deserve to know as much as you like, this is your family too," Andy said soothingly from the pristine wooden counters, charming her polished teapot to simmer the tea brewing inside, "Putting it nicely, Regulus was an interesting boy."
"And putting it honestly?" Lyra tempted her, probing just a little bit more, and she thanked Ted for her single pot full of Earl Grey.
"He was a little shit," Andromeda replied, laughing faintly, "like the rest of them, he conformed to the pressure of upholding our so-called traditional values, and sadly karma caught up to him too. It's a shame really, he was so intelligent… both of them were."
Lyra ignored the intrusive thought of her father.
"How did Reg die?" She tried to keep her voice level and busied herself with chugging down her tea. She didn't want to give away anything, she made a promise to Kreacher she was going to take it to her grave.
"I'm not entirely sure, I heard it was during some idiotic duel with an Auror," Andromeda shrugged, "the war took a huge chunk of our family away from us, and I know I shouldn't say this, but we truly are off better without them, Lyra, so please don't be sad over them. We've made our own family without them."
"And now we have you back, we have all the more reason to visit Molly and Arthur too," Ted chimed in, keeping them on a positive track, "you've got all of us, forget about the Blacks."
"I certainly have," Andy cheered, raising her mug as though toasting the sentiment that kept her sane all these years, and Lyra jokingly joined in.
She was lying to herself, she couldn't forget that she was a Black.
That was who she was, it's one of the first things people defined her with whenever she introduced herself. It was the long-lost identity she had been craving as she grew up as an orphan, it was the warm and toasty feeling she basked in when she first found out she was a witch almost two years ago now. Being a Black meant everything to her, it gave her Kreacher, it gave her Andy, Ted, and Tonks. It gave her access to luxury and comfort, and to experiences she never thought she'd have or even deserved. It was her life, and she never would admit it to anyone, but she wouldn't have traded it for the world.
One day, people will hear the name Black and smile, they won't cower or sneer anymore. They'll be proud to have the name Black on their side.
The sky was a clash of navy blue and searing orange as the sun sunk below the hills surrounding Thistledown.
The stars began to twinkle as evening came upon them, and Lyra and Danielle finally began to say their goodbyes. Their afternoon together couldn't have gone better, but Lyra was secretly gutted that Tonks never showed her face. Andy double-checked her daughter's bedroom in case she snuck in unaware, but she stumbled back downstairs with a distressed half-smile and the news that she was still missing.
"Aurors work late all the time, I'm sure she's just tied up at the moment," Ted soothed her, but rushed to add, "not physically! Metaphorically!" when she looked back aghast.
"I suppose this means we'll have to come and visit again in a couple of weeks' time," Danielle suggested, playing to Lyra as she noticed how quiet she had grown, but the news that she could return again this summer swiftly cheered her up.
"Maybe even stay the night? There are two bedrooms, after all," Andy encouraged, kissing them both on the cheeks before they crossed under the rose-embedded awning hanging over the front door. Lyra breathed in the summer night air as deep as she could, pleading with the universe that this feeling of peacefulness would last. Everything was working out perfectly. Her nightmares didn't even seem that threatening anymore.
"Hell yeah! We'd love to say!" Lyra grinned, answering on behalf of Danielle without consultation.
It was working out almost too perfectly…
Danielle and Lyra were on the road for roughly twenty minutes when Danielle announced she needed the bathroom.
"Oh my God you're so old!" Lyra giggled, teasing her key worker relentlessly as she flicked through the radio stations, "I swear you went before we left?"
"Psssh, yeah? And I need to go again!" Danielle spat back, trying not to crack a smile as Lyra summoned her most judgemental pout ever, "Just wait until you're my age, misses, and then see how you like it! Andy's iced tea was too delicious to turn down, what was I supposed to say?"
As though the bodily compulsion was contagious, Lyra suddenly realised how much iced tea she had also consumed and she rapidly changed her tune. She wouldn't last until they were back in Weymouth.
"On second thoughts, I'm really sorry, I should treat my elders with respect and we should definitely stop to pee," she said graciously, making Danielle snort in disbelief and roll her eyes for the dozenth time today.
The silver Ford turned off at the first service stop they passed which happened to be a slightly outdated but spacious petrol station. Two lonely cars were parked outside the dimly lit garage, and the pair didn't waste any time as they pulled up in the space nearest the entrance and leapt out of the car, bickering about who was going first.
"You said you were going to respect your elders!" Danielle yelled, annoyed that her cork wedges were slowing her down as Lyra raced ahead into the petrol station, and she used her momentarily pause to hear her out to push past her and snatch the single disabled toilet for herself.
"Age before beauty!" Lyra yelled at the closed door, winding Danielle up further just for fun, and she began to stroll around the tiny confectionary aisle to deter the spasms from her bladder.
The exhausted-looking shop attendant was aimlessly flicking through channels on the small, grotty television mounted on the wall by the till, paying no attention whatsoever to the teenager wandering around. The fluorescent lights flicked above them and Lyra noticed a loud buzzing coming from a fat fly trapped under the light's plastic casing. Aw, poor thing.
"Your turn!" Danielle called out as she left the toilet, seemingly a lot more content, "Fancy a drink for the way back?"
"Dr Pepper please," Lyra sang sweetly before locking herself away.
For a petrol station bathroom, it was nowhere near as bad as she predicted. The grime was minimal, she wasn't too afraid to touch any handles, but it did take her a good five minutes to extract the toilet roll from its holder.
As she washed her hands, Lyra heard the sounds of Danielle's shoes clacking as though she was running again, and her heart began to pound. Was everything ok?
"Danielle?" Lyra fumbled with the lock as though expecting to be greeted with an uncomfortable scene — a young woman alone at a petrol station at night wasn't exactly a safe scenario — but when she emerged she couldn't see Danielle anywhere.
She had left the shop completely. Lyra's heart lurched — wait, did she abandon me?!
Before the wildly inaccurate and totally unnecessary panic attack gripped her, Lyra spotted Danielle standing out by the car and she blushed, feeling stupid for jumping to conclusions.
"—It has been reported that the suspect was last seen carrying a gun. They are armed, and they are extremely dangerous. We want to reiterate to the public that they shouldn't, under any circumstances, approach the suspect. If you see this individual then contact the police immediately."
The posh voice of a tv news reader filled the petrol station, catching Lyra's ears. Danielle's back was facing her, her head dipping as though focusing on something in her hands. On the floor? It was then that Lyra realised that a bird was perched on the roof of her car, it's dark feather blending in seamlessly with the night, and a lump caught in her throat. What's going on?
"Terrible, innit," tutted the station attendant, finally acknowledging Lyra's presence as he pointed up at the television, "Look at this nutter! You take care out there, darling, you dunno who's waiting round the corner these days."
Drawn in by the sound of drama, Lyra approached the till, craning her head so she could get a good look at the fuzzy picture trying to appear on the static screen.
"That was Ian there reporting on our breaking news. For those of you who have just joined us this evening, Scotland Yard has confirmed that a manhunt is underway for the mass murderer known as Sirius Black. It has been confirmed that he escaped prison in the early hours of the morning and—,"
Lyra's arms fell slack and her backpack crashed onto the floor, her wand and photo album almost rolling out for the Muggle to see. Her mouth formed a small o as she stared dead-eyed at the photograph of her father's face plastered on the screen as though taunting her personally. She saw her own eyes staring back, and for a split second, she guessed she had passed out on the bathroom floor. This wasn't real… This wasn't actually happening?
And the tiny part of Lyra that healed tore open just a little harder.