Summer

Lyra had asked to visit her family home, Grimmauld Place, and Mortimer had, hesitantly, obliged. Kreacher had apparated them directly into the foyer. She had not been there in over a year, and almost tried avoiding it after her grandmother passed when she was five, but it would always be her home more than Mortimer's house ever could. A heavy layer of dust coated the shiny black furnishings, Kreacher had been slacking, she looked at him sideways, and saw the shame she was looking for.

"Look at this state of disrepair, Kreacher, have you no respect for this family?"

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She did not have to glare at him for long.

"Right away Miss Lyra, forgive me, Miss Lyra."

She ignored him and went to her late uncle Thaddeus's room, she was a lot like him apparently, if only she'd known him, but he'd only lived to 17. This would be her room one day, she decided. Next was Arawn's room, she just looked in from the doorway, the whole room was an affront, but her gran never changed it. The walls were covered with what could only be muggle bands, and Gryffindor memorabilia, all an act of defiance, why anyone would want to defy their family, she could not comprehend. Kreacher had left her alone to her thoughts, but suddenly tugged on her shirt,
 *"Mistress..."* his small crooked fingers proffered something she had long forgotten, her grandmother's pearl necklace, shimmering black in the dim light. It was recently polished, and in remarkable condition.

*"Oh! Kreacher, this was her favorite, where did you find it?"* She gasped, Kreacher looked pleased with himself,

*"In Mistress Priscilla's chambers, My Lady, would you like to speak to her?"* Lyra's eyes shot up, she rushed to follow Kreacher who had already begun walking down the hallway and up the stairs. There she was, a large portrait, containing a middle-aged woman with sharp features, a harsh mouth, and dark eyes, sitting proudly on a black throne-like chair, wearing an elegant black-pearl necklace.

*"Grandmother! Grandmother, it's Lyra, I've missed you so much."* Lyra's eyes began to glisten, filled with the longing of family and the simpler times of childhood, her love for family always caught her by surprise.

*"Lyra! My precious girl is that you? Where have you been, what happened to my little Lyra, who is this striking young lady?"* Lyra grinned in delight,

*"I'm sorry, Gran, I should have come more often, I have so much to tell you, but I'm here now, I'll be at Hogwarts!"* Priscilla scoffed,

*"You'd best not be put in Gryffindor like your blood-traitor of a father! We Blacks have always been in Slytherin, the other houses are filled with mudbloods and muggle-loving traitors!"* Her voice had begun to rise,

*"Yes, Gran, don't worry, I'll make you proud, I've always been the best in my class, too."*

*"Good, good. You're a special girl, Lyra..."*

*"But Grandmother..."*

*"Don't interrupt me, girl!"*

*"Yes, Grandmother, sorry, but Arawn, my father, he's... he's escaped from Azkaban."* Lyra nearly stuttered, averting her nervous gaze.

*"WHAT!!! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? HE SHOULD HAVE NEVER SEEN THE LIGHT OF DAY!"* She flew into a rage, nearly foaming at the mouth, and Lyra cowed, as if her spittle could reach her through the canvas and paint.

*"I... I don't know, Gran, I stole a look at the paper Mortimer was hiding, it didn't say why, no one has ever escaped before, do you... do you think he'll come looking for me?"* Lyra dared to ask, she was desperate to know, she'd not confronted Mortimer about what she learned, at least Gran was in a painting and could not punish her sneakiness this time.

*"He'd best not, if he knows any better, you stay away from that man, Lyra, he's dangerous and mad, he's no father of yours any more, and no son of mine."*. Lyra did not stay much longer after that, but she was not eager to confess to Mortimer, she would get no answers out of him, either.

*"Come, Kreacher, you will not say a word to Mortimer, you serve me, you understand?"*

*"Yes, Mistress Lyra."* Kreacher admitted. At least she could talk to Kreacher, she considered him a Blackwood, and those were in short supply these days.