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The Raven's Song	By : Quills Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 6265 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Begin From Within

Lyra Menadue stealthily withdrew her wand as she rapidly moved into the shadows. Were it not for the Muggles still around she would have simply Apparated away, but the Code of Wizarding Secrecy forbade it. When the footsteps behind her quickened to match her new pace, though, she began to doubt her conviction to see the rules upheld.

She did not normally walk home from the Ministry. Not only was it far easier to simply Floo home to her little cottage on the Cornish coast, but of late she had had the unsettling sensation that any time she was out alone, another person was always stalking her steps. Tonight, that fear could no longer be shaken.

Lyra had changed into Muggle clothing before leaving the Ministry building in the heart of London. Her simple jeans and leather jacket shouldn’t have marked her out as anything to arouse suspicion, making it probable that whoever had been following her of late knew her well enough to recognise her out of her robes.

Breathing far too quickly, she slid her wand up the sleeve of her jacket and rounded a corner to hear her name being gently called from the alley ahead. To her dizzying relief, though, the voice she heard was one that had once defined every day of her life. The distinctive call of her former headmaster’s voice pulled her on as the footsteps behind her finally faded away.

“A strange place to have found you, Miss Menadue!” Albus Dumbledore swept towards her, his purple robes so out of place in the Muggle part of London she had been walking through that Lyra could not help but smile. Heads turned in their direction and then just as quickly looked away again. She had noticed that about Muggles; they tended to prefer not to notice the extraordinary. Professor Dumbledore was nothing if not extraordinary.

She exhaled, the tension draining away from her body when he fell into step at her side. If anything had been lurking behind her – ridiculous as that seemed – then whoever or whatever it was would not dare touch her with the legendary wizard as her defender. “And how did you know to find me here, Professor?” she asked when he took her arm. “It’s not somewhere I often come.”

“I know, Lyra. But tonight is the anniversary of your parents’ death. The graveyard where they were buried seemed to me to be the only possible destination for you when I noticed you were not simply Flooing home as is your custom.”

Lyra swallowed hard. The graveyard around the next bend in the road was indeed where she had been heading. This day was the only one each year when she allowed herself to stop and grieve all that she had been deprived of, and since she was old enough to understand she had never missed an anniversary. She did not intend for that to change now, no matter how many strange stalkers or old headmasters sprang up to distract her. Warily, she lifted her head to look up at Dumbledore. “I see that you are as astute as ever, sir. That’s exactly where I’m going.”

“Then would you care for some company this evening?”

“From you?”

“Indeed. I remember Marius and Selene with great fondness still, and on today of all days I would like to come with you and spend a few moments to mark their passing.”

She stared at him intently but saw nothing but honesty upon his face. The memory of the footsteps behind her still fresh in her mind, she slowly nodded as they followed the curve of the road round to reveal the sprawling graveyard, so out of place amongst the soulless, industrial alleys and streets they she had been travelling through.

Now that she studied him in earnest, Lyra realised how very tired the elderly wizard seemed to be. The weight of far more than the two years that had elapsed since she left Hogwarts lay heavily upon his shoulders. Though she saw him near every day in the chambers of the Wizengamot, never before had she realised how very old he now was.

He gave her no chance to dwell upon it, for he increased their already brisk pace until they moved through the wrought iron gates of the graveyard. All thoughts were swept aside by the compulsion to go to her parents’ side. Lyra swallowed back a painful lump that had risen to constrict her throat and broke away from Dumbledore to dart along the paths that though rarely visited, were stamped indelibly into her mind.

The headmaster held back to allow her the first moments at the graveside to herself. The weathered stone no longer looked out of place amongst the Victorian gravestones and ornate crypts; though it was a predominantly Muggle graveyard, the memorials were as aged and elaborate as any wizarding ones could hope to be. However, Lyra only had eyes for the solitary stone beneath the shelter of an old oak tree. Her wand was made from oak. Though it was mere coincidence, in some small way its connection with the tree standing silent guard over the grave of her parents.

Lost in thoughts and brief, whispered memories of the mother and father she had barely known, she knelt down and closed her eyes. For a moment the world receded completely, leaving behind nothing but a longing that could never be fulfilled. Lyra had grown up knowing herself to be alone in the world, moving around from house to house in the care of an ageing uncle who had never expected to find himself landed with a young witch to raise. When he had died in her final year at Hogwarts, she sensed it had been a relief to them both. Sometimes, though, the yearning for a family and to be safe and loved overcame her. Visits to her parents’ grave were always some of those times.

Furiously blinking back the tears that had briefly threatened to fall, Lyra brushed away the moss that had begun to creep up the base of the grave and traced her parents’ names with the tip of her trembling finger before pulling her wand out of her sleeve. She surreptitiously cast a charm to produce a small, simple posy of gypsophila to adorn the grave, daring the professor with the narrowing of her eyes to rebuke her for doing so in the sight of the distant Muggles.

But he did not. With a small and sympathetic smile, he merely offered her his arm to help her back to her feet. “Now we have paid our respects, Lyra, would you come somewhere with me?”

She tensed, convinced that they were finally coming to the real reason why he had appeared so suddenly in the midst of Muggle London to find her. “Dare I ask where, sir?”

“Merely somewhere where I know we will not be overheard. May I?”

She could not possibly resist the compulsion to find out the truth. “Yes, of course. I trust you, Professor.”

He led her over to the cover of a small copse, out of sight of any who might see them. With one last anxious glance from side to side, Dumbledore gripped her arm tightly and Apparated them both away.
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The Raven's Song