February 19th, 1888 — DR&CMC — Mrs. Skeeter's Office

This was not the way she had envisioned announcing herself to the wizarding world, but after being in England just over a week, she knew that she could not go on much longer without this rather necessary step. When she had been abroad she had passed herself off as a Muggle nurse in order to find her way in to hospitals and morgues, where the supply of blood that no one would miss was nearly endless; London did not offer quite the same lax standards of references that most rural towns on the American or Canadian frontier did. The longer she waited before trying to claim access to the Ministry's designated blood bank, the more questions would undoubtedly be raised about what she had been doing for sustenance before enrolling.

There was a Muggle man on the outskirts of London who was dead. That was what she had done for sustenance, because she knew better than to trust herself walking in to the Ministry on an empty stomach, particularly if she wanted to make a good impression. She thought his corpse was fairly well hidden, though, and hoped the subject wouldn't come up during her meeting today. She was, after all, trying to make the point that vampires could coexist with humans without killing them.

The man she wanted to see, of course, was out of the office. Lyra hesitated when the secretary asked whether anyone else could help her, honestly unsure whether anyone other than the Head of the Being Division had the power to grant her the blood she desperately needed. After seeing her and noticing her pallor, however, the secretary seemed to put together what she was (though, thankfully, not who) and said that she might be able to arrange a meeting with Mrs. Skeeter, the head of the department.

Lyra tried to remember whether she knew anything at all about Mrs. Skeeter from when her brother had been Minister, but of course, she had hardly thought to care about anything that mattered back then. She had been such a silly child when she had been alive. After a nerve racking moment in the waiting room, the secretary beckoned her back into an office, where Lyra quickly scanned over the unfamiliar face behind the desk.

"Thank you for seeing me," she said quickly, bowing her head slightly as she spoke. It was more out of habit at this point, not because she was purposefully trying to hide her fangs. She had simply spent so many years doing her best to avoid letting anyone notice them. "I was told Mr. — was out of the office today."

  

The young woman who came into her office was certainly not what Morwenna had been expecting when her secretary had calmly informed her, in that way she had, that there was a vampire in the office that didn’t appear to be being monitored. The usual paleness and general deadness behind the eyes was present and correct – and sadly she was not the youngest looking vampire Morwenna had ever encountered – but something about her bearing lent dignity to her melancholy. Or perhaps it had simply been too long since she had encountered a vampire? She had chosen beasts for a reason and lately it seemed like everything that came across her desk was somehow related to the werewolf crisis: an unregistered vampire was positively refreshing.

“Not at all,” she replied politely, gesturing towards the hard-backed wooded seats opposite her and politely ignoring the glint that just about hit the tip of the woman’s fangs as she inclined her head and the gaslight caught them for a moment. She understood the impulse to hide all too well and felt no real threat from the vampire. She was in her natural ground, surrounded by colleagues who all possessed a wand, as she did, whereas this poor woman was unarmed and putting herself in the line of danger by offering up her visage to the eyes of the Ministry. Just as…

Oh fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Would a vampire be able to sense the difference? It hadn’t come up since last May, seeing as how she tended not to deal with such departmental specific tasks, and it had never occurred to her to check. Jesus fucking Christ on the bloody cross, was she about to be sniffed out?

“How,” she swallowed heavily and steadied her voice, unable to quite meet the vampire’s eye. “How can I help? Mr ___ neglected to tell me he was expecting anybody today.”

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

"I'm afraid he wasn't," Lyra admitted. Was there some sort of protocol for these meetings that she had overlooked? Not that it would have made much of a difference; she did not have the luxury of waiting around any length of time before getting access to a blood bank, nor, did she imagine, did most of those in her position. She could, perhaps, have written ahead, but she hadn't had access to an owl since leaving the harbor in New York. She'd only had the luxury of writing to August, and then only when she'd been able to detain his owl long enough for a response. No time for any planned words or reconsideration, but plenty of time to regret that she hadn't added an extra line or removed a word before she'd fired off a reply. In any case, she wouldn't have been able to write to the Ministry, nor would she have known who to write to. And how would she have signed her letters?

"I didn't have the means to write," she explained simply; the rest was more than this woman cared to hear, certainly. "I only arrived in the country last week."

  

Which likely meant that whatever flicker of recognition Morwenna had felt when she laid eyes upon the girl had been a figment of her own imagination, but she was yet to feel her nerves settle with regards to the other: if this young woman had noticed something different about her then she was yet to mention it, but that did not mean Morwenna was out of the woods just yet. Vampires were cagey in her experience – not for nothing of course – but this young woman might be waiting for the opportune moment.

“Not to worry, I’m sure I can help you with anything you might need,” she said, trying not to make it glaringly obvious quite how much she meant the words. “To begin with I’m afraid I have to ask about your blood supply up till now. You’ve never used our blood banks before I take it?”

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

"Not yours, no," Lyra said, a little stiffly. She could explain her normal methods of acquiring blood well enough, and with a clear enough conscious. It would be naive, of course, for anyone to believe that she had only ever been towing the line in that regard. Would Mrs. Skeeter insist on digging into everything that she had ever done for blood? What would be the point of that? Why even have a blood bank in the first place if ever having slipped up with a human, even once, would disqualify one from using it?

Then again, perhaps that seemed reasonable to those on the other side of the transformation Lyra had been forced to undergo. She could see the way it must look, from their perspective. Why provide a public service for an admitted murderer? Someone who had never experienced the bloodlust that she had couldn't possibly comprehend how difficult it was to abstain, particularly when one was hungry. It was hardly the same crime at all as the human concept of murder when it had such a driving compulsion behind it — but that, she figured, was not an argument she would win, and there was therefore no point in starting it.

"I've been working at Muggle hospitals in the Americas," she explained succinctly. "I had access to their blood supplies — and their morgues," she added, with a brief turn of her eyes downward; if she had enough blood in her body to do so she might have blushed at the last statement. It was hardly the sort of thing to be proud of — quietly draining corpses of their blood was not particularly dignified or graceful — but hopefully it would prevent Mrs. Skeeter from asking any more insistent questions about her sustenance over the past few years.

  

The current climate being what it was Morwenna was of the opinion that a little leeway would probably serve them well, but despite the overhaul of the Ministry of late there had been no less pressure to crack down on those particular magical creatures that might be causing harm to wizards. Mr Ross might well be advocating an era of tolerance off the back of his predecessor’s misfortunes but there were still plenty of wizards in positions of power that Morwenna knew would rather see anything that didn’t possess only the purest form of blood eradicated entirely.

In which case she would undoubtedly be for the chop too. She might not be as visible in her malady as this young woman before her but she could find herself in Azkaban – or worse, at the end of a killing curse – just as easily.

“We’ll call them donations for argument’s sake shall we?” Morwenna said decisively as she scribbled the information into the proper place, not looking up at the vampire as she did so, hoping it wouldn’t become too obvious that she would give anything to make this as easy as possible for both of them. She was in charge now of course but it only took being caught in one lie for an investigation into her practices and then…

“And your name?”

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   Ophelia Devine

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

This was it; do or die. Of course she had known that this question was coming sooner or later in the process, and she had already made up her mind not to give them any of the pseudonyms she'd been using over the past five years, though it would have been easy to do so. No, this entire initiative of hers was about coming clean, and that required a deal of honesty. Besides, who was left to care, when they learned the news? August already knew, and anyone she would have considered close family was dead by now.

Even so, it seemed so dangerous to be on the verge of saying the words. Steeling herself, she said quietly, "My name is Charlotte Potter," then, after the slightest of pauses, added, "The late Minister was my brother."

Better not to have any confusion about whether she was, in fact, that Potter girl.

  

Ah. That certainly explained a number of things and Morwenna’s usually unflappability was no match for the sheer surprise of hearing the name Potter again within the Ministry’s walls. Her quill fell limp in her hand as she looked at the girl with fresh eyes. Yes…she could see it now. She had only ever seen the girl once before as far as she could recall and that had been when all eyes were on her brother during his elevation to the top job.

Morwenna had been there of course, but she had never thought to wonder where the girl had gone after the family had suffered their misfortunes. Apparently it had been a question worth asking.

“You’ll appreciate that raises further questions, Miss Potter,” Morwenna said slowly, eyes flicking to the door of her office that was soundly shut. “Is there another name you would prefer to use perhaps?”

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

Lyra could appreciate that the offer was made in kindness, but she stiffened slightly all the same. Whatever her intentions had been, the woman was asking whether or not she would like to deny her past. Lyra had made up her mind not to do so already, and she felt as though straightening her posture was a physical sign of steeling her own resolve to the task of pressing forward with it.

"That was the name I was given," she said with determination. "It is the one I should like to use."

  

It was a bold decision and one Morwenna dearly hoped the girl would not come to regret. Once that particular genie was out the bottle there would be no putting it back in again. And, selfishly, she knew it would raise questions about their ability to keep track of vampires in the department: wherever she had been in the years since she was last known by the British Ministry was a mystery people would want answers to.

“Very well then Miss Potter. Welcome back to England.”

Signing off the rest of the forms in front of her as quickly as she was able, conscious of the woman on the other side of the table, Morwenna took a deep breath and placed the quill down slowly, considering her words.

“I will personally ensure nobody in this department leaks your name to the press but,” she flexed her fingers as she willed the girl to understand. “It may be out of my hands soon and after that...”

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

Lyra remained standing tall while the older woman finished her paperwork, glad that the matter seemed to have been settled at that point. It must take a great deal of moral fortitude and discretion to occupy the position that she did, she thought; Mrs. Skeeter hardly seemed to think twice before stating that her department would be as discreet as possible regarding the nature of her identity, and Lyra knew from past experience living in the public eye that keeping matters out of the papers was no small feat. It was a kindness she hadn't been expecting, to be honest; she had imagined that the day after she registered for the blood banks she would have a dozen reporters seeking her out (or maybe fewer, if the idea of cornering a vampire set them on edge) and her face in all the tabloids, with rampant speculation as to what she had been doing in the forest the night that she'd been attacked and killed in the first place.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm prepared for that eventuality."

As prepared as anyone could be, that was. She knew it would happen sooner or later, but she wasn't entirely sure that prepared was the best word. Hopefully, when the time came, the statement she'd just made wouldn't turn into a bluff.

  

It was brave, Morwenna would certainly give her that, and in her heart of hearts she knew that it was a bravery she was yet to find in herself and doubted she ever would. She didn’t have it in her to reveal herself, wasn’t prepared for what it might bring and she was getting better at managing it and so was increasingly hopeful she might never have to.

One could hide from the moon, but not from the ravages of vampirism.

“If you ever need anything,” she offered vaguely, speaking in her official capacity but meaning it personally. The law was stacked against both of their kinds and as long as she was in a position to bend them even slightly in the interest of easing some burdens then Morwenna would do just that.

“It there is any trouble at all please do not hesitate to come back and see me.”

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

Lyra hesitated, not sure whether she should be taking the offer as sincerely as she felt it was made, or whether the vagueness of it implied a sense of that it was intended merely as a perfunctory remark. A woman in her position would have been obligated to say something as the meeting drew to a close, and in form this could merely have been that sort of check-in-the-box thing to say before dismissing her. Something about it just felt more genuine, and though Lyra could not imagine what she might need from the stranger — what she might feel comfortable coming to the Ministry with rather than trying to solve herself — she was grateful for the show of solidarity.

"Thank you, Ma'am," she said after a moment, with a subtle smile that did not show her teeth and a slight bow of her head. "I do plan to stay out of trouble — but I shan't hesitate to let you know, shouldnsomething come up." Was that a promise she could keep? It depended entirely on what type of trouble she ended up in — but she was in earnest about doing her best to keep out of it, in any variety.

"I'll see myself out, then," she said, since her business seemed rather well concluded. "Unless there's anything else you need from me — for the paperwork?"

  

“Not today Miss Potter,” she replied with a polite nod and a small smile.

In all likelihood given her position she would not see the other woman directly again, but she truly did wish her well. She also hoped that she came back with information: Miss Potter was an unfortunate – Merlin, she knew how that felt – but she would also be able to move in circles Morwenna and her team were unable to access.

Any information about the vampire caverns would be beneficial. She might save lives if only she could gain the other woman’s confidence:

“I wish you luck. If you speak to my secretary she will direct you to the blood banks.”

She did, after all, have something the girl needed.

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat