February 10th, 1888 — Leaky Cauldron's back room

For all that she had had time to think over ever facet of this plan — well, she wouldn't really call it a plan yet. There were too many variables she hadn't been able to decide on, and too many things she could not put into any coherent order. She knew what she wanted to achieve by coming to Britain, because she could not have put August and his child at risk of uncomfortable discoveries on a whim, but how to go about achieving those goals was another matter entirely. She was unsure whether she even had the skills necessary to find the vampires that were rumored to hide in the Forbidden Forest, and even if she did, what could she say to them to make them listen to her? She hadn't had many encounters with vampires, generally speaking, but most of the ones she had briefly met had been in their present condition longer (sometime much longer) than she had existed. Five years, while it might seem a lifetime to her, was nothing to them. Would they dismiss anything she tried to say as youthful optimism?

She needed contact with the vampires in England sooner or later, though, and she was not at all sure that if she started from the other side — that was, from the human side — that she would ever be able to reach out to them at all, much less win over their trust. The Ministry didn't seem to have had good luck with that in the past, had they? What would make her any different?

The ship she'd stowed away on had taken her to London, and from there she had made her way rather stealthily towards the Leaky Cauldron. She didn't know whether she was still capable of using the Floo network — she hadn't tried, since she'd lost the ability to use her wand. Making at least an attempt, however, seemed better than just setting off for Scotland on foot.

When she slipped in to the Cauldron, no one took any notice of her. She had gotten good, over the past five years, at hiding her condition, so long as she didn't have to speak to anyone. Even then, she could sometimes keep her fangs from showing too prominently. It was an essential skill, living among Muggles. She did not, however, want to draw any attention to herself by trying and failing to use the floo when there were so many people around, so she decided to kill some time before making the attempt and waiting for the midday bustle to die down. She headed towards the back room, to the entrance of Diagon Alley — only to realize when she was met with a brick wall that she had no way to open the entrance to Diagon Alley, deprived of her wand.

So many things she had taken for granted, back when she had still been alive.

Lyra stood looking at the wall rather forlornly for a moment, trying to come up with a new plan, when someone behind her cleared their throat.

  

Working in the library was a dangerous post if one was as fond of books as Odira Potter.

No fewer than four tomes had crossed her path today that, after closer observation, she had been quite sure she must own, and so the young librarian had made the easy decision to visit Florish and Blotts before taking the Knight Bus back to Hogsmeade and the children.

After her ordeal some two and a half years prior, the witch had been rather tentative when venturing into the magical world proper, and so felt her heartbeat quicken in anticipation as she moved through the Leaky Cauldron towards the wall that separated sense from sensationalism. Her nerves were abuzz though her spirit resigned, for she was more than certain, by now, that this was an adventure that she would not regret.

She was, though, halted in her progress by a would-be queue, something she had not previously encountered here. She waited several long moments, but the woman in front of her did not seem to be going through. After another, she cleared her throat softly.

“I don’t mean to rush you at all,” Odira insisted apologetically when the pale woman turned ‘round, “Only, you’ve been staring at it for some time, now.”

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   Lyra Potter

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If I could marry Bee I would but I can't so I ship our characters instead.

Lyra was rather startled to see the woman behind her, though of course she shouldn't have been. The Leaky Cauldron was busy enough of its own accord to allow for some over spilling traffic into any of its various nooks and crannies, and this particular room happened to be the one entry point into the busiest commercial area of magical London. Even so, the relative quiet had made her feel more entitled to privacy than she really was, and it seemed an intrusion to suddenly have a stranger for company.

(Was this a stranger? She looked strikingly familiar, but after nearly four years without anything even resembling a familiar face, Lyra could not immediate determine where she might have known her from).

Lyra bowed her head slightly before responding, though it was not as a gesture of humility or embarrassment, as it might appear. Experience had taught her that this was the posture in which it was easiest for her fangs to go unnoticed — though of course, Lyra was usually dealing exclusively with Muggles, who neither knew what signs to look for nor would have been able to put them together, had they noticed them. Whether this rather meager attempt at subterfuge would fool a witch was anyone's guess, but she hoped it did. She wasn't sure she was quite ready to make her presence known to the wizarding world, and the back room of the Leaky Cauldron certainly didn't seem an auspicious location for it, in any event.

"My apologies — I've just realized I've forgotten something at home," she lied, stepping away from the wall to allow the other woman to pass. "You go ahead, please."

How long did the wall stay open? She couldn't recall, but maybe she could manage to follow her through if she could do so without being too conspicuous.

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   Odira Keene

“What a bother that must be!” she cooed sympathetically with a warm smile. “I hope you needn’t go far to retrieve it—almost an entire day can so quickly be lost that way.”

As she spoke, Odira moved to replace the woman in front of the wall, fumbling with the button to the pseudo-hidden compartment in her skirts where she kept her wand. While the witch had seen many individuals simply keep it about their waist like a sword in its sheath, moving between muggle and magical London, in her opinion, required a bit more subtlety.

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If I could marry Bee I would but I can't so I ship our characters instead.

"Mm," Lyra mumbled with a noncommittal nod. The other woman's interest was likely fleeting, and not the sort of thing where it would benefit her to make up some silly lie about how far away home was, particularly when there was always a chance of being caught in a lie at some later point. A small chance, granted, given that she had no reason to suspect she would ever see this woman again, but a chance all the same.

Except she did look familiar, and as Lyra moved towards the back of the room in a show of departing, she finally realized from where. She stopped in her tracks and looked back at the other woman, to see whether perhaps she had been mistaken, but her conviction held just as firm. This was one of her schoolmates. The possibility hadn't even occurred to her, because Miss Browne looked so old by comparison — but of course, she looked no older than Lyra ought to be. While she had known from the start, academically speaking, that she would not age and that everyone who had mattered to her would, she had never before been faced with such a physical reminder of it. She hadn't seen anyone from England since she had left in spring of 1884, and since then, she had never stayed in any one place long enough to see time take its toll on the Muggles around her. That would have been too suspicious, too difficult to explain (and besides, during the earlier days she had seldom been able to last that long without accidentally murdering someone who stood slightly upwind of her when she hadn't eaten recently).

August would be older now, too. She was glad that they had agreed not to see each other; she wasn't sure whether she could bear the idea of that. This, after all, was just a schoolmate. Their natures had been too different at the time to even make them passing friends. Though Lyra thought perhaps she'd complimented her way into homework help on an occasion or two from the other girl, they were nothing like close. Even this was rather painful, though, and it was a mercy that Miss Browne hadn't recognized her — particularly that she hadn't recognized her and recognized her fangs. Lyra wasn't ready to start that conversation just yet, with anyone.

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   Aldous Crouch

Deftly, she rapped the appropriate bricks with the tip of her wand, flinching slightly as they began shifting to reveal the magical neighbourhood on the other side. A glance behind her told Odira that the young lady was still present.

"Was there something else?" she asked, wondering why the stranger had not gone off home to retrieve whatever had been forgotten.

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If I could marry Bee I would but I can't so I ship our characters instead.

Despite the flurry of thoughts going through her head, Lyra did have the presence of mind to be a bit annoyed when Miss Browne turned around. She had already taken the risk of speaking with her in the first place, after all, and had calculated that following her through would not be terribly dangerous if the other girl had not yet recognized her... but she could hardly do so when Miss Browne was turned around staring right at her!

"No, Miss," Lyra said quickly; if there was enough blood left in her body to blush, she might have done so. She had been lingering too long to just leave it at that, however, and felt that she needed to invent an excuse. What she settled for was a little too close to the truth for comfort, but the best she could come up with on the spur of the moment: "You just — reminded me of someone I knew once, I suppose. I'm sorry, I was... caught up. Have a pleasant day."

  

Odira opened her mouth to respond that perhaps they did no one another, but then promptly shut it again. She did not recognise this woman herself, and it was note considered "done" to discuss one's life at length with strangers. It was often a frustration for her, though less so than in the weeks immediately following her return, and one that the witch had become accustomed to bearing in silence.

Instead, with one last, tentative smile at the younger woman, she stepped through the gateway to Diagon Alley.

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If I could marry Bee I would but I can't so I ship our characters instead.