:AN: Greetings all! We lost the election but the good news is that I can now get back to writing. So, the language used in this part of the story is Old English. I regret using it because it's not fun to translate. I have to go word by word so it's tedious. How ever, if you've paid attention to the hints I've dropped then you know why it makes sense. I'm really happy with this story and I'm glad that you guys like it. Thank you all for your support and don't stop reviewing. I enjoy hearing what you guys think of the story and the twists. Thanks! :AN:

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When Harry woke up on the day scheduled for his birthday party, he felt numb. Not despondent but like his body wasn't wholly his; as though there was another presence sitting just underneath the surface.

The whispers were quiet, like they were waiting for something. Then he felt it. A cool, calming touch on his forehead. He looked around but there was no one in the room. The touch lingered before a voice whispered. At first he couldn't understand what was being said.

"Ic ábíede þu, min byre." She said. (I greet thee, my child.)

Harry couldn't tell it was female even though he couldn't understand her. He felt safe even though he couldn't see anyone.

"Ic cume innan fréod. Ic mæne þu náht bealu." The voice continued. (I come in peace. I mean you no harm.)

Harry shook his head. "I don't understand."

Then came the sound of rushing feathers and a gentle but cold press of lips against his own. Harry felt like he was being drained. Something was flowing out of him and into the woman that was kissing him. The kiss was brief and nothing like the two he had shared with Lyra. It was a simple press of lips and nothing more.

"And now, my child?" the voice asked.

The voice was soothing and lyrical but held a hint of an accent both familiar and strange at the same time. The presence felt like home. Harry of course knew it wasn't his mother, but the woman felt motherly yet cold, like Narcissa Malfoy.

"I wish I could see you." Harry said.

An unseen hand ran through Harry's messy locks.

"You do not need to see me. You know me."

"The ring."

"Yes and no, my child."

"Who are you? I want to see you." Harry asked.

There was a laugh and another rush of feathers. The cold hand traced the scar on his head.

"It has been long since I moved in this world. I fear that you would not understand. Know that you will understand soon enough." She said.

Harry felt the presence moving away.

"Wait!"

It stopped.

"Why me?" Harry asked.

Harry got the distinct impression that the presence was smiling.

"My sons have awakened me and my daughters have set me free."

Then the presence settled around him like a cool, comforting cloak and embraced him like a mother does a child.

"Stop fighting me. You are strong, Harry Potter. And you will need that strength, especially with the charming little Black girl. Do not bow to her. She needs someone to challenge her."

Harry knew almost instantly that she was speaking about Lyra.

"Lyra's a Malfoy."

The sound of feathers came again. "She is and yet here I am."

Then she was gone and Harry was left alone in his room at Malfoy manor.

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Harry never told anyone, not even Lyra or Hermione about what had happened just after he woke up. Now he stood next to Draco watching Narcissa and Sirius. Hermione had filled him in on Lyra's plan. Well, what she knew of it anyway. Honestly, Malfoy's were a tiresome bunch. They were always scheming and conniving even against each other.

"I wonder what they're talking about." Harry said.

"Knowing Lyra, she's probably convinced mother to go along with our plan." Draco said.

Harry snorted. "Our plan? Allowing the chips to fall where they may and hoping for the best is not a plan, Malfoy."

"I do not appreciate being mocked by someone who fainted after a single kiss." Draco said.

"And exactly how many people have you kissed?"

"Why? Fancy adding your name to the list, do you?"

But, Harry didn't answer. Instead both his attention and his breath were stolen by Lyra and Hermione's entrance. Both young women entered the ballroom in lovely gowns.

Lyra's gown was a deep red so red that it almost looked black. It was off the shoulder and had a plunging neckline that reached the very top of her flat and toned stomach. The sleeves were belled and along with the ring that Harry had given her, an ornate silver jewelled choker rested on her throat. The dress hugged every curve and like the sleeves, belled and flared at the bottom, almost crawling along the floor.

Draco turned to Harry and bumped him to get his attention. Harry reached up, without looking and turned Draco's face to the ballroom entrance. The sight stole his attention and breath as well.

Hermione's gown was a soft and ethereal blue. It went straight down and brushed the floor as she walked. Her hair was up and away from her face. The gown fit tight against her body and had three-quarter sleeves. The neckline sat just under her slender neck and exposed her collarbones. She turned to say something to Lyra, exposing her back for Draco to peruse to his delight. Her back was bare of cloth of any kind. The dress covered her hips and butt but left next to nothing to the imagination.

Neither young wizard knew whether to happy or to rush over to cover them up. Lyra spotted them before they could make up their minds. She nudged Hermione and gestured towards them. The girls came over.

"Enjoying your party?" Lyra asked.

Before Harry could stop himself, his mouth ran away with the rest of him. "What are you wearing?"

"It's a dress." Lyra said. There was a set of her jaw and a narrowing of her eyes that told him to quit while he was ahead. But armed with the assurance of the presence in the ring and never being one to back down from a challenge, Harry felt it was alright to poke the bear.

Meanwhile, neither Draco nor Hermione greeted one other. Hermione because she was busy watching the scene unfold with Harry and Lyra, and Draco because he was busy watching Hermione.

Harry gave Lyra a deliberate once over. "I suppose."

Lyra narrowed her eyes further and opened her mouth. Hermione stepped in. Now that she had seen it for herself, she could admit that Harry was changing. Harry never picked fights, now here he was deliberately picking at Lyra who could spit more venom than her brother could and Draco could be hurtful when he wanted to be.

"Your mother throws a lovely party." Hermione said.

Lyra's eyes were on Harry. She was not pleased but she answered Hermione anyway.

"Mother loves any excuse to throw a party and it makes her happy."

Hermione frowned. Then her eyes lit up. "What spell did she use for the music? It's fascinating."

Lyra finally turned to the older witch, fully aware of what she was trying to do. She smiled, just the barest upward movement of her lips to let Hermione know that her efforts were appreciated.

"I rather think it's a combination of several spells. Mother is the epitome of a Pure Blood lady." Lyra's words were half mocking.

She led Hermione away.

Draco watched Hermione walk away. Once she disappeared amongst the other guests, he turned to Harry with a frown.

"Why do you insist on poking at my sister? I thought you liked her."

Harry's face lit up with a deep red blush. He swallowed. "What ever do you mean?"

It was such a perfect imitation of Lyra that Draco snorted out an indelicate laugh.

"Look, Potter. I don't much care for you with my sister. She deserves better. But, she chose you so if you harm her in anyway, Golden Boy or not, you will regret it."

Harry's blush faded. He raised an eyebrow. "I could say the same thing to you but Hermione hasn't really chosen you yet, has she?"

Draco scowled. "She'll fall for me eventually. They all do."

Normally, Harry would be offended on Hermione's behalf. However, he recognized that Hermione could take care of herself and even though she never said anything to him, he could see the attraction she had for the Malfoy heir. Hermione was headstrong, intelligent and perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She didn't need Harry to ride into her rescue. Not anymore. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't threaten Malfoy if he was simply playing a game.

It was Harry's turn to snort. "Malfoy or not, if you hurt her, I will throw the entire weight of The-Boy-Who-Lived at you and we'll see how well the Malfoy name stands up."

He smiled, bright and sunny as though he didn't just threaten someone. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I'm impressed, Potter. Time away from the Weasel has done you good. I give it an eight out of ten for creativity." Draco said.

And just like that, the tension was broken and the two became semi amicable once again.

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A week later found Lyra, Hermione, Harry, Draco, Sirius and Narcissa taking the trek to the Black ancestral home. It was a grand place with a dreary and depressing feel. For the most part it was well taken care of but nothing could dampen the feeling of foreboding surrounding the large, creepy manor.

Lyra eyed the building and glanced at her mother.

(AN: I have a specific vision in my head of the way I want the Black Ancestral home to look. It is not going to resemble the films or the books so please bear with me. AN)

The manor stood on a hill surrounded by miles of nothing but dense forest. Curiously, around the manor itself, on the very top of the hill, nothing grew. It was desolate. One could even use the term barren.

Large, high walls that obscured everything but the weather-beaten, clay shingles surrounded the grounds. A single iron wrought gate stood guarded by two stone gargoyles on either side. Cobblestones in black and grey tones littered the path from the apparition point.

As the group walked up to the gate, Lyra felt like she was coming home. One of the gargoyles, distinctly serpentine in its appearance, jumped awaked and spoke.

"Blood be coin to enter here." The voice that came from the stone was dry and grating. It broke and warbled from disuse.

The other gargoyle was more creature than anything resembling a giant bat. It creaked and cracked as it moved. The bat sat up taller and stretched out its wings, opening its mouth to expose sharp, rust coloured, stone teeth. It settled with its mouth open wide enough to fit an arm. The serpentine gargoyle opened its mouth as well. Just like the bat, the serpentine gargoyle wriggled and stretched, creaking and cracking with bits of stone and dust flaking and falling off. It settled with its mouth open, the space just large enough for a human arm.

"This place brings back such pleasant memories." Narcissa remarked dryly.

Sirius stared at the gates. It wasn't so much trepidation as it was the fact that he never really felt like the manor was his home. He hated it. More than anything, his home was with James Potter, his brother from another mother.

"I never wanted to come back here." Sirius said. His voice was quiet.

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The younger witches and wizards stood away from the gates. They couldn't hear Narcissa or Sirius but they did hear the gargoyle when it spoke.

"What does blood being coin mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, you know that the Black family motto is Toujours Pur." Lyra said.

Harry nodded. Hermione frowned. Even Draco had started to get a little green in the face.

Lyra continued. "There is a reason for the term Pure Blood. The only way for us to get into the manor is for Mother and Cousin Sirius to prove that they are of Black blood."

Hermione swallowed. "Will we all have to do it?"

Lyra shook her head. "No. You'd likely lose and arm. I'm not sure about our resident Golden Boy. Though it is likely that his blood is too diluted for him to pass."

"Diluted?" Harry asked.

"Relax, oh Saviour. I'm talking about the fact that your grandmother was a Black. I think the blood might be too far down your genealogy pool."

"But it's just his grandmother. That's only two generations." Hermione said.

"Sirius' mother, Walburga Black, married her younger first cousin in order to keep the Black line pure. Personally I wouldn't risk two generations." Draco said.

Hermione turned to him. "Well, what about you and Lyra? Aren't you only half Black?"

"Yes but Mother is a Black and Father is a Pure Blood. Technically, we're still pure." Draco didn't say it to spite Hermione. He simply stated a fact.

Hermione didn't take well to this. She scowled.

"And my blood's dirty, is that it?"

Now, normally it would be Lyra who stepped in to soothe any ruffled feathers. She was more of a diplomat than Draco. Surprisingly, it was Draco who responded first.

"You're a muggle born, yes. But you're at least trying to learn our history and our culture. I can't really call you a mudblood anymore now can I?"

Draco gifted her with a small but genuine smile. Not a smirk, but a smile that lit up his silver eyes and made them sparkle. Hermione stared at his eyes for a time, caught herself, tucked her hair behind her ear, looked away and blushed. Draco let out small, pleased sounding laugh making Hermione blush harder.

Lyra watched the two interact with eager eyes. The ring sitting on her chest glowed with a warm, pleased and dark light. It was a soft glow. A large raven swooped overhead but didn't land. Instead it stayed circling above the group of young wizards.

Harry watched Lyra. He watched the ring glow and felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach. He felt an urge to wrap his arms around Lyra and hold her. He resisted the urge and the ring seemed to almost chastise him for not giving in.

He shook his head.

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Sirius rolled up is sleeve to the elbow and placed his arm into the mouth of the serpentine gargoyle. He felt around for a bit before feeling a sharp metal spike and pressing his forefinger hard enough to the spike to draw blood. He turned to watch Narcissa do the same to the bat-like gargoyle.

They waited and waited and waited some more. Then with a loud, creaky groan, the iron gates swung open. The two adults removed their arms. Narcissa performed healing charms on both of them because Sirius still wasn't allowed the use of his wand.

When the entire group was inside the gates, they swung close and the gargoyles went back to sleep.