#reburn

“So, about what I mentioned earlier—"

Lyra groaned. “Father—!”

“Hear me out first!”

“It’s a bad idea!”

“In what way?” He leaned and crossed his arms, and anyone unfamiliar with the situation would think their roles reversed and he was the child. “It’s mine, and it’s better used than sitting away here. No one around here knows you. They won’t recognize me as Snuffles—”

He’d finally found his stash of muggle money. 

And this had unfortunately started back up the debate of going into the muggle town and exploring. No longer having the excuse that without the money there was no point in going, Lyra had to flat out refuse him, and was now learning the extent of his stubborn pride. It was frustratingly similar to that of her other Black relatives, though she’d never say that.

“But there’s not a zero percent chance that’s true! And this is a muggle village, I can’t go—I’ve never run around a muggle village before.”

“You won’t be alone, I’ll be with you.”

“I mean I’ve never been to one with or without an adult! I'll do something odd and they’ll notice and they’ll say something, and I won’t have an explanation—“

“Someone may notice but they won’t say anything to you. Take this from a wizard who did the very same thing at your age, and was most definitely doing far weirder stuff than you will. It’ll be fine.”

“We don’t actually need anything,” Lyra stressed, anxious at the prospect. 

“Food. What Kreacher is packing in that pantry is abysmal.”

“It’s sufficient.”

“A walk then.”