Prologue
Teddy was the only person in her life who wasn’t bothering her.
And for that, Lyra Potter thanked the gods.
Because every other person?
They had apparently decided that it was their turn to control her life.
First, it had been Dumbledore from ages one to seventeen.
Now? The bloody media.
Apparently, she wasn’t entitled to breathe, to grieve, to exist as a person. No. Instead, she was "The Chose One"—a title she had never wanted and now despised.
And, for some utterly ridiculous reason, the Ministry and the press had suddenly developed a collective obsession with her love life.
Marriage proposals.
After marriage proposals.
After fucking marriage proposals.
She could barely step outside without being swarmed by reporters.
They dissected her life, twisted her words, and invented scandals.
And worse—worse than the invasion, worse than the gossip—
They were sending her marriage proposals.
That's what bothered her the most.
Not one, Not two, Dozens of them.
Some from ancient pureblood families who wanted to preserve her bloodline.
Some from ambitious Ministry officials who wanted to tie her name to their legacy. Some from actual strangers who thought that marrying the Chosen One was some kind of bloody honor.
The worst part?
The Ministry was encouraging it.
Apparently, Lyra Potter was a valuable resource.
And, according to them, such powerful magical genetics should not be wasted.
As if she were nothing more than a prize mare meant for selective breeding. As if she hadn’t just fought an entire war,
As if she owed them anything.
And, of course, there were the expectations.
1)To help in reconstruction.
2) To become a public figure.
3) To be a symbol.
Or, Merlin forbid, to become the next Minister for Magic.
Fuck. No.
She was done.
Done being their savior.
Done being their puppet.
Done letting them decide her life.
For once, Lyra just wanted to grab their sick heads and bash them against the nearest stone wall.
The only sane people left in her life were a very select few—her small circle of survivors, the ones who had stood beside her through everything.
Ron. Hermione. Ginny. Luna. Neville. Draco. Daphne. Astoria. Blaise. Theo.
And then there was Andromeda.
The strongest, most powerful woman Lyra had ever known—who had fought tooth and nail to survive the war.
Who had raised Teddy in the aftermath of everything. Who had become more of a mother figure to Lyra than anyone ever had.
Who had died in a post-war skirmish, taking down the last of the Death Eaters.
That loss had been the final straw.
So Lyra had made her decision.
She quietly packed her bags, told only her closest friends, and left.
Her two beloved elves—Dobby and Kreacher—had bundled up her little godson in warm clothes, helping her arrange everything through the goblins, securing a new identity for her.
And thus, Rosalina Black was born.
A new name. A fresh start.
A one-way ticket to a small, quaint little town called Mystic Falls.
As she settled into her first-class airplane seat, she exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the soft fleece blanket that covered Teddy’s small form.
She stared out the window, watching the twinkling city lights fade beneath her as the plane ascended into the inky black sky.
All she wanted was a break.
All she wanted was peace.
But deep down, she knew—
When had her life ever been peaceful?
And, more importantly…
What storm was she flying into this time?