Meda Lestrange did have a tendency to run off unexpectedly, as well as somewhat expectedly, and Christmas Eve night in the year one-thousand and one was no except to this. She hadn't taken it as far as she normally did, and had only retreated to the less-used corridor that was the Headmaster's office corridor later years, but was only a strange dead end in this one for the castle here was still adapting to changes. It was quiet here, far from the chaos that was her entire extended family of the present and past... except her parents.

It was Christmas Eve, one of her most favourite holiday events, and they were not here to share in it. What worse, she was certain her younger parents here were less close now than they had been in the first Founder's reality, her maternal grandparents were concerned and unhappy about the time that had stretched between their arrivals, her paternal grandparents never seemed to be in the same room and the same time, even fi their ages were wrong and people who should be getting along by now, such as her younger mother and her aunt, still were tense. Nothing was right here, nothing at all.

Feeling excessively sorry for herself, she sat perched in a windowsill, wanting to change it all. "I just wish my parents, my parents from my time, were here," she pleaded to the castle, knowing it would do no good, for it hadn't before, and that rubbish about wishes being granted on Christmas Eve, the night purported to be when animals could freely talk, was probably just rubbish.

And then the man appeared and spoke her name. She had seen him simply pop soundlessly into the corridor, otherwise she never would have believed Rabastan Lestrange from her right time was standing there. Her mouth dropped open, then closed, then dropped open again.

"I did it," she whispered, blinking at him owlishly before a smile started to slowly creep across her face. "I did it. I wished you here ohmydearsweetmelrinandhissparklypantsDADDY!" With a rapturous scream of joy that likely echoed along the corridor, one that had built quickly in the insensible jumbled rush of her words, she tumbled out of the windowsill, thankfully to the inside of the building rather than the outside, stumbled to regain her footing and then threw herself at Rabastan.

On the other side of the wall, Narcissa had tried a number of counters to enchantments before determining what was between her and her husband was indeed an actual wall. Was this some sort of trap? Was the the same that had befallen her children?

She spun, wand up and sense on alert, searching the space she was confined to and realizing she was not entirely boxed in. While she was reluctant to stray far from this wall, knowing Rabastan would likely be trying to reach her, she did move forward slightly to peer around a new bend. As she did, she spotted Alexander, or rather, a boy she was certain was her son from the back.

Calling out his name she rushed to him and then, not even allowing the boy in front of her to turn fully around, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close into her faintly perfumed embrace, pressing frantic kisses to his temple and face, tears blurring her vision slightly. Dear Salazar, had he grown since she last saw him? Granted, it was not as long ago as many as she and Rabastan rarely let a whole term go by without some reason to see their children at school, but he did feel taller.

"Oh, my darling, my little Xander," she murmured, some part of her faintly realizing she could very well be embarrassing her near-grown son, but ultimately not caring as she near-smothered him in tearful kisses of relief.