" - and now it's illegal to trap them, or shoot them, or anything."  Lucius ground his teeth until he looked at the photograph of Lyra beaming up at him.  The birds never seemed to bother her, or Narcissa, or really anyone except him and, upon occasion, Draco.  He sighed, smiled down at his granddaughter, and put the pictures away.  "And how is Greg these days," he asked.