A/N: And hello again! :D We're starting up the second instalment of the Warm Lizards series and I'm really happy to be back!
Just to note, this is a sequel, so it might not make as much sense if you haven't read the first story (to read: s/12686153/1/Diana-Granger-and-the-Warm-Lizards). Also, this fic might not be updated as frequently as we'd like. Still, we have not given up! Uploads will be coming, just a little more slowly than last time around.
As always, any reviews will be very gratefully received, we'd love to hear your thoughts. Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoy!
Emerging onto Platform 9¾ is like taking the first breath of air after a long stretch underwater. My face breaks into a smile the second I've cleared the wall that hides the wizarding world. As expected, the platform's crammed with hordes of people, the air thick with voices and anticipation and the billowing steam of the Hogwarts Express. There's something beautiful about the quaint chaos, familiar and warm.
"Diana?"
I blink out the trance, and look to my best friend. Her grey-green eyes are surveying my expression, brows raised.
"You look like such a tourist right now." Suzette shakes her head, grinning.
"Well, I sort of am, aren't I?" I say, hoisting my trunk forwards. "Y'know, a clueless visitor from the Muggle world?"
"Hmm - clueless Muggle visitors don't tend to have those." She nods to the wand I stuck in my ponytail before sprinting through the barrier.
"I might as well be, anyway." I shrug, reaching up to retrieve it. "Don't think I've mastered this thing yet." I recall how much I struggled with schoolwork during my first year as I pocket my wand.
Suzette frowns. "Hey, you were under a lot of stress last year. The Chamber of Secrets, those Petrifications…" The seriousness melts into a smile. "Dragon parenting."
"Co-parenting, you mean," I start to laugh. Suzette may have a point. Even if I've never really had my sister's intelligence, I definitely didn't help my grades when I decided that the best way to spend my first year at Hogwarts would be buying an illegal dragon egg and hatching it in the Forbidden Forest. Still, as crazy and reckless as our pastime was, I can't bring myself to think of our very own Slovakian Sunbeam, Krispy, with anything but fondness.
"Anyway, I'm not allowed to do that kind of thing this year." I say, before I go my normal route and get totally swallowed up by thoughts of Krispy.
She pouts. "Aw, going full Ravenclaw?"
"Hey, I'll always be a badger at heart! I just promised Hermione I'd keep out of trouble." Many, many times.
"Yeah, right." She teases. "Speaking of, where's she meeting you?"
I think back to the last conversation I had with my sister, before I went to stay at Suzette's for the final week of the holidays. "Here, I think - she said not to move too far from the barrier." I squint through the crowds for any sign of her, but I'm not blessed with much height. "Any sign?" I ask a substantially taller Suzette.
She arches her neck and peers across the platform. "Not yet- oh, wait!" She narrows her eyes. "I think- yep, that's her!"
I strain onto tiptoes - still not much help - and wave my arms wildly. "Hermione!"
And after a few moments, I can just make her out - my sister, hurrying towards us in a blur of bushy brown hair. She navigates the crowd with surprising skill, managing to quickly edge through the crush and come to meet us. Her eyes light up when they land on me. "Diana!"
"Hi!" I break into a broad smile and reach up to hug her - then stop when I see her arms are already otherwise occupied. By a huge, flat-faced ginger cat, that is.
"Who is this?!" I exclaim, dropping down to tickle its ears.
"This is Crookshanks." Hermione beams. "I got him as an early birthday present from this shop in Diagon Alley… no one else wanted him!"
Suzette's eyes soften as she too reaches down to stroke him. "Awww…"
I stifle a grin. Suzette would always turn from a typically sharp and sarcastic Slytherin to absolute mush around Krispy when he was little, and it looks like she's the same with cats.
"Hey, if you ever need anyone to babysit…" She smiles up at Hermione.
"Get in line." I tell her. "I'm first choice for looking after him, sister's right."
"Thanks for the offers, but I think he can take care of himself." Hermione laughs. "Anyway, are you OK? Were your parents alright having Diana, Suzette?"
"Of course! Any time, they said. She made a good impression."
Hermione nods approvingly. "And did you get everything you need from Diagon Alley?"
"Well, now I wish I'd got a cat." I say, still ruffling the coarse ginger fur between my fingers. "But yep, everything except for that."
"All your textbooks? Everything from that list in your letter?" She quizzes.
I can't help but grin. "You trying to cram the last week's worth of checking into right now?"
"Possibly." She gives me a one-armed hug which is cut abruptly short when Crookshanks begins to slide out of her arms. "I'd better head back and say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley." She puffs, heaving him back into place. "But you'll come and find me if you need me, won't you?"
"I will." I promise, giving Crookshanks the cat one last tickle.
"See you later, then. And good to see you again, Suzette!"
"You too, Hermione!"
My sister hurries off through the crowd. I watch until she's out of sight, then turn to Suzette. "We should probably get going as well if we want a compartment."
She nods and tucks a tendril of dark hair behind her ear. My best friend looks especially great today in a sleeveless blouse and navy blue skirt, her glossy dark braid pinned across her head, olive skin glowing. I'm a little less put-together in my blue jeans and home-knitted jumper (slightly too warm for the mild September weather, but I'm too proud of the dragon crest - Krispy-inspired, of course - on the front to take it off). I'm pondering the possibility of making another one as we approach the train, trying to stick together and keep from being jostled over in the crazy crush.
"Oi!" Someone yells. "Diana! Suzette!"
I look to my friend; from her face I know that she's recognised the voice as well. Turning on my heels, I break into a grin at the sight of our Gryffindor friend charging towards us - a stocky fair-haired boy, already decked out in a red-and-gold scarf. I met Atticus on the platform this time last year, and after a kind of explosive introduction, he and Suzette hit it off as well - a pretty major achievement, given the open warfare between their two houses.
"Attie, hey!" I grin at him as he hurries towards us.
"Merlin, you two walk fast." He puffs, running a hand through his treacle-coloured curls. "I've been calling you for ages!"
"You were being drowned out by half the school." I point my thumb over my shoulder towards the mass of students.
"Very selfish of them." Suzette shakes her head. "How was the rest of your summer? I haven't seen you since you were over in the second week."
"It was great! Even if I had to put up with Sybella's love-struck stuff." He pulls a face. "What's Lance been like?" He asks Suzette.
She shrugs. "No difference really… his head may have become slightly bigger, but it's a close thing."
I grin to myself. It was clear throughout all of last year that Atticus' cousin and Suzette's brother were interested in each other, but I think their recent relationship may be taking their family members some getting used to.
"On a less icky note, want to get a compartment together? We can catch up more there." I offer.
Atticus nods enthusiastically. "Sure - I'm with Chance, but I'm sure he'll find me."
The three of us make our way onto the train, prepared for the usual battle for compartments. After a couple of knocks and near-misses with swinging bags, we manage to snag what might be the last empty compartment. Suzette sits down and opens up a crisp copy of the Daily Prophet satisfactorily, but I am less at ease.
"So, where's Chance?" I ask, slightly warily. Attie's childhood friend and fellow Gryffindor is pretty much the human incarnation of a migraine.
"He just had to run back and check he'd brought his broom polish; he said he'd meet me on the train."
"Great." I say, through ever so slightly gritted teeth. As my eyes flicker onto Suzette, leafing idly through the Prophet, I'm struck by a sudden problem. Chance can barely come within fifty yards of a green-striped tie without bursting into flames; I really can't see him peacefully co-existing with my sharp-tongued and resolutely Slytherin friend.
The same problem has likely occurred to Atticus, if the way he's anxiously chewing on his lip is anything to go by, but he doesn't say anything. Maybe he's hoping that, given our current lack of uniforms, Chance won't remember Suzette or her house, but I wouldn't bet on it; last year he went on a short-lived but intense tirade where he accused her of being the Heir of Slytherin. Besides, Suzette's face isn't one most people tend to forget in a hurry.
"Yeah…" Atticus leans forward, his expression brightening suddenly. "Anyway, I've been dying to ask about Krispy…"
"Good, because I'm always desperate to talk about him." I jump in.
"Who, you?" Suzette gasps in mock-surprise, nodding to my jumper. I stick my tongue out at her.
Attie laughs. "So…?"
"So, he's giant now. Seriously, he's grown so much you'd barely know it was him." I spread my arms in a vague estimate. "And he can hunt for himself fine."
"He's brutally massacred every squirrel on our estate." Suzette chips in.
"May they rest in peace in Krispy's stomach." Atticus grins. "And... that's it?"
"What d'you mean? Squirrel massacres aren't enough?"
"It's all been good? You haven't heard anything more from those- those guys, right?" He asks, voice low.
All of a sudden, I know why he sounds so worried. Near the end of last year we very nearly lost Krispy forever to a pair of mysterious kidnappers. It took the three of us, plus Suzette's brothers, Atticus' cousin and the excellent timing of Krispy's own first flame to get rid of them.
"No," I tell him. "We never saw anything suspicious. And Suz's family have really strong warding charms around their estate, so it'd be super hard to break in."
Atticus exhales in relief.
"And also, even if they did, I think Krispy could take care of himself." I continue. "I've seen his flames, they're pretty amazing now. He's-"
"Sh!" Suzette cuts in, nodding towards the door. I shut my mouth smartish, right before Chance Binkins barges into the compartment.
He looks as a remember him (just an inch or so taller, maybe) - plump, scarlet-faced and unsmiling.
"Hey, Chance!" Atticus greets his friend. "You got it?"
"Yeah. Can you imagine if I'd left it? I might not've made the team, which would've been total bull-" He stops mid-sentence as his eyes land on Suzette. She looks up from her newspaper, blinks once at his scandalised expression and then flashes him a winning smile. I'm pretty sure I see the beginnings of steam coming out his ears.
He turns slowly to to his fellow Gryffindor. "What's going on?"
"Er - nothing?" Atticus shrugs, obviously clawing for nonchalance. "Come on, sit down."
Chance ignores him completely. "What is she doing here?!"
Faint irritation flits over Attie's face. "Come on, Chance, can't you just-?"
"No, I can't!" He cuts in. "I'll be down the carriageway, if you decide to remember which house you belong to after all."
He turns on his heel and makes every effort to slam the compartment door shut, but it's so stiff the best he can manage is an anticlimactic heave. Chance growls one last time and storms out of sight.
There's a moment's silence then Atticus sighs loudly. "Um...sorry about that, Suzette."
"No, no," she says lightly, clearly trying to stop a grin from tugging at the corner of her mouth.
He cringes. "I really didn't think he'd be that bad."
Having met the guy last year, I had no trouble anticipating Chance's reaction, but Attie looks genuinely disheartened.
"Maybe he'll come around." I suggest, trying to cheer him up. "I mean, you were pretty anti-Slytherin this time last year, weren't you? He could just be taking a bit longer to figure it out."
He nods slowly, probably thinking of our train journey here last year (with Chance, minus Suzette). He was definitely not a Slytherin fan.
"I guess so." He looks at Suz thoughtfully. "I didn't really change my mind until I talked to you properly."
"Maybe I need to start up a business." She says, smirking slightly. "Converting people from Slytherin hatred with nothing but my sparkling charm."
"Don't get cocky, your sparkling charm clearly didn't do much for Chance." I tease.
"Well, no one has a perfect success rate," she shrugs, examining her fingernails.
At that, there's a timid knock on the door.
"Maybe he has changed his mind!" Atticus says hopefully, but Chance isn't the type to knock timidly - or even to knock at all. I squint through the glass and get a glimpse of a small, nervously hunched figure with a mop of light brown hair. I'm almost certain of who it is.
I jump to my feet and pull open the sliding door. "Greg!"
My house-mate gives me a typically nervous smile. "Hi… Could I- maybe sit with you?"
"Of course!" I beam at him. "Come in!"
Greg shuffles into the compartment and perches on the empty seat next to mine. My fellow Hufflepuff is painfully shy.
"Hi, Greg." Atticus says, offering him a friendly smile.
"Hello." He gives a timid one back, and then his eyes flicker over to Suzette. He hastily looks down, like he half expects her to start spitting venom.
They've never actually been formally introduced, I remember. "Er- Greg, this is Suzette." I announce.
I raise my eyebrows at her. Be nice.
"Hey, Greg. Good to meet you." She says pleasantly.
He gives a nervous nod, and then looks out the window.
Well, I suppose it could've gone worse, I shrug to myself. He's not running screaming, that's a start - though it might be worth trying to steer us away from awkward introductions.
"What's happening, then?" I ask Suzette, nodding towards the Prophet.
She shakes out her paper. "Well, the big thing's still Sirius Black."
I swallow. Thanks to Hermione's Daily Prophet subscription, I've heard all about the escaped mass-murderer. Thirteen people dead with one spell… a crater in the street. Magic that powerful and that terrible is hard to imagine.
"No sightings?" Atticus asks.
She shakes her head. "They don't even have a trace. It's like he's vanished into thin air."
Beside me, Greg shivers slightly.
"It's OK," I tell him. "We'll be totally safe at Hogwarts!"
"Yeah, there's no Basilisk anymore…" Atticus says, though I'm not sure bringing up giant, monstrous serpents is the quickest way to calm his nerves. "But - er, more importantly, no one will be able to get into the castle. And the whole country's on the lookout for Black, even Muggles."
"Anything else going on?" I ask, thinking that it might be wise to ditch the topic of escaped mass murderers.
"Hmm… it's mostly Black…" She hesitates, looking suddenly uncertain. "And…"
"And?" I prompt.
Suzette swallows. "And- Thaddeus Lightclaw…"
I look down, my back-to-school excitement dying out like embers on dampened wood. It was less than a week ago when I found out that my favourite author had died.
It didn't help that I'd been right in the midst of Lightclaw's Guide to the Magical Creatures of Europe, the new book Hermione had given me for my birthday by the same brilliant writer. After devouring his most famous work, Fire and Fang - all about dragons, naturally - over the course of last year, I'd been overjoyed when she'd presented me with another book of his for my twelfth birthday.
And when a few days later a parcel arrived, along with a 'sorry it's late!' note from my brilliant but not-so-brilliantly organised best friend, I'd laughed out loud when I'd unwrapped it to find Lightclaw's Guide to the Magical Creatures of South America.
"Look what Suzette's sent me!" I'd exclaimed to Hermione, flashing the two book covers in her direction.
"Great minds think alike," she'd nodded wisely, examining Suzette's gift. "I did consider getting you that one, actually; it's his most recent work. I think he might be going through all the continents."
"That's got you two covered for presents for the next few years, then." I'd grinned.
"Oh, dear - I'd so wanted to get you started on Advanced Potion Making…" She'd teased.
"Don't you dare!"
But I'd barely got three chapters into Europe when, just a few days later, Hermione knocked softly on my door. The face that peeped around the door looked worryingly grave. "Have you got a minute?"
"Why, what's wrong?" I'd asked, feeling the beginnings of anxiety.
Hermione walked into the room and settled on my bed, and it was only then that I'd noticed that she was carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet under her arm.
"What is it?"
She swallowed. "It's Thaddeus Lightclaw. He's- he's died, Diana. I'm really sorry."
I gaped at her, totally gobsmacked. "What?"
She nodded slowly, handed me the newspaper.
"But he was so well." I heard myself say. "Ready to go off travelling around the world...tracking new species of creatures…"
"I know. It was very sudden."
She'd offered me the paper, and I'd skimmed the article.
'The Daily Prophet is sad to report the death of Professor Thaddeus Lightclaw, Order of Merlin, Third Class. The well-known author, 91, passed away suddenly at his home in Yorkshire on Tuesday night. Mr Lightclaw reportedly fell ill within only two hours and was found dead in his office by his distraught son-in-law.
"It's a real shock," says Suranne Ramos, Mr Lightclaw's daughter. "He was in good health - engrossed in some new research, had another trip to South America planned for a fortnight's time. It's quite unbelievable. We're all absolutely devastated to have lost him."
St. Mungos Healers are still unsure about the cause of death, though have ruled out all common wizarding maladies. We at the Prophet extend our deepest condolences to Mr Lightclaw's family and urge the wizarding world at large to do the same.'
I slumped on my bed and watched my room start to blur at the edges. I would've been gutted by this anyway, but what made it a hundred times worse is that I actually know his grandson. Javier Ramos is a fellow Hufflepuff, and, as I found out at the very end of last year, just so happens to be related to one of my wizarding heroes. He even got me an autograph, a yellowed piece of parchment covered in spiky black writing, tucked carefully inside my copy of Fire and Fang.
Dear Diana, it reads. Always good to hear of another dragon fan! Wishing you the happiest of reading, Thaddeus Lightclaw.
"He's the one you got the autograph from, right?" Atticus asks now, bringing me back to the present.
I nod slowly. "We both did, didn't we?" I say, looking to Greg.
My friend jerks his head. I wonder if he was as cut up by the news as I was, but I think that's the sort of question I should ask him alone. Instead I chew on the inside of my cheek and stare out the window, watching the fields slice by and the recently-started rain slide down the windows.
"Hey, this is pretty strange…" Suzette says suddenly, probably trying to drag me away from my sadness.
I pull myself back, swallow hard. "What's that?"
She scans her newspaper. "A man from Cornwall's been attacked by a Fire Crab."
"Really?" I say, frowning. "That is really weird. Why did it attack?"
"It doesn't look like it was of its own accord."
"What, someone set it on him or something?!" Atticus asks.
"Looks like it." She shakes out the paper. "'34-year-old Ministry worker Vincent Thor came around to find nothing but scorch marks on the floor and a note reading, 'Regards from Chimaera.''"
A sudden shiver slides down my neck, and I jolt forward.
Atticus blinks at me. "What's wrong?"
"I- I don't know." I say, slowly. "Something about that name, Chimaera - it seemed…"
Suzette frowns as I tail off. "Seemed?"
"Uh, familiar." I wrack my brains furiously, but I've got nothing. "Ah, well." I shrug, slightly embarrassed. "I'm probably wrong."
"Your magical creature obsession is finally catching up with you." Suzette says, offering me a smile.
I shake my head, trying to bat away the feeling of deja vu. "You might be right. Anyway, let's talk about something else! Are you lot all happy to be going back?"
Atticus nods emphatically. "Of course! I can't wait to see our common room again...and I just know that we're gonna win the House Cup this year…."
"Eh. Work." Suzette shrugs.
The rest of the journey passes pleasantly. When the trolley witch comes around, we all fork over our Sickles for pumpkin pasties, Liquorice Wands and a large stack of Chocolate Frogs. Everyone commences into mad Chocolate Frog Card swapping - even Greg seems to be having his own quiet form of fun. He's stopped looking scared every time Suzette opens her mouth, which has got to be a good thing, anyway. As the train rolls on, the rain gets heavier, greying the view and spattering the windows with droplets. The sound of it, along with the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks, lull me into a state of laid-back laziness. The sky outside darkens to the colour of ink as I bite the head of what has to be my eighth Chocolate Frog, now nearing the last leg of our journey.
"Godric Gryffindor." I say, extracting the card.
"I'll trade you!" Atticus offers immediately, waving a stack of his in my direction.
I swallow the chocolate and tilt my head. "What? Don't you already have thirteen of Godric Gryffindor, Attie?" This was one of the first things he told me when we met last year, I remember.
"Fourteen, now!" He says brightly. "I've got a nice collection going!"
"I don't think you really grasped how collecting is supposed to work, Atticus." Suzette teases. "The idea is to get as many wizards as possible, not to stockpile one."
"Well, you have to make exceptions for the greats." He shrugs. "So, Diana?"
I laugh and hand over my card. "Go on, then."
"So obsessed." Suzette shakes her head despairingly.
"Aw, you're just bitter because no one wants your mean snake man." He grins at her.
"'Mean snake man?' Wow, Attie - I'm sure Salazar Slytherin is crying in his grave…"
"Can you two leave the House Cup competition until we're actually at school?" I grin. "I mean, both of you are totally..."
I tail off. The train seems to be slowing down, the clack-clack-clack sound juddering to a halt. I frown in confusion, watch the same expression dawn on my friends' faces.
"Why're we stopping?"
"Have we broken down or something?"
Suzette peers out her window, now entirely black, then turns back to us and shrugs. "I've no idea - I can't see a thing."
The train comes to a sharp stop that jolts Atticus' rucksack down from the luggage compartment, narrowly missing his head.
And then, right on cue, the lights go out and we're plunged into total darkness.
"Lumos!" A bright pinprick flickers and dies at the end of Atticus' wand. "Damn it- Lumos!"
This time, the spell is successful; faint light spills into the carriage, illuminating the confusion and worry on my friends' faces.
Even in the dimness, I can tell how pale Greg's skin has blanched. "What's happening?" He asks.
"No idea." I say. "Maybe we-"
But I stop mid-sentence, cut off by a chill that seeps into the compartment and fills the air with ice. There's something outside… the sound of something breathing, something almost human - but not quite.
With horror, I watch the door handle rattle, and then begin to turn.