AN1: Woo! Update! I've been having a bit of trouble getting writing done. In particular, I noticed I found it harder to write when sticking too close to canon. The cross-referencing just eats away at both my speed and my enjoyment. Therefore, I aim to not stick quite as close to canon as I've done in most of these two chapters. Hopefully, that will speed up my writing. At the very least, the one major scene in this update that isn't in canon (1500 words, roughly) took only about an hour to write, far quicker than the rest of the chapter.
AN2: As you can see, this update, which is one chapter for ffnet, contains two chapters according to my own counting. This is because I prefer a somewhat shorter chapter length of 2000-3000 words (though these two chapters are together over 7000 total), but I don't want to split the story into too many pieces. Most of the time, a single update here will include two or three chapters according to my own counting, and the word count will be something between 5000-10000 in most cases. Exceptions may occur.
AN3: You'll recognize quite a few bits (in particular dialogue) from the early chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. (and yes, I think changing the name to Sorcerer's Stone is stupid, and I won't call it that in the story itself, but it's the version I have, plus I write American English because I'm more familiar with it)
Chapter 1: The Boy-Who-Lived
Lyra Malfoy woke up with a splitting headache.
Somehow, her memories were blurry, like one's vision could be when looking through tears.
As she lay in bed, barely keeping in a groan, they started to order themselves, and the realization of what she had done – or would do? – came to her. Yet, at the same time, there were the memories from the life she'd lived to now – a girl born to a rich pureblood family, raised to believe the Dark Lord was a great man all should follow.
If they want to be tortured into insanity, she commented sarcastically.
That did not mean she could simply refuse her parents, however. For one, an overnight change in behavior would be far too noticeable. She'd always been the perfect pureblood girl. It would have to be a more gradual change.
She still lay in bed, making plans, when her mother called from downstairs to get up and ready, as they'd be leaving for Diagon Alley today.
"Coming!" Lyra yelled back, pushing off the covers and walking over to the wardrobe.
Good thing I got this life's memories as well, she found herself thinking, or I'd have no idea what I'm supposed to wear. Of course, she was about to get a whole new set of clothing too… and suddenly she found herself wondering whether she would actually be able to meet Potter today. After all, they'd talked while their robes were being fitted, would boys and girls even be fitted in the same room?
Well, worst case she'd have to look for him on the train. She picked some clothes and made her way downstairs.
"Good morning," she said, trying not to yawn. Luckily, most of the headache was gone by now.
"Good morning," her father mumbled back, turning the page of the Daily Prophet. The front page didn't look too interesting, so the rest probably wasn't either. Just Fudge messing up – and Lyra figured her father probably had something to do with that.
She attempted to eat her breakfast in silence, but her mother kept fussing over her, asking question after question whether she'd be alright and what kind of cauldron she wanted and was she looking forward to perhaps meeting other children that would also go to Hogwarts and should she and dad get stuff for her by themselves and if so what would be the smartest way to go about it and… Lyra sighed.
"It'll be fine, mom."
"I suppose," she said. "Make sure to be polite. It wouldn't be good to tick off a pureblood before even getting to Hogwarts."
"I'll probably tick off enough of them at school," Lyra muttered. The entirety of Slytherin, for example.
"What was that?" Narcissa asked, suspicious.
"Nothing."
"Good." Narcissa quickly shoved some food into her own mouth. "Well, let's go. Nothing but the best for our princess."
Lucius put down the newspaper and together they took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, it was off to Gringotts first, where Lyra's father withdrew a sizable pile of galleons – not that it was noticable among the heaps and heaps of gold that filled the vault. Then, her parents dropped her at Madam Malkin's and left, Lucius to buy her books and Narcissa to buy the first year potion ingredients. Lyra let out a smile imagining just how easy potions would be this first year. The subject was almost all knowledge, so while she might have to relearn wandwork for the other subjects – she wasn't sure just how much of her abilities she retained after going back in time –, she still had everything she needed for potions. And to top it off, she was Snape's favorite.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she heard Madam Malkin ask in the distance. One of Malkin's assistants was currently taking Lyra's measurements. "Got the lot here," Malkin continued, "a young woman being fitted up just now, in fact."
She put Potter on the stool right next to Lyra – which wasn't all that surprising, she realized. After all, it was a woman – Madam Malkin – doing Potter's measurements.
"Hello," Lyra said. "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes."
And now don't start talking about yourself like last time, Lyra. "Are you looking forward to it?"
"I guess," Potter said. "I didn't even know about magic until today."
Oh, of course. She'd known about that, somewhere deep down. She went with the logical next question in this situation, making sure to keep her voice neutral, or even curious.
"Are you muggleborn, then?"
"No," Potter said, "but my parents died when I was young and I grew up with my muggle uncle and aunt."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What happened to them?"
"They were killed by Vol – I mean, by You-Know-Who."
Lyra pretended to just now notice the scar – admittedly, it had mostly been hidden by Potter's hair. She feigned surprise the best she could.
"Wait… Are you… Harry Potter?"
"Uh, yes," Potter said, looking embarrassed. "Who are you?"
"Lyra Malfoy," she introduced herself. It felt surprisingly natural.
"Nice to meet you." Potter still looked a little uncomfortable. The Malfoy name didn't seem to ring a bell for him. Well, good thing too. That was going to make it all a lot easier.
"Nice to meet you too," Lyra replied. Time to play the situation so that she would appear forced to help Potter out. "You got any idea what House you'll be in?"
"No," Potter said, unsure. Too timid, Lyra thought. You were supposed to ask me about it. Time to prod some more then.
"Which one would you prefer?"
"I don't know." He attempted to shrug it off, but looked decidedly uncomfortable.
Just tell me you don't know what I'm talking about, damnit.
"Wait," Lyra said, "you don't even know about Hogwarts' Houses, do you?" How did that 'even' slip in there?
"No," Potter said with a small voice. Finally.
"Hogwarts has four Houses," Lyra said, "and each student is sorted into one of them depending on their qualities-" Before she could explain more, Madam Malkin had finished and told Potter he was ready to go. He looked back and forth between Lyra and Hagrid – who had apparently returned – for a moment but left when Hagrid held up two cones of ice cream. Oh, wait, I made some derogatory comments about him last time around, didn't I? Perhaps she could fix that as well. Malkin's assistant told her the fitting was done and Lyra hurried out of the shop – her parents had already paid upfront. Indeed, it appeared Potter was lingering outside. That was already an improvement over last time, when he'd been long gone – at least as far as Lyra could remember; it wasn't like she'd cared about the random boy she only learned later was Potter.
Hagrid looked her over as she stepped outside. "This the girl yeh were talkin' abou', Harry?" He stuck out a large hand, which Lyra shook. "Rubeus Hagrid. Yeh were tellin' Harry abou' the Houses?"
Lyra nodded as she introduced herself. Quickly, she continued, making sure to not give Hagrid any time to react to her name. "Yeah, we were talking and he hadn't heard about the Houses, so I figured I'd tell him about them, but just then his measurements were finished and then he noticed you outside with ice cream." She gave her best smile.
"Guess it can't hurt to tell yeh a little abou' them, Harry," Hagrid said, eyeing Lyra a little wearily. She couldn't blame him.
"So, four Houses," Lyra tried to pick up the conversation from earlier. "Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor. As I said, each House looks for different qualities in their students. Slytherin looks for cunning and ambition, Ravenclaw for intelligence and a desire to learn, Hufflepuff for loyalty and determination, and Gryffindor looks for courage and bravery."
Hagrid, for all his admiration of Gryffindor and disdain of Slytherin, seemed to consider this explanation fair enough to not warrant further comment.
"Well, Harry," he said, "we need to buy yer school supplies. Quills an' stuff."
Harry got out his letter and looked it over quickly, then nodded. "Nice meeting you, Lyra."
She returned a smile. "Nice meeting you too."
Well, she thought as the two walked away, that went much better than expected. If she'd have realized just how mallable the boy had been that first time around – and had been a little less bullheaded herself, at the time – she would've probably gotten him into Slytherin repeating pureblood beliefs before the end of first year.
Slytherin probably wasn't the right House for him though. It was clear that the Dark Lord had a special interest in Potter – and beyond the whole rebounding Killing Curse thing. She just hoped that her and Potter's different relationship this time around wouldn't mean he'd get sorted into a different House – he'd always displayed some Slytherin qualities, not to mention the fact that he was a Parselmouth.
But back to the matter at hand. Time to find her parents before they'd start wondering where she was or who she'd talked to.
"Harry," Hagrid said as they left the office supply shop, "yeh'll need ter be careful 'round that girl."
"Why?" Harry inquired. She'd acted like he should know more he did, but really, so had Hagrid last night. And once she'd realized he didn't know anything about Hogwarts she'd started telling him about the Houses. All in all, she seemed a nice enough girl.
"She's a Malfoy," Hagrid said. "Very dark family, supported You-Know-Who in the last war, then bought themselves out when he disappeared."
"She didn't seem that bad!" Harry protested.
Hagrid patted his shoulder with considerable force. "Just be careful. Maybe…" He trailed off, seemingly thinking over his words. "Harry, if she's nice at Hogwarts too, don' be afraid ter become friends with her, but make sure if yer can trust her.
"Anyway, let's get yer school books."
Harry remained troubled for a while, but that disappeared soon enough when they entered the bookstore with it's many, many books on all kinds of spells.
August went by without much excitement, though Lyra purposefully distanced herself a little from Vincent and Gregory. She'd prefer them to go somewhere else on the train; that would make it much easier to buddy up to Potter. On the morning the Hogwarts Express was leaving she met up with them at the station, and luckily Vincent made a crude joke, allowing Lyra to get angry about it and refuse to talk to them – somehow managing not to snicker at the same joke the entire time.
She looked through the train for a bit, trailing her trunk behind her, and found what she was pretty sure had been Potter and Weasley's cabin last time around – and if not she'd get up and look for them. She tried to push her trunk up into the luggage rack, but gave up after a few attempts, giving her thin, feminine arms an angry glare.
Soon enough, Potter appeared in the hallway, his trunk carried by the Weasley twins. Lyra gave a quick wave.
"Hi. Nice to see you again."
"Hi."
"Hey, could you help me with my trunk? I tried to get it into the luggage rack, but it's too heavy for me."
"Oh, sure," Potter said, joining her in the compartment. Together, they easily lifted the trunk into the rack. The twins entered behind them and put Potter's trunk in the rack as well.
"Thank you, Harry," Lyra said, giving him a smile.
That also got the attention from the twins.
"Blimey," said one of them, looking at Potter's forehead. "Are you – ?"
"He is," said the other twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Potter.
"What?" Potter asked.
"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.
"Oh, him," Potter said. "I mean, yes, I am."
The two boys gawked at him, and Potter's cheeks went red.
"Fred? George?" a voice came from the open door of the train. "Are you there?"
Their heads snapped away. "Coming, mom."
They gave Potter one more look and hopped off the train.
"I wish people wouldn't stare at me like that," Potter said.
"I can imagine," Lyra said. In the distance, they could hear the Weasley family saying goodbye to one another. She wasn't certain how she felt about having to get along with them… And getting along with Potter but not with them probably wasn't an option.
"Are all of your family wizards?" Potter asked.
"Yeah," Lyra said, turning her attention back to the Boy-Who-Lived. "As far as we can trace back at least, which is quite far."
"Really?" Potter asked. "I don't even know who my grandparents are…"
"Most pureblood families can trace their ancestors back hundreds of years," Lyra said. "You know, I think your father could too."
"You know about my father?" Potter asked, excited.
"Not much," Lyra said truthfully. "My parents made me learn all the prominent pureblood families, which included the Potters." The door to the compartment opened before Lyra had a chance to say anything more, which was probably a good thing as Potter wasn't likely to be interested in the details of pureblood families.
"Can I sit here?" Ron Weasley asked. "Everywhere else is full."
"Sure," Potter said.
Weasley sat next to them, looking at both her and Potter for a moment before looking out of the window. Moments later, a voice came from the train corridor.
"Hey, Ron," said one of the twins.
"Listen, we're going to the middle of the train," said the other. "Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," Weasley mumbled.
"Oh," the first twin said, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."
"Bye," Weasley and Potter said.
Weasley again glanced at Potter, then again looked out of the window.
"Well, I guess I should introduce myself then," Lyra said, looking at Weasley. "As your brothers already introduced you and I've met Harry before. I'm Lyra Malfoy." She stuck out her hand.
Weasley blinked at her, apparently trying to figure out what to say to the daughter of his father's nemesis.
"Something wrong with my name?" Lyra asked after a few seconds.
"Uh, no uhm, it's just…" Weasley stuttered. He coughed. "Well, uhm…"
"Oh, cut it. If you don't like my family, come out and say it."
Potter was watching the conversation with interest as well as, it seemed, some nervousness. Lyra figured he was probably thinking of a way to relieve the tension. It seemed like the kind of thing he'd want to do.
"You know what, Weasley," she said, "How about we ignore what our parents think of one another and just try to get off to a good start?"
Weasley grumbled for a moment and then turned his attention towards Potter. "So… are you really Harry Potter?"
Potter nodded.
"Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," Weasley said. "And have you really got – you know…"
He pointed at Potter's forehead.
"I don't know for sure," Lyra remarked, "but I'd think he's getting quite annoyed by now at everyone asking to see his scar and shake his hand and kiss his feet."
Potter looked disgusted at the idea.
"Oh, sorry," Weasley said. "I didn't mean to, it's just… sorry."
"It's fine," Potter waved it away. "So, you two both grew up with wizards? You must know loads of magic already."
Weasley looked a little uneasy at the question.
"Some," Lyra said, "but we're not allowed to buy a wand until the summer before Hogwarts. And I know there are also parents that don't allow their children to use magic at home. I'd bet the Weasleys are one of those families."
"Uh, yeah," Weasley said with a small voice.
"Really? Why not?" Potter asked.
"It's not allowed by the Ministry," Lyra explained, "and they have ways of finding out if magic is used by children. If you live in a wizarding home they can't do that though, because it could be the parents or an older sibling using magic. So then it just depends on your parents, and mine really don't care if I use magic at home."
"I bet you think yourself above all rules," Weasley muttered just loud enough for Lyra to hear.
"You'd be surprised." She let out a chuckle. "You know, you should make less assumptions about me. You know far less about me than you think."
"Oh, and you know so much about me?" Weasley demanded angrily.
"I didn't say that. I'll be honest, Weasley, I'm hoping we can just get along. It doesn't do any good to fight one another."
"That, coming from a Malfoy?"
"Yes," Lyra said, some annoyance creeping into her voice. Git. "That coming from a Malfoy. We're people too, you know. We aren't all the same." She turned back to Potter.
"Our parents don't really get along," she apologized. "Actually, they really don't get along."
"Why is that?" he asked.
"Because her father's a Death Eater!" Weasley blurted out.
"A what?" Potter asked.
"Follower of You-Know-Who," Lyra said. "And I don't know if my father was one. He never told me." She congratulated herself on having lasted this long in the past before having to lie to someone.
"Everyone knows he just bought himself out," Weasley complained.
Lyra shrugged. "I'm not my father." It really was time to ease the conversation somewhat… Ah, of course.
"What are your favorite Quidditch teams?"
And off Weasley went, talking about the Chudley Cannons of all teams. A few minutes in, Potter interjected.
"Uhm, what's Quidditch?"
"What!" Weasley looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world –" and he started explaining, Lyra helping out whenever she could find a place to squeeze in a sentence.
All in all, the topic of Quidditch managed to release a lot of the tension, until eventually the candy cart passed along. Potter immediately leapt to his feet and started browsing everything available, while Weasley muttered something about sandwiches. After a few minutes, Potter brought basically every kind of candy available back and dropped it on an empty seat.
"Hungry, are you?" Weasley said, staring.
"Starving," Potter replied as he took a bite out of a pumpkin pasty.
Weasley had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it as Lyra watched with interest. He made a face when he pulled out a sandwich and peeked between the slices. "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."
"Swap you for one of these," Potter offered, holding up a pasty. "Go on –"
"You don't want this, it's all dry," Weasley said. He seemed to want to say more, but then glanced at Lyra and proceeded not to.
"Go on, have a pasty," Potter insisted. Finally, Weasley accepted. "What about you?" Potter looked towards Lyra.
She thought of her own lunch, which was a little fancier than what Weasley had brought. Perhaps best not to show that off. Potter had bought enough for three anyway. "Thank you," she said, accepting the cauldron cake.
"What are these?" Potter asked after a few seconds, holding a pack of chocolate frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?"
Lyra barely held in a snicker as Weasley explained what they were. From there, the topic went to the collectible cards and on to various famous people depicted on the cards – Dumbledore among them. Next came a lengthy session of tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans until eventually the compartment door opened and a chubby boy looked in. Lyra needed a second or two to realize she was looking at Longbottom.
"Sorry," Longbottom said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"
"No, sorry," Lyra answered.
"I've lost him!" he wailed. "He keeps getting away from me!"
Lyra barely kept herself from commenting on his behavior, trying to imagine the leader of last year's resistance. It was hard.
"He'll turn up," Potter said. Sheesh. How had Lyra missed just how much of a nice guy Potter was? She doubted there would be more than maybe ten people on this entire train patient enough to comfort the boy.
"Yes," Longbottom said, still sounding miserable. "Well, if you see him…"
He left.
"Don't know why he's so bothered," Weasley commented. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." Right on both counts, Weasley. The rat was snoozing on his lap. Then, he started talking about how he'd tried to turn the animal yellow yesterday, and pulled out a wand that should have been thrown into the trashcan years ago. And here Lyra had thought it was that crash with the car in second year that had damaged it. She stifled a giggle when she remembered the slugs Weasley had forced himself to throw up.
Just when he was about to cast the spell, Longbottom entered the compartment again, this time joined by the Granger girl.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." Lyra felt instant dislike on hearing the bossy voice – which was kind of odd, actually, as she'd known the girl for seven years and had disliked her for just as many.
Weasley tried to tell her Longbottom had already passed by, but Granger didn't even notice. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then," and sat down.
Weasley got over his surprise and cast – well, it couldn't really be called a spell. It was more of a rhyme. This time, Lyra did start giggling despite her attempts not to. Weasley, who had grown up surrounded by wizards, believed this was an actual spell? Even Granger got to the right conclusion.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" She then went off and started talking at roughly twice the speed Lyra – and probably anyone else – was able to keep up with. Just how had this girl managed to become friends with those two?
"I'm Ron Weasley," Weasley muttered. Oh, she'd given her name.
"Lyra Malfoy," Lyra said.
"Harry Potter."
And off Granger went again, talking about how she'd read about him. Lyra did everything in her power to keep her face blank. And as suddenly as she'd come, she left again, to continue the Quest for the Missing Toad.
"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Weasley complained. He threw his wand in his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."
Are you kidding me? Lyra thought. You actually trusted him to give you a real spell? How naive are you?
"What House are your brothers in?" asked Potter.
"Gryffindor," said Weasley. "Mom and dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."
"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Lyra demanded.
"Isn't that the House Vol – You-Know-Who was in?" Potter asked.
"Yeah," Weasley said. "All evil wizards were."
"That doesn't mean everyone in Slytherin is evil!" Lyra protested.
"Oh?" Weasley glared at her.
"My entire family was in Slytherin!"
He barked a laugh. "That's not saying much!"
"So, Ron," Potter interjected, "what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left school, anyway?"
Weasley started explaining about his family, then they got on the topic of the Gringotts break-in – ah yes, Lyra had forgotten about that – and from there on they talked about a variety of things regarding the wizarding world, mostly explaining things to Potter. Not much more happened, and a few hours later they found themselves in the cave under the castle.
Oh, and Longbottom had finally gotten that stupid toad back somehow.
Chapter 2: Back to School
As they entered Hogwarts, professor McGonagall led the first years to antechamber next to the Great Hall, where she told them about the sorting. Lyra ignored the nervous buzzing around her from everyone, wondering what they would have to do. A few minutes passed, and suddenly most of the castle's ghost population entered the room through one of the walls, discussing whether they should get rid of Peeves. Lyra had long since determined they did this every year with the – pretty successful – goal to scare the first years. While the ghosts were still there, McGonagall returned to shepherd everyone into the Great Hall.
The Hat sang its song, and Lyra found herself snickering at Weasley's comment about wrestling with a troll before McGonagall started calling out names. One by one, everyone got sorted – of course in the same Houses they'd been last time around – and Lyra found herself paying little attention to the Hat, instead judging the reactions of the staff table to the various sortings. Eventually MacDougal, Morag was sorted, and next…
"Malfoy, Lyra."
She stepped forward and put on the Hat. Last time around, this has been the moment where it'd shouted Slytherin.
"Now that's a bleak future," a small voice next to Lyra's ear said. The Hat, no doubt. "A Slytherin last time around, I see. And yet, and yet… you returned to the past without much of a plan, led only by hope."
What do you mean? Lyra asked.
"You were Slytherin last time around," the Hat said, "and I could definitely put you there again. But the manner in which you decided to come to the past… You've definitely earned yourself some Gryffindor qualities as well, over the years."
What? Lyra thought, incredulous.
"Oh, yes. Lady Hogwarts already explained it to you, didn't she? You felt obligated to return, even though you still certainly had options. I'll leave it to you, Gryffindor or Slytherin."
Well, that was… unexpected. Her parents would be… displeased if she would become a Gryffindor – or anything but a Slytherin, really – but it would make it that much easier to befriend Potter and his friends. The trouble with her family would be worth it. Hopefully.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Albus Dumbledore barely stopped himself from gasping. Until now, the sorting hadn't brought any real surprises, and he always made it something of a game to guess where students would be going. The young Malfoy, he had considered one of the safest bets – for Slytherin, that was. The last time he'd been this surprised by a sorting had been some twenty years ago.
Indeed, it seemed most people were surprised by this turn of events, judging by the number of stares and open mouths. It took Albus himself two seconds to get over his surprise and start clapping, as he did for every student. Luckily for the girl, the rest of Gryffindor followed Albus' example. Surely she herself would be surprised by this turn of events as well – it wouldn't do for her House to not welcome her now.
Lyra sat down next to Granger and Longbottom, saying a quick hello before watching the rest of the sorting. Indeed, it continued without any more surprises – unless you counted her own sorting of course – and soon they were joined by Potter and Weasley. As the last student, Blaise got sorted into Slytherin and Dumbledore rose.
"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat down and the Hall cheered.
"Is he – a bit mad?" Potter asked uncertainly.
Lyra barely stopped herself from answering affirmatively.
"Mad?" Percy Weasley said airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"
Lyra hadn't hesitated a moment when the food appeared on the table and had loaded her plate already, while Potter was gazing around like he'd never seen so much food before – and, Lyra suddenly realized, he probably hadn't. Nearly Headless Nick's comment on the food sparked a discussion on Hogwarts' ghosts, and from there the table went from subject to subject as Lyra tried to participate without revealing just how familiar she was with the castle – let alone the other students. Weasley still seemed to dislike her, and she found herself getting quite annoyed by Granger (who only seemed to be getting along with Percy Weasley), but Potter at least seemed to like her. And that probably meant the other two would come around too, considering how close they had been in the last timeline. When the feast was over, Dumbledore again took the floor.
"Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Potter laughed, but he was one of the few to do so.
"He's not serious?" he asked with some concern.
"He probably is," Lyra said. "He may be… eccentric, but he wouldn't joke around with something like this." Of course, she added to herself, if the rumors from last time around were correct, you ended up running in there and battling Quirrell or something.
Dumbledore, for some reason Lyra hadn't been able to discern after six years of it, then initiated the school song, after which they were all sent to their beds. Lyra, together with her fellow first-years, followed Percy Weasley upstairs, and after a brief run-in with Peeves they arrived at the Gryffindor common room, which Lyra saw from the inside for the first time in her life. Weasley quickly pointed out the various areas of the common room and then led the first-year boys to their dormitory, while the other fifth-year prefect led Lyra and the other three girls to their own room.
The first week of classes started off quite normal, except of course for the part where Lyra was utterly bored during the theory. She did find, however, that actually casting spells didn't come for free. Sure, things like the Lumos from Charms and the matchstick-to-needle transformation from Transfiguration came faster to her than anyone else – and she was in fact the only one apart from Granger to achieve a transfiguration during the first lesson, earning her two points for Gryffindor – but she actually had to put work in to get the wand movements into her muscles and the incantations out of her mouth. Plus, silent casting didn't seem to work for her at all. She'd tried, after managing the vocal Lumos. In the end, she wasn't sure whether she should feel happy about that or not, as it did stop her from being bored out of her mind.
The contact with other people wasn't much different from the feast. Potter was mostly nice, Weasley still seemed unable to believe she'd been sorted into Gryffindor – and she even thought he might suspect her of getting sorted into Gryffindor as part of some evil plan or something. In fact, he actually had a point there, except for the evil part. Granger tried to answer every damn question the teacher asked and had almost no contact with her fellow first-years unless she could lecture someone. Longbottom was extremely shy, bumbled around and in general appeared to simply be comic relief. In fact, Lyra remembered that, the first time around, she'd considered him to more or less be such, at least until sixth year.
Then, on Tuesday evening, during dinner, her father entered the Great Hall. He strode towards the staff table, though his eyes found her and narrowed even as he continued walking. He stepped up to Dumbledore and said something Lyra couldn't hear from here.
"What's he doing here?" she heard Weasley complain. The redhead was sitting on the other side of Potter.
"No idea," Lyra said.
"Who is that?" Potter asked.
"My father."
"Is he here for you?"
"I don't know," Lyra said. "He's part of the Board of Governors, so it could just be related to that." She doubted it though.
Lucius stepped over to McGonagall, exchanged a few words with her, then strode out of the Great Hall again. There were noticeably more eyes on Lyra than there had been a few minutes ago. Uncertain what this was about, she decided to just continue her dinner. As said dinner neared it's end, McGonagall walked over to their spot on the table.
"Miss Malfoy, your father would like to talk to you," she said with a disapproving voice. "He's waiting for you in my study. Do you need any help getting here?"
Lyra shook her head. "I should be fine."
"Remember, Miss Malfoy, that I am your head of House. If you have any problems related to your House, feel free to come to me." McGonagall left.
Translation: If your father is going to make trouble about your sorting, come to me.
Lyra finished dinner, then shooed Potter and Weasley off and left for McGonagall's office.
She entered the office a few minutes later, making sure to not show too much emotion on her face. Lucius had conjured a chair in front of the desk, apparently unwilling to take McGonagall's chair. He conjured a second, much simpler chair for Lyra to sit on, without saying a word.
She sat down, keeping her head angled low, looking at her knees, waiting for her father to start.
The silence stretched.
After what must have been about a minute, but felt ten times longer, her father spoke.
"How?"
She looked up at him, into those boring grey eyes. After a second, she opened her mouth, then closed again, no sound coming out. The truth wasn't an option, which left little for her to say.
"How could this happen?" Lucius asked. "You are from a family of Slytherins, tracing back generations upon generations both from my side and your mother's side. Why are you not in Slytherin?"
She looked down again. "The… the Hat said Gryffindor was the best match for me. I'm… I'm sorry, father."
From the corner of her eye, she saw him shaking his head. "No, it is not that easy, daughter. You have disappointed me, and your mother. What's more, you have disgraced our family. I have had a long discussion with your mother upon hearing this. Depending on your behavior and who you associate with at Hogwarts, we're willing to overlook this… turn of events, but let me be clear right now that I will not be supporting you from the Board. You're on your own. What's more, I will not, in any way, aid you in getting on a Quidditch team."
Lyra's mouth fell open. "What? But… father…"
"No," Lucius said. "This is not open for discussion. Now, have I made myself clear, or is there something you wish to ask me?"
Lyra stuttered for a moment. "I… No, father, there's nothing I want to ask."
He stood. "Then we're done here. Do not let me hear about you associating with blood-traitors or mudbloods, daughter. If you must, look to the other Houses for contact."
"Yes, father." She could already feel the storm coming when she'd ignore this command. "Father… what about Harry Potter?"
He sighed. "You can associate with him, see if you can explain him our cause. In fact, if you do so well enough… you may be excused from your sorting."
Lyra stood and let herself be ushered out of the room by her father after he vanished both their chairs. From the door, they immediately went different directions. Lucius didn't even look at her as she made her way to the Gryffindor Tower.
"What was it about?" Potter asked as she sat down next to him and Weasley in the common room.
"He's… not happy about my sorting," Lyra said.
"And what did you say?" Weasley asked.
She glanced at him. This might actually be an opening… "That the Hat believed Gryffindor to be the best match for me," she said.
"You?" Weasley demanded. "No way."
Lyra shrugged. "Why not?"
"You're a Malfoy!"
"I'm not my father," Lyra protested. Then, she saw the manoeuvre she should make. "If... if you really want to know, the Hat actually offered me the choice between Slytherin and Gryffindor. I… I feel a little uncomfortable with some of the views of purebloods, to be honest. That's why I chose Gryffindor."
"What views?" Potter asked.
"Most Slytherins believe that purebloods are better than halfbloods and muggleborns," Lyra said bluntly.
"Why?"
"I don't know," Lyra said. "Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if it's mostly because they themselves are purebloods."
"And what about you two then?"
She shrugged. "I come from a family that's always been pretty big on this blood supremacy stuff, so I guess I'm something of an exception. As for the Weasleys…" She looked over at Weasley. When it appeared he wasn't going to take over, she continued. "The Weasleys are what my father likes to call blood-traitors. Purebloods, but without caring about blood themselves."
Potter studied her for a moment. "Do you know what my father's family was like?"
"Kind of like the Weasleys," Lyra said, "only with more money."
Weasley gave an angry grunt at that. Oops.
"I'm sorry," she said, even though it had been true. "I shouldn't have said that."
He continued glowering at her, and she held up her hands. From the corner of her eye, she saw Potter fidgeting with his clothing, and decided to change the subject.
"So, did you start on homework yet?"
Weasley groaned some more.
Lyra made her way towards the dungeons, Potter on her side and Weasley next to him. The two were talking about Potions and Snape – they were about to have their first lesson in the damp cellar – but Lyra was lost in thought after what her father had said. Last time around, she'd stolen Longbottom's Remembrall, which had goaded Potter into chasing after her and catching said thrown Remembrall, which had then gotten him on the Quidditch team. She certainly wasn't going to steal the thing again, but Potter not getting on the team could very well have unexpected effects on the timeline. Plus, he really was an amazing Seeker, and if she was to be a Gryffindor she wanted Gryffindor to win the Cup. Whether or not she was on the team.
As soon as they entered the classroom, her mind snapped completely into the now, however. She was a Gryffindor now, so slacking off in Potions wasn't an option. Still, her family and Snape had always been quite close – she'd even been Snape's favorite last time around – so she made sure to sit next to Potter, which would hopefully shield him from the worst of what had been thrown at him last time around – not seldomly by Lyra herself.
The roll call happened.
"Ah, yes. Harry Potter, our new – celebrity."
Some Slytherins sniggered. Lyra glared at Vincent and Gregory. She'd barely talked to them since the sorting, and was actually quite happy to keep it that way. Eleven-year-old Weasley was a more interesting conversation partner than either of the Slytherins had been in seventh year.
Snape did his little speech, then suddenly turned on the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."
Now that was just unfair. Lyra wasn't even completely sure – Draught of the Living Dead maybe?
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"I don't know, sir."
Lyra was pretty sure this wasn't first-year curriculum. Of course, knowing about bezoars couldn't hurt despite that.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"
What has Harry done to you to deserve this?
Snape continued lowering Lyra's opinion of him. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
By now, Granger was almost floating upwards to follow her hand.
"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"
A few people laughed, but Lyra felt more inclined to facepalm.
"Sit down," Snape snapped at Granger. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?
"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."
Can't blame Harry for snapping if you treat him like that.
Wait.
She thought of him as "Harry" now.
Huh.
She continued writing down the answers to the questions Snape had asked, and soon they were divided into pairs to start on a boil-curing potion. Lyra had made sure she'd work with Harry, while Weasley and Granger also ended up together.
The lesson mostly continued as usual for a Potions lesson – apart from Lyra now working with Harry instead of ruining his potions to get on his nerves – until Longbottom managed to melt down his cauldron. Which really was still business as usual.
"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled as he vanished the partially-finished potion from the ground. The rest of the class had climbed on their chairs. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Longbottom whimpered in pain from the potion, which'd been splattered all over him.
"Take him to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Finnigan. Then he turned to Harry. "You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
"What?" Lyra exclaimed despite herself. "That makes no sense! He was busy adding the crushed snake fangs to our cauldron." She waved to the instructions. "It says right there they should be added slowly."
"Keep your tongue and return to your potion, Miss Malfoy," Snape glared at her.
"Thanks," Harry muttered as Snape left them again.
AN: Draco belonged in Gryffindor anyway. I'd have put Hermione in Ravenclaw as well (and a few more like that), except I don't intend to 'fix' canon issues in Recursion. That by itself is worth a fic. Which is also why the Hat only talked about Draco's actions in the prologue.
AN: Also, I'll be participating in Camp NaNo (which is basically NaNoWriMo but in April) with Recursion, mostly to try to write more consistently. If all goes well, I'll be writing 50k during the month, but no promises.