Chapter 8
But it's more fun to be Insolent
The last day of term brought a cyclone of whispers to the occupants of Hogwarts. 'Mrs. Weasley's been attacked!' 'Ginny's dad! I heard he's at St. Mungo's!' 'Stupid blood traitor. Probably cursed some Muggle thing and it backfired.' 'Harry Potter! That's right! He saw it! Maybe he's a Seer?'
The rumours grew more and more outlandish as the day progressed, but there was definitely two things everyone agreed upon: Something – a not good something – had befallen one of the Weasley family members, and somehow, Harry Potter was involved.
Lyra attempted to be unaffected by what the school was saying. She had regained her lost composure from the night before, and she refused to lose it again – especially over the same person. Instead, she threw herself into her final classes, particularly focusing on the final class of the day.
Defence Against the Dark Arts rolled around, and Lyra set up the usual scenario. Book open and wand out, she stared at the statue by the door that had not moved for weeks, and she was determined to get this spell correct. But with all the other thoughts of the past week floating up to cloud her mind, she found it difficult to concentrate. As the lesson came closer and closer to the end she found her ire rising. Why couldn't she focus? What was wrong with her?
Through her growing fury she stabbed her wand in the direction of the lion statue, once, twice, three times. It took until about her forth infuriated attempt for her to realise that her first silently angered spell had, in actuality, worked.
The lion statue blinked to life, its head turning slightly to look at the person who had animated it. Lyra stared at it, mild disbelief crossing her face, and she couldn't help but smile. She flicked her wand once more, and without further a due, the now very lifelike lion statue leapt through the classroom door.
It took the class less than a heartbeat to react.
"Dark magic! Dark magic!" Lyra forced herself to scream at Umbridge, who looked beyond shocked. "Professor, quick, which page do we turn to?"
Umbridge stared at the lion statue in denial. Surely such a creature could not come into her classroom unannounced. She seemed to come back to herself as she pulled her stumpy wand from her robes. The lion trained its eyes upon the short teacher, its eyes blazing dangerously. With a terrifying roar it jumped across several desks, which luckily the owners of had vacated the moment the creature made itself known. It beared down upon Umbridge, teeth gnashing furiously.
"Unanimatio!" a girl cried – a Lisa, perhaps? – waving her wand at the beast as she read her textbook. Lyra's creation barely batted an eyelid at the spell, and after quelling any further attempts to stop it by growling at the girl, it returned to its pursuit of Umbridge.
By this stage, half the class had fled the classroom, perhaps in an attempt to find a teacher who could actually handle it as the short Professor waved her own wand at it and nothing happened. The other students appeared to be hanging back to see if the creature would really eat her.
The lion statue leapt from its place atop the desks, knocking Umbridge down. The short teacher whimpered in terror as the lion stalked closer and closer and she raised her wand in a last-ditch attempt to save herself. The motion was wasted, however, and the lion merely swatted the wand away. It clattered uselessly under Umbridge's desk. The lion-statue raised itself up, claws extended, and swung its huge paw down in a blow that –
"Finite Incantatem!"
The lion froze mid strike, a solid and immovable statue once again. Professor McGonagall strode into the room with a furious glare on her face, and with a flick of her wand the statue slid back, allowing the trapped Umbridge the chance to climb to her feet.
"What in Godric's name happened here?" the Transfiguration teacher demanded, her eyes darting between the remaining students and the indignant Professor clambering gracelessly to her feet.
"I'll tell you what happened!" Umbridge all but screeched. She pointed a stumpy, shaking finger directly at Lyra. "She had that creature attack me!"
McGonagall looked horrified at the accusation. "Professor Umbridge, I do think you are suffering from shock. Did you actually witness Miss White casting the spell?"
Umbridge open and closed her mouth several times in quick succession, her furious evident in her speechlessness.
"I-I know she did it! It must have been her!"
McGonagall cast a quick glance in Lyra's direction, who stood with a moderately amused expression gracing her features. The Transfiguration Professor said nothing, however, and turned back to address the other students.
"Why did no one attempt to stop the beast?" she asked sternly. A Gryffindor stepped forward to answer her.
"W-we tried, Professor, but we've never cast these spells before. W-we were so scared, we didn't have time to think. We didn't have time to remember what the text said."
"Yeah, if we'd actually had the chance to practice 'em, we may have stopped it!" another Gryffindor chimed in.
"Enough!"
The momentarily bold Gryffindors stepped back next to their fellows as the DADA teacher bellowed at them.
"You dare question my methods of teaching? I'll have you know the Ministry app–"
"We would never dream of question your methods, Professor," Lyra cut in, her tone amiable, yet weighted. "As you said, we quite clearly aren't at risk here in the school. Accidents don't happen. We're all exactly as safe as we want to be. In fact, I don't even see why we need to pursue this as a subject, considering the valuable lesson we all learnt here today –"
"Why you...!" Umbridge's eyes narrowed to infuriated slits, but before she could act upon her rage, McGonagall took matters into her capable hands.
"Professor Umbridge, I see that we are in still in a bit of a shock. I think it best the students return to their dormitories, and perhaps you should see Madam Pompfrey."
Throughout the older witch's spiel, Umbridge did not take her eyes from Lyra, who reciprocated the gesture. The young Slytherin awaited for her fellow students to forward from the room around her before she dipped her head slightly, not in concession or defeat, but in mocking graciousness, and slowly followed after them.
As she left she couldn't keep the satisfied smirk from her lips. She knew there would be absolute Hell to pay for that, but as Umbridge couldn't openly do anything to her, she thought it was more than worth it. No one stopped her on her way back to the Slytherin Common Rooms. They all knew she'd done it – it was obvious, no one else would have the stones to set an inanimate object on a teacher like that – but they would admire her work from a distance. She was still Lyra White, after all, irrespective of the 'justice' she may have just served.
When Lyra arrived in the Common Room, she slumped into one of the dark leather armchairs. Her lips twitched as she recalled the look upon Umbridge's face as the lion stepped closer and closer to her. But Lyra would have stepped in had McGonagall not arrived when she did. Maybe. Possibly.
Probably not.
At that moment, she was much too self-satisfied to be tip-toeing on moral high ground. Her non-verbal spell had worked splendidly, if she did say so herself. As she thought that, however, she realised that if Umbridge pushed the matter, Lyra may be forced to have her wand examined to see what the most recent spells it had cast.
Lyra pulled out her wand, and to ensure the last spell it had used was not anything that could be connected to animating a solid statue, she turned in her seat and hexed one of the tables in the room, smashing it to pieces. For good measure, she flicked her wand and it slowly but steadily repaired itself.
"Rough day?"
The mocking drawl was unmistakable, and Lyra cursed her luck in having run into the blonde. He stood flanked by his two dim-witted cronies by the entrance to the boy's dormitories, a smirk pulling up the edges of his lips. To Lyra's surprise, he turned to Crabbe and Goyle, dismissed them with a harsh wave of his hand, and swaggered over to her. Unsure what his motivation could possibly be, Lyra decided she may as well play along.
"Destroying evidence, actually," she responded casually as he took a seat opposite her. He peaked an eyebrow in mild curiosity at her words. Her smug smirk returned.
"Almost got a teacher placed permanently in St. Mungo's, this afternoon," she stated by way of elaboration.
Draco leant back into the sofa he occupied with a gleeful glint in his eye. "Truly?" He let out a sharp laugh. "That must have been priceless. Who was..." he trailed off, his features dipping into a slight frown before they turned into an outright scowl. He let out an exasperated sigh. "It was Umbridge, wasn't it?"
Lyra didn't even have the decency to look guilty. "Still on about that, are we?" Draco stood suddenly, his scowl deepening as he paced in front of her. "Not all of us have the charm you possess, Draco. You know I don't do well in the... 'arse-kissing'... side of things."
Draco sneered at the underhand comment, but otherwise made no motion that he had been upset by it. "I do what any sensible Slytherin in my position would do, Lyra."
"Questioning my sanity, there, Draco?" Lyra shot back, though not venomously. She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "You're not the first, and most definitely won't be the last."
At her last words, Draco stilled his furious steps and looked directly at Lyra. His expression suggested he took a great deal more than a mere surface understanding of her words. What conclusion he arrived at by reading between the lines he did not share, however, and simply sat back down in the chair opposite her. He crossed his hands in his lap, still looking at her, though struggling to find something to say. He cleared his throat.
"So, what are your plans for the Christmas Holidays?"
She didn't bother hiding her snicker at his pathetic attempt to change the subject. She decided she may as well play along. It wasn't often he was so cordial to her.
"I'll probably mope about the school Halls for the most part; perhaps scare some first years, maybe hex a Gryffindor if I get bored enough and if I find one gullible enough."
"You say that like it would be a difficult thing," Draco said with a laugh, and Lyra chuckled slightly as well. He stopped suddenly, looking over her shoulder with a frown. Suddenly his features shifted into a sneer and he jumped gracefully to his feet. He looked down at her, his pointed face haughty once more. "And let that be a lesson to you," he practically spat as though they had been having a completely different conversation.
Lyra glanced quickly over her shoulder to find a group of Slytherins, all in Draco's year, standing and waiting for him by the entrance to the Common room. She turned her gaze back to Draco, who swept around her brusquely, but Lyra knew better than to be offended. In fact, she smirked.
"Salazar forbid you have a conversation with an intellectual, Draco," she called over her shoulder to him.
Lyra could have sworn she heard him very unconvincingly cover his snicker with a cough.
Lyra awoke the only person in Slytherin House on Christmas day. Every other student in her House had returned home for the Holidays, but she was not surprised. It was almost the same every year, and she had grown immune to the twisting feeling of loneliness it brought on.
Honest, she had.
But as she walked down to the Common Room to find it entirely devoid of life, she decided she would take a walk. There were no gifts for her, as there wasn't any year. Dustin probably didn't even know what day it was, let alone that he was entitled to do anything about it. So for at least something to do, the young Slytherin wandered down the deserted halls, letting her feet take her wherever they wished while her mind focused on everything and nothing.
This year had been quite strange, and she knew it had absolutely everything to do with a certain scarred idiot. For he certainly was an idiot, without a doubt, for actually befriending such an emotionally stunted girl as Lyra. But then, she wasn't stunted at all. She had just... learnt not to care. And then he had to come along and colossally screw everything to kingdom come. He and his stupid, friendly smiles and his stupid, unjudging ways.
Fuming silently with her internal monologue, Lyra did not realise her feet had taken her to the top of the Astronomy Tower until she felt the bitter bite of the harsh, winter wind. She wrapped her cloak around her tighter, realising that she had not really dressed for such weather, but not really brining herself to care enough to return to the warmth of the school below. Instead she stared out at the dark grey sky above her as she leaned against the railing that stopped her plummeting to an early grave, her thoughts somewhat wistful. She was rudely pulled from such musings, however, at the sound of two very angry screeches reached her ears. She squinted into the sky, watching as two dark specs against the clouds became larger and larger, and with it came their loud and quite annoyed vocalisations.
The two owls – for undoubtedly that's what they were – appeared to be engaged in a heated argument as they circled closer and closer to Hogwarts. Lyra watched them in amusement, feeling slightly sorry for the person who had to receive mail from such clearly infuriated messengers. Her feelings very quickly dissipated, however, when she suddenly realised that she was the recipient.
The two owls – one snowy-white and the other a proud eagle-owl – alighted upon the railing, one on either side of her. They passed her at one another, and Lyra had not realised until that moment that owls could feel such animosity for one another. She shifted slightly, edging carefully over to the grand eagle-owl, who did not take its eyes from its white counterpart. With slow fingers Lyra untied the letter attached to its leg, and the moment it completed its task, the owl spread its huge wings and took flight. She turned then to the snow-white owl, whose eyes remained plastered to the retreating owl's back, and similarly removed the note it carried. It too took flight the moment it could.
Lyra watched them both for a moment, amused greatly by the antics she witnessed. She eventually gave up when they became mere specs on the horizon and instead turned to her mail. The first appeared to be quite formal, its neat, curly writing catching her eye. She tore it open, her eyes flicking quickly from left to right as she read through the note.
Dear Lyra,
I send you well wishes of the Season, and hope that you are enjoying your stay at Hogwarts.
Merry Christmas and kind regards,
Draco.
The letter was short and concise, and Lyra was completely taken aback. Kind regards, Draco. She had been expecting nothing from her blonde housemate, and even though the note was impersonal at best, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction at reading his words. The conniving bastard would gain nothing from sending her a note on Christmas, and he surely knew her better than to hope she would feel any need for reciprocation in the future. It appeared he had simply thought of her.
Pushing thoughts of what that meant to the side momentarily, Lyra ripped into the second, much messier note, the scrawl in some places almost difficult to read.
Lyra,
Sorry I didn't get to see you before I left. Something came up, and you know how it is. Just writing to say Merry Christmas and that I hope you have a good break.
From your friend,
Harry.
P.S. Don't forget to practice!
As Lyra wandered back to her much warmer Common Room, Lyra arrived at two conclusions. One, that Harry was a fantastically kind and wonderful idiot, and since she knew she would regret it later, she let herself enjoy the feeling of someone actually caring.
And two...
She didn't half mind Christmas.
