Disclaimer: I don't own HDM, and it's doubtful I ever will.

A/N: hope ya like it.

One

Arrival

"This is awkward," Pan whispered into Lyra's ear. "I know," Lyra whispered back to her daemon. Pantalaimon snuggled against Lyra's neck, his soft, sleek pine marten fur tickling her. Lyra gazed again at her surroundings; she was in a sitting room at St. Sophia. The room was cozy; the walls, glossy panels of hardwood, shone faintly in the light emitted from the blazing fireplace. Lyra was sitting in a green leather armchair; much like the ones at Jordan, Lyra thought. She grimaced slightly as a pang of homesickness hit her. Pan made a comforting purring noise, soothing her anxiety.

Finally, the brass knob of the door turned, and Dame Hannah stepped in, her marmoset daemon on her shoulder. She was followed by another woman with a steaming mug of hot chocolatl in her hand, one whom Lyra had never seen before. She was tall and lean, and moved with almost no noise. She has a long, clever face, and her amber were sharp and wise. Though she looked to be in her in her mid thirties, her raven hair held strands of silver. A small pearl rested on each earlobe, and her daemon, a black fox with raven wings, trotted nimbly at her heels. Dame Hannah gestured at Lyra.

"This is Lyra Belacqua, Addie. Lyra, this is Adeline de la Fleur, your new headmistress."

"How do you do?" said Lyra politely. The woman's fox daemon nodded formally at Pan and her.

Ms. de la Fleur smiled at them. "Won't you sit down?" she asked, making Lyra realize she had stood as the woman had entered the room. "Would you care for anything? Chocolatl? Coffee?"

"No thank you," said Lyra as Pantalaimon leapt delicately into her lap.

"I think you'll like St. Sophia, Lyra," said Ms. de la Fleur pleasantly, stirring her chocolatl. "I trust you've seen your dormitory?"

Lyra shook her head. "I just arrived," she said almost apologetically. Pan clamored onto her shoulders.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Dame Hannah, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner. "It's nearly midnight. Lyra, you'd better get some rest; tomorrow is a big day for you."

"I agree," said Ms. de la Fleur, standing. "Lyra, would you like me to walk you to your dormitory?"

"Oh, I think I can find it," Lyra lied, as Pan jumped down to the floor. They said their good-byes and departed.

"We're lost," moaned Pan. "We're completely, utterly lost." Lyra squinted at the scrap of parchment in her hand. On it was scrawled 'Room 107, Third floor. Good Luck.'

"We're not lost," argued Lyra, pocketing the scrap. "We're just...going a different way is all."

"We've passed that coat of arms thing three times," said Pan, "and it's probably after midnight by now." Lyra set down her lamp and squinted into the shadow.

"I think there's someone there," she whispered to the pine marten.

" 'Ey there, are you lost?" an unfamiliar called out from the top of the staircase. Lyra saw a faint form in the darkness, the source of the voice.

"You could say that," Lyra called back. "Do you know where Room 107 is?"

The voice laughed. "Do I know? Of course!" A girl, a robe over her nightdress, stepped out of the darkness. Her curly brass-brown hair fell a little below her shoulders, and she was cradling her daemon to her chest. It was a very unusual daemon; it bore resemblance to a rabbit, but tawny wings were folded neatly on his back; his fur was a shade paler than the girl's hair.

"C'mon, follow me," said the girl brightly as she ascended the staircase. Lyra and Pan followed.

"By the way, I'm Marda Azetti, and this here's Thamathy."

"I'm Lyra Belacqua, and this is Pantalaimon."

"You're in Room 107?" Marda asked. Lyra nodded.

"Same here! Wait till you meet everybody..."

Marda brusquely rapped on the old oak door. It was immediately opened by a dark haired girl.

" 'Bout time," said the girl irritably, her black and white cat daemon giving them a brief haughty look. Another girl, with blonde hair, was sitting on her cot, reading a worn red book, her robin daemon nestled on her shoulder.

"You're Lyra Belacqua?" said the dark haired girl, peering at Lyra.

"Yeah."

"Jen Finch." said the girl, her daemon nonchalantly grooming himself.

"I'm Cecelia and this is Kaladrev. Everybody calls me Lia." said the girl with the robin daemon.

"That's your bed over there," said Marda, pointing to a bed that had Lyra's luggage at it's foot.

"G'night, all," said Jen, climbing into bed and turning off her naphtha lamp. Marda followed suit.

"Sweet dreams," said Liah, carefully setting her book down. She turned off her lamp, leaving total darkness save from the moonlight spilling from the small window.

Lyra quickly changed into her nightdress and climbed into her bed, Pan curling up at her throat. "Where's the alethiometer?" he whispered. "In one of the bags, Pan," Lyra muttered wearily.

"You should hide it."

"Not now."

"Then when?"

"I don't know."

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, I promise."

"Will you please be quiet?" said Jen in the darkness.

Lyra listened as a bird called softly in the night. I miss you, Will, she thought, and then sleep overcame her.

A/N: time to review!