CHAPTER THREE: FRED, GEORGE, AND THE FUGITIVE
"I could've sworn it was right there!" Neville pleaded.
"Well, just don't lose anything else," Hemione sighed wearily.
They boarded the train and Hermione and Ron soon departed. Harry slumped down into a seat next to Luna Lovegood. A girl in about her third year slouched next to Neville, but soon shot up and kicked her trunk out of sight. Something golden and furry quivered around her neck.
"Hey! Isn't that... never mind," said Neville, "She only packed my first year books anyway. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
The hood of her school robes hid her face. Harry saw the darkened shadow of her face. The gears of his mind began whirring frantically. She was the figure from his dream. Was it really a dream? Why was she here?
"Who are you?" Ginny asked kindly.
"Lizzie Brooks," she said flatly, "and you?"
"Ginny Weasley."
"Where's you daemon?"
"My what?"
"Nothing."
"Hey, did we miss anything?" Ron had just come back, Hermione was behind him.
"Oh..."Hermione's voice dropped, "There's only room for one more, I'll just..."
Lyra emerged from the seat, "I'll just leave."
"Will you?" Hermione said hopefully.
Lyra twitched as she always did when she heard the word. She also cringed to the words cut, sever, Roger, and world. She looked around. The only place where there was room was a small compartment containing two boys about five years older than her that seemed to look exactly alike. They looked very similar to the girl across from her and the boy who had just arrived in the compartment, but she didn't have time to study ancestry. She sat down in the compartment. The brothers glanced at her, but soon got back to their conversation.
"So, he says to me, 'dat Roger will sever the best beef cut in the world!'" said Fred. Both of them began to laugh hysterically for a while, that was, until they saw Lyra finish a fit of twitching. They stared at her for a long time.
"What?"
They didn't reply, but instead murmured to each other as if she had vanished.
"Not another mad one."
"Looks like she's got a jinx on her, poor thing."
"What?" Lyra pressed, "a girl can't twitch, can she? If you knew..."
She looked toward the ground.
"Never mind."
"What? Hey, where are you from anyway?" asked George.
"Not here," she replied, "No, I'm from somewhere far away. You wouldn't know it. It's called Oxford."
"We've been there loads of times," said Fred.
"Believe me, you haven't."
They were all silent for what seemed like hours until Fred said, "Who are you?"
"Lizzie Brooks," she lied.
The other of the two pulled out a small glass orb that was hissing and vibrating furiously.
"We know when you're lying," he said, "Guess again."
"Fine," she sighed, "Lyra Silvertoungue. Don't say a word of that to anyone else, I'm Lizzie, got it?"
She closed the door to the compartment.
"Why, are you a fugitive?" Fred joked.
"You could say that."
End of chapter three