Chapter 11
The Waltz
Lyra approached her customary seat between Minerva and Snape, but it was currently occupied by Athena. Athena looked up at her niece with a look of relief. Lyra couldn't stand it when Athena resembled her mother, which happened every time Lyra met her when she returned from a mission.
"Athena, I was actually wondering...if I could return home for a bit...since things aren't going to pick up until February." Lyra began, making a gentle plea.
"Lyra, you know that's against the rules."
"I know, but I have this...case that I've been following closely, and..."
"I'm sure somebody else is capable enough to handle that, Lyra. Right now, Sarah needs you more." Athena pointed out.
"I don't think Sarah needs me at the moment...she clearly has more pressing priorities." Lyra said, nodding toward her niece, who was engaged in laughter and hand-holding with Zeus Shorthorn at the Slytherin table.
Honestly, she had been out of action for just a few weeks, and Sarah had already managed to fall for whatever plans that boy had. Lyra's suspicious nature led her to question his motives. What were his intentions, and how might they affect Sarah?
"That? That's just sweet, Lyra...come now." Athena replied playfully, smiling at her great-niece.
"That's not sweet! I don't like it, and I'm sure her father won't either." Lyra said, casting a suspicious glance at the couple in the distance.
Athena rolled her eyes.
"Coming back to my point..." Lyra said, refocusing her attention on Athena.
"I don't think it's wise...we need you here. Besides, your mother is planning Christmas here this year. You know how she gets when someone doesn't show!" Athena warned, shaking her head.
Lyra shuddered. She knew exactly what Athena was talking about.
"And...then there's...the Yule Ball! I hope you have a decent pair of dress robes ready!" Athena added, looking pointedly at Lyra.
"Dress robes? Ball? What?" Lyra asked in surprise, her mind racing to catch up.
Athena looked at her in shock.
"Oh Merlin! I...I forgot to tell you! I forgot to tell Zenia as well. She mustn't have packed dress robes when she prepared your trunk and sent it over!" Athena exclaimed, slapping her own forehead in frustration.
"Go down to the village for dress robes...and don't pick out something drab. We need you to look gorgeous...so none of those brooding blazers, Lyra!"
"There's nothing wrong with a nice black blazer!" Lyra snapped in her own defense.
"A nice gown would suffice. This is a ball, Lyra, not a MACUSA auror meeting!"
"I AM a fucking Auror, Thee-Thee...not the president of the neighborhood witches' club!"
Athena glared at her, unamused. Lyra grunted in disapproval but eventually gave in.
"I'll get your stupid dress robes! I'll come to your stupid ball! Is there anything else...want me to dance too?" She snapped sarcastically.
"Well..." Athena began, a trace of devilish humor in her voice as she gleamed at Lyra.
"Are you serious?!"
"It is tradition for the mentors to dance together...and since you're the only female mentor...you'd have to dance with all three of them."
"Athena...this...is just...a lot!"
"I know...I know...but it's tradition."
"They can take their tradition and shove it up their as..."
"Lyra! There will be dignitaries there from all over the world. We must show them that AIMS is cultured and..."
"Fine...but I don't know how to dance!"
"You don't know how to dance?" Asked Minerva, entering the conversation.
"My mom tried to teach us one summer...but I was more interested in...other things..."
"Like how to devise ridiculous spells?" Athena interjected, her memory going back to that summer when Lyra had crafted multiple prank jinxes and used them throughout the school year, wreaking havoc on unsuspecting students.
"But you're a celebrated duelist!" Minerva exclaimed, her brow furrowing with curiosity.
"A duelist...not a choreographer!"
"Well...at least the footwork won't be so difficult to master then." Minerva commented.
"Where am I supposed to learn how to dance in a week?" Lyra snapped at Athena, who looked toward her sister for assistance.
"The heads of each Hogwarts house will be formally announcing it to the students, along with a demonstration. My class with the Gryffindors will be held tomorrow in the long gallery, at 4 after classes. You could join in, if you'd like." Minerva suggested.
Lyra glared at Minerva as if to convey her message to stop talking and help her escape this predicament, but it seemed like Minerva was having her own fun with the conversation.
"There you have it...don't be late!" Athena declared with finality, giving Lyra a sharp glare before walking past her toward her own seat next to Karkaroff and Dumbledore.
"This is just bullshit!" Lyra muttered to no one in particular, as she sat down heavily in her seat. She then skewered a sausage with her fork in frustration.
"Luckily for you...you don't have to teach it to a bunch of hormonal teenagers, unlike us!" Minerva said, pointing her fork between herself and Snape.
Snape, who had his head buried in a massive book about potions, shot a glare at Minerva for reminding him of this frightful exercise.
The following day, after enduring multiple reminders from Athena, Lyra begrudgingly made her way to the long gallery at 4 in the afternoon. She strode into the crowded room, her expression clearly showing her disdain for the situation.
Taking a seat in the back corner, Lyra silently protested against being part of this rubbish.
Minerva entered the room, and as the noise gradually died down, she instructed Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to set up a large recorder with a record on it.
"As you are aware, you were asked to bring a pair of dress robes this year. I'm sure some of you are wondering why. Allow me to explain..." Minerva began, addressing the students.
"No one is really wondering that..." A red-haired whispered to the Harry Potter.
"Shut up, Ron...we want to know!" Chimed in two older red-haired twins with similar fiery hair.
"The Tri-Wizard Tournament has many traditions, and one of them is a ball at Christmas, formally known as the Yule Ball. It's an opportunity for us to come together in true international harmony and celebration." Minerva explained.
The class responded with soft groans, and Lyra couldn't help but chuckle, appreciating that the younger generation wasn't easily taken in by government-sponsored rubbish.
"Now! The Yule Ball is, first and foremost, a dance..." Minerva continued, as whispers filled the room.
"You will be required to bring a partner if you choose to participate. The Champions will open the ball with the first dance. So, Champions, you are expected to find a partner for the ball." Minerva stated, looking pointedly at Harry and Sarah, who Lyra observed were sitting on opposite sides of the room. It seemed that the class had divided itself into girls and boys.
The room erupted into excited giggles and whispers as students discussed potential dates.
"Enough! I expect all of you to behave appropriately. The house of Godric Gryffindor has earned the respect of the wizarding world for centuries, and I will not tolerate you besmirching that reputation by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons!" Minerva snapped as the class chuckled at her comment.
"Try saying that fast five times!" One twin teased the other.
Minerva shot them a sharp glare, and silence was restored.
"To dance is to let your body breathe. Inside every girl, there is a swan that slumbers, longing to burst free and take flight!" Minerva exclaimed, addressing the girls, who smiled at their professor.
"There's something waiting to burst out of that girl...but I don't think it's a swan..." Lyra muttered under her breath. The twins heard her, turned their heads to look at her for the first time, and then moved to sit next to her, laughing heartily at her commentary.
"Inside every boy, a lordly lion should be prepared to prance..." Minerva said, looking at the giggling set of twins and then at the woman seated next to them.
"Ms. Marks, perhaps you can save your lively conversation for the dance floor? Would you help me with this demonstration...?" Minerva asked, looking pointedly at Lyra.
"Oh-oh-oh...you're in troubleee..." The twins sang under their breath.
"I can't dance, Professor McGonagall..." Lyra admitted awkwardly. She had no desire to make a fool of herself in front of the students.
"Come to the floor...now...Ms. Marks!" Minerva snapped firmly. Lyra reluctantly stepped forward, dragging her feet toward Minerva, wearing an expression of frustration.
"Any volunteers to partner with Ms. Marks?" Minerva inquired, looking at the boys. They all blushed shyly and averted their eyes.
Suddenly, the room's attention shifted to a man who had just rushed in. He was out of breath, trying to catch his composure.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Minerva questioned, looking at him with a hint of concern. What was he doing here?
"Oh...a demonstration...how delightful...please, carry on. I was informed that Peeves was setting off dung-bombs again in the long gallery...you know how the portraits react after that..."
"No Peeves or dung-bombs here." Minerva stated curtly.
"But we do need a partner for Ms. Marks and her demonstration!" Sarah chimed in, prompting giggles from the girls' side. Lyra shifted her gaze from Dumbledore to Sarah and directed the most seething glare she could muster at her.
"Well, I'm certain there are plenty of valiant volunteers here, Ms. Lincolns." Dumbledore chuckled.
"Yes, but none of us know how to dance, and this is a demonstration afterall, sir!" One of the twins piped up, feigning genuine interest in the exercise.
Traitor! Lyra shook her head disapprovingly as the twin chuckled in tandem with his brother.
"Enough! I'm quite certain Professor Dumbledore has a busy schedule..." Minerva snapped, cutting short the class's soft whining about Professor McGonagall's apparent refusal to let them have any fun.
"Then I'd be honored to dance with you, Ms. Marks." Professor Dumbledore offered Lyra his hand. She regarded it skeptically.
"Uh...I...don't know what to do, honestly...Professor McGonagall...?" Lyra hesitated, glancing at Minerva with a sly look in her eyes. Before Minerva could respond, Lyra made a suggestion.
"Why don't you and Professor Dumbledore demonstrate the steps while we watch and learn?" Lyra smirked. She noticed Dumbledore's hand falter slightly as the two professors exchanged a uncertain glance.
"Mr. Filch! Music, please!" Lyra ordered, clapping her hands. Mr. Filch, who had been dozing in the corner, jumped up to place the needle on the record.
Albus Dumbledore extended his hand gently to Minerva, who regarded it hesitantly. She accepted it reluctantly, appearing as though she had no choice but to participate in this charade. Lyra stepped back to give them some space. The class erupted into cheers, enthusiastically supporting their teachers.
The music began to play a beautiful waltz, and Dumbledore led Minerva through the dance with exquisite grace. At first, they moved stiffly, neither fully yielding to the other's touch, but gradually, they grew more comfortable. For a moment, they seemed to forget where they were, and their eyes remained locked in a meaningful gaze. They communicated with whispers and subtle glances, sharing a moment of connection. Minerva chuckled, rolling her eyes at Dumbledore, who responded with a mischievous smirk that had elicited the laughter. He even twirled her a few times, effortlessly guiding her back into his arms. It was enchanting to watch them dance around the room together.
When the song came to an end, Dumbledore bowed his head and kissed Minerva's hand gently. Minerva seemed to snap back to reality, pulling her hand away quickly as a deep blush spread across her neck. The class clapped merrily, unaware of the unspoken tension between the two professors. However, Lyra wasn't oblivious to it. There was something unsaid between them, a sense of trust that had been damaged. Dumbledore appeared willing to make amends, but Minerva seemed disinterested in mending their relationship.
"Hope that was helpful. I'd suggest you form pairs and begin practicing now." Minerva said, turning away from Dumbledore.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, for the lovely demonstration." She added as she walked over to Mr. Filch, pretending to adjust the music. Albus was left standing there awkwardly.
"Cool moves..." Lyra commented, suddenly appearing next to him and diverting his attention away from his previous dance partner.
Dumbledore flashed a knowing smirk and gracefully bowed his head in gratitude.
"Would you like to partner up? If you have the time, that is. It appears all the tall ones have found their matches..." Lyra suggested, her tone laced with playful humor as he scanned the room, confirming that the taller boys were indeed occupied.
"Certainly, I had cleared my schedule for the afternoon to address this the dung-bomb debacle, but now that it has been averted..." Dumbledore replied, offering his hand to Lyra just as he had to Minerva moments ago. Lyra placed her hand in his, mimicking the gesture she had witnessed earlier.
"I hear you can't dance?" He inquired as he drew her closer, his hand resting gently on her waist while hers rested on his shoulder.
"Have you never met a woman with ten left feet? Why, Professor Dumbledore, you're in for a lengthy foot soak after I step on your toes—many, many times!" Lyra quipped, eliciting a chuckle from Dumbledore.
"Just follow my lead..." He instructed, beginning a count for her as they danced. Lyra tried to mimic his step pattern as she watched his feet move.
"This is a 2-2-2, isn't it?" She muttered, struggling to keep up.
"For a duellist, yes! But for a dancer, this is a Waltz—this step is called a box step." He explained, continuing to lead her through the dance. She concentrated on his feet for guidance.
"Don't worry about your feet; look at me. Straight at me, and you'll know where you're going." He advised. Lyra followed his instructions, gazing into his clear blue eyes and offering a polite smile. She couldn't deny his charm; he was exceptionally captivating.
"Now, this is what we call a natural spin turn." He said, twirling her around the room.
"For the most unnatural dancer." She replied with a smirk, embracing her lack of expertise.
As they continued, it was evident that he was teasing and having fun, and Lyra couldn't stop chuckling and enjoying the moment. He regaled her with humorous tales, such as the time he had accidentally stepped on a woman's long dress train, nearly choking her.
"You're not as bad as you think, Lyra." He assured her, spinning her again.
"I must have an exceptionally patient teacher." She quipped.
He drew her back into his arms, and they danced until the song concluded.
"It appears the lesson has concluded." Dumbledore remarked, bowing low and kissing her hand.
"My, such a gentleman, Mr. Dumbledore. I'm positively floored." Lyra responded, attempting to imitate a British accent.
He laughed at her playful attempt and the witty banter they had shared about the ridiculous and pretentious individuals they had encountered at various gatherings.
"I hope you'll save me a dance at the ball as well." He teased.
"I wish I could, but dancing with three men is pretty much my quota for the night. Although, you're more than welcome to vie for a spot. Perhaps Professor Snape's? I have no desire to dance with him; I suspect he'll assign me detention if I step on his feet." Lyra suggested with a smirk. Dumbledore's laughter echoed in the room, and Lyra couldn't help but smirk in response.
She had undeniably grown comfortable in his presence. For someone who struggled to trust others, he had completely charmed her.
Dumbledore bowed his head, bidding her a good day before leaving the long gallery.
Lyra turned to see the others still practicing, with Minerva wearing that familiar look on her face, once more, directed at her.
Lyra strolled through Hogsmeade, the afternoon pleasantly lingering in her thoughts. As she passed the Hogshead, the friendly barkeep waved to her, and she returned the gesture, indicating that she would stop by later for a drink.
Entering the robes store, Lyra glanced around, her eyes scanning the selection of dresses and fabrics. She called out a greeting, hoping to catch the attention of someone in charge.
"Hello?" She called, wondering if anyone was present—perhaps the owner or a seamstress.
The bell on the til magically rang, and a voice called from the back.
"Be with you in a moment!" Lyra nodded in response and took in her surroundings.
The shop was filled with beautiful fabrics and a variety of dress styles that caught her eye. Moments later, a woman emerged, her magical measuring tape floating around her neck like a serpent.
"Sorry, I was just finishing up some touches on an order. How can I help you?" The woman asked kindly.
"I'm looking for dress robes—nothing too extravagant, just something suitable for the upcoming school ball." Lyra explained.
"The Yule Ball…Ooooh…I do have some rather gorgeous pieces." The woman exclaimed with excitement. She began pulling out dresses for Lyra to try on, each with its unique design and charm.
The first dress was a long, shimmering white gown, which Lyra dismissed immediately. White reminded her too much of her 27 robes. The maroon dress with a wide neck followed, then a lilac one that Lyra found overly garish. The process continued with several more dresses, none quite meeting her tastes. Just when she was starting to lose hope, the shop owner unveiled a gown that finally captured her attention.
It was a stunning midnight blue gown with a deep, plunging neckline, featuring a high slit on the side for ease of movement. The dress hugged her figure perfectly. Lyra knew she had found the one and promptly purchased it, fearing she might change her mind and opt for one of her blazers instead.
With her shopping sorted, she explored the village a bit more, picking up small gifts for her family in preparation for Christmas. As the evening approached, she headed to the local pub.
"There she is…how's it going, kid?" Aberforth greeted her with a warm smile as she took a seat.
"It's been a while, Abe..." Lyra replied, settling onto one of the empty stools.
Aberforth poured her usual—a generous double serving of fire whiskey, which he affectionately called the "Lyra peg".
They engaged in conversation about various topics. Aberforth inquired about the Triwizard Tournament's second task, and Lyra proudly recounted how her niece had impressively cracked the clue.
The evening continued as Lyra enjoyed dinner at the pub before eventually making her way back to the castle.
AN/- Please review and share your thoughts. Thanks!