Chapter 16

Real Suspicions

As the final task drew nearer, a veil of uncertainty shrouded the champions of the tournament. None of them had the slightest clue about what this final challenge would entail. The only information they had been given was that they would have to face it alone, without the guidance of their mentors. It was a peculiar rule, one that stipulated that the mentors could only offer a single non-living item to aid their champions. This rule had been put in place, perhaps with the assumption that Lyra would bestow her phoenix upon Sarah if circumstances demanded it.

Sarah and Lyra had engaged in numerous lengthy conversations about how to prepare for the impending task. Sarah remained plagued by doubt regarding their level of readiness, but Lyra appeared remarkably unperturbed. Something, however, had clearly unsettled her aunt, Sarah was certain of that. She had inadvertently overheard a conversation between Athena and Minerva, which hinted at a concerning incident involving Lyra and Moody. She wasn't the sole eavesdropper, though.

In a matter of days, the entire student body had caught wind of the shocking accusation made by Lyra Marks against Alastor Moody, alleging his involvement in the murder of Barty Crouch. This revelation had cast a dark shadow over the previously amicable relationship between AIMS and Hogwarts. What had once been a bond of camaraderie now festered with suspicion and rivalry. While the AIMS students found themselves ostracized by their former friends at Hogwarts, they reciprocated by distancing themselves from their newfound companions. They clustered together, moving in packs and avoiding confrontations that outnumbered them.

Despite the isolation they faced, the AIMS students remained unwavering in their support for their champion and her mentor. To them, Lyra's word was gospel, and no amount of dissenting opinions could sway their conviction.

However, the same could not be said for the Hogwarts community. Moody had become a revered figure, seemingly wronged by a deluded woman seeking glory for her school. Even those who harbored disdain for Harry Potter had now become ardent supporters of Moody.

Sarah, on the other hand, believed in Lyra's account to some extent. She couldn't be certain of what Lyra had witnessed, but she was sure of one thing: Lyra was an accomplished auror and a member of one of the world's most prestigious covens. She was also the cleverest and smartest person Sarah knew. Lyra had no need for petty glory, and her impressive achievements were proof of that fact. Sarah highly doubted that someone as shrewd as her aunt would stoop to such levels for something she had no interest in. Above all else, Sarah knew Lyra was not a liar.

It was evident, however, that Lyra had been deeply affected by the accusations and the ensuing tension. She rarely made appearances in the great hall, and when she did, she remained detached and distant, even when Athena tried to engage her in conversation. Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that her aunt was slipping away, and that was a cause for concern. She knew what Lyra could become if left to her own devices, a funk only her father could break her out of. Speaking of her father, perhaps his presence during the third task would lift Lyra's spirits, but Sarah had a nagging suspicion that only a return to her regular life could truly bring her aunt back.

Sarah had attempted to reach out to Lyra, expressing her concerns and worries, but her aunt had brushed them aside and continued to wear her facade. Sarah had no choice but to keep offering support and affection in the hope that Lyra would eventually return to her normal self. But something had shifted inside her, something deeper than the mere accusation.

Sarah couldn't help but feel that the argument between Lyra and Reggie played a significant role in her aunt's current state. It wasn't as if the two never crossed paths or spoke to each other, especially since that fateful night that Sarah had only heard about in hushed whispers. They frequently collaborated at their MACUSA offices and attended formal gatherings together. However, this particular argument had evidently breached their usual professional boundaries.

As per what Sarah had overheard from Athena's conversation with Minerva: "I was afraid she was going to do something extremely drastic. I was worried Tessra Jones would have needed to intervene!"

Sarah had brought this up with her aunt as well, but once again, she was met with a curt dismissal: "You don't need to know everything about everything. Focus on things that concern you!" It was a familiar refrain, one her father and aunt used whenever she inquired about matters they deemed unsuitable for her.

Nevertheless, Sarah remained steadfast in her belief that, when all was said and done, the naysayers would come to regret doubting Lyra. This had often been the case, and she was convinced it would hold true once more.

A month ago, the third task had been shrouded in mystery. What were once small hedges on the Quidditch field had grown to towering 20-foot tall structures, now impenetrable and riddled with mysterious challenges at every turn.

The event commenced with great fanfare and jubilation. The Hogwarts band played a triumphant tune as the champions, accompanied by their mentors, made their way onto the pitch. Each head of the school warmly greeted their respective champions, and then they invited the mentors to lead their champions to their designated spots, marked by the school flags.

Ludo Bagman, the commentator, narrated the unfolding events with enthusiasm.

"The mentors will now present their offerings to the champions." He announced.

Lyra, despite her worn appearance with dark circles under her eyes and a listless expression, carefully placed a phoenix feather in Sarah's hair. As Sarah observed her aunt up close, she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. She wondered if there was something she could have done to prevent Lyra from looking so gaunt and defeated.

"It'll be your one-way ticket out of there. Just set it on fire. Burst will come and retrieve you," Lyra whispered softly, her voice lacking its usual vigor.

Sarah couldn't help but smirk. Even in her current state of mind, Lyra had managed to find a clever loophole to defy the organizers' instructions. Classic Lyra. They had explicitly stated that Sarah couldn't have a phoenix to guide her, but Lyra had found a way clever way to subvert the rule, while shoving a proverbial finger in their faces. After all, they hadn't forbidden the phoenix from coming to her rescue. It was a testament to Lyra's unwavering concern for Sarah's safety. This was the best way to ensure her niece's well-being. Sarah knew that Lyra trusted Burst with her own life.

"A classic loop-de-loophole." Sarah looked up at her aunt and chuckled.

"Be careful in there... please!" Lyra's worry was evident in her voice. The lifelessness in her tone was impossible to ignore. She held onto Sarah's hand tightly as the girl enveloped her in a warm hug. Lyra pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Sarah's head, reluctant to let her go.

As Sarah turned towards the dark opening in the hedge behind her, it suddenly fell, revealing the foreboding entrance to the maze. With a final wave to Lyra and a nod to her parents and schoolmates in the stands, who were still cheering her on, Sarah entered the labyrinth.

An hour passed within the maze, and Sarah had yet to find Zeus. She couldn't help but wonder if he was also searching for her. However, what troubled Sarah most wasn't the looming threat of Blast-Ended Skrewts, the treacherous grass traps that could swallow you whole, or even the Sphinx guarding the shortest path to the cup. What weighed on her mind was the stark reality that the mentors were not allowed to offer proper assistance, except for Moody. Since Harry was leading the score, his mentor had the privilege of placing the cup in the maze, providing a slight advantage to the previous task's champion. Sarah found herself oddly hoping that she wouldn't be the first to discover it.

Lyra sat beside Athena, her foot nervously tapping on her knee, both of them fixated on Sarah's entrance into the maze. Athena let out an exasperated sigh, glancing at her watch before firmly gripping Lyra's fidgeting foot, silently urging her to cease the anxious movement. Lyra was about to comment on the task's time frame when they heard a piercing scream that cut through the air.

Lyra shot up from her seat, followed closely by Athena. The hedges surrounding the maze shook violently as sparks erupted, filling the air with a sinister glow. Lyra recognized those sparks immediately, and her heart pounded in her chest – they were the unmistakable sparks of a Cruciatus curse, one of the Unforgivables. The bright light from the sparks faded, leaving behind an eerie silence that enveloped the stands.

Soon, an amber radiance bathed the center of the maze, the very spot where the sparks had originated. Lyra's eyes darted to the sky, and she watched with bated breath as Burst, soared above the stadium before gracefully descending into the maze. Moments later, Lyra let out a sigh of relief; it was finally over, this nightmarish ordeal had come to an end. They could go home. Even if they had lost the task, it didn't matter. Sarah was safe, and she'd be out of the maze in no time. Burst had carried Sarah, clutched in her talons, and deposited her trembling body just outside the maze. It was evident that she had suffered a brutal attack.

Michelin hurried onto the field and enveloped his daughter in a tight hug before carefully guiding her back to the stands. Lyra and Athena rushed to join their family. Sarah appeared dejected and battered, with numerous cuts marring her face. She continued to tremble and twitch in pain. Her father held her close, while her mother retrieved vials from her purse.

Lyra meticulously waved her wand over Sarah's quivering form, murmuring a counter-curse under her breath for several minutes in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Gradually, Sarah began to grow calmer. A frown marred Lyra's features; this curse was evidently not cast by someone well-versed in the dark arts. Lyra crouched beside Sarah, gently placing her hand into her niece's. Sarah's head slumped onto her mother's shoulder, seeking comfort and relief.

"Who did this to you?" Lyra hissed angrily.

"Kr...Kru...Krum..." Sarah replied softly, stammering as she struggled to recover from the effects of the curse.

"But...he...he didn't want...to..."

"What does that mean?" Michelin inquired, his frown growing deeper as they all listened intently.

"I...don't...know...he didn't seem...normal..."

"You did well, Sarah. I'm so proud of you!" Lyra said, gently cupping her niece's face.

"We...lost..."

"We are alive, kid! That's all that matters! No more death games for us!" Lyra joked, looking at Sarah, who nodded.

Sarah closed her eyes and sighed, but something about her words felt unsettling to Lyra. In her mind, this hinted at the possibility of more than one Unforgivable curse being employed during the task. The Cruciatus curse was a brutal tool of torture, one Lyra had experienced during her duels. To cast a truly potent one required not just knowledge but an intense wellspring of hatred. Seeing how quickly this curse had been reversed, Lyra doubted that Krum had acted on his own accord.

Twenty more minutes passed, and Viktor Krum emerged from the maze, his eyes glazed and disoriented. Lyra, who had been conversing silently with Athena, now felt more certain about her theory. What she had suspected earlier was becoming evident. If Viktor Krum had cursed Sarah, it was clear he had done so under the influence of the Imperius curse.

"He looks like someone used the Imperius curse on him." Lyra muttered, casting a pointed look at Moody, who sat comfortably next to Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic, a contented smile on his face.

"Please, Lyra, not this again! I've had enough of your conspiracy theories." Athena chided her.

Lyra clenched her jaw, realizing that her insights would likely go unheard, no matter how well-founded they were.

The next hour passed without major incidents. Now, it was a waiting game, with one of the Hogwarts champions expected to emerge victorious, allowing them all to return to their normal lives.

Yet another hour elapsed, and Lyra began to grow increasingly anxious. Why was this task taking so long? How extensive was this cursed maze? Just as she contemplated this, chaos erupted.

Harry Potter emerged from the maze, his arm bleeding from a deep gash. In one hand, he clutched the Trophy, while his other held Zeus Shorthorn's practically lifeless body. He screamed to the crowded stadium, declaring that Voldemort had returned and had attempted to kill Zeus Shorthorn. He repeated this dire proclamation as tears streamed down his face.

Lyra and Michelin exchanged alarmed glances, their hearts racing as the mood in the stadium took a sharp turn. Cheers and jubilation turned into frantic screams, and students began to panic and scatter in all directions. Amid the chaos, Sarah slipped past them all and raced onto the Quidditch pitch.

Sarah, who had been seated beside her parents, couldn't believe her eyes. They tried to pull a distraught Harry away from Zeus, but he refused to let go. Without a second thought, Sarah dashed toward the two boys and the crowd surrounding them. She shook Zeus in a desperate attempt to rouse him, her eyes searching for Harry, seeking an explanation that seemed to have vanished with his disappearance, probably pulled away by his mentor, much like her father was doing to her. Sarah cried out, demanding her father to bring Lyra, insisting she could use her advanced knowledge of healing to save Zeus. But it appeared that Lyra had vanished as well.

Zeus couldn't leave her like this. He just couldn't. They had plans, a life to build together once this tournament was over. They were supposed to stay in London, study Healing at St. Mungo's, graduate with top marks, and get married.

The medical team surrounded Zeus, with Snape examining him closely. While Zeus's pulse was faint, there was still a glimmer of life. The team swiftly transported him toward the hospital wing, but Sarah clung to his limp hand. She wouldn't let go.

"I'm here!" She whispered into his ear as they began their journey to the castle.

Lyra couldn't ignore her instincts, even if she wasn't sure if this was the wisest course of action. Her intuition had rarely steered her wrong in the past.

It wasn't unusual for Moody to take charge of Potter after the task. What raised her suspicions was the fact that instead of leading him to Dumbledore's office, as instructed, Moody was taking him into his own office.

Lyra found this exceedingly peculiar, and her knowledge of the situation drove her to intervene. There was something amiss with Alastor Moody's intentions, and she was determined to put a stop to it.

Moody and Potter entered the office, and Lyra quietly followed suit, doing her best to avoid being noticed. She knew that if his magical eye detected her presence, he would not carry out whatever he had in mind. However, Moody appeared so consumed by his plan that he paid no attention to her. He dragged a weeping Potter into his office, and Lyra discreetly stood outside the door, gently cracking it open to observe what was happening and hoping to hear more clearly.

Moody removed his magical eye and placed it in a glass of water, where it bobbed casually. He and Potter began discussing the events that had transpired. Lyra watched Moody closely, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, perturbed by his peculiar eagerness. Instead of comforting the distressed child, he seemed more interested in extracting information about what had occurred. This did not sit well with Lyra, given what she knew. She couldn't leave this situation alone.

"So, what happened?" Moody gruffly demanded.

"The cup...the cup...was a portkey!" Potter replied unsteadily.

"Yes...someone must have bewitched it! But tell me, what happened before the portkey brought you back?"

"Someone attacked Sarah. It seemed like it might have been Krum because he also tried to attack Zeus. But it wasn't really Krum...his eyes were glazed, and it looked like someone had placed him under the Imperius curse..." Potter began to explain, his own voice trembling as he tried to piece together the traumatic events.

"Forget about Krum! Tell me about what happened in the graveyard. Go on..." Moody interrupted, slamming his hand down angrily onto the table.

"It felt...it felt like I was falling into a nightmare..."

The room suddenly fell silent, and Potter fixed his gaze on Moody before reaching for his wand. Moody, however, was quicker, and a wicked smirk crossed his face as a dark chuckle escaped his lips.

"I...I didn't mention anything about a graveyard. It was you, wasn't it?! You've been behind all of this! You placed the cup in the maze. You offered to be my mentor! You...you...you put my name in the Goblet of Fire!" Potter accused shakily.

"Expelliarmus!" Moody snarled, and Potter's wand went flying to the ground.

"Yes! Yes, it was me. And now, I have the honor of finishing what the Dark Lord started." Moody declared as something began to happen to his face.

Harry tumbled off his chair in a desperate attempt to reach his wand, but Moody was faster. He aimed a curse at him, and Harry thought it was the end for him.

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody snarled, pointing his wand at Harry.

The door burst open as Harry slowly looked up. Lyra Marks strode in, stepping over him with an air of determination. She intercepted the Unforgivable Curse that had been launched at Harry by levitating the chair he had been seated on moments ago. The force of the curse sent the chair hurtling backward, causing splinters to fly in all directions. Then ensued a duel unlike any Harry had witnessed before. Dazzling lights and deafening explosions filled the room as Lyra and Moody engaged in a fierce battle. She shielded Harry from the many killing curses aimed their way, pulling and guiding him to evade the deadly attacks. At one point, she managed to knock Moody backward, seizing the opportunity to summon Harry's wand and pass it to him. She then instructed him urgently to find help and alert the others.

Moody was swiftly overpowered by a silent stream of non-verbal spells, coupled with uncontrolled bursts of fire that erupted from Lyra's hands. However, it wasn't Moody's incompetence that surprised Lyra; instead, it was his sudden change in demeanor. He stumbled backward and slumped into a chair, his face contorting in an eerie manner. Lyra easily disarmed him and secured him to the chair, her wand pointed unwaveringly at his throat. Potter had returned with Dumbledore, Snape, Minerva, and the Minister of Magic in tow.

Lyra stepped down from her defensive stance as Dumbledore and Snape assumed control of the situation. They administered a vial of Veritaserum forcefully to Moody, and under the influence of the truth serum, reality came spewing out.

Initially, the revelation exposed the true identity of the man masquerading as Alastor Moody – Barty Crouch Jr., who appeared much younger than the real Moody. Lyra couldn't help but wonder if he was even older than her?

"If he was using Polyjuice Potion, then the real Alastor Moody must be nearby..." Lyra remarked quickly, noticing Crouch Jr.'s gaze darting towards a large trunk. She forcefully slashed her wand to undo the protective charms surrounding it, revealing a hidden chamber. At the far end of the chamber lay a man who appeared half-dead – the real Alastor Moody.

Soon, Barty Crouch Jr. began fervently divulging Voldemort's plans. Finally, after all the information was extracted, he sneered at Harry, declaring that it was too late, that he had resurrected Voldemort.

"I'll show you mine... if you show me yours..." He taunted, licking his lips. Somehow, he managed to maneuver his hands under his restraints and rolled up his sleeve. Dumbledore gently pulled Harry's arm forward to expose his slashed hand.

"You see, Potter...you see what mere drops of your blood can do!" Crouch Jr. laughed maniacally.

"Minister, we must inform Azkaban that we've located their escaped prisoner." Dumbledore declared pointedly.

"I'll return as a hero!" Spat Crouch Jr.

"Personally, I've never had much time for heroes..." Dumbledore retorted.

"There's no need, Albus." The Minister said, surprising everyone in the room.

"Dementors will arrive shortly." He added.

"Cornelius, you can't be serious!" Dumbledore protested gravely.

"He's a raving lunatic, Dumbledore! What would you have me do? He's clearly a disturbed man – killing his own father, among other crimes. And now, he believes that he orchestrated all of this because You-Know-Who has been instructing him!"

"His plan succeeded, Cornelius. Lord Voldemort has been restored to his body!" Dumbledore argued, causing Fudge to wince at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"You-Know-Who...back? Come now, Dumbledore, that's preposterous!"

"Tonight, when Harry touched the Portkey, he was transported straight to Lord Voldemort. He witnessed his rebirth! I am certain that Harry can provide a detailed account of the events!"

"And...you're willing to accept Harry's word on this, Dumbledore?" Fudge inquired unsteadily. Dumbledore frowned in response.

"You...you heard what he said, Minister. It's not just Potter's word! This man spoke the same under the influence of Veritaserum!" Minerva interjected menacingly.

Fudge took a step back, deep in thought, then shook his head, dismissing the gravity of the situation.

"He's a dark wizard, many of them are skilled at blocking the effects of Veritaserum. Surely, you know this, Professor McGonagall; you were an Auror. You must have seen that happen frequently." Fudge retorted, unfazed by the mounting evidence.

Lyra, her patience finally exhausted, couldn't restrain herself any longer.

"You have to put this man on trial. He has provided clear testimony of Voldemort's return, of what this boy is saying! Do you not see his hand, Minister? This is dark blood magic!" Lyra snarled as she pointed at the bleeding cut on Harry's hand. She couldn't comprehend Fudge's dense refusal to accept the undeniable truth, even after witnessing it firsthand.

"You're all ready to accept the word of this maniac and this 14-year-old that You-Know-Who is back? That's just beyond my comprehension! This lunatic is one thing, but this boy, this child, doesn't know what he saw! Besides, from what Rita Skeeter's interview said... I am beginning to doubt much of anything he's ever told us to be the truth. You knew he's a Parselmouth, and you hid that, Dumbledore and what about his aching scar? You know, you don't need your 30 seconds of fame, Harry. You're already well-known the world over!" Fudge blustered, desperately clinging to his denial.

"I am not lying...I saw Voldemort...come to life! I saw the Death Eaters there...I can give you names!" Harry retorted, unwavering in his resolve.

Harry rattled off names that the Minister scoffed at dismissively.

"These are names of all reformed Death Eaters...from 13 years ago. You could have easily found them anywhere! You have no substantial proof!" Fudge yelled at Harry.

Suddenly, Snape, who had been quietly observing, took a deliberate step towards Fudge. He meticulously folded up his sleeve, revealing the unmistakable Dark Mark. Snape then showed it to the Minister without hesitation.

"It's been growing darker all year. It isn't as dark as it was earlier tonight, but you can still see it. He summoned his army, tonight. Calling us to his side. Is this proof enough, Minister?" Snape asked, his voice smooth as silk. The Minister, clearly disgusted, retreated several steps.

"Lord Voldemort is back, Cornelius...and the sooner you accept this, the better. We must take certain urgent precautions to—" Dumbledore began.

"Enough! I don't even want to know the insanity you are about to spew, Albus! If the magical community caught wind of any of this madness..." Fudge interrupted, vehemently denying the escalating reality.

"You are blinded, just like you were at the beginning of the year! You should have accepted Tessra Jones' support when these Death Eaters attacked at the World Cup! But you refused any international support. You denied the MACUSA president when he offered you an entire team of resources to secure this tournament. Now, when your shortcomings are evident, instead of doing your job, you're trying to save face. Once again, denying the inevitable! You need to accept the fact that your country is headed towards war. Open your eyes, Minister! You are going to be engulfed in darkness if you don't act now!" Lyra thundered with impassioned fury.

"You have no jurisdiction here, Ms. Marks. As I've said before, it would be better...if you'd stick to the things you know! You know nothing about this criminal, or about the politics of my country. Your accusation from earlier is enough proof that he's a murderer. The mark on his hand is evidence that he is a Death Eater. He deserves what the Dementors are about to do to him, especially for his lunacy. You-Know-Who is not back! This was all a lunatic scheme to bring terror into our lives. I will not let him succeed!" Fudge declared, puffing out his chest with arrogance.

Lyra was utterly flabbergasted by his sheer stupidity. How could someone so obtuse ever be elected to run a country? She looked at Dumbledore, but he avoided her gaze. She clenched her teeth, unable to tolerate this absurdity any longer. She surveyed the room, and her eyes landed on Potter. She approached him, waving her wand over the slit on his hand as the bleeding wound gradually healed.

Potter looked at her with gratitude as their eyes locked. Lyra placed her hand on his face, her heart aching for the boy and the daunting trials he was about to face. But she had reached her limit dealing with these obstinate people. This wasn't her battle to fight. She had no interest in making it her battle. All she wanted was to return home.

"I suggest everyone leave. Witnessing a Dementor's kiss is said to be extremely distressing."

As Lyra walked away, she overheard Dumbledore and Fudge exchanging heated words about the Minister's impending decision. Fudge continued to deny everything he had heard, claiming that Barty Crouch Jr. was simply a madman.

Lyra pulled her cloak even closer, stepping aside to allow two Dementors to float into the office. Casting one last, disdainful glance at the room, she shook her head in pity for them. She stormed away, her resolve unwavering. This wasn't her hill to die on, this wasn't her fight, and she had no intention of making it her fight. Her only desire was to return home.

The portkeys were prepared to transport the Americans back home. They had all gathered on the grounds, anxiously waiting for the spell to activate on their items.

Michelin couldn't believe what his daughter was saying. Zeus Shorthorn stood beside her, his expression somber, his hand encased in a cast. This boy, this mere shadow of a man, was going to be responsible for his daughter's safety? He couldn't accept it.

"This is ridiculous!" Michelin snapped, his patience running thin. He had no desire to engage in one of Sarah's tantrums. He wasn't going to tolerate it.

"I'm staying, Dad. I'm 18 now! I don't think you get to tell me what to do anymore. Besides, Mungo's has a great program. And if I'm meant to stay here and help in any way I can, then I will. Because I believe in Zeus and Harry, and that's all I know." Sarah declared with determination, intertwining her fingers with Zeus's. She wanted to show her father that she had made her decision, no matter what he thought.

"Sarah! This is not our fight!" Michelin hissed, struggling to accept his daughter's newfound independence. He had no intention of allowing her to be drawn into a war that was never meant to be hers.

"It's mine now!" Sarah asserted firmly.

Michelin huffed and scoffed, but deep down, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his daughter's strength and determination. She had truly come into her own, even if it meant taking on the weight of a world in turmoil.

Michelin's attention was drawn towards the entrance to the grounds, where his sister, strolled in with a small backpack and a large trunk bobbing behind her. She held her white cloak securely in her hand, her shirt crisply tucked into her pants. Her wand was holstered, and a phoenix quill peeked out from her messy half bun. Harry Potter stepped in front of her, and Lyra glanced at him with a mixture of pity and acknowledgment.

Harry approached Lyra, speaking to her in a soft voice filled with gratitude.

"If it weren't for you, Ms. Marks, I'd be dead right now. Thank you."

Lyra studied the young boy for a moment, recognizing the immense burden he carried at just 14 years old. She couldn't help but feel miserable for him.

"Harry, you sure have a knack for staying alive, don't you? A remarkable feat...it's as if destiny has something grand in store for you." Lyra commented cryptically. He smiled scrapping his feet, he brushed off her directness as one of the many quirks that came with being a remarkable witch.

"Harry, you're a good kid. I may not know much about you, but in my world, you're what we call a magical marvel. But you're also very young, and you're about to learn that your life is on the brink of a profound change. A word of advice, and I speak from experience—be very careful. I know it sounds odd coming from someone like me, but don't lose yourself. It's not easy to find your way back once you do. I'll bid you farewell now." She said mysteriously. She patted him on the shoulder and walked away.

Lyra crossed paths with Dumbledore, who was engaged in a conversation with Athena. She avoided meeting his eyes, harboring a lingering resentment. She owed him nothing, and her distrust of him ran deep. Lyra did not forgive easily.

"Lyra! Were you planning to leave without saying goodbye?" Came a gentle voice as Lyra turned to find Minerva approaching her, holding something in her hands.

"I didn't think you'd want me to." Lyra replied awkwardly.

"This has been an interesting year." Minerva acknowledged.

"It certainly has. I'm glad it's finally over." Lyra replied.

"I'm...I'm sorry for not...believing you." Minerva admitted, her voice filled with remorse.

Lyra looked at her with piercing blue eyes, her expression softening.

"Seems like you're the only one. But...thank you...for believing in me." Lyra replied sincerely. Minerva regarded her with an inscrutable expression that unsettled Lyra. She couldn't understand the meaning behind the looks Minerva had been giving her throughout the year, and it gnawed at her, leaving a deep sense of unease.

Minerva's gaze bore into Lyra's with a poignant intensity, as if she were committing every detail of her face to memory. Then, without breaking eye contact, she extended the box she had been holding, offering it to Lyra.

"Ginger Newts!" Lyra exclaimed with greed, her hard exterior momentarily softened.

"I thought you might get hungry. America is quite a journey." Minerva said with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Aunt Minerva, for everything." Lyra said genuinely, breaking down her defensive barriers for just a moment. Minerva rubbed Lyra's arm before stepping away. Lyra nodded and made her way towards her brother, who appeared chastised by his daughter.

"You can't persuade me either, so don't try." Sarah asserted, crossing her arms. Lyra sighed and pulled her into a tight hug. After a few seconds, Sarah reluctantly reciprocated, hugging her aunt back.

"I wasn't going to. It's our choices that define us, Sarah. If this is what you choose, tread carefully." Lyra whispered into Sarah's ear.

They separated from the embrace, and Lyra turned to Zeus.

"She's stronger than you think. Give her the credit she deserves." Lyra advised him with a pointed look, before patting him on the shoulder.

With one last nod towards Sarah and Zeus, Lyra held onto the portkey in Michelin's hand.

A few minutes later, they were gone. Lyra believed that was the last she would see of England and Scotland.

Or so she thought.

AN/- Thanks for reading guys! Do leave a review...the story will now continue towards OOTP. It grows darker and more gripping. I hope you will keep reading and reviewing!