Lyra stared skeptically at the red brick wall in front of her, her freckled nose wrinkled in disbelief.
"So you're telling me," she began, looking back at Danielle who stood at her side with Apollo's sheltered cage in her hands, "we have to run into this wall to get to our platform?"
The pair had reached King's Cross station in the nick of time and were panting heavily on Platform Nine, both of them leaning on Lyra's school trunk for stability as they tried to catch their breaths. They didn't plan on being late but the witch's impromptu lie-in had put a huge obstacle in their path and they had spent the last fifteen minutes sprinting through London's hectic streets — not an easy feat with an extremely heavy trunk and a baby owl in tow.
Danielle's honey eyes sparkled humorously and she nodded, amused with the method herself. "I know it sounds crazy but trust me, it'll be fine," she insisted as she checked her watch. They only had ten minutes until the train closed its doors.
People dashed by, muttering apologies as they clipped shoulders, and Lyra wondered why wizards would choose to have their access point in a very public place. Surely the Muggles have noticed people sprinting into solid columns and disappearing completely. She certainly would if she were bored, waiting for a delayed train.
"I trust you," said Lyra as she glanced around at the busy platform, "I just can't believe it would be in such an obvious spot. Do we have to do anything special to the wall or is it ready for us?"
"No, we just have to run," answered Danielle, smoothing stray flyaways from Lyra's nervous face. "A lot of magic is about intention, you just go with the flow," she explained, echoing her mother's wise words. "The Muggles won't notice, they never do."
"Let me guess — magic?" guessed Lyra, slowly catching on to how the Wizarding world works. Danielle winked and jerked her head towards the bricks, signalling her to go.
"You better hurry, I can't have you missing the Express. It'll cause quite the scandal and I don't think you need anymore of those," she muttered and gave their surroundings one last check. The only ones people nearby had their heads deep in newspapers or were facing the other way conveniently busy. "Try not to close your eyes! I'll be right behind you."
Lyra held her breath, gripped her trolley tighter despite her sweating palms, and took off. As the wall got closer she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut and pushed forwards with blind hope.
CRASH!
The trolley smashed into the bricks and toppled forwards, sending Lyra head first into the column. She felt the top of her head crack as she scraped the wall, and she collapsed on top of her tumbling trunk. People stopped to watch, muttering about the youth today, and Danielle skidded to a halt herself, clutching her mouth trying not to laugh at her ghastly mistake.
It was the third column, not the second.
Lyra climbed off the floor and shot Danielle her deadliest glare. Her freckled face flushed as she shoved the trunk back into the now squeaking trolley and waited for her guardian to compose herself.
"I am so sorry—," Danielle started to say but the grin on her large glossed lips said it all. Lyra shook her head, looking far too mature for her age as she scolded the woman fifteen years her senior.
"Did you do that on purpose?" She huffed, and Danielle hurried to explain her blunder as the large clock hands quickly moved towards the bold number twelve.
"Of course not, I never came to see my brother off so I wasn't one hundred percent sure," She explained as she shoved the girl and her trolley towards the appropriate brick wall. "We need to go now!"
Danielle went to let go of her but Lyra quickly replaced her hands on her shoulders.
"No way, I don't want to hit another wall and knock myself out - we're going together," she asserted, and Danielle had no choice. She felt a little sick, riddled with the same nausea she felt when using the Floo Network, but pressed on nevertheless.
The pair dashed through the brick wall and found themselves on a single platform edge full of witches and wizards waving grandly at the magnificent crimson steam train, great billowing clouds of white rolled around their cloak hems and filled the floor. Lyra gasped at the appearance of the train, her bright eyes wider than ever, then felt Danielle shove her forwards, knocking her out of her daze.
"The doors are closing!" she yelped in panic, "GO!"
Lyra felt the adrenaline kick in. Tightening her grip on the handlebars, she barged into the crowds screaming for them to clear a path. Families shot backwards, gawking and muttering about poor time management as Lyra whizzed to the nearest open door, her wild black hair getting in the way. She felt her heartbeat in her mouth as she dragged the trunk on board but felt relief settle over her when she saw Danielle's glowing face arrive at the door just in time with Apollo, trying to dab at the sweat that threatened to streak her makeup.
"Great... job…" she wheezed, poking through the open window as the door slid into place. Lyra caught her breath and rushed over, squeezing the top half of her body through the hole to give her saviour a hug.
"I can't thank you enough, Danielle," she told her quietly over the loud surrounding yells of goodbyes. "I wouldn't be here without you."
"Oh hush," sniffed Danielle, trying not to get too teary eyed. "Sweetie, this was all you. You should be proud of yourself." They gave each other one last squeeze before her guardian took a step back, blinking hard and fast.
"Remember; follow the rules, if you have any questions talk to your head of house or Professor Dumbledore, make some friends and most importantly, have fun!" Lyra heard her shout over the train's deafening whistle and she laughed, fighting against the overwhelming urge to cry.
The only person in her life was now drifting away from her yet she felt the panic come and go. A voice in the back of her mind was encouraging her to think positively — after all, this was her fresh start.
The Hogwarts Express started to pick up speed and soon the train was snaking through the city, following the untraceable rails towards the countryside. Lyra debated staying in the small confines of the train's corridor for a while longer but the thought of standing up for hours was not how she pictured her journey to school. Plastering her friendliest smile on her face, she set off on her first mission.
Apart from the obvious stares and mutters, the first thing Lyra noticed were the congregations.
She could tell straight away that the students of Hogwarts mingled within their own houses. Every compartment she dared to peer into seemed to only hold students all wearing the same patterns of colours whether it were matching school scarves or sweaters with embroidered animal emblems or temporarily hung banners declaring their house loyalties — she never once saw the four colours mix. Intrigued but slightly intimidated, she avoided the older students and tried to find the compartment full of mismatched eleven year olds that were as confused as she was.
By the time she had found a potential resting point Lyra was struggling to hold onto her possessions. It seemed her morning of vigorous energy use had taken its toll and her back cried out in agony. The inhabitants inside the compartment hurried to open the door when they saw her dump the trunk on the floor, giving up.
"We've got space for one more?"
In the open doorway beside her stood a smiling dark-skinned boy, his hand outstretched towards her. He wore a pristine West Ham football shirt and a pair of baggy camo printed trousers signalling to Lyra that she had been blessed with some Muggle familiarity. She froze, momentarily taken aback at the boy's kindness, but gladly handed him Apollo's cage.
"I'll take you up on that offer," Lyra wheezed, dragging the trunk inside the compartment behind her. The boy helped her shove her belongings out of the way and introduced her to their fellow carriage mates. Three new faces stared up at her and she tried her best to remember their names.
"Not a problem. My name's Dean by the way, and this is Neville," he gestured to the shy, brunette boy settled next to the window and Lyra commended him on his bizarre sweater choice. He seemed to smile at the comment but was reluctant to continue their introduction as he turned back to the rushing countryside views beyond the window.
"—and I'm Hermione Granger," interrupted the girl nearest the door, and she stretched out her hand to Lyra as though they were in a job interview.
She had thick frizzy hair that fell below her shoulders, golden brown skin, and a very toothy white smile. Lyra noticed she was already wearing her school uniform as she shook her hand politely and she made a mental note to copy her at her first chance, the Hogwarts robes were so much cooler than her Muggle primary school uniform.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Lyra," she replied as she took her seat and the fourth boy gasped, gaining everyone's attention. He puffed out his chest and stuck his hand out to Lyra, his shaggy blonde hair gleaming in the light. He was tall like Dean with round hazel eyes and heavy set brows. He seemed rather full of himself but Lyra knew not to judge people too quickly.
"I thought I recognised you — you're Lyra Black, you were in the papers yesterday," he disclosed to the compartment as though it were important news but Dean and Hermione glanced at her, unsure of what to make of his proclamation.
"I'm Zacharius Smith, fellow Pureblood," he added pompously. His hand waited for hers but Lyra simply blinked at it, her own hands unmoved. She knew what to do, it was like a genetic urge coded into her being and she blindly trusted it.
"Is it customary for wizards to introduce themselves with their blood status?" she asked without pausing, and Zacharius dropped his arm blushing slightly at her bluntness.
"Uh, no... but I thought maybe you would want to know," he told her, "because of the papers."
"The newspapers?" questioned Hermione, clearly miffed at their vagueness. Lyra's stomach plummeted at Zacharius' presumption and hurried to take charge of her own story.
"It's nothing important, just some legal stuff," she dismissed, hoping that Zach would catch her hint to stop talking about it, and he quietened down in his corner, staring at Lyra in disbelief.
"You shouldn't believe everything you read anyways," she added as an afterthought.
"So you've not been living in a Muggle kids dump for the past decade?" asked Zach sourly, and Lyra rolled her eyes.
"Okay so some of it is accurate but that's not the point," she countered, earning another glare from the blonde. He was starting to irritate her already and she prayed that she wouldn't have to deal with him for much longer.
"My Gran always said that journalists were nasty people," piped up Neville, finally drawing himself away from the scenic fields that rolled back, "and that you should always read their stories through Squib's eyes."
Lyra guffawed at the wizarding idiom but decided that now was not a great time to analyse it.
"Through what?" frowned Dean, dumbstruck at his words, but Hermione beat everyone to it.
"A Squib is someone who has wizarding parents but is not a witch or wizard themselves," she recited as though she had a dictionary in her hands, "it's the opposite of a Muggleborn."
"Could you imagine the embarrassment if you turned out to be a Squib?" drawled Zacharius, starting to laugh at the mere thought but automatically stopped himself when he saw Lyra's face drop.
"Really? There's nothing shameful about being a Squib," she shot back hotly, all warmth towards the boy disappearing completely. She prayed he was an anomaly in the student body, surely not everyone could share these views? His introduction was starting to make more sense now.
"Of course not, I'm just saying that it would be horrible finding out that you couldn't come to Hogwarts. I'm not saying Squibs are bad or anything," he backtracked, playing with the collar of his shirt, and tried to look at the others for support.
Dean stifled his smirk and glanced at Hermione who had her lips pursed and her arms crossed, unamused. Neville diverted his stare and suddenly found the animal cages in the racks above them very entertaining, clearly uncomfortable at the conversation. Lyra grinned back at the now flustered Zacharius and stretched her legs out, settling back into the seat cushions.
"Sure you did, dude."
Zacharius didn't say another word for a while. He sulked in the corner as he listened to the group share snippets of what they knew about Hogwarts but Lyra could feel the heat from his glares at her as they chatted.
Neville revealed he came from a long line of wizards and was incredibly nervous about which house he was going to be sorted into, whilst Hermione and Dean traded details of their Muggle backgrounds, declaring themselves Muggleborns. She also found out that Hermione shared her passion of collecting as many books as she could and the pair spent a while comparing their collections, hyping each other up about the prospects of checking out the school library. Neville retold the stories his grandmother had told him about the castle but Dean came up blank, his only question being whether there would be football teams at the school.
Once Lyra had changed into her school robes, the trolley witch arrived at their compartment ("No one knows when she started working aboard the Express," whispered Hermione to no one in particular) and Zach finally gave up and burst out with endless questions for Dean about his favourite game, perplexed at the idea of playing a sport without using broomsticks.
Lyra gawked at the seemingly empty food cart but revelled in the mouthwatering sweet and savoury treats that were left, bursting to try them all. Her stomach rumbled longingly as she stared at a pile of twisted orange pastries that were calling her name and gave in. She dug into her backpack and pulled out a fistful of silver sickles and a couple of galleons, pouring them into the witch's fragile hands.
"I'll have five of everything please!" she said brightly.
The witch blinked and tutted, muttering under her breath as she accepted her coins, "Kids these days."
"As a thank you for letting me sit with you, I've treated us to a feast," she proclaimed to the carriage once the elderly witch dumped her purchases on their table. They gazed at the food with gratitude and dug into the magical confectionary, swapping jellybeans and sharing the wriggling taffy. Zacharius went to grab one of the twisted pastries and Lyra gasped, swatting his hand away.
"Oh no, all of these are mine — you can have something else though," she muttered, feeling less bitter now she had a full stomach. His frown twitched into a half smile and he quietly thanked her before indulging in the cauldron-shaped fondants.
Just as Lyra bit into her third zesty treat, Neville yelped and patted his pockets, frantically searching for something. He jumped onto the floor and began to shuffle through the trunks, shoving everyone's feet out of his way. Hermione squeaked and managed to grab her heavy book before it smacked Neville in the face.
"Neville mate, are you alright?" asked Dean, hitching his legs up onto the seat.
His small face emerged, petrified.
"I was going to feed some of the Ice Mice to Trevor but he's not in his pouch," he babbled, showing off the empty green sack attached to his trunk handle. Lyra stuffed the rest of her food into her mouth, brushed off the crumbs from her clothes, and climbed onto the seats for a better vantage point.
"Don't worry I'm sure he's here somewhere. What is Trevor anyways?" she asked, shuffling through the luggage on the metal racks. She saw Apollo's tiny talon poke through the black fabric and she gave it a quick tap, letting him know she was still there.
"He's a toad," he told them sadly, "he never goes too far but he's never been on a train before." The adoration for his pet was prominent in his voice and it made Lyra's heart hurt in empathy.
"A toad? Rather old-fashioned, aren't they?" piped up Zach as though on cue, nose sticking up in the air.
"I'd say they're more retro," defended Lyra, not turning down the chance to bite back at Smith. "It's very fashionable, actually."
"I know more about this than you, actually. What do you know about wizarding fashion—," Zach started to say but Hermione jumped to her feet at the sight of the rising tension between the pair, cutting him off before he could find his stride.
"I'm going to check the corridors for Trevor," she suggested loudly, her brown eyes catching Lyra's with a little nod towards the door. "He might have slipped out when the trolley witch arrived."
Catching her drift, Lyra jumped down from the cushioned seats with a bang and slid the compartment door open.
"I also want to leave this awkward situation so..." she said deadpanned, staring Zacharius down. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed, fighting the urge to snap back. Pink twinged through the golden brown of Hermione's cheeks and she hopped through the door, refusing to listen to them bicker any longer. Lyra turned to Neville and offered him what she hoped was a kind smile, something she didn't have much experience in doing.
"I will find your toad or I will die trying," she told him with her hand over her heart. "I promise you, no matter how many men die in the process — your Trevor will be in your arms again soon." Neville looked bewildered, unsure whether she was joking or not. Dean barked out in laughter, chucked a handful of jelly beans into his grinning mouth and patted the trembling boy on the shoulder.
"She's only kidding," he assured him, and Neville's whimper fell into a chuckle, relieved at his words.
"I'm totally serious," Lyra muttered back with her grey eyes wide for theatrical effect and it wiped Neville's reassurance from his cheeks. "I'm not returning until the toad is safe."
"No need to be so dramatic," tutted Zacharius, sick of her sarcasm. Lyra dropped the facade and rolled her eyes, shoving the anxious comments from her mind.
"I was just trying to lift the mood," she scoffed, barely glancing in his direction. "Neville's clearly upset that his pet is missing. Lighten up Smith, it's not that serious."
She left before Zacharius attempted to defend himself and found Hermione waiting in the corridor, pretending to look interested in the vibrant grasslands rushing by the windows.
Lyra tried to ignore the heat in her face and walked on, searching the floor of the toad. She had expected there to be a bump in the road, not everyone was going to like her, but her interaction with Zacharius had thrown her off. She wasn't sure what he thought of her now but her subconscious reminded her that it wasn't her problem. Who cares about Smith's presumptions about her? That was none of her business.
"He was totally out of line," chirped Hermione after a few minutes of silent searching, glancing at Lyra cautiously. "He's very full of himself."
"Who? Mr Humble back there? Surely not…" said Lyra, biting her tongue as an attempt to shut herself up. "He's delightful!"
"I don't quite understand what he was talking about though. How come he mentioned his blood status to you? Are you a pureblood?" wondered Hermione innocently, and Lyra reluctantly nodded.
"Apparently so, but I've grown up thinking I was a Muggle my entire life. It's really jarring, people assume I know more than I do but I'm just as clueless as you are about everything. I have no clue why he brought it up, and I'm praying it won't happen again!" she blurted out, exasperated from the Smith's jabs.
"I don't think you can say we're clueless; together we have fifty seven books packed in our trunks, thirty of them completely unrelated to anything on our syllabus," recounted Hermione matter-of-factly, "you'll be just as informed as the rest of the Purebloods by the end of the year, I know I certainly will be. You shouldn't have to live your life based on what other people think of you."
A bolt of appreciation struck Lyra as she absorbed the facts Hermione spat and nodded, impressed at the attitude she had. She was right, she shouldn't be so easily discouraged by the prejudgements, if anything she should be motivated.
"I like the way you think," said Lyra with a growing smile, and Hermione tried not to look too smug, basking in her short lived glory.
Just as they reached the fourth carriage the train jolted on its tracks and sent the student body flying. A few students yelled instinctively as bags came tumbling down from high places and the compartment doors rolled on their hinges from shock. Lyra instinctively steadied herself as though she were back on her skateboard and watched Hemione tumble to the floor with a small squeak. Trying to hide her laughter Lyra went to offer her a hand but caught something in the corner of her eye.
A glowing yellow spark exploded out from a compartment up ahead and ricocheted off the window pane, spinning like a firework until it collided with Lyra's face. It propelled her backwards through the air and she slammed into the ground, winded from the spell. Her cheeks were cold and prickly, like sharp rain droplets were splattering on her face, and her mind turned to mush.
"I am so sorry!"
"Uh what did you say that spell was again?"
"Are you ok?!"
Lyra blinked away the dancing stars in her vision and eventually caught her breath, her back crying out in agony with each puff. First, the brick wall, and now this… She was going to need a back brace before the year was out. A hand appeared before her and she blindly took it, ignoring the shooting pains throughout her body as she scrambled to her feet.
The hand belonged to a new face, a dark haired boy with large, round glasses she hadn't seen before, and she quickly withdrew from his reach, feeling awkward as he stared. Another newcomer popped up beside him, clutching their freckled face as they gawked at her in horror. He was a vibrant redhead with wateringly blue eyes but Lyra wasn't sure whether they were so vivid from genetics or tears.
"I can't believe them… I am so sorry!" he whined again, and Lyra frowned, catching their worried glances. All three of them were staring at her as though she had grown a third eye, and she started to touch her face.
"What? What is it?" she urged, turning to the reflection on the windows but it was still too light outside for her to make out a clear image. Her heart was racing, fearing the worst. Did she still have a face? She felt unusually faceless and tried not to freak out.
"How on earth did you do that?" gasped Hermione, forcing Lyra to face her so she could inspect the spell's effects.
"I thought it was supposed to turn your rat yellow," said the boy with glasses, trying his best not to seem rude but Lyra heard him laugh and she tried not to flee out of sheer discomfort.
"Am I yellow?!" she squealed trying to inspect her hands, and the ginger boy shook his head, ashamed.
"No, it's worse," he started to explain when Hermione let out a small chuckle, judging his handiwork with disapproval.
"I don't think that was a real spell," she told him, and the boy's evident horror transformed into serious offence. He turned to her with his nose wrinkled, ready to snap back at her.
"Oh really? And you know every spell that's ever existed?" he countered, oblivious to Lyra's growing distress as they ignored her. Hermione, now fully invested in her own bickering match to answer Lyra's attempted interruptions, folded her arms and returned his glare.
"No but I know a dud when I see one! I've read all about them."
"You can't have read that far ahead already."
"It's not that far ahead."
"Yes it is!"
"It's on page twenty of our Charms textbook!"
Ha! So much for not caring what other people think! Lyra watched the pair, entirely amused by the scenario, but the creeping reminder that she looked crazy brought her back. People were starting to stick their heads out of their doors, wondering who was causing so much commotion, but the second they noticed Lyra they started pointing and laughing at her. She turned to the other boy who had been quietly watching the scene unravel and grabbed his shoulders, snatching his attention.
" Help!"
"Er..." he stuttered, taken aback slightly, but looked towards his compartment with a sheepish smile, "you're more than welcome to hide out in our compartment?"
"Perfect," said Lyra, darting inside before he could finish his sentence. The seats and table were littered with piles upon piles of sugary snacks and rich confectionery and Lyra remembered the trolley's lack of choice with a smirk, impressed at their conviction. Throughout the wrappers she spotted a chunky brown rat nibbling at the corner of a chocolate bar, merely chilling within the food like it was commonplace. The spectacled boy followed and closed the door, shutting out the argument in the process, looking rather flummoxed himself.
"Sorry about the mess," he hurried to apologise, his cheeks turning pale pink. "Ron didn't bring much for lunch so I thought we'd try everything from the trolley and things gradually got out of control."
Lyra's heart warmed at his underlying sentiment. "I'm guessing that's Ron?" she asked, nodding towards the redhead she had just seen run past the glass, still shouting animatedly, face now redder than his flaming hair. Hermione brushed past a second later, her bouncing brown hair trailing behind her as she rushed off after Ron.
The boy nodded, still amused at his new friend. "He really is sorry, he was just showing me a spell to turn his rat yellow when the train jolted," he explained in earnest, and Lyra gasped, remembering her predicament.
"What did he do to me?!" she spluttered, and the boy gritted his teeth. He looked as though he'd rather be burned alive than tell her the truth.
"Uh so… you look like a clown," he admitted, face screwed up in preparation for her screams, but she simply pouted.
Oh. Was that it?
"As in red nose, white face, 'honk honk' clown?" she asked as though it were a perfectly reasonable question, and the boy slumped back in his chair, torn between amazement and disbelief as he stared. Her entire face was bright white with two black crosses slashed over her eyes, a small red button nose and a creeping crimson curve that forced her lips into a permanent smile — it was more terrifying than funny at this point.
"You look disappointed?" he mused aloud. "Trust me, you look insane."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "How insane?"
"Have you ever seen IT?" he wondered, deadpanned.
Lyra guffawed, laughing at the perfect comparison. "Oh no, not IT! You did not just call me Pennywise?!"
The boy grinned and simply shrugged. "You could be twins. This wasn't what I thought my journey to school would look like, I wasn't expecting the circus to be onboard today," he teased, and Lyra laughed.
It wasn't brash or forced like Zacharius' comments and she found herself enjoying the stranger's company. A part of her couldn't believe she was actually sharing a joke with another person her age, something that had never happened before. At that thought, she realised she didn't even know the kind stranger's name.
"I'm Lyra, by the way, Lyra Black" she repeated, and this time she stuck her hand out first. The boy took it and shook it firmly, thrilled at her gesture.
"I'm Harry Potter," he replied, and for the first time in Lyra's wizarding experience she felt the strangest sense of deja-vu. Something buried deep in her subconscious suddenly awakened, his name almost felt familiar to her. Where had she heard that name before? She wanted to share this sensation but it quickly vanished when she saw someone peer into the compartment, refusing to move on from the window.
"Do you know him?" asked Lyra, jabbing her thumb at their audience, and Harry's smile vanished at their appearance. He ran a hand through his hair and she spotted a deep, jagged scar on his forehead but she said nothing, not wanting to accidentally offend him.
"No but I've met him once before," he mumbled, "he's a bit of a prat." Lyra clicked her tongue and decided to stare back at her new fan, trying to scare him off. He was slender and pale with white blonde hair, cold blue eyes, and a haughty grin on his lips when he assessed her new look. She didn't want to admit it but he reminded her of Rachel which was never a great sign.
Finally the door slid open and the stalker wandered in as though he were invited but his group of friends stayed put outside, glowering from the shadows.
"Can we help you? Are you lost?" piped up Lyra in her sweetest tone, and the boy frowned at her.
"Why do you look like that?" he drawled patronisingly, and Lyra feigned ignorance.
"What are you talking about?"
"You look crazy," he told her, slightly confused.
She gasped loudly. "How rude! This is just my face!"
Harry had to turn away to hide his laughter, trying not to ruin her fun or the beautiful expression on their visitor's face.
"What a weirdo," snickered one of the boys at the door, and Lyra scowled in their direction, unsure which of the lanky, scowling boys had insulted her.
"What a killjoy," she shot back.
"What do you want?" said Harry bluntly to the blonde boy. He smirked and looked them up and down, his inscrutable stare harsher than before.
"I heard a rumour that the famous Harry Potter was on the train and I needed to see it for myself," he explained, "I'm a little disappointed you didn't tell me beforehand."
"You didn't exactly give me the chance to tell you when we met, you didn't shut up!" scoffed Harry sassily, reflecting the blonde's judgemental expression.
"Regardless of whether that's true or not," countered the boy coldly, "I heard the news and wanted to formally introduce myself to you. I'm Draco Malfoy, Pureblood."
So it is a thing, thought Lyra, slightly startled at the emerging pattern. She never suspected wizards to be racist.
"I think you have a stalker, Harry," whispered Lyra loudly, and Draco's pale face brightened to a hot peach when he saw them suppress their chuckles. His steely glare switched to Lyra and he took a step closer, trying to get a closer look at her actual facial features. Her stomach churned harder the longer he observed her but he soon recognised the face behind the clown makeup.
"I was hoping you were more put together than this, Black, but I guess that's what you get when you're raised by a Squib," teased Draco, pretending to gag at the idea. The sulking group jeered at their friend's joke but Lyra evaluated his weak taunt.
"Danielle has only been my guardian for two years, but by all means try again," she suggested, unbothered.
"I didn't come here to tease you, although you are making that very difficult," sighed Draco, rolling his eyes. "I actually came here to make friends with you both."
Harry blinked, dumbstruck. "Friends?"
Lyra cackled, entertained. "With you?"
"What gave you the impression that we want to be friends with you?" spat Harry, but Lyra hesitated for a moment. It was fair to say that she wasn't making the situation easy for Draco but she did believe in giving everyone a fair chance, just like she deserved. Maybe they were merely getting off on the wrong foot? First days of school were very intense and a lot for an eleven year old to process.
"...We've just met, I can't say if I want to be your friend or not," she told him, grey eyes narrowed, and Draco gave her his first genuine smile.
"There is a lot of important information that you both need to know before you start introducing yourselves around Hogwarts and I know that we can help you with that," he told them seriously, as though he were giving them a piece of life-saving advice.
"What kind of information?" asked Harry, more confused than enthusiastic at this point.
"You need to know that there are some wizarding families at school that you do not want to associate yourselves with. You wouldn't want to be known as a blood traitor, especially with your reputations," he continued, but Lyra was beginning to feel awfully nauseous. She faded in and out of the conversation as she tried to focus on her breathing but Draco's words bounced around in her mind. She could sense what he was inferring and it made blood run cold.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry huffed, bringing Lyra back into the present. "I can decide for myself who I associate with, I don't need you telling me what to do."
"I'm not so sure about that, Potter," scoffed Draco. "I saw you with the Weasleys on the platform. Big mistake."
"Why are you being so rude?" exclaimed Lyra, taking herself by surprise.
Draco snickered, his friends echoing his harsh laugh. "These are things you should already know, Lyra. The Weasleys are blood traitors and not to mention poorer than dirt—,"
The rest of his insult was cut short by a wet slap of cream and pastry as a dessert exploded against Draco's face, spraying the whole compartment with thick white filling. Lyra wiped the sweet cream from her hands and admired her handiwork, pleased with the amount of force she had used. Harry cleaned his glasses and tried to suppress his delight at watching the boy before them attempt to clean his face.
"What the hell was it for?!" Draco complained, rubbing viciously at the stains on his new school robes.
Lyra looked unperturbed. "I slipped."
"Liar," spat one of the corridor dwellers, and Draco beckoned him in with the intentions of escalating the situation.
"No, I'm telling the truth. My hand slipped onto the pie and then slipped again when I threw it," she said sourly, taking in the appearance of the boy beside Draco. He was taller and broader than them all with buzzed caramel hair and a sulky expression that suggested he wasn't keen on getting covered with anything sticky.
"You shouldn't defend the weasels," scoffed Draco, "you don't want to embarrass yourself, Black. With a name like yours you need to know how to use it."
"Keep Ron and his family out of this," said Harry quickly, his scowl harsher than Lyra's. "They're more welcoming than you'll ever be."
"They're a joke, everyone knows that," added the new boy quietly but his clear disdain was deafening.
"And who are you?" asked Lyra. She might as well start learning names now, it would be a very long seven years if she didn't.
"Gregory Goyle," he mumbled, uninterested.
"Greg, no offence, but please go away," she said earnestly.
"I don't believe this," tutted Draco, annoyed. "I thought you would be more receptive to what we've got to say considering how little you know—,"
"You're telling me! I thought purebloods were supposed to be accepting and not racist, but here you stand, proving to me how wrong I was," she sassed back.
"—but I had more hope for you than I did for Potter," he finished with a snarl.
"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Harry, inching towards the snacks on the table.
"Your story isn't exactly a secret," said Draco patronisingly, his cold eyes darting to Harry's forehead. He turned to his cronies who all snickered, sharing small snide comments. "Famous orphan Potter latching onto the closest piece of trash that shows him a little bit of love, how sad. It's not surprising that you chose the filthy Weasley—,"
SPLAT!
Another dessert smacked Draco in the face, more whipped filling spraying the room. Lyra guffawed and couldn't resist giving Harry the biggest grin she could muster whilst he chose another sweet pastry from its box, she was somewhat moved that he had continued her food fight.
The second pastry seemed to be Draco's limit as he immediately dove towards a stack of sticky tartlets, eager to return the favour. It was pure chaos. The four inside the compartment erupted and launched sweets, cakes, anything they could find at each other, the glass windows slowly disappearing behind thick splatters of jams, creams, and chocolates of all colours. Lyra struggled to stay on her feet as the floor grew tacky and wet from tasty debris, but she continued to bombard her opponents with food, blocking out the jeers from their audience in the corridor.
The fight was short-lived as the chants were attracting a lot of attention from their fellow passengers, and Lyra soon spotted Hermione's dumbstruck face through the door with an equally shocked Ron at her side. An older blonde girl behind Hermione pushed her way through the crowd and clapped her hands loudly, trying to get the brawlers' attention.
"THAT'S ENOUGH! What is going on here?" she yelled, outraged at the state of the space. Lyra spotted a shiny gold 'P' badge on her school robes and her stomach plummeted in suspicion that she was about to get a severe telling-off. The girl must have been roughly fifteen years old and clearly took her job of school prefect very seriously.
Draco and Gregory dropped their fistful of cake and stayed silent, simply glowering at the floor. Harry looked like a deer in headlights, trying to figure out how to explain the situation, but Lyra couldn't stop herself from interrupting him.
"Er we were—,"
"Don't suppose you've seen a toad anywhere? Responds to Trevor?" Lyra attempted as a distraction, trying to blink the heavy cream away from her eyelashes. She wiped some from her face and revealed the awful clown makeup staining her skin. "Honk honk."
The prefect looked stumped at her statements and shook her head, blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. She pulled her wand from her pocket and flicked it towards Lyra as she muttered under her breath. Something warm trickled over her face and knew that she was finally free from the clown's grip.
"I am horrified that four first years are causing havoc before they've even arrived at Hogwarts!" she scolded boldly, glaring at each perpetrator, "you're so very lucky that term hasn't officially started yet or you four would have been scrubbing this compartment with your own toothbrushes."
The audience oohed, giggling quietly to each other. It was rare that there was commotion on the journey to Scotland and no one wanted to be left out.
Draco shot her a quick snarl. "You don't have the power to punish us, that's an empty threat," he dared to say and the prefect's sharp eyes twitched at his audacity.
"That's it! All four of you are coming with me. You are not leaving my sight until we reach Hogsmeade. Follow me."
Lyra's body deflated in guilt and she dropped her gaze to the floor. She never meant to get into trouble on the first day, this wasn't the impression she wanted to set considering her apparent notoriety and she had dragged a potential new friend into this mess with her by storming his compartment and trashing it. She didn't care about Draco or Gregory, they brought this on themselves, but Harry didn't deserve to get punished for being insulted then assaulted.
"I'm really sorry," Lyra quickly whispered to Harry as the prefect led the grumbling quartet through the gathering crowd and off towards the prefects' quarters at the front of the train. "I didn't mean to ruin your day and get you into trouble like this."
Even through all the icing caked on his face Lyra spotted Harry's smile.
"I don't mind, it was kind of therapeutic. Besides, this might mean Malfoy will leave us alone now. I think he got our answer to his question," he told her and the pair saw Draco turn back and glare at them, gritting his pearly teeth like a rabid dog. It would have been somewhat threatening if he wasn't covered head-to-toe in colourful pastes.
"Oh for sure — Draco Malfoy hates us!"