On the Friday of her first week at Hogwarts Lyra was surprised to see that she woke up with the sunrise; that had never happened before.
She had been late to breakfast every single day so far and she knew that her new head of house (Lyra almost fainted when she found out) Professor McGonagall had been keeping an annoyingly close eye on her since she arrived covered in frosting.
"This isn't the best start, Miss Black," tutted the Transfiguration professor when Lyra had to chase her through the Entrance Hall to obtain her new class timetable on her first day. She woke up to an empty dorm and realised that she had overslept the moment she spotted the clock on Parvati's dresser, she had never moved so fast in her life.
"In my defence, the batteries in my alarm clock have stopped working ever since I got here — that's Hogwarts' fault, not mine," she tried to defend herself, but quickly regretted her decision when her head of house gave her a scrutinising stare, her thin spectacles gleamed menacingly in the morning light that poured through the hall's arched windows. McGonagall's glare landed on Lyra's wrongly buttoned shirt and creative knot in her tie, fighting the urge to snap.
"Then may I suggest you don't stay up until the early hours of the morning traipsing around the common room?" said Professor McGonagall, a single eyebrow arched. Lyra gulped, how did she know about that?
She thought of the nosy portraits in the grandiose Gryffindor Tower and suspected that they snitched on her late night reading excursion. The previous night, Lyra was thrown out of her dormitory after she almost set fire to her bed's curtains trying to read by candlelight and her new roommates couldn't risk another scare so they asked her to leave. It was only the first night and she hadn't learned a light-conjuring spell yet, what was she supposed to do?
"That is a wonderful suggestion, Professor," sighed Lyra, readjusting her heavy leather backpack on her shoulder, but quickly added, "and I'll be sure to follow it!" when she saw her professor's nostrils flare, startled by her cheek.
"Here," McGonagall pulled out a parchment from the pile in her hand and tapped it once with her wand, "do try to turn up to your lessons on time, Miss Black, this is a school after all." The corners of her lips twitched as she swiftly left Lyra in the Entrance Hall to figure out her first lesson of the day.
Those late to breakfast brushed past Lyra as she searched the parchment and her stomach plummeted when she saw the elegant scribbles at the top that read: Period One - Transfiguration; Professor M. McGonagall.
She scoffed, amused at the irony; her professor did that on purpose! A loud chiming bell rang out from the far off clocktower and Lyra yelped in surprise before rushing off to find the elusive Transfiguration classroom.
But unfortunately for Lyra that was the pattern she found herself falling into. Her first week consisted of her waking up late, missing all of her fellow first years at breakfast, and then spending fifteen minutes running around like a headless chicken trying to find her classmates or professor.
The lowest point, however, came on Wednesday when she burst into a fifth year Potions class down in the dungeons, thinking she was about to experience her first potions lesson, and the blood-chilling realisation that she had been looking at the wrong side of her timetable hit her like a sharp slap in the face. The room full of fifth years all turned to gawk at her strangely, and her face immediately flushed like a traffic light when she noticed that a couple of the prefects she had irritated on the train were rolling their eyes at her sudden appearance. She heard Penelope's distinctive tut through the whispers and resisted the compulsion to smile at her.
But then she spotted the Potions Master who was standing at the front of the room, the bright jade light from his cauldron illuminating his ghastly face, and Lyra swore she saw a flash of red in his narrowed, beetle black eyes. He looked terrifying, like an old-fashion movie villain, and Lyra couldn't help but be impressed. It was rather theatrical.
"... Miss Black," proclaimed the professor loudly, and Lyra winced at the coldness in his voice. "Is there a reason you have so rudely burst into my classroom?"
Lyra couldn't find the words, she was gulping breathlessly like a fish out of water, and she could feel a bead of sweat roll down her back, hot and thick like the shame that trickled over her. It was an honest mistake.
"You are cutting into my lesson time, Black — do you have an excuse?" asked the professor again, fiercer than before.
"I was looking at the wrong side of the timetable!" She blurted out finally, unable to stop herself from staring at the fearsome Potions Master. She had heard whispers from the older students that he was mean, specifically to the Gryffindors, but this had taken her completely by surprise. Professor Snape was a towering, sour man with a horrible aura, a deep droning voice, and a pasty face that never seemed to stop scowling. He seemed to live up to Lyra's every expectation.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—," Lyra started to explain but was abruptly cut off with a yell.
"You have interrupted me five minutes into my lesson, meaning that if this was in fact your correct classroom you would have turned up your potions lesson late. Do you think that's appropriate?" spat Professor Snape, and he started to creep towards her, his black robes rippling as he swept past the tables. Lyra swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to explain again that she got confused.
"No, of course not I just thought—," she stuttered, finding it extremely hard to look the man in the eye now. His gaze felt sharper the closer he got and she hoped that he wouldn't scream in her face in front of the older students, it was embarrassing enough that she had gotten her dates wrong, she didn't need to be publicly shamed too.
"—and now by the time you reach the greenhouses you will be at least fifteen minutes late to Professor Sprout's lesson, which is absolutely unacceptable!" continued Snape, finally reaching the door to glare down at her. He used his height to intimidate the small first year, his shadow submerging her as though it were trying to trap her.
Lyra blinked up at him, trying not to cower. She couldn't have been the only first year in the history of Hogwarts to get lost during their first week of school? His harshness was very unnecessary, she could see it in startled faces around her. The heavy, acidic potion fumes rolled from his robes and Lyra automatically screwed up her face at the bitter scent, but it gave her the appearance of seeming more confident than before. Snape misinterpreted her reaction to the potions as an attempt to sass him and he took a deep breath, preparing his lungs for a bellowing roar.
Lyra beat him to it.
"I hate to stop your attempt to humiliate me Professor but I really should be going — you're cutting into my lesson time," she spat, and she instinctively jumped away from the door as the professor tried to snatch her up by the collar of her robes.
His hands missed her and she squealed, freaked out by his actions. She could almost feel his fury in her proximity and the heat turned the butterflies in her stomach into wriggling electric eels. She hoped the rumours about the extent of Snape's anger weren't true, but she now had a feeling they were extremely true. She shouldn't have said that.
" BLACK!"
"It was lovely meeting you professor!" called Lyra as she ran away, her ponytail swinging as she escaped the full wrath of Professor Snape. "See you on Friday, I'll be early I promise!"
"TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR FOR YOUR BACKCHAT!" His screams echoed in the chilling hallways of the dungeons after her and Lyra grimaced, silently cursing herself for being a liability to the Gryffindor house. She couldn't make losing house points a habit, she wouldn't be able to look her housemates in the eye.
And now it was Friday, and Lyra had double potions first thing this morning. Maybe it was the oncoming dread of seeing Snape again that had woken her up so early.
"It's just two hours," muttered Lyra, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth, "you can handle two hours of Snape, there's no way he can scream for two hours straight. It will be fine! He won't murder you, that's illegal." The pep talk helped slightly, but the butterflies were still fluttering around her stomach as a constant reminder of the looming lesson.
The bathroom door creaked open and Hermione wandered in, puffy eyed and yawning. She spotted Lyra and paused, rather shocked to see her there. Lyra spat out her toothpaste and smiled patronisingly at her, understanding what her expression meant straight away.
"Good morning Hermione," she said sweetly, and Hermione blinked.
"I don't believe it. You did go to sleep, right?" asked Hermione seriously, eyeing her with suspicion. Lyra gasped dramatically, feigning offence.
"I think you'll find that I got the full amount — five hours!" chirped Lyra, but Hermione frowned.
"Lyra, you should be getting at least nine," she explained, starting her own morning ritual. "Sleep is incredibly important, your body needs it to function and grow properly."
"Yes, thank you Miss Encyclopaedia, it's almost the weekend so I'll catch up on my sleep then," said Lyra matter-of-factly, and she began to braid her long black hair out of her face using a technique that Danielle had taught her.
"You really should," encouraged Hermione, but she trailed off quietly and gave Lyra a worried glance. "Are you nervous for our potions lesson?"
Lyra bit her lip and nodded, looking at her girl through the mirror. She had told her classmates what had happened when she met Professor Snape and they were all horrified.
"A little," admitted Lyra, "the problem is when I get anxious I don't shut up and Professor Snape is definitely the type of teacher to test my ability to stay quiet."
Hermione didn't look impressed at all. "You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble and we're going to keep losing house points because of you."
Ow, Lyra winced and dropped her gaze.
"It's not just me," rebutted Lyra, shooting her housemate a small scowl, "I heard that Fred and Lee lost us twenty points yesterday for charming a fourth year Slytherin to yell 'Daddy has arrived' every time he walked into a room and personally I didn't even think that warranted us losing points!"
Clearly Hermione did not share these views as she gasped, mortified at the prank. "That's cruel!"
"That's comedy," corrected Lyra with a wink but then she shook her head in disappointment. "You wouldn't understand, Hermione."
"I don't think Fred Weasley and Lee Jordan are exactly the type of people you should be friends with. They're not good role models," snapped Hermione, washing her face extra hard as she glared at her own reflection.
Lyra tried her best not to snap back but the subject of friendship was tough for her. She never had a friend before, only a carer. This was her first time in a school full of people who were equally as freaky as she was so she didn't have the repellent of an awful nickname following her around, but still she didn't really know how friendships worked. How do you know if someone is your friend or not? Or rather how do you ask someone to be your friend? Is there some sort of code she didn't know about? A secret handshake or a special word? It was a sore spot for her.
"Well, funnily enough I don't have many role models in my life and who I chose to associate myself with is none of your business," said Lyra under her breath yet still within earshot of the girl at the sink beside her. Hermione gasped and stared at her, a little taken aback at her bitterness, but Lyra gave her two French braids an extra tug before strolling out of the bathroom, ignoring the exasperated huffs as she left.
Lyra quickly got dressed for the day and left the girls dormitory before Hermione emerged from the bathroom in order to avoid any awkwardness. Relating to her dorm mates was harder than she thought, the girls that shared her dormitory had already voiced their opinions on her recklessness and she felt extremely sensitive whenever they were all in the room together. Lyra suspected that they traded whispers about her when her back was turned but she never stuck around long enough to find out the truth.
Thankfully Lyra didn't recognise any of the faces in the common room when she descended the stairs so she promptly headed down to breakfast early. She smiled to herself when the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding the tower's entrance did a double-take at her early departure, no snarky comment to be heard. With her nose buried deep into her potions textbook for the dozenth time, re-reading the passage on potion consistency in case Snape tried to trick her, she managed to get to the staggering main staircase hall before she realised someone was calling her name.
"Hey Lyra! Wait!"
Rather shocked, Lyra turned to see Harry and Ron sprinting down the hallway towards her, their bags swinging wildly from their shoulders as they rushed to catch up with her.
"We've been calling your name for ages!" panted Ron, wiping the sweat from his brow, "didn't you hear us?"
"Oh!" Lyra blushed slightly, "Sorry no I didn't, apparently reading makes me deaf…" she gestured to the potions textbook and noticed their apprehension at the title. "Did you need anything or…?"
She glanced from Ron to Harry and struggled to maintain his direct eye contact. Her stomach twisted anxiously as she remembered the words Hermione and Parvati Patil had said to her the night they arrived at Hogwarts and the familiar hot flushes of guilt crept into her cheeks, forcing her to blush even harder.
"I can't believe we're in the same house as Harry Potter!" Parvati exclaimed to the Gryffindor girls' dorm in a squeal, and the room burst into giddy whispers of gossip. Lyra stared at them all rather confused. She vaguely remembered that Draco mentioned Harry was famous but she never thought anything of it, she didn't take anything the blonde said seriously and assumed he was lying.
"Why?" asked Lyra, sorting through her trunk as they all got ready for bed. Parvati's jaw dropped and Lavender Brown giggled.
"I forgot! You don't know, do you?" she whispered theatrically, her eyes lighting up. "And you've already spoken to him?!"
"Not a clue. Come on Lavender, spill the tea," sighed Lyra, and she started to flick through her books on modern day wizarding history, wondering if they held the answer to her question instead.
"Spill the— huh?" Lavender tilted her head, but Hermione decided to take over as she knew Lyra would want to continue to tease the confused pureblood with her Muggleisms.
"Harry defeated You-Know-Who when he was a baby," she explained as though that cleared everything up, and Lyra arched an eyebrow, her mouth agape.
"...Yeah, thank you Hermione. I understand now," she said slowly, and turned back to her books to find out what on earth a 'You-Know-Who' was. "Just one small question — what?!"
"You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was a really powerful, evil wizard that caused a war within the Wizarding world and for some reason he tried to kill Harry and his family but it didn't work. Sadly Harry's parents were killed but somehow You-Know-Who died instead of Harry," elaborated Hermione, her eyes hazy as she told the tale.
Lyra didn't know what to say, she never expected that to be the reason, and her jaw dropped in bewilderment. Her heart panged in sympathy and she found herself wondering whether the jagged scar on his forehead had something to do with his horrific incident.
"When you said evil wizard, did you mean a dictator? Like Hitler?" wondered Lyra. All of the faces in the room crumpled in confusion but Hermione nodded, surprised at the rooms' reaction to the infamous name as well.
"There are many similarities between them from what I've read," explained Hermione simply.
"Is all of this common knowledge?" asked Lyra, and the girls nodded furiously.
"It's the most famous tale in history!" exclaimed Sally-Ann Perks in glee, settling into her bed opposite Hermione. "He survived the killing curse! That's impossible!"
"Everyone knows his name, he's The-Boy-Who-Lived!" sighed Lavender dreamily.
"And you dragged him into a fight!" giggled Parvati. "The whole school is talking about it!"
"You should be really careful, Lyra," warned Hermione as she wrapped her frizzy brunette hair into her silk nightcap. "You can't get him into trouble again, he's famous. You don't want to be a bad influence on him or else people will talk."
Ever since that night Lyra became very aware of Harry's presence and decided to steer clear of him altogether just in case she accidentally got him caught up in her mischief again.
Considering the week she had experienced so far she was thankful for her decision, she avoided the first year Gryffindor boys by spending her free time in the library — somewhere they had yet to explore. Incidentally, Lyra found a copy of Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century and sneakily read up on Harry's famous past since it seemed to be the current hot topic at Hogwarts. The name Lord Voldemort was heavily censored on the parchment page and she had to scratch at it with the tip of her quill to see the ink underneath, finally allowing her to Know-Who. Unfortunately she was severely scolded by a horrified Madam Pince when she practised pronouncing the name out loud in the silent library.
Harry Potter froze in front of Lyra for a moment, slightly blindsided by her question, and his cheeks flushed faintly. "Er, it's nothing. We just thought you might want company for breakfast?"
"And also we wanted to ask you about Snape," added Ron, his freckled face startlingly white at the mere thought of the potions professor. Lyra deflated physically at the mention of Professor Snape and she pouted. The butterflies were still there.
"He's not exactly a breakfast-friendly conversation topic, but I suppose we should prepare ourselves," mused Lyra, and she gestured to the stairs. "After you, boys."
"Was he really that horrible?" asked Harry, and Lyra nodded. She remembered the disgusted tone he used, it was hard to shake.
"He tried to rip my head off!" exclaimed Lyra, and she furiously nodded when Ron gave her a look of doubt. "No really, he went to physically grab me I swear!"
"Percy said he went a bit crazy, but I thought he was just over-exaggerating," said Ron, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "He must really hate Gryffindors."
"Or just one Gryffindor in particular," suggested Lyra, not wanting to scare the boys before their lesson. "I'm sure it's because I made a dramatic entrance, he seemed quite the theatrical type himself and he might have been jealous."
"Something is telling me that's not the reason," snickered Harry under his breath. Lyra ignored his comment.
"Who do we share our Potions classes with?" wondered Ron, rustling around in his pockets for the screwed up piece of parchment that was his timetable. His frown appeared instantly and he swore when he read it, Lyra had a sneaking suspicion as to who it was. Worried by Ron's expression, Harry hurriedly pulled out his own timetable to see for himself. His frustrated groan spoke volumes.
"Do we have to sit in the dungeons — by the way it smells terrible down there — for two whole hours with Snape and Draco?" groaned Lyra, and they barely nodded. "I can't believe this! I was really looking forward to Potions, it's by far the most fascinating subject to read about! This is terrible!"
"Do you think we could pretend to be ill and get out of the lesson?" proposed Ron, looking at the pair beside him with a smirk.
"Do you know any spells that could make us look really sick?" asked Lyra, entirely on board with the idea, but Ron's face fell in disappointment, scuffing his shoes against the stone steps.
"...not unless you want to turn into a clown again," he grumbled, the tops of his ears turning red.
"Your brothers might know a spell," suggested Harry helpfully, shoving his timetable away, and he looked to Lyra. "They like you, I bet if you asked them—,"
But all Lyra could hear was shrill alarm bells ringing inside her head, blaring Hermione's warning like a ship's foghorn over and over again.
" You can't get him into trouble again. He's famous."
The excited buzz of potentially bonding with two of her housemates tried to encourage her as she spoke to Harry and Ron but it had now been replaced with a sudden chill of anxiety that ran down her spine. She knew she shouldn't attempt to fake an illness to skive Potions, but the overwhelming urge to try started to bubble in her stomach the longer she was with them.
"—and Lee told us they do it all the time so it shouldn't be too hard," finished Harry, bringing Lyra back to reality.
"Er, maybe?" said Lyra, sounding very unsure. "I mean it is our first lesson so we should go and find out what we're studying this term." She was deeply invested in her Potion brewing textbooks and secretly really wanted to succeed at this aspect of magic; she couldn't risk ruining her chances at getting a good grade by destroying her (technically second) first impression with the potions master. Skipping class was, how Professor McGonagall put it, not the best start.
Ron looked at Lyra as though she had just murdered his pet rat in front of him. "You sound exactly like Hermione."
Lyra gasped, offended. "No I don't!"
Harry waved his hand, indicating his uncertainty. "You did sound a little bit like her."
Lyra couldn't believe what she was hearing. She couldn't let the comment go, and she stared at them in exaggerated disbelief.
"I'm nothing like her! You have no idea how different we are and you would be saying the exact opposite if you knew how much she's been telling me off for being—," but she automatically bit her tongue to stop herself from embarrassing herself.
"Telling you off?" guffawed Ron, "Ha! Unlucky!"
"Why?" wondered Harry, his eyes staying on her face as she panicked. The blush in her cheeks was returning, she didn't know what to say. She had caused havoc already, there were plenty of excuses.
"For setting fire to my bed," Lyra blurted out the first thing that popped into her, and they looked amazed.
"You what?" they asked, awestruck.
"It was an accident and it only happened once!" assured Lyra, swallowing the lump in her throat as she hoped she had successfully evaded suspicion.
"No wonder the other girls look scared whenever you walk past," muttered Harry deadpanned, and Lyra gasped, grabbing his arm and forcing him to stop. Her gesture exacerbated the blush in his cheeks and his face was now a scorching crimson but Lyra didn't notice.
"They what?! They're scared of me?!" She yelped, devastated at the revelation. Her chances of becoming friends with the girls she had to share a room with for seven years was decreasing by the minute along with her hopes.
"It was a joke! I was just kidding!" spluttered Harry quickly, frantically fixing his mistake when he saw the genuine fear in her eyes. "They're not scared of you!"
Lyra stared at him, more impressed that he duped her than annoyed he had made her panic for no reason. Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk and she narrowed her eyes in an attempt to be serious. "Good one, Potter."
"I thought you were going to murder him!" sighed Ron in relief, physically relaxing after watching the scene. They had finally reached the Great Hall and Lyra noticed how loud it was with everyone inside, she had gotten used to the quiet lull of the late morning stragglers and the sudden change in volume made her feel like she was truly a part of the student body.
"Murder him?" questioned Lyra with a smirk, and she pouted at him. "Gee Ron, I'm not The-One-That-We-Don't-Name," she joked, and the two boys who had taken their seats opposite her burst into laughter, causing a few heads to turn.
"Sorry, who?" snickered Ron, delighted with the new name.
"You know, He-Who-Should-Never-Be-Spoken-About? The Man-With-The-Name-We-Don't-Say? You-Know-What's-His-Face?" she continued, reeling off hyphenated titles in the hopes that she eventually remembered the actual name the wizards had given him. The name Voldemort was on the tip of her tongue but she didn't dare say it this time, not in front of the boy whose life he ruined. Harry and Ron held their stomachs as they laughed and Lyra basked in their approval as she smiled into her mug of Earl Grey tea. The only person she made laugh like that was Danielle and she always laughed at Lyra's jokes so her feelings wouldn't get hurt, having two strangers react so strongly made her feel accepted.
"Do you mean You-Know-Who?" corrected Ron between his gasps, and Lyra giggled.
"That's what I said! We-Know-Who!" Harry hung his head and focused on buttering his toast to try and deter his fits of laughter but his knife clattered loudly onto his plate as they continued.
"No, You-Know-Who!" Ron tried again.
"Yes, I do know who!" Lyra shot back, and she gave up as she tucked into her sugary porridge. "But speaking of terrifying wizards, let's talk about Snape."
The rest of breakfast was spent going over the rumours that they had heard from the other students and soon the rest of the first year Gryffindors joined them to add their own opinion, every single one of them rather nervous for what was to come. The morning bell chimed and the butterflies in Lyra's stomach started to flap in hysteria, their flutters made her feel slightly nauseous, but she braved the jump and headed straight to the dungeons, making sure she was the first person in line outside of the classroom door.
"Watch out, your best mate is coming," teased Dean Thomas, nodding his head down the corridor towards the pale Slytherin that was sauntering down the hallway with his associates behind him. Lyra pulled a face at the sight of the smug Draco Malfoy and nudged Harry's arm, capturing his attention.
"What's the chances that Snape pairs us up with him and Gregory?" she whispered, and Harry grimaced.
"Given your luck, pretty high," he whispered back, and Lyra pouted at him. He had a point.
Before the Slytherins could start throwing insults at their new classmates the classroom door burst open and Professor Snape slowly revealed himself to his new class, black robes billowing and top lip snarling. Lyra could feel the Gryffindors seize up under his intense gaze but she simply watched as the potions master walked up and down the line of students as though he were a commanding officer and they were his new recruits. The Slytherins snickered at the lions' reactions to their head of house and Lyra could see Draco grinning at her from the corner of her eye.
"Before you step foot inside my classroom we need to go over some rules," announced Professor Snape, his voice deep and cold. His threatening black eyes swept the line of first-years and Lyra saw him lock onto the boy beside her. She saw Harry physically freeze as they stared at each other, but the professor swiftly flicked his eyes to Lyra.
"Firstly — you are to turn up to your lessons early," said Professor Snape pointedly, and Lyra blinked. The urge to snap back felt primal, like it was genetically coded into her blood, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop the comment from spewing out like vomit.
"Secondly," he continued as he moved away from the front of the line, "The subject of Potions is to be taken incredibly seriously. Potion-brewing is one of the most difficult divisions of magic and you shall treat the subject with the utmost respect, it does not take kindly to time-wasters and mischief-makers," he turned to glare at the pair again, and Lyra saw Harry glare back spitefully, annoyed that their professor seemed to be singling him out.
"And finally, I am the Potions master here at Hogwarts and you are in my domain. Follow my instructions, listen to everything I say, and do not break any of my rules," he concluded, reaching his classroom door again with a flourish of his robes and turning to face the line. "Am I clear?"
"Yes, Professor Snape," the class chanted back in unison. The hairs stood up on the back of Lyra's neck when the potions master looked down at her but he immediately snapped his eyes back to the boy behind her as Harry's response was ill-timed.
"Yes, Professor," he quickly spat, and Lyra saw something wicked glint in his eyes.
"Mr Potter," he droned loudly, "our new celebrity. It appears that the fame has gone to your head, but I want to remind you that your reputation means nothing inside my classroom and I will not tolerate any foolishness from you. Do I make myself clear, Potter?"
"Y-Yes, sir," stuttered Harry, flummoxed by Snape's threat, and Lyra couldn't resist. She let out a low whistle and turned to look at the petrified boy.
"See? I told you he's dramatic," she whispered, not as quietly as she had hoped. Harry instantly cheered up with a snort of laughter but a deafening shriek made the entire line of students jump in fright.
" BLACK! TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR FOR YOUR STUPID COMMENTS!"
Ah, damn it, thought Lyra as she let out a big sigh and turned to face the furious teacher before her. She never expected his eyebrows to furrow that deep, he looked like a vampire that was ready to pierce her neck with his sharp teeth. She could feel the exasperated huffs and glares on her back from her housemates, she knew she had let her house down again but Lyra couldn't deny that the sounds of Harry trying not to explode from laughter made it worthwhile.