Ever since the discovery of the three-headed dog, Lyra found herself facing a dilemma she never had before. Were Harry and Ron her friends? The question rolled around in her brain for what felt like aeons and she hadn't come up with an answer yet, she didn't know how to solve it.
This new problem started the morning after her midnight adventure when she found the two boys waiting for her in the common room. They were more than eager to join her for breakfast where they spoke non-stop about the beast on the third floor, and before Lyra knew it she had adapted to a new daily routine that included Harry and Ron. They never asked her how she felt about having company, they seemed to naturally gravitate towards her whenever they were in the same room, and soon they started to invite her on their visits to the groundskeeper, wanting to introduce her to Hagrid.
She was grateful for their enthusiasm to include her into everything they did but the nagging, negative hiss at the back of her mind told her that this wouldn't last. Harry would get bored of her quickly, or Ron would find an annoying flaw of hers and ditch her faster than she could blink, and then she'd be back to her sad regime of sitting alone at breakfast with no one to talk to. She hoped that they were her friends now but she felt way too insecure to actually ask them. She was certain that it wasn't a regular question to ask someone and she didn't want to seem more socially-inept than she already was.
Although Lyra gained two new shadows, she lost a library buddy in Hermione. They hadn't spoken to each other since the failed duel and Hermione refused to look in Lyra's direction whenever they were near each other. Lyra assumed her saltiness would fade in a day or two, but when Hermione asked Professor Flitwick if she could swap partners in Charms, Lyra knew she had lost all chances of becoming Hermione's friend. She pretended that she didn't care but deep down each scowl from Hermione gave Lyra a painful stomach ulcer. She felt terrible. The longer she lingered on what had happened the more certain she was that she was in the wrong, no wonder Hermione wasn't speaking to her —she almost got eaten by a three headed beast because of Lyra!
Wanting to avoid the unbearable bleakness that settled in the girls dormitory every time she entered, Lyra spent most of her evenings hanging out in the boys dorm instead since they were more hospitable and less concerned about house points than the girls. At first she was a bit hesitant to enter the boys dormitory as she didnt want to make any of them uncomfortable but once they assured her that they were happy to have her she made herself at home as though she were their sixth roommate. With Ron's help she stole a small, squashy armchair from the common room and shoved it in between his and Harry's beds, claiming the couple feet of flooring as her own property. Throughout the school day Lyra caught herself anticipating her evenings messing around with the boys but every now and then the hiss at the back of her mind reminded her not to talk too much in case she chased them away. The fear of being the freak with no friends still haunted her, it happened before so it certainly could happen again.
One evening, whilst listening to the splatters of heavy rain on the Gryffindor tower's windows, Lyra climbed the familiar flight of stairs up to the boys' room with her Herbology books in her hands and her mind set on bugging Neville to help her with their homework. It was the one class she seemed to struggle with no matter how hard she tried, the plants and their biographical anthologies didn't like Lyra at all. None of the information in her books or from Professor Sprout stuck in her brain and every time she went near the enchanting fauna she either received a vicious bite or sore stinging blisters on her hands. She didn't know what to do so she decided to ask for help from the only person in their class that had a handle on the unyielding subject.
"Neville!" whined Lyra, bursting into their dorm without knocking, "Help me! I'm dying!"
Neville, who had been sorting through every set of school robes he owned searching for his wand, jumped and stared at her nervously, taken aback at her exclamation. He hadn't gotten used to her theatrics yet and took everything she said rather literally. "Huh?! Are you ok?!"
"She's fine," called Harry, closing his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and sitting up on his bed, "She's just being dramatic."
"No," Lyra glared at Harry, "this is incredibly serious and important."
"What's wrong?" frowned Neville, less anxious.
"Professor Sprout is trying to kill me with this quiz, I can't do it," she pouted, showing him her half-completed homework that she had desecrated with crude drawings of Draco and a Venomous Tentacula plant, "if you help me with this then I'll help you with Snape's essay."
"Deal," said Neville without hesitation, looking rather relieved at the trade, "I haven't even started that yet, my notes on moonstones aren't in my bag and I can't remember anything from our lesson…" he trailed off awkwardly and turned back to his robes, hiding the peachy hue in his round cheeks. Lyra couldn't help but pout sadly at his reaction, annoyed that Snape had terrified poor Neville into freezing up any time he was near, and she heaved a weighty sigh.
"Don't take anything Snape says to heart, he is the worst," she told him, patting him on the shoulder for extra reassurance, "he has it out for us Gryffindors, I think that's just who he is."
"He definitely has it out for you two," chipped in Dean from his bed, peeking over his comic to point at Lyra and Harry.
"Yeah, for no reason at all," emphasised Harry but he smirked when Lyra shrugged her shoulders, disagreeing with his point of view.
"Eh, I think he has his reasons for hating me," she said, matching Harry's troublesome expression, "he's thirsty for blood and obviously my blood is the most delicious." The peculiar comment caught Ron and Seamus' attention and they turned to stare at her strangely.
"Huh?"
"We have a theory Snape is a vampire, it's a long story," explained Harry, laughing at their bamboozled expressions, "if you really think about it though, it does make sense."
"He never eats—," Lyra began to list.
"He's really pale—," added Harry.
"—he looks like a bat—,"
"—he lurks in dark places—,"
"—he totally tried to bite me the first day I met him, I swear to God—,"
"—and he has an aversion to soap," concluded Harry with a shrug.
"That's not a vampire thing," noted Ron.
"It's a Snape thing so it's now a vampire thing," challenged Harry, making Lyra laugh. She turned back to Neville and gave him her most dazzling smile, hoping he felt a little less tense at the thought of their Potions professor.
"If you want, I can always find you some garlic or holy water? It might make you feel safer," she suggested, "I think the holy water would be more effective though, he seems to hate showers."
Neville perked up and smiled, "Maybe, I'll think about it…"
After a few more minutes of trash-talking Snape, Lyra pushed her armchair towards Nevillle's bed and they started to go through the chapter that held all of the quiz answers. She admired the copious notes he had scrawled down the margins of his book, impressed that he had taken so many during their practical task of investigating Wiggentree saplings; they were incredibly detailed and she couldn't work out how he had the time to multitask. Neville was rather shaky and quiet when he began to teach Lyra but with a few smiles and nods from his student his mumble grew with confidence and he started to correct her when she got the answers wrong.
"—and the last rule of sapling maintenance is…?" concluded Neville, blinking at her as she nibbled her bottom lip. Fighting the urge to glance at the textbook in her lap, Lyra took a deep breath and hoped for the best.
"Have fun?" she answered with a sheepish smile, and the room chuckled. Neville shook his head but waited for her to try again, enthusiastic with his encouragement.
"In an odd way, you're close…?" he said slowly.
Lyra blinked at him, her face blank. "Give the sapling a hug?"
"Technically, yes! You're supposed to give it love and attention, the affection encourages a good relationship between the gardener and their plants," said Neville, nodding proudly at her. Lyra gasped, genuinely shocked she got the answer right. Something stuck in her brain!
"Yes!" She squealed, waving her arms in celebration, "and I swear we didn't cover that in class, gosh I'm so smart!"
"We did," interjected Ron, earning a paper ball to the face. "Oi!"
"You missed that part when Sprout asked you and Neville to take her books back to the library," explained Harry, abandoning his own homework now they were finished. "You took ages, did you get lost again?"
Lyra and Neville glanced at each other with identical blushes on their faces… they did. Harry caught their expression and scoffed, entertained. "How?! We've been here for almost two months now and you go to the library all the time!"
"Well…" Lyra sighed, curling her legs underneath her as she slouched in her armchair, "to be honest I thought I knew a secret passage that would lead us straight to the library and I got it wrong."
"Really wrong," shuddered Neville, "we ended up on the forbidden floor."
Harry and Ron immediately turned to Lyra, slightly concerned but enthusiastic nevertheless. "You didn't go back there again, did you?" asked Harry worriedly.
"No!" Lyra rushed to assure him, "God no, never again! I made a pinky promise to never go back and I told you I never break them, I'm keeping to my word."
"But you made that promise to Hermione," scoffed Ron, annoyed at the mere mention of their housemate's name even though he was the one to bring her up. Lyra frowned and spun around in her chair, looking Ron directly in the eye. She still didn't like his tone.
"And I intend to keep that promise to Hermione, she isn't as horrible as you think she is," defended Lyra, narrowing her eyes for dramatic effect. "You need to go easy on her."
"I dunno why you're defending her," said Ron, shaking his head in disappointment.
"What promise did you make to Hermione?" interrupted Neville in a rush, hoping to break off the start of an argument. Lyra froze and caught Ron and Harry's eye, rushing to come up with a lie.
"Uh I promised her not to go to the third floor, that's all," she mumbled, tucking a few stray curls behind her ear.
"Did you see anything scary?" asked Seamus from across the room, eager to find out what made the floor so forbidden, and Neville shook his head.
"Not really," he said, "but we almost got caught, which was scary within itself." His eyes widened at the memory and Lyra groaned, remembering the experience all over again. As she massaged her temples the four boys around the room gave Neville their full attention, excited that he had an interesting story.
"By who?" asked Harry.
"Professor Quirrell," muttered Lyra, her top lip snarling at the thought of their Defence against the Dark Arts Professor.
She thought he was… strange. Not in a bad way, but not in a good way either. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but something about him made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. He was nice enough in class, although his stutter did make note-taking a strenuous task, and he was one of the only teachers who hadn't docked her any house points yet, but his aura was different to the other faculty. Whenever Lyra was near him she felt unsettled, her stomach riddled with wriggling, feverish snakes, but she tried not to focus on those feelings, she couldn't freak out over nothing.
"Quirrell?" Ron repeated, dumbstruck, "but his classrooms on the first floor?"
"Apparently the Dark Arts classroom is usually on the third floor, maybe he was getting supplies for his lesson?" suggested Dean.
"Or maybe he got lost too?" said Lyra, "Hogwarts is confusing, I need a map."
"Luckily he didn't see us so we didn't get into trouble, he was too preoccupied with whatever he was doing," said Neville, getting ready for his own note-taking. Lyra smirked to herself, genuinely proud that she had gotten away with being on the forbidden floor again, and started to dictate the properties of moonstones for her study partner, leaving the rest of the room to chat. Fortunately Lyra kept it short and snappy making it easy for Neville to digest and soon he had a few pages crammed with everything he would need to surpass Snape's scrutiny.
"—and I can't wait for the feast tomorrow, apparently Professor Dumbledore puts on a big show for Halloween," gossiped Seamus, and his comment caught Lyra's attention as though her ears had been waiting for the mention of the holiday. Her stomach did a somersault and she accidentally spilled some ink on her skirt, a little shaken as loud panicky alarms went off in her head.
Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it—!
"Isn't it your birthday tomorrow?" asked Harry, looking at Lyra. Her nod was stiff and she tried to smile but from the crease in between Harry's eyebrows she could tell she had failed spectacularly.
"...yup," she squeaked, hoping he wouldn't ask her anything else.
She didn't know how to feel about her impending birthday, every time she thought about it she was immediately blindsided with the reminder that her father killed her mother on her second birthday. Red hot dread pervaded her body with each dark thought and a small part of her wished that she remained birthday-less.
These awful feelings must have been very apparent on Lyra's face as Harry stopped talking and guiltily dropped his gaze back to his Quidditch book. The gloomy thoughts of her birthday overwhelmed Lyra, she couldn't shift them so she wished the boys a hasty goodnight and rushed back to her own dorm, wishing that Halloween would hurry up and pass.
Lyra spent most of the night tossing and turning in her bed, struggling to ignore the gory nightmares of murder and birthdays, and after what felt like three minutes of actual sleep she woke up to an annoying tapping sound somewhere nearby. Eyes extremely puffy and heavy, she groaned and pulled her curtains back to investigate the rude wake-up call.
"I think they're here for you," commented Parvati who was sitting on top of her bed. She paused brushing her hair to point towards the window where two owls sat pecking at the glass, trying to get Lyra's attention. The great grey owl looked vaguely familiar, Lyra couldn't quite put her finger on it, but their persistent taps got louder so she jumped out of bed and rushed over to let them in.
The second owl, a small great-horned owl, dropped a letter onto Lyra's dresser and escaped the tower in a rush, not wanting to stick around for a reply. The grey one, however, hopped over to her bed and stuck its leg out, showing off the small package tied to his talons. Utterly confused, Lyra fumbled with the twine and shakily ripped open the letter attached to the brown paper gift but as she spotted Danielle's familiar pretty scribbles, her heart soared.
Happy Birthday Lyra!
I couldn't wait to hear from you so I borrowed my brother's owl (I hope Heledd didn't peck you, she's very wary of strangers!) to write to you. I will keep this brief as I'm sure you are expecting me to shout at you for getting into trouble on your first night—,
Lyra gulped, small beads of sweat appearing on her forehead as she thought of her letter home. She didn't know whether her professor followed through with that punishment. God damnit McGonagall!
—but your head of house explained to me what happened and all I'm going to say is that I'm very proud that you are standing up for your friends but please stop getting into food fights!
I won't bore you with details of what's going on here but I will say that things aren't the same without you, my paperwork pile has halved with you gone! I hope you are having fun and I look forward to hearing all about your mischief… or maybe with your present I could see some of it for myself but DO NOT use it to cause more mayhem, you'll be very upset if it gets confiscated. I wrote to Dad and asked him if it would work at Hogwarts and he said that you shouldn't have any problems with it and he also recommended that you ask your Potions Master for instructions on a development potion.
"Yeah right!" Lyra giggled, trying to imagine Snape doing her a personal favour. If she needed her blood drained, she knew who to go to.
Stay safe, have fun, and I hope you have an amazing twelfth birthday!
Lots of love,
Danielle.
Giddy with excitement, Lyra unwrapped her present and gasped, her eyes watering slightly. A brand-new bulky instant camera fell into her lap along with a few rolls of film and the casing almost glistened in the morning light. She couldn't believe her eyes and she thought her chest was going to burst with gratitude, the gesture had warmed her heart and calmed her nerves which, Lyra suspected, was what Danielle aimed to do all along.
She fiddled with the camera, slipping the new roll of film inside, and snapped her first picture of the view from the Gryffindor Tower. The camera whirred to life and Lyra squealed, delighted as the photograph emerged brighter and clearer than she expected, and she pinned it to her reply to Danielle. Heledd waited patiently as Lyra got her ready for her journey and with a harsh flap of her wings she departed the tower, heading back to Weymouth.
Still grinning from Danielle's surprise, Lyra picked up her second letter from the dresser and inspected it, biting her lip. It was crinkled and rough, the parchment was much thicker than the paper Danielle had used, and her chest started to seize up. The tightness that accompanied heavy feelings of anxiety was back and she hesitated, staring at her name scrawled on its front.
Lyra Black.
It could've been from anyone, Lyra was stumped. Ignoring the new weight inside her chest she tore the envelope open and examined the parchment inside closely. It was completely blank. Her shoulder sagged in disappointment and she grabbed her wand, tapping it on the page in the hopes that some secret message would appear. Still nothing.
"Weird…" Lyra said to herself, frowning at the empty page. She shoved it back into its wrappings and stuffed it into her trunk, pushing the odd letter out of her mind — the camera was far more interesting than a piece of parchment. Her roommates had already escaped their dormitory while Lyra tended to the owls and she took her time in the empty room, humming to herself as she got ready. She clipped her hair out of her face and pocketed her instant camera with the intention of documenting her days at school for Danielle to see. It was the least she could do for her considering she had always wanted to attend Hogwarts herself.
"Say cheese!" exclaimed Lyra, jumping out at Harry and Ron in the common room with her camera in their faces. Both of them jerked in fright as the flash blinded them and Lyra had to cover her mouth as she giggled at the developing photograph.
"I can't see!" moaned Ron, rubbing his eyes dramatically, and Lyra smirked, too busy admiring their horrified expressions in the picture to apologise to him.
"You'll have to get used to that," she sighed, pocketing the polaroid, "I'm taking this thing with me everywhere."
"I'm guessing that's new?" wondered Harry, blinking away the stars from his own eyes, and Lyra nodded proudly.
"Danielle sent it this morning, isn't it amazing?!" she sighed dreamily, passing it to Harry to admire. She appreciated how careful he was being and laughed as he held it up to his face, aiming it at her. Lyra quickly wrapped her arm around Ron, forcing him into the frame, and he whined again as the flash blinded him for the second time.
"You've got to warn me next time! It's so bright!" cried Ron, staggering away as though he couldn't see.
Lyra's camera was glued to her hand all day. She couldn't stop taking pictures of everything, she wanted to make sure that Danielle had a vast array of photos to go through when the year was out, and by lunchtime she had roped both Harry and Ron into being her cameramen. They were more than happy to help her as they were sick of having their photos taken. Thankfully none of her professors noticed her new toy and during her last lesson of the day, Charms, she figured out how to turn the flash off.
"I'm surprised you've not run out of film yet," commented Harry, nudging her arm as Lyra lay out her latest piece of art, an artistic shot of Neville accidentally setting fire to his feather. They were sat at the back of the Charms classroom, supposedly practising the levitation charm, but Lyra was too infatuated with her camera to repeat a spell she had already perfected and naturally she continued to distract her partner throughout the lesson instead. It didn't take her long to find the spell that would banish all of her manual labour troubles during her first weeks of school, she knew the incantation by heart.
"Don't you worry, I've got three more rolls in my backpack," she assured him sincerely, "now I know you love having your picture taken, I need to have spare film on me at all times."
Harry's face dropped, terrified at the idea. "Don't you dare—,"
"Wait! I could be your own personal paparazzi!" interjected Lyra, blown away by her own mind, "And you could sign the pictures and then I'll sell them — Potter, we could make a killing!"
"I'm not signing any of those photos!" Harry tried to establish some sort of dominance over the conversation but Lyra had purposefully turned deaf as she continued to tease him. She picked out a particularly awkward photograph of Harry accidentally walking through a headless ghost from earlier in the day and waved it at him, pouting.
"But this is a great one! It's the perfect action shot," She attempted to stifle her giggle so as to not ruin her own fun but Harry heeded her amusement and sighed, dropping his grimace within seconds. He had assimilated to her humour the quickest out of her housemates and he enjoyed playing along, adding to Lyra's fun.
"Ok fine, I'll sign that one, only that one," he compromised as a joke, unsure about what exactly he had gotten himself into, and Lyra brandished her quill as she passed it to him, one hundred percent serious. Rolling his eyes, he took the quill and dipped it into his emerald ink but he froze when he suddenly realised he didn't know what to do.
"Er, do I just sign my name?"
Lyra facepalmed, disappointed. "You're a terrible celebrity, maybe my paparazzi career was a mistake."
Before the now blushing Harry could snap back at her, the pair sitting at the table in front of them spun around and flapped their hands, gaining their attention. Dean wiggled his eyebrows and leant back as Seamus pointed at the couple a few seats away. It didn't take Lyra long to work out what was going on and she tried not to frown at the sight of Ron and Hermione squabbling once again.
"I think Ron's about to blow, look how red he is!" snickered Seamus, eyes lit up in glee at the entertainment.
"How long have they been at it?" whispered Harry, rather disconcerted.
"Only a few minutes," said Dean, shifting in his seat so the pair behind him could get a good view. "She corrected him on proper pronunciation and then it escalated from there." His voice shifted into a nasally impression of Hermione and Lyra didn't fight the scowl that time.
"She's only trying to help," muttered Lyra, feeling sorry for the girl they were teasing.
"I don't think Ron appreciates the help, look!" chirped Seamus, pointing as Ron slammed his wand on top of their desk and crossed his arms, sitting as far away from Hermione as his chair would allow him.
The bell soon rang out through the castle, signalling the end of the day, and the two tables at the back of the class watched as Ron immediately leapt out of his seat and stormed over to them, his freckled face dangerously scarlet from his overt frustration.
"Good lesson?" said Harry in a strained voice, unable to stop himself from winding him up.
"I can't…" Ron struggled to keep his cool but his shaky hands gave away how close he was to erupting, "that's it, I can't take it anymore."
"I doubt it was that bad, Ron," said Lyra, her eyes firmly on the irritated girl behind him, but he fervidly shook his head.
"It was horrendous! She is the worst!" he exclaimed, staring at them all wide-eyed as they collected their belongings. "She was so patronising! No wonder no one wants to be her friend, you had a lucky escape Lyra!"
The uncomfortable bubbling sensation in Lyra's stomach got worse and she felt something inside her whine in pain, horrified at what was unravelling. She caught Hermione's eye and realised that she had heard every jab that came out of Ron's mouth when her face crumpled in deep dejection. Lyra knew exactly how she felt in that moment and she couldn't stand to watch Hermione react. Thick tears pooled in her big brown eyes and she suppressed her sobs, fleeing the classroom in a whirlwind of hair. Lyra jumped to her feet, carelessly scooped up her possessions from the floor and sprinted after Hermione, ignoring the shouts from the boys she had left behind.
"Hermione! Wait!" yelled Lyra, quite a few paces behind her as she weaved through the throng of students making their way back to their common rooms to prepare for the Halloween feast. Spitting apologises as she barged through the corridors, Lyra struggled to keep Hermione in her sight and she tried to call her again.
"Granger! Hold on!" she rasped, pushing her way through the first floor and she spotted her housemate's recognisable locks disappear behind the door of the girls bathroom. Lyra shouldered the door and tumbled through, frantically looking around her. A couple of Ravenclaws were whispering by the sinks, sharing quiet titters between each other as they watched Lyra search the stalls but she ignored them and tracked down Hermione's soft sobs. She had locked herself in the cubicle at the far end, hiding herself from everyone.
Lyra approached the stall slowly, scrambling to find the right thing to say. She had been in Hermione's position many times before and the familiarity of the situation broke her heart, she never wanted anyone to feel that worthless. "Hermione?"
The gentle crying continued, she didn't want to speak to Lyra.
"Look, I understand that you don't want to talk to me and that's fine but that doesn't mean I'm not going to talk," warned Lyra, dumping her backpack onto the floor as she started to pace in front of the occupied cubicle. The Ravenclaws swiftly left the bathroom, leaving the pair to their privacy, and Lyra took it as an opportunity to dive deep and reveal some of her own experiences in an attempt to relate to Hermione.
"I know how it feels to be isolated at school and I understand how you're feeling. I've never had friends before and I used to get bullied by everyone at my old school for being the lonely freak, people used to remind me every single day that no one liked me," rambled Lyra, unable to stop herself from spewing her secrets, "but then I met Danielle, the carer at my home, and she taught me that everyone else's opinions of me doesn't mean anything and I want you to remember that because it helped me and it will certainly help you."
Nothing, not even a sniffle.
Lyra huffed and continued to talk, not giving up. "I also want to say sorry for almost killing you that night on the forbidden floor. I should never have dragged you into our mess, you were right about everything. I could have gotten us killed, it wasn't fair for me to put you in harm's way. You have every right to ignore me, I don't blame you."
The afternoon quickly faded into the evening and Hermione remained unmoved from her silent sanctuary. Lyra, equally as stubborn, stayed in the bathroom the entire time, determined to break through despite the tantalising temptations of the Halloween feast that had started down in the Great Hall. She should have been enjoying the rare holiday treats, taking pictures of the spooky decorations and enjoying the final hours of her birthday but reconciling with Hermione was more important so she shrugged off her robes and got comfortable.
Soon it got to the point where Lyra was running out of things to talk about, she had apologised profusely for the three-headed dog incident, she had assured her countless times that Ron was a just stupid boy and she wanted to be Hermione's friend, and the stories of her bullying at school got old very quickly so she resorted to recounting some of her favourite Muggle television programmes to fill the time.
"—and then Scooby and Shaggy open the coffin but Dracula isn't there, instead there's a ruby, a diamond and a gold earring that is exactly like the one the gypsy woman wore at the start of the episode!" exclaimed Lyra from her cross-legged position on the floor, fiddling with the hem of her knee socks, "so of course, the gang go back to the gypsy and figure out that he's actually a wanted criminal who's been scaring people away from Frankenstein's treasure so he can have it for himself." Her stomach rumbled but she hastily ignored it with a sigh.
"You know, Hermione," called out Lyra, now used to her silence, "I always thought I was Velma but I think I'm more like Shaggy. He gets himself into trouble all the time and most of the time it's unintentional... and I also would love a dog that I can communicate with. Oh!" she gasped, sitting up straight and grinning at the toilet door as though it were Hermione. "Have you read the Dr Dolittle books?! Pfft, of course you have—,"
"Ok, ok!" groaned Hermione finally, "I'll talk!"
A victorious sense of exhilaration rushed through Lyra and she scrambled to her feet, gawking at the door in glee. "Yes! I knew I could break you! Danielle always said a kidnapper would send me back for talking too much!" She did a small jig on the spot, celebrating her annoyingness for once.
"I can believe that…" teased Hermione quietly, "I thought you were going to give up three Scooby-Doo episodes ago."
Lyra shrugged her shoulders. "You underestimate my abilities, Hermione, that's on you." She stared at the door, waiting impatiently for her to emerge in order to drag her down to the feast, but she never came. "Aren't you coming out?"
Hermione sniffled again. "I don't know…"
"Please!" pleaded Lyra, clasping her hands together despite the lack of audience, "It's my birthday Hermione! Please come and celebrate with me, I pinky promise you don't have to sit anywhere near Ron. It'll be just the two of us, no one else."
"...I guess I could—,"
Lyra immediately zoned out of the conversation as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight, alerting her that something was off, and then she smelt it. A foul, eye-watering stench filled the room and she gagged, feeling almost violated by its sudden arrival, but before she could complain she heard a deep, guttural grunt that paralysed her heart and sent it spiralling down towards her toes. Lyra glanced over her shoulder and squeaked, frozen in fear.
She recognised the humongous mountain troll from one of her many beastly textbooks and the intense shock of seeing one with her own two eyes forced her limbs to seize up, she couldn't move. It staggered into the bathroom, gazing around in confusion and fortunately it hadn't spotted the tiny, petrified first year in the corner. It was grotesque but fascinating, Lyra couldn't tear her eyes away from its ghastly greyish skin or its huge feet that would easily crush every bone in her body with one stomp, but the thick wooden club in its hand was what scared Lyra most. She remembered reading about their untamed strength, it would bludgeon her in seconds.
"H-H-Hermione!" choked Lyra breathlessly, staring up at the troll teetering on the edge of hysterics, "H-Hermione open the d-door!"
"What is that awful smell?" complained Hermione, totally oblivious, "did you set off a dungbomb?"
"P-Please open the goddamn door!" squeaked Lyra, forcing feeling back into her arms. She clawed at the handle in a panic.
"No way, not if you've got dungbombs on you!"
"Troll, Hermione! There's a troll in the bathroom, open the bloody door!" Lyra whispered furiously, her eyes glued on the stumbling troll as it gyrated on the spot but her knees violently knocked when it spotted her.
Hermione fiddled with the lock and tutted, clearly unamused with her attempts to fool her, "I highly doubt that a troll—,"
The mountain troll's belligerent roar ricocheted around the bathroom, scaring the two girls half to death. Before Hermione could get a good look at the threat Lyra shoved her back into the cubicle and dove in behind her, slamming the door shut with her feet.
"Why is there a troll in here?!" screamed Hermione, backing against one of the walls, and Lyra jumped onto the floor, pulling her robes under the stall door so she could grab her wand.
"Because I invited him to our little bathroom party! I don't know?!" spat Lyra in a much higher pitch than her normal deep tone and she scooped her camera and wand from her pockets. There was no way she was letting her new gift get smashed by the troll's feet. Another roar rattled the glass window panes and Hermione clutched her face, flinching at the gut-wrenching sound.
"Is it near us?" whispered Hermione, shifting to latch onto Lyra for dear life. Lyra glanced at her camera and bit her lip, letting the risky idea simmer for a moment.
"Let's find out," she breathed. Lyra crouched down onto the floor and stuck her camera under the door, holding her breath as she dared to click the button. The camera whirred and she hastily leapt to her feet, both of them staring at the developing picture in disbelief.
Even at the questionable angle, they could see the troll in the centre of the bathroom only a couple of metres away but what caught their attention the most was the two terrified faces peeking through the troll's knobbly legs.
"Oh shit!" Lyra gasped in horror.
"Lyra?!" shouted Harry.
"Hermione?!" bellowed Ron.
Hermione's hand grasped Lyra's arm tighter as she shrieked.
"WE'RE IN HERE! HELP US!"
The chorus of screams angered the troll, sending it further into a furious frenzy but thankfully with the extra pairs of eyes on the outside the girls were able to react in time and saved their heads from being crushed.
"DUCK!"
Lyra pulled Hermione to the floor as the spindly stall exploded in a shower of splintered wood, threatening to bury them alive. Shielding her camera as much as possible, Lyra let Hermione drag her to safety through the wreckage of the other cubicles but they couldn't resist sneaking a peek at the chaos in the centre of the bathroom.
"Oi! Over here!" taunted Ron, waving his hands around as flamboyantly as possible while Harry pelted broken bits of wood at the troll's tiny head.
"There's no one over there! Look at us!"
A particularly jagged stick smacked the troll in the eye with a dull thud, successfully drawing its attention from the crawling girls and it tumbled towards Harry and Ron, ravenous at the sight of two more appetising bite-sized snacks to add to his menu. The lethal club in its grips started to swing and the boys dove out of the way, improvising their rescue attempt.
"Now what?!" croaked Ron, whiter than a ghost. A nearby burst pipe caught him in the back of the neck and he groaned, dripping wet and shaking.
"Confuse it! Trolls are really thick!" cried Hermione, her voice breaking. The girls reached the far side of the bathroom and Lyra forced her trembling companion to duck behind the fountain-like sink displays, shielding Hermione from the deadly creature.
"Ron, look out!"
Harry dove at Ron, knocking him out of the vicious club's path as it swiped the air. With a sickening crash it walloped into the stone wall, spraying them with dusty debris and Lyra clutched her chest, desperately searching for them in the thick cloud but she couldn't wait any longer. With her camera still in her hands, Lyra rushed forwards to help them as she noticed Harry was trapped in a panicky dance with the troll's legs.
"Hey!" cried Lyra, flicking the flash on the device in her hands, "Picture time!"
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
The intense bright light attracted the troll instantaneously. Polaroids flew from the camera's square lips, fluttering to the ground as Lyra continued to snap the troll's best side. Its tiny eyes started to roll and it shook its head, its large ears flapping wildly, and Lyra took its hesitation to grab Harry by the shoulder and drag him to safety. He thanked her with a flustered gasp but before they could relax the troll caught its footing and focused back on Harry and Lyra, outraged at the flashing weapon in their hands.
"Ah, fu—!" whimpered Lyra, latching onto Harry as she welcomed her imminent death.
"RON! Use the spell!" screamed Hermione.
"I can't!" cried Ron hopelessly.
"Yes you can! You can do it!" demanded Hermione, climbing weakly from under the sink to glare at the terrified redhead across the room and he met her eye with a sudden confident nod.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Just as Harry and Lyra squeezed their eyes shut, the club in the troll's swinging hand froze mid-air, effortlessly slipping from its tight grip. The sudden loss of the weapon threw the troll's weight off and it smacked head first into its own club, knocking itself out. The thud was stomach-turning and the room flinched as the gigantic beast collapsed onto its back, eagle-spread across the ruined floor of the bathroom.
The water trickling from the broken plumbing surrounding them filled the silence and Lyra slowly peeled her hands from Harry's arm, ogling the unconscious troll in awe. With one more click of her camera Lyra tucked the image of the unconscious troll into her tattered shirt pocket.
"I knew you could do it," gasped Hermione, approaching the scene cautiously before sending the shell-shocked Ron her brightest smile yet. His wand was still in the air, he couldn't seem to shake himself from his state of shock but he gladly returned Hermione's smile.
"Yeah, well…" he puffed his chest out slightly, "...thanks to you."
"That was incredible!" praised Lyra, glowing as she grinned ear to ear, "I can't believe we just took on a mountain troll!"
"Is it dead?" asked Hermione, aghast.
"It's still alive, it'll wake up soon," confirmed Harry, daring to nudge its foot with his wand. "We should probably get out of here."
"Ah," Lyra held her hands up, halting their escape, "I'm not leaving without my pictures!" Harry scooped up the photographs from the floor and admired them as the others crept around the sleeping troll to fetch the girls' school bags. One of them caught his eye most and he laughed at the image of him skirting around the troll's legs as Ron screamed soundlessly in the background.
"I've changed my mind," said Harry, passing Lyra his new favourite picture, "this is the only picture I will sign."
Lyra took a peek and snorted, impressed with his choice. "Deal!"
"WHAT ON EARTH—?!"
The four first years recoiled from the deafening screech and turned to see Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell storm into the bathroom, gobsmacked at the sight that met them. As expected Snape automatically found Lyra's face and bared his teeth, a multitude of emotions displayed on his sallow face.
"I don't… How did…?" McGonagall tried three times to construct a comprehensible sentence, "Explain yourselves right now."
"I was in the toilet cubicle—,"
"—and I was talking to her about Scooby-Doo—,"
"—they weren't at dinner, they didn't know—,"
"—the troll got here before us—,"
"—we were trapped, we couldn't get out—,"
"—we didn't plan this, I would never hunt down a troll—,"
"—it was going to kill them, we couldn't just leave them in here alone!"
"Silence!" ordered McGonagall, a little dazed at their overlapped yelling. "Just… be quiet." She inspected the rubble and shook her head, massaging the bridge of her nose. Lyra felt the urge to offer her professor her photos as evidence of their innocence but the malice in Snape's eyes warned her to hold her tongue.
"All four of you could have gotten yourselves killed, I don't think you understand the severity of this situation," said McGonagall tiredly, catching each of their guilty gazes, "but I must say, I have never heard of four first years tackling a fully grown mountain troll and escaping with their lives."
Lyra tried not to smile but it was extremely difficult… Was she about to win her first house points?
"Fifty points to Gryffindor," announced McGonagall, the corners of her lips twitching slightly as she deepened her scowl, "do not test your luck again."
The four Gryffindors shared a sneaky grin of pride at the influx of well-earned points and they struggled to keep quiet.
"Thank you professor," mumbled Lyra, feigning humbleness, "this will never happen again, I swear."
"Mhmm," was all she could muster. "Now, off you go, the feast is continuing in your common room." They didn't wait for further instructions, they took off running.
Once they were a suitable distance away from the teachers, Lyra let out a huge sigh of relief and slowed down, relishing in the satisfying feeling of house pride.
"So this is what it feels like to earn house points," she joked, dancing in celebration of their successful night.
"I'm so proud of you!" teased Hermione, feigning a patronising tone instead of meaning it this time and Lyra gave her a playful shove.
"Aw, thanks Granger!"
Hermione practically glowed at her affection and used her newfound confidence to confront Ron once and for all. "Thank you for coming to warn us and I'm sorry for being bossy in class, I know my tone can be a bit… brash. I just wanted you to get that spell right, that's all."
Rather taken aback, Ron gulped gormlessly at her but a swift jab from Harry's elbow brought him back to his senses. "Uh, it's fine. I'm sorry too, I didn't mean what I said earlier... and, uhm, thank you for believing in me. It means a lot…"
Lyra swore she saw Hermione tear up behind her sleeve but she didn't dare bring any attention to it.
"Yay!" Lyra clapped her hands at the reconciliation, overjoyed that the arguments might finally stop. "This is officially the best birthday ever!"
"What are friends for?" smiled Harry, and Lyra froze. The butterflies were back.
"We're friends?"
"Of course we're friends!" exclaimed Ron, puzzled at her reaction.
"I don't think a group of acquaintances would fight a troll together," scoffed Harry, causing Hermione's cheeks to darken, moved by his words. Lyra wasn't sure whether she had the words to describe how happy she was at that moment so instead she wrapped her arms around the three of them and squished them into frame of her final photograph of the day.
"Say 'Friends'!"