"—and finally, here is my favourite photo," concluded Lyra as she passed Hagrid the latest picture in her ever-growing Polaroid collection.
Lyra, Ron, and Hermione were sitting on Hagrid's sofa, enjoying a cup of tea and some rather stale rock cakes before they left for the first Quidditch match of the season and, incidentally, Harry's debut as Gryffindor's newest player. Harry wanted to go with them for one last brew before the big game but Oliver Wood snatched him from the group when they left the Great Hall that morning and they hadn't seen him since. Hagrid was deeply touched that the trio came to visit him without Harry so Lyra took his enthusiasm as an opportunity to lure him into a Polaroid show-and-tell. She brought her camera and extra rolls of film with her so she could capture as much of the Quidditch match as possible — she wanted to remember her first game forever.
The groundskeeper's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and he chuckled, squinting at the photograph of Lyra whooping in glee as she flew around the grounds on Harry's new broom. Harry received his gift a week ago from a mysterious donor (Lyra noticed how smug McGonagall looked from the staff table that morning but refused to mention it) and the first thing he did with his Nimbus Two-Thousand was give Lyra her first secret flying lesson. It was extraordinary!
Flying felt like second nature to her, her body tingled as though she had reconnected with a lost part of her soul and the second she climbed onto the broom she took off like a bullet, cutting Harry off mid-explanation. Luckily he didn't mind and he captured the jubilant memory for her photo collection.
"Yeh look like yer having a lotta fun," Hagrid commented, taking great care of her delicate photo as he handed it back, "although be sure ter keep out of Professor McGonagall's way, if she finds out yer've been flying without having any lessons..." He eyed Lyra wittingly as he trailed off, the whiskers of his beard twitching as he hid a smile.
"She won't find out," assured Lyra with a scoff, firmly confident in her ability to sneak around under her head of house's nose, "I've already done things that are way worse than riding a broom without proper training or adult supervision."
"Really?" wondered Hagrid, both suspicious and curious. He went to ask but Lyra was more than willing to confide in Hagrid — he couldn't deduct house points so she wasn't afraid of consequences — and she opened her mouth to babble on about her adventures when Hermione abruptly cut her off before she mentioned the three-headed dog.
"I think she's referring to the troll," prompted Hermione, her eyes screaming 'shut up!" at Lyra who bit her tongue and nodded.
"Yup! Just the troll, nothing else. Nothing big or… furry," she couldn't help herself, the comment slipped out before she could stop it and Hermione choked on her tea, her brown eyes wide in disbelief.
Hagrid paled and blinked his crinkled eyes, tiny droplets of sweat forming on his brow. "Whaddya mean?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.
"Er—," Ron tried to interject and frantically looked around the hut, searching for a distraction, "So, Hagrid, how old is Fang?"
He patted the boarhound that came bounding over at the sound of his name and Fang leapt up onto Ron, knocking him sideways with his big paws and he almost disappeared into the sofa's squishy pink cushions.
"Get off, yer silly dog! Yeh've gotta be careful with him Ron, he loves cuddles," sighed Hagrid, batting Fang away from the suffocated boy. His eyes darted back to Lyra who smiled up at him, delicately nibbling her rock cake. She spotted the battle in Hagrid's stare, she saw him wrestling with the urge to bring up her furry comment but he decided against it with a shake of his head.
"I shoulda known yer were going' ter be trouble the second I saw yer and Harry covered in cake," chuckled Hagrid and Lyra beamed, taking his sly dig as a compliment.
"Thank you!" she said cheerfully.
"We should go, the match starts soon and we need to get good seats," announced Hermione, glancing at her watch. Lyra rushed over to the mirror above the empty fireplace and inspected her marvellously painted face one last time before they departed. She had dressed up for the occasion and couldn't resist painting her face red and gold, the spirit of house pride had possessed her ever since she earned her first house points and she wanted to be the supportive friend of the group. Ron and Hermione were reluctant to have their faces painted when they discovered she had borrowed the potentially skin-staining paints from Dean and she told them that Harry was going to be so upset that they weren't visibly supporting him.
"Are you sure you don't want some?" Lyra tried again, pulling a small scarlet tube from her pockets and they frantically shook their heads.
"No thank you," said Hermione.
"Pass," gulped Ron, "I've got my scarf, that's enough."
"Your loss," Lyra shrugged, "you're going to look so dumb when you're the only ones not making an effort." They shared a quick look behind her back as she rushed off to join Hagrid outside and decided not to mention that they didn't see another painted face at breakfast.
The sun was glorious today despite the fierce November chill, the grounds of Hogwarts was rich with colour and Lyra breathed it in, slightly woozy from the buzz in the air. They headed to the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid enthusiastically pointed out the foxholes that were visible in the mounds of dirt that lined the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Lyra suggested that Hagrid choose their route in the hopes that he would take them on some mystical shortcut through the forest but she half-heartedly settled for his tame tour of the edge of the woods instead. She knew by the expressions on her friends' faces that they were anticipating her suggestion to delve a little deeper into the trees.
"I didn't know foxes were common here too, are there lots of non-magical creatures in there?" mused Hermione, genuinely intrigued by the habitat.
"Oh yeah, they're a load o' deers as well," responded Hagrid merrily, "yer get all sorts o' creatures in there. Saw a buncha wildcats a few months back but haven't seen 'em since. I think the wolves got hungry." His chuckle was very light-hearted and only Lyra seemed to join in. The thought of carnivorous wolves roaming the Forbidden Forest looking for more blood terrified Ron and Hermione.
"What else lives in there, Hagrid?" asked Lyra, eyes lit up in wonder.
"All kinds o' creatures you don' wanna have ter deal with," he told her honestly, dampening his own cheer in order to set an example. "I don' ever wanna find yeh in there, Lyra. Stay away from the forest."
Lyra couldn't deny it, she really wanted to go into the Forbidden Forest and explore its secrets but the horror stories from the older students had put her off the idea, even Fred and George warned her not to venture too deep in case she met a nasty beast that had an appetite for lost first years. She had read in Hogwarts: a History that the forest housed beasts ranging from proud centaurs to tiny razor sharp mushrooms that puffed out clouds of poisonous gas and the absurdity of these new mythological beings only fascinated her more — but she knew she couldn't go in there.
She wasn't prepared yet… Maybe by my third year?
Lyra pouted up at him innocently, giving the groundskeeper her word. "I would never!"
"Good," Hagrid nodded firmly, "I spend enough time having ter chase Ron's brothers from the forest, I can't be having yer lollygagging around in there too." Lyra shot Ron a quick smirk as he stifled a snicker at the thought of joining his brothers in their forest adventures but they dropped their troublesome looks when Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You don't have to worry about that, I think we've had enough excitement this year," said Hermione with a rueful chuckle, confirming their innocence to a suspicious Hagrid.
"Hmmff," he grumbled, clearly mistrusting them, "that's enough forest talk fer today, let's go."
As the group left the line of trees and joined the chattering, animated mass of students, Lyra spotted shadows moving between the tree trunks. Shadows that didn't want to be seen.
Something unexpectedly dense squashed her chest and she struggled to breathe, it dragged her down towards the earth and she couldn't lift her feet, they were frozen as though she was glued to the floor. Moving became impossible, the fear growing inside of her was trying to take over but it didn't last long. Her eyes ballooned in awe as she watched a small herd of skeletal winged horses emerge from the forest, sticking their boned snouts in the air as though they were tracking down a tasty meal. She thought they were abysmally beautiful and she couldn't look away, they looked… dead. She felt something dark in the air around them, it tasted sour on her tongue.
The heaviness started to evaporate in the sunlight as Lyra took in the finer details of the shy horses and once feeling came back to her feet she wandered off the path towards them. They weren't a threat.
She needed to greet the Pegasi, they came here for her. She could feel it deep within.
"Lyra?" called Ron, the first to notice her change of plan, "where are you going?"
Lyra pointed at the creatures without an explanation, the mere sight of them was enough reason to prolong her journey a little bit longer. Hagrid and Hermione turned at the sounds of Ron's shouts and the groundskeeper jumped, staring at the Thestrals. The behaviour of the beasts mystified him, they rarely came out into the grounds during the daytime — let alone on a match day — and his onyx eyes widened when he realised that Lyra could see them.
"You're going into the forest?" questioned Ron, confused, and he strolled over to join her. "But you just said you would never?"
Lyra rolled her eyes and she pointed both hands at the dragonish grey horses as though he were blind.
"Now I know you're used to mythical creatures and magical nonsense but look at them!" she exclaimed with a gasp, realising they were coming over to say hello. "They're so cool! Aw, there's a baby one! Ron, come and say hello!"
"What are you talking about?" he asked, utterly lost. He scratched his head and craned his neck to stare into the trees, looking straight past them "Can you see something?"
"Lyra, Ron, come on!" called Hagrid, waving at them to hurry up, "stop messing about!"
"But the horses…?" Lyra tried again, flabbergasted that they weren't as intrigued by the beasts as she was, but she begrudgingly left them behind to join Ron's side. He continued to unknowingly frown at the horses and shook his head, giving up.
"I don't see any horses," Ron told her as they rushed to catch up with Hermione and Hagrid. Her brows furrowed and she scoffed, mistrusting his word. He was teasing her, he was mere feet from them, was he winding her up?
"Sorry, Pegasus," she corrected herself, rolling her eyes, "since they have wings I should use the proper name, I don't want to offend them."
"Offend what?!" he asked again, "there's nothing over there!"
"Hagrid, Hermione," Lyra looked to the pair in front of them with a polite smile, "be honest, do you see a bunch of bony ponies over there?" she asked as though it were a serious question, and Hermione shook her head.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," confessed Hermione casually, now used to her oddball friend's attitude.
Hagrid licked his lips nervously and gestured for Ron to join Hermione and they walked ahead, looking back at them, "Give us a second, we'll meet yeh up there," he assured them, watching them disappear down the trail. Lyra pouted up at him, an eyebrow arched in cynicism.
"Is this an intervention? Was I hallucinating?" she blurted out, sneaking another look over her shoulders at the gloomy creatures in the distance to make sure they were real, but Hagrid shook her head and joined her solemn gaze.
"Nah, I can see 'em too," he told her in a surprisingly softer tone than she expected, "they're called Thestrals, not everyone can see 'em."
Ignoring the wave of rambling students brushing past them, Lyra repeated the creature's name over in her head so she could research them later and her mood perked up. She felt as though she was a part of some exclusive club, like the Thestrals personally chose her to be blessed with the ability to interact with them. Would they let her ride them? She had never ridden a horse before but she always wanted to try it, she had spent too many excruciatingly long hours watching old cowboy movies with Sandra whilst at Coles and the only interesting part of the film was the horse riding stunts. Maybe she could attempt a couple of them on a Thestral?
"That's pretty cool," she said, pretending that it wasn't one of the coolest things she'd ever heard. "What makes us so special that only we can see them?"
Lyra could tell that Hagrid was dreading this question and he dropped his gaze to the floor as though he was searching the dusty path for answers but he lifted his head again and offered her a sympathetic smile.
"Only people who have seen death can see 'em, some think that they're bad omens and they bring misfortune but I think they're quite beautiful… Serene creatures, Thestrals, they don' give me much trouble," he explained as they continued on their way and Lyra absorbed the new information with a slow nod. A part of her sensed the answer already, she felt something around them when she first saw the horses but she didn't know what it was. Was it death?
"When you say 'seen death', what exactly do you mean?" quizzed Lyra, keeping the mood light in order to keep the groundskeeper talking. Adults tended to close up and keep secrets when they felt like they had touched on sensitive topics and she wanted to learn more before anything uncomfortable was brought up. Hagrid stroked his beard and pondered for a moment.
"Yer know, I've often wondered that m'self," he murmured mostly to himself and a beam of sunlight bathed his frowning face, "but usually it means someone who's seen a person die."
Ah, I thought so, her subconscious sighed and Lyra nodded again.
"I see…" she mumbled, searching her past for a memory of someone dying. She wasn't aware that she saw anyone pass away in person, the only deaths she had seen were in films and she was certain that witnessing an animal pass away didn't count as pets were common throughout Hogwarts.
"Lyra," began Hagrid, edging towards the main reason for his discomfort, "have yeh ever seen someone die?" He dropped his voice even lower, wary of eavesdroppers, and she shrugged.
"Not that I can recall… although I did find a dead homeless guy in a cave once, maybe he passed away the second I found him?" she suggested, steering the conversation topic away from the possibility that somewhere deep in her subconscious lived the memory of her mother's death. "Does that count?"
Her reaction suited Hagrid nicely and his tense expression relaxed, warming with the atmosphere around them. "That might be it, not ter worry! It's nothin' ter be afraid of either, Thestrals are misunderstood," he told her, patting her on the back.
Lyra staggered forwards from his force and her knees buckled, he was a lot stronger than she thought and she laughed away the tension that the Thestrals brought, not thinking about it too much. They finally reached the Quidditch pitch and joined the stragglers filing through the entrances to the stands. The stadium surrounding the pitch felt humongous up close, she swore it was bigger than the Colosseum in Rome. Lyra had to tilt her head all the way back to spot the flags at the tops of the tallest towers.
"It sounds like me and Thestrals have got a lot in common, I kinda like them," she muttered absently, acknowledging the growing wriggles of excitement in her stomach. The game was starting in five minutes, she had never been to a sports game before and she didn't know what to expect.
"M-Miss Black!"
Just as Lyra stepped into the stadium she noted the stutter and immediately knew who was calling for her attention. Trying not to roll her eyes, Lyra pouted at Hagrid again who scoffed, glancing over his enormous shoulder to spot the Dark Arts professor.
"What have yer done now?" began Hagrid with a chuckle and Lyra bit her lip, turning around at the second shout of her name. She thought of the last essay he assigned and started to panic that she left it on her dresser, long overdue.
"Who knows," she huffed and headed towards the now impatient professor, "please save me a seat! This might take a while, if you know what I mean."
"Lyra!" scolded Hagrid, trying to frown with some sort of authority but she saw his smirk though his tangle of beard. Pretending that she hadn't heard him, she waved and skipped away.
"You called, sir?" said Lyra cheerfully, smiling up at Professor Quirrell who waited for her in the shadows by the entrance.
He had been scowling at something in the distance and immediately switched to a passive smile when she approached. His pale complexion looked worse in direct sunlight, she could almost see the veins under his pasty skin but she tried to keep his twitchy eye contact to distract herself from staring impolitely. He was quite fascinating to look at up close, he was very mobile and fidgety.
"G-Good morning, Miss B-Black," said Quirrell with great difficulty. Lyra kept in her sigh, she could hear the crowds roar to life as Lee Jordan introduced the players walking onto the field. Great! I'm already late and he's only said four words!
"I don't mean to be rude but please could you make this as short as possible? The match is about to begin and I don't want to miss my first ever game," she spat out quickly, softening her plea with what she hoped was a pretty smile.
Professor Quirrell blinked hard, eyes darting to the stadiums' doors as his fingers scratched at his palms. "I w-will be brief, I d-don't want to m-miss the f-first game either," he chuckled slightly, forcing his eyes to crinkle, "it b-being Mr P-Potter's debut and all."
Lyra yanked the camera from her pocket and nodded profusely, hinting that she wanted to go and take pictures of said debut. "Precisely, sir! So…?"
"It's about your l-last e-essay," he stuttered, studying the paint on her face carefully as she nodded. Damn it! I forgot to hand it in, I knew it!
"I swear I did it, professor!" she groaned, disappointed in herself as the crowds got louder, drowning her out momentarily. "It's in my dorm, I'll bring it to you as soon—,"
"N-No, Miss Black," interjected Quirrell as quickly as his stutter would allow, "you've already h-h-handed it i-in."
Lyra paused and slumped, confused. So I did remember!
"It's a-about the s-subject of your essay," he explained, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a sort of nervous jig, "I w-was just w-w-wondering why you c-chose to write about D-Dementors?" She saw the flash of hunger in his eyes as he searched her own for answers but she didn't have any. She was baffled.
During their last Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Professor Quirrell set them a task to pick a magical creature that piqued their interest and write a brief biography on the beast in less than two and a half feet of parchment. It was a simple piece of homework and she assumed she had completed it to his satisfaction, but by the mystified look on his face she had guessed incorrectly. Had she chosen the wrong kind of magical creature? Did she write too much? Her parchment ended up being four feet longer than he requested.
"I was going to write about dragons but everyone chose dragons and Dementors sounded pretty awesome too, it was an easy choice," she told him honestly, not quite understanding what he wanted her to say, and he ever so slightly inclined his head towards the sky, as though scanning its blue vastness for a sign. She waited patiently, straining her ears to catch the identity of the latest goal scorer and silently cheering when Lee screamed Angelina's name.
"Did I do something wrong, sir?" she prompted when he stayed suspiciously silent for a whole minute. Quirrell jerked his head to the side and sent her another anxious lopsided smile.
"On the contrary, Miss Black. I merely thought your interest in Dementors was… well, just that — indescribably interesting."
The tightness in her chest came back within a heartbeat, she didn't like how he was staring at her and the sudden disappearance of his stutter didn't go unnoticed. Her pretty smile dropped and she shuffled back slightly, turning her attention to the camera in her grip but she saw the goosebumps on her arm and rushed to hide it from her professor's beady eyes.
"Ah, are you hinting that I'll be receiving top marks?" she laughed, feigning innocence in the hopes that he would excuse her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight.
"I'm a-afraid, I c-can't divulge t-that information yet, M-Miss Black," said Quirrell, his stutter appearing once more as though it never faded, "but I must p-praise you on your a-ambition to c-choose one of the d-d-darkest creatures that w-walk this earth. F-Fascinating…"
Lyra was extremely unsettled, this pointless conversation didn't sit right with her at all. The chanting from the stadium started to loop in her head and she was drawn to the Quidditch game, she wanted to get away from Quirrell before her chest burst open. Licking her dry lips, Lyra shot him one last smile before making a run for it. He didn't seem like the athletic type, surely he wouldn't chase her?
"Thanks sir! I'm glad we had this chat! Gotta go!" she chirped as she sprinted away, disappearing into the Quidditch stadium before Quirrell could draw another breath.
"There you are!" yelled Ron, flapping his arms in the air as she emerged into the crowded Gryffindor section of the stands. It took her a while to find her friends but once she accidentally popped up in the Hufflepuffs' territory she spotted Hagrid's strapping silhouette across the pitch straight away. "Where have you been?!"
Lyra opened her mouth to explain her run-in with Quirrell when Lee's announcement boomed around the stadium, strangling her words before they even escaped.
"Another save from Wood! Outstanding! Look at Flint's face! Tough luck ey, Marky boy!"
A swarm of scarlet players zoomed past their section, captivating Lyra as though they had put an enchantment over her and she pushed her way to the front of the stand where the other first-years stood. The scene above her head was nothing like she had ever seen before and her mind went blank from pure delight. She assumed that this was what it felt like to visit Disneyland — Quidditch looked like the most thrilling attraction and she wanted nothing more than to join them in the sky.
"Woah!" she exclaimed, clamping onto Hermione's arm and frantically waving it around. "WOAH! THIS IS AMAZING!"
"Do you think she likes it?" snickered Hermione, leaning over her to whisper to Ron who agreed, laughing at her reaction.
"I've never seen anyone react to Quidditch like that before!"
Lyra assimilated to the game as though some unknown muscle memory had kicked in and she celebrated along with the crowds as Gryffindor stole the lead. She immediately scanned the skies for Harry and she scrambled for her camera when he finally noticed she had arrived. His faint frown flipped and he flew over to his friends, exaggerating his waves as Lyra shouted at him to say 'Quidditch!' and her camera's flash went berserk. She was immensely proud of his efforts in combating his camera-shyness as she grinned at the developing photograph, he was learning well.
"He's bin fantastic," beamed Hagrid, shuffling through the short students to join the trio at the front, "make sure ter get a few more pictures, I want a copy m'self."
"You know, for a very special price I can get Potter to sign them for you," teased Lyra, wiggling her eyebrows as she fanned herself with the polaroid, "I'll even give you my special friends discount?"
"Harry's selling signed photos?" asked Hagrid, rather tickled at the idea.
"Not yet but I'm working on it," she assured him and slipped the picture into the highest coat pocket she could reach — a tiny buttoned pouch at his waist. "This one you can have for free, a small sample of the artistry you could obtain for a measly… sickle a piece? Is that reasonable? I haven't quite got the hang of wizard money yet."
All Hagrid could do was shake his head.
As the game picked up and Slytherin scored their second goal, it quickly descended into chaos when Harry's broom suddenly froze and began its attempts to kill him. At first Lyra thought he heard her bellowing suggestions to show off by jumping off his broom and he was attempting the daring feat, but when she noticed the horrified alarm on his face up above her she sobered up and panicked. Dread flooded her stomach and she gripped the railings separating her from a sheer drop onto the pitch, gawking up at him in fear.
"I think someone jinxed Harry's broom!" cried Hermione, squeezing in between her two friends and pointing up at Harry, "look at the way its moving—,"
"What do we do?! Who's doing it?!" interrupted Ron, injecting urgency into Hermione's explanation. Politely asking Neville whether she could borrow his binoculars, Hermione and Ron took turns scanning the crowds whilst Lyra clung onto Hagrid's arm for dear life, shaking him.
"Someone will catch him, right?!" she asked him, and he nodded furiously but his white face told a different story. The Nimbus Two-Thousand was climbing higher, taking Harry with it. He was barely holding on at this point and the twins were struggling to keep up with him.
"He'll be alright, nothin' Madam Pomfrey can't fix…" Hagrid tried to cheer up the first years but they didn't look that convinced.
"Wait! Look at Snape!" pointed out Ron, tugging on the binoculars and strangling Hermione slightly. He was staring directly at the staff box and he gasped, ripping the goggles away and snarling at the distant stand. "It's Snape!"
Lyra gasped and cupped her hands over her eyes, squinting to catch a glimpse of the vampiric professor that was determined to make her life a living nightmare. She had no doubt in her mind that it was him, maybe throwing Harry from his broom was a shortcut to sucking his blood? Lyra tutted in disappointment, there were less public and more dramatic methods of killing Harry he could have explored.
"Oh my goodness, Ron's right! He's making direct eye contact with Harry - we've got to do something!" squeaked Hermione, flustered. She shoved her frizzy hair out of her face and bit her lip, scarce of ideas.
"It's not Snape," said Hagrid firmly, taking his eyes off Harry for a split second to frown at them, "he'd never do that."
"I don't know about thaaaat!" sang Lyra knowingly. She peeled her stiff fingers from Hagrid's strong arm and started to improvise a plan on how to catch the vampire in the act. She stole the binoculars and levelled them with her camera lens and her heart skipped when realised she could see the staff box perfectly through her camera, she'd be able to take a picture of Snape.
"I'll stay here and gather evidence, you two will go and teach Snape a lesson!" she directed them, pursing her lips to assume a more leader-like facade. At that moment she felt very much like Fred from Scooby-Doo but she didn't have time to voice that train of thought. Not now! Her subconscious groaned.
"Teach Snape a lesson?" repeated Ron, taken aback, but Hermione nodded.
"I've got an idea," she whispered, slipping her wand from out of her pocket, "but it's risky."
"I believe in you!" cheered Lyra and she whipped her head around, locking eyes with Harry as the crowds oohed, fearing the worst. He was still alive.
"What are we supposed to do?" spat Ron, wanting a clearer plan.
"She's the brain and you're the muscle! Just listen to her and go!" urged Lyra and she pushed them away, kickstarting their run.
"Do you think Harry's going to be ok?" piped up Neville, several pitches higher than normal. He had slid into Ron's place beside her and Lyra gave him what she thought was a hopeful smile as she tapped her wand on the binoculars, sealing the peephole loosely to the fragile lens. He gulped.
"I hope so," Lyra mumbled but her hand slipped under her new contraption's weight and she huffed, not quite reaching the right height. Her smile got even wider.
"Neville…?" she asked sweetly. He gulped again. "Please can you hold the end up while I try and catch Snape red-handed as he tries to kill Harry?"
Hagrid continued to shake his head, pretending that he couldn't hear a thing.
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
"I'm telling you, it was definitely Snape!" repeated Ron for the hundredth time.
"Harry's broom stopped the second he fell off the bench!" backed up Hermione, nodding furiously.
The four Gryffindors joined Hagrid in his cosy hut for yet another cup of tea after the exhilarating game that ended with Harry vomiting the Golden Snitch, eager to discuss what went down now they were reunited.
"Snape?!" spat Harry, repulsed. "Really?"
"You're doubting that Snape was trying to kill you?" asked Lyra dubiously, sipping her earl grey tea, "Snape? You remember who that is, right? Did you hit your head when you fell off your broom?"
Harry paused and took a moment to mull over the facts before side-eyeing Lyra. "I see your point," he mumbled into his mug.
"It weren't Snape, why on earth would he want to kill Harry?" interrupted Hagrid, serving them another plate of cakes.
"Uh, because he's thirsty?" answered Lyra as though it were the most obvious response. Hagrid started to ask Lyra what she meant but Ron cut him off with a rapid "Don't ask!"
"I think I know why he wants to kill me," Harry piped up, catching everyone's attention immediately as he burst into a recount of his morning, "after Oliver stole me from you guys I realised I forgot my gloves up in the tower, I ran back to get them but on my way back down I saw Snape on the third floor—,"
"What were yer doin' on the third floor?!" gasped Hagrid, mouth falling open in shock. Lyra opened her mouth to praise Harry but Hermione caught her eye and she promptly closed it again.
"It doesn't matter," Harry rushed to continue with a faint blush in his cheeks, "what matters is that I followed Snape when I noticed he was limping and I caught him talking to Filch about that three-headed dog! I think the dog attacked him, his leg was all bloody—,"
"How do you know about Fluffy?!" yelled Hagrid, dumbfounded.
"Aww! He's called Fluffy?" cooed Lyra, sighing dreamily as she thought of the gigantic dog wagging its huge tail at the sound of its name, "why is he in the middle of the third floor? Is the Forbidden Forest full?"
"Wait, is Fluffy yours?" noticed Hermione, eyes still wide from the revelation.
Hagrid was aghast but he carried on, deciding to tell the truth… well, part of the truth.
"I got 'im down the pub, won 'im in a bet-,"
"Where is this pub?! I need to go," interjected Lyra but the desperate looks from her friends told her to hold her tongue. "I understand, I'll stay quiet," she vowed, miming zipping her lips.
"So why is he in the castle? What is he guarding? What's under that trapdoor?" prompted Harry, sitting forwards in his chair.
"What Fluffys guarding is none of yer business! Even I dunno, that's strictly between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—," but the Gryffindors' explosion of questions were drowned out by Hagrid's own scolds. He looked beyond furious with himself.
"So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved?! Interesting…" mused Harry, mischievously smirking at the groundskeeper.
"Do you think it's got something to do with that, uh, thing that you were talking about the other day?" whispered Ron, leaning towards Harry in the hopes of being secretive but Lyra shoved her face right in between them, looking at them expectantly.
"What thing?"
"Oh! The package from Gringotts?" blurted out Harry conspicuously and Hagrid's horrified gasps got worse.
"Harry! I told yer not ter say anything abou' that!" He was staring at Harry as though he were seeing a totally different person sitting there on his sofa. The neverending flow of secrets flowed until dinnertime and Hagrid waved at them from his front door, leaving them with an exasperated smile. He overshared and he knew it.
"Have any of you heard the name Nicolas Flamel before?" gushed Hermione, finally releasing all of the thoughts that had been festering as they strolled back up to the castle.
"Nope!" said Lyra, popping the p. She dug her hands in her robes, snuggling into its warmth for protection against the cold and her fingers brushed her photographs from the match.
"Can't say it rings a bell," sighed Ron, kicking a stone as they walked.
"Weirdly I feel like I have but I have no idea where," said Harry, frowning at the castle doors up ahead as he strained his memory.
"I think a trip to the library is in order," decided Hermione, looking at the three of them with resolution in her eyes.
"Ugh, do we have to?" moaned Ron, his groans fading into the night, and Lyra picked out the photograph of Snape falling flat on his face as his robes mysteriously caught fire and waved it in front of Ron's face.
"Damn right we have to! Snape wants whatever Fluffy is guarding and I'll bet my camera that it's some sort of secret weapon that can kill vampires," she told him seriously and Harry snorted in laughter.
"Ok, we definitely have to figure this out now," said Harry as though his word was final, "we've got to kill Snape before he kills me."
"That sounds a bit dramatic but I fully support investigating it at least," agreed Hermione.
"I'm on board, but we can't spend our whole time in the library," compromised Ron.
"Well, gang," sighed Lyra, puffing out her chest in importance and turning to the trio, "it sounds like we've got a mystery on our hands…"