"Hermione, I've got something really important to tell you," said Lyra with an exaggerated pout the moment Hermione arrived back at school after the Christmas holidays.
She had been dying for her friend to return to the castle so she could bring her up to speed with the whirlwind of events that she missed. She thought about writing to her on Boxing Day while Harry repeated their adventures to a gobsmacked Ron but she wanted to see Hermione's reaction face-to-face when she spilled the beans.
Hermione dumped her trunk on the floor and frowned, tilting her head slightly. "What's wrong?" She asked in a hurry, dropping her voice so the other girls wouldn't pry. They were too immersed in swapping Christmas stories to pay the whispering pair any attention.
"I need you to promise me that you're never going to leave me here alone with them ever again," said Lyra seriously, perching on the edge of Hermione's bed as she unpacked.
The soft crease in between her bushy eyebrows straightened and she smirked, neatly organising her new shoes.
"It can't have been that bad, Ron already told me that you tricked Peeves into hiding Filch's broom around the castle so you must have had some fun without me," mentioned Hermione, rolling her eyes, and Lyra chuckled.
"Oh yeah, that was fun," she sighed, and she continued to butter her friend up, "but it would have been so much better if you were here telling us not to! I missed you so much! As much as I loved hanging out with the boys, it wasn't the same with you gone."
"I missed you too," replied Hermione sweetly, showing off her toothy grin, "It was weird for me too, when I woke up on the first morning back home I expected to see you there next to me. I didn't think that I'd miss sleeping in a shared room."
"Also…" Lyra didn't want to break her stride, "I may or may not have broken our pinky promise," she admitted with an innocent smile but she rushed to add, "but I can explain everything and since you missed me too, I'm sure you can let me off this one time…?"
Hermione's face changed from adoration to incredulity and she gasped, undecided as to whether she felt betrayed or not. Without thinking, Hermione snatched Lyra's hand and dragged her into the bathroom, locking the door for good measure. Smoothing a kinked strand of hair out of her eyes, Hermione waited with her arms crossed and a straight-lipped smile on her face. She wasn't as angry as she expected her to be which made Lyra feel more secure in her decision to be honest. In the excitement of wanting to give Fluffy his present and hoping to catch Quirrell red-handed she forgot about her promise to Hermione and the realisation that she would be mad at Lyra bugged her for the remainder of the Christmas break, she didn't want her to think she was a bad friend.
"Let me start by saying thank you for not getting angry," she started, a hand on her chest in gratitude, and Hermione narrowed her eyes, her soft brown irises disappearing behind her lashes.
"As long as you had a really good reason and you didn't get hurt then I'm more than happy," she clarified but the suspicion was still present in her voice and Lyra nodded understandably.
"My reason is better than good — it's great! I developed the picture of Snape from the Quidditch game and we have a new suspect in our investigation," she divulged in a hushed tone, cautious of her typical loud volume whenever she got enthusiastic.
Hermione looked stunned, dropping all animosity immediately. "Who?!"
Lyra grinned and dove into her story, explaining every encounter she had with the Dark Arts professor and her concerns about what he might be planning. The more she thought about her teachers' possible intentions, the more nauseous she grew at the possibility of him using the stone to give immortal life to other dark wizards. What if he and Snape were rallying people together and creating their own vampire army? What if they used the stone's transfigurative properties to earn enough gold to buy their way into positions of power? What if they just wanted to use the stone to bludgeon Harry to death? Her third thought seemed to pop up most often in her head, as stupid as it was, and she was scared for her friend's safety.
"But what do you think Quirrell's end game is? Why would he want Harry dead?" questioned Hermione once Lyra reached the end of her tale and she shrugged, biting her lip.
"I don't know. Harry did famously murder a very dark wizard so I'm sure that is a factor, and he has displayed a few symptoms of vampirism so maybe he wants his blood as well, but now the total number of teachers that want to kill him is two which isn't ideal," said Lyra factually and Hermione cringed, awfully uncomfortable with the idea of her professors being undercover murderers.
"I think we should go to Professor Dumbledore," she decided firmly, brows furrowed. Lyra scoffed, brushing away her suggestion with an eye-roll.
She had considered this option time and time again now she had real evidence of the teachers' involvements in the Quidditch game but she would have to explain to their headmaster that she had specifically gone out of her way to break the school rules and endangered her life as well as her housemates. A strong sense of shame trickled over her when she thought of how disappointed Dumbledore would be. She couldn't face him yet.
"I, on the other hand, think we should only go to Dumbledore if we are in real trouble," countered Lyra, "Quirrell hasn't mentioned that night to either of us yet, he's acting as though it never happened."
"But you said he saw you, what if he tries to hurt you both to try and keep his secret?" repeated Hermione, clarifying the story in case she misheard but Lyra nodded.
"He saw us and he screamed, there's no denying that he knew we were there that night, but he hasn't said anything about it and we've both seen him around school since Christmas so I'm not that worried," she sighed, dropping her gaze to her shoes as she scuffed them against the stone tiles. Quirrell's silence unnerved her, she would prefer that he acknowledge that she and Harry knew about Fluffy and the trapdoor instead of keeping it a secret. It made his actions even more suspicious - it didn't make any sense.
Hermione hummed to herself, habitually playing with her hair as she pondered the intricacies of the mystery presenting itself to them and she could only nod.
"I understand where you're coming from but surely we should at least warn one of the teachers? What about McGona—," but she trailed off when Lyra pulled a face, stipulating that she was not thinking straight.
"Ok, maybe not her," said Hermione quickly.
Lyra listed the teachers in her head from most trustworthy to least trustworthy and she encountered a problem when she realised that the only adult she could entrust held no authority... but he was, by far, the strongest.
"Don't worry Hermione, if we need an adult to intervene then I'm sure Hagrid could lend us a hand? A very big hand."
Hermione considered her words and agreed with another toothy smile, finally satisfied with their new plan.
"Considering he is the one who is in charge of Fluffy, I think that's a great idea," she concluded. Lyra smiled smugly, proud that her smartest friend shared her outlook, and the girls left the bathroom to search for the boys to relay their new plan.
"I can't believe this," sighed Lyra, rubbing her stinging hand together as small white bubbles started to form, "It's official, I hate Herbology."
The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shuffled out of the smallest greenhouse and slowly made their way back up to the castle, glad to be away from the sweltering glass cage that held the school's tamest magical flora. Professor Sprout revealed that they were finally moving onto a module that involved them physically dealing with magical plants and Lyra had been ecstatic. The lacklustre lessons were beginning to bore her as they weren't allowed to interact with any plants until after Christmas, but now she wished they were back in the empty greenhouse that functioned as a classroom, the vegetation didn't like her at all.
"Why? I like it," said Ron happily, thinking back to the lesson with a smile, "that was really fun!"
"Only because you had Neville as your partner," snapped Lyra saltily, scowling at the retreating figure up ahead that resembled her Gryffindor housemate, "you didn't have to do anything!"
"Actually," countered Ron automatically, prepared to defend himself, "in case you didn't hear Sprout's praises, I held the roots perfectly."
"But Neville did all the hard work, you didn't have to handle the leaves," shot back Lyra passionately, thrusting her growing boils into his face to prove her point, "look at this!"
"Harry didn't get hurt," pointed out Ron in an attempt to further rile Lyra up, "he had the same role as you and I don't see any blisters on his hands."
"That's because I wore the gloves we were given," said Harry simply, confused as to why he had been dragged into their spat. Lyra side-eyed him before switching her gaze to Hermione who had been struggling with her weighty schoolbag, stuffing her latest library book into it whilst trying not to rip the bag's seams.
"But… Hermione should have been wearing the gloves, the roots were spiky?" she asked dubiously, but the three of them shook their heads.
"Nope, they were for the person handling the leaves, the roots were completely harmless. I think Padma tricked you, Parvati mentioned she didn't like Herbology either," Hermione explained and Lyra swore, glaring at the passing Ravenclaws and she caught sight of Padma Patil laughing with Sue Li and Mandy Brocklehurst. She tried to be more open-minded with her partnering choices this term and chose to work alongside Padma but clearly her forward thinking backfired. Padma was certain that the root handler wore the gloves and she blindly trusted her, she didn't even question her since she said it so confidently and Lyra hadn't paid any attention to Sprout whatsoever.
"Wow, those Ravenclaws think they're so smart," growled Lyra, narrowing her eyes as she kept them on the retreating navy and bronze students and she ignored her friends' laughter at her misfortune.
Snow still lingered on the grass and the late afternoon air was crisp with chilling winds but it didn't stop the students from dawdling as they headed back to school, the coldness was welcomed and it cooled their feverish cheeks. Lyra looked out across the grounds as they reached the peak of the gravelled path and the orange glow emitting from Hagrid's open front door caught her eye. The outline of the groundskeeper out in his garden tending to the holly bushes was too large to miss and she stopped in her tracks.
They hadn't seen Hagrid in ages, he had been cooped up in his hut for days and he was quick to rush off with a mumbled excuse whenever they ran into him so his sudden appearance felt like a blessing in disguise.
"It's nice to know he's still alive," commented Lyra, nudging her friends and pointing down towards the stone hut sat amidst the snow. Harry walked forwards with a squint and turned back to them with a look of great determination on his face, enlightened by Hagrid's emergence. Out of the four of them, he was the most persistent in his attempts to talk to Hagrid about Quirrell as his suggestions to go and find him came up multiple times a day.
"We should sneak down there in case he tries to run away again," said Harry, adjusting his bag so he could maneuver without bashing himself in his side.
Ron smirked and pointed towards the line of broad ash trees lining the Forbidden Forest that ran down the hill beside them and culminated behind the groundskeeper's hut. "I say we go that way—,"
"I say we don't!" gasped Hermione, affronted.
"There won't be any beasts on the outskirts, don't worry!" assured Ron, approving his own idea with a generous nod.
"We'll keep to the edge, it's only for coverage," sympathised Harry.
"And I'll hold your hand the entire way down, if something eats you then it'll have to eat both of us," said Lyra, reaching over to snatch her cold hand and she smiled when she felt Hermione's soft fingers curl around hers. Hermione's nervous pout melted into a faint smile and she begrudgingly conceded but not before she made them promise not to push their luck, she only agreed to go two tree trunks deep.
The moist forest air felt fresher than expected as they rushed into the shelter of the trees and Lyra took a deep breath, absorbing its dewyness as she skipped along, dragging Hermione with her. The boys rushed ahead, chatting excitedly as they jumped over huge tree roots and hidden foxholes, but Lyra wanted to take her time and fully immerse herself in the atmosphere of the Forbidden Forest despite being on the very edge. She scanned the depths of the dark wood in the hopes of spotting a mythical creature or two but her train of thought dissipated when the ghostly image of the Thestrals seeped into her brain like the rolling fog around them, reminding her of the great beasts that wanted to greet her. She wished they would appear again.
Harry, proving that subtlety wasn't his forte, burst through the line of trees a little too hastily and almost gave Hagrid a heart attack. "Hi Hagrid!"
"MERLIN'S BEARD! Harry!" Hagrid yelped, clutching his chest and he turned to greet the flustered first years with a twitchy smile. His dark eyes flickered to his open front door and beads of sweat dribbled down his forehead. "Where did yeh come from?"
"Forest," said Lyra casually, nodding towards the thicket behind them, "we went to find the centaurs—,"
"She's joking," interjected Hermione like a knee-jerk reaction and Hagrid nodded, relieved that he didn't need to scold them for being reckless. He shuffled in the remnants of snowy slush in his front garden, hands shaky as he fiddled with the holly berries in his sausage fingers. Before he could conjure up a half-hearted excuse as to why they needed to leave him alone, Harry gasped and pointed at his front door, face lit up in horror.
"Hagrid! Fire!" he exclaimed, agitated at the sight of the dense grey smoke that started to pour out of his hut. The clouds were sickly and sweet, Lyra could taste it on her tongue and it reminded her of burnt candyfloss.
Hagrid made the noise similar to a drowning cat and barrelled towards the door with all his might, the ground faintly trembled under his feet, and he slammed the door behind him to protect the first years from the mysterious fire-starting wonder that was occurring inside. Puzzled by the abrupt change of pace, Lyra purposely disregarded every rule of fire-safety that Danielle had hammered into her brain and ran towards the fire, fizzling with curiosity.
"We need to help him!" exclaimed Hermione, jolting back into action as her shock wore off, "he doesn't have much time, if he doesn't put it out straight away he's doomed!"
"The hut is made of stone, though," countered Ron, shaking away his disbelief, "stone isn't flammable."
"Yeah, the outside is - everything inside is made of wood! So is the roof!" reminded Hermione, and Ron's face dropped.
Harry beat Lyra to the door and ripped it open, coughing and spluttering as more smoke billowed out, but Lyra nudged him out of her way and ran inside with an armful of muddy snow, pleased with her own logic. Once the majority of the smoke evaporated Lyra managed to find Hagrid by the fireplace prodding the source of the fire with his pink umbrella, his face frozen in panic as though he were trying to remember something that was on the tip of his tongue. Lyra noticed that the rug was the culprit of the nauseating fire and rushed to dump the melting snow on the floor. The decimated rug sizzled and its hissing brought Hagrid out of his afeared daze.
"Quick thinkin' Lyra," he commented under his breath, abandoning his umbrella next to his armchair and shaking his head in disappointment, "silly me, I forgot the spell that conjures water."
Wiping her moist brow, Lyra gawked at the umbrella in awe. She wasn't too sure whether Hagrid was a wizard or not as he never spoke about performing magic nor did he brandish a wand.
"Wait, is that your wand? Cool! I didn't know you could use other items," she mused and her mind started to drift, caught in a tornado of ideas about wand alternatives. The rest of the group scrambled inside, wary of the potential blaze but they huffed in relief as they realised the chaos was over.
"Ah, I guess it is," mumbled Hagrid, scratching his beard but Lyra noticed he hastily changed the subject, "Panic over, nuffin to worry about. That's the last time I ever listen ter Gilderoy Lockhart," he tutted in disappointment and gazed at the shiny cerulean book on the cluttered group of crates that served as his coffee table.
"What the hell happened?!" gasped Ron, catching his breath as he flapped his arms, fanning the final wisps of smoke out of the door before closing it.
"And whose Gilderoy Lockhart?" wondered Lyra, picking up Hagrid's book Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Looking After Domestic Beasts and admiring the extravagant cover depicting a golden-haired handsome man smiling up at the reader as he clipped the talons of a large feathered hippogriff with beady yellow eyes and powerful hind legs.
"Someone not worth knowin'," grumbled Hagrid.
Hermione crept closer towards the scene of the incident and peered down at what was left of the woven rug with a tilt of her head, attempting to get a better look at the scorch marks. The wriggling, eye-wateringly bright orange seeds in a rusty bucket took centre stage as they clanged around against the metal.
"Are those… fire seeds? What are you doing with those, Hagrid? They can be tremendously dangerous, they need to be handled carefully," she murmured, rather flummoxed at the thought of being near them, and Hagrid hung his head.
"I might as well tell yeh now," he sighed, pointing at the bubbling cauldron that was sat amidst the last of the flames in the fireplace, "I got m'self another pet."
Harry's eyes widened in apprehension and he scooted away from the cauldron that he had been attempting to peer into but Lyra squealed and tiptoed closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the unknown creature.
"Is it a water beast? Or some sort of lobster?" she wondered aloud. The water was spitting violently from the intense temperatures and something rattled deep within, it sounded like he was boiling a massive egg for his dinner.
"Are you growing a chicken?" Lyra asked Hagrid and he chuckled, busying himself with making cups of tea for his guests.
"Not exactly, it's a dragon egg—,"
Without hesitating, Harry clamped his hands over his ears and braced himself.
"DRAGON?! YOU'VE GOT A BLOODY DRAGON?!" screamed Lyra, dumbstruck, and the rest of the room winced at her shrill volume. The mere thought of being in the same room as a dragon was mind blowing, she couldn't quite comprehend it.
"A real dragon?!" gasped Hermione and she whipped her head around, staring at the bubbling cauldron as though it was the reptile itself.
"How did you get it? They're still illegal, aren't they? The laws hasn't changed...?" wondered Ron, helping Hagrid carrying the mugs and they gathered around his rickety dining table to discuss the revelation. Lyra slid into the chair that faced his fireplace in the hopes that she might be the first one to see the dragon if any progress occurred.
"Yeah, well, there are many different ways ter get yerself a pet, Ron," said Hagrid matter-of-factly, dropping into his chair with a thud, "yer just need ter know where ter look."
"Did you win it in another bet?" asked Harry, half-joking, and Hagrid's beard twitched.
"There was a new fella… hadn't seen 'im in there before, I just wanted ter see what he was dealing in," he mumbled to himself.
"Is that a yes?!" scoffed Harry, his jaw dropping.
"I want a dragon too! Please take me to the pub with you next time! I'm begging you!" pleaded Lyra desperately, pouting at Hagrid with what she hoped was her cutest, saddest expression. He looked back at her as though he was doubting every decision that led him to this very moment and he shook his shaggy head, failing to respond.
"Are you sure that you know how to look after a dragon? Aren't they one of the most fearsome creatures in the world?" asked Hermione, struggling to come to terms with the groundskeeper's logic.
"I've always wanted a dragon, ever since I was a little boy," divulged Hagrid, a dim twinkle in his black eyes, "I've studied 'em for years and I'm fully prepared ter deal with him. Yer don't need to worry, Hermione."
"Him?! It's a boy? Congratulations!" cooed Lyra, sighing adoringly as she leant on her hand.
"How do you know he's a boy?" asked Harry, narrowing his eyes in doubt.
"Mother's intuition," asserted Hagrid proudly.
"How long have you had him? I know that dragons take under two months to hatch," noted Ron.
"Not long, he's still got a month or so yet. I've bin incubating him in the cauldron for a couple of weeks but I haven't bin able ter get the fire hot enough so I tried using that ruddy book," he tutted and scowled at the flashy tome nearby, "it told me ter put the fire seeds in the heath and now I don' have a rug anymore."
"Have you tried crushing them and putting them in the water?" suggested Lyra, wanting to be useful, and Hagrid scratched his whiskery upper lip, considering her words.
"That ain't water in that cauldron," he chuckled under his breath, "it's chicken blood."
"Yuck!" gagged Ron, revolted, but Harry sneakily slid out of his seat to take another peek at the egg, fascinated by the repulsive birth cycle.
"You need to cool them down first though," informed Hermione, grabbing her school bag from the floor and searching through her many textbooks for some sort of aid, "I'm sure I saw the Freezing Charm in here somewhere…"
Lyra spotted the spasm of embarrassment flash up on Hagrid's face and she hurried to interrupt with a more suitable idea, she felt his insecurity concerning his magic use in the air. "Uh, there's still snow outside? Why don't you use that instead?"
"That could work," Hermione nodded, abandoning her search.
Inspired by the girls' words of wisdom, Hagrid got to work burying the fire seeds in the mounds of snow he found in his pumpkin patch and they watched him effortlessly crush the frozen seeds with his fists and sprinkle the powder into the cauldron. By the radiant glow on his face they could tell it was working and he thanked them with a tray of freshly baked brittle biscuits.
"I think I might be on track now," announced Hagrid as he checked the temperature of the blood. Lyra slid up beside him and caught a glint of the obsidian shell through the oozing, frothing ruby liquid, mesmerised by the rich colours.
"If you need help with him, please don't hesitate to ask me," she told him seriously. She was enthralled by the egg and she needed to be there for every step of the way. Seeing a real-life dragon was an opportunity she never thought she would get so she was holding onto it with all of her might.
"As long as yer keep this ter yerself then yeh more than welcome ter come down anytime," Hagrid promised with a light pat on her back and he turned to survey the rest of them, "but no one can know about this."
"We won't tell anyone," assured Harry confidently, "but only on one condition — I get to be the dragon's godfather."
"Oh!" gasped Lyra, impressed at his train of thought, "can I be his godmother? I'll be the best godmother ever, if anything ever happens to you then I will be more than willing to take on the full responsibilities of raising a dragon," she vowed solemnly and Hagrid looked to Ron and Hermione as though they could give him an answer to their bizarre questions. They simply shrugged and continued to sip their steaming mugs of tea, unfazed by their friends' oddities.
The four Gryffindors soon left Hagrid and ambled back up the hill towards the castle for dinner, quietly discussing the madness that had just taken place. Quirrell never came up, the aftermath of finding out that Hagrid was hatching a dragon was too jaw-dropping to ignore but they promised each other to mention their suspicions on their next visit.
But, to their greatest disappointment, Hagrid said nothing the next time they saw him. He was adamant that they were overthinking and projecting their hatred for Snape onto other professors and he dismissed their claims, keeping his attention firmly on his dragon egg. Disgruntled by his response, the four chose not to bring it up in front of him again and attempted to redirect their energy from worrying about the Philosopher's Stone to waiting for the dragon to arrive.
Time seemed to slow down as the weeks passed, it was agonising and Lyra's stomach churned more and more every day. She prayed that the egg was in perfect condition, she didn't know if she would be able to handle the tragic loss of a baby dragon before she even got a chance to meet him and she spent most of her evenings down in Hagrid's hut, waiting around with endless cups of tea.
But finally the dragon started to peck its way out of its egg the day after the (thankfully jinx-free) Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match. Fresh off another fantastic win, the four Gryffindors were celebrating with the rest of their house in the common room when Hedwig arrived at one of the tower's windows with a torn piece of parchment in her beak. Harry rushed to read the note and the trio around him immediately dropped the sweets they had been indulging on and waited with bated breath.
"It's time!"
The sun was low in the sky as they sprinted across the grounds to the hut and Hagrid greeted them with a broad, enlightened grin as he swung the door open. It was scorching inside, the heat hit them square in the face and Lyra panted, struggling to dump her outer robes onto the sofa as sweat started to form.
"Did we miss it?!" she gasped, "is he here?"
Hagrid beckoned them over to the table where the egg sat in a large metal tin originally designed to hold a whole chicken, bathed in blood. It was trembling gently and a fragile tapping sound came from the faint crack at its tip, its inhabitant was growing antsy and the four first years slid into their usual chairs, eyes bulging out of their heads.
"He might take days ter emerge but I thought yeh still might want ter see 'im," muttered Hagrid quietly, dropping his tone in case he accidentally spooked his new child. Lyra felt Fang brush against her leg and she absently dropped her arm to stroke his velvety fur, comforting the nervous dog. He could sense that something new was happening and he needed extra reassurance.
"What's that?" asked Harry, peering cautiously into the bucket of muddy brown liquid Hagrid was mixing with a huge wooden spoon and Hagrid nodded towards the empty bottles of brandy on his kitchen side.
"I don't exactly have access ter dragon milk so according ter Hermione's book, this is the next best thing," he told him and Harry choked at the fumes exuding from it, taken back at its strength. "I wouldn't try any if I were yer," he added with a wink and Harry pulled a face.
"But it smells so delicious," he scoffed.
"My brother Charlies says that when dragons are born, there's a small chance that it will be able to breathe fire straight away," said Ron excitedly, joining Lyra in calming down Fang. "I hope he does, that would be wicked. It's probably good luck too."
"I brought my camera so if he does, we'll have that cherished memory forever," sighed Lyra, plucking her camera from her pocket and cleaning the lens with her sleeve, "would you like a photo with your egg, Hagrid?" She could tell by the grin beneath his beard that he was delighted by her suggestion. Slipping his oven gloves back on, he held the breaking egg as delicately as he could and posed for his newest family photo.
CLICK!
"Woah!" exclaimed Ron, and without thinking he grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her under the table as the egg exploded, shards of shell blasted around the room. Harry lurched at Fang who started to bark wildly, spooked by the dragon's dramatic entrance, and Lyra continued to snap pictures of Hagrid holding his newborn Norwegian Ridgeback, unbothered by the chaos.
"Awww Hagrid, he's beautiful!" cooed Lyra, swapping seats with Harry to get a closer shot. The baby dragon looked like a malnourished, scaly black chick with leathery thin wings and tiny spikes along his spine. He moved like a grounded bat and she couldn't help but fall in love with him — he was so vulnerable and cute. The dragon shook off the remnants of membrane and spluttered out a wispy puff of smoke, getting used to life outside of his cosy egg, and Hagrid started to cry.
"I can't believe he's real! Look at 'im! Ain't he the best thing yer've ever seen? He choked, voice thick with adoration. Ron and Hermione edged closer, picking out pieces of onyx shell from their hair, and admired the newborn beast in wonder.
"No wonder Charlie spends all his time around them," whispered Ron, "have you decided on a name yet?"
"I think I'm gonna name 'im Norbert," decided Hagrid sweetly and he started to feed his alcoholic blood mixture to his newborn. Lyra huffed and pocketed her developing Polaroids, disappointed with his choice.
"Again, I personally think Smaug is a brilliant name," she voiced her opinion for the dozenth time but Hermione was quick to respond.
"You're asking for trouble if you name him Smaug," she said as though it were a known fact, and Harry laughed.
"Have you met Lyra?" he asked, deadpanned, and Lyra shoved him playfully.
"Who's Smaug?" asked Ron, looking to Hagrid for an answer but his face was equally as blank.
"Who's Smaug?!" repeated Lyra in outrage, slamming her hands down on the table, but Harry rushed to everyone's aid by announcing to the room that curfew was about to commence.
Norbert's existence in Lyra's life was marvellous, she felt like the luckiest witch in the world. Hagrid embraced her enthusiasm with open arms and invited her to visit Norbert as often as possible and she snuck off at every opportunity to shower her self-proclaimed godson with affection. She figured out if she dipped her hands in Hagrid's disgusting milk substitute then she could handle Norbert without receiving a nasty bite or blister which, naturally, spurred Lyra on to continue her excessive visits to his hut.
But her appreciation of illegal pets hindered her ability to think logically and she failed to see how treacherous Norbert was becoming. Spring arrived with blossoming wildflowers, torrential downpours, and an ever-growing dragon. As he grew, the adversities of owning both a dragon and a small wooden hut became very apparent and the task of keeping Norbert a secret got harder and harder, especially when Ron received a vicious bite on his arm when he got too close to him during a lunchtime visit.
"But I'm fine," slurred Ron as they headed back to the castle for their double History of Magic lesson "it doesn't even hurt—,"
"Mate, your arm is green. I don't know much about injuries but I know that's not a good sign," said Harry slowly, examining his foul, algae green wrist that seemed to have a pulse of its own. His veins were darkening, poison infiltrated his arm quicker than they expected and his freckled face paled with every step he took.
"It'll pass, I can't tell anyone — they're going to know it's a dragon bite," urged Ron, "and then Hagrid's going to get arrested for owning a dragon and it'll be all my fault."
"But you don't look good," said Hermione, pursing her lips and she gently prodded Ron's wrist, "we need to take you to the infirmary. Norwegian Ridgebacks are venomous, you need medical attention right now."
"But what about Norbert? We can't do that to him," pouted Ron sadly, and he turned to Lyra for back-up. He knew he could rely on her to support his objections.
But Lyra wasn't sure. The appeal of harbouring an illegal, dangerous creature vanished the moment Ron yelped out in pain. It was as though his scream shattered the illusion gripping her and she saw how truly stupid she was being. She hadn't sent Danielle any Polaroids of Norbert so she wouldn't scold her for being reckless, that should have been her first realisation that what she was doing was really wrong. Keeping Norbert on the grounds was out of order, she knew that now, but she wasn't dissuaded by the idea of hiding him nearby…
"What about if we move Norbert to the mountains? Or the Forest? That way no one will find out that Hagrid has been dealing with forbidden creatures and we still get to see him?" Lyra threw her ideas out to the group and Ron looked genuinely insulted that she was turning against him.
"I can't believe this, I truly thought you would be on my side for this one," said Ron saltily, and Harry nodded with a smirk.
"Yeah, same," he added in agreement, but Hermione's face lit up and she nodded sternly. She was most worried about Lyra's reaction to potentially exposing Hagrid's crafty activities so her approval of doing something sensible was good enough for her, although she still wasn't pleased with her alternative housing ideas.
"If we're doing this then we have to figure out a way to protect Hagrid," asserted Harry, "we can't get him into trouble, you know he only means well." The four reached the Entrance Hall and slowly made their way up through the castle towards their History of Magic classroom that they shared with the Slytherins.
"What if we say that a dragon magically appeared in the grounds, bit Ron, and then flew off?" voiced Lyra in an attempt to be helpful but they all rolled their eyes.
"No ones going to believe that, dragons aren't common around here," moaned Ron, puffing in and out to cool himself down.
"What about your brother? Charlie? Can't he help?" piped up Harry, smiling at his own idea.
"How would Charlie get into Hogwarts, though? I read that there are enchantments protecting the castle, I don't think he'll be able to just fly in undetected," doubted Hermione, shooting Harry's hopes down in one blow. Lyra patted his shoulder sympathetically.
"And the Ministry is pretty strict with these kinds of things, if they get caught transferring Norbert then it'll get tracked back to Hagrid. Dad told me some stories about the people who have been caught dealing with black market beasts and it doesn't sound nice, they usually get sent to prison," said Ron in a strained voice and he gagged, clutching his wrist to his chest. "This feels so weird, it's like something is wriggling inside my arm."
"What if we avoid getting the law involved?" wondered Lyra, trying to think unconventionally. "Does anyone know if Hogwarts has a safeguarding policy?"
The boys looked utterly bewildered by her new word but Hermione seemed to understand her train of thought with a lopsided smile.
"Ooh, they must have. This is a school, after all. Usually the government is involved in a school's safeguarding procedure though, they would be informed if the students were actively in danger," explained Hermione, but Lyra scoffed in disbelief.
"That's a first," she grumbled, thinking back to the times she had been in imminent danger whilst at her primary school and the lack of consequences her bullies received, but she shook away her darker thoughts and continued, "but surely there's some kind of confidentiality agreement between the school and the student? Danielle always told me that if you went to the school nurse with a problem you didn't want to explain, they wouldn't ask you for specifics. They have to be sensitive, it's part of their training."
"Really?" mumbled Harry, surprised at this new information, and Lyra's stomach plummeted from dread. He didn't know that? Are you really that surprised? Her subconscious sighed, reminding her of their private conversation and she nodded sadly.
"It depends on what you tell them, if you disclose something awful," she looked at him pointedly, not wanting to mention his problems in front of the others, "then they are required to act on it and do whatever they deem necessary. Well, the good ones do," she explained as they reached their classroom on the first floor. The rest of their classmates were chattering aimlessly up ahead but the four tried to stay away from them as Ron started to groan in pain.
"Do you reckon that'll work? Because I feel really bad," he slurred, clutching onto Hermione's arm for support.
"Try it, tell Madam Pomfrey that you don't know how you got it or that it's not relevant. Or lie to her," suggested Lyra helpfully, wary of the greenish splotches festering along his arm. He was getting worse. She caught eyes with Harry and Hermione and she saw her own fear reflected in their downcast expressions — they needed to snitch, they needed to help Ron. What if someone else got bitten next time? Dealing with a baby dragon that was the size of a large motorbike was worse than a neon sign asking for trouble to find them.
"Ew!" Draco's smarmy whines floated down the corridor towards them and Lyra turned to see her second cousin gawking at them, repulsed at the scene that met him, "Weasley looks horrible! What did he do? Look in a mirror?"
"No, he saw a picture of your mum!" Harry shouted back automatically and Lyra snickered, enjoying how quickly Draco's face fell.
"Shut up Potter, at least I have a mother!" jeered Draco, earning another laugh from his housemates. Lyra opened her mouth to yell back but Ron threw himself to the side and vomited against the wall, retching as he tried to catch his breath. The Slytherins burst into louder howls of laughter at the scene and the other Gryffindors edged closer, aghast but insanely curious.
"Is he ok?!" spluttered Parvati, rushing forwards with Dean and Seamus. Lavender and Sally-Ann looked as though they were about to hurl as well and they hid behind a pale-looking Neville, all three of them refusing to acknowledge the vomit on the floor.
"Er," Harry laughed nervously and hurried to shield Ron with his robes, "he's fiiine!"
"Nothing to see here! He had a dodgy sandwich for lunch, that's all," Lyra joined him, trying to divert their attention as Hermione half-carried Ron off towards the hospital wing. She slipped her wand from her pocket and quickly cleaned the corridor, saving Ron from anymore embarrassment.
"He probably took one look at Granger and couldn't hold it in anymore," Draco piped up again, wanting to create a bigger scene, "I don't blame him." He was smirking at Vincent and Greg who guffawed, smacking him on the arm in encouragement.
Sensing another outburst from Harry beside her, Lyra beat him to it and rushed forwards, politely shouldering the other Gryffindors out of the way. She was sick to death of his insults and she didn't have the time nor the energy to think of some clever jabs to throw back so she used another strategy that would hopefully shut him up.
"You know, Draco, it sounds to me like you're obsessed with Ron," she said, looking at him strangely.
Draco and his friends' laughter died in the air and he paused, repeating her statement over in his head.
"I'm what?" he asked, masking his confusion with spite.
"You talk about Ron a lot," she said knowingly and let her lips curl into a smile, "Draco, do you fancy him? You can tell me, we're family—,"
But the rest of her words were buried beneath the chorus of giggles that burst from her classmates and Draco looked totally lost, his alabaster cheeks exploding with crimson as he frantically tried to defend himself.
"I do not! Shut up Black!" gasped Draco, horrified by her assumptions. He tried to look his friends in the eye but they were slow to react which clearly wasn't what he was hoping for. "Don't look like that! I don't! She's just being stupid!"
"I dunno," sighed Harry with a soft shake of his head, he caught onto her plans quicker than she expected, "you always start on Ron first, I think Lyras got a point."
"I don't know what you're talking about," growled Draco, and he took a step forward, shoving his schoolbag at Greg to hold, "you need to shut your mouths before you get seriously hurt."
"What are you going to do? Moan at us until we die of old age?" sassed Harry, but the ghostly Professor Binns floated through the classroom door and lazily barked at his students to make their way inside, cutting their argument short. Shooting Harry and Lyra once last scowl, Draco barged his way into the classroom and the rest of the students joined him — but Lyra had other ideas.
"We should go and speak to Professor Dumbledore, I think we need his help," she whispered to Harry, tugging on his arm lightly to persuade him to stop.
"What, now?" He hissed, both nervous and thrilled to be skipping their least engaging lesson.
"Duh! We need to tell him about Hagrid, just in case Madam Pomfrey snitches on Ron," she decided confidently, and he let her pull him away from History of Magic and the completely oblivious Professor Binns.
"Do you know where Dumbledore's office is?" puffed Harry as they reached the Grand Staircases, peering over the bannister to gaze at the upper floors as he raced to think of a plan, "I have no idea."
"Then let's ask someone," said Lyra as though it were obvious. The portraits were more than happy to help the lost first years and they soon found the magnificent stone gargoyle defending the headmaster's office, coincidentally, on the forbidden floor.
"Password?" drawled the griffin, his stone features cracking as he moved to peer at the small duo. Lyra blinked and side-eyed Harry who shrugged, the corners of his lips curling upwards.
"I dunno why you're looking at me! I don't know," he laughed, and she rolled her eyes.
"You're so helpful," she muttered and she gave the griffin her prettiest smile.
"Hi! I'm afraid I don't know the password but I really need to speak to Headmaster Dumbledore," she said, keeping her voice steady so she seemed more confident than she felt. The impending conversation with Dumbledore sparked the butterflies in her stomach again, she didn't want him to chastise her. She didn't want to find out what being told off by the infamous headmaster felt like.
"It's urgent," added Harry helpfully and the griffin looked him up and down before gracing them with a gentle nod.
"One moment please," he told them before snapping back to his inanimate state.
"Well that was disappoi— oh!" But Lyra jumped in excitement as the statue slid to the right and granted the pair access to the spiral staircase and, consequently, the headmaster's office.
Dumbledore's office was exactly how she imagined it; incredibly busy. Strange trinkets made of mental littered the vacant spaces leading towards the headmaster's desk, bookcases that stretched up towards the tall ceilings ran along the room as though the books were protecting the tower, dozens upon dozens of portraits hung on the walls high above their heads and Lyra swore she saw one of them glare at her. Fascination pumped through her veins as she ogled the magnificent decor but a polite cough and a nervous arm nudge from Harry brought her out of her daydream.
"Harry, Lyra, what a pleasant surprise," welcomed Professor Dumbledore as he stood up from behind his elegant, dark wood desk that looked out across his office. He looked mildly startled to see the two first years in his office but his smile indicated that he didn't mind. His niceties soothed the butterflies inside Lyra and she approached him with an equally friendly smirk.
"Good afternoon, sir," said Lyra sweetly, "we're sorry to interrupt your busy schedule but Harry and I need to talk to you about something rather sensitive."
Harry, who was partly in shock from meeting the headmaster for the first time, found his voice and joined Lyra's side. "It's about Hagrid, professor, we think he might be in trouble," he explained, clearing the wobble in his voice with a soft cough.
Raising his wispy eyebrows in intrigue, Professor Dumbledore gestured for them to take a seat in the squishy armchairs in front of his desk.
"Then please tell me all about this problem. Considering you both should be in class right now, I assume it must be very serious," he said softly, his silver moustache quivering as the first years blushed.
"Unfortunately it is," answered Lyra when she noticed how tonguetied Harry had become and she launched into the tale of Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback. She told him all about Hagrid's unconditional love for his baby dragon and how well he was looking after him, she wouldn't be able to leave his office with a clear conscience if she didn't emphasise how loving and caring Hagrid was. She needed him to see that this was a big misunderstanding or a mistake, he couldn't go to prison. He wasn't bad.
"—and everything was under control until Ron was bitten at lunch today. He's in the hospital wing now, we needed to tell you before someone came to you about this first," finished Lyra, slumping back into her chair and staring gloomily at Dumbledore, imploring him to see. Guilt racked her body, she knew she was betraying Hagrid's trust and he would never forgive her.
"It was an accident, Ron didn't realise he was sitting on Norbert's favorite pillow" clarified Harry, having found his confidence during Lyra's story. "Please, sir. You have to help him, the Ministry can't find out about his dragon."
Dumbledore let out a weighty yet calming sigh and cleaned his half-moon spectacles with the hem of his silken leaf green robes, taking a moment to mull over their words. Lyra bit her lip and caught Harry's eye, anxious for his response.
"I want to start by saying thank you, it was very brave of you to come to me about this, I can see that you both care very much for our groundskeeper and I want to assure you that this will be dealt with swiftly. You did the right thing," stated Dumbledore, flicking his azure gaze from Harry to Lyra.
"Is Hagrid going to prison?" asked Harry quickly, eyes wide in fear, but Dumbledore shook his head with the ghost of a smile hidden beneath his shimmering hair.
"No, Harry. Hagrid is going to be just fine, I don't believe that the Ministry will have to get involved in this particular situation. I already have a solution in mind so this will stay between us, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, and Hagrid. No one will have to know. I have been meaning to pay him a visit for some time and I will explain everything to him when I see him this evening," he assured him and relief radiated from Harry like sunlight. Lyra huffed out all of her stress and hung her head, praying that the groundskeeper would understand.
"What are you going to do? Will Hagrid be able to still see Norbert?" asked Lyra, fidgeting in her seat.
"I believe that Charlie Weasley is currently working alongside some of the best dragon tamers in the world," mused Dumbledore, sitting up straight in his tall chair and picking up his phoenix feather quill, "He may be interested in whatever breed Hagrid has obtained, we shouldn't have any problems."
"Does Hagrid have visitation rights?" she questioned again, worried that the answer would be disheartening. Dumbledore hesitated and gave her a searching stare so intense that the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She gulped.
"I'm afraid not," he said in his most soothing tone, mournful at his own answer.
"Oh no," groaned Harry, crestfallen. Lyra met his sad gaze and tried to come up with a solution, there had to be something.
"Can we buy visitation rights? Or, uh, is there some kind of dragon charity we could donate some money to?" she tried, digging her nails into the arms of her chair, "do wizards have charities like that? Should we start one? Maybe we could adopt Norbert?"
Dumbledore chuckled and smiled widely, endeared by her efforts. "Wait a moment, Miss Black, there are a number of ways for Hagrid to obtain rights to visit Norbert but they require a lot of money," he told her and she gasped as hope returned. There was a way!
"I'll pay!" she chirped, scooting forwards to show her enthusiasm. "I don't care how much it is, I'll pay for it."
Professor Dumbledore blinked, taken aback. "Lyra, I don't think—,"
"Please sir," she pleaded, clasping her hands together to beg, "I swore to him that I wouldn't snitch and I broke his promise, he doesn't deserve this. He's always wanted a dragon and we can't destroy his dreams. I don't need all my money anyways, from what the goblins at Gringotts were inferring I've got way too much of it."
"I can pitch in too!" added Harry helpfully, doubling down on their insistence to help Hagrid keep his pet. "Please, professor."
"I don't know what to say," murmured Dumbledore, gazing down at the first years adoringly, "that is extremely generous of you both, are you absolutely sure?"
"One hundred percent," urged Lyra, struggling to calm her pounding heart. Was her pleas working?
Dumbledore straightened his spectacles and started his letter, glancing up at the pair occasionally to smile at their patient waiting. The scribbles of his quill replaced their discussion and the Gryffindors traded perturbed glances, waiting to hear the headmaster's final settlement. Tickled by his own writing, Dumbledore silently folded his letter and climbed to his feet. Harry and Lyra froze.
"If my estimates are correct, Norbert will be picked up tomorrow evening by Mr Weasley and his accomplices and both of you will receive two letters this coming week, one from the dragon sanctuary in Romania and one from Gringotts," he informed them casually, as though he was merely commenting on the weather, and the Gryffindors stared at each other, gobsmacked that their plan worked.
"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" cried Lyra, jumping to her feet to shake his hand.
"So this means that Hagrid can visit Norbert whenever he wants?" clarified Harry, checking that they had covered all bases and Dumbledore nodded, revealing his biggest smile yet.
"Yes, he has every right to see his dragon, that won't be a problem anymore. Now, I have this very important letter to post so I believe it's time we resume our usual routine. Professor Binns will be wondering where you two have gone," he reassured them and started to herd them from his office, his hands delicately placed on their shoulders.
"Really? The guy who forgets he's a ghost?" whispered Lyra to Harry who snickered, hiding his smile with a strategic jaw scratch.
The corridors were airy and empty, golden sunlight streaming through the windows and Lyra enjoyed the gentle silence that filled the halls whenever the students were in class. Dumbledore locked his office with a swish of his wand and he bade the pair a good afternoon.
"I can trust you both to return to class without taking any detours?" asked Dumbledore as he left and they nodded innocently.
"Of course, professor," assured Harry, leading Lyra away from his knowing stare.
"Then my trust is in the right place. And thank you once again for informing me of this dilemma, I think twenty points to Gryffindor will suffice! I hope you have a wonderful day, Mr Potter, Miss Black," he concluded cheerfully and he wandered down the hallway with a spring in his step, humming a jaunty tune as he went.
"He's... nice," mused Harry, staring after the headmaster with a crooked smile and Lyra snickered, thoroughly entertained by his queerness.
"I think he's brilliant! What a great guy," she sighed, appreciating having an oddball for a headmaster. Anyone who could pull off emerald robes and flashing gold boots was alright her in her books.
"That went better than expected," sighed Harry, smoothing the distressed kink in his neck, "I really hope Hagrid is ok with all of this."
"He'll understand once he realises that we've just bought him a better deal," decided Lyra, wanting to stay positive. She really wanted to believe that they did the right thing but destroying the bond of trust she had earned bugged her, she hoped the guilt would disappear soon. The pair headed back to the first floor, quietly discussing the fate of Ron's hand (Lyra bet Harry two galleons that it would have to be amputated) but as soon as they reached their destination, Harry froze on the spot and slapped a hand over his forehead.
"Ow!" he complained, his left eye twitching as he rubbed his scar, "what the…?"
"What?" muttered Lyra, frowning at him as she stopped.
"My scar, it feels like—," but Harry trailed off as his eyes locked on something behind Lyra, his eyes widened in fear and she immediately spun on the spot. Her heart jumped into her throat and she couldn't feel her feet.
Professor Quirrell stared at them blanky from the end of the corridor, guarding the door that separated them and their final location. Time seemed to slow down, the universe wanted this moment to last longer than nature intended and Lyra felt as though a million pairs of eyes were watching her every move. But the sensation of a hand grabbing her shoulder pulled her back into reality and the man before her jumped to life.
"Let's go a different way—," whispered Harry but Professor Quirrell's surprisingly firm voice echoed in the deserted hallway, making the pair jolt.
"Mr P-Potter, Miss Black," he called out, "a w-word, please."
"Uh oh," Harry uttered under his breath and Lyra swallowed her heartbeat, forcing herself to appear more self-assertive than she felt.
"Just play along," she hissed back and they rushed over to their professor, acting as innocent as possible.
"Good afternoon, sir," said Lyra coolly, braving to meet his beady eyes. A nerve twitched in his cheek but she pretended not to notice.
"W-What are you two doing o-out of class?" he questioned but his dramatic drop in volume unnerved them.
"We needed to see Professor Dumbledore," answered Harry, "we're heading back to class now."
"I see," Quirrell nodded but his polite smile looked too forced, "and w-what did you two d-discuss with the headmaster?"
Lyra couldn't stop herself, his questions were too obvious. He was worried they snitched on him. "I'm afraid we can't say, sir. It's confidential," she blurted out, and her response triggered another nerve in his face.
"What did you want to talk about, professor? Binns will be very upset if we don't return to class soon," asked Harry modestly, his brows furrowed as though he didn't quite understand.
"I want to g-give you a w-warning," he admitted in a stronger voice than before. Lyra didn't dare breathe. She couldn't quite process what was happening. Was this a threat?!
"A w-warning?" stuttered Harry unintentionally but luckily Quirrell didn't take any offence. He was happy to see him squirm.
"G-Gallivanting around on the forbidden f-floor is not very becoming of two p-promisng first years," said Quirrell, hardening his gaze into a mild scowl, "and I d-don't want to catch you near that C-Cerberus ever again, d-do I make myself clear?"
Blood raced to flood her freckled cheeks, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She snuck a glance at Harry and saw him stare at their professor gormlessly, his jaw swinging open. He seriously needs to work on his poker face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," responded Lyra naively, praying that he would believe her but her luck ran out. Quirrell's laugh was colder than she expected, it was jarring and it didn't suit his supposedly feeble demeanour.
"Nice t-try, Miss Black," he chuckled, "but you s-shouldn't lie to your p-professors. I do not mean to c-come across as scary or fickle, I can s-sense that you both a-are wary of me—,"
Understatement of the year.
"—but I w-want to assure both of y-you that I only mean well. I w-want to help you. I used to t-teach Muggle Studies, I understand that y-you've already expressed interest in that s-subject?" he continued, and Lyra blinked. She didn't know about his previous job position.
"I mean, studying Muggles from a wizarding point of view sounds fascinating…" she mumbled awkwardly, ignoring Harry's befuddled, pointed stares.
"And you, M-Mr Potter, I'm most eager to s-see you flourish in my classes. After all, your story is l-legendary, I cannot f-fathom the potential we could unlock t-together during your y-years here," he added, turning to the speechless Harry. The tightness in Lyra's chest appeared in a flash; she didn't like the way Quirrell was gazing at him.
"I guess…" said Harry after a few seconds, struggling to stay neutral. Lyra could see the cogs whirl behind his eyes, he had several things he wanted to say instead.
Their stunted replies seemed to be enough for Quirrell, he was keeping them longer than necessary and he moved away from their intended exit with his interpretation of a friendly smile. Feeling jumped back into Lyra's feet and she fidgeted on the spot, desperate to escape.
"But I do want to l-leave you with one l-last thought," added Quirrell, turning back to address them for the final time. "Please h-heed my warning, you d-don't want to get on the angry s-side of the beast on the third f-floor," he told them honestly and Lyra sighed, agitated by his comment. Fluffy wasn't that bad.
"He's not a beast, he's lovely," snapped Lyra as Harry opened the door, "he's not as threatening as you think. It's not his fault he's been put on the third floor with no one to play with."
"I've dealt w-with creatures worse than the C-Cerberus," Quirrell confessed, assuming a grander stance as he straightened his spine, "it is true that he's n-not as bad as the creatures in the F-Forbidden Forest but you m-must be careful."
"Have you been in the forest, sir?" piped up Harry, stopping in the doorway. They were curious, the professor could see it on their faces.
"I have and I m-must implore you two n-never to go in there," he instructed, using his most authoritative tone, "there are things in that f-forest that you must n-never encounter. Especially during t-this season, the d-darkest of creatures come out at night and you will d-do well to stay a-away."
Lyra thought of the Thestrals and her eyes automatically widened, wondering whether it would be easier to find the creatures after dark. She went to ask him if he was talking about the skeletal horses but Harry beat her to it with his own questions.
"What kind of creatures?"
But the Dark Arts professor wiped his face of all emotion and diverted his stare, closing up and shying away from the answer Harry wanted to hear. The question triggered something within him and he transformed back into his usual less-than-warm facade.
"I do not t-think its appropriate for m-me to say, M-Mr Potter, and I emphasise m-my seriousness when I tell you to k-keep out of that forest. The Gryffindor T-Tower is much safer, you mustn't wander too f-far from safety. E-Especially on nights like these... But enough chit chat, I've kept you l-long enough, off you g-go," he told him roughly, and gave the Gryffindors one last nod before leaving them alone.
The spellbound duo gazed after the Dark Arts professor with a strange sense of whiplash, not quite understanding the crazy journey that just took place.
"I don't… that was… huh?!" spluttered Harry as they emerged into the History of Magic corridor, and Lyra cupped her forehead to check her temperature. Was that a fever hallucination?
"At least he didn't kill us, but I agree — that was really bizarre," she admitted, "was it just me or was he hinting that he wanted us to stay away from the forest tonight?"
Harry frowned at the door behind them and nodded with great determination. "Definitely! He knows that we're down at Hagrid's all the time, we can see the forest from his window. He's up to something and we need to find out what that thing is. That was too suspicious," he implied and he grabbed her arm to stop her from entering their classroom prematurely. This was too important to ignore.
"We've got to go into the forest tonight, and make sure you bring your camera, we'll need more evidence if he's doing something evil," he told her and butterflies erupted in her stomach at the thought of finally exploring the school's dark woods. She was jittery and tense but it spurred her on, she knew he was right.
"I'll bring the camera, you'll bring the snacks," she agreed, sticking her hand out to seal the deal but he paused.
"Snacks?"
"There are bloodthirsty animals in there, Harry! We're gonna need something to throw at them when they come running after us!" she exclaimed brightly before waltzing into their classroom, buzzing head to toe as she mentally planned her dangerous night ahead.