"You're going where?!" exclaimed Ron, staring at his friends as though they had just told him they were defecting to Slytherin.
After filling Hermione in on the new developments in the Quirrell investigation ("I'm starting to think you two shouldn't go anywhere alone, you've got the worst luck," whispered a horrified Hermione as they gossiped at the back of Binn's classroom) Lyra, Harry and Hermione rushed to the hospital wing before dinner to check on their green friend, itching to update him on everything he missed.
"You can come too!" said Lyra, scraping her chair against the smooth floor as she shuffled closer to Ron's bed, "I've thought about this already. George told me that Pomfrey uses a simple locking charm on the door; Alohomora will work! We'll meet you on—,"
"Do you really think it's a good idea if Ron came?" interjected Hermione nervously, her eyes fixated on Ron's bandaged hand. He assured his friends that he was feeling much better as soon as they arrived but she was far from convinced as she continued to pry, pestering him with questions for her own peace of mind. "What if he starts to feel ill again? We have no idea what's in the forest and I don't feel comfortable putting Ron in danger like that, it'll be difficult getting him back up here if he passes out."
"I'll be fine, I promise! Look!" Ron scrambled out of bed and paced around his friends' chairs, gesturing to his wrinkled pyjamed body as proof that he was fit and healthy, "I don't feel sick or dizzy anymore, I can walk which means I can run — I'm coming with you."
"And your hand?" prompted Lyra, waiting to hear its fate.
"It'll be back to normal by the weekend, Pomfrey saved it from being chopped off," he revealed, stroking his bandage in self-pity and Lyra begrudgingly gave Harry two galleons when he held his hand out.
"Great!" agreed Harry as he pocketed his winnings, thrilled that Ron was joining them, "we need him to come with us. We need as many witnesses as possible, the Forbidden Forest is huge and Quirrell could be anywhere so it will take us a while to find him."
"Ooh, that reminds me," chirped Lyra, flicking through her unorganised backpack to find the plan she drew up during History of Magic, "we need to smuggle as much food from dinner as possible. Hermione, you're on cake duty, Harry, you need to steal as much meat as possible, and I'm on tea watch."
"Tea watch?" repeated Harry, snatching the crumpled parchment from her, "I don't remember tea being a part of the plan."
"That's because the tea is for us. Hunting vampires is thirsty work and it'll keep us warm while we're out there. Also, if worse comes to worst, piping hot tea is an excellent weapon," said Lyra as though it were painfully obvious, side-eying him. Harry smacked his hand on his forehead, feigning cynicism.
"Of course! How silly of me to ask."
"We're going to need a lot of napkins," Hermione thought aloud, smoothing her hair out of her eyes as she politely pinched the plan from Harry to show to Ron, "but now you're coming too, do you think you could bring along some of that antidote Madam Pomfrey gave you? Just in case one of us falls ill, I believe that you're ok," she added quickly when Ron blushed.
"I'll see what I can do," he assured with a cheeky smile, his eyes landing on the matron's multitude of healing potions on the nearby medicine trolley. Lyra followed his gaze and made a mental note to walk past the station herself, the sparkling black crystal bottle shaped like a skull looked particularly fascinating and she couldn't resist sneaking a peek.
Once they relayed the plan to Ron, the trio were shooed from the hospital wing by Madam Pomfrey who reassured them that they could visit their friend tomorrow lunchtime. Biting her tongue in order to keep their secret, Lyra waved goodbye to the matron and sneakily stuffed the skull-shaped phial into her robe pockets, praying with all her might that Pomfrey wouldn't miss the mysterious potion tonight. She intended to return it in the morning, she was merely borrowing the phial — what if they got injured and they needed some mysterious, shiny black potion to heal them? If someone got hurt, her friends would thank her for her sticky fingers.
Lyra kept her cool for the majority of dinner, the nervous flutters didn't make an appearance as she steadily poured tea into the spare flask Hermione smuggled into the Great Hall. She managed to keep the container steady between her knees as she pretended to laugh at whatever Dean was saying to keep the attention off of her sneaky hands and it worked a treat as no-one noticed the table's supply of Earl Grey had mysteriously disappeared.
Harry, to Lyra's surprise, did a sufficient job with handling the hot and cold cuts of meat but as the meal progressed, the number of chicken bones that ended up on the floor was immensely entertaining from her perspective due to him faking a dramatic cough every time he dropped something. He sounded contagious and the other Gryffindors occasionally shared a worried look. Hermione, on the other hand, was having a lot of trouble with her task.
"I can't do this!" hissed Hermione across the table, gazing at the generous slices of chocolate fudge cake sitting on the golden platter in front of her with fear in her eyes. Lyra shielded the rest of their fellow first years with a subtle arm placement and raised her brows, reassuring her friend with a false smile.
"Just load your plate up, put the napkin in your lap, and then accidentally drop the cake into it," she instructed her through gritted teeth, but Hermione jerkily shook her head. It was like she was terrified to move, something had spooked her. Lyra dropped her forced smile and leant forward, concerned.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, conscious of their housemates around them, but Hermione simply shook her head again.
"If you don't want to do it then that's ok, I'm sure I've got enough food," said Harry under his breath, hoping to calm Hermione's frazzled expression, but she took a deep breath and met their eyes.
"No, it's not that — act natural. Quirrell is watching us," She breathed, and Lyra froze in place, her spine transforming into a steel rod. Harry choked on his drink and hurried to play it cool, but as soon as Hermione mentioned their audience Lyra was suddenly aware of Quirrell's scorching stare on the side of her face. It was burning into her pores and she felt the hot droplets of sweat dribble down her face. He was onto them, could he read their minds? Had they been talking too loudly?
"Er," Harry sat up straight and fought the urge to look at the staff table, "forget about the cake, let's just get through the rest of the meal and go straight up to bed." He raised his voice in the hopes that their Dark Arts professor would hear his words but Lyra poked his arm to quieten him down. Now was not the time for him to oversell their act. They dropped their forks and tried to involve themselves in the conversations around them instead, pretending that they were laughing at a joke.
"How's Ron?" asked Neville, taking advantage of having the trio's sudden attention, "is all of that food for him?" He nodded towards Harry's bulging pockets, offering them an innocent smile. "I hope he's ok."
"He's fine!" Lyra hurried to say when Harry said nothing; he was too busy trying to sneak a peek at the staff table.
"I'm sure Ron will be back in a couple of days," added Hermione, pushing the cake out of her way to evade suspicion but she didn't look up, Quirrell was still watching them.
"And the food? What are you doing?" Neville prompted again, abandoning his sticky pudding to give them his full focus.
"What food?" blurted out Harry, pretending to look around, but Neville pointed to the chicken bones on the floor beneath them.
"That food—,"
"Sshh!" hissed Lyra, wary of the ears around them, "you didn't see anything!"
"But—," Neville started to protest but Harry quietened him down with promises that they would explain themselves later and it seemed to suit Neville well enough as he turned away to finish his food.
Lyra's appetite vanished the moment she felt Quirrell's glare so she dropped her fork into her bowl, signalling to the trio that it was time to leave. She hid the flask inside of her baggy robe sleeve and kept it pinned to her side, hoping that she looked remotely normal and not at all suspicious, but she praised herself for being the least inconspicuous member of the group when she watched Harry and Hermione rush ahead with stiff limbs and shifty postures.
"You've really got to work on your acting," Lyra whispered to them, risking a quick look back at the Great Hall doors expecting to see Quirrell running after them, and Hermione loosened up slightly, a small blush overtaking her shiny face.
"I'm not used to lying, this is very new for me," she spat back, sounding more strained than ever, but Lyra offered her a sympathetic smile.
"You're doing great, it's him we need to worry about," he jabbed her thumb at the boy in between them and Harry scoffed, scowling at Lyra.
"I'm not that bad!" He defended himself in a hiss but before Lyra could list the way in which he could improve his lying, she heard their names being called from the other side of the Entrance Hall and she automatically skidded to a stop when she realised who it was. Harry looked back and cursed the voice under his breath, rolling his eyes to release some of his stress.
"Why is it always him?" huffed Hermione, joining them in addressing Draco and his friends who found the sight of the fleeing Gryffindors awfully interesting.
"Oi! Potter! What's the rush? Off to see poor baby Weasel?"
"Will the plan be ruined if I use the meat on him?" muttered Harry before he stormed off to face the Slytherin and Lyra considered it.
"As much as I want to say no, we really need to stay away from food-related attacks," she reminded him, "Fred and George warned me against repetition, we've got to keep it fresh."
"I'll keep that in mind," he told her sincerely, withdrawing his hands from his pockets before shouting back at Draco, "Why do you care, Malfoy? Are you jealous? You can come with us if you really want to!"
"I'm not jealous!" cried Draco, his pale face now an ugly shade of beetroot.
"Then shut up about Ron and leave us alone!" said Harry.
Enjoying the fact he was drawing attention from the gradual flow of students leaving the Great Hall, Draco beckoned his friends to follow him as he met Harry on the stairs. Annoyed that the Slytherins were going to try something, Lyra hopped down to join them and glared at the boys surrounding her second cousin in a half-hearted attempt to dissuade them from encouraging Draco to cause a scene.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" sighed Harry, not bothering to hide his disdain. His patience was wearing thin and Lyra hoped that he wouldn't snap and do something that would cost them their free evening.
"No, I don't think I do," spat Draco, glimpsing back at Greg and Vincent with an air of intrigue, "maybe we should go and see Weasley ourselves—,"
"I knew it! You do fancy him! Did you make him a 'get well soon' card? That's so thoughtful of you!" giggled Lyra, cutting Draco off before he voiced any more brutish ideas. Teasing him about his non-existent crush on Ron worked wonders, it seemed to hit a very specific nerve within him and he couldn't get his insults out fast enough to defend himself.
"For Merlin's sake, shut up Black! Why would I fancy that dirty rodent?" Draco moaned, looking past Harry to snarl at Lyra, "and to think I wanted to help you by being your friend! You're crazy!"
"I don't remember asking for your help that day, and I certainly ain't asking for it now, dude," she scoffed back, "so why don't you and your little gang of ghouls move along so we can return to forgetting that you exist. I'm sure there's a spare bridge around here for you to hide under."
"Little gang?" spat one of the boys behind Draco and Lyra bent her neck, standing on her tiptoes to get a good look at the interrupter, "for the record, I'm not a part of this gang. I merely came to watch Draco and Potter fight, its very entertaining." It was Blaise Zabini, one of the quieter Slytherins who usually kept to himself, but the smirk on his face indicated his change of mind; he wasn't afraid to speak up today.
"And that's so much better?" she snapped back, looking Blaise directly in the eye and he stared back, unfazed.
"Way better, I'm not involved in this," he explained, starting to grow bored of his interaction with the Gryffindors. Lyra blinked, staring at him dubiously and ignoring Harry and Draco who were back to swapping insults.
"You talking right now means that you're involved," she clarified for him, but Blaise chose that moment to turn mute and he rolled his eyes, biting his tongue.
Hermione, who had been fidgeting on the spot impatiently behind her argumentative friends, patted Lyra's shoulder and pointed to the small yet persistent puddle of gravy that was gathering under Harry. The napkins in his pockets had soaked through and the chicken was leaking everywhere. He hadn't noticed, his attention was primarily on Draco. The Entrance Hall's ceiling could have caved in and he still wouldn't have taken his eyes off the boy in front of him.
"That's not good," whispered Lyra, and Hermione nodded furiously, avoiding the stubborn glares from Vincent and Greg who were watching the girls in case they suddenly attacked them.
"Of course it's not! We need to go before they notice!" hissed Hermione, and she grabbed Harry's arm before raising her wobbly voice, "come on Harry, Malfoy doesn't deserve any more of our time."
The Slytherins instantly cracked, laughing mercilessly as Harry turned to walk away but their outburst made him stop again. Lyra could see in his eyes that he was about to snap and she couldn't help but agree with his actions, she wouldn't have walked away either.
"Are you really taking orders from Granger? From a Muggle-born? From a Mud—," Draco started to say but Lyra snapped at his prejudiced insinuations. That was one thing she couldn't let slide so she pulled her wand from her pocket and let go of the flask. The crash of plastic hitting marble reverberated around the Entrance Hall and the Slytherins stopped snickering the second they realised Lyra was armed and angry. Blaise immediately walked away from the situation in a huff, irritated that the fun had escalated into a real fight.
"Hermione is a thousand times the wizard you'll ever be, I don't know why you think her being a Muggle-born matters? She's the smartest person in our year," spat Lyra, ignoring her flask to snarl and scrutinise Draco but he merely rolled his eyes and faked a yawn, causing his gang to chuckle under their breaths again.
"Being a know-it-all isn't the same as being a decent wizard, but I guess you wouldn't know that since you grew up around Muggles," he snickered, spitting the last word as though it brought him physical pain.
"It doesn't matter, come on," urged Hermione, embarrassed that she had drawn more attention from those around them, but Lyra shook her head.
"It does matter," she countered, her hands starting to shake from fury.
She had never personally experienced this type of abuse before but she had seen it countless times before back in Weymouth whenever she was out running errands with Danielle. The side glances from the elderly, the whispers and dirty looks from certain shop owners, and the passive-aggressive comments from the other carers at Coles. The first time she noticed the tension she disregarded it and assumed everyone was scowling at her, the outcast orphan from the home on the hill, but after she relayed these worries to her social worker she understood that the town wasn't looking at her. They were staring at Danielle and judging her simply because her skin was a different colour. Danielle gave Lyra various history books and sociological texts to aid her in explaining the heavy topics such as racism and discrimination to the clueless child and Lyra became very passionate about helping in any way she could. Seeing Danielle clam up and shrink whenever she was faced with discrimination was terribly painful and wrong, she hated it.
But now Lyra understood that there were other ways a person could be prejudiced, it was apparent to her that the wizarding world had a blood purity problem and she knew she couldn't keep quiet. Staying silent wasn't an option, it was just as bad as joining in with the hate speech.
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip and paused, the cogs in her brain were practically audible as she rushed to think of what to say. Lyra could see that she was dreadfully uncomfortable with the current situation and she wanted nothing more for them to stop talking about her.
"Trust me, I know it matters but I will pick and choose my own fights, fighting Malfoy is not worth it," decided Hermione, and Lyra nodded enthusiastically, wanting to show her that Hermione had the final say. Danielle told Lyra not to get too emotionally involved in matters such as these, especially if the person who was being discriminated against was obviously perturbed, and she had to respect Hermione's decision — even if she adamantly disagreed with her opinion. Fighting Draco was always worth it.
"Fine, let's go," whispered Lyra to Hermione's relief, but Harry wasn't as quick as Lyra with his agreement and his hesitation brought another wicked smile to the Slytherin's face.
"Go on then Potter, run along and follow your little girlfriends," snicked Draco, enlivened by the girls' decision to flee, "run away like a coward."
"Coward?" scoffed Lyra, dumbstruck.
"G-Girlfriends?!" stuttered Harry, face ablaze like a salamander.
"We're not running away, we're removing ourselves from this splendid conversation before you say something you regret," sighed Hermione firmly, hating that she had to be the responsive one of the trio. Avoiding Draco was Hermione's speciality but she had to break her streak to put an end to the argument.
Draco wasn't backing down, his cold eyes were wide and shimmering with glee and he climbed another step, leaving his friends behind. "That sounds like running away to me, that's not very Gryffindor of you," he said matter-of-factly, but Harry rolled his eyes and turned to leave for the final time after shaking off his humiliating blush that had a tight hold on him. He picked up Lyra's flask, handed it back to her, and shot Draco one last scowl.
"You're one to talk about cowards — you're the biggest chicken in this school, you didn't even turn up to our duel! You didn't have the guts to face us then and I highly doubt you have what it takes to duel us now so turn around and slither off, Malfoy!" he spat and the trio stamped away. Lyra turned back one last time to smirk at her cousin and she couldn't resist squawking out a few chicken clucks as they left.
As soon as they reached the staircases, Hermione let out a thunderous yell of frustration and glared at the door behind them, unleashing her true thoughts now they were alone. "I can't stand him! What is his problem?!"
"I don't know but let's forget about Malfoy and get ready for tonight, we've got bigger things to worry about," growled Harry, stamping extra hard on the stairs as they climbed them but Lyra saw his sneer slide into a lopsided smile when he glanced over his shoulder.
"Oh yeah, and trolls live under bridges, not ghouls," he corrected her and Lyra scoffed, both amused and offended that he was criticising her impromptu insults.
"My apologies," she drawled, wrinkling her freckled nose, "where do ghouls live?"
"According to Ron, they live in attics," he told her.
"Or barns," interjected Hermione.
"I'll remember that for next time, thanks for the feedback," she shot back sarcastically.
The trio kept themselves busy for the rest of the evening by hanging out in the common room with the rest of the first years, excusing Ron's condition with a cover story until their housemates started to yawn. When the majority of Gryffindor retired to bed, Harry agreed to meet the girls by the Fat Lady's portrait once lights were out and they rushed up to their dorms to get ready.
Sticking strictly to her plan, Lyra shoved on her darkest outfit — a pair of black combat trousers, her scuffed boots, and the only black t-shirt she could find which happened to be a Queen band tee — and she stuffed her rolls of film, her camera, the mysterious potion, and the flask into her backpack. Hermione thanked her for letting her borrow a navy sweater as she didn't own many dark clothes and they spent the rest of the night dealing with Hermione's unruly hair. They managed to tame it into four chunky braids and Hermione appreciated Lyra's gentle touch (judging by Lyra's usual careless behaviour, she was expecting her hair to be ripped from her skull).
When the girls tiptoed down from their dormitory to meet Harry, swapping potentially useful spells as they went, they received a slight shock when they found that he wasn't alone.
Hermione froze, gawping at the boy beside him, whereas Lyra simply smiled.
"Good evening Neville," she said brightly, tugging on her backpack straps for extra security, "lovely night, isn't it?"
"What is he doing here?" Hermione interrogated but Harry only shrugged.
"He kept asking questions and I kinda told him," he explained, "so I thought — if it's ok with you both — that it would be a great idea if we had five pairs of eyes instead of four." Lyra noticed that Neville had gotten the 'dress in dark colours' memo and he fit in perfectly.
"You mean six pairs instead of five?" corrected Lyra, and Harry frowned.
"What?"
"We technically had five pairs of eyes in the first place, and now we have six," she clarified, watching as her joke dawned on him and he stared back at her deadpanned, adjusting his glasses.
"Hilarious."
"So," interrupted Hermione, looking warily at Neville who was content with staying quiet, "you thought you would invite Neville?"
Hermione's doubt was well-justified. Neville wasn't exactly the first person that came to Lyra's mind when she put together her forest plot as he seemed to sweat amply whenever he looked in the forest's direction, but the nerve to consider joining them proved to her that he would do well. A small voice in the back of her mind told her to stick to his side and she willingly listened, agreeing with herself that he would need more reassurance than the others.
"Wow Hermione," scoffed Lyra, gesturing towards the quiet boy, "he's standing right there."
"That's not what I meant!" She rushed to elucidate, nibbling her bottom lip as she caught Neville's eye, "it's just… Do you know where we're going?"
"Yeah, you're going to track down Professor Quirrell," he said, sounding more confident than the girls assumed he'd be, "and I want to help. I saw the way he was staring at you at dinner and it didn't feel right. He wasn't acting like himself."
"In what way?" interrogated Lyra, thirsty for details as she imagined that Quirrell had flashed his fangs or hissed at them like an angry cat.
"Well," Neville scratched the back of his neck and glanced nervously at Harry, "he was staring at you in the same way Snape looks at you."
"Like I've just spat in his face?" clarified Harry, and Neville nodded, awkwardly dropping his gaze to his shoes.
"Pretty much," he mumbled before clearing his throat and summoning the courage to look the three of them in the eye, "are you certain he's in the forest?"
"Positive, he really doesn't want us to go in there," replied Lyra confidently, "we'll be ok! If the forest was really so dangerous then there'd be a wall around it, the teachers know that telling a school full of teenagers not to go somewhere is pointless. I will personally see that you'll be back in your bed by the end of the night."
"You'll be perfectly safe with us," assured Harry, and Neville looked a little less queasy after their words of support.
"Then I definitely want to come," he said, no audible shake in his voice that time, and Harry patted his shoulder with a grin.
"Brilliant! Let's go!"
After introducing Neville to Harry's cloak (it took Neville six and a half minutes to close his mouth, Lyra counted) they snuck out of the tower and made their way down to the hospital wing to meet the final member of their party. They passed a couple of Slytherin prefects on their way who looked perplexed as they caught a few of their whispers before they clamped their mouths shut, but with the cloak's coverage they were quick to sneak away. Ron almost had a heart attack when the four appeared out of nowhere outside of the hospital wing, and he welcomed Neville into the group with a back slap, impressed with his newfound sense of adventure.
It was eerily silent in the prodigious castle foyer and the patches of white moonlight on the floors and walls unnerved Lyra somewhat, they seemed a little too bright and she kept her eye on them as though she was expecting to see a fleeting shadow. She never felt this on edge sneaking out before, it was like her body was bracing for some impending doom she couldn't see yet but she pushed it out of her mind as they breached the castle's front doors. The cool night air would sort her out, she needed to get rid of the phantom gaze she felt on her back.
"Careful! That was my foot!" hissed Hermione from the front of the group, turning around to scowl at Harry, but he pointed at Ron without a second thought.
"It was him!" exclaimed Harry.
"Snitch!" gasped Ron, staring at him incredulously.
"Can we take this off now?" asked Neville, fiddling with his sweater collar as his cheeks started to turn pink, "it's really hot under here."
"Just fan yourself," warned Lyra, looking around the entrance courtyard suspiciously as they crept through, "we don't know who's watching us and we can't blow our cover. Please don't ruin this for me, I want to at least see a fox before we get caught."
Neville went to say something but he thought against it and nodded instead, suffering from his overheating in silence.
The vibrant moonbeams pouring over the grounds seemed to recede the closer they got to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the five Gryffindors finally emerged from under the cloak, staring at the broad line of terrifyingly tall trees in front of them with racing hearts and sweaty palms. The soft glow from Hagrid's window caught Lyra's attention, informing her that he was still awake, and she beckoned the group away from the groundskeeper's abode, not wanting to risk drawing any attention to themselves. Especially after the day Hagrid had. A part of Lyra wanted to go and check to see if he was handling the Norbert news well but the other part of her that wanted to hunt down one of their vampire teachers won without a fight.
"Ah damn it," sighed Lyra with a pout, breaking the silence between them, "we should have brought stakes."
"Er, Lyra?" reminded Harry, waving his wand in front of her face, "we already have stakes."
Lyra scoffed and gave him a stiff nod, slightly sour that she didn't think of that. "Aren't you smart?"
"I have my moments," he murmured under his breath.
Ron clapped his hands, winced at his injury, and gathered them in a circle, keen to take charge of the plan as he started to boss them around. "I think it would be a good idea if we spread out a little, that way we can cover more ground."
"Spread out? As in split up?!" choked Hermione, looking at Neville who was equally as horrified.
"I don't like the sound of that," he agreed, staring at Ron as though he had just sprouted tentacles, but Lyra and Harry nodded.
"I think it's our best bet," said Lyra with a shrug, avidly ignoring the blaring alarms in her head that reminded her of her beloved Muggle cartoon show. Splitting up wasn't always the right method but they needed to cover more ground.
"It'll take all night if we stick together," added Harry, "but we will stay within sight of each other, we'll only be a few metres away and our wands will be lit so we won't lose each other."
Relief rolled over Hermione's face like a breath of fresh air and she nodded, satisfied with his explanation. "That sounds better, I can work with that," she sighed, buttoning up her cloak to protect herself from the spiky branches within, and Lyra gave Neville another inspiring smile to soothe his nerves.
"We won't let anything hurt you. Harry has all of the stolen meat on him so the beasts will go for him first," she said in a voice that suggested she was saying something motivating, and Harry rushed to dish out the food with a disproving pout, muttering something bitter under his breath.
Once they were ready Lyra huffed and stepped into the Forbidden Forest, her illuminated wand out in front of her, and she embraced the prickly chill that rustled the leaves and blew around their ankles. She had taken the unwanted spot at the end of the line next to Neville, his wand light smothered by the gargantuan trees and bushes separating them, and she waved at him every time they spotted each other through the darkness. By her fifth wave, he finally laughed and waved back, his agitation evaporating into credence.
After ten minutes of solo searching, Lyra wiped the forming beads of perspiration from her brow as she stumbled into a small clearing encircled by wilting elm trees that protected the clearing from the unknown. She caught her breath as the others emerged from the shrubbery, equally as spooked. No one had seen anything yet, not a single suspicious whisper in the brush nor a flash of violet fabric peeking through the blackness, but Lyra dismissed their worries and pulled the flask from her backpack with the intention of raising their spirits. Tea always helped, it was a known fact.
The cover of the trees gave them enough courage to regroup. The bouncing rays of light from their wands reflected off the leaves above them, almost giving an illusion that twilight was still in session, but the contrast of the artificial light against the darkness was still quite jarring to look at. All of them kept their eyes peeled, too anxious to let their guard down.
"I knew this would come in handy," said Lyra with a soft smile, passing out the comforting cups of tea, and Hermione downed her mug in one, thankful for the hot beverage as she had started to quake from the frosty forest atmosphere. Something was howling in the distance and her wide eyes flicked all over the place, but a small smile from Ron settled her and she straightened her spine, seeming a lot more put together.
"What is this?" spat Harry, pulling a face when he tasted the tea and Lyra screwed up her face in offence.
"Earl Grey, also known as the greatest tea known to man," she educated him, and he shook his head, handing it back.
"It tastes like perfume, why is it citrusy?" he complained, and Lyra snatched the cup, shooting daggers his way as she tried not to take his opinion to heart.
"If you're going to insult my tea then you're not allowed any," she said saltily, "clearly you've never had a decent cup of tea before."
"Apparently neither have you," Harry snapped back, causing her to scoff.
"Wow! I bet you're a 'milk in first' person, aren't you?" she challenged, but before he could open his mouth to fiercely deny her preposterous accusation, Ron wheezed and held his hand up to ask for silence.
"Wait! Shut up a second!" He hissed, "do you hear that?"
"Hear wha—?" but Hermione cut herself off and pointed towards the approaching rustling that had caught Ron's attention. "Someone's coming!"
Lyra spun around and gripped her wand tightly, bracing herself to face whatever beast or vampire that was heading their way, but the imminent fear of being murdered dissolved the moment she heard the newcomer's voice. Well... voices. Her arms fell to her sides and she turned to Harry, unbelievably pissed off.
"This can't be happening!" she groaned, antagonised. "Of all the people in the world!"
"Can't we go back?"
"It's bloody freezing out here!"
"No we can't! We haven't lost them so stop complaining and follow me—,"
The buckthorn shrub tussled violently as Draco, Gregory, and Vincent tumbled out, losing their footing and crumpling to the ground. The Gryffindors were in shock, gaping at the Slytherin trio as they jumped to their feet with their wands out, fighting humiliation as they realised they had been caught. Their cloaks snagged on the loose brambles at their feet but they ripped the fabric out of the plants' grasp, pretending they had intended to fall on their faces.
"I think we found them," noted Vincent under his breath, brushing mud from his robes as Harry and Ron stormed forwards, enraged by their sudden appearance.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" shouted Harry, forgetting all about their agreement to only speak in whispers.
"Piss off Malfoy!" added Ron, needing to get his own frustrations out.
"I can't believe what I'm seeing," guffawed Draco, discounting their outburst to gawk at Neville who had stuck himself in between Lyra and Hermione, "am I dreaming or is that Longbottom?!"
"What's it to you? I dunno why Neville being here shocks you," scoffed Lyra, "he's braver than the three of you put together."
"How did you find us?" asked Harry again, growing more irate as the Slytherins continued to watch them, "What are you doing here?"
"A couple of prefects came to tell us that they heard Potter and his groupies sneaking through the castle," Draco spat, looking them up and down, "and we thought we'd come and show you what a real wizard looks like. You ran off before we could finish our conversation."
"You're always down at that oaf's shed so we knew where to find you, not very smart keeping your wands lit," commented Gregory, wrinkling his nose in abhorrence, "why are you in here?"
"We're having a tea party," said Lyra obviously, pointing at the mugs of tea in their hands, "and you guys weren't invited so please leave."
"I'm not leaving until we settle this once and for all," countered Draco sternly, working himself into a flustered huff, and he pointed his wand at Harry. "Don't ever call me a coward again."
"You called him a coward?" snickered Ron, high-fiving Harry, "Nice!"
"Technically I called him a chicken," corrected Harry, watching Draco's wand as though it were an annoying pest, which further inflamed the colour in Draco's cheeks. "Come on then, we haven't got all night!" he added, unable to stop himself.
"You wouldn't be acting like this if it were just you and me, you're all bark and no bite," sneered Draco, taking another step towards Harry to intimidate him, but Lyra couldn't stay quiet. It was like Draco wanted her to tease him, he was making it way too easy!
"Draco! I thought you liked Ron?" laughed Lyra dramatically, ruining the icy atmosphere he had created, "but now you're flirting with Harry?! I was not expecting this plot twist—?"
"He what?!" Ron looked repulsed.
"What's going on?" interjected Neville suddenly, his confusion overpowering his anxiety, but Hermione rolled her eyes and explained their foolishness under her breath. Draco spluttered in a rage and switched his attention to Lyra, no longer able to tolerate her ridicules anymore. Purposely ignoring his own involvement in her lies, Harry hid his laughter as he stepped out of the way, physically extracting himself from Draco's sight.
"For the last time, I do not have any feelings for them," he glared at the snickering boys, "you've got a serious problem, Black."
"I do?" she mocked and fluttered her lashes as she met him in the centre of the clearing, unfazed by her cousin's sneers. They stood face to face, perfectly equal in height, but Lyra tried her best to look down at him. Something cruel gleamed in his cold eyes and she tried to flick the jitter of anxiety in her gut away. "And what's that?" she added.
"You're just as insane as your lunatic father," drawled Draco, deep frown lines appearing on his pale visage, "My father told me all about your side of the family, I should have known you were going to be unhinged—,"
But Lyra's anxiety came back in a tidal wave and fierce fury electrified her body, transforming her astonishment into hatred. Hearing Draco talk about her father felt inconceivably dreamlike, like he had found her private diary and was proclaiming her secrets to the world, and the mere mention of Sirius triggered something dark inside of her. She loathed this shameful feeling more than she thought she would. How dare he?!
"I'm gonna kill you!" shrieked Lyra, forgetting all about her wand as she lunged at Draco, but two pairs of arms yanked her back before she could grab him. Harry and Ron dragged her away from the Slytherins, pleading with her to calm down but she couldn't not focus on the howls of laughter directly in front of her. Draco, Vincent and Gregory were ecstatic to find out that they had found Lyra's sore spot and the grins on their smug faces made her skin crawl. She was never going to hear the end of this.
"Ooh, did I hit a nerve?" mocked Draco, smoothing his hair out of his eyes and he looked her up and down, but Harry beat her to it. He took his place in front of her and sneered at him, teeth gritted and wand poised for a real fight.
"Don't ever talk about her father again," he growled, "you have no idea what you're talking about, you don't know him and you certainly don't know her." Lyra jolted, startled by her own emotions as her eyes started to sting but she blinked away the tears before they formed. The closest thing she could use to describe how she was feeling was something warmer than gratitude — it was a bit overwhelming.
"And you do? You're just as clueless as Black, don't pretend that you know what you're on about because you'll just embarrass yourself," sighed Draco, shaking his head in disappointment before assuming his duelling position once more. The snickers of agreement from Vincent and Gregory only intensified the unsavoury exchange.
"Then again, I'm not surprised that you're defending her… you know, with all things considered…" Draco trailed off intentionally, feigning disinterest.
Harry's face was suddenly redder than Ron's hair.
"And w-what does that mean?" He stammered, but Draco held his hands up and shrugged, enraptured by his obliviousness.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you," he said, glad he had the upper hand, "and now we're going to head back to school, wake up Professor Snape, and let him know that five Gryffindors were spotted sneaking into the forest."
Savouring Gregory and Vincent's snorts of adoration, Draco turned to leave them in the dreary clearing when Lyra was hit with a bolt of inspiration.
"Not so fast boys! Say cheese!" She sang
CLICK!
The instant camera whirred and Lyra pinched the freshly taken photograph with relish, fanning herself with it before letting out a breathy sigh. The Slytherins froze, still blinded by the camera's vibrant flash.
"Ok, you can go now! Sweet dreams!" she giggled, winking at Draco. His face fell and he screamed, forgetting that he was in the middle of the Forbidden Forest for a split second.
"You bitch!"
Looking very much like an outraged kitten, Draco pounced at Lyra in an attempt to steal her evidence of them being in the forest but she was a second too quick. She tore herself out of his reach and took off, dodging the Slytherins who started to chase her, yelling for her to surrender the photo. Ron and Harry dove at them without a second thought, trying to fight off Gregory and Vincent, whilst Hermione and Neville kept themselves out of their way but the longer Lyra ran in circles, the harder it was to avoid the scuffle.
"Give up Draco!" panted Lyra, waving the photograph above her head, "if you snitch on us then I'm gonna snitch on you!"
"I'm never giving up, prepare to run all night," Draco snapped back, struggling to keep Ron off his tail, but before Lyra could taunt the pair further for getting physical — Harry froze on the spot, suddenly distracted.
"Hold on!" he exclaimed, waving his arms to shush the group, "be quiet! I can hear something!"
In an instant the first years dropped their childish games and held their breaths, the fear of the dark forest closing in on them again. The lights from Hermione and Neville's wands flickered ever so slightly, betraying their growing fright. The hush of the forest enveloped the clearing and Lyra strained her ears, trying to pinpoint the sound, but she couldn't hear anything unusual or scary.
Only Harry could hear it.
"What is it?!" hissed Draco, creeping towards Vincent and Gregory who looked equally as afraid, their faces whiter than moonlight, and Lyra tried not to laugh at the fear in their ballooning, watering eyes. Serves them right for snooping.
"It's… I don't know, it's like loads of different whispers…" he described, starting to pace around the clearing, rather flummoxed, "they're happy whispers, they don't sound threatening. Seriously, can't you hear that?"
"Hear what?!" rasped Hermione, starting to panic. "I can't hear anything!"
"N-Neither can I?" whispered Neville, looking around in a panic and Lyra immediately joined his side for reassurance. He silently accepted her hooked arm and refused to stare into the darkness around them as his wandlight fizzled out. She could feel him tremble beside her and she held him a little tighter.
"Harry?" murmured Ron, looking at him nervously, "where is it coming from?"
Harry looked terrified. "It's…" he stuttered and gulped, starting again, "it's all around us."
"But what is it?!" whispered Draco exasperatedly as he grabbed his friends' arms, not daring to raise his voice in case the whispering beast heard him, "you better not be lying, Potter!"
"I'm not lying!" Harry shouted back, suddenly offended at his accusation, "I don't understand why you can't—,"
But then they heard it, all eight of them.
The single hiss that came from the darkness was like no whisper Lyra had heard before, it was unpleasant and sharp, unearthly in sound and nature — the very air recoiled as the whisper reached the clearing in the forest. No one breathed, no one moved. For a moment all hostility between the school students vanished and they shared the same look of terror — a blood-thirsty beast had found them and they were about to die.
The only thing Lyra could feel was the camera and photo in her hands, her legs had turned to concrete and her feet were non-existent, running away was impossible but moving was still an option. Harry was directly to her right, staring gormlessly into the blackness of the forest where the beast was approaching and she mentally calculated the number of steps separating her and the beast; there were at least ten. Her fingers fidgeted to life and they traced the shutter button, her body reacting faster than her brain, but she kept her gaze on the shadows.
"Harry… Potter..."
CLICK!
Her camera's flash illuminated the section of trees beside Harry and she swore her heart physically spasmed. Standing amongst the crooked trunks was no beast, but a human — or humanesque creature. It was draped in a black, flowing cloak that billowed in the frosty breeze like obsidian ink bleeding into the air but a sliver of alabaster skin popped out from the blackness. The beast was smaller than it seemed but it grew in spirit, the spidering shadow cast on the clearing floor engulfed the paralysed first years, swallowing them up. Its chilling hiss was almost reptilian in nature but Lyra could only focus on its eyes. They were the colour of fresh blood. She had never seen a pair like them before and the realisation of what she was staring at galvanised her whole body.
"V-Vampire!" screamed Lyra, the first of the group to catch their breath. "R-Run!"
As the light of her flash died, the clearing was immediately submerged into complete darkness and the hiss got louder.
"POTTER!"
"GO!" yelled Harry.
It was chaos. Lyra blindly shoved her camera into her backpack and latched onto the first arm she could find. The screams of the other first years reverberated in her ears like a frantic siren and she sprinted away from the clearing, pulling on her partner's arm as she picked up the pace. Rocks and loose branches tried to slow her down as she navigated the dark forest but she couldn't stop, the rhythm of her frantic heartbeat matched her speed and the haunting echoes of the others screaming slowly grew fainter. After a full minute of running her eyes acclimatized to the night and she looked back at the exhausted boy who was sobbing quietly into his free hand. Her heart panged and she slowed, sympathising with him.
"Neville, are you ok?" she whispered, breathing hard as she guided him under a low hanging branch. He took a few deep breaths and nodded, trembling head to toe. His eyes were larger than his remembrall and his round face was incandescent even in the dim lightning of the forest, but his nod was stern.
"I'm… I'm fine," he puffed, talking more to himself than to her as he braved a quick glance back, but he squealed and started to urge Lyra forward, shoving her hard.
"Go! RUN! IT'S COMING!"
The psychotic hiss was back, slithering through the trees as it hunted them down, and Lyra's stomach churned dangerously, edging towards physical illness. The pure sensation of impending doom crushed her lungs and she couldn't catch her breath, but none of that mattered now. She had to get Neville out of the forest alive — she promised him.
"Don't let go of me!" yelled Lyra, screwing her eyes up and urging her body to go faster. Twigs whipped her face and arms, nipping at her skin like tiny sharp teeth but she hardly felt them, the adrenaline coursing through her kept her steady. She heard Neville's agonising yelps as she continued to drag him but the hiss of the vampire became more prominent and she braced herself for impact. It was right behind them and she gave Neville's arm one last tug, refusing to let him be the first to be eaten.
Suddenly the floor beneath them vanished and the pair toppled down a muddy hill, collapsing into a heap amongst the dead leaves and protruding tree roots. Body aching and head thumping, Lyra groggily scrambled to her feet and used the last of her energy to search the pit for Neville. His hand slipped out of hers as they fell and she couldn't stop until she knew he was safe. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight as a dense shadow encroached on the pit but she kept searching the darkness for her housemate, her bottom lip bloody and swollen from her anxious biting. Don't look at it, just pretend it's not there!
"Neville!" cried Lyra, not bothering to stay quiet. "Neville, where are you?!"
"You…"
Lyra felt as though she had been submerged in the ocean again, the violent coldness of the vampiric whisper unnerved her in a very specific way, her skeleton rattled under her skin and her knees knocked. Hands caked with damp soil, she shuffled around in the leaves for her fallen backpack but she finally gave in and she locked eyes with the monster.
"How…?"
"Lyra?!"
Neville shot up from the leaves, mildly concussed from his fall, and he spun on the spot. His squeak of realisation spooked the vampire and it turned to acknowledge the quivering boy standing between them, intrigued. Lyra took the monster's moment of hesitance to continue her search and warm relief washed over her as though she was sinking into a steaming hot bath. The familiar leather of her backpack invigorated her and she grabbed the first item her fingers touched.
"I know you…" rasped the vampire, examining Neville as though he were an interesting piece of art, but Lyra found her voice at last.
"Neville, duck!"
Lyra was terribly lucky that Neville trusted her because if he doubted her then he would have most likely been dead from a serious head trauma. Channelling all of her strength, she gripped the heavy skull phial tightly, jumped to her feet, and threw the potion as hard as she could the second Neville fell to the floor. If the skull was any heavier then it wouldn't have worked but thankfully it was the perfect weight, it flew through the air and smashed straight into the vampire's face. The crunch of crystal against bone was ear-splitting and Lyra gagged at the sound.
The howl of agony seeped into her very soul, she could tell it had been a critical hit by the frothing hatred intertwined into the monster's growls. It stumbled over its feet, stunned by the assault, and Lyra took the opportunity to grab her backpack and the shaking boy from the leaves.
"Avada—!"
The rest of the vampire's curses were drowned out by thunderous galloping hooves and Lyra instinctively ducked as a great skeletal beast soared into the pit and stormed towards the vampire, displaying its translucent, fleshless wings to shield the children from its view. The pounding of her heart softened in the presence of the Thestrals and Lyra peeked from under her arm, watching as more dragon-like horses joined the scuffle and chased the vampire away. A gentle silence settled over them and Lyra slowly sat up, bringing Neville with her.
He looked shell-shocked, scared into silence. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to get his words out, but after the third attempt he gave up and looked at her sadly. He didn't need to say anything, his disbelief was apparent on his face.
"I know…" she croaked, hoarse from her well-deserved albeit excessive screaming, "I know."
The aura radiating from the Thestrals helped Lyra shake off her shock and she gingerly approached them, desperate to touch them. Their grey skin was smoother than it appeared and she felt the creature shiver, besotted by her affection. She finally smiled when more Thestrals nudged their snouts into her hands, gesturing for her to pat them. The taste of death tingled the tip of her tongue but she swallowed the bitterness with ease this time, she came to expect it. Being with them felt right, they came to save her and she was glad to be with them. Their milky white eyes stayed on hers and she leant closer, seeing herself in them.
"Lyra?"
Neville snapped out of his daze and carefully approached her, gawking at the Thestrals in awe, and he rubbed his heavy eyes. "Am I dreaming? Are these… Thestrals?"
"You can see them?" she couldn't stop the words from coming out, "who died?"
"Granddad," he mumbled absently, distracted by the horses to linger on the intense subject matter, and Lyra reminded herself not to pry. They had just escaped the clutches of a murderous vampire, now wasn't the time to talk about dead family members.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, but he brushed the topic away with a meek smile.
The Thestrals' impatient pawing at the ground spurred the pair to collect their thoughts and pull themselves together. They were nervous to emerge from their pit in case the vampire was waiting for them, but her stomach tumbled to her feet and amplified her trepidation when she tried to find the skull potion phial amongst the leaves. It was gone.
"Crap!" breathed Lyra, panicking at the thought of Madam Pomfrey freaking out over her lost potion, and her cheeks burned in shame when she started to overthink every part of her plan. They were unprepared, they were careless, she did everything wrong and everything they planned was fruitless. They almost died.
You don't know that, reminded her subconscious, they others could be dead right now—
"We need to go! The others could be in trouble! They could be out there bleeding to death, or being eaten by some other flesh-eating monster! We need to find them now, come on!" Lyra let out a strangled yelp and urged the Thestrals forward, using their bony wings as a support as she climbed out of the pit. Her final hit of adrenaline invigorated her as she pulled Neville up the hill in one swift movement, unfazed by his weight.
Neither of them lit their wands, the darkness didn't bother them anymore and they kept close to the Thestrals, stalking through the underbrush without a care for the thorns. Their friends' safety was more important. Lyra almost passed out when she realised she was holding her breath but she battled her overwrought tremors and walked a little faster, trusting the Thestrals' sense of direction. They knew these woods better than her, they had a spring in their hooved step and she trusted them completely.
"I see something! Over there!" whispered Neville after a while, and Lyra let go of yet another breath when she saw the soft glow of wandlight through the trees in front of them. The trunks grew thinner and the light grew brighter, bathing the group that was waiting for them at the edge of the forest, but the sense of relief evaporated faster than her fogged breath when she recognised the slim yet grand stature of the headmaster. Neville seemed to recognise him too as his posture stiffened and he refused to look up from the floor.
The most eclectic group of people greeted Lyra, Neville, and the Thestrals and she couldn't stop staring at the pair of centaurs that were eyeing the skeletal horses suspiciously, she couldn't believe they were real.
Hagrid and Professor McGonagall flanked Dumbledore on both sides, an emotion more powerful than disappointment smeared on their aged faces, and Lyra's heart sank. They were looking right at her but she couldn't quite meet their eyes. The voices in the back of her mind celebrated in secret when she realised that Draco, Gregory, and Vincent had gotten caught too but her jaw dropped in horror when she spotted the deep gash running down Harry's sulking face. He was pouting at his shoes, hiding in between Ron and Hermione in their line of shame, but he brightened up when Lyra flashed him a quick thumb up, signalling that they were ok.
Lyra and Neville slowed to a stop in front of the group and waited for their fate as though they were facing a panel of high court judges. Guilt racked Lyra's body as she tried to think of a quick-witted excuse but she couldn't find the right words to explain how sorry she was, she didn't know what the others had already said. She knew Draco and his cronies blamed her for everything the second they got caught, they most likely used her as an excuse to justify their sneaking out, but she knew not to fight it. There was no point — there was no talking their way out of this.
But she had to try.
"Before you say anything, does the fact that we were almost killed by a vampire change your minds?" asked Lyra innocently, blinking her large silver eyes at them in an attempt to be charming, but she failed tremendously.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week of detentions, Miss Black," ordered McGonagall sharply, her face taut with incredulity, "and an extra twenty-five points for your cheek!"