The Tales of Lyra Black

by lumosmancer

Long ago, a bard named Beedle made a remarkably grievous mistake. Centuries later, his mistake fell into the hands of 2 exceptionally bright wizards & history repeated itself. 5 decades later, a cunning young wizard discovered this mistake & gave his entire life for a single drop of this power. But Death wanted revenge. And so revenge was born on All Hallows Eve, 1979...

23. Summer with the Weasleys I

Lyra wrote to Tom Riddle for four days straight. She couldn't stop herself, she was obsessed.

He quickly became her crutch while she was at Coles, it didn't take long for her to fall into his welcoming grasp. He was a twinkling light in the dingy darkness that guided her through the boredom of pretending to be a Muggle, and he gave her the slightly unconventional tools to deal with the other kids whenever they crossed paths.

Riddle had been in her position before, he told her that the best way to show the Muggles who was really in charge was to play off their insecurities and establish herself as more superior. He reminded her that she was the one with actual power, power to make the choices, not them. At first Lyra was a little hesitant to follow Riddle's ideas, verbal altercations usually ended with physical fights and she had been steering clear from fighting all together now her hormones were flourishing, but as he wrote down the perfectly constructed sentences for her to repeat she realised that Riddle had a way with words. He had an answer to everything, he was a fountain of knowledge and charm.

"Huh, you're quite the wordsmith," she had told him as she memorised his techniques, "I bet the Muggles you lived with didn't stand a chance against you!"

"They never bothered me once I put them in their place, but it's easier said than done. You need to show them that you're not someone to mess with, they can't get away with their torment anymore," said Riddle wisely, "especially this Rachel girl. She doesn't deserve to lick the dirt from your boot let alone talk to you in the way she does."

"Mhm, she'd be so lucky," Lyra joined in with the Rachel-bashing, smirking at Riddle's cruel words.

"You leave this dump in two days, you should set your boundaries now before you go. Leave them with a little bit of fear so they'll remember not to cross you when you come back," he finished their conversation with something for her to think about, and Lyra couldn't deny it.

She loved a challenge.

And so, Lyra woke up on the thirtieth of July with more than elation in her stomach and a few plans in mind. She got out of bed with the sun, it was difficult to block out the early rising light that beamed through her window every summer morning, and summoned Kreacher for her usual order — "The biggest mug of Earl Grey you can find, please!" She couldn't function properly without her hit of citrus.

"When is Mistress finally leaving this deplorable pit?" croaked Kreacher, taking his time handing over her mug, and Lyra rolled her eyes.

Whenever she sent Kreacher back to the Black House he came back more belligerent and moody than ever, all of her hard work eradicating his questionable racist behaviour dissolved like salt in hot water and Lyra knew it was because of Walburga. When he wasn't running around for Lyra, Kreacher was trapped in that house with no one to talk to except her. The painting of her grandmother needed to go.

"Today," she revealed, nodding at her half-packed trunk in the corner "you've got work to do, buddy! Please can you pack my trunk?"

"It's about time," grumbled Kreacher, hobbling around the room and ordering her belongings into the appropriate luggage, "there is a horrible stench surrounding this house, Mistress should know better than to stay here, you don't want the smell of the Muggles to linger on you… Kreacher has a little suggestion, what if Mistress' curtains caught on fire and—,"

"No," Lyra cut him off, sitting cross-legged on her bed watching her elf work, "I told you before, that idea is way too extreme. I don't want to burn the house down, that's totally unnecessary."

"But Mistress wouldn't get caught, Kreacher will do the nasty work," he suggested as though he was being very accommodating to her needs but Lyra scoffed, staring at him like he had just suggested that he eat his own hands.

"What?! No!"

"Kreacher is gifted in getting rid of scum," he said as though it were something to be proud of, "Mistress would do well to take Kreacher's advice."

"A, that house in London is still a mess so don't claim that you're good at cleaning, and B, I told you already that I'd prefer it if you'd call me Lyra. Mistress makes me feel really old, like I'm forty or something," Lyra shuddered.

"But you are my mistress," he croaked, side-eyeing her as he enchanted her clothes to fold themselves, "whoever is in charge of Kreacher is the master or mistress of the family."

Lyra's eyes grew twice the size in wonder as she saw his perspective, she never realised that she was technically the head of the Black family.

"Oh."

"And if Lyra doesn't want to be called Mistress then Kreacher will happily return to his true Mistress and—,"

"Oh hell no! I'm your mistress! That vile witch isn't in charge anymore, I am. You can call me Mistress," she firmly decided, scowling at her elf as she thought of her grandmother, and to her surprise Kreacher didn't fight back. With a simple shrug, he returned to his duties, his grumbles unusually quieter than normal which suited her nicely. That's a first!

Dumping her empty mug on her bedside table, Lyra swiped her diary from under her pillow and immediately told Riddle what her elf had said. He loved hearing about her day, he encouraged her to use the book as often as possible.

"Kreacher just asked if he could burn the house down," she scribbled, rolling her eyes, "again."

"He's still got a point," Riddle scrawled back as though he had been eagerly waiting for her to write, and Lyra scoffed, giving in to her grin.

"Hmmm," Lyra didn't want to agree (although she had fantasised about it a couple times in the past) but she happily carried on the conversation, "speaking of terrorising the other children, it's my last day here."

"I remember," Riddle replied, "but have you remembered what I told you?"

"Of course I have," Lyra assured him, wanting to prove that she had been thinking about his advice, "and I found some frogspawn in the brook at the back of the farm so I made that potion last night."

One of Riddle's ideas stuck harder in her head than the others, especially once he reminded her that some potions could be made without the aid of magic. She knew she needed to take advantage of this loophole as soon as she read Riddle's instructions on how to make the Levitating Draught.

"It only took you one evening?"

"Did I forget to mention that I'm really talented? I'm the best potioneer in my year," she countered.

"Then this won't be a challenge for you, Lyra. I'm looking forward to the outcome, I expect a novel later tonight," said Riddle, and Lyra felt a fluttering in her chest as she traced her name with her finger. He wrote his capital Ls with a flourish, he paid special attention to the minute details and she thought it was rather admirable that he put so much effort into presenting himself in such an elegant way. It must have taken him years to learn how to write like this, there must have been some sort of handwriting class at Hogwarts back then.

"Maybe I'll paint you a picture of them stuck to the ceiling too, if you're lucky," suggested Lyra, eyes glued to the diary as Kreacher begrudgingly dealt with a ruffled-looking Apollo.

Kreacher wasn't a fan of owls, he bared his teeth whenever he was near Lyra's beloved pet and, to her dismay, Apollo didn't like Kreacher either. The moment she introduced the pair to each other they sensed the other's negative energy and their loathing began, it was spite at first sight. Lyra already had to physically separate the pair after a few scraps, just like his owner Apollo wasn't afraid to use his beak or talons and Lyra knew Kreacher hated that he kept losing to a bird, he was a very proud elf. She felt like a parent of two unruly boys who refused to get along.

"I'd like that, I've tried to imagine what your art looks like but I must admit that I am not the most creative wizard that has ever existed… maybe use the back pages for your paintings, I want to keep them."

Lyra hesitated as her pulse unexpectedly spiked and her stomach flooded with a feeling hotter than anticipation. She was certain it wasn't nerves for her upcoming plan, if anything she was dying to exercise her right to create mischief, but it felt heavy like anxiety. She wasn't sure right now but she rather liked how it felt, the rush in her abdomen reminded her of flying.

"Ok… but mark my words, if I spend a couple hours painting you a picture and you absorb it the second I'm done then this book is dust," she warned him, emphasising her threat with messy, bold letters.

"I'd love to see you try and destroy this book, Black," Riddle hurriedly wrote back, and the corners of her mouth twitched. Oh he is so challenging me right now.

"BLASTED OWL!"

Kreacher swatted Apollo who was continuously flapping his wings against the elf's face, deeply offended that Kreacher would even dare go near his cage, and Lyra quickly threw Riddle's book into her leather backpack with a huff and dove at the bickering pair. At this point she would have to stage a family meeting, they needed to talk, or in Apollo's case, hoot it out.

When Danielle knocked on her bedroom door with another cup of Earl Grey (Lyra never complained, receiving two cups of tea every morning was a dream come true) she sent her elf away and welcomed Danielle inside with a deep bow, showing off her spotless room and already packed trunk with a head nod.

"Wow, look at that! Seven days straight," guffawed Danielle, nosing around the room in the hopes of catching her out with a hidden pile of mess shoved under her bed, "who are you and what have you done to Lyra?"

"I'm her evil twin, I kidnapped her and locked her away in a secret location you will never find. I'm the complete opposite of her which means I'm the worst person to ever walk this planet!" Lyra rambled, manically laughing as she teased her key worker, but Danielle cut her off with an exasperated snort of laughter and an eye roll.

"Honestly girl, you will be the death of me," she muttered, beckoning Lyra to come closer so she could pick a loose thread from the hem of Lyra's freshly cropped t-shirt. Danielle wasn't as affrighted to Lyra's latest sewing project as she expected her to be considering it was Danielle's old Janet Jackson tour t-shirt she had hacked with scissors, she actually approved of the clothing and praised Lyra for her neat hand-stitching along the hem. It looked like her gentle nagging concerning Lyra's clothes had finally paid off.

"Aww you know I would never hurt you," cooed Lyra, wrapping her arms around Danielle for a quick squeeze, "I'll make sure your death is painless."

"Thanks sweetheart," laughed Danielle, smoothing Lyra's wild hair out of her face, "are you excited for today?"

"I'm so excited I could pee!" admitted Lyra, her entire face glowing as she grinned.

"Oh, well, do try to keep it in, I've just mopped," joked Danielle, gesturing for Lyra to leave her box room sanctuary, "there's still some breakfast on the table so go eat and then I'll help you carry your stuff out to the porch — and don't forget your suntan lotion this time!"

Lyra didn't dare leave her backpack unattended, if one of the other kids stole her bag then not only would they discover her new favourite journal but also her wand, her Walkman, her wizard sweets, her fresh phial of Levitating Draught, and countless other treasures she had collected over her magical year. She tightened the straps on her bag, slipped on her oval sunglasses, and wandered through the house in the hunt for food whilst half-heartedly rubbing sunscreen into her freckled skin.

Thankfully only one other kid was still eating when Lyra walked into the kitchen, a strawberry blonde girl a few years younger than her called Lucy was buttering some toast. Lucy jumped out of her chair as though her backside had been set on fire and she fled the room without lifting her head. Lyra didn't bat an eyelid and promptly stole her seat and the freshly buttered toast she had left behind.

As she scoffed down as much toast and frosted cereal as she could handle on a hot summer's day, Lyra absently glanced out of the back windows to gauge the chance of clouds spoiling the sapphire sky rendering her heavily perfumed sunscreen useless. Her eyes immediately zoned in on the two crouched figures who were creeping towards the fence at the back of the garden, trying and failing to camouflage themselves amongst the flowery bushes, and she grinned.

Bingo! Lyra's impish smirk appeared the moment she realised it was Rachel and Johnny, and with one last sip of juice she snuck out of the backdoor and dropped to the ground, wary of her bullies' gazes. Once they hopped the flimsy wooden fence separating Coles from the cows field, Lyra quickly retraced their steps and she tried her best to climb the fence as inconspicuous as possible all the while thanking herself for wearing shorts instead of a dress. She watched from the tall grass as Johnny and Rachel sprinted along the edge of the field, laughing and whooping as they ran, and they slipped inside the nearest open barn. The old farmer's staff weren't the sharpest, the padlocks were never checked twice and the older Coles kids loved to take advantage of the witless farm hands' blunders.

It didn't take Lyra long to reach the barn, running wasn't the worst but she immediately regretted her workout when she arrived drenched in sweat. She cooled off in the shadows of the sturdy structure she ducked down and sneakily pressed her ear against a crack in the rusted steel door. Johnny was telling Rachel a cheesy joke, they were totally unaware that she was there. Perfect!

Lyra held her breath and, without making a sound, she delicately removed her potion phial and a half-empty packet of Ice Mice from her bag and prepared for her prank with her eyes glued to the barn door. She plucked a single squeaking mouse out from the wrapper, popped it in her pocket, and doused the rest of the poor mice with her Levitating Draught. If Tom's calculations were correct then they wouldn't be floating for long… hopefully.

Once she heard the pair splutter into matching chesty coughs, Lyra summoned her widest smile and dragged the barn door open, flooding the room with bright sunlight.

"Morning guys!" she chirped, enjoying how quickly Johnny and Rachel's faces fell. They both had a cigarette in their hands and fear in their eyes, but it was quickly replaced with resentment when they realised who had caught them smoking.

"What the fuck do you want, freak?" asked Rachel coolly as she recovered first, she slouched back against the crimped metal wall behind her and took a deep drag of her cigarette as though showing off her tolerance, "I thought you left already."

"Not yet, I thought we could have a little talk before I leave this dump for another year," shrugged Lyra, scuffing her boots as she walked inside, "this won't take long."

"What makes you think we want to talk to you?" asked Johnny, looking down his nose at her, "unless you fancy getting your arse kicked one more time before you go back to that mental kid prison or whatever. For old times sake."

He had ripped the arms off his old England football shirt in an attempt to show off his large shoulders but that meant it was a lot easier to smell his perspiration. The sweltering barn wasn't helping and Lyra could smell him from across the room, the earthy scents of hay, mud and cow dung weren't strong enough to mask it. How the hell does Rachel hang out with this boy? Ew!

"Yeah, let's kill a few of your brain cells, it's not like you need them at your freak school," snorted Rachel, wriggling her pencil thin brows at Johnny who looked inspired by her suggestion.

"You should really think about your own brain cells first," said Lyra seriously, flicking her sunglasses onto her head so they could see her eyes as she watched the burning ash from their cigarettes drop onto the hay-scattered floor, "you're standing in a metal box, on a scorching hot summers day, surrounded by hay and God knows what other highly flammable fertiliser… and you're smoking."

"So?" asked Johnny, clearly not understanding what Lyra was inferring.

"Nothing's going to happen," scoffed Rachel patronisingly, but she couldn't hide her hurried attempt of stubbing out her cigarette against the wall.

"Something could very easily happen," corrected Lyra smartly, keeping her tone calm and neutral. Tom told her not to show any emotion while she spoke to them and she found their reactions rather fulfilling.

"Are you threatening us right now?" Johnny stood up straighter with a scowl but Lyra didn't flinch.

"I'm just saying… if your cigarette was to set the hay on fire then you would roast alive inside this barn, it's more or less an oven on a hot day like this," she explained, and she watched the beads of sweat roll down their red faces, "especially if the door was held shut by a freak like me. Who knows what I could do to that door—,"

Something snapped in Rachel and she threw her lighter onto the floor with a pop as the plastic hit the ground, baring her teeth at Lyra. "Seriously, you're asking to get your head kicked in and I won't hesitate," she warned, daring to take a step closer.

Lyra casually slipped the Ice Mouse from her pocket and pretended to fish it out from the bag in her hand, seemingly unbothered by Rachel's words.

"The thing is, Rachel, I've lost my ability to care. I know now that I could destroy you in a heartbeat and there is nothing you can do to stop me," Lyra threw the uncontaminated powder white sweet into her mouth and smiled cruelly at the pair, "you too Johnny, you'd be even easier to kill although considering you're still smoking you're gonna kill yourself before I do."

Rachel laughed viciously, amused by her bold claims, but Lyra's dark tone had gotten under her skin, her goosebumps more than visible against her sunburnt skin. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"And what are you eating? Are they sweets?" Johnny piped up, distracted by the subdued squeaking mice in Lyra's hand, "Ugh! Are they real fucking mice?!"

"So what if they are," Lyra laughed, pushing his buttons in a precise order, "you're not having any of these, they were expensive."

Her words worked like a charm and both Rachel and Johnny reacted how she planned they would, they were way too easy to manipulate. According to her calculations if she mentioned that the sweets were both unattainable and costly then both of them would try them. They wouldn't be able to resist themselves, Rachel liked expensive things and Johnny liked things he couldn't have.

"Oh no," Lyra cried half-heartedly, purposely floundering her escape as Rachel and Johnny launched themselves at her, but she grunted in actual pain when Johnny tackled her a lot harder than she anticipated. Her chin scraped the ground but she kicked him hard in the gut and rolled away, leaving the Ice Mice behind.

"Too slow, freak," Rachel swiped the bag of sweets from the ground and helped Johnny to his feet, the pair of them more interested in her mysterious candy than hurting her right this second. They were always too cocky, and Lyra hid her smile as she pretended to limp to her feet.

"Give them back," she asked politely, but Rachel cackled and chucked a few mice into her mouth before passing the bag to Johnny who scoffed down more than three.

Huh… I wonder if Tom accounted for them to eat more than one…? Lyra watched them in silence, mentally counting down the seconds until the potion was supposed to start working, and her lack of reaction to them stealing her expensive treats unsettled them.

"Aren't you gonna try and get your sweets back? Or have you suddenly gone soft?" jeered Johnny, chewing with his mouth open, "because these are delicious."

"Nah, I'm just waiting," Lyra replied, narrowing her eyes. It had been more than ten seconds, it was going to kick in at any moment. Rachel slowed her chews and frowned, staring at the bag in suspicion.

"Waiting for whaAARGGH!"

Suddenly Rachel and Johnny screamed bloody murder as their feet left the ground. The potion seeped into their system and they floated towards the scorching tin roof saturated in mouldy green rust like two spiders racing to see who could climb their invisible web the fastest. The bag of Ice Mice tumbled to the floor as Rachel lost her grip and scrambled around in the air like a drowning rat, and Lyra tried to engrave this moment onto her brain. The image of them floating higher was like a shot of serotonin and she felt immense waves of pleasure as they shrieked for help.

"GET US DOWN! PLEASE!"

"JANE! STOP IT! STOP!"

"Not before we have our little talk," Lyra called out to them, her neck aching as she looked up towards the roof. Johnny was choking on his own tears as he stayed perfectly still, too terrified to move as he levitated higher and higher, and Rachel was still mercilessly swimming through the air, looking for something to grab onto. They weren't in any immediate danger, they may earn themselves a sprained ankle or wrist if they fell awkwardly. She wasn't actually going to kill them but their reactions were incredibly rewarding. They genuinely thought they were about to die.

"You fucking freak!" sobbed Rachel, kicking her legs wildly, "what have you done to us?!"

"This is nothing, I can do much worse then make you float around like a bubble, don't wet yourself," warned Lyra, standing in the centre of the room with a blank smile on her lips, "and no one will believe you if you tell them about this. They'll wonder why you two were hiding in here in the first place, and you're not very good at getting rid of your evidence either, maybe this was just a nicotine-induced hallucination," Lyra kicked the stray cigarette butts and watched them roll around in the hay, "so listen to what I have to say and this will be the last time we ever cross each other."

"Whatever! Just let us down!" Rachel cried, wrapping her arms around her head as she started to tremble, "I'll listen!"

Johnny was too busy weeping to reply but Lyra saw him stiffly nod.

"It doesn't feel good, does it?" she asked them, not caring if they answered, "feeling like you're about to die at the hands of someone else. Especially someone who hates you. It's terrifying, isn't it?"

"Please don't kill us!" whined Johnny suddenly, embracing his shoulder-shaking sobs, and Lyra resisted an eye roll. They looked so pathetic.

"I'm not going to kill you, but if either of you even look at me again then you'll be praying that you were still floating up there, you cannot fathom the things I can do," she challenged them, forcing her voice out to sound more intimidating, and her threat bounced off the thin barn walls.

"O-Ok," spluttered Johnny, furiously nodding his head from beneath his hands, "whatever you say, J-Jane."

"I'll never bother you again," spat Rachel, her baby blue eyes streaming with mascara as she gawked at Lyra, "I swear! Just please… don't hurt us."

Hearing the genuine fear in Rachel's voice resonated within Lyra and she breathed in the sweet scented karma that blossomed in the fresh summer air. Suddenly the stench of the farm around her wasn't as pungent anymore and she happily dropped the emotionless facade with a satisfied sigh. That should do it!

"There, that wasn't so hard! Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," she assured them in a more comforting tone, but they didn't trust her at all.

"Prove it, let us down," pleaded Johnny. They were no longer floating towards the hot metal ceiling but they weren't descending either - they were perpetually stuck in the air, levitating a mere couple of metres off the ground.

"Nah, I don't know how to get you down," Lyra admitted with a shrug, "try clicking your heels three times?"

"Jane?!" roared Rachel, her agitation amplified as it reverberated around the metal barn.

"It's time for me to leave now! See you next summer!" Lyra waved up at them, taking in the image of their legs dangling helplessly above her one last time, "hang in there!"

"You crazy, psychotic witch!"

"Hail Satan!" saluted Lyra, raising a hand to the sky and flicking her sunglasses back onto her face as she left the suspended sobbing pair to wait out the potions effects by themselves. Tom planned for her to be miles away from Weymouth by the time their feet touched the ground again so she slid the barn door shut and frolicked through the grass, fighting the urge to celebrate her successful prank with her own whoop of laughter. She couldn't wait to tell Riddle all about it, watching them cry made her feel invincible!

As she scrambled back over the wooden fence into Coles overgrown back garden, Lyra caught a glimpse of Danielle's familiar honey braids in her bedroom window and she ducked down. She crawled through the grass and popped up near the wilting oak tree with a vacant smile, acting as though she had been in the garden the entire time. She managed to beat her key worker to the back door and strolled into the kitchen, desperately trying to catch her breath before Danielle met her.

"There you are!" gushed her key worker, her brown cheeks almost flushed with colour as she beckoned her to hurry, "they're here!"

"What?" Lyra gasped, her heart jumping into her mouth, "Already?"

"Yes! Come on!"

The combined weight of her overpacked school trunk and Apollo didn't matter to Lyra as she pushed them through the uneven hallways, the thrill of seeing her favourite family gave her a rush of adrenaline and she skidded to a stop in the foyer when Danielle opened the front door to welcome their new guests.

Straight away Lyra noticed that Ron and the twins were much taller. They stretched out over the past few weeks and towered over their little sister who was virtually hopping on the spot, desperate to see Lyra. Arthur and Molly beamed at her as they stood behind their children, delighted to see her in such high spirits, but Percy was nowhere to be seen. Did he not want to come? I don't think he likes me so that's understandable.

"FINALLY!" Lyra squealed in joy, shoving Danielle out of the way and diving at Ron who happened to be the closest. "Hello! Oh how I've missed you!" He smelt sweet like caramel and Lyra was immediately transported back to the happier times in her life as she breathed him in.

"We've missed you too!" exclaimed Ron, squeezing her tightly before he drew away to brag about his growth spurt, "aw look, you're the same height as my shoulder now! How cute."

"I don't know what you're talking about," scoffed Lyra, reaching up on her tiptoes to best him, "I'm definitely ear height."

Ginny, Fred, and George strolled in next, bombarding Lyra with their own hugs whilst Molly and Arthur shook hands with Danielle and expressed their gratitude for allowing them to do this. Lyra tried to eavesdrop on their quick muttered conversation, Danielle looked awfully twitchy and she kept catching her eye, but after a rushed greeting with the Weasley adults she watched the three adults slip into the office for a private chat. Lyra's stomach gurgled but she swiftly pushed her worry to one side and focused on the fact that she was finally in the company of her own people.

"So," began Fred, circling the foyer with an inquisitive smile and his hands on his hips, "Jane, was it?"

"Christ, here we go," sighed Lyra, unable to stop herself from smiling. She didn't mind this side of the family teasing her for her Muggle persona, it only touched a nerve if the name Jane came out of Draco's mouth.

"They won't say anything," Ginny rushed to assure Lyra, rolling her eyes at her twin brothers, "Mum will kill them if they do."

"Mum never said anything about killing us," countered Fred.

"She may or may not have mentioned that we would have trouble sitting down for a few weeks if we let anything slip but our mother is not a murderer, Ginny," said George, aghast.

"Yeah but you never listen so she's absolutely gonna kill you, especially since she lectured us the entire ride here," their younger sister pointed out, and Fred blinked down at her as though he had turned deaf.

"Did you say something?" He asked, wiggling his finger inside his ear to improve his hearing, and Ginny soon gave up.

"Can we have a tour?" asked Ron eagerly, craning his neck to sneak a peek down the crooked hallway that led to the kitchen and the majority of the kid's bedrooms, and Lyra shrugged. If any of the other kids tried anything then she would happily show off in front of her cousins, and the Weasleys could defend themselves in any situation… plus Rachel and Johnny were a little busy right now.

"I mean, there's not much to look at, and I'm bringing Apollo with me because I don't trust anyone here… but sure! Welcome to Hell!"

At first Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were ecstatic to get their very own chance to snoop around a Muggle orphanage. They hadn't been allowed inside a Muggle establishment by themselves in case they messed around so they took the tour as an opportunity to investigate anything remotely foreign, but Lyra quickly crushed their spirits when she began to point out all the spots where she had been assaulted as though they were popular attractions. Their smiles faltered and their freckled faces looked unusually pale when she ended the tour with her bedroom, and Ginny let out a tiny squeak when she swung the door open.

"And I thought my room was small," said Ginny but she blushed and smiled meekly at Lyra, "...sorry."

"It's fine, I know it's tiny, I'm not blind," smirked Lyra, and she followed them inside, wary of accidentally knocking Apollo who was perched on her shoulder, "I'm surprised we all fit in here."

"I'm practically sitting on your desk, I wouldn't say we 'fit'," Ron teased, bending around Fred to smile at her, "But it's cosy and you have a good view, I like it!"

"What do you mean tiny? There's tons of room in here!" scoffed George, collapsing onto Lyra's bed when Fred spun on his heel and knocked him sideways with his elbow.

"You can do all sorts of activities in here, I don't know why you're complaining," said Fred with a straight face, "game of Quidditch anyone?"

"No honestly, it's a really nice room! I love your string lights, they're very pretty," added Ginny in earnest, pointing out Danielle's old star-shaped decor that draped along the drab brick walls, and Lyra felt her eyebrows droop as she tried to remain composed. She knew her room was horrible but they were trying their best to cheer her up, she didn't realise how badly she needed it until her eyes started to prickle with tears. Aw c'mon, suck it up! My period isn't due for another two weeks, don't go all emotional on me now.

Thankfully Danielle came to find them and Lyra rushed out of her room first, blinking away the sting in her eyes before anyone noticed.

"Are you absolutely sure you've got everything?" asked Danielle as she prepared to say goodbye to her key child in the foyer. Since Lyra was staying with the Weasleys until school started, Danielle didn't need to accompany her to the train station this year and she wanted to be well-prepared in case Lyra forgot something important.

"Nope!" joked Lyra, hugging Danielle for the final time. She breathed in her comforting frizzy hair oils and gave her an extra squeeze to assure her that she was going to be fine. Danielle chortled at her cheek and instinctively fixed Lyra's messy ponytail before letting her leave with the Weasleys, covering her sadness with a broad grin. She knew Lyra was going to be safe with the Weasleys, even after her brief chat with Arthur and Molly she could tell they were nothing like the Malfoys, but still she had a sinking feeling in her gut…

With a chirpy hoot, Apollo nipped Lyra on the cheek and took off, starting his own journey towards the Weasleys' house, and she watched him fade into the cyan sky before asking her first question.

"How did you guys get here? You didn't Apparate, did you?" she wondered, suddenly feeling nauseous as she thought of her trip to Malfoy Manor, but Arthur took the lead with a chuckle and a spring in his step.

"I couldn't pass on the chance to blend in with the Muggles," he explained, rushing ahead to introduce Lyra to his most prized possession, "there's no need to worry about Apparating today because we are travelling in style, I've been meaning to gain some experience with long-distance driving for a while now."

"And that's all we're doing, Arthur, we're just driving," reminded Molly firmly, exchanging a sharp look with her husband who smiled, but Lyra was intrigued. She knew wizards were familiar with vehicles, well, buses and trains at least, but she had never thought about wizards driving cars. Why drive a car when you can ride a broom, a vehicle that doesn't require petrol and can surpass all kinds of traffic?

"Aw Mum, please let Dad fly the car! Please!" pleaded Ginny, pouting up at her mother as she ran ahead to join her side. Ron stole Lyra's trunk before she dropped it out of shock and she gawked at her cousins as they left Coles dishevelled front garden. Excuse me?!

"Did I hear that correctly?" she frantically looked around for a futuristic eighties car, "is it a DeLorean?!"

"A what?" asked Ron, dumbstruck.

"Nevermind," mumbled Lyra in disappointment, but her dismay evaporated like the sweat on her brow when Arthur stopped in front of a shiny arctic blue Ford Anglia, and the car exceeded her expectations when she hopped inside and realised that the interior had been enchanted.

"Wow! This is brilliant! Did you do this, Mr Weasley?" Lyra asked Arthur as she slid onto the spacious leather bench that had replaced the cramped backseat, "there's—,"

But Ron jumped into the car next to her, furiously shook his head and mimed at her to shut up as Molly and Ginny got comfortable in the front. Obviously she said the wrong thing.

"There's what, dear?" asked Molly, glancing over her shoulder and Lyra froze.

"Uh, there's no dirt in here at all! It's spotless!" Lyra recovered smoothly with an awkward chuckle, but it seemed to work as Molly dropped the subject and returned to fiddle with the radio dials.

"She thinks all Muggle cars are this big, she doesn't know that Dad's been experimenting with it, just play along," whispered Ron as his brothers joined them in the backseat, and Lyra winked, flashing him a mischievous smile. Playing along was her forte.

By the time they merged onto the motorway that would take them towards Devon, Lyra felt as though she had never left the Weasleys' sides all summer. The suffocating feeling she had whenever she was at Coles dissipated and she finally felt free. Fred and George entertained the car with countless jokes and hilarious stories (although they had to backtrack a couple of times when Molly spun in her seat to disprove of their mischievous endeavours). Ginny played waitress and spent most of the journey continuously distributing sticky toffees and flasks of tea from the front bench, and Ron busied Lyra with loads of questions about her visit to Malfoy Manor. She hadn't gone into too much detail about her peculiar lunch with the ghouls in her letters and she knew Ron was itching to get his hands on the pictures of Draco's house. It seemed as though Ron's hatred towards the blonde Slytherin had grown exponentially over the summer as his entire face burned crimson red when she flicked through her photo album to find her latest snaps.

"Of course he has a Nimbus 2001!" complained Ron as he pointed towards the broom that sat in the back of one of the shots, "don't suppose you stole it?"

Lyra pouted, disappointed in herself. Why didn't she think of that?! "I wish…" she grumbled, "but I did find out that he plays as a Seeker and I think he's trying out this year."

"I dunno why you look so worried, Ron" scoffed George, nudging his little brother and stealing Lyra's photo album from his lap, "you do honestly think that little rodent could outfly Harry? Even if he makes the team they don't stand a chance against us."

Ginny froze in her seat at the mention of Harry's name and Lyra glared at Ron who opened his mouth to comment on his sister's crush. Thankfully Molly cut him off.

"I've been meaning to ask, Lyra," she spoke up, turning in her seat to face the back row with something softer than worry in her eyes, and Lyra straightened in her seat, "how was your lunch with the Malfoys?"

"Ugh, the worst," admitted Lyra, rolling her eyes, "I don't know why they bothered, it was so weird."

"So they just turned up out of the blue and asked to adopt you?" clarified Ron, frowning at her, "but Malfoy would've said that you hate him—,"

"I know!" sighed Lyra, frustrated. She had gone over her encounter with the Malfoys in her head so many times, desperately searching for a clue as to why they thought adopting her would be a good idea, but she couldn't find anything. Draco said that they wanted to do her a favour, that they were her only option. Was that really the reason why? They weren't selfless people, that much was clear. "I think they were trying to see if I was racist enough to join the family," she guessed with a shrug.

"Maybe they were trying to kill you? Mr Malfoy seems like the type to own a torture chamber," suggested Fred helpfully, and Lyra flicked through the book and pointed at the photograph of the cellar's entrance.

"He definitely has a torture chamber!"

"I highly doubt that," said Molly, but Lyra noticed how quickly she caught her husband's eye, "and I'm sorry that you didn't have a good time, I should have known that Narcissa would be so cold to her own blood." Her voice was dripping with disdain, it was hard to ignore.

"Do you know the Malfoys well?" wondered Lyra, and the Weasley children snickered.

"I wouldn't say we know them well," corrected Molly, pursing her lips at her kids as a warning.

"Dads run into Lucius a few times," Fred grinned, wriggling at his father who caught his eye in the car's rear-view mirror, "haven't you, Dad?"

"Mhmm," Arthur struggled not to sneer, his smile faltering as he returned to concentrate on the road, "unfortunately I have, I've met glaciers that were warmer than Lucius Malfoy. He's not a very nice man and I'm truly sorry that you had to go through that, Lyra."

"Thanks," she muttered, absently glancing down at her backpack by her feet, "but if anything you should feel sorry for them, they should have known that it was going to end with Danielle and I storming out, especially once they stopped answering my questions." Her trip to Malfoy Manor wasn't a complete waste of time, but she didn't dare mention Kreacher or her new journal in case they disapproved.

"Danielle mentioned that you spoke about your father's family," said Molly slowly, offering Lyra a sympathetic, motherly smile, "and I'm really sorry that they weren't as accommodating as they should have been, Narcissa should have known better."

Molly's words resonated with Lyra and she nodded, silently thanking her for her kindness.

"Yeah, it was pretty jarring… I thought they wanted to help but if anything I'm more confused," she mumbled. Lyra was hesitant to ask Molly questions about her mother's side of the family but her anxiety gently simmered into hopefulness when Ron slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a side-hug.

"I don't even have to say this but we are nothing like the Malfoys so you don't have to worry, we actually do want to help," he reassured her, and Lyra disregarded the sweltering heat and nuzzled her head into his shoulder, smiling to herself as she hugged him back.

"I'm not worried."

Eventually the car rolled off of the final Muggle accessible country road and Ginny gasped, spinning around and tapping Lyra's shoulder, urging her to look out of the window.

"We're here!"

Lyra stuck her head out of the window and flicked her sunglasses up to take in the sight of the charming Devon countryside, breathing in the natural sweet aromas of the vibrant English flowers and fields of green and golden corn as the Ford smoothly rolled through the hills. In the far distance she could see the top of some sort of tower but the mysterious structure disappeared behind a dense emerald forest as they drove towards a gap in the trees.

The Burrow was, in Lyra's personal opinion, unequivocally the coolest house she had ever seen. When Ron described his home to her she had trouble understanding what he meant by 'a farm that had grown out of control' but as the Ford came to a steady stop in the front yard Lyra's jaw dropped as she realised that the entire house was being held up by magic. The several story-high crooked house ever so slightly swayed in the warm summer breeze, basking in the bright day as the light illuminated the crazy concoction of colour and masonry, but the more Lyra looked around the more speechless she became. A small garage overflowing with junk sat next to a faded red barn, fat brown chickens pecked at the ground, a couple of stray cats prowled through the wild grass beyond their picket fences, and she hadn't even seen the back garden yet. It was more than Lyra could have imagined.

Ron climbed out of the car behind her and watched Lyra's reaction warily, nervous of what she was about to say. This was the quietest she had been all day.

"I know it's no Malfoy Manor but—,"

"ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" Lyra erupted, shaking Ron's shoulders and pointing at his house, "This is incredible! It's modern art, it speaks to me, Malfoy Manor could never be this interesting!"

"That's very sweet, thank you Lyra," Molly flushed, holding the door open so Ginny could slip out, "I'll put the kettle on."

"No! Tour first!" interjected George, grabbing Lyra's hand and dragging her towards the house, "we won't be long, we promise."

"We'll be quick, and we can put Lyra's stuff in my room so you don't have to," agreed Ginny, rushing to join the twins and Ron as they accompanied Lyra inside, but they didn't wait around to hear Molly's reply.

The inside of the Burrow was just as fantastic as the outside, it was cramped but cosy, every single room was inviting and Lyra felt strangely relaxed as she followed her cousins around the house. They explained how Arthur constructed the house while they were growing up, he was an innovative man and Lyra was in awe of his creations. The twins' room was by far the messiest, they had an abundance of prank products that caught her eye and they promised to return to their collection later, eager to show off their latest projects for the upcoming school year. However, they caved to Lyra's wishes when she noticed they made a dozen more of the exploding snapping teeth they had gifted her for Christmas. Poor Percy received the biggest shock of his life when they stuffed as many sets of chattering teeth under the crack of his bedroom door before they were caught and they ran through the house cackling as Percy hollered after them.

Ron's room, however, was Lyra's favourite room in the house — he had his own attic and the best view! She gawked out of his window and took in the beautifully warm view of the enchanting countryside and collapsed on his bed with a grin, staring at the ceiling as she listened to the ghoul above them stamp about. Ron's skittish expression vanished when she told him that she was kicking him out of his bedroom because it was now hers.

After a tour of the back garden and the hidden orchard at the bottom that doubled as a Quidditch pitch (Lyra caught Ginny's eye and they struggled not to smile, they had already planned to sneak out and play together already when the boys were busy) they retired to the kitchen where Arthur and Molly were waiting with a fresh pot of tea and an array of sandwiches.

"Your house is officially the best! You're very talented, Mr Weasley, it must have taken you ages to construct all of this," Lyra babbled as soon as they sat down, and he smiled at her as he cleaned his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Thank you Lyra, it was certainly a labour of love, but it was Molly who put all of this together," said Arthur, gesturing to the interior design and shifting the compliment onto his wife who swatted his arm and laughed lightly.

"It's great and all," said Fred through a mouthful of ham, "but what would make it even better is if you added a balcony—,"

"We're not adding a balcony onto your bedroom," Molly sighed, it was clear that they have had this conversation before, "you two set fire to the balcony we added to Charlie's room and I cannot risk you breaking your necks when you eventually jump off of it, you don't need a balcony."

"It was worth a shot," muttered George, consoling his sulking twin.

Lyra's eyes wandered around the kitchen as she sipped her tea and her heart skipped when she spotted herself in a photograph on the wall by the winding staircase, but her body seized up when she realised it wasn't her but her mother.

She was right there, hanging on the wall in a perpetual state of laughter with the red headed teen girl beside her. It was just another picture in the collection of family photographs that the Weasleys walked past every day, but to Lyra it meant so much more. She never thought she would see Giselle so casually, like she was still here.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry…

Molly sensed Lyra's shift in mood and she sadly followed her gaze, catching onto the reason instantly. The difficult conversation was impending, and with a heavy sigh Molly climbed to her feet and fetched the Prewett family album from the living room cabinet. The Weasley children spotted the book before Lyra and sobered up with a shared understanding that they needed to be serious. Their parents had asked them to keep quiet until they spoke to Lyra and they obediently followed their terms.

"Lyra," began Molly, and Lyra snapped her head towards her, disguising her wave of emotion with a forced smile, "I know you have a lot of questions about Giselle and the whole family, and I am more than willing to tell you everything about your mother, but I was hoping that you could answer a couple of my questions first?"

"Sure," Lyra agreed with a shrug, "what is it?" Danielle's cheek chewing popped up in her mind, reminding her that the adults were keeping secrets, and she patiently waited as Molly exchanged a look with Arthur.

"Are you absolutely sure that this is a good idea?" he asked softly, a deep line etched between his brows, and Molly nodded with determination.

"Why he had to get the Ministry involved in this I will never know," she said firmly, "Lyra deserves to know and Danielle agreed with me, this has gone on for long enough and I want to do something about this." Her passion in the subject resonated with Arthur and he nodded, smiling proudly at his wife.

"Then I fully support you, dear."

"What's going on?" Lyra blurted out, totally confused, and she glanced at Ron who shifted uncomfortably.

"For the record, I didn't know until this week," he promised, holding his hands up, "I can't say anything."

"You better tell her fast before she explodes," warned George, cheekily winking at Lyra who was staring at them in sheer bewilderment, he could see the questions building in her watery silver eyes.

Molly cleared the lump in her throat with a delicate cough and pressed on.

"Lyra, do you know who Andromeda is?" she asked gently, and Lyra blinked. Andromeda… that's a constellation, it must be a family member. She vaguely remembered seeing a map of Andromeda on Draco's study wall and pouted, straining her memory for some other details.

"Are they related to me?" she guessed vaguely, "I have no idea who that is."

Molly looked mildly concerned. "You've never written to Andromeda?"

"No? Why? Who is Andromeda?"

"I told you she doesn't know who she is," Ron interjected quickly as though proving to his family that they should listen to him.

"Andromeda is Narcissa Malfoy's sister, she's actually a good friend of mine," Molly answered before Lyra opened her mouth to ask again, "and she told me that she received a letter from you last year demanding that she never contact you and that you didn't want anything to do with her."

…Huh?! Lyra's jaw dropped and she gawked at Molly, she didn't know what to say. I what?!

"I never did that," promised Lyra, staring Molly in the eye, "that's not true." The lie didn't even make sense, why would she send a letter to a person she didn't even know existed?

"So it definitely wasn't you who sent her the letter?" Molly clarified.

"It definitely wasn't me," repeated Lyra, "someone else sent her that letter, I've never heard her name in my entire life. When Narcissa said she had sisters I assumed they were in Azkaban too by the tone of her voice, it sounded like something bad had happened and she told me not to pry so I thought—,"

"It's perfectly fine, my dear," assured Molly warmly, slowing Lyra down, "I expected the Malfoys to feed you a fable or two."

"So Narcissa's sisters are…?" Lyra trailed off, hoping to get an explanation as to why she had never heard of them before, and Molly happily finished her sentence.

"Andromeda was disowned by her family when she got married, she's nothing like her sister and she is a lovely human being," she explained, and Lyra slumped back in her chair with a mild sense of whiplash, processing the new information. Her theory that every single person on her father's side was evil finally had opposing evidence, maybe there were more people like Andromeda? I wonder what else Narcissa lied about?

"And the other sister?" prompted Lyra, "is she secretly wonderful too?"

"No, the other sister is in Azkaban," corrected Molly awkwardly, "you were right about that one."

Oh well, one out of two isn't so bad!

"Fascinating," mumbled Lyra, her brain buzzing with a million questions, but Molly wasn't finished with her own yet. Her fingers fiddled with her mug's handle as she found the courage to continue, and she gave her children one last sweeping look to remind them to stay quiet.

"There is one more thing," said Molly kindly, "and this might be a bit shocking at first, but I want to tell you this because you are family and it's not fair. You'll have to keep this to yourself though, a gag order has been put in place and I don't want you to get into trouble."

Lyra's stomach rolled on itself, swirling all of her worries together until she felt feverishly sick. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't prepare herself for what came next. Goosebumps pricked her skin as though she had been doused with cold sea water when Molly finally unleashed the secret that had been gnawing away at her

"What is it?"

"It's about your grandfather, your mother's father… He's still alive."

Lyra's soul almost screamed and her brain froze, stunned by the revelation. She didn't know how to react. OH MY GOD?!

"WHAT?!" Lyra yelled, shell-shocked. She couldn't spit her words out fast enough. "Why hasn't he contacted me? Where is he? What's his name? Where can I find him?"

"I will try my best to explain," Molly rushed to comfort the overwhelmed girl, "this isn't a reflection of you sweetheart, Bartemius Crouch is a very complicated man and he's been through some terrible things that have turned him into the man he is today."

Bartemius Crouch… The name dwelled in Lyra's mind as she stared at Molly, unable to vocalise her confusion. Something dark rooted itself in her gut and she dropped her gaze to the table, hating how quickly her mood dipped. There must have been a reason why she was only hearing about her grandfather now. Did he not want her? This isn't going to be easy…

"Bartemius and your mother's relationship was terribly rocky, they never saw eye to eye and he disowned Giselle during her seventh year at school," Molly relayed, grazing her teeth against her lip to calm her nerves, "your mother distanced herself from her family and your grandfather took it extremely personally, especially because he didn't approve her dating your father and she ran off with him."

Lyra ground her teeth, focusing on her breathing as she processed the news. Would you look at that, he was right!

"And now he hates me? Because he hates my parents? He doesn't even know me!" Lyra spat, growing a tad defensive, and Molly nodded.

"I know, I've tried to write to him but Errol returns with my letter every single time," she sighed, exhausted by her uncle's stubbornness, "your grandfather is the most hard-headed man I've ever met, his heart broke the day he found out that Giselle had passed and he put up a wall that I've never been able to break down."

"Do you ever see him at work, Dad?" Ron chipped in curiously, and Arthur hid his awkward expression with a sip of tea.

"Sometimes, but he never speaks about the family anymore. He's an extremely hardworking man and he dedicates himself to his job so we don't usually cross paths," he admitted after a moment's pause, and Lyra mentally jotted down the facts about her reclusive grandfather. He worked at the Ministry, he was stubborn, and he hated her — he sounds delightful!

"How come I didn't read about him in the papers?" asked Lyra, connecting dots in her head, "there was no mention of him or my grandmother or anyone for that matter! None of them were mentioned, and Dumbledore didn't hint that he was alive when he told me I was a witch."

"Bartemius is also extremely proud, he's paid off the press in the past to keep his secrets hidden so I wouldn't be surprised if he's spoken to the editor of The DailyProphet. Dumbledore would've been told the same," tutted Molly, disheartened by her uncle's actions.

"I believe he has, he's also put a gag order in place," explained Arthur, using his most paternal tone to address Lyra, "he's removed himself from any record that links him to you, he's gone too far with his restrictions but he doesn't seem to care. He's not thinking straight."

"He sounds awful," sniffed Ginny, screwing her face up in horror, "maybe it's a good thing he's not in your life, Lyra."

But the whining inside of Lyra didn't agree, she just couldn't understand why her grandfather hated her.

"I suppose so, it sounds like I don't have a choice but to pretend that he doesn't exist," she muttered bitterly, leaning on her crossed arms in a sulk.

"He's not an awful man," Molly carried on with urgency, "he loved your mother very much—,"

"But he doesn't love me?" Lyra finished bluntly, and Molly winced.

"It's not that he doesn't love you, it's more that he hates your father so much that he cannot bring himself to look past your last name," she reworded, but Lyra still felt the sting of her true meaning. Bartemius hated her because she's her father's daughter. He hated that Lyra existed, she was a part of the reason why Giselle was dead. She was a reminder of the man that murdered his baby girl.

Lyra kept the negative downward spiral of emotions from bleeding into her expression and she nodded, desperate to escape the kitchen. She didn't want to talk about her mother's family anymore, she thought they were the good ones and now she wasn't sure. She felt disconnected from herself, she was afraid of unearthing more family secrets that she was better off not knowing.

"I see," she mumbled, acting as nonchalant as her constricting chest would allow. It was getting harder to breathe, "well thanks for letting me know, I guess."

"What a wanker!" scoffed Fred, infuriated by the conversation, "forget about Crouch, Lyra, he's not worth your time."

"Fred!" Molly scolded, scowling at her son before reaching over the table and taking Lyra's hands in her own.

"I'm really sorry, darling," she murmured, her soft brown eyes crinkled in sorrow, "I really wish we were one big happy family. We were once upon a time, but so much has happened over the years that we've broken apart but I want you to know that we love you very much and you are still a part of this family, regardless of what your grandfather thinks."

Lyra squeezed her hand and nodded, still battling against the urge to cry. She couldn't cry in front of them, she didn't want them to know how much her grandfather's rejection truly hurt.

"Thanks Molly, I love you guys too," she mumbled.

After pretending to adapt to the more cheerful conversation concerning what activity was first on the kids' to-do list, Lyra excused herself from the table and slipped out into the back garden for some fresh air and a safe space to squeeze out a few tears. She felt Ron's watchful eyes on her back as she left but she didn't care, she needed to go.

She sat on the stained wooden bench by the pond, absently watching the frogs hop about in the murky green water as the hot tears rolled down her freckled cheeks. She couldn't distinguish the rage from the heartbreak inside of her, everything was draining and she didn't have the energy to properly process her emotions. Her grandfather hated her because of what her father had done, he didn't want anything to do with her and she didn't even know he was alive. He didn't care that she despised Sirius just as much as he did, he didn't care that she also loved her mother with all her heart. If Lyra died today then he wouldn't bat an eyelid. Bartemius wanted her to stay away, he had no interest in getting to know his granddaughter and he spent a lot of money trying to keep himself out of her life.

But he's wrong.

He doesn't know that you know he exists. You've got the upper hand now.

He might not want to know me, but I want to know him. How dare he assume I'm like that monster!

You have a house elf now, I bet Kreacher knows where he lives? Maybe you could confront him yourself?

…I like that idea.

"Lyra?"

Wiping her tears away before she got caught, Lyra smiled weakly at Ron who snuck over to see if she was ok. His brow crumpled when he noticed how red her eyes had gotten and he perched down next to her in silence, not wanting to upset her by saying the wrong thing.

"You didn't know this either?" she asked in a thick voice, side-eyeing Ron, and he shook his head.

"Mum told us a few days ago," he promised, patting her arm affectionately, "I'm sorry your grandad is a big tosser."

"It's fine," Lyra sighed, massaging her eyes in the hopes of rubbing away the negative feelings trapped inside of her, "it's just… not what I expected to hear."

"But you know he's wrong though," he muttered, noticing the doubt in her eyes, "he doesn't deserve to know you, you're worth a thousand of him and he has no say in whether you're in the family or not. He hasn't made an effort with any of us for years, I didn't know he existed either until Mum told us so please don't waste your tears on him."

Ron's compassion warmed the chill in Lyra's heart and she nodded, hammering his point into her brain and forcing it to stick. The opinion of a man she never met didn't matter, who was he to decide who she was?

"I'm not worried about him," Lyra said firmly, breathing in deeply and sitting up straighter on the bench, "if he doesn't want to know who I am then fine, so be it, I don't need him to know who I am."

She pushed the idea of unexpectedly visiting Crouch to the back of her mind, maybe another time...

"Exactly! You don't need him, you got us!"

"And I couldn't be happier," Lyra finally grinned, smothering Ron with a tight hug.

"Good, we need you in high spirits because our day isn't over yet," Ron wriggled his eyebrows and his smile suggested that he knew something she didn't.

"What have you guys got planned?" she wondered, excited for her summer to start properly.

"It's Harry's birthday tomorrow," began Ron, already grinning at his own plan, "we are supposed to go and pick him up in a couple of days but I thought, with some help from Fred and George of course, that we could steal the car and go and surprise him tonight! He's dying to leave his aunt's house and I don't think he'd expect to see us in a flying car, what do you think?"

Lyra's stomach fluttered at the prospect of seeing Harry so soon and she squealed, clapping her hands in elation.

"I love it!" she gasped, very proud of Ron's mischievous way of thinking, "he's gonna totally freak! Ron, this is the best idea ever!"

"Pfft, it's nothing," said Ron pompously, puffing his chest out a little to convey his pride.

"Is Ginny coming with us?" wondered Lyra, starting to prepare their sneakout mission in her head, and Ron scoffed as though Lyra was joking.

"No way! She's gonna ramble on about how great Harry is the entire time there and then she'll freak out and stay silent the rest of the way home! Harry's gonna get suspicious and you've told me I can't tell him why so it's just gonna be awkward," said Ron persuasively.

"I'm not coming unless Ginny comes too," Lyra sniffed, crossing her arms, and Ron stared at her as though she had insulted him.

"What? Why?! Lyra, c'mon!"

"No! Ginny told me about how you guys leave her out all the time and I'm not letting that happen anymore, we're including her! She's barely a year younger than us, you can't use the little sister excuse no more and to be honest she's so much cooler than she lets on," she told him matter-of-factly, and Ron hung his head in defeat. He couldn't think of another excuse.

"Whatever…" he grumbled, shooting daggers at her, "but you're on Ginny duty, she's your problem."

"That sounds fine to me! I dunno why you act like she's so annoying," scoffed Lyra, amused by Ron's big brother behaviour, and he smirked knowingly.

"That's because you haven't seen her when she's in full fangirl mode — trust me, it's annoying," he said, shaking his head as he watched his little sister and mother wash dishes in the kitchen window, "are you sure we can't tell Harry? You know how he'll react, it'll be funny!"

"How would you feel if Fred or George told your crush how you felt? Is it really that funny?" challenged Lyra, arching a brow at him, and Ron's cheeks were inflamed with colour.

"I see your point," he muttered, but the sneaky smile appeared once more when he added, "but Ginny doesn't have to know that we told him."

"Ron! No!" laughed Lyra, playfully shoving him and he rolled his eyes, finally giving up and relaxing back on the wooden bench with her, simply happy to have his best friend and cousin back.

"Fine…"