Ever since the day of her Quidditch Tryout, Lyra felt weird and she couldn't put her finger on the reason why.
She didn't think it was her necessarily, it was a difference in the air around her like she had become super sensitive to the dust particles constantly swirling around her, or maybe winter was advancing on the highlands a lot earlier this year and the chill she sensed was simply extra ice in the breeze… but that just didn't seem right, her gut disagreed with every theory. Something at Hogwarts changed, the school gained a presence, or rather it revealed a presence that was always lingering inside the halls, and Lyra couldn't quite explain what she felt with human words, it was otherworldly. It was a fleeting feeling, a shudder that refused to leave no matter how many jumpers she put on, and after casually bringing up the odd sensation in conversations with her friends she realised that she was the only person who was feeling like this - it was all happening inside her head. Something was here… but it wasn't real? Maybe this was puberty, Danielle always warned her that she would change, was this it?
Lyra even asked Tom to see if he could sense something so she didn't feel alone but he came up blank too, he was intrigued by her unique descriptions of feeling as though she were constantly being followed by a swarm of invisible bees, or how she received an electric shock every time she passed both the seventh and second floors of the castle, but he couldn't give her the answer to her persistent question no matter how badly he wanted to.
"I can't say that I've ever experienced those particular feelings before, no," he told her honestly, "but I must say that it sounds quite compelling, it must mean something. Do you remember anything about that day that could have been some sort of catalyst? Anything that frightened or harmed you?"
Lyra sat back in her chair and zoned out as she strained her memory for some sort of explanation, the day of her Quidditch Tryout was a messy blur and she struggled to slow down the scenes and study them for clues but when she remembered her encounters with Snape and Draco, the heat of her fury was still present within her and she automatically shot daggers at the back of Draco's head across the classroom. Once she caught sight of the nasty handprint on his cheek that refused to fade she felt a tad more comforted, but still the deep rooted anger remained. She remembered being set up by the blonde thorn in her side and she could recount every second of Snape's punishment in acute detail… but the rest of the day was null and void in her brain, all she could remember was rage. Tom's regeneration potion seemed to have finally revealed some of its gruelling side effects, her memory was failing her.
Lyra's Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons were practically free periods at this point, Lockhart's ability to hold his class' attention had been slowly dwindling as the school term progressed and he regressed into only reading excerpts of his book and acting out the action-packed chapters to his bored students, Defence Against the Dark Arts had become a school-wide joke. It wasn't a secret that Lockhart was losing the school's respect but he hadn't lost hope entirely, he still pretended that he was profoundly knowledgeable. Having already read all of his work, Lyra spent her lessons chatting to a real Dark Arts defender whilst her table partner Hermione blatantly ignored her in favour of the disgraced author. Lyra was perfectly content with Riddle's new syllabus and she couldn't wait to absolutely slay her end-of-year exams. Their diverted topic concerning Lyra's peculiar feeling drew them away from their original conversation about the basis of Legilimency and Occlumency but the change was welcomed by her mentor.
"Nope, not that I can remember much," she scrawled back, shielding her diary from Hermione's gaze with her copy of 'Year with the Yeti', "according to my friends I didn't do anything besides bitch about Snape and retire to bed early, all I remember is Snape and Draco being a couple of arsewipes so who knows, maybe this feeling is me finally reaching my limit of how much bullshit I can tolerate and my brain combusted out of rage?"
"You have been taking my potion in small doses, haven't you?" questioned Tom, nervous for her response, "I don't like the thought of you damaging yourself under my influence, this could be a side effect."
"I swear I have, I've followed your every instruction," she told him, annoyed that she couldn't blame her blank memory on excessive potion-drinking. She didn't go over the limit and she even looked up the potion ingredients to double-check Tom's methods - everything came up clean, it wasn't the draught.
Lyra bit her curling lip, praying she looked inconspicuous as she wrote, but she had to duck down behind Lockhart's book to shield her embarrassingly girly grin when Tom answered back. She hated how quickly she crumbled at his affection but she couldn't help it, she swooned when he said those three words and she wanted to feel the fluttery, heavy sensation all the time.
"Good girl, Lyra."
"No one's ever called me good before," she teased back, "it's a very nice change."
"Then I suppose only I can say it, you can be my good girl… if you'd like?"
OH MY GOD! Lyra couldn't breathe, she felt so euphoric but she tried her best to keep her cool despite her striking, swelling heart. Her bones felt lighter in her body, she felt like she could fly right out of her seat and drift away to paradise where Tom would be waiting for her. She really wanted to be his good girl, she liked his adoring pet name more than she was willing to confess.
"I think I'd like that," she purposely wrote in her neatest handwriting, and a rare yet fierce blushed ignited her face when his final words reappeared, darker than before.
"That's my girl."
The tolls of the clocktower bell rung out across the castle and grounds, shaking the daydreaming students out of their slumps and bringing life back into the lacklustre classroom, and Lyra slipped her diary into her robe pocket without hesitating, cautious of Hermione's returning attention.
"-and that means we must pause our adventures for now, class," announced Gilderoy over the snap of his book, he peeled himself from on top of his desk and flashed the room one more confident smile, "yes, I know we are pausing just before my climax in the story but-,"
Unfortunately a wave of snickers at the professor's poor choice of words had lost him any chance of gaining his class' trust and Lockhart begrudgingly let them go without dishing out any real homework… again. As much as Lyra despised the guy, it was quite difficult to watch him come apart at the seams in real time and she felt a pang of sympathy as she watched him collapse in his chair and massage the pounding in his temples. It looked like he was really trying, she couldn't help it.
But her sympathy vanished the moment he sensed her gaze and she silently swore as he locked eyes with her and jumped to his feet as though suddenly desperate for her attention. That was the opposite of what she wanted.
"Uh, Miss Black? Wait a moment, please, we need to talk," he called out, noticing that she had tried to shove her way through the bustle of retreating students clogging up the exit, and Lyra groaned. Now what? Lockhart hardly acknowledged her since the defamatory article and she rather enjoyed keeping her distance from him, she could tell she hit a super touchy nerve, and by the way he was acting to the news, her descriptions of him were accurate. She expected Lockhart to confront her weeks ago when the news came out, but she still didn't want to talk to him about the Daily Prophet.
"We'll meet you out in the courtyard," chuckled Ron, amused at her misfortune as he pushed her back in the professor's direction, and she sneakily flashed him her middle finger as he left which only made him laugh harder.
Lockhart joined the fleeing crowd at the door and waved them off with a seemingly more relaxed demeanour than before, but Lyra scooted onto the nearest desk and frowned at him, trying to work out what he wanted. He purposely waited until they were alone to start their conversation, and his fake facade was a strong indicator that he was about to do something heinous and annoying. As she began to wonder how her previous teacher was faring in prison, Lockhart cleared his throat to soften his tone and he turned to Lyra with a surprisingly gentle smile. He was wearing a set of sky blue silk robes today and its gold trim blinded her when it caught the dazzling sunlight.
Lyra narrowed her eyes and kept her lips sealed… Well, she tried to. "What do you want?" she spat.
"No need to frown at me like that, Lyra," chuckled Lockhart, cracking her distant attitude with a friendly laugh as though they were merely old friends catching up, "I just wanted to talk to you man-to-man, so to speak, or professional-to-professional."
"What about?" asked Lyra, still frowning.
"You don't like me, do you?" inquired Lockhart, still smiling.
"I don't," she admitted, not ashamed of her opinion, "you're not a good person, sir. I think you're a phoney, the statements you've made to the public are super damaging and full of false facts, you're a terrible teacher and you know it which makes it worse because these are crucial years in our lives and you should be teaching us useful information, and also I don't really care for anything you have to say since you lied to the press so…" Lyra bit her tongue before she went too far, and judging by the disappearance of her teacher's eyebrows as they shot towards his crisp hairline she knew she made the right decision.
"And you've made this judgement based on those few exaggerated remarks that ended up in the papers? Regarding Mr Potter?" He inquired, crossing his arms.
"And Ron, yes," Lyra corrected him, "again, as Harry's manager, I want to remind you that I can't have you ruining his reputation. Are you seriously jealous of the kid who saved all of our arses from Voldemort?"
Despite his violent flinch, Lockhart took a step forwards and dropped the forced grin with a huff, and she appreciated his sobriety for the time being. "There's a reason I asked to speak to you, Miss Black, I wasn't searching for another 'pissing contest' as you so lovingly phrased it last time," his attempt to scold her was lighter than expected, he really had lost his touch.
"Yeah, you mentioned that," she muttered, hoping he would hurry up. He was wasting valuable break time and she regretted not visiting the bathroom during lesson time, "if you wouldn't mind spitting it out? I need the loo."
"I won't pretend that your little stunt with the press didn't upset me," he began, a hard line creasing his brow.
"Then you shouldn't have underestimated me," countered Lyra.
"I didn't," said Lockhart, "I underestimated the rest of the world, everyone latched onto the words of the heir of the notorious Black family without second-guessing your intentions, it definitely wasn't the result I expected - if anything I was blown away by your media prowess, you were very proactive dealing with your cousin Draco like that-,"
"Second cousin," she corrected him without thinking, irritated by her professor's insinuations, "and I'm not like that side of the family, stop inferring that I'm like them when you know nothing about me."
Lockhart paused to mull over her words and he ran a hand through his gold curls, his interest piquing. "I think the mark on Mr Malfoy's face tells a different story," he chuckled, catching Lyra's eye with a twinkle in his own, "I can't recall there being many spells of light or neutral composition that can produce a mark as stubborn as that. Did you know that Madam Pomfrey failed to remove it from his face? She wasn't sure what magic you used, she found it rather odd…" the slither in Lockhart's voice as he trailed off set Lyra's inside alight with worry and she froze when he clicked his tongue in disappointment. The dread that consumed her was too familiar and she immediately thought of the man who had Lockhart's position the year prior. The inference was too similar… That wasn't… I didn't-?!
"I…" but Lyra couldn't finish her panicked thought, the mere idea of saying it out loud was too much for her poor heart to handle. Seeing Lyra squirm brought Lockhart a surge of confidence and he exaggerated his guttural sigh by putting his hands on his hips.
"Tsk, tsk, Miss Black," his smile was growing as hers faded, "just as I expected, you can take a wolf cub from its pack but it will always remain a wolf."
"What are you inferring?" spat Lyra, ignoring the heat in her cheeks as she tried to combat him.
"In my travels I've met many different types of people," Lockhart told her, never missing out on an opportunity to remind her how cultured he is, "in a field like mine you meet various unique characters and some of them are darker than they seem, some of them remind me of you. I've seen some horrible, deprived things in my lifetime and it pains me to say that I've seen marks like the one on Mr Malfoy's face and they were produced by wizards who do not belong in our society. Unlike the rest of the staff here I am more equipped to spot these things, you're extremely lucky that no one besides myself recognised that dark hex."
A creeping chill rolled down Lyra's spine and pooled in her gut like icy water, but she refused to acknowledge it as she straightened her spin and pursed her lips. "Are you seriously calling me a dark wizard?" she scoffed, and Lockhart barely flinched.
"Have you been practising dark magic, Miss Black? Is there a reason why you've jumped to that conclusion?" retorted Lockhart, delighted that she admitted it first, "I never said you were."
"But that's what you meant," grumbled Lyra uncomfortably. Lockhart looked far too pleased with the subject matter, he was gunning for her downfall and she hated how quickly his true intentions were rising to the surface. "And of course I'm not!" she added in a rush.
"Then what spell did you use on Mr Malfoy?" asked Lockhart, narrowing his effervescent eyes as though looking for a flaw in her explanations to catch her out, but Lyra didn't have an answer. It wasn't a spell, it was nothing - she just slapped him. The red hot rage she felt when Draco attacked Hermione was enough to inspire such a reaction, no incantation popped into her brain, it was all fuelled from her emotions.
"You weren't even there so you don't know what you're talking about, I didn't use a spell, I didn't even use a bloody wand," she explained, recounting the scene in her head, "maybe I'm just super strong and you're overthinking this."
"Or maybe I'm not, you're being too defensive," said Lockhart simply, adding a shrug to discount her theory. Toying with the twelve year old seemed to bring him a lot of joy, he loved watching her flounder, "maybe you're lying to cover up the fact that you've been dabbling in the Dark Arts?"
Lyra was floored, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Again?! "No! Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, extremely unnerved, "excuse me but what the hell?!"
"I'm not being rude, I'm simply a concerned teacher at this school whose job it is to protect the students of Hogwarts," relayed Lockhart, a hand on his heart as though he were being genuine, "especially if the threat is managing the image of a certain Boy-Who-Lived, what kind of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would I be if I allowed Mr Potter to be in harm's way? What kind of member of society would I be if I didn't protect our golden boy?"
"You'd be just like the last guy who had your job," growled Lyra, hoping she sounded as vexed as she felt, "and quite frankly you are acting worse than Quirrell ever did, and that's saying something because it turns out he was Lord Voldemort!" Well, she didn't really mean that but she felt as though she was being stabbed through the chest over and over again, Lockhart was verging on Quirrell territory.
"Honestly Lyra," huffed Lockhart, rolling his eyes, "I understand that you think your job is to protect Potter's image but you shouldn't make claims like that, if you're going to lie in this industry then it must at least be believable."
"I'm not lying," she said with another scoff, smiling through her pain, "you're the liar here, I don't understand how you've managed to get away with your severely damaging saviour complex act, you've fooled everyone into thinking you're this great and powerful wizard when you're nothing of the sort! How do you sleep at night knowing you're a fraud?"
"I am amazed by your complaints, I truly am, especially when you have no evidence to back up these claims," laughed Lockhart, but Lyra gawked gormlessly at him and proceeded to reveal the collection of photographs she had captured during their first lessons. She made sure to snap each of his failures for her future self to look back and laugh at, but now she praised herself for being well-prepared. With the way the staff were acting she was beginning to think she needed to photograph everything just in case, she was collecting accusations of lying like they were chocolate frog trading cards and she dreaded to think what she would be accused of doing next.
"In Voyage with a Vampire you said you knew how to deal with Hinkypunks with your eyes shut," she quoted, pointing a black fingernail at the appropriate photo where they could clearly see Gilderoy cowering under his desk, "and then in Holidays with Hags you said that you know how to disable an entire army of pixies but you clearly don't," the flashy photo of the class screaming as they were attacked by the sharp cyan creatures stared back as though desperate to prove Lockhart wrong, "and don't even get me started on the lies you spew in Marauding with Monsters because there is no way on earth that you can successfully tame a Manticore with a bloody banana! Lies!"
Lockhart blinked a few times at her unanticipated spiel and his face burst with colour as though he was overheating, the red rash-looking blush almost looked painful but he vehemently ignored it and refocused on her. "You don't know what you're talking about," he drawled, but Lyra didn't break their intense eye contact.
"Yes I do, and you know it," she smiled, finally feeling somewhat superior in the situation. Tom explained all of the impossibilities that were littered throughout Lockhart's best-selling novels, he explained each fallacy with steadfast amounts of proof that dismantled every one of Lockhart's tales - "this man is a fool, it's impossible to charm a Lethifold into submission, he's lying," Tom explained - and she used this newfound intel to her advantage. If Lockhart wanted to fight then she would happily defend herself using her own tactics. "I don't believe you've done any of the stuff you've written in your books and I promise you that I will continue to expose you, you can't keep getting away with this."
Lockhart opened and closed his mouth a few times as though trying to come up with the perfect response but he promptly gave up and leant against the desk opposite Lyra, his straight lips taut with aggravation. This wasn't how he imagined their conversation, but the determined twinkle in his eye never vanished. He still had to try.
"Then I suppose you leave me with no choice, Miss Black," he sighed as though he were disappointed in her, "if you dare speak about the validity of the stories in my books to the press then I will report you to the Ministry for using dark magic."
EXCUSE ME?! A strange clunking sound rattled around Lyra's head and she struggled to close her mouth, his threat took her completely by surprise and he loved her overt reaction.
"B-But you can't! I haven't used dark magic!" she stammered, silver eyes wide in fear. This isn't happening, there's just no way…?! Every terrifying thought she had that reminded her that she came from a long line of potentially dark wizards came rushing back, they were empowered by Lockhart's comments and they flooded her with deep rooting anxiety. She wasn't using dark magic, she didn't even know what dark magic was?! She thought about the diary hiding in her pocket and she instinctively bit her lip, distracted by the idea of Tom subvertly teaching her dark magic. Granted, Necromancy wasn't exactly a form of light magic but it wasn't evil, she didn't see Death as a dark thing, it was just a part of life - they were using it for good - and she hadn't even attempted to perform that yet since she was still grasping the basics of advanced magic! Technically she hasn't done anything! Lyra made a mental note to ask Tom for a clarification to soothe her nerves, she felt sure it wasn't him but just in case she misinterpreted a charm or two of his she needed to know.
"Mr Malfoy's cheek says otherwise, and I'm sure I can count on him to back me up with my claims," repeated Lockhart, reiterating his main piece of evidence, "and from what I've heard from the other professors, you have a nasty habit of running off to the Forbidden Forest - a place swarming with creatures aligned with the darker side of life. If my credibility is crumbling then you cannot fathom how quickly yours will decline once the Daily Prophet finds out about your little dark secret, Miss Black. You already know how malevolent the media can be," Lockhart had no trouble looking Lyra in the eye, he enjoyed seeing her look so upset.
Lyra took a deep breath and scrambled around her brain for a quick solution to her problems instead of dwelling in her febrile panic, but Lockhart's complacent smile wasn't helping. With her shoulders slumped and her pout perfectly poised, she locked eyes with him and groaned. She was too determined to let him see her fail.
"So you asked me to stay here over breaktime to threaten me?" she inquired, making sure she understood her professor's motivations, and his strong smile weakened ever so slightly when he heard her say it out loud.
"This isn't a threat, I'm merely warning you that if you continue to trash my legacy then there will be consequences," he presented, sounding intelligent for the first time in his life, and her stomach jittered when she noticed he wasn't finished, "but no one will ever hear about your inclination to drift towards darker magic if you help me."
Lyra let out a yelp of stunned laughter - that wasn't what she expected to hear! He's joking, right?! What the hell can I do?
"Help you with what?" she spat, repulsed at the very idea of aiding Lockhart on some sort of quest.
"Help me win back Hogwarts, if I can regain the school's trust then I can get the papers back on my side," he proposed, his hands splayed on his desk to steady his growing stance, he seemed to lengthen in height as he absorbed Lyra into his plans, "you need to get the student body like me again-,"
"They never liked you to begin with," Lyra couldn't help but mutter under her breath, but Lockhart actively snubbed her bitter comment in a power play.
"-you need to go back on your word and encourage your fellow students to give me a chance," he finished, his stern gaze unwavering. He had a lot riding on her accepting his offer, he needed her more than she needed him and he didn't want to offer her the chance to have the upper hand. "You either help me, or I report you for being a danger to the school and you will be expelled."
Lyra blinked. "You're blackmailing me?!" she gasped, genuinely shocked by his low level behaviour, "really?"
"Really," he repeated with no trace of humour in his expression, "I don't want to do this but you're giving me no choice! This is my livelihood we're talking about, this is my entire life, Lyra, and I really need your help… please."
Is this guy for real? Lyra felt as though she had a vicious case of whiplash, she couldn't work Lockhart out - one minute he was threatening her and the next he's begging for her involvement, it was like talking to a person with a split personality. He was more unpredictable than Lyra originally thought, and that scared her. Petrified wasn't an accurate enough description, she was practically shaking in her boots at what he was going to do next. What if the Ministry chucked her out of Hogwarts as a precaution? What if they saw some sort of truth in the crap Quirrell proclaimed last year? There were too many factors to consider, she didn't want to risk bringing attention onto her extracurricular activities and the idea of Tom being discovered before she figured out who trapped him brought her such an intense form of anxiety that she could feel her heart press against her ribcage, yearning to burst free.
"...What exactly do you want me to do?" asked Lyra begrudgingly, hating every second of this conversation. She wanted it to end immediately and she couldn't see any other way out of this besides agreeing to his terms, and Gilderoy's lips stretched into a satisfied grin at her interest in his cause.
"You're Potter's best friend and he's my biggest shot at scoring myself a check in everyone's good books, and since you're also his manager I know that we can work together to make Harry shine," he explained, taking a perch on the nimble student desk without a care for its thin legs, "I may be slightly… shaky on certain aspects of magic, but I know the world of fame all too well, I can be a vital resource to you."
Ha! Great! Lyra tried to suppress her cackle but a sliver of hysteria broke through and she giggled. Harry was going to kill her for this… but she had to. She needed the dark label and unwanted spotlight to vanish, she didn't need any more reminders of Quirrell's groundless allegations and this seemed to be her best option right now. Lyra expected the usual hisses to chip in with their own suggestions since her conscience was still lacking, but she took that as a positive sign that she was making the right decision. If she explained it to Harry then he'd understand. Please understand…
"Harry's going to hate this," Lyra finally gave him an answer and slipped off the desk, sending her teacher a signal that she was desperate to go. Lockhart leapt to his feet with a sudden burst of energy and clapped his hands, delighted with her implication.
"Splendid!" he proclaimed, dropping his steely visage in a blink of an eye and sliding back into his imperturbable author self like a marvellously-trained actor swapping characters, "ten points to Gryffindor for using your head, Miss Black, you made the right decision!"
Oooh, interesting…? Mildly tickled by her new method of syphoning house points, Lyra grasped the straps of her backpack and stood as tall as her small stature would allow, and gave Lockhart her most cheerful smile. "Ok, fine, I will agree to your terms if you agree to mine," she compromised.
Lockhart paused, the debate of saying no going on in his pale stare, but he eventually nodded. "It depends on the terms," he decided.
"Number one," listed Lyra, using her fingers to count off her requests, "dude, you have to plan better lessons, you need to be a better teacher in order for me to help - your classes suck!"
Lockhart absorbed her criticisms with a lot more sophistication than was expected of him, but his grimace was very telling. "I'm doing the best I can," he swore, but it wasn't good enough.
"Then do better!" she urged him, genuinely trying to help him, "for crying out loud you attended this school yourself, didn't you? Surely you remember some of your syllabuses?"
"Ah… right, yes I didn't think about that," he chuckled, waving away his ignorance as though it were a charming quirk of his, but Lyra wasn't amused. Oh my God, the man's an idiot! A part of her wanted to laugh, but the other part of her wanted to launch herself at her stupid professor and tear his precious glossy hair out to relieve her frustration. The sudden urge to pee came streaming back and she rushed to finish her list of demands.
"Number two, once you're popular again our deal is done, you'll keep away from Harry and you will keep all of our conversations to yourself," she continued, virtually hopping on the spot to deter the pressure in her bladder, "and number three, if we have to do any embarrassing demonstrations in class you have to pick Draco as your volunteer every time."
"Only if you promise to help me plan my lessons," Lockhart added to compromise before extending his arm, and Lyra scoffed. He really had no shame!
"Pffft, piece of cake, I could do your job in your sleep," she agreed, finally shaking his smooth hand, "which is highly embarrassing by the way, you should be embarrassed right now."
"Actually I feel rather content," sighed Lockhart, catching his reflection in the far side windows as he lost all interest in their serious deal, and Lyra used his vain distraction as her cue to escape.
"Uh, ok, great chat professor," she called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the classroom, "remember, lesson plans are key!"
"I will see you in my office tonight for our first planning session then! It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Black, ten more points!" grinned Gilderoy, overtly chuffed with the outcome, and he waved Lyra goodbye from his doorway in much higher spirits than before. Lyra didn't dignify him with an acknowledgement as she sprinted towards the nearest bathroom she could find in sheer desperation.
Unfortunately she ran out of luck when she discovered that the third floor bathrooms were out of order thanks to what looked like an explosion of tissue, so she spun on her heel and pelted down the stairs to the second floor, frantically trying to remember where the closest toilet was - but the peculiar feeling came back and she shuddered from the top of her skull to the tips of her toes. Lyra was dying for the loo and she profusely shoved the feeling to the back of her mind. Not now!
The first girls bathroom Lyra found was, according to the older girls, the worst bathroom of them all due to the fact it was haunted by the ghost of a former student, but Lyra didn't care considering the whole castle was haunted by ghosts and she darted inside, locking herself in the first cubicle she saw. She listened to the dripping of the pipes around her as she relieved herself but she quickly thought back to Lockhart's crazed proposal and hung her head in defeat. She instantly regretted agreeing to help with his lesson plans, she didn't have the bloody time to sit in his office and do his job for him, but her reputation was on the line now…
Tom's face popped into Lyra's mind and she immediately ripped the diary from her pocket once she finished. Replacing the toilet lid, Lyra perched on top and readied her pen for a quick chat. The bell signalling her next lesson hadn't rung yet and she knew her friends were waiting for her but this was more pressing, she just needed to be sure.
"Tom, quick question - are you teaching me dark magic? I just got accused by Lockhart for cursing Draco but I don't think I did considering I just slapped him but I wanted to ask you to double-check," she scribbled quickly, not bothered about her messy handwriting stemming from her shaky hand. The anticipation rocked her hands but she took a few deep breaths to calm her worries. She didn't need to be anxious, this was nothing. Lockhart's wrong, stop panicking!
"It sounds like your lesson was a delight," he started with a joke and it eased the tension in Lyra's chest, "your professor is a moron, clearly he doesn't recognise that you are a talented witch. The reason the blister on your second cousin's cheek hasn't faded is because you're an exceptional witch, you understand magic on a deeper level, and learning how to channel your emotions through your power is simply an advanced part of all magic, not dark magic - he's a fool, Lyra, you have no reason to worry."
The apprehension melted away and Lyra calmed her breathing, satisfied with his reasoning. "That's what I thought, I just wanted to make sure," she wrote back, but she paused when Tom continued.
"But you understand that Necromancy is technically a form of dark magic, yes?" he asked her, and Lyra's heart thudded, troubling her for a moment. That part she didn't quite understand and she happily asked for a clarification once more.
"I guess so, but I don't entirely understand what makes something dark or light? I get that the actual dying side to Death could be perceived as dark, but communicating and potentially raising the dead? Surely that's a good thing! That should be considered light magic!" she detailed, and Tom wrote back at top speed - he adored her point of view.
"This is what I've been trying to tell you - Lyra, there is no dark or light magic, it's all about intention and how you use the magic to shape the world. The wizard who performs the spell has full control over what happens, wouldn't you say that the outcome of a spell matters more than its actual composition? A simple levitating charm could cause mass destruction and death if used in the right way, a curse that incapacitates the body of a man whose cornered you in a dark alleyway could be potentially life-saving. The wizard casting the magic matters more than the spell itself, and I know that you don't have a bad bone in your body, you bring light to everything you touch, you're not a dark witch, Miss Black."
Wow, now that makes way more sense! "I got it now, thank you for the reassurance, Riddle," she signed her sentence with a few love hearts and her chest swelled with adoration when he replied to the icons.
"I've always got you, Lyra, I would never hurt my girl."
Grinning ear to ear and full of giddy butterflies, Lyra wished him farewell for now and returned to the real world to clean up. She blushed once she caught sight of her cheesy smile in the mirror as she washed her hands, but she sobered up slightly when she noticed the soft wallows of the ghost drifting through the far side cubicles of the bathroom. She hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the bathroom ghost Myrtle yet, from what Hermione said she knew to steer clear unless she wanted to be berated for being alive and free of pimples, so she dropped her head and pretended to ignore the solemn spirit.
But the sudden absence of moaning caught Lyra's attention and she stole a glance in the mirror again, trying to spot the glistening silvery glow of the ghost before she was caught, but she locked eyes with Myrtle immediately and froze on the spot like a fast-forming icicle.
"W-What are you doing here?" stuttered Myrtle, the shimmer of her ghostly spectacles hid her terrified wide eyes momentarily but it didn't take Lyra long to realise how scared the ghost was… of her?
"Uh, hi!" Lyra chirped brightly, spinning around and offering her a friendly smile, "sorry, I just really needed to pee-,"
"No, what are you doing here?" repeated Myrtle in a more convincing tone, floating towards her to closer examine the girl, and Lyra tried not to cower under her glower. She was extremely pissed, Lyra could sense her agitation in the particles around them, and she tried to think of something nice to say. The ghost was about fourteen and by the intensity of her emotions she clearly died during a rough patch, Lyra felt a pang of sympathy as she thought about distressed she would be if she were in Myrtle's position, watching generations of witches grow up and move on from Hogwarts while she was forever trapped.
"Here as in Hogwarts?" questioned Lyra, brows furrowed as she tried to work out what she was on about, and Myrtle nodded as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.
"Yeah! You shouldn't be here!" she cried, fresh pearlescent tears dribbling down her cheeks, and Lyra noticed the sheen of its trail linger on her translucent skin. She had gotten up close and personal with a couple of ghosts last year, Nearly Headless Nick knew to avoid Lyra whenever they passed as she enjoyed pushing Ron through him far too much, but standing here in front of Myrtle felt… weird. The peculiar feeling was back, and for some strange reason Lyra knew Myrtle felt it too.
"W-Why?" stammered Lyra, "what do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," Myrtle dropped her voice into a deathly hiss and came even closer, cautious of being overheard, and Lyra swore she could feel the gentle brush of her pigtails against her shoulder, "you know I can't say anything, but I can feel it around you and I…" Myrtle choked on her tears again and drew away to scowl at Lyra, "I don't get it, I don't like it, and you need to leave."
Lyra struggled to process Myrtle's out of place comments and glared back, her arms crossing to physically defend herself. What the hell?! What have I done for her to hate me?!
"No! Myrtle, don't be a dick to me out of nowhere and then not explain yourself," she scoffed, taking a step back to scrutinise the mean ghost, "I know you've had it tough and being a ghost sucks but you don't even know who I am?"
"I may not know your name but I can feel what you are," growled Myrtle, her teeth gritted as she looked Lyra up and down, "I can't believe the others didn't tell me about this?! Do they know?"
"I don't know what you're talking about?!" exclaimed Lyra, exasperated, "just tell me!"
"No! I have every right to hate you!" she screamed back, the hue of her spirit darkening with her growing emotions, "go away!"
"You've clearly got the wrong person," Lyra resorted to a bit of logic before she lost it completely, "my name's Lyra Black, you must be talking about someone else-,"
A loud laugh of derision cut Lyra off as Myrtle howled, gawking at her in pure disbelief. "You're a Black?! Of course you are! Ha! As if your ancestors didn't do enough to torment me while I was alive, now their grandchild has somehow transformed into-,"
But a strange buzzing filled Lyra's ears as she thought of her father's parents and two disjointed dots connected in her head - Myrtle knew them, and so did Tom. AH! She didn't know what to do with this new piece of information, it trickled into her stomach like wriggling shots of adrenaline and she debated asking Myrtle about the boy in her book… but Tom told her to keep him a secret for now, they couldn't tip off the wizard who wanted to see him destroyed.
Another echoing toll of the clocktower smothered the rest of Myrtle's rant and Lyra shook the buzzing out of her head, zoning back into reality to figure out which lesson she had next as she searched her pockets for her timetable, but the disillusioned ghost wasn't finished yet.
"Hey!" snapped Myrtle, pushing her glasses up her nose as she continued to stare Lyra down, "I've waited for decades to say this to you, at least have the decency to listen!"
"As much as I want to hear you insult me for no reason, I have class so-," spat Lyra forcefully, flashing Myrtle a false smile as she turned to leave, yet she never made it to the door in a dignified manner as a sudden hard push knocked her off her feet. Lyra fell to the floor, tangled by her own feet as she didn't expect the shove, but the peculiar feeling clenched her in a tight grip and all anger dissipated as she turned to look back at the ghost.
Myrtle looked terrified, she didn't expect for that to work.
"Did you just…?!" Lyra was tongue-tied, she couldn't get it out. She felt two hands on her back, two ice cold palms, she felt Myrtle touch her.
"I… I don't know?!" squealed Myrtle, a few pitches higher than her usual whiny moans, she couldn't verbalise her astonishment either. Lyra clambered to her feet, ignoring the twinge in her calves from the fall, and dared to reach a hand towards the ghost for extra confirmation.
"Myrtle," she stammered, "put your arm out." The ghost immediately complied and reached forwards, her textured face screwed up as though she was anticipating pain, and Lyra bit the bullet and grabbed her wrist. Her flesh was cold but real, Lyra saw her own palm through her transparent limb, her fingers tight against the invisible pressure, and her jaw swung open like a broken ventriloquist doll.
"M-MERLIN'S BEARD!" screamed Myrtle, exploding like a fire hydrant, and she furiously shoved Lyra away, desperate to get away from the phenomenon, and she backed away with tears now pouring in heavy streams down her cheeks, "PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!"
The accusation stole Lyra of her confidence and she stared back, mortified. "Of course I won't!" she squeaked, meek from the beration, "I would never!" But her hurried squeaks of assurance were lost on Myrtle as she barrelled towards the nearest sink and dipped below the porcelain, disappearing into the depths of the school's plumbing system and leaving the flabbergasted girl by herself.
…WHAT?!
Frazzled by her encounter with Myrtle Warren and blindsided by her sudden ability to physically touch a ghost, Lyra fled the girls bathroom and ran off to her Transfiguration lesson with far too many questions crammed in her already fragile brain. That shouldn't have been possible, that's never happened before. She didn't know what to do, or who to tell… or should she even tell anyone? With Lockhart now on her case, accusing her of being a dark witch and watching her closely for signs of Dark Arts, she knew it could be used against her and she might be expelled if the school and Ministry deemed her actions as threatening.
Wiping her face clean of her internal struggle, Lyra managed to join the straddlers trailing into McGonagall's classroom and she forced a miserable sigh when Ron smirked at her with a brow raised in intrigue.
"I take it your chat went well?" he snickered as he followed her into the class, and Lyra managed to spit out a quick, "don't ask!" as they all took their seats. She slid into the chair beside Harry and tried to ignore his blatant stare as McGonagall commenced their lesson but after his persistent elbow nudges were starting to get on her nerves and slumped back in her chair and acknowledged him.
"What's wrong? Was Lockhart that annoying?" he whispered, pretending to be absorbed with writing down the date and class objectives, and Lyra pouted at her blank parchment.
"He was worse than annoying," she breathed, cautious of McGonagall's piercing gaze, and she braved making eye contact with her concerned friend, "he's blackmailing me."
"What?!" Harry accidentally blurted out, catching the attention of those around them, but he quickly ducked down and shot her a sheepish smile as she rolled her eyes.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"It's fine, also I'm blackmailing him back so I guess it's not so bad," she muttered, leaning into her hand so their teacher couldn't see them talking.
"What happened? Why is he blackmailing you?" hissed Harry, frowning at her dilemma.
"I told him that I know he's a fraud, which he confirmed by the way, and he told me if I go to the press then he's going to report me to the Ministry for using dark magic," she explained, still feeling the remnants of anger from the encounter, "and I'm really sorry but he said that if I get you and the school on his side again then he'll drop it."
Harry went to yell again but swiftly restrained himself with a meek, "huh?!"
"I know, I'm so so sorry, but pretty please could you help me with this? All you have to do is pretend, and once the school likes him then we can go back to hating him," she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. It took Harry a moment to spit out his agreement as he seemed rather distracted by her persuasive technique, but he gave her a genuine smile and nodded.
"Of course I'll help, as we've established he's a dick and obviously I don't want you being reported to the Ministry, but do you know where he's gotten this from because he kinda sounds like-,"
"-Quirrell, I know," finished Lyra, habitually chewing on her lip, "he thinks I cursed Malfoy and he heard about last year, but he has no real evidence so all we can hope is that if he does end up reporting me, the Ministry and Dumbledore won't believe him."
Harry waved away her problems with a guffaw. "Of course Dumbledore is going to believe you over him! Don't worry about Lockhart, we'll sort this out," he promised her, looking very sure of his words as he caught her eye again, "since you're my manager and all, I suppose I should make sure you've got a clean record or else people will start to think you're corrupting me."
"Me? Corrupt you? Never! Where on earth did you get an idea like from?" Lyra snickered, side-eyeing Harry with a wink as they spotted Hermione ahead of them, "no one has ever accused me of corrupting you. Ever. If anything you're corrupting me."
"Pffft, sure, you're so right," he muttered, fighting a smile as he stared ahead to focus on the lesson, "I'm the worst one out of us."
"Uh huh, you're the one who killed Voldemort last year with your bare hands," she sighed softly, "you're the dark wizard dude, not me."
"Oh yeah," Harry laughed under his breath, remembering their previous year with a brighter perspective, "I guess I did do that. I didn't think about it like that."
"See! I need to keep my eye on you, Potter!" she giggled, but she couldn't help but think about Myrtle and the newest oddity in her life as the Transfiguration lesson progressed. She wanted to tell Harry but simply saying it out loud seemed utterly insane, he would most likely think she was winding him up to pass time, and revealing her newest secret in the middle of Transfiguration wasn't an intelligent idea considering his reaction to her first confession. She knew she needed to consult Tom first, he was by far the best person to discuss this with, but the fact he was trapped in a book didn't help her need for physical comfort. She needed to talk about this with Harry in private, just in case this was something to worry about, so she zipped her mouth and submerged herself in the lesson and tried to forget all about her ghostly interaction for now.
Ya girl is officially a godmother! This past weeks have been crazy lol thank you for your patience with this story, and also thank you for your feedback! It really helps xoxox