Luna's petrification was all anyone could talk about, it took the castle by storm when the story broke the next morning.

The first year Gryffindors happened to be the first to hear about the petrification and they arrived at breakfast bubbling with fresh gossip. Within a couple of minutes the entire student body knew.

Ginny was the unfortunate soul that discovered the scene of the crime, her impromptu pitstop to use the bathroom whilst on her way to meet Professor Flitwick for homework help cost her dearly and she screamed bloody murder when she spotted what she first thought was a corpse in the middle of the corridor. From the moment Ginny walked into the Great Hall she was bombarded with questions from a heaving crowd of students itching to hear from the prime witness, and by the growing glare of discomfort on her face she was beginning to loathe her newfound popularity.

"Break it up, people, there's nothing to see here," announced Lyra, shooing the nosy crowd away as she waded through them trying to reach her flustered cousin, "move along please! Hasn't Ginny suffered enough? She doesn't need you lot gawking at her too!"

As soon as Lyra heard about Luna's state she felt the icy tingling in her fingertips, she knew this was no ordinary attack and she needed to be the first to talk to Ginny — another mystery had revealed itself.

"Tell us everything," demanded Ron, using his elbows to indicate that the first years needed to budge up, and he stared at his little sister with ballooning eyes, "don't leave anything out."

"I don't want to talk about it again, if I were Luna I wouldn't want everyone gossiping about me," justified Ginny, using her breakfast as a distraction. Her head stayed down and her pink lips puckered as her brother tried again.

"Come on, don't be difficult," Ron sulked, "you finally have something interesting to say, just tell us."

"Ginny went through something traumatic, Ron, please have some compassion," tutted Lyra, frowning at him as she shuffled closer to Ginny who looked extremely thankful for her support. If she buttered Ginny up then surely she would tell her favourite cousin what happened?

"Was it that bad?" muttered Hermione softly, wanting to be sensitive.

"It was just jarring, Luna was ice cold when I found her, I didn't know if she was dead or not but then I saw her eyes…" Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat that formed during her whispered recount and she glanced at the second years surrounding her and her friends, "whatever petrified Luna must have been really horrifying, she doesn't get scared easily."

"Remember our Herbology lesson?" piped up Colin, backing Ginny up with an anxious gleam in his eye, "Professor Sprout took us to the lake to study the plants and Luna met the Giant Squid, it almost killed her and she wasn't fazed at all."

"I wouldn't say she met the squid — attacked by the squid seems more appropriate to say," corrected Ginny's friend Alice, but she trailed off with a stammer and flushing cheeks when Harry shuffled closer, keen for more intel on the crime scene.

"Did you notice anything that looked out of place when you found Luna? Any footprints or animal tracks? Anything at all?" he inquired, and fighting the crimson blooming in her own cheeks Ginny answered him without hesitating. If Harry wanted to know then she would tell him everything.

"There was a lot of water on the floor, by the looks of the bathroom nearby it was just from another one of Moaning Myrtle's tantrums," she admitted shyly, "but besides that, no, nothing looked weird."

Lyra couldn't prevent the shiver that rolled down her spine when Ginny mentioned Myrtle, and she refused to meet Harry's darting eyes. Myrtle must have seen something… Did she petrify Luna? Was that even possible?

The first bell rang before they could finish interrogating currently the most popular student at school (Ron was livid that Ginny was receiving so much attention, Lyra noticed how tightly his fists were clenched) and the second years set off towards their first lesson. It was hard not to talk about the hot gossip but the curious four kept to the back of the throng so they could swap their theories away from their classmates' ears. All four of them shared the same hunch, and they prayed that they were wrong.

"So whatever killed the livestock also petrified Luna?" clarified Lyra, looking expectantly at her friends for a confirmation, and they looked just as confident as she felt.

"It can't be a coincidence, the two incidents must be connected somehow, but it still doesn't make much sense," proposed Hermione, her brow crumpled in concentration as they dawdled outside of their Charms classroom. The crime scene was only a few corridors away, they were so close they could almost hear the buzzing of the new mystery.

"How exactly do you get petrified?" wondered Harry, and Hermione erupted into a multitude of explanations, energised by her friends' curiosity so she could show off her latest tomes from the library. After Hagrid's slipup she made sure that she took out every book on magical creatures that could potentially house information on the livestock killer, the seams of her school bag was suffering under the new extreme weight.

"There aren't many ways, apparently there are a couple of dark spells that can produce the same effect but the likeliness of that being the case here is very slim," she rambled on, flicking to the appropriate pages with excitement in her brown eyes, and she pointed to the detailed drawing of a Gorgon when she stopped, "the only logical explanation that verifies both Hagrid's and Ginny's accounts is this."

"A Gorgon? Really?" muttered Ron, absently massaging his neck as he stared at the page as though it was the beast itself, "I didn't think they liked cold, wet places. You don't catch many Gorgons wandering around the highlands of Scotland, they're more of a hotter climate type of beast."

"I didn't even know they existed," mumbled Harry quietly to save any embarrassment.

"So Medusa is prowling around Hogwarts, hm?" mused Lyra, tapping her fingers against her chin as she began to daydream about such a scenario.

Considering they had Fluffy in the castle last year she wasn't that surprised by the fact that other creatures could be lurking around. She spotted the drawing's reptilian locks of hair and immediately glanced at Harry who was too busy trying to process everything to notice her inquisitive eye. If their calculations were correct, and Harry was willing to exploit his secret ability to save the school, then their newfound mystery was a piece of cake! Step one, find the Gorgon. Step two, Harry convinces the snakes to turn on the Gorgon and strangle them to death. Step three, profit.

"It's either a Gorgon or a basilisk, and out of the two creatures I think we can safely say that a basilisk doesn't have hands," concluded Hermione, shoving her book away, "when Gorgons feel rage they transform into these bird-like creatures, and they have a thirst for blood."

"Luna must've run into it last night in its angry form, but I wonder where it's gone now? Or why it's here? I've never heard of one spontaneously attacking a school before," wondered Ron just as Professor Flitwick called them in for their lesson. Lyra noticed that their teacher looked less cheerful than usual, the news of his petrified student hit him hard as his wispy brows dipped, dragging his entire face down in a downtrodden half-smile.

Trying to keep the atmosphere light, Flitwick put on his friendliest tone and promptly assured the class that there was nothing to worry about and Miss Lovegood will be back to her normal state before Christmas thanks to the school's supply of maturing mandrakes.

Although Lyra was relieved that the oddball Ravenclaw was going to make a full recovery, she couldn't help but feel a little put out by Flitwick's vagueness. The way he phrased his explanation sounded as if the livestock killer had already been caught and this was an isolated incident. He was lying to them, she could see it in his twitchy glances and the wringing of his hands, he was purposely leaving out details and he didn't believe that this was going to be the only attack.

When the lesson slid back on track and their attention turned to learning the etymology of the Memory Charm, Lyra's focus was still stuck on the immobilised girl lying in the hospital wing on the floor below and the tantrum Myrtle apparently had. It was as though the mystery was covered in tenacious glue and she was already elbow deep, she couldn't shift it.

But once their lesson came to an end, Lyra discovered she wasn't the only one focused solely on last night's events.

"We're stopping by Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," decided an inexorable Harry as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shuffled out of class. It was obvious that he had spent the last hour preparing his defence in case Lyra objected by how cautiously he was watching her, but fighting the anxiety from hiding their secret discussions from their friends Lyra caught her breath and nodded in agreement. She had to visit Myrtle eventually… Well, she'd rather that Ron and Hermione weren't present so they didn't have to witness Myrtle berate her again for some mysterious reason, but it seemed as though she didn't have a choice. As long as they didn't know about the dark magic, Lyra decided to accept her fate. Damnit Ginny, why did you have to bring Myrtle into this?!

"Sure!" she chirped falsely, "why not!"

"What, go now?" clarified Ron, somewhat apprehensive that he had to visit a girls bathroom, "are you mad? Someone's gonna see us!"

"I doubt the corridor is even open," muttered Hermione, taking note of the door a dozen feet away that would lead them straight towards the crime scene and subsequently Myrtle's bathroom, "but I suppose we could always say that we're on our way to the library if anyone asks?"

"There is a secret shortcut in that corridor too, just behind that painting of the pixies that snicker when you walk past, we can always run away if we get caught," added Lyra, mentally unravelling the Marauder's Map as though that would somehow help, "I think there's one, anyways, I've not used it and I haven't a clue where it leads… we should go and explore it, Myrtle can wait," she suggested, looking at Ron who was the most eager to follow her down the path of spontaneity, but the opposing pair didn't look as enthusiastic.

"Maybe that can be our back-up plan?" suggested Harry, trying not to be blunt with his disapproval. He really wanted to speak to Myrtle. "If a teacher comes then we can test your secret passageway after we go to the bathroom."

"We need to be in Defence Against the Dark Arts in less than ten minutes," reminded Hermione, habitually checking her watch as though time was scheming to speed up when she wasn't looking.

"Then let's get a move on, the others are starting to stare," murmured Harry between gritted teeth, shrouding his words with a forced smile as they glanced over their shoulders and spotted Neville and Parvati watching from the back of their retreating classmates' cluster, curious as to what was holding them up.

"Don't wait for us, we need to head to the library for something!" called Lyra, waving merrily at them as Harry started to drag them away, "we'll meet you in the world's most boring class ever!"

"I thought you liked Gilderoy again, and his classes aren't boring, they've really picked up recently," pouted Hermione, miffed by Lyra's ever-changing opinion on Lockhart, and Lyra shrugged.

Staying true to Lockhart's promise was a painstakingly hard task, all of the energy she reserved for dealing with the pompous prick was wasted in the lesson-planning meetings so she had nothing left to give when she encountered any mention of Lockhart outside of the classroom. Lyra's current plan of action concerning Lockhart was simple - he told her that if she tarnished his reputation further then he would sell her out, so Lyra simply decided to never say his name ever again.

Considering his classes were now treading above average and a lot more engaging than Quirrell's ever since he figured out the golden rule of teaching, his reputation among the student body was slowly rising so she didn't need to personally promote him. He didn't need to know she still actively despised him. Checkmate, Gilderoy!

"I don't know what you're talking about," sighed Lyra, stifling her smirk with a hair flick as they scampered off to search for the glum ghost that they hoped held some answers.

Lyra didn't know what to expect when they peeked their heads around the final corner, having a school full of nosy teenagers wasn't the best circumstance for an active investigation but the staff tried their best. The four Gryffindors tried not to groan out loud in defeat when they spotted the caretaker prowling along the corridor, wheezing and eyeing the floors suspiciously as though the culprit's name might be etched into the floor. The entrance to the bathroom lay a few feets away with the floors just before it gleaming with aimless mop strokes, they could still see the remnants of the water Ginny mentioned.

"Maybe we should come back later," hissed Hermione, fidgeting beside Ron as she glanced back at the way they came, "we can't get caught hanging out here, you know what McGonagall will say if she hears about this."

"She'll say 'Good heavens! Once again you four are constantly going above and beyond for the safety of this school'," whispered Lyra in her best Scottish accent, pursing her lips for added effect, "'one thousand points to Gryffindor!'"

"Wow, it's like she's actually here," critiqued Harry, before telling her to shut up with an elbow nudge, "we have to go now, whatever evidence is lying around might not be here tonight so we need to find it while it's still fresh."

"But how are we gonna get past him?" pointed out Ron, nodding at Filch who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here guarding the halls.

"With this," Lyra hissed and plunged her hand in her backpack, swirling it around until she felt the small, smooth chattering teeth that was hidden amongst all of her loose junk. Hermione, the only one who hadn't experienced suffocating in the dense grey cloud of smoke yet, went to ask Lyra how a joke product could possibly help them but she never had the chance.

Holding her breath to keep her arm steady, Lyra jumped out from behind the wall when Filch crouched down to inspect what looked like a tiny trail of raisins, and she threw the teeth as hard as she could without making a sound. Although the caretaker was distracted, Mrs Norris watched the flying combustible toy as it bounced on the ground at her paws but her meow of warning was swiftly drowned out by the loud puff of air that filled the silent corridor. Sudden streams of rolling grey smoke erupted from the teeth like a gloomy flare and Filch panicked, blindsided by the toy that appeared out of nowhere and concerned for his beloved pet.

"Go, go, go!" ordered Lyra once the caretaker's back was turned, and the four made a run for the haunted bathroom a few feet from their hiding spot, praying that their hurried footsteps were light.

The bathroom felt darker than her last visit despite the dazzling streams of sunshine bathing the cracked stone tiles, Lyra couldn't quite put her finger on it but something had changed and she didn't like it. It was like a magnetic field that only she could sense, it was repelling her from the room. She kept her discomfort from her face and waited near the door as her friends searched the room for some sort of clues, wishing that she would be able to hold her nerve once the ghost appeared. Her stomach churned, threatening to expel its contents at the very thought of seeing Myrtle again, but the compulsion to throw up quickly evaporated when she realised that Myrtle was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't here.

"Does Myrtle usually leave the bathroom? I thought she stayed in here all day," questioned Ron, wary of his volume as he quickly checked the coast, "it's literally the reason why everyone calls this Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"It looks like she does," answered Harry as he emerged from the final row of cubicles, softly scowling at the floor in defeat, "and I don't see anything suspicious."

"Neither do I," Hermione's voice floated over the cubicles on the other side of the room, "but it is a bit odd that she's not here, especially since it's likely that she saw something last night."

Lyra had never felt more relieved and she slumped against the nearest wall and cradled her stomach to ease her nervous butterflies. Of course, the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the thrill of a fascinating new mystery was exciting, but she just really didn't want to see Myrtle.

It was like she was having an allergic reaction to the bathroom, her throat was slowly swelling up and she started to fan her face, flustered by the roll of uncomfortable heat down her spine. She knew it was because of the ghost… or lack of ghost. Her absence didn't sit right within her, Lyra couldn't get her stomach to settle at all. She didn't want to be in here a second longer, and she had a horrible feeling that the bathroom didn't want her here either.

"Guys, there's nothing here, let's go," Lyra piped up, hastily wiping the sweat from her forehead as her friends turned to acknowledge her, "the Gorgon clearly didn't take a toilet break whilst they were on their petrifying spree so let's not keep old Whats-His-Face waiting." As much as she hated Lockhart, she'd much rather be in class right now.

"Who, Voldemort?" asked Harry, making her brighten ever so slightly with a snort of laughter. Ron's exaggerated reaction to Voldemort's name never failed to make her smile.

"Psssh, that was so last year," Lyra waved his comment away with a hair flick and a roll of her eyes, "as if Voldemort would do the same trick twice."

"Stop it!" hissed Ron, flinching violently and slipping on a small puddle at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, "you're gonna make me fall!"

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort," Lyra really couldn't help herself, "Voldemort—,"

"Voldemort," added Harry, joining in with her fun as Ron genuinely slipped over from his excessive jolts.

"I really don't think you two should be chanting You-Know-Who's name in the middle of a crime scene, it feels incredibly unlucky," interrupted Hermione, looking aghast as she offered Ron a hand, "also if someone hears you then they're might think we're up to something."

"Or that they're bloody insane," muttered Ron, shooting Lyra and Harry a subtle glare as he rubbed the tender spot on his knee.

"My excuse is that I genuinely do keep forgetting that his name is taboo, I didn't grow up knowing all of this," defended Harry, putting his hands up.

"By not saying his name, you're kinda giving in to his power," tutted Lyra, voicing her logic, "he wanted everyone to fear him, there is a lot of power and magic in a person's name and you shouldn't be afraid of using it," her own words sparked an odd comparison in her brain and she giggled, "oooh it's kinda like the story of Rumpelstiltskin."

"Bless you," said Ron.

"No, it's a fairytale," she laughed, "and a strictly Muggle one by the looks of it."

The birth of an entirely new train of thought in Lyra's brain concerning wizarding fairytales was sadly cut short when their casual chit chat caught the attention of the frustrated caretaker out in the corridor and they froze when he poked his head around the door frame, glaring at them in disbelief. He was still wheezing from the bombardment of smoke and Lyra flashed him her prettiest smile, desperately trying to come up with a plan. I wonder…?

"Errr…" Harry opened his mouth to give a poor excuse as to why they were in the girls' bathroom when they should be in class, but Lyra squared her shoulders and butted through her friends, making a bee-line for the blocked door.

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" Lyra cried, throwing the Dark Lord's name at Filch as though it were an offensive spell, "Voldemort, Voldemort!"

"Urgh!"

Absolutely frazzled by Lyra's bizarre escape attempt, Filch clutched his chest and went to scold the quartet but his foot flew out from underneath him. Bested by the water puddles he was trying to dry, he landed in a dishevelled heap of shabby robes, his spindly mop clattering on top of him as though adding insult to injury, but it gave the four a chance to escape. Astonished and a little smug that her wacky idea worked, Lyra chirped out one last "Voldemort!" and fled from the bathroom, her robes billowing behind her as she picked up speed.

"I can't believe that worked," laughed Harry as they slowed a few corridors away, panting heavily as they calmed their racing hearts, "we need to remember that the next time Filch catches us."

"Again, you definitely shouldn't be going around shouting You-Know…" Hermione trailed off when Lyra shot her a look that said 'really?' and she tried again, "Voldemort's name."

"Hermione?!" gasped Ron, ultimately betrayed that she had taken their side, "no!"

"Hermione, yes!" giggled Lyra, proudly slapping her friend's back.

"Whatever, my point still stands," shrugged Hermione, looking at Harry and Lyra with a contrived pout, "considering that a student has just been petrified and there was a massacre in the livestock pens, you should be more mindful of what you're saying. You don't want people to think that you're involved in all of this."

…She's not wrong. Lyra hated that Hermione was right, with everything that she had going on with Lockhart she knew she was being reckless. Lyra acknowledged her worries away with a begrudging shrug of agreement and they rushed off to their lesson before they were officially late enough to receive detention.

With the disappointment that was their bathroom visit dwelling in their minds, the four Gryffindors tried to move on from the potential Gorgon situation as they finished their day of classes but since everyone was still talking about the hot gossip it was apparently an impossible feat to achieve. All of their professors doubled down on Flitwick's reassurance that everyone was safe, Lockhart even went so far as to declare that he would catch the criminal single-handedly by the end of the year although Lyra took no notice, and wagers were being placed on who the culprit could possibly be. Hermione kept her magical creature textbook clenched in her hands all day, Lyra spotted her re-reading the chapter on Gorgons multiple times during dinner and on her fifth recount she couldn't help but comment on her new obsession.

"You probably know that page by heart now," she pointed out, amused by Hermione's perseverance, "what are you doing? Are you expecting the text to change?

"I don't know," huffed Hermione, finally closing the book so she could finish her dumpling casserole, "I can't help but feel like we've missed something obvious. From what I've read it doesn't make sense that a Gorgon would come to Hogwarts for no apparent reason, and if it's still here then it would have attacked more people by now."

"Maybe it has and the teachers are keeping it from us?" suggested Lyra, slowly licking mashed potato from her spoon as she daydreamed, "Flitwick was acting a little weird today, I'm sure there are some details that they're keeping from us."

She had no doubt that the staff would try their best to minimise the true threat without alerting the students that they were in danger. The whole school was abuzz from a single attack, who knows how they'd react to multiple attacks, and Lyra felt very sure in herself that there was more to the mystery that they needed to uncover. Whether it was a huge clue or a tiny detail, they needed just that little bit more information.

"I think I know someone who will share a detail or two," revealed Harry, shuffling a little closer so he could drop his voice, and he nodded towards the staff table, "have you noticed that someone's missing?"

Lyra scanned the table again but her stomach fluttered when she realised that Hagrid was missing from his usual spot next to Professor Sprout. Even Professor Dumbledore, who was known to miss dinner altogether, was in attendance and she watched him whisper with his deputy headmistress as they ate. Talking to Hagrid seemed like the perfect answer to their problems and Lyra praised Harry for his quick-thinking with a smirk.

"He's probably still eating his way through all that chicken," she commented, "but I love your idea, we should go and see him."

"We can't," Ron gestured to himself and Harry, his face falling into a salty grimace, "we've got our final detention with Lockhart tonight, remember?"

Harry clearly hadn't remembered and he groaned into his hands, pushing his glasses up to massage his tired eyes.

"Damnit!"

"Aw, unlucky mate!" cackled Lyra, squeezing his shoulder in consolation to show that she truly did feel sorry for him. She was due to meet with Lockhart the following evening to prepare more of his lessons and she wasn't looking forward to it whatsoever. She knew he was going to comment on the attack and infer that she had something to do with it, she could feel the oncoming accusations in her bones like tiny pinpricks.

Since Harry had to suffer tonight she knew he wouldn't join her tomorrow, she'd have to face Lockhart by herself. Ugh, that's going to suck! Lyra automatically looked towards the staff table and landed on the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at the end with a scowl, he looked way too excited by the current events as he rambled on to a bored-looking Madam Pomfrey.

Deciding it would be best if they snuck away early in case they weren't allowed out, Lyra and Hermione bade the boys a good night and set off towards Hagrid's hut with their scarves wrapped tightly around their necks and their hands stuffed deep in their pockets. The new month brought a fierce chilling breeze to Hogwarts and the two girls battled against the cold with gritted teeth, determined to win against the growing winter tundra. When they spotted the warm glow emitting from the windows of the groundskeeper's home, they quickened their pace and rushed up to knock on his front door, desperate to escape the wind.

"Hagrid! It's us!" shouted Lyra when they didn't hear movement on the other side, "open up, it's bloody freezing!"

After what felt like an eternity, the door cracked open a sliver, just enough for a pair of shining black eyes to inspect the visitors, and Lyra plastered on her biggest, unthreatening smile she could muster. The muscles in her face were seizing up from the ice around her, it was starting to drizzle and the moisture on her skin was solidifying within seconds. She really needed a cup of tea.

"It's just us, Hagrid," assured Hermione through chattering teeth, her dark skin glowing in the light spilling out through the door crack, "please let us in!"

"If yer've come ter talk about what's happened up at the school then I'm afraid I can' let yer in," warned Hagrid in a tone most unlike his usual friendly growls, and Lyra swore her veins hardened like a fast-acting adhesive. She never expected him to turn them away, never in a million years would he reject their company… Lyra locked eyes with the groundskeeper as her brow creased, and she saw a flash of fear in the tiny chunk of his face that was visible. This wasn't a good sign.

Exchanging a confused look with Hermione, Lyra softened her own tone and smiled again.

"Uh, well, it wasn't about what happened at the school per say, more about what happened in the forest too—,"

"I'm sorry, I can't," he muttered, looking more angry with himself as the crack in the door got smaller, "I shouldn't've got yeh involved."

"Why?" Lyra blurted out, unable to stop her automatic reaction. The shivers she felt weren't from the weather anymore, she could barely feel the cold.

"Go back up ter the castle, it's not safe out here," instructed Hagrid, ignoring Lyra completely, "go on."

"But—,"

"We won't talk about the attack, or the livestock incident, we just wanted to see you," Hermione squeaked, the wind whipping her frizzy hair in her face and she struggled to keep her vision clear, but her attempt to gain entry was futile. Hagrid wasn't in the mood to entertain tonight.

"I'm really sorry girls," he croaked, dark lines appearing on his face as he got lost in his own thoughts, "I'll see yer at the match next week, Lyra, now go back up ter the castle or else I'll march yer back up there m'self."

"By all means, please join us," Lyra tried to bait Hagrid out, if it meant that he would talk to them then she would happily divert her path and head into the forest, but Hermione sensed Hagrid's intolerance for her mischief and swiftly shut Lyra down.

"Fine, we'll go," she interrupted, pulling on Lyra's arm to prevent her from riling the groundskeeper up any further, but her grip fell limp when Hagrid shut the door and rattled the lock, informing them that he intended to stay in all night. Baffled and rather scorned from his brash attitude, Lyra and Hermone huddled closer to preserve heat and trekked back up to the castle with way too many questions on their mind.

"That didn't go the way I hoped," sighed Hermione, displeased with their failed attempt, "do you think he's been told by another professor to not say anything to us?"

Lyra hadn't even considered that as a possibility and she shrugged, her brain was going a mile a minute and she was struggling to keep up. "I don't know, I don't think so. Was it just me or did he look scared to you? Like, legitimately frightened?"

"Yes, which is odd considering he keeps Cerberuses and dragons as pets," agreed Hermione, pursing her lips as she mulled over the options before them, "but Gorgons are one of the most fearsome creatures to walk the earth, I wouldn't be surprised if Hagrid feels out of his depth. From what I've gathered he isn't a qualified wizard, maybe he feels like he can't go up against a Gorgon if he met one?"

The subject of Hagrid's magical competence always played on Lyra's mind, she sensed his shame around the matter whenever the conversation was steering towards his own situation and she couldn't deny that she was dying to know what his deal was. Harry mentioned that he could perform magic and that he used to go to Hogwarts too, but that was it — she didn't know much about him. If he didn't complete his years at Hogwarts then Hermione was most likely right, he was merely feeling incompetent and he didn't want anyone to pity him.

But that wasn't it, Lyra just knew it. They were missing something, the absent clue was glaringly obvious but she was looking straight through it, as though she was blind and she was staring directly at the sun. She could feel the warm rays on her skin, she knew it was there, but she couldn't see it.

"I don't suppose you know when Hagrid attended Hogwarts?" wondered Lyra absently, hugging her body as they breached the crooked bridge leading them back towards the clocktower. The temporary relief from the battering wind gave the girls a second to collect themselves and Hermione narrowed her eyes, staring off to search her memory for any useful information, but her pout was very telling.

"I don't know, but he must be quite old, I would say he's around seventy? Or maybe mid-sixties?" she took a stab in the dark, and Lyra gasped at the conclusion she came to. The whining in her gut was adamant that Hermione was correct in her assumptions, and something clicked together in her brain.

Ah… oh no…

"And do you have any inkling as to why he was expelled?" The shake in Lyra's voice was masked easily by the cold weather but she bit her lip to stop the added tremors from doubt. She had a wild hunch and she really didn't want to be right.

"I don't, but it mustn't have been too bad since he still lives here," guessed Hermione, sounding positive with her own conclusion, but Lyra couldn't say the same.

Hagrid attended Hogwarts at the same time as her grandparents, and Myrtle… and Tom.

The possibility of Hagrid being connected in some way to the disappearance of Tom Riddle made her skin crawl, and she started to feel slightly queasy when she thought about how Myrtle could've died. It wasn't exactly a secret that Hagrid had a particular affinity with magical beasts that would rip you to shreds in two seconds flat, and school expulsion was a big deal — maybe Myrtle's death was an accident? He wouldn't have killed her on purpose, Hagrid would never do that.

But the more Lyra dwelled on the facts, the less sure she felt about the groundskeeper. She didn't really know him as well as she would have liked, she couldn't say for sure that growing up he wasn't a careless, naive teenager who made a terrible mistake. He never shared his past with them so how could she know for certain?

She needed to speak to Tom, so much had happened in the last twenty-four hours and she knew he was the only one who could help with this complex mystery.

And so, once the rest of her exhausted roommates disappeared behind their bed curtains for the night, Lyra revealed her favourite book from her robes and burrowed into her duvet, already smiling at the image of the boy always on her mind. The magnetic pull from the diary tickled the skin of her fingers as she found a blank page. Her heart started to pound when she noticed that Tom had, once again, beaten her to it.

"Good evening my pretty girl," he scrawled, igniting the fire inside of Lyra. His words felt like secrets whispered into her ear, she shivered as though she could feel his breath on her neck and she accepted his affection with a faint blush in her cheeks.

"Good evening Riddle, I come bearing news," she wrote back, capturing his attention like always with her vagueness.

"I pray it's good news."

"It's… news," she repeated, but as an after thought she clarified, "ok, it's bad news but it's not too bad… I hope."

"I'm listening."

"Luna, the girl I told you about from Nick's party, was petrified last night and we think it might be the work of a Gorgon," explained Lyra, fleshing out her theory on the page with enough ample space for Tom to add his own thoughts, "it's the only creature that can feasibly petrify someone and strangle hundreds of birds and a couple goats."

"Who says that it was a creature that committed these acts?" wondered Tom, poking holes without a care for his bluntness, and Lyra welcomed his opposing ideas as a challenge. If anyone could work out what was going on, it was Tom.

"Ah, see here's the confusing part," she continued, "we found out about the livestock slaughters from the groundskeeper Hagrid, but when Hermione and I went to talk to him tonight about Luna's petrification and our theories, he refused to talk to us and sent us away. He was perfectly fine with talking about the livestock killer before, but now they've attacked a student, he's decided to turn mute."

Lyra debated finishing her paragraph with a follow-up question concerning Tom's own knowledge of Hagrid in an attempt to find out whether the groundskeeper was responsible for Tom's imprisonment, but the writing on the page told her she didn't need to ask.

"Is this Rubeus Hagrid?"

"It is," confirmed Lyra. I knew it! Her hand continued before she could stop it, "I know you two went to school together, is he the one who trapped you?"

Adrenaline flooded her limbs as she waited impatiently for his answer, her jittery legs shook the parchment pages that lay on her knees and she nibbled on her lip until the skin split. The excessive time gap between their correspondence worsened her anxiety, but all of her nerves were replaced with a fuzzy warmth when he finally wrote back.

"No, it wasn't Rubeus," confessed Tom, "he was expelled a few months before this diary was created. He would never be able to achieve such a feat, my power is incomparable."

"Phew!" Lyra sunk further into her pillows, enjoying the strong sense of relief settling her stomach. She didn't know what she would do if she found out Hagrid was the one who wanted Tom dead, she hated the idea of the pair going against each other and she feared for Tom's safety — Hagrid was bloody huge! "So does this mean that you know why he was expelled? He hasn't told any of us."

"I don't know whether I should say," mused Tom, writing down his thought process to explain why he had doubt, "I don't want to change your opinion, it sounds like you care deeply for Rubeus."

"I do," decided Lyra, feeling defensive over her giant friend. He was a kind and caring man and she appreciated his very big heart, not to mention he let her be the godmother to his dragon! "He's awesome, I've already told you about Norbert."

"Then forgive me for shattering your illusion, Lyra, but Hagrid is the reason that Myrtle haunts the school, he murdered her in his third year," confessed Tom, and Lyra's jaw dropped.

Holy shit! Ice flooded her veins, all heat in her body left out of fear. She didn't want to believe it but she couldn't help but connect the dots, she hated how plausible it seemed. She remembered how close Ron was to losing his arm last year after Norbert bit him, and the memory of Fluffy almost gobbling them all up was too vivid to forget. It must've been an accident, Myrtle was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or Hagrid let his concentration slip at the worst possible moment. It was bad luck, it wasn't intentional… was it?

"I… Wow," Lyra didn't bother scribbling out her sentence errors, she was in too much shock, "that's so sad. Do you know what happened?"

"His fixation on magical creatures that were too dangerous for his skill level was his downfall, he released a beast in the school and it killed Myrtle within seconds," he explained, "I had no idea where Rubeus went once he was expelled, but thanks to you I now know that Professor Dumbledore allowed him to stay at school…"

Lyra went to comment that he was welcome for the update, but she hesitated and her gel pen left a tiny purple dot on the page, marking her scepticism for Tom to see.

"It must've been an accident then, especially if Dumbledore let him live here," she eventually wrote, coming to her own conclusions. She trusted Dumbledore's judgement, and Hagrid was a big softie at heart, he would never purposely kill anyone.

"Do you know Professor Dumbledore well, Lyra?"

That wasn't the question Lyra was waiting for but she happily accepted it with the intent to show off again. "Actually I do, he's the one who told me I was a witch. We've spoken a few times," she revealed, but it wasn't the answer Tom was looking for.

"But do you know him?" he repeated, "I'm not talking about polite niceties, or school obligations — do you know the man Dumbledore truly is? Do you know his values, his morals, the way his mind works? Do you know him?"

Lyra felt a little put out and she pouted at the page.

"No," she admitted, blushing at her stupidity. She didn't really know much about the headmaster's history at all. She heard from the usual chatter throughout the school that he had achieved things that no other wizard had dreamt of, and that the darkest wizards in history feared him for reasons she didn't quite understand. "Why?" she wondered. Did Tom know his story?

"I just want you to know that you cannot blindly trust people without knowing where they came from, you cannot assume that Dumbledore's intentions are pure. Does it seem right that a man who publicly stands against evil would hire a murderer to work at the school where he committed said crime? I understand that his achievements are shiny and attractive, but do not be fooled by them, Lyra, it doesn't seem right," wrote Tom, and Lyra drank up every word.

He had a point, it didn't seem right. Why would Dumbledore protect someone who killed another student? She thought of Myrtle's parents and how awful it must've been for them to see their child's murderer be protected by the headmaster. She tried to put herself in the victim's shoes, imagining how she would have felt if she found out her father was the new Hogwarts caretaker, and she automatically tensed up. Rage was an understatement, she would've been murderous.

"I understand," she told Tom, coming to terms with a history that was beyond her, "thanks for telling me, I suppose I better keep my guard up."

Lyra didn't want to feel differently about Hagrid but his story gave her a sour taste in her mouth. It perfectly explained why he was acting so strange earlier that evening. What if Hagrid bought a new pet and it escaped, what if the livestock massacre was his fault and he had been trying to cover it up? What if it was a new pet that attacked Luna? No wonder he looked scared, he didn't want them to find out he was responsible.

"I'm just looking out for my favourite girl, I won't let anything hurt you," assured Tom, leading Lyra back into the safety of his diary's embrace, "I've got you."

"And I've got you," she replied, wishing with all her heart that she would see him again in her dreams. So they swapped soppy, adoring promises and sweet exchanges until she drifted off into another world, where the gorgeous boy with eyes as dark as the universe and a mind made just for her was waiting.

"Flint passes to Montague, Montague passes to Pucey, back to Monta— AHAH!" bellowed Lee Jordan, holding back tears as he tried not to reveal his ugly cackle in front of the entire school, "out of nowhere Black steals the Quaffle right in front of Pucey's nose! Time to get your eyes checked I think!"

"Thank you Adrian!" chirped Lyra brightly, yanking the red leather ball out of the Slytherin chaser's hands with a brazen wink, "aw man, you guys are being so kind! I never expected you to go easy on me for my first game, how sweet!"

"We're not going easy on you!" screeched Pucey, his tanned face screwed up in fury and his oval glasses fogged up from the sweat pouring from his brunette hairline, "fuck off, Black!"

"Ok, but only because you asked so nicely," she giggled, and she zoomed away, stealing the ball and throwing it to Angelina who was laughing at her display.

Lyra's first Quidditch game was going swimmingly, she couldn't have been happier with the way things were playing out. The sun was shining down on them, the air was clear, cold and crisp, and the moods of the Slytherin Quidditch team continued to plummet with every additional Gryffindor goal. Their fleet of shiny Nimbus 2001s wasn't enough to keep them in the lead and they were beyond angry that they were being shown up. The cheering crowds in the stands lining each side of the pitch was better than Lyra imagined, the sheer force of everyone screaming her name as she scored her first official goal invigorated every fibre in her being. It was everything she ever dreamed of and she basked in the spotlight as though it was meant to be.

"Black passes to Johnson who advances towards the hoops, it looks like Gryffindor's newest addition to the team has just proven why she was chosen for the position as you can see by the steam coming out of Flint's ears," Lee's voice echoed around the stadium, inducing a rumble of laughter along the stands. Lyra looped back just to see the glorious, uneven snarl on Marcus' pallid face and she wished she had her camera.

"I hope you're capturing all of this, Creevey!" she shouted towards the scarlet and gold stands, trying to spy her newly hired photographer amongst the row of first years that were clapping nearby, "try and get my good side and Marcus' bad side!"

The sporadic flashes of Colin's camera caught her eye and she waved in his direction before posing with the irate Slytherin captain that had started to chase her down.

"Smile, Marcus!" she encouraged, ducking a few feet as Flint swiped at her, "actually, maybe don't smile, I don't know if Colin's camera will pick up that gorgeous pearly set you have from this distance but I don't want to risk cracking his lens. I'm sure you understand—,"

"Towler!" bellowed Flint, ordering his beater to join his flank, "HIT… HER… NOW!"

"Bonus points if you hit me with your eyes shuuut!" sang Lyra, squeezing her beautiful new broom with all her might as one of the brutal Bludgers hurtled towards her, but her nimble stature and lighter weight worked to her advantage as she picked up speed. Her confusing loops around Flint and his Beater Malcolm Towler befuddled the Bludger's unpredictable path and it wasn't long until—

CRUNCH!

"And down goes Towler! Yikes, I could hear that from here!" announced Lee as the crowds oohed, wincing as he hit the ground with a softer thud than everyone was expecting, thanks to Madam Hooch's quick-thinking. Lyra accepted Katie's swift high-five as she flew past to compliment her performance so far, and she turned to find Harry amongst the players rocketing around her at high speed. The thunderous commentary helpfully pointed her in the right direction as the drama of the game reached an all-time high.

"The Seekers have taken their positions, it looks like Potter and Malfoy have both tracked down the Snitch, here we go people!"

"GO ON POTTER!" shrieked Lyra, resuming her obnoxious blocking routine that Wood encouraged her to abuse, but Angelina yelled for backup and she had to tear her eyes away from the dramatic dives that were taking place dozens of feet above her to secure yet another goal. The anticipation of hearing Lee announce that Harry had caught the Snitch made her palms sweat. Holding onto her broom and catching the Quaffle was becoming quite gruelling, but the rallying cries of the Gryffindor supporters grew in volume with the tension and she channelled their spirits into concentrated motivation.

"Johnson's gearing up to score, and once again I want to point out how flawless she looks today," boomed Lee, "Pucey goes for the old dive block, but the Quaffle is back with Black! Will she take the shot?"

Something stronger than adrenaline pulsed through Lyra as she took her aim at the centre goal, but she swapped to the far left hoop at the last second and pelted it straight through with so much force that she saw the hairs on the Slytherin Keeper's head quiver as it blasted past.

"TEN MORE POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR! HA! In your face, Flint!"

"Mr Jordan!" The microphone picked up the echoes of Professor McGonagall's scold, but the deafening cheers of three quarters of the school drowned her as the Seekers finally closed the gap between them.

Feeling rather confident with their lead, Gryffindor took the moment of celebration to find the dots that were Harry and Draco, and they screamed until their throats seared.

"COME ON HARRY!"

The dots became sharper as they hurtled downwards in a steep dive, the glinting of gold before them leading them towards the extremely hard, frost-bitten ground with no care for their safety, and Lyra clawed at Katie and Angelina beside her for some sort of comfort as her heart race continued to increase. Harry managed to throw himself forwards as Draco hurled a mirage of insults his way in a last minute attempt to hinder his opponent, and he swiped the Snitch before Draco could even extend his arm.

By the incredibly telling grin on Harry's face Lyra knew they had just won their first match of the year, right in front of Draco's smarmy face. But her own smile dropped immediately when she realised that her ghoulish second cousin wasn't above foul play.

"Gryffindor wins!"

Blinded by rage from his shameful loss, Draco latched onto the tail of Harry's broom and yanked him backwards, using his humiliation as strength. The cowardly move took Harry totally by surprise, with the Snitch in his fist he was too busy trying to absorb the win when the broom slid through his legs. Nothing prepared him for the horrifying sensation of falling. His face alight with fear, Harry frantically groped the air for something to save him but it was too late and he fell over twenty feet, hitting the earth with another sickening crunch!

"DRACO YOU DICKHEAD!"

Lyra couldn't breathe, she only saw crimson. Without thinking twice, she jetted towards the heap that was Harry and shakily dismounted, attacked by the thought of finding a corpse on the field. He was lying on his face with his right arm at a remarkably awkward angle. More people and players were coming to investigate but she blocked them out and focused solely on whether Harry was breathing or not.

"Harry! Are you alive? Please don't be dead, I swear to God I will murder Draco if you die!" she squealed, huffing and puffing as she rolled Harry over, and she almost cried when she spotted him staring up at her with a look of incredulous agony written clearly on his face. He was extremely pale and shaky, his scar stood out like a fresh wound on his forehead, but the fact he was conscious was enough for her to pull him into her tightest hug yet.

"OW! Lyra! My arm!" complained Harry weakly, but he didn't push her off. Satisfied that Harry wasn't brain-damaged, Lyra drew away as more people came to Harry's aid but her elbow accidentally knocked his fractured arm. His eyes bulged as though he had just witnessed something traumatic.

"Uh oh," he choked.

Lyra went to apologise but she was cut off by Harry projectile vomiting all over her, convulsing from the excruciating pain.

"Oh my God I am so sorry! I didn't mean to-?!" stammered Harry, throwing the Snitch aside in a panic as he tried to clean Lyra up with his good arm, but shadows descended on the pair on the floor as they gathered a crowd, and he crumbled in shame when everyone started to stare.

"Dude!" exclaimed Lyra, torn between throwing up as well and hysterically cackling. She tried not to focus on the warm, beige, vaguely tea-scented liquid soaking her Quidditch jersey as she waved away his apologies, but her attempts to help him to his feet was shoved to one side as the worst when Gilderoy Lockhart took centre stage to solve the case at hand.

"Don't worry everybody, I've got this!" he assured the crowd of Gryffindors, flashing them his best smile as he whipped out his wand. Lyra opened her mouth to comment that no one asked for his help but she was yanked away by Fred and George who were desperate to make fun of her vomit-covered shirt.

Still suffering from his severe injury, Harry tried to persuade Lockhart that going to the hospital wing was the best remedy for his arm, but his protests fell on deaf ears and Gilderoy went ahead with his performatory act of healing Harry's fracture with a spell that definitely didn't exist.

"Fixius Ossis… Sissisis," hissed Lockhart, slurring his words so the spell couldn't be replicated or picked apart by the confused teachers around him, and he gasped when he produced a blinding pink flash of light.

"Ah! Wonderful!" he laughed, his confidence spiking as he successfully mended Harry's arm, "just as I suspected, a mere hairline fracture."

"His arm was bent at a freaking angle! That wasn't a little fracture!" Lyra called out through the crowds, masking her complaint amongst her housemates so her professor couldn't tell who was criticising his victory.

"Huh… yeah, thanks I guess," muttered Harry, a little dazed as he gingerly climbed to his feet and stared at his suspiciously perfect arm. Gilderoy soaked in the awe as the Gryffindors shared a few whispers, impressed at the professor's prowess — maybe he wasn't a fraud after all?

"Any time, my boy," smiled Lockhart, making sure that Colin caught his good side as he posed for a picture, "you know I only want the best for you, and after that blinding performance you shouldn't be spending the night in the hospital wing, you should be celebrating!"

Spirits rose once more now that their star player was in good shape and the Gryffindors led the celebrating crowds off of the pitch, whooping and cheering as they headed back to the castle to party. Lyra went to join the end of her team's conga line with a pep in her step but she realised that her friends were still on the field talking to (her stomach churned harder this time) Hagrid.

Lyra hadn't spoken to Hagrid since the night he turned her and Hermione away, since the night she discovered the reason behind his expulsion. Every time she saw him she thought of Myrtle and she couldn't meet his eye, she didn't know what to say to him and she hated how weird she acted whenever he came over to say hello. She could tell he felt guilty for the way he acted by his crinkly-eyed smile and his softer than usual tone, and she didn't know how to act around him now she knew why he was on edge.

"Why aren't we currently doing the conga back up to the castle?" Lyra asked as she joined them, barely glancing up at the enormous groundskeeper as he greeted her with a warm smile.

"My arm still hurts, it's not completely healed," admitted Harry, glaring at the retreating professor in the distance as he lapped up the attention from the students, "I dunno what he did but it doesn't feel right."

"Of course it won't feel right, he made up that spell on the spot," chuckled Hagrid, gently leading Harry away with a mindful hand on his shoulder, "let's get you ter Madam Pomfrey just ter be safe."

"Well I still think it was rather remarkable that he managed to heal most of your bone in a matter of seconds," commented Hermione, slightly starry-eyed at the Dark Art professor's miracle, "if anything he's just made Madam Pomfrey's job a lot easier."

"I dunno, it feels like— ARGH!"

POP!

"OH MY GOD! Hahahah!" cried Lyra, clutching her cramping stomach as she took in Harry's new appearance. He didn't have a right arm anymore, instead he had a stunning red and gold feathered wing that reminded Lyra of a tropical parrot and she struggled to catch her breath when it stretched and fluttered, shimmering in the sunshine. Harry looked insane and she needed a picture right now.

"Hermione!" wheezed Lyra, clawing at her friend's arm, "Hermione please tell me you have my camera?!"

"Woah!" gawked Ron, daring to reach out and graze his fingers against Harry's plumage, "can you feel that?"

"Yes I can! Stop it, that feels weird!" complained Harry, flapping his wing at Ron as though trying to scare him off, but he gave in to the humour of the situation when a speechless Hermione scooped Lyra's camera out of her bag and relinquished it to its owner.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

"I swear to God, you better not sell those," warned Harry, his growing smile ruining his threat, but Lyra linked her pinky finger around one of his many silky feathers and giggled through her promise.

"This is family album content, I promise."

Shaking his head at the bizarre scene before him, Hagrid gathered the second years together and escorted them back to the castle, seemingly pleased that they were focused on something else other than the livestock killer for once, but Lyra felt his gaze on the side of her face countless times during their walk. She knew her snubs were becoming more apparent but she couldn't bring herself to face the facts yet.

"Lyra?" Hagrid piped up once the group reached the doors of the hospital wing, "wait a second, I want a word with yer."

Watching her friends enter the infirmary with a tight-lipped smile, Lyra composed herself and turned back to Hagrid with a stiff nod.

"What's up?"

"I want ter apologise for last week, when you and Hermione came ter visit," he muttered, awkwardly scratching his chin as he addressed the tension between them, "I might've bin a bit harsh with yer and I'm sorry for that, I wasn't feeling like m'self."

Ha! Yeah, I wonder why, thought Lyra bitterly, but she dropped her gaze to her shoes in guilt. That was a bit mean.

"No, it's cool, I understand," she shrugged, trying her best to act somewhat normal, "no hard feelings."

"Good," he sighed, physically brightening up as he started to smile again, "'cus I love yer visits, they're the highlight of my week."

Aw man! Lyra's heart stung and she finally met his gaze, touched by his sentiment. The conflicting feelings stirring inside of her complicated everything, she didn't know how to feel right now. How could Hagrid, sweet kind and caring Hagrid, kill someone? It was terrifying how someone could harbour a secret so dark but emit so much light, but doubt was creeping in and Lyra didn't know what was true anymore. Was it all an act? Was Hagrid merely pretending to be this lovable character to protect his true identity?

"Yeah, I love our visits too," Lyra rushed to conclude their chat with a false grin, "and I love how honest you are with us, I think that's why we trust you so much. It's nice to know I have an adult I can trust."

Lyra's comment hit Hagrid hard in the gut like an iron fist but he hid his pain with his tangled beard, pretending to chuckle at her lovely sentiment as he battled with his inner demons.

The twitching of the muscles above his eye betrayed his every thought and Lyra left Hagrid in the corridor to dwell in his secret, still reeling from him accidentally confirming Tom's story.

With Riddle's help she knew how to read faces. She could extrapolate information from a simple expression, and everything she needed to know was written clearly on the groundskeeper's face in ink only she could read. There was more to Hagrid than he let on, he was harbouring a dark secret and Lyra was determined to uncover it.