The glory of winning their first match of the year as well as keeping a decent house point total carried the happy-go-lucky Gryffindors through to the end of the term. The incident that ruined the Halloween bash was soon nothing but boring old news, who cared that a mass murderer had broken into the school when Cedric and Harry survived a tremendously deadly fall, so Lyra enjoyed the lack of attention as Christmas crept up behind her. It wasn't until she woke up one morning and noticed the blazing white sheen of fresh snow reflecting through the windows that she remembered that the holidays were almost upon them. She blinked and December was here, waving at her as a reminder that Time was working against her.
December also meant Lyra had a very difficult decision to make.
"Bloody hell, not another one?" she guffawed one snowy evening as she ran to the common room window to let in the Tonks' family owl who collapsed on the ledge, knackered from his fast flight. The chirpy owl hopped inside and shook off the dusting of snow coating his feathers, and she offered him a small bite to eat as she scanned her aunt's latest letter.
"Are they still begging you to come home for Christmas?" Ron asked, joining her side to steal a glimpse of her letter, and Lyra passed it his way with a wrinkled nose.
"Of course they are," she huffed, "I don't understand why they won't let me stay here over Christmas?"
"Ooh hmm, I wonder?" Harry teased her from the armchair nearest to the fireplace, but he groaned as a pillow smacked into the back of his head, "Oi!"
"Mum's trying to convince me to come home too, just because the others are going she thinks we should all be together," Ron sympathised with her trouble as he handed the lengthy letter back with a grimace, "I bet she's spoken to Andromeda about you too."
"We're literally staying in the same building as one of the most powerful wizards in the world," Lyra whined as she grabbed her shiny silver parchment and sparkling black gel pens, preparing for the reply of a lifetime. "We couldn't be safer?"
That wasn't the least bit true, she knew that, but still… Christmas at Hogwarts was a tradition now, she couldn't skip it.
"I'm pretty sure the parents are all aware of your father breaking in already," Hermione added her two cents from behind her copy of The Evening Prophet, "mine certainly do, and they send their love, by the way."
"Aww, see? Why can't all parents be like your parents?" Lyra pouted over at her lucky friend and she took to the nearest free writing desk to sketch out her argument. The common room was rather full tonight, with only a couple of days left until the end of term the Gryffindors were trying to make the most of their free-time with their friends.
"I ask myself that every day. Dad doesn't mind, but Mum…" Ron sighed and returned to his X-Men comic in his seat beside Hermione, absently stroking the shivering ball of fluff in his hoodie pocket. Hermione smirked to herself but kept quiet, not wanting to brag any more.
As much as Lyra understood where her aunt and uncle were coming from — Christmas at the Tonkses would have been epic — she couldn't find it in her to leave Remus alone over the break. Even though Andy's invitation extended to Harry too, Harry also agreed that they should stay at Hogwarts as a four, and Lyra repeated all of this information again in her letter. She loved her aunt very much, but man was she being overbearing!
"Heads up!"
From the corner of her eye she saw something white and feathery fly through the open window, and she groaned at the sight of a rather ruffled Apollo. Another one?!
"C'mon dude!"
Assuming she was disgusted by his arrival, Apollo hopped onto her desk and purposely smudged her writing, his beak stuck in the air in outrage. Lyra was quick to reassure her dramatic owl and begrudgingly unclipped the letter attached to his leg.
But her hopes rose when she recognised her cousin's handwriting.
Hey trouble,
Ignore Mum's letter, I've spoken to her and Dad and they have finally accepted the fact that you are too cool to spend Christmas with your awesome family. Kidding! I totally understand where you're coming from, I too would spend the holidays at Hogwarts if my father is on the run. You have my full, unconditional support.
However, since we won't be hanging out together watching cheesy Christmas films and driving everyone crazy, I've decided that it's high time I come and visit you at school. I will be abusing my Auror status over the break so keep an eye out for a friendly face! I'm not entirely sure which day will be my day off so it'll be an impromptu visit.
Have a great time having the castle to yourselves and say hi to the gang for me!
Lots of love,
Tonks
"Problem solved!" Lyra chirped as she kissed her cousin's letter, tucked it into her back pocket and screwed up her now useless silver parchment. Without thinking, she threw it into the fireplace and watched the sparks fly out of the hearthstone, narrowly missing those spread out on the rug. "Good news, Tonks is visiting us over the break! And she sends her love," she blew them a few kisses from excitement.
Tonks plus Hogwarts equals one hell of a good time, she couldn't wait!
"So we're officially staying?" asked Harry hopefully, and Lyra perched on his armrest, sporting a smug smirk as she cuddled her grumpy owl.
"We're officially staying," she repeated, but her eyes caught Hermione's who was peeking over the top of her newspaper. The same anticipation twinkled reflected in them. "And a good thing too since we've got lots of work to do."
Although they were far from ready, the girls were itching to enact a seance that would give them the clarity they seeked. Asking Beedle in person, so to speak, would hopefully speed their research up a notch since so far they hadn't nudged in their progress. Having now secured themselves a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, they were no further in their understanding of why it was so important to Lyra's cause.
Ron was unfortunately correct in his summary of the fairy tale. There were once three brothers that were given a powerful wand, a resurrection stone, and an invisibility cloak by Death themselves. All three brothers ended up having their gifts destroyed or stolen back by Death, and eventually they all died. No happy ending. Nothing inspiring, or particularly interesting occurred. No secret hints were unearthed between the lines. Just a tale about how greed could drive you to become the worst version of yourself.
Even the voices fell silent when she asked for their input. They had nothing to say, their lead went from scorching to ice cold in a flash.
Maybe they were wrong?
"When were you thinking about performing it? Because I've got these lessons with Remus to think about now, and I don't want to miss it," Harry caught their exchange and lowered his voice. After his little tumble that ended their Quidditch match and resulted in the murder of his beloved broomstick, Harry earned himself a few one-on-one defence lessons with Remus, a prime opportunity he just couldn't turn down. Lyra wouldn't let him.
"There's no set date yet so don't worry about it, concentrate on your lessons first," Hermione answered smartly, drawing the attention away from their private plans as the rest of the Weasley clan joined them for their last full evening together. The third years were dying to be left alone, the Christmas break couldn't have come at a more perfect time.
And yet somehow, once the castle was abandoned and the students departed home, once the Gryffindor Tower was completely and utterly theirs to command — they still couldn't find the time to sit together and prepare for their potentially dangerous night ahead.
"Eh hem!"
"Seriously?!" Lyra yelled at the temporary ward guarding the common room entrance. The boisterous yet ditsy knight that was usually positioned in a lonely corridor on the seventh floor was proving to be more of a nuisance than the Fat Lady, "can't you see we're a little bit busy here?!"
The four Gryffindors were crowded around the largest table in the common room, cramming as much of the girls' extensive research on the table as possible, and they all spun around to glare at Sir Cadogan who was lumberingly staring back from the shadows of the entrance hole. It was a quiet winter's afternoon, they had no responsibilities? What now?!
"Surely you four aren't studying? Isn't it the holidays? You should be relaxing, getting up to no good, making the most of your cherished youth!" He chortled, but he hurried to pass on his message before they turned away, "no, no! Wait! You have a visitor!"
"Sure we do," Ron ignored him and three of them returned to their books, but Lyra realised the knight wasn't kidding when the painting swung open and a huge figure stumbled inside. She immediately threw her body on top of the table, to the amazement of her friends who jumped at her odd behaviour, but they rushed to help shove their secret research away as Hagrid ambled over to them, a broad smile on his face. He looked cosy in his usual black moleskin coat that forced his wiry beard into an uncontrollable mane. With the addition of the white powder covering him he looked quite like a grizzly bear covered in icing sugar.
"C'mon you lot," he chuckled at their shocked faces and gestured to them to follow, "I know yer sick of being stuck inside, so I've got a job for yeh to do."
"We're actually in the middle of something, sorry," Hermione tried to politely reject their new job offer with the excuse that they were studying, but she made a fatal mistake and ruined their chances of being alone for the rest of the day.
"You need a break from studying, Hermione, give the rest of 'em a break too. I'm sure yeh've worked them down ter the bone," Hagrid was rapid with his rebuttal, he shot her down with a fatherly look that cracked her pout. If anyone else had turned him down first, they may have had a stronger chance. "Come and get some fresh air, yeh've been stuck in here fer days."
"I suppose a little break wouldn't hurt?" The boys looked hopefully at each other as Ron broke first.
"What job did you need us to do, Hagrid?" wondered Harry as he reached for his waterproof coat.
Hagrid caught Lyra's dissuaded eye and smirked into his coat's furry collar.
"Well, the Mooncalfs babies need feedin' and—,"
Beedle who?!
Suddenly Lyra had never even heard of the famous playwright.
"YES!" she screamed and leapt to her feet, almost strangling herself as she wrapped her cream scarf around her neck, "oh my GOD, yes we will feed the Mooncalfs babies! Leave it to us!" She wasn't missing this chance, they were by far the cutest of the magical creatures habiting the grounds and she deserved some baby animal play time. Especially with their current seance plans, she needed something positive to cling onto before she was experimented on.
"I'm not leaving yeh alone with the Mooncalfs," Hagrid reminded her as he herded the third years together. "But they've bin breeding more than usual, I need yer help feeding 'em while I distract the parents. They keep stealing their food."
"They're not still going to be… breeding while we're down there, are they?" Harry questioned as they wrapped up warm and followed their Magical Creatures Professor down to the Mooncalfs mating grounds. Hagrid barely caught their inquisitive eyes but the warm glow in his cheeks might have been from the bitter draft whirling around the corridors.
"…Doesn't matter, I'll be handling the adults anyway so don't worry about it," he answered, "the cubs are tame, yeh won't have any trouble."
"Great," hummed Hermione, catching her friends' wrinkled eyes as they tried not to giggle, "why study when we could watch a herd of Mooncalfs copulate instead?"
"Don't look at it like that," Hagrid scolded the snickering teenagers and rolled his eyes, "it's a part of nature, yeh'd have ter study mating patterns in yer sixth year anyways, think of this as an advanced module."
"Oooh I am definitely continuing Care for Magical Creatures for my NEWTs then. That's hilarious," Lyra announced, wriggling her brows, making Ron's chuckle grow into a cackle behind her.
"What does that mean for our end of sixth year exam?" Harry asked, rather scared for the answer, but Lyra gladly took a stab in the dark.
"I'm gonna guess… bestiality?"
Horrified that not only she but the rest of them knew what that word meant, judging by their reaction, Hagrid spent the rest of their slushy trek down to the Mooncalfs chastising Lyra. She accepted the consequences without complaint considering Harry was still giggling an hour later, the awkward aftermath was totally worth it.
Feeding the Mooncalf calves became a staple in the quartets' holiday routine, as did Hagrid's prolonged presence around them. By their third visit to the den in the outskirts of the forest, they cottoned onto Hagrid's reason why he wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. He didn't trust them not to wander off straight into Sirius' hands.
It was quite endearing at first, Lyra didn't mind his company as he supplied them with plenty of strenuous activities, flasks of tea, and excuses to experience the winter wonderland Hogwarts had magically transformed into, and he didn't seem to mind when they dragged him into their many spontaneous snowball fights.
But then the other professors who had stayed behind began popping up everywhere they went, always coincidentally going the same way they were at exactly the same time. They couldn't go anywhere alone, there were no other students in the castle for the staff to worry about so all eyes were on them. It should have been comforting, but it was far from.
Late evening quickly became their sweet spot for getting their research done. Harry's defence lessons began shortly after term broke and Remus allocated most of his empty early evenings for their meetings. But once Harry returned to the tower, usually pale and shaky from constantly facing his fear, they got to work and swapped books and theories until the early hours of the morning.
By the run up to Christmas Day, the quartet had finely-tuned their routine and experienced what must have been their most peaceful holiday ever. No trouble afoot, no distractions, just peace and quiet.
It was almost too quiet…
Christmas Eve began like every other day so far.
Lyra made the most of her late lie-in as she casually flicked through her Magical Technological theory book Arthur bought her last year while she sipped her tea. In anticipation of Danielle sending her the hottest records released since her estrangement from the Muggle world, Lyra spent her free time tinkering with her stereo. Her Walkman technically could blast music from its tiny cracking speaker but it wasn't good enough anymore. She missed blasting her CDs until her eardrums buzzed, the castle was deserted and she was missing her opportunity to make the most of being as loud as feasibly possible.
"Do you think Kreacher will be able to obtain a sword?"
"Ummm," Lyra considered Hermione's random question as she licked her lips and hummed, not bothering to look up from her book, "I'm pretty sure I've got a good selection of vintage swords in my vaults so sure, why not."
"Are they silver or gold?"
Hermione's voice grew louder as she exited the girls bathroom and collapsed on her bed stomach-first, Lyra's fluffy notebook forever glued to her hand.
"Both, and steel, and bronze too, and some kind of black metal that glows an eerie lilac colour," Lyra shivered as she remembered Tonks tackled her down in their family vaults to stop her from swinging it around the day they met, "but we can't use that one, I promised Tonks I wouldn't touch it."
Hermione snapped the notebook shut and turned to face her as she finally relaxed into a cheerful smile at long last. She stretched her limbs and relished the sharp pop of her ligaments, soaking in the morning sun glazing her sheets.
"Ok, fantastic! Then we're ready," she decided, accomplishment brightening her golden face.
Lyra threw her book aside and shot up from her bed, her startling eyes reflecting the snowy day's light as she gazed at her best friend in adoration.
"Tonight?"
"Tonight," Hermione confirmed, and threw the fluffy book back her way so she could inspect her finalised instructions, "pick a long album to listen to, it might take a while for us to connect with the correct spirit."
Lyra scanned the neat row of new notes Hermione added and her lips formed a perfect circle. It was brilliant! "Ooooh, I like it!"
"I thought you would," Hermione smirked, and jumped over to Lyra's bed so she could point out her most exciting idea, "this is the most tedious part of the ritual, and it's not compulsory, but if we pull it off then the ritual shouldn't take long. If we can't, then maybe bring two CDs."
Lyra glanced at her notes once more and flashed her a wisened look that suggested she needn't worry about a thing:
Seance location: Library Annex, top floor — next to the display case guarding Beedle's favourite lute.
"We're doing the seance in the library, you can hold me to that," Lyra promised, already planning to conspire with the ghosts, "Madam Pince won't notice a goddamn thing."
"As long as you're sure," Hermione didn't sound as convinced but it was the thought that counted, "if she catches you swinging your sword around near the books then you're doomed."
"Am I holding the sword?!" Lyra gawked, double-checking her instructions, "incredible, can't we go and do it now?"
"No, it needs to be at night, your powers appear to work better once the sun is down," Hermione dissuaded Lyra from arming herself before it was necessary.
Drunk from the anticipation for their busy night, the girls met the second half of their gang before an early lunch was served in the common room. With the sparse number of people cohabiting the castle, it was pointless for them to traipse down to the Great Hall three times a day and they quite preferred lounging on the cosy sofas than dealing with the stiff hall benches that tended to leave them with numb bums.
Harry and Ron were pleased to hear that the time had finally come, although they were rather confused as to why Lyra was the only one allowed to wield a sword during the potentially dangerous ritual.
"Well you're not the conduit, and we have wands. Why do you need a sword too?" Hermione questioned, not quite understanding their attitudes, but the boys shrugged.
"Because it's a sword," Ron explained as though it was that simple, "it's not that we need one—,"
"—it's because we really want one," Harry finished for him, both of them wearing matching innocent pouts.
"Please?"
"I own at least four swords?" Lyra added, trying to be helpful, and Hermione gave in to the pressure without much protest.
"Ok fine, we'll all have weapons," she compromised, replacing her fork with her quill to jot down the modification, "I'll have a dagger, a sword will be too heavy for me. As long as Lyra's sword is made from silver, then you can have whatever sword you like."
"Oh, oh! Dibs on a gold one!" Ron's hand shot up.
Deciding that they couldn't wait till the evening to claim their weapons, Lyra called upon her house elf and worked out the logistics of him withdrawing a bunch of swords without raising suspicions. To her surprise, and slight concern, it only took Kreacher a matter of minutes to visit Gringotts and arrive back with a handful of beautifully-crafted, gilded swords for them to peruse. It looked as though Christmas had arrived a day early.
"That sword belonged to Master Tybalt Black," Kreacher purred, ogling the dazzling bronze cutlass Harry had taken a shining to. The blade looked as though it had been marinating in a mysterious oil for centuries, the colours that shone back were not of this world. "He was expelled from Durmstrang Institute before his sixth year for his involvement in an illegal dragon ring, and then he spent the rest of his life masquerading amongst the most fearsome Muggle pirates where he earned a name for himself. Kreacher's old mistress used to say that the Black fortune was once ten times the size it is now, but Master Tybalt stole most of the gold and buried it around the world while on his pirate adventures."
"What a legend," Lyra whistled, and Harry proudly admired the elegantly rusted, twisted hilt, "it's all yours, Potter."
"From one legend to another," he boasted as he carefully placed it down beside him. He winked at her, "thanks, Black."
"Who owned this sword? Was it Tybalt's too?" Ron begged Kreacher to pay attention to his choice — a glittering, gold and emerald encrusted scimitar. It was the kind of sword Lyra had definitely seen in an old Hollywood movie, the sort that Lawrence of Arabia would have been proud to call his own, and she nodded approvingly as Ron unsheathed it with an expert's touch.
"…No," Kreacher's thinning lips curled as he barely took a glimpse of the tacky sword. "That sword used to belong to Ovidius Black, the infamous serial killer. He was a troubled boy who ended up murdering four out of five of his siblings before unleashing his fury on a number of villages in Norfolk during the early seventeenth century."
"Ah," Ron slowly sheathed his blade and closed his mouth, acting as though he never wanted the handsome blade in the first place as he hid it, "it doesn't really matter who used to own them, does it?"
"Oooooh," Lyra couldn't help but fawn over the short silver rapier that Hermione instructed Kreacher to find for her. The sword's only distinguishing feature was its curved grip that looked like a crescent moon, and the minuscule engravings of four-pointed stars sprinkled along its thin blade that were only visible once it caught the fireplace's light. It looked quite like the kind of sword an ancient astronomer would have wielded. "Pretty! Very me."
"You're sure it's made from pure silver?" Hermione clarified as she chose her new knife. Hers was a Celtic dagger, a dark steel weapon wrapped with handsome black leather and an opal the size of a chicken egg sitting at the end of its grip. It was simple yet elegant, a perfect choice.
"Kreacher is certain," he nodded strongly, sending the brains of the operation a toothy smile, "Miss Hermione will be glad to hear Mistress Lyra's sword is Goblin-made."
"Even better," she smiled at the old house elf and bowed, "thank you for your help."
"Are you sure it's a good idea to give Death a lethal weapon?" Ron wondered as he eyed Lyra who was having the time of her life swishing her rapier back and forth to create a loud whipping sound.
"We have to present Death with a gift made from silver, a sword is one degree away from a scythe so I thought it would suffice," Hermione explained her reasoning, "and by the looks of it, our gift is proving to be very successful."
A warm tingling sensation infected Lyra's blood and she grinned, feeling unusually taken to her friends who were watching her closely. She grinned at them and held her sword aloft, her face softly aglow.
"Death says thanks!"
"Try not to main yourself before tonight, then, Death," Harry carefully approached Lyra and persuaded her to hand over her weapon before she sliced the cushions in half, and she blushed when she realised she'd gotten too into character. Who knew that silver was her kryptonite?
The upcoming seance took up most of their day but the swords were eventually hidden away in the girls dormitory when Hagrid arrived at his usual time to escort them to their feeding job. The weak winter sun was already heading towards the mountains when they reached the clock tower courtyard, but the pretty rosy colours twinkling back from the Black Lake was worth the rough visibility.
"Lumos!" Hagrid said proudly, illuminating the salted path they knew now by heart, "I haven't got non-verbal spells down yet, but I ain't bothered 'bout that."
"You're doing tremendous, Hagrid," Hermione assured him, tucking her scarf tighter into her cloak hood, "I wouldn't even worry about it, you won't need to for your exams."
"Ugh, exams," Ron shuddered, "do we have to say the e word this close to Christmas?"
Lyra went to agree wholeheartedly to Ron's sentiment as she aimlessly kicked the snow piles lining their path, when something black and hairy whooshed past the corner of her eye. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention as she subtly looked toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and she froze in her tracks when she saw it again.
Something was in the bushes. Something furry… a deer? A wolf? Cautious of the group who were now a comfortable few feet away, she craned her neck and strayed the path just enough for her movement not to be suspicious. They knew she enjoyed kicking the crunchy snow…
Be careful.
It's fine!
The animal rustling in the bush wasn't moving as though it was walking, it was more likely shaking the leaves occasionally from a repeated movement. Was it stuck? Or using the bush twigs to scratch itself? Her curiosity got the better of her, and she truly couldn't have been happier with her innate urge to steal a glance at what was hiding behind the bush.
Half-hidden by the shadows of the growing night through thick tree canopies, a small muddy ditch played host to what Lyra first suspected to be a ghost hound. It was only when she realised the large hound was able to paw at the crooked branch sticking out of the bush that she realised the dog was real. And not just real either.
It was bloody huge.
And so cute?!
The great black shaggy dog was pawing at the branch and watching miserably as it sprung back, mere centimetres from its wet nose. The sigh it huffed with each paw sounded hopeless, and Lyra found herself pouting. It was almost skin and bones, she could practically see its fragile ribs poke out from its matted fur. And it's skinny legs! The poor thing was hopeless, its glowing canine eyes were physically watering as though resigning to its misery. Her heart clenched and she resisted the urge to tear up too, she couldn't stand to see an animal in pain. Awwhhh look at him!
He is pretty cute…
Poor dog, but still, be careful. It's a wild dog.
Part-husky judging by its eyes, aww!
"What are you staring at?"
Noticing she had slowed to a stop, Harry came striding over as noisily as he could through the bank of snow, and Lyra froze as the hound finally noticed its audience. Its ears pricked and it jumped up, lithe and ready to flee—
"No! Shhh, you'll spook him!" Lyra waved her hand at Harry to stop, and luckily he cottoned onto the situation and froze.
"Spook who?"
The hound's ears twitched and it looked up at the bush, realising where his enemy stood—
But the dog didn't run.
Lyra beamed. He liked them!
"Hi!" she waved at him, using her indoor voice and her softest tone, "hey boy! You must be freezing."
"Oh," Harry hesitated, watching the dog warily as it continued to just stare at them, as though trying to work out whether they were a threat, "well, at least he's not attacking us. We should go though, they're gonna notice we're not with them at any second."
As though he understood, the dog began to whine and it gingerly took a step forward, its sweeping tail faintly wagging, and Lyra aww'ed again. He didn't want them to go, this was torture!
"He doesn't want us to leave him," Lyra murmured, her large eyes widening in agony in sync with the dog's quick-appearing puppy eyes, "I bet he's so hungry, awww Harry I can't…"
His hands shoved in his coat pockets, Harry whipped his head back to double-check the trio laughing up ahead before looking back at her and her equally as cute new companion. His brow crumpled and he hung his head, muttering to himself.
"What exactly do you want to do?" He asked, giving in to her pretty smile, "because Fang isn't going to like him. As cute as he is, he's massive and Fang is going to freak out."
"I just want to take him up to the castle and feed him, that's all," Lyra swore, growing more giddy as she realised he was warming to her new friend. At the mention of feeding, the dog perked up and revealed his tongue, his tail now viciously smacking the bush.
"See! He's hungry! He'll be good, I'll make sure of it," she added, and the dog circled itself, getting comfortable for the long wait. He let out a grizzled, quiet ruff and laid its shaggy head on its paws. Its glowing white eyes were patient, kind, and definitely innocent, Lyra was besotted by the mountain dog. Even with his new dislike for big dogs after his Grim encounters, Harry dared to reach over the bush and offer the hound his hand, testing the waters before he let her anywhere near it.
"Yay! He likes you, we definitely have to take him inside now," Lyra cheered, laughing as the dog licked and dribbled all over his hand, and Harry cringed as he wiped it on his jeans.
"I suppose—,"
"What are you two doin'?"
Hagrid's booming voice caused the pair and the hound to jump.
"We'll be back! Stay here, boy!" Lyra hissed at the dog before she and Harry ran over to the others, babbling on about the fictitious Thestral they saw. It took all of her concentration not to look back at her new friend and she prayed he would wait for her.
Lyra wished for time to speed up as they spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening with Hagrid. As much as she loved his company and the laughter they shared over dinner, each bite of food further reminded her of the starving animal waiting out in the cold for her to return. Her roast beef accidentally slipped from her plate a few times and ended up in her coat pockets, she hoped no one else noticed.
By the time the four pried themselves away from their now tipsy Professor friend, Lyra had successfully convinced Hagrid to let them walk up to the castle unaccompanied. Her determination to help creatures in need spurred her through Hagrid's vaguely slurred arguments, but after another large tankard of mead he had finally given in.
"Fine, but I'm standing here and watching yeh," he hiccuped from the doorway, his mammoth arms barely crossing each other as he slumped against the doorframe, "don' think I won't come chasing after yous lot when you eventually wander inter the F-Forest."
"Ok!" Lyra said brightly, exaggerating her wave goodbye despite only still being a foot away, "it's a good thing it's a clear night! It would be an awful shame if, I don't know, it got really dark all of a sudden!"
"What the hell are you planning?" Hermione muttered from the side of the mouth as they began their ascent up the hills toward the castle.
C'mon, please work!
Pretending not to strain for the darkness to lend her a helping hand in some form or another, Lyra continued to wave as they walked away. "Don't worry about it, you'll see," she whispered back.
"To be fair, he looks like he's gonna pass out at any second," Harry wagered, watching Hagrid with his own unusually wide smirk. "Aww bless him, shouldn't we make sure he makes it home safely first?"
Ron's cackled response echoed across the grounds, "Hahah good one!"
Lyra stopped summoning what she hoped would be more snow, but ended up being a slight drizzle of mist, and turned to the boys. Hagrid's silhouette blurred in the distance, significantly raising their chances of getting away with her deviousness. "Are you two ok?"
"Yeah, fine!" said Harry too quickly.
Ron hiccuped then pretended to cough, a poor attempt.
Oh my God?
Hermione leant toward them and sniffed, her brow furrowing deeper as she caught a whiff of fermented blackberries and honey. Lyra arched a brow and scoffed, deeply offended by her exclusion.
"Did you two steal Hagrid's mead?"
"Our cups may or may not have been accidentally swapped with his one or two times," Harry bravely took the brunt of their shock with a slow confession.
"Just a little buzz to take the edge of the terrifying thing we're doing later," Ron decided to take a shot at redemption without letting the girls process their actions, and Lyra quickly accepted their reasoning. They had more important things to do than to bicker over their selfishness. She could have used a strong drink too, but an adorable dog was potentially dying of starvation —this could wait.
"As much as I want to yell at you for not including us in your little scheme," Lyra interrupted Hermione's imminent 'I can't believe it' speech and pointed toward the line of trees where her new friend was hopefully waiting, "I've got a puppy to adopt so let's go."
"You what?" Hermione turned to stare at her, the boys' confession leaving her mind at once.
"I'm convinced it's actually the Grim," Harry admitted, shrugging, "it's enormous."
"Come on!" Lyra insisted her friends hurry up, pushing them toward the bushes where the dog was last sighted. The added cover of the misty night aided in their quest, Hagrid never came after them.
"He's still here!" Lyra squealed once she found the right bush. Their wands' light would have sped up their search but she didn't want to risk it. Her heart raced faster and faster as she watched the dog leap to its feet and amble over to them, no longer shy and wary of onlookers. The pair who hadn't had the pleasure of greeting the wild dog yet yelped and jumped back, astonished that Lyra was telling the truth.
"See? Huuuge!" Harry guffawed.
"Hi boy," Lyra reached down and razzled him behind the ears. The moment her palm brushed his thick, black fur her entire body tingled, how was he so soft yet so dirty?! Her touch revitalised the hound, like it had awoken something inside of him, and her friends tried not to scream as the dog pounced at her.
"It's fine!" She giggled, pretending to push the playful dog off of her, but she relished its enthusiasm as he licked her cheeks, "he's just playing!"
"He's very friendly for a wild dog," Hermione observed, still unsure about the unpredictable temperament of the wild animal, but Ron beat her to it.
"Nah, look at his eyes, and the bits of white fur there," Ron assured her as he shuffled closer to stroke him, "everyone says the wolves in these parts mate with all kinds of dogs in the highlands, Dads said he saw a few Bernese Mountain dogs and great terriers roaming around while he was at school."
"Well whatever he is, wolf or lost dog, he deserves a hot meal," Lyra announced her plan to the group , her glittery eyes glued to the dog who was desperate to keep their attention. He was currently circling them, sniffing them all while he whipped his tail against their hips. His nose zoned straight to Lyra's coat pocket beef slices and he sat at her feet, his puppy eyes in full effect.
Hermione blinked, amazed by his manners as she pulled the dripping beef cuts from her pocket and asked for his paw. their jaws dropped as he obeyed her. "Wow, maybe he is a lost pet?" She muttered.
"Who's a good boy!" Lyra scratched the dog's neck as he wolfed the food down in one, "do you see why he needs to come with us?"
"For an hour maximum," Hermione pursed her lips, "we still have plenty to do tonight."
"Maybe we could use him as a guard dog?" Harry suggested, joining Ron in hyping the dog up with a small game of tag, "just in case Death goes nuts and tries to kill us?"
"You want to use him to attack me?" Lyra repeated, outraged, "he would never!"
"I don't think keeping a dog in the same room as a seance is a good idea," Hermione shot that idea down at once and yanked her cloak closed, the chill of the winter's night finally infiltrating her clothes. "Let's go."
Lyra kept close to their new dog companion as they headed back to the safety and warmth of Hogwarts, but Harry stuck his arm out to stop them as they reached the shadows of the castle. The teachers knew their schedule this evening, they were bound to intercept them on their way up to the tower. Shit, how are we going to do this?
"You're so lucky that I have this on me," Harry revealed his invisibility cloak to the group with a tipsy flourish, shaking it out from its tight compaction in his coat pocket.
"Are you really gonna trust the dog not to run off with it? We won't be able to find him," Ron pointed out, and Harry draped it over himself and the dog before Lyra could reveal her handy party trick.
"Ta da!" came his voice from the staticky bubble, but they snickered as they realised the dog's overexcited tail was ruining the facade. "Wait, no don't— Move, just go—!"
Harry's irked face appeared from nowhere and he sighed as the dog copied him as though he was supposed to, smiling up at his new friends. "Ok, this is not going to work."
"How about you use the cloak as a hold-all? Like a sack, scoop him up and carry him?" Ron threw his idea out, hoping it would stick, but before Harry attempted to recreate it, Lyra decided to try her own idea.
"Kreacher!"
Pop!
The hobbling elder elf appeared and cursed the cold weather he wasn't expecting to find himself in. At his very appearance, however, Lyra noticed how still the dog became and she hurried to stand in between them before the worst happened. Was this a good idea?
"Excellent! Yes, I support this idea," Harry voiced his agreement to her mad method, and pocketed his cloak, "I quite like my dad's old cloak, I didn't fancy ruining it today."
"What must Kreacher do?" Kreacher wondered aloud before peeking through his mistress' legs at the source of the wet dog smell. "Has Mistress found another pet?"
"I wish but I think Hermione might kill me," she side-eyed her roommate who nodded vigorously.
"Correct."
"Is it possible for you to apparate alongside an animal?" She asked the weighted question, and Kreacher bowed.
"For Mistress, Kreacher can Apparate alongside any living or dead creature."
"Ew," Ron wrinkled his nose.
"Awesome!" Lyra gasped, a million ideas popping into her head like fizzing fireworks.
"May Kreacher suggest that Mistress Lyra shouldn't Apparate a Thestral inside of her dormitory," he set the ground rules before she opened her mouth, "it is not a smart idea."
"I wasn't going to," she sniffed, but she frowned when her friends laughed harder, "what? I wasn't! I just want you to help sneak my new friend into the tower?"
Lyra moved at a snail's pace as she revealed the shaggy black hound that was totally fixated by the house elf. The slack jaw and lolling tongue was a strong indicator that he was entirely confounded by Kreacher's very existence. Has he seen one before? Was he used to magic?
Kreacher gave the dog a once over before upturning his crooked nose and sneering. "Mistress wants to take this to her tower?"
The dog dared to bear his sharp canines, and Lyra gave her elf a pointed look. Was this Apollo vs Kreacher 2.0? She really hoped not.
"It's Christmas Eve, dude, it's the season of giving, and I'm giving this lucky pup a hot meal and a bath as a Christmas gift," she pouted at him, and Kreacher was quickly swayed by her charm. He adored how large her heart was, his mistress loved harder than anyone he'd ever known.
"Then Kreacher will take your guest to the tower," he bowed and scooted over to the dog, his arm outstretched without fear of getting it bitten off. If his Mistress trusted him then he did too. The wild hound hesitated to allow the elf to stroke him, and he closed his eyes—
Pop!
"Uh oh," the quartet stared at the spot where Kreacher and the dog once were, then swapped the same panicked look. They needed to get to the tower pronto.
"I can't believe you've just sent a wild dog into the tower alone!" Hermione whined as they sprinted faster than they ever had before. The castle began a grey and orange blur as they whizzed up to the seventh floor using the quickest shortcut to hand. The mismatched staircases were murder on their lungs and their shins were screaming for release by the time they climbed their last flight.
"If he's… eaten our pets…" Ron panted, sweat pouring from his fiery brow, "I'm gonna… kill you…"
"It'll be fine!" Lyra wheezed, and she flagged down their common room's pesky guard despite being nowhere near the portrait hole, "Doxy eggs! Doxy eggs! Let us in!"
"Oh ho!" Sir Cadogan chortled, eyeing them with his usual high and mighty grin, "so you four are the reason why there is a dog bouncing around in there?"
"Obviously, we're the only ones here," Harry spat, assuming he had the upper hand, but the swift jab from Lyra sobered him up, "I mean, what dog?"
"Nothing to see! Merry Christmas!" Lyra laughed, shoving them through the portrait hole before slamming the painting shut behind her. The knight tumbled from the frame, wobbly from her sheer force.
Since they expected the dog to have torn the common room to shreds, they were pleasantly surprised to see it lounging on its back in front of the blazing fire, its glowing eyes half-closed as it enjoyed the warmth pouring over him. Lyra caught her breath and went to collapse down beside the exhausted dog when she realised Crookshanks had beaten her to it.
"Oh!"
Hermione rushed to collect her brave cat but she withdrew her reach when she realised Crookshanks was willingly cosying up to the dog, enjoying his rough fur as his new pillow. His gentle growls from his prolonged stretch joined the dog's soft snores, and the girls aww'ed at the heart-aching sight — they liked each other! Lyra ran to grab her camera.
CLICK!
"I'll be right back, don't take your eyes off of them," Ron warned the group as he slipped away to check the lock on his rat's cage upstairs.
Lyra patiently waited all of ten seconds before she ushered the dog up to the girl's dormitory for his promised bath. She led him to the largest tub as it was the only receptacle big enough for his size and doused him with soapy warm water, scratching and scraping until all of the mud and leaves caked in his fur trickled down the drain. Judging by the hounds reaction she wasn't sure he had ever been bathed before, but he certainly knew how to be pampered. She giggled as she offered to rub her coconut balm on his soft toe beans and he happily let her do as she pleased. With a few drying spells, he was silky soft and smelt of bergamot and lemons. A massive upgrade from wet dog.
Kreacher returned for the final time that night with a hearty selection of red meat for the hound to gobble down, and Lyra wasted most of their time together lying on the floor French braiding his tail. She made a mental note to adopt the dog as soon as she could, he was everything she could have hoped for in a pet. Would he like Weymouth? Apollo always wanted a brother, he would be the best addition to her family.
"We really should get a move on soon," Hermione yawned as she checked her watch for the dozenth time, "this seance isn't going to perform itself."
"Just a few more minutes," Lyra begged, transfixed by the sleepy pup whose belly was finally full. She was lying down next to him on the common room's plush rug, her hands glued to his fur. "Ooo I don't want him to sleep outside, maybe he can stay—?"
"We can't leave him here," Ron shut her idea down with a firm head shake, "sorry Ly, but I can't trust him not to go upstairs and… you know…" he hadn't mentioned Scabbers once by name, he didn't want to give the intelligent dog ideas.
"What if we let him out while we go to the library? And then bring him back up here after?" Harry suggested through his own extended yawn. The mead had made the boys extra sleepy and the girls were far from impressed.
"How about we stay here with him?" Ron added.
"And let them handle the ritual by themselves? What if it goes wrong and Beedle isn't what we think he is?" Harry objected, dissuaded by the idea of missing out, "Hermione needs us, especially since Lyra's gonna be… not herself during the ritual."
The dog's heavy eyes opened slightly and caught Lyra's adoring gaze. Her stomach fluttered.
"I'll be ok! I'm getting to grips with this whole Death thing pretty well. You gave me a silver sword present, I'm not going to attack my sugar mama," she pointed out. The weight of her burden lightened somewhat and her lungs eased. She felt lighter than she had in months.
"Death seems to like me, according to Lyra's dream journal," Hermione emphasised her ability to handle the advanced seance by herself, and smiled at the worried boys, "if you want to stay here and play with your swords then be my guest."
"Hermione, gross!" Lyra cackled, unable to help herself, and she rolled onto her bag laughing harder as they all turned tomato red.
"Lyra!"
"Eh hem."
The group froze as Sir Cadogan's voice interrupted them for the hundredth time this break. They turned from the squashy sofa and glared at the knight who seemed to revere the attention, even if it was icy.
"Sirs and ladies, you have another guest," he announced with his usual low bow, despite his long sword strapped to his waist.
Within a split second the hound had leapt to its feet to hide, Lyra had never seen an animal move as quickly as a spooked dog before. She blinked and he was gone. How the—?
"Good to know he's good at hiding," Harry commented as the four subtly swept the room for signs of black hair or a wagging tail, but they nearly relaxed when they realised who their guest was.
"Merry Christmas Eve!" Lyra welcomed Remus into the common room with a cheer, pleased to see her favourite teacher. He seemed chill today, his shoulders were relaxed and his charming smile appeared with no trouble. He greeted the four Gryffindors warmly and apologised for intruding.
"I thought you four may appreciate an early Christmas gift–,"
Remus trailed off as his eyes widened, and his expression fell slack. Lyra frowned, cautious of his suddenly odd behaviour, and followed his darting eyes around the room. Had he seen something?
Her heart lurched – could he sense that the dog was here?
"Remus?" Harry called out his name, also noticing his bizarreness, "are you ok?"
"I…" Remus gulped and tried to cover up his unusual mood dip, but whatever was plaguing him was refusing to leave. "Um… why can I smell a wet dog?"
"Oh! That might be Crookshanks," Hermione rushed to explain away the weird smell they had unfortunately gotten used to. She flashed him her brazen smell and began to look around the room for her fluffy cat.
But there was no orange fur in sight. In fact, Lyra realised, they hadn't seen Crookshanks for a while now–
"Oh, fuck!" Ron exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and barrelled toward the entrance to their dorms, worry flushing him with pink cheeks and a strangled cry. "YOU BETTER NOT BE UP THERE!"
"Oh," Relief fanned Remus' face as his bristled scowl melted into another winsome smile, "excuse me, I was just having a small moment." He joined them by the sofas and stuck his hand into his robes with the intent to dish out his small, edible presents, but the trio never found out what Remus had for them.
"NOOOOO!"
Ron's distraught shrieks echoed around Gryffindor Tower like the caws from a murder of crows. Blood drained from all of their faces, and Remus choked on his scream.
"I KNEW IT! Stay here!" he yelled at the children, fear paling his already white whiskery face, but the trio couldn't stand still. Tears were already welling in Hermione's eyes and Harry was gripping Lyra's wrist so tightly she couldn't feel her fingers anymore.
"But–!"
"Stay… here…" Remus repeated, his hiss as fatal as a Basilisks, and Lyra urged her friends to obey. As much as she wanted to run after Remus and discover Ron's fate, she didn't want to upset him further.
"Fuck it," Harry disregarded his warning the second he disappeared behind the door guarding the dormitories, and he raced after him.
"WAIT!" Hermione left next, and Lyra resigned to the fact that Remus was going to be furious with them anyways. She took one last look around the room and noticed her new friend creeping toward the portrait hole, his snout low to the ground and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her twisted stomach relaxed.
"Don't go!" She called out to him, fretful that she would never see him again, and the dog paused at the exit to look at her. He was whining, yearning for her.
"Please…" she whispered, and her heart broke open wider as the dog slipped into the shadows and disappeared for good. Her shoulders sagged along with her pout, her heavy chest welcomed the dog's presence and she ensured her shadows would protect him as he escaped into the night. She owed the poor creature that much.