"Are you going to talk to Remus today?"
Lyra silently swore as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and found Hermione perched at the end of her bed, already awake and dressed for the day. The soft patter of early springtime rain and faint warbles of passing birds filled the tower rafters this morning, creating a soft, cosy ambience that encouraged most of the castle's early risers to go back to sleep.
"Later," Lyra promised, her gaze unstable as she sat upright and faced Hermione's unimpressed pout. Her stomach had been in knots ever since the Firebolt's arrival but somehow they grew even tighter. Hermione was right, she had to talk to Remus today.
Her godfather's newfound aversion to her recently certainly helped her procrastinate their impending conversation, but enough was enough. She had to snitch.
She might lose Kreacher today. She might lose her freedom.
"Lyra," Hermione warned, unnerved by her pause.
Breathe. Lighthouse. You got this.
"I swear I will tell him, I'll hunt him down after dinner and tell him everything," Lyra answered in a calm breath while she climbed out of bed and reached for her hair brush, "Let's get through today first. Please. For Ron's sake. This might be my last chance to have fun."
"It'll be ok, but fine, I understand. Pass me your broom so I can pack it," Hermione backed down and relaxed into her toothy smile, allowing herself to enjoy their upcoming plans now. "I'm dying to know what your father has done to it."
Lyra unearthed the unridden Firebolt from its blanket coffin under her bed and relinquished it to her best friend on her way to the bathroom.
"You and me both sister. The other two are certain that it's fine but I don't trust that bitch in the slightest! You saw the note, he's baiting me! He wants me to ride it," Lyra's voice carried over the sounds of gushing water, and Hermione grimaced as she slipped Sirius' card in with the Firebolt.
"All the more reason to tell Remus," Hermione muttered to herself before shaking away a sad fleeting thought like a mosquito buzzing near her ear.
"Are you excited for today?" She asked, watching Lyra pick out her clothes. "The first Hogsmeade visit truly is the best, make sure you pack lots of film."
A fleeting memory of Lyra's actual first visit tried to ruin her mood like the stubborn stain she found on the jeans she planned to wear. Kreacher's suspicion, the misty abandoned back alleys of Hogsmeade, the adrenaline pumping through her, the Riddle graveyard… But she shoved them aside and focused on the present. This was her first visit to Hogsmeade, this was the one she would remember forever. And she was experiencing it with her best friends.
"I can't wait! We have to visit that antique shop you mentioned first, and Honeydukes of course," Lyra created their itinerary as she primped and preened in front of the bathroom mirror. Today's wet weather chose her outfit for her; fuzzy high socks, a plaid pinafore over a pale blouse, and an oversized waterproof black coat. She loved cloaks and all but dragging around a heavy damp cloak hem while traversing over the hilly gravel paths was not worth the hassle. She needed to be able to sneak around without the extra challenge, Harry's cloak was already going to make life harder today.
"Fred and George have booked us a table at The Three Broomsticks for one o'clock, we'll explore the village before we meet them so you and Harry know where you're going in case you get lost," Hermione instructed, checking her watch for the hundredth time.
"We won't get lost," Lyra vowed, but she giggled when Hermione pulled an incredulous expression. "When have I ever gotten lost?"
Hermione pulled on her knitted gloves and rolled her eyes, neglecting to answer.
With Ron's presents snug under their arms, they departed the girls dormitories and hunted down the birthday boy. Lyra struck gold when they discovered that one of the Hogsmeade weekends coincided with Ron's birthday, she and Harry had been dying to sneak down to the village all year and now they had the perfect opportunity. Ron was beside himself when they told him.
"Awww, you shouldn't have," Ron humbly accepted their hugs and gifts once they found him and Harry down in the Entrance Hall. They needed to ensure Filch and Professor Flitwick got a good look at Harry and Lyra waving their friends off like the perfectly well-behaved students they were. The disapproving side-glances from the caretaker at the amount of confetti Lyra showered Ron with was insurance enough that their plan was working. They'd definitely been sighted.
"You keep complaining that you can't carry all of your books with you so now," Hermione ran her hand over the smooth flap of his new bookbag, "you have no more excuses!"
"Not to mention your brand new telescope! And yes, I did buy you that so you'll stop using mine," Lyra added as she shoved her starry-wrapped gift his way. Ron went to complain that she was overexaggerating but he brightened up when he realised she spent an extra few sickles to have its silver casing engraved with his name. He did, however, notice how large the font for his middle name was compared to his first and last, but he chose to ignore her negging smirk.
"Greeeat," Ron forced a smile before casually aiming a kick at Harry who was openly encouraging this new book-carrying habit. "Maybe I should leave the bag here so I don't lose it?"
"I wouldn't if I were you, there's something inside of it that you need to keep ahold of for me," Lyra hissed, urging him not to open his new bag in case anyone stole a glimpse of the Firebolt inside.
"Well I suppose you better be going now," Harry raised his voice and pushed them toward the line forming near the door, practising his forced frown, "don't have too much fun without us."
"See you later!" Lyra added for extra effect. They waved their friends off then slowly made their way back toward the heart of the castle, acting as inconspicuous as they could whenever someone walked past.
"Ok," Harry rubbed his hands together as they took a seat on a lonely bench in the Grand Staircase hall, keeping his excitement at a steady volume, "what's the plan? How should we sneak out?"
"Pick a route, any route," Lyra bestowed the honour onto him as she checked the coast and unravelled the magical live map. "Let's see… not that one, I don't fancy fighting the Whomping Willow today."
"Too soon," Harry grumbled, swiftly moving her away from that section of the map, "what about that one?"
"Caved in, George already warned me about that one," she sighed, and she scanned the parchment for the third floor, "honestly our best bet is this one. Takes us straight to the sweet shop."
She pointed at the statue of the humpback witch, and like clockwork a small speech bubble appeared containing the appropriate charm that would aid them on their journey.
"We could just ask Kreacher to take us?" Harry suggested as he double-checked that he picked up his cloak on his way out this morning.
Thanks to Hermione's geniusness, as always, most of his pockets had been magically extended to fit his most prized possession. However, it did mean he was frequently losing a lot of his quills and inkwells, his watch, his homework, his books, his wand — practically anything he slipped into his pockets was lost to the abyss. He had to be very careful with where he stored his belongings now.
"And lose our sense of whimsical adventure?" She scoffed, her brows crinkled in sorrow, "you're getting lazy. I was afraid this would happen."
"It was only a suggestion, I'd rather us explore the passages together on foot," he back-tracked in earnest, and Lyra was glad to hear it. She needed to make new memories, she couldn't associate that passageway with Riddle forever.
"Then explore we shall," she smiled, closing her map. "Let's go."
Their quest started rough. Lyra forgot how cramped and exhausting the third floor passageway was. She supposed she was looking through rose-tinted glasses last year because it was new and thrilling but she didn't remember it being so… moist.
Thanks to the springtime rain, the walls were dripping with algae slime. It took Harry and Lyra a while to work out how best to walk without getting themselves covered in muck, but halfway down they figured it out and pushed on towards Honeydukes without staining their clothes. It was a stroke of luck that Lyra remembered to warn Harry about the sloping low ceiling at the end and eventually they crawled up into the shop's basement and disappeared under his invisibility cloak.
"Woah," Harry was in awe of the wacky, glowing confectionery store. Lyra had to steer him clear of the oblivious shoppers as they crept out from the staff's restricted area, but once they were clear she happily joined him in taking it all in. She's never seen a sweatshop like it, no wonder Ron turned his nose up at her popping candy over the summer.
"Now this is what I'm talking about!" She whispered, fizzing at the gruesome, spiky neon sign pointing shoppers toward the world's sourest candy section. Her stomach whined in wanting but she gave in to Harry's arm tugs before she could put her sticky fingers to good use.
Hogsmeade village certainly lived up to its golden reputation, the settlement was a Wizarding wet dream. Apparently it was at its peak in the winter, when the snow was fresh and the scent of cinnamon apples wafted through the merry highland air, but despite the muddy sludge caking the paths and drizzling grey flurry of light rain it still looked breathtaking. Every house was crookedly unique, signposts and shop advertisements greeted passersby with a friendly wave, every fenced garden was bejewelled with fresh vegetables and striking flowers, and even the stray cats were eager to greet them as they brushed past their cloak's hem. Lyra forced Harry to stop multiple times as she took pictures of the tourist hot-spots that were dotted with blooming baby daffodils, but he gladly allowed her to take her time. This was the most she'd smiled in a while.
Once they found the guarded entrance to Hogsmeade, they spotted their party waiting underneath the enormous winged hog statue that overlooked every guest's entrance. Lyra swore she saw its vacant eyes flit their way but she thought nothing of it.
"—they won't be long," they heard Hermione say as they slowly approached the milling trio. She was wedged between Ron and Neville, attempting to keep the chilly breeze from ruffling her long denim skirt.
"This is Lyra and Harry we are talking about," Ron replied, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he puffed his pink cheeks. "Maybe we should have gone with them, especially considering they're under the cloak."
Neville was searching the crowd with his usual nervous grimace, the one he reserved for whenever Harry's cloak was mentioned. He was keen to help them with their mission when they first asked him to join them, despite his dislike of the invisible tripping hazard he'd have to deal with. She understood Neville's grumpy expression and steered Harry away from scaring him in particular.
"Well I trust them," Hermione said frankly, joining Neville in scanning the faces around them. Harry and Lyra managed to shuffle in next to Ron without him noticing.
"Is that them?" Neville pointed at a random couple off in the distance.
"Nah, Lyra's way shorter than that," Ron teased, and Lyra debated decking him. She decided against the idea when she noticed how tall her supposed doppelganger was, he had a point.
Harry carefully peeled the cloak from their faces and they waited patiently, wondering how long it would take them to realise they weren't alone. To their amazement, a full minute passed. It was quite impressive, usually Hermione was the attentive one.
Their game didn't last long, though, the cold was beginning to tickle Neville's nose and he let out a loud sneeze.
"Bless you," Harry instinctively answered, and they cackled as the trio screamed and leapt away from them.
"How long have you been there?!" Ron gasped, clutching his chest before playfully pushing them away.
"Long enough for me to realise you guys need spatial awareness training. A hypothetical mass murderer could have been creeping up behind you and you had no clue," Lyra tutted, disappointed.
"Then we're lucky you're not your dad then, aren't we?" Ron snarkily answered. Lyra chose not to comment that she easily could have been, but she didn't want to scare Neville anymore than they already had.
Being stuck underneath the cloak wasn't as bad as Lyra thought it would be, exploring the village with Harry practically glued to her hip was just as fulfilling, if not better as it would have been if they were free to roam. Their visible counterparts did a fantastic job manoeuvring through crowds and giving them ample time to browse the many shops and cafes that lined the main high street.
As she expected, the antique store was full of hidden gems that her sewing box sorely needed and she politely coerced Harry into helping with carrying her bags. The bookshop was a surprise hit too, Harry spent more than he ever thought he would on a book; a fancy Quidditch World Cup annual that was bursting with information on the upcoming tournament.
A flower market had taken over the village square this weekend, wooden stalls decked out with the most handsome decorative plants and dazzling bouquets of flowers Lyra had ever seen filled the cobbled streets and she breathed in their freshly-picked floral aroma. If the orange snapdragons hadn't attempted to bite her hand off when she got too close then she would have been half-tempted to purchase some for herself. Harry was vehemently against the idea of being trapped under a cloak with a bunch of hungry flowers so he dragged her away when the feisty petals began to lick their lips.
Once Neville had purchased himself a trio of potted pearl vine saplings and Lyra had stocked up on some of her depleting potion ingredients, it was time for them to surprise Ron with lunch at the infamous Three Broomsticks Inn. They subtly steered him toward the pub under the guise of showing Harry and Lyra, and they yelled out in celebration as the twins and the rest of the Quidditch team greeted him with glittery blue balloons and a white frosted chocolate cake.
As they expected, Ron burst into tears and Lyra captured every one of his tears on film.
Despite spending most of her time under the cloak, shielded behind a vase of lavender sprigs and a strategically-placed armchair, Lyra decided the Three Broomsticks was her favourite place in Hogsmeade.
It wasn't a fair contest, to be honest, as her friends dragged her away from the main headquarters of the Wizarding Wireless Network before she had the chance to run riot, but the pub was a winner in its own right. Not only was she allowed to drink as much Butterbeer as she liked, thanks to the generosity of her twin cousins, but the entire building was decorated with various memorabilia from every walk of life. A collection of green rusted tridents that once belonged to the merpeople that once lived in the nearby loch were bolted to the top of the bar, an old leathery giant's foot was on display near the stairs, and the dozens of tapestries telling tales of how Hogsmeade came to be hung on the panelled walls. It was the heart of the beloved community, a place cherished by generations of Hogwarts students and settlers across the moor. It was so full of love—,
Your father used to drink here.
STOP! I don't care.
Lyra cut the negative thought off before it could sink its talons into her. She was already feeling on edge for her impending conversation with Remus so didn't want to feel worse, but her guilty conscience said otherwise. It was supposed to be a joyous day so she refused to ruin it for herself.
"You good?" Harry whispered, catching only a split second of her dissonance as she zoned out of the conversation around the table, but Lyra quickly nodded and tapped her foamy stein rim against his.
"I'm great," she promised, and for once she actually believed it. She was great. Her conversation with Remus later was going to be a breeze. Her new broomstick was going to pass its inspection and everything will sort itself out in the end. She was a positive force. She was made from strictly positive energy.
I'm full of happy thoughts! If I say it enough then it's real.
That's the spirit!
You're doing wonderfully, sweetie.
And to Lyra's own surprise, her positivity paid off for once. Maybe Fate liked her today.
"I've never seen anything like this before," the giddy shopkeeper at Spintwitches proudly announced as they removed their inspection goggles, oblivious to the red circles it left around their eyes, "an actual Firebolt, in my shop! It's perfect…"
"It's not cursed?" Lyra reiterated, bouncing on the tips of her toes out of anticipation, but the shopkeeper shook their head and sighed, their chin propped up on their hand as they gazed at the Firebolt floating over their work counter.
"It's one hundred percent curse-free. No hexes, no jinxes, there's not even a speck of dust on this beauty," they explained to the sounds of the exasperated cheers coming from Ron and Harry who were basking in their correct assumptions. "Your Firebolt is perfectly safe, madam."
"Are you absolutely sure?" Hermione pushed, wearing the same puzzled expression as Lyra, and the shopkeeper proved their authenticity with a printed report.
"The numbers don't lie. Sorry if I'm intruding but may I ask why you think this broomstick might be cursed?"
"No you may not, sorry," Lyra answered, giving him a couple more galleons so as to not appear too rude.
"Can I ask why?" Neville asked once they left, blushing slightly in case he caused offence. He tagged along to the flying supply shop without knowing exactly why they were there, and he kept his astonishment at the appearance of Lyra's new broom to himself. She was surprised it took him this long to question her methods.
"Of course you can," Lyra graced him with the truth by passing him the square card once they were hidden down the sporting shop's side alley. She couldn't bring herself to get rid of the note yet but she'd never admit to that. "I think my dad bought it for me."
"Ah," was all Neville could say as he politely gave her the card back.
"Wish you never asked?" Harry correctly assumed.
"Yep," Neville nodded, trying not to stare at the magnificent black broomstick that Harry was attempting to hide in his extended pockets now Ron had stuffed his new bag with Honeydukes' newest releases. After a lot of wiggling and jumping, it disappeared inside his jacket. "Lyra, I'm really sorry."
"Aww Neville," Lyra pouted as she accepted his sympathy with an affectionate shoulder nudge, "it's not so bad, I now own the best broom in the world, I can't complain too much."
"But it's psychological torture. He knows exactly what he's doing by giving you an extortionate present," Hermione disagreed, "it's despicable."
"That's just what people like him do, they like finding new ways to torture people," Neville murmured, a muted sadness playing with the deep colours in his eyes.
"People like him?" asked Lyra.
"Death Eaters," Neville said quietly.
The word triggered a nerve in his cheek as well as a chill that crept up Lyra's spine. Tonks told her who the Death Eaters were over the summer, but the fact that Neville knew them by name too broke her heart. There was always a kind of sorrow that lingered over Neville and now she understood why. He never spoke about his parents and judging by the sweat forming on his brow she knew not to ask.
"Ah, those guys," Lyra sighed, hoping to lighten the mood before it dipped beyond repair, "yeah I suppose asking a follower of the darkest wizard alive not to psychologically torture their daughter is unrealistic."
"Yeah, it's almost as crazy as expecting the same darkest wizard alive not to start a one-sided war against an innocent child," Harry shrugged, and Neville gave them both an uneasy smile.
"How are you guys not terrified all the time?" He wondered before cringing as he realised he said his thoughts aloud.
"Who says we're not?" Harry answered, but Lyra rolled her eyes and offered up a better answer. One that would put the poor boy at ease. One that Madam Pomfrey repeated to her during every single one of their sessions, and one that she was still coming to terms with considering her newfound nature.
"Because light always triumphs over darkness. Light is hope, and darkness is fear, and we are full of light. Voldemort and his stupid Death Eaters possess no light, only darkness, so in theory we'll all be just fine," Lyra's jaw tightened before she could finish Pomfrey's full quote about how people who harboured darkness in their souls were destined to fail but the intended effect was well-received by her audience already. Hermione was beaming at her, extremely proud of the progress she had made, and she blushed slightly under her adoring gaze.
"I'll try to remember that," Neville accepted her words far better than she did when she first heard them.
Because it wasn't true. Light lost to the darkness all the time, fear held a lot of power in this world and hope was becoming a commodity. Darkness wasn't what was wrong with the world, Death wasn't bad.
It just wasn't. It couldn't be.
Darkness can be many things but darkness is not exclusively evil.
Isn't it? Why does evil hide behind darkness if they aren't one and the same thing?
Lyra, stop it. We've been over this. Death even told you this in person. You are not bad—,
A fierce head shake silenced the voices and Lyra pretended to laugh along with whatever dumb joke Ron was telling. She tore her focus from her internal struggle and stuck it firmly on her friends as they continued to explore the village.
I can't think about this right now.
Then don't. Happy little thoughts, remember?
Although she sensed their snappy tone, Lyra begrudgingly followed their advice and fed into the dregs of her positive energy. Her forced smile turned into a real grin when they visited the local animal sanctuary and she was able to pet all of the rescued Kneazles that came bounding over to them. Her steps lightened into a skip when they passed a tea shop that was playing host to a band of flute players who were practising their favourite tunes, but luckily only Harry watched and laughed at her horrendous dance moves. The negative thoughts tried to stage a comeback when the group stopped by the post office so Lyra could yell at the Gringotts bank teller stationed there, but they didn't stick around.
"I don't know what to tell you, Miss Black," the elegantly-dressed young man muttered, cautious of the other customers dawdling nearby, "I'm so very sorry about the incident that took place but I must admit to you that the imposter looked exactly like you."
"You didn't think to ask them for a key? For my wand? For a bloody signature?!" She whispered back, her stomach plummeting at the confirmation that Sirius did, in fact, steal something of hers to use in his Polyjuice potion, and the bank teller was at a loss for words. He stammered over their non-existent excuses and shrugged, looking down at her from his podium as though their roles were reversed.
"Have you informed the Ministry about this incident?" Hermione spoke up before Lyra ended their turn at the Gringotts window nestled at the back of the noisy post office.
"We are not allowed to, Miss Black hasn't given us her consent," the teller explained, looking to Lyra in agreement, "its policy, our customers decide whether they would like to proceed with a Ministry investigation if anything were to happen to their vaults. We are not governed by the Ministry. And once again, Miss Black," he smiled at her with a nuanced bow, one he had practised over and over for this exact moment, "Gringotts thanks you for not pressing charges."
"Lyra!" Hermione groaned, her nostrils flared in frustration, but Lyra happily fought back.
"What? Dad knows we're all watching the vaults now, he won't pull the same stunt twice," she defended. "It would be pointless and painful if the Ministry got involved at this point. I'm underage, the system will work against me even if I decide to sue or withdraw the vaults completely. Andy would have a nervous breakdown if she took over as my executor, and I'm not letting the Ministry decide on my behalf?"
"She's right," the bank teller echoed, "we wanted to alert the Ministry ourselves but the Black family account is our oldest and most valued, we cannot risk the possibility of us losing them. Miss Black is allowed to do as she pleases."
"Yeah of course you'd say that," Hermione side-eyed the teller, but she quickly dropped the subject when she realised Lyra demonstrated some seriously mature foresight. Her responsibilities as head of her family weren't easy, she wasn't sure if she would be able to handle the stress if she was in her shoes.
Lyra's positivity skyrocketed once more when she left the post office with yet another expensive gift basket full of treasure-themed treats, a selection of gift vouchers as well as a letter that declared Gringotts' devout loyalty. Having the prestigious building society wrapped around her little finger had its perks, she was sure it would come in handy in the future. The damage was done now, she felt confident that this mistake wouldn't happen again so there wasn't much more she could do except send the head of the bank a thank you note for the basket.
Besides tell the Ministry your father has one of the world's most powerful potions in his possession?!
Later! I will snitch on him, I swear!
The five of them snuck out of the post office's side exit as Lyra donned the invisibility cloak again, and she thanked her lucky stars that Harry pulled her under not a moment later. The second the silvery fabric brushed the cobbled slope she heard a familiar voice in her vicinity that set her stomach scampering all the way down to her toes.
"Wotcher!"
"Oh!" Hermione instinctively jumped in front of the spot where Lyra disappeared and spun around to greet a green-haired Tonks who was sauntering down the curved side street where they were hiding, her pink lips curled in a feline grin at the sight of them. She looked a bit like punk Beetlejuice today, but in a tasteful way. Lyra loved her pinstriped flares and leather trench coat. "Hi Tonks! It's good to see you!"
"You two finally made up then?" Tonks chuckled, nudging Ron on the shoulder as she wiggled her sliced brow. Lyra bit her tongue and refused to look at Harry. Laughing right now would not help them whatsoever.
"Mhmm," was all Ron managed to get out before he swiftly turned the converstion's focus onto Neville. It seemed as though Tonks knew who Neville was as she offered him her hand and nattered on about his wonderful grandmother.
"His nan is a legend in the Auror's office," she explained when Hermione looked befuddled, and Neville flushed pink.
"She used to volunteer with the Aurors after she left Hogwarts," he added for context when the other two looked at him curiously, "she still talks about her hay days at the Ministry all the time, I think she misses it."
"As she should, from what I've heard she's a natural fighter. What I wouldn't give to have her hanging around the department now," Tonks complimented, but Lyra noticed the hesitance between them. Neville was glancing at his feet more than usual and Tonks was on the verge of saying something else, but whatever it was remained unmentioned. Lyra made a note to ask her cousin at a later date what it was, she had a feeling it was related to the reason why Neville knew about the Death Eaters.
"Yeah, she does all of her fighting at her dance classes now. I think the other old ladies are afraid of her," he smiled with his usual air of awkwardness, and Tonks laughed heartily at the mental image.
"Yeah I can totally believe that," she mused before catching sight of Ron's birthday badge pinned to his jumper, "oh! Happy birthday mate!"
"Thank you," Ron appreciated the attention as he brushed his fringe out of his eyes.
"Aw, it's a shame you can't all celebrate together. I bet Lyra is fuming that you've left her locked up in the castle," Tonks razzed, looking to Hermione for confirmation.
Harry latched onto Lyra's arm and shook his head, pleading with her not to say anything.
"Ha, yeah," Hermione fumbled her simple reply with an anxious flutter of her eyes, "they both were."
"Bless them," Tonks sighed, absently glancing over her shoulder at the streams of people flowing through the high street behind them, "I was thinking about heading up there, actually, just to check in on Trouble and make sure she's behaving, so I'll leave you guys to it—,"
FUCK!
"Wait!" Hermione raced to grab Tonks' arm before she strolled off, bright panic in her brown eyes, "uh, don't go yet."
Tonks frowned. "Why? Is everything ok?"
"Shall we go…?" Harry mouthed, equally as spooked as Lyra felt. She nodded and gestured at him to slowly take a step back. Could they shuffle away without making a sound? Probably not, she knew her cousin's Auror training would spoil any chance of that happening, she always caught her sneaking around her house over the summer.
"Because we, um, wanted to ask you about work," Ron interjected when Hermione failed to come up with a reason. "How's everything going with Sirius?"
The invisible pair tried to back away but Lyra couldn't deny that Ron had asked a brilliant question. She patted Harry's arm, asking him to wait for one more minute.
Tonks pulled a cumbrous face and shook her head, indicating how fed up she was with the Black case already.
"Don't remind me, I'll be honest and say it's not going well. No one has seen him outside of the Fat Lady's portrait, not one person has spotted him in the village, in the hamlets over the mountains, roaming around in the highlands, nowhere. We've even questioned the other paintings in the castle and no one else can confirm a sighting. It's like he somehow apparated inside the castle, specifically on the seventh floor, went apeshit at the Fat Lady, and then poof— gone."
"That's awful," Hermione tried her best not to direct her scowl towards Lyra's general direction but it was painfully obvious what she was thinking.
TELL YOUR COUSIN!
Tell her right now, you can't keep avoiding this.
I'm not avoiding this.
Yes you are!
You're purposely messing with Nymphadora's job, the community deserves to know that your lunatic father has a transfiguration potion and a lot of cash on him?!
Yes I know but—,
There's literally no excuse for your negligence, Black.
Not after what happened with Tom.
Lyra stared at the ground, reeling from the voices' scorns like a punch to the face. Her heart tore open a little more and shame doused her body in heat as though she'd been set on fire, her toes were colder than ice.
Truthfully, she didn't know why she hadn't told anyone yet. She wanted to snitch, of course she did, it was the smart thing to do. Her father was an evil man, a murderer. Her friends kept telling her that, over and over again, they urged her to go to the headmaster or Remus and tell them what Sirius had done.
But she couldn't.
A deadly strain of humiliation wrapped around her body and restricted her lungs from drawing breath, a reptilian torture device squeezing and squeezing until her feeble bones cried out. She didn't know where it came from and she couldn't seem to fight it whenever it reared its deformed head. Tom's whispers always came back, reminding her she was weak, pathetic, useless.
JUST SAY IT!
Tighter, trauma snaked around Lyra's neck and crushed her windpipe, like fingers digging into her jaw bone threatening to rip her in two. The words would never come, something darker than death had planted its roots into her soul that she hadn't healed from. She was holding on so tightly that she knew she would implode from the cosmic pressure.
She was aiding her father by harbouring this information, a crime worthy of a serious punishment. She was supporting the wrong side, Voldemort's side.
Again!
What the fuck was she doing?!
It was only when Harry physically grabbed her by the shoulders and gently shook her that Lyra snapped back to reality. All she saw was emerald green but it was enough to kick her panic attack to one side. She flushed as heat manifested inside their limited space and cringed when she realised how intensely he was staring at her.
"Breathe," his lips were inches from her, they were all she could stare at. "Lyra, look at me."
Her eyes locked onto him and light flashed, like an illuminating spell chasing away the black tendrils that were strangling her Harry's face captured her. A lighthouse guiding her back to safety.
"You're safe, you're ok."
She could breathe again.
"I'm safe, I'm ok," she mouthed back, making Harry smile, and her knotted stomach flooded with nerves as she fought the another wave of embarrassment. She never fared well against that particular emotion, both Danielle and Pomfrey agreed it was an issue for her but that didn't make processing humiliation any easier. Fuck sake, pull yourself together woman!
…Sorry.
I suppose we didn't help by snapping either.
You think?!
"Ha!"
"FUCK!"
Lyra's accidental burst of laughter at her dramatics echoed and Tonks screamed. She cut off her optimistic speech to the visible trio as she leapt a good foot into the air, her pixie cut flashing ghost white. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as Lyra slapped a hand over her mouth, but the damage was already done. Tonks snapped into Auror mode and armed herself.
"Who's there?!"
"It's just us!" Lyra yanked the cloak from their heads and shushed her astonished cousin before she drew too much attention. "Sorry! I didn't mean to—!"
"What the fu—?!" Tonks gawked at the half-hidden pair, shakily pocketing her wand and shoving them further down the side street. "Merlin's fucking beard! Is that an invisibility cloak?"
"It's mine," Harry confessed, hoping to take most of the blame as he noticed how furious Tonks looked, "we're being cautious, I swear."
"This is the first time we've used it this year, please Tonks," Lyra begged, summoning the cutest puppy eyes with a bat of her lashes, and she nearly collapsed in debilitating relief when Tonks simply shook her head.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm bloody pissed off," she warned them but the curl of her smirk was undeniable and she gave in with an exasperated sigh, "but I can't deny that this is so fucking cool! I know you're being cautious. Come on Potter, let me see your cloak."
"It was my dad's," he grinned, proud of his prized possession as he held it up, and Tonks oohed as she inspected the fabric up close.
"I can't lie, this is the best I've ever seen. It's exquisite, the detailing is beyond intricate," she whistled, nudging the two delinquents toward the post office's outer wall in case a stray eye noticed them.
"Do you see a lot of invisibility cloaks at work?" Hermione wondered, and Tonks clicked her tongue.
"None as impressive as this," she admitted, but she quickly thrusted it back at the pair and ordered them to cover up, "so you better keep this a secret because if it was your father's, Harry, then the chances of Sirius knowing about it is extremely high."
The group paled within seconds, Harry and Lyra tightened their grip on the cloak and huddled closer. They hadn't thought about that.
"We should start heading back to the castle anyways," Ron suggested, taking the lead as he was still the birthday boy, "we've pretty much shown you all of the best spots, there's nothing else to see."
"I second that idea," Hermione agreed, eager to show Tonks that she was still the responsible one of the group, and she began to lead the way, "we should go before— oh no!"
Someone was heading their way.
"Hi Professor," Neville's hasty greeting saved Lyra and Harry's arses by a fraction of a second. Lyra yanked the cloak over their faces and held onto Harry for dear life, wishing she was anywhere but here.
"Good afternoon, I hope I'm not interrupting," Remus politely invited himself into the conversation, blessing them with a warmer smile than the one she'd seen over the past few weeks. He looked quite chic in his green knitted scarf and patched jacket, a nice change from his professor's robes. Lyra felt the sting of jealousy but she tried not to think about it too much. Why was he avoiding her?
"Not at all," Tonks was keen to introduce herself, Lyra struggled not to roll her eyes as her cousin switched on her charm and offered her godfather her hand, "you must be Remus, lovely to meet you finally."
Her words were not encouraging in the slightest but he took her hand and attempted to smirk away his initial anxiety that sparked around new faces.
"Miss Tonks, I assume?" He guessed, but Lyra couldn't help but grin when his eyes widened ever so slightly as though realising something. "Do I want to know what Lyra has told you about me?"
"Honestly? No, you don't," she teased, enjoying the glowing colour warming Remus' cheeks, "I'm kidding! She's done nothing but sing your praises, I promise sir."
Although it was brief, Lyra spotted the momentary flash of shame in Remus' face. Did he have problems dealing with that emotion too? She knew he was avoiding her, his brush offs after class weren't coincidental.
"Likewise. I just wanted to come over and pass on my well wishes to Ron, I don't want to intrude on your day any more than I already have," Remus explained his purpose for stopping by instead of lingering on the subject of Lyra, and the group swapped light details of their day so far.
In shared silent agreement, Harry and Lyra planned their escape under the cover of the continued conversation. Remus and Tonks were blocking the path back onto the high street, their only option was to risk taking the side streets back to Honeydukes. Unless someone happened to use the post office's side exit in the next minute which was highly unlikely. The side street was quite grubby and uninviting, nobody wanted to risk hanging around in the shady alleys while a crazed murderer was on the loose.
"Neville's in the way," Lyra pointed out as Harry signalled at her to start moving. She couldn't walk without knocking into Neville or Ron who were none the wiser that they had trapped the invisible duo against a wall. "Some of us have been blessed with hips the size of a bus, you know."
"Use them to barge past them, don't worry," Harry mouthed, rolling his eyes, so Lyra shrugged and went to brush past—
"Argh!"
Harry lurched back against the wall and dragged Lyra with him when Neville jolted violently at her gentle touch. He ignored Lyra's 'I told you so!' glower and concentrated on holding in his laughter.
Neville tried to play it cool the best he could despite his obvious stammer, but no one else saw the fabled bee that he swore spooked him.
"Bees love sugar, you might want to pick that up before the insects have at it," Remus nodded at the Gringotts gift basket by Ron's foot, they'd forgotten it was there. Remus admired the selection of wares that he assumed the birthday boy picked up from the post office today — then he frowned.
Lyra tried not to react but her heart had jumped into her mouth. The gift basket had her name embroidered on its front.
"What's that?"
"It's mine," Ron lied before thinking, totally unaware of the personalised stitching on full display, which naturally solidified the fact that something was afoot.
"Is your name Lyra Black?" Remus dropped the bomb a lot faster than Lyra expected. He picked the basket up to inspect it, and she tried not to freak out.
Screwed. She and Harry were royally screwed.
"Oh, that," Ron began to sweat as he tried to back track, "I thought you were talking about, um…"
"Go! Go now!" Harry pleaded with Lyra, urging her to barge past the boys who were frozen under Remus' suspicions to realise they were still prolonging their escape.
Remus stepped closer and Lyra held her breath. He was so close, half a metre away from knocking into them. Her heart thudded every time he looked directly at her. Surely he could hear their frantic heartbeats, surely he could sense their panic in the few particles separating them.
"Now!" Harry begged before shoving her sideways. It was now or never.
It wasn't until Lyra had successfully slithered behind the boys that she realised that she shouldn't have listened to Harry. Their rapid movement flicked the hem of the invisibility cloak and a wave of the most gut-wrenchingly familiar scent hit Remus square in the face.
Lyra didn't need to look back, she knew it was already over.
"I KNEW IT!"
"Shit! Shit shit shit shit!"
Harry's tirade of swears became the backing track to their escape, and Lyra couldn't help but cackle as her lungs seared. They had no idea where they were going, the slippery alleyways were confusing and painfully identical, especially under stress. They didn't care that their shoes were showing, with their high speed their ankles were nothing but a blur of mud.
"There!" Harry almost dislocated Lyra's arm when he spotted the candy pink bricks at the end of their final alley and sharply pulled her toward him, "left!"
"Alohomora!" Lyra spotted the basement latch as they skidded toward the sweet shop's railings, and it popped open in time for them to jump in. Wooden crates softened their fall, Lyra caught herself on a fallen barrel before she slammed onto the concrete floor. She pried open the secret passageway hidden beneath the loose tiles while Harry clumsily covered their tracks.
"Broom!" Lyra snapped, inspired by the adrenaline pumping through her. Her legs were killing her already, she couldn't run all the way back to Hogwarts. "Now!"
Looking as though he'd just jumped into the lake by the amount of sweat pouring off of him, Harry dug into his pockets, swapped his cloak for the Firebolt and gave her the pleasure of being the first to mount it.
"After you, Princess," he rasped, but his terrified expression melted away into hilarity as Lyra shoved him.
"Don't you dare start calling me that," She gasped, hating how her stomach flipped and twisted at the pet name. The adrenaline was making her limbs light and fuzzy, now was not the time for his teases.
"Just go!" Harry forced her to mount before jumping on behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She could hardly breathe.
Once the floor tile slipped back into its spot, Lyra urged her new broom to go as fast as it possibly could.
Big mistake.
"HOLY SH—!"
"DON'T LET GO OF ME!"
The Firebolt's speed was incomparable to any broom Lyra had ridden before. They flew faster than the speed of light, the glow from Harry's wand barely kept up as they zoomed down the secret passageway. Her gut plummeted a few times when their shoulders scraped the slimy passage walls but she made sure they never crashed. They had to make it back to Hogwarts in one piece. Was Remus waiting on the other side of the witch statue for them? He probably Apparated back, it was incredibly likely.
Harry jumped off first when they reached the stone-lined well at the end, and he shoved himself through the hole without faltering. Lyra was quite impressed by his quick-timed acrobatics and she puffed out a harsh thank you when his two sweaty hands poked back through the postbox slit to pull her through.
"He's… downstairs," Lyra panted as she unravelled her map, leaving Harry to flounder as he tried to hide the Firebolt. The handle got caught on his pocket lining threatening to rip the seam.
Remus' footsteps were moving at a rapid speed up the main staircases, she could've sworn he was using a broom too. He was only two floors away, traversing the stairs as though they were whizzing escalators.
"Tower," Harry wheezed, his shiny face blank from fear as he gave up trying to hide the broom so he swung it over his shoulder, "shopping bags… pockets too full… need to hide the cloak..."
Lyra took the lead and dragged her exhausted friend through the corridors, avoiding the main veins of the school in case Remus appeared out of nowhere. They needed to appear to be doing something inconspicuous, somewhere as far away from the village as possible. They scrambled up various passageways and spiral staircases, whispering the occasional swear word as they tripped over their own wobbly feet, and eventually made it to Gryffindor Tower without running into anyone else. It must have been a world record; from Hogsmeade Post Office to Gryffindor Tower in three minutes and forty eight seconds.
"We'll hide the cloak under your bed," Harry made the executive decision as they ran toward the girls dormitories, an idea he hoped Remus wouldn't think of, "I can't believe we didn't realise that he'd know about it!"
"And dad too," Lyra exclaimed, forcing herself up the stairs without stopping, "God, we're so dumb sometimes!"
"I blame you," Harry shot her a look as he burst into the third year dorms, forgetting to check to see if anyone was inside and indecent, but thankfully it was empty. "You're rubbing off on me."
"Haha dirty, you'd love me rubbing off on you," she giggled as Harry lost his grip on the Firebolt and it clattered on the ground. He couldn't even look at her, and she basked in his embarrassment this time as she jumped down under her bed and shoved the cloak out of sight. She crammed their paper shopping bags underneath the transfigured fabric and she grinned as they vanished. Perfect!
"He's outside the tower!" Harry hissed as he watched Remus edge even closer, but he almost dropped the map when he noticed the slime on their clothes. Algae coated their shoulders, elbows, jeans and white socks. Lyra swore and viciously scrubbed the green stains, her mind totally blanking on any kind of cleaning spells. "What do we do?!"
It was only when Lyra looked down at her Firebolt that she came up with her next marvellously stupid idea. Harry calmed at the sight of her dimples and shoved the map into his back pocket.
"Whatever it is you're thinking, just do it."
"Ok!" Lyra grabbed both Harry and the Firebolt and sprinted over to the double windows by Parvati's bed. She threw them open and climbed onto the ledge like a cat readying itself for a daring leap. "You asked for it!"
"You're insane," Harry guffawed, his hand hesitating on the window's high ledge, but nowhere in his face indicated that he wasn't crazy too. Lyra held the broom tight and embraced the icy gale blowing across the castle's highest turrets. Alone, she probably wouldn't have the guts to do this, but with Harry—,
"HARRY? LYRA?"
The crash of footsteps accompanied the shriek that echoed beyond the girls dormitory. Lyra squeaked as Harry leapt onto the ledge and held her in a way that even the spiralling G-force of the hundreds of feet drop below her couldn't compete with. She pretended his hands weren't where they were. Adrenaline sparked parts of their brain they'd never even felt before as they closed their eyes and flew.
Professor McGonagall gently placed her tea cup on its saucer and finally looked up at the sorry pair sitting straight-backed in the chairs facing her desk. The ticking of a nearby clock matched the tense muscle in her jaw and Lyra counted to one hundred before she dared to match her glower with a politely blank expression.
Fire scorned McGonagall's usually dark eyes. Today, they were red hot with blood. She was beyond mad.
Totally worth it.
"Nothing… There is nothing either of you two can say that will excuse what I just witnessed," McGonagall said softly, deadly. Lyra only heard the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. "Never in all my years of teaching have I ever had two students more determined to kill themselves than you two."
"We weren't trying to kill ourselves," Harry bravely interjected, taking both females off-guard. Lyra's jaw nearly swung open. "We had everything under control."
"Well, it certainly didn't look like it from where I was watching!" McGonagall spat back, appalled by Harry's reaction.
Although Lyra and Harry successfully avoided Remus by launching themselves from Gryffindor Tower in a flying spectacle many would have found miraculous, they didn't get as lucky with their avoidance of the other professors. Several teachers, including Professor McGonagall, watched in horror as they fell from bone-disintegrating heights and they all jumped to the same conclusion.
"To me, it looked as though the pair of you had been pushed! Possibly by the very man we've been trying to protect you from!" She yelled at them, clutching at her chest as she relived the heartbreaking fear that struck her in the moment. "What were you thinking?!"
"We had everything under control, that's what we were thinking," said Harry, choosing to be sassy over apologetic. He sat forward, awkwardly covering the sludge stains on his jeans with a low swinging arm. Lyra instinctively crossed her legs, wondering whether McGonagall was too blinded by rage to notice their attire.
"We've flown higher than the seventh floor before," She supported Harry's statements with a few facts, hoping it would distract her from their real crime, "when you're testing out the world's number one broom you have to push limits, you have to go to new lengths, maybe break a couple rules here and there."
"That is the most arrogant excuse I've ever heard, Black," McGonagall spat, continuously shaking her head as though she was stuck in a loop. "The Quidditch pitch is there for a reason. Use that instead of the towers. I can't believe I have to explain this to you as though you are a new student, you're in your third year. Behave like a third year."
"We survived, didn't we? It was the best flight we've ever had," Harry pointed out, trying to stay positive, and Lyra grinned, wishing they were still flying. Harry was right, the Firebolt was like nothing she'd ever flown before. It was serendipitous, a spiritual experience powered by epinephrine and Harry's firm grip around her hips.
"Damn right it was! Come on, let us have some fun while we're stuck in the castle! It's so depressing with Dad running around trying to kill us all the time, we wanted to let loose a little," she chirped.
"Yeah!" Harry nodded innocently, "why should Sirius be the one to kill us, why can't we try it ourselves first?"
"James!"
McGonagall covered her face briefly before correcting herself. From the corner of Lyra's eye Harry sunk back into his chair, unsure how to react to her outburst.
"Sorry, Potter," she murmured though her stern gaze never faltered, "I'm surprised it's taken me this long to misspeak, what with you two transforming into your parents more and more every year."
"Mhmm, what a compliment," Lyra drawled, her nose wrinkled in disdain, "Every little girl just dreams of being compared to their dickhead father."
"Your mother used to say the exact same thing," McGonagall clarified her comparison, and Lyra ate her words. The cool office air pecked her blushing cheeks and she folded her arms, dropping her gaze.
"I don't doubt that your father and your mother would be ecstatic to see that nature won over nurture," McGonagall continued, distracting herself by standing and looking out over the foggy grounds, "but you are throwing away your lives by risking them with these stupid stunts, they would be ashamed to know you show little respect for something they treasured with all their beings. James and Giselle loved you both very much — do not waste the gifts they gave you."
Harry and Lyra winced, feeling every inch of the dagger their head of house threw at them, and McGonagall was satisfied with their faint looks.
"We're sorry," Harry apologised first, "we were just feeling cooped up. We won't ever do that again."
"We promise. If you see us falling out of a window again then it's definitely Sirius' fault," Lyra vowed, fluttering her lashes in a way that broke her professor's uncrackable mask.
McGonagall took another sip of her tea and rolled her eyes, ensuring they knew she was still angry with them but in a sort of mother lioness 'you're lucky you are my children' way. She hated how quick the pair were to joke about their dark situation, but it was better than them withdrawing and isolating themselves.
So Lyra should have expected McGonagall to dish out a punishment fitting for their crime.
"Both of you are to have a counselling session with Madam Pomfrey tonight— yes, you too Potter!" she snapped at Harry before he could object. "No excuses. And twenty five points each from Gryffindor for endangering yourselves over a silly little broomstick."
"It's not a—,"
Lyra kicked Harry in the leg before he sentenced them to a fate worse than Madam Pomfrey's psychology practices, and he bit his tongue. Time and place, they were about to get off lightly.
"Ok Professor, we accept those terms. And we're so sorry we scared you," Lyra reiterated as she dared to rise from her seat. Her stomach thumped when McGonagall nodded and gestured at them to follow her out. Phew!
"This wasn't the first time and I dread to say that this won't be the last time either," McGonagall tutted at them, pulling her navy winter robes tighter to her neck as she braced for the corridor's sharp puff of icy air. She opened her office door and gave them one more searching stare before shooing them away.
"And to think I was worried she was going to ask me where I got the Firebolt," Lyra breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled the broom from behind her back, but her smile vanished.
Harry hadn't heard her, he was a deer frozen in the headlights cast from the man who had been waiting for them. Lyra sensed his approach but she refused to look anywhere except at Harry. She couldn't turn around, she wished the ground would swallow her whole as intense guilt trickled over her like a tar blanket.
"Where's your cloak?"
Harry didn't even try to play dumb. His guilt was written all over his pale face.
"Under Lyra's bed."
At the sound of her name, Lyra turned to look her furious godfather directly in the eye, not bothering to hide her emotions.
"I—,"
"No," Remus shut her down, immune to Black tactics, "I don't want to hear it, Lyra." He switched to Harry, eyes full of tears.
"Show me," he barked, keeping his face calm despite the purple vein pulsing against his temple. His scarf hung haphazardly around his neck and the mud caking his boots proved he had just as a strenuous time getting back to the castle in time. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and ordered them up to the tower.
Lyra and Harry didn't say a single word the entire journey. The trek up to the seventh floor seemed to take an age, especially as they kept their eyes to the ground most of the way in case they caught Remus' scolding eye.
None of the other Gryffindors who had watched the whole saga unfold all afternoon said a word although Lyra almost burst out laughing when she caught Ginny's smirk from across the common room. She bit her tongue and stomped up to her dormitory, not bothering to wait for Remus' purposely painful pace as she ripped the door open and stormed over to her bed.
"There," she threw the cloak at him with added force, "yes, we were down in Hogsmeade with the others. Happy?"
"Of course not! You promised you would stay inside the castle!" He yelled back, but he stumbled over his words as he held James' cloak for the first time in over a decade. He choked back a strained groan and closed his eyes.
"Harry, how did you get this?"
His blatant show of pain made Lyra pause, she couldn't stand to see it.
"Dumbledore gave it to me," he answered.
"Dumbledore? How did he…?" Remus doubted his hearing and tried to keep his opinion to himself but he might as well have screamed it at them. He silently cursed and stroked the fabric, teeth gritted like a rabid dog.
"Are you confiscating it?" Harry asked, distressed by the thought of losing the only thing of James' he owned, but Remus soothed his worries by handing it back with care.
"Of course not, it's yours," he assured him, "James would kill me if he knew I was stopping you from abusing it, but you must understand that Sirius knows about the cloak too. If you lost it down in the village and it found its way into his hands…"
"Whatever, it doesn't matter. We didn't lose it so get off our backs," Lyra pushed back, surrendering to her attitude.
"It does matter," Remus disagreed, his hands on his hips.
"No it doesn't! Not that you care anyways, just finish telling us off and go back to ignoring me again," Lyra sneered, flicking her hair as she turned to tidy up the mess of shopping bags sprawled across the floor.
"I haven't been ignoring you," Remus tried to counter but Harry decided to take her side with a casual shrug.
"You have, you've shunned us after class for weeks. You never want to hang out anymore. Did we do something?"
"Just say you're bored of us and leave us alone," Lyra snarled, touching her own tender points. She knelt down and shoved her Firebolt back under her bed, childishly ignoring the voices that were pleading her to snitch. No! Fuck him if he doesn't want to talk to us!
"Lyra, that's not… I'm not…" Genuinely hurt, Remus bent down to join her on the floor, urging her to listen. He knew exactly where she got her stubbornness and flair for dramatics from and he bled from another stab wound to his heart.
He couldn't say it either, not yet. He wasn't sure and he refused to put her through the agony if he was wrong.
"I may have been quite distracted lately, but that's not a reflection of you, of either of you," he looked up at Harry, his eyes wide in innocence, "I'm sorry I haven't been in your lives before this year, and I certainly don't want to leave you now we've reconnected. I'm not bored by you, I'm in awe of you."
Lyra stopped fussing with the paper bags and pouted, moved by his sentiment.
"Then why aren't you talking to us?"
"Because—,"
But they never found out why. The white square card that Sirius had sent Lyra caught his eye, it stuck out like a stark white face amongst the chaos of clothes and accessories. She hadn't realised what had caused him to lose his train of thought until it was staring back at her from in between his fingers.
"Uh oh," Harry pushed Lyra into the deep end, "looks like you've got to tell him now."
"Tell me what? Who sent you this?" Remus whispered, but he quickly jumped to the right conclusion when Lyra hung her head.
"Dad did," Lyra ripped the plaster off and spewed, "he bought me the Firebolt, he stole money out of his account, he's…" she dared to look at him, "he bought himself Polyjuice potion."
Remus glanced from Lyra to Harry who slowly nodded, confirming her story. Something came over his glassy eyes and he climbed to his feet, his scarred mouth slack and gaping. Lyra calmed her erratic breathing as she processed his reaction. He wasn't shouting at her, that was a good sign at least.
Until it wasn't.
Remus was frozen in shock. He wasn't even blinking.
"Sir?" Harry nudged him, remaining polite and courteous in case he was about to explode—
"Stay here," Remus jolted as he came to, and Lyra cowered from the frantic sweat forming on his brow. He looked severely unwell, as though a fast-acting venomous mite had just sunk its teeth into his vitals. He fiddled with his tie and drew his wand. He wasn't thinking clearly, they shouldn't have said anything.
No, you did the right thing.
…Did she?
"Please, just— stay here until I come back for you. I cannot describe just how important it is that you follow my instructions," he told them, pacing around the dormitory in order to calm down, "and don't tell anyone else what you've just told me. Do you understand?"
Harry and Lyra swapped the same shrug of confusion. Did they have any other choice?
"Yeah sure," Lyra replied.
"Are you going to tell Dumbledore about this?" Harry pushed, itching for a clue as to what he was going to do, and Remus finally appeared more confident when he nodded.
"Yes. I need to talk to him first, and then I'll come and collect you myself. Don't leave the tower," he rambled as he gathered up the courage to leave. Before he left however, Remus turned to Lyra and offered her the best smile he could muster despite his brittle disposition.
"Thank you for trusting me with this," he said softly, and Lyra's stomach began to whine once he disappeared. She didn't want him to go, she needed information. She needed to know what was going on inside his head, what did he know?
"I must say I was not expecting him to react like that at all," Harry broke the silence Remus left with a low whistle, still staring at the open door that swung on its hinges.
"Yeah, that went… well?" Lyra's high octave proved her uncertainty and she collapsed on her bed, reeling from her adventurous day. "You don't reckon he knows more about Dad's whereabouts than he's letting on?"
Harry perched on the edge of Hermione's bed and searched his brain for an answer. "I think so. Did you see how sad he got when he saw the cloak?"
"I know, sometimes I forget how horrible it must be for him," Lyra pouted as she slowly sat up, lounging on her elbow for comfort. "Should we…?"
Harry smirked. "Follow him…?"
Lyra hid her smile and huffed, annoyed at herself already for wanting to break her new promise. She was attracted to danger, it appeared it was an affliction that couldn't be helped.
"Maybe not, I shouldn't push my luck. He's scary when he shouts," she shuddered, and Harry scoffed.
"So are you!"
"Yeah but he's a werewolf."
"So? You're Death?"
"Are you going to discount everything I say?" She teased, but she burst out laughing when he mirrored ger infamous 'duh!' expression.
"How about we go downstairs and try to forget about it for now?" Harry took the lead and encouraged Lyra to follow him with a playful kick. "Let's go and distract ourselves until the others get back. They can't be far now."
Ginny and her friends were long gone by the time they descended the dormitory stairs and found a comfortable spot near the south-facing bay windows alone. Lyra plucked a random board game from the collection by the fireplace but neglected to set it up properly. Her mind couldn't settle, it was elsewhere, perhaps with Remus on his way to the headmaster's office. Perhaps somewhere else entirely.
"Do you think we should still go to our counselling session later?" Harry piped up randomly, watching Lyra struggle to understand the eccentric board game that involved a few dozen metal monkey figurines and a handful of broken black matchsticks, "does Remus' warning overwrite McGonagall's punishment?"
"Hmm, I say we don't go," Lyra suggested, hardly scanning the pamphlet that explained the complicated rules, "we don't need to go."
"Well, I don't, but you should," Harry corrected her with a knowing gleam in his eye, and Lyra averted her gaze. "You know you should, you freaked out earlier."
"That wasn't me freaking out," Lyra dismissed his claim and cast the rules aside, declaring that she knew better than to follow the instructions, "I just had a funny moment, that's all."
"AKA freaking out," Harry was having none of it as he watched her set the figurines up as though the monkeys were preparing for war. "You don't fool me, Black, I know why you're scared of telling on Sirius. He's not Tom, snitching on him won't harm you. You're not a bad person, you're only human."
"Oh yeah? I sure don't feel human sometimes," Lyra grumbled, miffed that he had called her out. She ran her fingers through her hair and moaned, exhausted.
"But you are. You're superhuman," said Harry under his breath, and Lyra teared up. She went to reach across the table to grab his hand and thank him for always being there to cheer her on when a voice cried out across the common room.
"Ew! I didn't know Hogwarts had rats!"
One of the fresh-faced first years lounging in front of the fireplace scrambled to climb on top of the sofa, his round face crumpled in abhorrence as he clutched his book to his chest. Judging by his stiff accent he wasn't used to seeing rodents scurrying around old buildings.
"Oh my God it's missing a paw! Gross!"
Lyra and Harry jumped to their feet, knocking over the monkey battle and sending the pieces flying. It couldn't have been. It was just a coincidence!
"Where is it?!" Harry exclaimed, running over to the suddenly tongue-tied group on the rug. The poor boy wobbling on the sofa pointed toward the shadows dancing around the entrance hole.
"Are you going to kill it for us, Harry?" One of the starry-eyed girls gasped, making the first years whisper in excitement.
"Scabbers is a close and personal friend! How dare you!" Lyra scolded them as she flew past, hot on the rat's wriggly tail. She drew her wand and bathed the entrance in warm light.
What a determined little fucker.
"It's him!" Lyra bounced, yelling at Harry to help her. She knew the second she laid eyes on the scrawny, starved rat that it was Ron's beloved pet. He was cradling his missing limb, his fur matted and black around the little stump, but he turned and scratched at the wall as though searching for a–
"Damn it!" Harry panted as he missed his chance to capture him. Scabbers squeezed his tiny body through a slit in the stone skirting board and vanished, he didn't want to be caught. Could he sense Crookshanks? They didn't see his fuzzy orange hair or glowing eyes anywhere in the dormitories today, the cat was missing in action.
"Dragonfly thoraxes!"
The portrait swung open and the pair forgot all about Remus' instructions as they chased after Ron's rat. This was about to be the best birthday surprise ever!
Despite his decrepit condition Scabbers was still a speedy boy. Lyra nearly lost track of his faint shadow as they twisted down corridors and tumbled down stairwells they swore they'd never seen before. It was the back alleys of Hogsmeade all over again, Scabbers knew Hogwarts far better than they did and they found themselves jogging down corridors where lamplight was limited and the ceilings began to dip. Doors were few and far between, the shadows here were thicker than usual. The air was old, the walls were dripping, there wasn't another soul for quite some time. Were they near the kitchens? What was this place?
"Have you got the map on you?" Lyra clutched her ribcage, suffering through a stitch as she tried to keep a decent speed. Scabbers turned another corner and she clung onto the nearest wall, helplessly watching him escape.
"I… think… so," Harry leant on his knees, spitting onto the floor. "We need… to start… running regularly… I'm knackered."
Lyra looked as though she'd rather kill herself than take up running as a hobby. Her chest was already hurting as it was, and not because she was about to cough her lungs out.
"Where's Scabbers gone?" Harry noticed Lyra lost track of him once he recovered from his depleted energy crash, and Lyra pointed off into the near distance where his squeaks grew fainter and fainter.
Until they stopped altogether. Lyra let go of the wall and shushed Harry, straining her ears.
Footsteps.
Human footsteps.
And Harry could hear them too.
"Hello?"
Lyra wasn't sure how she knew, the shadows must have told her. Something bitter tainted the musky air and she backed away from the corner, her fingers toying with her wand.
"Who's there?" Harry called out, moving to shield Lyra as he stuck his arm out in front of her. The footsteps were deafening, someone was running toward them now.
It was too late.
Lyra and Harry lost consciousness before they hit the cold stone floors. The dark spell locked their limbs and snatched their senses before they could even process what was happening and they collapsed on top of one another, crumpled and defenceless like a couple of lion cubs gunned down by a hunter hiding in plain sight.
Now it was his turn to experiment. He had to see it with his own two human eyes…