"Are you really zoning out right now, Black?"
Lyra emerged from her busy head and stared back at Cedric who was halfway through demonstrating the best method of fertilising Chinese Chomping Cabbages, a carnivorous pink and green shrub she had been looking forward to learning about. They were in Greenhouse Five this evening, the smallest of the greenhouses, but by far the prettiest. Glow worms hung from the metal awnings and their oscillating cocoons illuminated the greenhouse like Muggle string lights. The ambience of the gentle evening rain and the steamy glass panes added to the cosy vibe, and yet Lyra felt colder than ice.
Cedric was panting quite heavily. Mud was smeared all over his school shirt, arms, and shining forehead, as he held the snapping cruciferous vegetable at arm's length in front of her, trying to entice her to pay attention with the promise of danger. This was possibly the hottest he'd looked so far, he was handling the offensive plants with such effortlessness that she found it hard to sit still on her stool, and yet she still zoned out.
"This plant is seconds away from ripping my shirt off and you couldn't give a toss, how very unlike you," he commented, finally smiling at the strong blush he roused in her cheeks. He shook the cabbage at her as though threatening to set it on her, but Lyra rolled her eyes. She flicked away the dirt from her notes and leant on her hand, batting her thick lashes up at him. Her busy mind could wait.
"Don't give me false hope, Diggory. Please, let the cabbage feast on your shirt," she encouraged, "I want to see if you've earned any badass scars from your fall."
Although his handsome grin said otherwise, Cedric repotted the cabbage without losing any fingers and tutted at her response. Lyra was resplendent when she found out that Cedric was deeply embarrassed that she saw him in such a bad state in the hospital wing after their eventful Quidditch match, thanks to Anthony's loud mouth in the corridors, so of course she had to tease him about it.
"I'm surprised your bruising healed to be fair, you looked like a raisin," she continued to press his buttons, her buttery laughter echoing off the greenhouse's glass roof. "You know like the bruised part of an apple, when it gets all squishy and brown and sticky—,"
"Yes thank you, that's enough," Cedric butted in and flicked more dirt at her, "finish your diagrams."
"—you looked very sticky, it was kinda gross." Lyra carried on, half-heartedly sketching the steps of cabbage management. "I can't lie, mate, you're so incredibly lucky you grew back into your good looks, you were this close to permanent disfigurement. I heard Pomfrey threw up when she first saw you."
"I was not that bad," Cedric scoffed, leaning against the workbench Lyra was using as her desk to watch her work, "anyways, if I happened to end up looking like a grotesque creature after my Quidditch accident then I'd still be happy. Looks don't matter, I happen to have a winning personality."
"I mean, in a perfect world yes, having a winning personality would be enough to persuade someone to open their legs for you," Lyra took him seriously for a moment, but she pouted and poked him with the end of her pencil. "But we live in the real world. Is your personality that good? I dunno…"
"Thank Merlin I'm hot and an amazing person then," he joked, tickled always by the words that came out of her mouth, "would that be enough to open your legs, Black? Probably not, it must take a lot to stroke your massive ego."
Lyra swore she misheard him. Did he just say—? Her frazzled mind sharpened all of a sudden and she locked in on Cedric. She froze and let his comment linger in the soft silence between them, forcing him to sit in its tense afterglow. She loved to watch him squirm, their eye contact was more than he could handle.
"Well… You know what they say about girls with massive egos, don't you?" she purred, enjoying how quickly his face heated up.
"What?" He was hypnotised.
"I can't tell you, it's a secret," she hissed back with a wink, and she pulled back and returned to her drawing when she realised how close he was leaning in. She pretended not to notice his blunder. He tried to keep himself busy while she worked, focusing more on cleaning up after the cabbages than her for a change, but his reaction was intoxicating. He was two years above her and yet he was stuttering like a first year, unable to meet her eye despite begging for it moments ago.
It was almost too easy!
"Finished, Professor Diggory sir," Lyra flourished her completed storyboard his way once she was satisfied with her depictions of his demonstrations today. "Thoughts?"
"I mean…" Cedric was evidently speechless once again as he analysed her drawings, and he held it out of her reach so he could properly critique her without fear of her work being snatched back. "When I said to draw out each step, I meant you needed to draw the cabbages and the fertilising procedure — not me."
"Who says that's you?" Lyra scoffed, challenging him. "That's some other sexy buff guy with insane abs showing me how to fertilise his crops, you wouldn't know him. He goes to another school, actually."
Cedric spun her paper around so she could also see her drawing of what was clearly a sketch of a juiced up, bruised Cedric tussling with a cabbage while wearing the lowest cut baggy jeans she'd ever attempted to draw. His toned torso was over exaggerated, of course, but the shaded sweat glistening on his body may have been a touch too much. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, he's hot, right?" She grinned, "he goes to Durmstrang, he's got the biggest muscles you've ever seen, and coincidentally he also fell off his broom at like three hundred feet and survived. He's like a Quidditch legend."
"He sounds like a catch," Cedric whistled as he re-evaluated her sketch. "So that's your type? Dangerous, bruised Quidditch boys with big muscles and death wishes?"
"I can't help that I like boys who know how to properly use their broomstick," she shrugged, dipping a toe into new waters. His question had her heart trapped in a race she couldn't slow down, "is that your type too?
"Not quite," he answered, and for a split second Lyra lost half of her breath when she realised he was about to correct her. "I prefer beautiful, confident girls who may or may not have attitude problems."
Ooooooh!
The whooshing G-force that accompanied moments like these gushed through her and melted her insides into butterflies. Powerful flapping butterflies that laughed in the face of the dark memories that tried to elbow through. She wasn't going to let him destroy this pinnacle moment for her. Not after recent events — this was her first real break from the mess that was overtaking her life!
In Cedric's tutoring lessons, the outside world didn't exist. She was just Lyra, a normal third year girl who sucked at Herbology. She didn't have to worry about anything else except her dreadful grade and the darling boy in front of her. Cedric didn't know anything about the chaos that followed her and this simplistic relationship they had was a welcomed change of pace.
Stuffing Tom's stupid face out of her mind, Lyra let out an inspired noise and nibbled the end of her pencil to ponder his subtle confession.
"Mhmm, fascinating Diggory," she mused, the corners of her lips curling as his eyes dropped to meet them, "I hope you find your dream girl, truly, I do. I wish you nothing but the best in your search."
"And the same to you, Black," he held her drawing to his chest as he bowed his head, "I hope you and your paper boyfriend are very happy together."
Ouch, too real. Lyra let the sting of his unintentional accuracy pass by without complaint and she sighed.
"The accidental paper cuts he leaves in between my thighs are killer, but yes besides that we're extremely happy in our relationship, thank you very much," she said deadpanned, and Cedric finally broke down in laughter and threw in the towel. She basked in her glory of winning their back and forth and took great pleasure in the blush that he couldn't get rid of.
"See, now I believe everything Fred and George has said about you," Cedric calmed down and slipped her drawing into his tutoring folder, "you do talk a lot of bollocks, don't you?"
Charmed by the idea of her twin cousins driving their classmates crazy with stories about her, Lyra chose not to further feed into her ego in a stunning turn of events. She packed up her belongings and flicked her hair back, waiting patiently behind her stool for him to dismiss her.
"I spit nothing but pure poetry, I don't know what you're on about. I know you wish away the two weeks that separate our lessons too," she challenged him, and Cedric commanded their workstation to clean itself. He slipped his Hufflepuff robe on, swung his bag over his shoulder and shot her a look that suggested he'd trapped her in his web. She was rooted to the spot.
Something behind her gut stuck its claws out and purred, transforming the butterflies into slippery eels.
"You look forward to our lessons?" He repeated in a voice that caressed her neck, and Lyra fought her blush with all her might.
"I turn up to them, don't I?" she muttered, her dimples emerging.
"Most of the time," corrected Cedric, stepping around the bench, and Lyra nearly hyperventilated as she assumed he was moving toward her, but he walked past and charmed the door to swing open. "But I'm beginning to think you're not taking my tutoring seriously. I do actually want you to improve at Herbology, I think you've got more than enough skill and intelligence to surpass Sprout's targets, Lyra. I want you to succeed, I want you to not need my help."
Cedric paused in the door and nodded as though instructing him to follow her out, swagger coating every action. "I'd love to spend the rest of my Hogwarts career teaching you, these hours we spend together really are the highlight of my weeks, but you've got to start trying."
Lyra removed the knife of words he stabbed into her and rolled her eyes, tossing it away. She followed him out of the greenhouse as she flicked through her notes, and with her prettiest smile she handed over her real demonstration diagram.
Cedric scoffed, speechless at the sight of it.
"I am trying, you're not focusing on my weaknesses," she told him. She didn't want to tell him how to do his job because she genuinely enjoyed his tutoring style, but it looked like she had to. Boys, honestly! "Theories, facts, and diagrams don't bother me, most of it overlaps with Potions. It's the practical side I can't do, if I have to interact with them myself then I'm screwed. Plants hate me."
"Plants don't hate you," Cedric dismissed her, grey eyes wide in disbelief as read her work. it appeared his expectations were exceeded.
"They bloody do," she grumbled, staring out into the night with a scowl. It wasn't her fault the living organisms of this world were her antithesis, they smelt the stench of Death on her.
"Maybe they do if you continue with that attitude of yours. Have you tried being nice to the toadstools? Have you tried speaking to the Flutterby bushes before pruning them? " He shot her down and turned to her with a look that suggested that she was simply being cute. "The next time we meet, you're getting your hands dirty. I need to see this so-called hatred for myself."
"Ok, sure, but I cannot wait to tell you I told you so. Whatever happens, remember that you asked for it," Lyra shrugged and hugged her books close to her chest as they started heading back to the main castle. If she lost a finger during her next tutoring lesson then at least she'd have physical evidence to make sure he never doubted her again.
"Like I'd ever let one of the plants hurt you," he guffawed, disappointed that she thought so little of him, and Lyra decided to keep her smirk to herself.
Heheh…
"How's it going with your search for Scabbers, by the way?"
Lyra missed one of the steps into the sun courtyard they used as their usual shortcut back into the castle and almost whipped her wand out. How the fuck did he know—?! Suddenly every buried manic thought burst through the guard in Lyra's mind, reminding her of the reason why she should be freaking out. Was Cedric someone in disguise?
"Huh?!"
"Again, your cousins are not very good at whispering during class," Cedric chuckled, misreading the flash of panic on her face, "they told everyone about Ron's rat, apparently he died but you guys saw him around the school again?"
Lyra heaved a raspy sigh and relaxed into the lie that she and Hermione had concocted and hastily spread around Gryffindor. "Oh, duh. Yeah, it's been rough. Obviously Ron was ecstatic when we told him that his rat is still alive, but not being able to reunite them feels like we're doing him dirty. It's like we've gotten his hopes up for no reason," she explained, "because let's be honest, a rat with only three paws isn't going to last long."
"Yeah, infection will kill him first," Cedric empathised and Lyra hoped that was true. Peter gave her the creeps, she half hoped she'd never meet him again, so if his gross arm poisoned him beyond the point of no return then she wouldn't be too mad. So what if he died in some hole in the wall? Not her problem.
"And we don't want that!" She forced a soft giggle and ducked under his outstretched arm holding the door open into the significantly brighter indoor corridors. She tried not to inhale his fresh body spray in case he noticed. "So if you happen to see a three-legged rat scurrying around, please let me know as soon as you can. Even if we're in class, send me one of those adorable post-it note birds you like conjuring — which by the way, you've not taught me yet?"
Lyra thought about asking Harry about the Patronus Charm since the spell wasn't used just as a guardian against the Dementors, but she was still afraid that she couldn't ever produce one. Cedric's descriptions of an elegant piece of magic he picked up while doing research for a Charms essay matched closely to what she guessed was Wizarding instant messaging, and Lyra needed some way of communicating with her friends and professors if something happened. She once again silently cursed Hogwarts for its distaste of electricity.
"Here, it's dead easy. I'll teach you now," Cedric said, dumping his bag on the floor and revealing his long wand with a twirl. Lyra happily mirrored his stance, unaware of a gaggle of older Ravenclaws passing by. They slowed their walk, watching the pair strangely who looked as though they were about to square off against each other.
"Picture the recipient's face and what you want the note to say in your mind," he instructed, "then draw the wings with your wand, and say Volverba!"
In a puff of white mist, a slender swallow crafted from bronze and black parchment shot into the air from his wand and gracefully circled Lyra's head until she plucked it from the air. She debated keeping the note a mystery until later, but the teasing, daring smile on Ced's face persuaded her to unfold the paper swallow.
Does this mean you're going to be bothering me all the time now?
That sounded more like a wish than a hope, he was thirsting for more of her attention.
Lyra tucked her note away and followed suit, her answer crystal clear in her mind.
"Volverba!"
From her own puff of smoke flew a black miniature Thestral, and Cedric nearly missed his chance to catch his flying correspondence as he was too busy gawking at her odd bird of choice. Lyra picked up her bag and began to wander off, leaving the blushing boy to linger in her shadows while he absorbed her dirty response written in sparkly silver gel on pitch black paper.
Don't act like me bothering you doesn't turn you on…
"See you at the next council meeting, Professor Diggory!" She sang over her shoulder, "oh, and good luck with your match against Slytherin this weekend. Give Draco an extra jab from me!"
"I'll look for you in the stands!" Cedric's words followed her down the corridor, and she tried to stay in the moment as much as possible. Clinging onto the cheeky, carefree version of herself before her constant stream of worried thoughts came gushing back.
It took less than five peaceful seconds.
Dad might be innocent. Scabbers needed to be caught. He knows… He fucking knows everything!
And Ron knows nothing.
Keeping Ron in the dark about Peter was slowly killing Lyra, Hermione, and Harry. It was a hot topic amongst the three of them whenever they secretly met up after dark to whisper about their plans. They weren't sure how long they could keep Scabbers' true identity a secret from him, every day since they found out they had debated whether they should go against Dumbledore's promise and tell him everything. They hadn't seen any sign of the rat or the elusive black dog anywhere, surely it was safe enough for them to find a quiet corner and break the news?
But then if Ron knew, then his brothers and sister deserved to know too. Lyra was adamant that the entire Weasley family should be told that they have had a grown man living in their house unbeknownst to them for over a decade. They just should, it was sick?! She argued her case to tell them every time it came up, citing different child welfare points that Danielle would have been proud of, and despite her friends agreeing that she was right they remained silent. Because Professor Dumbledore told them to. They were unofficial agents of a secret organisation, they needed to remain strong.
Where the hell could they be?
My guess is the Forbidden Forest.
I think they're using the secret passages, they're not staying in one place.
Lyra persuaded the twins to let her hold onto the Marauder's Map for longer than their agreed allocations and she kept it on her person at all times now. It was the only solid idea she had, despite not ever spotting their names before she just knew the map was key in making progress on their mission. She was constantly scanning labels during class, over mealtimes, detentions, council meetings, when she should have been sleeping — name a time of day, Lyra would be there searching for them.
"Don't tell me you're hogging the map just to look for Scabbers? Animals don't show up on the map."
Lyra ignored Fred at first as she spent an extra minute double-checking the labels prowling around the dungeons one more time. Quidditch practice was due to start in five minutes, and she was already dressed and ready to destress with some dangerous flying for a change. Once satisfied that none of the labels had changed since her last scan, Lyra grinned up at her lanky cousin who was openly judging her and winked.
"I'm not looking for Scabbers," she replied, jumping to her feet as she scooped Vivienne from the canvas muddy floors, "I'm looking for papa Black, duh."
From the corner of her eye she spotted Harry's head poking out from the boys lockers to listen but she refused to meet his eyes.
"Oh," Fred's eyes widened, inspired. He glanced over his shoulder at his twin before continuing, "well that's a relief! I was genuinely worried that you were trying to bring that mangy little thing back into our lives. I never liked Scabbers," he held his hands up, "there, I said it."
"Why?" Harry emerged from the changing room to butt in and Lyra instinctively averted her gaze when she realised he was struggling finding his sweater sleeve. She never realised she hadn't seen Harry without a shirt on before now and for some reason the sliver of his torso that was briefly on show stuck to the forefront of her mind.
"It's likely just pent up resentment because Percy got to keep him and we didn't, not to mention the amount of socks we've lost to him," George answered before Fred could joke, "so you've decided to hunt Daddy down, eh?"
"At this point, finding him myself is the only way I'll be allowed to go to the Quidditch World Cup Final this summer," Lyra deflected, exaggerating her frustrations by putting extra force into her broom polishing.
"Crap, I didn't think of that," George sighed, pouting in realisation.
"We'll sneak you in if he's still on the loose," Fred vowed, "you can hide in our case with our secret stash of booze."
Sudden exhilaration rushed through her and she beamed up at them. As if she could be any more excited for the Final!
"If we do that then you better leave us some alcohol for the World Cup Final, Black, I know what that look means," George called her out.
"Did I just hear you guys say you got tickets to the World Cup Final?" Oliver bounded over, ears burning and face shining with joy. "I'm going to the semi-finals as well, and I will be rooting for Scotland of course. If you're at the Finals too then we have to meet up."
"Depends, is your fit aunt gonna be there too?" Fred asked, batting his eyelids at his captain whose face slowly hardened, unimpressed.
"…Actually, on second thoughts, I might be busy that day," Oliver retracted his offer, regretting ever opening his mouth, and he bossed his team around. "Practice starts now, get out."
"Angelina and Katie aren't here yet," Lyra pointed out the obvious before the boys headed out, but as though she wished them into existence her fellow Chasers came running through the tent's entrance, grinning ear to ear.
"Sorry Oliver!" Katie squeaked, vanishing into the girls section before Wood started yelling.
"We have a good excuse though," Angelina slowed to argue hers and Katie's cases and abandoned her bag and robes on the benches. "Alicia and Sam just broke up and it was messy, but don't say anything because she's gonna walk in any second now!"
Lyra only knew Alicia Spinnet's boyfriend, a sixth year Gryffindor called Sam who was head of Professor Sprout's Green Thumb committee, via Fred and George's stories of them messing with him so judging by the twins' illuminated expressions they were dying to celebrate the good news. They hated their friend's boyfriend, they often compared him to a wet mop.
"Alicia isn't on the team anymore, this doesn't concern us," Oliver tried to argue and pointed at Lyra and Harry to set an example, "you two, go and start your laps—,"
But the rest of his instructions were drowned out as Lee Jordan entered the Gryffindor changing room with his arm around a weeping Alicia's shoulders, and behind them came a group of Gryffindors who witnessed the whole affair. Judging by the fifth and sixth year turnout that filled the changing rooms, it was clear whose side everyone chose in the breakup.
"For crying out loud," Oliver complained over the hustle and bustle, "we play Ravenclaw next week! Just because they lost to Slytherin by a tiny margin doesn't mean we're off the hook here!"
Harry signalled at Lyra to follow him out onto the pitch, and she more than willingly joined him — but unfortunately Lee had shuffled out from the heart of the consoling circle to grab her shoulder before they disappeared through the canvas flap.
"Don't run off yet, I want a word with you," he chuckled, enjoying how quickly she frowned back. "Don't pout your lip at me, notice how I haven't grabbed the other two? You should be thanking me, not giving me the lip!"
Lyra suddenly wished Harry hadn't stopped too.
"Uhhh, why?"
"Because I don't think you'll want them to see what I found in my Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson earlier," Lee showed off every one of his ivory white teeth as he rustled around in his inner robe pocket for a single piece of parchment.
A very familiar piece of parchment.
Oh fuck.
"Recognise this?" Lee blinked a few times, shaking the parchment in her face so she could see her stupid drawing in all its glory. Her interpretation of Cedric the badass cabbage tamer grinned back at her and Harry, and it took all of Lyra's night not to flush head to toe like the idiot she was. No one else was supposed to see the silly drawing, it was for Ced's eyes only!
"Vaguely?" She smiled back, and she couldn't stop herself from adding, "you found that in the DADA classroom?"
"Technically yes, Cedric's school folder was in Lupin's classroom when I happened across it," he clarified, scoffing at his young friend's behaviour, "and a certain Hufflepuff rival of ours was quite cross when he realised I saw it."
"Cedric isn't my rival," she disagreed.
"Er, yes he is?" Harry spoke up, rounding on her too, "he's literally my opposition in Quidditch."
"As if you actually feel threatened by him, you're a way better Seeker than he is," Lyra rolled her eyes and dismissed his saltiness. She knew Harry wasn't a fan of Cedric but she accredited his attitude to classic Quidditch rivalry and the whole Halloween Hogsmeade debacle.
Lyra went to snatch the drawing back but Lee thrusted it out of her reach at the last second with a wagging finger.
"Uh uh, I don't think so!" He sang, devilishly happy that he had somehow uncovered an intriguing blossoming friendship under their noses. "I knew I found a Black original, fess up! What the heck is this?"
"That," Lyra pounced and successfully snatched it from Lee that time, "is a harmless little joke between my tutor and I. In fact, it's also none of your business so thank you for returning it."
"Hmm, right," Lee nodded and smoothed the curly hairs on his chin, pretending to ponder on her claim, "yes, of course it means nothing. The fact that Diggory whispers about you to his friends during class and him getting all shirty and defensive when I asked him about it must be nothing too. I'll ignore all of that, then. Silly me!"
He talks about me in class?
"Duh!" Lyra exclaimed, using every muscle in her face to prevent her reactionary grin, "I can't help that I'm so goddamn charming and hilarious, so what if Cedric can't get me out of his head? That's not my problem, and again I must remind you, none of your business!"
"What does he say about her in class?" wondered Harry, choosing to be unhelpful to her cause.
"I don't think that's relevant," Lyra tried to say despite thinking the exact opposite, and she pushed Harry down the short tunnel connecting to the pitch. Oliver's voice was growing in volume which could only mean that they were about to receive a bollocking. "Come on, let's go—,"
"He called her the fittest girl at Hogwarts for starters," Lee's hands found his hips as though she was at fault for him having his own opinions, "which is categorically incorrect because you are a child and also Angelina exists."
"I'm fourteen, Lee," Lyra blinked up at him, "you're still fifteen?" Are you still a child too then?"
"Irrelevant!" Lee held his hand up causing her to scoff in several different octaves. "I still don't like it!"
"What's irrelevant?" The twins came rushing up behind them and pushed them down the tunnel and away from their irate captain. "Why does Lyra look like she wants to fight you, Jordan?"
"Fantastic, yes tell Mr and Mr Bigmouth, please! Let's get everyone involved in this, why not!" Lyra promptly gave up as both Lee and Harry began to catch the twins up on the latest development concerning a member of team Hufflepuff and she stormed out onto the green grass and breathed in the fresh night air. She expected to feel its sharp icy sting in her lungs but all she smelt was its sweetness, the crisp clean absence of the day, the chill of alluring anticipation.
The fittest girl at school, ey?
It looks like the boy has good taste.
Don't get distracted, though.
She's allowed to live her life!
Yes I know but—!
Lyra decided to tune the voices out.
Since she was the only one in the air by the time Oliver started practice, Lyra was free to practise as many nosedives and last second feints as she liked. The daring dives and close calls pulled her from her daydreams about teasing the hopeless badger and the thrill of soaring through the clouds kept her blood pumping through her veins. Once she noticed Oliver had forced her tardy teammates to run laps around the pitch as punishment, she began to circle them and screamed encouragement as guilt started to creep in.
"You might have had a point about us starting a running club," Lyra winced once she eventually dismounted and joined her red-faced team in the ground and she tossed Harry her water bottle.
"At this point… we don't need one," he dumped most of her water over his head and leant back on his elbows, smirking up at her as he threw it back. "But back to our previous conversation —,"
"OI!"
Lyra hung her head as Fred and George recovered enough to reignite the issue too. They ceased their retches and crawled over to her to interject and add onto Lee's argument, something she knew she couldn't avoid.
"What's all this about you and Diggory?!" George snapped first.
"Tell us it isn't so," Fred said, aghast. "You're flirting with the enemy!"
"I can flirt with whoever the hell I like!" She defended, not bothering to hold back. They weren't going to drop it and the truth would out eventually. What was she losing by accepting it…? Angelina and Katie hadn't finished their ten kilometres yet but at the sound of more drama they picked up speed and pushed themselves harder.
"I'm sorry that Diggory happens to be the first guy—," Lyra sped through her exclusion of her evil journal, "—that has shown clear interest in me and I happen to think he's cute, it's harmless!"
"It's so not harmless!" George exclaimed.
"I, for one, hope that this throws him off his game," Oliver, though impatient that they were still catching their breaths, merrily supported Lyra with two thumbs up. "Flirt away, Black. Distract him as much as possible."
"Aye aye captain," Lyra saluted him.
"Psssh, he can't have been the first male at this school that has shown you interest? I'm sure there's plenty of suitors, even in your own year, that you're not seeing?" Fred didn't look convinced and he gathered enough energy to join her on his feet. There was an unusual gleam in his eye and she couldn't work it out what it meant.
"She received loads of Valentine's cards last year," Harry backed Fred up without hesitating, and Lyra threw him a scowl though he never caught it. Harry was too busy lying flat in the grass staring up at the starry sky to actively join their discussion.
"Whatever, I don't kiss and tell anyways so tough luck getting anything else out of me," she shrugged and ignored them for the rest of practice. She did, however, whisper with Angelina and Katie once they were far enough away from their team to giggle about the pretty boy who's eye she'd caught. They were far more receptive.
"I figured as much, I overheard Ced talking about you with Professor Lupin," Angelina teased her during their fast passes, making Lyra's butterflies even worse. That was the last scenario she wanted to imagine right now.
"Good for you, Lyra!" Katie gave her seal of approval, "I don't think you're the only one who's got their eye on him though, practically all the girls in my year fancy him too."
"The guy is a hot commodity it seems," she mused, feeling awfully guilty that she hardly paid any attention to his Slytherin v Hufflepuff game since she had her head glued to the map the majority of the time. "Let's see what happens, I'm not that bothered."
"You're not into him?" Angelina frowned, confused by her hesitance.
"I am… I think," she said truthfully. "Don't get me wrong, he's super hot and if he went in for a snog then I wouldn't turn him away… But I don't know if I'd date him. I don't think I'm ready for all that entails, boys can be… complicated." That was the best way to explain the clash of feelings inside of her. Complicated, that summed her up to a tee.
"Really?" Katie looked genuinely shocked, but Angelina threw the Quaffle extra hard at her in the hopes of knocking some sense into her.
"She's being mature, which we should encourage especially when it comes to boys because we all know what they're really like," she sighed and side-eyed the boy chilling in the stadium's commentators box with a smirk that held a thousand secrets. "All I'm going to say is don't do anything you're not comfortable with. Do what makes you happy."
"Trust me when I say that my care worker has drummed that into me already, I got it," Lyra shivered, remembering all of Danielle's miniature sex education lessons scattered throughout her counselling sessions. Angelina's smile dropped and she cringed, only now remembering her previous year.
Katie threw the Quaffle back at her, mirroring her pointed look in jest. "She's probably more informed than us!"
"Well, I dunno about that," Angelina looked spectacularly feline as she grinned at her teammates and flicked her locks over her shoulder, her cheeks blossoming as she arched a perfect throw to Lyra.
"Ok now you've got to share with the group," She purred as she caught it, drumming her fingers against the smooth curves of the leather ball. "We won't tell the others…?"
Their girly chat struck a chord with Lyra and it dwelled amongst the chaos that already staked its claim on her brain space, like a splash of sunshine amongst the doom and gloom. It helped with her illusion that she was just your regular teenager and she attempted to carry that attitude with her as the school year picked up. It felt nice that she was being admired, it felt normal. Something she never thought she'd experience.
The perpetual grey spring skies slowly cleared as Easter break approached, and the secretive trio planned to spend possibly the entirety of their week-long break doing everything they possibly could to successfully lure Peter and Sirius to them. Ron was happy to stay with them so that wasn't an issue. Lyra kept him content with the enticing offer of letting him use her Firebolt whenever he liked over the break, but unfortunately Ginny and the twins caught wind of her generosity and signed up to stay too.
"It's going to be tough keeping Fred, George, and Ginny away from all of this. Even Percy is staying so he can revise for his NEWTs, he keeps asking me about Scabbers," Hermione highlighted at the crack of dawn on the morning of the anticipated Gryffindor v Ravenclaw match. Easter was due to break the following day and the trio couldn't have been more relieved to see the disappearance of most of the school again.
They were squashed inside the largest broom cupboard they could find in Gryffindor Tower, a secret space that quickly became their go-to meeting point. The skinny window, upturned buckets and growing collection of abandoned mugs in the corner made the cupboard more homey and less claustrophobic.
"We won't have to for much longer," assured Harry, struggling to keep his elbows tucked in as he kept knocking Lyra off her temporary bucket seat. "Sirius must be in the Forest at the very least. Once everyone goes home, we'll search for him and take him straight to Dumbledore."
"When has any of our plans worked out? It won't be that simple," Lyra kneaded her face with the back of her knuckles, hating how pessimistic she was being, "maybe we should train first, just in case we need to defend ourselves. I don't want to be caught off-guard again."
It seemed that the current Head Girl overestimated how much free time she would have during her final year at Hogwarts, the Duelling Club hadn't met up once this year despite Lyra begging every time she saw Penelope in their council meetings. Lyra was itching to practise the basic defensive spells she had no recollection of learning last year, she vowed she would never allow someone to steal her wand from her and use it against her again.
"I agree," Hermione perked up, mildly impressed, "it certainly won't hurt. We can find an empty classroom to use, I'll check all the books out we'll need."
"And I'll make us a special dog lead and a rat cage," Lyra added, inspired. "I'll find a charm that will stop them from transforming and escaping if we find them."
Hermione nodded vigorously. "Brilliant!"
"And I will…" Harry trailed off, not quite knowing what he brought to their already occupied table, "distract the Weasleys?"
"You will focus on catching the Snitch today first," Lyra told him, putting their priorities in order. "That's far more important, if we don't make it to the final against Draco—,"
"Slytherin," Hermione corrected.
"Same thing," Lyra shrugged, "then we'll never live it down, Wood will never forgive us. If we lose today, we have to play for third place against Hufflepuff and that's just not going to happen."
"You can't go one day without mentioning the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, can you?" Harry poked, rolling his eyes as he leant back against the cupboard wall. "Hufflepuff this and Cedric that!"
Lyra hid her blush behind her dressing gown's fluffy lapel. She wasn't bringing them up every day, and it wasn't at outlandish intervals either. Everyone was talking about the Quidditch Cup table standings, it wasn't just her. Since her teammates discovered that she and Cedric were potentially swapping flirtatious messages to each other, somehow the majority of Gryffindor knew about it the next day. Apparently the lions were lacking decent gossip recently, so she couldn't get away from the snippets her house mates threw at her whenever they passed.
"Well sorry for caring about our placement in the Cup this year," she dragged her pout down further than usual, mocking him, "sorry that I have friends in other houses!"
"Ah, friends, yeah," Harry drawled, stewing on her phrases with a wide smile, "because friends draw each other topless all the time!"
Lyra shot Hermione a look to stop her from adding her sassy opinion into the mix and shoved Harry off of his bucket. The crash of metal against stone, the force of him falling into the door causing it to slam open, and their subsequent burst of laughter created enough noise that they knew that their cover was blown so they left the cupboard and started their day.
But before Lyra knew it, it was time for Quidditch.
"Remember, do whatever it takes to stop the birds from scoring. Don't let them be in possession for any longer than five seconds," Oliver Wood inhaled deeply and centred himself before yanking his team in for one last huddle on the sidelines of the Quidditch pitch. The rhythmic heckles and screams of the hyped up crowd surrounding them roared in time with their increased heart rates and they all swapped gritted smiles and short nods.
"No pressure then, girls," Fred winked at the Chasers who didn't even look remotely phased by the weight on their slender shoulders.
"When is the pressure not on us?" Angelina pointed out, brows furrowed.
"Relax guys, I spoke to Randy earlier and he said they're shitting themselves too," Katie said smugly, sneaking a peek over her shoulder to wave at her friend across the field. The fidgeting brunette Chaser with the words 'Burrows' embellished on the back of his robes waved at her and stuck his tongue out. "This will be a piece of cauldron cake."
"It will be so long as Harry remembers to wait for us to score five times before he catches the Snitch," Oliver repeated for what must have been the hundredth time that morning. Lyra felt Harry stiffen beside her but she decided not to make his anxiety worse and kept her mouth shut.
"If he catches the Snitch, let's hope no Dementors decide to get involved again," George guffawed, reaching over to slap Harry on the back.
Dementors…
Like the flick of a switch, the very word triggered Lyra's sixth sense. The rasping death rattle encircling the grounds of Hogwarts began to grow and distort, like the rumble of a thousand motorcycles rolling through the mountainous highland roads it echoed only in her ears and she shivered. They were not coming anywhere near the stadium today, Harry would kill her!
Wait… Dementors?
"Let's go Gryffindor!" Oliver's yell ripped Lyra from her internal monologue and she blindly followed her team into the air. The cold, blanketed featureless faces of the dark creatures swarmed her mind, desperately wanting to tear her away from the present. Clawing to secure her full attention. But maybe it was time she let them have it?
YES, YOUNG ONE…
COME TO US…
WE WILL DO WHATEVER YOU COMMAND…
"Hello ladies, gentlemen, and every folk in between, to our fabulous Semi-Final match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw! Let me hear you make some noise!" Lee's booming voice cut across the Dementors siren call, and Lyra viciously shook her head and compelled herself to stay on target. There was so much going on around her that it should have been impossible for her to zone out, but the allure of the Dementors was unreasonably staunch compared to the thousands of electrified eyes watching her every move. Hooch was seconds from blowing her whistle so she whipped her head around and caught Harry's eye one last time. His confident smile was enough to keep her on the straight and narrow. The Dementors had to wait just a little bit longer.
Unfortunately, it seemed as though the God of Fate had their eyes on the match today and they decided they knew better.
"Davies passes to Stretton, but Bell knocks the Quaffle straight out of Stretton's hands and Black dives to catch it! Outstanding work ladies!" Lee cried in chorus with the screaming spectators, and Lyra rocketed upwards to avoid the whoosh of the two Bludgers missing her by mere centimetres. "Black is in possession, and she looks like she means business. Inglebee's hits don't seem to be landing today as Black avoids his second Bludger, awkward! Chin up, Duncan, better luck next time!"
"Alley—oop!" Lyra feigned her shot on goal and looped back at the last second, setting Katie up for yet another perfect hit. Page, the bird's Keeper, cursed loudly once he realised what Lyra had done and watched helplessly from the wrong hoop as Gryffindor scored their fourth goal of the game.
"AND BELL SCORES! Beautifully done, Katie! And a wonderful set-up there by Black, Gryffindor now leads the game forty to ten!" Lee announced over the explosion of screams, and Lyra basked in every single decibel. The glory of impressing the school with their Chaser plays was enough to keep the Dementors off her mind, it was hard not to give in to her hungry ego.
"Do you want another one?!" She cupped her hand around her ear and played to the scarlet and gold fans waving and screaming at her, her charming smile brighter than the sun threatening the Keepers' vision. She circled the nearest Gryffindor stand and stirred them up until she physically felt her eardrums recoil. It appeared that her housemates adored the show.
"Crikey, talk about a crowd reaction!" Lee chortled, wiggling a finger in his ear to gain back some of his hearing, "Quidditch isn't a popularity contest but if it were, I think Gryffindor's number 4 would be top of the board! Not that I'm surprised, rumour has it that Black has caught the eye of another fan favourite, a certain Hufflepuff Seeker—,"
GOD DAMN IT! NOT IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE FUCKING SCHOOL?!
Despite the instant nausea that struck her in the gut, Lyra managed to save her subpar pass to Angelina without making a complete fool of herself and she made a conscious effort to block out the noise. She avoided flying near any of the mustard and black stands out of fear of catching Cedric's eye, but with the rage Lee Jordan sparked within her she channelled it for good.
"This one's all yours, sugar," Angelina called out as she tailed Roger Davies, a sixth year boy who wasn't showing any of his nerves on his conventionally-attractive face. Lyra spotted the opening Katie had concocted between the other Ravenclaws Chasers and so she signalled to George for his assistance. Timing was key in this play, if she was off by a fraction of a second then the Bludger was going to break her entire face. It was her most daring play yet.
"Let's gooo!" She cheered and bulleted toward Davies' intended Quaffle catcher, Katie's unlucky friend Randy.
The incredible collision of bat against leather echoed like a shotgun shell as George effortlessly diverted the Bludger's path from the Seekers and sent it flying alongside Lyra. Two parallel blurs made from scarlet, gold, black leather and a hell of a lot of force intersected the paths of the Chaser who had just gained possession of the Quaffle.
The Bludger slammed into Randy, knocking him clean out of the triangle formation Katie and Angelina had tricked them into forming, and the Quaffle flew out from his slack arm. He tumbled to the ground like a popped balloon.
Vivienne shuddered as Lyra yanked her broom off-course with dangerous intent and slotted into the space in between the two remaining Ravenclaw Chasers that Randy occupied moments ago, the Quaffle snug under her arm and the opposition surrounding her thoroughly confused. The quick slot replacement ploy worked a treat and her ego purred, devouring every last drop of the stands' delicious cheers as they watched the stunning feat play out.
Oliver's cackles stood out amongst the loudest like a hog forn and she made sure to send a salute in his direction on her way to aggravate a parchment-white faced Page.
"Let's cut to the chase and finish this game, shall we?" Lyra jeered at the two boys flanking her and spun the Quaffle on her palm, "I'm parched and I think I can hear the Butterbeers calling for me at our winner's party, begging to be drunk!"
"Don't be an arrogant brat, Black!" groaned Stretton with every swipe of his arm, urging his broom to go faster, "no one likes a show off!"
"But no one likes a slowpoke either!" She called back behind her, pushing Vivienne to widen the gap between them as she dove for the left hoop and—
But then she spotted him.
The black dog.
He was right there, in the shadows of an abandoned Slytherin stand that towered over the oblivious screaming students watching the game. Watching her. The glow of his bright eyes were unmistakable, undeniable. How could she have been so fucking stupid?! Part husky? Really!
How were we supposed to know?!
Snow dogs are enormous, it was a decent guess.
The dog was crouched down on all fours, cloaked in darkness that only she could see, but once he realised he'd caught the Gryffindor's star Chaser's attention his head shot straight up. Ears perked, tongue lolling.
Alerted. Excited.
He was right there.
Suddenly a blast of heat punctured her bad shoulder and Lyra screamed, snapping back to the game and the blistering pain the Bludger left. Her loss of concentration cost them their guaranteed path to victory as she lost possession of the ball to Davies. The oohs from the crowd wasn't great for her self-esteem, but she ignored her furious blush and used her moment of recovery to reassess her priorities.
She had to get Remus and Dumbledore's attention.
But she was in the middle of a very important Quidditch match.
But Sirius was here.
But Wood and the rest of the team would kill her if she ditched mid-game!
Fuck, fuck, fuck—!
From the corner of her eye she spied Harry and Cho desperately searching the skies for the elusive flash of gold, none the wiser of the hound metres away watching them. And her professors were in the staff box, right by Lee and his big mouth who was possibly the last person she wanted to know about this. Sirius hadn't moved from his hiding spot, he was transfixed. The shadows surrounding the dog pricked, sensing her intentions and unfurling under her faint command as though tempting her to try.
But she was too far away, her hold on the dog would be weak.
"COME ON BLACK!"
I'm a freaking lighthouse.
Playing Quidditch while attempting to capture her escapee father using her shadows was, in the nicest terms possible, a bloody pain in her backside. Half of her brain was in the Slytherin stand, tussling with the shaggy black dog who had now realised that the shadows were after him and was actively fighting them with his snapping teeth, while the other half was struggling to keep up with Angelina and Katie. Her throws weren't as accurate, her power behind them was dwindling. The curious side-eyes from her teammates didn't help in the slightest and she began to crumble under pressure.
And then Ravenclaw scored again.
Fuck this!
"HEY!" Lyra regretted screaming at the staff box the second she realised just how many teachers were in attendance. She caught Professor Snape's cruel gaze first and bared her teeth, but on her second sweep past she grappled for Remus' attention. "HEY! SIR!"
Most of the male teachers in the box looked up at her and she nearly facepalmed.
"What are you doing?!" Angelina yelled at her as she successfully duped Stretton into fumbling his difficult pass and flew overhead, "get back in here!"
"One sec!" Lyra waved her arm at her, dismissing her worries, and she barrel rolled away from the Ravenclaw Beater's second attempt to de-broom her. She whooshed past the staff box one more time before the Bludger forced her back into the game and she tried her best to catch her headmaster's eye. Her attempt to penetrate his mind required direct eye contact for it to work, without her wand and the considerable distance between them she couldn't bypass his mental guard.
"STANDS!" She shrieked, hoping either of them cottoned onto her bizarre behaviour. She couldn't stay in one spot, the Beaters were after her blood. "SLYTHERIN STANDS! RIGHT NOW!"
Her shadows were shivering, like fatigued limbs during the last stretch of a marathon they couldn't hold him much longer. His claws were vicious and raw with fear, she swore she could feel him slash her arms.
"UP THERE!" She wildly pointed toward the abandoned stands before looping back to avoid yet another bash from the Bludger. "GO! UP! THERE!"
"LYRA?!" Katie screamed, a spasm of fear dancing across her face as she watched her friend act out, and in the spur of the moment she tossed the Quaffle Lyra's way before Davies dove on top of her. "HELP?!"
Neither Remus nor Albus reacted how she assumed they would, her headmaster was frowning as he took his time getting to his feet while her godfather scanned the Slytherin crowds with no sense of urgency. Were her half-incomprehensible rambles not enough? COME ON PEOPLE! USE YOUR BRAINS!
"DOG! STANDS! GO?!"
Lyra caught the Quaffle at the last second and bit back a rasp of relief as Professor Dumbledore sped off with the speed of a man a quarter of his age and Remus scrambled after him. Only Professor McGonagall side-eyed her colleagues as they made their exit, everyone else was too engaged in the match to care.
But it was too late. Her shadows crumbled like smoke, the black dog was getting away. Now she was in lead possession of the Quaffle, she had to refocus. She played her part. Lyra zoomed high into the sky and rejoined the game as though nothing had happened. Her eyes kept landing on the empty stand but she couldn't see his ghostly gaze any longer, her shadows swiped the space but the claws and shaggy fur was no more.
Devastated was an understatement of how she was feeling.
"It appears that the Bludger has left Black concussed," Lee announced to the sound of growing laughter, "you're playing against Ravenclaw, Lyra, not Slytherin!"
"What are you doing?!" Harry decided to ditch his search for the Golden Snitch for a brief moment so he could fly over and yell at her, but she looped around him and pointed at Sirius' secret hiding place as she successfully avoided Burrow's tackle.
"I just saw Dad in the stands but he's gone now so don't worry I guess! Just find the Snitch already!" She hissed before leaving a dumbfounded Harry in her cloud of dust. She didn't have time for everyone's slowness today, Sirius might still be hanging around the stadium. It was now or never.
"Uh oh, Page might be in trouble here," the excitement in Lee's voice was excruciating, the wobbles of anticipation grew with his volume. He was holding back his actual thoughts in case the deputy head snatched the microphone from his hand. "Black loses Burrows once more with an excellent sloth grip roll and passes to Johnson. Johnson clears Stretton, Davies cannot seem to get past Bell– Johnson reverse passes to Black?! BLACK HEADS STRAIGHT FOR PAGE AND–!"
Lyra didn't even wait for Lee to announce the latest score, the crowds roared and the three Gryffindor Chasers issued each other a well-deserved high-five as their points total increased by ten.
"GRYFFINDOR EXTEND THEIR LEAD FIFTY TO TWENTY! GO LIONS GO GO GOOO!"
Feeling as though they had already won the game, Lyra followed Roger Davies as he gained possession whilst the rest of the teams along with every eye in the crowd fixated on the Seekers who were weaving through the towers chasing the golden winged blur that had been teasing them for nearly an hour at this point.
"Are you alright, Black? Why were you screaming about a dog?" Davies looked genuinely concerned for her health as he tried to lose her, and Lyra pouted. Now she felt bad for whipping his arse.
"Aww, Roger, how sweet!" She placed a hand on her heart before she rushed him, taking him by surprise in the hopes of knocking the Quaffle out of his hands. Ok, so she didn't feel that bad.
But her sneaky play didn't matter in the end. The navy clad Seeker pulled out of their dive first as she reached for the Golden Snitch that had suddenly changed paths, but it was a dire mistake. She missed!
The crimson Seeker, who was still well on his path to crashing into the Ravenclaw stands, didn't fall for the Snitch's dastardly diversion. With a move that induced fierce stomach butterflies within Lyra, Harry swiped the Golden Snitch from above the heads of the grumpy Ravenclaw students and narrowly avoided crashing into the stands with a sharp turn at the very last second. A perfect play!
"POTTERS ONLY GONE AND CAUGHT IT! Gryffindor wins! Hahahaha!"
The pressure of winning the game dropped off Lyra like she had shed her winter coat and she soaked up the glory of making it to the Quidditch Cup Final as the crowds began to chant their winning team's names. She wasn't sure how the finals was going to top this feeling. Pure elation, an unimaginable sense of accomplishment.
Lyra? Your father?
SHIT!
Her happiness vanished. She couldn't escape now. Not while her team were calling for her down from the grass where they had all bundled on top of a windswept, breathless Harry.
But then she caught her Seeker's effervescent emerald eyes and the spark of happiness was back. Her father could wait, maybe Dumbledore and Remus found him already, maybe he'll come back to her later. Her grin overtook her fleeting grimace as she dismounted, threw herself on top of the pile of bodies and existed within the victorious moment with her favourite person.
Her bubble of happiness popped roughly three hours later when she received a sealed scroll from Percy during the Gryffindor's victory party in the common.
Professor Dumbledore and Remus didn't find her father. He was long gone by the time they reached the abandoned Slytherin stand. Lyra suffered in silence and thanked her cousin for the secret note, hoping he wouldn't ask what it was about. Judging by his bored expression, he probably assumed it was detention-related and she fed into that lie with a cheesy smile.
"I bet no other student's detentions are led by the headmaster," Lyra said stuffily, "I feel so lucky!"
"That's not something to be proud of," was all Percy said in response before disappearing into the partygoers that were singing along with their jaunty Gryffindor songs. Lyra shrugged and tucked her scroll away before Ron spotted her from across the room. The rest of the third years were still recapping the game with Harry, praising him for ridiculing the Ravenclaws with his catch, but she couldn't bring herself to join them.
Her father was at the game.
He saw her fly… Did he enjoy the game?
TRAITOR!
Concentrated shame dribbled over her head and her skin was sticky from the cursed heat. Her mother was the Quidditch player, not him. She must've been turning in her grave at that delusional thought. Her father murdered her.
Did he?
Lyra hung her head and made a beeline for the portrait hole, forcing a smile as she brushed off those who wanted her to stick around. The vicious cycle her mind had been stuck in for what felt like forever was chipping away at her. She couldn't suffer in ignorance anymore and waste away obsessing over whether Sirius was responsible for her mother's death.
"Skipping out on your own party?"
Lyra swore under her breath as she slowly turned and smiled weakly at the newly-instated Fat Lady painting. She hadn't spoken to her yet and now was definitely not the time either, but the guilt coating her skin reminded Lyra of her manners.
"Only for a moment, I need some air," she answered honestly, "but, uh… I wanted to say sorry, for what my father did to you."
All animosity left the painting's expression and she tutted. "Thank you, Miss Black, but there is no need to apologise."
"You still deserve to hear it, whether I need to or not. I am sorry Sirius did that to you," Lyra insisted. Her shame lessened, the air was easier to breathe out here.
"Your father used to keep me up all night with his breaking curfew, this is no different," she smirked, no sign of fright in her oil speckled eyes. "So I will ask you again, madam, are you skipping out on your earned celebration?"
"I won't be long, I promise," Lyra waved goodbye and left the seventh floor feeling much lighter than before. At least she didn't hold grudges, the last thing she needed was the entrance to her common room snitching on her all the time.
Lyra didn't quite realise where she was going until she crossed the clocktower courtyard bridge, the peaceful view of the usually terrifying Forbidden Forest greeted her with a brisk windy kiss. She tugged her sweater tighter around her shoulders and silently thanked herself for neglecting to change out of her Quidditch attire.
She didn't think twice as she followed one of the lesser known paths that skirted toward the Forbidden Forest. It hugged the steep pitfalls down toward the crumbled foundations that snaked around the castle, only a spindly wooden fence protected her from the sheer drops. She needed the cover of the trees to be able to pull this off because if anyone in the castle saw her — game over.
SHE IS COMING…
FINALLY… WE NEED YOU NEAR US…
MOTHER…
Ew. Lyra wasn't keen on that nickname, it felt wrong.
The Dementors sang as she came closer to their boundaries, the headmaster was strict and his invisible enchantments stopped them from trespassing into the grounds too far. But near the edge of the forest, where the mountains started to climb and the Black Lake thinned until a vein leaked into a frosty stream. She dipped under the fence and snuck into the outskirts of the grounds, following the pull from the centre of her chest without stopping to think about her surroundings.
Their deathly chill passed over Lyra as she entered the Dementors' domain, the sunshine peeking through the leaves warmed her despite the frost curling the grass and cracking the bark of the trees. Her breath fogged as she spotted the wispy ends of their cloaks drifting through the darkness of the trees. They were a different kind of dark, shadows were pure black whereas the Dementors were old, decaying. Mouldy and full of holes. It was easy to distinguish them from her own.
There were at least forty. Possibly fifty. Quite the reception, she expected less.
YOU CAME…
"I've got a message," Lyra's throat cracked when she realised how far her voice carried. Crisp. Clear. "Actually, it's a warning."
One of the Dementors floated out from the closer, reaching a flaking grey arm toward her, as though asking her to hold it.
Um… Don't grab its hand.
Way ahead of you.
"That's very sweet of you, thank you, but no," Lyra smiled up at the absence beneath its hood and politely declined. "I want to relay a warning to any of you who wish to give Sirius Black the Kiss — let that be the last thing you ever do. Do not Kiss him. Do not harm him. And when you find him, bring him directly to me."
The Dementors stirred, their guttural cries gentler than before.
AS YOU COMMAND…
HIS SOUL IS YOURS…
"Thank you," she graciously bowed, not quite sure how best to reward them. "I know you guys don't really react to animals, but he may be masking as a big dog."
Expecting a larger reaction, Lyra pouted as the Dementors simply waited for further instruction. They couldn't have cared less.
"Really? Weren't you guys wondering how he escaped?"
YOU DO NOT WISH TO HARM SIRIUS BLACK… CARE NO MORE…
WE SERVE NO MORTAL SOUL… THEY ARE ONLY SUSTENANCE…
"Hypothetically," Lyra gave in to her intrusive thoughts, "like I'm definitely not telling you to do this, but if I told you to ignore the Ministry and only listen to me, would you do it?"
OF COURSE…
WE SERVE NO MORTAL SOUL…
WE SERVE ONLY YOU… YOU BELONG WITH US… YOU ARE NOT OF THIS WORLD…
"Shucks, at least buy me flowers first," Lyra tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling bashful. She felt honoured. "But for the record, don't tell the Ministry I said that. Follow their orders too so they're not suspicious, I don't want them on my back if you decide to turn on me or something, but ultimately listen to me. Bring Dad to me."
WE SERVE YOU…
ONLY YOU…
Lyra left her meeting with the Dementors feeling significantly better about letting her father escape during the match. Their dominating presence was a security blanket she didn't want to lose, they had her back if she truly needed them. Not that she hoped she would need to, calling for Dementors would be a last resort if anything were to happen to her.
Could they follow me down to the Chamber of Secrets if Peter ever were to try again…?
Lost in a fantasy that no one could fathom was unravelling in her mind, Lyra paid little attention to the world around her as she sauntered back into civilization, breathing in the fresh April misty afternoon and admiring the many daffodils sprinkled in the long grass. She forgot to check the line of trees separating her from the rest of Hogwarts grounds and stepped out, humming an old Madonna melody she couldn't quite remember the words to.
The boy stalking her remained frozen behind the sweet chestnut tree, still shaken from his venture into the dark forest and the terrifying creatures that hid behind its twigged claws. He was numb head to toe, regretting not bringing his cloak considering his last venture into the woods in search of his cousin he ruined his most expensive set.
Draco counted to twenty before he peeled himself from the tree and crept away from the Dementor's festering nest as fast as he could. Mentally and physically reeling from what he witnessed between his secretive cousin and the most feared beings that ever walked the earth.
He knew she was up to something, and finally he had proof…