"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?" clarified Gilderoy Lockhart, dramatically blinking down at an impish-looking Lyra.
"I want you to start a Duelling Club and I need you to make me the president," she repeated in her brightest, most friendliest tone, "please!"
Lyra was currently sitting with her Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in his office after going over his latest lesson plans for the last few weeks of term. The winter holidays were fast approaching, Lyra swore time was moving extra fast this year compared to her last, she didn't realise that December was only a couple of days away until Lockhart dished out another undeserving detention during their double period that morning, modestly signalling that he needed more of her support. Given that Lockhart was catching onto the rhythm of school life, and at least half of the school still admired him after he supposedly 'healed' Harry's arm with a simple spell, she prayed to the wizard gods that he didn't need her anymore - but of course, the wizard gods laughed and said no.
And so she decided to turn the tables on Gilderoy, he could help her for a change. Lyra was gasping at the chance to start a real Duelling Club, a prestigious group that challenged her to the best of her abilities and allowed her to become the fierce dueller she wanted to be, a club that mirrored the one she saw in Tom's past maybe, and now was a better time than ever to put her plans into motion.
"If you really think about it, I'm doing you a huge favour here," Lyra explained, fixing her posture so she sat taller in the stiff armchair opposite him, "you want to uphold your reputation as a world-renowned author who has performed all of these unbelievable feats, right? What better way to prove your word than to teach the students of Hogwarts - but more specifically a certain Wonder Boy who you publicly promised to look out for - how to defend themselves from evil. Not to mention that Luna was literally petrified, everyone needs a bit of reassurance that they'll be able to fend off the culprit if they get attacked too, so you know that people will show up. It's a win-win situation, if you make me the president of the club then you won't actually need to do much!"
"I won't have to do much?" repeated Gilderoy, dubious about her optimistic promises, "I highly doubt that. Running the Hogwarts Duelling Club is a huge responsibility, and it's one I'm looking to avoid for the time being, thank you Miss Black." He dropped his gaze to the papers on his desk and slumped a little, disappointed to see that he still had lots of work to do. "As it turns out, being the Defence professor requires a lot of my attention, I have papers to mark."
"Oh please!" scoffed Lyra, shoving the pile of parchment out of his way and ignoring them as they fluttered to the floor, "as if you actually read your students' essays, you just give everyone an E and call it a day!"
"Actually, I give everyone an A," corrected Lockhart, glaring at her as he summoned the strewn parchment with a swish of his wand, "I don't want to appear too careless with my haphazard marks, with the exception of Miss Granger your classmates aren't as intelligent as they appear."
"Oh, sure, because you're so intelligent yourself," Lyra muttered under her breath, offended on her classmates' behalf, but she cleared her throat and tried to persuade Lockhart again, "but the Duelling Club will help them! They'll learn valuable techniques and useful information that they can apply in lessons and in real life, not to mention the bloody Duelling modules you're supposed to be teaching the fourth years and above. Everyone will love you if you do this, I promise!" She distinctly remembered Fred, George, and Lee complaining loudly in the common room about their lack of duelling in their own classes; she knew she wasn't the only one dying to practice and perform some real magic.
Lockhart held his crimson inked quill over the current essay he was evaluating and met Lyra's eye again, the doubt clearing from his foggy gaze as he mulled over her remarks. It was painfully obvious that he despised how right Lyra was in this situation and with a frustrated huff he dropped his quill, carelessly smearing his half-arsed A on the essay in front of him, and he crossed his arms. Lyra held her breath and waited, fighting with herself to stay quiet. You're so close, Black, just hold your tongue.
"Even if I said yes to this venture, I don't think I can allow you to be the president of the club," revealed Lockhart, attempting to look somewhat sympathetic as he let her down, "Lyra, you're only a second year. Traditionally the president has to know at least three defensive spells in order to instruct the club members - you're not experienced enough, I can't in good faith elect you as president."
Since when did he have good faith?! The sting of the inconceivable truth lingered on Lyra's face as she struggled to come up with an opposing point. During hers and Hermione's research into the inconsistent past of the Hogwarts Duelling Club she discovered that there was an age requirement, she needed to at least be in her third year to run the club proficiently, or she needed to win the Duelling Tournament but that would be impossible as there was no existing club to host said tournament to begin with. Sadly Lockhart must have read the same handbook as he came to the same conclusion.
"Sorry kiddo," sighed Lockhart, tittering to himself once he spotted the dismay on Lyra's face, "but unless you find me another president then I'm going to have to reject your proposal. Such a shame too, I was starting to warm to your Duelling Club idea…"
"Then I'll find a suitable president," vowed Lyra, determined to push through with her plan. She couldn't fail, she had to compromise, "this Duelling Club has got to happen, we need this."
"And we may need another professor to sign off on it," added Lockhart, making Lyra's life more difficult.
"I bet Professor Flitwick will agree, it's not a secret that he was an unbeatable Duelling Club champion in his heyday," she suggested without hesitating. She considered asking her Charms professor to sign off on her idea but he wouldn't be as lenient on letting her run things.
"And you cannot ask those devilish twin cousins of yours to step in for you either," Lockhart insisted, seemingly more invested in the club by the minute, "it has to be someone who will be willing to take charge if I become too… distracted."
"You mean when your incompetence starts to show?" corrected Lyra, unable to stop herself that time, and Lockhart's top lip threatened to curl. He gazed at his self-indulgent paintings that were smiling at him from the walls as though they gave him the strength to carry on with this conversation before taking to his feet. Lyra watched him carefully, worried about whether she had just ruined her chance or not…
"If you find someone to act as president of the Duelling Club, preferably a fan of mine so I can retain some sort of power, then yes, I'll consider reinstating the club," he promised her, looking down at her with a shadow of fatherly pride on his face, "my, my, dare I say that doing the right thing suits you, Miss Black, this might be your best idea yet. I'm glad to see you're taking a step away from the dark side, it looks like our time spent together has paid off."
Urgh, piss off! Lyra tightened her grin despite the innate urge to groan in his face in disagreement, but drawing attention to his cursed opinions of her wasn't what she needed right now, the less he thought about blackmailing her the better.
"Mhmm yeah sure," she dismissed, slinging on her backpack as she got up to leave, "you need to be ready to make the club announcement this week though, I know I won't have any problems finding you a president."
"I won't hold you to your optimistic promises, Miss Black," answered Lockhart, smirking to himself as he returned to his essay piles, and he never bothered to look up and acknowledge her as she left his office.
"You can't be president, you're not experienced enough!" Lyra mimicked to herself as she headed back to her common room, scowling at her shiny shoes as she dawdled, "like he knows what I can do." The loss of becoming the Duelling Club president stung more than she thought, she knew the chances of earning the title were slim because of her age but still… "I guess I'm just gonna have to prove him wrong!"
The wall of noise that hit Lyra as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open brought her out of her sulk and she marched into the Gryffindor Tower with only one task on her mind. The common room was quite lively tonight, everyone was chatting amongst themselves as they procrastinated their homework at tables and spread across sofas, the occasional bang from an explosive game of snap inspired more shouts of laughter from the group in front of the fireplace, and the constant stream of Gryffindors coming and going from the dormitory towers bode well for Lyra's plan. Hopefully the exciting news of the new club president vacancy would spread quickly and a candidate would make themselves known this evening, this plan needed to work.
Although she sensed the gazes of her friends from the corner of the room, trying to gain her attention, Lyra swiftly ignored them and walked up to the largest table in the room with yet another friendly smile on her face, greeting the group of gossiping fifth years that were attempting to finish their Divination homework.
"Hi!" she chirped, looking them all in the eye as they turned to look at her curiously, "can I borrow your table for a couple of seconds?"
"Borrow our table…?" repeated a confused fifth year with curly blonde hair and glasses, "uh, why?"
"It's the tallest table in here, I'll be quick I promise," she assured them, her gaze drawn to their crystal ball diagrams, and the majority of the students around her shrugged, rather intrigued to see what she had planned.
"Then by all means, go ahead," answered another with a smirk. Without hesitating, Lyra jumped onto the spare chair beside the curly haired boy and leapt onto their table, taking them all by surprise. Now towering over the room by at least a foot, Lyra cleared her throat and called for attention as she ignored the discontempt mutters of the students below her.
"Hello everyone! I have an extremely important announcement to make so please look at me!" she shouted out, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice. Slowly the conversations around her came to a halt and heads turned in her direction, and she tried not to laugh at her friends' concerned expressions, gawking at her like she had finally lost the plot. "This won't take long!"
"Lyra! Get off the table!" scolded Percy, attempting to push his way through the room towards her, "that's over a hundred years old, you're gonna break it!"
"You know what these things are, right? You've heard of the Mending charm before? Chill out!" Lyra shot back, waving her wand at him with incredulity as the table creaked beneath her.
"That's not the point," Percy huffed, but the majority of his banal chides were drowned out by his twin brothers who were keen to rile him up some more.
"Let's test your theory, Perce, it's not gonna break with just Black standing on it," announced Fred, elbowing the fifth years out of their chairs before jumping up to join Lyra. The strained table legs began to grate against the wooden floor as it grew used to the excessive weight and the fifth years groaned and grumbled as George hopped up after him, knocking over their ink pots and trampling their hard work.
"See? Perfectly fine!" proclaimed George over the sounds of the table struggling. Lyra automatically latched onto her cousins' arms as the table swayed dangerously, but the legs never collapsed and Percy looked beyond pissed at their display.
With the twins' help Lyra realised they held the entire room's attention and she seized the opportunity with both hands, she didn't doubt that Percy would attempt to berate them for not adhering to a prefect's instruction and ruin her chance, so she cleared her throat again and gestured at Fred and George to shut up.
"You'll be happy to hear that the Duelling Club is finally coming back to Hogwarts!" she revealed, and her heart skipped when the room burst into excited whispers and shared looks of wonder. From the corner of her eye she noticed Hermione perked up and she flashed Lyra a thumb up, proud that their research had paid off. Percy slowed down and hesitated, fairly taken aback by her good news.
"Yes, I know, you're welcome," she continued once the Gryffindors quietened down again, "but there are two major problems with said club and I really need your help to solve them." Eyes grew narrower and smiles started to slip, everyone sensed that there was a trick to Lyra's revelation and they waited for her to dish out the bad news.
"Since there is a dumb rule in the Duelling Club handbook that makes me ineligible to become club president, I need someone in third year or above to step in on my behalf," she said sweetly, searching the faces of the older students with a slight pout, "this is an opportunity of a lifetime, you won't want to miss this."
"What's the other bad news?" called out a dark skinned sixth year girl by the fireplace, her bright expression suggesting she was considering the role, and Lyra beamed. Please like Lockhart, girl I don't know, pretty please!
"Professor Lockhart is the teacher leading the club…" Lyra mumbled as she smoothed her hair out of her face, purposely slurring the name in the hopes that she would blindly agree - but obviously that didn't work.
"Huh?"
"Lockhart is the teacher leading the club," she repeated in a clearer voice, fighting her faint blush as the exhilaration drained from the room, "he's the one you'll be reporting to, and you'll also have to plan the club meetings with him so prepare to meet with him a lot over this year."
"Oh hell no," the sixth year girl laughed, rejecting the position immediately, "Sorry Black, I'm out."
"Aw come on!" whined Lyra, summoning her cutest puppy eyes as she gazed at her dissuaded housemates, "he's a celebrity! I thought you guys loved him!" No one looked remotely convinced, even those who still admired the man, the impending workload that would inevitably end up in their laps was enough to turn them off the idea.
"Some of us have serious exams to study for," someone shouted out, "try again next year!"
"Please!" she begged one last time, "we need this club! Luna was petrified! You could be next!"
The added threat of potentially being attacked didn't soothe the dropping mood in the Gryffindor Tower and she quickly lost all power of the room, conversations returned to previous topics and the disgruntled fifth years chastised her and the twins for making a mess.
"What about us?" inquired Fred, gesturing at himself and George once their feet were on the ground again, "you know we'll always help you out, cuz."
"Sorry, you can't," she droned, internally cursing her Defence teacher for making her life difficult, "Lockfart specified that I couldn't choose you two."
"Classic Lockfart," sighed George, embracing the new nickname with a snicker.
"I prefer the term Lockshart personally, considering the man is full of shit," remarked Fred, making Lyra feel a little better.
"Cheers guys, I appreciate your help regardless," she muttered, endeared by their pat on her head, and she retired to the table in the corner of the room where her friends were waiting.
"Well that was mortifying," she huffed, collapsing into the armchair between Harry and Neville, still sensing the remnants of peoples' gazes on her back, "I shouldn't have bothered."
"But it's great news that Lockhart agreed to help run the club!" roused Hermione, still impressed by Lyra's prowess, "you should still be proud of that."
"There's not going to be a club if there's no president though," countered Lyra, defensive of her own failure, "the professors aren't usually involved in the sessions throughout the year, they only attend the first and last club meetings."
"You've only just announced the club, give it a day or two for people to mull it over," assured Ron, pushing his Potions essay away as he welcomed the distraction, "you never know, if you keep pestering Lockhart then he'll give in and make you president. He seems to like you."
Harry choked on his own laugh as Lyra fought to keep a straight face. Ha! Yeah right!
"Didn't you just return from a detention with him?" clarified Neville in confusion, "I don't know about you but to me that proves he doesn't like her."
"Yeah but his detentions are a write-off, all we had to do was answer his fan mail while he nattered on about his achievements, maybe he was just lonely and wanted her company?" defended Ron, looking to Harry for confirmation. Fighting another chuckle that would betray his insider knowledge, Harry shrugged and rifled through his school bag as though searching for a distraction.
"Totally, Lockhart loves her," he said sarcastically, but his undertone was completely lost on Ron.
Unfortunately, the rest of Lyra's evening was uneventful - not one person came to see her about the club president role and her heart sank. She tried not to dwell on her predicament as she got ready for bed, nor did she bother to mention her failure to Tom when she wrote to him before she dozed off. She hoped her doubt would subside by the morning but it remained, constantly reminding her that she did a terrible job as she started her day.
But her luck started to change just before her first period.
As she waited for her History of Magic class, muttering mindlessly to her classmates as she tried to keep her mood perky, she felt a gaze on her back and turned to see the Ravenclaw prefect Penelope and her redheaded friend marching towards her, both of them sporting matching warm smiles.
"It wasn't me," Lyra instinctively spat out once they stopped in front of her, "I didn't do it."
"Lyra, no I'm not here to tell you off," giggled Penelope, bubblier and brighter than the last time the pair interacted, it was rather unnerving, "Percy told me you convinced Professor Lockhart to reinstate the Duelling Club, and you were looking for a president to moderate the club?"
Oh! Duh! Her spirits grew tenfold and Lyra almost deflated in relief at the sound of the potential good news. Of all the people to help her out, she never expected Percy to lend a hand. "Yes! Please tell me you want the job, I'm terrible at handling rejection," she said shakily, nervous for her reply.
"I will certainly take the position, and my friend Willow here will preside as my vice president," Penelope explained expertly, relishing in her pre-planned objectives she already had in mind, and the redhead beside her offered a shy smile but Lyra noticed her darting gaze that continued to land on Harry.
"That's awesome, the job is yours!" cheered Lyra, desperate to secure Penelope as president before she could change her mind, "all you have to do is report to Professor Lockhart, he'll tell you what you need to do next." She fully expected Penelope to backtrack once she had of Lockhart's involvement but if anything it spurred her on further. Her bright eyes ballooned with joy and she squealed along with Willow, giddy at the prospect of one-on-one time with their famed professor.
"Brilliant! Be sure to look out for our sign-up sheet, everyone! The Duelling Club is officially returning to Hogwarts!" announced Penelope, raising her voice for the benefit of the corridor, and the rest of the second years muttered animatedly to each other, swapping their delight at the news just as Professor Binns called them into his classroom.
"Lyra, relax," Harry comforted her, trying not to laugh as she hopped nervously on the spot, "everything is going great, there's nothing to worry about."
"Man, I hope you're right," she whispered, chewing on her bottom lip to ease the tension in her chest, "I really wish they didn't ask him to help though." Lyra gazed up at the main dueller's stage situated in the centre of the chamber where the two professors stood, awaiting Penelope's instructions to demonstrate the simple Disarming spell, and her skin scrawled when Professor Snape caught her eye and glowered, disapproving of her existence like usual.
For some insane reason, and sadly a reason she had no say in, Penelope, Willow and Lockhart decided it would be an amazing idea if they got Snape involved with the Duelling Club. Lyra almost had a heart attack when she walked into the duelling chamber down in the dungeons and spotted the vampire prowling around the room, loudly disapproving of the condition of the room. Considering the Duelling Club had been disbanded for years, it was no surprise that the chamber that once held the illustrious meetings was a little worse for wear, it looked like Penelope and Willow had a lot of work to do and Lyra couldn't help but sulk that she wasn't a part of the team. It was the exact same room from Tom's memory, her stomach pooled with fuzzy warm feelings when she recognised the faded navy and gold staging stacked in the corner and the moth-bitten tapestries outlining the traditional dueller's stance, and she wanted nothing more than to reign over the historic space but alas, she was too young to get involved. But if Snape is helping out then maybe it's good that I'm not a part of this.
"Whose worse though, Lockhart or Snape?" countered Harry, and Lyra stared at him as though he had asked her what the meaning of life was. It was a tough choice, she couldn't decide.
"Oooft, give me a couple of days to answer, I've got to really think about that one," she murmured, staring off into the distance as she mulled over the impossible question, but the commencement of the demonstration drew her back to the ongoing club meeting and she watched as the two teachers began their duel.
But it was short lived and the chamber erupted into laughter as Lockhart's spell backfired. The misused charm exploded between the pair and they both rocketed away from each other like identical magnets attempting to connect, and the crowd cheered as Snape clambered to his feet, utterly thrown by Lockhart's offence with his robes slightly singed. Laughing nervously, Penelope encouraged the students to applaud their perfect demonstration of how not to start a duel as she nattered on about the dangers of pre-emptive strikes, pretending that everything was running smoothly.
"Maybe we should start pairing everyone up?" Willow piped up from the edge of the staging, attempting to move past their teachers' blunders, and Penelope agreed wholeheartedly, wiping away the droplets of sweat forming on her shiny face to hide her own jitters. The president and her vice joined the professors on stage and began to call out names from the lists they had conjured before the meeting. Due to the high level turnout they had already paired the members up and Lyra was raring to find out who she had been matched with. If she was lucky then it would be with someone she knew and somewhat liked, but of course it was rare that luck was on her side.
"-and then we have," Penelope checked her list again, "Lyra Black with Zacharius Smith-,"
"God damnit," Lyra grumbled, dragging her feet as she slumped over to Zach who looked equally as miffed, "at least you're not Draco."
"Hey!" barked Zach, offended that she compared him to the ghoul, "I'm not that bad!"
"No, I suppose you're not," she couldn't help but agree - no one was as bad as Draco, "sorry."
"It's fine," he replied with a roll of his hazel eyes, "I'm the one who should be pissed off, anyways, this pairing isn't fair."
"Why? Because I'm so much more skilled than you?" guessed Lyra, showing off her pearly whites as she grinned prettily at him, and he flushed brighter than her stripy tie.
"No, because you're probably gonna attack me without your wand!" he exclaimed, habitually glancing at Draco who was whispering with his usual gang, still waiting for his name to be called, "I don't want to end up like Malfoy, that blister on his face has only just healed!"
"Then I suggest you keep your wits about you, my lad," she teased, rather proud that she was developing a reputation.
"-and the final two are Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley," concluded Penelope, nodding at the remaining two students who looked incomparably furious with their pairing, and Lyra had to stifle her giggles with her hand when Ginny transformed from extremely nervous to deeply insulted when Draco stormed over to Penelope to complain, practically frothing at the mouth from rage.
"Um, excuse me? Who do you think you are? There is no way that I can be sufficiently paired up with a first year, let alone a Weasley?!" he moaned, scowling up at the blonde Ravenclaw who seemed unbothered by his futile confrontation.
"Hey!" squeaked Ginny bravely.
"I don't want to hear it, Malfoy," she cut him off in a tone much bossier than his own, "from what Professor Lockhart has told me Ginny is far more qualified in Defence Against the Dark Arts than yourself and I don't doubt that this pairing will be challenging for you so please, return to your starting position and wait for my instruction."
"But-," Draco tried again, his pale cheeks darkening with shame as more students turned to watch, but Professor Snape swiftly interrupted the pair's conversation by seizing Draco by the collar and thrusting him back towards his spot in the chamber opposite a smug-looking Ginny.
"Listen to Miss Clearwater and stop sulking," barked Snape, loud enough for those surrounding them to hear. Lyra immediately changed her opinion of Penelope and she watched in glee as Draco squirmed in the shadow of Snape's snarl. Any Draco-centric drama brought her so much joy, she couldn't dislike the prefect after that.
"You know what, this club ain't half bad," snickered Ron nearby, enjoying the show just as much as Lyra.
"On my count, I want everyone to start. Remember, you must bow to each other and then walk three paces," commanded Penelope from the stage as she faced her vice president, and Lyra stretched her shoulders in preparation, anticipating a good fight as Zach tossed his school robes to the side.
"One," Penelope began the count down, "two-,"
"Petrificus Totalus!" cried Draco, disregarding the rules of the duel and catching Ginny completely off-guard. The violet spell bound her arms and legs together and she crashed to the ground with a hard omft, paralysed from head to toe except for the outraged glower on her freckled face. The Slytherins cracked up at the scene, encouraging Draco's behaviour further, but before either the Weasleys or their disgruntled cousin could intervene, Snape temporarily took over and reprimanded the foul play with what he deemed was a suitable punishment.
"Maybe we should pair Mr Malfoy up with someone else," he growled, barely checking to see if Ginny was unharmed as he muttered the countercurse, and he scanned the room for a more suitable opponent. Lyra rushed to cross her fingers as she noticed his gaze was heading in her direction, but thankfully he moved on at the last second. "Potter, swap with Miss Weasley."
"Unlucky!" Lyra sang as Harry begrudgingly left Dean and stomped over to Draco, undeniably aggravated that he was being dragged into the drama and he made sure Lyra caught his glares.
"Let's try this again," sighed Penelope, forcing a smile as she addressed the pairs once more, "on my count, and only on my count, you may begin. Bow and take your places please."
"I dunno why we're bothering, we all know what's going to happen," commented Zach, glancing over at Harry and Draco who were baring their teeth at each other as they bowed, and Lyra couldn't help but agree. Of course Draco was going to try something again, he was like a broken record.
"Then let's stand back and watch the show," she suggested once they took their positions, and she pocketed her want to prove her truce, "just this one time."
Zach happily shoved his wand away and joined her, itching to be a key witness of the two rivals forthcoming bust-up. "Just this one time," he repeated.
"We're simply disarming each other at this stage, no other spells please! One, two, three!" proclaimed Penelope, keeping a close eye on the Slytherin Gryffindor pair out of sheer trepidation of failing again, and she almost crumbled in defeat when Draco attempted to hit Harry with the Tickling Charm. Lyra and Zach cheered from the sidelines, enamoured by Harry's quick dodges and fast thinking as Draco threw all of the vaguely offensive spells he knew at him, and the other pairs soon abandoned their own fights to watch when Harry finally fought back.
"Petrificus Total-,"
"Expelliarmus!"
A scorching red spell bulleted out of Harry's wand, faster than any spell that had been cast today, and blasted Draco's wand out of his tight fist as though an invisible man had just slapped it away. The pure force of his opponent's spell overwhelmed him and he toppled backwards onto his arse with a soft thud, blindsided and exceedingly sore.
"Well done, Potter! That was a perfect demonstration - everyone, please take note of the way Harry is standing, you need to be positioned square on with your opponent," complimented Penelope, frantically trying to tie their encounter back to the original point of the meeting, and Harry struggled to take her compliment without flushing madly.
Draco, however, wasn't finished and the added insult of Penelope openly praising Harry for beating him exacerbated the trembling in his fist. He slicked his dishevelled hair out of his face and scrambled to his feet, desperate to continue - "Serpensortia!"
Everything ground to a vicious halt as the enchanting emerald snake flopped onto the floor between Harry and Draco, its hiss echoing in the expansive chamber as mutters fizzled out from surprise. Although the snake posed no threat, the two professors watching weren't urgent in their attempt to solve the reptile problem and the students surrounding the animal weren't particularly frightened by its presence, Lyra noticed the sudden horror on Harry's face and she felt her heartbeat drop all the way down to her feet out of dread. Something was wrong. Oh no… oh no no no-?!
Out of nowhere, the snake changed like a flick of a switch and slithered towards Penelope, hissing like a broken faucet as it moved, and Harry yelped, throwing himself in the snake's path with his hands outstretched. The hiss that came from his own lips sounded quite relaxing in contract to the snake, it was deep like the sizzle of a red hot poker dancing on ice, but Lyra couldn't focus on the snake trying to attack the club president right now - she could feel the air draining from the room around her and the sight of everyone's faces dropping roused the hair on the back of her neck like pinpricks. Their mass fright wasn't exactly subtle, there wasn't a face in the chamber that wasn't staring at Harry like he had just proclaimed his loyalty to Voldemort.
"Oh!" Lyra rushed to shout the first thing that came into her head, "wow! What an awesome and totally not threatening thing that's happening right now! Harry can talk to snakes! How cool!" She tugged on Ron's arm to inspire him to help her but the dumbstruck terror in his wide blue eyes only worsened her gut wrenches, neither him nor Hermione looked responsive or useful at this moment in time. Aw crap, maybe we should have told them?
"W-What are you doing?!" stammered Penelope, trying to inch away from both Harry and the angry snake without falling over her own shaky feet, "is it going to attack me?!"
"It's just scared," Harry spat out through his own tremors, dropping the reptilian tongue momentarily to explain his side of the story, "it doesn't mean any harm!" But his defence collapsed like damp paper when the snake continued to hiss menacingly, searching for a path around the boy in order to protect itself. Penelope looked faint once Harry started hissing again, but the sounds of Parseltongue finally snapped Professor Snape out of his stupor and he rushed to end the rubbernecking and heinous gawks with a silent mutter under his breath.
The snake combusted into a thousand tiny wisps of fire until all that remained was a feeble pile of ash, and Lyra suddenly realised how deafening and uncomfortable the silence was around her, it pressed against her eardrums as though she was drowning in the ocean and she could sense the panic rising in the boy in front of her. She had never seen Harry look so afraid before, especially in front of half the school - he needed her help, he needed to go.
"I think it's time we left, clearly your talents aren't appreciated here so let's not waste our time," Lyra broke the tense silence with a soft murmur but she heard her deep voice reverberate against the stone walls as though she was shouting. Profusely ignoring the gawks following them, Lyra snatched Harry's sweaty hand and pulled him away from the chamber, making sure to nudge both Hermione and Ron on their way out to ensure that they were coming too.
"I'm so sorry," whispered Lyra, tightening her grip on Harry's hand as the murmurs erupted behind their backs, confirming both of their fears, "I'm so so sorry-,"
"It's fine, I'm fine," Harry uttered under his breath, refusing to look anywhere but at the cracked stone tiles beneath him as his cheeks burned, "that was just… not the reaction I was hoping for."
"Since when were you a Parselmouth?!" interjected Ron once they were far enough from the duelling chamber, cautious of eavesdroppers lingering around the dungeon halls, "and why didn't you tell us?" Colour had finally returned to his face and he clutched his knees as he caught his breath. "I can't believe that just happened?!"
"Because I was afraid of you two acting like everyone in there," admitted Harry earnestly, pointing in the direction they just came from, "I saw the way you both looked at me!"
"Yeah, because it was a shock to hear!" exclaimed Hermione, fanning her flustered face as she came to terms with the new revelation, "Parseltongue is an incredibly rare ability, usually its hereditary, I wasn't aware that your ancestors were Parselmouths?"
"I wasn't aware either, I'm still not aware," huffed Harry, feeling a little embarrassed that he acted so brashly, "I'm sorry we didn't tell you."
"We?" repeated Ron with an exaggerated blink, and Lyra smiled sheepishly when he switched his gaze to her.
"Hi."
"Let me guess, you're a Parselmouth too?" he guffawed, unfazed that Lyra was aware of his newfound ability before them.
"Actually, I can touch ghosts," she confessed instead, feeling awfully guilty for harbouring her own secret, and she shamefully hid her face when their mouths dropped open, flabbergasted. "Surprise!"
"Ha, good one," snorted Ron, genuinely amused by her outlandish claim, but he gulped when he noticed how solemn Harry looked, "wait… that's not a joke?"
"Nope, did you really think Nearly Headless Nick's head just popped off one day?" Lyra challenged them.
Hermione let out a strangled laugh before covering her mouth, realising that Lyra was telling the truth, "Oh my God!"
"Tell me about it," sighed Lyra, exhausted with trying to work out that particular mystery, "don't ask me why or how because I don't know, and more importantly and most obviously - don't tell anyone."
"That's it, you two are not allowed to hang out by yourselves," decided Hermione, assuming the parent role of the group, "my heart can't handle any more secrets."
"Deal, no more secrets," agreed Harry, looking much better now the weight from his private affairs vanished from his shoulders, but all Lyra could do was nod. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell them about Hagrid's dark past - of course she did - but she knew what their reactions would be and she would be forced to reveal Tom as her source, thus opening an entirely new line of questions she wasn't prepared to answer. Everything will be much easier to explain once Tom was standing by her side, hopefully with his hand intertwining hers and his soft caressing whispers tickling her neck…
Furiously waving her daydream away out of fear of getting called out for a goofy grin she didn't know she was holding, Lyra agreed with their sentiment and repeated the promise, reflecting their grateful expressions back to them as a sign of reassurance.
"No more secrets."