The Tales of Lyra Black

by lumosmancer

Long ago, a bard named Beedle made a remarkably grievous mistake. Centuries later, his mistake fell into the hands of 2 exceptionally bright wizards & history repeated itself. 5 decades later, a cunning young wizard discovered this mistake & gave his entire life for a single drop of this power. But Death wanted revenge. And so revenge was born on All Hallows Eve, 1979...

36. Mudbloods and Mistletoe

Hogwarts became a literal ghost town on the first morning of the winter holidays. Only a muddy trail of footprints and carriage wheels lay as evidence in the snow that there had been signs of life in the grounds, and Lyra couldn't deny that she was thrilled with the way her quiet Christmas was unfolding.

The majority of the student body decided to return home to celebrate the holidays this year, and to her utmost delight her second cousins and Hermione chose to stay in Scotland with her and Harry under the guise of ensuring that they didn't get up to mischief, although Lyra knew deep down they didn't want them to be alone during the family-orientated holiday. Their underlying sentiment touched her more than she was willing to admit and their company made everything so much sweeter.

What did leave a bitter taste on her tongue, however, was the fact that all of her second cousins chose to stay at Hogwarts, Draco included. Lyra and the squad of remaining Gryffindors couldn't believe their eyes when they gathered in the Great Hall for what was supposed to be their first dinner without the entirety of the school's suspicious glares flitting towards Harry, waiting for him to petrify his next victim. The sight of the over half full Slytherin table dashed all of their dreams of having a peaceful holiday in one second flat. It looked like the Slytherin house intended to gain full reign over the castle this year, they took advantage of the other houses' fear of Harry and decided as a group to band together and rule the school.

"Looks like your pool of victims has dried up, Potter, awww too bad!" Someone heckled as they took their seats, trying not to look too sour. The unusually crowded staff table automatically glanced over at the Slytherin's exclamation as though anticipating a bickering match.

"Then it looks like you're next, Warrington!" George shouted back, rising to their bait before the youngsters of the group turned their heads, "I'd watch your back if I were you!"

"Yes, thank you Mr Weasley, settle down," Professor McGonagall raised her voice, interrupting her own jovial discussion with the rarely spotted headmaster and groundskeeper (Lyra kept her gaze fixed on her plate) to hinder the students, "and stop shouting absurd accusations, Mr Warrington, you're old enough to know better."

The grumble that stirred among the Slytherins wasn't very pleasant. Lyra could hear their insults directed towards the deputy headmistress from her seat but she stifled her giggles when Professor Snape took to his feet and glowered at his students, they fell silent at once and finally left the Gryffindors to their evening.

Draco's pale face stood out like a poisonous berry amongst a sea of onyx and emerald. Lyra subconsciously caught his eye and flashed him her falsest smile, implying that he needed to stay the hell away from them, and it grew impish when she watched him turn away in a sulk. He should know better than to cross me, he won't try anything.

"Mhmm, nothing says Christmas like a jolly old argument, eh?" sighed Lyra dreamily, inhaling the spiced cinnamon and gingerbread aroma wafting through the hall as though attempting to cover up the tension with some festive flavours, "looks like the rumours aren't dying down yet."

"And they're not going to, not with them here, I swear they've all stayed just to spite me," muttered Harry, trying not to brood at his bad luck in case he ruined the moods of those around him. The mass hysteria concerning both Harry's Parseltongue ability and the great snake sighting had combined into one terrible beast, he was the pariah of Hogwarts and anyone caught talking to him were immediately cast into the dark spotlight too.

Having grown used to being bad by association, Lyra, Hermione, and the Weasleys continued to hit back against the bad reputation labels… well, all of the Weasleys except Percy who sat away from the group. His feelings towards Harry were still frosty, and Lyra knew for a fact that Penelope was the cause of his distant attitude.

After the disaster that was the introductory Duelling Club meeting, Lyra knew that she would have to vigorously convince Penelope and Willow to remain as the president and their second, especially since Penelope was adamant in her belief that Harry was urging the snake to attack her. Lyra refused to let her treasured Duelling Club die over a little misunderstanding, they only had one meeting!

So she tracked Penelope down and accidentally stumbled across a rather intimate conversation between her and Percy in which they did very little talking. Lyra suddenly understood why he joined in with the wary whispers whenever Harry passed by when she caught him 'comforting' her. It was safe to say that the Duelling Club was still active since Lyra promised not to say anything. Aww the things we do for love…

"This will all blow over soon," assured Lyra, putting her mind into business mode, "because of the teachers' instructions no one is allowed to speak to the press about what's going on here so this fake narrative won't spread beyond these castle walls. If anything does leak then I'll send out an official statement saying that it's all lies and we'll come up with some way to prove it."

"That's not a big ask, with everyone being at home and all, they're definitely not going to talk about what's happening here," commented Ron sarcastically, but Lyra ignored him.

"I'm sure there's some way we can prove it," voiced Hermione, already racking her brain for a solution, "it's quite difficult to change the mind of an entire school though, especially since most people haven't bothered to educate themselves with the facts. Only an heir of Slytherin can control the basilisk and Harry isn't one."

"How do you know?" wondered Harry, "even I don't know."

"I checked," said Hermione brightly, retrieving a huge scroll of parchment from her bag and dumping it in front of him, "I researched your family tree and I can't find any links to Slytherin. Did you know that your grandfather was an acclaimed potioneer?"

"No I didn't," replied Harry in a slight daze, delicately unfurling the scroll to see the evidence for himself, but he quickly blinked away the sudden fogginess in his eyes and thanked her for the discovery, stuffing the parchment into his pocket for later.

"Surely we can use that as evidence, then," Ron pointed out, hoping to make their lives easy by solving their problem outright, "job done!"

"Job not done," objected Lyra, rolling her eyes at his evident mistake, "we don't know who the heir actually is, we need to find the real culprit if we want to clear Harry's name for good."

"I thought we agreed it was Malfoy?" asked Ron, somewhat perplexed by his friend's scepticism. The twins, who were merrily eavesdropping on their quiet discussion, snorted into their drinks and choked on their laughter, taken aback by Ron's claim.

"That little shit? No way," said Fred flat out.

"He doesn't have the balls to petrify someone," agreed George, "you're thinking too small, little bro."

"Oh yeah? Who do you think it is, then?" countered Ron defensively, his furrowed brow more prominent than before.

"It's gotta be an older Slytherin," elaborated Fred, absently surveying the far table as though he could read their family trees on the lines of their faces, "probably someone shy, you know the loud ones would wear their ancestral link like a badge of superiority."

"And most of them are blood purists so that doesn't narrow it down," George highlighted, and they both heaved a weighty sigh, "but it definitely ain't Malfoy."

"I dunno," Ginny piped up, voicing her own opinion, "I think it could be, he acts like he's an heir so it wouldn't surprise me."

"Still feeling salty about him attacking you?" teased Fred, ruffling her glossy hair, and Ginny shoved him away with a surprisingly fierce growl.

"You know exactly how I feel about that slimy ghoul," she huffed, shooting daggers towards the Slytherin table.

From the moment she slammed onto the floor from Draco's body-binding hex, Ginny transcended into another person. She never particularly cared about Draco in any way before but now it was blood at first sight, his curse was the catalyst that lit a fire under her arse. Ginny had no reservations about fighting Draco whenever they crossed paths in the corridors. She thrived on Draco's comebacks as he seemed to be just as vicious towards her as he was to the rest of her family, his mentions of her alleged Harry Potter Fan Club was by far the worst jab he could make. Ron had never been prouder of his baby sister before.

"What if there was a way to prove that Harry's ability isn't hereditary? Personally I haven't a clue how we could since nothing came up in my research, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to try," continued Hermione, too consumed by the mystery to eat, and she turned to catch Harry's full attention, "have you tried speaking to a teacher? I'm sure Professor Dumbledore knows more about Parseltongue than anyone."

For a moment Lyra swore someone dumped a jug of ice water over her head, her blood plummeting a few degrees at the thought of Dumbledore somehow treating Harry the same way he treated Tom, but she shook it off before her fear crept into her expression. Of course he wouldn't harm Harry, he was famous — everyone would notice if he went missing. He wouldn't be threatened by him too… would he?

There must be a reason why Lord Voldemort targeted Potter, Lyra, I told you to be careful around him, Tom's voice percolated at the back of her mind, rousing the prickles of reluctance that she had been trying to dissuade. Tom was wrong about Harry, he didn't know him like Lyra did and she knew for a cold, hard fact that he would change his mind after he met Harry in person. They had to get along, she didn't ever want to acknowledge the alternative.

"I don't know, I wouldn't know what to say to him," Harry considered Hermione's suggestion for a moment but his trepidation was painfully apparent on his face. The idea of him walking up to the headmaster and asking for advice was terribly daunting, he looked like he'd rather go and sit with the Slytherins.

Talking to Professor Dumbledore wasn't on Lyra's list of things she wanted to do. She knew she would have to face him eventually with Tom at her side and she needed to keep her distance before he considered her a threat…

But then again, she knew her new attitude wouldn't go unnoticed, if she suddenly acted cold towards him out of nowhere then he would surely suspect something was up. She was already avoiding Hagrid, she couldn't make her new awareness of their situation obvious. Avoiding Dumbledore for no reason was the last thing she needed to do. Ugh, fine… you can do this, Black, you're good at lying.

As the final sweet course of the evening appeared on the silver platters the staff began to trickle from the Great Hall and Lyra swallowed the anxious lump in her throat, plucking up the courage to act natural. She nudged Harry in the ribs and prompted him to follow her lead. He didn't look at all interested in speaking to him of his own volition so she knew she would have to kickstart the talking.

"Let's go and speak to him now," she muttered as the headmaster strolled past their table, still in a deep discussion with his deputy. She snorted when Harry jolted at her eagerness and spilled his drink down his jumper.

"What?! Now?"

"Nah, next month," scoffed Lyra, "yes now!"

"But—," he tried to fight back but Hermione cut him off and supported Lyra with her cause. When it came to motivating their male friends into doing something they didn't want to do the girls were always quick to back each other up, especially with friends as stubborn as theirs.

"Lyra's right, you should speak to him now while everyone is away," she encouraged him, "who knows when the next time we'll see him will be. He rarely ventures outside of his office so seize the opportunity while you can."

"Yeah, and the Slytherins might shut up for good if they see you talking to him," Ron added through his mouthful of chocolate trifle, "mate it's always worth asking."

"He's getting away, go go go!" Lyra relentlessly poked Harry until he begrudgingly agreed. The pair leapt from the table, promising to spill the beans back in the tower afterwards, and chased after the scattering of professors, not daring to glance over at the nosy Slytherins tracking their departure in case they spoke up again.

Most of the staff had already vanished when they caught up to the heads of the school. Their intense conversation slowed them down significantly and they lingered on the stairs, voices low and gentle so it wouldn't resonate in the domed ceiling of the Entrance Hall. Countless alarm bells started to ring inside Lyra's head as they approached Dumbledore. Tom's words of caution started to replay as she analysed the headmaster from afar and she inadvertently shielded her conscience from potential, non-consensual invasions before Dumbledore could even think about reading her mind. Remember what Tom said; picture a blank piece of parchment, a cloudy sky, allow your brain to harden and protect itself from his intrusions.

"Er, Professor Dumbledore?" Lyra bit the bullet and shouted across the Entrance Hall, hoping her exclamation would stop the headmaster in his tracks before he left. Thankfully he stopped and smiled at the second years who were desperate for his attention. Professor McGonagall hesitated at the sight of Lyra's innocent smile as though debating whether she needed to stay and observe, but at Dumbledore's subtle nod she kept her comments to herself and left the trio alone.

"Miss Black," Dumbledore greeted with another gentle bow of his head, "Mr Potter, how may I be of assistance on this fine evening?"

His piercing gaze shifted from Harry to Lyra and she clenched her fists inside her pockets, straining to stay planted in the mindless trail of nothingness protecting her thoughts. It was rather difficult though, Professor Dumbledore was wearing a set of plush ruby red robes embellished with jade thistles and she appreciated the pretty fabric, subconsciously brainstorming festive sewing patterns of her own. Kreacher would look pretty damn funny in a set like that.

"Oh right," Lyra shoved the design ideas out of her head and presented Dumbledore with her most charming smile, "as I'm sure you heard from Warrington's kind words back there that Harry is currently enemy number one because everyone found out that he's a Parselmouth," she picked up speed as the honesty spewed out of her, "and we're trying to figure out a way to prove to everyone that Harry obviously isn't doing this but also Harry doesn't know how or why he can talk to snakes and we thought that you would be able to help us work this out?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore after a moment's pause, the silvery hairs on his top lip quivering as though fighting a smile, "yes, I have heard the latest rumours sweeping the castle. From what I understand you defended Miss Clearwater from the snake conjured during your Duelling Club?" He patiently looked to Harry for confirmation.

Harry's shoulders almost slumped from relief. He clearly didn't expect Lyra's blunt explanation to receive a positive response, and he nodded, his chin a little higher than before.

"Yes sir, but the snake was terrified, it was only trying to protect itself," he explained, trying not to nervously ramble on about innate details.

"Mhmm, and then Snape murdered it," tutted Lyra, emphasising the preposterous act that Snape committed in front of a chamber full of children in the hopes of persuading Dumbledore into firing her Potions Master, "I mean, that's what everyone should be talking about really, not Harry saving Penelope's life with his awesome snake powers. A poor, innocent snake died!"

"Snape always ruins everything," agreed Harry under his breath, and his cheeks tinged pink when he realised Dumbledore heard him.

"Professor Snape acted appropriately in that situation, Lyra," said Dumbledore, observing her over his half-moon spectacles, his arched brow implying his amusement at her comments, "but I do agree with your sentiment that Harry's quick-thinking was, as you phrased it, awesome."

Ah… damn it he's being cool. Lyra separated her internal grumbles from her shielded mind and nodded, deciding to hurry their interaction along.

"Exactly! So, um, do you know anything about Parselmouths?"

"As a matter of fact I do," Dumbledore shed some light onto their problem and the knots in Lyra's stomach unravelled with a fierce flutter, grateful for the new intel, "and I think it would be best that we move this conversation upstairs to my office, away from prying ears. There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you, Harry, and I believe now is a better time than ever to divulge."

The scraps of the benches coming from the direction of the Great Hall indicated that they were about to be interrupted, and Harry eagerly agreed to his terms.

Lyra, assuming that she was free to leave, turned to head back to her friends in the hall but Harry grabbed her arm, silently urging her to stay with him. She really didn't want to linger around the headmaster any longer than she already had but she had no choice. She could never say no to her best friend when he needed her help, especially when he was pouting.

The moment Lyra stepped inside the headmaster's busy office, however, she immediately sensed the gazes of the portraits hanging on the walls. Her face heated like their eyes were blinding laser beams and she mentally patted herself on the back for conforming to Harry's wish.

An echo of Andromeda's voice stirred at the front of her mind as she quietly followed Harry and Dumbledore inside. She was related to one of the men in the pictures, but which one? There was so much to look at in his office, concentrating on one magical artefact at a time was a tough ask of her.

The looming weight of the dozen pairs of oily eyes watching her evaporated as curiosity grasped her. She snapped her head up towards them in search of her ancestor, ignoring the pair at the headmaster's desk. Lyra wanted Harry to have the confidence to talk about his problems without her aid so she dawdled, her mind racing. Crap, what was his name? Did Andy mention it at all? …Phil? Nah, it's definitely more ignorant than that…

"Uh, Perseus?" Lyra shouted up at the high gallery, struggling to think of stars that sounded obnoxious enough to be a Black name, "Pegasus? Wait, no, that's dumb. Cygnus? I feel like I saw a Cygnus on the wall at Draco's house."

She scanned the crooked rows of paintings in an intense game of 'Guess Who' while a slightly embarrassed Harry pretended that Lyra's random outbursts were commonplace.

"Haha, uh, Lyra? What are you doing?" He laughed awkwardly from his armchair, glaring at her to stop acting weird in front of the famous headmaster, but she didn't notice.

A few of the portraits chuckled, side-eyeing each other as though they were sharing an inside joke, and Lyra noticed a mousy, fragile witch dressed in a terribly aged ballgown reaching over to her neighbour and patting his arm with her wrinkled lips pursed. That's him! The elderly gentleman sulking in the corner of his ornate frame tried to throw her arm off, refusing to meet the gaze of his heir despite the mutters from his painted predecessors provoking him.

"Helloooo!" She sang, trying to catch his bright eye as she stood on her tiptoes, waving up at him, "I know you can hear me, why won't you look at me?"

"Phineas, don't be like this," tutted the mousy elderly witch, crossing her arms in scrutiny, "you've been saying for years that you wanted to meet your descendant—,"

"Not this descendant! If you think I'm talking to her then you are sorely mistaken," he spat with venom dripping from his sharp tongue, "I cannot believe that the Black name has finally fallen from grace, it is in the hands of a literal child! We're ruined!"

Phineas-Nigellus eventually removed himself from the corner and sneered at Lyra over his hunched shoulder, making his disdain as blatant as possible. Damn, why are all of my relatives so dramatic?

"Why? What have I done now?" she asked as Harry and Dumbledore neglected their own chat to join her. When Phineas-Nigellus turned around at the sound of her cheek to scold her for disrespecting her elders, she noticed the reptilian crest on his formal professor's robe and groaned in exasperation. I should have known!

"Aww don't tell me it's because I'm in Gryffindor—,"

"HOW COULD YOU CHOOSE GRYFFINDOR?!" He cut over her whining like an imploding bomb and he grew three times in size as he gripped the edges of the frame, yelling until his throat tore, "truly never did I think that this day would come — two generations of Blacks not sorted into Slytherin?! And into Hufflepuff and now Gryffindor!" He spat outside of his frame, "Merlin forbid you ever have children! Shame on you!"

"Charming, aren't you like a hundred years old? You should know better than to scream at a helpless young child such as myself," scoffed Lyra, rolling her eyes at his conservative opinion as she decided how far she should go. Before she raised his metaphorical blood pressure further, Professor Dumbledore stepped forwards and caught the old headmaster's attention.

"Lyra is an intelligent and incredibly motivated student, Phineas, I can assure you that your legacy is absolutely fine," he told him, offering him a warm smile to soften his bitter disposition. Phineas-Nigellus still looked deeply perturbed by Lyra's existence and he blinked hard at his wishful thinking.

The longer Lyra stared at the painting she noticed familial features that she saw in herself, but it only exacerbated the sinking feeling in her gut. Tonks was right, their family was the worst! Why were they all so quick to judge? Phineas-Nigellus couldn't care less about her so she accepted her estranged great uncle's grimace with a false smile.

"I hold no hope that the child will continue to uphold the values the house of Black have treasured for centuries," the shrewd painting snarled, his gaunt high cheeks puckering at the demise of the noble house of Black, "I should have known Walburga's eldest would cause nothing but grief for this family, there will be nothing left of our legacy soon."

"Phineas!" scolded the mousy witch once more.

"Oh, so you heard about vault transfers?" teased Lyra, wiggling her eyebrows, "your brother sure had a lot of gold in his vault, well, in what was his vault."

Phineas-Nigellus turned a shade so white that the wispy silver hairs on his chin virtually darkened as he choked on his own gasps of disbelief.

"You WHAT?! My brother died before he reached the age of nine! That vault was the only possession of his we had left?!"

Lyra exaggerated her pout and shrugged. "Whoops!"

"Now is neither the time nor the place for this kind of discussion," interjected Dumbledore, directing most of his silence-inducing stares towards the painting rather than at the impish second year, "Phineas, lest you forget that Lyra is in charge of the Black estate despite what you may think, and I do believe that she is doing a wonderful job. She is being mildly responsible for a girl her age so please do not worry."

"Yeah! We technically own a dragon! I bet you never brought something as valuable as a literal dragon into the Black accounts?" she chirped, batting her lashes up at Phineas who looked as though he had spent hours sucking on a lemon slice.

"Technically you own half a dragon," Harry corrected her.

"Our family once owned an entire fleet of dragons, that does not impress me," spat Phineas through gritted teeth, "I still have no faith in you, child, and from what I've heard you're just like your father—,"

"UM EXCUSE ME?!" Lyra yelled, utterly thrown by his comments, but the sudden burst of defensive complaints from the rest of the paintings drowned her out as they snapped at their neighbour in disgust.

"Now really, Phineas, that was unwarranted!"

"Perhaps it is time we left Professor Black to his musings, we have something far more important to discuss and we don't want to become too distracted," Dumbledore raised his voice again and herded the curious second years away from the paintings and back towards his desk.

Still feeling the daggers of her distant uncle on her back, Lyra snuggled into the armchair beside Harry's and tried not to dwell on Phineas' words too much. If he truly knew what she was capable of, if he really knew her upward trajectory on the path to greatness then he would be on his knees thanking the wizard gods that she was a Black. I'm nothing like him! I'm not a bloody murderer?!

"Before we begin," prefaced Dumbledore, offering the pair a steaming mug of tea to keep the mood light between them, "I want to thank you for coming to me with this, Harry, I am more than happy to help guide you on your search for information and I assure you that your ability makes you no different to any of the other students here."

Lyra side-eyed Harry as she sipped her tea, using her wiggling brows to signal that she told him so, and Harry didn't even attempt to hide his eye roll.

"I suppose so, but I just don't understand why? Or how? No one's ever mentioned that there are Parselmouths in my family," he explained tiredly, fighting the urge to rub his eyes, "everyone keeps saying I'm the one attacking people but I'm not."

"I know you're not," assured Dumbledore, and Lyra focused only on the beige liquid swirling around in the mug, trying to get lost in its dull colour. Of course you don't think it's him, because you know exactly who is attacking people!

"Do you remember what I told you at the end of last year?" Dumbledore continued, leaning on his clasped hands as he observed the boy, "after your encounter with Quirinus?"

Lyra flinched violently, not expecting to hear her ex-professor's name out of the blue. She covered it poorly as a cough but she knew the headmaster noticed.

"About my scar?"

"Yes, about your scar," confirmed Dumbledore slowly, the debate of how far he should go taking place behind his luminous eyes, "the reason you can speak Parseltongue is because Lord Voldemort can speak Parseltongue, I believe that on the night he gave you your scar he also relinquished some of his powers onto you—,"

The rest of Dumbledore's explanation faded as a loud buzzing filled Lyra's ears, she focused all of her might on keeping her face neutral but the cold sweat rolling down her back wasn't helping. Harry never told her or their friends about this. Maybe Tom was right… Why was Voldemort targeting Harry? Does he know that he accidentally gave his main target an advantage? What else can Harry do? Her brain continued to whirl with more and more anxious 'what ifs' scenarios until her stomach knotted out of dread. What if everyone found out about this? She knew her best friend obviously wasn't a dark wizard, if anything he was the complete opposite. He had the purest heart out of anyone she knew, but that wouldn't matter to the public once they heard the truth behind the infamous tale. This could get really ugly…

Lyra finished the rest of her tea in one gulp and kept her mouth shut, fretfully trying to calm her nervous wriggles as she tuned back into what the headmaster was talking about, but she couldn't stop worrying about the boy beside her. Harry looked just as affronted as her by the revelation and it gave her a shot of confidence that she didn't know she needed. He didn't know either. See! Not a bad wizard! He's not Voldemort, stop overreacting Lyra!

"—I can attest to your character, your Parseltongue talents do not define who you are, Harry," concluded Dumbledore, using his warmest tone of voice to exemplify how he felt about Harry's powers, "but may I suggest that you keep this to yourself? I imagine that you wouldn't want your classmates to find out."

Harry nodded furiously and wiped the look of apprehension from his face, relaxing into the new knowledge with surprising strength.

"Yeah, something is telling me that not many people will understand," he sighed, side-eyeing Lyra, and she snorted.

"Oh yeah, because everyone here is so sympathetic," she muttered under her breath, making him smirk, but she nibbled on her lip when Dumbledore switched his gaze back to her.

"I don't doubt that you already have a retraction letter prepared back in your dormitory ready to be sent off at a moment's notice, Miss Black," he commented, a thread of humour weaved into his words, "I thoroughly enjoyed the news article on our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, your photographs were very well-shot."

"Thanks," she muttered, but the end of her true thought unintentionally fell out of her mouth, "but why did you hire Lockhart, sir? And why haven't you fired him?"

Harry seized up and tried not to flush from second-hand embarrassment.

Professor Dumbledore settled back in his mahogany throne and mulled over her question before offering her an honest answer.

"Many people believe that the job position is cursed, Hogwarts has not been able to keep a Defence professor longer than a year in decades. Searching for someone who is willing to take the vacancy is much harder than you think, my dear, and Professor Lockhart was more than enthusiastic at taking the prospective position," he admitted airily, and Lyra nodded along. He must have been very desperate, at least he won't be here next year!

"Then I really hope that you find someone decent enough for next year," she told him, trying not to grin at the prospect of Gilderoy leaving, and Dumbledore allowed himself a small chuckle.

"I shall do my very best, Miss Black," he agreed, and he straightened his posture once more, assuming a more authoritative sitting stance as he loomed over them, "I'm afraid I do have other matters to attend to this evening so unfortunately we will have to wrap this up. Is there anything else you would like to talk about before we end?"

The sparkling new idea popped into Lyra's head just as Harry opened his mouth to say no and she nodded, encouraging him with a pointed look to mention the voices he had been hearing.

She knew attempting to unearth the actual truth from the secretive headmaster would be an impractical task, but that didn't mean she couldn't try. Tom was counting on her to help him, everything needed to come to light eventually so she might as well get the ball rolling. Her friends needed to discover Dumbledore's true nature soon enough.

"There is one more thing," she began, and she leant over to Harry, speaking out the side of her mouth, "tell him about the voices."

"Oh yeah," Harry wasn't put off by her suggestion, he agreed that it was just as important, he was just as desperate to find out the truth of the attacks, "I've been hearing voices in the walls, and we think it might be the creature that's attacking people."

"It's a basilisk," Lyra clarified, "Filch says he saw the back of a giant snake just seconds before he found his cat. We think Harry's been hearing the basilisk in the walls."

Something dawned over Dumbledore's quaint expression. Lyra wasn't sure what exactly it was but it dampened the twinkle in his eyes and the lines visible through his trailing beard on his face darkened.

"When did you hear these voices? What do they say?" he asked in a voice thicker than before.

"It's either really late at night or before dawn, always on the morning of the attacks too," said Harry quickly, noticing the change in mood, "and they're always talking about killing everyone, it's really horrible."

He stole a glimpse at Lyra in confusion, wondering what he had said that unnerved the headmaster, but she didn't meet his eyes - hers were fixed on Dumbledore. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

It wasn't obvious at first, searching for the tell in the fiercely still face of the professional elderly man before her was difficult. He clearly had trained himself well over the years to hide his secrets from bleeding into his expression, but then the thinly veiled vein in his temple throbbed, betraying his clenched teeth. She couldn't work out what emotion was pulsing through him yet, but she was growing more determined to find out.

"What do you think, professor?" she asked innocently, blinking up at him. An image of the powdery white snow outside filled her brain, the blankness swallowed her frantic thoughts and she let her questions spill out, "how did the basilisk end up inside the castle? Who would let an illegal, dangerous beast run rampant around a bunch of school children? I mean, who do we all know who could obtain something like that?"

Her implication that Hagrid was involved was more obvious than she intended. Keeping sarcasm from seeping into her tone was hard but she screwed her face up in false intrigue and looked to her friend as though she shared his confusion.

"I don't believe that anyone here would intentionally unleash a basilisk into Hogwarts. It is just as much a mystery to me as it is to the rest of the school, but that does not mean we are not doing everything in our power to capture the culprit responsible," answered Dumbledore after clearing his throat, but Lyra could see he was still lost in a private thought, "and I hope that your enthusiasm on the subject doesn't meant that the pair of you intend to go searching for the creature?"

"No, of course not," assured Harry.

"We don't want to get petrified, we would never do such a thing!" added Lyra, although she hid her smirk when Harry jabbed her for adding a touch of sarcasm.

"Thank you for your honesty," said Dumbledore, relaxing into a gentle smile once more, "I will choose to believe it. Although it worries me that you can hear the basilisk, I truly do appreciate you informing me of this matter, Harry. Coming forward and admitting this despite being a suspect was very valiant of you and I commend you on your strength."

"Oh, it was nothing, I just wanted to be useful," he said bashfully, scratching his neck to avoid meeting his proud gaze, and Lyra smirked to herself. I can't wait to say I told you so!

"So you don't have any idea who's using the basilisk to attack people?" Lyra tried one final time, hoping to extrapolate something remotely useful from the stoic man. Dumbledore shook his head, seemingly disappointed with himself.

"I'm afraid I don't."

YES YOU DO?! STOP LYING!

The unexpected force of her anger rocketed through her and leaked into her thoughts, and Lyra made the huge mistake of matching the headmaster's powerful gaze with a stern one of her own. She couldn't take it anymore, the internal scream echoed around her skull — and for a split second Dumbledore's face fell.

He heard her.

And then Lyra felt it.

The prods were gentle at first. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight as the invisible pokes stemming from Dumbledore's gleaming blue eyes attempted to violate her conscience. It was like someone had trapped her between two opposing magnets, she could feel the pull of the forces at work but she closed off her mind and fought back.

The mental prods seized, they bounced off her brain like flesh rubber and Lyra tried not to wince. Don't react to his Legilimency, act as though you are unaware of what you are doing, Tom once instructed her when he taught her how to protect her mind, act innocent, Black, that's what you were born to do.

"Then I guess we better get going, thanks for your help anyways professor," Lyra sighed, assuming a more casual facade before breaking their intense eye contact.

Acting as though she couldn't feel the tugs of the Legilimens in front of her was harder than she thought but she figured she had done a sufficient enough job when Dumbledore uttered his agreement and accompanied them to the door, acting as though he wasn't trying to read her mind. As she followed Harry out of the office, however, she felt his oncoming mental invasion again. They were poking her shoulders and prodding at her mind, the shadow hands only she could see were restless this time and it irked her.

Lyra mentally batted them away and tightened her security measures. It snapped down, catching his fingers in its jaws, and the hands vanished.

She kept her eyes on her shoes, fighting the urge to look back. He really wanted to know what she was thinking and his perseverance scared her.

"Stay safe," Dumbledore wished as he watched them descend his spiral stairs, "and please come and visit if you have any more questions."

Lyra felt him on her back right up until they emerged fully into the corridor below his tower where she was finally free. She heaved a sigh and watched the heavy snowfall beyond the hallway for a moment, reeling from their meeting with a pant, but Harry's relentless relief at having the headmaster on his side brightened the corridor around her.

"It's good to know that he doesn't suspect me," he admitted, smiling out at the snow storm as they headed towards the Gryffindor Tower, "at least I don't have to worry about getting expelled."

"That's true," Lyra agreed, shoving her worries to one side for now, "but one thing we do need to worry about is the possibility of everyone finding out you possess some of Voldemort's powers, which by the way, is pretty badass."

The mention of the revelation extinguished the joy in Harry's face and he pouted, a little alarmed by her reminder.

"Is it badass? I think it's pretty terrifying."

"It's both, it's terrifyingly badass," she compromised, being wary of the fear behind his glasses, "try not to dwell on it though, at least you have an explanation as to why you can talk to snakes. Dumbledore didn't seem concerned so we shouldn't be."

Lyra wasn't too certain how true that statement was but she tried not to linger on it. Dumbledore genuinely didn't seem threatened by Harry, so why should she? Why should Tom?

"You should have told him about your ghost thing though," Harry told her, side-eyeing her to gauge her reaction, "he might know something about it, he said to go to him with any questions we had."

"I dunno," Lyra murmured, trying not to think too much about her ghostly interactions in comparison to his abilities, "Nick said I shouldn't tell anyone, I feel like he included Dumbledore in that list so I don't want to make a mistake… He would've told me to go to a teacher if that was an option."

Harry didn't look particularly convinced but he begrudgingly dropped the subject and nodded. "Ok, but only if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Lyra repeated, "but enough about me, let's talk about how we're going to break the news to the others that you're Voldemort reincarnate! Talk about a plot twist! I vote that you put in some red contact lenses and when someone mentions them you just casually slip into conversation that you're part Voldemort."

"One, that sounds like a lot of effort for something that isn't even true, I just have some of his powers, nothing more. Two, where would I even find red contact lenses, and three — ha, very funny," he grumbled, purposely knocking into her as they turned a corner, but Lyra set his mind at rest that she wasn't going to joke about it anymore with another one of her pretty smiles.

"Fine, be boring and tell them using just your words I guess, you do you," she sighed, letting him stifle her creativity and her humour just this one time. Harry chortled at her disappointment but it was very clear that he appreciated her benign behaviour towards his latest revelation concerning the Dark Lord that continued to haunt him, she didn't see it as a problem. He didn't have to express his gratitude,

Lyra could feel it in his laughter and in the way he looked at her, and she gave herself yet another pat on the back for successfully helping one of her two neglected close friends.

---

"Lyra! Apollo is here!"

"Ayyy he made it!" Lyra squealed, sprinting out of the girls dormitory bathroom and over to the window where her beautiful barn owl stood waiting on the snowy ledge, impatiently flapping his wings against the closed pane.

She sent him off to Weymouth in the late hours of her previous evening to deliver Danielle's Christmas present with the knowledge that she probably wouldn't see him for a couple of days, but just like his owner he was incredibly determined. Spending her Christmas morning with her owl was becoming a tradition and she didn't want to miss out this year, it was her fault she was late posting her gifts, he shouldn't have to suffer for her mistakes.

"Merry Christmas buddy!" she exclaimed at her owl, pecking kisses on his snow-flecked feathery head as he hopped inside, "that must've been your fastest journey yet, who's a good boy!"

Apollo chirped and nuzzled into her hair, basking in her praise as he kicked the tartan wrapped package from his talons, already annoyed by the present's tinsel bow catching on his claws.

"Aw he's so cute," sighed Ginny, climbing out of Sally-Ann's bed and coming over to greet the somehow still energised owl, "that's it — I'm getting an owl next year."

Since they were the only girls in the tower they thought it was only fair that Ginny moved into their dorm for the holidays. Sally-Ann was more than happy to offer up her bed for the first year guest since she was the tidiest roommate behind Hermione.

"I told you that you shouldn't have listened to Ron, Tonks and I had a way cooler idea, you should've bought that tiny pygmy owl! He was so adorable and he was ginger like you!" reminded Lyra, fishing out her present for Apollo from her trunk, "why the hell would you want a pet rat? They do literally nothing, no offence to Scabbers of course."

"Scabbers has never done anything ever, besides somehow living for like ten years longer than expected," agreed Ginny, rolling her eyes, "you know, he should be dead by now, that's the only thing he's got going for him."

"I don't know, he's very intelligent for a rat," voiced Hermione as she unwrapped her overstuffed stocking from her parents, enthralled by her new school bag and it's many compartments, "he seems to understand Ron's instructions whenever he asks him to do something, that's an impressive skill."

"Still, he's one of a kind and rats can't deliver letters. I'm not buying a rat, owls are the way to go," decided Ginny, giggling as Apollo affectionately nipped her fingers.

Lyra offered her owl his gift and relished in his reaction; he hooted excitedly and tore it open in a single slash, delighted at the overwhelming selection of vermin to choose from. "Yeah, you really can't beat them, but I still want to adopt a cat, a dog, a snake, another dragon, an Occamy—,"

"I hope you're not planning on bringing all of these 'pets' to Hogwarts," interjected Hermione, fearing for their dormitory's safety as she pursed her lips. Lyra hesitated and decided not to answer, but her impish grin was very telling. I can make a cage for the Occamy? That'll work, right?

"Lord help us," Hermione muttered to herself, trying not to smile at her friend's miscreant dreams.

Lyra unwrapped Danielle's present and tried to blink away the sting of her tears. She smoothed out the cropped Beetlejuice t-shirt, touched by her sharp memory and kind heart, but she couldn't quite read all of her accompanying letter.

Her key worker missed her dearly but Lyra could tell she was disheartened by her infrequent replies. She picked out the misery from within her words despite Danielle never explicitly writing 'are you ok? You're not writing to me'. What made her feel worse was that she wasn't doing it on purpose, her time was spread so thin that she didn't have time to respond to every letter she received, but deep down she knew Danielle would understand when she finally meets Tom. She'll be so proud of you, just think of the end goal.

After making sure that her reply to Danielle was one hundred percent complete so she could send it off once Apollo was fully rested, Lyra snuck her diary from underneath her pillow and turned away from the other two in the dorm so she could talk to Tom before she started her action-packed day. The boys had planned an exhaustingly long snowball fight and she didn't know when she would get to talk to him, she didn't want to keep him waiting… or rather, she couldn't stand another waking moment without knowing what he was thinking. The Christmas gift she wanted most.

"Merry Christmas, my girl," wrote Tom, beating her pen to the jump, "I hope you receive everything your heart desires, you deserve the world and more."

Now he's doing this on purpose!

"Merry Christmas Tom," she scrawled using the new peacock quill and glittery ink Hermione had gifted her, "sadly the present I want most is the one gift I can't have… and I can't give you anything either so this holiday seems pointless."

"I wouldn't say that too hastily, Black, the day has only just begun," he told her, "you have no idea what magic is in the air, Christmas is supposed to be a very special time of year… You may receive your gift before the day is done."

Lyra blinked, windswept and illuminated at what Tom was inferring, and she scribbled back as fast as her cramped fingers allowed.

"You shouldn't tease me, Riddle, don't get my hopes up."

"What are you hoping for?"

"I…" Lyra took a deep breath and battled through her blush to finish her brief intimate thought, "I think you already know what I'm hoping for, and it requires you being here in person."

She didn't want to say it outright. She wanted nothing more than to find him underneath some mistletoe in a dark corner of the castle but she knew that would never happen. She still hadn't obtained the last ingredient on Tom's list - venom from one of the world's rarest snakes. This particular venom was stored in Snape's private storage cupboard in his classroom that was oftentimes locked, and she had no chance of sneaking it during a lesson since the term was over. She would have to wait until the new year to put her sticky fingers to the test, but that wasn't good enough for Lyra.

I want him here now—!

"Lyra? You coming?" Ginny piped up, interrupting her daydream, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Lyra chirped, using her jolt of shock to her advantage by kicking her diary into her backpack as it fell from her lap. She shoved half of her bothersome hair out of her face with a festive scrunchie and blamed her foolish grin on her love of her new cropped tee. With a breath of relief as the girls drank up her excuses, Lyra left the girls tower with her backpack sling over her shoulder and her stomach gushing with an emotion stronger than flapping butterflies. It was like a creature had rooting itself inside of her and it was purring, it was way more intense and she was almost nervous to see what would happen to her if they grew stronger.

As expected, the boys complained about how long they took before greeting them properly, and Ginny immediately scoffed as she realised they all had opened the obligatory knitted jumpers without them.

"Wow, even you opened yours without me, Percy?!" she exclaimed, glaring at the spectacled brother curled up on the sofa who looked awfully guilty, "I thought you were the responsible one!"

"I didn't realise what it was until it was too late," he spat his excuse out before the tops of his sister's ears bloomed with fury, and Lyra happily watched as Ginny scolded her brothers for not waiting for her, looking very much like a mini Molly as she put her hands on her hips.

"I notice that you're not including Harry in this," grumbled Ron under his breath halfway through her ramblings, scowling at her as he jabbed his thumb at his sheepish-looking friend, and Ginny flushed.

"Harry isn't my brother, he can do whatever the hell he likes," she pointed out, fighting with herself to keep cool as she looked at Harry who looked visibly relieved.

His own Weasley creation was deep emerald with a crinkled gold initial and Lyra showed her approval with a nod before desperately searching for her own in the piles of carefully wrapped gingham gifts. With the added resources it looked like Molly had the time and gold to go above and beyond for the children remaining at Hogwarts this year, Lyra had been looking forward to unveiling what design Molly had picked for her for weeks!

"Aw Hermione! It looks like you've got one too!" sang Lyra, emerging from under the extravagantly decorated Christmas tree with a squishy present above her head, and the apples of Hermione's cheeks glowed as she unwrapped her own sweater, speechless from the matriarch's sentiment. Hers was a beautiful pale peach with a rich brown H, it complimented her skin perfectly and she immediately got to work writing Molly a thank you card.

"No way," Ron gasped as Lyra tore open her gingham parcel whose label bore her name, and she squealed as she held up the gorgeous obsidian roll-neck jumper embellished with a steely grey star that faintly twinkled. It was quite subtle but that only made it that much more beautiful, and Lyra hurried to pull it on."Yours lights up! That's so unfair!"

"And you have a dad that didn't try to murder you," countered Lyra, her smile never faltering from her morbid comment as Ron immediately quietened down, "I've had a tough life, I think I deserve a light-up jumper."

"My parents are dead, mine doesn't light up," Harry pointed up, cupping his hands over the H on his chest to see if it sparkled, "talk about unfair."

"Then I'm clearly the favourite orphan," Lyra explained as though it made total sense, winking at him.

The rest of the morning followed with more present opening as they scoffed down freshly baked mince pies and as much chocolate as they could feasibly hold in their stomachs. Lyra cherished the looks on all of her friends and families' faces as they unwrapped her gifts and thanked her profusely for her thoughtfulness.

The dose of euphoria that entered her system every time she gave, whether it be an expensive, indulgent purchase ("LYRA?! YOU BOUGHT ME A BROOM?!" shrieked Ginny, blowing everyone's eardrums from her excruciating volume as Lyra handed her the uniquely-shaped present) or a basic piece of advice that eased the pain of a friend, brought her a sense of justice and purpose. Especially after meeting Phineas-Nigellus.

She saw it as her way of righting the wrongdoings of the Blacks that came before her, her life experiences were miles apart from her ancestors' and it was the least she could do in terms of healing any hurt they may have caused. She was the head of the Black family, after all, she may as well try and bring actual glory and empathy to the name for once. I wonder if I should try talking to Myrtle again…?

Once the majority of their chocolate had settled, the Gryffindors excluding the eldest braced themselves for what turned out to be the most adventurous snowball fight they had experienced in their lives. Since they had the grounds to themselves they decided to spread their match out across the entire castle and grounds, no limits on where they could hide.

Ginny, who luckily was still attached to her new Cleansweep Seven (Molly already warned Lyra against buying her a Nimbus 2000 when she wrote to ask her permission to buy her daughter such a lavish expense, all six of her sons would be seething with envy and she didn't have the energy to fight) took the skies to try and outfly her brothers' onslaught of snowballs but she quickly dismounted in defeat and chased the twins around the west courtyards, soaked head to toe from their attacks. Hermione only lasted half an hour before declaring surrender and retreating to one of the warmer courtyards to watch instead, shouting her apologies as Lyra and Ginny lost tremendously in every single unbalanced match of boys versus girls.

By the time they scoffed down their Christmas lunch and defrosted in front of the fire back in the Gryffindor tower, the last rays of sunlight had long disappeared beyond the horizon and they decided to stick to the tower, exhausted from their day of activities. They ended their evening together as a group with a family game night that Hermione helpfully organised, her parents sent her a plethora of Muggle board games to entertain the kids over the break and she managed to lure Percy into joining them when she suggested he could read the rule books thoroughly first.

Fresh off her win from beating everyone at Cluedo, Lyra excused herself from the high-spirited circle before they started another round to please Ron who swore she cheated, scooped her backpack up from the floor, and skipped over to the bay window with only one thing on her mind. She had resisted the instinctual lovesick tugs drawing her towards her bag all day, it hooked behind her navel like an anchor and never budged. She couldn't stop thinking about what would happen when she inevitably came face to face with Tom, but now she needed to itch her persistent scratch before she went mad. She had put it off for long enough, surely she wouldn't look suspicious now?

Hiking her knees up to hide her treasured diary, Lyra watched the circle on the floor for a moment before daring to flick the book open, her gel pen in hand for extra subtlety.

"Tom…?"

"Yes, my girl?"

"What you said earlier, about me possibly receiving my gift today," she carefully wrote, not noticing how hard she was biting her lip, "did you really mean that?"

"I would never lead you on," he answered truthfully, "you could never comprehend how much my soul yearns for you, Black, it would never betray me so I know that what we have is realer than the ink on this page. My new goal is you — nothing else matters to me except you, and I am doing everything in my power to get to you — so yes, I really meant that."

Lyra reread his declaration three times, floating away on her wave of bliss.

"Good, because I'm really impatient, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this—,"

"What are you grinning at?"

The jutting of Lyra's already racing heart antagonised her chest as she jumped, and she shielded her diary with her arms from Harry who had jumped into the empty space opposite her, shuffling back against the wall so he didn't slouch.

It was too late to hide the diary completely, she could tell by his darting gaze that he had already noticed it.

"What are you doing? Writing?"

"Excuse me, keep your eyes to yourself please!" instructed Lyra, hoping she sounded somewhat normal as she exaggerated her attempt to hide the book, "this is extremely top secret!"

"Mhm, if you say so," Harry laughed off her dramatics but he still couldn't stop trying to take a peek between her arms, "seriously though, what are you doing?"

"If you must know, I'm writing in my very, very secret diary which should tell you everything you need to know," she half-admitted, propping her chin up with her unmoving crossed arms, and Harry looked rather surprised.

"I didn't know you had a diary," he muttered.

"That's the point, duh," Lyra couldn't help rolling her eyes, sometimes he could be so dense! "It wouldn't be very secret if I let anybody read it, would it?"

"Not even me?" he tried, feigning hurt to amuse her, "your bestest friend?"

"Pffft, don't try and use the puppy eyes trick on me, that's my move," she saw to his tactics straight away when she spotted his forced lip wobble, "quit now while you're ahead, I'm not letting you read my private thoughts. These entries are for my eyes only."

"It was worth a try," he shrugged, pretending as though he didn't care but Lyra could still see him trying to catch a glimpse of her diary before she shoved it in her back pocket out of view. She prayed that Tom wouldn't mind the interruption but she couldn't help but feel a little irritated that Harry ruined their moment.

"Lyra, has Kreacher found Dobby yet?" He asked, fidgeting slightly at the prospect of hearing bad news, and Lyra sadly shook her head.

"No, not yet," she sighed, Tom temporarily slipping from her mind, "last time I asked he said he still hadn't found any clues as to where he went. House elf magic is a lot stronger than you think, Dobby must be combating Kreacher in some way, but he swore he's still trying."

But Harry didn't look swayed whatsoever, his brow furrowed deeper but he instantly softened it when Lyra dropped her head in dismay. I knew it…

"Kreacher's not trying, is he? He's never gonna treat me like his actual mistress."

"I didn't say that," he told her firmly.

"You didn't have to, you have a really expressive face," she huffed back, but the nudge of his foot convinced her to meet his eye again, urging her to listen to him.

"Whether Kreacher likes it or not, you are the best mistress he has had and probably will ever have," Harry explained, hoping to deter her negative thinking, "he's not stupid, he knows that you're too good to him and he knows he would be making a huge mistake if he loses you. I think that he is trying, but the reason he can't find Dobby is because something terrible has happened, I just have a really bad feeling about him and it won't leave."

Harry's opinion on the matter relaxed her stiff disposition and Lyra pouted, matching his worry and ultimately brightening up a little. Maybe it wasn't her, maybe it was something else.

"That's a different way to look at it, I suppose you could be right," she admitted with a shiver, "with the way this year is turning out it looks like the Malfoys aren't above a little bit of homicide."

"Who knows, maybe Dobby knows something about what's going on here, he did warn me not to come back to school," Harry dropped his voice. He had clearly been thinking about this for some time, "so that must mean Malfoy knows something about all this. We have to find out what's going on, all the Slytherins are here for a reason."

Lyra arched a brow, tempted by his conclusion.

"So… what are you suggesting, Potter?" She drawled, hugging her knees so she could lean even closer, but as Harry opened his mouth to relay his bright new idea, Percy shot up from the circle and announced to the room he was sick of his twin brothers' inability to follow the rules so he was going to bed. The twins soon followed, Fred stopped by the girls dormitory to drop off his sleepy sister who had passed out on the sofa, and the remaining pair snuck over to join the muttering duo hiding in the window nook, wondering what they were up to this time.

"Why do I have the feeling that you're planning on doing something reckless?" Hermione began, her chocolate eyes narrowed and twitchy as she scrutinised them, and Lyra innocently held her hands up.

"I haven't the foggiest where you got that idea from," she scoffed, encouraging Harry to share her concerns in jest, but he jumped straight back into their original conversation, switching positions to sit beside Lyra so they could squeeze in too.

"Dobby is still missing and I'm worried about him, Malfoy must know what his parents have done to him because he's keeping their secrets, I think it's time we did some actual investigation work into the actual Heir of Slytherin," he declared, looking extremely sure of his stance, "we need to sneak into the Slytherin common room, I bet Malfoy is down there now boasting about what he's done, or what he's doing. Surely someone knows who's doing all of this?"

"You want to sneak into the Slytherin common room? The place where at least a hundred Slytherins are currently right now? The one place we will definitely get our heads kicked in if we enter?" clarified Ron, making sure he heard him right, and Harry nodded.

"The very same."

"About time! I'm in," grinned Ron, wiggling his brows mischievously at the prospect of catching Draco red-handed, "Lyra, bring your camera."

"C'mon dude, who do you think I am? Of course I'm bringing my camera," scoffed Lyra, and she shot Hermione an encouraging smile. "Granger? I mean, you actually don't have a choice, you're coming — I'm just being courteous."

A great debate played out in Hermione's eyes as she looked at them,"How exactly are we going to sneak in there?"

"Harry's cloak," assumed Lyra, "I think they're going to notice us if we just stroll in there, and I've got custody of the map so we don't need to worry about getting caught out."

"You've thought about this before," Harry noticed, side-eyeing her, and she nodded without shame.

"Absolutely I have!"

"I'm in," Hermione decided, using her wand to pin her hair out of her face so she could focus entirely on the plan, "I have a hunch that there's more to the Slytherin common room than meets the eye. No one knows where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is so what are the chances that Salazar positioned it there — in a Slytherin-only space? We should snoop around while we're down there, who knows what they're hiding. Even if it isn't Malfoy, the heir must be a Slytherin, it's the only logical explanation."

"Can you imagine their faces when we expose them?" snickered Ron, even more excited with their plans, "even if we don't find the Chamber entrance we have to gather as much dirt on them as possible, but I'm pretty confident that it's one of them."

"I better fetch another roll of film, just in case," decided Lyra smartly.

"Brilliant, we'll meet back here in five," Harry looked elated that they were fully on board with his idea,"let's go."

After fetching everything they needed for their impromptu adventure, the four Gryffindors crept out of the tower on the tips of their toes. Cautious of waking the snoozing portrait as they went, and they made their way down the basement of the school where the snakes were hiding.

Lyra always wondered what the Slytherin common room looked like, it couldn't have been an emerald version of her own as they were trapped in the dungeons without a decent view of the grounds like the tower, but she knew it would be elegant regardless. Green was probably her favourite colour, she knew the stylistic choices for the snakes' headquarters were endless and she couldn't help turning a little green herself at the prospect of their common room being better than the lions' den.

As they descended down into the basement, Lyra revealed her map from her other back pocket (of course Tom was coming along for the ride too — who knows, maybe she could find his old dorm?) and she muttered the infamous words that brought forth the methodical ink patterns they needed.

"According to this, the entrance to the common room is…" Lyra nibbled her lips as she scanned the corridors, and she smirked when she spotted a stubby secret passageway leading into the extensive chambers that linked together to form the snakes' safe space, "right here!"

It wasn't too far from one of Snape's favourite Potions classrooms and the four of them shuddered when they noticed the footsteps labelled 'Severus Snape' stalking in the halls nearby as though he knew they were down there.

"Ugh, why can't he just piss off for once!" groaned Lyra, desperately trying to ignore the tickle of Harry's cloak against her skin, she had forgotten how electrifying the fabric was.

"That could potentially be a problem, but let's ignore him. We don't want to psyche ourselves out for no reason," hissed Hermione, trying to be the voice of reason when she saw their scowls, and they pressed on with a bit more apprehension in their step. Getting caught sneaking around by Snape was not a part of the plan, no Christmas should ever end in detention.

The map led the four to a corridor that was indistinguishable from every other hallway in the dungeons except for a black marble statue that was half-buried in the stone wall, and they approached slowly, wary of making any sounds.

The guardian of the Slytherin chambers was a tribute to one of the house's most successful students, the great wizard Merlin, and Lyra giggled at the peculiar sitting position they chose for him. It looked like he had taken a seat in the stone while it was being constructed and he didn't stand up in time.

"Oh, I get it! Because of the sword in the stone!" Lyra illuminated out loud, "it's kinda cool but all I'm getting is Han Solo trapped in carbonite."

Hermione tilted her head and snorted, "oh yeah, I see it. That's quite innovative, he must stand up and reveal the entrance, I assume they have a password too or else anyone could simply ask him to move."

"We could probably guess the password," suggested Ron, sizing up the statue with narrowed eyes, "surely it can't be that ha-aah!"

Before Ron could finish his sentence, the black marble Merlin started to shudder as he came to life, and the wall around him shifted, allowing for his sweeping height as he took to his feet.

Harry grabbed his friends' arms and pulled them back as a small gaggle of Slytherins tumbled out of the newly formed archway, laughing amongst themselves as they bounced past the invisible group only a few inches away. The chance to sneak inside the common room was closing fast and Lyra seized it first by darting forwards, her hands grasping the cloak firmly so her fellow sleuths followed. They slipped into the passageway before the famous wizard took his seating position once more.

Lingering in the shadows of the entrance, the four Gryffindors gawked at the impressive chamber before them.

It looked like the Slytherins were throwing a Christmas shindig as they were a lot more lively than usual, some of them actually looked happy to be there! The decor was, as she expected, exquisite in its own way and she scowled at the magnificent fireplace in the main room surrounded by sleek, dark leather Chesterfield sofas that glistened under the muted green hue creeping through the common room. It was certainly a vibe and she hated how much she loved it. Aw man, it's way bigger than the tower in here! And they have a study balcony?!

"It's just as creepy as I expected," muttered Ron, yanking Hermione out of the way of an older Slytherin who wasn't watching where she was walking, "the walls look all slimy, it's not cosy at all."

"Do you reckon they like snakes?" said Harry deadpanned, pointing out the excess of silver serpent statues around the room, and Lyra shook her head.

"Nah, this could be the Hufflepuff common room for all we know, if only there was some sort of sign," Lyra joined in, gazing up at a magnificent tapestry of Salazar above the mantle as she shared his faint smirk.

"I think we should have a look around before we find Malfoy," whispered Hermione, drawing her friends back in before they were too befuddled by their busy surroundings, "it'll be harder to snoop if they're all in smaller groups in their dormitories."

"I vote we start by finding Malfoy's dorm," spat Ron without pausing, and Lyra had to clamp her mouth shut to stop herself from bringing up his crush on Draco. He would shout if she did, now was not the time.

It didn't take Lyra long to discover what she considered to be the worst part of the Slytherin common room.

She physically froze when they reached the entrances to the dormitories and glanced up at the shimmering vastness of black water above their heads. Parts of the chambers' tall walls were taken up by huge black metal portholes. The deep algae green aura illuminated the windows peeking into the lake and she almost lost all feeling in her legs, exasperated by the harsh reveal.

Ahhhh crap we're under the lake?!

"Ugh, this place sucks," she breathed, absently rubbing her clavicle to ease the oncoming panic attack, "oh God, oh no…"

Images of the window panes overlooking the common room breaking out of nowhere gave her heart palpitations and she couldn't stop them. She didn't want to drown again, and she especially didn't want to drown in front of the Slytherins. Fascinated by the magical architecture, Hermione and Ron didn't notice how quickly Lyra had shut down, but Harry recognised her fear and hooked his arm through hers as a sign of support, hoping to coax her out of fleeing.

"Don't worry, you're safe," he mouthed at her, giving her the courtesy of hiding her panic attack from the other two, and she instinctively squeezed his arm and nodded.

Of course it won't flood, you're overreacting! Just breathe and chill out.

Sadly the Slytherin dormitories held nothing of interest to the Gryffindors and they tried not to become too discouraged as they begrudgingly admired their beautiful-decorated rooms. Lyra kept her eyes on the ground when she realised that their ceilings also opened up to the lake, even the magical loch dwellers swimming above them couldn't raise her spirits. She had avoided the Black Lake on purpose, if Draco heard even a whisper detailing her phobia of deep water then she was done for — he'd try to drown her for sure.

Tracking down Draco wasn't difficult, once they fled the dormitories they heard his distinctive whining over the music and spotted his pale blonde hair sticking out amongst the crowd of students a few years his senior. Although Vincent and Greg looked rather intimidated by their company, Draco took advantage of gaining the older student's attention and milked the spotlight for all it was worth.

Ron mimed viciously at Hermione to ready the camera, his sapphire eyes wide with anticipation. Harry took the lead when he spotted an opening in the crowd, and they strategically wiggled into the gap beside the roaring fireplace. Considering they were confined to the invisibility cloak and they were still wearing their knitted jumpers, it was stifling and they tried not to pant from the heat radiating from the hearth.

"—but my father confirmed that it isn't a conspiracy, he would know the truth so you shouldn't believe what everyone else is saying," he drawled, sneering at the sixth year that was staring him down, clearly already exhausted from his snobbish attitude. Whatever they were talking about must have been extremely tense as the Slytherins crowding the sofas looked mildly pissed off — or Draco was being especially annoying tonight and Lyra praised them on their diligence; she didn't know how they put up with him.

"Malfoy's right, why you're sourcing your information from those Mudblood Ravenclaws is beyond me," tutted another older Slytherin from their armchair, and those around them snickered at the sixth year, "you remember who Lucius was, don't you?"

Oh yeah, they're just as racist as him, that's how.

Lyra latched onto Hermione's arm at the mention of the slur but she didn't flinch that time. If anything Hermione looked pleased that she could witness what was truly said behind closed doors.

"Is," corrected Draco automatically, jumping to his father's defence, "he is still the same man he was during Lord Voldemort's reign, you'd be a fool to cross any Malfoy let alone my father." Ron was practically itching to incriminate Draco, he was fidgeting behind Hermione with a scowl so fierce that his freckled nose wrinkled, but a gentle nudge from Harry kept him grounded.

"The same could be said for many of our parents, you're amongst equals here, Draco," asserted Pucey, smirking at his Quidditch teammate as though reminding him of a past conversation, "don't be shy, share with the room what you know."

Lyra felt her heartbeat in her ears, her nerves were getting the better of her. The unpredictable direction of their exchange wasn't a great sign, especially if they were talking about family. What if she heard something that she'd rather not know for once?

Draco pursed his lips as though he was considering Pucey's offer, and with a quick glance at his friends who looked just as enthralled, he reflected Pucey's smirk and settled back into the sofa as though he was getting comfortable for the reveal.

"I suppose I could divulge a detail or two," he mused, his gaze absently drifting to the portholes above their heads, working out how far he should go. His nasty smile captured the room, "he told me that this isn't the first time that a basilisk has infested the castle, a Mudblood was killed about fifty years ago."

Nobody looked even the slightest bit offended by the news and the four Gryffindors had trouble staying quiet when a few members of the group whooped in celebration, they clamped their mouths shut and glared at them instead.

"Well that's not so bad," laughed Pucey, nudging his team captain Flint who looked impressed, "we shouldn't get our hopes up that it will happen again though, there are far too many Mudbloods here that need exterminating. I'm counting on it being that Spratt girl Clearwater hangs out with, she was acting too big for her boots at that Duelling Club meeting."

The list of Muggle-borns that the Slytherins wanted dead started to grow as they got carried away, and just as they expected, Draco couldn't help but add Hermione's name into the pool of hopeful victims. It took all three of them to wrangle Ron who was jumping at the chance to blow their cover although Lyra could see Hermione smiling out of the corner of her eye.

"There's no way Potter will attack his own friend, besides that Gryffindor Crane the people who have been attacked aren't Muggle-borns, unless he'd sacrifice Granger to try to throw us off the scent."

Everyone turned to scowl at poor Theodore Nott who was trying to read his book in peace. His cheeks resembled ripe strawberries once he realised he hadn't mumbled the comment to himself, and Draco took to his feet to properly inspect his roommate.

"For the thousandth time, Nott — of course Potter isn't the Heir of Slytherin, how many times do I have to tell you," he stated, fatigued by how many times he had to remind him of said fact, "we're just spreading that rumour to mess with him, and I still believe we should leak it to the press but nobody else wants to back me on this."

Draco looked at those around him in scrutiny, obviously judging them on their cowardice, but no one looked particularly fazed.

"Please tell me you're getting all of this?!" hissed Harry, furiously patting the girls on their shoulders to ensure evidence was being recorded, and Lyra smacked him back so he wouldn't disturb Hermione's concentration.

Capturing their secrets using Lyra's enchanted Polaroid camera wasn't exactly easy, her mutters of the silencing charm whenever the camera clicked and a talking photograph slipped out was proving to be a hard task without Harry's nudges. The magical material shielding them from the rest of the room produced a strange, dreamlike shimmer over the photographs but Lyra rather liked the effect, it made the mean-spirited targets in the picture more tolerable to look at.

"It's not that we don't want to leak the gossip outside of Hogwarts," corrected the original sixth year, "we just don't want to get caught. By all means write The DailyProphet a letter yourself, Malfoy, if you think you can handle the consequences of the staff finding out."

"It's a stupid rule, why wouldn't we alert the media that someone is attacking people at school?" spat Draco, but his opinion wasn't shared. The older students rolled their eyes at his attitude and the other second years shrunk in their seats, afraid that Draco was diminishing their reputation. Flint took the lead with a hand up to deter everyone's grumbles, and he fixed his posture with a gnarly grin.

"If the person attacking people truly is the Heir of Slytherin like we all suspect then we have a duty to protect them. They are one of us, even if they don't reveal themselves to us for security purposes we still owe it to Salazar's descendant to help them with Slytherin's unfinished business," he explained his twisted way of thinking, and Draco lapped it up with intrigue.

Watching her stupid cousin buy into their superiority complex sickened Lyra, but she chose to ignore the twisting of her stomach before her anger got the better of her. If the other three were keeping their cool then she should too.

"What if their descendant isn't a Slytherin, though?" Theodore chipped in bravely, doubling down on his own theory, "Slytherin was a Parselmouth, Potter is a Parselmouth. I can't spell it out any simpler than that."

"Once again, Potter is not an Heir of Slytherin, why the hell would he be in Gryffindor if he was a Slytherin?! Also he's the worst? Traipsing around like he owns the school, and everyone fawning over that stupid scar on his head? He'd never be good enough to even kiss Slytherin's boots!" Draco was very passionate about the subject of Harry, it was apparent in his clenched fists and outraged expression, "give me a break! If he truly was the Heir of Slytherin then he wouldn't be such a wanker, he'd be here with us."

Lyra had to really hold it together so she wouldn't burst out laughing. Oh if he only knew!

"But Slytherins are cunning," Warrington spoke up from beside Pucey, sitting forwards so he could add to the accusative discussion, "what's to say that it's not just an act that Potter is putting on? What's to say that he's not helping the Heir of Slytherin instead…? The Heir may not be a Slytherin but we all know someone close to him whose family has been in this house for centuries? Someone who fits the bill?"

The pause after Warrington's statements hurt Lyra's chest. There were no immediate shouts of objection, no protests against what he was inferring, but she refused to shy away as he continued to confirm her fears.

"Let's not ignore the obvious, Black is more devious than she lets on, what's to say that she's not a double agent? What if she's getting close to Potter so she can tear him down? Or if Potter is the Heir, she's covering for him like she always does, she keeps saying she's his manager so it only makes sense," finished Warrington, too lost to the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories to consider the absurdity of his claims, but it looked like he wasn't the only one.

"You're all fools if you truly believe that Potter is the Heir," Draco muttered as an afterthought, still tasting disdain on his tongue, but the deep lines etched into his brow betrayed his slow changing opinion, "...but it can't be Black, unfortunately we do share blood and neither of us are Parselmouths. If it was her then she wouldn't be friends with Mudbloods and those filthy ginger blood traitors."

"Then maybe that particular ability skipped a generation, or Black is hiding her abilities from all of us. She's acting too," Pucey nodded, entertaining his friend's theory, "I honestly wouldn't be shocked if we found out that Black was behind the attacks. It truly is a shame that you fumbled your first impression with her, Draco, she could have been one of us. You pushed her away."

Draco looked beyond upset by his remark and he sulked into his crossed arms, flushing faintly.

"I did not fumble my first impression, she acted like an animal and threw food at me! She's a blood traitor and a crazy bitch! I don't know why you think she would ever start murdering Mudbloods out of the blue?" he countered, too blinded by fury to even consider their points of view, but Warrington shrugged.

"Didn't her dad do that though? Didn't he randomly blow up a load of Muggles? And one of his best friends? And his wife? And her? That'll leave a mental scar for sure, she might do the same, who knows."

Ice flooded Lyra's veins within seconds, she felt her friends' gazes flicker to her at the mention of her father's crimes and the snakes' credulous expression but she kept her own face passive out of fear. No?! That's not in the least bit true! I wouldn't—?! What the fuck?!

The convoluted accusations were getting out of hand and she tugged at her collar, struggling to catch her breath. The heat under the cloak was unbearable now, she needed to go.

"Also, didn't your parents want to adopt her? I dunno about you but that means that Black could be darker than she pretends to be," added another Slytherin whose name escaped Lyra's mind. She couldn't quite concentrate on them anymore, the whining inside her was getting too loud to ignore.

"Ok, I think I'm done with this," Lyra whispered, summoning the courage to suggest that it was time to go, but Ron and Hermione were too immersed in the discussion to catch her uncomfortable hisses, but Harry heard her.

"We should go," he repeated once Lyra finally lifted her head and revealed her painful grimace, "come on, they don't know who it is, let's go now."

"My father seems to think that we need her to remain as part of our family," Draco continued to drone to those around him, disgusted by the very idea, "Merlin knows why, mother agrees with me that she'd ruin us but father was insistent."

"Your father deals in Dark Arts, Draco, have you ever asked yourself why he would want Black to join your family?" wondered Pucey, eyeing the blonde with a smug smile, "maybe Warrington is right...?"

Ron and Hermione finally realised that they were leaving and helpfully shuffled away from the fireplace, but the remnants of Draco's comment pricked Lyra's ears and she hesitated. Lucius wanted me, not Narcissa…?

But she couldn't linger on that strange development any longer than a couple of seconds, the hem of the cloak was beginning to recede on the back of her legs and she hastily followed the others before someone spotted her shoes.

"I can't believe they don't know either!" complained Ron once they were at least a few metres from anyone, exasperated by the whole ordeal, "what a waste of time."

"I wouldn't say so, if the news leaks out then we can prove it was Malfoy," murmured Hermione, flashing him the Polaroids that were soundlessly playing out in her hands, "and he admitted to starting the rumour about Harry so that's two problems solved."

"Only one of us in the clear then," Lyra grumbled mostly to herself. She couldn't help but feel bitter at the Slytherins' insinuations. Just because her father was a bloody thirsty lunatic doesn't mean she was too, how hard was it to understand?!

"Don't listen to them, they're clearly bored and have resorted to making up their own sick fantasies to pass time," assured Harry, glancing back at her when he caught her low level complaints, and Lyra allowed his words to resonate. She appreciated his encouraging smile and eventually nodded, trying to forget all about their implications with a raised chin and a forced smile.

"You're right, of course I've got nothing to do with it," she sighed, realising how dumb it sounded out loud, "it's just frustrating that they're making me out to be someone I'm not."

"Mhm, I wonder what that's like?" scoffed Harry, and Lyra immediately laughed, her looming dark thoughts concerning Lucius melting away like snow in warm sunshine.

"Touché."

Exiting the Slytherin common room should have been a piece of cake. In theory it was, all they had to do was creep along the passageway and sneak through the arch before Merlin realised that no one was emerging, and then they were safe — but in reality it was so much harder. Lyra didn't think to check the Marauder's Map before they left, despite her plummeting mood she was still mesmerised by the reptilian decor surrounding her and she cursed her careless actions.

"Ooft!" squeaked Hermione, the head of the party, and she dug her heels into the floor as she froze mere inches from a confused-looking Professor Snape, but the added force of her three friends crashing into her made her wobble dangerously. It so happened that the unexpected movement of the statue of Merlin caught Snape's eye as he passed in the halls, and he hesitated so he could enforce curfew onto whoever unlucky student appeared.

But of course, no one appeared.

"Shit!" breathed Ron, his face lit up in fright as he stared up at the fearsome teacher, but he mouthed about her swear word when Snape whipped his head in their direction, thoroughly perplexed now. They were crouched in the threshold of the entrance, their footsteps would give them away straight away. They couldn't move.

"Why did you open up? I didn't say the password," Snape spat at Merlin, his nostrils flared, and the statue merely blinked at him.

"I sensed a student coming so I moved," the statue explained as though he didn't quite understand the question, but as he searched the hall for the Slytherins his stone gestures dropped in matched confusion, "but I swore I felt…?"

The Gryffindors could hardly breathe as Snape came even closer, peering into the darkness behind the invisible group as though trying to spot any dwellers within. It was like a classic horror movie, the knife-wielding killer was about to turn the corner and murder his next victims, but like these classic situations his extreme proximity sparked Lyra's fight or flight instinct and she reacted how she saw fit. It was the only way they could make it out alive, they had to move now.

Biting her tongue so she didn't make a sound, Lyra hooked her arm through her friends' and yanked them hard, kickstarting their run. Ron missed the suspicious Professor by a couple of millimetres, but unfortunately their footsteps weren't as light as they had hoped. The adrenaline had made their legs feel as though they were filled with lead and the slapping of their shoes against the stone echoed.

"I can hear you!" Snape suddenly bellowed, taking off after the footsteps with a snarl, "reveal yourselves!"

Although he couldn't see them his hearing was sharper than the icicles dangling from the marble moulding above their heads, his students were issuing advanced magic as a means to sneak out and he wasn't going to let them get away with it.

"We have to stop running! He'll just follow us back to the tower," puffed Hermione, her eyes ballooning in panic, but they never slowed down. Once they started it was hard to stop, especially with Snape right behind them.

Frantically keeping the cloak from slipping off, Lyra noticed that the door to one of the upcoming classrooms was wide open and she rushed to relay her new improvisation before it was too late.

"Guys, in there!" She panted, ignoring the cramp forming in her side, but sadly they didn't hear her, their racing heartbeats were louder than her urgent puffs and they pressed on.

But Lyra couldn't help it, she had to try.

Her failed attempt to push them towards the classroom backfired miserably as she messed up her timing. Her outstretched arms missed her friends completely and she tumbled from under the cloak and rolled into the classroom, landing in a dishevelled heap consumed by the shadows.

"Ow, bastard!" she groaned, her head swimming as she pried herself from the cold stone floor, but she leapt up the moment she remembered that Snape was on her tail…

Well, at least, he was. Lyra dared to poke her head out of the classroom door and she physically patted herself on the back when she watched Snape shrink in the distance, still yelling and chasing down her invisible friends. Ha! They should've let me push them!

Still a little sore from her rough landing, Lyra limped back into the classroom and stretched her ankle, shaking out the pins and needles as she went, but her whole body went numb when she realised Tom's diary was lying on the floor a few feet away. She snatched it and cradled it to her chest, and with another heart flutter she double-checked her pockets for her map and wand but they were still safe.

You're in one of Snape's classrooms… check the cupboards. Her conscience was demanding, it seized the opportunity it saw with two claws. Lyra surveyed the dark room properly, wondering if there was any snake venom hiding behind the locked storage doors lining the walls. The dripping of a mysterious liquid dripping from the ceiling was quite soothing, Lyra used its calming melody to fuel her bravery as she revealed her wand and muttered the appropriate charm that made the padlocks click.

"Alohomora!"

The metallic rattle of the security measures was music to her ears, her smirk stretched into a self-satisfied grin and she rummaged through Snape's perfectly organised drawers in search of the phial she so desperately needed. If she managed to obtain the venom then she would have everything she needed to project Tom. It was the only thing standing in her way to him, everything she dreamt of was dangling just out of reach.

But it was Christmas, and dreams were supposed to come true on this glorious holiday.

"YES!" squealed Lyra, her entire body tingling with success as she found the very fragile round phial stocked up with deep aubergine venom she was dying to find, its powerful poison glistening even in the darkness. There wasn't much of it but Tom insisted they only needed a couple drops. It was the perfect amount.

Riddle is gonna be so proud of me!

The thought of Tom rewarding her determination was overpowering, the thick rolls of tension swirling in her gut whenever his striking face appeared without warning and the urge to speak to him was too much. Maybe she could start the potion tonight? Maybe Tom would appear before the sun rose again? Maybe—

"BLACK?!"

Shit!

Too caught up thinking about the book in her pocket, Lyra waltzed out of the classroom without a care in the world. She failed to notice that Snape had retraced his steps in the hopes of stumbling upon the miscreants that were leading him around the dungeons in circles. He froze at the end of the corridor and glared at her, both astonished and infuriated by her existence, and for a few seconds they simply stared at each other.

"Oop! Gotta go!"

"DON'T YOU DARE THINK ABOUT RUNNING AWAY, BLACK!"

The pounding of her heart matched her strides as she sprinted as fast as her legs allowed, fighting the urge to sneak a peek to see if the vampire was on her heels. Of course he was going to follow her, Snape never passed on the chance to punish her, so she suppressed the compulsion and kept running until the gloomy orange light dripping down the stone walls faded. The labyrinthe dungeon corridors swept Lyra into the shadows where the perfect hiding place called her name and she happily followed the siren call.

After taking multiple lefts and right to baffle the Potions Master, Lyra reached the end of the winding corridor and yanked open the heavy door waiting at the end, and she emerged into a tall, circular stairwell marking a shortcut up to the ground floor. She was higher than she expected, a spiral of windows followed the path up and Lyra caught a quick glimpse of the view from the nearest one. The rocky foundations of the castle dazzled in the night from the thick layer of snow, and she got lost momentarily in the pretty flutter of ice still consuming the highlands.

The pulsing in her pocket tore her away from the enchanting weather, Riddle couldn't wait until she was back in the sanctuary of her four poster bed. She had no choice but to ride out her unshakable rush of adrenaline and she conformed to the needy voice in the back of her head yearning for even more of Tom's affection. His validation meant everything to her.

The bottom step in this mysterious stairwell would do perfectly, it sounded as though she had finally lost her crazed Potions Master so she knew she had time to spare. Lyra bit the lid off her pen and succumbed to her bashful grin that overtook her face as she wrote to Riddle, stirring him from within the diary. She grasped the cover until her knuckles turned white and hunched over the book, her nose almost brushing the parchment.

"I have everything for the potion," she scribbled in the centre of the page, giddy from her achievement, "I stole some venom from Snape, and we can use my blood for the rest. I've done everything you asked, Tom, please…" Lyra wanted nothing more than him, she had been so good, he always said so…

"I need you," she dared to add, biting incredibly hard on her bottom lip to ease the panicking butterflies in her stomach. Why did I write that?! Aw man…

"…Lyra?"

Lyra thought she had experienced every type of emotion that humanity had to offer, but her entire world changed when she heard his voice in the real world.

The most powerful hunger bloomed in the pits of her stomach, the creature was awake again, and her legs turned to jelly from waves of heat devouring her limb by limb. Her eyes were still transfixed on the page where her words vanished and her thick shield of black hair hid her dumbstruck expression from the boy standing before her. There's no way, I just imagined that… he couldn't possibly be…?

"My girl… Lyra, look at me," purred the deep, charming familiar voice once more, and Lyra shivered. She peeked through her curtain of hair and froze, utterly transfixed by his presence. He was here, he was real, and he was better than she could have dreamt. Oh my God, did I pass out?

Tom Riddle stood a metre away and yet he still towered over her, his warm shadow engulfing her short stature like a tight embrace. There was no difference between him and the boy she kept in her head over the past year, her memory preserved him in perfection and she smoothed her hair out of her face so she could truly study the face she yearned to meet. His pale complexion looked warm to the touch in the dim orange light, he looked smoother than alabaster and she was afraid his perfect cheekbones would crack if she got too close. His black, unfathomable eyes lured her in, he was smouldering in the shadows cast on his face and Lyra felt something numb punch its way into the pits of her gut from its velocity, replacing the pulsing that remained before. He's so handsome… she couldn't stop staring. His soft pink bowed lips, his unwavering hard browed stare that seemed angrier than before but it still left her feeling weak, and his dark classic waves that she longed to dishevel.

"Tom," she whispered, and his smirk grew from the wonder on her radiant freckled face, "you're… I don't believe it?"

"Hello Black," he told her and she only shivered harder at his velvety rasp, "I told you it was an enchanting time of year, your determination brought me here to you. I can feel how badly you want me, Lyra, how could I say no to you…?"

"You can't," she uttered without meaning to, her round eyes unblinking as she tried to gather her thoughts. This was actually happening.

Ok, breathe Lyra, remember; don't say something stupid or talk too much. Don't scare him off.

"Ah, this is awkward, I didn't actually get you a gift."

Oh Christ, girl what are you doing?!

But she almost collapsed when he chuckled under his breath and dropped his captivating gaze, taking in the full appearance of his confidante as though for the first time.

"Your presence alone is my gift, but that doesn't mean I don't have one for you," he murmured, cautious of his echoes that would float up above them, "stand for me, Lyra."

It was as though her body was on autopilot, the shakiness in her knees vanished and she sprung to her feet like his little puppet, it took only one tug on her strings and she was under his control. Their close proximity played with the strong throbbing bursting through her stomach, she could sense the attraction of his skin like a kind of magic, whatever was happening in the air grew thicker with tension and Lyra was addicted to the enchanting sensation. She didn't know what was going on or how she was even breathing, all she could see was his lips.

She had never wanted to kiss someone this badly before, it was verging on excruciating.

"Good girl," hissed Riddle, equally as hypnotised, and Lyra had to close her eyes to tame the fire within. Hearing his praise in person did something to her, she couldn't explain it.

"Tom, I've never—,"

Lyra's innocent confession died in her throat when she heard the abrupt oncoming footsteps above them. It sounded like two people were heading their way, possibly Slytherins as she didn't recognise the accompanying dulcet tones, and she definitely did not need them stumbling upon her and Tom.

She had to act fast.

Another powerful dose of adrenaline fuelled her bold move, she wasn't sure she would've had the courage to follow through with her plan if she didn't have the chemical fizzling through her veins. She wasn't even sure it was going to work but she tried regardless of the result. If she didn't try then she would never know.

Just as the approaching Slytherins gained a vantage of the bottom of the shadowed stairwell, Lyra threw herself at Tom. She dragged him into the inviting darkness underneath the stairs, and latched onto him for dear life as she braced for the intruders to discover them.

Their connection had unlocked an entirely new level to their situation and it robbed Tom of his voice. Even his quietest whispers had been stolen by his fascination with the girl's capacity, and he dragged her even further into the shadows with more strength than even he knew. He was just as desirous as her to finally have some sort of physical contact.

The space lacked height and space but it brought them even closer. The spiral of the last few stairs protected them from the two fourth year Slytherins who were far too busy cracking jokes to check the stairwell's hidden nook, but still Tom couldn't take the risk.

With his back shielding the dim candlelight from revealing their hiding place, Riddle pushed Lyra into the low wall and held her exceptionally still, relishing the exhilarated pulsating of her hot blood beneath his fingertips as he gently wrapped his spidery hand around her neck. He treated her like she was a priceless antique, so afraid that he would break her, and he breathed in her ardour like fresh air.

His hands are so soft…

Nibbling on her bottom lip was the only way she could stop her gasps from escaping, Lyra held her tongue and waited for him to make a move. No one had ever held her like this before, she could feel his thighs against hers, his breath was like a cold night's breeze on her cheeks…

She was too lost in his bottomless eyes to notice his free hand dipping into her robe pocket, retrieving her wand.

"Don't be afraid, my treasure," hissed Tom, delicately tracing her slim jaw with his firm thumb, "I won't hurt you."

"I know you won't," Lyra dared to breathe and she let her eyelids flutter, darkening her gaze in an attempt to seduce him. She wasn't sure if it was working or not.

"I knew from the first time I wrote to you that you were like no one else," but the words kept coming out and she tried her best to flirt, "I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, I never thought a boy as attractive as you would ever like me."

"Don't insult yourself like that, Black," chuckled Tom, and she felt the purr-like rumble resonate in his chest, "'like' is nowhere near the true description of how I feel about you… I'm the lucky one, now I realise that I was trapped in that diary for another reason… I was destined to meet a gorgeous, mischievous angel who would make all of my dreams come true..."

It only took a twirl of Lyra's wand to complete the fantasy Tom was creating for her, luring her in further than ever before. A sprig of mistletoe unfurled above their heads and Lyra swore she died when the dark leaves appeared out of the thin air.

"Don't be nervous, my treasure, I promise I'll be gentle," purred Tom as he slipped both hands around her neck and brought her closer, dissolving the slim gap between them with a slow burning kiss that turned her world upside down. She felt like she was floating.

His smooth lips were all she could focus on. She wasn't sure whether it was her own set that felt like they were burning up or his, but the heavy pulsing in her gut encouraged her to kiss him back so the heavenly sensation stayed alive. She never wanted it to end, it was quite pleasurable in the most peculiar way, she couldn't quite describe it yet.

When Tom tried to draw away Lyra instinctively hooked her arms around his neck and dragged him down to her height again, feverish for more.

He never fought back. Her urgency awakened something within him and he tensed. His grasp on her neck tightened as he thrusted her harder into the wall, giving her everything she was begging for as though it was his only purpose on his earth.

But then he tried to progress their kiss into something more and the hot sensation of his tongue intimidated her. Lyra frantically pulled away, trying to catch her breath with a faint giggle. Her head was swimming and she knew she looked so stupid grinning at him but she silently swooned when he looked equally as flustered.

"I, uh, I'm sorry," she spat out, but Tom dismissed her concerns with a head shake, his gritted jaw ticking in wanting.

"Don't apologise," he uttered, not hiding his trouble in keeping his eyes off her lips, "I didn't mean to scare you, I just… I just needed to steal a little taste…"

It was then that Lyra remembered how much older Tom was than her and she shrunk in his shadow.

His maturity was showing and the nerves she had been suppressing came gushing back. She didn't know what to do in these types of intimate encounters, she could sense Riddle's attraction in his firm gaze but his intensity was overpowering and it melted her brain. What were his expectations? How far did he want to go…? Blood bloomed in her freckled cheeks as her train of thought hurtled down a darker, more degrading path, but she stood a little taller and maintained his fierce eye contact. She really, really liked Tom… would he be patient for her?

"I can feel time slipping away from us," breathed Tom, refusing to let go of her face in case he faded away before he was ready, "but that doesn't mean I won't return."

"Will I see you again tonight?" she gasped, mesmerised, but he shook his head, ashamed of the answer.

"Unfortunately you won't but that doesn't mean I won't be with you, write to me when you're alone in your dormitory. I'll be waiting for you, my treasure," he assured her, his velvety tones like melting butter in her ears.

Lyra savoured his hungry fingers one last time, wishing his fingerprints would linger on her skin forever, and her eyes fluttered closed as he dragged her into another beguiling kiss to fuel the fire trapped deep inside…

But it wasn't enough, he wanted more. Tom succeeded in deepening their kiss this time, risking everything for a sliver of her tongue. And just as suddenly as appeared, he vanished from the stairwell's secret nook, leaving Lyra all alone to bask in the heat he had unearthed within.

The pure astonishment of how her eventful Christmas evening ended was like a vicious case of whiplash. She wasn't ready for Tom to leave and her gut whined at the absence of his warm embrace, but she shook the idyllic daze out of her brain and tried to assimilate back into reality without him. It was impossible, how could she pretend to act normal when all she wanted to do was kiss him?

Double-checking her back pocket for her most valuable possession, Lyra enjoyed her enamoured grin while she could and began her trek back up to the tower. She struggled to pick an excuse for her detour as images of Tom's dark smoulder and his smooth, pink lips poked holes in her thoughts again, and she figured she'd improvise when the time came. Tom was more important.. There was no way she could keep her magical evening a secret — this was undoubtedly the best moment of her entire life— but she had to, for him…

She'd do anything to earn another one of Riddle's kisses.

Best. Christmas. EVER!