"Aaand it's done! What do you think?"
Lyra turned to face Harry with her hairdressing scissors still in her hand.
"If it looks awful you have to tell me, that's the rules. I can't walk around looking like a Beatle, especially if that Beatle is Ringo."
"You know what," Harry squinted and tilted his head to one side, taking his role seriously as he crossed his arms like a critic, "I think it's lopsided—,"
"SHUT UP! Is it actually?!" Lyra gasped and jumped towards the bathroom mirror, inspecting her freshly-chopped hair with her nose barely an inch away from the glass.
August was only in its infancy when Lyra officially decided she was going through an identity crisis, it was inevitable at this point.
With everyone focused on her father all the time it was almost impossible for her to avoid photographs of Sirius, they were everywhere. On the news, in the papers, on street lamp posters or on milk cartons she always found his startling silver gaze that she recognised from her own reflection and she couldn't stand it. Every time Sirius caught her eye she saw more of herself in him and she began to despise the features they shared. All of the metamorphic potions she found in her textbooks required weeks of brewing and she needed a drastic change as quickly as possible, the pressure was building inside of her and she had to let it out somehow.
Her hair had to go.
"Not only is it lopsided but you've got this giant bald patch right at the back," Harry continued to joke, feigning a look of unease as he pointed to the one spot she couldn't see, but he cried out in laughter and failed to fight Lyra off when she started to hit him.
"I'll remember you said that," she mumbled, eventually letting him go to snip off a stray long hair she had missed, "are you sure it's not too short?"
Her long black curls used to brush her elbows but now it was sitting above her shoulders and she cut a shaggy fringe to match. It was a huge change but it was one she could get used to, she never had short hair before. Maybe I should dye it blonde too?
"I don't think so, it looks great I promise," assured Harry, eyeing up the piles of jet-black hair littering the tiled floor, "wow, did you really have that much hair?"
"And you always wondered why I take so long to get ready in the morning," Lyra smirked, cleaning up the majority of her mess by overfilling the bathroom bin.
"Oh that's why," scoffed Harry lightly, but he caught his own reflection in the mirror and ran his hands through his own chaotic tresses. Lyra noticed the intrigue in his eyes instantly and picked up the scissors again, trying to tempt him. The longer his hair grew the curlier it became, it was constantly falling into his eyes and annoying him.
"Fancy a haircut too?" She grinned and showed him the straight razor she 'borrowed' from Ted. "Tonks has some strong hair growth tonic if I fuck it up, what do you say?"
Harry hesitated, considering the risks.
"As long as you don't make me look like a Beatle either?"
He said as though in warning, dreading what wacky idea she had cooked up, but Lyra had already sprinted off to find a chair, buzzing that he actually agreed. She had been dying to get her hands on his hair ever since Egypt, Lyra and Hermione gently hinted to both him and Ron that they needed a trim since they couldn't stop complaining about the heat and their whining was getting on their nerves.
Lyra pushed Harry onto the stool she dragged from her bedroom and almost choked him with a towel that acted as a salon cape. She pursed her lips and forced him to look straight so she could visualise her developing haircut plan, and without warning him she dragged him over to the bathtub and pushed him back against the edge, taking him by surprise.
"What the—?"
"I can't cut dry hair, dude, relax!" She laughed, testing the water's temperature as Harry struggled not to panic.
"Please don't waterboard me."
"Do you have any faith in me at all?" Lyra tutted, pouting down at him as she washed his hair.
"That's the problem, I have too much faith in you," he pointed out, but she noticed how quickly he relaxed once she began to massage his scalp. "…ok, this isn't so bad, I'll allow it."
Lyra almost pulled a muscle rolling her eyes at his dramatics, but she made sure to take extra care with her water jug. As someone who was terrified of any kind of deep water, she didn't want to downplay any genuine worries he had.
"Ok, you officially have way more hair than I ever had," Lyra concluded as she finished up Harry's haircut and viciously shook his dead ends from her t-shirt. The towel cape did very little to curb the mess. It was everywhere, "damn, Potter! I could make Kreacher a wig out of how much there is here!"
Hey, now that's an idea!
"I am gonna have some hair left on my head by the time you're done, right? Because I can't see shit, I have no idea what you're doing to me," he blindly gestured to the mirror only a couple of feet away from him, and Lyra purposely moved his glasses out of reach to stop him from spoiling the surprise.
"Define 'some hair'," she teased, biting hard on her lip in concentration as she shaved a tiny lightning bolt into the side of his head. She gasped and yanked the razor away as he abruptly turned to glare at her, "Hey! Careful! You're not gonna have ears either if you do that again!"
"The things I do to keep you entertained…" Harry huffed under his breath, but before she dwelled on her twinges of guilt she spotted his suppressed smirk that reminded her not to take anything he said to heart.
Lyra knew Harry had been trying his best to distract her from thinking about Sirius too much, and she appreciated all the effort he had gone to. They had already exhausted themselves flying around, most of their summer homework was already finished, and Lyra had finally run out of craft materials to terrorise him with. They were running out of things to do.
"I think I'm done," Lyra uttered, inspecting her client with a keen eye, and she patted herself on the back at the finished product that was staring anxiously back at her.
Considering Harry's hair was stubborn and naturally wily she trimmed the sides down and focused on keeping the chaos that was his curls on top. She knew he'd kill her if she drew attention to his scar so she kept enough length at the front to keep him happy. She remembered James sporting a similar haircut in some of the photographs and knew it would suit him.
Lyra wasn't quite sure why her heart was racing so fast as she stared at him. She hoped he liked it, she certainly did, he looked much more handsome. People need to take me seriously when I say I'm a creative genius!
"What? You're not saying anything," snapped Harry. He snatched his glasses from her moist hands and rushed to see the damage, but he brightened up immediately and admired his new appearance, brushing his fingers through his skin fade with relish.
"I love it! What was that stuff you used to make it look wet? It's so easy to brush now, what the hell?" He caught Lyra's eye through his reflection and she smirked, glad he was pleased with her work.
"It's a magical product called 'leave-in conditioner'," she revealed and she threw the glossy brown pot at him, "I think it's the argan oil that's done that to your curls. Don't use too much though or else you'll end up looking like Snape."
Harry looked horrified. "Noted."
The pair finished getting ready for another sunny day and Lyra couldn't stop laughing to herself as she noted Harry was struggling to stop admiring his new look.
"Aww, this is just like Pretty Woman, except you're not a prostitute," she sighed, spitting out her toothpaste and wandering back to her room to pick out the perfect outfit for her new haircut. Harry stuck his head around her bedroom door and pulled a face.
"Am I supposed to understand that?" He asked, and Lyra could only blame herself for even thinking that Harry had seen the new rom-com film.
"You know what I'm going to say!" She sang out as he headed to his own room to get changed.
"I'll add it to the list!" He shouted back.
One of their main activities over the summer was producing a list of major blockbusters that Lyra needed to introduce Harry to, it was the only activity they hadn't exhausted yet.
Thanks to Ted's help in hunting down a VHS player they started their movie marathon a few days ago and she had already shown him all three instalments of Back to the Future, The Shining, Beetlejuice, Wizard of Oz, Dirty Dancing, and a bootleg copy of Pink Flamingos that Tonks managed to find for her at her request for something by John Waters-esque. Harry didn't seem to bat an eyelid when Lyra introduced him to the crazy icon Divine, and she swore she heard him singing along with Patrick Swayze once or twice. Tonight's movie of choice was going to be Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Lyra was eager to finish the trilogy so she could blow his mind with Star Wars next.
Once Lyra finally decided on her outfit, her cleanest band t-shirt paired with a plaid slip dress and trainers, she waltzed downstairs and posed in the kitchen doorway, waiting for Andromeda to notice her new look.
Thankfully she loved it.
"Oh my," Andy gasped and charmed the frying pan to flip her chocolate pancakes by themselves, "Lyra, you look beautiful!"
She ordered her to spin so she could inspect her work closely and praised her accordingly. Clearly having a daughter who possessed the ability to change her appearance at will desensitised her to anything cosmetic, this was nothing compared to the shenanigans Tonks put her through as a teenager.
"Thanks, I grew it myself," she cheeked, flipping her hair around without choking herself for the first time ever. She heard Harry come up behind her and stealthily sidestepped so she could show off more of her work, and Andromeda gushed at the sight of him.
"Gosh, don't you look like James. Fantastic work on the fading, it took me years to perfect that with Ted," she critiqued, "very handsome, Harry! I especially love the lightning bolt."
"The what?" Harry gulped and excused himself to find the nearest mirror.
"It's behind your ear, it's fine!" Lyra shouted after him, "The fan girls will love it! It's all about your brand!"
Andromeda served a fresh plate of pancakes and called the pair to eat as she tended to her shopping list. Lyra eyed the extensive list, glad to see she had a lot on there to keep her busy, and kept her own plans to herself as she helped herself to a cup of Earl Grey. She needed her aunt out of the way so she could execute something that had been on her mind since she heard Sirius was on the loose, she knew Andy and everyone else in her family wouldn't understand.
"I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours in Diagon Alley. What have you two got planned for today?" Andromeda finally asked the dreaded question as she prepared her handbag for her journey, and Lyra jumped at the chance to evade suspicion first.
"I think we're going to try and find that pond in the woods out back," she lied, "I'm determined to find it before school starts."
"Be wary of the gnomes, they're very protective of that part of the woods," Andromeda cautioned them, taking to her lie so effortlessly, and Lyra grinned, hoping she looked innocent.
"We will!"
Lyra and Harry wished Andromeda a safe trip and renewed their vow to stay in Thistledown Hill as she went, but the second the roaring jade flames fizzled out in the fireplace Lyra broke her promise in one word.
"Kreacher!"
Pop!
"Somethings telling me we aren't going to find that pond today," Harry guessed as he sank into the sofa and smiled at the smartly-dressed house elf now standing in the middle of the lounge, gazing at his new surroundings.
"Now what makes you say that?" Lyra smirked at him before turning to hug Kreacher.
"Because your dimples are showing, they only show when you're up to no good," Harry pointed out, but he rushed to push the subject away from her appearance when a blush threatened to bloom in his cheeks.
Lyra never knew she had dimples before, but she passed over his comment when she remembered her father also had dimples. Yet another similarity — fantastic! Ugh, there better be a dimple disappearing potion in my book.
"What are we doing?" Harry asked quickly, and Lyra began to pace as she worked up the courage to convey her plan. Considering how well Kreacher and Harry knew her, the chance of them objecting was severely high. She was strong enough to deal with this.
"Kreacher, do you know where my grandfather lives?" She wondered aloud, and her stomach somersaulted when he hesitated, his bloodshot eyes narrowing slightly. Uh oh, here it comes.
"Mistress' grandfather on her mother's side? Mister Crouch?" clarified Kreacher, and she nodded. Harry looked at Lyra and sat up straight in an effort to take her suggestion seriously.
"Lyra, are you sure about this?" He checked, his voice a lot softer than she expected, and she nodded again.
"I need to hear from his own mouth that he wants nothing to do with me," she voiced the turmoil inside of her and pleaded with them both with her best puppy eyes, "I truly do not believe that he doesn't care that Sirius has escaped or that I might be in danger of being murdered, he's my freaking grandfather! There must be some part of him that wants to meet me, and when we meet I can prove to him that I'm nothing like that man."
"Kreacher believes it would be interesting to meet Mister Crouch… but Mistress Lyra must look after herself. She is still not healed from Dark Lord Riddle, Kreacher does not want to harm his mistress further," said Kreacher firmly, hobbling over to the sofa and hopping up beside Harry. Lyra considered his points and tried not to flinch at his curtness. She saw Harry frown out the side of her eye and hoped he wouldn't needlessly bring Riddle into this either.
"Kreacher has a point," Harry agreed after a moment's pause, but he couldn't stand to see her pout. "But I think you're well within your right to face him and find out what his problem with you is. He sounds like a weird man, I can't deny that I am extremely curious to see how similar you two are. If I were you I would want the same thing."
Lyra exhaled deeply and smiled at the pair, savouring her win. As long as Harry was on her side then she knew she could do it.
"If Mistress and Harry Potter are certain, then Kreacher is happy to take you there," Kreacher muttered, looking expectantly up at her. "Kreacher knows where the Crouch estate resides."
"Have you been there before?" wondered Harry, "where is it?"
"Gloucestershire. Kreacher hears many things from the wizards before his mistress' time, Kreacher has an excellent memory," he explained, "Kreacher has never been but he heard whispers from the wicked boy years ago."
The mention of Sirius came up like phlegm and an intrusive thought popped into Lyra's head, triggered by the idea of her father turning up today too.
Ask Kreacher to find him.
Bring him here — do it!
"Wonderful, I knew I could count on you," she said instead, smiling away the pain.
It wasn't the first time she thought about attempting to summon Sirius so the manhunt would end and she would get her life back, how could she not consider it? But Kreacher would never agree to it though, he would refuse out of fear of her safety. She liked to think that she could take her father on but then the gossip she received from Tonks always came back and reminded her she was being stupid. He was armed, he was a dark wizard. She didn't stand a chance against him.
Once Harry and Lyra were ready for their day out, with their wands and Harry's invisibility cloak stuffed in their backpacks as a precaution, they took Kreacher's leathery hands and apparated out of Herefordshire without any trouble. Whether trouble was waiting for them, however, was another story…
Pop!
"This is as far as Kreacher can take you," huffed Kreacher first as they landed in a creamy gold barley field that glowed around them in the sunshine. Lyra breathed in the heavy summer air and caught her bearings, unbothered by their peculiar destination and the lack of a house in sight. They were in the middle of the countryside with no distinctive landmarks around them.
"There is a ward up in the area, Kreacher's magic cannot bypass it," he said, dusting down his black smoking jacket and readjusting his cap. Kreacher was shorter than the barley stalks and Lyra giggled as she lost sight of him pretty quickly.
"There's a village over there," Harry shielded his eyes and pointed towards the steeple of a church peeking out of the tops of the trees lining the nearest road. "Is it that way?"
"Kreacher does not think so, the ward starts here and carries on up there," he croaked and pointed towards the sea of oak trees in the opposite direction to the signs of life.
Lyra squinted at the forest and took a few steps forwards. Suddenly a force similar to electricity ran up her arms, it was like static in the air and it tickled the fuzz on her skin.
"Woah, I think I can sense it," she grabbed Harry and dragged him over to her, "here, do you feel it too?"
"Oh yeah," Harry shivered and looked up towards the woods with a gasp, "ok it's definitely that way, look."
Through the frontline of the oak trunks, Lyra could just about see a small flurry of fairies dancing in the breeze with fallen flower petals. The glitter of their wings was all too familiar to the pair, Lyra and Harry had exhausted their copies of their new fuzzy albeit bitey Magical Creature textbooks Hagrid had posted to them over the summer to keep them entertained. Fairies were on page five, they were masters at spotting unusual creatures in the wild at this point.
Their trek to hunt down the Crouch estate didn't take any longer than an hour, but by the forty-minute mark, Lyra was debating giving up altogether.
It was sweltering, she kept tripping over stray branches, and her courage was quickly fading. It was only when Kreacher managed to spot the fork in the road trailing through the forest that Lyra felt motivated again. She didn't want to lose traction while she had it, and with both Harry and Kreacher's supportive comments she didn't give up.
"This must be it," Lyra announced when the neverending forest came to an abrupt stop. It opened up onto a lonely country road, but only a couple of miles away in the distance the forest began again and continued on forever. It was like someone had snipped out a few acres in the woods and plonked a guarded stone manor in its place.
Rows upon rows of high metal railings and hedges hid the estate from the visitors' gazes as they traipsed down the road in search of some kind of entrance into the land. Whoever lived here valued their privacy, Lyra was quite impressed with how unapproachable it looked.
"So far everything is making sense," Harry spoke up first once they found the entrance gate.
Two huge ugly gargoyles flanked the dark, lethal-looking iron gate, its coiled ends were dipped in molten gold and a coat of arms engraved with the golden words 'sta purus, sta fortis, sta celsus' sat squarely at the centre like an envelope seal. Lyra didn't know anything about foreign languages but she knew the word purus was bad news.
Through the bars, Lyra could see a dark gravelled courtyard adorned with decadent stone benches, beautifully-trimmed lush grass squares, and a black marble fountain. A huge grizzly black bear sat in the fountain's centre and roared soundlessly at the sky as water shot out from its gaping mouth, showering down onto the flowerbeds circling the fountain. The old Jacobean manor was dark and cold-looking, not a single light shone behind the drab curtains nor were any of the windows open, and Lyra strained her eyes trying to spot any life within. Crap, is anyone even home?
"How can we get inside?" Lyra verbalised her train of thought, taking a few steps back to observe the entrance as a whole for some sign of a loophole, "is there really nothing you can do?"
Kreacher shook his head sadly, scowling at the gargoyles that seemed to be staring at him.
"Not unless Kreacher is on the other side." He pointed at the unsavoury gate.
"Do you reckon we could climb over? It's not that high," Harry suggested, searching the stone guards in the hopes of finding decent foot holes, and Lyra shrugged. It was certainly worth a shot, she didn't have any other ideas.
"There's only one way to find out!" She said brightly and tightened her backpack straps with two tugs. Thank God I'm wearing shorts underneath this damn dress.
Lyra backed up a few steps and took a deep breath, preparing to make a fool out of herself, and before either Harry or Kreacher talked her out of it she ran at the gate and jumped as high as she could.
"OW!"
Harry burst out laughing as Lyra landed roughly in the gravel on the other side of the gate. The second she came into contact with the iron it seemed to melt away like black smoke and accepted the blood relative as a welcomed guest. The small stones stabbed her all over but Lyra quickly jumped up and wiped them away, ignoring the small graze on her knee.
"That was the most graceful thing I've ever seen," Harry sighed as he wiped away tears, "I wish I had your camera ready, do it again!"
"Yeah, yeah, maybe later," she grumbled, pouting at him through the bars, but once her pain faded she turned her focus on the gate and asked Kreacher to try and apparate again.
Pop!
"Ayyy!" Lyra cheered once Harry and Kreacher reappeared beside her, "So much for a protective ward, that was so easy!"
"I doubt your grandad ever expected you to drop by for a visit, that probably won't work again," Harry pointed out as they headed towards the entrance of the old manor house, "are you nervous?"
"A little," she muttered, her wobbly footsteps crackling against the gravel, "but I'd feel even worse if I didn't try."
"Then that means you're doing the right thing… But can I suggest that if he starts shouting at you, maybe don't shout back?"
Lyra's spirits rose significantly and she laughed at him. That was the part she was looking forward to most!
"Hell no!"
"Eh, I tried," Harry shrugged, looking at Kreacher who looked just as apprehensive as he felt.
"Harry Potter will stop mistress if she does something stupid?" He asked him out of Lyra's earshot, and Harry gave him another halfhearted shrug.
"I think our definitions of something stupid are very different, don't count on it."
This only unsettled Kreacher further.
They hopped up to the entrance door and took a moment to collect themselves before they announced their arrival. Lyra wasn't sure whether she should dismiss Kreacher in case her grandfather reported him to the Ministry out of spite, and after Harry's agreement to her sentiment, she ordered Kreacher to hide in one of the nearby hedges instead. She didn't want him to leave just yet, what if they needed a quick getaway? Something Lyra's gut told her to be wary of the situation and she didn't enjoy the feeling whatsoever.
"Here goes nothing," she exhaled and bravely slammed the gold door knocker three times. The knocks echoed on the other side and Lyra held her weak breath, whoever was inside the vast manor would've heard her. Harry's fingers brushed hers and she instinctively interlocked hers, holding onto him for dear life. Thankfully he didn't say anything.
The front door swung open and all of Lyra's initial worries vanished when she took in the appearance of the meek house elf peering up at her.
They had soppy brown eyes full of premature tears, a squashed squat nose, and frail dark hair that was swept out of their wrinkling face. They wore a simple black toga that looked far too big for their timid frame, and a thousand and one ideas for new outfits flooded Lyra's brain. The spark of recognition illuminated the elf's face when they looked Lyra up and down as though they were hallucinating and her heart soared.
SHUT THE FUCK UP — ANOTHER ELF!
"Hi! Nice to meet you," Lyra grinned, hurriedly dropping Harry's hand and offering it to the sniffling house elf before her, and in her sweetest tone she continued, "I'm Ly—,"
"WHAT IN DEVIL'S NAME ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"
The bellow reverberated around the grand entrance hall and caused the pair on the doorstep to jump in fright. Out of the darkness behind the house elf appeared a man that Lyra genuinely never expected to see again. Like, ever.
He was just some stranger that meant nothing to her, someone whose face she barely caught a glimpse of before he vanished into thin air — and yet there he was again! She deflated as though her lungs had been punctured, the realisation was too great for her to behold and Lyra forced herself to blink a few times just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.
Yup. That's still the same old guy from the park.
Bartemius Crouch towered over his house elf and glowered at the two teenagers perched on his doorstep, his aged face torn between incredulity and fury. He was wearing a tweed suit without a hat this time and Lyra noticed how thick his greying hair was considering his age, something they had in common. His ears stuck out slightly, just like hers.
"Oh my God," Lyra found her voice and gawked up at her grandfather, no longer speechless, "Oh my God?! IT'S YOU!"
"You are not welcome here, Black," snarled Crouch, disgusted that Lyra was still standing in his presence, and he clenched the door harder, bringing it to a close behind him.
He really didn't want her to come inside, he couldn't have made that clearer.
"Leave. Now."
"Pfft, no!" Lyra exclaimed, giggling faintly out of nerves, "I saw you that day, in the park—,"
"You've seen him before?" Harry gulped, switching his expression from fear to confusion.
"Yeah, and you totally were there to see me, weren't you?!" She asked him, ignoring the increasing rage on Crouch's face.
A fire roared inside of her, fuelled by the knowledge that she now possessed. Why would a man who didn't care about her track her down? Why would he bother to travel to Weymouth if not to see if she was still alive?! I KNEW IT! I knew he cared!
"I don't know what you are talking about," lied Crouch through his gritted teeth, "you foolish girl, why have you come here?" His ignited copper eyes flashed as he glanced at Harry.
"And why are you here, Potter? You, of all people, should know better."
A little flummoxed that he had been addressed, Harry nodded at Lyra and flashed him a polite smile.
"Because your granddaughter wanted to talk to you, and as her best friend I wanted to support her. Why else would I be here?"
"Do yourself a favour and ditch Black as soon as you can, don't make your parents' same mistake," Crouch growled, subtly directing his house elf to go inside, but he couldn't seem to shake her from her daze.
The elf's engorged eyes were trained on Lyra as though she had seen a ghost, as though the past had paid them a spontaneous visit. Noticing Crouch's troubles, Lyra beamed back at the elf and decided to trick her way into prolonging their stay. Questions were piling up in her mind, she needed answers whether her grandfather liked it or not.
"What's your name?" She asked with her prettiest smile, cutting off Harry's offended retort.
"I order you not to answer her!" Crouch demanded, and Lyra scoffed, annoyed by his quick thinking.
"Come on! No fair!"
"Inside, and upstairs — now," her grandfather hissed at his elf, and he shoved her back through the door, vigilant of watchful eyes all around him.
Lyra barely had time to spot the dozens of oil-painted portraits hanging on the arching walls of the sumptuous entrance hall, and a dark wood balcony where she swore she saw a lingering shadow creeping by. Her heart throbbed in agony, she was so close to the memory of her mother and she was forbidden to reminisce even for a moment about a time when she was alive. She wasn't allowed to see her childhood home. She lived here… she stood in this very doorway once… I wonder if Grandad shouted at her like this as well?
"Bye! It was great meeting you!" Lyra called after the elf who was dragging their feet, and she smiled when they looked back at her, the same longing glinting in their eyes.
"I must assume that my clear estrangement and ministerial restrictions against you aren't clear enough, but if I must spell it out so you can comprehend what I'm trying to tell you then so be it," barked Crouch, pulling the door shut so they couldn't snoop. "You are not wanted here, leave."
Lyra's heart cracked, and her guard shot up. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"So you actually do hate me? For no reason? Your only grandchild? The future of your family? Please, I honestly do need you to spell it out for me because it doesn't make any sense!"
Each word out of her mouth drove Crouch further over the edge, and he took a threatening step forwards. Lyra noticed Harry moved closer out of the step of her eye and prayed that she didn't need Kreacher to step in between them.
"I don't need to say why, it is for the future of my family that I keep you as far away from me as possible," Crouch snarled as he bent down, his horseshoe moustache quivering with his rippling lip, and Lyra could smell the muted musk of liquor and coffee on his breath. She couldn't break his stern eye contact and she hated how quickly he saw past her.
"Because you think I'm like that… that arsehole that broke out of Azkaban? The one who murdered your daughter — my mother, by the way! In case you forgot! — and tried to kill me?! If you just gave me a chance and tried getting to know me then you'll see I'm the complete opposite of him!" She exploded, "How dare you judge me before you even know me!"
"Oh, I don't need to know you in order to cast my opinion, but right now you are proving that you're your father's daughter through and through," he spat, repulsed by her ignorant behaviour that gave him a glimpse into the past he yearned to forget. He combed back the hair that had become dislodged and deepened his sneer.
"The blood running through your veins is as dark as your name, you are no family of mine… I don't have a daughter, and I certainly do not have a granddaughter."
"You'd be extraordinarily lucky to have Lyra in your life!" Harry objected when Lyra faltered, stuttering on her own ragged breaths and flushed by a blush she didn't realise had bloomed. "She doesn't deserve any of this, her life was destroyed the same day yours was, the same day mine was too! And if you possessed just a fraction of decency or common sense then you'd realise that she's trying to fix the damage that you can't be bothered to deal with anymore!"
"Yeah, what Harry said," Lyra doubled down, hiding her urge to tear up with her best bitch face and the pair high-fived.
Crouch looked as though he was about to faint, his cruel directed eye contact diminished like water to a flame and he dropped it to the floor. He couldn't bear to even look at them, they cut him too deeply to repair any sense of a relationship between them. Crouch had become too tired, he didn't have the energy to try anymore.
"Get off of my property before I call for the Ministry and report you for the use of underage magic," he uttered, so quiet and unshakable like a distant power engine. His low tone chilled Lyra to the bone and she lost the ability to fight back, the haunting look that stole her grandfather's intimidating facade said a thousand words, but not one of those words came from his lips. His secrets were his until the day he died.
But that wasn't good enough for Lyra.
"But—?!"
"Come on, you tried your best," Harry spoke up roughly, wrapping his arm around Lyra's sunken shoulders and leading her away from the traumatised old man slumped in the doorway of his cold, empty house. "He doesn't deserve any of your love, you're so much better off without him. Shame on you, Mr Crouch."
Lyra succumbed to Harry's guiding force and left her grandfather in her shadow, but the words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. She glanced over her shoulder for the last time and made sure he looked her directly in the eye.
"Fine, have it your way — I will never contact you, speak about you, or even waste a minute of my time thinking about you. You're right, you don't have a granddaughter anymore," she sneered, and with a final flick of her choppy hair she took Harry's arm and stormed down the drive, her head held high so he couldn't see her hurt.
Unbothered by the eyes from the house watching them, Kreacher popped into existence beside them once they reached the gate. Lyra could tell by the wobble in his whiskery brow that he had a few things he would've liked to have said to Bartemius. Although Lyra would've liked that very much, she was relieved he didn't.
"Kreacher, can you take us to the nearest village please?" Harry instructed when Lyra failed to react. She had gone mute again and Harry panicked a little.
He wrapped his arm tighter around her neck and encouraged her to hide her face in his chest so she could decompress without an audience. Lyra didn't realise she needed the privacy until the tears started to pour down her scorched freckled cheeks and her chest began to seize from the weight of her silent sobs.
Pop!
Lyra hardly felt her elf's magic, the numb lethargic waves of shame and hatred constricted most of her senses as she broke down in Harry's arms. It was hideously embarrassing how terrible of a job she was doing at handling her encounter with Crouch, but for the first time, she didn't care. Both of them had seen her in worse states than this, this was barely a four on the scale of mental breakdowns.
"I'll be a minute tops, I swear," Harry compromised with Lyra, trying to pry her out from her hiding place, and thankfully she didn't have as much hair to hide behind now. Lyra wiped her face and nodded, struggling to say she was ok, but she let out one gurgled and slightly disgusting cry and immediately wailed again. She collapsed into Kreacher's arms more out of embarrassment than sadness this time.
"Great! Kreacher, watch her before she does something silly, I'll be right back," Harry instructed, leaving his hyperventilating friend in the cool, cobbled alleyway trailing off of a village high street. The sounds of children laughing and shrill bike bells rang in the air and Lyra attempted to ground herself so she could rid herself of her awful morning.
She was wrong, she wasn't ready to hear what Crouch thought of her.
His rejection unlocked the floodgates that she had been working on closing during her counselling sessions. The trauma Riddle inflicted ran deeper than she thought, the chill of his words laced the words of her grandfather.
She was dark. She was damaged goods, the discarded result of an evil force, the child of a lie. No one would truly love her. She wasn't worthy of being a part of his family. She was like her father, she was destined to do dark things—
"Am I b-bad?" Lyra hiccuped, emerging from her wobble with unwanted clarity, "Am I destined to d-do bad things because my d-dad's evil?"
"Mistress is too easily influenced," tutted Kreacher, patting her back as though she were a young child in need of some affection. She even let him rock her a little. "Master Regulus was too, and Kreacher didn't like how easily his master lost confidence in himself. Mistress mustn't follow his mistakes, Mistress has a good heart."
"Thanks, c-can you go around and tell everyone else that p-please because I'm fed up already," Lyra sniffled, taking deep breaths so her hiccups would leave.
"Kreacher will strive to tell as many people as he can," her house elf vowed, standing tall before issuing a low bow, and Lyra wondered whether he was being serious or not. She couldn't actually have him trail after her proclaiming that she wasn't a threat… could she?
"And you've stopped crying, great timing," panted Harry, gleaming with a light layer of sweat from his quick shop run. Lyra spotted the neon blue plastic bag swinging behind him as he sneakily tried to shove his purchases in his backpack, but she kept her mouth shut out of respect for his plan.
"Sorry, I dunno what came over me, he must've struck a nerve," Lyra admitted, flashing him a shy smile as she smoothed down her now wrinkled dress.
"He struck more than a nerve, he went way too far," Harry said matter-of-factly, "you can cry as much as you like, he was so out of order."
"I'm one hundred percent done with crying," Lyra sighed, massaging her puffy eyes with a self-inflicted groan, "ah well, at least I didn't break down in front of him! I count that as a win."
"He looked like he was about to cry himself when you were done with him," smiled Harry proudly, and Lyra gave a small curtsy, "but enough about your horrible grandad — let's head back to Tonks' before Andy finds out what we've done."
"Oh crap," Lyra muttered and tried to make herself look more presentable before they apparated back to Thistledown, "uh, if she asks why I look all red, just say that I got into a heated argument with the gnomes at the pond, ok?"
"Naturally."
"Ugh, Kreacher hates gnomes! Nasty little things!" growled Kreacher, triggered by the mention of the pointy devils, and the pair tried not to tease him too much once they arrived back in the gnome-infested valley.
"Watch out!" Lyra screamed, laughing as she chased after her elf who frantically looked around, "It's coming right for you!"
"Quickly! Run, Kreacher!" Harry added, kicking a stone into the long grass after him and the grass rippled as though something was dashing through it.
Kreacher yelped and hightailed it up the grassy dunes covering the second tallest hill and disappearing from the non-existent gnome.
The sun shining down on them as they eventually peaked the hill overlooking the Tonks's household finally warmed Lyra up. The chill she unintentionally caught from her grandfather's estate vanished and she spread out on the grass beside Harry, listening to the birds sing.
"Thanks for backing me up, by the way," Lyra huffed, repeating the encounter in her head to pick her grandfather's responses apart. Harry didn't need to say anything but he did, and bizarrely it was certainly a provoked response on his behalf. "I dunno why he brought your parents into it, though, talk about a low blow."
"Yeah, that was a bit odd," Harry considered, lounging back and using his backpack as a pillow, "but I suppose he would've known that our parents were best friends, maybe that's what he meant."
"I guess, but still, he shouldn't have done that," she huffed, her sadness converting into saltiness as she basked in the sun. She decided to embrace her ever-growing freckles these days, from her photos she knew her mother was covered in them.
"Did you notice that someone else was in the house?" Harry asked, sneaking a peek at her reaction from the side of his eye, and Lyra froze.
That was a shadow.
It wasn't an innocent shadow either.
We sensed something bad in that house, he's hiding something.
"Ahh, I thought I saw someone on the balcony inside, and it was way too tall to be another house elf," Lyra replied, watching the fluffy clouds pass by, "what did you see?"
"The curtains on the top floor were shifting when we were walking up," Harry confessed to his findings, and Lyra scoffed, sitting up to stare at him.
"Why didn't you point that out before?"
"Because you were a little preoccupied shitting yourself! Chill out a bit, Lyra, you're pushing yourself too hard," said Harry honestly, gazing at her in concern as he leant up on his elbow. The gold flash of his amulet around his neck caught Lyra's eye and she concentrated on what he was saying for once.
"After today, I really think we should stick around here where it's safe. And you need to focus on the positives in your life more, please forget all about Crouch and your dad. Obviously, I know that's a lot harder done than said but after everything with Riddle you need to give yourself a break. Let's enjoy our fantastic summer with the lovely side of your family, away from everyone else and have some fun."
In one fluid movement Harry shoved his hand in his backpack and pulled out two ice-cold cans of Dr Pepper.
"And speaking of fun, let's start out fun by having a couple of cold ones."
Lyra melted. "Aww, you didn't!"
"I did," Harry pierced his own can and cheersed her, "only fun times from here on out, deal?"
Lyra clinked her can against his and winked, feeling foolish for forgetting her clownish side. Why have trauma when you can just have laughter instead?
"Deal! Hey, I wonder if Kreacher will sneak us some real cold ones?"