Lyra tapped her feet against her stool in time with the ticking clock on the classroom wall as she tried to calculate how much of her life so far she had wasted in detention.
It must have been more than ten percent, surely, it certainly felt like it, but as she caught a glimpse of Snape's sneer from the corner of her eye she knew that percentage would only grow. There was no way he was going to let her get away this easily, she could see him using this as an excuse to punish her until Christmas at least. He had already sat in the shadows for an hour, just glaring at her, waiting for her to crack.
She hadn't.
"Ready to admit to it yet, Black?" he growled, and Lyra leant on her hand, glossing her smile with a confused shrug.
"Honestly sir, I haven't the faintest idea why I'm here," she lied, and she forced a huff, "these days I tend to just go with it, you know? I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason why I'm in detention instead of being upstairs in the Great Hall having dinner. Not to mention my Quidditch practice starts soon, and I've already missed my Herbology tutoring session by being here–,"
"Then maybe the next time you decide to cause me grief you better use that useless brain of yours to think about the consequences!" Snape snapped as he jumped to his feet, stormed over to her, and slammed the incriminating evidence on the desk in front of her. Lyra clamped down on her tongue, struggling not to laugh at what she considered to be her best piece of art yet. God, I'm so talented.
"Care to explain what this is?" he snarled, his voice no higher than a murderous hiss, and Lyra delicately held up the painting of Snape in drag, admiring the colours in the dreadful dungeon lighting. She wasn't sure why Snape was so mad, she did her best to make him look somewhat flattering with the exaggerated makeup, and she supposed Neville's grandmother's clothes were a bit outdated. It took a person with great confidence to pass a taxidermied falcon off as a hat but she did her best to make the outfit work in his favour, he lacked Neville's nan's flair for sure.
"It looks to me like a man with a unique sense of style, I personally think you look rather fetching, Professor, I love your conviction," Lyra complimented and smiled up at him. "Dare I say it's your best look yet?"
"ZIP IT!" Snape snatched the painting from her hands and ripped it into shreds, spitting more insults with every tear, "Thirty points from Gryffindor for disrespecting your teachers, and another twenty for thinking you're smart enough to get away with it! Idiot!"
Lyra watched the tatters of her masterpiece burn before her eyes and began to wonder whether Fred and George had sold any more copies since lunchtime. The original copy of her painting was in their hands and had been for the past couple of weeks, this was only one of hundreds that had been spread throughout the castle.
"How do you know it was me who did this?" Lyra wondered, remaining cool and collected. Thank you past me for not signing it! "It could have been anyone. Whoever the artist is, they're very good."
"I know what took place in your Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, don't play dumb. I know it was you, you insolent girl."
"Er, having a gut feeling that it was me doesn't count? There were dozens of other people in that lesson," she scoffed, wondering just how exactly she could get away with this. She supposed she hadn't, with her being in detention and all, but still she wanted to try. "I may be a talented artist but so is Dean, and I heard Mandy can paint a mean picture too?"
"How about I fetch Mr Thomas and Miss Brocklehurst and ask them? We both know what they're going to say, Black, so shut your mouth and serve your detention until I say you can go. Move, there are cauldrons waiting for you in the sink," Snape instructed her, a fierce vein against his temple throbbing with her every movement. Lyra cringed as she glanced at her newly-painted nails. Damn it, again?! So much for Remus' promise, my hands are gonna be ruined.
But, as though the universe was eavesdropping on her bitter thoughts and decided to listen for once, a knock at the classroom door broke her half-hearted concentration and limp-wristed washing. It turns out her new professor didn't disappoint!
"Good evening Severus," Remus poked his head inside the classroom and spotted Lyra grinning by the sink with his own faint smile, "ah, there you are, Miss Black. Mr Diggory is looking for you–,"
"Black is serving her detention, Professor," said Snape, interjecting with more spit than was necessary, "her prior engagements will have to wait." Lyra noticed how pale his knuckles were as he clenched the door and she wondered how she could make his mood worse.
"That's completely understandable, but I am afraid that I will have to cut this particular detention short. Professor McGonagall was insistent that Miss Black needed to attend her remedial Herbology lessons, it wouldn't surprise me if she caused this detention so she could miss it," explained Remus, awkwardly smiling at his colleague as though Snape wasn't silently wishing for his sudden death.
"Yep, you got me there, that's totally why. Aw well… Does this mean I can go?" Lyra chipped in, and both professors turned to stare.
"No–,"
"Yes, I'm here to escort you," Remus interrupted Snape before he exploded with another rant about how she deserved to be punished, "and you'll carry out the rest of your detention with me afterwards, I don't doubt Professor Snape's judgement that your punishment is deserved."
Trying her best not to laugh, Lyra dried her hands and rushed to collect her things. "Ahh, yeah about that – I've got Quidditch practice tonight, Oliver will murder me if I miss it."
"Then I suppose you can carry out the rest of your sentence tomorrow instead," Remus compromised, and he gestured at her to hurry up. Snape stayed silent at the door, his knuckles growing whiter and whiter, and Lyra avoided his death gaze as she left. It was a miracle that he didn't say anything else, but by the heat of his eyes on the retreating pair's backs she knew she wasn't the only source of his anger. Remus would have to deal with his wrath eventually too.
"Do I even want to ask what this detention was the result of?" asked Remus once they were far away enough from Snape's classroom, and Lyra simply smiled back.
"Not really, I don't want you to get into trouble too," she said, making a mental note to send him a copy of her masterpiece. Remus decided not to press further as he was now very aware of her emerging dimples.
"Hmm, I think I'm going to regret my decision to bust you out of there very much, aren't I?" he muttered more to himself than to her, and Lyra could only giggle in response. Fair enough!
"Thanks for saving me," she said, genuinely thankful, and Remus rolled his eyes.
"I did say I would help, but only this once. I don't think Professor Snape would be very happy if I steal you away next time, he may begin to suspect that I'm favouring you," he admitted, and Lyra guffawed, pulling an exasperated face.
"You? Favouring me? Your favourite student? The child of your best friend? Never!" she teased, and the apples of Remus' scarred cheeks flushed pink as though he once again resented himself for speaking to her. Lyra couldn't help herself, teasing him when she got the chance to was pretty fun.
The blossoming friendship between Lyra and Remus was slow to start, if at all. Since her first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Remus made a conscious effort to befriend her, and Harry too, not only as his students but as a genuine family friend. He spoke about Giselle, James, and Lily with such beautiful tenderness that Lyra burst into tears the first time, his stories about their parents gave both of them a sense of belonging that they didn't know they were lacking – and better yet, he even dared to touch upon Sirius and offer them his own thoughts on the dark matter.
"The man he became wasn't the man I grew to know. I think he truly may have gone insane and snapped, that is the only logical conclusion I keep coming to after thinking it over all these years. I don't know why he did what he did," he told them while sharing a cup of tea in his office, and Lyra did her best to lighten the mood. Remus looked morbidly depressed whenever he talked about Sirius, she couldn't stand the sight of it.
"Oh, his brain broke? That's because of all the Black inbreeding, right?" She joked, and she smiled as his sadness cracked. His eyes warmed up and he faintly smirked.
"Mhmm, something like that."
Lyra hoped Remus would turn into a proper adult confidant in her life, like Danielle, but it was a hard ask. Actually no, it was bloody difficult because he didn't fully trust her yet, any little question Lyra wanted to ask him led to only one answer and it was never the answer he gave –because he was a werewolf. What have you been up to these past few years? Off being a werewolf. How did you get those scars? Werewolf. How are you? Crap, because I'm a, you guessed it, werewolf.
He hadn't mentioned a single word about his lycanthropy and it was a lot of effort for her trying to stop herself from vomiting the wolfish word up every time they spoke. She wanted him to trust her with that information, but every time he refused to make any references towards his savage time of the month she took a step back.
Something in Lyra's brain was blocking her from opening up to Remus. She made the first move by opening up to a complete stranger last year and it ended terribly, it was like her body was attempting to stop her from making the same mistake. She knew Remus was dying to ask her about her life too but she kept dodging the subject any time it came up. He was an acquaintance, a teacher. Not her friend… yet.
They were at a stalemate, a very courteous if not banterous stalemate, but one nevertheless.
"I suggest you keep that information to yourself," Remus commented lightly as he directed her up the dungeon stairs, "I can't have you taking advantage of my kindness now. You're lucky I ran into Mr Diggory actually, I wouldn't have known you were in detention again if he hadn't been searching the entire castle for you."
Lyra quickly piped down at the mention of Cedric, and she tried her best to keep her blush from devouring her face. Her crush was now in the 'blush every time their name is mentioned' stage and she cursed her blood for betraying her. "Yeah, lucky me, the idiot who can't study plants. They're plants for crying out loud! What's not to get? It's just leaves and a bit of soil!"
"I take it your remedial classes aren't coming along so well?" Remus wondered, sneaking another side glance as they climbed. Lyra was thankful for the continued light topics. They usually stuck to base-level stuff, stuff you would tell an elderly neighbour or a regular teacher.
"Ha, was it that obvious? I'm still rubbish at Herbology, but Cedric is nice so I don't mind them that much," she decided to say. That was casual enough, not too passionate and not indifferent either. Totally normal things to say about a boy she didn't have a crush on. Her heart raced at the possibility of Remus noticing that something off about the way she spoke about the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, that the redness under her freckles were screaming that she fancied her tutor. Whether he figured that out though, he never said.
"Good, good…" Remus trailed off as the usual debate played in his dark eyes, and fear trickled over Lyra when he dared to continue, "and, um… how have your sessions with Madam Pomfrey been?"
"...They've been a royal pain in my arse," Lyra said slowly, approaching the subject at a snail's pace. That wasn't a base-level question. "But you shouldn't worry about them, they're not very helpful. There's only so many times I can take her asking me 'how does that make you feel' and 'tell me what that was like for you' without wanting to blow my brains out. It's exhausting, Danielle is way better at playing therapist than her."
She sensed the familiar question forming in the air between them and she tried not to react too viscerally when he dropped his casual tone and adopted a softer, more delicate one.
Remus turned to face her, slowing down as their private moment was coming to a brief end, "Lyra, if there's anything you ever wanted to discuss with me then—,"
"There you are! I should've known."
Lyra had never been more happy to see Cedric in her life, the usual nervous butterflies she felt when she saw him vanished as relief replaced them. Yes! Distraction! Their deep conversation was postponed once more, she could breathe easy again.
Lyra breached the stairwell first and rushed over to Cedric who had miraculously appeared in the doorway to the Entrance Hall, looking like a blessed angel. "Sorry! So so sorry! Totally my fault, I should have tried to contact you somehow – see, this school needs electricity, it's too archaic here."
"Actually, if you're up for it, I know a little spell that can help with that," Cedric suggested, "that way the next time you inevitably find yourself in detention with Snape you can let me know you're not coming."
"Contrary to popular belief, I didn't get detention just to avoid you," Lyra corrected him, suddenly wary that he may think she hated seeing him, "just want to make that clear, I do like your tutoring sessions."
"Jeez, stop Black, you're making me blush," he teased her, but the sight of him smiling specifically at her induced those same god forsaken lethargic waves into her stomach. I hate this! I hate having a crush, this is the wooorst!
"Thanks for tracking her down, sir," Cedric graciously thanked Remus once he caught up with them, and Lyra had trouble looking her new professor in the eye.
Remus was openly smirking now, the mischievous boy from the photograph was back. It was like he had known her their whole lives and he could read every freckle on her face by the way he was watching her. His eyes shifted, brightening, and he wanted to make sure she noticed. Lyra's blush flourished brighter and she felt the urge to keel over and die on the spot as her panic set in.
FUCK! HE KNOWS! HE KNOWS I FANCY HIM!
He totally knows.
Awwww!
SHUT UP!
"I hate to do this to you, Diggory, but I kinda have Quidditch practice in–," Lyra tilted her head as she searched their wrists for a watch, "yikes, in five minutes so we've got to rearrange. Again, totally my fault, so sorry, but Oliver will go on a killing spree if I skip and like I've always said, Quidditch matters more than my Herbology grade." She began to back towards the exit and shot Remus a glare but he continued to watch her in sheer fascination as she grew more flustered.
"Aw, you're breaking my heart," Cedric placed a hand on his chest, "are you one hundred percent you don't want to find out what grade you got on my quiz? I spent hours of my own personal freetime preparing it too, and you're gonna be surprised by your results?"
"Guilt-tripping? You're guilt-tripping me now to spend time with you?" Lyra scoffed, but she couldn't help herself. She loved this. "Ok, fine, how about you shout at me for failing while I head down to the pitch?"
"And how about I escort you both there?" suggested Remus, furthering his torment, and she almost whimpered. Was this what it was like to have an annoying, embarrassing uncle? This was absolutely not base-level worthy! Remus shouldn't know who she fancied, he's his bloody teacher too!
For the first time in her life, Lyra was thankful that she was an orphan.
"How about you don't?" Lyra grumbled under her breath, and instead she grabbed Cedric's arm and dragged him away from Remus before he could get another word in edgewise, "bye sir! Cedric will protect me from any scary monsters or mass murderers out in the grounds, we'll be fine!"
"Err, I mean I'll certainly try?" Cedric looked far from amused at the prospect of having to fight these supposed scary monsters or her father, but thankfully Remus left them alone to wander down to the Quidditch pitch together.
"So, this is the part where you start shouting and resenting me, right? Did I pass your quiz? Has this been a waste of time so far?" Lyra asked once they breached the entrance doors to the castle, and the damp cold air of the evening kissed her hot cheeks. Now she could blame her glowing skin on the weather, she embraced Cedric's full eye contact and subtle arm brushes as they began their walk.
"Firstly, I would never shout at you for getting something wrong," he prefaced as he searched through his bag. Lyra caught a whiff of his fresh cotton fabric softener and leathery body spray and had trouble steadying her wobbly legs for a moment, "which is great news for my throat because I would be shouting for a good while."
Lyra groaned loudly, making him laugh.
"That bad?" she pouted, and he clicked his tongue, pulling an uneasy expression as he found her papers.
"Lets just say that we're going to be seeing a lot of each other, possibly up until you pass your OWLS at this rate which is good because I leave school that year," Cedric said, and he laughed harder as her groans grew exasperated.
"But–?! Wait, no! Sprout said nothing about me needing to pass the bloody OWL exam, hang on a sec!" Lyra faltered on the gravelled path slightly, "dude, you know that's not going to happen, tell me you're joking! You're killing me here!"
"You're without a doubt the most dramatic person I've ever met, Black, has anyone ever told you that?" Cedric grazed his hand against her back to guide her onwards, and the mere sensation sent the butterflies into overdrive. Lyra habitually smoothed her hair out of her rosy face and smiled, feigning gratitude at his statement.
"I believe the correct term is drama queen, thank you very much Diggory," she fluttered her lashes at him, and a stern part of her yearned for him to touch her again.
But the trauma that stalked her was back in a flash and it washed her butterflies away, killing them and her longing. Actually no I don't.
This is different, Cedric isn't him.
Hush, let her be. Lyra, it's ok, that's completely normal. Breathe…
"Uh, so, did I pass your test?" Lyra shook away the fear that tried to melt her insides and pressed on, hoping Cedric hadn't noticed. Luckily he never did.
"No, you failed," he said frankly, and presented her with the gold 'D' on her answer sheet. The ink was practically shining up at her through the darkness canopying the path "but you did a whole lot better than your first quiz! Congrats!"
Lyra gawked at her D grade and scoffed, her frown highlighted in the subtle yellow glow. She did dreadfully, that wasn't worth the celebration at all. "Mhmm, yeah greeeat. You look way too happy giving me this D though—,"
Haha, dirty.
Lyra?!
Uggggggh!
"I didn't mean–!" Lyra lost her voice to humiliation as Cedric blinked back at her, his eyes twinkling, "what I meant was that you're doing a terrible job at tutoring me if you're happy that I failed."
"You didn't completely fail, you only half-failed. Well, no you technically failed three quarters of it. That's still worth a hundred congratulations because it means you're getting better. You're a work in progress, Black, that's all. Please don't be embarrassed," Cedric recovered from her weird innuendo faster than her and dared to nudge her arm, "you're not getting away from me that easily so yes, to answer one of your many questions I've officially deemed you worthy of my time. Tough luck."
They were going to be hanging out a lot, and Lyra couldn't help but smile at that fact. Her longing was fragile as it pooled in her stomach, warming her like sunshine.
"Your loss, dude."
It wasn't until they reached the pitch that Lyra realised her mistake in asking Cedric to accompany her. She had been doing so well keeping her tutoring separate from the rest of her life – more specifically her family life – so she insulted herself when they reached the stadium's entrance. The silhouettes of her teammates shone through the canvas up ahead like a bunch of anxious shadow puppets.
"Ah," Lyra interrupted Cedric's story and threw her arm out, stopping him from giving them away, "you better get out of here quick."
"Are you kidding me?" he scoffed, brow arched, "you dragged me all the way down here just to send me away? You tease."
"I told you I had practice, Diggory, what exactly am I teasing?" Lyra shot back, and her heart skipped when a gentle blush ignited his cheeks. Oh?!
"No, I suppose you were honest, but now I've got to walk all the way back to the castle alone?" He complained with a smile, he didn't look too pissed off and Lyra shrugged.
"By all means wait for our practice to finish if you're too scared to go back? Aww, is this poor little Hufflepuff scared of the dark?" She wound him up, but her stomach plummeted when the canvas door to the Gryffindor changing rooms ripped open. A dozen eyes stared back and she fought very hard with herself not to blush again. She'd done that too much now, she was exceeding her limit.
"So, not only are you late, but you decided to bring the enemy with you?!" Oliver exclaimed as he suddenly burst through the door, and he bared his teeth at his opposing captain, "come to steal my Chaser and eavesdrop on our game plan, eh Diggory?"
"Be nice to my tutor, Oliver," Lyra warned him as she stood in between the two boys sizing each other up, "I was in detention with my best friend Snape, don't blame Cedric for me being late." She tried to shuffle past them so she could get ready, the rest of her team were already dressed and waiting. It took every drop of self-restraint for her not to meet the twin's pointed scowls.
"Hmm…" Oliver looked the smug-looking Cedric up and down once more before crossing his arms, "I'll allow it."
"Always a pleasure, Wood," Cedric smirked at him and gave Lyra one more nod before he departed, "Oh, and Black? I forgot to tell you, I told Penelope that you wanted to help decorate the Great Hall for the Halloween Bash so you're on decorating duty."
He what?! Lyra's face dropped, her plans to sneak out to Hogsmeade on her birthday now bursting into flames before her eyes. "Huh?! How does she know I'm free that day?"
Angelina looked ashamed in the corner and raised her hand, shooting Lyra a sympathetic smile. "I may or may not have mentioned to her that you didn't get your Hogsmeade permission slip signed after our council meeting the other day."
"I didn't volunteer the other day for a reason, dude!" Lyra moaned back, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry!"
"See? This is what happens when you skip your tutoring lessons! I ran into her in the greenhouses and let it slip that you were free too. If you were there to tell me to shut up then you wouldn't have a problem now, would you?" Cedric chuckled, enjoying the way she glowered. The enticing way he was looking at her encouraged the heat swelling in her gut and she couldn't fight her own grin. And I called me a tease! I'm so going to get him back for that.
"Run along, little badger, off you trot," Fred shooed Cedric from the Gryffindor changing rooms, leaving Lyra to hide her flusteredness in the shadows of the ladies' section while she got dressed. Thankfully Angelina and Katie brought along her belongings so it wasn't long until she joined her teammates as though she had been there the entire time.
"He's your tutor?"
Just as she expected, the subject surrounding Cedric wasn't dropped. Lyra side-eyed Harry who had shuffled up beside her while Oliver ran through his extensive training plans. Like the rest of the boys on her team, he didn't look particularly thrilled with the Hufflepuff's interruption, a deep set line settled on his brow as he occasionally looked back at the entrance as though Cedric was still there.
"Yes, and he's really cool," she instinctively jumped to his defence, mumbling out the side of her mouth so Oliver didn't shout at them.
"He just ruined our Hogsmeade plans, that was not very cool of him," Harry muttered back, and Lyra frowned at the floor, unsure of how to respond. He was technically right but he wouldn't understand why she didn't care. It wasn't malicious, Cedric was playing with her, that was how they interacted with each other. She couldn't stop repeating their stimulating conversations in her head, analysing his every laugh and reply to the stupid things she said. Her tiniest spark of hope proliferated, maybe there was a chance that he liked her too…
"It's fine, it doesn't matter. We still have the party to look forward to," she whispered back, snubbing the rest of the topic as Oliver signalled for them to follow him out. She could tell by the mildly hampered look on Harry's face that it mattered more to him than it did to her, but it soon vanished as their training continued into the night.
However, by the end of practice, Lyra noticed that Harry was acting a little spooked. He was constantly looking at the stands with a peculiar frown. A charred mixture between a pout and grimace, like he had just seen something he had been avoiding. An expression she knew too well.
"How was Divination, by the way? Any more mentions of your imminent death?" Lyra teased him, out of breath as they dismounted for the final time. The rain began to pick up again and the Gryffindor team retreated inside before they were washed out of the air.
At the mention of his last lesson of the day Harry paled significantly and he stared at her in fright. "Why did you ask that? Did you see it too?"
It was Lyra's turn to frown. "See what?"
"I guess not then," Harry pulled her away from the rest of the room, pretending to show her something on one of Oliver's playthrough charts, "I hope it was just my imagination or a coincidence, but I saw a massive black dog by the forest, and then again in the stands."
Lyra cottoned onto the connection and tried not to look too invested in his discomfort. Was the Grim a real thing? Was it stalking him, foreshadowing his death? "Dude, what the fuck?"
"I know!" He was visibly freaking out now that she believed him, "don't suppose you could tell the Dementors to go after it or something?"
Lyra was immediately offended. "And what if it's not the Grim? You want me to use my freaky, potentially evil powers to kill a poor innocent wild animal? Harry?! No!"
"But what if it is the Grim? And what if getting rid of it is the only way to save me from my prophetic death? Then what? You won't spare a couple Dementors to help me?" He asked her deadpanned, and Lyra scoffed away his worries. Was he seriously getting worked up over a cute little dog? Whatever was going down in their Divination lessons was really getting under his skin and Lyra cursed herself for the thousandth time for not taking the mysterious subject.
"If it is then I don't think the Dementors are gonna stop them, pal, you're doomed," she pouted as though it were out of her hands, and she laughed at the self-pity settling on his face, "awww don't look at me like that, you're making me feel bad."
"Good," Harry frowned harder, "then it's working. I'm being serious, Lyra, I keep seeing black dogs everywhere. In my dreams, in the clouds, in real life. The other day I swore I saw one out of the window near the lake. Yesterday the burn mark in my toast looked suspiciously like a black dog – and now out there in the stands! It's stalking me. I'm going to die."
Lyra was incredibly torn, coincidences were far and few between when it came to their lives, but he did sound a little insane. Had she turned him into a bigger drama queen than herself? Surely not.
"We're all going to die someday, but I won't lie, this is beginning to sound like a real problem…" her dimples appeared to Harry's dismay, "so I think the best thing to do is to go out and find it. I want to meet this Grim fella, he sounds adorable!"
Despite looking like she suggested they go hang out with Snape, Harry smoothed his wet curls out of his face and exhaled deeply. "...Ok, yes, let's go."
"Great!" Lyra brightened at the prospect of a little evening adventure, "shall we go and get the others first?"
"Hermione doesn't believe me," Harry countered, "so we shouldn't tempt fate. I just know it'll disappear when we fetch them so I look bad."
"Ron believes you though," Lyra shot back, but at Harry's expression she backtracked with a bark of laughter, "true, Ron also believes that Star Wars was based on true events, but in my defence he shouldn't be so gullible if he grew up with Fred and George. That's his own fault."
"We need to go and go now before it runs away, I need to see it again to prove to myself that I'm not going crazy," Harry ignored her and doubled down. "It might be more willing to show itself if there's only two of us."
"I dunno about that, if anything this would prove you're one hundred percent fucked and you're destined to die young, Boy-Who-Didn't-Get-Murdered. But hey, who am I to turn down a spontaneous mystery hunt, I'm your gal," Lyra teased him, hoping he would at least shake out of his pained fearful expression at her foolishness, and he did. Harry rolled his eyes and shoved her away as they went to get dressed for their interesting adventure ahead, the corners of his lips finally upturned.
Trying to track down a mythical boogeyman who took the form of a commonplace wild hound in the highland grounds of Hogwarts was a much harder task than Lyra first thought. Once they were dressed for the cold winds and growing evening rain, Lyra and Harry searched the crowd stands to no avail. Whatever animal Harry saw was long gone, and they returned to the ground with a shared animosity for the weather.
"It's watching and laughing at us, I can feel it," Harry complained. He was continuously insisting that he wasn't going crazy, and Lyra tried her best to help him. Was Harry losing it?
"How about the forest?" she suggested for old times sake, and she nodded towards the nearest line of trees. She could never pass up an opportunity to venture into the most forbidden part of the school, "fancy a woodland walk for old times sake?"
"How about we fly instead? I don't want to think about what would happen if someone caught you in there again," he offered, "which is exactly why it's the most logical place for it to be. It knows we're looking for it."
"I take it you've been thinking about the Grim a lot then?" Lyra wondered as she jumped onto her broom. Harry avoided her gaze for a moment as he got ready for their spontaneous journey, but he eventually shrugged as he mounted.
"Maybe…"
"Do you think it's a sign that Dads gonna find you and–," Lyra softened her bluntness, "finish the job Riddle started?" She didn't flinch at his name this time and smiled to herself at the new feat. Huh, maybe Pomfrey's sessions are working.
"I'd much rather that than it being a sign that… you know," Harry didn't want to say it but the knowing look on Lyra's face kept him going, "it being a sign that Voldemorts still in this school."
The pair took off into the sky and made their way towards the Forbidden Forest, using the dreary night sky as cover. Lyra mulled over his statement as they battled against the gale, and she could feel her conclusion form between them, like they were attuned to the same wavelength.
"Harry…?" she piped up, "Is… Is his body still down there?"
She didn't need to elaborate, Harry knew what she was talking about.
"Yeah," he caught her eye and a warmth trickled over her, soothing the darkness in the pit of her stomach, "after you passed out, we headed straight to the hospital wing. We never… we never went back into the main chamber so I can only guess that he's still there… and so is your diary."
Lyra assumed so, but hearing him confirm it was odd. Unreal, almost. Tom was just lying there underneath the school, beneath the feet of hundreds of clueless people, like he was nothing. No one. Not as one of the darkest wizards of all time, but instead like common reliquiae. What a strange circumstance.
She didn't want to imagine how he looked now, had the flesh melted off his corpse yet? Would she even be able to recognise him if she saw him again? Not that she planned to – hell no! Lyra prayed over the summer that she would never set foot in the Chamber of Secrets in person again, but a teeny tiny part of her wasn't so sure. She never had the best of luck, and she visited the secret labyrinth in her dreams so often it was like she had never left.
"Only a Parselmouth can enter the chamber, no one else can," Harry revealed, trepidatiously watching her instead of the trees beneath them for the Grim, "and I can promise you that I plan on never going back down there."
"Ha, yeah, I think I'd admit you to a mental asylum if you expressed the slightest interest in doing that," Lyra snorted, horrified at the prospect, and Harry shivered. She had a hunch she wasn't the only one visiting the dreamscape hellhole that was the chamber.
"And I wouldn't blame you if you did, you officially have my permission to lock me up."
"You're gonna end up regretting that one day, Potter,"she joked.
"How have your nightmares been?" Harry wondered, and Lyra wore her discontent on her face without shame.
"According to Pomfrey they've upgraded to night terrors now," she admitted as though it was nothing, "what about you?"
"They're not as frequent anymore," he heaved a heavy sigh and pulled his hood tighter over his head to help shield from the rain, "scar aches occasionally but what's new, I think it's because it's trying to heal. I've been training myself to recognise which type of scar pain means what, it feels more… more complex than before."
"What do you mean?"
Harry concentrated on his wording as they reached the part of the forest they knew best. Hagrid's hut window lit up the trees closest to his hut and they circled the area, making sure that their trusty groundskeeper friend wouldn't see them through the rain. No sign of the infamous hound yet.
"It's hard to explain, but after what happened down in the chamber it's been acting differently. Like, before the Quirrell incident, my scar was dormant, it may have twinged maybe once or twice in my whole life. Usually after a nightmare. But now, it's like it's constantly active. It doesn't always hurt, but on the brink of. It aches if I have a particularly bad dream, but it doesn't cause me physical pain. Any real sense of pain indicates that he's close to me in some way, but the aches or the numbness… they mean something else."
"He liked your scar," Lyra didn't realise she had said it until Harry snapped his head to stare at her again, "he was intrigued by it… and I worry that his curiosity meant something. He told me to be careful of you because of it, that you were dangerous and your scar had a hidden meaning. He kept hinting at me to ditch you as a friend, that you were secretly the evil one…"
"But you didn't listen," Harry finished her sentence, barely audible over the hiss of the storm, and Lyra shrugged, fighting a smirk. She supposed she didn't.
"I guess a part of me always knew he was lying when it came to you."
Harry let her words settle for a moment, she could see him struggling not to get lost in his own thoughts, but then he let out a massive sigh of relief and embraced the smile he allowed her to see. His real smile, the one he wore during their time at the Tonks' over the summer. Lyra rarely saw him look genuinely happy and its appearance always cheered her soul.
"That's comforting at least. The good news is that it hasn't hurt since the night I killed him so I can only assume my scar is a good thing. Like a warning beacon," he proclaimed proudly for once. "I'm starting to not hate it. Dare I say it, Black, but I think you're right – it's not so bad-looking."
"Ayyyyyy!" Lyra flew closer to issue a wet high-five, "good! However, as handsome as your scar is, if it does start hurting them we're heading straight to Dumbledore, even if it was in a dream. After everything I think the last thing we need is Voldemort trying to hunt you down like Freddie Krueger because then we would be officially screwed."
"Hunt me down like who?" Harry was actually lost that time and Lyra was vehemently disappointed in herself. Did she not show him any horror films?!
"Yikes, I've been a terrible teacher. Remind me to show you my favourite scary films this summer," she prompted as she began to concentrate on their search, but she slowed to a gentle stop beside him when he asked one more question.
"Do you think I'll be able to stay with you again? At Andy and Ted's house?"
Her heart felt heavier in her chest, she could practically feel his yearning as he pouted at her through the pitch-blackness of the sky. The cheer stirring her soul dampened, like the hammering rain on her back had found a tiny crack to drip into. "Of course, I don't see why you can't?"
"But my mum's charm–,"
Lyra snarled. She developed a specific hatred for blood magic, an inherent piece of magic she now knew stemmed from dark ancestors. Tom revered blood magic, nothing good comes from it.
"Fuck your mum's blood magic. For the majority of your life it's done you more harm than good. You're staying with me," Lyra cut him off in a moment of passion, and her cheeks sizzled when he smirked back, "ok well obviously I didn't mean it like that, I'm very thankful that your mother sacrificed herself–," Harry started laughing as Lyra swore and tried to make herself sound better, "not that I'm happy your mum's dead – shut up, you know what I mean!"
Harry drifted closer and opened his mouth to taunt her when a sudden movement beneath the tree cover caught their eye. Something was in the forest, and it was following them.
"What was that?"
The greyish tinge of rain water splashing against the leaves and trunks made trailing whatever was prowling the forest tricky. They dropped a few feet and hid amongst the top branches of the nearest ash tree. Harry helpfully latched onto Lyra's arm to steady her when her foot slipped against the sodden bark, and she winked back in gratitude.
"There," Lyra pointed towards the black brush concealing the feet of the beast rustling nearby. The thistle bushes shook, as though something was stuck in its thorny leaf bristle, and both Gryffindors jumped when the howl of a familiar boarhound echoed in the distance. They caught each other's eye — shit, is Hagrid out here?
"Maybe we should go and ask Hagrid if he's seen the Grim—,"
Lyra heard the voices first and slapped a hand over Harry's mouth before he could finish whispering.
"-you're paying for a new cloak! Look, it's ruined, it's torn—,"
"Just repair it with magic, it's not that bad."
"You shouldn't have brought it in the first place."
"We shouldn't even be in here in the first place—,"
"Will you four ever shut up?!"
Lyra couldn't quite believe her eyes as Draco and his gang of Slytherin boys stumbled out of the brush, bickering amongst themselves as they untangled their now ripped cloaks. Lyra matched Harry's incredulity and the pair held their breaths, praying that the Slytherins couldn't see them.
"They were around here somewhere," Draco, to their surprise, kept quiet for once as he surveyed the small clearing they'd come to, his crumpled brow of concentration clear on his pale face. "The oaf's pens are that way, meaning this is where I saw them."
"Why do you think the ghost dogs are still here? That happened weeks ago," Vincent asked, grappling with a particularly sharp branch at his ankles. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, all of them did. Except Draco.
"Because Black wasn't at dinner, she's in here with the ghosts. I know she's close," The palest boy stated as though his friends were stupid to think otherwise, and Lyra stifled her chuckle. She supposed he was right, kinda.
"What did the dogs look like?" wondered Theodore, more invested in the small scraps of rodent bones left over from one of Hagrid's lessons, "are you sure they were ghost dogs? Not wolves?"
"Of course I'm sure," hissed Draco, "I've told you already, Black's got a dark secret and it's got something to do with the ghosts. She's up to something and I'm refusing to let her get away with whatever it is."
"That's not very comforting," Blaise observed as he brushed away the dirt spoiling his outfit and took a seat on the nearest fallen tree, flicking his torn cloak with a flourish, "and not in the slightest bit informative either. Describe these ghost hounds to us, I need a clearer picture in my head so I know what to look for."
"Picture a dog but it's a ghost," suggested Gregory unhelpfully, and Blaise shot him a frown, his skin glistening from the continuous downpour.
Lyra narrowed her eyes, focusing on her cousin despite the poor view. She had to give the boy credit, and she hated that. Why was he finally taking a page out of her book and starting his own investigation? What if, God forbid, he used his intelligence for once and figured it out before her? What if he decides to snitch? Fuck sake, dude.
"The Bloody Baron said the dogs are at her command, like she's in charge of them," Draco voiced his concerns to his group as he paced, scouring the muddy floor for signs of spectral paw prints. "Our house ghost likes her, isn't anyone else the least bit suspicious as to why? Baron isn't exactly a jolly spirit, he doesn't even like most of us Slytherins."
"Oh, sure, it is weird," Theodore agreed, and he pulled his wand out to protect them with an impervious charm. The group huddled together under Theo's protection, "but to be honest I'm thinking about what she and Potter are up to. If she's as slippery as you're making out then surely he knows what she's doing. And he stands against everything you're saying she is so…? It doesn't make sense."
Draco's mood soured further. "Can we, for once, not bring that dickhead into this?"
"Oh I'm the dickhead?" Harry hissed, but Lyra swatted him to shut up, trying her best not to laugh.
"It doesn't matter what Potter thinks, he's an idiot. Come on," Draco snorted and smirked at his friends, "we all know why he goes along with every little stupid thing she does, that's not the suspicious bit of all this."
Harry tensed beside Lyra and she fought the urge to look at him. Oh?
"I mean, besides the obvious," Theodore annoyingly skirted around this mysterious reason to Lyra's annoyance, and continued, "I'm sure that's probably a factor since we never see them apart, but I'm certain there's more to it–,"
Something dawned over Theodore's face just as Lyra heard them. The raspy puffs of air, the soft patter of something heavier than rain hitting the muddy floor, and the flapping of wings – skeletal, leathery wings. Her heart began to pound as she spotted the herd of Thestrals making their way towards the Slytherins.
"Woah, there's loads of them," Harry breathed, in awe of the beasts he could now see, but he let out a sharp breath when Lyra moved. It was a subtle movement, just the twitch of her arm, and the Thestrals inclined their heads in their direction, as though scenting them in the moist air. The death pegasi knew they were there, and they began to gallop. Lyra swore under her breath – they wanted her.
"What is that?" Theodore's voice wobbled, and his friends looked around in part confusion but mostly fear. That wasn't what they wanted to hear while they were in the Forbidden Forest at night.
"I can't hear anything," Draco frowned, "don't try and scare us, Theo."
"It sounds like horses, something with hooves. Centaurs?" he ignored Draco and took a couple of steps towards the herd that were mere feet away now. If the boys didn't move out of the way right now then they were screwed. Lyra had a hunch that the Thestral's victims didn't need to see the beasts in order to interact with them.
"Shit, should we help?" Harry hissed, looking just as anxious as she felt, but Lyra shook her head, stuck between a rock and a hard place. She really didn't fancy showing off her skills in front of the boy gunning for her societal shunning, it would only end in tears. His tears, but still, it wasn't worth it. Besides, Thestrals only craved flesh when they scented blood, and none of them were bleeding… right?
"GET OUT THE WAY!" Theodore screamed as he leapt to the side of the clearing. He missed the Thestrals' entrance by a single second, but his friends weren't as lucky.
Lyra bit hard on her tongue to stop herself from yelling as the beasts charged down the four utterly clueless boys. Gregory hit the floor the hardest as the largest Thestral headbutted him in the chest, but Draco seemingly drew the short straw as he was thrown to the ground with a strangled scream. The dozen hooves pummelled him over and over again, pushing him towards the trunk of the ash tree Lyra and Harry were hiding in. The Thestrals didn't care about the boys they were trampling, she wasn't even sure they noticed them – they only wanted to get to her.
ABORT! Go away! Stop! Her voice roared inside her mind, it took everything for her not to shout out loud. Could the winged creatures hear her? Her hands trembled as the seriousness of the boys' injuries emerged, through the darkness of the night she noticed the red bleeding through their white shirts, and she tried to ignore the digging of Harry's fingers in her forearm.
Vincent cried out first and the situation got a whole lot worse. "They're trying to eat us! Help!"
"Do something!" Harry shook Lyra, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"I'm trying!"
The sudden drop in temperature should have been enough to warn her against the idea of succumbing to their siren call. It wasn't hard for her to tap into the darkness clasped around the space in her clavicle, it was as simple as flicking a switch. They would help if she commanded them to, they'd do anything if she truly wanted them to.
Harry shivered and held onto her tighter. "Do anything except that?!"
Frost webbed through the dripping leaves around them, freezing the plantlife in place as the Dementors drew closer. The screams of the boys tripled in volume when they realised what was about to happen and her stomach hardened from guilt.
"I'll tell them not to harm anyone, it's fine!" Lyra tried to justify but Harry broke her heart and her anticipation to call them in one sentence.
"I don't fancy reliving the sounds of my parents dying right now, can you please… just do anything else before I fly down there and do something stupid like try to save them?!"
That knocked Lyra to her core and tipped over the boiling pot. The chill of the pounding rain soaking her through, the screams of the Slytherins below, the desperation of the Thestrals, the hurt in Harry's voice, the death rasp of the Dementors on the outskirts of her mind.
She's… She's doing it?
She is. That's it, feel it Lyra, it's that easy. Just breathe. In and out.
The pressure of Draco's investigation, the anxiety of the ghosts, the looming sense of dread that stuck to her ribs like a disease. Everything. Constantly. The world battered and bruised her every single second of every single day. The blood pulsing in her veins, the synchronised breathing of every living thing together on this earth, the dull beating of every heart. She wasn't allowed to have a moment's peace, neverending drama and pain. She felt everything–,
Control it, stay within that feeling.
You can tell the Thestrals to stop, you can tell anyone to stop. You have that power, you're the strongest girl I've ever met. Just… Breathe…
So Lyra breathed, and everything simply… stopped.
And it was so quiet. The rain slowed, breaths hitched, screams died in the forest air, and the Thestrals calmed as though they had forgotten why they were clawing at the ash tree.
"...Is that you or is this just a coincidence?" Harry dared to ask under his breath, cautious of the absence of their heavy rain cover. Lyra tried to vocalise the peculiar feeling thrumming in her chest, the odd calmness that dripped over her but the barrelling entrance of a half-giant and their pet boarhound snatched both of their attention.
"What in the–?" Hagrid emerged from the brush and gasped, taking in the scene of the Thestrals' crime. Blaise and Vincent lay unconscious amongst the whimpering, bleeding Slytherins cradling their injuries, "Merlin's beard! What the hell is going on here?!"
"Ambush! We were attacked!" Gregory swore, wincing as he prodded the cuts along his arms, "why aren't you helping us?!"
Shock still hadn't allowed Hagrid to regain control of his limbs, he could only stare in horror. The Thestrals trotted off as though nothing had ever happened. "What were yeh five doin' in here in the first place?!"
"Some professor you are," Theo spat out a mouthful of red saliva and sneered, "can't you see we're bleeding and or unconscious?! Those things attacked us under your watch!"
"I can't feel my arms!" Draco cried out, rather dramatically in Lyra's opinion as he seemed to be able to smear blood into his hair perfectly well a minute ago, and he slumped back onto the floor as though his injuries were fatal. "This is all your fault, you know. You're supposed to be in charge of wrangling all the murderous beasts in here. If I weren't aware of your lack of education, professor, then I would have thought it was you who attacked us."
Lyra managed to wrestle Harry into staying put without either of them falling from the tree, he was practically trembling in rage.
With all the tact and grace of a pissed off teacher, Hagrid gritted his teeth and began to aid the Slytherins, ignoring every insult thrown his way. "If I'm not mistaken, Mr Malfoy, but I just found the lot of yeh in the Forbidden Forest without permission. Rest assured, as soon as I get all of yeh back to the castle to be mended, I will be dishing out suitable punishments."
Lyra had never been prouder of Hagrid, and she was on the cusp of letting out a hoot when she caught herself in time. "See? Hagrid can hold his own, don't worry!" she hissed into Harry's ear.
"One day you've got to let me hit that wanker just for the sake of it," Harry breathed back as he straightened his damp hood, trying not to smirk, "you know he deserves it."
"He deserves more than just a punch in the face, but today is not that lucky day," she shrugged. They watched in a steady yet solemn silence as Hagrid half-dragged the wounded Slytherins from the forest and towards their doom, then safely returned to solid ground. She couldn't deny that she was relieved they weren't severely injured, a couple of broken bones were at least warranted in her opinion, but the sight of Draco's blood smeared on the ash tree was a tiny bit satisfying.
"How did you do that?"
"I thought you knew better than to ask me that," Lyra sighed, inclining her face upwards so she felt the soothing mist on her roasted cheeks from the canopy of leaves above. She didn't realise she was sweating until the cool breeze tickling her skin felt like a gift. "The voices just told me to breathe, and I did."
Harry shook his head, forever mystified by the strange things she said, and returned to gazing around the forest in search of the fabled Grim. "Then, I guess, let the voices know that they've got wonderful timing."
Was that sarcasm?
Aww, no he's being sweet! Tell him we say thank you, Lyra.
Lyra couldn't help but smirk. "I think one of the voices fancies you, and the other hates you."
Lyra!
Stop it!
Harry looked as though he wished he hadn't said anything. "Weirdo," he teased.
"Dickhead," Lyra smiled back and hooked her arm through his, signalling that it was high time they gave up and headed back to their dry, warm Gryffindor common room. "Looks like it's one-nil to the Grim, but don't worry because we'll totally catch him next time… Well, unless he catches you first."
"Honestly, if it's between the Grim, Voldemort, or the Dementors… The Grim can have me," said Harry.
"Whatever happens, it sounds to me like you're gonna have to grim and bear it," Lyra giggled as Harry groaned and pushed her, cursing her for the her stupid pun.
The pair took one last glance over their shoulder into the shadows they were leaving behind. The bleached snuffles and thuds of Thestral hooves floated out from deep within and Lyra grimaced, rather saddened that she never got to say hello. She sensed their disappointment in the moisture of the air, their reluctance to follow her after she commanded them to stop, and the tangy bitterness of–
Lyra seized.
"What?" Harry noticed, but somehow she knew she hadn't seen them.
A pair of glowing eyes. Pale ghostly eyes stared back at her from the darkness, Lyra had never seen animals eyes like them before.
That's not an animal…
"Nothing," Lyra tore her gaze away, pretending she hadn't seen them. She couldn't scare Harry, it couldn't have been… Is the Grim real? "Let's take the long route back, I wanna detour past the hospital wing and make the most of Draco's suffering before Pomfrey ruins it by healing him."
Utterly none the wiser to the boogeyman ogling after them, Harry tightened his grip on her arm and sighed dreamily. "I think that is possibly your best plan yet, Black. Let's go."