The Tales of Lyra Black

by lumosmancer

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

58. Halloween III: Part II

Lyra pursed her lips and took one last look at her three friends with the utmost sense of pride.

She did it. She actually pulled it off. And so flawlessly too.

"I'm just going to say it now so I can say I told you so," she sighed, clasping her hands together and brushing her fingertips against her glossed lips. "If we don't win 'Best Dressed' tonight then the competition is rigged. We… look… incredible…"

"Incredible is one word to describe us, sure," Ron fixed the finishing touch of Scabbers' costume, a bright cyan dog collar, and placed the rat onto his shoulder. "Frankly, I think we look like we're trying too hard. Did you really have to dye my hair?"

Harry stared at Ron incredulously. "At least you're not blonde! I look like a Malfoy!"

"I think you both look terrific, don't ruin her hard work. Lyra, you've really outdone yourself here!" Hermione exclaimed, grinning and pushing her square glasses up her nose. "Jinkies! Did I say that correctly?"

It took a lot of trial and error for Lyra to pull off, in her opinion, the best Mystery Inc. costumes that ever existed. Although it wasn't her first choice — Professor McGonagall vehemently shut down her idea of them dressing up as different kinds of Severus Snapes when she overheard Lyra's plan during class — she couldn't deny that this was the greatest group costume they could've done. Hermione lucked out with Velma as hers was the easiest outfit to throw together since she already owned the correct coloured sweater, and Ron was keen to dress as Shaggy only if he could use Scabbers as his Scooby. They looked the part in their orange green and brown ensemble and Lyra demanded they pose for a few pictures.

However, the hardest part of the whole debacle was persuading Harry to join her in a dramatic hair change. He rejected her idea flat out the first time she brought it up, mortified at the thought of being teased by their classmates, but after weeks of begging he finally gave in and resigned to the fact that Fred was blonde. In her opinion he looked fantastic, his green eyes popped and she commended her colour matching. In a weird, oddly jarring way it suited him, but in the sense that she would never tell him that because she much preferred him with black hair.

"Not only am I blonde, I'm wearing double denim. Do you secretly hate me?" Harry complained in the mirror, and Lyra shrugged as she applied one last layer of mascara in order to achieve Daphne's cartoonish long lashes. She adored her new orange glossy hair and she wasted quite a bit of time hopping in front of Harry's dresser mirror, watching it bounce.

"It's not my fault the cartoon was created in the seventies and they had fabulous fashion sense," she justified.

"Your sweater covers most of it, you can barely tell," Hermione assured as she helped Ron add black spots on Scabbers' fur. The rat took some convincing to stay perched on Ron's shoulder, they could tell by Ron's tense gritted teeth that his claws were digging in deep today.

"We could just leave him here tonight, the party might be too stimulating for him and it could stress him out more," Hermione suggested, gently placing the frail-looking Scabbers on Ron's bed before tending to his scratched shoulder.

"I would but I'd just be worrying all night," Ron sighed, thanking her for the moist towel with a tired smile, "I don't mind skipping the party to look after him, I still feel sick after visiting Honeydukes."

"Don't you dare leave me," Harry made him swear, obscenely against his change in heart as he jumped to stare him down. "You've already ditched us once today. No way."

"You're not the only one who still feels queasy after today, that's no excuse," Lyra clutched her delicate stomach and recoiled, once again dwelling on the newest revelation that hadn't sunk in yet. It didn't even occur to her that there was a reason why Remus lived with her parents back in the day, she just assumed they were roommates! Not husband, wife, and… boyfriend?

"Polygamy wasn't exactly uncommon a decade or so ago, and from what we've heard about your parents it's not very surprising," Hermione bravely said despite the boys' shared snickers at Lyra's discomfort.

"I guess, and I'm not against it or whatever, more power to them, team hippy, gay parents," Lyra backtracked, making sure they understood she wasn't a bigot, "it's just… he's my teacher now, I can't not think about it when I look at him and I have to look at him a lot!"

"Imagine this got out?" Ron added, pushing Lyra to spiral further, and Hermione shoved him despite failing to hide her own giggle.

"It won't, only we know about this—," Harry reminded Lyra, miming at her to breathe and she obeyed. In and out, in and out. No shadows.

None appeared.

"—well, so do all the staff," Harry continued, not exactly helping, "and probably so do Molly and Arthur, and Andy and Ted, oh and probably—,"

"Yes ok, enough, we don't have time for this," Hermione interrupted and clapped her hands, ordering them towards the dorm door where they could hear the rest of the Gryffindors screaming and laughing as they exited the common room. In the foggy, stormy distance the clock tower let out eight dull tones, inviting the school to the long-anticipated Halloween bash that was about to begin. "Stop talking about Lyra's parents' love life and start walking. It's time!"

"Scabbers, you ready mate?" Ron carefully manoeuvred his rat back onto his now-bandaged shoulder and froze, waiting for pushback, but Scabbers seemed to cling on tight and curl into his neck, hiding his face in compliance. "That's as good as we're gonna get, let's move quickly before he changes his mind."

"You know, we could always use Crookshanks as Scooby?" Hermione suggested as she took the lead, but Ron guffawed and rushed to follow her out.

"And let him turn Scabbers into cat food? Give over, I know you're trying to replace him with that mangled thing!"

"You're just saying that because you know Crookshanks would look better! And he's not mangled, he's just a bit scruffy that's all. You love him really."

"Uh—! Pfft! As if!"

Lyra went to follow them and build upon Hermione's jests when she realised Harry was still pouting in his mirror, unmoved. She turned in the doorway, adjusted her silky green neck scarf and cocked a hip, openly judging him.

"Are you one hundred percent sure I don't look stupid?" Harry whinged as he crossed his arms and frowned at her, "you promise?"

"I promise," Lyra vowed, walking back over to him with a hand on her heart, but she trailed it down to her purple dress' secret pocket to withdraw her wand, "but if it makes you feel any better— Colovaria!"

A short, sweet burst of purple light illuminated the boys dorm for a split second as the spell melted over Harry's hair. The golden blonde bled away like liquid sunshine and his jet black hair appeared within a blink of an eye. He grinned at the results and squashed Lyra into a relieved side-hug, nearly crushing her ribs in the process as they finally left. That was far too easy.

"Have I ever told you that you're my favourite—?"

"Shut it," Lyra huffed and dragged him down the stairs, "the things I do for you, honestly."

"Uh, the things I do for you, more like," he countered, gesturing at his costume, "still wearing double denim!"

"And still looking as pretty as ever, I must add," she highlighted, praying for a sudden change of heart, "you know, I think I even preferred you as a blonde. What a shame."

"Oh," Harry slowed their steps and clicked his tongue, already regretting his decision, "you really think so? Well, if it's just a spell then—,"

"Nah, too late, you've already crushed our dreams of winning the contest now," Lyra cut him off with a soft shove into the common room where the crowds of hyper, costumed Gryffindors were descending in packs, "so much for a happy birthday."

All of Harry's hurried backtracking was immediately drowned out by the boos and jeers coming from those who were waiting impatiently for them, and Lyra gladly fed him to the lions.

"You said you were gonna do it, what the fuck!?"

"Boo! Hiss! Don't pussy out now!"

Fred and George, both of them dressed to the nines as the school's abhorred poltergeist, crowded Harry first to bully him into submitting to the blonde hair and Lyra brushed her shoulders off, satisfied with her cousins' appropriate reactions. In exchange for helping most of Gryffindor with their spectacular costumes, Lyra made them promise her that they would aid her quest in becoming the winner of the fancy dress competition. If a Gryffindor spotted any of the Mystery Inc gang out of their costumes then they were ordered to peer pressure them into conforming. All in all, it took Harry a total of two and a half minutes for him to beg Lyra to dye his hair again.

"On second thoughts, I love my new hair colour, I take back what I said," Ron announced in earnest when his brothers tried to tempt him to change his mind. Lyra patted herself on the back and hooked her arm through Hermione's as they joined the electrified queues leaving the tower, humming her favourite cartoon theme song.

"Woah, I didn't know Malfoy defected from Slytherin?" Seamus came streaming past with a gaggle of semi-familiar faces, and he tipped his sharp bowler in Harry's direction, "good day to you, Mr Malfoy."

It appeared that their classmates made an ardent effort to assimilate to the Muggle tradition, although Lyra couldn't help but laugh at Sally-Ann's rendition of a stereotypical wicked witch. The Muggleborns and Half-Bloods were having the time of their lives confusing the hell out of the Purebloods and Lyra couldn't have been more proud. Poor Neville, who was already having trouble with his knight's armour, was staring at Sally-Ann in despair, trying to understand her obsession with having green skin.

"Ok pipe down Watson," Harry shot back, trying not to tussle his hair, "Sherlock, do me a favour and hit him if he says it again please?"

"It would be my pleasure, Mr Jones," Dean dipped his chin and straightened his deer stalker, his faux pipe clamped between his teeth before he took it out to yell at his partner in solving crime, "Oi, Watson! Leave Fred alone! Him and his gang are gonna steal all our mysteries from us if you keep pestering them!"

"You guys look amazing!" squealed Parvati, slowing her brisk pace to wave at them as her and Lavender dashed past hand in hand. Both of them sported a pair of black feathered wings and glowing halos that matched their grunge-inspired torn black dresses, "you better hurry though, you don't want to miss the band's opening song!"

"As if we haven't heard enough 'music' already," Harry muttered to Lyra who grimaced, sadly agreeing.

The school council voted to hire a local folk band to play at the dance but, to her chagrin, she and Harry had to listen to their rehearsals non-stop while they decorated the Great Hall earlier that day. She didn't mind folk music, in fact she quite liked the earthy, gruff yet jaunty tunes that were popular in the Scottish and Irish highlands, but listening to nothing but wailing bagpipes for four hours had destroyed her tolerance for the whimsical instrument. If she heard one more bagpipe scream then she was going to stab something.

"Is that what that awful screeching was when we returned from the village?" asked Ron, and Lyra nodded. They joined the lines filing into the Entrance Hall and the muffled albeit loud thrumming of music and laughter filled the cavernous hall, enticing the partygoers to join. She could see a multitude of characters she recognised from the Muggle world, the best so far being a lanky Hufflepuff boy wearing what Lyra considered to be a horror-inspired version of Mr Blobby.

Damn it! He's so gonna win, that's amazing!

"My stereo and CD collection are already hiding backstage as a backup, don't worry," she informed her friends, and Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Backstage?"

"Just wait until you've seen what she's done with the place. You won't recognise it," Harry added, unusually smiley considering how much manual labour Lyra put him through for the sake of showing off.

"The younger council members tried their best, bless them, I merely improved upon their initial ideas," Lyra shrugged, but the wave of gasps and cheers of awe making its way toward them induced a smug grin. "It was a group effort!"

"Group effort my arse," scoffed Harry, "you just sat there and bossed me, Colin, Luna and the other two whose names I've forgotten around!"

As the tallest member of Mystery Inc, Ron was the first to catch a glimpse of the transformed hall and he swore, enthusiastically pushing Hermione in front of him so she could see clearer. His blue eyes ballooned and he gave his cousin a hard high-five.

"Woah!"

The once formal Great Hall, most famous for its pellucid ceiling and aptly-named grand size, now resembled a frightfully classy, smoke-infested, sparkly mausoleum slash underground club. Her initial idea was to transform the room into something that resembled a set featured in Edward Scissorhands, but when Samuel Goldstein stated that the scariest place he'd ever been was the catacombs under Paris — her mind exploded with inspiration. Dark stone silk draped across the ceiling as to create the illusion that the hall was underground, the four long tables had been replaced by clusters of tomb altars acting as tables with mismatching stone chairs, candelabras dripping with red wax illuminated the corners of the room but they were nothing compared to the huge disco mirror ball spinning above them. The party lights flashing all over the room may have been a step too far but once the rainbow neon lights caught the disco ball, it was purely magical.

The piece de resistance of the whole party, though, were the interactive decorations slash hired help. Animated skeletons of all kinds were marching and dancing around the room to the children's entertainment, while the ghosts of Hogwarts haunted furniture being used by unsuspecting partygoers, making small crowds howl with laughter as they watched their friends jump out of their skin. Even the infamous ghost hounds Lyra had read about decided to poke their heads in and sniff around, growling and snapping at students who came too close.

All in all, Lyra couldn't have been happier with how her vision turned out. Harry was definitely correct when he talked her out of including actual Inferi instead of the skeletons, they might have been too much.

"Happy Halloween everybody!" A gruff voice came over the speakers and every head turned to welcome the unconventional middle-aged folk band on stage with a rousing round of applause. Lyra was pleasantly surprised to see the trio of wizards had decided to dress up as per the strict instructions she gave them earlier that day, the enchanted pumpkin heads they were wearing galvanised the already-impressed audience. Harry groaned and covered his ears in preparation. "We are Pumpkin Heads and we are proud to be here at Hogwarts playing for you all tonight, let us hear you make some noise!"

"Oh! I know them!" Ron piped up, excitedly slapping his friends' arms as he pointed toward the band, "Dad went to school with the bassist, I think his name is Darragh?"

Just then, Darragh the bearded pumpkin adorned bassist seemed to sense their gaze from the back of the room and he caught Harry's eye. Immediately he grabbed the mic from his lead singer and let out a rousing cry, his pumpkin face grinning ear to ear. "Oy oy! Beautiful wig there, Potter!"

Lyra had to clasp her knees before she passed out from laughing so hard, more heads turned their way and Harry looked to her murderously.

"I'm actually going to kill you."

Once Hermione suggested they fetch themselves a drink first to deter Harry from physically fighting Lyra, the four joined in with the party spirit and started to enjoy the amount of effort Lyra put into their costumes. Many people came up to them to compliment their look, though most of the Purebloods were rather perplexed by the concept whenever Lyra delved too deep into a typical Scooby Doo plot for exposition.

"What have you come as?" Hermione asked Ernie over the snack table. He was dressed as a typical mature wizard, nothing particularly groundbreaking, and he proudly presented the Mystery Inc gang with the bubbling, wiggling cauldron swinging on his arm.

"Wait, this might help you guess," he told them as he pushed his fellow Hufflepuffs out of the way and placed the cauldron on the ground. The enchanted cauldron began to hop about and Ron gasped, clicking his fingers as the answer came to him.

"Oh! I know! Wizard and the Hopping Pot, nice!"

"The who and the what now?" Lyra repeated less eloquently, and Susan stepped forward, showing off her outfit. Her rabbit ears were cute but other than that she looked like a fifteenth century witch. Aww, I mean, I suppose thats fancy dress to Purebloods.

"What about me? Babbitty Rabbitty?" She pointed to her ears, and the Purebloods around them complimented her creativity.

"I'm sorry I have no idea what you just said," Harry apologised, staring blankly at the badgers.

"You've never read Beedle's stories before?" Ernie asked, genuinely taken aback, "not even as kids?"

Suddenly a strange numb chill rolled through Lyra and she shivered, confused.

AH!

HE SAID—!

LYRA!

The voices inside of her were erratic, unstable, feral. She had never heard them yell so loudly before, she was so sure someone else heard them as she winced.

What is it?!

HE—?!

LISTEN!

"Nah, they wouldn't have," Ron answered on his friends' behalf, "Lyra's told me about the children's stories Muggles have and they're pretty boring compared to ours."

"Aw that's a shame! You're missing out," Ernie grinned and bid them a good night, but Hermione couldn't help but point out that Muggle media is far more varied and interesting before he left.

"What are Beedle's stories? Who's Beedle?" wondered Lyra, listening to the desperate pleas of the voices in the hopes of shutting them up.

"Beedle the Bard, he's like an insanely famous storyteller," Ron explained as the four shuffled through the bodies to find a free table. They found a quiet corner near one of the many blazing fireplaces. This particular hearth was a poisonous green tonight and Lyra appreciated the spooky mood bathing them.

"Like a musician? Or a writer?" wondered Hermione, her fingers nervously playing with her straw.

"He's both, he's written songs, books, plays, you name it," Ron smiled as though reminiscing, his freckled face glowing from the fire, "we had a couple of his books growing up, they're classics."

"What kind of books?" Lyra pressed.

"Why do you want to know? It's just kids stories, bedtime reading. Childish stuff," Ron frowned, "honestly it's not interesting."

Lyra lowered her voice, "Because the voices just screamed at me when Ernie brought Beedle up."

YES!

KEEP BLOODY TALKING!

"And they want us to talk about him so," Lyra waved her hands indicating him to continue, "story time, Ronald. Give me his greatest hits, a summary of his life, I don't know."

"They want us to look into Beedle the Bard?" Hermione rephrased, already one step ahead as she studied Lyra's face for answers, "hmm… when was Beedle around?"

"Centuries ago, he's really old," Ron confirmed, and rushed to add, "he's dead by the way, we visited his grave once on a holiday to York. Mums have been a big fan since she was a little girl."

"What's a wizarding fairy tale like compared to a Muggle one like Hansel and Gretal or Rapunzel?" Harry asked him, and Ron blinked as though he was speaking tongues.

"What's a Rapunzel?"

"What the hell is a Babbitty Rabbitty?" Lyra snapped back, "don't act like we're the ones with the strange names."

"Fair, that is a funny one, but we have others with less whimsical titles," Ron said defensively, "like The Hag's Tower, The Fountain of Fair Fortune, the Tale of the Three Brothers—,"

DING DING DING! We have a winner!

" Argh!" Lyra clutched her chest, panicking that she was having a heart attack. The pain that struck her in between her lungs was diabolical, like a lightning strike. She swore she was about to die, Death was so cruel. Ow?! What was that for?!

"That one," Lyra wheezed as her hand spasmed and she spilt her goblet over her purple brogues. Her chest was in agony, she couldn't care less about her wet feet right now, "definitely that one."

"Ooh the Tale of—," Realisation brightened Ron's expression for a split second before it darkened. " Oh… oh no."

Harry and Hermione froze, concerned. "Oh no what?"

"Well," he ran a hand through his dark locks and patted the trembling Scabbers who had transitioned to his t-shirt pocket, trying to avoid answering, "that story is about Death, so…"

And he didn't think to bring this up before?!

"What about Death?" Lyra finally eased the tension in her chest and scowled at him.

"It's a children's story! It's not real, and it's just a story about greed. Basically it's about Death meeting three brothers and they all get presents but then they all die — that's it. If it was special then I would have brought it up by now," He defended his thought process, but thankfully a diversion came in the form of a ghostly hound who had his eyes set on Harry. In one swift leap, the hound pounced at the leader of Mystery Inc and he yelped, hastily trying to bat the large dog away without tipping his goblet down his sweater.

"Lyra?! Help?!"

"Awww, who's a good Grim? Who's a good boy?" Lyra felt a million times better once she razzled the hounds fur, encouraging him to lick her face, but Harry frantically batted her arms away before someone saw her moment of forgetfulness. The ghost dog stopped growling and panted, their eyes closed as they enjoyed the attention.

"Did you summon the dogs here on purpose? Because of the Grim?" He asked saltily, eyeing the other hounds watching them from afar.

"They're decor, that's all," Lyra swore, fluttering her cartoonish lashes up at him innocently, and he dropped his pout without protest.

"I wouldn't worry about the Grim anyways, considering it's likely hanging around because of me," she added, absently searching the room for the nearest skeleton who was holding a silver tray of drinks.

"Highly likely, you mean," Hermione commented, readjusting her glasses. "I wonder what other Death-related myths we'll have to combat in future because of you."

"So you believe that the Grim is after me?" Harry shot at their most logical friend and Hermione nodded.

"I believe the Grim is standing right next to you," she rephrased, pointing at Lyra who waved at him.

"Hi."

Harry had no words.

"Make sense, I could see Lyra being a Grim dog if she was an Animagus," Ron agreed, making Harry smirk again and forget all about his hound problem.

"Did you just call me a bitch? That felt very pointed," Lyra gasped, making them laugh harder.

"I could see her being a bird of some sort, not a dog," Hermione mused, "and that was a compliment, birds are wonderful, stunning animals."

"I would have thought that you'd turn into a bird instead, Lyra's definitely some kind of cat," Harry debated, shaking his head. Lyra flashed him an alluring feline smile, agreeing with the sentiment. Definitely a cat.

"Nah, Hermione is a cute little squirrel of some kind, or a sweet dormouse," Ron grinned, and Hermione flushed horrifically and shoved him, using her drink to hide her mouth.

"Was that a joke about my teeth?!"

As his unexpected knight in shining armour, another Pumpkin Heads song started and the opening bagpipes scared the living daylights out of the bundle of fur in Ron's pocket. Harry, equally as offended by the instrument, ushered them towards the exit and the four of them happily left to get some fresh air and calm down their Scooby.

Although her mind was stuck picking apart Ron's vague story as well as weighing up the chances of her running up to the library to check out a popular children's book, Lyra followed her friends towards the entrance courtyard until she heard someone shouting her name.

"Looks like you owe me an apology, Black!"

Amidst the few that were also trying to escape the god awful bagpipe solo, Cedric's face stood out almost immediately and Lyra slowed down to brandish her favourite middle finger at him. Her heart hammered faster as he grinned in response and came bounding over, his gaggle of Hufflepuffs in tow.

Fuck, he looks so good.

The fifth year Hufflepuffs chose to coordinate their outfits and Lyra clapped at their effort. Their theme jumped out at her after she recognised the third eighties pop icon in their ensemble, and she struggled to find the perfect tease to throw at their leader. Cedric wore casual jeans, a crisp white vest that was effortlessly clinging to his toned torso, and a black leather jacket — but it was the cross earring that gave it away.

"Shut the fuck up," she looked him up and down as he puffed his jacket collar, and she noticed the slim boy beside him was wearing a wig, " shut up! Are you guys Wham?!"

"Told you she'd get it," Cedric slapped his friend's shoulder, and he shot Lyra a subtle wink as he glanced her way, "Black knows more about Muggle music than you do, see?"

"Oh, bold, bold statement to make there my friend," guffawed the boy tending to his iconic slicked back long wig, but once he was done grooming he offered Lyra his hand, his thin dark eyes twinkling "a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms Blake."

"The pleasure is all mine, Andrew, George," she nodded at the boys and shook his hand with intent to crush his fingers, "and I definitely know more about music than you."

"Sounds like we need to put that to test," the thick-set boy wearing an impressive New Romantic dupe chimed in and introduced them properly for the group's benefit. Lyra jumped, forgetting all about her friends behind her. "That's Gabriel, and I'm Anthony."

"No, you're Boy George," Lyra corrected him, "nice try."

"The party's a hit, Black, I knew you'd be perfect for the decorating committee," Cedric complimented, and Lyra narrowed her eyes despite her smirk.

"Mhm, tell me more about how amazing of a job I've done," she teased, gesturing to him to continue "please."

"The job you did?"

Harry gladly interrupted and pushed his way into the conversation to call her out, causing the Hufflepuffs to laugh at her and warm to the other Gryffindors. Lyra couldn't have side-eyed Harry harder but he avoided her gaze as he greeted what turned out to be the Hufflepuff Quidditch team instead. It was hard to keep track of the new names flying about though, considering they were dressed as Madonna, Prince, and possibly a loose interpretation of Meatloaf. The tallest boy of the group was dressed in an off putting brown, textured suit with a foil cape clipped around his shoulders and a twisted aluminium hat wrapped around his head. Lyra almost broke a rib laughing once she realised.

It appeared that most of them were new to their house team and they were keen to swap anxieties for their upcoming game, especially with the prodigy who earned their position in their first year. The forecast for the match next week wasn't looking too bright, the autumnal storm thrashing the Entrance Hall arched ceiling was thunderous tonight and was determined to stick around for a while.

"Since it's my first game as captain, I must warn you that I won't be holding back," Cedric warned Harry, flashing him a friendly smile, "just so you know."

"We've played against each other before, and we won, so I'm not worried," Harry replied casually, and Lyra silently praised him for the sharp comeback with a pumped fist, "just so you know."

Ron oohed and heckled the rival team further. "Yeah we've seen you play before, Diggory, none of us are worried!"

"I've gotten a lot better since our days playing over the summer, thank you very much Weasley," Cedric feigned hurt and pushed his cackling teammates away, "I don't know why you're laughing, Gabe, Fred handed you your arse that summer too!"

"You guys used to play against each other?" Lyra clarified, staring at her cousin in disbelief, "huh?" Was Ron just a keeper of a million niche facts? Since when did the Weasleys hang out with Cedric? And where was her invite?

"We're neighbours," Cedric clarified, noticing her puzzlement, "nothing too exciting I'm afraid."

"Didn't I tell you?" Ron scoffed, but he quietened down and returned to fussing over Scabbers to avoid her death glare.

"Speaking of, there's another one of our neighbours now," Cedric nodded towards the other members of the school council who had spotted them. Lyra beckoned them over in the hopes of earning more praise as well as the chance to persuade Penelope to take a photograph with her date. The Head Boy and Girl had come dressed as the protagonists from Penelope's favourite film Grease, and Lyra knew Percy was suffering psychologically by the fierce gritting of his teeth. He looked insanely cool but she knew he was hating every second of it

"Who? Pen?"

"No, Lovegood," Cedric corrected, unsure whether to laugh or recoil at Luna's scarily accurate cat costume as she joined the group and made most of them jump. "Wow… Luna… you look, uh… well."

"Ew," Ron took a step away from the newest arrival but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her bulbous orange eyes gleaming back at him. "Ok, now that's a scary costume."

"Luna, amazing charm work!" Penelope praised her, and Hermione awkwardly shuffled over to join her in inspecting Luna's peach human fur. Looking at her for a substantial amount of time was tough but Lyra couldn't get enough, Luna by far had the best costume and it wasn't much. She was a humanoid, anatomically-accurate pink cat, she looked like a Polyjuice Potion experiment gone wrong.

"Thank you," Luna smiled, happily allowing the girls to stroke her, "I read that the most common Halloween costume for Muggle girls was a cat, and cats are my favourite animal so it only made sense. Look, I have a tail too!"

"I love your mind," Lyra sighed, admiring her weird fursuit and the slim tail peeking from the hem of her tulle skirt, "never change, Luna, please."

"It's early days but I think we can call it already; the party's a hit! Well done to our decorating committee for exceeding all of our expectations," Penelope wanted to get her words out before they all dispersed towards the party once more as the bagpipe section of the night was over, "you've done a terrific job!"

"Again, I'm still waiting for you to admit that I was right, Black," Cedric muttered under his breath, and Lyra was the epitome of confidence. Warmth teased her abdomen as though it was breaking the rules and it had snuck its way into her core. She dared to glance up at him as the circle continued to swap their excitement for the upcoming costume contest, and she caught the knowing gleam in Cedric's grey eye.

"You are?"

"Everyone's talking about how brilliant this party is, and that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been nominated for the committee by me," he hissed, pretending to listen to Percy, and Lyra resisted the urge to laugh at his arrogance.

"You're very welcome," he added, taunting her ego further, and she bit her tongue hard.

"And you think I'm the one with the big ego? I don't know what you're talking about," she breathed as she went to disband from the group. Scabbers was starting to squeal louder now and her face was heating up the longer she felt Diggory's gaze on her. "You had no hand in this awesome party but I need to go now so I will leave you to enjoy my spectacular Halloween bash. Mine. Not yours."

"Mmm, maybe I'll see you on the dance floor at your party then, " Cedric chuckled away the comeback he was building on his tongue just as he was called away for a dance by a pretty girl dressed as Marie Antoinette— oh wait, that's Cho! Aw good, she did follow through with her ball gown idea. Lyra watched them go before joining her friends on their adventure to find a quiet place to settle the poor and increasingly restless rat.

"We shouldn't have stopped to talk to them," Harry was the first to complain as he helped Ron wrangle Scabbers. They took shelter under the awning of the entrance courtyard and shied away from the harsh gale battering the deserted quad. Hermione was quick to summon blue flames to keep them warm and they huddled closer, protecting each other from the rain.

"I thought they were really nice," Hermione voiced her opinion but her mischievous brown eyes told a different story as she caught Lyra's, "Cedric seems lovely."

"He seems pretty full of himself to me," Harry grumbled, attempting to unhook Scabbers' claws from Ron's t-shirt, "is he ok? He's squeaking more than normal."

"I dunno, maybe he's seen something," Ron groaned and successfully detached his rat from his skin, but as he looked past their huddled circle he swore. "For fuck sake! Hermione, your damn cat is following us!"

The remaining three turned to see Crookshanks creeping towards them from the shadows of the entrance doors, a burnt orange blur against the pouring rain and his luminous eyes bright like amber sap in the darkness.

Crookshanks meowed and Hermione shuffled over to collect him. "What are you doing out here— NO, CROOKSHANKS!"

Lyra and Harry managed to duck just in time as the small lion cat launched itself over their heads, his claws out and pointed in Ron's direction. He was taking no prisoners this time and Lyra found it hard not to admire his perseverance.

" SHIT! I'VE DROPPED HIM! SCABBERS!"

Chaos sprung inside the shelter of the courtyard and none of the four students were prepared in the slightest for the slippery chase they were about to undertake. The lashing of rain soaking their costumes no longer mattered as they sprinted after the rat and cat, shouting at the latter to call off their attack.

"HE'S A CAT, HE CAN'T HELP IT! I'm so sorry!" Hermione screamed at Ron as she followed him down the wet stairs, both of them practically tumbling towards the adjoining bridge where their pets had disappeared into the mist.

"I think you better save your apologies till after we save Scabbers," Harry called out to Hermione, trying to make her feel better, but the glare she sent him over her shoulder nearly shut him up. "Now's not the time!"

The Mystery Inc gang flew across the viaduct bridge despite the wind attempting to blow them over, and Lyra shuddered as a roll of thunder clashed over the Black Lake, a ghastly view directly to her right. The far-off blurry boathouse lights were barely visible but she swiftly diverted her attention back to the rat scurrying ahead instead of the choppy waters. The chill rolling from the vast body of water was dangerously icy tonight. A metallic rasp filled her eardrums and—

Dementors.

They were closer than normal. The Forest… they were on the grounds.

"Don't stop!" Harry yelled at Lyra as he almost crashed into her, she didn't realise she had, "we're gonna lose them!"

"Sorry!" Lyra shook the ice away and continued on her way just as a fresh shot of adrenaline hit. "We should have brought the skateboard."

"If your plan is to slip off the bridge and kill yourself, sure," he barked, entertaining her train of thought, "they went down there, watch your step!"

Harry held her steady before she overshot her turn and they darted down another set of stairs, this time assisted by a railing that fastened their pace. Soon enough they caught up with their drenched, exhausted counterparts who they found wrestling with their animals on the shore of the lake. Judging by the sand on their clothes, both of them decided that diving after them before they ran off towards the Forbidden Forest was their only option.

"I… am so… sorry," Hermione rasped, clutching her hissing rat eater to her sweater in the hopes of trapping him amongst the damp wool fibres, but Lyra hurried over to lend a wrangling arm.

Ron was still lying on the floor, submitting to the rain smacking him in the face as he stroked his equally exhausted rat. Poor Scabbers was rasping just as much as his owner. It almost looked like he was holding his little rib cage as though suffering from a cramp.

"I… know…" he puffed, struggling to sit up, "he's…just… a cat. Cats eat rats…" he looked up at Hermione, his baby blue eyes full of pleading, "just not this rat, please?"

"Maybe we could try obedience training?" suggested Lyra, easing the tension as Harry peeled Ron from the shore, "I had to do it with Apollo and Kreacher, talk about mortal enemies, but it does work."

"Your owl and your house-elf wrestle each other all the time, I don't think it's working," Harry critiqued her measurement of success, and Lyra flicked her heavy mane of wet hair his way, inconveniencing him in any way she could.

"It's a step up from them attempting to kill each other all the time, shush," she sassed him as the gang retreated back to the castle in victory, the two sniffling pets hanging from their owner's arms in defeat.

"What, like counselling sessions? Animal therapy?" Ron sounded hopeful.

"Not at all but that's a much better idea! Yeah, let's do couples therapy, that might work," Lyra played on his idea and kept her bickering friends distracted enough to allow Ron a chance to extinguish his anger toward Crookshanks. The cat was still eyeballing his snoozing rodent, it was never ending.

By the time they heard the pounding of the music once more fill their vicinity, they were laughing again and Lyra took their unspoken truce as an opportunity to beg them for a dance. It was a sure fire way to raise their dampened spirits and she wasn't taking no as an answer.

"Let us at least take these two escape artists up to bed first," Ron objected, and Hermione was quick to follow. Their hair was plastered to their faces, their costumes soaked through, and their cheeks bloomed from the storm, clearly they needed a minute to warm up.

"I'm locking him in his crate, we promise we'll be right back," Hermione insisted, abandoning her foggy glasses so she wouldn't trip up her way up to the tower, "we'll meet you in there."

"I give it two days before we're chasing them across the grounds again," Harry wagered as they left to tend to their own wet discomfort. Lyra didn't hesitate to use every spell she could think of to dry herself off, she hated the feeling of wet clothes sticking to her skin. She felt obscenely exposed, especially in a bloody dress of all outfits, so she sought to solve that first before she embarrassed herself further.

"I know I shouldn't say this but can't Scabbers hurry up and die already?" She complained as she restyled her glossy red hair in the reflection of the nearest window.

"Yeah you would say that, Death Girl," Harry murmured, and he chuckled as he dodged her swift knee kick.

"You're thinking it too, I'm merely the only one who will say it. Did you get a look at Scabbers? He's skin and bones, I'm shocked all that running didn't do him in," she pointed out, and Harry pulled an awkward look as he straightened his ascot. They dawdled in the thresholds of the Great Hall, the ambience of the dance playing as their background as they waited for their friends.

"Can you feel him dying in any way? As in, with your Death connection, can you sense that it's his time coming soon?" He asked, and Lyra reflected, impressed by his question.

"I don't know… maybe? I felt the Dementors coming closer while we were out there," she admitted, and she steadied her breathing. Even now she could feel them, encroaching on her space, growing together and sharing each other's fury.

She frowned. Another deep breath.

Yes, anger. The Dementors were furious, she could taste it in each sigh, within each molecule of air she inhaled.

"Would you like to go and dance?" Harry interrupted her rapid thoughts and she looked up from her freshly-dried shoes, face blank from his fast switch.

"Huh?"

"You're dancing," Harry nodded at her subconsciously swinging hips, and she tuned into the familiar melody like a fuzzy radio signal finding its perfect station, "and if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure they're covering a Police song."

Lyra inhaled sharply and took a step toward him, her hands clasped behind her back. "Ooh so close, this is actually a Sting song, not The Police—," she froze and doubled back to stare at him, her brow softening, "wait, did you just ask me to dance?"

The dark shadows of the Great Hall's slim atrium worked well to hide his faint blush and he shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal, the disco lights reflecting in his glasses like neon lasers as he watched the crowded dance floor through the smoke.

"You look like you're itching to so—,"

" Yes!"

Lyra didn't want to admit it but she was dying to get on the dance floor. She'd never been to a Halloween party before and now was her first chance to dominate a dance floor. She knew her friends didn't want to boogie the night away, so she wasn't taking Harry's moment of weakness for granted. She'd been meaning to teach him a few dances she'd practised, it was now or never.

She grabbed his hand and ran into the smoke, letting the spirit of Halloween guide her.

The darkness of the busy dance floor helped immensely. No one around them felt shy or too awkward to hold back, no one cared about flailing limbs or accidental knocks as they found their spot amongst the Gryffindors and before they knew it they were throwing themselves around, dancing and having the time of their lives. It didn't take long for them to get amidst a serious dance battle orchestrated by Peeves One and Peeves Two, naturally, but with a few perfectly-times moves they survived more rounds than they expected. Third place was the new winning anyways.

Lyra made sure to shout her praise at the Pumpkin Heads multiple times throughout the night and they were eager to take her song requests as she used Harry's notoriety for all it was worth. During the band's intermission they pulled the pair backstage where Colin Creevey was waiting with his camera, and many autographs were signed. Lyra made a note to double Colin's pay for the evening, he was the party's official photographer and he was on top form, but he gladly accepted his own Potter autograph as a tip for letting Lyra have copies of whichever photograph from his collection she liked. Her photo album seriously needed updating.

"I think I was wrong," Harry shouted over the pounding music as they returned from behind the stage curtains, watching Lyra shuffle her new photographs like a cards dealer, "I don't think your animagus is a cat, I think it's a fox."

"A really cute, sneaky fox? A foxy lady?" Lyra reworded to suit her ego, and she pocketed her wares, "and what would you be? Hmm, something proud, and strong, like a horse."

"A horse?" Harry looked crestfallen and guided her toward the vaguely orange and green couple that were Ron and Hermione shaped across the room. The dense smoke and flashing lights were making it hard to differentiate faces but he was certain that was them. "What about me gives horse vibes?"

"Hey man, horses are cool," Lyra defended her point but she tried again when he sulked, "fine, maybe something cooler then, like a bull. With those awesome curled horns, that would be terrifying."

"I like the idea of having something extra, like horns or a tail," he agreed, trying to visualise himself as an animal, "McGonagall said it's usually based on your first gut instinct though, your initial reaction to the definition of an Animagus."

Lyra considered his words. "And what animal did you picture when she said that?"

"I don't know why but I first thought of a lion, but it had wings, and then I thought of a Hippogriff but Ron started worrying because he saw spiders and then I spooked myself and I saw spiders too," he explained, and she snorted, amused.

"What did you think of?" He prodded.

Nothing.

"A panther," Lyra lied, not wanting to get too worked up by the meaning of it all. She tried so hard to picture an animal during their Transfiguration class, but she barely saw a thing. She just saw darkness. Probably Death's fault."I wish I thought of a dragon though."

"God I hope you can't turn into a dragon," he scoffed, "you're trouble enough as it is."

"Dragons do not care about trouble, they care about jewels, and beautiful things and hoarding gold," she sighed dreamily, picturing her glittery purple scales, "talk about an ideal life. I'd never transform back."

"Ah, that's not them," Harry realised the pair they were heading toward weren't their Velma and Shaggy counterparts and quickly gave up, it looked as though the pair still hadn't returned. "Where are they? Don't suppose you've got the map on you?"

"Nope, it's Peeves and Peeves' week," Lyra tutted and changed their course so they could swipe another drink. They passed their other Quidditch team mates on their way toward the back of the hall and were sad to hear they hadn't seen Ron or Hermione either.

"Merlin's beard, are my eyes playing tricks on me or is Potter blonde?"

Lyra stopped mid-conversation with Angelina and turned to see Draco and his gang finally make their way into the party, and of course they made little to no effort to join in the festivities. Her cousin was wearing his Slytherin robes while his friends were dressed as Dementors at the very least, their ragged cloaks barely touched the floor and their faces weren't hidden enough. Their half-hearted growls at Harry confirmed Lyra's guess and she happily greeted Draco with a creeping smile.

The ghost hounds stuck their snouts in the air and Draco stiffened, suddenly noticed their presence around the room.

"Jealous that it looks better than your hair, Malfoy?" Harry shot back without stuttering, and he ran a hand through his thick blonde curls as though showing off.

"And what are you supposed to be? A Weasley?" Draco eyed Lyra in distaste, and she rolled her eyes and resumed pouring herself another goblet of Butterbeer. Those lingering around the drinks table stayed close enough to eavesdrop and Lyra appreciated the audience.

"Your media literacy is terrible, broaden your mind," she pouted, "and what are you supposed to be? A disappointment to your family?"

"I mean, he's got it spot on if he is," Harry shrugged, and Draco barged past them to tend to his own thirst needs.

"I'm surprised you're not freaking out, Black," commented Gregory as he nudged her out of the way of the refreshments, "ain't you terrified of Slytherins?"

"Broke down crying during your Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson because some Boggart turned into a Slytherin, I heard?" Vincent piped up as he helped himself to the candy apples and black-frosted cupcakes. "How embarrassing!"

"Psssh, you weren't even there, that's not what happened," Lyra dismissed the urge to flinch in shame and rolled her eyes instead, "seriously, haven't you realised that you shouldn't listen to gossip anymore? One day it's going to bite you in arse, you should try thinking for yourself."

"Deflect, deflect, deflect, that's all you do," Draco huffed, enjoying Lyra's sour puss pout, "your innocent little act won't last forever, you know."

"Do you ever think about anything else? Or are you this obsessed with us?" Harry asked him in all seriousness, "really, do you have a hobby, Malfoy?"

"Because you should get one," Lyra added for extra emphasis.

"A hobby? What, like yours? Hanging out with ghosts?" Draco drawled, looking to his friends for backup— but Lyra had her own ideas.

"I can't believe you fell for that bullshit, by the way," she suppressed a cackle and openly caught the eye of the Bloody Baron who was terrorising partygoers nearby. The Slytherin ghost tipped his feathered hat her way with a debonair smile and Lyra mirrored. "The ghosts were just pulling your leg on my behalf, you do know that, right?"

"You really think she's evil?" Harry forced a laugh, " her? She couldn't even scare a fly."

"You've made your point," Lyra tried not to take offence as she quietened Harry down with a single look, "I could be evil if I wanted to— but I'm not, for the record. I'm just fucking with you, dude."

Draco tried not to make his doubt obvious and he observed the ghosts in quiet contemplation, his brain whirling trying to catch up. The softening of his dark brow was air to Lyra's lungs and she tried not to grin. He was starting to believe her.

"Still, being friends with the ghosts is loser behaviour," Gregory tried to continue the back and forth, and he nudged Draco for further support, "you couldn't even pay us to make friends with those nutters."

"You couldn't even befriend a living girl let alone a dead one, let's be honest Greg," Lyra laughed into her goblet, enjoying how quickly his cheeks flushed. "You're no catch, you'd have to pay the ghost."

"Fuck off, Black," He growled, chucking the casing of his cupcake on the floor so he could find his wand.

"How about you fuck off first, Goyle?" Harry stepped up to the challenge, getting too ahead of himself, and the Slytherins exchanged the same smug, astute smile. The dawdlers around the snack table stayed glued to the argument, thoroughly enthralled by the spontaneous dinner show, and Lyra looked around for the nearest teacher. She was quite amazed that no one had interrupted them yet, they always seemed to appear out of nowhere when Draco was in fighting proximity to them.

"How about you fuck off, Potter? We are trying to have an important discussion with my cousin here," Draco pursed his rippling lip and flashed him a wicked smile. Lyra didn't like the sight of it. What was going on inside his head? "And you're in the way."

"You literally came up to us," Harry pointed out, but Theodore's unrelenting laugh burst through him like a pin to a balloon. He placed his goblet back on the table and grabbed Draco's shoulder, showing off his sharp smirk beneath his flimsy hood.

"I don't know why you're bothering to argue with him, Draco," he snickered before offering Harry a pitiful look, "everyone knows that Potter has a crush on her, he'd never leave you alone with Black, not for one second!"

Although the party was raging on around them, Lyra swore she heard the collective intake of breath from the eavesdroppers around them. Really? She arched a brow and tutted, severely disappointed in their conclusion. That's all they had? This was their big reasoning behind her being friends with Harry?

All she could do was laugh, it was so primary school, so immature! Do these boys have no female friends? She almost felt sorry for them, but their shit-eating, self-congratulatory smiles ruined any possibility of that happening.

"Ha! Jesus, guys, really?" Lyra scoffed and waited for Harry's presumed objection to their accusations… but he didn't say anything.

In fact, he looked so totally caught off-guard that Lyra started having heart palpitations. His silence was deafening, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. He was just standing there, silent. So very unlike Harry.

No, he doesn't.

"You don't have a crush on me, tell them," Lyra nudged him back to life and crossed her arms, unable to look him in the eye. No, he doesn't! He would have told me!

Her physical touch seemed to spark something within Harry and he snapped back to reality, a far more relaxed smile stretching on his face.

"Don't make me gag, of course I don't!" Harry proclaimed, laughing in his rivals' faces, "no, I don't have a crush on Lyra. It's called having a friendship, do you know what that is?"

Don't make me gag? Lyra kept her mouth closed as she pondered as to why he used that particular phrase. Does the thought of him being attracted to me make him feel sick?

"Obviously," Draco produced a disgusting sound at the back of his throat and scowled, "whatever, keep denying it I guess, whatever you need to keep fooling yourself."

"Do you honestly think I fancy my godsister? Ew," Harry shuddered as he elbowed Lyra back, "can you believe this?"

"You know we're not blood related, right?" She murmured back, too low for the snakes' ears, but Harry ignored her.

"If you don't have a crush on her—," Theodore challenged.

"—which I don't," Harry interjected.

"—then why don't you hang out with anyone else?" He finished, but Lyra was hardly listening anymore. Their childish squabble faded out as she watched her best friend fabricate his truths through his teeth, and so unshakably too.

Does Harry have a crush on her?

Because Lyra knew he was lying. She knew Harry, she knew when he wasn't telling the truth. He had a bad habit of scratching his nails against his palm whenever he was being deceitful, a tell she wasn't even sure he noticed himself, and she continued to watch his hand fidget in between them. Scraping. Itching. Struggling to keep his truth in.

She understood why he would lie, though. Why on earth would he tell Draco and his band of oafs the truth? Why did they deserve to be the first to confirm his feelings towards her?

But… he could have just told me?

You're teenagers.

Teenagers don't communicate clearly when they have crushes on each other. If this happened to you, and Cedric asked you whether you had a crush on him out right— what would you say?

I'd say yes.

Lyra wasn't even sure whether she believed her answer but the voices didn't stick around to watch her coming to terms with reality while the Slytherins continued to dig deeper into this apparently obvious piece of gossip.

"Just because you aren't mature enough to even consider befriending the opposite sex doesn't mean the rest of us are," Harry persisted to fight for his life without keeling over in embarrassment, "Lyra and Hermione," he emphasised as to not make this any more awkward, "are two of the coolest people I know and I feel sorry for you because you don't know what having a genuine friendship is like. You're missing out."

"Ouch, burn," Lyra winced with a heavy sigh, re-entering the debacle, "Listen guys, the closest thing you're gonna get to a cool female friendship is Daphne and even then she's too cool for you."

"I consider Daphne a real friend, you don't know what you're talking about," Draco proclaimed, soughting confirmation from the disinterested Vulcan alien dressed in what Lyra could only describe, as a vintage and canon-accurate Star Trek uniform. Daphne had been watching this delightful encounter develop from the sidelines and she poured herself another creamy butter drink.

"Uh, no?" Daphne took a large swig and lazily pointed at the closest Dementor, "Blaise is the nicest one out of you lot, and I just about tolerate Theodore and Vinny far more than you, Draco— ,"

"You're not helping!" Draco shooed her away and consolidated with the facts, "just because Daphne is a cold-hearted bitch doesn't mean I'm not friends with girls. Pansy is my friend."

"Yeah, and Pansy has a huge crush on you," Theodore pointed out, solidifying his point, "ergo, I'm right."

"Whatever," Lyra's head was swimming too fast for her to catch up, she needed air, and a chance to find out the truth without her enemies acting as her Greek chorus, "have a good evening gentlemen, and watch out for the ghost dogs. They're feeling extra bitey tonight."

Leaving the Slytherins on high alert was the best outcome she could have hoped for, and she made her way out of the Great Hall possibly for the final time. She didn't quite feel like dancing anymore. It wasn't until she was free from the current of bodies pushing against her that she realised she'd lost Harry, she couldn't see him anywhere and she didn't want to admit that she was grateful for the moment of solitude. She needed a minute to be alone.

But, of course, it didn't last long. She was never alone.

THEY'RE COMING…

Death mimicked the voice of the storm to warn her, and the metallic shrill gasps of the Dementors called out to Lyra, warning her.

HE'S HERE…

HE'S INSIDE…

Transfixed by the flapping entrance door caught in the storm's ghastly grip, she debated her next move but she didn't realise her feet had already made her decision for her. Nothing looked out of place outside, she scraped her hair out of her face, peeked through the doors and waited for the wind to speak to her again… Waiting for the lurker to jump out from the dark night… Waiting for her father to make himself known.

He's here?

The rain hardened from the sudden ice, hail pelted the ground and smashed in thousands of pieces like fallen stars, but Lyra was already sprinting back into the Entrance Hall and off into the depths of the deserted castle. Her stomach was churning, the storm was getting closer.

Where is he?

No, the storm was here. He was here?! She wasn't thinking straight, but she didn't care. She was going to find Sirius. She was going to get some fucking answers whether the headmaster approved or not, she needed to catch him first. She needed to watch the life leave his eyes as she avenged the lives he destroyed.

WHERE IS HE?!

"Hey!"

Blinded by cold fury, Lyra stormed through the halls and up into the main staircase, the heart of Hogwarts, but she smacked straight into Harry who emerged from an adjoining boys bathroom. Thankfully he caught her before they tumbled to the floor and she dug her nails deep into his arms, unconcerned whether she was hurting him. It didn't matter, nothing else mattered.

"What happened?" Harry chose his first question wisely though his moist brow suggested he was still desperate to discuss Theodore's accusations, "you're shaking—,"

"He's here," she spat out through her hyperventilation, "Sirius is here— The Dementors, they— and I can hear—,"

"Breathe," Harry slowed her down with a firm grip on her shoulders, and he demanded she lock eyes with him, "Lyra, look at me, breathe."

"Lighthouse," she jittered, copying his exaggerated breaths. His voice was smooth, deep, a melody she could sing along to. She hadn't noticed how clammy she had grown, her blood thinned from shock and her skin felt paper thin, "I'm a lighthouse."

"Sure, whatever you say," Harry chose not to ask, "you're a lighthouse. The Dementors are here?"

"No," Lyra steadied her heart rate and grasped his forearms harder, causing him to tense, "Sirius is."

"Where?"

"In the castle, I don't know where exactly but—,"

"And you're running through here alone because…?"

"I…" Lyra had no excuse and lessened her hold on him, "nothing, I wasn't going anywhere—,"

"Liar," Harry called her bullshit and pulled her closer.

Lyra couldn't resist. "I could say the same to you. Harry, you can tell me anything, you know that right? You can tell me the truth."

Her bluntness slapped his better-than-thou smile from his face and he gulped, losing his next quip like a fleeting lost thought. Her steady heartbeat was fast to climb again, but this time it wasn't her father's doing. Lyra didn't know why but… she wanted Harry to say it.

What if he just said it, right now, that he had a crush on her? What would she do? What would she say? Where would they go from here? Did she have a crush on him?

Her last question came over her like a hot flush and she struggled to maintain his intimate eye contact. It wasn't like she was unaware of how attractive he was, Harry was undeniably a good-looking guy, she wasn't blind, but… they were friends? They told each other everything?!

No! Don't think about that, you're gonna ruin your friendship with him! He doesn't fancy you, don't get your hopes up—!

HOLD UP?!

What do you mean 'your hopes up'? Lyra?!

GO AWAY!

In the split second that Lyra experienced her minor existential crisis, Harry took a deep breath and found his voice at last.

"I know I can tell you anything, and I promise that I don't have a crush on you," he finally answered, and it sounded incredibly convincing. "Please don't feel weird about us, this doesn't change anything right? We're still best friends, yeah?"

Panic officially over. Lyra believed him that time. She shotgunned her hopes into their early graves and hastily threw in the new, intense feelings that threatened to emerge too. She needed to bury them deep, very deep. She didn't want to ruin their friendship either, she didn't want it to be weird. They weren't weird, they never would be. Of course he didn't fancy her…

"I'm still your favourite person in the whole world, I hear you loud and clear," she heaved a weighted sigh and laughed off his nervous smile, "but this is the last time we let blatant sexism try to ruin our relationship, ok? Draco wouldn't know a good friend even if they slapped him in the face."

"The last person that will ruin our relationship is Malfoy, I can promise you that," Harry vowed, "but back to the more alarming matter— we're going to find Dumbledore. Now."

Lyra huffed, outraged by Harry's betrayal as he grabbed her elbow and steered her back toward the entrance of the castle and the oblivious Halloween party that was in its final hour. "But—?!"

"No," Harry shut her down, "as the leader of Mystery Inc, and you being our resident damsel in distress, I am not sending you off to get kidnapped by your Dad."

Lyra nearly tripped over her own feet as Harry forced her to a stop without warning, fear quickly replacing his initial confident expression.

"Shit, Ron and Hermione are up there."

"You were saying?!" Lyra bathed in her right to say I told you so as she spun on her heel and went to drag him away.

But Harry continued to march her towards the Great Hall instead.

"Dude?!"

"I'm still prioritising you, both of them would shout at me if we both turned up so don't fight me," he said with only respect toward her, he really didn't want to experience Lyra's feminine wrath face on, "go be a lighthouse on the dance floor."

"That's not how that works," she grumbled as she fought against him, but he was much more powerful than she'd grown to expect. It appeared he held back his real strength a lot during their past fights so Lyra gave in and let him manhandle her, unusually taken by his command.

That was until she sensed the Dementors trespassing onto school grounds and was reminded of her new power. Oh yeah!

Harry shoved her into a nearby chair and caught her impish eye. " Stay."

Lyra smirked and the entirety of Hogwarts castle fell into darkness as shadows stole the light from every candle, lantern, and disco ball that illuminated the school tonight. She heard Harry swear and felt him latch onto her arms for the final time as the Great Hall erupted in a panic. Not a soul knew what was happening and Lyra quite liked the sound of her manufactured chaos.

Girl, seriously?

Too dramatic for your own good!

"WHATS HAPPENING?!"

"Is this a set up?!"

"It's part of the party, relax!"

"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

" SILENCE!"

Professor Dumbledore took to the main stage and lit his wand, solving their first issue without a moment's hesitation. "Remain calm, please," he addressed them with no sense of worry in his soothing timbre, "everyone, do not leave this hall until I say. Staff, with me—,"

"No need, professorship sir!"

In the light of the dozens of lit wands, the real Peeves came whizzing into the party, cackling as though he was the mastermind behind the mysterious blackout. Lyra loosened her grip on the shadows and feebly withdrew her reach, avoiding Harry's enraged stare from above.

"Explain," Dumbledore left the stage and parted the crowds of scared students like the Red Sea, his gaze fixed on the giggling poltergeist, "quickly."

"There's a killer on the loose, hiding in the walls and beneath the floors," he sang, soaking in the power of having everyone's undivided attention, "nowhere to hide, nowhere to run!"

"Peeves, what have you seen?" Dumbledore repeated patiently, and Lyra tried not to shy away from his subtle glance he sent their way. They were the closest to the door, it was impossible for them not to draw his attention considering the announcement.

I swear, this has nothing to do with me! Lyra directed her thoughts toward the headmaster in case he was listening.

"Peevesy saw—,"

"BLACK! HE'S HERE!"

The Fat Lady's shrieks of terror arrived before she did, and the hall jolted from the sheer volume as she came bounding through the tapestries hung high on the Great Hall's walls. She tripped over a snoozing Thunderbird and stumbled through a witches picnic, hysterical in her search for help and ignorant to the mess she left in her path.

"H-HE ATTACKED ME! I SAW HIM! SIRIUS BLACK IS IN THE CASTLE!"