Style // Sirius Black

Chapter IV

Quidditch was something Lyra was reasonably good at. She wasn't on the team and didn't desire to be. She preferred sitting in the stands and cheering on her house team with her best friends at her sides, rubbing it into the Slytherins faces when they beat them. Lyra liked the parties afterwards and the celebrating that followed. She enjoyed drinking until she could barely remember her name and partying until her feet were numb. It was easier than training with the team and playing the actual game.

James had tried to convince her thousands of times to join the team. She would have made an excellent chaser, he told her. Lyra had the lithe body type and the focus to be an outstanding player, but she never felt the want to commit to the sport. Playing mock games with her family during Christmas and summer holidays was enough for her. Plus, she was nowhere near as good as James, and she didn't need to hear the whispers and comparisons between the two.

James and Lyra Potter were an infamous duo throughout all of Hogwarts. However, the eldest of the twins was always the first person on everyone's mind when the name Potter is spoken. Whether it be his unwavering loyalty, his renowned pranks, or his way of charming everyone. James Potter was famous in the walls of Hogwarts, and Lyra was there by association. Not to say she wasn't disarming in her way. Students loved her between the houses, and teachers adored her to a certain extent.

But she was always the one who got the less fortunate genetics. She was easier to anger, had a much dirtier mind, and was never one to commit to something entirely. Many professors had pulled her aside and explained that she would do great things if she applied herself. But that was precisely why she didn't try. She didn't want to be known for something she did or who she could be. She wanted to be known for who she was and what she was. Whenever McGonnagal tried to push Lyra to try harder in transfiguration, she'd put less work in. If Sprout told her to apply herself more in Herbology, she'd skip most classes.

The last thing Lyra wanted was for more people to tell her what to be. Sirius told her to be better, so she became worse. James told her to be herself, so she lost it. Lyra was tired of people telling her who to be, but she didn't know who she even was herself.

She dreamed of becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts one day. It was her favourite class, and it was the one she excelled in. No one ever told her what to be or who to become in that class. Lyra was a skilled defensive witch and had an arsenal of charms and hexes that should send Voldemort running. The Professor always told her to watch out and that the skills she had were what Death Eaters wanted on their side.

He warned her that her closed-off nature and aggressive reactions might catch the eye of people who want to cause more harm than good. Lyra brushed off his claim, chalking it up to the Professors being paranoid about the looming war that was seemingly right around the corner.

Lyra knew better than to fall into the hands of a Death Eater. She may be impulsive and reckless, but she wasn't stupid.

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A laugh escaped from the blonde's lips as Pierre's hands gripped her shoulders, steering her towards the Quidditch pitch with the other girls trailing close behind. She quickly nudged him off before falling in line with Lily, wishing the newest Gryffindor good luck as he jogged off to meet James and the others. A gentle sigh escaped Lyra's throat as she leaned her head against the ginger's shoulders, basking in the warmth of the September day.

"Something on your mind, Ly?" Mary grinned as she tugged at the girl's sleeve, "Never seen you laugh so much."

Lyra rolled her eyes before fixing the sleeve of her floral button-up, standing up straight again. As much as she hated it, she wouldn't deny that Pierre made her laugh and kept a smile on her face the entire time they talk. She also knew that her best friends would tease the crap out of her if she started to fall for the mysterious new French guy that showed up at their school.