Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XXVI

Lyra froze in her spot, despite not having been moving, as the fight in her came to a halt. Her eyes dropped to the sphere that the head master held, a far-off voice calling her name in between jumbled words. She tried to piece together the various things that were called out. Her name alongside that of another. She couldn't understand it, and her mind ran fuzzy at the effort.

"This here, Lyra Potter," Dumbledore began, a know-it-all tone dripping in his voice, "Was retrieved from the Dark Lord's study. And it gives me an explanation to his...infatuation with you and that little gift of yours. Do you know how you got it?"

The lowering of her eyebrows seemed to be enough of an action to indicate she didn't. Lyra was completely oblivious to how this power manifested inside of her, and the extent that it ran. She wasn't sure if it was simply an ability to look into peoples minds or if she could somehow implement a false memory or even control them. She would never wish to, having had her own actions dictated for so long.

"When you were born," Dumbledore continued, standing too close to the girl than she liked, "You weren't supposed to live. I made sure of it. But somehow, someway, you managed. No Merlin's hex I bestowed upon you or your birth kept you from living on and causing me a headache. But I've learned of my ignorance, because I never thought of a possibility involving you somehow going hand-in-hand with the war.

"You were a problem to me, Lyra. I know it sounds harsh but I won't lie to you. But when you were born, somehow, Tom Riddle found this prophecy and quickly figured out it was you that it was linked to. He learned of you in the hospital, and bestowed that neat trick of yours into your head. How, I cannot tell you. I'm unaware of anything like this. But yet, here we are.

"Would you like to know what the prophecy says? About you? Your fate? Your part in this war?"

The feeling of strength returned to Lyra's vocal chords and a hoarse cough barked out from her mouth. It was as though he had a fist wrapped around her throat the entire time, yet she could breath perfectly fine. Whoever Dumbledore was and whatever it was he was able to do, was becoming a real detriment to the advancements Lyra was making in her own defensive abilities. She was a witch beyond the talents of Hogwarts, and that power was manifesting. But Dumbledore's constant reminder of the fact she wasn't supposed to be here seemed to be creating a massive roadblock.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head, "No ball of smoke can tell me things that will happen. It may not even be about me."

"Oh no," Dumbledore corrected, taking a few steps backwards, away from the blonde, "It is about you. I can assure you, Lyra Potter, this prophecy is entwined into your life. Down to that of your romantic endeavours."

"No," she shook her head, blonde hair tickling her neck, "I don't want someone else determing the life I live. The choices I make will be on my own accord. I don't care what a stupid b–"

"It has your brothers future in the details," Dumbledore interrupted, turning on his heel and wandering up back towards his desk, "If that at all interests you."

Silence fell heavily over the two. For a moment, Lyra was sure he had taken her voice again. Nothing seemed to fall from her lips. She wanted more than anything to scream and yell and lose her ever-loving mind on the wizard in front of her. But she couldn't. Instead, all that came out were squeaks of shock and unfinished sentences of pure stupor.

"Tell me," she whispered, "Please."

"No."

-----

Lyra sat in her bed, nothing more than that. Her mind was far too blank for anything else to transpire. No thoughts ran through her brain as she processed the fact that Dumbledore further teased and taunted her, and she as left useless. She was supposed to be stronger than that. She was supposed to be able to stand up to him and show him that it was her that he should be wary of, not the Dark Lord. Lyra Potter wasn't aware of the plans Dumbledore had, but she'd be damned if he got away with them.