Word Count: 2,076.
Warnings: None.
Unknown POV
"Did you give her the ring?" his voice croaked from the chair. The voice was small, only taking up a small part of the furniture they found themselves settled in.
Behind the chair stood a scrawny man, his hair reaching just below his shoulders, but unlike the blonde-haired man, who also stood in the room, this man's hair was unruly and uncared for. The scrawny man's hands twitched constantly, as did his mouth.
"Yes, my lord. She suspects it was her father." Barty Crouch Jr spoke up, his tongue leaving his mouth for a moment, the gesture looking like a hissing snake.
"Very good." The small man's voice commanded the room. I stood away from them, not engaging in the conversation.
"My Lord, may I?" The scrawny man behind him spoke, "what is the importance of the girl if we have Potter?"
"You have no idea her power Wormtail. Although her magic is not as powerful as Potter's, her power lies elsewhere. She will become my most important ally, following in her family's footsteps, as he father should have." Voldemort explained, his voice becoming harder to hear the longer he spoke.
"She is not on the dark side my Lord." The blonde-haired man spoke.
"But she will be. Not for some time, but her fate will intervene with what she wants. There is no fighting it, for any of them."
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
I applied concealer to the scar on the side of my face. It had become irritated and now the entirety of it was surrounded by a red rash. This happened often. The scar had never healed for some obscure reason, and because of that, I got this rash every now and again. Today was the wrong day.
"Applying make-up to it will only make the rash worse." Pansy suggested, placing her hands on my shoulders, resting her head on the edge of it.
I sighed, "I know, but just for today. I need to look normal."
"Lyra."
"This is the first time there will be a large group of people looking at me. it's not just our class anymore, and if I'm going to deal with their shit about my father, then I don't need to give them another reason to slag me," I threw the make-up container down, giving up on trying to cover it further.
"You never cared about that before."
"Yeah, well, now I do." She nodded, not pressing any further. Taking her hands from my shoulders, she turned away, picking something up from her bed.
"That's the first time you haven't called him by his name." she started. "You're actually calling him your father now."
"There's no use pretending he isn't." she opened her mouth to reply.
"Time to go bitches! I want to get good seats." Blaise shouted through the doors.
I grabbed my coat from my bed and without sparing Pansy a glance, opened the door the Blaise. Draco and Mattheo were stood behind him, silently conversing with each other.
"Where's Theo?" I asked, throwing the jacket around myself and leaving the room.
"He's helping to set up for the match, remember?" Draco asked.
"And why aren't you?" He held up his 'injured' arm. I scoffed.
"Ready to go Pansy?" Blaise asked, watching her leave our room. A smile was on her face, and she politely took Blaise's arm. They walked down the stairs.
"It's like she's his Queen or something." Draco offered. I nodded.
"She might as well be. They both may be gay, but I'm telling you, they're going to get married." I answered. Draco looked at me with a odd expression.
"They won't have a romantic relationship. Just show up in style to every event and get the best suitors for each other."
"You are so weird Black." Draco shook his head, walking after the other two.
"What?" I asked, turning to Mattheo. He was smiling brightly. "What did I say?"
"You come out with the weirdest of things Black." Mattheo stated, slinging an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest, "I don't know how you come up with this stuff."
"What?" I asked again, confused.
"Don't ever change Lyra. Don't you dare every change."
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
The stands at the Quidditch field were almost filled to the brim with students. Red and yellow grouped together on either side of the field, cheers already beginning to sound throughout the stadium. The teams hadn't even entered yet and already the rivalry that came with Quidditch was on high alert.
"Why are we even at this match? It's not like Slytherin are playing!" Draco shouted. It had begun to rain, and the walk from the castle to the field had already soaked me through. Everyone else had been too.
"Well, I'm here to support Harry! And you're here because you wanted to come with me!" I shouted back, pushing through the crowd.
"You know Lyra? You're lucky I love you!" Draco continued, moving past me. I could spot Theo standing by the entrance to the changing rooms, protecting him from the heavy rain.
Pansy and Blaise were already stood beside Theo and started talking to Draco once he joined them. Mattheo turned to me.
"Aren't we going to join them?" he asked, shouting against the rain. I shook my head.
"I like the rain." I spoke, my comment not relating to his question. "It calms me, even when its like this." I pointed to the sky.
"Well, it's getting me wet, whether you like it or not."
"You don't have to wait for me. I'll join you in a minute." Closing my eyes, I tilted my head upwards, feeling the rain hit my face.
It was calming. The fell of water hitting your skin. At first, it was cold, soaking your clothes, but once you relaxed and simply let it fall, there was nothing more relaxing. The concealer that I had applied to cover the redness of my scar had surely washed away, but it no longer felt irritated.
Opening my eyes, I turned to my right. Mattheo hadn't moved, and instead had been looking at me, his face calm. Our gazes locked and my heart began to beat faster. My stomach fluttered as he began to smile.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
Before we knew it, the match was in full swing, yellow and red robes flying back and forth across the field. Words were spoken between my friends, but my eyes were focused on a certain Gryffindor player. Harry was a good Quidditch player, but the weather conditions had me worried about him.
Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, and a favourite Gryffindor of mine had eventually called a time out. I didn't know what it was about, but it didn't take too long to sort out, the team back up in the air within seconds.
The match itself seemed to last for only minutes, a team member falling here, player's hands repeatedly slipping from their brooms. It was a miracle nobody had fallen yet. It was a miracle Harry hadn't fallen yet. He had a habit for being clumsy.
The scores were almost drawn when things started to go wrong. One of the Hufflepuff players had fallen from their broom resulting in her having to be escorted off the pitch. The wind had picked up, the rain no longer feeling soft on my skin, now feeling like needles pricking every part of my body, but something else was happening.
An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though I had gone suddenly deaf. That was when I saw them.
Hundreds, no thousands of Dementors were descending on the field, their black cloaked bodies not affected by the winds heavy gusts. One split from the group, floating upwards towards the black-haired boy sat on his broom.
"Harry," I muttered, surging forward onto the field, "Harry!" I shouted.
Without warning he fell, the broom slipped from his hands and his body fell from the sky. It tumbled through the air, his hands limp, making it clear that the boy was unconscious. All thoughts of the Dementors faded from my mind as Harry Potter fell to his death.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
"Lucky the ground was so soft."
"But he didn't even break his glasses."
Voices whispered around me. The Gryffindor team surrounded Harry's bed in the Infirmary, along with a couple of his friends. I was the only Slytherin in the room, standing near the back of the group. I kept my eyes fixed on the sleeping boy. His eyes shot open.
"Harry!" said one of the red-haired twins, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. "How're you feeling?"
Harry head shook from side to side, his hand coming up to his forehead in thought. "What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly we all gasped.
"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking. Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.
I myself had thought he was dead when he began to fall, but lucky for him Dumbledore cast a spell, stopping him in mid air and gently dropping him to the ground. It was terrifying.
"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we having a replay?" No one said anything. "We didn't – lose?"
"Diggory got the Snitch," said the other twin. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a re-match. But they won fair and square... even Wood admits it."
"Where is Wood?" said Harry. I looked around the team, searching for the only player I knew other than Harry. He wasn't there.
"Still in the showers," Twin One spoke. "We think he's trying to drown himself."
Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. The same red-haired twin that spoke only moment before grabbed his shoulders and shook it roughly.
"C'mon Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before."
"There had to be one time you didn't get it," the other twin spoke.
"It's not over yet. We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff lose to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin..."
"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points."
"But if they beat Ravenclaw..."
"No way, Ravenclaw are too good. But if Slytherin lose against Hufflepuff..."
"It all depends on the points – a margin of a hundred either way –"
Harry lay there, not saying a word. I didn't know what anything they said meant, but I could tell by the expression on Harry's face that it wasn't good, but I wasn't too sure he was thinking about the possibilities of winning but instead the match they had just lost.
After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.
"We'll come see you later," one of the twins told him. "Don't beat yourself up Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."
The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved closer to Harry's bed. They soon left too, but not before telling him about his broomstick. It seemed that in the fall, it had made its way to the Whomping Willow, where it had not been impressed to find something new in its branches.
"How are you Black?" Potter asked. I shook my head.
"I'm more worried about you. That was a nasty fall Harry."
"Thanks for checking up on me."
"That's what friends do Harry." I decided to leave the room, not wanting to be the last one left. I was never good at getting out of conversations.
"Be real Black, you're more like family at this point." I smiled, turning to look at him again. "We may not be in the same House or spend every waking moment at each others side, but there's just something about you. You're like my sister Lyra. How else would you explain the person who followed you through a snake pit to fight our DADA Professor or following me into a Basilisk Chamber?"
"Ron and Hermione followed you too," I reminded him.
"But they hesitated. Friends do. Family doesn't," he paused, and I watched Madam Pomfrey begin to head towards us. I could tell by her face that she was rearing to kick me out. "And you never hesitated to follow me."
"And I never will."