Word Count: 3,473.
Warnings: None.
By the time I was on my way to Care of Magical Creatures the following day, I had pushed my little memory spell far from my mind. Unfortunately, Riddle hadn't.
"What the hell was that last night Lyra?" he asked me as we made our way down the hill towards the Forbidden Forest.
"I was tired. Sleep deprived," I tried, attempting to convince him... and myself.
The truth was that I had no idea what that was. One minute I was in the corridors of Hogwarts, the next I was standing in the Slytherin Common Room, having no memory of how I got there.
My heart raced at the thought that I wasn't in control of my actions for a period of time. No matter how short it seemed to be.
"How long was it between me going to Umbridge's office and showing up in the Common Room?" I asked Mattheo.
His mouth was open as if he was speaking and from the look on his face as I asked him the question, I definitely interrupted him.
"About two hours," he answered.
I turned away, facing ahead as we continued to walk. I wasn't in Umbridge's office for more than twenty minutes. What had I been doing for the rest of that time?
"Lyra," the boy tried, stopping me in my tracks. "Are you okay?"
I sighed. "I don't know yet. Give me some time to talk to the voices in my head and then I'll tell you."
He frowned, running a hand down my arm and lacing his fingers with mine. "I'm worried," he admitted. "I'm worried that something is going on."
"Something is going on," I told him. "This is just another addition, but i'm okay. I'm still here."
"For how long?" he asked, swallowing with a tensed jaw.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing knot in my stomach. "As long as I'm in control of my mind," I started. "Forever."
"And when you're not? When that power in your head decides to take over." He moved closer to me, placing a hand on my cheek.
"Well then you're going to have to talk it out of me," I tried but he didn't budge, looking at me with a pained expression.
"Time is running out, isn't it?"
I shook my head. "Hey, look. It was just a little slip up. I can't remember how I got back to my dorm. Big fucking deal."
I didn't tell him about the necklace. How it was clear that I had more than just walk back to my Common Room. I couldn't. He would definitely freak.
"Hey!" Draco called after us, moving back up the hill towards us. "Are you two coming?" he asked.
I nodded, quickly scurrying away from Mattheo approaching Draco's side.
"What was yesterday about?" I asked him quickly. Pushing all thought of the previous conversation out of my mind I put on my best scolding voice.
I felt Riddle appear on my other side, sliding his hand down my arm and interlacing our fingers together into a tight hold.
Draco tensed in front of me. "What about yesterday?" he asked, knowing exactly what I was talking about.
"You know, insulting Weasley's mother and Harry's mother," I explained, and he only got more nervous.
"Did that happen?" he tried to deflect the question.
"It happened," Riddle spoke up. "I was listening in too."
"Listening in on what?"
"McGonagall scolding Weasley and Harry," I explained.
"Oh, did he get detention? Please tell me he got detention?" Malfoy asked.
My eyes widened at his response, smacking the back of his head with my free hand. "What the fuck Malfoy?"
He rubbed the back of his head. "I got carried away," he muttered.
"Carried away?" I repeated. "What happened to not hating each other?"
He shook his head with a sigh. "I regret it," he told me. "If that makes you feel any better."
"I'm not the one you should be telling."
"I know."
Riddle squeezed my hand, causing me to turn to him. He nodded his head towards the Slytherin's on the left side of Hagrid's hut.
Stood at the front was Theo and Pansy, conversing loudly. Blaise stood silently behind them, looking at his hands.
I sighed. "Do you think they're pissed?" I asked the two boys beside me.
"Yes, I think they are," Malfoy replied, and I turned to look at him.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded to myself. "It's better that they hate us," I told them, trying to convince myself of the fact. "They can't be put in danger then. Right?"
Draco nodded slightly, turning to look at them. I turned to Mattheo whose jaw had tensed as he watched me carefully.
"I suppose," he replied. "It is safer, but is it better?"
Turning back to watch the three of them, I bit my cheek. Safer is better. Safer is... better. Safer is... Safer is safer.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
I couldn't sleep that night after classes. The whisper I had heard coming from the necklace didn't want to leave me alone. Every night since that night I had heard them, floating around my mind, talking to me in hushed whispers.
They didn't last long, talking for an hour at a time, but they hadn't stopped since the sun went down this time. They're incoherent words that tunneled through the pathways of my mind.
The voices were soft and comforting but with my hands on my head as I sat on the edge of my bed, my thoughts had never been so deafening.
"Fuck," I muttered, the constant bickering's turning into a painful ache in my temple.
Frustrated, I rose from my bed, stumbling on my feet towards the door. I quickly descended the stairs, collapsing by the fireplace.
"Lyra?" someone asked, causing me to turn around in my spot.
Riddle stood by the entrance to the Common Room, his Hogwarts robes gone and dressed in a simple pair of tracksuit bottoms and a large white t-shirt.
I hissed as I stood, facing him fully. "Hey," I tried, but found myself closing my eyes in pain.
"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly approaching me and holding me by the shoulders.
I leaned on him. "There are more voices in my head. They won't stop," I admitted.
He sighed, letting go of my arms and pulling my head against his collarbone, hugging me tightly. He brought one hand up to the back of my neck and began rubbing the top of my spine with his thumb. The pain relieved.
"Better?" he asked.
I nodded into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his torso. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
He sighed. "Do you want to talk?"
I shook my head, pulling back for a moment to look at him. "I want to sleep," I told him.
"Okay," he replied, taking my hand and bringing me over to the couch. "I would go into your dorm, but I get a sense that Pansy might kill me. Pissed at you or not."
I laughed lightly, running a hand over my face. Riddle sat on the couch, pushing up against the back of it and opening his arms for me.
I was quick to descend to him, pressing my back up against his and laying my head on the pillow. He wrapped his arms around my torso, pulling me tight to him.
"We need a blanket," I told him.
He let out a huff, bringing his hand to the top of the couch and taking the knitted blanket that rested there. He pulled it over the two of us.
"Happy?" he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist again.
"Yeah," I sighed, already feeling my eyelids become heavy.
The voices hadn't stopped. They still bickered in my mind, but they had become quieter, giving me enough peace to find myself inexplicably tired.
Matheo rest his head on the cushion beside mine, his breath blowing against my hair. I laced my fingers with his across my stomach.
I smiled. "I like this," I told him.
"You like what?" he asked, lifting his head up to rest it on my shoulder.
"Being with you," I explained. "It's easy."
"Except when it's not," he spoke, letting out a large breath. "When my father -"
I shushed him, closing my eyes and tightening my grip on his hands. "Not now. Not here," I paused. "Here, we are just a normal couple that are having trouble sleeping."
He laughed lightly. "Alright. Well then you better get to sleep." His head dropped back against the pillow.
Smiling to myself, ignoring the voices whispering in my head, I found myself drifting off to the calming pace of Riddle's breathing.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
I didn't sleep long before my eyes opened again. My reasons for wakening were unclear to me but from the second my eyes opened, I was wide awake.
Riddle's arms were still tight around my waist, and I smiled, comfortable in his hold.
"How adorable," Crouch's voice entered the room.
My head shot up, finding Barty Crouch Jr. sat on an armchair, his head resting on his hand.
"Crouch," I breathed, turning.
Slowly peeling Riddle's arms from around my waist, I carefully rose from the couch. I turned to Crouch.
"What the fuck happened?" I asked him in a hushed whisper.
Turning my head to Mattheo, I made sure that the boy was still sleeping. He was.
"What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head as he stood. His hands moved behind his back in a proper manner.
"You took that necklace from me," I explained. "Figments of my imagination can't touch things around me."
"That is very true," he replied. "But I'm different. I took that book from you last year so what's the different between a wad of paper and a metal chain?"
I perked a brow. "Estrella took that from me. Not you."
He sighed. "Yes. She did. I get confused sometimes."
A sudden ache pushed through my mind, nudging against the flame's cage.
"I have something for you," Crouch brought my attention back to him.
He held out his hand. My eyes turned downwards, watching the object that hung loosely between his fingers. It was the necklace he had taken from me.
The whispered returned as my gaze locked on it. But they weren't incoherent anymore. I could hear them perfectly. I could hear them calling me.
It acted like a person, asking me to go to them. My hand reached out, edging towards the chain. My fingers brushed the top of the emerald pendant.
"Lyra!" a voice shouted, moving my gaze from the necklace and to the Common Room entrance.
Mattheo jumped, wakening from his slumber on the couch. His boy was on high alert as he spotted the new addition to the room.
Nika stood out of breath, her eyes moving back and forth between our equally frazzled states. Her expression turned stern as she straightened.
"What were you two doing?" she asked.
I turned to Riddle, giving him a quick look before facing Nika again. "We couldn't sleep," I told her.
"Yeah right, you were just –"
"Nika!" I cut her off. "What are you doing in the Slytherin Common Room?" I asked. "How did you even get in?"
"Pansy gives me the password," she explained, "but that's not why I'm here." She bit her lip. "I saw Harry getting dragged into Dumbledore's office. He didn't look too good."
My heart clenched. Potter? In trouble? "Shit," I cursed, making towards her. She rushed out of the Common Room.
Mattheo grasped my hand before I could follow her. "Riddle?" I asked. "Potter's in trouble," I told him as though explaining where I was going.
He didn't look at me, eyes focused not on my face, but on my neck. I followed his gaze, bringing my hand up to touch the skin above my collarbone.
"You put it back on," he muttered, reaching up towards it.
I stepped back, grasp tightening around the stone. "Yes," I lied. "I did."
"Lyra..."
"I... did," I told myself. Did I?
"Lyra, did you put that necklace on?" he asked me.
My mouth opened and closed as I tried to find an answer, racking my brain for the memory. I had touched it, but had I put it on? I couldn't remember.
"I don't remember," I replied and his face only fell heavy with worry.
"Lyra, that thing is dangerous," he started.
I cut him off. "And yet it is the only thing that stops me from exploding. It was at least."
"You heard things," he tried.
"I'm still hearing things without it. Seeing things without it," I argued with him.
Mattheo moved closer to me. "It made you muddled. Confused."
"More than I already am?" I asked.
He sighed, reaching me. Riddle reached out, prying my hand from the stone and holding it in his hand. "It even looks evil."
"Not everything that looks evil is bad," I told him.
"Not everything that seems good is good," he replied. "It may help you now, but we don't know anything else about it. It could be the reason for your meltdown last year."
"Meltdown?" I repeated the word, pulling away from him. "What am I? A child?"
He shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Then what did you mean it like?"
He didn't answer, jaw tense as he eyes never left the chain around my neck.
I shook my head. "I have to get to Potter. Something could be wrong." I turned away, making for the exit.
"Something is always wrong with that guy." Riddle's tone turned... bitter. "For once would you focus on what's wrong with you?"
I faced him. "Oh I know what's wrong with me. Everything is wrong with me. Everything is wrong with you. Anything that could have gone wrong has already gone wrong, so what else is there to focus on?"
He didn't have an answer for me, nodding his head slowly. "I don't want to lose you because we missed the signs. All because you're too busy running after everyone but yourself."
My heart ached at his words. "You're not going to lose me."
"Can you promise me that?" he asked.
I found my mouth being firmly shut. I couldn't. I couldn't promise him that he wasn't going to lose me. That I was going to stay the same or that he could lose me permanently.
I didn't answer Mattheo, instead turning around and rushing out of the Common Room. I sprinted down the hall towards Dumbledore's office.
I could worry about me later. Right now, I had to make sure Harry was still alive.
ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ
When I ran through the doors of the Headmaster's office, Professor McGonagall was there with Potter in her arms. Ron stood beside the raven-haired boy.
"Potter," I called, their attention turning to me.
Harry looked relieved to see me as I rushed to his side in his chair. I looked him over.
"Are you okay?" I asked him.
The boy was drenched in sweat, panting heavily. He shook his head. "I don't know."
"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a . . . well, a nightmare," said Professor McGonagall, my attention turning to her. "He says . . ."
"It wasn't a nightmare," said Harry quickly and rather abruptly. I turned to him, placing a gently hand on the boy's shoulder.
Professor McGonagall looked around at Harry, frowning slightly.
"Very well, then, Potter, you tell the headmaster about it."
"I... well, I was asleep..." Harry started.
The Headmaster was not looking at Harry, but examining his own interlocked fingers to the right of us. He didn't seem interested in Harry state at all.
"But it wasn't an ordinary dream... it was real... I saw it happen..." He took a deep breath, "Ron's dad — Mr. Weasley — has been attacked by a giant snake."
My eyes widened. Mr. Weasley? Attacked by a snake? No, not a snake, a giant snake. There was only one abnormally large snake I knew whose owner would have a good reason to attack the blood traitors that were the Weasleys.
Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Ron looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked. The poor guy.
"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry.
"Well . . . I don't know," said Harry, rather angrily. His temper was rising. "Inside my head, I suppose —"
"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. "I mean . . . can you remember — er — where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"
I turned to Dumbledore. That was an oddly specific question to ask. What position where you in when the man got viciously attacked. What was he expecting Harry to say? That he was –
"I was the snake," Harry replied, cutting my thoughts short as I turned back to him. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view..."
"Holy shit," I muttered. Why, in Merlin's name, did he see it in the snake's point of view?
"Is Arthur seriously injured?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"That's horrendous and all," I spoke up, turning to Ron. "And I am so sorry this has happened Ron, I'm sure he will be alright." I turned to Dumbledore who had turned away and was now facing a painting on the back wall.
"But are we not going to talk about the problem here?" I asked the Headmaster. "If this truly happened then isn't that a worrying thought. That Harry can see these things?"
"Everard?" Dumbledore ignored my questions, speaking to the painting in front of him. "You were listening?" he asked him.
The wizard nodded, "Naturally," he replied.
"Professor?" I tried but he didn't take any notice of me.
"The man has red hair and glasses," said Dumbledore. "Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people —"
He nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighboring pictures, he didn't reappear, the frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain.
Dumbledore turned back around. I let go of Harry's shoulder, moving towards the Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore, Harry is seeing things that aren't actually happening in front of him. Is that not a worrying fact?" I asked him.
The man looked calmly at me. "Not as important as assuring that Arthur Weasley is alright."
I sighed. "The portraits just left. That will take minutes at least, you have time to answer my question."
He ignored me, turning to the Transfiguration teacher. "Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chair for Ms. Black . . ."
She pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; another chair appeared out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden.
I sat down, watching Dumbledore carefully. He was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.
"We will need," said Dumbledore very quietly to the bird, "a warning."
There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone. Dumbledore now swooped down, seating himself into his chair.
I leaned forward in my chair. "Dumbledore, if Harry is seeing these things and having premonitions of things that are happening, should we not worry about the connection between him and Voldemort," I started.
He nodded. "You speak as though you know much of these things."
"I know enough," I replied sternly. "I know that it is something to worry about and definitely something to question."
"That is a beautiful necklace Ms. Black," the Headmaster commented.
My hand grasped around the chain on my neck. Rubbing the stone between my thumb and index finger, I sighed heavily. "Thank you."
"Dumbledore!" a voice shouted, everyone in the room turning to the no longer empty portrait. The man had reappeared.
"What news?" Dumbledore asked at once, rising from his chair and pacing to the side of the room where the portrait sat.
"I yelled until someone came running," said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, "said I'd heard something moving downstairs — they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check — you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left —"
"Good," said Dumbledore as Ron made a convulsive movement, "I take it they've taken him away then," he implied.
"Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore... They carried him past under my portrait... He looks bad..."