*
The picture of the family of four had been cut from the newspaper.
She didn't know why she did it. She had plenty of them at home but this one was different. Her mum was smiling at her, actually smiling and not just grinning like she'd typically do in other photos. It was a soft, gentle, I-will-love-you-unconditionally kind of smile that Lyra hadn't had the capacity to remember.
If Dylan was there, and not in hiding, he would've proberbly told her that she was fixated on something she'd never have, some people she'd never meet but she didn't care. Her mum would've wanted her to still remember her - or that's what she thought. There was no way of actually checking.
She thought it was because she felt empty inside and looking at the photo made it seem like there was hope and some sort of happiness in the world. Her parents taught her from death that light always carried on, even when all is lost. Her light was her brother. Her light was her boyfriend. Her light was her family - Nymphadora, the baby on the way, Fred, George, Anna, Victoria, Benji, even Remus, who she had forgived as soon as she'd heard the door slam downstairs that day. They were her light. Her hope. Her universe.
She wished she could bring them back to life but even she knew that there were unwritten rules to resserection.
The picture was stuck into a journal she had. Not a dream journal. Her personal one, the one she'd neglected to write in for more than a year but now seemed like the right time. Her fingers gripped her wand as she did it, hearing Harry reenter the house slowly and releasing it when she'd realised it was safe.
Her legs moved from the bed over to the window, using the finger to move the curtain aside and noticing Travers, the Death Eater that Dylan had described, lounging against the bannisters and staring at the gap between eleven and thirteen, a disgusting smirk on his lips. Lyra felt sick just looking at him.
As August ran by, they had noticed more and more people, daily, coming to view the gap between the house as if to attempt to find them but now, on the first of September, there were more than usual. Men in dark, lengthy cloaks, usually masked but occasionally not. Lyra noticed them sometimes, Death Eaters whom had been at the table she'd sat at when she'd been kidnapped and most whom she had forgotten.
Once, she thought she saw Fenrir Greyback in front of the house but when she blinked again, he had vanished and she hadn't seen him again. Her heart felt as though it has stopped. Was he still looking for her?
"Lyra? I've got news!"
There was a crack and Lyra appeared in the kitchen, sitting back against once of the chairs in front of the large kitchen table.
The kitchen itself was almost unrecognisable. Every surface now shone, copper pots and pans had been burnished to a rosy glow, the wooden table top gleamed, the goblets and plates already laid for dinner glinted in the light from a merrily blazing fire, on which a cauldron was simmering.
Kreacher, now dressed in a snow white towel was hurrying towards her boyfriend while Regulus Black's locket jumped on his chest. "What's the news?" she asked softly, placing her journal onto the table beneath the piles of scattered parchment.
A large picture of a familiar, hook-nosed, black-haired man stared up at them all, beneath a headline that read: SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS Hogwarts HEADMASTER.
"OH FUCK OFF!" Lyra swore loudly, grabbing the paper and reading the articals as Hermione and Ron had cried out, "No!"
"Severus Snape, long-standing Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was today appointed Headmaster in the most important of several staffing changes at the ancient school. Following the resignation of the previous Muggle Studies teacher, Alecto Carrow will take over the post while her brother, Amycus, fills the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
Lyra rolled her eyes and continued, "I welcome the opportunity to uphold our finest wizarding traditions and values -'" Like committing murder and cutting off people's ears, I suppose! Bastard! Absolute bastard!"
"Snape, Headmaster! Snape in
Dumbledore's study - Merlin's pants!" Hermione shrieked, making both
Harry and Ron jump. She leapt up from the table and hurtled from the room, shouting as she went, "I'll be back in a minute!"
"Merlin's pants?" repeated Ron, looking amused. "She must be
upset." He pulled the newspaper towards him from Lyra's grip and perused the article about Snape. "The other teachers won't stand for this. McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout all know the truth, they know how Dumbledore died. They won't accept Snape as Headmaster. And who are
these Carrows?"
"They're Death Eaters. Strict ones." Lyra told them, "There are pictures of them inside. They were at the top of the Tower when Snape killed Dumbledore, so it's all friends together."
"And," Harry drawed up a chair and sat beside his girlfriend, intertwining their hands together, "I can't see that the other teachers have got any choice but to stay. If the Ministry and Voldemort are behind Snape, it'll be a choice between staying and teaching, or a nice few years in Azkaban - and that's if they're lucky. I reckon they'll stay to try and protect the students."
"Lyra, don't you think you can get in contact with McGonagall--"
"I'm not risking her life any more than she actually is while being related to me." she deadpanned, "I'm sorry but no, I am not going to talk to them or anyone from Hogwarts and you aren't either."
"What--"
"They think I've been kidnapped. They think Harry's killed Dumbledore. It's all lies but they're the first people that they'll check to see if we're there or if it's a lie - everyone who's been in Dumbledore's army, our teachers, our dorm mates, people we've been known to speak to, our family. They'll give them veritaserum, they'll speak even if they don't want to. We keep our distance to keep them safe. Besides, I've already warned Pav and Lavender that they'll start lying about us, they know the truth that way and I'm hoping they'll be able to tell them."
There was a meaningful silence and Ron looked to the other two, "I've been thinking about that all day. It left nearly six hours ago. Weird, not being on it, isn't it?"
"It was supposed to be our last year." Lyra mumbled, fumbling with her fingers.
Lyra imagined the scarlet steam engine shimmering between
fields and hills, a rippling scarlet caterpillar. She was sure Ginny, Ethan, Neville and Luna were sitting together at this moment, perhaps wondering where they were, or debating how
best to undermine Snape's new regime. The image brought a tear to her eye and she wanted to run after them, hug every one of them with such force that they'd feel the love she had for them.
But she couldn't and she was almost sure that they knew she loved them as she did.
"Wish I'd known those were the good times." she mumbled.
"Lyra, love, you were depressed."
"I'm still depressed, your point?"
Harry tried to not smile but he did it anyway, with her, and placed his arm around the chair she was sitting on. "You both are so weird." he told them, the two turning to him with properly happy smiles, "Oh, here she is," Ron added, craning round in his seat to watch Hermione re-entering the kitchen. "And what in the name of Merlin's most baggy Y-fronts was that about?"
"I remembered this," Hermione panted. She was carrying a large, framed picture, which she now lowered to the floor before seizing her small, beaded bag from the kitchen dresser. Opening it, she proceeded to force the painting inside, and despite the fact that it was patently too large to fit inside the tiny bag, within a few seconds it had vanished, like so much else, into the bag's capacious depths. "Phineas Nigellus," Hermione explained as she threw the bag on
to the kitchen table with the usual sonorous, clanking crash.
"Sorry?" said Ron, but the other two understood. The painted image of
Phineas Nigellus Black was able to flit between his portrait in Grimmauld Place and the one that hung in the Headmasters office at Hogwarts: the circular tower-top room where Snape
was no doubt sitting right now, in triumphant possession of Dumbledore's collection of delicate, silver magical instruments, the stone Pensieve, the Sorting Hat and, unless it had been moved elsewhere, the sword of Gryffindor.
"Snape could send Phineas Nigellus to look inside this house for him," Hermione explained to Ron as she resumed her seat. "But let him try it now, all Phineas Nigellus will be able to see is the inside of my handbag."
"Good thinking!" said Ron, looking impressed as Kreacher handed them each a bowl of soup. Lyra looked to Harry and gave a swift nod, a grin forming in his face as he placed a piece of bread into his mouth and lookes back to the two others.
"Thank you," smiled Hermione, pulling her soup towards her. "So, Harry, what else happened today?"
"Nothing," said Harry. "Watched the Ministry entrance for seven hours. No sign of her. Saw your dad, though, Ron. He looks fine." Ron nodded his appreciation of this news. They had agreed that it was far too dangerous to try to communicate with Mr. Weasley while he walked in and out of the Ministry, because he was always surrounded by other Ministry workers. It was, however, reassuring to catch these glimpses of him, even if he did look very strained and anxious.
"Dad always told us most Ministry people use the Floo Network to get to work," Ron said. "That's why we haven't seen Umbridge, she'd never walk, she'd think she's too important."
"And what about that funny old witch, the department one and that little wizard in the navy robes?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, yeah, the bloke from Magical Maintenance," said Lyra.
"How do you know he works for Magical Maintenance?" Hermione asked, her soup spoon suspended in mid-air.
"Dyl said everyone from Magical Maintenance wears navy blue
robes."
"But you never told us that!" Hermione said, pulling forward her collection of notes.
"I missed one thing, Mione, please don't crucify me."
"Well, does it really matter?" Ron asked.
"Ron, it all matters! If we're going to get into the Ministry and not give ourselves away when they're bound to be on the lookout for intruders, every little detail matters! We've been over and over this, I mean, what's the point of all these reconnaissance trips if you aren't even bothering to tell us--"
"Blimey, Hermione, she forget one little thing--"
"You do realise, don't you, that there's probably no more dangerous place in the whole world for us to be right now than the Ministry of--"
"I think we should do it tomorrow," said Harry. Hermione stopped dead, her jaw hanging, Ron choked a little
over his soup, Lyra looked at him and wondered what was going through his mind to say that.
"Tomorrow?" repeated Hermione. "You aren't serious, Harry?"
"I am," said Harry. "I don't think we're going to be much better prepared than we are now even if we skulk around the Ministry entrance for another month. The longer we put it off, the further away that locket could be. There's already a good chance Umbridge has chucked it away; the thing doesn't open."
"Unless," said Ron, "she's found a way of opening it and she's now possessed."
"Wouldn't make any difference to her, she was so evil in the first place," Harry shrugged. Hermione was biting her lip, deep in thought.
"We know everything important," Harry went on, addressing Hermione. "We know they've stopped Apparition in and out of the Ministry. We know only the most senior Ministry members are allowed to connect their homes to the Floo Network now, because Ron heard those two Unspeakables complaining about it. And we know roughly where Umbridge's office is, because of what you heard that bearded bloke saying to his mate--"
'"I'll be up on Level One, Dolores wants to see me,"' Hermione
recited immediately.
"Exactly," said Harry. "And we know you get in using those funny coins, or tokens, or whatever they are, because I saw that witch borrowing one from her friend."
"But we haven't got any!"
"If the plan works, we will have," Harry continued calmly.
"I don't know, Harry, I don't know ... There are an awful lot of things that could go wrong, so much relies on chance..."
"That'll be true even if we spend another three months preparing," said Harry. "It's time to act."
He could tell from Ron's and Hermione's faces that they were scared while Lyra had a slight smile on her face, proud of him.
"All right," said Ron slowly, "let's say we go for it tomorrow ... I think it should just be me and Harry."
"Oh, don't start that again!" sighed Hermione. "I thought we'd settled this."
Lyra stated at the two idiots with a frown on her face, "Do you both think that killing people and probably torturing them for months beforehand is code for let's be friends?" Lyra began before furrowing her eyebrows to the two boys. "Have you both lost your goddamn minds?"
"It's one thing hanging around the entrances under the Cloak, but this is different. Hermione," Ron jabbed a finger at a copy of the Daily Prophet dated ten days previously. "You're wanted for questioning. You're on the list of Muggle-borns who didn't present themselves for Interrogation!"
"Yeah, and I'm supposed to be kidnapped. You're supposed to be dying of spattergroit at the Burrow! If anyone shouldn't go, it's Harry, he's got a fifteen-thousand-Galleon price on his head-- "
"Fine, I'll stay here," said Harry, sitting back against a chair. "Let me know if you ever defeat Voldemort, won't you?"
Lyra chuckled brightly, bowing her head down for a few seconds and turning to them.
"Well, if all four of us go we'll have to Disapparate separately," Ron was saying when he'd snapped back out of his fit of laughter, Lyra staring worriedly at the Potter who'd turned pale and sickly. "We can't all fit under the cloak."
Harry stood up suddenly, providing no explanation as to why. At once, Kreacher hurried forward.
"Master has not finished his soup, would master prefer the savory stew, or else the treacle tart to which Master is so partial?"
"Thanks, Kreacher, but I'll be back in a minute ...er... bathroom."
The three shared a look as Harry's steps lead up to the bathroom, heavy and thick with hurry. "He's so dumb." Lyra said with an affectionate smile, standing and following behind him.
The lock clicked behind him and immediately, muffled screams coming from the bathroom.
"Harry! HARRY!" Ron shouted, Lyra raising her leg to kick the door open as the screams continued, scarring Lyra's mind with the horrendous noise.
"He's... locked... the... bloody... door." Lyra struggled, raising her leg and kicking the door between each word and carrying on rhythmically afterwards.
When the door opened, Lyra stopped and stared at him angrily, "What were you doing?" asked Hermione sternly.
"What d'you think I was doing?" asked Harry.
"I think you let Voldemort into your head and saw something important... so you screamed your bloody head off." Lyra answered clearly, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong, I... I must've dozed off or--"
"Harry, please don't insult our intelligence," said Hermione,
taking deep breaths. "We know your scar hurt downstairs, and you're white as a sheet."
Harry sat down on the edge of the bath. "Fine. I've just seen Voldemort murdering a woman. By now
he's probably killed her whole family. And he didn't need to. It was Cedric all over again, they were just there..."
"Harry, you aren't supposed to let this happen any more!" Hermione cried, her voice echoing through the bathroom.
"Dumbledore wanted you to use Occlumency! He thought the connection was dangerous – Voldemort can use it, Harry!
What good is it to watch him kill and torture, how can it help?"
"Because it means I know what he's doing," said Harry.
"So you're not even going to try to shut him out?"
"Hermione, I can't. You know I'm lousy at Occlumency, I never got the hang of it."
"You never really tried!" she said hotly. "I don't get it, Harry – do you like having this special connection or relationship or what - whatever -"
She faltered under the look he gave her as he stood up.
"Like it?" he said quietly. *Would you like it?"
"I– no – I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean –"
"I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he's most dangerous. But I'm going to use it."
"Dumbledore--"
"Dumbledore isn't always right." Lyra told Hermione delicately, sitting on top of the closed toilet seat, "It's Harry's choice if we wants to close his mind or not. I would prefer it if you do but we can't force him, he'll just be miserable."
Hermione gave her a pointed look but Lyra refused to back down. "I want to
know why he's after Gregorovitch." Harry spoke.
"Who?"
"He's a foreign wandmaker," said Harry. "He made Krum's wand and Krum reckons he's brilliant."
"But according to you," said Ron, "Voldemort's got Ollivander locked up somewhere. If he's already got a wandmaker, what does he need another one for?"
"Maybe he agrees with Krum, maybe he thinks Gregorovitch is better ... or else he thinks Gregorovitch will be able to explain what my wand did when he was chasing me, because Ollivander didn't know."
Harry glanced into the cracked, dusty mirror and saw Ron and Hermione exchanging sceptical looks behind his back.
"Harry, you keep talking about what your wand did," said Hermione, "but you made it happen! Why are you so determined not to take responsibility for your own power?"
"Because I know it wasn't me! And so does Voldemort, Hermione! We both know what really happened!"
They glared at each other and Ron and Lyra did too. They were both in agreement - it was Harry's life, his choice, they weren't going to mother him like Hermione was doing. "Lyra! Tell him, all of us will be put in danger by this." Hermione said, trying one last time.
"I'm not going to force him into something he's going to be uncomfortable in." she deadpanned, staying firm and maintaining position, "If we're in danger, we'll deal with it together. Besides, Voldemort would know where we are right now if he could see us through Harry, he'd know we were at the Burrow but Lupin confirmed that he didn't."
"Ron?"
"Drop it," he advised her. "It's up to him. And if we're going to the Ministry tomorrow, don't you reckon we should go over the plan?"
Hermione frowned slightly but accepted it, being outnumbered three to one and they went ahead towards the kitchen where Kreacher was setting up some treacle tart for them all to eat.
They did not get to bed until late that night, after spending hours going over and over their plan until they could recite it, word-perfect, to each other. She dragged herself up the steps, her cardigan hanging off her shoulders only slightly and walked towards the room she'd inhabited two years before.
Throwing herself onto the bed and removing her cardigan from her shoulder and threw it across the room so it hit a wall, Lyra contemplated the task ahead. Hers was different than the others but all the same - she was to go to the Department of Mysteries. She'd speak to her mother through the veil... if she could that was.
There was a knock on the door, Lyra raising her hand lazily so it opened and it was Harry, holding two cups of something. "I got you tea, I know you haven't been sleeping well lately." he mumbled as she sat up, smiling at him as she took the cup of chamomile and sipped delicately.
"Nervous?" she asked. "Ministry's probably the most dangerous place you can be right now."
"I wouldn't have suggested today if I knew we couldn't do it." Harry responded, sitting across from her on the made bed. "Besides, we have you, don't we? You'd know if things were going to go badly."
Lyra's eyes lowered to the ground, "I don't know what I feel about it besides that you put too much trust in me... I'm definitely not as amazing as you say."
"You don't put enough trust in yourself." he retorted almost immediately, Lyra raising an eyebrow in his direction and chuckling afterwards, "Seriously, look at all the things you've done. You survived in the woods alone for a few days, and then kidnapped, then you battled through depression and then you watched Dumbledore die while Snape was controlling you. I think you're amazing and if you don't, you're stupid. "
"Me? Stupid? Mr 'How-can-I-be-dating-Lyra-James-and-still-think-girls-are-stupid'" she retorted, her voice deepening to sound exactly like his. "Ugh, we've been spending too much time together, I'm starting to sound like you." she fake-complained. "Next thing you'll know I'll be getting your wreckless attraction to trouble."
"It's why I'm dating you." he responded, Lyra chuckling at this, "Besides, you're one to talk. I drink chamomile tea now because of you." he raised his own mug high, pressing his lips against it with a small smile.
"That's called a good lifestyle choice and it's completely on you. I drink hot chocolate so I don't know what you're talking about."
Harry chuckled, "You're adorable." he told her gently.
"And this conversation is a mess by the way."
"Yeah, but we're both messes so it makes up for it."
Lyra beamed brightly, holding the cup between her palms in a moment of forgetting. Then, it all hit her once again in a tidal wave. They were going to break into the Ministry. Lyra was going to hear her mother... for possibly the last time in her life. What if she'd grown to hate Lyra for the person she'd become? She was more independent, firm, strong, wise but she was stubborn, a potty mouth and a strange mix of optimist and pessimist at strange times.
"Hey, don't worry about tomorrow, just focus on getting some sleep."
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep properly tonight."
Harry's eyes softened onto her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder while her hand crept behind his neck to hold him comfortably. "Do you want me to sleep in here? I know you sleep better with me around... even if you don't want to agree with me because you're so stubborn."
"If you don't mind." she whispered back, her lips beside his ear and pressing a kiss to his messy mane of hair.
Lyra felt his breath hit her shoulder, closing her eyes and taking him in. That moment alone was enough to make up for their entire situation. She thought about their task ahead, longing for the moments like that where they finally could be themselves, under the covers, in bathtubs, reading poetry or novellas to one another.
"Andrea was watching the house." Harry whispered.
"I know. She left me something."
"What is it?"
"Newspaper of the day my parents died."
Harry had expected something more, something else but accidentally let out a quick snigger at the prospect. "That's so dumb, you can get that everywhere."
"Eh, it's the thought that counts." Lyra shrugged back.
"Do you still hate her?"
"I don't think I can stop. She did all that shit to me and I'm supposed to forgive her? She can forget it."
"That's my girl."
Lyra let out a breathy laugh before bringing her cup of tea to her lips. "You wanna sleep?" she asked and he nodded, lying within her sheets. As soon as Lyra finished her tea, she set down the cup on the beside table and joined him, wrapping her arms around his middle and slowly drifting away.
That next morning, Lyra woke up, dizzy with lust and love with Harry's bare arms holding her - the opposite to how they'd gone to sleep. She didn't move excessively, as to not wake him, and didn't breath too loudly either. She pressed a kiss to his limp hand and intertwined it with her own. She lowered herself slightly, pressing an ear to listen to his softly beating heart and sucking in a breath. He could be an angel in disguise, bringing her through happiness she felt she needed, or he could be the devil, wanting to rip it all away from her at the first chance he got.
She knew he wasn't like that. She knew he'd never break her like he had the power to.
"What're you doing?" she heard after a few seconds of her ear pressed against his bare chest. He opened an eye and chuckled, her eyes looking up to lock eyes to his, "You're so weird."
"Don't pretend like you don't love it." she responded.
There was a knock on the door, the respondent entering without the command, "Lyra, have you seen Harr-- Never mind." Ron said as soon as he saw Harry's sleepy smile.
"You look terrible," was Ron's greeting to Harry.
"Not for long," said Harry, yawning.
Ron left the room almost immediately, leaving the two alone, to ponder and to be as they were. "Nervous?"
"Stop asking that, please." she implored as Harry sat up, leaning down above her.
Troubled is the word that accurately described the expression in Lyra's face. Trouble and terrified, everything at once. His hands pressed against the side of her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks and their forehead rested on one another's.
He kisses her. Soft and Hard. Filled with love and lust. Sadness and Euphoria. Passion and Sensitivity. He leaned up so he was lying on too of her, Lyra's back being pressed against the mattress while her arms were wrapped around his neck. It was the ultimate aphrodisiac and make Lyra forget all about the challenge they had ahead.
"Harry! Lyra!" Ron yelled from down below, calling them forward.
Lyra broke herself away from Harry's lips, flicking her wrist up so that the door shut and locked properly. She turned and faced him, their eyes half-locked into each other's and half-gazing down at each other. Harry grinned softly, warmly, kissing her once again.
They found Hermione downstairs in the kitchen when they had finished and dressed. She was being served coffee and hot rolls by Kreacher and wearing the slightly manic expression that they all associated with exam revision. "Robes," she said under her breath, acknowledging their presence with a nervous nod and continuing to poke around in her beaded bag, "Polyjuice Potion ... Invisibility Cloak ... Decoy Detonators ... you should each take a couple just in case ... Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat, Extendable Ears..."
They gulped down their breakfast then set off upstairs, Kreacher bowing them out and promising to have a steak and kidney pie ready for them when they returned.
"Bless him," said Ron fondly when they'd reached Lyra's room so that he could make the seer look as roughed up as possible, "and when you think I used to fantasise about cutting off his head and sticking it on the wall."
When they were done, Lyra looked worse than when she had been kidnapped for three weeks. There was fake-blood covering the scars on her face and generally splattered on her face. Dirt covered her all the way to her hairline and she hadn't washed it for the past few days just to give it that extra impression of filth. Harry stared worriedly but Lyra was grinning broadly, staring at herself in the mirror. "Ronald, please, become a make-up artist, the world needs you."
They made their way on to the front step with immense caution when they were fully prepared. They could see a couple of puffy-eyed Death Eaters
watching the house from across the misty square. Hermione
Disapparated with Ron while Lyra did the same with Harry, both of them arriving in a tiny alleyway where the first phase of their plan was scheduled to take place. It was as yet deserted,
except for a couple of large bins; the first Ministry workers did not usually appear here until at least eight o'clock.
"Right then," said Hermione, checking her watch. "She ought to be here in about five minutes. When I've Stunned her--"
"Hermione, we know," said Ron sternly. "And I thought we were supposed to open the door before she got here?"
Hermione squealed. "I nearly forgot! Stand back--" She pointed her wand at the padlocked and heavily graffitied
fire door beside them, which burst open with a crash. The dark corridor behind it led, as they knew from their careful scouting trips, into an empty theatre. Hermione pulled the door back towards her, to make it look as though it was still closed.
"And now," she said, turning back to face the other two in the alleyway, "we put on the Cloak again--"
"--and we wait," Ron finished throwing it over Hermione's head like baize over a budgerigar and rolling his eyes at Harry.
Little more than a minute later, there was a tiny pop and a little Ministry witch with flyaway, grey hair Apparated feet from them, blinking a little in the sudden brightness; the sun had just come out from behind a cloud. She barely had time to enjoy the unexpected warmth, however, before Hermione's silent Stunning Spell hit her in the chest and she toppled over.
"Nicely done, Hermione," said Ron, emerging from behind a bin beside the theatre door as Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak.
Together the four carried the little witch into the dark passageway that led backstage. Hermione plucked a few hairs from the witch's head and added them to a flask of muddy Polyjuice Potion she had taken from the beaded bag. Lyra was rummaging through the little witch's handbag carefully. "She's Mafalda Hopkirk," she said, reading a small card that identified their victim as an assistant in the Improper Use of Magic Office. "You'd better take this, Hermione, and here are the tokens."
She passed her several small golden coins, all embossed with the letters M.O.M., which she had taken from the witch's purse.
Hermione drank the Polyjuice Potion, which was now a pleasant heliotrope colour, and within seconds stood before them, the double of Mafalda Hopkirk. As she removed Mafalda's
spectacles and put them on, Harry checked his watch.
"We're running late, Mr Magical Maintenance and Miss Department of Mysteries will be here any second."
"My job commences." Lyra began, slipping out from under the cloak and leaning against the alleyway wall in preparation.
There were two small pops and the twin duo apperated, one man wearing a set of navy blue robes while the woman wearing plane black and both arguing to each other ('You shouldn't have married her in the first place!' 'Oh, what would you know about marriage and love, you're with that fucking dickhead Yaxley' 'Don't you dare say a word against him, you don't know him like I do' 'And fat chance I ever will'). Lyra walked forward, "I-I'm s-sorry, can you help m-me?" she stuttered, looking as if she'd just been to a funeral of one of her closest friends.
"Lyra James, my goodness!" the woman said before being hit with a stunning spell that Lyra had directed at her non-verbally and wandlessly. She moved to the man and did the same before using her magic to lift the bodies into two separating bins and taking hairs from both. "Reg and Sophie Cattermole, twins." Lyra said to her other half, passing on the hairs over to him.
Together, they drank and they transformed into completely different people and completely alike. "Merlin, Lyra, if you wanted to be me you should've just said." Ron joked, Lyra hitting him with a grin on her face.
"Wait, hold on, I'm white!" Lyra just realised and grinned as she placed a black cap onto her hair and tied back her long, blonde locks, "How's White-Woman-Lyra looking?"
"I prefer normal Lyra." Harry fake-frowned.
Hermione rolled her eyes, moving away from the couple with Ron as they went to go and look for another unworthy victim to be used. They came back ten minutes later with a couple of curly hairs, placing them into a vial of potion while Harry transformed.
Two minutes later, Lyra was staring intimidatingly at the man that Harry had become. Six feet tall and, from what he could tell from his well-muscled arms, powerfully built. He also had a beard. Stowing the Invisibility Cloak and his glasses inside his new robes, he rejoined the other three.
"Damn." she whispered to herself, continuing to stare.
"Blimey, that's scary," said Ron, looking up at Harry, who now towered over him.
"Take one of Mafalda's tokens," Hermione told Harry, "and let's go, it's nearly nine."
The group of four all stepped out of the alleyway together. Fifty yards along the crowded pavement, there were spikedblack railings flanking two flights of steps, one labelled Gentlemen, the other, Ladies. "See you in a moment, then," said Hermione nervously, and she tottered off down the steps to theladies with Lyra at her tail.
They all clambered into a loo stall after some waiting and once Lyra realised, she flushed herself down. Lyra spotted Harry as soon as she saw the person he was supposed to be before saying, "That was disgusting." which made him chuckle.
Lyra's eyes moved to the statue in front of them and charged forward to find Hermione who had gotten in before her. "It's horrible, isn't it?" she said to Harry, who was staring up at the statue. "Have you seen what they're sitting on?"
They looked more closely and realized that what he had thought were decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards. "Muggles," whispered Hermione, "In their rightful place. Come on, let's get going."
"Cattermole!" A voice called as they had just started walking and Lyra's eyes widened. Both the seer and the boy who lived recognised him from when he'd participated in Dumbledore's death.
The man's scowling, slightly brutish face was somehow at odds with his magnificent, sweeping robes, which were embroidered with much gold thread. Someone in the crowd around the lifts called sycophantically, "Morning, Yaxley!"
Yaxley ignored them.
"I requested somebody from Magical Maintenance to sort out my office, Cattermole. It's still raining in there."
Ron looked around as though hoping somebody else would intervene, but nobody spoke. "Raining ... in your office? That's-- that's not good, is it?"
He chuckled nervously.
"You think it's funny, Cattermole, do you?"
"No," said Ron, "no, of course--"
"You realize that I am on my way downstairs to interrogate your wife, Cattermole? In fact, I'm quite surprised you're not down there holding her hand while she waits. Already given her up as a bad job, have you? Probably wise. Be sure and marry a pureblood next time."
Hermione had let out a little squeak of horror. Yaxley looked at her. She cough feebly and turned away.
"I- I- " stammered Ron.
"But if my wife were accused of being a Mudblood," said Yaxley, "- not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth, and the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement needed a job doing, I would make it my priority to do this job, Cattermole. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," whispered Ron.
"Then attend to it, Cattermole, and if my office is not completely dry within an hour, your wife's Blood Status will be in even greater doubt than it is now."
The other four turned around to leave when Yaxley called her name. "Sophie?" he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into a kiss with one swift move. Lyra pulled away immediately, "You think you're going to get away without my kiss." he mumbled.
It took everything inside Lyra not to grimace, "I have... WORK! Yes, work, much work. I've got mysteries to departmentalise. I'll see you later!"
Lyra, as Sophie Cattermole, almost sprinted away towards the Golden Gates and passed by almost immediately and was away from the man when she rested. "Are you okay?!" Harry asked, concerned, his hand on her arm. Perhaps he wasn't aware that the grip on her arm was so tight she could feel the blood stopping.
"Harry, you're hurting me." she mumbled and he removed his hand immediately, not knowing his own strength as Albert. "I'm fine, let's just get this over and done with."
Lyra lead the way towards a lift, Ron closing the grates behind them and looking like the most uncomfortable people on earth. The grilles shut with a clang and the lift began to move upwards.
"What am I going to do?" Ron asked the other two at once; he looked stricken. "If I don't turn up, mywife – I mean, Cattermole's wife--"
"We'll come with you, we should stick together--" began Harry, but Ron shook his head feverishly.
"That's mental, we haven't got much time. You two find Umbridge, Ly do your think in the Department of Mysteries, I'll go and sort out Yaxley's office– but how do I stop it raining?"
"Try Finite Incantatem," said Lyra at once, "that should stop the rain if it's a hex or curse; if it doesn't , something's gone wrong with an Atmospheric Charm, which will be more difficult to fix, so asan interim measure try Impervius to protect his belongings--"
"Say it again, slowly--" said Ron, searching his pockets desperately for a quill, but at that moment thelift juddered to a halt. A disembodied female voice said, 'Level Four, Department for the Regulation andControl of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Officeand Pest Advisory Bureau,' and the grilles slid open again, admitting a couple of wizards and severalpale violet paper aeroplanes that fluttered around the lamp in the ceiling of the lift.
"Morning Albert," said a bushily whiskered man, smiling at Harry. He glanced over at the other three as the lift creaked upwards once more; Lyra and Hermione were now whispering frantic instructions to Ron.
The wizard leaned towards Harry, leering, and muttered, "Dirk Cresswell, eh? From Goblin Liaison? Nice one, Albert. I'm pretty confident I'll get his job, now!" He winked.
Harry smiled back, hoping that this would suffice.
The lift stopped; the grilles openedonce more. 'Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services,' said the disembodied witch's voice.
Harry saw Hermione give Ron a little push and he hurried out of the lift, followed by the other wizards, leaving Lyra, Harry and Hermione alone. The moment the golden door had closed Hermione said, veryfast, "Actually, Harry, I think I'd better go after him, I don't think he knows what he's doing and if he gets caught the whole thing, you stay with Lyra to the Department of My--"
'Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff.'
The golden grilles slid apart again and Hermione gasped.
Four people stood before them, two of themdeep in conversation: a long-haired wizard wearing magnificent robes of black and gold and a squat, toad-like witch wearing a velvet bow in her short hair and clutching a clipboard to her chest.
Lyra immediately wanted to smack the pretentious, disgusting smile from her face but Harry's hand around her wrist stopped her. Her eyes met his and he was pleading for her to stop and think.
The conversation drifted into oblivion and she tugged her wrist away from him while they spoke. Lyra didn't care. She didn't want to care. She just wanted get on with it.
Soon, Hermione left with Umbridge and left the two alone with the new Minister for Magic. Lyra stared, the driftiness in his expression evident that he was under the imperious curse.
"I'm going to get the locket, you'll have to go alone." he whispered at her when they were alone. Lyra turned to him, the same fearful expression on her face, "You'll be fine. You've heard her before, she'll tell you what you need to do to go with Dumbledore's mission."
There was a chime and the lift grates opened.
"I'm scared."
"I know, my love, but you'll be fine." Harry spoke, pressing a kiss over to her forehead.
"I love you." she told him.
"I love you."
Slowly, their hands pulled away from one another's. It was their palms first to go, then their fingers until the tips until they were apart and in their own separate places.
Lyra took one last look at him before she had to confront the truth in front of her. Her legs drove her down the corridor, into the circular room covered in doors she'd been through the time before. She waited for the door behind her to shut before she did anything.
"I want to go to the Death Chamber." she voiced and the door for that specific room opened immediately.
The voices began again as soon as Lyra stepped through the doorway and it slammed harshly behind her. "You'll leave them all... you'll be ... worst nightmare ... your snake will move..." the wisps spoke slowly, Lyra fighting the urge to cover her ears and ignore them all. She stepped forward so she was closer towars it, hesitant but still maintaining a good distance so the voices got louder and louder and louder.
"Mum?" she asked.
Silence.
"Dad? Mum?"
Silence again.
"Anyone?"
Lyra waited for a response and then it came.
"Byeol." the voice asked, Lyra raising her eyes up. Star? She never recalled anyone ever calling her star. "I don't think she can hear me, Mar--" he added after a few seconds of slence.
"Dad?" There was a silence and then wholesome laughter. He sounded like Dylan, only grown and less pretentious. Lyra moved closer to try to get a look at them but when she couldn't, she stopped. "How can I hear you?" she asked with a hopeful smile on her face.
"That's just magic, my love." Marie's voice beamed from the deep black curtains. "I assumed you have alot of questions and so do we but this isn't the time for them. We'll get a chance, I promise, soon. You came here to ask a question, so ask it."
"Where's Sirius Black?"
There was a pause. The whispers increased suddenly and Lyra pulled her hands to her ears in pain for a single second. The voices then faded and she listened for the answer, "He's in a sort-of Limbo." her dad answered, "Before you're sent off, like a funeral, or before you're ready to step into the light you're put in a limbo. You can hear the real world, you can see it all but when you pass on, you know more and its more... reassuring."
"Sometimes when people don't belong, they stay because the light doesnt find them and that's what's happening with him."
"How can I get him back then?"
"You just--" Adam James stopped when Lyra heard noises from behind the door she had just entered. "Hide, quickly...Lyra!"
Lyra ignored him, perking up and staring interestingly at the archway. "Miss Cattermole!" the person spoke, opening the door, "You have a meeting with Yaxley at ten! He says to remind you not to be late."
"Thank you?" Lyra said back before the door slammed behind her and Lyra relaxed again.
"You handelled that better than we expected." her father's voice spoke.
"Thanks." Lyra replied warmly, tucking a piece of light-brown hair behind her ear. "So, Sirius..."
"Yes, well, bringing back to the dead is a complicated affair, you have to understand." Marie said slowly as Lyra listened carefully, a crease appearing between her eyebrows as she concentrated, "You'll have to--" the voices suddenly got louder like a static as her mother was giving her the instructions. She stopped and continued, the voices continuing to shout incoherent words that meant absolutely nothing to her, ('... death... forbidden forest... centaurs... brother...'), "Lyra? LYRA?"
"Fuck." she mumbled when the voice had faded away and she stared at the vale. "I don't think you can tell me."
Marie James tried again and the static was louder, more piercing then before and Marie stopped immediately. The last thing she ever wanted to do was to hurt her daughter. "I'll find a way, Lyra. I promise." Marie said.
Lyra stared longingly. If only she could walk inside and see them with her own two eyes, hug them with her own two hands. "You should get back to your job."
"I don't want to leave."
There was a second where the two parents stopped before continuing softly, "I know, but you have to. We'll speak again, I promise. We'll have more time then but it can't be now. I pinkie promise, okay?"
"Pinkie promise?"
"Link your pinkie with your own, I'll do it from my side and it'll be a pinkie promise."
Lyra did as she was told, her two pinkies latched together for a few seconds with her eyes closed slowly. "Okay... okay, pinkie promise."
Lyra forced herself to start moving out of the room. She wanted yo hear them for the rest of her life, she didn't want to leave. As she was about to pass through the door, she heard the distant voice speak again. "We love you, Lyra." it said and she stopped immediately, fighting back tears.
"I love you too." she smiled before leaving.
It was almost an hour until Lyra found Hermione, entering the courtroom where she'd agreed to meet Yaxley. She shook her head immediately in her direction and Hermione slumped in her chair.
"Sophie! Where's Reg?!" a woman sitting, chained to a chair, yelled at Lyra who froze immediately. She blinked, opening her mouth to speak as if a word would be allowed to leave but it didn't. She continued onward to the pews and sat in the side with shivers travelling down her spine.
Bringing the sleeves of her robes down, she covered her fingertips with the material with another hand on her wand. Her eyes met those of Dolores Umbridge, the woman smiling politely to Lyra. Lyra didn't return one.
Her eyes moved to the dementors, gliding up and down in front of them, and the cold, and the hopelessness, and the despair of the place laid themselves upon everyone like a curse...
Lyra thought of everyone relying on them to do this - Dylan, Oliver, the twins, her mum and dad. She knew she wouldn't be able to conjour a patronus unless she revealed herself to be not as she seemed. Sophie Cattermole's patronus was certainly not an Eagle.
"You are Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?" asked Umbridge to the woman. Mrs Cattermole gave a single, shaky nod. "Married to Reginald Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Department?"
Mrs Cattermole burst into tears. "I don't know where he is, he was supposed to meet me here! Sophie, where is he?"
Lyra's eyes met Hermione's and the girl was pleading for Lyra to keep it together. Lyra ignored her reluctantly. "Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred Cattermole?"
Mrs Cattermole sobbed harder than ever. "They're frightened, they think I might not come home--"
"Spare us," spat Yaxley. "The brats of Mudbloods do not stir our
sympathies."
Lyra clenched her jaw but when a large hand pressed against the small of her back, she froze and tensed up. She didn't recognise the touch but she did the feeling, letting out a sharp shudder of breath before the voice spoke, relief flowing through her veins at the familiar tone. "I'm here, it's Harry."
"Twat." she mumbled from the side of her mouth and she heard footsteps pittering away, moving along to Hermione. Almost in sync with Lyra coughing suddenly, she jumped so violently she nearly over-turned the bottle of ink with which she was supposed to be recording the interview, but both Umbridge and Yaxley were concentrating upon Mrs Cattermole, and this went unnoticed.
"A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministrytoday, Mrs Cattermole,'" Umbridge was saying. "Eight and three-quarter inches, cherry, unicorn hair core. Do you recognise that description?" Mrs Cattermole nodded, mopping her eyes on her sleeve. "Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?"
"T – took?" sobbed Mrs Cattermole. "I didn't t – take it from anybody. I b – bought it when I was eleven years old. It – it – it – chose me."
She cried harder than ever and Lyra's heart shattered into a million pieces. Her eyes closed to stop the burning of tears that threatened her and opened them back up a few seconds later when she heard Umbridge laughing a soft, girlish laugh.She leaned forwards over the barrier, the better to observe her victim, and something gold swung forwards too, and dangled over the void: the locket.
Lyra's breath hitched to the back of her throat and her fingers gripped her wand so tight her knuckles had blanched.
Hermione had seen it too, she let out a little squeak, but Umbridge and Yaxley, still intent upon their prey, were deaf to everything else. "No," said Umbridge, "no, I don't think so, Mrs Cattermole. Wands only choose witches or wizards. You are not a witch. I have your responses to the questionnaire that was sent to you here -- Mafalda, pass them to me."
Umbridge held out a small hand towards Hermione. Hermione's hands were shaking with shock. She fumbled in a pile of documents balanced on the chair beside her, finally withdrawing a wad of parchment with Mrs Cattermole's name on it.
"That's – that's pretty, Dolores," she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge's blouse.
"What?" snapped Umbridge, glancing down. "Oh yes – an old family heirloom,' she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom. "The "S" stands for Selwyn ... I am related to the Selwyns... indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not
related ... a pity," she continued, in a louder voice, flicking through Mrs Cattermole's questionnaire, "that the same cannot be said for you. Parents' professions: greengrocers."
Yaxley laughed jeeringly.
Lyra saw a flash of skin from behind Hermione and immediately ducked down under the pews to dodge the stunning charm he had spent in Umbridge's direction. Lyra brought herself up, pointing her wand at Yaxley, "Stupefy!" she shouted and he immediately fell when the spell hit him square in the chest.
She turned towards the man, marching over angrily, "Harry James Potter, that was the dumbest thing you have ever done!"
"If you think I was going to sit here and let her pretend –"
"Harry, Mrs Cattermole!" Hermione yelled.
Harry whirled round while Lyra moved her head to see. Down below, the Dementors had moved out of their corners; they were gliding towards the woman chained to the chair. Mrs Cattermole let out a terrible scream of fear as a slimy, scabbed hand grasped her chin and forced her face back.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The silver stag soared from the tip of Harry's wand and lept towards the Dementors, which fell back and melted into the dark shadows again. The stag's light, more powerful and more warming, filled up the room while Hermione rushed down to get the horcrux from Umbridge.
"You?" she whispered, gazing into Lyra's face.
Lyra looked up, smiling politely despite being exhausted. "Oh, yes, hello. Nice to meet you."
"But--but Reg said you were the one who submitted my name for questioning!"
"Did I? Wow, I'm a bad person." muttered Lyra, tugging at the chains binding her arms, "Well, I've had a change of heart. You know, it happens and I apologise. Terribly out of character. Was in a bad mood. Forgive me." Lyra looked up to where Hermione was reaching over at Umbridge. "Hey, Mione! How do I get rid of these chains?"
"Wait, I'm trying something up here --"
"Hermione, we're surrounded by dementors!" Harry emphasised.
"I know that, Harry, but if she wakes up and the locket's gone--I need to duplicate it -- Geminio! There... That should fool her...." Hermione came running downstairs. "Let's see.... Relashio!" The chains clinked and withdrew into the arms of the chair.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"You're going to leave here with us," said Harry, pulling her to her feet. "Go home, grab your children, and get out, get out of the country if you've got to. Disguise yourselves and run. You've seen how it is, you won't get anything like a fair hearing here."
"Harry," said Hermione, "how are we going to get out of here with all those dementors outside the door?"
"Patronuses," said Harry, pointing his wand at his own. The stag slowed and walked, still gleaming brightly, toward the door. "As many as we can muster; do yours, Hermione. Lyra."
"Expecto Patronum." Lyra whispered, thinking about a memory. A weak wisp of blue light left her wand. "Fuck. Expecto Patronum. It's not working."
"Lyra, think of something... happy." he said, not remembering that he was speaking to a girl who was moderate to severely depressed.
"Wow, really, happy, never tried that before." she replied in a dull tone.
Lyra closed her eyes, attempting to push away all negative emptions deep down inside of her and thinking about the twins, her closest friends, "Expecto Patronum." A silver eagle shout out from Lyra's wand and she let out a quick sigh of relief when it joined the stag.
Hermione was still trying, shivering all over as the two stared over at her. "Mione?" Lyra asked.
"Expec – expecto patronum," said Hermione. Nothing happened.
"It's the only spell she ever has trouble with," Harry told a completely bemused Mrs Cattermole. Bit unfortunate, really ... come
on, Hermione ..."
"Expecto patronum!"
A silver otter burst from the end of Hermione's wand and swam gracefully through the air to join the stag. Lyra put a hand on Hermione's arm and beamed happily at her.
"C'mon," said Harry, and he led Hermione and Mrs Cattermole to the door.
When the Patronuses glided out of the dungeon, there were cries of shock from the people waiting outside. The dementors were falling away from them at the sight of the dementors, the Eagle flying to Lyra's shoulder while she walked to release the people from their binds.
"It's been decided that you should all go home and go intohiding with your families," Harry announced to the waiting Muggle-borns, who were dazzled by the light of the Patronuses, and still cowering slightly. "Go abroad if you can. Just get well away from the Ministry. That's the – er – new official position. Now, if you'll just follow the Patronuses, you'll be able to leave from the Atrium."
They managed to get up the stone steps without being intercepted, but as they approached the lifts there was quite an obvious problem. If they emerged into the Atrium with a silver stag, an Eagle and an otter soaring alongside it, and twenty or so people, half of them accused Muggle-borns, he could not help feeling that they would attract unwanted attention. She had just reached this unwelcome
conclusion when the lift clanged to a halt in front of them.
"Reg!" screamed Mrs Cattermole, and she threw herself into Ron's arms who stared at the other three, "Runcorn let me out, he attacked Umbridge and Yaxley, and he's told all of us to leave the country, I think we'd better do it, Reg, I really do. Let's hurry home and fetch the children and – why are you so wet?"
"Water," muttered Ron, disengaging himself. "Harry, they know there are intruders inside the Ministry, something about hole in Umbridge's office door, I reckon we've got five minutes if that--"
Lyra gave another pointed look in the direction of her boyfriend and he placed a glass eye from his pocket into her hands, her face twisting in realisation. "You didn't..."
"I did, you didn't see how he trapped him there--"
Hermione's Patronus vanished with a pop as she turned a horror-struck face to Harry. "Harry, if we're trapped here –!"
"We won't be if we move fast," said Harry. He addressed the silent group behind them, who were all gawping at him. "Who's got wands?"
About half of them raised their hands.
"OK, all of you who haven't got wands need to attach yourself to somebody who has. We'll need to be fast – before they stop us. Come on."
They managed to cram themselves into two lifts. Lyra and Ron guarding one and Harry and Hermione in another. "Level Eight," said the witch's cool voice, "Atrium."
As soon as the door opened, Lyra's eyes widened in Ron's direction. The Atrium was full of people moving from fireplace to fireplace, sealing them off.
"STOP!" Harry thundered, and the powerful voice of Runcorn echoed through the Atrium: the wizards sealing the fireplaces froze. Lyra walked forward after him, the group rejoined together.
"What's up, Albert?" said a balding wizard, staring curiously between her and Harry.
"This lot need to leave before you seal the exits," said Harry with all the authority he could muster.
The group of wizards in front of him looked at one another.
"We've been told to seal all exits and not let anyone- "
"Are you contradicting me?" Harry blustered, his magnificent voice standing out above the many. "Would you like me to have your family tree examined, like I had Dirk Cresswell's?"
Lyra glanced to Hermione before looking up at Harry with widened eyes.
"Sorry!" gasped the balding wizard, backing away. "I didn't mean nothing, Albert, but I thought... I thought they were in for questioning and..."
"Their blood is pure," said Harry, and his deep voice echoed impressively through the hall. "Purer than many of yours, I daresay. Off you go," he boomed to the Muggle-borns, who scurried forward into the fireplaces and began to vanish in pairs.
"Mary!"
Mrs. Cattermole looked over her shoulder. The real Reg Cattermole, no longer vomiting but pale and wan, had just come running out of a lift. "R- Reg?"
Lyra and Ron looked at each other before swearing loudly as she looked from her husband to him.
"Hey- what's going on? What is this?" the balding wizard said, staring between them once again with his eyes bulging.
"Seal the exit! SEAL IT!"
Yaxley had burst out of another lift and was running towards the group beside the fireplaces into which all of the Muggle-borns but Mrs Cattermole had now vanished.
Harry and Lyra, both slightly spellbound for how things could go so wrong for so many reasons, both slowly looked up to state blankly at each other. As the balding wizard
lifted his wand, Harry panicked anf raised an enormous fist and punched him, sending him flying through the air.
Lyra flinched, keeping her eyes on Harry with a mix between curiosity and horror on her face. Harry attempted to force the Cattermole's into the fireplace despite the confusion that Lyra could understand. "SOPHIE--" Yaxley shouted to Lyra.
"Oh, Jesus, Why is it always me who is left with the creepy stalker white men?"
Confused, Yaxley looked from Harry to the punched wizard, while the real Reg Cattermole screamed, "My wife! Who was that with my wife? What's going
on?"
Harry saw Yaxley's head turn, saw an inkling of the truth dawn in that brutish face. "Lyra, we need to go. Lyra, love, now." he warned, grabbing both Lyra and Hermione's hands and jumping into the fireplace as a curse flew to Lyra and hit her back.
Once they arrived at the bathroom, Lyra collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, incapacitated.
*
a/n-
eeeeemmmmm not happy with this chapter but its still here so leggo