𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹 | 𝗵.𝗷.𝗽

fourth year .*･｡ﾟ.*･ 21

t h i r d p e r s o n (L y r a)

"Brilliant, isn't he?" Ron said excitedly as the four left the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and headed down the flight of stairs.

"Completely demented, of course, and terrifying to be in the same room with... but he's really been there, you know? He's looked evil in the eye."

"There's a reason those curses are unforgivable." Snapped Hermione. "To perform them in a classroom... I mean, did you see Neville's face?"

Harry hit her lightly on the arm. She spun around. Neville was standing and staring out the stained glass window. Lyra approached him, as though he was a hurt animal.

"Nev?" Lyra said softly, her voice laced with worry, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

Mad-Eye Moody came hobbling down the stairs, placing a large calloused hand on Neville's shoulder.

"Son?" Neville turned around to face him. "You all right?"

Neville didn't reply. "Come on. We'll have a cup of tea. I want to show you something." He started up the stairs again, grunting. Reluctantly, Neville followed him.

Lyra watched them accessed, her gut twisting uncomfortably, before continuing down the stairs, pretending she didn't realise that Harry was staring at her.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡

"Come on, Cedric, put it in!" One of Cedric's friends said, pushing him into the thin circle surrounding the goblet of fire. He shrugged them off, grinning.

Lyra watched, a tight knot in her stomach as he dropped a small folded up note into the flickering blue flame. The Hogwarts students clapped for him.

"Eternal glory," said Ron dreamily, watching Cedric embrace his friends. "Be brilliant, wouldn't it? Three years from now when we're old enough to be chosen."

"Yeah, rather you than me," said Harry, smiling.

Suddenly the Weasley twins came running into the hall, holding a small vial as though it was of great importance. The crowd cheered for them.

"Well, lads, we've done it." One of the twins said. Lyra never had been able to tell them apart too well.

"Cooked it up just this morning." The other twin said, gloatingly.

Hermione shut her book roughly. "It's not going to work," she said in a sing-songy voice.

The twins got closer to her and kneeled down on either side of her. "Oh yeah?"

"And why's that, Granger?"

"You see this?" Hermione gestured at the thin blue line. "This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself."

"So?" One of the twins asked. Hermione scoffed.

"So, a genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by a dodge as pathetically dimwitted as an aging potion." She explained, frustrated.

"But that's why it's so brilliant,"

"Because it's so pathetically dimwitted," the other twin finished, laughing.

They both got up, and shakes their respective vials vigorously. "Ready, Fred?"

"Ready, George."

"Bottoms up," they both said in synch, unscrewing the stoppers on the bottles, drinking deeply. They jumped into the age line, and nothing seemed to happen.

The crowd around the goblet clapped and cheered wildly. They both dropped their names into the flame, grinning madly.

Almost instantaneously, tiny trails of fire shot out from the goblet, flinging the twins out of the age line and spitting out their names. They landed with a heavy thud and a grunt on the flagstone.