𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹 | 𝗵.𝗷.𝗽

fourth year .*･｡ﾟ.*･ 23

t h i r d  p e r s o n    (L y r a)

The grand stadium had been quickly put up outside of Hogwarts, and was now packed with wizards and witches, all waiting to see the champion's first task. Fred and George had taken to running bets on it. Lyra was waiting just beside the champion's tent, her stomach twisting anxiously.

From her spot outside the arena, Lyra could hear loud cheering coming from the stands. She also vaguely heard Dumbledore make a speech, but didn't hear a word due to her nerves.

"Psst," she hissed, her face pressed right up next to the white canvas of the champion's tent. She felt someone on the other side. "Harry?" She whispered nervously. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," she heard Harry breathe in response. She couldn't believe her relief at hearing his voice again.

"How- er- how are you?" She asked unsurely. Harry didn't respond. "You just have to... you have to do what Moody said, and then you have to..."

"Battle a dragon," Harry said apprehensively.

It was too much for Lyra. She pulled back the tent canvas, pulling Harry into a massive hug, throwing her hands around his shoulders. He grunted slightly in surprise, but embraced her back quickly.

Suddenly a bright white flash went off, and Rita Skeeter stepped into the tent, a man with a huge camera trailing behind her. Lyra and Harry let go of each other immediately.

"Young love!" Skeeter exclaimed, her high heels clicking on the flooring of the tent. "Oh, how..." she searched for a word, her floating quill and parchment waiting patiently. Her face lit up, apparently having landed on a word."Stirring,"

"If everything goes unfortunately today... you two might even make the front page." She smiled, quite nastily, her quill writing hastily behind her head. Lyra stared at her, disbelieving.

"You have no business here," Krum said, in a thick accent. "This tent is for champions." His eyes landed on Lyra. "And friends."

Skeeter spun around to face him, looking like she didn't believe her luck. "No matter," she shrugged. "We've got what we wanted." She turned on her heel to leave, and the photographer snapped another photo.

"Good day, champions." Dumbledore greeted jovially, coming into the tent the same way Lyra had. Igor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Bartemius Crouch, and Filch following after him. She stepped out of their way, now feeling rather awkward. "Gather round, please."

She held onto Harry's hand as all the champions got into a circle surrounding Dumbledore. "Now, you've waited, you've wondered, and at last the moment has arrived. A moment only four of you can fully appreciate."

He looked at Lyra, looked up, then did a double take. "What are you doing here, Miss Malfoy?"

"Oh, uh, sorry." She stammered, her face flushed. "I'll just go. Good luck." She glanced at Cedric, who flashed her a quick smile.

Harry squeezed her hand once before letting her go. She smiled back at him encouragingly, and left the tent, feeling uneasy.

She found Hermione and Ron in the stands, both pale and silent with worry, staring out into the arena. She dutifully took her place next to them, fidgeting with her hands as the minutes ticked by slowly.

The crowd roared as Cedric entered the enclosure. The Swedish Short-Snout dragon was brought out too. Terror gripped Lyra's insides.

He eventually seized the egg, after about fifteen minutes of terrifying trail and error, and the crowd cheered deafeningly. Lyra clapped along with them, feeling rather sick.