Forsaken Bloodlines {HP x GOT}

Chapter 16: Suspicions

The next few days were a whirlwind for Lyanna. Her focus shifted entirely from her personal mysteries to the urgent matter at hand—helping her friends keep evil away and uncover the secrets behind the Sorcerer's Stone. The Golden Trio was convinced that Snape was the one plotting to steal the Stone, but Lyanna couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. She carefully considered all the professors and eventually narrowed down her suspicions to the least likely candidate—Professor Quirrell.

Lyanna's logical mind raced as she analyzed every clue, every odd behavior she had noticed. Quirrell's stuttering, his nervousness,and  the way he always seemed to be on edge. Why would a professor with such apparent fearfulness be involved in something so sinister? Yet, sometimes, the most inconspicuous ones are the most dangerous.

Determined to share her theory, she rushed to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She scoured the castle, her heart pounding with urgency. Finally, she found herself at the entrance to the forbidden third-floor corridor, the very place where the Stone was hidden. As she entered, she felt a sense of dread, fearing she might be too late.

"Harry!" she cried, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands shaking as she checked for signs of life. His breathing was shallow but steady. Relief washed over her, but she knew she needed to act fast.

Without hesitation, Lyanna drew her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa," she whispered, carefully levitating Harry's limp form. As she guided his body through the castle, she couldn't help but glance back at the pile of clothes that had once been Quirrell. What had happened here? What had Harry faced alone?

Her thoughts raced as she made her way to the hospital wing. She couldn't let her mind dwell on the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. Right now, she needed to get Harry to safety.

Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, gasped as Lyanna entered with Harry floating beside her. "What happened?" she demanded, rushing over to take Harry from Lyanna's magical grip.

"I found him like this," Lyanna explained, her voice trembling. "He was in the third-floor corridor, near the Stone."

Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened, but she didn't press for more details. "Lay him here," she instructed, gesturing to an empty bed. Lyanna gently lowered Harry onto the bed, her heart aching at the sight of her friend so vulnerable.

As Madam Pomfrey tended to Harry, Lyanna took a step back, her mind swirling with questions. She had been right—it wasn't Snape after all. But what had transpired in that room? And how had Harry managed to survive?

Professor Dumbledore arrived shortly after, his expression grave. He spoke with Madam Pomfrey in hushed tones before turning to Lyanna. "Thank you for bringing Harry here," he said, his voice calm yet commanding. "You've done well."

Lyanna nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "Professor, I suspected it was Quirrell. I tried to warn them, but I was too late."

Dumbledore placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You have sharp instincts, Miss Malfoy. Trust them. We will take care of Harry now."

As Lyanna left the hospital wing, she couldn't shake the image of Harry lying unconscious, the Stone in his hand, and the pile of clothes that had been Quirrell. She also recalled how Quirrell had always seemed to avoid touching Harry, almost as if he was afraid. This had always struck her as odd and had added to her suspicions about him.

The events of the night had raised more questions than answers, but one thing was clear—this was only the beginning of their fight against the darkness threatening the wizarding world.

With a heavy heart, she made her way back to the Ravenclaw common room. She needed rest, but her mind refused to quiet. 

Lyanna couldn't shake the feeling of unease as she watched over Harry in the hospital wing. The events of the night had left her mind reeling with questions, and she was determined to find answers. Drawing upon her natural ability in Legilimency, she focused her mind, delving into Harry's memories in search of the truth.

As she entered his thoughts, she was immediately met with a torrent of images and sensations. She saw Harry standing in the third-floor corridor, facing Professor Quirrell, his scar searing with pain as he looked into the dark professor's eyes. Then, to her horror, she witnessed Voldemort's spectral form emerge from the back of Quirrell's head, a grotesque and chilling sight.

Lyanna recoiled in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. She had suspected Quirrell's involvement, but the reality of Voldemort's presence within him was beyond anything she had imagined. The implications were terrifying—Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself, was alive and seeking the Sorcerer's Stone for his own nefarious purposes.

With a sense of urgency, Lyanna withdrew from Harry's memories, her mind whirling with newfound knowledge. She knew she had to warn Dumbledore and her fellow classmates. Voldemort's return posed a grave threat to the wizarding world, and they needed to be prepared to face it.

Leaving Harry's side, Lyanna made her way through the corridors of Hogwarts, her thoughts consumed by the gravity of the situation.

As Lyanna made her way through the corridors of Hogwarts, her mind raced with the gravity of what she had witnessed in Harry's memories. She knew she had to speak with Dumbledore, to inform him of Voldemort's return and the danger that lurked within the walls of the school.

Arriving at Dumbledore's office, Lyanna was greeted by the sight of the wise old wizard sitting behind his desk, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. She wasted no time in relaying the events of the previous night, recounting Harry's encounter with Quirrell and the chilling revelation of Voldemort's presence.

Dumbledore listened intently, his expression growing more solemn with each passing moment. When Lyanna had finished speaking, he sat in thoughtful silence for a moment before speaking.

"My dear Miss Malfoy," Dumbledore began, his voice grave yet gentle, "your natural magical abilities are truly remarkable. To possess such skill in Legilimency at your age is quite extraordinary."

Lyanna felt a swell of pride at Dumbledore's praise, but her mind was still consumed by the pressing matter at hand. "Thank you, Professor," she replied earnestly. "But Voldemort's return is a grave threat to us all. We must do everything in our power to stop him."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, his expression grave. "Indeed, we must," he said solemnly. "But first, we must uncover the truth behind his resurrection and how he has returned to power."

Lyanna nodded in understanding, but another question weighed heavily on her mind. "Professor," she began tentatively, "do you know of anyone who might resemble me? Or have any idea who my real family might be?"

Dumbledore's eyes softened with sympathy as he regarded Lyanna. "I'm afraid I do not have the answers you seek, my dear," he replied gently. "But rest assured, I will do everything in my power to help you uncover the truth of your origins."

Lyanna's heart sank at Dumbledore's words, but she knew she could trust in his wisdom and guidance.

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Quick explanation... Narcisa need not to tell Lyanna she was not a real Malfoy; Her sharp mind already put the pieces together: her different eye color, her natural magical talents, her immunity to flame, and Lucius obvious distate of her. But, Dubledore too did not know the answer.