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act one chapter three
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STREAKS OF SUNLIGHT BEAMthrough the floor to ceiling windows lining the left wall of Lyra and her friends, bringing a sense of tranquility to the usually gloomy looking castle this time of year. In the distance you could see the mighty and intimidating Durmstrang ship resting in the gleaming water, and she is reminded of the schools Hogwarts is housing and the tournament - though she didn't truly forget, she's just not use to visitors in the castle.
"I swear, if I was of age, you bet your perky ass I'd enter the competition." Wren says as they walk to potions class after lunch. Neville furrows his eyebrows before checking his behind over his shoulder, eliciting a laugh from the dark-skinned girl.
Lyra grimaces. "That's overly confident for the girl who has forgotten her wand in her dorm on more than one occasion."
"She's got a point." Neville nods before yelping in surprise as Wren pushes his shoulder.
"That has only happened twice!"
"Thirty- four times." Lyra smirks. "And counting."
"Okay miss counts-every-fucking -thing, as if you wouldn't fail at this tournament either!" Wren exclaims.
Lyra snorts unattractively and unapologetically. "Me? Fail at something? Wren, my darling, I think you hit your head last night because I never fail at anything."
"Another good point..." Neville mutters, jumping to the other side of the blonde to escape Wren's hands.
Call her arrogant because, at times, it's true. Lyra never has failed at anything, at least anything she can remember. She thanks the overbearing perfectionist in her that, although suffocates her with a noose in her most vulnerable moments, prevents her from being a disappointment. That is her biggest fear and Lyra makes sure it never becomes her reality by remaining the best even if she's at her worst. The last thing Lyra needs this academic year is break under pressure like she did last year.
That was the first and last time she ever breaks down like that. Lyra wishes she could wipe that memory from her mind.
Neville and, later, Wren have only seen her crumble with grief over her mother's death. She refuses to let them see how insane and weird she feels at times because Lyra hates that part of her. What if they hate it too? Lyra's friends mean a lot to her, and she knows neither Neville nor Wren are that shallow, but they can't know. No one can because Lyra can manage just fine by herself if she just keeps her head above the water. She'll be fine.
