Where had it gone? If anyone else finds it, there would be some explaining to do. She had to search...even there. Lyra padded down the dungeons, praying he wouldn't be there. Speaking of him, she still nursed an inkling of a suspicion about him. He was surrounded by mysteries, secrets and uncertainty all wrapped in a aloof personality. It was like he wanted to be disliked. Well, just to spite him, she would not give him what he wanted. Still, she hoped to Merlin he wasn't in his office
But she had no such luck. Severus Snape stood, cloak and robes lifted to reveal a skinny pale leg, with a revealed angry, bloody wound.He fixed her with a piercing gaze, and anyone more craven than Lyra would have ran. In fact, the old Lyra would have turned tail and ran with a hurried 'sorry!’ Instead she rolled her eyes and approached him. Before he can retreat, she falls to her knees in front of him, and examines it. His eyes widen just a tad bit, before asking
“What do you think you're doing?” he hissed.
“What you obviously can't do.” retorts Lyra, beginning to bandage and sterilize the would.
“I am perfectly capable--.”
“Yeah, sure. What did you even do? It looks like a bite mark.”
“Walked out to the courtyard, and Care of Magical Creatures class got out of hand.”
“Mmmhm. What kind of creature was it?”
“A graphorn.” Snape replies cooly.
“I call bullshit.”
“And what is it that leads you to believe I have been untruthful?”
“Because the care of Magical Creatures classes held this week were all below the level of a graphorn. Professor Grubblyplank would not make third or fourth years tackle something that is seventh year work. Plus, you never go outside the dungeons or Great Hall, much less outside. Unless you are coaching, but the season starts today and Slytherin has only had three practices, all dating before you got this injury.” Explained Lyra, causing Snape to scowl.
“If you are so intuitive, why were you not sorted into Ravenclaw?” He asks
“I wouldn't know, that was the Sorting hat's decision.”
“Pity you weren't. Then you'd be someone else's problem.”
“Well I wasn't. If I'm such a problem, why don't you leave?”
“Because this is my office.”
“Don't you have a game to be coaching?”
“Yes. However there is a nuisance in my office I refuse to leave unattended.”
“Sounds like a personal problem.” Lyra grabs her book, spins on her heel and leaves the room. The dark arts being studying on one's own time looks rather suspicious. It could mean you're up to no good. If Snape had found that book, and reported it, he might have grounds in the future to have her sacked. That would not be ideal, so she hoped he hadn't noticed it. She must have left it in the Potion room and Snape must have rounded it up along with other lost belongings at the end of the day. While it was unlikely, she hoped he hadn't examined it. Lyra hugged her cloaks closer to her, the chilly November air infiltrating her body, tendrils stroking her skin until it erupted in goosebumps. The field was covered in frost, everything looked dull and grey. The animals who were not cold resistant had retired for the winter and hidden away, leaving everything dreary. To her dismay, Snape comes along and sits just a few rows down from her. Quidditch was something new to her, and she heard that Harry Potter himself was on the team. Apparently, a first year making the team was unheard of. She was not one for heights, so when she was offered lessons she promptly refused. She'd avoid flying at any cost. There was a banner fluttering in the breeze, that read Potter for president.
“Now I want a nice fair game, all of you. Mount your brooms, please.” she commanded. As soon as they took off, the announcer, a Gryffindor by the last name of Jordan, she believed (she at least recognized the voice.) began to narrate their every move.
“And the Quaffle is taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor, what an excellent chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too--.”
“JORDAN!” Berated McGonagall. Yes, definitely Lee Jordan, same year as the Weasley twins. He was much like them in the way he was very amusing and easily distracted. That class was almost as bad as the first years. Lyra couldn't even imagine the amount and cruelty of the detention that group had suffered through before her arrival, for Potions class alone.
“Sorry, Professor. And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good friend of Oliver Woods, last year only a reserve, and back to Johnson, and--no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle!” While she should be rooting for her own house, and on one hand she was, she also didn't want Gryffindor to lose. What hell Potter would catch if he lost his first game, and she did NOT want to see a satisfactory sneer plastered onto Snape's face.
“Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle, and there he goes--Flint flying like an eagle up there--and he's going to sc--no. stopped by an excellent
move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle --
that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint,
off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of
the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's
Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a
second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell
which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in
possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's
really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses --
GRYFFINDORS SCORE!" The Scarlet portion of the crowd screams. Harry circles above the rest, searching for a hint of a golden ball, the key to real victory. "Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan continued., "Chaser Pucey ducks
two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the --
wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?" Lyra, who had been lost in her own thoughts as the game unfolded, perked up. Everyone tensed as the two seekers sped up, dipping and weaving around the chaos of the game. Harry was on the brink of ending the game, when a thud is heard. The Slytherin captain had blocked Potter's path, and almost sent him sprawling. Ashamed of her own house clear foul play, Lyra turns away. Gryffindors all over yell in pure outrage. Someone is demanding Flint receive a “red card.” She lets out an airy laugh, probably being one of the few people who understood the soccer term. She had never played, but it was common knowledge in the Muggle world.
"So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating--”
"Jordan!" Snarled McGonagall
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul.”
'Jordan, I'm warning you --"
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession." Harry, meanwhile had felt a sudden lurch in his Nimbus 2000. That was odd, but it crossed into concerning when it happened again. Soon, he was out of control, bucking wildly all through out the air. There was a icy wind, that ruffled her hair and Snapes, revealing his mouth to be moving. But no one was near him enough to be talking. Suspicious, Lyra stands and tries to get a closer look. And then, stepping on her own too large evergreen robes, takes a tumble. Thrashing wildly, she desperately searches for something to latch onto, grabs poor Professor Quirrels violet robes, taking him down with her. And who else would she have fallen on but the man she despised most here at Hogwarts? Both groan, and she attempts to lift herself, hits her head and falls back onto Snape's chest.
“Get off of me.” Commanded Snape. This pisses her off, as if she wanted to be there! But nonetheless she does, and extends a hand to help him up. He eyes her warily.
“Stop being an obstinate infant and accept help” she growls. As if to spite her, he does not and rises by himself. Meanwhile, she catches a glimpse of what is going on in the field. Harry, is on the ground looking like he's about to heave. Just as all hope is lost, he coughs out a fluttering golden ball, and the congregation screams in victory.
“GRYFFINDOR WINS!” announces Madam Hooch, the Gryffindors celebrate while the Slytherins sulk.
What had caused that bout of uncontrollable nonsense? Had Snape been responsible? She knew he loathed Potter, but enough to kill him?
YOU ARE READING
Violet Vacancy
RandomLyra Ianthe has never attended Hogwarts and has a haunting past. Now that shes left her hell behind she can finally embrace magic and have a normal education and perhaps even a love life?
