Colours - h.potter

champions in blue

Harry and Lyra had walked down to the trophy room, the other three champions coming into sight. Lyra had caught Cedric's eye,  and instant panic and confusion had washed over him. The tall boy had rushed over to her, hands on her arms, asking how she was there and if she was okay. "Harry and I don't know how we're here, we didn't put our names in, and our names were on the same piece of parchment." Lyra had softly told Cedric, she had attempted to soothe him. Knowing she probably shouldn't, Lyra had read Cedric. 

As if reading him was all she needed to do all this time, she knew everything. The reason Cedric had stuck to her often and was becoming more involved with her was because he liked her. Well, he was attracted to her. Lyra had been taken aback. She didn't notice all this time. She didn't think anyone could find her attractive, or even like her. 

Her main question was, did she like Cedric? Sure, when they were alone it was harmless, jokey flirting, but did she have that kind of interest in him?

She was pulled from her thoughts as she heard Dumbledore rush in, not-so-calmly asking the pair, "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire? Did you ask the older students to do it for you?" One both students had denied that they'd put their names in, or asked someone else to put their names in, Lyra even claiming they could use Veritaserum on them, Madame Maxime had concluded the duo were lying. "Madame how many years have you known me? Notre  relation ne signifie-t-elle rien pour vous? (Does our relationship mean nothing to you?) I'm not lying madame. Je promets. (I promise.)" Lyra pleaded, hoping it would get them somewhere. Before Maxime could respond, Moody had already cut in, pestering on how the magic of the Goblet was too complicated for fourth years. "You seem to have given this a lot of thought, Mad-eye." Igor Karkaroff had questioned, eyes narrowed into slits. Moody had murmured something about Dark Wizards, being interrupted by the anger of Dumbledore. "Leave this to you, Barty."

"The rules are absolute. The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr Potter has no choice, neither does Miss Lexson. However, both of their names were on the parchment, meaning they would have to work as a unit. Both would have to do at least one task together. The other two they'll decide. But as of tonight, Mr Potter and Miss Lexson, are Triwizard Champions." The professors had turned to stare at the teenagers. Some stares held concern, others held disappointment.

-----

Lyra and Harry were sat on his bed in the boys dormitories, Lyra's head on his shoulder, and Harry's head leaning on top of hers. They'd felt a sense of comfort together, but however that comfort had left when the two sprung apart at the sight of Ron entering the dorm. "Staying here tonight?" Harry asked Lyra, watching as she layed down on the spare bed in the boy's dorm. Lyra had a history of sharing dreams with Harry, often from accidentally reading him in her sleep, they found it would be better if every now and then Lyra would sleep on the spare bed in the dorm only Ron and Harry sleep in. Lyra nodded as she got under the covers, sitting up right playing with her wand. "How did you do it?" Ron had spoken abruptly. Lyra had looked up at him, reading what he was thinking. He was trying to figure out how the teenagers had done it. How they'd put their names in the Goblet. "Ronald. We didn't ask for this to happen. Don't be ridiculous." Lyra's voice was stern as she went back to playing with her wand, quickly giving Harry a look as the raven-haired boy let out a huff. "Yeah that's me, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's ridiculous friend." Ron snarled. Harry had gotten up from his position on his bed and walked over to Ron. "We didn't put our names in that bloody cup. I don't want eternal glory. We don't know what happened tonight and we don't know why. It just did." Ron had looked over to Lyra, "Couldn't you read them? The professors? Students? See who did it if it wasn't you?" He drilled over and over. "The professors wouldn't let me, they were shielding. No one can read that many students and once Ron." Lyra answered, tired of the conversation. Ron scoffed in response,  "Well that's weak, isn't it?" Ron said his last remark, glaring at the ceiling above him from under the covers. Harry had noticed the tears welling up in Lyra's eyes, "Lyra- Ron take it back. She's not weak." Harry was getting even more restless with Ron's behavior, he had stepped a over a line. "No, it's fine." The girl answered meekly, closing the drapes over her bed, concealing herself from the boys, as the same word had lingered in her head. 

Weak.

-----

Flash.

"What a charismatic five. I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the Daily Prophet. But you know that, don''t you? It's you we don't know. You're the juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks? What mysteries do the muscles mask? Does courage lie beneath those curls? In short, what makes a champion tick? "Me, Myself & l" want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers. Let's start with the youngest girl."

As Rita Skeeter was calling Lyra into a cupboard, the auburn haired girl had looked back at Fleur Delacour, saying a quick 

Rita Skeeter had pulled Lyra into a small broom cupboard. A green quill ? and notepad levitating, ready to write. "So how do you feel, Lara, knowing that you, a stunning girl of 16 would be competing against three very good wizards." Rita asked with a sickly sweet smile, which made Lyra uncomfortable. "My name is Lyra, pronounced Lie-ra. I'm not 16 yet, either. and I feel fine, haven't thought about it." Lyra eyed the 'quill' self consciously, thinking of her next words carefully. "Obviously your main thing must be your stunning looks! I mean with that long hair, those different coloured eyes and those freckles you must be using you beauty for everything." Lyra had tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I assure you, I'm quite ordinary. I get by like a normal person. Not using any part of my physical being to get through anywhere." Rita didn't look very fond of Lyra's vague answer. "Now we all know that after the death of your mother a year and a half ago, your father went travelling and your brother had used the Imperius curse on a Beuxbatons student by the name of Miriam-" Rita was stopped from finishing her sentence, Lyra's blood was boiling. "I think that's a bit personal. This is a tournament, not a muggle reality television show." With that, Lyra had gotten up and escaped the cramped space of the broom cupboard. 

-----

Harry and Lyra had been up at the owlery. Lyra had written a letter to her father, and sent it off. Heavy footsteps were heard. Lyra's eyes had met with the blue eyes of her brother. Her body stiffened. Joshua Lexson had two letters in his hand, which was odd considering he never sent letters. "Those for dad?" Lyra spoke, catching her brother's attention. Harry had tried to make himself unknown, listening to the interaction. "One is for dad, yeah." His response had caught Lyra off guard, she wasn't expecting a response. "Who's the other one for?" She questioned, Joshua had looked down. "The Diggorys. I'll be staying with them over the summer." She nodded, disheartened by her brother not wanting to stay home for the summer. "But it's your last summer before seventh year, Josh. But I'm not going to stop you." Lyra whispered loud enough for her brother to hear and nod. The Slytherin sent off his letters and left the owlery.

A few moments had passed and a black owl had latched itself to the window of the owlery, holding two letters written by Sirius Black.

My Dear Cassie,

I couldn't risk sending Minnie, Ever since the World Cup, the Ministry's been intercepting more and more owls, and she would be easily recognized along with Hedwig. You, me, and Harry must talk face to face, dear. Meet me in the Gryffindor common room at 1:00 this Saturday night. Make sure it's only you two coming.

It's good to know that your father was there after the Quidditch World Cup. I know about what's happened at Hogwarts, with the Triwizard Tournament. You will do well, I'm rooting for you and Harry. Lyra now is not the time to make rash or stupid decisions, and it's definitely not the timre to let feelings get in the way. I know how you can be as a hormonal teenager.

I heard since the incident with Miriam, you and your brother have been on edge. I take it you've completely shut eachother off. I'm not saying you need to forgive him, for what he did was unforgivable, however if the time comes, you must put your issues and differences aside and work together. You never know what the future has in store.

Love, Your Favorite Uncle Sirius.

Closing her letter, Lyra giggled as the owl had bitten Harry's finger. "How did he not bite you?" Harry asked, still nursing the bite. "He knows and likes me."