𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕔𝕪 ⟡ ᴊᴀᴍᴇs ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ¹

sixty: altercations

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

LYRA GROANED AS she attempted to correct the spell for what felt like the hundredth time in a row. She's been working on it for weeks now, but somehow it always goes wrong. It was about three in the morning right now. She hasn't had much luck sleeping lately. The only time she finds comfort is when she's surrounded by other people.

"Merlin's sake" she hissed, quickly undoing whatever just happened to her arm, frowning as she realized it was another failed attempt. Lyra has been doing her best to find a way to cover the mark so that her friends and herself can roll up their sleeves if they like. Her normal masking charm that she uses on her body doesn't work. She assumed it was due to the amount of dark magic that was involved with it.

She also feels bad because her friends were hormonal teenage boys, and they've all practically restricted themselves from interacting with the other girls at school. Sex with a long sleeve shirt on was not ideal. Luckily for Lyra, that one time her and James did it in the locker room most of her clothes remained on. Since then, she hasn't gone that far with him.

Looking through the pages of her grimoire, Lyra traced her fingertips along each spell she's created in the past, shaking her head slightly, disappointed in herself. Dumbledore keeps telling her that she's some all powerful witch, yet she can't accomplish something as small as masking a mark. Albeit, this is was a rather hard task considering who put the mark there in the first place.

"Incendia" she whispered, the candle on her desk igniting. "Mutatio" The flame changed from orange to blue. She smiled lightly to herself. Then it hit her. This whole times she's been trying to create the spell from scratch, but maybe it didn't have to be that hard. Just like how she didn't start off by creating a blue flame, but simply changing the original to create something else. Her normal masking spell might work... it just needs a few changes.

Lyra stood from her bed, placing her grimoire down on the sheets. When she was in Mystic Falls, Freya had also copied some of her own spells on a separate piece of parchment just in case Lyra ever needed them. She had a spell to make things translucent. Preitori Specula.

Biting on her bottom lip, she took a deep breath, holding her left arm out. She was going to attempt to combine both halves of her magic. Raising her right hand over the red patch of skin laced with black ink, she allowed her magic from within her to rise to the surface. "Phasmatos Absconder" she began. It suddenly felt like wind had picked up inside her room. "Preitori Specula"

"Phasmatos Absconder" she began to repeat. "Preitori Specula" A horrible itch ran up her arm, causing the girl to wince in pain. She gasped, opening her eyes. She looked down at her arm, the ink slowly being covered from the bottom up. She clenched her hand into a fist, the pain suddenly becoming slightly unbearable.

Lyra watched as it slowly disappeared, the girl releasing a shaky breath as she fell to the floor. The mark was gone. The redness of her skin had faded as well. Her arm seemed normal. She lightly touched the spot where the mark once laid, surprised to find that it didn't hurt anymore. She almost felt liberated in a way.

Across the castle, Dumbledore sat at his desk comfortably, a smile on his face. Of course, he does always know what goes on his school. He had felt the magic that had just been used. He had felt Lyra Black fully integrating herself with the Johnson blood that ran through her veins, and had been hidden for sixteen years. The first step had been taken.

And it was finally time to put his plan in motion.

✰ ✰ ✰

Lyra leaned her head against James' shoulder, the boy wrapping his arm around her waist as he continued talking with the rest of his friends. She didn't realize it, but she's been a bit more clingy to her boyfriend, even though that was the exact opposite of what she should be doing.