The Disgraced of the House of Black - A Multi-Character Fanfiction - Part One

84. International Magical Cooperation

Lyra was so glad to enter the warmth of the castle, she did not even pay much attention to the people around her until she entered the Great Hall. It was there she suddenly found herself facing the last person she had expected to see here.

"Severus?" she said in surprise.

With a start, Severus Snape turned, fixing his eyes on Lyra with an unreadable expression.

"Lyra," he said slowly. "I was unaware you were back in the country."

"Surely you saw me arrive," she pressed, her voice suddenly growing cold.

Snape said nothing.

With a wry smile, Lyra said, "Forget I said anything."

Pushing passed him, she took her seat beside a large chair she knew must be reserved for Madame Maxime, being careful to sit beside a woman with sharp features instead of beside the empty seat where she knew Snape could sit. Madame Maxime entered the room next, prompting all the Beauxbatons students as well as Lyra to stand. When she had at last sat, the students and Lyra followed suit, leaving only Dumbledore still on his feet.

"Good evening," he called when it had fallen silent, "ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home."

The moment he sat, Karkaroff instantly claimed Dumbledore's attention. He had taken the seat between Dumbledore and Snape. Intent on not looking at him as much as possible, Lyra turned instead to the sharp-featured woman to her left.

"Hogwarts is quite impressive," she said, beginning to serve herself some of the food, both of the English and French variety.

"Thank you," the woman replied with a proud smile. "Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress."

"A pleasure," Lyra replied kindly. "Professor Lyralle, but please feel free to just call me Lyra."

"What is your last name?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Lyra hesitated. There was no good answer to this question. Her father's last name connected her to him, and many questions, and from her understanding, her mother's last name would earn her no friends either.

Deciding at last that her middle name was the only safe option, she finally replied, "Charlotte. Lyralle Charlotte."

"A very beautiful name," McGonagall complimented.

Deciding that was enough about her history, Lyra quickly switched the subject to the differences between the two school's teaching styles.

.

Snape glanced down the table at Lyra. She had been a little girl when he had seen her last. He had hardly been able to process she was in fact Lyra and not her mother, not that he was ungrateful. Even so, Lyra looked simultaneously exactly like her mother and nothing like at all.

She had the same pale skin and white hair, but everything else was different. While her mother's defined features rather gave her the look of an undeniably proud woman, those same features were softened in Lyra's face. She looked undeniably kind. Her hair was white as snow. Snape could not believe such a kindly woman had resulted from such parents.

He heard her tell Professor McGonagall her name was Lyralle Charlotte. He was unsurprised. The truth would not earn her any respectability. Not to mention, he was almost entirely sure she had not seen either of her parents since going to France what must have been at least a decade earlier.

"Good afternoon," a deep voice said, calling Lyra out of her conversation with Professor McGonagall.

Looking up, she saw a man in his late forties or fifties with pepper grey hair and a neat moustache. He took the seat between Lyra and Madame Maxime which had only just appeared.

"Barty Crouch," he introduced, shaking her hand with a cordial smile. "Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"A pleasure," Lyra replied. "Lyralle Charlotte, Professor of Languages and Charms at Beauxbatons."

.

Eliana sat at the very end of the staff table, watching the proceedings without much interest. The closer the Tournament came, the less she looked forward to the events. All she was seeing was the faces of the students she would be trying to keep alive for the next several months. She had taken her seat beside Madame Pomfrey, allowing the two of them to talk quietly to one another about what else they needed to do to prepare.

"We have the bubotuler pus for all the students who will be trying to impress the foreigners," Eliana said softly, "We have burn paste, calming draughts, blood replenishing potion...what else?"

"Skele-Grow," Madam Pomfrey added. "And plenty of freshly cleaned beds. I'll make a list of other potions we could make just in case, too."

"If you can have the list on my desk tomorrow morning, I can have several done before the end of the day," Eliana assured.

"Might want to consider something for shock," a gruff voice said suddenly.

Matron and Assistant both turned, surprised to find Professor Moody staring at them with his revolving eye, keeping his real one on his food as he ate.

When they said nothing, he fixed both eyes on them, adding, "Can be some gruesome stuff at events like this. Can't be too careful."