lyra | harry potter

fourteen | girl of the hour

LYRA SAT WITH HER KNEES hugged against her chest, now freshly showered and dressed in an old white t-shirt and soft lavender sleep-shorts. A copy of the Daily Prophet hovered over the tiny nightstand Ron had pushed away from his wall,slowly burning due to a spell Harry cast and helping to keep the four of them warm as they all sat around it. Harry was across from her, Hermione to her left and Ron to her right. Just last year, if anyone were to tell her she'd find a friendship with the Golden Trio and end up at the Burrow that very night, she'd have thought they were crazy.

Now, though, she couldn't deny that she actually felt comfortable sitting with them; understood. Even Ron had been getting along better with her, especially after what happened at the Ministry before the beginning of summer. She was grateful for it.

"So, when did you get here?"Harry asked Hermione, forcing himself to look away from the way Lyra's damp locks spilled over her arms as she hugged her knees to her chest. He didn't understand the fascination he had with the girl,but it made him feel strange every time he looked at her.

"A few days ago," Hermione answered. She hesitated, sharing a look with Ron before adding, "Though, for a while I wasn't sure I was coming."

Ron sighed. "Mum sort of lost it last week," he told Harry and Lyra. "Said Ginny and I had no business going back to Hogwarts, that it's too dangerous."

Harry scoffed. "Oh, come on."

"She's not alone," Hermione defended Molly honestly. "Even my parents— and they're muggles— know that something bad's happening."

"Anyway," Ron went on, "Dad stepped in, told her she was being barmy and..." He shrugged. "Took her a few days, but she came around."

"But this is Hogwarts we're talking about; it's Dumbledore. What could be safer?" Harry asked.

Lyra and Hermione glanced at each other, the former of the two sighing softly as she tucked a lock of drying hair behind her ear. They'd been writing all summer, talking mostly about all the things the media had been saying about Dumbledore and Voldemort's now-obvious return. "There's been a lot of talk recently that... Dumbledore's got a bit old," Hermione said.

"What rubbish!" Harry denied. "Well, he's only..." He paused. "How old is he?"

Ron shrugged. "A hundred and fifty?" He guessed, his tone slightly joking. "Give or take a few years?" They all laughed together. "Anyway... Lyra." Ron turned to her with a smirk. "You'll never guess who's been asking about you over the summer." She raised her eyebrow, silently asking him to continue. "Seamus Finnigan," he told her.

Everyone stared at him in surprise."What's he asking about me for?" Lyra asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He snorted. "Well isn't it obvious? Now that everyone knows you're nothing like the rest of your bloody House, and after how you actually had the guts to stand up to You-Know-Who... Well." Ron chortled in amusement. "The lads want to get to know you. Seamus thinks you're fit, apparently. He came by a few weeks ago for a round of Quidditch and asked if I could put in a good word for him."

"Seamus Finnigan?" The name tasted like bile on his tongue as Harry pushed away the image of Lyra wrapped in his classmate's arms. He wasn't sure why that particular thought didn't sit well with him, but the idea of it made him feel sort of nauseous. "The same bloke that made comments about me being a liar all last year?" Seamus had been one of many students who doubted Harry's honesty about Voldemort being back and had not been afraid to voice his opinion on the matter. Although he apologized profusely after the whole debacle at the Minsitry and the truth was finally revealed, Harry would admit he wasn't the boy's biggest fan anymore. Trust was a big deal for him when it came to friendships.