❝if love strikes you, let it rattle your bones. and if it kills you, so be it. for death is always invited in the presence of beauty.❞ [r.m. drake]
If you were to tell her years ago that her family would expect her to become a death eater, Lyra woul...
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RETURNING TO THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC WASN'T EXACTLY PREFERABLE FOR THEM. After all, the four of them didn't exactly have the best memories of the place. Sirius's death still hung heavy in the air, just as much as Arthur's near-death experience with Nagini― and even though Harry very consciously tried not to think about it, he couldn't get the image of Lyra laying in a pool of her own blood out of his mind. When his thoughts started to stray toward the memories, he swore that he could still hear the way she had screamed in agony while under Voldemort's Cruciatus curse.
Lyra thought nothing of what she had went through that evening. All she could think about was how she had lost Sirius, the first father figure she'd ever had― however briefly it may have been. And for a moment there, she was terrified that she would lose her friends, too. Especially Harry, whose mind had almost been encompassed by Voldemort. Seeing that terrified her in a way she would never be able to explain. She was just grateful Harry was strong enough to fight back, and that Dumbledore had shown up when he had.
"I don't like this," Hermione muttered, tapping her fingers against her thigh anxiously. They had gathered one witch and two wizards already, stupefying them and taking strands of their hair for polyjuice potions. Ron was out on the street, trying to find one more witch. Their plan was to use polyjuice potions to disguise themselves as Ministry officials, so that they would be able to infiltrate the Ministry without raising suspicion.
"You've said that three times already," Harry responded as he peered out of the doorway, watching for Ron's signal. "And it was your idea."
"I still don't like this," she snapped at him with a huff.
Lyra and Harry exchanged glances with each other, before the latter turned to her friends with a sigh. "Do you have a different idea that will get us in and out of there with little-to-no issue?" She asked Hermione, one eyebrow arched upward. The brown-eyed witch pursed her lips, then shook her head curtly. "Alright, then this is our only option, whether we like it or not."
"We've got one," Harry said suddenly, before reaching out of the doorway and quietly stupefying an unsuspecting woman. Ron was there a moment later, helping Harry carry her inside, where they laid her next to the other three. Lyra quickly plucked a strand of the woman's hair and dropped it into the fourth polyjuice potion that Hermione held out for her.
"Remember what we said," Hermione told all of them as she handed the boys their own potions. "Don't speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. Just try and act normal― do what everybody else is doing. If we do that, then with a bit of luck, we'll get inside. And then..."
"It gets really tricky," Harry finished for her, knowing there was no other way to put it. "This is completely mental."
"Completely," Hermione agreed.
"The world is mental," Ron pointed out. Lyra hummed in agreement, nodding her head along with the redhead's words. "Come on. We've got a horcrux to find."
