BURNED DREAMS▪️ F. WEASLEY ▪️ REWRITING!

XXI: a grim old place

     ''I'M SICK OF THIS HOUSE! YOU LET ME GO!'' Lyra snarled at them venomously, hoping to get at least maybe response.

''Really? Then you must know how Sirius felt.'' Moody answered.

She shot him an angry glare and turned to the other side of room, where most of portraits were. They were amusing, these portraits. They all had the habit of noting the presence of muggle-borns and half-breeds, and only Lyra seemed to be able to calm them down. It was a nice little revenge, for she wouldn't calm them down because she knew they could be very irritable.

The headquarters. That's how they called it. Lyra was sick of this house — and not metaphorically. She despised it; she despised everything about it — the forever Victorian look of it, the people in it and the constant reminder how she had the exact atmosphere in Manor.

''You haven't healed yet, dear.'' answered Molly Weasley kindly, but her eyes told a different story; there was confusion and fear.

''I can heal my rib perfectly fine.'' Lyra snapped back. She knew she had been acting like a brat, but at the moment she couldn't care less — she wanted her wand back and she wanted to go home, to her mother who could definitely heal better than Molly Weasley.

''How about you tell us how you got there?'' Lupin suggested carefully, like he was afraid of Lyra's another tantrum.

''And you will let me go home? With my wand?'' she asked, narrowing her eyes and placing herself in a more comfortable position. Her waist hurt like hell, she couldn't walk properly and she had a concussion (and quite bad one since she had migraines since she woke up), but she wouldn't dare admit it; there were people who just waited for opportunity to say Told you so.

Lupin kept quiet. And so did the others.

''You corrupted liars.'' she scoffed and turned back to examining the portraits, as in the corner of her eye Ron and his father exchanged looks.

''Listen, Lestrange, we have a plan.'' Moody started. ''That involves you.''

''And what makes you think I will agree to it?''

''God, why are you so stubborn?'' he asked, irritated at the thought that he had to bother himself with devil like she was. She wasn't exactly giving them the time of their lives; she refused to eat, she refused to change out of her torn cloak, she refused communication, she refused medicaments and potions - she refused practically everything.

''You teach Harry Occlumency for some while and we will let you go.''

Lyra whirled around wildly. This was. . . actually a good proposal. A proposal she wouldn't agree soon — because if they were going to play a game, they were going to play by her rules. It was true, she was the most stubborn person she knew, and that appeared to be good when she wanted something.

''You're lying.'' Lyra argued back, and for some reason Moody was unreadable to her. Lyra was quite good at Legilimency, but she couldn't get him right.

''Leave my mind alone.'' he answered, and a smug look on his face appeared as soon as he saw her furious frown. Who wouldn't be furious? ''Occlumency is taught when you're an Auror.''

''And Legilimency when you're a Lestrange.'' she barked at him. ''That doesn't stop me from reading your friends' minds.''

It was her turn to smile smugly. The man growled something in disbelief and Lyra focused on mind of Remus Lupin. But to Lyra's disappointment, the man was stricken with grief and she didn't want to intrude anymore; it was her mother, after all, who killed his childhood best friend.