Chapter 39
Fred:
He remembered when he met Lyra because that was when his life started to change. First, it was his brother, Bill, who gathered all the siblings in a room while their mother was busy. Fred knew they were expecting guests, and that among them would be two children their age. They were supposed to (should) play with them and be nice. Their mother had been insistent on that: they had to be nice to the new kids.
Bill asked the same thing, but it felt different. Bill never asked them to do anything, not like that, as if it were important. He was the cool older brother, so Fred and the others didn’t think twice before agreeing.
Accepting Harry wasn’t hard; after all, he was Harry Potter, the one who defeated You-Know-Who, though the excitement of that wore off after an hour. In the end, he was just a kid Ron’s age with a weird scar on his forehead, nothing more. He was a cool kid who eagerly agreed to play Quidditch with them, had a sense of humor, and even a bit of a temper.
Harry just fit in.
Lyra was more… complicated.
Bill kept shooting them looks whenever he and George made strange faces as she struggled to keep a conversation going. Bill was the one who tried the hardest to include Lyra in discussions, and surprisingly, Percy was the one who actually managed to engage her in a debate about Muggle and magical culture and the coexistence of both. A boring conversation, but Lyra listened attentively to Percy’s ramblings and always argued to defend the side that seemed to be losing, making their nerdy brother rethink his ideas.
Charlie also managed to have a conversation with Lyra about magical creatures, and Bill was always hovering around her, ready to fill in any awkward silence that inevitably arose when she said something strange or something they had been taught was wrong—like her ideas about Dark Magic. That first day had been weird.
Fred later found out why Bill had insisted they be nice: according to him, if things had gone differently, Lyra would have been raised as their sister. He told them that their mother should have taken her in but didn’t because she believed the newspapers that said Uncle Sirius was responsible for the Potters’ deaths. Fred wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen, day after day, how guilty his mother always seemed when Lyra was around and how the girl kept a careful distance from her.
Fred wasn’t sure what had happened, but it must have been bad because his mother wouldn’t have felt guilty for so long if it hadn’t been. Maybe that was why he found himself making an effort to include Lyra in their pranks, even though George seemed more cautious around her.
They couldn’t hold a conversation with Lyra about everyday things. Most of the time, he and George talked while she just listened, tensing up whenever they looked at her, expecting her to add something. Eventually, they just accepted that she was quiet.
They pulled pranks, and Lyra was always around. She was silent, a good climber, and knew how to set up traps to prank their older brothers, so they started including her for real—not just as a favor to Bill or an obligation. Over time, she began teaching them how to set traps and ensure only their target would be affected.
It took Fred months to realize that this was how Lyra showed affection. Not with long conversations or even spending time together, but by helping the people she cared about. One day, he mentioned how he wanted to make a candy that would cause boils to grow on the skin so he could skip class and pull pranks, but neither his brother nor Lyra knew how to make it, so the conversation ended there. Just another idea among many.
At least, that’s what it was supposed to be.
But then, the next day, Lyra handed him a basic potions book, because if he wanted to make that candy, he would need to learn potions. She had even highlighted the parts she thought would be most important for that specific experiment.
It was a simple gesture that, on its own, might have gone unnoticed, but it was a pattern Fred had started to pick up on. She listened to their dreams and ambitions and gave ideas, suggestions, and even found a way to give them the first push in the right direction. She gave Bill access to the Black library to study to become a Curse Breaker, introduced Charlie to the magical creatures living near Dubh Castle, convinced Arthurus Fucking Black to teach Percy (the supposed blood traitor) about politics because that was the path Percy wanted to follow, gave Ron a chessboard, and gave Ginny protective gear so she could play Quidditch with her older brothers.
That said, Fred didn’t expect Lyra to suddenly become the kind of friend who spent hours with them just for the company, but his earlier comment must have bothered her because she sat at the Gryffindor table, looking at him and Percy as if she were desperately trying to find something to talk about. Of course, she couldn’t and just kept eating, looking slightly annoyed.
Fred found it funny and a little cute. He was sure he could ask about some spell theory or ideas for a new project, and Lyra would talk for hours without him having to add anything to the conversation, but he wasn’t cruel enough to do that just to ignore everything she said afterward. The one time he had done that, she had noticed, and Fred saw how hurt she was, even though she had smiled and pretended everything was fine.
Lee Jordan, his and George’s new friend, kept glancing at Lyra and then at them with a silent question that Fred didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want people to think Lyra was weird or gossip about her. Weird or not, he kind of liked her. When he had a problem, Lyra was the first person he thought to ask after George.
He and George did a good job keeping the conversation between them, but Fred still felt bad when Lyra left with that determined expression he knew always came before one of her crazy ideas—ideas he absolutely loved. Fred felt a smile curl his lips just thinking about what was coming next.
"That was weird," Lee Jordan commented, looking toward where Lyra had disappeared. "She sat at our table and didn’t say a word the entire lunch. Is she shy?"
"No," George scoffed. The idea of Lyra being shy was ridiculous. If anything, he would say she handled stressful situations better than normal ones. "Not at all."
"Then why didn’t she say anything?" Lee frowned.
"Let’s just say Lia is a woman of action, not words," Fred joked with a mysterious tone that made his friend laugh.
Fred and George exchanged a look when Lee wasn’t paying attention and shared the same thought: what’s going to happen next?
George:
He didn’t have to wait long to find out what Lyra would do. It was hard not to like her once you got to know her, but it took some effort. An acquired taste. Even though she was so smart that she made him feel really dumb, having her around was unexpectedly fun because she had the craziest prank ideas, and most of them didn’t even need magic to work—with just ink bombs and glitter. George had learned a lot about mechanics while practicing setting up his own traps.
It had only been two days since Lyra had sat with them at lunch, determined to be a “better friend,” though George thought she was fine as she was. As much as he loved her, being around Lyra for too long was exhausting—always chasing something, always doing something, always trying to fix things. George liked watching it all happen, but having to help in the process wasn’t nearly as exciting.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t expected her to spend much time around them? Her intensity was hard to keep up with. Not that he wanted her to be normal—George liked her eccentricity, even if his mother seemed worried about how much the Black family’s influence was affecting them, especially Percy. She would start complaining about it, but then one of them would push back, and his mother would make that guilty expression she always did whenever Lyra was mentioned before dropping the subject. In the end, they never had to stay away, and their mother always gave in.
Since they had arrived at Hogwarts, Lyra had been busy, though most of her work was happening behind the scenes—with the reconditioning of house-elves, the combat training in the Fight Club (the name was his and Fred’s idea, though only the members knew that; officially, it was the Muggle Self-Defense Study Club), and the History of Magic classes featuring the portrait of her ancestor. The most public thing she had done was defending dark magic in class and, a few days ago, beating up those Slytherin boys.
That was actually not much if George wasn’t hallucinating when he saw the list of things Lyra wanted to do. If there was one thing he had learned about his friend over the years, it was that she was organized, so she always had a list of things she wanted to accomplish, goals to reach—and ever since they had arrived at school, that list had only been growing instead of shrinking.
George felt tired just thinking about it.
So here he was, with his twin, following Lyra through the hallways after climbing an inhuman number of stairs. They stopped in an empty corridor, and she turned to them before taking a deep breath and looking at them.
"Do you have a place to prepare your experiments and pranks?" she asked. It was funny how confident she was when she knew what she was talking about.
"We haven’t found a safe place yet," Fred answered, his eyes slightly narrowed as if trying to guess what she was planning. George was happy to let himself be surprised.
"Why? Do you have a suggestion?" George prompted, curious.
Lyra smiled, light and happy, pleased to have found something they needed. George had never met anyone who enjoyed giving gifts as much as she did.
"Well, the elves were very kind in telling me about a very special room that you could use without being discovered," she said, and her smile turned mischievous. "That, and the map, should ensure you don’t get expelled before graduating."
That actually made a lot of sense. Who would know the school better than Hogwarts’ house-elves? Now he felt stupid for not thinking of that before—it was obvious.
He and Fred had spent most of their time exploring the secret passages of the castle they had found on the Marauder’s Map. They had also tried to find a good secret base for their workshop on the map, but none of the locations were good enough for their experiments. The ones that were, were in very busy areas, and they were sure they’d be discovered quickly.
"Where?"
"Check the map to see if anyone is nearby," she said instead, her voice somewhat authoritative, but he was kind of used to following her orders in their wandless magic and history lessons at home before coming to Hogwarts.
Fred pulled out the map, and George drew his wand, reciting, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," feeling like laughing at how true that was. Their latest prank idea was to turn one of the hallways into a swamp so that everyone—including the Slytherins—would have to get a little dirty to reach the Great Hall. The problem was, he had no idea how to make that happen.
The Marauder’s Map came to life right before their eyes, black ink spreading in a familiar way, and it only took a few seconds for them to find their names and check if anyone else was nearby. George decided to send a prank by mail to uncles Sirius and Remus as thanks for the map—they would appreciate the joke, being who they were.
"All..." Fred said.
"... Clear," George finished.
"Alright, wait here." Lyra turned and, without further explanation, started walking forward before stopping and coming back toward them. Then she moved away again. And came back. Moved away. Came back.
What is she doing?
Before he could voice his confusion, a large door appeared where there had once been a smooth stone wall with only a tapestry of dancing trolls for decoration. This... magic was the craziest thing, and George could understand why Muggles kind of couldn’t believe it was real—sometimes even he didn’t. Magic didn’t make much sense most of the time.
"W-what?" Fred was just as surprised as he was.
"Your new lab." Lyra stepped aside and gestured grandly as if performing a magic trick for a Muggle audience.
George grinned and stepped forward, followed closely by Fred, and opened the unnecessarily large door to enter a spacious, vibrant room illuminated by enchanted torches.
On the walls, shelves stretched to the ceiling, packed with books on innovative spells, experimental potions, advanced transfiguration, and unusual enchantments—everything that could inspire their inventions. Empty vials for their potions and, in the center of the lab, a sturdy workbench with a cauldron and other potion-making equipment they could use. Further back, an area separated by a wall with an observation window allowed them to view the testing zone.
It was the perfect hideout—a sanctuary of creativity and chaos where Fred and George could turn absurd ideas into reality—or at least into something worth a good laugh.
When he looked at his twin, Fred had a glint in his eyes that George bet was mirrored in his own.
"This is..."
"... Perfect."
"How did you"
"Find a"
"Place"
"Like this?"
"The elves, remember?" Lyra rolled her eyes before breaking into a wide grin. "Oh, I had an idea the other day—something for you two to create here."
"Just say the word, princess..."
"Your wish..."
"Is our command."
"A chess game," she declared as if it were the most brilliant idea ever, and George immediately deflated in disappointment. "A modified chess game, with a three-dimensional board."
George furrowed his brow and glanced at his brother, who looked equally confused. Lyra, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying watching them struggle to grasp her idea.
"I'm thinking of creating a sort of hologram with multiple cubes inside, where the pieces can move not only forward, backward, and sideways but also up and down. We'll have to modify all the rules to make it work..."
"But chess..." George felt unenthusiastic. Fred, however, had a suspicious look on his face when he noticed that Lyra's smile didn’t waver despite their visible lack of excitement.
"What if the pieces were Quidditch players?" she asked with feigned innocence, flashing that feline grin of someone who had cornered her prey.
Fred and George straightened up, their expressions lighting up at the idea—a Quidditch board game? That was something George would gladly spend all his hard-earned savings on.
"This is"
"The best"
"Idea"
"Ever!"
"I'm glad you like it," she crossed her arms in satisfaction before narrowing her eyes at the twins. "Don’t go spreading this around, you two. If you manage to make the game work, you can give one to Ron and use one yourselves in front of people to show off the product—but only after you've patented it so no one can steal your idea!"
"It's just a game. You really think anyone would care?"
"Are you joking?" She looked at them as if they were idiots. "People would buy this. But there’s also the fact that the game could be used as a real match simulation for teams to strategize on the field. If you do this right, you could even sell it to professional teams and get your product into the international market."
"That sounds..." Fred hesitated.
"A little serious..." George agreed.
"It'll take years before it's ready to be patented and marketed, so no need to start panicking just yet. You could begin by figuring out which spells you’ll need and testing how they interact with each other so they don’t cancel out," Lyra continued, clearly excited, having obviously thought a lot about this. Her hands moved as she spoke, and her cheeks were flushed with a glow of childlike joy in her eyes that reminded George why he loved his friend. "Then, once it’s ready, you sell a few to the Slytherins..."
"Why the Slytherins?" George frowned. He meant—why them, specifically?
"Slytherins tend to come from wealthy pure-blood families. You know what that means?" At the twins' blank looks, Lyra explained animatedly, "It means international travel! So, they take the board game to other countries, and the word spreads..."
"And we’ll be able to sell it anywhere," Fred concluded.
"And since it’ll be registered as our invention, no one else could sell it," George added.
"We're going to be..."
"Rich."
"Well, it's a great way to make a name for yourselves and secure some initial capital for your joke shop, isn’t it?" Lyra asked, looking quite pleased with herself for having solved their problem.
It had been almost a year since they talked to Lyra about the joke shop. She hadn’t said anything at the time, but he should’ve known she wouldn’t forget. He should’ve known she wouldn’t just ignore their problems.
It was strange... George hadn’t expected anyone besides Fred to take their dream seriously. Their mother always scolded them for making a mess, their father found it amusing but kept saying it was just a phase, Bill and Charlie thought it was funny but never cared enough to ask about what they did or how, Percy was more like their mother—exasperated by the resulting chaos—while Ron and Ginny just found it entertaining. Sirius and Remus, as former pranksters themselves, had outgrown that "phase" and assumed Fred and George would do the same.
Lyra was the only person who looked at their pranks and thought: you’re smart, you have potential, you can do better. She was the only one who never tried to make them stop messing around but instead pushed them to make their tricks even better—only scolding them when they targeted the same person repeatedly because then it became bullying. Lyra had high expectations for them, and sometimes that was a little intimidating, but it was nice to have someone who believed in their dreams.
That was why George would trust Lyra with his life without a second thought—because she truly cared.