The Sun and The Star

Ancient Runes had been moderately interesting, though Harry could have done without Hermione constantly grilling him about what had happened with Lyra and his competence in Runes. Fortunately, Professor Babbling intervened, telling Hermione to stop asking questions and pay attention. After that, Hermione seemed to drop it, more concerned with not drawing attention to herself as a 'troublemaker' in the class. She quickly packed up her things as soon as they were dismissed, almost dragging Harry behind her as they made their way through the hallways in search of their next class, Divination.

“I’m still not sure about this class, Harry. I know you said your sister is-” Hermione started, but Harry cut her off with a pointed look, warning her to be discreet as they passed through the crowded hallway.

“Not here, Hermione,” Harry said softly, his tone just low enough for her to hear. She gave him an apologetic glance, then, once they reached a quieter corridor, Harry leaned in to whisper. “You can be as skeptical as you want. But I’m taking this class because I want to help her. I… I also want to know if it’s something she should take in her third year. If it’ll be useful for her or not.”

“Oh… that’s actually really sweet, Harry,” Hermione said, her expression softening as she looked at him. “It’s not that I don’t believe in Seers. It’s just, there’s been a lot of talk about Trelawny and her teaching methods…”

“Say no more,” Harry chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “A teacher messing with your education? They’ll either end up in flames or be too tired from eating potioned treats to be theatrical anymore.” He grinned, teasing her.

“You can’t prove I did anything to Lockhart,” Hermione said, lifting her chin proudly, though a small smile tugged at her lips as she fought to keep a straight face. Harry just grinned as he followed her up the tower steps, where Ron sat at the top looking lost. Harry still wasn’t pleased with Ron about his comments but he could feel the guilt from the boy every time Harry even remotely looked at him, so he was willing to let bygones be bygones. For now.

“Can’t find the bloody entrance,” Ron muttered, irritation clear in his voice. He was about to say more when a ladder suddenly unrolled and whacked him squarely on the head. “Ow!” Ron yelped, rubbing the spot where it had hit him, and looked up in bewilderment. Harry tried not to laugh, 

A thick cloud of incense wafted down from the open hatch, making Harry’s eyes sting and his throat tighten. Clearly, someone had gone a bit overboard with the incense and hadn’t bothered to ventilate the room at all. The heat emitting from above made Harry tug at the collar of his robes, trying to get some relief.

“Guess that’s the entrance,” Harry said, his voice a little flat as he stared up at the hatch. Ron just grumbled under his breath and yanked on the ladder a bit. Then he turned to Hermione.

“You going to be alright going up there in that?” he asked, gesturing to her skirt. Hermione paused for a moment, and Harry caught the faint blush that appeared on her cheeks.

“You go ahead, Ron. We’ll figure something out,” Harry assured him, giving Ron a slight nod.

“I’ll grab us some seats,” Ron hummed, already starting to climb the ladder.

As Ron made his way up, Hermione muttered, “I can’t believe this is the entrance to Divination.” She tugged at the hem of her skirt nervously, and Harry could see the discomfort in her posture. Understanding the situation, he slipped off his outer robes and offered them to her.

“Here, tie it around your waist. I’ll stand here and make sure no one looks up,” Harry said, giving her a slightly awkward but genuine smile. Hermione hesitated, then nodded gratefully, quickly tying his robes around her lower half.

“Thank you,” she muttered, then scrambled up the ladder after Ron.

Once she was out of sight, Harry took a deep breath and followed her, climbing up the ladder himself, feeling the stuffy heat of the room grow stronger as he made his way toward the odd, incense-heavy classroom. Once he had his outer robes back, he settled into one of the many chairs of the room and took it in.

If it weren’t for the thick, choking incense that clung to the air, Harry thought the Divination classroom might actually be the perfect place for a nap. The armchairs were ridiculously soft, almost absurdly plush, and when Harry sank into one, it felt as though the chair was swallowing him whole, cradling him in a cloud of comfort. The pouffes scattered around the room probably offered the same level of softness, though Harry wasn’t sure how long he’d last sitting on one without any back support - it would probably leave him with a stiff spine after a while. The heavy curtains were drawn, casting the room in dim, dusky shadows, and despite the lack of light, the warmth was stifling. Even with his outer robes discarded, the heat pressed in on him, making the already uncomfortable atmosphere feel even more suffocating.

Harry watched as more students trickled in, his attention caught when Lavender started to climb the ladder, only to be met with a loud wolf whistle from Zachariah Smith. Her cheeks flushed pink for a moment, and Harry immediately felt a pang of sympathy for her. He waved both her and Parvati over as they climbed up.

“When it’s time to leave, just wrap your outer robes around your waist. They’re long enough to cover everything,” Harry suggested, trying to be helpful. “I’ll head down before you, and make sure no one looks up,” he added, trying to alleviate any discomfort. Both girls blinked in surprise, but Parvati eyed him with a skeptical look. 

“How do we know you won’t look up?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion, still clearly a little flustered from her own awkward ascent. Before Harry could respond, Hermione jumped in.

“He gave me his own robes to get up here and stood guard at the bottom,” she said, her voice firm. “He won’t let anyone else look.”

Harry let out a low mutter, the frustration evident in his tone. “It’s bloody stupid that no one told us the classroom was up a ladder. Most of the third years are girls, and they should’ve been warned.”

Lavender gave him a thoughtful look before humming softly. “Huh. Having your sister here really made you protective of the girls, didn’t it?” she said with a teasing smile, then turned and gently tugged Parvati away before either of them could say anything in reply. Just as they moved off, Professor Trelawney finally emerged from a back room and made her way to the front of the classroom, cutting off any further conversation.

“Welcome, my children,” Professor Trelawney began, her already enormous eyes magnified comically by her thick glasses. It made Harry think of a praying mantis, with its unsettlingly large, unblinking gaze. “In this room, you shall explore the noble art of Divination!” Her voice boomed, almost ethereal, as though she were reciting a ghost story, her tone haunting and dramatic.

“In this room, you shall discover if you possess the sight!” she proclaimed, her hands trembling as she moved around one of the little tables at the front of the room. She knocked into a teapot in the process, sending it teetering dangerously. “Ah. Hello. I am Professor Trelawney.” She paused, looking at them all as if she were about to reveal some great secret. “Together, we shall cast ourselves into the future.” Her grin was wide, almost manic, and already, Harry had a sinking feeling that this class might have been a mistake.

“This term, we will focus on Tasseomancy, the art of reading tea leaves.” She gestured toward the cups on the tables. “So please, take the cup of the person sitting opposite you.” Harry and Ron exchanged a quick look, silently agreeing as they swapped their cups. Hermione, meanwhile, took her cup from a Hufflepuff girl Harry didn’t recognize.

“The truth lies buried, like a sentence deep within a book, waiting to be read,” Professor Trelawney intoned, pacing around the room as if she were delivering a sermon. “But first, you must broaden your minds. First, you must look beyond.” Harry winced as she suddenly grabbed Seamus’s head, moving it as though she were inspecting his skull. Seamus looked thoroughly uncomfortable, and Harry felt bad for him; he wasn’t exactly fond of being touched without warning either.

The whole situation felt like something out of a strange dream, and Harry wasn’t sure he was ready to dive any deeper into whatever this class was supposed to be.

“What a load of rubbish,” Hermione muttered as she slipped down into the seat beside them, her tea cup in hand and an annoyed frown etched across her face. Harry couldn’t help but silently agree.

“Shouldn’t you be sitting with... um...” Ron trailed off, not sure who to reference.

“Megan. Megan Jones,” Hermione replied, not missing a beat. “She took a sip of the tea and had to leave.” She tilted her head toward the now-empty table. “Something about an allergy. I offered to walk her, but Hannah Abbott took her instead. Said she was already done with this class anyway. Only took it to see if it was interesting.”

“Blimey,” Ron muttered, sniffing his tea cup awkwardly as though it might bite him. “What even is this stuff?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, shaking his head. “It’s an oversight on the teacher’s part, providing tea without checking for allergies.” He shot a quick glance at the teapot, a bit annoyed at the carelessness. Hermione looked at him like he had two heads clearly taken aback by his scolding words, while Ron just shrugged it off, his attention clearly elsewhere as he continued to stare down at his tea.

“You! Boy. Is your grandmother quite well?” Professor Trelawney asked suddenly, pointing at Neville, who swallowed nervously.

“I-I think so?” he offered hesitantly, unsure.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she said ominously, reaching out to grab the cup from Dean’s hands. Neville watched, anxiety written all over his face, as she started making exaggerated sounds of awe at the tea leaves. Harry felt a knot form in his stomach as Neville went even paler with worry.

“Pity,” she said after a long pause, moving away, leaving Neville to snatch the cup back with trembling hands.

She’s riling them up, Harry thought suddenly, his mind clicking. She’s being theatrical, just like one of those “psychics” Uncle Vernon would curse at on the TV, while Aunt Petunia watched in secret.

“Oh!” Professor Trelawney exclaimed, her voice suddenly rising as she stopped in front of Ron and his table. Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione, both of them looking just as unimpressed. Ron, on the other hand, jumped in surprise, clearly not expecting the sudden attention.

“Your aura is pulsing, dear,” Trelawney said, leaning toward Ron with wide, glassy eyes. “Are you in the beyond? I think you are.”

“Sure,” Ron said, voice wavering as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Look at the cup. Tell me what you see,” she implored, her hands outstretched as her voice took on a manic edge. Harry shot Hermione another look before quickly flipping open Ron’s book to the right page so he wouldn’t drop the cup in his nervousness.

“Oh, um, well…” Ron began, squinting at the cup. “Harry’s got a sort of wonky cross, so that’s trials and suffering,” he muttered, flipping through the pages. Trelawney just hummed, leaning in closer. “And that could be the sun, and that’s happiness. So… you’re gonna suffer, but you’re gonna be happy about it?” Ron finished, sounding unsure and apologetic.

Harry nodded, trying to stifle a laugh at the look on his friend’s face. The embarrassment practically radiated off of Ron.

“Give me the cup—” Trelawney reached for it, but then stopped short, her eyes going wide in horror. She jumped back, shrieking, “Oh, my dear boy!” Her lip quivered as she took several shaky breaths, pacing back and forth as if caught in some fevered trance. “My dear, you have the Grim.”

The room went silent for a moment, before Harry couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“No, that’s my sister,” he said dryly, trying to hide the smirk threatening to tug at his lips. The professor looked at him in alarm, taking several steps back as if he had just declared himself cursed. Some of the students around them began chatting, others giggling at the comment.

“That’s the big black beast she’s got with her, right Harry?” Seamus called out from across the room.

“He’s called Siri, and he’s harmless,” Harry assured them, rolling his eyes. “Though I think my sister was right about being bullied by a breed of dog. This is like the tenth time something involving a Grim has appeared around us,” he added with a groan, already feeling like this was all just one big, bad joke.

“It’s an omen of death!” Trelawney wailed, her voice high-pitched and hysterical, her hand flying to her forehead in mock despair.

“I mean, his breath is pretty deadly, Professor,” Harry said, rubbing his neck, “but that’s mostly because he likes to eat garlic off of people’s plates.” He glanced at Ron and Hermione, who both shrugged, clearly used to the oddities of their lives by now.

Honestly, Harry thought, first the Dementor attack, and now a “warning” about his sister’s Grim? What next? Sirius Black popping out and claiming to be his long-lost brother or something?

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Chapter 2 - The Do’s and Don’ts of Formal Announcements.

Formal announcements play a crucial role in maintaining decorum and politeness in society. They are employed for various significant events, such as the acceptance of an Heirship or Lordship, the birth of an heir or child within a family, graduations, marriages, betrothals, and even the planning of grand social gatherings like balls or celebrations.

These announcements are typically made through newspapers or privately funded pamphlets that are designed and distributed by the announcing party. This method is often preferred when the local newspapers are unreliable or when the Heirship or Lordship comes from a family line previously believed to be extinct. For example, the Bulstrode family in 1703 saw Lord Ambram Lawrence Bulstrode reintroduce himself after the War of the Hunted in 1695. Similarly, the Volant line experienced a revival when Lady Lyla Persis Volant (formerly Lyla Persis Tripe before assuming her title) inherited the title from a great-great-grandmother who had married into the family.

However, young readers, this is not intended to be a history book focused on the intricate genealogies of old families. Instead, this guide is here to prepare young minds for their roles in polite society as heirs or heiresses, guiding them through the expectations that come with such positions.

When it comes to formal announcements for Heirships, they typically occur around the age of thirteen, when the heir replaces their temporary Heirship ring with the family’s official Heirship ring. In some cases, if the heir is the last surviving member of the family and is over the age of eleven, the announcement may occur sooner. Such instances have arisen after periods of peace following war, with notable examples including Melissa Anita Fawley, Marceau Calixte Malfoy, and Abraham Nicolas Nott.

A formal Heirship announcement must include specific details: the date of acceptance, the full name of the Heir or Heiress, and a notarized document from the Ministry (or Gringotts) verifying citizenship. While a photograph of the Heir or Heiress may be included, many families choose to forgo this to avoid making their heir a potential target. However, it is common for a photo to appear alongside a graduation announcement, as by this point, the Heir or Heiress is expected to be capable of protecting themselves.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Lyra was pulled from her thoughts as Sirius, ever the affectionate companion, lazily laid his head on her lap. His large, pleading grey eyes gazed up at her, silently begging for attention. It was clear he’d rather be doing anything other than reading in this quiet, deserted classroom. No other first-year Slytherins were in sight, all still determined to ignore her, their indifference ringing louder than any words.

Lyra wasn’t sure how to feel about it all. She understood, in theory, that she and Astoria held equal standing as spares to their family lines - but if Lyra were to formally announce her Heiress status, she would rise socially above Astoria. Yet, despite that, she had a sinking feeling that would do little to change the cold treatment she was receiving from most of the other first years. The recent talk from the prefects had done little to ease the tension, and now even Astoria barely acknowledged her in the dormitory.

She was no stranger to being ignored. Growing up with the Dursleys had made her accustomed to being invisible, especially in comparison to Dudley’s constant spotlight. But this - this felt different. It hurt in a way she hadn’t expected. Maybe it was because Harry had promised her that friendships were inevitable at Hogwarts, that they were the kind of thing one couldn’t easily avoid here. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, she’d begun to hope that Astoria could be the first real friend she’d made at the school.

Regardless of the reason, Lyra found herself feeling unexpectedly adrift, caught between old habits and new expectations, unsure of how to navigate the strange, isolating world she now found herself in.

“Oh, hello,” a dreamy voice drifted into Lyra’s consciousness, pulling her attention to the door. She turned to see Luna Lovegood standing there, her wide, vacant eyes gleaming with curiosity. Lyra gave her a soft smile in return.

“You’ve got a couple of Nargles swirling around you and some Wrackspurts hanging on your ears,” Luna hummed, her tone as serene as ever.

“Nargles and Wrackspurts, huh?” Lyra mumbled, slipping her books into her bag. “I suppose they’re being extra troublesome today.” She offered Luna a wobbly smile, the best she could manage considering how she felt. Sirius, ever the attentive companion, whined beside her, nuzzling her free hand in an attempt to comfort her.

“Nargles like to steal shoes,” Luna continued, slipping into the seat beside Lyra. Instinctively, Lyra glanced at her feet, relieved to see that Luna’s shoes were securely in place. “They take a lot of things if they can and make people very sad. Don’t be sad,” Luna added, her voice almost a lullaby as she reached over and gently squeezed Lyra’s hand.

Lyra swallowed, trying to keep herself composed. She wasn’t naïve-she had a feeling that Nargles weren’t just some fantastical creatures in Luna’s world. They were her way of talking about the bullies, the ones who made her feel small.

“Luna…” Lyra’s voice faltered, though she quickly wiped her eyes to stop the tears from falling. She forced a more confident smile. “I’ll be fine. It’ll work-” Her words trailed off as an overwhelming wave of dizziness suddenly hit her. Her vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt at a nauseating angle.

Before she could even brace herself, she felt Luna’s steadying hands on her shoulders, guiding her gently down to the floor. The sound of Luna’s voice filtered through the fog in her mind, but it was too muffled to make sense of. Lyra tried to focus, but the spinning was relentless, and the world around her seemed to tilt further out of control.

Everything felt surreal, like the world was blurred just enough to make it feel otherworldly. The air was thick with an eerie quiet, the kind that makes every small sound feel amplified. A rat, small and quick, darted through the tall grass, its tiny paws barely making a sound as it scurried away from the chaos behind it. Its fur was slick, its body low to the ground, but it couldn’t outrun the inevitable.

A large, fluffy orange cat prowled just a few feet behind, its eyes narrowed in fierce concentration. Its tail flicked from side to side, a warning sign of the hunt, and every muscle in its body coiled with the thrill of the chase. The cat’s movements were graceful, fluid—like a shadow stretching out in the golden light of dusk-but it was relentless.

Just behind it, a large black dog ran, its paws pounding against the earth in a rhythmic beat. The dog’s ears were flat, eyes wide with purpose. It wasn’t after the rat for the same reason as the cat; no, this was a guardian, running not for a meal, but to help, to protect. The dog’s jaws were open in a silent snarl, as if to say, "No, I won’t let you escape."

Amid the movement, in the distance, lay two figures-motionless-frozen in place as if caught in a moment of tragedy. A stag and a doe, their bodies splayed out in unnatural positions, legs outstretched, their beautiful forms lying abandoned on the cold earth. The stillness of them was haunting, their blood staining the grass around them a deep, dark red that seemed to stain the very air. A quiet sense of mourning settled over the scene, the air thick with an unspoken sorrow.

And then, rising up from the shadows, a howl—long, mournful, and filled with a primal sorrow. It echoed through the trees, distant yet impossibly close, sending a shiver down the spine of the world itself. The werewolf’s voice, full of rage and despair, seemed to reverberate in the dream, blending with the howling wind, as if it were a cry for something lost, something that could never be found again.

As the rat zig-zagged through the grass, the cat followed relentlessly, the dog hot on its heels, and the air around them seemed to pulse with a strange, untamable energy. The stag and doe remained motionless in the distance, a reminder of sacrifice and loss. The werewolf’s howl echoed once more, a call into the endless dark. The dream hung suspended, a fragile moment caught between worlds, like the thin thread of a web ready to snap under the weight of its own sorrow.

“I don’t believe this Nonsense.” A single, eerie familiar voice echoes around the dreamlike space.”You’re all confounded, that’s what you are-”

In seconds, Lyra was back in the classroom, her chest heaving as she shivered on the cold floor. Sirius’s head resting on her stomach as she came too. Luna stood above her, not saying a word and simply pulling a chocolate bar out of her bag and sitting beside Lyra with a knowing, sad smile. Lyra sat up shakily as she processed what she had seen and heard, nibbling on the offered chocolate. 

The cat was clearly Crookshanks, Hermione's new cat that she’s said was part Keezel and the Dog running just behind it, that had to be Sirius? Or at least, a Grim that also wanted the rat - that looked similar to the one Ron had on the train - though Lyra wasn’t too sure as she’d barely seen it before storming off.

The deer, doe and howling confused her but she’d try and figure that out later.

That voice however, was the voice of the minister of Magic and whatever this vision showed her clearly wasn’t taken seriously by the Minister.

“I find chocolate helps me recover much faster than anything else,” Luna said after a few minutes of quiet, her voice airy and soft as though she were stating a simple fact.

Lyra hummed thoughtfully, letting the words settle before her mind processed them. She turned her head to look at the other girl, surprised. 

“How do you think I found you here?” Luna asked, her tone wistful.

“Magic?” Lyra offered awkwardly, glancing at Sirius, who was still laying beside her. “Or... the smell of dog?” She raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the black dog who grumbled in response, but only half-heartedly. Luna laughed, a sound that tinkled like bells, light and pure. 

“Fair enough,” she hummed, brushing a stray curl from Lyra’s face, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Fate guided me here. I think she wants me to help in ways a certain liar cannot.”

“A liar-?” Lyra started, but Luna cut her off with a serene smile.

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you,” Luna said, her voice soft but determined. “Then you’ll be able to see the Nargles and everything else like me.” Her smile widened as she looked at Lyra, who found herself easily returning it.

“I kinda wish I went to Ravenclaw now,” Lyra joked half-heartedly, though the thought lingered in her mind. Luna helped her to her feet with an unexpected gentleness.

“It’s not your place. At least, not physically,” Luna mused, her voice thoughtful. Before Lyra could ask what she meant, the blonde girl continued, “I’ll have Daddy send some of my old books to help you. It’ll be nice to go over Mama’s old lessons.” There was a soft, almost imperceptible sadness in Luna’s voice as she said the last part. Lyra immediately picked up on it—Luna didn’t have a mother anymore.

“Luna-” Lyra started, wanting to ask more, but Luna was already turning toward the door.

“Oh, I must go. I’ve got some Nockles to collect before the sun moves past four!” Luna said brightly, her voice lifting in excitement as she dashed out of the room before Lyra could protest.

Lyra watched her go, a twinge of confusion and curiosity settling in her chest. Glancing down at Sirius, who was still nudging her gently, she sighed and rubbed his head, feeling comforted by the simple gesture.

“At least Luna seems to want to be my friend,” Lyra mumbled, a small smile tugging at her lips. Sirius huffed in response, nuzzling her again, his black tail thumping against the floor in rhythm with his contentment. After a few moments she sighed.

“I’ll figure out what that vision means later. For now, let's go get some dinner.” She muttered, leading Sirius out of the room and towards the Great Hall. Reluctant to be ignored once more, but knowing Harry would kill her if she skipped a meal, she braced herself for the silence.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Astoria Dove Greengrass! What the hell is going on with you first years and Potter?!” Daphne's voice was sharp, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she glared down at her younger sister. Astoria was slouched in the armchair, looking a bit uncomfortable under her sister’s intense scrutiny. Blaise, perched casually with his cup of tea, took a slow sip, his lips twitching into an amused grin as he watched the scene unfold.

It had been days since the incident with the older Potter and his sister. Lyra Potter, the younger one, had shown a surprising amount of understanding when it came to the Slytherins’ usual “business,” and she’d avoided giving away the secrets of her brother’s schedule or the location of the Slytherin common room—two of the first-year's most tightly guarded pieces of information. But the rest of the first-year Slytherins had been treating Lyra differently. She was ostracized, ignored in class, and the other houses had begun to follow suit by example.

Astoria and Lyra shared equal standing, their families old and powerful, yet it seemed Astoria had more sway over the younger Slytherins—either by charisma or some other mysterious force.

“It’s... the others didn’t want to talk to her after seeing her talk to her brother…” Astoria mumbled, absently fiddling with her tie, her gaze drifting to the floor. “They hardly spoke to me before, but when I followed their lead-” She trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. Daphne’s eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“You don’t follow people, Astoria! You’re a Greengrass.” Her tone was one of sheer frustration, like she was two seconds away from throttling her sister. Astoria’s face flushed, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“I didn’t— I mean, I just—”

“You ignored the one person who actually talked to you before and after the sorting, someone on equal standing as your own family, just to make friends with some upstarts and half bloods?” Draco’s voice drawled from across the room. He didn’t look impressed. “A spare to a family on equal standing as your own, and you just tossed her aside for some petty popularity?”

Astoria opened her mouth to protest but faltered. “It’s- She-” She stuttered, unable to find the right words. Daphne’s patience finally snapped. 

“Lyra Potter made a small mistake, yes, but she’s more than made up for it. Your actions, Astoria, are driving her into isolation. It’s not just the Slytherins anymore; it’s all of first year. You’re ruining her,” Daphne said, her voice taking on a reprimanding tone, her arms crossed tightly.

“I’m not ruining her! I just-she-she turned down my offer to help with her hair!” Astoria blurted, as if the world’s greatest crime had been committed. “It’s an insult!” Daphne’s eyes practically lit up with indignation. 

“Are you kidding me?!” she snapped, unable to contain her exasperation. “All this because she wasn’t comfortable taking something from someone she barely knew?! And you blew it up into this?!” Daphne was nearly shaking with frustration now, her arms folded tighter.

Giles, one of the first-year Slytherins who had been a part of the problem, was the next excuse Astoria tried to cling to. 

“Giles said—”

“Giles is a halfblood who can’t even cast a Lumos properly,” Blaise cut in, his voice cool and dismissive as he set his teacup down and leaned back in his chair, watching Astoria squirm. “And, to be fair, she’s not ruining Lyra. If anything, she’s ruining her own reputation by ostracizing someone over something this petty. If it got out…” Blaise let the implication hang in the air, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

Daphne and Astoria both stiffened at the thought, their expressions faltering.

“Make this right.” Daphne’s voice was a sharp command as she stood up, glaring down at her sister, who scrambled to her feet, suddenly eager to fix her mistake. Without another word, Astoria scurried off, likely to find Lyra before dinner. Daphne flopped down beside Blaise, seething with frustration.

“Of all the weak-willed, petty-” She took a long gulp from her lukewarm tea, clearly trying to calm herself. “Over hair advice and because the other first years don’t like her!” Daphne lamented, her eyes wide in disbelief. She cast a quick glance at Draco, who simply grimaced in response.

“Let’s just hope that Pocket Potter is as forgiving as her brother,” Draco muttered under his breath, his tone cynical. The room fell into a quiet lull as everyone seemed to reflect on the situation.

Blaise and Daphne both hummed in agreement, their gazes turning thoughtful. Lyra Potter had already made the first step toward reconciliation, but whether or not she’d be able to forgive Astoria for such a silly mistake… Well, that was a different story. The question lingered in the room like an unspoken tension.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t hold a grudge.