17. A Grim Change.
Lyra sat at the edge of the large, polished oak table, her eyes skimming over her Potions homework. The faint flicker of candlelight caught the ink on her parchment, and for a moment, she almost lost herself in the rhythm of her quill, filling the page with neat, precise notes. The other Slytherin first years clustered around her, but she barely noticed them anymore. They were just background noise now, distant voices that no longer carried the same weight they once had. The shifting of dynamics after Astoria’s apology was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn't paying attention. The whispers had stopped. The cold shoulders had faded. It wasn’t that they were suddenly her friends, but they didn’t seem to go out of their way to make her feel like a ghost either. She could deal with that. She didn't need them to be her friends.
A loud groan from Mitchell Paxton broke her concentration, and she glanced up, her quill still hovering over her parchment. Paxton's face was pressed into the library desk, eyes closed in frustration.
“What’s the point of knowing why a lion-fish quill breaks down faster than a porcupine quill?” he whined, clearly struggling with the assignment. “I mean, who cares? Who even uses lion-fish quills, anyway?” Lyra hummed at his complaint, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips. She tilted her head slightly, her cool tone sliding effortlessly into the conversation.
"In case you decide to experiment with a potion recipe," she began, her voice steady and practiced. "Porcupine quills are thicker, so they take longer to break down. Unless they’re cracked, of course. They also have a tendency to add healing properties. Lion-fish quills, on the other hand, make potions more potent. But if you use both in the same brew, they react badly. Very badly.”
“Oh,” Paxton’s response was a tired murmur, barely intelligible as he scribbled something half-heartedly on his parchment, his attention clearly elsewhere. “This is a mess... He’s going to mark me down for illegibility, isn’t he?” Paxton let out another groan, his voice a mixture of frustration and resignation. Lyra didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she set her quill down, rubbing her neck absently. It had been stiff for hours, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The weight of the week was settling in, and she found herself wondering why some days felt heavier than others.
“You don’t write drafts?” she asked without thinking. Paxton flushed slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question. He glanced up at her, avoiding her eyes.
“No... just don’t have time for it, I guess,” he mumbled, his words carrying a faint edge of embarrassment.
Lyra couldn’t help but notice the slight awkwardness in his posture, the way his shoulders hunched as if he were trying to make himself smaller. There was something more to it than just laziness or impatience, but before she could dig any deeper, she felt the sudden weight of Astoria’s gaze. The girl had been scanning the room, but now she fixed Lyra with a strange look-a look Lyra couldn’t quite place. Something in the way her brows furrowed, the shift in her expression.
Lyra blinked, narrowing her eyes. What was that about? It was almost as though Astoria were... aware of something? But it didn’t seem like a friendly curiosity. More like an evaluation.
Before she could dwell on it, she stood up, pushing the thought aside.
“Come on, Paxton. I need someone tall to help me get a book down,” she said, her voice a little more insistent than usual.
Paxton hesitated, clearly unsure, but after a beat, he got up and followed her. She stepped carefully over the prone form of Sirius, who had drifted off to sleep at the table. His massive form snored softly, oblivious to everything around him, and Lyra couldn’t help the brief flash of amusement that tugged at her lips. Sirius was always like that-lost in his own world, unaware of the hustle and bustle around him.
When they were far enough from the others, Lyra led Paxton into a quieter corner of the library, where the murmurs of other students seemed muffled by the high shelves. She could see the confusion flicker in Paxton's blue eyes, but she didn’t pause. She had her questions, and now was as good a time as any to ask.
“You don’t write drafts, and I noticed you use both sides of your parchment,” Lyra said, her voice low but steady. She kept her gaze fixed on his face, not breaking eye contact. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, but she didn’t relent. “Sorry for being blunt, but do you have a limited supply of parchment?” Paxton’s face went pale, and his gaze dropped to the floor as if he were ashamed of the admission he was about to make.
“...I barely have enough to last until Yule," he whispered, his voice so quiet that it almost blended with the hum of the library. "Mum couldn’t afford any more... and it’s just us…” His words trailed off, and Lyra could hear the unspoken weight of them. He didn’t have to say more. She could hear the quiet desperation behind his voice.
Her heart gave a soft, unexpected twinge at the thought. She knew that feeling, knew it far too well. Life with the Dursleys had meant making do with what little was available. She had never had much, but she had learned to make it last. Lyra’s expression softened as she considered his words. There was no judgment in her, only a quiet understanding.
"I’m happy to share," She stepped closer to him, her voice firm but gentle, the offer already slipping from her lips without hesitation. "But it’s not charity. You’re in my house. You can use my parchment, and I won’t say a word about it. But you'll owe me one."
“Owe you one? Like what?” Paxton blinked, a look of confusion still clouding his features.
“For the rest of the school year, if I need help reaching something off a shelf taller than me, you’ll help me get it down.” Lyra smiled, a faint glimmer of mischief lighting up her eyes. There was a pause as Paxton processed the deal. His brows furrowed in disbelief, but after a moment, he held out his hand.
“...That’s all?”
“That’s all.” Lyra nodded.
“Deal.” He hesitated for just a heartbeat before shaking her hand firmly.
Lyra beamed, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. She didn’t expect him to become her best friend, but the simplicity of their agreement felt good. It felt… uncomplicated. It felt like something she could count on.
“Wonderful,” she said, her voice light. “Now, as my personal shelf-reacher, can you get me that blue book by your head? The one called The Regulations of Cauldrons? Please and thank you.”
Paxton rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked in reluctant amusement. He didn’t protest, though, and soon enough, he had the book in hand, grumbling under his breath as he passed it to her.
When they made their way back to their table, Lyra noticed that Sirius was no longer where he had been. For a brief moment, she thought he might have gotten up to patrol the library, which he often did, though he never seemed to tell anyone beforehand. She didn’t mind-there were other things to focus on. Things like her parchment-sharing deal. It was small, maybe insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like something good in a world that often seemed to offer very little of that.
And for now, that was enough.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
‘Dear Heir Potter and Heiress Peverell,
On behalf of Gringotts, we would like to express our gratitude for your continued trust in our services. As per your request, we have carefully crafted the bracelet for Heir Potter using two specific crystals: Jet and Amethyst.
The Jet crystal is intended to dampen Heir Potter's natural gift of Empathy, providing a measure of control over this ability. Meanwhile, the Amethyst has been selected to ease any anxiety that may arise as a result of the dampening effect on your gift. Both crystals are securely encased in gold, creating the appearance of a simple yet elegant bangle.
Furthermore, we would like to offer our assistance when the time comes to formally announce your respective heirships. Please do not hesitate to notify us when you are ready to make such an announcement, and we will be more than happy to provide the necessary support.
Once again, thank you for choosing Gringotts. We look forward to continuing to serve your esteemed families.
Sincerely,
Sharpknife of Sharp Clan
Account Manager of Peverell
Griphook of Grip Clan
Account Manager of Potter’
Harry stood still, his fingers running over the letter absentmindedly as he examined the bangle. The gold band was simple, dotted with crystals that shimmered faintly in the dim light of the dorm. It felt… ordinary, almost disappointing. He slipped the letter into his trunk, locking it securely before sliding the band onto his wrist. No immediate change. Not that he expected one. He was fairly certain it would be silly to doubt the goblins after all they’d done for him.
A breath of steadying air and Harry left the dorm, trying to shake the unease that had settled in his chest. He had no idea if the bangle would actually help him control his strange ability, or if he was about to step into another day of chaos with a swirling mess of emotions crashing against him like waves. But as he entered the common room, nothing. Nothing except his own thoughts and feelings. No flood of overwhelming emotions. It was strange. And... peaceful. For now.
"Harry!" Parvati's voice broke through his thoughts. He turned, spotting her and Lavender sitting by the fire. Hermione and Ron were notably absent, which made him feel a flicker of something - a mix of relief and guilt. He forced a small smile, walking over to join them. The moment his focus landed on Parvati, the emotions of the room trickled into his awareness: excitement, nervousness, and a dash of curiosity. It was still there, just softer, more manageable. The bangle, then. It had to be.
"Parvati, Lavender," Harry greeted, his voice quiet but warm. Parvati, ever enthusiastic, pulled him into the space between her and Lavender on the sofa before he could even process the greeting.
"Padma told me what Hermione said in Runes yesterday! Are you okay? Do you want us to talk to her? Do you need anything?" Her words tumbled out, genuine concern in her tone. Harry shook his head, almost immediately.
"No, it's okay. I'm better now, really. I found Lyra and gave her her birthday card. She made me spend the afternoon reading with her." His lips twitched upward at the thought of his little sister.
“It was your sister’s birthday?” Lavender asked, looking up from her book, surprised. Harry nodded, the smile creeping wider on his face.
"She turned twelve. And, yeah, she made me read books with her for hours. Think she’s got some kind of magic to force me to do whatever she wants."
“She likes reading?” Parvati asked, her head tilting in curiosity. Harry couldn’t stop his grin.
"She adores it. We thought for sure she'd end up in Ravenclaw, but she's got a bit of Slytherin ambition in her. Like, the first year I came back from Hogwarts, she stole all my books. I swear, she hissed at me when I tried to take them back." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Padma was the same when our Pitaji came back from Egypt. He brought home all these books, and she hoarded them like a dragon with treasure." Parvati laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Pitaji?" Harry asked, genuinely intrigued, Parvati smiled.
"It means father. But we’ll get into that later," she said, waving it off casually. "It's really sweet that you spent the day with your sister, especially after everything that's been going on." Harry shifted uncomfortably, though the warmth in his chest from their kindness made him smile.
"Yeah... She helped. I think I just needed something normal, you know?" He rubbed his neck again, the usual nervous habit kicking in. "Being away from the Dursleys helped too. Being away from them made me realise a lot of things."
“Oh, that makes sense,” Lavender mused, her eyes softening. “Sometimes you don’t realise how much people around you affect your perspective until you’re not around them anymore.” Harry nodded, grateful that they understood. But then, Lavender tilted her head, her gaze more pointed. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding Ron and Hermione?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with a hint of concern. He froze.
Avoiding them? He hadn’t really thought about it. He’d been so focused on everything else.
“I’m not avoiding them,” he muttered, though the thought lingered. He hadn’t spent much time with them outside of classes this year. After the first few weeks, it had just... drifted. “I didn’t even... I hadn’t noticed, I guess.” Parvati’s brow furrowed.
“Are you sure? You’ve barely spoken to them this year. And after what Hermione said in Runes…” Her voice trailed off, and Harry felt the weight of it hit him harder than he expected.
He didn’t have an answer, not really. He just… hadn’t wanted to confront it. He barely had time to process when suddenly, sharp pain lanced through his ankle.
"OW!" Harry gasped, leaping back in shock as a sharp pain shot through his foot. Looking down, he saw Scabbers - Ron’s rat - biting into his ankle, his teeth sharp as he clung on. Harry yelped as he tried to shake him off, causing Parvati and Lavender to squeal in shock.
"Harry! Are you okay?" Parvati’s voice wavered with panic, and Harry quickly pulled the rat off, though his ankle was bleeding from the bite.
He hissed in pain, but before he could even process it, Percy was beside him, wand already drawn. With a swift flick, a glass rat cage appeared, and before Harry knew what was happening, Scabbers was inside it.
“Oliver,” Percy instructed, “take Scabbers to my room. I need to get Harry to Madame Pomfrey.”
"I-I’m fine," Harry protested, wincing. But the look Percy gave him was enough to silence any argument. With an apologetic smile at Parvati and Lavender, he muttered, "I'll talk to you later," before limping after Percy, the pain in his ankle sharp with every step.
As they left the common room, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. But what? That, he didn’t know yet.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Sirius groaned, his breath forming a mist in the cold October air as he gazed at the dark sky. The night was already sharp with the bite of winter, but it was the presence of the Dementors that made it unbearable. The chill they brought sank into his bones, an icy reminder of what they'd done to him in Azkaban, and the gnawing fear that they would one day take everything from him again. He hadn’t come out here to fight them, though. He’d come to find Peter.
He had waited until Lyra and the others were asleep in the Slytherin dorms, careful not to draw attention to his movements. There was always a risk, slipping through the castle like this, but it was one he was willing to take. Peter Pettigrew, the bastard who’d betrayed James and Lily, who had stolen everything from him, was still alive. It was maddening. Worse, he was hiding so close to Harry-so close to the son of the best friends he’d ever had. Every hour, every second Peter remained hidden, Sirius could barely keep his cool. He could hardly breathe knowing that the coward who had torn his world apart was just a few corridors away, sleeping under the same roof as Harry.
Sirius clenched his jaw, willing himself not to think about it. There was nothing to be done for it tonight. He had to find Peter. He had to make sure that the rat didn’t even think about getting any closer to Harry. And yet, there had been no sign of him. The night felt suffocatingly empty, and the only thing that made it bearable was the thought that Peter, the spineless little traitor, wouldn’t have the guts to harm Harry. He’d never do it. He’d rather hide in the shadows, too afraid to face the consequences of his actions.
Sirius shook his head, the cold air biting at his face. He couldn’t stay in Harry’s dorm with him-Minnie or the prefects would start asking questions. Lyra’s "familiar" being absent would raise alarms, and that could put them both in danger. The Fat Lady couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and there was no telling what would happen if the wrong people got suspicious.
Sirius gritted his teeth and shook his head, Padfoot’s ears flopping from the movement before moving swiftly and silently along the perimeter of the castle. His usual route. Out around the castle grounds, then toward the Whomping Willow. He was a little frantic, but not enough to let his guard down. He had to stay focused. The thought of Peter, of the horrors he could cause, kept him on edge. He would find him. He had to.
Then he saw it. The shape, the figure on the hill ahead, almost like a shadow made of night itself. His heart skipped a beat, and instinct kicked in.
Before he could even react, it lunged. Teeth, fangs, and fur. It was the fight of his life, snarls and growls ripping through the air as he struggled to wrestle free. The force of the attack knocked him off balance, and Sirius felt sharp teeth sink into his hind leg, dragging him through the muck, the sharp sting of pain sparking up his spine. He barely had a moment to think before the creature’s jaw clamped around something-something precious.
His bandana. The one Lyra had given him, the one that identified him.
The cloth slipped away from him with terrifying ease, as though the world itself was tearing him from everything he held dear. His heart pounded in his chest, and the fight stilled for a moment as his eyes adjusted. What he’d been struggling against wasn't just any dog. No. It was a Grim. A Grim, black as death, with eyes full of warning. The air around it seemed to freeze, a silent command to leave, to run.
Sirius's heart hammered in his chest, fear clenching his gut. It wasn't just a Grim-it was a sign. The kind of omen that made every instinct in him scream to flee, to leave, to get away from the creature that heralded doom. The last thing he needed was for the Dementors to be drawn to him. He could already feel the dread creeping in, an almost physical weight pressing down on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.
He didn't think-he just ran. The forest loomed ahead, it's dark trees offering no comfort, but a way out. A way to escape, at least for now. Away from the Grim. Away from Hogwarts. Away from Lyra. Away from Harry.
His mind screamed at him to stop, to think, but the panic was too thick, suffocating him. He couldn't go back. Not now. Not like this.
He ran into the forest, each footstep a desperate plea for safety, for distance, from the Grim, from the coming darkness. From everything.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Lyra’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh beeping of her alarm pulling her from a restless sleep. She groaned, reluctant to leave the warmth of her blankets, the remnants of her dreams still clinging to her mind. She blinked slowly, trying to shake off the fog that seemed to linger in her head. Reaching up, she ran a hand through her tangled black curls, her fingers brushing against the soft weight that rested across her legs.
She froze for a moment, her mind still groggy, trying to place the sensation. It was a weight she knew well, familiar and comforting, but… something was off. Her senses felt heightened as she took in the odd feeling. The weight pressed down on her like a gentle but insistent force, yet it wasn’t quite right.
Curiosity finally won out, and she looked down toward the foot of the bed. There, sprawling lazily across her feet, was Sirius, his large black form an unmistakable presence in the dim light of the morning. His eyes were closed, his massive paws caked in mud, and his bandana-usually so neat and tightly tied-was in tatters. The fabric looked as though it had been shredded by something… or someone.
A sudden chill ran down her spine as her eyes followed the path of his dishevelled state. The familiar scent of something wild lingered in the air around him, mixing with the earthiness of the mud. It sent a shiver of unease through her. Sirius was no stranger to getting dirty-he often wandered off on his own late at night-but this was different. This wasn’t the usual carefree dirt from his adventures. There was something about it… something she couldn’t quite place, but it felt wrong.
She sighed quietly, pushing herself up from the bed, her feet slipping from beneath his heavy form. She moved carefully, her gaze never leaving the dog as she made her way to the trunk at the end of the room. Her hand hovered over the lid as she took in his condition, still trying to process what she was seeing. A pang of concern tightened in her chest. Sirius was a tough dog, always had been. But this? This was troubling.
With a flick of her wrist, she muttered a soft incantation, and the grime on Sirius’s coat vanished as if it had never been there. She stood over him, inspecting the fabric of his torn bandana. She picked it up carefully, turning it over in her hands, her frown deepening with each passing second. It wasn’t just dirty; it was shredded. The edges were frayed, and the fabric was torn in places it should never have been. The front of the bandana looked as though it had been bitten-savage teeth marks tearing through the fabric.
Her heart sank, a dull weight settling in her stomach. Had he been in a fight? She knew Sirius had a tendency to sneak off at night, but she had always assumed it was for simple, mundane reasons. A wander through the castle grounds or a quick jaunt to relieve himself. But the wildness in the air around him, the torn bandana, and the lingering scent-a fight? Had something happened out there, in the woods?
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the rising worry that crawled up her spine. No. He was a fighter, a survivor. Whatever had happened, Sirius had handled it. He always did.
With a soft sigh, Lyra placed the torn bandana in her wash basket and grabbed a fresh one from her supply. She tied it gently around Sirius’s neck, careful not to disturb his sleep. "Silly pup," she whispered, her lips curling into a small, fond smile as she stroked his head, feeling the warmth of his fur beneath her fingertips. Sirius let out a contented sigh in his sleep, stretching slightly, before his eyes flickered open, drowsy and unfocused.
“You wake yourself up,” she said softly, her voice barely above a murmur as she slipped away from the bed and made her way to the bathroom. "I need to get ready for the day."
By the time Lyra returned, the last traces of steam from the shower clinging to her skin, Sirius had risen. He was sniffing around the room as though he was seeing it for the first time, his nose twitching and his eyes wide with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. Astoria, still wrapped in the warmth of the blankets, was beginning to stir. Lyra gave her a polite nod, her movements fluid as she made her way toward the large black dog.
“Come on, big guy,” she said, her voice warm with affection. “Let’s get you outside, then we’ll grab some breakfast.”
Sirius approached her slowly, his movements measured and cautious, as if unsure of something. He blew a puff of air at her hair, making it sway slightly, before nudging his head gently beneath her chin. The weight of his gaze lingered on her in a way that made Lyra pause. His eyes weren’t just looking at her-they were seeing her, reading her, and something deep inside her seemed to stir in response. She hesitated for a beat, surprised by the intensity of the connection, and in that moment, she felt it. Magic.
A flicker of recognition sparked inside her chest, a bond that had been building for months. The connection they’d been working toward, the one she had been nurturing, was finally starting to take shape. Yes. Her heart leapt in her chest as a grin spread across her face, a soft laugh escaping her lips.
"Yes, yes, good morning to you too." she giggled, scratching behind his ears. His tail gave a lazy flick, a contented whine escaping his throat as he nuzzled her more affectionately.
The magic she had been yearning for, that strange, invisible thread between them, was finally starting to form in earnest. It was more than just the bond of familiarity. This was something deeper, something that connected them on a level Lyra couldn’t fully understand yet, but she could feel it-vibrating in the very air between them.
"Alright, big guy," Lyra said, nudging him gently toward the door. "Let’s get you outside, and then we’ll grab something to eat." As they stepped into the hallway, the early morning light filtering through the windows, Lyra felt a deep sense of contentment settle within her chest. The lingering doubts, the questions that had been bothering her for so long, began to fade away. Everything was starting to fall into place. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Lyra allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was finally right.