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CHAPTER FIVE

if you fall, i'll catch you

ORIGINAL UNIVERSE, LYRA'S POV

1994

fourth year, pt. two

-I-

EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED

Lyra wasn't sure about when her life had changed. She would one day look back, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when her entire being shifted, when her fate was rewritten. Because Lyra didn't know who she would have been, if she had a different life, but she liked who she was now.

She wondered if things changed when Harry kissed her, or when she first fell in love with him. Did things change when they decided to be friends, writing to each other in secret? Did it happen when they walked next to each other in forbidden forest, when Harry gave her his jacket?

No, that wasn't it. By then, she had already become someone different, someone stronger, more self-aware. The transformation had started much earlier, long before those moments of closeness and understanding.

Her life had changed in Madam Malkin's shop, when she was just an eleven-year-old girl, still figuring out the world around her. It was there, amidst the robes and the fabric, that a boy with the most beautiful green eyes had walked in. Harry Potter. That was the day everything began to shift, the day Lyra Malfoy's life changed forever.

Yes, that's it. But regardless of the day it happened, or the way that it did, Harry Potter changed Lyra Malfoy's life. For better or worse.

After their first kiss, the silence that followed was thick with tension, an awkwardness settling between them like an unexpected guest. Lyra pulled back slightly, her heart still racing, but now there was a flutter of panic mingling with the excitement. She hadn't planned for this, hadn't anticipated how overwhelming it would feel to finally cross that invisible line.

Days ago, she had told Blaise that Harry was just her friend. Then, when Harry was gushing over Cho Chang, her heart had a strange pain, jealous striking her. Now, if there was one thing Lyra was aware of, it was the fact that she really really liked Harry.

The Potter boy's eyes were wide, his expression caught somewhere between shock and something softer, almost vulnerable. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, seemingly unsure of where to begin.

"I... I didn't mean to..." Lyra started, then faltered. The words seemed to tangle in her throat, refusing to come out the way she wanted them to. "I mean, I didn't think that would happen."

"Yeah," Harry replied, his voice a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment before looking back at her. "Me neither."

They stood there, both fidgeting slightly, as if they were suddenly hyper-aware of each other in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. The chill of the night air seemed sharper now, cutting through the warmth that had briefly enveloped them.

"I'm sorry," Lyra finally said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Don't be," Harry replied, shaking his head gently. "I'm not."

Lyra felt a rush of relief, but it was mixed with a thousand other emotions—uncertainty, hope, fear. She didn't know what this kiss meant for them, for their weird friendship, or for this overcomplicated world they lived in. But in that moment, she didn't care. All that mattered was that Harry didn't regret it. He didn't regret it.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," Harry admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I just... I didn't know how you felt."

"I liked it," Lyra admitted. A newfound confidence overtook her body, and Harry, whose face was merely inches away from hers was staring at her with an intensity she couldn't describe. "Despite– Despite not wanting to, I like you. A lot."

Harry laughed lightly, coming closer to her so their foreheads were touching. "Trust me, I know what that's like."

"Harry," Lyra gulped. "We can't go back from this."

Harry smiled. "I don't think I want to."

-II-

GOSSIPING SLYTHERINS

Later that night, Lyra burst into the Slytherin common room, her heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions after the kiss with Harry. She paced back and forth, trying to calm herself down, but her mind was a mess, replaying the kiss over and over again.

Blaise, lounging on one of the green velvet sofas, looked up, immediately sensing something was off. He raised an eyebrow as Lyra continued pacing, her hands flying up in frustration. They were both the only people in the common room.

"Okay, what the hell happened?" he asked, sitting up straight. "You're acting like a madwoman."

Lyra froze for a second before whirling around to face him, her eyes wide with panic. "I kissed him!" she blurted out, her voice a frantic whisper, like she was confessing a crime. "He kissed me! I don't know. I fucking kissed Potter!"

Blaise blinked, staring at her in disbelief. "You what?"

"I kissed him, Blaise! Oh Merlin!" Lyra practically shouted, before quickly lowering her voice. "I kissed Harry Potter. On the lips. It just... happened."

Blaise stood up, his own panic rising to match hers. "Oh. My. Merlin." His eyes widened dramatically, his usual calm demeanor vanishing. "You kissed Potter? And you're telling me this just now?!"

"Well, Blaise, it happened fifteen minutes ago, what do you mean I am telling you just now? Was I supposed to write you letter when his tongue was in my mouth?" Lyra threw her hands in the air, ignoring Blaise's quip of "So, there was tongue?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen! I didn't even plan for it, I just—there we were, at the Astronomy Tower, talking, and then... boom! Kiss!"

Blaise grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to calm her down, but he looked just as frantic as she did. "Okay, okay. We need to think. What did he say after? Did he freak out? Did you freak out?"

"Well, he didn't freak out, he was like weirdly calm but I—" Lyra stopped, her voice going up an octave. "I panicked. I mean, I didn't show it right then, but I'm panicking now!" She buried her face in her hands. "What if I messed everything up?"

"Did he kiss you back?"

"Yes! He kissed me back."

Blaise gaped at her. "This is... this is huge, Lyra! What are you going to do? What does this mean?" He gestured wildly.

"I don't know!" Lyra wailed, collapsing onto the nearest armchair. "I mean, I know that I like him. But it's so confusing! One minute we're just talking and we are friends, secret ones at that! and the next minute I'm kissing him, and now I have no idea where we stand or what he's thinking or—oh Merlin, what if this ruins everything?"

Blaise sat down across from her. "Did you guys say nothing after the kiss?"

"Well I said that we can't go back from this and this man looks me right in the eyes and says that he doesn't want to. What am I supposed to say to that?"

"That is so romantic of him, I am surprised." Blaise nodded, "But you do realize this is a disaster, right? What if people find out? What if your father finds out?"

Lyra groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Don't even mention that! My father would lose his mind if he knew. And if the Slytherins found out—oh, Merlin, I'd be done for. Blaise, what have I done?"

"You're asking me? I don't even know what you were thinking! This is Potter! I know I tease you but that was not an invitation for you to jump into his arms!" Blaise's voice cracked as he leaned forward, gripping the armrest. "But... okay, wait. Was it good?"

Lyra peeked through her fingers, her cheeks flushing bright red. "I don't know! It was... confusing. But kind of... nice?"

Blaise stared at her for a moment before slapping his hands to his face in horror. "Oh my Goodness, you like a Gryffindor."

Lyra groaned again, pulling a cushion over her head as if that could block out reality. "Blaise! I'm panicking here!"

"Okay, okay." Blaise took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, though his voice was still tinged with anxiety. "Look, your father is in cahoots with the man who wants to kill Harry. He can not know that his daughter is practically head over heels for him. We need a plan. What's the next step? Are you going to talk to him? Pretend it never happened? Oh Merlin, what if he tells people?"

Lyra peeked out from under the cushion, looking horrified at the thought. "Harry wouldn't do that! I don't think he would. Would he?"

"I don't know!" Blaise threw his hands up. "I've never kissed Harry Potter!"

Lyra laughed despite herself, though it quickly dissolved into more panicked rambling. "But what if he regrets it? What if it was just a mistake for him, and now things are going to be weird? And what if—"

"Okay, breathe." Blaise stood up, pacing now as he tried to think through the situation. "We'll figure this out. You kissed Potter, it happened, and we'll... we'll deal with it. Somehow."

Lyra nodded, though her heart was still pounding. "Right. We'll deal with it. We can't let this get out of control."

"Exactly," Blaise agreed, though he still looked a bit panicked himself. "We'll handle this. I'll help you through it."

Lyra shot him a grateful look. "Thanks, Blaise-y."

"Blaise," Lyra finally said, her voice small. "What if I really really like him? A lot."

Blaise sighed, looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. "Well, then, Lyra, we're in a lot more trouble than we thought."

They sat there for a moment. Finally, Blaise turned to her, his voice laced with mock seriousness. "You know, this is why you shouldn't kiss Gryffindors."

Lyra let out a breathy laugh, nudging him with her elbow. "Shut up, Blaise."

-III-

CAN I BE YOURS?

The next day, Lyra was dreading seeing Harry. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the kiss, the way it felt, the way her heart raced—and most of all, how awkward the whole thing had been afterward. She paced around the castle for hours, debating whether to find him or wait until they ran into each other naturally. But the waiting only made her more anxious.

Eventually, she made her way to the astronomy tower, hoping to clear her head, but of course, that's where she saw him—sitting alone on one of the stone benches, lost in thought. Lyra stopped, her stomach twisting in knots. It was too late to back out now.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over. "Hey," she said, her voice a little too high-pitched for her liking.

Harry looked up, his green eyes immediately locking onto hers. "Hey," he replied, sounding... uncertain?

Lyra sat down beside him, careful to leave some space between them. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the tension hanging thick in the air.

"So," Harry finally started, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "about last night..."

"Yeah," Lyra blurted out, cutting him off before he could finish. "We should probably talk about that, shouldn't we?"

Harry nodded, looking more nervous than she'd ever seen him. "Yeah. I mean... it was a bit... unexpected?"

Lyra winced slightly, feeling her heart drop. She could feel her panic rising again, but she forced herself to push through. "Look, if—if that kiss was weird for you, or if you didn't mean for it to happen, I totally get it. We can just... forget about it and—"

Harry's eyes widened, and he quickly stepped forward, cutting her off. "No! I mean, it wasn't weird—well, okay, it was a little awkward, but in a good way. I don't want to forget about it."

"You don't?" Lyra's brow furrowed, her heart doing a confused flip.

Harry shook his head, his cheeks flushing slightly as he spoke. "No, I don't. I've been thinking about it all day, actually. I was kind of hoping you wouldn't think it was a mistake."

Lyra felt her breath catch, her panic easing ever so slightly. "So... you don't think it was a mistake?"

"No," Harry said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Do you?"

She let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders finally relaxing. "No, I don't think it was a mistake. I just... I didn't know what you were thinking, and I kind of freaked out."

Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Trust me, I freaked out too. I've never—well, I've never kissed anyone. I wasn't sure if I completely messed things up between us."

Lyra's stomach fluttered at his admission. "Neither have I," she admitted, her voice soft. "I mean, I wasn't exactly planning on it. But now... I don't know. It feels like everything's changed. I just– I don't want this to ruin everything. You're my... friend, Harry. I don't want things to be different between us."

"I don't want that either," Harry said, his voice firm. "But I don't think it has to change anything. I mean, unless... unless you want it to."

Lyra blinked, caught off guard by his words. "What do you mean?"

Harry shifted on the bench, looking down at his hands. "I guess I'm just saying that... well, if you wanted things to be different—like, not just as friends—then... I wouldn't mind."

Lyra's heart skipped a beat. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? "Are you—are you saying that you like me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry finally looked up at her, his cheeks tinged with pink. "Yeah. I think I do."

"I like you too. A lot. But–" Lyra's heart was pounding, and she tried to gather her thoughts. "No one can know about this," she blurted out, feeling the panic rise in her chest. "Harry, if anyone finds out... my father... Blaise knows but... everyone else—"

"I know," Harry interrupted, his voice calm but with a slight grin tugging at his lips. "We'll be careful."

Lyra nodded, chewing her bottom lip. "Careful? I mean, this is... this is huge. We're supposed to be on opposite sides of everything, and Slytherins and Gryffindors hate each other and if my father knew—"

Harry leaned in slightly, his voice soft but teasing, "So, will you be my secret girlfriend then?"

Lyra blinked, her panic interrupted by Harry's lighthearted tone. She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Secret girlfriend? Are you serious?"

Harry chuckled, shrugging. "I mean... if we're keeping it secret, might as well make it official, right?"

Lyra couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The tension in the air softened just a bit, and she playfully shoved his shoulder. "You're such an idiot, Potter."

"That's Idiot-Who-Lived to you, Malfoy," Harry quipped, his grin widening.

Lyra rolled her eyes but couldn't stop herself from smiling. For a moment the world was forgotten as Harry leaned in to kiss her.

-IV-

WALKING THESE HALLWAYS

The morning after their talk was surreal for Lyra. She had spent the entire night replaying it in her mind, questioning everything—whether it was real, what it meant, and most importantly, how she was going to keep it hidden. 'Her secret boyfriend' the thought alone sent butterflies to her stomach. But despite her inner joy, she had to go on with her day. After all, being a Malfoy meant mastering the art of looking composed during all situations.

As she made her way through the crowded corridors of Hogwarts, her heart gave a slight jolt when she spotted Harry up ahead, walking toward his next class with Ron and Hermione. She quickly looked away, determined to act normal, but just as she passed by, she saw it—the subtle wink Harry shot her when no one else was looking.

It was so quick, so fleeting, but her cheeks immediately betrayed her. A rush of warmth spread across her face, and before she knew it, she was blushing furiously. 'Dammit, Harry,' she thought, trying to pull herself together. She couldn't afford to look flustered. Not here. Not in front of—

"Oi, Lyra," a familiar voice grunted behind her, and she felt her stomach drop.

Goyle. And Crabbe, lumbering beside him. They had noticed her slip of composure.

"What's got you all red in the face?" Goyle asked, his thick brow furrowed in confusion, though there was a sneer hidden beneath it.

"Yeah, something got you excited?" Crabbe added, his tone annoyingly taunting.

Lyra straightened up, her expression snapping back to the cold, indifferent mask she usually wore. "Mind your own business, Goyle," she said icily, hoping to end this before they got any closer to the truth.

But they weren't so easily deterred.

"Come on, we saw you. Blushing like a little schoolgirl," Goyle persisted, stepping in front of her now, blocking her path. Crabbe stood behind, grinning dumbly.

"I said," Lyra's voice dropped dangerously, "Mind. Your. Own. Business."

The air around them seemed to chill as Lyra's eyes flashed with that infamous Malfoy sharpness. She could see Goyle hesitate for a second, his thick face momentarily faltering, but Crabbe nudged him, encouraging him to press on.

"We're just wondering why the little princess is acting all weird. Something you aren't telling us?"

Lyra clenched her jaw. She could feel the anger bubbling beneath her calm exterior. Her fists curled slightly at her sides as she glared at them both. "Leave me alone, or you'll regret it," she warned, her voice low and venomous.

"Looks like someone's hiding something," Crabbe muttered, nudging Goyle with a grin.

Goyle tilted his head, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Yeah, acting all weird lately. Seen you sneaking around."

Lyra's temper flared. "Sneaking around?" Her voice was sharp, dripping with malice. "The only thing I'm sneaking around is your brainless self. I don't have time to deal with idiots who can't tell the difference between their feet and their heads."

Goyle took a step back, clearly not expecting such venom. But he wasn't smart enough to drop it. "Just saying, people are talking."

"People?" Lyra raised an eyebrow, her tone icy. "Since when do you talk to people, Goyle? It'd be a first. Now get out of my way before I turn you into something even less useful than you already are."

But before she could say anything further, another voice cut through the tension.

"What are you oafs doing? Honestly, are you two thick?" Pansy Parkinson, sharp-eyed and quick as always, appeared behind them, hands on her hips. "Leave her alone, or I'll hex you both into next week."

Goyle and Crabbe exchanged glances. Lyra could see they weren't willing to risk Pansy's wrath—everyone knew she was quick with a curse when provoked. With a grunt, Goyle muttered something under his breath, and they lumbered off down the corridor.

Pansy waited until they were out of sight before turning to Lyra. "What was that about?"

Lyra let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her hands relaxing. "Nothing," she muttered, glancing away. "Just being idiots."

Pansy raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes flicking between Lyra and where Harry had just walked by a minute ago. "Nothing, huh?" she said, her tone hinting she didn't quite believe Lyra. But, for once, Pansy didn't press further.

"Come on, we'll be late for class," she said, giving Lyra a nudge. "And try not to give those two any more reasons to follow you around like lost puppies. It's embarrassing."

Lyra shot her a grateful look as they walked down the hall together, though her heart was still racing from the close call. No one could know.

-V-

LETTERS TO ME

It was the night before the final challenge and as the evening sky deepened into twilight, Lyra sat on her bed in the Slytherin dormitory, absently twisting a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. The anticipation of the final challenge of the Triwizard Tournament was gnawing at her, making it impossible to focus on anything else. She hadn't seen Harry all day—not properly, anyway—and the knot of worry that had been sitting in her chest grew tighter.

Just then, a soft fluttering sound caught her attention. Looking up, Lyra saw a beautiful white owl glide gracefully through the open window. In her talons, she carried a small, folded piece of parchment. Lyra's heart skipped as she immediately recognized the handwriting on the note—Harry's.

With a mix of nerves and curiosity, she took the note from the owl's beak, stroking her feathers absentmindedly before carefully unfolding the parchment. It was short, as most of his letters were, but it made her heart flutter anyhow.

Dear Lyra,

Tomorrow's the final challenge, and I don't know what's going to happen but I do think I know you enough to know you are even more nervous for me than I am. Don't be, I'll be fine and we will both be fine. But I just wanted to say thank you—for everything. For being there when I needed it most, and for being someone I can trust.

Whatever happens, remember... you're braver and smarter and more beautiful than anyone in Hogwarts and possibly all of England, and I wouldn't have made it through this year without you.

Unfortunately, this is how you can wish me luck, just kiss me after I win. (And don't worry—I'll be fine, I promise.)

— Your secret BOYFRIEND(!!!!!!!!!),

Harry

p.s. meet Hedwig, my other special lady

Lyra could almost hear Harry's voice as she read it. She folded the note gently and tucked it under her pillow, her fingers lingering on the fabric as if holding onto his words for strength. The thought of what tomorrow would bring filled her with dread, but the warmth of Harry's note lingered, giving her a small spark of comfort.

The owl, Hedwig hooted softly as if sensing her thoughts. Lyra leaned back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her heart beating faster now—not out of fear, but out of something else entirely.

As Lyra lay on her bed, lost in thought after reading Harry's note, Daphne Greengrass entered the dormitory. The room was dimly lit by a few scattered candles, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Daphne glanced around and noticed Lyra with a thoughtful expression, holding something in her hand.

"Hey, Ly," Daphne said, her voice laced with casual curiosity as she approached. "Whose owl is that? Did you get a letter at this hour?"

Lyra's heart skipped a beat. She quickly sat up, tucking the note securely under her pillow with a swift motion. Trying to mask her surprise, she forced a nonchalant smile and looked at Daphne.

"Oh, it's nothing," Lyra replied, her voice a bit too casual. "Just a letter from home."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by Lyra's answer but deciding not to press further. She took a seat at her vanity, beginning to remove her jewelry. "Right. Well, you seemed pretty absorbed in it. Something important?"

Lyra forced a laugh, though it sounded strained even to her own ears. "No, just... you know, family stuff. Nothing to worry about."

Daphne studied her for a moment longer, her gaze sharp and probing, but then she shrugged and moved on. "Okay. Just making sure. You seemed a bit... sad."

Lyra nodded, attempting to sound light-hearted despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. "Yeah, it's been a long day. Anyway, let's not dwell on it."

As Daphne continued to get ready for bed, Lyra remained on her bed, her mind still racing with thoughts of Harry and the upcoming challenge. She hoped her attempt at deflection had been convincing enough, though the worried frown on Daphne's face suggested she wasn't entirely fooled.

-VI-

THE DEAD AND THE ALIVE

Lyra had cheered loudly with her rest of the students at first, when she had seven the flash of red and yellow coming to the field with a giant golden trophy.  A surge of pride had filled her veins in knowing that Harry had been the one to win Hogwarts the cup.

That was when she heard it, a whisper, a rumour that enveloped the entire student body present there. Someone was dead. Two people had arrived back to the arena and one of them was dead.

Lyra stilled. I'll be fine, rang through her head. For a moment time stopped as people surged forward, reaching over each other to see who had died. Lyra was stuck in place, unable to move, unable to do anything really.

He— Harry couldn't be dead. He simply couldn't. He promised her. He promised he would be fine.

Daphne's sister's hand on her shoulder was what she registered next, the blonde-haired girl talking in a panic tone, pushing Lyra away from the crowd.

She was talking, but Lyra registered no words, none until she heard, "... Cedric Diggory is dead, they said Potter wouldn't leave his body..."

Relief. That was what she felt and suddenly Lyra felt like a horrible person. Cedric was dead, possibly killed and all she felt was relief in knowing that despite all of it, Harry was still alive.

Her eyes darted to the arena, watching as Professor Moody guided Harry, Harry who had blood all over his clothes, away from the crowds, towards the castle.

He was hurt. At least, he was alive.

"Astoria," Lyra interrupted the rambling girl, who was shedding a tear. The Malfoy witch felt bad for ignoring her words but right now, she had bigger priorities. "I am sorry, but I have to go."

She didn't wait for the younger witch to reply, her legs speeding up as she followed Harry and Moody to the castle.

She didn't care then if anyone saw her. Lyra just needed Harry to be okay. She couldn't let their story end so quickly as it began.

Slughorn was talking to Harry, whispering but the boy seemed to have no reaction to his words. He was slightly trembling, running his hands through his hair like he was nervous.

Lyra was unfortunately unable to catch up to them, watching as the ex-auror shut the door to his classroom. Lyra decided that the best course of action would be to wait for Harry to come out.

She could talk to him then, hug him... hold him. She just needed to hold him.

Lyra waited for about fifteen to twenty minutes m, but Moody and Harry must have been in some serious conversation because there was no sign of the door opening any time soon. The girl leaned against the wall hoping for someone to open the door soon enough.

The girl was surprised when she saw Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Professor McGonnagal rush towards her, as if they were on mission.

"Miss Malfoy?" McGonnagal questioned in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Are Harry Potter and Alastor Moody in this room?" Dumbledore didn't give her an opportunity to answer to the transfiguration teacher.

"Um, yes. I— they have been in there for a while."

Snape narrowed his eyes at her, the look he was sending her almost lethal but Lyra didn't have time to focus on that as Professor Dumbledore pointed in his wand at the door and soon, with a blinding flash of red light, the door to Moody's office was blasted open.

Dumbledore had the most scary expression on his face, a cold fury in his eyes as he stepped inside and as the debris settled down, Lyra came across the body of Alastor Moody thrown across the floor. A few feet away, Harry seemed to be stood in shock.

Harry's eyes found her, his green eyes meeting her blue ones almost desperately. McGonnagal stepped towards the Potter boy,

"Come along, Potter," she whispered. The thin line of her mouth was twitching as though she was about to cry any second now. "Come along . . . hospital wing . . ."

"No," said Dumbledore sharply.

"Dumbledore, he ought to — look at him — he's been through enough tonight —" Lyra agreed with the older woman. Harry, in the frankest of words, looked like shit. Understandably so. Standing this close to him, Lyra resisted another urge to just bring him to her arms and never let him go.

"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand," said Dumbledore curtly. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why. Miss Malfoy, you might as well step into the room too, watching from the shadows will do no better than here."

Snape only glared as Lyra stepped into the classroom, automatically making a beeline for Harry's side.

"Moody," the boy whispered. He was still in a state of complete shock. "How can it have been Moody?"

Lyra was confused. Why was Moody on the floor?

"This is not Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore quietly. "You and Miss Malfoy here have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew something was wrong. Mister Zabini told me he had seen Miss Malfoy follow you here and I knew what had happened."

Dumbledore bent down over Moody's limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody's hip flask, the one he was always drinking from, and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to Professors McGonagall and Snape.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here."

Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of spellbooks.

"Miss Malfoy, you must be very confused as to what is happening here." If Dumbledore noticed the way Harry had suddenly grabbed the blonde girl's hand, he didn't comment on it. "Harry's name was put into the goblet of fire by this man. He must have bewitched cup to take the winner to the graveyard. The game was rigged from the start, manipulated specifically to make sure that Harry would emerge as the winner. It is just a pity that Mister Diggory was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Lyra gasped softly as Dumbledore explained to her how the man on the floor was not who we thought he was. Harry squeezed her hand in assurance but she didn't know if it was for her comfort or his. Nevertheless, she squeezed back tightly; as if she would never let go.

There was a big trunk kept near the door and Dumbledore opened it, revealing a shivering man— Alastor Moody? staring shaking in his sleep.

"Why would he do all this?" Lyra whispered, feeling rather sick at how grown men could hurt a child like this.

"The Dark Lord has risen again, my child. Tom Riddle is back to rain hell on our world as Lord Voldemort."

No. No, that is not possible. Lyra knew her father was back in this 'Death Eater' form but... but Voldemort was dead. He died more than a decade ago.

"War is upon us again, and it is no longer a fight between good and evil. You both have huge roles to play in this war, your actions— both of you, might as well determine the future of not only our world but the muggle world as well."

Lyra was about to ask another question when the headmaster picked up the hip flask that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.

"Polyjuice Potion," he stared. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair . . ." Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. "The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done . . . on the hour . . . every hour. . . . We shall see."

Just then, before their eyes, the imposter changed— his face literally morphing into another. Lyra had never used polyjuice potion before and the sight of this man changing back to his real form was rather astonishing.

Lyra knew exactly who he was— his resemblance his father was rather uncanny.

"Crouch!" Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. "Barty Crouch!"

"Good heavens," said Professor McGonagall, stopping dead and staring down at the man on the floor.

Filthy, disheveled, Winky peered around Snape's legs. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a piercing shriek."Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?"

She flung herself forward onto the young man's chest."You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"

"He is simply Stunned, Winky," said Dumbledore.

"Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?"

Barty Crouch Jr. opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused. The headmaster knelt before him, so that their faces were level.

"Can you hear me?"

The man's eyelids flickered. "Yes."

"I would like you to tell us," said Dumbledore softly, "how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?"

Lyra watched in horror as Crouch recalled the story of how his mother had been the reason why he was a free man. His mother's love had led her to take his place in Azkaban and when the senior Crouch helped his son escape, he had no idea of the set of events he was beginning.

He described in great detail about how he was under his father's imperious curse and how during the Quidditch World Cup he stole a wand. They began their plan then, abducting Alastor Moody and taking on his identity, just so Harry could get to the graveyard, ready to bring his master back to life.

He described a map Harry was in possession of that almost ruined his plans and Lyra looked at the boy, who gulped nervously. He explained how he had taken the map from Harry and how he killed his own father.

Lyra tried not to be sick.

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Barty Crouch. "Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

Soon Barty was bounded, unable to move and Dumbledore turned to Harry and Lyra.

"Minerva, my apologies but could you stand guard here while I take these Harry with me upstairs?"

"Prof—" Harry started to say, his hand squeezing Lyra's, holding it even tighter.

"I am sorry, my boy but I will have to ask you to meet up Miss Malfoy later. There's somebody in my office who is eager to meet you."

Harry seemed to catch on to who Dumbledore might be referring to and reluctantly let go of Lyra's hand. 

She followed the two out of the classroom, wondering if she should make her way to find Blaise when Harry turned back, as if checking the hallway was empty and engulfed her in a big hug.

Lyra automatically put her hands around him, a certain warmth filling her body. This was assurance, Harry was fine. He was alive. He was here, with her. He was hers.

She kissed his cheek, "Thank you for coming back to me alive."

Harry rested his forehead against hers. "I will always come back to you."

The two ignored Dumbledore's tiny quip of, "Ah, I had missed young love."

Lyra didn't know if she was in love with this boy yet— they hadn't known each other long enough to feel that kind of burning for each other. She didn't know what the future had in store for either of them or what role she would have in the upcoming war. Lyra didn't know a lot of things.

But there was one thing that Lyra definitely knew— she didn't need an epic romance or grand declarations of love. She just needed Harry Potter and she will be fine.

They will both be fine.