ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔
- 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒊
chapter two

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"IS SHE LOOKING?"

"No, you're good." Lyra looks over the heads of Gryffindors at the teacher's table where a calm-looking Minerva McGonagall is talking to Professor Flitwick. She sits back down, smiling at Wren, who is crouched underneath the table with her elbows on the bench. "Wren, get up. You look stupid."

Neville watches from across his friends as Wren grunts and huffs to lift herself up on to the bench, with Lyra's hand as support. He leans closer. "Are you okay?" His voice becomes higher at the end.

"Yes, why?"

"Because you're a fit Chaser yet you're acting like you're 80-years old." Lyra says, dusting her skirt off and straightening her tie. She rests her chin on her palm with her elbow on the table, bright eyes teasing Wren.

"You train with Flint as captain, and you'd understand how my body is still recovering from last season." Wren defends herself, cracking her neck and letting out a sigh of relief.

"Alright, Quinn?" Fred Weasley nods at her from next to Lyra, causing a few familiar heads to turn.

"Alright, Weasley" Wren tips her imaginary hat at the ginger, earning a smirk.

In the sea of lions, Lyra's best friend is the only snake that wouldn't get her head bitten off for sitting with the Gryffindors and not across the hall with Slytherin house. Wren didn't care about other's opinions on her anyway, gladly accepting the glares she got in first year when she started the habit of sitting with her best friends. Over the years, Gryffindors just got over themselves and didn't bother with showing their disliking to her house, just as long as she didn't cause any trouble. Lyra's intimidating glare is also a reason nobody messes with Wren. Many of Lyra and Neville's friends befriended Wren too.

There's just the tiny problem of McGonagall scolding her every year when she catches her. Tonight may be Wren's lucky night.

The hall hushes into a silence when Albus Dumbledore steps onto his podium, smiling warmly at the many youthful faces. "Well, now we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen-"

Lyra frowns when he is interrupted by Filch running inside, her interest peaked at the mention of special guests.

Filch quickly, barely breathing, runs back outside after whispering hastily with Dumbledore. The headmaster clears his throat to bring the attention back to him as students snickered at seeing the short man's state. "So Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: The Triwizard Tournament."

Gasps of excitment and wonder escape from each table. Lyra's eyes widen and her mouth parts at the news. She knows what the Triwizard Tournament is - anyone in the Wizarding World should. She read about it in the libary one morning, browsing along the pages for anything interesting and she found the famous tournament. An event as ancient and rewarding as it is hard to not know.

Turning her head, expecting to see smiliar amazed expressions on her friends's faces, Lyra is met with Neville and Wren's confused eyes, staring at her, probably waiting for her to explain.

"How could you not know? Wren, I understand but Nev, you grew up around magic!"

"D-does the words 'tournament' and 'Neville Longbottom' ever sound right in a sentence, Ly? I don't know what it is.." He says nervously over the noise everyone else is making.

"Right." Lyra scrunches her nose before offering a reassuring smile. Neville never really does well in loud enviroments.

"Quiet down! For those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school, a single student is selected to compete. Now let me be clear. lf chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint-hearted.."

His severe words hang in the air, making some reconsider their previous determination in entering their name.

"But more of that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress, Madame Maxime!"

Heads whirl at the sound of footsteps to witness a flourish of blues entering the Great Hall. Girls wearing the pale blue uniform of Beauxbatons gracefully walk through the center aisle, enchantments of butterflies flying around them with each dramatic but gentle sigh from their lips. Behind them a giant woman walks, proud and poise.

"Bloody hell" Ron Weasley mutters from across Lyra, eyes stuck on the beautiful girls just like the rest of the male population of Hogwarts.

"Lyra, am I in heaven?" Wren whispers giddily in her ear, staring just as much. Lyra shakes her head with a giggle, finding the situation a bit silly. Her amusement increases when seeing the red ears of Neville when a girl from Beauxbatons winks at him.

In the gaps between each body that moves past Lyra in the aisle, a pair of striking green eyes make her jump. Her back straightens from slouching and her eyes narrow to indentify Theodore staring at her with so much attention it made a shiver run down her spine. Yet, she couldn't look away. His eyes pinned her to her seat; challenged her to give up; dared her to show a sign of nervousness under his gaze.

Lyra's jaw clenched and she matched his stare, finding her heart beating faster than normal as he never wavers. But she feels it become too much and, exasperatingly, shifts her eyes away for a moment of relief.

A pleased smirk carves itself into Theodore's face and he feels a part of him sing in satisfaction when she shoots him a withering glare, blonde hair framing her pretty face and eyebrows set in that annoyed frown he loves earning.

"Mate." Blaise Zabini punches his shoulder. Theodore only raises an uninterested eyebrow in response. His best friend shakes his head, eyes flickering across the hall before returning to him. "Could you be creepier?"

"I am not creepy." Theodore scoffs.

"You are, since you literally stare at Lovegood like a pychopath."

"Didn't you know he is one?" Pansy Parkinson chirps from next to Blaise, a smirk on her face. "I'm surprised the Gryffindor hasn't filed a report for how much he stares at her."

"That's silly, Pans." Daphne Greengrass pulls a face. "You can't file a report just because some weirdo has a massive obssession with you." Her blue eyes flicker to Theodore, making fun of him.

Her eyes aren't the same blue as Lyra's, the latter's is darker and more captivating. Theodore looks at Lyra once again, who is talking to Wren Quinn, and he is reminded of him accusing her of obsession on the train when it's the other way around.

He rolls his eyes in an unbothered manner. "Fuck off."

"How would the lovely Lovegood feel knowing you have such a potty mouth?" Blaise laughs.

"She wouldn't care. She hates him." Draco Malfoy speaks up after being quiet since the train ride. His face is emotionless, but his blunt words tell Theodore that it's supposed to get to him.

But he doesn't argue because he knows it's true.

Next, Dumbledore introduces the all-boy school of Durmstrang from the north. Boys with clean shaven heads march fiercely into the hall, staffs creating orange sparks with each intimidating hit against the stone floor. Shocked but quiet chatter emerges at the sight of the world-known quidditch player, Viktor Krum, following behind his peers with a tall man.

"Ron, sweety, you're drooling." Lyra whispers.

Harry snickers at his best friend blushes in embarrassment.

The welcoming feast commences, and food Lyra has never seen before appears along the table to accommodate the two other schools, who have been split along the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. The dish right in front of Lyra catches her attention as it actively bubbles in its purple hue. Her eyebrows furrow, trying to remember if she's read about something like it.

"That's draksoppa." A masculine voice says from her right. Lyra quickly looks at the owner to see a boy, around her age, in Durmstrang uniform, seated next to Fred. The boy had a buzzcut with tan skin, brown eyes and an amused smile on his handsome face, clearly having found Lyra's confused expression entertaining.

"Dragon soup?" Lyra raises a sharp eyebrow, a small smile of her own tugging on her lips at the suprise in his face.

"You speak Swedish?" He questions, leaning closer and making Fred frown at the invasion of space.

Lyra smiles completely now and doesn't answer, lifting her hand from her lap and offering it to the boy. "I'm Lyra."

He smiles and takes her much smaller hand, them shaking in greeting infront of Fred's face.

"I'm Erik." The way his accent allows him to pronounce his name makes Lyra smile wider, cheeks heating up.

"Okay, I'm just gonna switch seats with Erik here." Fred laughs. "'Cause I'm trying to eat and your flirty eyes are going to make me boke."

Lyra rolls her eyes and places a hand on his rising shoulder, pushing Fred to sit back down. She peeks over at Erik to see him blushing now and awkwardly shifting his eyes between them.

"You're such a drama queen, Weasley." Lyra says, making Fred pout, before looking away and offering one last polite smile to the Durmstrang boy. "It was nice to meet you, Erik."

"The pleasure is all mine." He responds, nodding at her friendlily before turning away to talk to another student from Durmstrang.

"The pleasure is all mine." Fred whispers in her ear, mocking Erik, before laughing again, eyes wrinkling as he teases her.

"Shut up." Lyra frowns and pushes her palm against his head, forcibly moving his face away. "Eat your carrots, carrot top."

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After dinner, everyone retired to their dormitories, Lyra's being shared with the Gryffindor girls in her year. Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil are friends of hers and nice company that fills the hole of conversations she normally has with Wren and Neville.

Although, the topic tonight is one Lyra is too familar with as it has occured on the first night back since second year; boys. Lavender and Parvati are the ones to get the ball rolling and eventually Hermione joins and then, with no other choice since no one planned to sleep soon, Lyra gives in.

"About about Dean?" Lavender asks through her giggles, hugging a stuffed animal to her chest as she sits criss-cross on her bed. Her eyes are clouded with stars - nothing new. "He looks so much more manly!" She insists.

Hermione shakes her head to herself, reading a book as she leans back into her pillows. She looks up to meet the only other non-boy-crazy resident, Lyra, who raises her eyebrows. Hermione laughs silently.

"I disagree. The boys in our house haven't changed, they all just need haircuts." Hermione says and Parvati points at her, nodding in agreement.

"Let's talk about Hufflepuffs like Cedric Diggory because wow!" Parvati gushes.

"He's a sixth year!" Hermione scoffs.

"So?"

Lyra ties her long hair into a loose ponytail before kicking her slippers off and climbing onto her four-poster bed. Like everyone else, her covers and pillowcases are red and a poster with the Gryffindor crest hangs above her headboard.

The one of two windows in their dorm is beside her bedside table and Lyra takes comfort in seeing the moon in the blanket of stars and darkness. Ever since her mother's passing, Lyra has felt something warm in her chest whenever she looked at the moon or the wildflower field behind their house. She knows it's her mother's presence and even if it isn't and she's just a girl missing her mom, does it matter? Lyra feels Pandora's love for her in those two scenes and that's what counts.

Silas joins her on the bed and Lyra picks him up, cradling him in her arms. Yet another reminder of her mom as Silas was gifted to her on her seventh birthday by her parents but her dad made it clear it was his wife's idea.

"Hi." Lyra whispers and rubs his pink nose, Silas closing his eyes in bliss. She looks back up at her friends to listen to the conversation to find them looking at her expectantly.

"What?" She asks, weary.

"Come on Lyra. I asked who do you have your eye on?" Lavender says, eyes urging her to answer.

The image of a very mature looking Theodore on the train and his eyes and smirk in the Great Hall flash into her head. What, no!

"No one." Lyra says all too quickly, looking back down at Silas. He, too, stares at her like he can read her mind and Lyra wants to die. I don't have my eye on that prick, she tries to convince Silas in her head but alas, she hasn't mastered communication with animals yet. So Silas just looks at her with his yellow eyes, somehow shining with an unimpressed light.

"You're lying!" Hermione catches her out and Lyra shoots her a harmless glare of betrayal.

"Is that right? Well, girls, why don't we talk about Viktor Krum looking over at Hermione during supper? Hm?" Lyra redirects the attention to the girl, successfully, as Lavender and Parvati gasp rather loudly.

Now it's Hermione who glares at Lyra and the blonde smiles, mouthing a spitefully loving goodnight before blowing out her candle, leaving her friend to the mercy of their boy-obsessed roommates.

Yet, even in her sleep, Lyra couldn't escape those bloody green eyes.

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