CHAPTER TWO

find me where no-one else is

1992

second year, pt. one

ORIGINAL UNIVERSE, LYRA'S POV

-I-

THE END OF FIRST YEAR

Lyra Malfoy was a huge bookworm. She'd plowed through almost every single book in the Malfoy library—repeatedly, until she knew them inside out. The place was her personal haven, and she'd spent countless hours immersed in stories and information. She knew what love was, poets described it as fleeting, the romantics as everlasting, and the overly cautious as a chemical reaction.

OOut of all those views, Lyra was pretty convinced that the last one was the most accurate. The other two just seemed way too fanciful for her taste. Her first year at Hogwarts had been a bit of a rollercoaster—some days dragged on forever while others sped by in a flash. It had been eventful, for sure.

There had been a troll in the castle once! Ah, what a mighty night that has been. Lyra had considered grabbing Blaise and finding the big old monster themselves.

But that wasn't the only drama. Lyra had gotten into trouble too—what a disaster! And of course, it was all thanks to her new rival, Harry Potter. The so-called "boy who lived" and Hogwarts' new golden boy. If only You-Know-Who had considered dropping him off a window instead of blasting the killing curse.

Ironically though, there was moment during her detention, when she walked the forbidden forest with Potter next to her when Lyra's heart had sped up a little bit. For a moment, he hadn't seemed so bad.

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Hagrid- THAT GIANT OAF! How dare he? Lyra's father was definitely going to hear about this. She will go and find the minister himself if she has to! How dare he—

"Stop your whining, Malfoy," Potter grumbled from her side.

"I don't know if your ears are as incompetent as your eyes but I haven't said a thing, Potter," she retorts back.

Potter rolls his eyes, "You didn't have to say anything, I can practically hear your thoughts with how badly you are seething."

"Ah, so you're a mind reader, aren't ya, Potter?" She put her hands on her hips, "Can you see all the ways i'm thinking of to murder you?"

Potter laughed then— a genuinely laugh that almost terrified Lyra. He has a nice laugh, she thought to herself.

"I assure you, I wouldn't get caught," Lyra continued, "I have read enough books to know how to hide a body, especially one of a small boy."

"And what are you going to tell Hagrid when we get back? That a troll got me?" Potter was hysterical, and a small part of Lyra was so proud for making him laugh like that. A year ago she would have been so happy— she just made Harry Potter laugh!

"I'll tell them that the unicorns took you." She crossed her arms. The forest was chilly, the night cascading over the tall trees.

"Are you cold?" Potter asked.

"No, I think I am very hot," She bit back before realising what she said, "temperature-aly."

Just then Potter did something that really shocked the girl. He took off his jackets— a deep red shade with golden hues, and handed it to her. Under the jacket he was still wearing a sweater.

"I— you don't have to pretend to be nice." Lyra said, because obviously this was a joke.

"I am not pretending," Potter admitted, "Besides, I am still wearing two more layers without the jacket. Just take it before I change my mind, Malfoy."

Lyra took the jacket, a little grateful and put it on. It smelled of fresh grass and broomsticks. A hint of spearmint. It was just a little big on the girl but she was finally warm.

They walked past a few trees in silence before Lyra asked, "Why— why did you refuse to be my friend? At the beginning of the year?"

Potter turned to look at her in a way that said 'I can't believe you just asked me that.'

Lyra shook her head and continued, "I am aware I wasn't the most welcoming when we first met but I really did want us to be friends."

"Because I am the 'boy who lived.'" Potter looked at her, his green eyes still bright in the darkness, "I don't want friends like that Malfoy. And I definitely don't want friends who look down on others."

"I do not look down—"

"Ron. Ron Weasley. You made fun of him." Potter bitterly spat.

Lyra looked at him with wide eyes, "And what of when he laughed at my name! He had it coming, I will not allow anyone to insult me."

"I want to be friends with good people," Potter spoke. "People who don't belittle others."

Fury surged through Lyra as tears were threatening to split. She had enjoyed a little moment, but a little moment was just so. She stepped away from him.

"And I want to get out of this bloody forest," she snapped. "We're lost, and it's freezing. Let's just go."

She stormed off, her steps quick and angry, the forest's chill biting at her as she pushed through the underbrush. They had absolutely no indication of where Hagrid and Longbottom were. Potter hurried after her, his voice calling out.

"Hey, wait up! I didn't mean to—"

"Just leave me alone, Potter!" Lyra shouted, her voice echoing through the trees.

Potter caught up with her, grabbing her shoulder gently. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to upset you. Can we just try to work this out when we're not freezing to death?"

Lyra whirled around, her face flushed with anger and frustration. "Fine, but I'm not in the mood for your pity right now."

Potter sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not trying to pity you. I'm trying to be honest. I'm just as lost in this forest as you are, and we both need to get out."

Lyra's anger softened just a little. "Alright, but only if you promise not to get us further lost."

"Deal," Potter said, holding out his hand. "Let's just stick together, okay?"

Reluctantly, Lyra took his hand, and they started walking side by side again. The forest seemed less intimidating with their shared effort.

As they walked, there was a brief, awkward silence before Lyra broke it again. "You know, your jacket isn't half bad."

Potter grinned. "Glad you think so. Just don't go thinking I'm soft because I'm nice."

Lyra smirked. "Don't worry, I'll try not to."

Harry Potter might be her rival, but he wasn't half bad.

-II-

NEW BEGINNINGS, SEEKING HAPPINESS

Flourish and Blotts was abuzz with excitement as the crowd gathered to see Gilderoy Lockhart's book signing. Lyra Malfoy had been trying her best to stay out of the spotlight, blending into the crowd as she picked up her books. Gilderoy seemed like a no-gooder to her and frankly, she could stay far away from them. She had just managed to escape the throngs of autograph-seekers when she noticed Harry Potter struggling under the weight of an armful of Lockhart's books.

"Need any help?" Lyra asked, approaching him with genuine concern. Her tone was softer than usual, her annoyance momentarily forgotten.

Harry looked up, his face a mix of relief and surprise. "Uh, thanks, Malfoy. That would be great."

Without another word, Lyra helped him transfer the stack of books into Ginny Weasley's cauldron. Harry looked a little more relaxed as he managed to escape the crowd's attention, joining Ginny at the edge of the shop. Lyra followed him, hoping to finally find her father amidst the crowd.

"You can get your own books, Harry," Ginny said. "I'll take these."

."Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Lyra smirked, her voice cut through the air as she joked.

Harry winced and turned to face her, his expression amused. "Malfoy."

For a second, it was as if they were old friends, as if they had known each other their entire life. Well, that was until the red-head girl interrupted. Ginny's eyes had flashed with irritation as she said "Leave him alone. He didn't want all that!"

"Really?" Lyra said, a bit of the old edge returning to her voice. Lyra waited for a second- just a second, hoping Harry would defend her. She was met with disappointment. "It's not like Potter doesn't enjoy the attention."

Ginny's cheeks flushed red with anger. "He's just trying to help!"

Ron Weasley, who had been pushing his way through the crowd with Hermione, joined in. "Oh, it's you, Malfoy. Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

Lyra's patience was wearing thin. "Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop. I suppose your family will go hungry for a month to pay for all that."

Ron's face turned crimson, and he dropped his books into Ginny's cauldron with a clatter. He started towards Lyra, but Hermione and Harry quickly intervened, holding him back.

"Ron!" Mr. Weasley's voice cut through the tension. "What are you doing? It's mad in here. Let's go outside."

Before the situation could escalate further, Mr. Malfoy's voice rang out with his characteristic disdain. "Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley."

Lyra turned to see her father, Lucius Malfoy, standing with his hand on her shoulder, his face a mask of cold superiority. Mr. Weasley's face flushed with anger.

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley greeted with a curt nod.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron, pulling out a very old, battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. "Obviously not," he said with a smirk. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Lyra winced. Sure, she was a rude person at times, but her father always crossed the line. Sometimes, she really wished to hate him. Mr. Weasley's face turned a deep shade of red. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard," he said, his voice tight with anger.

Lyra's eyes darted between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley, her anger and frustration bubbling up. What was worse, was the fact that though she was silently on Mr. Weasley's side in the argument, Ginny took a scathing step towards her.

"Just leave us alone, Malfoy!" Ginny snapped, her voice full of frustration. "Can't you see you're causing trouble?"

"Ginny, don't," Harry said, finally speaking up. "It's not worth it."

Lyra felt a pang of disappointment and a growing sense of betrayal. She had tried to help Harry, and now she felt like an outsider in her own moment of generosity. The Weasleys' hostility and Harry's lack of defense against her made her feel isolated and angry.

There was a loud crash as Ginny's cauldron toppled over, and Mr. Weasley threw himself at Mr. Malfoy. The ensuing chaos was a cacophony of yelling and clattering books. Lyra watched in stunned silence as Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley grappled among the fallen tomes.

Hagrid arrived, pulling Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart with surprising ease. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip, and Mr. Malfoy had been hit by a book, his expression one of bitter satisfaction. He threw Ginny's old Transfiguration book at her with a sneer. "Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you."

Lyra felt a sharp pang of anger and humiliation. She had tried to be civil, but now her good intentions felt like a distant memory. As her father ushered her away, Lyra cast a final, resentful glance at Harry and the Weasleys. The brief moment of camaraderie she had hoped for seemed to have vanished completely, replaced by a rekindled rivalry and a deep sense of betrayal.

Honestly, she could never really tell if Harry loathed her or not.

-III-

THE WORDS WE CAN TAKE BACK

The Quidditch pitch was abuzz with early morning energy as the Gryffindor team arrived. Lyra Malfoy, with her usual poise, watched the scene unfold from a distance, a smirk playing on her lips. The pitch was crowded with Slytherin players, and Lyra knew precisely how this would play out. It was the kind of spectacle that would rile up Gryffindor's captain, Oliver Wood.

"Oh, look at that," she murmured to Flint and the rest of the Slytherin team, her voice laced with feigned innocence. "It seems like the Gryffindors are having some trouble."

Flint's grin matched hers as he replied, "Perfect. Let's see how they handle this."

Wood's face turned a deep shade of red as he spotted them. His anger was palpable as he dismounted his broom with a thud and stormed over, his team following closely behind.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed, his voice echoing across the pitch. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint, with his usual troll-like grin, stepped forward. "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, the only girls on the Gryffindor team, joined the fray. They looked as annoyed as Wood, their glares directed straight at Flint. The man was brave, surely, for he met their gazes with an icy stare, indifferent to their discomfort.

"But I booked the pitch!" Wood insisted, his frustration mounting. "I booked it!"

"Ah," Flint said, pulling out a parchment with a flourish. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."

Wood's anger faltered for a moment. "You've got a new Seeker?"

From behind the hulking Slytherins emerged a smaller figure, smirking with an air of superiority that was almost tangible. Lyra, in her new Slytherin Quidditch robes, stepped forward with an air of confidence.

"Are you Lucius Malfoy's daughter?" Fred Weasley asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Funny you should mention Lyra's father," Flint said smoothly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

With a synchronized move, all seven Slytherins held out their broomsticks. They were polished to perfection, the gold lettering on each one gleaming in the morning sun.

"Very latest model," Flint said casually, flicking a speck of dust off his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps," he added with a sneer, looking at Fred and George, "sweeps the board with them."

The Gryffindor team stared, momentarily stunned into silence. Lyra savored the sight of their faces falling, her smirk widening with satisfaction.

"Oh look," Flint said, pointing as Ron and Hermione approached. "A pitch invasion."

"What's happening?" Ron asked, his voice filled with confusion. "Why aren't you playing? And what's she doing here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Lyra said, her smirk never fading. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought for our team."

Ron's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the broomsticks. "Good, aren't they?" Lyra continued smoothly. "Your team has the kind of broomsticks that one can see in the Museums."

The Slytherin team erupted into laughter. Fred and George's faces were twisted with anger and Granger's face flushed with rage, and Lyra could see that her temper was about to snap.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

Without thinking, Lyra's irritation boiled over. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblo-," she spat out till she stopped herself, but the damage was already done.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. The pitch fell into stunned silence. The Gryffindor team looked shocked, and even some of the Slytherins seemed taken aback by the harshness of Lyra's words. Fred and George were restrained by Flint and the others, but the tension was thick in the air.

As the chaos unfolded, Lyra felt a deep pang of regret. The word had slipped out in a moment of fury, and she knew she had crossed a line. The animosity she felt towards Potter and his friends had overwhelmed her, and now she was facing the fallout.

After the commotion had died down, Lyra found herself wandering back to the pitch, her heart heavy with the weight of her actions. Hermione was sitting alone on a bench, her face still marked by anger and hurt. Lyra approached hesitantly, her steps slow and uncertain.

"Granger," Lyra began, her voice trembling slightly. "I—I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I was completely out of line, and I regret it."

"What?" Hermione looked up, her eyes wary but curious. "Why are you apologizing, Malfoy?"

"I just—," Lyra faltered, trying to find the right words. "I let my temper get the better of me. I know that what I said was wrong, and I'm truly sorry."

Hermione's expression softened slightly. "I appreciate that. Honestly, when we first met, I wanted to be friends with you. I thought we could get along, but things escalated so quickly."

Lyra was taken aback. "Really? I didn't know that."

"Yes," Hermione said with a small, sad smile. "But you were so caught up in the rivalry, and the blood purity and I didn't know how to approach you."

"I do not want to be like my family," Lyra confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "They've always been about blood superiority and pureness. I don't want to follow that path, but sometimes I get caught up in it anyway. I want to be better than that."

"I don't think I want to be friends with you right now," Hermione regarded her thoughtfully. "But maybe we can start over? I'd like that."

"I'd like that too," Lyra admitted, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "I think I'd really like that, Granger."

-IV-

OUR FRIENDS KNOW US TOO WELL

Lyra Malfoy stormed into the common room of Slytherin House, her mood as stormy as the skies outside. The Quidditch pitch incident had left her fuming, and she needed to vent. She spotted Blaise Zabini lounging by the fireplace, flipping through a book.

"Blaise!" she called out sharply, striding over to him.

Blaise looked up from his book, a bemused expression on his face. "What's got you all riled up this time, Ly?"

She collapsed into a nearby armchair with a huff, crossing her arms. "It's Potter. Again."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Potter? The Boy Who Lived to Make you Miserable? What's he done now?"

"It's not just him," Lyra snapped. "It's the whole Weasley crew. After the Quidditch match, they've been acting like they're the victims. I was just pointing out the obvious—how they can't afford to compete with our brooms—"

"And they lost their minds," Blaise finished for her, smirking. "You really know how to push their buttons."

"That's not even the half of it!" Lyra said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "We had a row with them in the shop the other day, and that Weasley girl—Ginny—had the audacity to defend Potter when I was being bloody nice to him. It's infuriating."

Blaise chuckled. "I can imagine. But you've got to admit, it's all a bit melodramatic. Especially considering the timing with the Chamber of Secrets being reopened."

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Blaise said, leaning back and stretching. "With the whole school buzzing about the Chamber of Secrets and the attacks, it's probably adding to everyone's stress. Potter's just a convenient target for people to focus their frustrations on."

"You think?" Lyra's tone was skeptical.

"Absolutely," Blaise said. "Besides, I've noticed something. You're always so angry around him. It's almost like—"

"Like what?" Lyra demanded, her eyes flashing.

"Like you've got a crush on him," Blaise said, grinning mischievously.

Lyra's eyes widened in shock. "What? That's ridiculous!"

"It's true, isn't it?" Blaise teased. "I've seen how you react around him. It's not just anger. There's something else there."

Lyra's face flushed crimson. "Don't be absurd, Blaise. I don't have a crush on Potter. He's the last person I'd ever have feelings for."

Blaise leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Look, I'm just saying. If you really don't like him, then why does he affect you so much? Why do you care so much about what he thinks?"

Lyra tried to compose herself. "I don't care what he thinks. I care about the reputation of Slytherin and the fact that he's always getting in our way. It's just... frustrating."

Blaise smirked, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Whatever you say. But if you ask me, you might want to watch how you're acting. It could be giving off the wrong impression."

Lyra sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair. "Fine, I get it. I'm being ridiculous. I'll try to keep my emotions in check."

Blaise looked at her sympathetically. "It's not about being ridiculous. It's about understanding what's really going on. Potter might be a thorn in your side, but don't let it get to you too much. We've got bigger things to worry about with all the mysterious attacks happening."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Lyra admitted, feeling a bit more relaxed. "I just wish everything would calm down. It's like living in a soap opera."

Blaise laughed. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Always full of drama."

Several weeks after the Quidditch incident, the atmosphere at Hogwarts remained charged with tension. Rumors and fear about the attacks and the mysterious Chamber of Secrets seemed to hang in the air. It was a stressful time for everyone, and even Lyra Malfoy found herself seeking solace from the chaos.

Lyra Malfoy stormed through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, her frustration barely contained. The tension in the castle was palpable, with rumors and strange occurrences making the rounds. Her housemates had been insufferable, and she was growing tired of the constant bickering and hostility.

As she approached the library, she spotted Percy Weasley stationed near the entrance, his eyes darting around as he enforced the silence with a frown. Lyra's mood darkened further at the sight of him. Percy had always been a thorn in her side, priding himself on his Prefect duties and treating everyone else with contempt.

"What are you doing down here, Weasley?" Lyra asked, her voice edged with irritation. "Playing the librarian now?"

Percy's face reddened, and he straightened up, his indignation evident. "I'm enforcing the rules, Malfoy. You should show some respect."

Lyra rolled her eyes, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "Respect? From you? I think not."

Without waiting for a response, she pushed past Percy and entered the library. She scanned the room and spotted her friends Crabbe and Goyle.

Goyle coughed when he looked at her, "Hey-Hey Lyra, Weasley give you any trouble?"

"Whatever," she said dismissively. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir singlehanded. "

Unlikely.  Lyra chuckled at the thought, then cleared her throat. "Let's go to the Common Room. Blaise has a new game for us to play."

She stopped before the entrance. Crabbe and Goyle stood silently as always, but their strange expressions made the girl suspicious. They usually weren't so expressive, but they looked excited about something.

"What's the new password again?" she asked Goyle. The password changed every week, and God forbid but Lyra couldn't possibly keep track sometimes.

"Er—" Goyle stammered.

"Oh yeah—pure-blood!" she proclaimed, and the wall opened to reveal the common room. She stepped inside, the two impostors following behind. "Nasty prejudiced password, makes me sick."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at her in shock and she glared at them. It wasn't rare for her to call out this kind of bullshit. Why they would be so shocked was out of her understanding.

"Let's wait here," she ordered, motioning Crabbe and Goyle to a pair of chairs near the fire. "Merlin! Have you seen the newspaper?"

She soon came out holding the article about Arthur Weasley.

They leaned in and read silently. "That'll give you a laugh," Crabbe bit out, as if it hurt to say it.

"What is wrong with you, Vincent? A man almost lost his job." she said impatiently, snatching back the article. "Do you really think it's funny?"

"No, it's not," Goyle responded bleakly. "He was just joking."

"I understand why Mr. Weasley likes Muggles. They're not so different from us, after all. We're all just trying to live our lives, and it's not fair to judge someone for their interests." she commented airily. She glanced between the two boys. Crabbe looked more surprised by every word she said, his eyes almost bulging out of his head.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" she asked with a bit of concern.

"Stomach ache," the boy grunted.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing, get a chance to check on the students there too," Lyra urged. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up," she mused aloud. "He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father has always said Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He's wrong about that, though. With my father' thinking, only pureblood would be allowed in Hogwarts."

"And you don't agree with that?" Goyle questioned, his gaze sharp.

"Obviously not!" She snapped. "That's terrible, Greg. What's gotten into you today? I have asked you multiple times to stop thinking like your parents and make do with your own brains. I wish the muggleborns were safe."

"Not that much can be done," she added, glancing nonchalantly at the two, "with the recent occurrences, like with that Creevey boy, despite how annoying he was."

Goyle and Crabbe exchanged a look by Lyra ignored them. "Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"

Lyra rolled her eyes before placing her hands on Goyle's arms. With a sarcastic smile and a longing sigh, she pleaded, "Can I please kiss you, Harry?"

"I- I-" Goyle swallowed.

"I am not going to kiss you, Vincent, calm down." Stepping back, watching Goyle and Crabbe not laugh at her joke, she demanded, "What's the matter with you two?"

They laughed halfheartedly. Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.

Lyra sneered derisively. "Saint Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World, friends with all but Slytherin. Walking around with that Granger taking advantage of her knowledge. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"

The boys stared at her intensely.

"I wish I knew who it is."

"You must have some idea who's behind it all..." Goyle trailed off.

Lyra rolled her eyes. "You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?

"Besides," she continued, "Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it. But I know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Muggle-born actually died."

Lyra shook her head. She obviously didn't want that to happen.

"D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" Gregory enquired.

"Oh, yeah... whoever it was, they were expelled," said Malfoy.  "They're probably still in Azkaban,"

"Azkaban?" Potter asked confusedly.

''Azkaban – the wizard prison, Goyle," said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief. "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards."

The boy only blinked cluelessly. Were they drugged? Lyra knew they were slow but this was a new level of stupidity.

Lyra sighed, shifting restlessly in her chair. "Father says to keep my head down and let the heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all... M—Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. He's tense but he shouldn't say that but he's also got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

Goyle's dull face into a look of concern.

"Yeah..." said Lyra. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor –"

"Ho!" said Crabbe suddenly.

And before Lyra could question anything both the boys had run off.

-V-

THE END MIGHT MEAN SOMETHING

The corridors of Hogwarts were bustling with activity as the end of the school year approached. News of the events in the Chamber of Secrets had spread like wildfire, and the entire castle seemed to be in a state of nervous anticipation. Lyra Malfoy found herself reflecting on the whirlwind of the past few weeks as she wandered through the familiar stone halls.

The tension had finally begun to ease with the revelation of the true heir of Slytherin and the defeat of the basilisk. The school was slowly returning to normal, though the echoes of fear and excitement still lingered. Lyra had been deeply involved in the aftermath, sorting through the chaos and dealing with the fallout from her family's involvement.

As she made her way to the common room, she was stopped by Pansy Parkinson, who had a mischievous glint in her eye. Pansy fell into step beside her, her voice light and teasing. "Lyra, you've been awfully quiet lately. I haven't seen you around much. Are you keeping secrets from us?"

Lyra raised an eyebrow, her expression guarded. "What are you getting at, Pansy?"

Pansy's grin widened. "I'm just curious about who you like. You know, girls our age must have someone that they are interested in. Spill the beans!"

The question caught Lyra off guard. She blinked, her mind racing as she tried to process the unexpected query. Her thoughts involuntarily flickered to Harry Potter, who had been at the center of many recent events. Harry, with his disarming honesty and unexpected kindness—qualities that had both intrigued and confused her. Harry who still hurt her feelings. But before she could entertain the thought further, she shook her head, forcing herself to focus.

"I like no one," Lyra said firmly, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. "I'm too busy with other things to worry about boys."

Pansy pouted, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. "Oh, come on. There must be someone!"

Lyra merely shrugged and changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the unexpected feelings that had surfaced. The truth was, Harry Potter had begun to occupy a space in her thoughts after what Blaise had said but that was something she wasn't ready to confront. Her mind was still grappling with the events of the past weeks and the complex emotions that came with them.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned a deep shade of indigo. The school had been abuzz with news about the Chamber of Secrets, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of lingering unease despite the resolution of the mystery.

The students were eager to wrap up the tumultuous year, and the mood was one of cautious optimism. Lyra sat with her housemates, her thoughts drifting as she watched the joyful interactions around her.

A loud cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table, drawing Lyra's attention. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were laughing, their faces lit up with genuine happiness. For a moment, Lyra felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name—a mixture of admiration and something more personal that she had been trying to suppress.

As the night wore on and the students began to disperse, Lyra couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. The events of the year had brought new perspectives and unexpected alliances, and while the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry remained, there was a glimmer of understanding that hadn't been there before.

Lately, whenever Harry looked at her, no harsh words were exchanged except the occasional weird ones. Ron Weasley was still the same, but Lyra was always quick to shut him down. Her and Hermione had become wonderful accomplices- though secretly.

Lyra sighed as she made her way to her dormitory, the echoes of the year's events swirling in her mind. Despite her best efforts to remain indifferent, the image of Harry Potter lingered in her thoughts, refusing to leave her mind.

She only hoped that third year would be different.