At breakfast the following morning, the Gryffindor table is alive with excitment and pride because Harry Potter tied for first place in the first task.

"I'm so proud of you!" Lyra sits down next to Harry and hugs him happily.

He laughs. "I know. You've told me four times now."

"Well, you came in first place at fifteen years old." She smiles. "It's pretty special."

"Thanks to you." Harry smiles back.

"I'm amazing, I'm aware." Lyra shrugs, pouring herself a cup of tea and Harry laughs. After adding her desired amount of sugar, she starts reading a chapter in her Transfiguration textbook, munching on a slice of buttered toast too.

She's distrurbed and startled when Hermione plops down next to her with a frustrated huff.

"Look at this! l can't believe it! She's done it again." Hermione reads off the Daily Prophet. "Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report is none other than the Bulgarian bonbon, Viktor Krum. No word yet on how Harry Potter's taking this latest emotional blow."

Lyra stares at her. "Context, Mione."

"Ugh!" She shows Lyra the front page - a heart with Harry and Hermione embracing in the middle of it. "I went into the champions tent yesterday to see Harry and that vile woman took a picture and compelety exploited it. Krum just stood up for us. Now she's written it to seem like Harry and Krum are my targets. As if I'm a man-"

"Woah." Wren comes up behind them and Hermione flips the newspaper over quickly, the Slytherin missing it. "What's got you so worked up?"

"Nothing." Hermione smiles slightly at her. "Do you want to eat with us?"

"Yeah, kinda why I came here." Wren smiles down at her.

"Oh, look, Mum's sent me something." Ron exclaims, unpackaging a box. He frowns at it's content. "Mum sent me a dress."

"Well, it does match your eyes. ls there a bonnet?" Harry jokes, searching the box.

Lyra gets up to get a look at the dress and she winces. Not only is it not a dress but it looks like it's from the 1800s.

Ron ignores her and turns to his sister. "Ginny, these must be for you."

The ginger grimaces. "l'm not wearing that, it's ghastly."

The girls laugh, making Ron annoyed. "What are you on about?" He asks.

"They're not for Ginny. They're for you." Hermione tells him, amused at how clueless Ron is.

"Come off it. I don't wear dresses." Ron scoffs.

"They're dress robes, Ron." Lyra says.

"Dress robes? For what?"

"Don't know. Maybe it's your mum telling you she wants another daughter. Time to make the switch, Ronella." Wren smirks at him.

Harry bursts out laughing, pulling the last straw for Ron as he storms out of the hall with a pout.

"But seriously." Wren points her fork at the doors Ron just walked through. "What are they for?"

Lyra shrugs, pretending to be disinterested and goes back to reading. She knows exactly why Mrs.Weasley sent Ron formal dress robes after the first task. She read about it after all. But Lyra chooses to let her friends be suprised.

After finishing her breakfast, Lyra notices that her Potions book is not in her bag like she thought it was. Potions is second period and there's no time in between classes but, fortunately, there's still 30 minutes until her first class.

"Where are you going?" Neville frowns as his best friends stands up.

"I forgot a book in my dorm. I'll see you in Transfiguration." Lyra kisses the top of his head before speed walking out the hall.

Despite knowing she has enough time, Lyra anxiously glances at her watch and picks up her pace up the stairs - which is a huge mistake as she struggles to breath once she reaches the top.

"Out of breath?" Elizabeth, the lady in the portrait protecting Gryffindor Tower, muses as she looks down an Lyra.

"No, actually, I'm breathing heavily because I have plenty." Lyra sarcatically replies, rolling her eyes and letting out a heavy huff.

"Password, Snarky?"

"Balderdash."

Lyra rushes up to her dorm to find Silas sleeping on her potions book she tossed on her bed this morning.

"As adorable as you are, sweety, I can't be late to class." Lyra whispers and gently lifts Silas, grabbing her book. Silas just stares back at her, making the girl smile before rushing downstairs again.

She checks her watch to see she has 8 minutes to get to Transfigiration and she releases a relieved sigh. Lyra hates being late so seeing as she'll get to class on time gives her a pep in her step.

Lyra strolls past the courtyard, fingers touching the stone pillars as she walks. Something catches her eye by the willow tree, causing her to slow her walk and observe. What she sees makes her curious.

Nott is sitting on the bench under the branches of the tree. He stares off into space and from her place a few metres away, Lyra can see the troubled expression on his face.

She stays standing there for a few seconds, thinking what could be wrong, before shaking her head and continuing on her walk to class.

It's is not her business, anyway

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests and gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward."

Proffessor McGonnagal says, looking around the room full of her house students. To her right, is the Gryffindor girls, and to her left, is the boys. She stands in the centre of the room with Argus Filch standing at the doors, a gorgeous but ancient gramophone on a table next to him.

"And l mean this literally, because the Yule Ball is, first and foremost...a dance."

As expected, the girls side erupts in chatter and smiles, the excitment of their first ever dance at school evident. The boys groan and slouch, knowing they're expexcted to dress formally and dance.

"That's a first." Hermione says, sitting next to Lyra. She looks at the blonde's calm expression. "You knew about the ball, didn't you? And didn't tell me!" She shakes her head.

"I geuninely thought you knew too!" Lyra protests and hugs Hermione's arm.

"Whatever." Hermione rolls her eyes playfully. "You're going, right?"

"Well, I've never been to a ball before so yes. For the once-in-a-lifetime experience." She grins.

"Silence!" Proffessor McGonnagal sharply exclaims. "The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly 10 centuries. l will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons!" She scolds.

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. lnside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight. lnside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance. Mr. Weasley."

Everyone's eyes zero in on Ron, who is slouching next to Seamus and Harry. The boy goes red in the face.

"Yes?"

"Will you join me, please?"

It was not a request.

Ron awkwardly stands up and shuffles towards the older woman, her hand beckoning him to walking faster. Lyra and Hermione share a look, both trying not to laugh.

"Now, place your right hand on my waist."

"W-where?" Ron stutters, flustered from all the teasing looks he's recieving and shocked at where he must touch his teacher.

"My waist. And extend your arm. Mr. Filch, if you please. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Everybody come together. Boys, on your feet!"

The girls quickly stand up, Lyra hesitating to because she'd prefer to watch then try dance. She's not a dancer. Terrible at it. But she sees Neville make his way towards her with a smile and knows dancing is something her best friend wants to do. So she sucks up her dread and allows Neville to put his hand on her waist and her own hand on his shoulder.

"Is this okay?" He asks sweetly. It didn't matter that they use to take baths together as children - he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

Lyra smiles at him, adoring his manners. "Yes, Nev, thanks for asking. Bit of a warning, I have no idea how to dance." She grimaces, looking around at the other partners dancing quite well.

"I'll guide you. Don't worry."

She stepped on all ten of the poor boy's toes for the rest of the class.