Chapter Text
"Is that all you’re going to eat?”
Aunt Narcissa raises an eyebrow at me over the rim of her teacup. I glance down at the half-eaten grapefruit in my hand and the untouched plate of food in front of me.
“I don’t have much of an appetite this morning. You know, with starting a new school and everything,” I reply, hoping to play it off as nerves.
“You never have an appetite,” Draco says from across the table. He looks smug as I glare at him. His smirk fades as I kick him in the shin.
“Children!” my aunt scolds. She sets her teacup down with a faint clink. Turning back to me, she says, “You need to eat more. Remember what Doctor Clark said? Your calorie intake isn’t nearly half the amount you need to gain weight.”
I bristle at this, even though this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. “My weight is fine.”
“We can’t have her getting too fat, anyway, Narcissa,” Uncle Lucius pipes up from the head of the table. “Boys like their girls on the skinnier side these days.”
Aunt Narcissa scowls and twists her napkin in her hands. “I’m just concerned, that's all. Surely you don’t want to go back to St. Mungo’s, Lyra?”
“You act like I’m starving myself. Dancers need to be thin, remember? I’m perfectly healthy.” I shove the rest of the grapefruit in my mouth so maybe they’ll all stop pestering me.
“But Doctor Clark said you might not be able to dance again for quite some time, if ever,” my aunt reminds me. “It doesn’t do well to dwell on the past.”
“If it doesn’t do any good to hold onto the past, then maybe Uncle should consider a new career path,” I roll my eyes.
Draco and his mother freeze. I internally cringe, wishing I’d held my tongue.
“You speak boldly for someone who does not contribute to this household,” Uncle Lucius says slowly. “Need I remind you it was I who agreed to take you in when your mother was sent to prison?”
“I – no, sir.” I keep my eyes on the plate in front of me.
“And wasn’t it I who funded your schooling in France and I who indulged in your dream of becoming a dancer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And wasn’t it I who paid for your medical bills this spring?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you think I deserve thank you for all the charity I’ve given you?”
I grit my teeth and nod my head. “Yes, sir.”
Uncle Lucius slams his fist on the table, causing the china to rattle. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M SPEAKING TO YOU!”
It’s all I can do to keep a neutral expression as I raise my gaze to meet my uncle’s eyes. “Thank you, Uncle, for all the charity you’ve given me.”
“That’s more like it.” Uncle Lucius visibly relaxes. He goes back to reading his newspaper, a grainy photo of a skull in the sky flashing on the front page. “You may be dismissed.”
I waste no time in setting aside my napkin and rising from my seat. The chair scrapes harshly against the tile floor as I push away from the table. My family is silent as I leave the dining room.
Still, I get no respite even as I go upstairs to my room.
The portraits of past relatives watch as I stalk down the hall to my room. And I don't mean that in a metaphorical, paranoid way. My ancestors' paintings actually nod or murmur to me as I pass by; they’re bewitched.
My mother's portrait is the last one hanging before I reach my room. I'm still not sure why she has a picture in my uncle's house; Mother was from the house of Black but my uncle is a Malfoy. Maybe Aunt Narcissa just missed seeing her sister. Maybe the portrait was created to torment me. You never can tell in this family.
"What day is it?” " Mother barks at me, not bothering with simple pleasantries. I wonder if she knows her wand is sticking through her wild mass of curls.
“Uh, Wednesday?” I ask, confused. How much can a painted figure truly understand the concept of time?
“The date, girl, the date!” Mother scowls. Not for the first time, I’m glad the real version is locked up in Azkaban.
“September first.”
Mother’s eyes widen in surprise, eyebrows arching sharply. “Dark things are coming, girl! You best be prepared for the worst this year!”
I roll my eyes and open my bedroom door. How typical of Mother to be in a conspiracy theorist mood. “Goodbye, Mother.”
“Don’t forget your heritage, Lyra Lestrange!”
I don’t bother with an answer as I close my door behind me.
I turn my attention to my truck, which lays open on my bed, clothes spilling over the edges. I double-check my textbooks are somewhere among the heap, and then I pile a few extra pairs of tights on top.
I survey my closet one last time. Only a few things remain inside, like last year's winter boots and my leotards.
Just seeing my old dancing clothes sends me spiraling into memories.
First came the sky blue leotards I wore to practice. Then the purple one with the attached skirt for when I landed the Sugar Plum Faerie's understudy. My fingers run over the cotton material, remembering how it felt to wear them day after day as I poured my heart into dancing. They used to be my second skin. Now I feel raw and exposed.
Finally, my hand brushes the black leotard. The one I'd worn when it all went wrong. I grimace and pull away. It doesn't do well to dwell on the past. My aunt's voice echoes in my head as I slam the doors to my wardrobe shut.
Uncle Lucius calls me downstairs a moment later. I latch shut my overstuffed trunk and hurry downstairs to join my relatives.
The Malfoys are dressed as if headed to a dinner party. Uncle wears a freshly ironed suit, Aunt Narcissa has pulled her pearl necklace from somewhere, and they've even wrangled Draco into a tie.
“You’re certainly showing a lot of Slytherin pride for someone who hasn’t been Sorted yet,” Draco grins as we walk outside.
“As if there’s any doubt whether I’ll carry on the family legacy,” I chuckle, smoothing down my green plaid skirt.
Aunt Narcissa herds Draco and me over to one of the cars waiting in the pebble driveway. My cousin looks less than pleased to have to sit between me and his stupid bird's cage. I threaten to shove him inside his trunk if he wants something to complain about, and he scowls.
It takes over an hour to drive to the Kings Cross station in London. A full hour of staring out the window as rain rolls down the windows and Draco pesters me for girl advice.
"I'm just saying, girls like grand gestures," I tell my cousin.
If Draco is going to disrupt the blissful silence, I guess I might as well help him with his problems. However, it’s hard to give decent advice when all he’ll tell me is that the girl isn’t in his House and that she’s super smart.
"Grand gestures," Draco repeats. "Like… like flowers?"
I nod. "That's a start. But, I'm talking grander than that. Have you told her your feelings yet?"
Draco blushes and goes quiet. I take that as a no. Poor kid, he’s hopeless.
"Well you should do that soon. Otherwise, what's to stop this girl from falling for someone else? Someone who makes his intentions clear."
Draco sighs and nods. "Fair point…. Thanks."
"Who is this girl?" I ask, curious. He's prattled on about this crush of his for nearly forty-five minutes. This is the most he'd spoken to me all week, and I still haven’t caught the girl's name.
"Her name's —"
Whatever he was about to say is cut off by his owl screeching as our cab driver slams on the brakes. I fly forward and would've hit my nose on the back of the driver's seat if not for my seatbelt. The driver shoots into a nearby parking space. Clearly someone had magicked their way into passing their driver's exam.
Draco and I tumble out of the car on unsteady legs. I pull my skirt down and fluff it out. Draco tugs at his tie before grabbing his bird cage from the backseat.
My aunt and uncle lead the way into Kings Cross. Groups of people stream in and out of the building and up and down the whitewashed stairway. I square my shoulders and raise my chin so people will think twice about trampling me.
"I assume you two are old enough to find the platform for yourselves?" Uncle asks us. His cold gaze stays steadily on me.
I have no idea where the Hogwarts Express is, but I’m certainly not about to ask my uncle. Surely Draco knows, considering how many times he's boarded it over the years.
"Of course, Uncle," I lie. The sooner I get away from him and my aunt and their hovering, the better. My aunt means well, but Uncle Lucius….
Aunt Narcissa practically has to be dragged off Draco as we try to leave. With the way she carries on, you'd think my cousin is going off to war. My uncle's version of goodbye is just a curt nod, but my aunt pulls me into a hug almost as bone-shattering as the one Draco received.
"This way," Draco tells me once we leave his parents behind. He hurries up the steps of the station, only pausing to hold the door open for me. I grip the handle of my trunk and hurry after him.
Draco's blond head is my beacon through the night as I weave through the crowded train station. However, the annoying brat disappears somewhere around platforms nine and ten. I pause by one of the building's brick columns to see if I can spot him again.
A minute or two pass. My palms begin sweating. Where is Draco? Which train am I supposed to get on? What should I do now?
Two teenage girls happen to choose this moment to walk by.
"Remind me again how we get to Hogwarts?" a darker-skinned girl asks her blonde friend.
"We just have to find platform 9¾," the second girl replies.
I watch as the pair approaches a brick barrier that runs between platforms 9 and 10. Both girls have trunks with them, and the blonde has an owl. One girl listens as the other gestures wildly at the brick wall.
Obviously, these two are my tickets aboard the train. I put on the friendliest smile I can muster and walk up to them.
"Hello! Did I hear you mention Hogwarts?"
If her knowledge of Hogwarts isn’t a giveaway that she's a witch, the blonde's attire surely is. She wears a necklace of soda caps, and there’s daisies woven into her pale hair. Plus, her blue shirt is inside out. Actually, maybe she isn't a witch. Maybe she’s just crazy.
"Yes, are you new, too?" Blondie smiles cheerfully, showing off her dimples.
I nod and stick my hand out to the girls. "I'm Lyra."
Blondie's companion eyes my hand but doesn’t shake it. Her face remains neutral, but there’s a sharpness in her eyes that makes me feel defensive.
"I'm Luna," Blondie says, oblivious to her companion's cold demeanor, “and this is Mayah. She's new, too."
"Nice to meet you both," I reply. I remember my manners, even if Mayah doesn't.
Luna nods, still smiling. "Shall we enter the platform?" She gestures to the brick pillar beside us.
I arch an eyebrow. What does she mean by that? There are only bricks where she gestured to. Luna is starting to reinforce my theory about her being crazy.
"I see you're a non-believer like Mayah is," Luna sighs. She puts her hands on her hips. "Are parents just dumping their kids off without explaining how this works?" When Mayah and I don't reply, Luna shakes her head and sighs again. "What can I say to make you guys believe me?"
Mayah finally speaks. "I just don't understand the practicality behind it all." Surprisingly, she has an American accent.
I’m inclined to agree with her. Who makes a brick wall into a platform entrance? And how were new students, or even Muggleborns, supposed to know where to go?
"It's not supposed to be practical; it's supposed to be inconspicuous," Luna argues. She puts her hand on the bricks and pushes. I have to blink a few times when I see her hand disappear up to her wrist.
"See?" Luna says. "Completely safe."
Mayah still looks unsure. "Sure…."
Even though the idea of walking through a brick wall feels completely outlandish, not to mention dangerous, I’m tired of standing around. If we don’t hurry, the train might leave us behind. Something told me that my uncle won't be pleased if he has to personally take me to Hogwarts.
"Shall I go first then?" I offer. Rule number one: never show fear. Not even when you're afraid of getting stuck halfway through a wall and making a fool of yourself.
Mayah waves her hand through the air in a "go ahead" gesture.
I take a deep breath and push against the brick wall. The wall wavers as if it’s an optical illusion, and it’s so off-putting that I nearly lose hold of my trunk on my way through. I exhale heavily upon finding myself on the other side of the wall.
"Thank God!" I sigh with relief.
"The name's Erica, actually."
I forget how to breathe again as I whirl towards the source of the voice. A tall, redheaded girl around my age stands nearby. She doesn't bother hiding her grin as my face goes warm.
"I – I didn't see you there," I stammer like an idiot. I draw myself up to my full height and tell myself to get a grip. "You really shouldn't loiter."
"Who said I was loitering?" the girl counters. "Maybe I just passed through the wall before you."
"I would've seen you, as I was standing on the other side of that wall for quite a moment."
"And you told me to stop loitering?"
Damn, beaten at my own game.
"Okay, fair," I concede.
"What's your name?" the girl asks me.
"I'm Lyra Le– "
I’m cut off by Luna and Mayah finally coming through the wall behind me. Seeing as I hadn't moved from my entry point, the two girls plow into my back. I stumble and bump into the redheaded girl.
"Jeez, you could've at least moved," Mayah grumbles. I resist the urge to pinch her. She grabs her trunk and marches towards the train.
"Oh, good, you waited for us," Luna says, turning to me. "Sorry for running into you." She then glances between me and the girl I'd been talking to. "I see you've met Erica! Erica Weasley, this is Lyra…uh, I'm afraid I didn't catch your last name?"
"Lyra Lestrange," I reply.
The smile that had been on Erica's face vanishes within seconds. "Lestrange?" She repeats. "As in Bella—"
"Freddy, stop flirting with those girls, and get on the train!" a voice shouts. We all look up to see a boy’s face nearly identical to Erica’s sticking out of an open window on the train.
Erica waves at her twin before turning back to Luna and me. "I'll see you two around school," she says, nodding politely. Then she hurries off in lumbering strides to board the train.
Luna and I haul our trunks aboard the Hogwarts Express at long last. The corridor is mainly empty now, as most people have already found a compartment. I briefly consider finding Draco, if only to sit with someone I know, but I quickly dismiss the idea. Only social rejects hang out with their younger cousins.
"Do you mind sitting with Mayah?" Luna asks, seeming to read my mind. She tilts her head down the hall, towards where Mayah is shoving her trunk into a compartment.
"I thought she was your friend," I say, sounding more harsh than I mean to. It's not that I'm against sitting with Mayah. I just don't know her. And she keeps giving me death glares.
Luna shakes her head. "Oh, no. I just found her on the way to the platform. I'm supposed to meet with my friend, actually. But, since you and Mayah are both new to Hogwarts, I thought maybe you two would have something in common?"
Of course Luna is abandoning me for her friend and leaving me with a girl neither of us know.
"Fine, I'll sit with her," I sigh. At least we don't necessarily have to talk to each other.
Luna smiles cheerfully. "Thanks!" She grabs her trunk and tugs it down the corridor. "See you around!"
Wondering how I got myself into this mess, I haul my trunk in the opposite direction. Why had Draco left in such a hurry? And why did I pack so many shoes? This whole situation is ridiculous.
The train is pulling out of the station by the time I find Mayah's compartment. Grasping the handle, I slide the door open and step inside. Then I pull out my wand and levitate my trunk up to the overhead rack, because I'm not about to lift that thing over my head with my hands.
Mayah starts screaming just when I go to sit down. I shoot back to my feet and wave my wand around. Surely she doesn't dislike me that much.
"WHAT IS THAT?!" Mayah screeches. I follow her outstretched finger to somewhere over my shoulder. Looking up, I realize she's pointing near where I'd put my trunk.
My trunk moves slightly. Stepping closer, I realize something is behind it. I jam my wand into the space behind my trunk and the wall. "Expelliarmus!"
There's a muffled cry, and then something black and lumpy comes crashing down from the luggage rack. It falls to the floor in a heap with a groan. Mayah draws her legs up onto her seat and looks at the creature with wide eyes. I step closer and nudge it with the toe of my boot.
"Ow!"
Upon further inspection, I realize the creature is really a boy wrapped in a huge cloak. He has chocolate brown hair and a dark tan.
"What the hell were you doing?" Mayah asks, rising from her seat. Her fists are balled at her sides, and she has that sharp look in her eyes again.
"I was — um — " the boy stammers.
"Well?" I ask. His brown eyes are wide as he stares up at me, still laying on his back on the floor.
"I was hiding from some guys," the boy says sheepishly. Like Mayah, he has an American accent, though his voice has more of a drawl than hers. "They were chasing me, so I ducked in here."
Mayah sighs and brushes past me to extend a hand to the boy. He accepts and lets her pull him to his feet. "What's your name?"
"Ezra White,” he says as he re-ties the flannel wrapped around his waist. There’s something familiar in his dimpled smile and tilt of his head.
"Ezra White?” I repeat.
“My friends call me Ez.”
“What school are you from?”
“Why?”
“Just answer the question.”
Ezra’s eyebrows furrow as he stares at me. “Ilvermorny,” he says slowly. “That’s in America.
“I know where Ilvermorny is,” I roll my eyes. “You’re the kid who made his Babbling Baboon potion explode during the first year.”
“Wait, how did you know about that?” Ezra asks. He casts a nervous glance towards the compartment’s open doorway. “Do you guys have access to my student file?”
Mayah laughs. “Of course not."
I slip my wand back in my sweater sleeve and cross my arms. "I briefly attended Ilvermorny," I explain. Cutting my eyes at Ezra, I add, "You're the reason Professor Tipton wouldn't let us make Potions by ourselves."
Ezra has the decency to look embarrassed. "I didn't mean to spill the Babbling potion everywhere. But I stood up and my elbow caught it, and —"
"And it got all over me!" I glare. "I was babbling for a week ! My roommates ignored me until the spell wore off."
"That's… unfortunate," Mayah says, though it looks like she's fighting a smile.
"Is that why you left?" Ezra asks.
I shake my head and throw myself down onto one of the compartment's benches. "No. I left to go to Beauxbatons.”
“Where’s Beauxbatons?” Mayah asks, sounding interested. She sits down on the bench across from mine.
Ezra sits down next to me. I give him a sideways glance as a warning not to sit so close, and thankfully he scoots closer to the door. “It’s in France,” he explains to Mayah.
“Do you speak French then?” Mayah asks me.
“ Oui, mieux qu'un idiot américain.”
“Je ne suis pas aussi bête que tu le penses.”
My eyes widen at Mayah’s nearly flawless French. You can barely even hear her American accent.
“My apologies,” I say sheepishly.
She smirks. “Never underestimate an American.”
“Oh, that’s true, especially in the South,” Ezra nods. “One time, my cousin Zach, he–”
But we’re spared from whatever story Ezra is about to tell us, because the door to our compartment slides open.
“Do you mind if I sit with you all?”
The three of us turn to find another boy standing in the doorway. He has messy hair and a rather beat-up looking trunk, and there’s a strange air to him that I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Who are you?” I ask, since the other two remain silent.
“Nicholas Rosier,” the boy replies. He steps further into our compartment and extends a hand. His handshake is firm, and his hands are calloused unlike most boys our age.
“I’m Lyra.”
Mayah moves closer to the window and blushes faintly as she looks at Nicholas. “There’s room by me.”
Nicholas lifts his trunk into the rack above the bench before sitting next to her. “Thanks.”
“Do you go to Hogwarts?” I ask the boy. Luna is the only one, aside from Draco, whom I’ve met so far that actually attends Hogwarts.
“No, I was… homeschooled,” Nicholas says slowly. Something tells me there’s more to his story than just that, but I don’t care enough to pry.
“So was I,” Mayah says, looking happy to share something with the newcomer. This is the most thrilled I’ve seen her since we’ve met. She smiles and turns away from the window.
“Yeah, well, I was kicked out of my last school,” Ezra says suddenly. He’s no longer slouching and has his eyes locked on Nicholas.
Nicholas blinks like he’s confused about what's happening. I don’t blame him. Ezra is as threatening as a fly; I’m not sure where this male posturing is coming from.
“Oh, really? What for?” Nicholas’s mouth lifts in the corner like he’s biting back a grin.
“Catching the Potions classroom on fire.”
“Arson? Impressive.”
Mayah and I share a wide-eyed glance. Just what kind of troublemakers have we managed to find ourselves sitting with?
Ezra hesitates and then looks down at the floor. “It was an accident, really.”
Nicholas raises an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Well, I was mixing chemicals to make a potion, but I miscalculated the amount of phoenix feathers I needed, and,” Ezra sighs, “it exploded.”
“Bloody hell,” Nicholas lets out a low whistle. “What’s your name?”
“Ezra White. Ez.”
“Well, Ez, remind me not to partner with you in Potions.”
“I wouldn’t partner with me in Divination either; I’m shit at that, too.”
And as we all laugh, I think maybe these kids aren’t so bad after all.