190Harry's First Year, Part 2
Albus pretended he didn't know there weren't five students just around the corner of the corridor he walked. Plenty of students snuck out after curfew and he wouldn't begrudge them a moment of fun. But then they stepped out in front of him, all five of them, staring him down like gunmen in a western movie.
"Good evening," he said, smiling. "How may I help you five?"
"We challenge you to a duel, Headmaster Dumbledore," said James Stark.
"Oh?" said Albus. It seemed they weren't hiding from him at all. "Shall we step outside into the snow again? I did enjoy our last magical snow battle, I admit."
"No snow," said Lyra Malfoy seriously, taking out her wand, white wood with veins of gold running across it. "It's nothing personal, Headmaster — just business."
Albus hummed. Lyra Malfoy was one of the more entertaining students in Hogwarts these days, up there with Fred and George Weasley, who were two of the five. She was quite the breath of fresh air when it came to Malfoys. He was still a bit mystified with her.
"And I suppose I cannot convince you to simply let me pass?" he said eventually.
"There's no walking out of this, Headmaster," said James. "If you don't knock us down several dozen pegs, we'll get cocky in our youthful exuberance and personally challenge Lord Voldemort to a duel."
Albus raised his eyebrows and stroked his beard. "Indeed?"
"But we would like you not to hold back, if possible," said Cedric. "James said that we should understand just how powerful V-Voldemort was, back in his prime, so that we understand the danger if he ever comes back."
"That's their reasoning," said Lyra, her chin high and eyes cold. "Personally, I need to know what it takes to defeat you for when I declare myself the Witch-Queen and take over the galaxy."
"And there," said Albus, "you have made your first mistake. Why would I now give you any idea of what I can do?"
A curious look of amusement flickered in Lyra's eyes, as if she thought she had gotten one up on him. He found that amusing.
"She's just that cocky," said James, sounding hollow. "Please put her in her place."
"Very well, children," Albus said, drawing the Elder Wand. "If you'd draw your wands."
"We're so buggered," muttered Fred Weasley.
"We're here to learn just how buggered we are," said George.
As one, the students went to grab their wands, only to find none. Even Lyra seemed unable to find the wand in her own hand.
"What the —?" said Cedric, checking all of his pockets. He patted over right where his wand lay, but the Confundus Charm he had set over them all did its work and none of their minds registered their own wands.
Albus waited a heartbeat, and then he casually flicked his wand in their direction. The students suddenly found themselves immobilized, everything frozen save their eyes. James and Lyra, he was pleased to see, were in the process of diving to the side, in a vain attempt to get away from his line of attack. But they would need to be miles away to be safe from him — and even then, only for a moment.
"Now —"
Albus was mildly surprised by the weak banishing charm sent at his feet, though he didn't even need his wand to dissipate the magic. He turned to James Stark, whose fingers were flexing at a glacial pace, so slow one could barely even tell they were moving.
"Ah, wandless magic," Albus said. "The youth never fail to impress, do they?"
Nobody replied; not that they could.
He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. The best students of their year were the members of this very group. Though they were all below average in homework, with the exception of Cedric, they were all exceptional in both theoretical understanding and practical displays of magic — particularly James and Lyra. The two vaguely reminded him of James Potter and Sirius Black; frighteningly talented but holding little regard for schoolwork or rules. Though he dared say the two Ravenclaws showed more promise than even those two.
But not so much as to be a challenge to him.
"Voldemort, I daresay, was more powerful than I am," he said finally. "And consider how little I needed to do to subdue all of you."
While expressions of worry and disquiet greeted him, he noted that Lyra appeared more unsettled by him than the thought of Voldemort. He wondered if she still held a seed of doubt for him, planted there likely by her parents.
"Grown witches and wizards have lasted scant moments against him," Albus said solemnly. "Shopkeep or Auror, it made barely a difference. I would advise all of you against challenging him, should he ever return."
They all stumbled as they were released from Albus's body-bind. They found that their wands had inexplicably been returned to their pockets. Lyra blinked down at hers in her hand. The other four glanced at each other, then at Albus. Despite himself, he was pleased to see some newfound respect in their expressions.
As far as most of the school knew, Albus was an old, barmy figure — he would know, he had cultivated that image himself. To see these five students, all of them bright and gifted, look up to him was something he would not get tired of.
"Would you…" James Stark began, though he did not finish his sentence, considering whether or not to say the next words in his mind.
"Help is always available at Hogwarts," Albus said, "to those who ask for it."
James Stark sucked in a breath and pulled on an air of confidence. "Will you teach us how to fight?"
Albus considered this request, even as Cedric, Fred, and George stepped up beside him, evidently interested in the same thing. It was a strange thing to realize that no other students had asked for something like this before. Most did not approach him for his supposed power and prestige, despite his intentional appearances to the contrary; some did not approach, correctly assuming that Albus was incredibly busy, not wishing to burden their headmaster.
"I understand you're busy," James said. "So I won't ask for much. Tell us what to do, so that we might last a little longer against you in a year's time."
"Unlimited Restricted Section passes?" Fred said with an attempt at a winning smile.
"No detentions?" George said hopefully. "So that we can, uh, spend more time bettering ourselves."
"If you spent more time bettering yourself, Mr. Weasley," said Albus, "you wouldn't be in detention so often."
Cedric turned to Lyra as the twins both faked expressions of embarrassment.
"You're pretty good at dueling — among us, anyway," he said. "How did you learn? Whatever learning method you used, can we do that in Hogwarts?"
Lyra shrugged. "Mum used to duel. She taught me some elegant form of it after I bullied her into it."
"Our mum never taught us to duel," Fred grumbled.
"It's so she keeps winning," George said. "It's the only way she can keep us in check at this point."
"Headmaster," said James, interrupting the conversation. "I know there are some names that float around, respected and even a little feared by most. Bartemius Crouch. Bellatrix Lestrange. Alastor Moody. And, of course, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Lyra rolled her eyes so hard it likely hurt a little, but James ignored her. "We might never reach your level. But if that's the case, it won't be because of a lack of effort on our part."
"I'm afraid I am indeed quite busy, as you say," Albus said. "But I can give you a tip. Magical law enforcement around the world — including our Aurors — prioritize a small but well-rehearsed repertoire of combat spells. Don't try to learn hundreds of spells; instead, master ten."
With this, Albus retreated from their sight, though not before sticking an eavesdropping charm on the hem of Cedric's robes. He was quite interested to hear what they might come up with in response to his words.
"Useless," said Lyra as soon as he turned the corner. "I've already done that."
Cedric sighed. "It's a bit unfair, coming from the headmaster. He's advanced far enough that the entire field of Transfiguration might as well be a single spell for him, while we have to learn separate incantations and motions for different spells."
"Speak for yourself."
"What spells have you mastered, Lyra?" said Fred, asking Albus's own question too. "Not stuff like Reparo, but duelling spells."
"Truly mastered?" said Lyra. "Well, none, really. I'm still always improving on my best, but my best would be... Shield Charm, Banishing Charm, Summoning Charm, the Stunner, and the Cheering Charm, which I cast on myself liberally."
"I — is that why you're always so happy?" said George in wonder.
"I don't think that's a duelling spell either," said Fred.
"I'm still working on some others to get them up there," said Lyra, ignoring them. "The Disillusionment Charm and Patronus Charm are both still giving me trouble."
George whistled. "That's N.E.W.T. stuff right there."
"You'd be right there with me if you began studying magic before you could walk," said Lyra.
"Mate, that's impossible," said Cedric.
"Nah, I remember Mum telling us about how Dad got in trouble for slapping Lucius Malfoy in the face with a stack of paperwork because he wouldn't stop bragging about his daughter," said Fred. "Well, bragging more than usual, that is."
"Really," said Lyra, voicing Albus' thoughts. "I'll have to make fun of him for that."
"Please do," said George.
"I can't seem to really master any decent spells though," said Lyra. "And I mean mastering them so their use becomes very versatile, you know? Like, my Patronus is barely corporeal and I can't seem to get it to send messages like I want."
"Hm," said Albus out loud. Curious that she was already experimenting with magic already to craft unconventional uses for spells; and it was greatly interesting that she wished to use the Patronus Charm in a way he already knew to. She and James would surely become some of the best students Hogwarts has seen.
"And my Disillusionment Charm only works well enough when I'm still," Lyra continued. "James can't get it either. And Legilimency is just a bitch. So is the Confundus Charm. The human mind doesn't make any damn sense."
"Quite impressive," said Albus to himself as he finally made it to his office's entrance.
"You two don't do things simple, do you?" said Fred, presumably to both Lyra and James. "Any other amazing magic you want to master?"
"Obliviation," said Lyra. "And every other mind magic."
"Animagus," said James. "Or flight without a broom. Fuck brooms."
"Fidelius Charm," said Lyra.
"Bunch of healing spells," said James. "And —"
"All right," laughed Cedric, "we get it."
"Killing Curse," said James.
Albus cancelled the charm, feeling a mixture of amusement and resignation. He did wish James and Lyra would take things a bit more seriously, but alas, they were children. He'd have to keep an eye on them.
"She said people would think she was a Dark Lady if they knew her true thoughts!" said Harry.
Hermione had managed to restrain a sigh the three times before, but this time she indulged herself with a deep, slow exhale.
"You must have just misheard, Harry," she said. "You said yourself that you were tired then." She paused. "You realize that Lyra jokes about becoming a Dark Lady all the time, right?"
"Maybe she's not joking," Harry said seriously, and Hermione placed her face in her hands. "Maybe she pretends to joke about it to, you know, get everybody off guard. I'm not saying she's evil, but she's up to something that I think a lot of people, including Dumbledore, wouldn't like!"
"First Professor Snape, now a third year?" said Hermione, exasperated. "Really, Harry?"
"Snape is up to something!"
Hermione snapped her book shut. "I'm going to the library. Where I'll be meeting 'Dark Lady Lyra' herself." She made air-quotes around the title with her fingers. "You're welcome to come along if you want, you know. She's very helpful."
Ron and Harry looked at each other, and then Ron shrugged and said, "Sure."
Harry looked at his mate as if he had lost his mind. "You're going to go straight to them?"
"I'm pleased to see you're interested in studying for once, Ron," said Hermione. "And that you're not swayed by these conspiracy theories."
"Mate," said Ron with the air of someone who thought Harry was being rather stupid. "What's she going to do? Kill us in the library?"
Harry stood up. "Fine. I'll come with. You'll both need someone to protect you if something goes wrong."
Hermione sighed again, this time even louder.
The journey was perilous with all the books they were bringing along. At one point, Harry accidentally bumped into Ron on the Great Staircase, sending his books toppling three floors and almost landing on a poor Ravenclaw's head; something that would have undoubtedly sent the student to the Hospital Wing if they had not heard the trio's shouted warnings at the last second. It was a shame bags with Undetectable Extension Charms placed upon them were so expensive.
When Hermione stepped into the library, she relished the scent of centuries-old parchment, preserved through magic. It was her favorite section of Hogwarts. It boasted the biggest archive of magical knowledge both modern and ancient; its ceiling was only barely lower than that of the Great Hall, and bookshelves were piled high atop each other, stretching to the dark ceiling decorated with twinkling stars. The artificial life breathed into these books formed a microcosm of paper and ink, as enchanted books flapped around the higher shelves like birds, diving down to students that called for them.
It was so large, in fact, that Hermione could sometimes call out to Lyra without fear of being accosted by that foul woman Pince. She found the two Ravenclaws (and a Hufflepuff) in one of the seventeen corners of the library. Lyra had her feet kicked up on the window ledge, her chair leaning back. Hermione had to hold back a comment.
"Hermione," said James, taking out his wand to Summon extra chairs. "I see you've brought guests."
Lyra, James, and Cedric sat around a table with a neatly stacked pile of books in the center. Cedric greeted Hermione distractedly before going back to staring at his latest report while tapping his quill against his jaw. James appeared to be doodling on his potions essay. Lyra was using her wand to float balls of some sort of slime high into the air and over rows of books, only to let it go above other unseen students.
"Who keeps throwing slime?!" shouted a student from twenty feet away.
"No shouting in the library!" Pince screeched from afar.
Hermione sat down between Lyra and Cedric and Ron dropped his pile on the table with an impressive bang, prompting a few raised eyebrows from the rest of the table. Harry eventually sat down beside Cedric, opposite the table from the two Ravenclaws, and stared at them with barely concealed suspicion.
"So, how does this work?" Ron asked Hermione.
"It's mostly self-study." Hermione shrugged. "But they're willing to proofread essays and clarify points we don't understand."
Lyra scowled, seeming to vehemently disagree, but Hermione knew she'd do it if asked kindly.
And thus the table descended into companionable silence. Hermione flipped through the pages of her Transfiguration textbook, taking notes of important points in preparation for the essay that her class would be assigned tomorrow in the morning. Ron seemed a bit lost on where to start, considering how much material he'd brought.
"Whatever," James muttered, putting his Potions essay aside. As Hermione had discovered, James had been honing his artistic talent with three years' worth of Potions essays and History of Magic reports. This essay had a rather horrifying tentacled eldritch planet being bombarded by Star Destroyers.
"How does this look?" Cedric asked, putting down his quill and holding up his essay on Cheering Charms. James leaned over and skimmed over the words.
"Word choice here," James said, jabbing his finger at the parchment. "And this is spelled with an S, not a C."
"Thanks," Cedric said, moving to correct his mistakes. "Though I don't know why you spend more time helping me than doing your own homework..."
James shrugged and Cedric shook his head.
"So, Lyra," Ron spoke up. "What's your favorite subject?"
Hermione's eyebrows slowly ascended her forehead as Ron's voice cracked at a most inopportune moment and his face turned beet red. Lyra Malfoy slowly turned to face Ron, and she stared for a good three seconds.
"The Dark Arts," she said seriously.
Ron gave a weak smile. "Defense Against the Dark Arts —?"
"No," said Lyra. "The Dark Arts."
Hermione felt Harry's stare without seeing it.
"Oh," said Ron. "Uh, that's — nice?"
"She also likes to torture puppies and kittens in her spare time," James said helpfully.
Lyra's face twisted. "I would never," she said. "I'd only ever torture people — particularly redheads."
Ron's weak smile disappeared and he looked at Hermione as if in question, then at Harry as if in request of help.
"Er, Ron," said Harry quickly. "I forgot I had… Quidditch practice. And you promised to come watch, remember?"
"Right!" In his enthusiasm to get away from the Dark Lady Lyra, Ron stood up and knocked over his pile of books. He hastily gathered his material and followed Harry out of the library at a power walk. Both of them carried the distinct air of people who didn't want to appear in a hurry.
"He doesn't have Quidditch practice today," said Hermione.
"What's wrong with them?" Cedric asked.
"Harry and Ron apparently heard Lyra talk about becoming a Dark Lady in a room where that Mirror of Erised was."
James frowned and Lyra blinked hard. She seemed to have trouble with speaking for a moment, but then she let out a small laugh. James shot her a glare, then sighed.
"Yeah," she said, amused, and looked at Hermione. "Did they think I didn't know they were under that Invisibility Cloak?"
"You knew?" said Hermione, torn between amusement and disapproval.
"Hermione, I declared myself a Dark Lady to Dumbledore yesterday," said Lyra with a quick roll of her eyes.
"Professor Dumbledore —"
Lyra waved a hand. "They're free to take it to Professor Dumbledore if they want. Tell them I said that. The headmaster ought to know a thirteen-year-old witch is planning on usurping him."
Hermione giggled.
"I imagine that's exactly what they're going to do right now," James said, leaning back in his chair. "I wonder how he'll respond."
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry shouted, and the headmaster stopped walking to wait for the students to catch up. "Lyra Malfoy… We overheard her — she called herself a Dark Lady — or that you'd call her that — but she was talking about taking over the world and a bunch of other stuff —"
"And she said she was going to torture me!" said Ron.
"I think that bit was a joke," said Harry, "but she did say her favorite subject was the Dark Arts — twice."
"Is that so?" said Dumbledore, his beard twitching and eyes crinkling. Was he also not taking them seriously? "Well, then let me deal with her. I shall talk to her and sway her from her perilous path. I dare say it is time for that madwoman to learn fear."
"I —" Harry hesitated. He really couldn't tell if Dumbledore was being serious. "I don't mean she's evil, necessarily," he said weakly. "But — misguided, maybe — well, I don't know." Harry grimaced at the word vomit.
"And maybe James Stark too," said Ron, chewing his lip. "He and Lyra didn't sound like they were seeing eye to eye, so maybe he's all right…"
"Of course," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Now, off you go. I have some work to finish, and I believe you should have some too."
"So," James said idly. "Who wants to have a paper airplane race?" A flick of his wand transfigured his Charms homework into an intricately detailed model aircraft. Another twirl of his wand had it float into the air.
"The homework was on Cheering Charms," Cedric said, even as James began to cast a repertoire of charms to enchant his plane.
"Flitwick doesn't care about my homework," James said. "That's why he's my favorite teacher. And he loves seeing me show off. Besides, didn't I tell you he gave me full marks for the rest of the year after our snowman war?"
"Only a dozen times," Cedric said, while Hermione leaned forward and asked, "How did you do that?"
"Oh no," sighed Cedric.
"Well," said James, with a dramatic pause belonging to someone who'd told this story plenty of times before, "I was once frolicking in the snow one fine winter afternoon, when everyone's gone home during Christmas break, and I decided to build a snowman. Then I built lots of tiny snowmen. Then I built them a little village made of igloos, then built another village about thirty meters away, then gave them icicle-weapons and beasts of war and then I made battle. I got bored of fighting myself, though, so I called Lyra out."
"It was actually great," said Lyra. "A commander of an army in a gruesome battle without any guilt."
"Yeah, until you enchanted them to scream in agony," said Cedric.
James rubbed his hands gleefully. "And pray to God they lived before the cavalry charge hit them, or beg for their mothers as they died. Very immersive."
Hermione looked at him and Lyra in horror, wondering yet again what was wrong with them.
"Anyway," said James, "Lyra and I were warring with each other. Then Flitwick came up to us, and he began building his own fortress-city, manned by hundreds of snowmen about a foot high." He leaned forward. "And I, not jealous at all because Flitwick's castle wasn't that good-looking anyway, made a truce with Lyra and put the castle under siege. Then Flitwick created a line of snow-knights and trampled my infantry from the flank, and Lyra's shitty Roman legion ran away." He glared at Lyra.
"Please," scoffed Lyra. "Your precious pike-and-shot formation did nothing but die. I called a tactical retreat."
"Excuse me? You call that tactical?" James said indignantly. "Your troops broke formation as they ran. In fact, I'm pretty sure I heard one of your captains say 'fuck this shit, I'm out' before running off into the Forbidden Forest."
"You were hearing things," said Lyra, but it was clear from the grin on her face that she had certainly enchanted them to say such vulgar things.
"Anyway, since Lyra abandoned my rear flank, I decided to put the corpses to good use," said James. "I had the remaining snowmen use the corpses to perform an eldritch ritual, and created a snow-kraken that snagged the riders and their mounts and dragged them below the snow into their cold, icy deaths."
"And did they scream as they die?" Hermione said blandly.
"No." James gave a grim smile. "Nobody can hear you scream in the depths of hell."
"Yeah, then Flitwick made a snow-dragon that breathed literal fire down on it," said Lyra, laughing. "It was amazing."
"Little bastard," said James.
"Then I had an idea," said Lyra, sharing an excited glance with James. "As Flitwick built his dragon bigger and bigger, I created a great ship — Vingilot — and James filled it with soldiers. And cast down was the dragon, Ancalagon!"
"Actually, it destroyed your ship and killed the rest of your snowmen," said Cedric. "That's why Lyra calls Flitwick the Dark Lord."
He and Hermione both rolled their eyes.
"So we called Dumbledore to help," said James, continuing the story.
Hermione had to admit it was quite intriguing.
"And Dumbledore came," said James darkly. "And he came bearing gifts. One hundred knights on the fleetest mounts, and ten elephants encased in steel. So we accepted his gifts, none the wiser. Instead of a losing battle, we managed to squeeze a stalemate out of the Dark Lord Flitwick."
"Then, he betrayed us," Lyra said, slamming a fist on the table. "When both our forces met under a white flag and discussed an armistice, he reanimated every single corpse on the battlefield and sent them to raze both our castles. You know what he said? He said, 'I've always wanted to try being a necromancer.' That's a real quote!"
"Then he laughed," said James, his voice hollow. "As we fell to our knees and watched our homelands burn, he simply laughed. He seated himself upon a throne made of ice that doesn't melt, Sorting Hat on his brow and the Sword of Gryffindor upon his lap, and demanded we kneel before the One True Lord of Hogwarts."
Lyra made a face. "What? No he didn't."
"Yeah, he didn't say or do any of that," said Cedric.
"He still gave off that vibe," said James.
"You just don't take defeat well," said Lyra.
"Says the girl that entered the battlefield herself screaming her head off," said James.
Cedric laughed out loud. "And she lost! Against snowmen!"
"They were Dumbledore's snowmen!" snarled Lyra.
Hermione stared at them, unsure what to say. "You — you two made all that up, right?"
"Some of it," said Lyra without shame.
Hermione shook her head. "Honestly."
"Most of it happened," said Cedric. "I was watching."
"And that is how you get full marks for the rest of the year," James said. "I'm assuming that's the part you were most interested in, anyway."
Hermione blushed a little. "I'm not that bad."
James nodded in a very slow and exaggerated motion until Lyra punched him in the shoulder.
"Don't listen to him," she said. "Do whatever makes you happy."
"I am doing things that make me happy," said Hermione. "And you study ahead too."
"Not anymore," said Lyra with a look of disgust at the books near her. "Honestly, if I have to learn about one more abstract idea to better understand the conceptual effect of a spell that can only be cast with the knowledge of how half a dozen other spells work, I'll kill James and Cedric and then myself."
"Why us?" Cedric said in wonder.
"You're nearest."
"Have you ever thought about playing an instrument or something?" said James. "Or you could join our morning workouts."
"Their morning workouts," said Lyra. "I'll kill anybody who wakes me up before class to exercise."
"Dueling is fun too," said James, "or maybe that's just me since I get to routinely humble Lyra."
Lyra frowned. "Did I give you one too many concussions?"
"They can't even duel too well with their wands sharing cores," said Cedric.
"Oh, you should play Quidditch with Lyra and Cedric," said James. Hermione felt nauseated by the mere mention of the sport.
"Thank you, but no," she said. "It's okay, really. I enjoy studying, and learning about magic. It's just so fascinating."
"We know," James said. "I'm just saying. Isn't it… kind of stressful, constantly pursuing knowledge?"
Hermione made to reply about how ridiculous that sounded, that she relaxed plenty with good fiction books, but she paused. She knew the heart attack part was a joke, but it was stirring up a strange mixture of emotions. Was this… an intervention? Was Hermione Granger, the best student of her year, being intervened for?
"Leave her alone, James," said Lyra.
"I wasn't intending to be rude," James said quickly, glancing at Hermione in apology. "I'm just saying, it must get exhausting at some point."
Hermione couldn't stop her mind from wandering. She already sometimes worried that Lyra found her annoying, being the sardonic girl she was, but did James think so too? Did both of them find her annoying? Did Cedric? Were they too kind to say snide things to her face, like many other students did?
Harry and Ron had been that way. Parvati and Lavender were still that way; Faye and her friend Sophie remained dismissive of her; any prefect who wasn't Percy didn't seem to share her concerns or were too busy to deal with her problems.
Lyra rolled her eyes so hard Hermione thought they might fall out of her head.
"James, you're an asshole," she said, and then turned to Hermione. "He's just incapable of basic empathy, don't mind him."
"That's rich," said James. "Didn't you make Penelope Clearwater cry only a week ago?"
"A great point," said Lyra with a small nod. "So why would I hang out with someone I didn't like?"
"I — I don't know?" said Hermione uncertainly.
"I don't know either," said Lyra in an almost offhand manner. "So why do I think you look like you think we look like we think you're annoying?"
Hermione tried not to shrink in on herself as she shrugged weakly.
"What?" said Cedric.
"Yeah," said James, "that didn't make any —"
"It made perfect sense," said Lyra, holding up a finger to them. "And since I do let you hang around — clearly there is something special about you. Last time a first year tried to waste my time, I dangled him off the Astronomy Tower by his ankles."
"That's just Lyra's way of pretending she's not a huge softie on the inside and doesn't help every first year that asks her," said Cedric.
"Hermione," James said, slowly, consciously choosing his words as he went. "I'm wondering if there's something about your past that makes you uncomfortable with people your own age. I'm not going to downplay the negative experiences you've had, but not everything is as you think. You're a good kid, and you deserve what good there is in this world. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."
"Yeah, sure, whatever he said," said Lyra. Had it been anyone else, Hermione would've been put down by the indifference in her tone, but Lyra was just mean like that. "You're smart, your heart is in the right place, and you're a good friend — all great reasons for why I must radicalize you. And," she continued as if this was a normal comment to make, "you're much more mature than the average eleven year old. So mature, in fact, that I wouldn't be surprised if you were actually a time traveler stuck inside the body of a child. Like me and James."
"You two aren't time travellers," drawled Cedric.
"Cedric, if you don't shut up, I'm going to let you die again," said Lyra, sounding a little too serious.
"Dysentery is a poor way to go, Cedric," James said. He turned back to Hermione. "But seriously. We care about you. We promise." He drew his wand. "I swear this on my magic. So mote it be!"
Lyra punched him in the throat.