Narcissa's Wake-up Call(Malfoid)

[NonsensicalRants]

Just letting you know i'm enjoying this immensely. This Malfoid kick has got me thinking.

Does anyone remember something about Molly helping Ginny make Harry a bunch of cookies over the summer? The same Molly who's aunt used potions on a muggle to make him love her? It's been an age since i recalled that last.

Click to shrink...

Your line of reasoning was a very popular trend in character bashing fics for a very long time. If you want to continue down that theorizing there is no shortage of fics out there. But they got old for me very fast and its why I pretty much never character bash. I always try to make - even the villains - have redeeming qualities and understandable motivations/tactics.

 

[digcat]

The whole Molly and Ginny used a love potion on Harry thing is so stupid. Plus the Ron used them on Hermione nonsense.

 

[FoxGirlFan]

Your line of reasoning was a very popular trend in character bashing fics for a very long time. If you want to continue down that theorizing there is no shortage of fics out there. But they got old for me very fast and its why I pretty much never character bash. I always try to make - even the villains - have redeeming qualities and understandable motivations/tactics.

Click to shrink...

This is my first time really getting invested into the Potter Verse. My last time reading the books was 20…12? I think? And the occasional fanfic. It took me until a few weeks ago to realize that someone remarking on Harry wanting to become an auror and thus becoming a bad guy was current day politics coming from, well, Berkeley college thinkers.

 

[VividSkies]

This is great!

The additional world building details and general feeling of warmth makes this a really pleasant read so far.

Especially when it comes to Lyra's unique characterizations, making this not just a simple Draco gender swap.



Thank you for writing!

Can't wait to so how this develops!

 

[digcat]

Melfoid and the patronus

Spoiler

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View: https://x.com/Felipe__Weber/status/2110786461586886818

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 4:
​

---

Severus Snape sat behind his desk, regarding the parchment in his hands with an expression of profound suspicion. He looked at the parchment, then at his goddaughter, then at the enormous black dog sitting beside her chair.

Lyra Malfoy smiled angelically. She held her hands clasped in front of her face as if in prayer to match her pleading expression.

"He's a very good dog, Uncle Severus," she assured him. "Honestly, I've never met one so well behaved. He knows all sorts of commands, he doesn't bark at people, and he's perfectly accustomed to magic. I cleaned him up myself, and he didn't even flinch!"

Scarfoot sat perfectly still, his great shaggy tail wagging across the dungeon floor.

"And he was in such a dreadful state when I found him. Starving, filthy, and his poor paws were all cut up. I couldn't possibly leave him wandering around Hogsmeade like that, could I?"

Snape's gaze drifted toward the dog's paws, which Lyra had spent some time tending to with his own wiggenweld stock.

"Besides, there are four empty beds in our dormitory, so he won't be taking up anybody's space. And I promise I'll feed him and walk him and clean up after him. You won't have to do a thing."

He raised an eyebrow as an invitation for her to continue. She seemed to interpret it as disbelief.

She pouted and must have decided her pleading alone was insufficient.

"Scarfoot, beg!"

The enormous dog rose onto his hind legs, balancing with remarkable ease, and lifted his front paws before his chest. He made a little beckoning motion with them, as though imploring the Potions Master to take pity on a poor, unfortunate creature whose entire future depended upon his generosity.

Lyra beamed.

"See? Isn't he wonderful?"

For several seconds, Snape stared at the dog. Scarfoot stared back, his paws still raised in supplication. Then Snape looked at Lyra, whose expression suggested that refusing her request would be an act of cruelty unmatched in the history of wizardkind.

"Hm."

He picked up his quill, signed his name at the bottom of the form, and slid it across the desk.

"Oh, thank you, Uncle Severus!"

Lyra sprang from her chair, snatched up the parchment, and hurried around the desk to give her godfather a kiss on the cheek. Snape endured the affection with the air of a man who had long ago accepted that certain indignities were unavoidable.

"I promise you won't regret it!"

She turned toward the dog, who had finally lowered himself onto all fours.

"Come along, Scarfoot! You're officially a Hogwarts dog now!"

Scarfoot followed her toward the door, but paused on the threshold to look back at the man behind the desk. For a moment Snape thought the mutt winked at him, but from the side view he could only see one eye so it was probably just blinking.

Snape went back to his paperwork and ignored the continued oddity that was his goddaughter.

---

The Slytherin common room was famed for being among the most quiet and peaceful, rivaled only by the Ravenclaw private library. Lyra Malfoy entered it knowing full well that the black dog at her heels would break that peace and quiet, yet she did so anyways.

"Lyra, what on earth is that?"

Pansy Parkinson was sitting on one of the green leather sofas with Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracey Davis. Daphne was across the room with her little sister, and both of them gave the new Slytherin mascot scrutinizing looks as well.

"This," Lyra announced proudly, "is Scarfoot. My new familiar."

Millicent's eyes widened.

"Oh, he's beautiful!"

"Isn't he?" Lyra beamed. "And he's such a gentleman, too. Come on, Scarfoot. Say hello!"

Scarfoot padded obediently into the room, his enormous paws making scarcely a sound against the stone floor. Several older students looked up from their conversations, and a couple of boys playing Exploding Snap abandoned their game to appreciate him.

An inter-year crowd gathered around to compete for the chance to pat him. Some more exuberantly than others. Scarfoot seemed to be patiently tolerating it all. Which she thought was very unlike a normal dog who ought to get excited from all the attention. But perhaps that was part of his training? She was starting to think he was a drug sniffing hound or somebody's support animal.

Pansy whispered into her ear as they watched the dog get way more attention from the boys than any of them ever had.

"When I suggested you find a new hobby now that you've quit Quidditch, Lyra, I wasn't imagining dog walking."

Lyra gave her a wounded look.

"He's not a hobby, Pansy. He's a member of the family!"

"You've had him for less than a day."

"And he's already made a better impression than most of my relatives."

Tracey snorted.

"Does your father know you've adopted a dog?"

"Not yet. But Uncle Severus has signed the paperwork, so it's official until summer break at least."

Pansy stared at her.

"Professor Snape let you bring that enormous thing into Hogwarts?"

"Of course he did."

"Just like that?"

"Well, I had to ask nicely."

Panzy exchanged a look with Tracey, who appeared to be struggling not to laugh.

Millicent, meanwhile, had already abandoned the sofa and was crouching beside Scarfoot, trying to steal an ear scratch between the storm of hands all over him. He gave her a wet nose and she recoiled, giggling. She retreated back over to Lyra so Blaise could have a turn.

"Where did you find him?" Millicent asked.

"Near the Shrieking Shack. The poor thing was absolutely filthy, and he was so hungry he practically swallowed my lunch whole."

"You gave him your lunch?" Daphne asked.

"Well, obviously. Look at the size of him! He must have been starving for months."

Lyra settled onto the sofa beside Pansy, leaving Flint of all people to fuss over Scarfoot.

"He was covered in mats, too. I had to work half of them out by hand before I could clean him properly. And his paws were in a dreadful state. Cracked all over, with this horrible great cut on one of them. Don't worry, I got some Wiggenweld Potion from Uncle Severus. They're much better now."

"Did you find out who he belongs to?" Tracey asked.

Lyra shook her head.

"No collar, no identification, nothing. I completely expect to find his owner and have him returned by the end of the school year. I doubt my father would let me bring him home. I'll write him tomorrow and ask if he can put the word out for a lost dog."

"Perhaps somebody abandoned him," Daphne suggested.

"Well, if they did, they don't deserve him back," said Tracey

"Exactly!" Lyra declared, happy her classmates just put her sincerest hopes into words.

"So you found a stray dog, fed him your lunch, cleaned him, and decided to bring him home? Just like that?"

"Not quite. Weasley showed up while I was looking after him."

"Which Weasley?"

"Ronald."

Pansy's nose wrinkled.

"What was he doing near the Shrieking Shack?"

"Probably avoiding his brothers and brat of a sister. I would, if I had to live with those two."

That earned a few laughs.

"Anyway, he took one look at Scarfoot and started joking about the Grim."

"The what?" Tracey asked.

"Some ridiculous death omen Professor Trelawney's been frightening Potter with. Apparently it's supposed to look like a great big black dog, and Potter's convinced he's seen one."

Only in that moment did she realize that not a single Slytherin in their year was taking divination. Yet another point of pride for the house of serpents. It sounded like a waste of time.

"That explains a few things," Daphne remarked.

"Doesn't it? Well, Weasley thought it would be the funniest thing in the world if Potter came face-to-face with Scarfoot. So he offered me a Galleon to adopt him."

"A Galleon?"

"One whole Galleon," Lyra repeated indignantly. "As though I'd sell my dignity for pocket change!"

Pansy considered this for a moment.

"Personally, I doubt Weasley even had a Galleon to give you."

The girls burst into laughter.

The crowd began dissipating and the Grengrasse sisters saw their opportunity. They went over and gave him some scratches of their own.

"That dog has some serious patience," Tracey complimented.

"You haven't seen anything yet!" Lyra exclaimed. "Scarfoot, come here!"

The dog rose, making both Greengrasse sisters jump, and crossed the room, stopping obediently in front of her. Still, the sisters followed him over.

"Sit!"

He sat.

"Shake!"

He offered his paw.

"See?"

"That's not terribly unusual," Pansy pointed out.

"Fine, then. Scarfoot, up!"

The enormous dog rose onto his hind legs, towering over the seated girls. Tracey gave a startled squeak. He was much bigger than his shy posture hinted and rearing up he resembled a lion. Or that Griffon that nearly gored her.

"Now beg!"

Scarfoot raised his front paws and made the same imploring motion that had persuaded Professor Snape to sign his registration.

"Oh, that's wonderful!"

Even Pansy looked impressed, although she seemed determined not to admit it.

"All right, I'll admit he's clever," Tracey conceded. "I've never seen a dog do that before."

"Thank you!" Lyra replied, looking almost as pleased with herself as she was with Scarfoot.

"I still think you've lost your mind," Millicent said, shaking her head in amusement. "You've barely known him a day, and you're already treating him like a prince."

"You're just jealous because your cat can't do that."

"My cat has more dignity," Millicent retorted. "She wouldn't go begging for treats like some common street animal."

"Your cat begs for food every time we eat," Pansy pointed out.

"That's different."

"How?"

"She doesn't beg. She demands."

That earned a laugh from the girls, while Scarfoot lowered himself onto all fours and gave Millicent a look of such apparent indignation that Lyra couldn't help laughing herself.

"See? You've hurt his feelings!"

"Oh, honestly!" Millicent protested, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears. "I was only joking, you great lump."

Scarfoot accepted the apology with a wag of his tail, and Lyra decided that was quite enough teasing at her new familiar's expense.

"Come along, Scarfoot. Let's get you settled in. There's plenty of room upstairs."

Scarfoot dropped onto all fours and gave Pansy a look that Lyra could almost have sworn was offended.

"See? You've hurt his feelings."

"Oh, honestly!"

Lyra laughed and rose from the sofa.

"Come along, Scarfoot. Let's get you settled in. There's plenty of room upstairs."

"Upstairs?" Daphne repeated.

"Of course. We've got four empty beds in our dormitory. He can have whichever one he likes."

Daphne looked doubtful.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Lyra challenged.

"He's rather large."

"All the more reason to give him a proper bed. Come on!" she said, expecting the dog to follow her order.

Lyra started toward the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories. She was halfway up the steps before realizing that the dog hadn't followed her from the seating area.

"Scarfoot?"

He looked up at her.

"Come along."

He remained where he was and Lyra felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"Don't be silly. You're allowed upstairs."

Scarfoot sat down in an additional act of disobedience.

Pansy giggled.

"Perhaps he's afraid of stairs?"

"He wasn't afraid of the twenty different flight of them we climbed on the way here."

"Maybe he doesn't like these ones?" Tracey offered.

Lyra descended and took hold of his collar.

"Come on, you great lump. There's a lovely warm bed waiting for you."

She gave a gentle tug but Scarfoot didn't budge. She tugged again, a little harder this time and the dog planted his paws firmly against the floor and leaned backward.

"Honestly! You've been perfectly obedient all afternoon!"

"Perhaps he doesn't want to sleep upstairs," Millicent suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous. Where else is he supposed to sleep?"

Scarfoot glanced toward the fireplace.

Lyra followed his gaze.

"Oh, no. You're not sleeping on the cold stone floor."

She tried again, this time enticing him with a piece of biscuit left over from lunch.

"Look what I've got!" she said, waiving it towards the stairs.

He looked thoroughly unimpressed and didn't go for the bribe. Instead he trotted over to the fireplace and laid down in front of it.

Pansy was laughing openly by now.

"I think he's won."

"He has not!"

Lyra tried ordering Scarfoot to stand, which he did immediately. She told him to follow, and he obediently walked beside her until she reached the first step, at which point he stopped so abruptly that she nearly tripped over him.

"Well, this is absurd!"

Millicent knelt beside the dog and stroked his head.

"Maybe he's been trained not to go into bedrooms?"

Lyra paused.

"Do you think so?"

"He does seem very well trained. Perhaps his old owners didn't allow him upstairs? Or trained him to guard bedrooms from the outside?"

Lyra regarded Scarfoot thoughtfully. The dog regarded her back with an expression of perfect innocence.

"Oh, you darling boy," she said at last. "Is that it? Have you been taught not to enter people's bedrooms?"

Scarfoot wagged his tail, surely more from the doting tone in her voice than the words.

"Well, aren't you just the most considerate gentleman!"

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Or he's stubborn."

"Nonsense. He's being polite."

"He's a dog, Lyra."

"And a better-behaved one than most boys I know."

"That's not a high standard," Daphne observed.

"Exactly!"

Lyra crouched and wrapped her arms around Scarfoot's enormous neck.

"All right, buddy. You don't have to come upstairs if you don't want to. We'll find you somewhere comfortable down here."

With Millicent's help, she gathered a few spare cushions and an old blanket from one of the common-room cupboards, arranging them into a makeshift bed beside the fireplace, in a corner that used to hold a reading chair. Said chair found it's new home in an alcove by the stairs to the girls dormitory. Scarfoot watched the preparations with interest, and when Lyra patted the finished arrangement, he approached confidently.

He circled on top of it and dropped like a brick onto his makeshift bed. The sigh he gave was so deep you'd think he just lowered himself into a hot spring after a day of hard labor. It had been quite a day for him, Lyra admitted.

"There!" she declared triumphantly. "Much better."

Millicent sat beside him and scratched his ears.

"We should get him a proper dog bed."

"Oh, absolutely. I'll write to Father and have one sent over. Something enormous, with a nice thick mattress."

"And perhaps a few toys," Millicent added.

"And a collar with his name on it! Instead of this… is this conjured?" Daphne asked, examining the featureless leather collar.

Lyra could readily admit that it wasn't her best work. Then she remembered she walked right past the Hogsmeade pet store in her eagerness to get him back to Hogwarts. She'd have to owl them for a collar, and some other dog necessities. Actually, the newspaper and magazine racks next to the notice board probably had a product catalog hidden in it somewhere. If not they definitely had one for the Magical Menagerie. But that could wait for tomorrow.

The poor thing was already knocked out and she'd want to ask his opinion as she rifled through the magazines.

---

Oliver Wood called it reconnaissance, although Harry was beginning to suspect that Fred and George had a different understanding of the word. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had occupied a section of the bleachers overlooking the pitch, bringing enough sandwiches, sweets, and drinks to feed a small army. Dean had even brought several bags of Muggle snacks, including something Doritos, which George was examining with suspicion.

"Why are they orange?" he asked, holding one up to the light.

"Cheese," Alicia answered.

"Cheese isn't orange."

"Some cheese is."

"Not any cheese I'd trust," George declared, before popping the triangle into his mouth and immediately reaching for another.

Below them, the Slytherins were preparing for their Quidditch tryouts. Dozens of glowing rings had been conjured into a winding obstacle course above the pitch, while Marcus Flint barked instructions at a group of nervous-looking hopefuls. Wood had brought parchment and a quill, and was attempting to convince his teammates that they ought to be taking notes rather than arguing over sandwiches.

"Oliver!"

Wood turned to find Roger Davies climbing the bleachers, a broad grin on his face.

"Roger!"

"Heeeeeey! Roger!" the Gryffindors chorused, raising their drinks in greeting like pints of beer.

Roger spread his arms theatrically. "My adoring public! How I've missed you all!"

"We played a pickup game last week!" Katie called.

"An eternity, my dear. An eternity."

He settled beside Wood, helped himself to a sandwich without asking, and surveyed the obstacle course with an appreciative whistle.

"Flint's put the narrow rings immediately after the steep climb. Nasty piece of work, that. Half these poor sods will be dizzy before they reach them."

"That's precisely what we're here to assess," Wood said importantly.

"Of course. Is this ham?"

Harry had seen Davies play often enough to know he was an excellent Chaser, but he had never spent much time talking to the Ravenclaw captain. Roger seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to make himself comfortable wherever he went, even among players who would be trying their hardest to defeat him in a few weeks.

A few minutes later, Cedric Diggory appeared with two Hufflepuff teammates, and the entire performance repeated itself.

"Wood! Davies!"

"Heeeeeey! Cedric!" they chorused, repeating the drink raising motion from earlier.

Cedric laughed at the reception, although his amusement turned to suspicion when he noticed how cheerful everyone seemed to be.

"Oliver, have you lot been drinking?"

"Certainly not!" Wood replied with rather more indignation than the question warranted.

Beside Harry, Katie discreetly slipped a small metal flask beneath her robes. Harry noticed the movement but pretended not to. He gathered that whatever the older students were enjoying, they had no intention of sharing it with him.

More Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gradually joined the gathering, and by the time the first Slytherin hopeful mounted his broom, the bleachers had acquired the atmosphere of a small sporting festival. A second year boy managed the first few rings easily enough, but came badly unstuck when the course demanded a steep climb followed by an abrupt turn.

"He's turning with his shoulders," Roger observed as the boy narrowly avoided colliding with a goalpost. "Watch the tail of his broom, Harry. See how it swings out before he changes direction? He's fighting the broom."

Harry watched the next candidate and saw exactly what Roger meant. The boy's broom drifted sideways before he had even begun his turn, forcing him to overcorrect and miss the next ring.

"You're good at spotting things like that," Harry remarked.

"I'd hope so. They made me captain after all. One day you'll be captain when all of your seniors graduate."

"Shouldn't wood be grooming him?" Fred pointed out.

"Can you imagine how terriby that would turn out?" George added.

Wood threw a sandwich crust at him, which Angelina caught and ate.

The next interruption came from Fred, who had spotted two familiar figures approaching the stands.

"Well, well! Look who's come to join the civilized world!"

Lyra Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were making their way along the bleachers, apparently having come to watch their housemates try out. Both looked surprised to discover that the other three houses had practically organized a picnic around the proceedings.

"Come join us!" George called, shifting aside to make room.

Lyra hesitated only briefly before accepting the invitation, settling beside Roger while Pansy found a place among the Gryffindors. Harry scarcely noticed where either of them sat, being more interested in the next group of hopefuls taking to the air.

"Malfoy!" Davies greeted her. "Tell me Flint's found someone competent to replace you."

"Considering I beat you last year, Davies, I wouldn't be too particular about it."

"Wounded! And here I was about to offer you a sandwich."

"I'll take it anyway, thank you."

"That's the spirit."

Alicia handed her one while Cho Chang, who had joined the crowd a little earlier, leaned forward to address Lyra.

"Who's trying out for Seeker, then?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Lyra admitted. "But Millicent's definitely getting onto the team."

"As a Seeker?" Cho asked doubtfully.

Pansy burst out laughing, while Lyra shook her head.

"No, she's trying out for Beater or Keeper. Personally, I think she'd make a magnificent Beater."

"Bulstrode?" Roger asked, looking thoughtful. "Third year, rather broad girl?"

"That's her," Pansy confirmed. "And she's stronger than half the boys in our year put together."

"Strength is useful, but it doesn't necessarily make a good Beater," Cedric observed. "She'll need to control her broom while swinging the bat, and that's way harder than chasing or seeking."

"Different strokes for different folks." said Anthony Ricket, nudging his captain.

"Yeah, we're useless at anything but," said Dungan Inglebee, indicating Jason Samuels and himself.

"Perhaps you should all watch before making predictions," Lyra suggested sweetly.

Roger chuckled and leaned back to await the next portion of the tryouts.

Flint eventually dismissed the last of the disqualified hopefuls from the obstacle course and brought out a pair of practice Bludgers. The prospective Beaters were required to ping pong them back and forth with the current beaters.

Millicent was among the first to take her turn. Harry had never seen her fly before, and was surprised by how confidently she handled her broom. She might not have possessed the elegance of a Seeker, but she climbed rapidly toward the approaching Bludger and struck it with a tremendous crack that echoed across the stands.

The iron ball went wide of Lucian Bole's position, so her aim was off.

"Blimey," Fred muttered appreciatively.

"That's some arm," Roger agreed.

She had a few more tries and managed to almost hit Peregrine. After that the other Beater hopefuls had their turns. To nobodies surprise Millicent did go onto the final elimination, along with Vincent Crabbe.

"Wait, Goyle isn't trying out?" he asked, turning to Pansy.

"Nah, his grades have been atrocious and his parents won't let him do any after school activities until he gets them back up to an Acceptable." said Pansy.

"He had his heart set on the keeper position too," said Lyra who was taking a tentative sip of Dr Capsacin.

The final round of elimination prove the most entertaining. Millicent and Vincent were now directly competing to see who could hit the most bludgers through the goal posts. The two of them found themselves converging on the same Bludger. Crabbe attempted to cut across her path, apparently expecting her to give way, but Millicent simply accelerated and drove her shoulder into his side.

The collision nearly rolled Crabbe off his broom. He managed to cling on, but by then Millicent had already swept past him and struck the Bludger cleanly toward another target.

The stands erupted in cheers and startled exclamations.

"That's a foul!" somebody protested.

"No, it isn't," Roger replied immediately. "Shoulder to shoulder, and she didn't grab him or strike him with the bat. Perfectly legal, although I doubt Crabbe enjoyed it."

Harry had to agree. It was exactly the sort of maneuver he had come to expect from Slytherin: rough, aggressive, and calculated to discourage anyone from challenging them again. But it had been legal, and Harry understood the distinction better than most. People sometimes spoke about Quidditch as though it were football played on broomsticks, when the sport actually involved, nay, required more physical contact. With iron balls flying around specifically to knock people out of the sky, it was much closer to rugby in the air. Quidditch was, in fact, an out and out contact sport.

"Well?" Lyra demanded, looking triumphantly toward Roger.

The Ravenclaw captain raised both hands in surrender. "I concede the point. If Flint doesn't recruit her, he's a bigger idiot than I thought."

Wood looked less pleased. "She's going to be aiming at our Chasers."

"That's generally what Beaters do," Katie observed.

Roger leaned toward Harry. "A little advice, Potter. If Bulstrode comes after you, don't try to outmuscle her. Make her turn instead. You're smaller, lighter, and much faster."

"Are you giving Gryffindor tactical advice?" Cedric asked, amused.

"I'm giving Harry advice on how not to die. Once Ravenclaw plays Gryffindor, he's entirely on his own."

Harry laughed, although his attention was soon drawn to two more familiar figures climbing the bleachers.

"Harry!"

Ron and Hermione were approaching together, and Harry waved them over enthusiastically. Ron paused briefly when he noticed Lyra sitting among the spectators, giving her a peculiar look before continuing toward Harry. He supposed Ron was still getting accustomed to Malfoy's increasingly friendly behavior, although he seemed to be making an effort to accept her company.

"Hold on a moment," George said as they approached. "Are you two speaking again?"

"Yes," Hermione answered in a chilled tone.

"We've made up," Ron confirmed, sounding rather defensive.

"Thank Merlin," Alicia declared. "That was getting ridiculous."

"And we're not discussing it," Hermione added firmly, forestalling whatever Fred had been about to say.

The twins exchanged amused looks but wisely left the matter alone. Harry was just relieved to have his two best friends together again, especially after the miserable weeks of arguments over Scabbers and the Firebolt. Ron and Hermione settled on Harry's left, opposite Pansy, and quickly became absorbed in the tryouts. Below them, Millicent sent another Bludger hurtling across the pitch with enough force to dent one of the hoops.

"Blimey," Ron said.

"That's what we said," George replied.

Roger had meanwhile begun explaining to Cedric how he would position Millicent during a match, using several Doritos to represent Chasers and a sandwich crust for the opposing Seeker.

"Keep her near the middle of the pitch," he explained, arranging the crisps along the bench. "Make the other team fly around her. With an arm like that, she could control half the field without needing to chase anyone."

"You're assuming she can hit moving targets as well as stationary ones," Cedric pointed out.

"She hit Crabbe."

"Crabbe wasn't a target."

"Could've fooled me."

Wood confiscated the sandwich crust before Roger could finish demonstrating his proposed formation, provoking another round of laughter from the assembled players.

Harry was still chuckling when he noticed that Ron had gone very quiet. His friend was staring past him with an expression of absolute horror, his eyes wide and his face drained of color. Harry recognized that look. He had seen it only once before, when they had found themselves surrounded by enormous spiders in Aragog's nest.

"Ron? What's wrong?"

Ron did not answer. Instead, he slowly raised a trembling hand and pointed over Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned to see what had frightened him and found himself face-to-face with a large, snarling, black dog.

---

Thanks again to Seru continuing to comission this story, and to my patrons. And of course to reviewers, one of whom I stole a joke from. Tried asking his permission but he never got back to me.

Anyways, 4 chapters down, and we're finally seeing Harry and Malfoid in the same scenes together again. Much more of that on the way.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Excellent. I enjoy the interplay, the Quidditch discussion, all of it. It feels... Real, for lack of a better term. Followed and eagerly looking forward to more.

 

[Puga]

Tftc

 

[BlueCladOne]

Excellent. I enjoy the interplay, the Quidditch discussion, all of it. It feels... Real, for lack of a better term. Followed and eagerly looking forward to more.

Click to shrink...

A lot more real feeling than any of Rowling's Quidditch scenes, that's for sure.

She's by no means a bad writer, but she was better at mysteries and adventure instead of worldbuilding or characterization. (She also didn't have any sports experience)

 

[BlueCladOne]

The whole Molly and Ginny used a love potion on Harry thing is so stupid. Plus the Ron used them on Hermione nonsense.

Click to shrink...

By strict canon reading, it's alarmingly plausible, given how casual witches and wizards were about them. Add Rowling's frankly terrible writing with any romantic interactions? It's a recipe for conspiracy theories.

At the same time, I'd only ever use it in a very specific kind of fic. 99% of the time, I'm just going to modify things. Either the casual behavior gets addressed as a real problem (why the hell would Hermione start a crusade about House Elves but giggle about love potions?) or I simply have people treat them differently from the start, and write the characters more sanely.

Rowling did a lot of character inconsistent writing as she rushed the last books and also condensed what would have been a much longer story into the contractually obligated seven.

(On the other hand, even by conspiracy standards, Ron using them on Hermione is still stupid - it would be Molly "harmlessly" helping with his crush like she "got Arthur's attention.")

 

[NonsensicalRants]

By strict canon reading, it's alarmingly plausible, given how casual witches and wizards were about them. Add Rowling's frankly terrible writing with any romantic interactions? It's a recipe for conspiracy theories.

At the same time, I'd only ever use it in a very specific kind of fic. 99% of the time, I'm just going to modify things. Either the casual behavior gets addressed as a real problem (why the hell would Hermione start a crusade about House Elves but giggle about love potions?) or I simply have people treat them differently from the start, and write the characters more sanely.

Rowling did a lot of character inconsistent writing as she rushed the last books and also condensed what would have been a much longer story into the contractually obligated seven.

(On the other hand, even by conspiracy standards, Ron using them on Hermione is still stupid - it would be Molly "harmlessly" helping with his crush like she "got Arthur's attention.")

Click to shrink...

I always felt that love potions main use was as marital aids. Same for polyjuice. You just know people keep a stock of their own hair throughout their life, to use to spice up their bedroom. We can both go back to looking how we did on our wedding night. Or as we were in high school. Same for love potions.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

I always felt that love potions main use was as marital aids. Same for polyjuice. You just know people keep a stock of their own hair throughout their life, to use to spice up their bedroom. We can both go back to looking how we did on our wedding night. Or as we were in high school. Same for love potions.

Click to shrink...

Same. There's a difference between using a love potion to just get someone's attention, and using them to enslave people.

Wizards can tell the difference, Muggles wouldn't have the context for that.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Same. There's a difference between using a love potion to just get someone's attention, and using them to enslave people.

Wizards can tell the difference, Muggles wouldn't have the context for that.

Click to shrink...

No I was saying already married couples would use love potions willingly. Especially during slumps in the relationship. That's how i'd use it. Remind myself why I chose this woman to be the mother of my children.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

No I was saying already married couples would use love potions willingly. Especially during slumps in the relationship. That's how i'd use it. Remind myself why I chose this woman to be the mother of my children.

Click to shrink...

Ah, right. Just saying that they were just little enhancements to feelings and so on. That's their legal use.

 

[BlueCladOne]

Ah, right. Just saying that they were just little enhancements to feelings and so on. That's their legal use.

Click to shrink...

The issue is that even using alcohol to hook up with someone is considered pretty scummy as soon as it really starts affecting their minds. The only good use is to relax nerves to talk with people easier.

And love potions are not simple inhibition reducers - we literally see what a "harmless" love potion did when a potion meant for Harry got ingested by Ron. Not the illegal Amortentia, just a normal one. Nobody treats it as any sort of grave infraction.

This isn't a subtle aphrodesiac that puts someone slightly more in the mood. It overwrites their feelings for an amount of time. With a very specific target, too.

I don't mind someone writing love potions as more harmless inhibition reducers, able to be used for both good and evil. But that is not what is written. What is written is date rape drugs.

 

[digcat]

It's long but so good.

View: https://x.com/RanaItia/status/2107645146343043507

 

[alethiophile]

It's neat to find an HP fic that just plays around with the feel of the early books, rather than feeling the need to jump to either relationships/sex or epic battles. The slice-of-life of it is a lot of fun that often gets forgotten.

 

[digcat]

View: https://x.com/LuciousLyre/status/2111230763740147781

---

How do you think a magic village would look.

Spoiler

 

[digcat]

Sure I'd love to know what everyone thinks a magic village in HP would look like.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Sure I'd love to know what everyone thinks a magic village in HP would look like.

Click to shrink...

Oops! Just deleted that because I couldn't figure out how to fix the formatting. I was going to send you the message again. Well here's what I deleted

"I'm sorry was this an actual question for me? I thought you were just posting a malfoid meme and showing off that lovely image but rereading I wondered if this was a directed question at me."

I'll be back in ten minutes with my answer because I'd rather type it out in a separate document.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

How a Wizarding Village Would Look​

Digcat asked what I think a wizarding village in the Harry Potter universe would look like, and I decided it was worth sharing with everyone.

I have a boring answer, and an interesting answer.

The boring answer is, due to bureaucracy in the form of zoning laws, they would look indistinguishable from surrounding Muggle settlements. At least on the outside. Statute of secrecy and all that. Older places already established like Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and ancient family homes are grandfathered in, but new constructions? Sorry, you can't have the Weasley teetering patchwork house. It has to look like regular houses, because warding is expensive.

Now for my interesting answer, I think it's the interiors that would be magical.

I've had the idea for a while of a more wealthy future, where people can redesign their homes to any aesthetic they please. Art Deco/nuevo, brutalist, etc. And with this idea I wondered "Man! FFX/X-2 had such a great aesthetic. A lot of game in that time had a weird organic/theological art style to things. And Witch hunter Robin/Ergo proxy was a vibe too."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

In the Harry Potter universe they are effectively post scarcity in everything except food.(and whatever mysterious exceptions the other 4 laws state). But for construction? Oh they can expand spaces and fill it with whatever they want. And all they need is some tents.

And in fact, that's how I imagine wizarding settlements. Gypsy tent cities that can be moved. Almost looking like a circus from the outside. But you go inside one tent and you're in a reconstructed Besaid Island. Beaches and all. Enter another and you're in the Bepop looking out at the stars, zero gravity included. Or they could all just be separate rooms in a single house. But from the outside? It's a shanty town or hippie commune in Appalachia or Alaska. Exactly how wizards would want it to appear.

 

[BlueCladOne]

How a Wizarding Village Would Look​

Digcat asked what I think a wizarding village in the Harry Potter universe would look like, and I decided it was worth sharing with everyone.

I have a boring answer, and an interesting answer.

The boring answer is, due to bureaucracy in the form of zoning laws, they would look indistinguishable from surrounding Muggle settlements. At least on the outside. Statute of secrecy and all that. Older places already established like Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and ancient family homes are grandfathered in, but new constructions? Sorry, you can't have the Weasley teetering patchwork house. It has to look like regular houses, because warding is expensive.

Now for my interesting answer, I think it's the interiors that I would be magical.

I've had the idea for a while of a more wealthy future, where people can redesign their homes to any aesthetic they please. Art Deco/nuevo, brutalist, etc. And with this idea I wondered "Man! FFX/X-2 had such a great aesthetic. A lot of game in that time had a weird organic/theological art style to things. And Witch hunter Robin/Ergo proxy was a vibe too."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

In the Harry Potter universe they are effectively post scarcity in everything except food.(and whatever mysterious exceptions the other 4 laws state). But for construction? Oh they can expand spaces and fill it with whatever they want. And all they need is some tents.

And in fact, that's how I imagine wizarding settlements. Gypsy tent cities that can be moved. Almost looking like a circus from the outside. But you go inside one tent and you're in a reconstructed Besaid Island. Beaches and all. Enter another and you're in the Bepop looking out at the stars, zero gravity included. Or they could all just be separate rooms in a single house. But from the outside? It's a shanty town or hippie commune in Appalachia or Alaska. Exactly how wizards would want it to appear.

Click to shrink...

Another possible answer - space compression makes things not need an outward appearance if built in a large city.

I used to think that Diagon Alley was silly - wouldn't Muggles eventually notice the missing space in London of all places?

But that was before lots of space enhancing magic was introduced. I have a feeling that Diagon Alley is between otherwise solid walls, and the Leaky Cauldron is the only bit in "real" space.

And with the Floo and Apparition, witches and wizards could have many different communities hidden in major cities without much traffic on the Muggle side of things at all.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Another possible answer - space compression makes things not need an outward appearance if built in a large city.

I used to think that Diagon Alley was silly - wouldn't Muggles eventually notice the missing space in London of all places?

But that was before lots of space enhancing magic was introduced. I have a feeling that Diagon Alley is between otherwise solid walls, and the Leaky Cauldron is the only bit in "real" space.

And with the Floo and Apparition, witches and wizards could have many different communities hidden in major cities without much traffic on the Muggle side of things at all.

Click to shrink...

I agree completely. There could, and would, be entire villages or small cities within real cities. If you can name a major city, I promise you there is something at least as large as diagon+nocturne alley hidden inside of it somewhere.

and we haven't even gotten into abandoned caves, sewers or subways. TMNT it up! New york city must have tens of such places. And then there are natural cave systems and mines, which are already big enough to hosue a lot of people. With a little magic? Yeah, they could be entire magical cities hidden from the world.

 

[Tank man]

An interesting and insightful post, though wouldn't it go better under "informational" rather than a general threadmark (or extras, or whatever they're called here)? It'll kinda break the flow if it remains a general one, in the future.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

An interesting and insightful post, though wouldn't it go better under "informational" rather than a general threadmark? It'll kinda break the flow if it remains a general one, in the future.

Click to shrink...

I'm sorry, there is a separate type of threadmark called information?

 

[Tank man]

I'm sorry, there is a separate type of threadmark called information?

Click to shrink...

On SB at least. Using a thread I can do that on over there, you'd be able to change threadmark category by clicking on the pencil next to the side of the name/title, by clicking on the threadmark category box and changing it to something else. Extras or something may be an equivalent/appropriate fit over here.

 

[alethiophile]

On QQ, you can sort threadmarks into "Threadmarks", "Index", "Appendix" or "Extras". You get to it via the edit-post button, under "threadmark label".

"Threadmarks" is the category for ordinary story chapters. The others aren't strictly defined, but usually "Index" means link posts and character sheets and such, "Appendix" is omake, and "Extras" is stuff like fan art.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

On QQ, you can sort threadmarks into "Threadmarks", "Index", "Appendix" or "Extras". You get to it via the edit-post button, under "threadmark label".

"Threadmarks" is the category for ordinary story chapters. The others aren't strictly defined, but usually "Index" means link posts and character sheets and such, "Appendix" is omake, and "Extras" is stuff like fan art.

Click to shrink...

Well, this decidedly goes into extras. Will do that.

 

[digcat]

One year later.

Spoiler: "Change of Plans"

source: @BasedRPG

Click to shrink...

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 5:​

---

Potter sat hunched forward with a nasty lump forming on his forehead, looking as though he would dearly like to murder somebody. He was also repeatedly opening and closing his right hand, occasionally shaking his arm as though trying to restore feeling to it.

She hadn't meant for him to fall. She certainly hadn't meant for him to hurt himself, but she doubted her mother would appreciate the distinction. Narcissa Malfoy had been explicit about her expectations. Lyra was to apologize to Potter, cease antagonizing him, and make a sincere effort to improve their relationship. And she had! She'd given him her Nimbus, stopped insulting him, and even managed to have several perfectly civil conversations with the boy.

Now she'd helped send him tumbling down a flight of wooden benches. Worse, there were witnesses. Dozens of them, from all four houses, including several prefects and Quidditch captains. She couldn't possibly persuade them all to keep quiet.

Beside Potter, Weasley was making a valiant effort to suppress another fit of laughter. Every time he glanced at his friend's forehead, his mouth twitched, and he had to look away. His brothers weren't doing much better, although even they had possessed the decency to help Potter back to his feet after his fall.

Lyra glanced at Scarfoot, who was sitting several feet away with his ears drooping. The enormous dog had abandoned his frightening performance the instant Potter went sprawling and now looked miserable.

"Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself," she whispered to him.

Scarfoot gave her a look that held a striking resemblance to a human giving a deadpan glare.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. We're both in trouble."

She looked back at Potter, who had begun rubbing his wrist again. The movement made her uneasy. His forehead was obviously going to bruise, and in fact she already saw a nice bump forming opposite his scar, but she had no idea what he'd done to his arm.

There was still snow scattered across the benches from the previous night's snowfall, in the places they hadn't cleared for their little picnic. Lyra gathered a handful with her wand, compressed it into a smooth, flattened lump of ice, and wrapped it in her handkerchief.

It wasn't sophisticated magic, I nfacti t barely qualified as transfiguration, but it would do.

"Potter?"

He glanced up at her, and the expression on his face was hardly encouraging.

"What?"

"I've made you something for your head."

"I don't want it."

"Don't be ridiculous. You've got an enormous lump on your forehead, and it'll only get worse if you don't put something cold on it."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Well, whose fault is that?"

Lyra winced, but she was determined not to let him make the situation worse through sheer stubbornness.

"Just hold still for a moment."

She leaned forward and reached toward his forehead with the makeshift ice pack.

Potter recoiled so violently that he nearly struck the boy sitting behind him. His hand shot up and knocked her wrist aside, sending the handkerchief tumbling onto the bench between them.

"I said leave me alone!"

The sharpness of his voice silenced several nearby conversations.

Lyra stared at him, momentarily too surprised to respond. She hadn't expected him to be pleased with her, but she hadn't expected him to react as though she'd been trying to strike him, either.

"I was only trying to help," she said quietly.

"Well, don't."

For a moment she considered reminding him that she hadn't been the one who suggested the prank in the first place. It had been Weasley's idea, and he was sitting right there, still looking more amused than apologetic.

But that would have been cowardly. She had agreed to it, after all.

Lyra retrieved her handkerchief, brushed the snow from her robes, and returned to her place beside Pansy.

"That went well," Pansy murmured.

"Shut up."

Pansy wisely did.

Lyra was still trying to decide whether she ought to apologize again when Scarfoot rose from his place near the stairs. Something silvery was hanging from his mouth, a great bundle of shimmering fabric that seemed almost to melt into the air whenever it moved.

He approached Potter cautiously, his tail hanging low, and deposited the bundle at his feet. He then lay flat on his stomach deferentially and whimpered. His enormous brown eyes remained fixed upon Potter's face.

"Oh, Scarfoot," Lyra murmured, her heart melting despite everything.

Even Potter seemed momentarily taken aback by the dog's extraordinary display of contrition.

But when he looked down at the fabric his expression changed. He picked it up, let it unfold between his fingers, and stared at it for several seconds.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded accusingly.

Potter looked up, his eyes moving from the dog to Lyra, then finally settling on Weasley.

"Ron."

Weasley stopped smiling.

"Yeah?"

"Why does Malfoy's dog have my Invisibility Cloak?"

The conversation around them faltered.

Lyra blinked. So that was what Weasley had used to get Scarfoot into position. She'd been wondering how he'd managed it without attracting attention. She'd assumed he got somebody to cast a disillusionment charm on him, but to use Potter's cloak?

"Well," Ron began, "I borrowed it."

"You what?"

"Only for a little while! I was going to put it back."

"You went through my things and took my cloak without asking?"

Ron looked uncomfortable now.

"Harry, come on. It was just a joke."

"That's my father's cloak!"

That brought Lyra up short. She knew Potter had inherited very little from his parents, but she hadn't realized the cloak was among those few possessions.

"Nobody damaged it," Ron protested. "It's perfectly fine!"

"That's not the point!"

Harry gathered the cloak into his lap, inspecting it with an expression of furious disbelief.

"And now everybody knows I've got an Invisibility Cloak! Brilliant, Ron! Absolutely brilliant!"

An uncomfortable silence followed.

At least, Lyra thought it was uncomfortable. Several of the older students were exchanging peculiar looks, and Fred Weasley had developed an expression suggesting he was desperately trying not to say something.

"What?" Potter demanded.

"Well, Harry," George began carefully, "about that..."

"About what?"

"Your cloak isn't exactly the best-kept secret in Hogwarts."

Potter stared at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Everyone knows about it, mate," Fred said.

"No, they don't!"

"Well, not everyone," George conceded. "I expect some of the first years haven't heard yet."

Roger Davies gave a snort of laughter.

"Ravenclaw's known for ages, Potter."

Potter turned toward him in disbelief.

"How?"

Roger shrugged.

"People talk. An invisible student wandering around the castle isn't exactly something that stays secret for long."

"We've heard about it in Hufflepuff too," Cedric added apologetically.

"You're joking."

"Afraid not."

Lyra watched Potter's face grow steadily redder as the implications sank in. He must believed himself to be the sole keeper of a magnificent secret, while half the school had been discussing it behind his back. She might have found that amusing under other circumstances. At present, she was far too worried about her mother's reaction to enjoy it properly.

"Harry," Alicia said, looking faintly embarrassed, "you're the reason we always do a clean sweep of the girls' changing rooms before matches."

Potter went very still.

"What?"

"We check that nobody's hiding in there before anyone gets changed," Alicia explained. "It's just a precaution."

"You think I'd do that?"

"No, Harry, that's not what I meant."

"You think I'd sneak into the girls' changing rooms?"

"Of course not!" Katie exclaimed. "Nobody's accusing you of anything!"

"Then why would you even say that?"

Alicia looked regretful now, and Lyra could hardly blame her. Potter's expression had changed from anger to something wounded and betrayed.

"Because it's an Invisibility Cloak, Harry," Angelina said. "We'd be idiots not to check. It doesn't mean we think you'd actually use it for something like that."

"Besides," Angelina added, "we've been checking the changing rooms since before you joined the team. We just started being more thorough."

Potter didn't appear particularly reassured.

"Wonderful," he muttered. "So apparently everybody thinks I'm some kind of pervert."

"Nobody said that," Hermione protested.

"You might as well have!"

Lyra shifted uncomfortably. She had never considered what an Invisibility Cloak might mean for the privacy of the other students. On reflection, she supposed she would be less enthusiastic about the prospect of an invisible boy wandering around the castle if she happened to be getting changed. But then again, she only ever got changedi n the girls dormitories which had stupendous protections against boys entering.

"Look, Harry," Ron began, "I'm sorry I took it, all right? I didn't think you'd be this upset."

"Clearly."

"And nobody's damaged it."

"Stop saying that!"

Ron fell silent and Scarfoot remained seated before Potter, his head bowed and his tail motionless, waiting for some indication that his apology had been accepted.

Potter looked at him, then at the cloak in his hands.

"You're not the one I'm angry with," he muttered.

Scarfoot's tail gave a tentative wag.

That, Lyra thought bitterly, was more consideration than she'd received.

Potter stood, wincing as he put weight on his right hand against the bench. He gathered his cloak beneath his arm and looked around at the assembled students.

"I'm going back to the castle."

"Harry, wait," Hermione said, rising after him. "Let me look at your wrist."

"It's fine."

"It might be sprained."

"I said it's fine!"

He turned and started down the bleachers, taking the steps more carefully than he had during his previous descent. Hermione hurried after him, while Ron remained seated for a moment, looking chastened.

Eventually he got up too.

Lyra watched Potter disappear toward the castle, his shoulders hunched against the cold and his father's cloak clutched tightly beneath his arm. She ought to have been relieved that he seemed angrier with Weasley than with her. Perhaps, if she was extraordinarily fortunate, her part in the affair would be forgotten entirely.

Unfortunately, she couldn't forget the way he'd knocked her hand aside.

Or the way he'd winced when he stood.

Scarfoot returned to her and rested his enormous head upon her knee. She stroked his ears absently, scarcely noticing when he gave a low, unhappy sigh.

---

By the following morning, Lyra Malfoy had begun to appreciate just how expensive owning a dog could be.

Three large parcels had arrived from Hogsmeade, and she had spread their contents across the Slytherin common room. There was a new collar of dark green leather, a matching lead, two grooming brushes, several chew toys, a collection of bowls, and an enormous dog bed that had cost more than she cared to admit. She had also purchased a copy of A Witch's Guide to Dog Ownership, which was currently lying open on the sofa turned to the dog care charms section.

Scarfoot watched the proceedings from his makeshift bed beside the fireplace, his tail thumping against the floor whenever Lyra held up something new.

"Look at this one!" she told him, displaying a rubber ball that squeaked when squeezed. "Won't that be fun?"

Scarfoot regarded the ball without enthusiasm like he had the other toys.

"Well, perhaps later."

She tossed it into his new bed and returned to unpacking. The dog seemed much more interested in the bed itself, which Lyra considered a good sign. It was enormous, with a thick padded mattress and raised sides, and she had even paid extra to have his name embroidered across the front.

A soft popping sound announced the arrival of a Hogwarts house-elf carrying a silver platter nearly as large as its torso.

"Breakfast for Miss Malfoy's dog, miss!"

"Oh, wonderful! Thank you!"

The platter contained a generous helping of scrambled eggs, bagon, sausages, and a little bowl of blood porridge. Lyra had been quite specific with the kitchens. Scarfoot was still terribly thin beneath all that fur, and she intended to see that he was properly fed.

She was just about to place the platter on the floor when a voice interrupted her.

"Whoa! What are you doing?!"

Lyra looked up.

Gregory Goyle stood at the foot of the stairs to the boy's dormitory, regarding the breakfast with an expression of concern.

"Feeding my dog?"

"He's starving."

"Yes, Gregory, that's the point."

"No, I mean he's been starving for a long time. You can't feed him like that."

Lyra frowned.

"Why?"

"Because you might kill him."

That got her attention.

Goyle came closer and crouched beside Scarfoot, who obligingly allowed him to run a hand along his ribs. Gregory's expression grew more serious.

"He's worse than he looks. You can feel practically every bone."

"I know. That's why I ordered so much food."

"That's what you shouldn't do."

He looked up at her, struggling to find an explanation.

"You know about the Holocaust?"

Lyra blinked at the stupid question.

"Uh, yeah?"

"When the camps were liberated, some of the prisoners got really sick after eating too much. Some died. It's the same with dogs. If they've been starving for ages, you can't just give them a mountain of food. Their bodies can't handle it."

Lyra looked down at Scarfoot, who was watching the enormous breakfast with an expression of longing.

"Then what am I supposed to feed him?"

"Small meals. Several times a day. Eggs are good, and plain chicken, but not too much at once. Then you slowly give him more as he gets better."

"Don't give him the sausages yet, either. They're too fatty."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah. We've had dogs like him before."

"You have?"

"My family breeds guard dogs. Big ones, mostly. Mastiffs, Rottweilers, that sort of thing. Sometimes people bring us dogs they can't look after anymore, or ones they've found wandering about."

That was the most Lyra had heard Gregory say about anything in weeks. He was generally content to let other people do the talking, and his dreadful academic performance had never encouraged anyone to seek his advice. Yet here he was, explaining something she hadn't even thought to consider.

"Do you suppose Scarfoot might be one of yours?"

Gregory examined the dog more closely.

"Don't think so. I'd remember one this big. But I could ask Dad to look into it?"

"Would you?"

"Sure. He knows loads of breeders. If someone's lost a dog like this, somebody might've heard about it."

"Oh, Gregory, that would be wonderful!"

She gave him a grateful smile and began dividing the breakfast into smaller portions.

"How much should I give him?"

Gregory considered the question before measuring out a modest helping of eggs.

"Start with that. See how he handles it, and give him another little meal later. You can increase it gradually."

Scarfoot watched in visible dismay as the rest of his breakfast was carried away by the house-elf.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Lyra told him. "Gregory says it's for your own good."

The dog turned his enormous head toward Goyle and gave him an accusatory glare.

Over the following week, Lyra learned to love the work it took to care for her new familiar.

Scarfoot was exceptionally well behaved. He never chewed the furniture, never barked unless commanded, and seemed to understand almost everything she said to him. He took to his new bed, although he continued to show absolutely no interest in the expensive collection of toys she had purchased.

His collar was another matter. He allowed her to fasten it around his neck without complaint, and seemed quite pleased with the little silver nameplate hanging beneath his chin.

Feeding him proved to be the most difficult part of their new routine. Lyra followed Gregory's instructions religiously, measuring out small portions of scrambled eggs, plain chicken, and other easily digested foods like fish. Scarfoot greeted every meal with enormous enthusiasm, then looked personally betrayed when she refused to give him more.

Gregory assured her that his appetite was a good sign. He also took to visiting Scarfoot in the common room, occasionally bringing a brush and helping Lyra work through the remaining tangles in his coat which kept retangling. You'd think she'd adopted a sheep with how thick and curly it was. She found herself consulting him on everything from feeding schedules to the proper way to inspect a dog's paws after a long walk.

It was strange to discover that Gregory Goyle, who could scarcely manage an Acceptable in most of his subjects, possessed an inexhaustible knowledge of animal care. He had already written home about Scarfoot, and promised to let her know if his father discovered anything.

Lyra's other great educational achievement that week involved dog mess.

A Witch's Guide to Dog Ownership contained a modified version of the Scouring Charm specifically intended for cleaning up after pets. It required a slightly different wand movement and a good deal more concentration than ordinary Scourgify, but after several embarrassing failures she mastered it. She was immensely grateful that magic spared her the indignity of carrying little bags around the grounds.

Scarfoot, for his part, seemed to appreciate having a mistress who could dispose of his leavings with a flick of her wand.

Their walks quickly became Lyra's favorite part of the day. She took him out every morning before breakfast and again in the evenings, sometimes accompanied by Pansy or Millicent. He loved exploring the grounds, particularly the wooded areas near the lake, and his enormous size attracted attention wherever they went.

Lyra also discovered that she could bring him to most of her lessons. Scarfoot would accompany her through the corridors, settle himself outside the classroom door, and wait patiently until she emerged. He never wandered off while she was inside, and several professors remarked upon his extraordinary obedience.

He looked just like a guard dog stationed outside a particularly important office.

She was careful, however, not to bring him to any classes shared with Gryffindor.

Potter had remained cold toward her since the incident at the Quidditch pitch, and she had no desire to make matters worse by parading Scarfoot beneath his nose. Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions were therefore out of the question, no matter how disappointed her dog seemed whenever she left him behind.

There were other peculiarities about Scarfoot that Lyra found more difficult to explain.

For one thing, he had developed a habit of going out at night.

The first time she discovered this, she had come downstairs early to find him waiting beside the concealed entrance to the common room. Outside of the inconspicuous stone wall that served as their secret entrance. One of the older students was just returning from somewhere, and Scarfoot slipped through the stone doorway before it closed.

Lyra had been furious when she discovered he was carrying a live rat in his mouth.

"Scarfoot! Put that disgusting thing down!"

He obeyed, depositing the squirming creature on the floor. She had to use a Levitation Charm to carry it outside, all the while lecturing him about the importance of not bringing vermin into the common room.

Unfortunately, it happened again two nights later. And again after that.

The other Slytherins had taken to letting Scarfoot in and out whenever he appeared at the entrance. Lyra suspected that several of the older boys found his nocturnal hunting expeditions enormously entertaining.

She couldn't understand why he insisted on bringing the rats back alive. He never attempted to eat them, and on the nights when he returned empty-handed he seemed positively irritated.

Perhaps he was trying to present her with gifts? Wasn't that a cat thing? At least he wasn't leaving dead things on her pillow like Milicent's furball sometimes did for all of the third year girls. Especially when one of them got it in their head to diet.

By the end of the week, Scarfoot had become a fixture in Slytherin House. He had put on a little weight, his coat was beginning to regain its shine, and even students who had initially objected to the presence of an enormous dog in their common room had grown accustomed to stepping around him.

Lyra couldn't be more pleased with her new companion. There was only one thing spoiling her happiness.

Harry Potter still wasn't speaking to her.

She finally decided to do something about it the following Friday.

Ronald Weasley was coming out of a classroom when Lyra spotted him, and she hurried after him with Scarfoot trotting at her heels.

"Weasley!"

Ron turned, looking surprised.

"Oh. Malfoy."

"I need to speak with you."

"About what?"

"Potter, obviously."

Ron sighed.

"Right."

Lyra folded her arms.

"It's been a week, Weasley. An entire week, and he's still treating me like I've committed some dreadful crime."

Ron gave her an incredulous look.

"Well, we did send him tumbling down the bleachers."

"I know that! I was there!"

"Then you know why he's angry."

Lyra scowled.

"I've tried apologizing. I've tried being nice. I even made him an ice pack, and he practically took my hand off for it."

"Yeah, I saw."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Ron considered the question for a moment.

"Leave him alone."

Lyra stared at him.

"That's your advice?"

"Pretty much."

"You're his best friend!"

"And I'm avoiding him too."

That surprised her.

"You are?"

"Yeah. Look, Malfoy, you need to understand something about Harry. When he gets angry, he can stay angry for months. Especially when he thinks somebody's betrayed him."

Lyra shifted uncomfortably.

Ron continued, sounding more serious than she thought a Weasley capable of being.

"He doesn't have many things from his parents, and I went and took one of them without asking. I thought he'd laugh once he realized it was a prank, but we hurt him more than we meant to."

"I didn't know he'd fall," Lyra protested.

"Neither did I. And that's not why he's angry. He brushes injuries off like its nothing."

She couldn't argue with that.

"So what do we do?"

"Give him space. Right now, that's the best thing we can do. I'll let you know when I'm not scared to try patching things up myself. The best sign that you're clear to approach is when he pranks me back."

Lyra raised an eyebrow.

"You're scared of Potter?"

"Not of Harry himself, no. I'm scared of making him angrier. Trust me. I've known him for nearly three years. Pushing him when he's like this just makes things worse."

It wasn't the answer she had wanted, but Ron seemed quite certain of himself.

"Fine," she said at last. "I'll leave him alone."

"Good."

"But if he stays angry for months, I'm blaming you."

"Fair enough."

A muffled squeaking noise interrupted them.

Lyra looked down.

Scarfoot had wandered a short distance along the corridor while they were talking, and was now returning with something wriggling between his jaws.

"Oh, not again!"

to her surprise, the enormous dog approached Ron and presented the live rat to Ron. He dropped to his knees so quickly that Lyra nearly jumped.

"Scabbers! Is that you?"

The rat squealed and attempted to escape as Ron took it into his hands. Ron examined it eagerly but then his face fell.

"Oh."

Lyra watched him turn the squirming rat over, seemingly oblivious to its scratching and biting,looking for something.

"It's not him," he said miserably.

"Your pet rat?"

"Yeah. Scabbers had a missing toe on his front paw. This one's got all of them."

He released the rat, which immediately scurried toward the nearest wall. Scarfoot watched it go without making any attempt to pursue it.

Lyra looked from the dog to Ron, then back again.

A thought occurred to her.

"Wait a moment."

"What?"

"Scarfoot's been bringing rats back to the common room all week."

"He has?"

"Live ones. He goes out at night and catches them, then brings them back without hurting them. I couldn't understand why."

She crouched beside her dog and scratched his ears thoughtfully.

"Scarfoot, you clever boy. Have you been trying to find Weasley's rat?"

Scarfoot wagged his tail.

Lyra looked up triumphantly.

"That must be it! He probably smelled Scabbers on you when you met him in Hogsmeade. He knows you're missing your pet, so he's been trying to find him!"

Ron stared at the dog with a healthy dose of skepticism.

"You reckon?"

"Well, what else could it be? He's certainly not eating them."

Ron crouched beside Scarfoot and gave his shaggy head an affectionate pat.

"You're a good dog, aren't you?"

Scarfoot's tail thumped against the stone floor.

"Thanks, mate. I appreciate it."

Lyra smiled. It was touching, really. She had known he was unusually intelligent, but this was extraordinary even by his standards.

She was just about to suggest that Ron give him something belonging to Scabbers to help with the scent when Scarfoot froze, looking at something behind her.

She turned to see Professor Lupin standing just as stock still as her dog. He looked like he'd frozen midstep, like a prey animal crossing paths with a bear. His hand was halfway to his wand and his eyes were wide open, unblinking.

---

Thanks again to Seru for continuing to comission this story, and my Patrons. And you fans of this story have been excellent as well. More melodrama for your teen romance, which much more to come.