firecracker ???

2-8

Finally, Potter emerged from below the stands with Draco mere inches behind. Too quickly out of nowhere, Draco was hit. The sphere veered, spinning wildly, and slammed full-force into Draco's ribs and the crowd gasped. He was thrown sideways, spinning mid-air until he managed to grip his broom handle with white-knuckled fingers. He didn't fall, but the impact was brutal. Lyra's eyes widened and she froze for a second but quickly snapped out of it. The way he clutched his side told her everything she needed to know. 

Lucius's jaw was tight. "He was unfocused."

"He's in pain," Lyra quickly looked at her father, she was already on her feet."You saw the angle of that hit. He bruised something or maybe even worse." Lucius looked at her with a raised eyebrow but didn't argue.

She swiftly made her way down the stand and by the time she reached her brother, Potter had already caught the snitch. He was rolling around on the ground as the bludger repeatedly tried to strike down at him. Lyra didn't watch for long, the worry for her brother washed off her in waves. She helped her brother sit upright, crouching beside him. Draco was flushed and breathing shallowly. 

"You absolute moron," she said, not unkindly.

Draco gave a weak laugh. "You saw that loop? Perfect form."

"You missed the snitch by four inches," she said, brushing back a lock of his hair that had come loose. "And you taunted the one person who doesn't care how loud you are. You made yourself a target. You let him win. If you hadn't shut the bloody hell up you would've noticed it was next to your ghastly face."

Draco grumbled something and shifted, then winced. She helped him to his feet without asking.

Lucius approached.

"Embarrassing," he said. But his tone was mild. "You can't let emotion outweigh vision, Draco. Look where it got you."

"I know," Draco mumbled, eyes downcast.

Lyra kept her arm around his waist as he leaned against her shoulder for support. Harry, arguing with a useless Lockhart turned his head to them and managed to overhear every word. Lucius was angry and made no effort to keep his voice low. 

"He'll learn," Lyra said, sharper. "He's still breathing and next time he'll look closer."

Lucius regarded her for a moment. "See that he does."

He patted Draco's shoulder, turned, and left.

Later that evening, the common room was noisy, Draco retelling his injuries with dramatic flair. Pansy fussed. Blaise mocked. Theo passed him a chocolate frog and said nothing.

Lyra sat beside her brother.

She didn't say much. But she stayed close. When the common room had emptied a little, and the fire was low, she reached into her cloak and pressed a cooling charm softly over his ribs. He flinched.

"Stop whining," she said, more habit than venom.

Draco didn't answer. He stared into the fire, silent.

And then—abruptly—he wiped at his face.

Her heart seized.

"Are you—"

"No," he said, voice thick. "I'm not."

But he was. She reached for his wrist. He didn't pull away.

"You're not weak for crying," she said, alarmed at how soft her voice sounded. "You got hit by a cursed bludger. Father was furious. I was—"

"Worried?"

"Angry," she snapped. "You nearly fell."

He grinned, watery-eyed. "And yet I live. You even comforted me."

She pulled her hand back immediately with disgust.

Draco smirked. "It's your duty. As my baby sister."

She stood. "Then consider it fulfilled. I'm going to bed. Also, don't call me that. It makes me wanna hurl."

"Sweet dreams, dearest Lyra."

"Die." she bit back, disappearing up the stairs.

Harry woke hours later in the hospital wing, his arm burning and the foul taste of Skelegrow still on his tongue.

Then—a soft crack.

Dobby.

The house-elf crept to his bedside, eyes wide and guilty.

"You did this," Harry whispered. "Even after she told you not to."

Dobby trembled. "Miss Black said Dobby mustn't interfere again. But Dobby was scared! Dobby only wanted to keep Harry Potter safe!"

"You tampered with the bludger."

"Only to frighten, sir! Not to hurt!"

Harry's chest felt tight. He remembered the way Lyra had stared through the crowd—still and calculating. 

She had given the Dobby the order. Elestara.

And still, something in him twisted when he remembered her standing up for her brother.

She was terrifying when she was angry. But she wasn't unfeeling.

And he wanted to know which parts were real.

He's in danger. The Chamber is open. Someone is behind it.

And Lyra knew more than she was letting on.