firecracker ???

Summer always ended the same way.

With trunks snapping shut and house-elves scrambling and Narcissa adjusting collars while pretending she wasn't. With Lucius issuing last-minute instructions like battle plans. With Draco pacing, smug and fidgeting, and Lyra lounging in silk like war didn't apply to her.

This year, though, it felt different.

The World Cup hadn't left the air. Even now, days later, Lyra could still smell the smoke when she closed her eyes — the green glow of the Mark etched into her thoughts like a curse.

Lyra hadn't mentioned it.

Not the smoke. Not the scream that kept echoing at the edges of her memory. Not the way Regulus had stood still while the world burned around him.

She hadn't told anyone that she saw him.

She isn't sure she was supposed to have seen anything at all.

And besides — Lucius already knew.

Narcissa had said as much with a single look as she smoothed back Lyra's hair that night, no questions asked. Sirius... Sirius had been trying too hard to be funny ever since. Which meant he knew too.

Only Draco had been loud about it — loud and shaken and dramatic, demanding explanations no one would give him.

Lyra had stayed silent.

It was easier that way.

-

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was as chaotic as ever.

Witches in furs and men in Ministry robes milled about the platform, casting shrinking charms on trunks and shouting last-minute instructions at their children. First years clung to their pets. Seventh years looked smug. Parents clucked like anxious owls.

The Malfoys swept through it all like a knife through fog.

People turned to look — they always did.

Lucius didn't acknowledge it. Narcissa only nodded at the Greengrasses. Sirius was already laughing with someone two carriages over, Harry next to him with Weasley and Granger.

Draco walked like he owned the tracks. Lyra was the same next to him, hand clutching his arm.

The whispers were louder this year.

"Did you hear they left the Cup early?"

"Of course they did — they were probably warned."

"My cousin said the Ministry thinks it was planned weeks ago."

"My mother said the Malfoys weren't even surprised—"

"They never are."

Lyra didn't look back. She never did.

The Slytherin carriage was already full when they reached it.

Blaise was stretched along one bench like he was paid to model for it. Theo had his boots up, reading the Prophet with all the focus of someone pretending not to eavesdrop. Pansy and Daphne were deep in some whispered conversation involving narrowed eyes, dramatic sighs, and multiple letters.

"Royalty has arrived," Blaise said lazily, not looking up.

Draco dumped his bag in the corner. "Try not to look too awed."

"Oh, I'm trembling."

Lyra stepped in without a word and took the spot beside Daphne.

"Fashionably late," Pansy said approvingly.