Lyra stood in a dimly lit hallway, the air thick with dust and an ominous stillness. She recognized the house. The old stone walls, the grand staircase, the long corridors lined with portraits of people she could never name. It was her family's home—the place where she had grown up before everything changed.

A distant sound echoed from somewhere in the house—a soft, rhythmic thudding. She turned the corner and found herself standing in front of a door she had been told never to open. It was the door to her father's study, the one place she had always been warned about.

The door creaked open on its own, and she stepped inside.

Her father was there, sitting at his desk. He was younger than she remembered, his face full of life, his eyes bright with purpose. Lyra moved toward him slowly, though every instinct in her told her to leave.

He looked up, as if sensing her presence, and his lips curved into a soft, sad smile.

"You've come," he said, his voice warm but tinged with sorrow. "I knew you would."

Lyra tried to speak, but no words came out. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, searching, as though he could see through her. She glanced around the room. There were bookshelves stacked with ancient texts, some with strange symbols, and in the corner, a large, dusty map stretched across the wall—a map she recognized. It was a celestial chart, one that seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time.

"Father..." she whispered, finally finding her voice. "What is this place? Why did you leave?"

Her father's smile faded, and he looked down at the map. "I didn't leave, Lyra. I just... I couldn't protect you. Not from what's coming."

Her heart sank as a cold chill ran through the room, and the walls seemed to close in on her. The shadows in the corners of the room deepened, twisting into shapes she couldn't comprehend. Her father stood, walking toward her.

"The star chart you seek, Lyra," he said softly, "it's dangerous. You're not meant to find it. No one is. You have to let it go."

Suddenly, the room around her began to shake. The walls trembled, and the floor cracked beneath her feet. The light flickered and dimmed until everything was bathed in a haunting, cold darkness. The map on the wall started to glow, the stars on it shifting and rearranging, as if alive.

"No!" Lyra shouted, her voice breaking. "I can't—"

But the words stopped as the darkness swallowed her father whole. His figure vanished, leaving her alone in the chaos. The map continued to pulse, glowing brighter and brighter, until it consumed everything in its light.

Lyra woke with a start, her breath heavy and her heart racing. She sat up in bed, her sheets tangled around her as the remnants of the dream lingered in her mind like a fog. Her father's voice echoed in her ears, his warning clear. The star chart—her father's disappearance—everything that had haunted her since childhood.

She glanced around the dormitory, the soft light from the moon filtering through the curtains. The familiar surroundings did little to comfort her. She was still trapped in the same nightmare, the same unresolved questions that kept her from moving forward.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she took a deep breath. She had tried to let it all go. She had tried to enjoy the present, to allow herself to belong. But her past was never far behind, always creeping into her thoughts, always pulling her back.

And now, it seemed, the dream had come with a new weight. The warning from her father. She was meant to leave the star chart alone, but everything inside her screamed that it was the key to understanding everything—the key to her family's dark legacy. She couldn't ignore it. Not now.

But she also knew the danger it posed—not just to her, but to everyone she cared about.

Lyra rubbed her eyes, trying to push the dream away. She wasn't ready for this, not yet. Maybe she could stop. Maybe she could enjoy her time here. But the memory of her father's voice stayed with her, and deep down, she knew the truth: she couldn't run from her past forever

✵

The Hufflepuff common room was a swirl of lights, laughter, and the unmistakable hum of a party in full swing. The house had turned their common area into a vibrant celebration of the end of exams. Tables were laden with snacks, the music was loud, and students were scattered across the room, dancing or chatting in groups. It was a perfect escape from the relentless weight of schoolwork, and Lyra needed it.

The vivid images of her father's face and the haunting dream of the past still lingered in her mind like a heavy fog. But tonight? Tonight she didn't want to think. She wanted to forget. The alcohol was flowing freely, and Lyra, feeling the pull of its warmth, didn't hesitate to grab a glass.

At first, she sipped cautiously, enjoying the way the cool liquid burned down her throat, loosening her muscles and dulling the sharp edges of her thoughts. But soon, one glass wasn't enough. The music beckoned her, the beats vibrating through the floor.

She downed another drink and stood up, suddenly feeling a rush of energy.

"Why sit when you can dance?" she muttered to herself, a wild grin spreading across her face.

Lyra's feet carried her toward the center of the room, where a group of students were dancing in a loose circle. She didn't care that she wasn't the most graceful dancer—tonight, it didn't matter. She was alive, in the moment, and that was all that counted. She twirled, her blonde hair flying behind her, laughing as she lost herself in the beat.

The music seemed to drown out everything—the swirling thoughts, the cold ache of loneliness, the memories of her family and her father's mysterious disappearance. She let go, laughing louder than she had in weeks. She laughed at everything: the ridiculousness of the whole situation, the way her friends were spinning around like madmen, the absurdity of life itself. The laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, and she reveled in the joy of it.

As she danced, she caught sight of a boy from Ravenclaw—one she had seen around but hadn't really spoken to before. He was laughing with his friends, clearly enjoying the carefree vibe of the night. Without thinking, Lyra grabbed his hand, pulling him into the dance circle.

"Come on, you're not going to stand there all night, are you?" she teased, her voice tipsy but playful.

The boy, slightly taken aback, grinned. "Guess not."

And just like that, they were spinning around the room together, caught up in the madness of the party. Lyra could feel the heat of his hand on her waist, the rush of excitement that came with sharing a moment of carefree joy. She laughed, not caring about anything but the rhythm of the music.

But then, the next moment, a wave of dizziness washed over her. The room tilted slightly, the walls closing in on her just enough to remind her that she wasn't as free as she wanted to be.

Her heart raced, but not from the dance. From something deeper.

Lyra stumbled slightly, but before she could catch herself, another boy—a Gryffindor she'd vaguely recognized—reached out, steadying her. He gave her a playful wink. "Whoa there, you okay?"

She smiled, blinking to focus. "I'm fine. Just... forgot to breathe for a second."

And then, before she could second-guess herself, she kissed him. Just a quick press of lips, a flash of heat. He was surprised, but his surprise melted into something more—something electric. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

Lyra pulled away breathlessly after a moment, the world spinning around her. She was on a high, but not the kind she had hoped for. It wasn't the alcohol that made her dizzy—it was the rush of attention, of feeling desired, of losing herself in someone else's arms. For a moment, she was no longer Lyra Hawthorne, the girl with the haunted past, the girl who carried a family's legacy of secrets. She was just a girl at a party, enjoying the moment.

But the moment was fleeting. The laughter in her chest began to fade, replaced by the sudden heaviness of reality. Her chest tightened as memories of her father flashed through her mind again. She stepped back, stumbling away from the boy, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

"Lyra, you alright?" James Potter's voice cut through the noise as he appeared beside her, a worried expression on his face. He'd been watching from the sidelines, concerned but giving her space to enjoy the party.

She smiled weakly at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... lost myself for a second."

James seemed to read the hesitation in her expression. "It's okay to let go. You don't always have to be so... guarded, Lyra."

She looked at him, her gaze softening. He was right. For a moment, she had let go. But that was the problem. It was always temporary.

A few minutes later, she found herself back in the corner of the room, clutching a new drink in her hand. Her chest tightened again. The night wasn't working. The music couldn't drown out the past forever.

As Lyra stood in the corner, trying to steady herself after the dizzying moment with the Ravenclaw boy, her eyes searched the room for something to anchor her. She needed something—or someone—to break through the haze of her thoughts.

That's when she saw Sirius.

He was leaning casually against a wall, his trademark mischievous grin playing on his lips as he talked to a group of fourth years. They were laughing at something he'd said, his charm oozing effortlessly, but it was his eyes that caught her attention. He wasn't just playing the part of the fun-loving Sirius Black tonight. There was something else behind his gaze—something she couldn't quite place. It was as if he were looking for something or someone, just like she was.

Without thinking, Lyra pushed through the crowd, weaving her way toward him. Her heart beat faster with every step. She had no plan, no strategy. She just wanted... to be near him.

"Sirius," she called out, her voice louder than she intended.

He turned toward her, his grin widening as he noticed her approaching. He looked her up and down, clearly enjoying her disheveled, carefree appearance. "Well, well, look who's having fun," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day."

Lyra raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. "You didn't think I had it in me?"

"Honestly, I didn't," Sirius replied, his tone light but his eyes never leaving hers. There was something about the way he said it that made her feel like he wasn't just talking about the dancing, the drinking, or the party. It was as if he was seeing her more clearly than anyone else in the room.

"Well, I'm full of surprises."

Before she could stop herself, she pulled him toward the center of the room. Sirius let out a laugh, effortlessly following her lead. He was always the one to take charge in situations, but this time, he didn't try to resist.

She grabbed his hand, dragging him into the middle of the dance floor, where students were moving to the rhythm of the music. Lyra didn't wait for him to catch up—she twirled, laughing, lost in the beat. Her arms flung out as she spun, catching Sirius off guard, but she didn't care. She was spinning, laughing, feeling lighter than she had in days.

Sirius watched her, a little dazed, but clearly enjoying it. "This is how you're gonna get me to dance? I'm not complaining, but this is new."

"It's fun!" she replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. She pressed her forehead against his for a moment, her heart racing. She had no idea why she felt this connection with him, this sudden sense of closeness, but it felt good to be here with him. To be seen.

Sirius chuckled, eyes sparkling. "Alright, alright. But I'll warn you, I'm a pretty good dancer."

With a mischievous grin, he spun her around, and they moved together in a fluid rhythm, teasing each other with every step. She couldn't help but laugh as he pulled off some ridiculous move, his arms flailing in exaggerated circles.

"Is this what you call dancing, Black?" she teased, mimicking his movements with her own flair.

"Absolutely," he shot back with a grin. "Who needs grace when you've got style?"

Lyra laughed, her worries slipping away as they danced together, their movements an amusing blend of chaos and fun. But the more they moved, the closer they got. Their bodies brushed as they spun in time with the music, her laughter mingling with his. It was all so easy, so carefree.

But then, the music shifted, the tempo slowing. The crowd around them seemed to melt away as Sirius and Lyra slowed their movements, coming to a halt in the center of the room. The brief moment of quiet between them felt heavier than it should have.

Sirius's expression softened. His hands rested on her waist, his thumb brushing against her skin in small, gentle circles. The warmth between them was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

"You know, you're not what I expected," he murmured, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone. His eyes searched hers, looking for something—perhaps answers, or maybe just understanding.

Lyra swallowed, suddenly aware of the shift in the air. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed this moment of connection, but now that it was here, she wasn't sure how to handle it. "And what did you expect?" she asked softly, her gaze flickering down to his lips.

"I don't know." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "But I think I like this side of you."

Lyra bit her lip, feeling a surge of heat rise in her chest. It was dangerous, this feeling. Dangerous to let her walls down, even just for a second. But tonight, she wanted to forget. She wanted to embrace the fun, the lightness, the freedom of being with Sirius in this fleeting moment. She leaned in, her breath catching in her throat.

"Sirius..." she whispered, and for a brief, unguarded second, she thought she might kiss him.

But before either of them could act on the impulse, a loud crash interrupted their moment. A table had been knocked over near the edge of the room, spilling drinks and snacks across the floor. Lyra pulled back abruptly, her heart still racing. She took a deep breath, the weight of the world crashing back down on her.

Sirius looked at her, his eyes searching her face for any sign of what she was thinking. But she just forced a smile, stepping back.

"We should probably see what happened over there," she said, trying to sound casual as she gestured toward the mess.

Sirius hesitated for a moment before giving her a small, understanding nod.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Her voice was tight, but she tried to hide it. She smiled at him again, feeling a pang of disappointment she couldn't quite place. "Let's go clean up."

And with that, they walked away together, their hands brushing briefly, the connection between them lingering in the air long after the music had faded.