Chapter Four – Lyanna

I
sigh and close my book with a thud, looking round the common room from my usual
seat in the corner. There’s too much noise to study tonight – Malfoy’s bickering
with someone, the prefects for Slytherin and trying to get some rules across
and a group of fourth-years are loudly discussing the details of a recent
league Quidditch match which they went to see. The conversations have become
wildly confused in my head, so much to the point that the Prefects seem to be
talking about Quidditch and the Third-years arguing with Flint, and I close my
eyes to try and block it out. Once I’ve closed them, however, I start to relax,
warning bells going off in my head. I’ve got homework to do and I can’t go
falling asleep now. But then the banter becomes a drone to my weary ears, and
with a sigh, I give up, letting myself slip off into a half-sleep, forgetting
about homework. I’m near drifting off when a helpful reminder of my tardiness
is whispered in my ear.

“Wake
up Le Fay.”

My
eyes snap open at once as I recognize the tone and turn my head to the side to
see a sneering Malfoy. “I wasn’t asleep.” Is my instinctual answer.

He
laughs and retreats, standing back to look at me. “So…athletic, are you?”

I
stare at him in bewilderment. My tired mind hasn’t yet realized his obvious
motive for bullying. “What on earth are you talking about?”

He
ignores my comment. “Hmmm, I suppose you don’t need to be, with what position
you’re taking.” He says snidely, a hint of danger in his voice. “Still, you
could do with loosing a bit of weight.”

Now
I get it. Trying to remember what Jamie has taught me about sass, I lift my
head up and retort sardonically: “Seriously? You must have something wrong with
your eyes to make you think that.”

It’s
true. Many people – including Jamie – have often said I’m to thin. The meaner
ones calling me gaunt or skeleton-like. So Malfoy’s comment about me needing to
lose weight does not affect me nor give to him.

“Talking
of eyesight, how’s yours?” He goes on. “Apparently you’re a very good observer,
or so Flint told me.” He adds acid to the ‘Flint’ and I wind him up by
replying.

“Well,
I must thank him for the compliment.”

Draco
looks at me for a minute then laughs with mock modesty. “Ha ha ha – now listen
here” Suddenly he’s close - grabbing the collar of my shirt and thrusting his
face closer to mind as he spits his words out venomously. “I know you think
you’re Seeker of the Quidditch Team now, having replaced me by some miracle,
but let me tell you - ” He snarls. “- I will do everything in my power to take
that from you. So you’d better watch out.”

He
lets go of my shirt and I flop back down into my chair. The threat scares me
but I know I can’t show weakness otherwise he’d target me more. Draco has a
one-track mind.

So,
with equal venom, I rise, delivering my words ominously before heading for the
exit.

“You
have no power over me.”

His
face gives me courage – I’ll admit – the anger and fury that clouds his
expression and gives him a tomato-pink blush. But I’m less confident than I
appear to him – in fact, in my tired mind, I’m panicking. Because Malfoy does
have power over me – and over Flint, who could just as easily throw me off the
team as he put me on it. Last year Draco bought his way into the team. This
time I’m in it via talent. But matters in Slytherin are usually dealt in the
first way.

Sighing,
I try and forget about Draco, changing my direction not towards the library
where I’ll find Jamie and Hannah but heading for the entrance to the Quidditch
pitch and broom sheds. If I get caught flying at this time I’ll be punished,
but for once in my life I don’t care. I just need to fly.

I
take out my broom – A Nimbus 2001 with a polished black handle and neat design
– and walk out onto the pitch, the atmosphere around me silent and still. I do
have an enchanted Seeker’s practice gadget – a contraption that fires
snitch-sized balls that you practice catching. It’s available to all the
seekers of the teams, bought by my cold-blooded but generous father. But I
don’t feel like using it tonight, instead just hopping on my broom and flying
into the night, feeling the wind on my face and relaxing. Most people would
assume I’m not a sporty person, but I can’t help but love Quidditch. You feel
so free, swooping about, high in the air, and freedom is something I rarely
experience. At home in the holidays, I’m confined to a dark manor where I’m
schooled in magic and pointless etiquette from what must be the 18^th
century. Here, I’m pressured by daily letters from my parents urging me to work
harder and ‘be the best’. Those letters follow me everywhere. And with my
friends…I worry too much. Hannah and Jamie are the only friends I’ve ever had,
and despite loving them to pieces, I’m always scared of loosing them. And
Malfoy…now that this Quidditch business has started I’m constantly on edge.

But
as I swoop down into a perfect dive, I forget about Malfoy. Nothing on earth
could remind me of him now, not as I plummet to the ground and prepare to pull
up at the last minute and complete a beautiful display that luckily no one can
see. I’m pretty renown for my stage fright.

But
as I pull up into a dive, I discover that there is something in the dark night
that can remind me of Draco. A small metal ball whizzes up towards me – one
from the Seeker’s practicing contraption. I catch it by reflex, halting my
broom as I do so. And, looking down, I discover who fired it.

Harry
Potter.

I
can’t help but frown as I look down at him, even if he’s smiling in a friendly
manner. Because seeing him has reminded me of Draco, both of us sharing a
common nemesis. And my shyness comes back as I remember the awkward
conversation on the train about Quidditch when I retreated into my shell after
introductions.

And
that’s what I do now, chucking the ball down to him and smiling slightly before
turning my broom to fly upwards and try and ignore him. But, unfortunately for
me, he seems to have other ideas. I hear a ‘whoosh’ below me and suddenly there
he is, seated on his Nimbus 2000 and smiling at me from the right. I turn my
gaze away but he speaks in such a friendly way I have to engage conversation.

“Nice
broom. Nimbus 2001, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”
I say quietly, wondering why he actually wants to speak to me. Perhaps he’s
just glad to find another nighttime flyer. Or he’s just curious. However, it’s
made clear that both factors come into play as he goes on to say.

“So
– you like flying at night then?”

I
nod, speaking in a low voice once more. “It’s nice to see the stars. Plus
there’s no one here.”

He
nods, looking up at the night sky like I’m doing. I realize how weird I must
seem to him, but since I can never appear normal to anyone I don’t bother
attempting to change my tune.

“Yeah.
I like flying at night as well. But I’ve never found anyone who does the same.”
He goes on before uttering the inevitable question. “Are you new to your team,
then?”

“Yes.”
I say, refraining from looking at the sky again and trying to focus on his
face. “I replaced Malfoy.”

I
can see his expression turn sour for a moment, but soon he grins. “Good for
you!” He tone seems genuine. “Only now, I suppose, Slytherin’ll be harder to
beat. If you’re good, of course.” He laughs. “I take it you are?”

“Well,
I wouldn’t-“ I begin awkwardly.

“I
shouldn’t have asked you that – I hate it when people put that question to
you.” He quickly cuts in. I can’t help but smile, as he seems to understand how
to navigate a conversation with me and my shyness is starting to wear off.
“Look, why don’t you show me? That’s easier.”

I
find myself grinning at him. “Ok.” I answer. “But don’t go giving your team the
heads up.”

“Oh
alright, I won’t.” He says, grinning back and seeming pleased that he’s broken
the ice. “I’ll go and fire then, shall I?”

“No,
it’s alright. I’ve got this one.” I release the silver ball that I caught
before and it flicks away before I turn to him. “Come on!” And with a push, I
zoom away after the ball, squinting through the darkness to try and locate it.
I hear a laugh behind me and can tell he’s following me, and with a grin to
myself, I turn down and to the right in a dramatic feint and cause him to
follow me. I cant help thinking to myself, as he almost hits the ground and
takes it with good nature as he realizes it was a trick, ‘This is going to be
an enjoyable evening.”

*  * 
*  *

“Wow.”
Harry, panting, pulls up beside me and grins. “You’re certainly good.”

I
smile shyly. An hour of chasing those balls and attempting to trick each other
in a good-natured fashion had been fun – and had shown my talent. Now that I’m
thinking about it, though, I begin to get a little paranoid again. I just hope
I can trust him not to warn his teammates and keep the information to himself.
After all, he’s the main benefiter of knowing my talent.

“Thanks.”
I say quietly. “But you’re better. I need to practice more.”

Now
it’s his turn to blush. “You’ll be better than me if I don’t watch out. Fancy
another race before we turn in for the night?”

The
late-night speeding and constant flying seems to have made me reckless as I
answer with unusual eagerness and a hint of mischief. “Yup.”

He
grins back and navigates his broom upwards, myself only pausing to do up the
lace of my shoe. However, as he’s ascending and I’m concentrating on my laces,
I hear an ominous vice float across the pitch and look up to see a lantern and
the silhouette of a hunched figure. My heart sinks as I realize who it is.

“Oi!
Who’s out there? You know you’re not meant to be out here at this kind of
night!” Filch says savagely, making his way towards me. I freeze in terror but
am suddenly unfrozen by a concerned voice calling from above

“Lyanna!”
My head jerks upwards and I see Harry beckoning. “Pull up! Get out of the way!”

But
I’m more logical than him in the heat of the moment. I know that if I pull up
now, Filch will catch both of us. But if I head for the slaughter and go
without protest Harry won’t be caught. With decision, I shake my head and jump
onto the ground and off my broom, having been hovering before. Filch comes into
view at that point and I snap my gaze off a confused Harry and turn myself in.

“I’m
sorry, Mr. Filch, it was-“

“I
know it was you, there’s no one else here.” He snarls, stopping to squint
savagely at me. “Now, Missy. Come with me. Detention for you.”

A
sinking feeling in my heart, I walk to lean my broom against the shed and
follow Filch inside. But, as I’m nearing the door, I hear a whisper and look
around to see Harry again, this time nearer and only slightly above me. He
seems to have realised what’s going on and says in a loud whisper.

“Thanks
Lyanna! I’ll repay you sometime.”

I
smile but don’t answer, having to turn and follow Filch once more. But instead
of the dread I once experienced I feel a warmth spread throughout my body.
However, it soon disperses as I cross the hall and see a smirking Malfoy watching
me from behind a staircase. I glare back, trying not to show my fury as I
realise who Filch’s informant was.

It’s
only a short walk to Filch’s office but it feels like an age as he shuffles
across the cobblestones and I feel dread swell in my heart. Finally, we reach
the small, dimly-lit room off the entrance hall and I enter the cloying
environment. To my surprise, I find I’m not alone as Filch leaves, muttering
something about a punishment book and being back in a minute. Standing by the
cabinets with a bored expression is a Gryffindor girl – one from my year, I
think. There’s silence as she looks me up and down and I do the same to her
before she says.

“I’m
Rose. Rose McBealy.”

I
answer in a quieter voice but answer all the same. “I’m Lyanna. Lyanna Le Fay.”

She
eyes me and stands up from leaning on the desk. “So…a Slytherin. Let me guess
you got in trouble for…”

“I’m
not a bully.” I bring my guard up straight away. “I was playing Quidditch and
got caught. End of story.”

She
eyes me and raises an eyebrow. “Woah, woah, I wasn’t going to attack you. In
fact, you don’t look like a bully. Or a Slytherin, to that matter.”

Ignoring
that fact that it was a potential insult or compliment, I pause and then
questioned: “So…what were you caught doing?”

She
laughs. “Trying to get into the Slytherin common room, as a matter o fact.”

I
laugh edgily in reply but crease my brow in confusion. “But – why were you
trying to get in there in the first place? You’d be eaten alive even if you did
get in.”

She
shrugs. “I was in a temper. This guy wound me up and I wasn’t thinking
straight.”

“Hang
on – you aren’t talking about Draco Malfoy, are you?” I answer immediately.

She
nods. “Yep, that’s the one. A right arsehole in my opinion.” She looks at me
suspiciously. “Why – are you friends with him?”

“God
no.” I retort at once. “I hate him.”

She
grins. “Well, at least we share a common enemy. That’ll make waiting here a lot
less uncomfortable.” She gets up and turns to look at the draws of the desk.
“Now…let’s have a peak.”

I
grin and come forward. Typically I’d be nervous but Rose seems to have the
reckless and infectious courage that has got to me. She reaches up and pulls
open a draw, laughing as she sees it.

“Seriously
– he confiscates this?” She holds up a whoopee cushion and I laugh, then
reaching forward to open another draw.

“Hmmm,
I’ll try this one…” It’s labelled ‘confiscated and highly dangerous’, but
in my tired and somewhat don’t-careish state I find I don’t care. Rose looks
over my shoulder as I heave to open it, but at last it gives way and with a
thump, the contents are revealed. However, there’s not much time to look as at
that moment Rose’s head jerks up and we hear the unmistakeable sound of Filch
muttering. Quickly reacting, Rose leaps to the side and puts on an innocent
look, and I, quickly looking over the contents, attempt to shut the draw. However,
it my visionary flash across the confiscated items, I notice a piece of
parchment. It’s blank, with no traces of writing. Intrigued to why it would be
placed in there, I grab it, pocketing it and slamming shut the draw.

The
only thought that was going round my head as I turned to exchanged glances with
Rose was;

“Please don’t let him notice it’s gone.”

Because,
as I experienced it again, I knew the wrath of Filch was a torture unbeknownst
to most individuals.

Not,
however, me.