Chapter 5: Icarus and DaedalusChapter Text1992, September
Cedric had already been warned about the effectiveness — or lack thereof — of their new professor, Gilderoy Lockhart. While he was famous for his many adventures, Lyra and James were skeptical of his abilities; Cedric decided to reserve judgment for himself.
Professor Lockhart strutted between the desks and removed his cloak with a swirl of fabric. He tossed it, landing it neatly on the hat stand, then sat on the edge of his desk with a gleaming smile.
"Welcome, class!" he said with a little too much enthusiasm. "Welcome to your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year, with yours truly, Gilderoy Lockhart!"
Cedric felt his cheeks burning in second-hand embarrassment when a few of the girls in the class giggled at his charm.
The man had cultivated an excellent image for himself. He was charismatic, brave (supposedly), and very much attractive. Despite being in his late twenties, he appeared much younger. His skin was smooth, his hair shone, and Cedric noted that he was quite fit when the man rolled up his sleeves. He would've thought this was simply his personality, flamboyant and silly, but with the skepticism of Lyra and James hanging in the back of his mind, Lockhart suddenly seemed as though he was trying too hard — almost as if he was compensating.
In only a few minutes, Cedric was beginning to feel a little disappointed.
He glanced to his left, where Lyra and James sat in his corner. To his amazement, and befuddlement, Lyra seemed entranced. She was smiling with clear awe at Lockhart, resting her head on her hand as if in love.
What the —? he mouthed to James.
James shrugged. He quickly began doodling on the back of his copy of Voyages with Vampires.
"As an introductory lesson, I think we should all introduce ourselves to each other," said Lockhart, refusing to let up his wide smile. "I'm sure most of you know exactly who I am, but there are some things that not even my diehard fans know about! But before that, let's try a quick quiz, shall we? Just to test your knowledge on my books, nothing to worry about!"
He began walking between the desks, manually handing out sheets of paper, face-down. When he returned to the front of the classroom, he clapped his hands together.
"Everyone ready? Good. Now… begin!"
Cedric turned over the first page, scanned the questions, and promptly decided the man was a complete and utter fool.
He turned back to James with an expression of despair. James snorted at his expression, before holding up the back cover of the book he was doodling on. A large picture of Lockhart was silently screaming in horror at the little toothbrush mustache and undercut that had been graffitied onto him, trying to claw it off with his manicured two-dimensional hands. Cedric bit down on his knuckles to keep from laughing.
Lyra on the other hand seemed to be taking the test seriously, filling out every question — but Cedric noticed something: she had her wand in her hand, pointing at Lockhart, and every now and then she would mutter something under her breath, take a moment, then write out the answer for whatever question.
"What's she doing?" Cedric whispered.
James leaned closer to her as she muttered something again. He turned back to Cedric, placing his fingers on his temples and adopting a constipated expression. Then he pointed in Lockhart's direction.
Lyra was… reading Lockhart's mind?
"Legilimency?" whispered Cedric in disbelief.
James nodded. Then he passed a sheet to Cedric, who glanced up at Lockhart, but he was focused elsewhere (on his own life-size portrait). Cedric stared down at the sheet, and frowned. They were Arithmancy calculations. Much more advanced than the stuff they'd been studying last year, but Cedric had practiced over the summer, so he was able to read it, though barely. It was supposed to be some sort of jinx — no, a curse.
A variation of the Tongue-Tying Curse, it seemed. He recognized the Tongue-Tying Curse as it had been used as an example last year; it was among the less malicious curses, so it had been deemed safe to study, apparently. He also recognized something else… something similar to what he had seen in the Confundus Charm, some sort of mental compulsion component.
At the top of the page, the words 'Caveman Curse' was written out in capital letters and underlined twice. Cedric gave a flat look to James, who seemed inordinately proud of himself.
Lockhart clapped his hands again, startling students from their quizzes.
"Time's up!" he called. "Quills down, please, and pass your tests to the person sitting in front of you!"
The tests were collected and Lockhart quickly scanned through them. He hummed or frowned appropriately in places, before setting them down on his desk behind him and beaming at the class.
Cedric saw James flick his wand under his desk, mutter something under his breath (it sounded suspiciously like "Ungabunga") and a jet of nearly-invisible blue light streaked across the classroom and splashed against Lockhart's chest.
"Ungabunga!" said Lockhart, and Cedric clapped his hands over his mouth. Lockhart, for his part, seemed not to notice the difference, even as the rest of the classroom stared with wide eyes. "Bunga doonga ooga?"
And so it went. Cedric saw one of the 'Puffs, Ellie Harper, place her head face down onto her folded arms, desperately trying not to make a sound even as her shoulders shook. Lyra gave James a dirty look.
"I'm trying to get easy passes to the Restricted Section here," she said.
"Yeah, but isn't this way better?" said James, struggling not to break into open laughter.
"Doonga lunga bunga?" said Lockhart, his palms out in question to the class.
Lyra's lips twitched too.
There was a big pool in the Room of Requirement. Lyra floated in the center of it in a swimsuit, arms out wide, with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her.
"What the —?" said Cedric.
Lyra laughed lightly. "Elixir of Euphoria," she said. "Wonderful... Everything is beautiful. James, what a wonderful world... I see trees of green," she began to sing softly, "and red roses too..."
Cedric closed his eyes tight and James shook his head in disbelief.
"She promised me that she wouldn't do magical drugs two weeks ago," he said to Cedric.
"Did you expect her to keep that promise?" said Cedric, eyes still closed.
"Not really. She's an idiot."
Cedric glanced nervously at the pool, firmly avoiding Lyra herself. "We should go, let her enjoy her… moment, I guess."
"A true gentleman," James said. "Alright, we'll find some other place to practice. I still don't see why you want to practice for Lockhart's dueling club, but whatever."
Cedric shifted as they turned around. "I just don't want to embarrass myself. Not that you'd know what that means, you have no shame."
"You won't embarrass yourself in some dueling club organized by Lockhart of all people," James said. "And you think too lowly of your own skills. You'd wipe the floor with any student in this school that's not me."
"Lyra would take offense to that."
"She's in no state to take offense to anything right now."
"Here's a little song I wrote," sang Lyra, "you might want to sing it note for note — don't worry, be happy —"
"I hate that song," James grumbled.
"Come on, let's get you out of here," said Cedric, before James decided to obliterate Lyra's moment of peace.
"Are the Weasleys joining us?" asked James, as they headed down to the grounds — the only other place open enough in the school to practice no-holds-barred dueling.
"Not today." Cedric shook his head. "They have detention. Speaking of, last week must have been your first detention with McGonagall, huh?"
"Don't remind me," James said. "I tried to serenade her into a lesser punishment, but it didn't work."
Cedric stared at him. "You're mad."
James shook his head. "It must have just been my singing voice, or lack thereof. I'll practice in case I get detention again."
They headed down onto the grass by the lake. James kicked off his shoes, sending them flying off into the soft grass, and removed his wand from his sleeve. He twirled it experimentally in his hand before turning to Cedric.
"The usual rules, then?"
"Sounds good," Cedric agreed.
No Unforgivables, and to first blood. There wasn't much in the way of rules, otherwise.
Cedric drew his wand. Ash and unicorn hair, twelve inches. As if sensing Cedric's excitement, the wand warmed in his hand, nearly vibrating as it urged him to attack. James would likely let him, always the one to be let others strike first.
Cedric struck.
The ground beneath James rumbled and deformed, pockets of earth rising and creating steep valleys. As James balanced on one foot, not taking the duel very seriously, Cedric cast five disarming jinxes in rapid succession, each aimed slightly away from each other.
James cast a Shield Charm without even looking at him, and the jinxes splashed without effect against it. Cedric twisted his wand again, conjuring a thick hose of water that blew into James' shield and outward, creating a mist that — Cedric hoped — would blind James.
Then the water froze, and before James could throw an unimpressed look at him, it shattered from the force of Cedric's Banishing Charm, hurling small shards of ice all over towards James. He swished and flicked his wand lazily, sending the shards flying into the sky with an almost annoying dismissive attitude.
Cedric didn't have the opportunity to strike again before he was rolling to the side to avoid an assortment of joke spells. He responded with a pair of Stunners that dissipated upon contact with a short earth wall.
"Bombarda Maxima!" Cedric shouted, looking to blow through it.
The wall exploded, sending dust and dirt into the air and into James' shield, which, to Cedric's surprise, exploded upon collision with the debris, sending much of it back in Cedric's direction.
Then the dust in the air seemed to expand, as if it was smoke, turning inky black and billowing all over the field. And Cedric saw it was spewing out of the tip of James' wand. Cedric sent a curse in his direction, but James disappeared into the blackness.
"Ventus!" said Cedric, but the blown away smoke was immediately replaced with dozens of mindless ravens hurtling toward his face. They flew into his hastily conjured shield, then up and around it in an attempt to get around the shield wall — but Cedric closed it off, turning the Shield Charm spherical. He saw nothing but black wings beating wildly around him.
He mimicked James from earlier, and exploded his shield. Though nowhere near as powerful as James', it gave him a split second that he used to conjure a storm of fire, whirling into the ravens, sending them away and incinerating those that didn't.
One raven however swooped to the ground and under his legs, and Cedric belatedly realized that this raven wasn't as mindless as its fellows. When Cedric turned around, the raven was gone, replaced with James himself, and a bolt of yellow lightning darted into his chest, striking him down onto the ground.
Cedric groaned, his arm spasming as he attempted to curse James, and his wand fell through his twitching fingers onto the ground.
"I win," said James, as Cedric continued to thrash on the ground, gritting his teeth.
Cedric panted, resting his head back against the ground.
"Not fair," he said. "You didn't tell me you were an Animagus."
"I must have forgotten," James said smugly. "I only completed the transformation during the summer, after all."
Cedric threw a rock at him, which missed. "Oh, shut up." He sat up. "Lyra's one too, I'm guessing?"
"Nah," said James, holding out a hand for Cedric to pick himself up. "She's been too focused on her whole Philosopher's Stone thing."
"Does she really think she can recreate one?"
James just shrugged, in a manner that suggested he didn't really care for the topic.
"You're getting better," he said finally. "You'll mop the floor with Lockhart, I'm sure."
"Are you guys coming?" Cedric asked, and James chewed his lip.
"I want to," he admitted. "But I don't want to bask in Lockhart's presence any longer than I have to. I'll end up murdering him if he keeps flirting with his own portrait between sentences. I'll see if Lyra wants to come, and if she does, I'll go as well."
"She won't. Is my presence not good enough for you?" Cedric said, huffing out a laugh.
"I'll tell you what, I'll come if you 'accidentally' murder Lockhart halfway through."
"Deal," said Cedric instantly, and they both laughed out loud.
"Ah, Mr. Diggory, Mr. Stark," said a voice from behind them.
They turned to find Dumbledore approaching.
"Very impressive duel, you two," he said with a smile. "Very impressive indeed."
"Professor," Cedric said, surprised.
"Though," said Dumbledore, giving James a pointed look, "I hope you know that Animagi are, by law, required to register themselves at the Ministry?"
"Of course," said James. Cedric noted that James made no mention of actually doing so, and it seemed that Dumbledore noticed it too, judging by his wink. Then he grew a little more serious.
"I admit I had an ulterior motive for seeking you out," he said. "Have you seen Miss Malfoy, by any chance?"
Cedric and James glanced at each other.
"She's, uh, preoccupied," said Cedric.
"I see." Dumbledore watched Cedric's fidgeting form with curiosity. "With a boy, I assume?"
James snorted. "She's saving that for a special French someone," he said. "Nah, she's just tripping balls at the moment."
Dumbledore hummed with amusement. "The vitality of youth. I know it well."
"Wait," said James, "are you trying to say — ?"
Dumbledore's small smile grew, and both boys stared at their illustrious headmaster in disbelief.
"The muggles used to call me — what was it? Ah, yes, a hippie." Dumbledore shook his head in fond reminiscence. "I will have to reprimand Miss Malfoy, however, for she is young and her mind is still developing."
James stared at Albus Dumbledore with renewed opinion; though whether that opinion was better or worse than before, Cedric couldn't tell. They began walking back to the castle. Some of the few students sitting outside to enjoy the afternoon sun glanced in their direction.
"Now that you mention it," James said, "you are a bit… loopy."
"Five points from Ravenclaw," said Dumbledore as they entered the entrance hall, and five points were indeed removed from the Ravenclaw hourglass.
"Wait, points are actually removed when I banter with the teachers?" said James. "Oh no."
James' expression of distress was not very convincing, and Cedric laughed.
"It seems the loss of points does not deter you," said Dumbledore, lightly. "Some time spent cleaning the trophy room, perhaps?"
"Oh, look," James said, pointing, "there's the one you were looking for."
Cedric followed James' finger to Lyra Malfoy, who was nearly skipping down the grand staircase with her arms swinging wildly about, a wide smile on her face.
"She's going to fall," said Cedric. "Someone should stop her."
Dumbledore hummed in agreement, before removing his wand from his sleeve. With a casual flick, Lyra's near-uncontrolled stumble down the stairs was slowed down. Like she was walking on the Moon, she floated down towards the bottom of the stairs.
"Whoa," she said, looking delighted. "This stuff is amazing."
"Good afternoon, Lyra," said Dumbledore mildly, replacing his wand in his sleeve.
Cedric would've laughed at the expression Lyra wore when she looked up at the headmaster, if not for worry that Dumbledore would remove some points from Hufflepuff as well.
"I am glad you are enjoying yourself," said Dumbledore, "but there are some important matters I must discuss with you. If you are agreeable, I would like to take it to my office." He gave her an expectant look when she just stared, wide-eyed. "Shall we?"
Lyra glanced at James, seeming to communicate something with her eyes.
"Uh, yeah," she said to Dumbledore. "Let's go, sir."
"Wait," said James, "are we coming as well?"
"Not this time," said Dumbledore, giving a tight smile. "I will be divulging information the general public does not know, and I would prefer it not be passed around."
"But Lyra loves gossiping," said James. "She'll probably spill the beans to us anyway."
Lyra shrugged, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes. Cedric felt she was rather uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with him.
"Then you may hear it from Miss Malfoy," said Dumbledore. "I am sure she will use her judgment."
Lyra wasn't sure if she was thankful the Elixir of Euphoria was wearing off. She would be clearer of mind, sure, but now the panic was settling in. A conversation with Dumbledore. It was frightening, and exciting, and she knew she had to keep him out of her mind.
Would he even look into it? Did Albus Dumbledore casually do such things?
"Ah, here we are," he said when they arrived at his office.
I know who killed Ariana, I know who killed Ariana, I know who killed Ariana — she repeated the words in her head, Occluding all else. If he so much as glanced in her mind, he would hopefully throw himself back out in shock before he saw anything else. It would raise many questions, her knowledge of Ariana, but so would any other voyage into her memories. This way, she would at least know immediately.
However, Dumbledore gave no indication of having heard such, and sat down on the chair behind his heavy desk, inviting Lyra to sit with him. She did so. The chair was tacky but heavenly, bleeding away some of her nerves as she sunk into it.
"There are a few matters I wished to discuss privately with you," said Dumbledore. "The first and most important business is regarding Lord Voldemort."
"Have you caught wind of him?" said Lyra, trying very hard to sound the right mix of casual and intrigued.
"Not even a breeze," said Dumbledore. "And that is what worries me. A silent, unseen predator is more frightening than the one you can spot."
"I'm not sure what I can do about that," said Lyra, unsure if she was giving too much eye contact or little. And were her hands fidgeting too much?
Dumbledore interlocked his fingers and lowered his chin behind them. "How well do you know your family's role in the first wizarding war?"
"You want me as an insider?" said Lyra, cutting to the chase. "If Voldemort comes back, to spy?"
"Not quite," said Dumbledore, raising his head and leaning back. "I would not have a fourteen-year-old girl put herself at Voldemort's mercy."
Lyra raised her eyebrows. "Wouldn't you? If the situation was dire enough? I'd be at his mercy anyway, being a Malfoy."
Dumbledore considered the question, then inclined his head. "I might consider it. But no, that is not what I wish to ask you now. The situation is not, at least I hope, quite so dire. I hope, you see."
"Ah."
Dumbledore gave a soft smile, maybe tinged with a little bit of regret. "You understand, then, how awkward of a position this puts us in. I must ask a young woman to potentially speak behind her family's back."
Lyra sunk further into her seat, resting her chin on her fist.
"My parents won't —" But she stopped, because she knew she couldn't say that with certainty. "My mother wouldn't join him. Not again."
"I am not necessarily asking if they would join him — if Lucius would join him, to be blunt, or if they have already. I ask if you know if they've been contacted by Lord Voldemort, or any of his servants."
"No," said Lyra.
"No odd comings and goings?" Dumbledore said. "Leaving with little notice —?"
"No," repeated Lyra. "My mother would have told me."
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, merely studying Lyra's face.
"My mother would have told me," she said again, firmly. "I've told her about my involvement with Voldemort last year, and that I'm not sorry about it, my part in exposing him and ruining his plans or whatever. If my mother knew of anything, she'd tell me. She wants him back less than me."
Dumbledore hummed. "And what would you do if he was to come back?"
Lyra remained silent, unsure herself.
"You could flee," said Dumbledore idly, "but your own aunt would hunt you to the corners of the world. You could stay and pretend you support pure-blood supremacy, but Lord Voldemort is the most accomplished Legilimens the world has perhaps ever seen. No infiltrators have fooled him before."
"None?" said Lyra, with the clear doubt and intent in her tone that told Dumbledore she wasn't simply curious but knew it wasn't true.
"I trust you speak of Professor Snape," said Dumbledore. "Hm. Let me correct myself: none have escaped whole, not without terrible loss."
Lyra interlocked her own fingers then, her elbows on the armrests, and put her chin down on them. "Do you have something in mind, then?"
"There was an organization." He eyed his phoenix, Fawkes, for a moment. "Made up of individuals who wished to resist Lord Voldemort from the shadows."
Lyra had to lower her mouth further behind her fingers in case she smiled or laughed. Was Dumbledore seriously about to invite her into the Order of the Phoenix? She loved the man, truly, but there was something comical about this, when she had stolen the Stone right under his nose.
"Mostly, they engaged in counter-espionage and sabotage," he said. "We worked in secret, hindering Voldemort's operations while providing safety and anonymity. Sometimes it was only temporary; many of our number were still killed."
"And you're thinking of starting it up again?"
"Oh, I have," said Dumbledore. "If Lord Voldemort can figure out a way to use the Philosopher's Stone to return back to life, fully, we are looking at another potential war. And, as astute and clever as you are, it won't come as a surprise to you that I have entertained the thought of lending an invitation to you."
"To hide if he came back soon," said Lyra, "but to fight one day when I'm older, if I wanted?"
Dumbledore smiled. "I must say, you are truly one of the most clever students I've had the pleasure to talk to — both you and James. Clever and skilled. Sometimes, you remind me of Voldemort when he studied here, when his name was Tom Riddle."
Lyra laughed nervously. "Why, was he pretty?"
"Many considered him handsome, yes," said Dumbledore, "but I mean more in his extraordinary talent in magic. So, as unethical as it may be to say to one as young as yourself, yes, I think a witch of your caliber would be a highly valuable asset to the Order of the Phoenix — when you are of age, of course. Especially when you are of age."
"And my family?" said Lyra.
"We could protect them, but I am afraid I could not grant them any real membership into the Order. I hope you understand."
Lyra nodded. "Honestly, I wouldn't trust my father either. I think I could get him to abandon Voldemort, but I don't know about fighting against him."
"Indeed," said Dumbledore.
Then he opened his mouth but closed it, falling into silence as he thought about something. Lyra herself was struggling with her rising guilt. Dumbledore had already restarted the Order, all to prepare for a Voldemort that would likely never even resurrect. He didn't even have the Stone.
"After the first disappearance of Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore at length, "I have had time to think. Though pure-blood supremacists often boast of not holding bigotries the muggles do — regarding sexuality, race, and gender — there is still a terrible prejudice against many, even publicly. I do not mean muggle-borns; Minister Fudge's campaign, for example, ran on a pro-muggle slogan. Minister Fudge is also open about his — well, he would call it caution..."
"But it's bigotry," said Lyra. "Against werewolves, house-elves, giants, centaurs, vampires, goblins —"
"All ethnic groups unfairly persecuted by the Ministry," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Lord Voldemort's success as the Dark Lord is unsurprising, therefore, given his promises to some of these groups. The Ministry's cruelty toward those deemed non-human is itself despicable, but the hatred it inflamed drove countless to Lord Voldemort's side."
"And —" Lyra hesitated, unsure of how to proceed without sounding too confrontational. "Have you, sir, helped on that front? Being Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump? I'm not really sure how much you can even do in those positions," she added quickly.
"I have, many times before, proposed Hogwarts to be opened to werewolves. I was told no, but I let one in anyway. I have sent envoys before to notable giant clans. The same goes for centaurs, merpeople, goblins. I have championed House-Elf rights."
"Is that it?" said Lyra, and she didn't stop the frustration from showing. "I mean, you're the most powerful wizard in the world. Can't you, you know, toss your weight around a bit more?"
"I thought so, once..." Dumbledore said after a moment. "I was younger then, less experienced. I thought I knew better than everyone else, and…" He sighed quietly.
A heavy silence stretched between the two.
"You don't trust yourself," said Lyra simply.
"I don't," Dumbledore said. Then he smiled, albeit wearily. "But I believe others, young but good, will help build a kinder world for us all. It was my hope the Order could be the beginning of this, after Voldemort's defeat, but we shall see."
"Build a kinder world how?" said Lyra, very carefully. "Slowly, through the Ministry, while who knows how many suffer in the time it takes?"
"I have no illusions that it will be easy," he said. "Prejudices run deep; it will be a long time before centaurs, merpeople, or even squibs are afforded the same respect and dignity that witches and wizards are."
"You could be dead before that happens," said Lyra bluntly.
Dumbledore smiled. "I am aware of my age, yes."
Lyra struggled not to sigh in irritation. She knew that Dumbledore knew exactly what she was hinting at. She stared at him until he gave up on the pretense.
"What you hint is dangerous," said Dumbledore finally. "I also think it is foolish to attempt to force a change in long-held beliefs. People must be persuaded. And I think the way is empathy, patience, and general kindness. Otherwise, whatever one builds may crumble as soon as leverage is lost."
Still, she didn't say anything. She scratched at the wood of her armrest, running her tongue over her teeth in an attempt to not say what she wanted.
"You disagree?" said Dumbledore, a curious glint forming in his eyes.
Lyra stood, sighing heavily, and paced away to one of his bookcases. It would be stupid to give him anything more. She should just nod her head and act the naive child he probably thought she was, rather than the twenty-thirty-whatever year old she was now.
But would it even matter? She would never stand a chance against Dumbledore, not now, not in twenty years.
"I think people are stupid," she said, whirling around. "It took muggles centuries to get where they are, and even now, I'd be killed in some places for my sexuality. How many have died or suffered in the time it took to end slavery? How many more before they finally give people equality?"
Dumbledore eyed her. "I had thought you, Lyra, were more against that kind of talk than your parents."
She flashed him an annoyed look. "That's not what I mean. The muggles were just an example. It all applies to the wizarding world too. I don't think we're superior — at least not in that way."
"Then in what way?"
"There would be plenty of muggles that I'm sure I could trust to set things right," said Lyra, taking the time to think her words out. "But even if they have the right ideas, they don't have the power. We do."
"What you propose is a worldwide coup, pure and simple," said Dumbledore. "I could manage it, even quickly, but I am old. What of my successor? Will he or she be as kind as I hope I would be with the system I've put in place?"
Lyra shook her head. "You're not understanding."
"Then make me understand," said Dumbledore gently.
Lyra stared at him for a moment, unsure if she should say it. Then she figured she was already far enough in.
"I think you're scared," she said. "I think what I'm saying reminds you of Grindelwald and you don't want to even entertain any ideas even close to his."
The gentle patience in his face seemed to fade, but it was not replaced with any coldness or hostility. Just simple observation.
"I agree with your assessment," he said, after a long silence. "But I knew Grindelwald personally. It is not a story many know: he and I were friends, once. I was less wise then, and I was charmed by his words and nature. He was as passionate as you are now, and he was also just as convinced that he was doing the right thing. For the Greater Good, he used to say."
"But I don't want to do things his way!" she said, indeed passionately. "I don't want to kill whoever stands in my way. I don't want power. I don't want an army of inferi. I'm not willing to do whatever it takes for the greater good."
This seemed to give Dumbledore pause. Lyra knew he had been too reflexive, too reactive, assuming she was talking the way Grindelwald had. A spark of hope flickered inside her. If she could distance her ideas from Grindelwald, could she get Albus Dumbledore on board in some way?
"I don't want to rule with some iron fist," she continued, using her momentum. "I just want to rid the world of corruption, poverty, war — place good people in the right positions, a system with checks and balances and all that, without any bloodshed if possible, and then — and then I'll fuck off to my island of veela."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, then his beard twitched, and Lyra couldn't help the small laugh, which was joined by his own.
"I mean," she said through an amused breath, "you already want to create some cabal of influential individuals working together to create a better future, don't you?" Then she laughed again. "Mum told me about something called the Slug Club."
Dumbledore actually grimaced slightly. "Ah, heard of Horace's little project, have you?"
"Mum and Father were members, I think. They said Slughorn wasn't very subtle about what he was doing, either."
"No, he wasn't," Dumbledore said. "But he was quite good at what he did, not that you heard it from me."
Lyra sat back in her seat, feeling good about how the conversation was now going. Then a thought popped into her head.
"Are you going to offer James membership for the Order as well?" she asked.
"I've considered it," Dumbledore said. "But as a muggle-born, I worry he would not understand exactly why Voldemort was feared as much as he was. Nobody lives to underestimate Voldemort a second time."
"He's not as experienced in magic as I am, being muggle-born and all, but he knows not to underestimate Voldemort. He's been inventing a bunch of spells lately, actually. They're even useful — sometimes."
"Ah, yes." Dumbledore tried and failed to stifle a small smile. "I hear he's the reason Professor Lockhart's vocabulary has regressed several tens of thousands of years."
Lyra shook her head good-naturedly. "Wish he didn't. I was trying to butter him up so I could get unlimited passes to the Restricted Section of the library."
"Oh?" said Dumbledore, beard twitching again. "I'm sure a lack of passes hasn't stopped you before."
"No, but it gets annoying having to keep an eye out for Madam Pince. Bet she didn't get many hugs as a child." She spotted his unimpressed look and held her hands up. "I haven't used any books for any nefarious purposes. Truly."
Dumbledore nodded absentmindedly. "Does Mr. Stark know of these thoughts and plans of yours?"
Lyra frowned. "Thoughts, sure. I don't really have any real plans, though. I don't think he takes it too seriously anyway."
"He doesn't take anything seriously."
She laughed. "It'll probably get him killed one day."
She had to admit she enjoyed the flow of banter with Dumbledore. She understood what James meant now. It was a bit of a shame Harry never got much of this side. Speaking of Harry...
"Hey, sir," she said, "what's going on with Sirius Black? Is he better now?"
"In recovery, still," said Dumbledore. "Were you looking to meet him?"
"I'm looking for Harry to meet him. He needs some family. Some proper family," she added, her lips twisting in displeasure. "I visited him over the summer."
"So I heard. It was kind of you."
Lyra shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure he was doing okay, give him some fun over the summer. James and I took him to the Weasleys on the Knight Bus. Do you think Sirius could take Harry in?" she asked suddenly. "I'd love to have him over my house, but we both know that'll never happen."
"Particularly not now, with the potential return of Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "The Dursley home is quite well protected, if I do say so myself. I personally involved myself in its construction. I believe it is the only protection Lord Voldemort could not ever learn to bypass."
"Why not just have Sirius transfer the Secret of his family home over to you with the Fidelius Charm?" said Lyra. "You can be the Secret Keeper. I know that couldn't have worked when Harry was a baby, because there'd be no one you could trust to raise him — especially since everyone thought James Potter's own best friend was a Death Eater and if not him then who? — but —"
"It's possible," Dumbledore said, interrupting her rambling. "I shall discuss this with Sirius, not to worry. And I think that is all I have to discuss with you today as well."
"Okay," she said, feeling rather satisfied with how this all went. "And you'll help me take over the Ministry, right?"
Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses.
"My loyalty is not so cheaply bought, Miss Malfoy."
"Actually," said Lyra, standing up and ignoring him, "I'm pretty sure I could just get Father to pay Fudge off to stand down and let me take over." She walked to the door, casually explaining her plans of world domination to no one in particular. "Oh, and I'll put Aberforth in the position of Head of the Board of Governors, obviously." She turned around as she opened the door and looked at him seriously. "To oversee things here at Hogwarts, you know — make sure you're doing your job."
"The impertinence!" shouted one of the portraits as she made her way out.