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10

I M P E R I O

( im - PEER - ee - oh )

" to control "

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AFTER LYRA'S UNEXPECTED outburst, older students — most likely prompted by Fred and George — came to congratulate her. Even Professor Moody had raved in front of his classes about how they should strive to have the mind of Lyra Fairfax.

Her next lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts was much more enjoyable. Harry has grilled her as to why she stuck up for Malfoy, but he cracked a smile through his serious expression and hugged her tightly.

The tell tale sound of wood clanging against the floor announced Moody's arrival. He smiled down at Harry and Lyra as he passed their desk. Every student watched as his scrawled two words on the blackboard.

"Imperius Curse." He stated, bashing his cane against the floor. "Any objections to the use of this curse on yourself, speak up. Now." Everyone stayed silent.

Lyra smiled at his small change.

"It takes a witch or wizard of immense strength to ward of the Imperius Curse." He informed, sipping from his hip flask. "I'll go down the register and see if anyone can fight it off. You won't be harmed, don't worry."

Lyra's stomach turned with excitement and fear, she was younger than her classmates. She carried the pressure of showing she was good enough to be in fourth year classes.

She wrung her hands under the desk, her body became hotter as Professor Moody worked his way down the register. Lavender Brown was first.

Lavender jumped from desk to desk with harsh clunks, she landed on the floor with a graceful split jump and Moody let her go. Millicent Blustrode told the class about her undying love for Ron Weasley and promptly pretended she was a cat.

Vincent Crabbe waltzed around the classroom, angrily singing incoherent syllables. Everyone giggled at the students, each were unable to ward off the curse. Tracy Davis, a stodgy Slytherin who disliked Lyra, was made to dance an Irish jig — Seamus could barely contain his laughter.

Lyra had practiced this once before; her uncle had tried this with her in second year. Severus would teach Lyra advanced magic after curfew whenever they had chance — he saw just how in touch she was with her magic.

"Fairfax." Moody called as Tracy returned to her seat, red in the face, "Up you come."

Harry gave her an encouraging smile and squeezed her hand before she left the desk and walked to the front of the class. Moody gave her something of a smile with his scarred face. "Ready?"

Lyra nodded, clenching her fists. "Imperio."

A feeling of weightlessness washed over Lyra, her brain had cleared into a relaxing fog. She felt at peace with herself, any gnawing thoughts had trickled from her mind. She was only vaguely aware of the classroom full of students watching her.

"Squawk like a chicken." A voice said in the back of her head. Without thought, she opened her mouth, but before any sound came out, she questioned her actions.

It felt like each negative thought was punching its way back into her mind with brute force. "Act like a dog." She craved the feeling of weightlessness once more and, against her will, barked loudly.

Her vision fogged momentarily and she was brought back to her body, everyone watching her. "Well done, again, Fairfax. You were doing well."

She took three deep breaths and squeezed her eyes shut. "Imperio!" Her chest filled with a golden warmth, before she could bask in the feeling, she cut it off. Fighting to remember her uncles advise, 'question everything. Ask why, always ask why.'

"Let's see shall we," Moody thought aloud, "Something against her moral code. Potter!"

"Ye—yes, sir." He stammered.

"What shall she do? Something Fairfax would hate." He barked. Harry day speechless, he bit back a laugh when he couldn't help but feel pride in his choice.

"Slap Malfoy, sir." Harry smiled, the Gryffindors snickered, all the Slytherins besides Blaise and Daphne sneered.

Lyra could vaguely hear their conversation. "No way!" Was all she could tell herself. Moody laughed at Harry's suggestion and took it on board vehemently.

"Slap Mr. Malfoy." Moody ordered, hoping it would work the way he wanted it to.

Lyra pushes against the delightful feeling that submerged her body and forced her feet to remain on the spot. Her thoughts once again crept up on her, this time they all broke into her skull at once. Her vision was still clouded but she could think for herself.

She pushed against her magic harder, feeling it bleed through the curse. Her vision cleared up and she held onto the dazed expression. "Slap Mr. Malfoy!" Moody snapped.

Lyra walked towards Malfoy's desk, Blaise was holding his hand firmly over his mouth as Draco whimpered. Lyra stood at his desk briefly.

"Go on then, filthy mudblood." He sneered.

"I should slap you for just calling me that." She sighed, "But I won't."

Lyra dropped her head and kissed his cheek swiftly, watching a blush creep up his neck and dust his cheeks lightly.

"Now you filthy, you pure-blooded prat." She said calmly, muttering an apology for her insult so only he could hear. Draco was beside himself, he registered the hurt in her icy eyes.

Lyra's knees buckled from underneath her, she dropped to the floor was a painful thud. Draco and Blaise scrambles from their seats to help her onto her feet. "M'sorry." Draco murmured in her ear.

"I know." She whispered back. "It's okay."

Moody limped over to the girl, helping her upright as guiding her towards her desk. He beamed at the class. "That right that, students, is what you should strive for!"

Lyra had a roaring blush engulf her face while Harry congratulated her profusely. Moody clapped his hands together, "Now what was it Albus said." He muttered to himself, "Ah! Yes."

Everyone watched him cautiously.

"You have a very powerful witch amongst you, I dare say the most powerful in centuries with the right teaching." Lyra choked on her breath.

Hermione had an odd look on her face, she seemed to be battling with herself. She was jealous. Hermione would never admit that she thought being the brightest witch of the age also meant to most powerful, it was a blow to the chest when she was told otherwise.

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Lyra didn't anticipate spending her Potions lesson in the infirmary with Draco Malfoy, per her uncle's instruction. After her lesson with Moody, she could barely remain standing when she walked to the dungeons. Harry has caught her when she stumbled into her desk harshly.

Madame Pomfrey was tutting at the young girl and muttering to herself. Lyra swing her legs on the edge of the bed like a child, occasionally poking Draco's knee with the tip of her patent school shoes. She smiled each time she got Draco's attention. He would only hold her gaze for a few seconds.

"Are you mad at me?" She questioned randomly, "For kissing you, or calling you a prat. Which you are."

"I'm not." He quipped.

"You called me that horrid name" She scoffed lightly, "Yes, you are."

Draco gritted his teeth and spoke before thinking. "Well that's what you are! That's what I've been told all my life!" She was taken aback. "If you'd been told everyday that pure-bloods weren't worthy of magic and your whole family agreed, you would too."

Lyra played with the frayed hem of her skirt, tugging at the thread harshly. "I guess you're right." She snapped the grey thread, "But now is when you realise what you've been taught is wrong. It's called learning."

Draco dropped his head into his hands, "You don't get it! With a father like mine, I can't sympathise or consort with you."

Lyra kicked his leg lightly, gaining his attention again. "With a mother like yours, you can. With a mind like yours, you can." She informed softly. "I don't care if it takes years, ferret-face. Once you realise to think for yourself, you'll understand that you can believe what you like."

The two fell into an awkward silence. Draco wasn't used to this kind of pity, it that was even the word for it. His father was hot and cold around his and Draco constantly walked on hot coals. He didn't understand how she could be so accepting and philosophical.

Madame Pomfrey trotted back over to the pair, feeling the uneasy tension. "You, Miss Fairfax, have overexerted yourself. You'll be wobbly for a couple of days and I suggest little to no magic until your strength is back."

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey." Lyra smiled, sliding off the bed slowly.

"I don't want to see you back here again this year, Miss Fairfax." Madame Pomfrey said sternly as Lyra stumbled towards the exit.

"No promises." Lyra giggled, tripping over her own feet.