WAKE UP

18 - Student - 8th Year - Charms Enthusiast - Ravenclaw - Unknown Blood Status - "Knowledge is a weapon. I intend to be formidably armed."

[lyrabernathy-blog]

     One hand fidgeted nervously with a lock of her brunette hair as the Ravenclaw’s eyes scanned over the newspaper yet again. She’d read over it at least five times already, trying to make sense of it. Lyra had always considered Slytherins and Purebloods to go hand-in-hand with the Dark Arts. It was a stereotype that seemed creditable -- up until now, at least. 

--- “Every asset of the blood purity ideology has to be forbidden by law. Betrothals are going to be forbidden. Pureblood families are not allowed to disinherit their children because they don’t believe in the ideology. Claiming that blood purity exists has to be forbidden by law, too. “  ---

      It sounded absurd... the idea of a supremacist not fighting for Pureblood power, but instead for equality. She had thought being called “naive” was an insult. Something to make her squirm and question herself. But... maybe it wasn’t -- up until now, she had considered herself to be open-minded. But none of the conditions that the anonymous person set out seemed wrong in the least. People deserved apologies in the sake of whom they lost. Cornelius Fudge hadn’t tried hard enough - simply dispelling the idea of Lord Voldemort’s reappearance. The entire war could’ve been prevented if only people had believed Harry Potter. And it wasn’t like anyone actually wanted the students from other generations here. It was inconvenient, to say the least. Staring down at the newspaper, Lyra bit her lower lip. It didn’t take much thought for her loyalty to shift.

[lyrabernathy-blog]

gideon

                   “ — what do you MEAN, there’s no                                            cell phones here? you’re                                                         kidding me, right? ”

          Gideon, as someone who had grown up in a world where a new iPhone coming out was the most exciting thing ever, was extremely shocked to hear this news. If there weren’t cell phones, did they still communicate through owls? No social media, no e-mail, no texting? Most importantly, no memes? DAMN, these kids had a hard life. His phone should probably be in his bag, so that’d be interesting.

                       “ How have you lived this long without seeing a                                                                            grumpy cat meme? ”

   Lyra arched an eyebrow at the other student, shrugging her shoulders lazily. They’d started to hang out after bonding over Quidditch, and she would even go so far as to call them friends. Giggling softly, Lyra’s expression was confused yet amused. 

   ❝ Well, there are telephones... but technology doesn’t work on school grounds. ❞  Cell phones were big and chunky, and barely anyone had them. It wasn’t like a foster kid was going to get something that was considered so technologically advanced. It was fascinating, really - getting the chance to hear about how much everything had changed. She had SO many questions, but the only one that actually reached her lips was;

    ❝ What’s a meme, and why is the cat grumpy? ❞

[lyrabernathy-blog]

marcusflvnt:

   When Lyra wouldn’t meet his eyes, Marcus didn’t push or try to force it. Instead he folded downwards, sitting on the window ledge instead, palms leaning to either side to support him. When he caught the gaze towards the bottle, he shook his head. “That won’t help. It’ll just dull it down temporarily. Don’t get into that cycle.” It was an obvious statement, but the logic was intended to give her something to focus upon besides the turmoil clearly going through her head. His voice was surprisingly gentle as she dragged an arm across her eyes. “I understand if you can’t talk about whatever it is. Strictly speaking, it isn’t my business.” He noted the movement of her hand, the scrap of paper in it, and his mind flashed to the note that he’d received previously. It took only seconds to make the possible connection, but none of the thought process showed on his face. “But I’m willing to listen. I’ve a conveniently short memory if you need it forgotten afterwards.”

   Have y - you ever just… wanted to fade a - away? Wished you d - didn’t exist? The slurred, tremulous note to her voice drew from him a piece of truth that he might not have otherwise given. “Yes,” he said. “Not in the exact same way as you, I don’t think, but not entirely dissimilar.” Deliberate self-destruction for me and fading for you. Different shades from the same spectrum. “There were things worth staying for.” The words were deliberately clear, another inflection of order into chaos; not usually something he preferred, but it was another solid point for her to focus upon. Drawing his wand, careful to make the movement evident, he pointed it at the bottle he’d taken from her. “Evanesco.” The bottle vanished as though it had never been there. The other bottle, empty by her feet, was given the same treatment. Voice lowering again, he added, “There’s no weakness in crying. It might even help.” What he looked upon as a flaw in the system in himself didn’t necessarily apply to how he perceived others.

    Listening to his attempt at distracting her from the bottle, Lyra nodded slowly, reaching up to brush a few tresses of brunette hair from her eyes. She’d never been a big drinker, and had only really taken up the habit when she met Roxas. He was a bit of a bad influence, and in her naivety, she had allowed it. ❝ R - Rox says it helps him... ❞ Sniffling, his comment about having a short memory nearly drew a giggle from Lyra. Humiliation -- (though she figured her dignity was already gone) -- was something she was glad that the Professor was able to understand. “There were things worth staying for.” For him, that was probably true. But really, what did she have? Her cat wouldn’t even notice if she died, and her parents seemed to think she would’ve been better off dead anyways. 

     Reaching up to rub at her nose again, Lyra rested her chin on her arm, looking on warily as he made the bottle disappear altogether. In a way, she was grateful that he was helping to keep her from being committed to St. Mungo’s -- and yet, on the other hand, she wished she could just drown herself in the bottle’s contents (or lack of). ❝ Wh - what did you have? To stay for? Wh - who? ❞  Sober Lyra would never have dared to ask such a personal question, especially to a professor. Yet, intoxicated Lyra either didn’t know the question was prying, or she didn’t care.

[lyrabernathy-blog]

dracomalfcy:

“I’m not? Well, that’s a first this week,” he said dryly, but it was clear in the undertone of his voice that he was grateful for the remark. He was apparently so used that people thought of him as a disturbance, someone that they didn’t want in their space, that he went ahead and assumed it was like that with everyone he came across that he didn’t consider one of his friends. When she moved her bag away he simply smiled at her as a thank you and sat down at the table beside her. He put down his Transfiguration book and a half-written essay, as well as ink and a quill. He hated the subject with a passion and usually postponed doing his homework until the very last-minute.  On her words, his lips curled up in something reminiscent of a grin. “You know that’s still prying, right?” he asked with a teasing undertone. He looked up to face her for a couple of seconds and shot a look at said blondie afterwards, who was still standing there talking with his friend. “Yea, I am. He is the younger version of my father and I’m not interested in being around him any more than I necessarily have to.” Sighing, he pushed the strand of his hair that had fallen in front of his face back and stared at his Transfiguration essay like he would rather do anything else but finish it. “I just wish the situation would go back to normal so that Transfiguration would be the most of my concern, rather than all of this.” 

Momentarily shuffling through her bag, Lyra rolled her eyes at his comment. The unwarranted feeling of rejection was something she was used to by now, though it was something she’d never expected to see from the Slytherin sitting beside her. Sitting up straight again, she placed the fresh bottle of ink beside her notebook. Her smile didn’t turn sympathetic as he mentioned his reasons for shuffling around the other boy -- not because she didn’t pity him, but because she knew he wouldn’t want her pity. Screwing the top off of the tiny glass bottle, Lyra pushed the empty one away, dipping her quill into the bottle. It was a rather small pen, since it had been impossible for Margaret to mail her a discreet one that was bigger. The peacock feather brushed against her wrist as she began to write again, all the while listening to him speak. Technically, bringing up the fact that she met Narcissa could be considered ‘prying’, which as he had pointed out -- was a promise she’d already gone against.

❝ Must be strange, seeing him like this. ❞ Her voice was soft, eyes moving from her notebook to the Transfiguration textbook in front of Draco. Tilting her head to examine the contents of his essay, Lyra arched her eyebrows. She’d finished the essay nearly two days ago, and it was rather odd for someone who couldn’t accept bad time management that he had put it off this long. She would have offered to help, but if anyone had done so for her -- Lyra would’ve been mortified. 

❝ I’m sure the Ministry will get it all figured out soon... --- Y’know that’s due tomorrow, right? ❞

[lyrabernathy-blog]

marcusflvnt:

   The Great Hall had been abuzz with activity, as it always was around set mealtimes, but Marcus hadn’t been in much of a mood for it on that particular day. Seeking privacy in the courtyard when everyone else was finishing up classes or on their way to dinner, he should have known better than to think that someone else wouldn’t have had the same idea. Though he had no objection to Marlene McKinnon in general, he could feel himself becoming increasingly on edge. Once he’d actually eaten, he’d been grateful to leave early for his classroom, intending to spend some time going over his lesson plans for the upcoming few weeks. The routine of it would be welcome under the circumstances, but he was all too aware that his current mood wouldn’t be easily resolved. I’ll go flying later, or tomorrow, maybe. That might help. As he entered his classroom, he was immediately hit by the unmistakable scent of Firewhiskey, a slight figure that he recognised sat by the window and drawing his immediate attention. “Miss Abernathy?” he asked. “What happened?” Because it was clear enough that something had, leaving her empty-eyed and quite focused on finding the bottom of the bottle she held in her hand.

There was no point to scolding her for drinking, the damage was done and it’d be hypocritical of him anyway. He’d done it as a student, albeit he’d never been caught. It was the root cause that was the problem now. When he saw the second bottle at her feet, clear glass signifying it had been finished, he reached out and deftly extracted the bottle from her hand, setting it to one side before she could protest. “Drunk in a classroom is one thing, a severe case of alcohol poisoning is another. You don’t want the second if you can avoid it. Can you tell me what’s wrong?“ The tone was slightly gentler on the last few words.

   Even as her name was spoken, Lyra couldn’t muster up a response. She was exhausted, staring out the window at the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. It looked so much more forboding at night, but it was kind of poetic. Beautiful things could kill you. Hazel eyes only half-open, she raised the bottle again only to have it snatched away from her. Fingers going limp as she leaned into the back of her chair, Lyra couldn’t make eye contact. She was a damned disgusting mess, just like the note said. One of her hands was clenching and unclenching around the small scrap of paper, only a fraction of the original letter. “I bet you must have wished to be one the many students with two loving parents...” -- “You don’t quite fit in anywhere.” -- “. If you figure it out and decide to join me, I will introduce you two. Friends for life, presumably. Everyone needs those.” 

  Staring longfully at the bottle he’d taken from her, Lyra rested her chin on her fist. Turning her head upwards to look at the Professor, Lyra sniffed slightly --- reaching up to rub her eyes with an arm. The intrusive thoughts had gotten worse over the past few weeks, not only as a result of the notes, but coming from the impending sense of hopelessness. It was true... she didn’t fit in anywhere. She was just the girl who should’ve died at the hands of her mother nearly ten years ago. Lyra didn’t want to cry in front of him - it only ever made people uncomfortable. Sitting up as straight as she could, Lyra tried to respond - her voice slurring. ❝ Have y - you ever just... wanted to fade a - away? Wished you d - didn’t exist? ❞ 

[lyrabernathy-blog]

dracomalfcy:

@lyrabernathy don’t ask me what this is because i don’t know.

It was one of these very normal days that Draco Malfoy was avoiding any number of people, his younger-than-himself parents included. He was just walking towards his normal spot in the library when he saw Lucius Malfoy and a friend of his approach. That was when Draco quickly turned the other way and hid behind the first bookcase he came across. What we didn’t know, though, was that Lyra Abernathy had been working at a table nearby said bookcase and he had now disturbed her peace. “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he saw her look at him. “I’ll get out of your space in just another second.” He moved to shoot a quick look behind the bookcase to see what Lucius was it, but he just stood still and started to talk with the friend he had with him. How fortunate. Draco really did not have the patience for this today. “Apparently just another second was wishful thinking. Do you mind if I join you?”

The sound of her quill scratching across parchment had always been meditative, and relaxation wasn’t exactly something she’d had the leisure of experiencing for a while. Scrawling across the paper in her cutesy handwriting, Lyra found herself distracted by something in her peripheral vision. Glancing towards the pale-haired boy standing a few feet away -- the Ravenclaw arched an eyebrow. Her doe-like eyes moved from Draco to the opposite side of the bookcase, searching for whoever he was hiding from. It only took a second to see the family resemblance, mostly due to the platinum blonde hair. 

Gaze moving back and forth between the two, Lyra simply turned back to her work -- not wanting to interfere. Glancing up as the Malfoy that she actually recognized spoke, she tried to hold in a soft giggle.  ❝ Don’t apologize, you’re not bothering me. ❞ She said, resting her cheek against the palm of her hand -- propping her elbow on the table. Upon his request to join her, the brunette shrugged and shook her head, reaching up to drag her bag off of the table so he could sit down.  ❝ Not gonna pry, I promise. You’re.. hiding.. from blondie over there, right? ❞ 

[lyrabernathy-blog]

roxas dolohov.

Roxas ignored how she shifted her things around―trying to hide something he’d already seen. He PRETENDED not to notice as he gave snort as a response to her little jab. “Just because you don’t see me here often doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around the library love,” he retorted, pulling out a chair next to her and taking a seat. Once his book bag was safely deposited on the table―he turned back to look at her. “AT LEAST I don’t come here just to slee―” he paused mid-teasing as he fully looked at her―something catching his eye. His eyes narrowed at noticing the obviously faint DISCOLORATION on her cheek. Before Roxas could even think it through―he was grabbing her chin and turning her head to get a better look at her cheek. He gave it a good look before pulling his arm back and eyeing her. “WHAT THE FUCK happened to your cheek?”

Moving her bag off of the table and onto the floor so he could sit down, Lyra rolled her eyes at the Slytherin’s argument. During this school year, she’d seen him in the library maybe once or twice, but neither of those times did it look like he had come for the books. 

❝ Sure, maybe you’ve come in once or twice because there’s a pretty girl waitin’ for you, but it’s not like you’re here to do any reading. ❞ 

She jabbed, laughing softly at his teasing. Her happy (and even slightly giddy) expression quickly faded away, however. Watching as his face morphed from it’s usual cocky smile into something less friendly, Lyra didn’t have time to react as his hand reached forwards. Hazel doe-like eyes widening, the Ravenclaw girl bit her tongue as he turned her head, already aware of what he was observing. It was fading, but the slight purple tint was still painting the side of her face. ❝ Bugger off! ❞ She protested, swatting at his hand even as he pulled it back.

❝ Bloody HELL, Rox... it’s nothing. Just something from Quidditch practice. ❞ The brunette lied easily, reaching up to cover the side of her face with her palm -- as if somehow covering it would obliviate him. ❝ Got hit by a bludger, that’s all. ❞ 

[lyrabernathy-blog]

OKAY SO HI. I know I’m kind of extremely late on replies. I’m sooo sorry, I’ve been at my aunt’s house and she doesn’t really have wifi so I was stuck without Tumblr for a few days. I’ve already got a few drafts going, so I promise replies will be out today!

[lyrabernathy-blog]

@marcusflvnt​

   The burning sensation of firewhiskey in her throat had faded away nearly an hour ago. As the (second) bottle was lifted to her lips, Lyra downed a bit more. It wasn’t like the impending hangover could get any worse, so why not? She wasn’t about to go back to the bedroom that a deatheater or whatever the bloody hell ‘lover of the dark’ meant, had broken into. Roxas wasn’t very good at hiding his liquor, and this was something she’d decided to finally take advantage of. Since she didn’t like looking like a mess in front of other people, she had taken shelter in a classroom chosen at random - one currently belonging to a Professor that she’d hoped would be in the Great Hall for dinner like everyone else. Sitting next to one of the windows in a chair she had moved, Lyra was staring at the floor - barely hearing the door open.

[lyrabernathy-blog]

@greengrvss

    Part of her had thought it was a dream - the taunting note, the ‘lover of the dark’... But the way her fingers tore the paper had felt so real – as she climbed out of bed, the corpse of the parchment brushed against her bare feet, confirming her fears. Bending down to pick up the ripped paper, she crumpled it and shoved the remains into her bedside drawer. – She felt hollow, in a way. Like a zombie, moving with purpose but without enthusiasm. Sliding into her robes, Lyra descended from Ravenclaw tower, noticing on the way that everyone was already in the Great Hall for breakfast. Or classes. She had no idea what time it was, and for the first time she didn’t really care – simply wanting to sink into the floors. As she was wallowing in exhaustion and self-pity, Lyra felt her shoulder slam into someone else’s side, someone she hadn’t noticed in front of her. ❝God, I’m sorry - I didn’t see you.❞

[lyrabernathy-blog]

I need some more threaaddss, and I haven’t interacted with everyone yet, so just like this for a little something from Lyra!

[serenitea-deactivated20180826]

[s7yl]

[lyrabernathy-blog]

To Lyra Abernathy, Trauma seems to be prevalent nowadays, don’t you agree? Not that I have to tell you about that. I bet you must have wished to be one the many students with two loving parents or one of the many students with siblings they cared for dearly. At the very least, you must have wished to know your blood status. It would have given you a sense of belonging. You don’t quite fit in anywhere. Not with those raised with magic, because you weren’t. Not with those raised without magic, because you weren’t. Hogwarts is where you belong, but Hogwarts isn’t the same as the place that you got to know when you first stepped through those doors. You don’t seem all too bothered by this, though. Always the same optimistic girl that doesn’t seem to realize what’s going on around her. You should get along just fine with someone else I know. If you figure it out and decide to join me, I will introduce you two. Friends for life, presumably. Everyone needs those. Sincerely, a lover of the Dark

The wall clock ticked like the timer on a bomb. She couldn't stop it, reverse it or slow it down. Each tick dragged her forward, helpless and nervous. She could no more avoid it than the beating of her own heart as it pounded with futility against it's cage of bone and cartilage. The dread was an invisible demon sitting heavy on her shoulders and only she could hear the sharpening of it's knives. She began to sweat and become pale, then the tremor in her hands began. Even as her eyes moved over the paper, trying to reread what was scrawled out in black ink, her violently trembling hands prevented the words from being anything but a blur. 

Nothing the little note said made any sense - not because it wasn’t true, but because she had never let ANYONE that far into her past. She didn’t talk about her absent father or her abusive mother, she didn’t talk about Margaret or the group home she had been sent to. Nobody was trustworthy of that kind of information, and her blood status hadn’t been brought up since her second year. And yet, here was a note confirming that the dark, confusing part of her past was still there.

“Always the same optimistic girl that doesn’t seem to realize what’s going on around her.” Optimism was a trait given to her by the elderly woman who was literally the only one in the world that believed in her. Falling asleep over Chadwick’s Charms in the library... the boring old book was a damned nursery tale that Margaret used to read to her. Lyra wouldn’t give up her hope for anything. 

HOPE. IT’S ALL I HAVE LEFT.

It was probably a stupid prank. Just a stupid little prank that someone - definitely a Slytherin prat - thought would be funny. But... what if it was real? Someone actually had plans to do the unthinkable, and try to bring back something that the Wizarding world had tried to demolish only a year ago? Friends... lifelong friends. Self-preservation was an entirely natural way of life, and yet Lyra knew that every bone in her body rejected the idea of being a puppet. The tremors in her hands slowly reached a different source, as her breathing became labored. Holding the little note firmly, she tore the paper into small, thin strips of parchment and tossed it onto the floor carelessly. People were beginning to enter the common rooms again, seeing as dinner had just ended. Having found the note sitting nicely on her pillow, Lyra knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep.

[lyrabernathy-blog]

-

[lyrabernathy-blog]

roxas dolohov.

Roxas was looking for a place away from the mass of students and well―it was only OBVIOUS why he chose to head over to the library. Not everyone was a fan of the dusty shelves and deafening silence―and so he deemed it PERFECT. He walked in and his eyes instantly fell on a FAMILIARfamiliar Ravenclaw―one he took pride in being a bad influence on. With an amused chuckle at how easily she dozed, he walked towards her table. He was about to wake her when his eyes caught her copy of the Daily Prophet. He held his breath as his eyes scanned over the names. SO―it wasn’t only him who was theorizing it. Roxas looked back at the sleeping girl and took out his wand to make a copy of the list―it wouldn’t hurt to look through it a second time. After the deed was done, he turned to nudge her awake. “Lyra―hey. Time to wake up, love.”

Hazel eyes moved beneath her eyelids before slowly opening, dreamless sleep being interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. It took her a few moments to collect her bearings, and when she did―she simply buried her face in her arms. It was mortifying to be found by ANYONE in this situation, not to mention ROXAS. Lifting her head from her sweater sleeves, she brushed away a traitorous page sticking to one of her cheeks. There was still a faint bluish-purple bruise on her cheekbone from her last argument with Gabriel, something she’d tried to cover with makeup that was now smeared on her dark blue sleeve. 

As her vision adjusted to the light, the bold letters on the newspaper came into view. Discreetly dealing with her moment of panic, Lyra tried to cover the notes up with her book―glancing up at Roxas to try and act innocent.

❝ Y’know, at least having a time shift bring the past and future generation into ours makes sense. You in a library? THAT’s something I can’t wrap my head around. ❞  

[lyrabernathy-blog]

em:

Emmeline grinned broadly, noticing the pink tint Lyra’s cheeks had taken on. “My goodness, you’re blushing like a rose,” Emmeline laughed. “Well, what’s the point in reading something if it’s boring? Life’s too short for dull books, dear. That’s probably why you were passed out on the table. You need some excitement.” Of course Emmeline was right about the girl’s house. She could spot a Ravenclaw from a mile away. “Oh, don’t ever apologize for saying what’s on your mind. I’m a Ravenclaw as well. Or was, in the 70′s. It’s so hard to keep track of all this anymore.”

❝No I’m not,❞  Lyra feebly protested. She sighed, knowing how stupid an argument it sounded. Despite what a lot of people thought, Lyra was perfectly content with leading an average life. Normal friends, unexciting classes, and boring books. It had become her mold. Something she wasn’t comfortable breaking.  ❝Excitement and I don’t really get along.❞ It took her a moment, but the phrase ‘or was, in the 70′s’ finally registered in her mind. Arching her eyebrows, she exclaimed,  ❝ Oh - you’re a... you’re last generation? Wow, that’s - I mean, it’s weird, you’re so young... Not that you wouldn’t be, it’s just - I didn’t really expect... ❞ God, make it stooppp make the word vomit stooppp. Lyra’s blush became a bit redder, as if that was possible at this point. ❝ I’m blubbering, I’m sorry... ❞