Effervescence | h.p.

i | xxxxviii. comin' home

Lyra made her way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night, having told her friends who could have gone with her that she wasn't yet sure if she was going to go to the feast at all. She had also been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing, insisting that she needed to give Lyra one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Lyra walked in, there was an immediate and sudden hush throughout before just as suddenly, everybody started talking loudly again. She walked hurriedly to an newly opened space between Dean and Harry, slipping into the seat quickly and quietly. She tried her best to ignore the hushed and not-so-quiet mentions of her name throughout the Hall and she blocked out the people who were standing to get a look at her as best as she could manage.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . .

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw had four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Lyra clapped for her Slytherin friends and she could see Draco banging his goblet on the table. When they made eye contact, Lyra raised her eyebrows in amusement at his actions, causing him to shrug with an unknowing smile, not seeing a problem.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

Lyra's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. The room went very still. The Slytherins' smile faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minutes points to dish out. Let me see. Yes . . . "

"First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley . . . "

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

" . . . for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House forty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second — to Miss Hermione Granger . . . for the cool use of intellect and logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House forty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Lyra strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were nearly a hundred points up.

"Third — to Mr. Harry Potter . . . " said Dumbledore. The room went quiet to see how many more points they would be gaining from the group of first years. " . . . for outstanding courage and bravery; for trusting and sticking with friends, I award Gryffindor House thirty points."

Harry looked to Lyra in astonishment, pointing to himself in disbelief. "Me?" he kept mouthing to his friend, earning her "You!" in response.

"Fourth — to Miss Lyra Lupin-Black . . . " said Dumbledore. Silence engulfed the room. " . . . for facing the enemy with strength and compassion, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."