There was a pattern perhaps. Lyra had spent the past months - which had seemed to go by so fast, from her perspective - getting used to the castle and all of her classes, learning how to do homework and what the professors were like, getting the acquaintance of her housemates and the other children in her age group. Social connections being forged, rivalries and dislikes being created, that sort of thing.

Her first year was like that of any other first year in all these regards. Which, considering what she was - a half-breed and a Malfoy and one born so unexpectedly after the second war - was therefore actually a bit remarkable and noteworthy.

Their parents sometimes made comments over it, reading over her letters together, pleased and maybe just a bit quietly thrilled, even relieved.

Lyra would have a childhood, a normal happy childhood. Her family - no this entire generation of wizard-kind - owed her that.

For her part Lyra took a break from her endless observations to nibble at sandwiches and cake for some minutes, drinking half a cup of tea as well.

Finally she looked up at her brother with a kind of concerned solemnity, a thought having come up that seemed to weigh on her mind.

"Draco, I am old enough now to be able to buy a Christmas present for somebody don't you think? To be able to go find it myself, and not have to rely on anyone's help for anything besides the pocket money, don't you think?"