Oops! Această imagine nu respectă Ghidul de Conținut. Pentru a continua publicarea, te rugăm să înlături imaginea sau să încarci o altă imagine.
𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐄 𝐏 𝐇 𝐎 𝐍 𝐄 ' 𝐒 𝐏 𝐎 𝐌 𝐄 𝐆 𝐑 𝐀 𝐍 𝐀 𝐓 𝐄
𝐈𝐅 there was one thing you could be sure about when it came to Melody Prewett's summers, it was that she was most likely always doing something she shouldn't be.
It sounded like an exaggeration, perhaps one which she herself had constructed upon the September arrival of her peers — but there had never been a truer conclusion.
The months seemed to trickle away beneath her soft fingertips, moving so meticulously slow that she was left with no other option than to create some excitement for herself.
August had always smelled sweet in the castle — perhaps it was the looming promise of crisper air; or the ripe fruit ready to be plucked from the gardens. The hours of sunlight were noticeably shortening, lost to the endless cycle of pitch black night. During the day, however, luminescent golden patterns fell across the Hogwarts hallways. The grounds, inspired by the late summer weather, were lush and green.
She found it difficult to appreciate the large land entropy that was Hogwarts Castle when so much could be done, so much could be discovered instead.
Thus, there she was, stealthily drawing her wand and tapping a statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor.
Melody was going to Hogsmeade.
Sneaking out, her grandmother would have called it, but that sounded quite close-minded: Melody had friends in the village, and she always loved to pay them a visit.
With a hushed "Dissendium", she had her prize — the hump on the witch's statue opened to reveal a short slide into a tunnel.
This was the One-Eyed-Witch Passage, and it led straight into the cellar of Honeyduke's. Melody checked both sides of the silent Hogwarts corridor, then ducked into the tunnel smoothly.
"On my way, Liquorice Wands," she murmured beneath her breath, illuminating the passageway with a flick of her wand.
The walk wasn't terrible, perhaps twenty minutes total, and it forced her to decide that she would need to stop by Gladrags Wizardwear to obtain a new pair of sneakers before the start of term. Hers were beaten and dirty, hardly sufficient for a new school year.
She didn't even realize she had climbed out of the tunnel and into the cellar; it had become second nature by now — but a friendly voice snapped her out of her stupor.
"Again, Melody?"
She turned — it was the shopowner's wife, Mrs. Flume. Melody tucked her wand into her pocket and grinned. "Not even a hello?"
