Symphony || Remus Lupin

XVII

Warning: Reference to inner voices

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The last week staying at the Potter's house went by mostly uneventfully. James and Sirius were their usual craziness. Every single day had another physical, pain-inducing activity. It used to be different games every day but once they learned that Myra had never played quidditch, it became clear to them that someone not knowing quidditch was a violation of life and soon started training her.

After Christmas, right after eight o'clock in the morning, you would find the three of them outside in the large backyard, running around, zooming past on brooms and throwing small, medium, and large-sized balls through the air. Myra now had multiple scars credited to falling off her broom when getting hit by a bludger and scraping herself on the coarse ground.

James and Sirius kept insisting that Myra was a good Keeper, but she didn't feel it. All she was truly doing imagining the Quaffle was all those spells that her parents shot at her that she wished she could just repel.

When they realized she was a 'good' Keeper, they started practicing by lobbing larger than normal quaffles at her. Then they started to decrease the size of the balls, going from regular-sized quaffles to apples to muggle tennis balls to grapes.

Aunt Euphemia kept trying to tell them off for going through her fridge, a contraption that muggles invented to keep their food fresh, but Myra could tell that she didn't mind much.

∞-∞-∞

When they left to go back to Hogwarts, Myra would call it a slightly emotional day.

She had already packed her trunk. She never really unpacked. She just looked through her trunk to get whatever she wanted. Myra also didn't have to pack her muggle clothes because Aunt Euphemia insisted on keeping most of them here and giving her some clothes to go on Hogsmeade trips. Her aunt had looked so happy as she carefully folded the clothes for Myra to take to Hogwarts that she decided not to tell her aunt that she couldn't go to Hogsmeade.

Myra woke up early in the morning so she could double-check everything before locking her trunk. She mentally checked everything before grabbing some clothes to change into and went to take a shower.

She got out of the shower and folded up her clothes and put them on her bed. Then she went downstairs where she heard Uncle Monty rustling around the cupboards. He had pulled out a cereal box and poured some in a white ceramic bowl decorated with flowers all over the brim.

"Good morning, squirt," He said, not looking up.

"Good morning, Uncle Monty," She greeted, taking a bowl from the cupboard and setting it down across from Uncle Monty. She suspected that Aunt Euphemia had stayed up a bit later than usual. She poured milk on her cereal and started eating. The kitchen was unusually silent as they both ate. When she finished, she rinsed the bowl off and put it on a rack.

Before she left to go upstairs, Uncle Monty cleared his throat.

"Myra? Can I talk to you for a moment?" She turned around and stood in front of Uncle Monty.

"Of course. What about?" He sat back in his chair and Myra could see a gleam of joy in them.

"I have heard that you have not had your permission slip for Hogsmeade signed," Myra nodded, knowing James must have had told him already, "I have a solution for that."