𝐇 𝐎 𝐌 𝐄 𝐀 𝐆 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍
𝐈𝐓 certainly felt good to be back inside the warmth of the castle. In Melody's eyes, the Great Hall always felt more magnificent when it was full of people. The ceiling was dark, reflective of the storm outside, but hundreds of tiny candles sparkled throughout.
Almost stars, she mused thoughtfully. But not quite.
By the time she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached their seats, most of the Gryffindor table was full. People kept tossing Harry suspicious glances, likely relating to his collapse before the dementor. Clearly, word had spread like wildfire.
Melody watched the Sorting Ceremony with little interest, cheering for Gryffindors and not much else. She didn't have to ask Harry to know that he was still tired — the dementor attack seemed to have taken a large toll on his energy.
Finally, when everyone had been seated at their respective House tables, Dumbledore rose from his throne-like chair to speak.
"Welcome!" he exclaimed, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast. . . ."
Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."
He paused, something like disdain flickering across his expression. Melody thought back to the Leaky Cauldron — Mr. Weasley had said Dumbledore wasn't happy with the dementors guarding the school. Now, after what had happened to Harry, it made sense.
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore went on, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," He cast half a glance at Harry and Melody. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.
Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Melody, puffed out his chest and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.
"On a happier note," he finally continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Melody among them. Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.
"Mel!" hissed Harry suddenly.
Melody spun to meet Harry's eyes, but they were resting on the staff table, a few seats down from Lupin. "What is it?" she whispered back.
"Look at Snape!" he muttered urgently.
Melody turned back to the staff table — sure enough, Snape was staring at Lupin with a look that very well could have disintegrated half the solar system.
It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even she, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: it was loathing.
"He's the only thing I didn't miss about Hogwarts," Melody murmured to Harry.
She fell silent to listen to Dumbledore once more, but she knew that expression all too well — it was the same nasty look Snape wore every time he set eyes on her or Harry.
So why Lupin?
"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
Almost instantly, Melody burst into a bright grin — the entire dementor predicament must have distracted her. She had found out about Hagrid's appointment in mid-July, and it had taken all of her strength not to spill everything to Harry the second she saw him. How could she have forgotten?
Melody now found Harry staring at her, stunned. His mouth had fallen open slightly in shock, but she merely smiled back. "Surprise."
The unexpected moment is oftentimes the sweetest, and so it was — "There's no way you actually kept that secret!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"It was a challenge, believe me."
They joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Melody leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.
"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"
Melody, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.
"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"
𝐈𝐍 Harry's opinion, it was one of the most enjoyable meals he'd had in a while. The hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. He was glad, more than anything, that he was back in the castle with those who meant the most to him.
At long last, when Melody had finished her fourth cream puff and was already moaning about a stomachache, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed.
Harry, Melody, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase. They walked through several corridors, up more and more stairs, until they finally reached the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
When they approached the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry was beginning to feel especially tired — since the dementor, his body had certainly seemed more weak, as though the universe had drained him for everything that he had. Despite his exhaustion, however, a single, sparkling thought kept him grounded in reality: The Astronomy Tower was waiting.
It was true: he doubted Melody would be amenable to skipping their yearly tradition, and even he craved for a bit of that fresh air and familiar starlight. She was beside him now, absolutely glowing — the thunder had passed hours ago, and the slight pattering of raindrops from above had never bothered her.
Glowing, Harry's tired mind repeated softly. Melody has always glowed.
He took a quick glance over at her: she was staring up towards the portrait with a blissful, comforted sort of gaze.
"Password?" the Fat Lady said, looking around expectantly.
"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd, successfully plucking Harry's mind from its quiet, peaceful contemplation. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"
"Oh no," said Neville sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.
The Fat Lady swung open, and the Gyrffindors all climbed through the portrait hole to the common room. The girls and boys started to divide toward their separate staircases, but a stern voice sliced through the ruckus—
"Potter! Melody! I want to see you both!"
Harry turned to his right, where Professor McGonagall was standing. From his other side, Melody cast him a grave look.
She and her grandmother certainly had a strange dynamic: they possessed a sort of unbroken trust, one that didn't quite parallel what Harry envisioned a typical mother-daughter relationship to entail, but one that was transcendent nonetheless.
"There's no need to look so worried, I just want a word in my office," McGonagall told them.
She ushered Harry and Melody away from the chattering crowd. They followed her across the common room, up a staircase in the corner, and along a lengthy corridor. Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, she motioned for them to sit down.
Professor McGonagall settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter."
Before Harry could reply, there was a brisk knock on the door, and Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.
Harry started to go red in the face, and he saw Melody stifle a gleaming grin from the corner of his eye.
"I'm fine," he said quickly, "I don't need anything—"
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring him and bending down to stare closely at his face. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"
"It was a dementor, Poppy," stated Professor McGonagall.
They exchanged a brief, dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.
"Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's still all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate—"
"I'm not delicate!" said Harry crossly.
"Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.
Melody snorted, and McGonagall sent her a look of warning before speaking once more. "Well, what happened on the train?"
After collecting herself momentarily, Melody rehashed what had happened on the Hogwarts Express. "We were in a compartment with Lupin, and the train stopped, out of nowhere. The dementor . . . It opened our compartment door, and everything got really cold. Harry started twitching, then Lupin stood up and said some spell to drive it away. I think it was a Patronus Charm, but that's when Harry passed out."
"I'll have to tell Albus," Professor McGonagall nodded. She turned to Madam Pomfrey. "What does he need? Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"
"Oh, definitely, he's very delicate," Melody agreed.
"Be quiet, Melody, I'm fine," denied Harry, getting up. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if he had to go to the hospital wing was torture, and he wanted to get to the Astronomy Tower—
"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry's eyes.
"I've already had some," Harry shook his head. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to both of us."
"Did he, now?" surveyed Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"
"It would appear so. Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply.
"Yes," repeated Harry firmly.
"Very well."
Instantaneously, Melody had already succeeded in yanking Harry halfway to the door. Just before leaving, she called out, "See you tomorrow, grandma!"
"Goodnight, Melody," came Professor McGonagall's response.
Melody pulled Harry out of the office, and he followed her back along the corridor. Just as they were nearing the staircase back to the common room, Melody made a sharp left and tugged open a small wooden door.
She dropped Harry's hand, stepped into the room, and turned on a nearby lamp. With quiet interest, Harry followed her and glanced around.
This was the bedroom Melody had grown up in, and the place where she stayed during the summer. Her bed was in the corner, pressed below a wide, rain-splattered window. There were several bookcases lined along the wall, full of poetry, photo albums, and stories. A mirror hung near her door, reflecting a dim yellow glow through the space, and a great number of glowing constellations covered the ceiling; a project Melody told him she had completed at age ten.
It was exactly the same as Harry had seen it during second year, bringing him a peaceful sense of security. Something about the small room felt so unapologetically Melody, so inexplicably homelike.
A collection of wizard photos adorned the far wall above her dresser. Harry wandered over, scanning through the smiling faces and happy memories. One photo, however, held his gaze for longer than a moment — it was new, edges still crisp and firm. He had never seen it before: he would've recalled this one.
A boy with alluring dimples and glittering brown eyes was staring back at him, and he was clearly a sight to behold. A head of golden brown hair crowned his head, and his smile was almost bewitching, Harry noticed.
That has to be—
"Petar," his mouth decided to spit out, loud enough to make Melody freeze.
In the worrisome silence, Harry felt her walk up beside him, follow his gaze, and take a breath. He gulped — what if she was upset with Ron, and thought Harry had something to do with it? What if she started rambling about how flawless Petar was; how dreamy and kind and charismatic?
He stayed perfectly still, preparing for the worst.
If he hadn't been so paranoid, he would've remembered — she was Melody, and he was Harry. They were close beyond close, compatible beyond compatible. She could read his mind without a smidge of Legilimency, and all she said was:
"Yeah, that's Petar."
She gave him a faint smile, something so natural and small: yet how genuine it felt coming from her, how raw and emotional. He blinked into her grey eyes, hypnotized — but she broke their stare only seconds before he would've drowned beneath the monochromatic waves.
With that, she turned, and made her way across the room to another chest of drawers.
Harry sighed as silently as possible. Why was he acting like this? He had been experiencing a new feeling these past few days whenever Petar was brought up, one that made him slightly queasy. He didn't want to think about it, much less speak about it, but why did his mind keep returning to the subject?
"Come here," Melody's voice cut into Harry's thoughts.
He obeyed at once by shuffling over to join her at the chest of drawers.
"What do you want?" she asked, staring down into the second drawer from the top, which was propped open.
Harry felt his jaw drop.
Inside the drawer was the largest collection of sweets he had ever seen. Everything was there. Liquorice Wands and Bertie Bott's, Cauldron Cakes and Sugar Quills, Jelly Slugs and Chocolate Frogs.
"I'm still best friends with the Flumes," Melody explained to pacify his shock. She picked up a package of Liquorice Wands and tore open the wrapping.
"Er — impressive, I guess," Harry said. He picked up a pair of Cauldron Cakes, and raised his eyes to Melody's in wordless understanding. "I'll get the Cloak."
"Great," she beamed back at him, sliding the drawer shut. "I'll be waiting for you."
𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 minutes later, Harry knew Melody was home.
They had just gotten to the Astronomy Tower, and he could feel her excitement fluttering through the night. He wasn't up here nearly as much as her during the year, but it still felt comforting, safe, despite the now-clearing drizzle and the unmistakably clouded sky.
Melody ducked out of the Cloak at once, and hurried out to her usual ledge. With a contented sigh, she sat down on the damp wooden floor and dangled her legs out into the air.
Harry followed suit, placing the Cloak behind him and staring up at the night atmosphere.
It was so familiar up here, for more reasons than one — there was the sky, of course, despite the absence of its usual stars. The oxygen had its regular crisp edge, but greater in warmth, Harry thought, was its smell: floral and sweet.
Or perhaps that was the girl beside him.
"We'll see if Divination's any good," she was saying, staring up intently, as if to convince each star to burst through the clouds and light up the darkness. "My grandma says Professor Trelawney's vexing, but I'll be the judge of that."
Harry frowned. "How come we never see her at meals?"
"Who knows?" shrugged Melody. "Probably superstitious, and all that."
"Right," he said. "You think Divination's got anything to do with the stars?"
"I'd assume so," she answered, gaze still searching the heavens for a point of light. "Planets and alignments and loads of astronomical positioning—"
Harry groaned. "I can't manage a passing grade in Astronomy and remember all that."
Melody tore her stare away from the sky, and turned to meet his eyes. "My Astronomy grade is your Astronomy grade, Ree," she said gently. "Just make sure you sit beside me during exams."
"Always."
"And Quidditch!" she exclaimed suddenly. "It's Wood's last year, we've got to win the Cup for him."
"If it doesn't get cancelled again," sighed Harry, recalling second year.
"Why would it?" Melody asked. A genuine sort of optimism traced her voice; spirited and confident: "Unless the Chamber of Secrets is re-opened, I think we'll be alright."
"But Sirius Black?" wondered Harry, raising an uncertain brow.
"He'll get caught, I'm positive—" she shook her head firmly, but from the corner of her eye, drew another observation. "Look at that! The first star out from the clouds."
Harry followed her gaze, up to the center of the sky. Sure enough, a small, luminous gleam was peaking out into the foggy blackness.
"Can't shine without darkness, that much is clear," she murmured, resting her chin on her hands and staring at it longingly.
Harry glanced between her and the star several times, noting similarities — Melody's twinkling gaze matched its dazzle, and both seemed powerful in their own right. "What's its name?" he finally asked, stare settling in on his best friend.
"That one?" she said, jerking her head in its direction. She let out an exhale, as if the answer was something disquieting — "Actually . . . it's Sirius."
Harry felt his brows knit together. "Really?" he said, staring at the star with an abrupt sense of bewilderment.
"It's also known as the Dog Star or Sirius A, and it's the brightest in Earth's night sky," she confirmed. "The name means "glowing" in Greek."
Harry let the eeriness wash over him for a second, in tune with Melody's soft breaths and the faint glimmer of the heavenly body above. "Let's hope the star can protect me from the man," he eventually said, voice quiet.
Melody took a long and deep inhale, gazing up at the star one final time before turning to him. "Let your worries orbit away, Harry. A man is just a man —cloaked with insecurities, bathed in secrets— but a star is a star. Unfailing, honest, bright. And we've got every single one in the sky on our side."
Harry let her finish, and, as though his subconscious had been listening, felt his anxieties float into the ether. She still hadn't changed, although very much soon would.
"Your thoughts have always been so poetic," he said softly.
She grinned. "If only you could hear them now."
If only.
Harry wished, more than anything, that he could, but he just smiled and turned back up to the sky. Those things would come with time, and they had many years ahead of them — or at least, he thought they did.
Sirius, he repeated to himself. Stars have a way of making the most terrifying names sound harmless.
"We should go to bed," Melody yawned, after a moment.
"We should," agreed Harry, voice barely beyond a whisper.
With a slight twinkle, her eyes caught his. There was an alertness to them, he noted: a glimmer of intelligence and a touch of whimsicality that only came when she thought about her protectors above.
The pair of them wouldn't really go to bed for another two hours — but Harry didn't mind. He'd rather spend his time with her, because nothing else felt quite right.
As the night cleared, and every other star slowly emerged from behind the cloudy curtain, he couldn't help but sense that they were calling softly to him; breathing an emotion to life. Their beams of light, though each one unique and shimmering, all conveyed the same, glistening, hope-filled message:
He was safe, surrounded by love, and most importantly — he was home again.