𝐏 𝐇 𝐈 𝐋 𝐎 𝐒 𝐎 𝐏 𝐇 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐑 𝐅 𝐎 𝐎 𝐋 𝐒
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 of Magical Creatures was the next time Harry saw Hagrid. His shock at the Committee's verdict was as stagnant as the thick clouds above:
"S'all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em. . . ."
"Don't give up yet, Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed, her face deceptively confident.
They were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class, a bright variety of damp lime grasses squishing beneath their feet. Ahead, Harry could see that Malfoy, who was walking with Crabbe and Goyle, kept looking back, laughing derisively.
"S'no good, Hermione," said Hagrid sadly once they reached the castle steps. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that. . . ."
Hagrid's face was buried in his handkerchief in mere moments, and he hurried back toward his cabin without saying another word.
"Look at him blubber!" came a voice from just inside the castle doors. Harry spun, his eyes narrowing before they met a quite familiar pair — Malfoy's. "Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!"
Anger swept over the group, a cyclone of sorts, and Harry, Melody, and Ron all made furious moves toward Malfoy.
But glorious Hermione, suddenly their queen of hand-to-face combat, got there first.
SMACK!
She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster.
Malfoy staggered, and everyone within a ten foot radius of the assault stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.
"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"
Ron took a weak step forwards and tried to grab her hand as she swung it back. "Hermione!"
"Get off, Ron!"
Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.
"C'mon," Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons.
"Hermione!" Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed.
Melody was looking at Hermione in awe, admiration illuminating her gaze. "That was incredible."
"You'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione replied shrilly. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!"
"Noted," Harry croaked, shocked like a sudden jolt of electricity. "Whatever you say."
"We're due in Charms," said Ron, who was still goggling at Hermione. "We'd better go."
And so they went, hurrying up the marble staircase toward Professor Flitwick's classroom. When Harry opened the door, Professor Flitwick said reprovingly, "You're late! Come along, quickly, wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, and we've already divided into pairs—"
Melody took Harry by the sleeve and tugged him over to a desk in the back.
Just as they'd unpacked their bags, Ron twisted his head around frantically and asked, "Where's Hermione gone?"
Harry looked around too — Hermione hadn't entered the classroom, yet he knew she had been right next to him when they'd opened the door.
"That's weird," Melody said quickly, nudging Harry forward to grab his wand. "Maybe she went to the bathroom or something?"
But Hermione didn't turn up all lesson, nor did she make it to lunch. By the time they had finished their apple pie, the after-effects of the enthusiastic Cheering Charms were wearing off, and the three had started to get slightly worried.
"You don't think Malfoy did something to her?" Ron asked anxiously as they hurried upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower.
They gave the Fat Lady the password, and scrambled through the portrait hole into the common room. Hermione was sitting at a table, fast asleep, her head resting on an open Arithmancy book. Timidly, Melody prodded her awake.
"W-what?" said Hermione, waking with a start and staring wildly around. "Is it time to go? W-which lesson have we got now?"
"Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes," answered Harry. "Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms?"
"What? Oh no!" Hermione squeaked. "I forgot to go to Charms!"
"But how could you forget?" asked Ron. "You were with us till we were right outside the classroom!"
"I don't believe it!" Hermione wailed. "Was Professor Flitwick angry? Oh, it was Malfoy, I was thinking about him and I lost track of things!"
Melody looked at Harry, at Ron, then back at Hermione. From the way she spoke, the way she placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder, Harry could tell she knew something. "Hermione? I think you're cracking. You're trying to manage too much."
"No, I'm not!" said Hermione, brushing Melody's hand from her shoulder. "I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and say sorry . . . I'll see you in Divination!"
Hermione joined them at the foot of the ladder to Professor Trelawney's classroom twenty minutes later, looking extremely harassed. "I can't believe I missed Cheering Charms! And I bet they come up in our exams; Professor Flitwick hinted they might!"
Together they climbed the ladder into the dim, stifling tower room. Glowing on every little table was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. Harry, Melody, Ron, and Hermione sat down together at the same rickety table.
"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Melody muttered, casting a wary eye around, most likely for Professor Trelawney.
"Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry," Harry responded. "I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."
"Good day to you!" said a familiar, misty voice, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows. Parvati and Lavender quivered with excitement, their faces lit by the milky glow of their crystal ball. "I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned," Trelawney said, sitting with her back to the fire and gazing around. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."
Hermione snorted. "Well, honestly . . . 'the fates have informed her' . . . who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!" she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Harry and Melody both choked back laughs, their faces blushing crimson with effort.
It was hard to tell whether Professor Trelawney had heard them, as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not.
"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," she said dreamily. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes" —Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise— "so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will See before the end of the class."
They began — Harry felt extremely foolish, staring blankly at the crystal ball, trying to keep his mind empty when thoughts such as "This is stupid" kept drifting across it. It didn't help that Ron kept breaking into silent giggles and Hermione kept tutting.
"Seen anything yet?" Harry asked Melody after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing.
"Yeah, there's a burn on this table," she whispered, pointing. "Someone spilled their candle."
"This is such a waste of time," Hermione hissed. "I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms—"
Professor Trelawney rustled past.
"Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" she murmured, over the clinking of her bangles.
"I don't need help," Melody said matter-of-factly. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be lots of fog tonight."
Both Harry and Ron burst out laughing.
"Now, really!" exclaimed Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. "There is something here!" Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses. "Something moving . . . but what is it?"
Harry was prepared to bet everything he owned, including his Firebolt, that it wasn't good news, whatever it was. And sure enough—
"My dear . . . " Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Harry. "It is here, plainer than ever before . . . my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer . . . the Gr—"
"Oh, for goodness' sake!" groaned Hermione loudly. "Not that ridiculous Grim again!"
Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too.
Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger. "I am sorry to say that from the moment you arrived in this class, my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."
A moment passed, stinging with silence. Then—
"Fine!" shrieked Hermione suddenly, getting up and cramming Unfogging the Future back into her bag. "Fine! I give up! I'm leaving!"
And to the whole class's amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.
It took a few minutes for the class to settle down again. Professor Trelawney seemed to have forgotten all about the Grim. She turned abruptly from Harry's table, breathing rather heavily as she tugged her gauzy shawl more closely to her.
"Ooooo!" said Lavender suddenly, making everyone start. "Oooooo, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? 'Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!' You said it ages ago, Professor!"
Professor Trelawney gave her a dewy smile.
"Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the Signs . . . The Inner Eye can be a burden, you know . . ."
Lavender and Parvati looked deeply impressed, and moved over so that Professor Trelawney could join their table instead.
"Some day Hermione's having, huh?" Melody said, looking deeply impressed. "I seem to have influenced her well."
"Yeah . . ."
Harry glanced into the crystal ball but saw nothing but swirling white mist. Had Professor Trelawney really seen the Grim again? The last thing he needed was an accident, especially with the Quidditch final drawing ever nearer.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 moon hung low by the end of the month; a mournful crescent affixing the jet black canvas of airspace.
Melody had to schedule her homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood — the Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays.
Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded the team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.
"So you must catch it only if we're more than fifty points up," Wood was telling Harry constantly. "Only if we're more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, haven't you? You must catch the Snitch only if we're—"
"HE KNOWS, OLIVER!" Melody had yelled for the entire common room to hear, unable to focus on her Potions homework.
She updated Petar on statistics for the match almost daily, and all her fellow Gryffindors seemed to be obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley had been Seeker. But Melody doubted whether any of them, even Wood, wanted to win as much as she and Harry did.
The enmity between them and Malfoy was at its highest point ever. The white-blond fiend was still smarting about the mud-throwing incident in Hogsmeade, and he was even more furious that Harry had somehow wormed his way out of punishment.
Melody was having a particularly bad time of it when it came to the rest of Slytherin: she couldn't walk to class without them sticking out their legs and trying to trip her up. Harry had told her that Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever he went and slouching away disappointedly when they saw him surrounded by people. Because of this, Wood had given Melody and Harry instructions to be accompanied everywhere, in case the Slytherins tried to put them out of action. The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for them to get to classes on time because they were always surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd.
All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books: "I can't work, I can't concentrate," she mumbled nervously.
There was a great deal of noise. Fred and George Weasley were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself. Angelina and Katie were laughing over-excitedly at Fred's and George's jokes.
Melody was sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, removed from the center of things. She was trying not to think about the next day. Every time she did, she had the horrible sensation that a meteorite was shooting up and down her throat and fighting to escape from her mouth.
"You're going to be fine," Hermione told her, though she looked positively terrified.
"You've got Firebolts!" insisted Ron.
"Firebolts, right," repeated Melody, her stomach writhing. "I'm going to the Astronomy Tower."
It came as a relief when Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!", because almost everyone rose and wished all the members of the team goodnight.
Melody opted to give Harry a very impulsive (and tight) hug. She felt her hands shake when she let him go, an apocalyptic vow of affinity. "Sweet dreams."
"Don't catch a cold up there," he murmured, a faint smile reaching up to his eyes. "Or a detention, unless I'm there too. Night."
She grinned back, pocketed her wand, and darted out through the chaos to the portrait hole. The Fat Lady didn't raise a fit, she was used to this by now — instead, she gave Melody a brief wave when she started descending from the nearest staircase.
Melody had no Invisibility Cloak, she had no Marauder's Map, but still, she knew how to make herself one with the castle like nobody else did. Hogwarts had always been the one to paint her greyscales into technicolor; to untangle her braids arisen from over-analyzation, to give her a kiss on the forehead and tuck her in at night.
Thus was born her decision to take a late-night venture throughout the entirety of her home, not just to her dearest tower.
She knew to take the shortcut on the fifth floor past the Prefects' bathroom, knew to grab a pair of apple turnovers from the kitchens in the basement, then to zip up side staircases and press herself into the wall when Peeves' cackles echoed across the seventh floor corridor.
When Peeves' giggles receded, Melody let out the breath she'd been holding. The Astronomy Tower wasn't far, now, and it was late enough that she'd be alone for the rest of her trip, as long as she didn't have an unfortunate run-in with Filch. She peeled herself from the wall, and in her haste, didn't check over her shoulder—
"Melody?"
She froze.
"Are you alright?"
It was Lupin; she'd know that gentle voice anywhere. But gentle wasn't its only attribute tonight, she noticed, without turning to look at him. Tired was evident, too, which was understandable for the hour of night.
She turned, tucking the apple turnovers behind her back. "Good evening, Professor. I'm fine."
Lupin regarded her for a moment, and she swore an amused sort of promnesia crossed his expression. Primarily, he looked tired, in addition to sounding so, with the dark bags under his eyes catching the torchlight. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, taking a timid step forward.
Melody noticed it, then, and it took everything within her not to leap out and snatch it from his hands — Lupin was holding the Marauder's Map with the familiarity only a creator of it could have mastered. Instead, she stared at it, and said, "The Quidditch Final's tomorrow, and I wanted to get some fresh air. Y'know, clear my head."
"I doubt a reminder that you're out of bed after hours will help," Lupin responded. Then, noticing her fixed stare on the Map: "But I suppose I'm trying to do the same."
Melody met his eyes, her brows knitting into a frown. "Has it been working yet?"
Lupin smiled thinly, and folded the Map into a pocket of his ratty cardigan. "No."
Melody considered this, considered the quiet of the castle, considered the not-so-far from nostalgic look on Lupin's face. If he wanted to give her a detention, he probably would've already — perhaps he was just being kind given the match tomorrow morning.
Or, perhaps he felt like he was talking to Cocoa, the mahogany secrets of the silent corridors and starlight interwoven into Melody's small smile.
Either way, her smile grew. "Follow me."
𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘 was slightly convinced this was a fever dream.
She'd never, in her fourteen years of all-encompassing life, been to the Astronomy Tower, around midnight, with a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, an apple turnover apiece. Lupin had been surprisingly open to the idea, despite his previous assertions against Melody's rule-breaking.
"Just promise me, no detentions for this, all right?" she said sternly, swinging her legs over the side of the Tower facing the south. "Even though you said you wouldn't cover for me again."
Lupin settled down beside her, and he let out a sigh. "Don't tell your grandmother about this, and we'll be even. Wandering around the castle with Sirius Black still out there isn't exactly something I can condone—"
"But you were doing it too—"
"Which is why I can understand. A lot's been weighing on my mind recently, and I'm sure even more has been on yours."
Melody paused. She doubted that was true — Lupin had rediscovered his most beloved childhood artifact, struggled to deal with his best friends' childrens' delinquency, and handled being a werewolf, all while being the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher she'd ever had. "Well, my personal recommendation would be to talk to the stars."
"Talk to the stars?" Lupin repeated, squinting up at them.
"Trust me," Melody assured him. "They're always ready to listen."
Lupin shook his head lightly, a smile peeking out like a forbidden ray of moonlight. "You're either a philosopher or a fool, Melody."
She shrugged. He was right, like usual. "A healthy mix."
"You and I both."
Melody watched, and this time, when his eyes traversed the sky, something stirred beneath them. Something rose and fell, something illuminated and darkened again. There were whispers of his past, and whispers of hers, too — but the stars, of course, had seen it all.
After a moment, she raised her own eyes to them. She thought of the Quidditch final, of her unfinished Charms essay, of how much pressure Harry must be feeling, of the fact that her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a Marauder, was seated next to her.
The pair sat in comfortable silence for a while, just the darkness and ponderings of early hours between them.
Then, serenely, Lupin murmured, "I'm not going to ask how often you sneak up here, but I have to say, it is nice."
Melody beamed, bright as the glimmers she so loved. "Has your head been successfully cleared?"
His eyes lingered over one spot of the sky in particular, then traveled to hers, recognition, regret and, in some ways, restoration deep within. "For the most part."
"Good," she said, nodding satisfactorily. "I do come up here quite a lot, but I wouldn't necessarily say I sneak . . . it's just, living in Hogwarts almost all my life, there are certain places in the castle that bring me peace, and this is one of them. Plus the stars, of course," she paused, then, to dream up the words that encapsulated her daydreams. "I don't know where I'd be without them. They're really like my personal therapists, and they've just always been there, I suppose."
She hadn't planned to give Lupin a soliloquy, but he seemed quite enthralled by it. His chin had fallen into his hand, and he regarded her thoughtfully; genuinely.
"And the moon?"
It had been soft, sudden, and Melody met it with a brief silence. The moon, of course he'd be wondering about the moon. To him, it was a reminder of his lifelong curse, but to her, it was just another beautiful ornament of the night sky.
"I mean, sure," she started slowly. "It's just never been as constant. One day it's full, then one day it's a sliver of what it was."
Another brief silence came, and the crescent above seemed to weep with them.
Lupin nodded, as gentle as ever, and when he spoke, his voice was a whisper on the verge of fracture. "Logical."
"Professor . . ." Melody began, then stopped again. She didn't quite know why, but she felt she owed it to him, as a thanks for the years of silent suffering and months of paternal-like protection. He needed to know she knew.
So, she offered him a faint smile, drew a breath, and said, "I know."
Lupin turned to face her at once, eyes flashing in disbelief, but she simply held out a fragile hand.
He took it, trembling like a schoolboy. "How?"
"The Hogwarts student records and I recently became reacquainted," she explained. "I also found out that you're a Marauder, which you really should've told me, because I would've knelt before your desk every day in worship before class."
"But . . ." Lupin smiled and shook his head slightly, as though convincing himself this was real. "So you don't think I'm a monster?"
Melody laughed; a kindhearted laugh that rang out into the night. "No. Absolutely not." And then, upon Lupin's hesitant expression, "Honestly — if anyone's a monster, it's Snape."
And with that, she broke Remus' shell, the one he'd been constructing every day since he lost his true family.
Here it was, here she was — a constant, never-ending reminder of the past's glory and demise; a unique and opinionated translation of the future. Melody was the bridge, whether she knew it or not, whether he knew it or not.
And to the stars, nothing was truer.
To them, it was Cocoa and Moony sitting atop the Astronomy Tower, giggling like they had years prior. To them, the half-finished apple turnovers smelled just the same, the identical recipe that the kitchens had always used. To them, Quidditch worries and wolf-like tendencies were far away and foreign.
And when the pair regarded the skyscape, their eyes were drawn to the very same light — the light that had betrayed them and cherished them, the light that had left them stranded in Halloween darkness, then flooded through their curtains when they least suspected it.
Traces of Sirius drizzled over the pair like tiny, frigid snowflakes in November, like the blinding, ethereal light that could only have come from the Dog Star.