-----------------> MAEVE MACMILLAN HAD ALWAYS BEEN OBSERVANT.
A trait, which she knew, was very important in journalism.
So where others saw a rude boy who was bumping shoulders against them in the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, Maeve could see the tears that burnt brightly behind his forest coloured eyes as he tried his very best to conceal them with a mask of arrogance on his face.
It was because of this blessing of hers that caused a small frown to grace her face as she quickly made her way into her compartment after returning from the Prefect's meeting before pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill and writing a message in all capital letters.
I know it's been a bad day, but you survived and isn't that great? Look on the bright side: Tomorrow is a new day and today will never happen again. You can do it. Good luck!
Love,
Somebody.
And in her diary, she made a little scribble to remind her to ask Giggy the House Elf to give this note to the Ravenclaw boy with dark hair and green eyes before sighing and looking out the window where she could see the sight of the trees swaying in the wind, dancing and waving its branches at her, causing a soft smile to grow on her face as her mind began to automatically construct a story about trees and the wind, prompting her to immediately flip to a new page in her diary and write it down.
Maeve had always found solace in writing, whether it be writing her thoughts in her diary, short stories in a journal, articles for newspapers, essays for homework, letters to her parents, simple reminders on her hand, quotes on parchment to stick on the walls of her room or even those notes that she would write to people who she thought needed to know that somebody was rooting for them in their dark and difficult times.
Her parents had been quick to notice her interest and talent in this art and had purchased a large share in The Daily Prophet newspapers to get her a weekly column where she could write and publish when she had been a mere nine years of age.
At first, the journalists and editors of this newspaper had been thoroughly against this, only tolerating the idea due to the majority shares owned by her parents, but soon, her column became incredibly, increasingly popular. So much so, that it led to the editor to assure her with a big smile on his face that she had a job waiting for her at the Daily Prophet as soon as she finished her education at Hogwarts.
The contents of her column itself were rather random and had a tendency to differ based on her mood. Sometimes, she wrote and published short stories, funny incidents, absurd history facts and even poetry, and honestly, whatever tickled her fancy. Other times, she wrote articles on the cruelties of the world, Hogwarts, the laws passed by the Wizengamot and other such 'real' matters, providing a different perspective on those events and policies.
Her column, Musings with Maeve, had been given critical acclaim and brilliant reviews for being 'new', 'refreshing' and 'a pleasure and honour to read'; but Maeve personally didn't care about any of that.
Call her selfish, but Maeve wrote for herself, not for others. She wrote so that she could feel happy and satisfied and if others felt the same way upon reading, then that was just a bonus.
Maeve smiled as she finished writing her short story before adding another asterisk in the previous page of her diary to remind her to mail it to the editor at the Daily Prophet as her newest article for her column. She re-read the finished product, checking for any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes before nodding to herself, satisfied.
Maeve cast a quick tempus before sighing at the numbers that greeted her and reluctantly packing up her belongings and exiting the compartment to begin her mandatory prefect patrol on the Hogwarts Express.
It would be roughly three years ago in the warmth of Professor Sprout's office, as the Head of Hufflepuff seated a then fourth-year Maeve and informed her that she was being considered for the position of Prefect, but the herbology teacher wanted to know if she was okay with the performing the duties and responsibilities that came with the role, while also adhering to it's packed schedule. Maeve wondered, should she be thrown into that moment before she accepted, would she make the same decision again, considering it was so tiring. Perhaps it was thanks to her better lack of judgement.
Just before closing the compartment door, a soft smile danced on the corners of her lips as she looked to where her best friends, Kate Wyden and Halley Johnson were peacefully snoring away beside each other with their heads resting on each other's shoulders while her other friends, Max Greyson and Bruce Clarkson were cuddled together and using their Hufflepuff scarves as blankets and their transfiguration book as pillows on the opposite seat.
Maeve used a simple engorgio on their scarfs, making it large enough to be considered a quilt before spreading one on Kate and Haley and the other on Max and Bruce.
"Sleep well, you guys," She whispered to the air before shutting the compartment slowly, taking delicate care to not make too much noise before starting her patrols.
≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪
A day after arriving at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin smiled as he read that day's Daily Prophet newspaper, specifically because every Friday, an article from his -and everybody's- favourite column was published.
"Are you reading Maeve's column again?" James asked, already knowing the answer. "What did she write about this time?"
"The story about the wind who kissed the tree," Remus replied, making Sirius snort.
"Could you give it to me after you read it?" Peter asked.
"Sure," Remus replied.
"You know," James began. "I rather liked last week's story- the one about the marshmallow who melted so it could drown in the love of hot chocolate." He paused. "How does she even come up with this stuff?"
"I would assume with her mind, Prongs," Sirius said dryly, making James very maturely throw some of his peas at him.
They joked around for a bit until Remus opened his transfiguration textbook only for a note to fall out. There was only one person who would send discrete notes.
"Seven years and I still don't know how Somebody sends us those notes without anybody noticing," Sirius muttered.
Remus nodded, opening the note and reading it. His friends didn't eavesdrop, knowing first hand that Somebody's notes were private and rather personal.
Dear Remus,
You looked a little down yesterday. I heard the comments those girls made and I apologise for that. You don't deserve it. Nobody does. But please know that you don't have to change a thing about yourself, the world can change its heart.
Love,
Somebody.
Remus' lips curved upwards into a soft smile as he gently folded the note and placed it inside one of the pockets of his jumper.
"I have no idea how Somebody always knows whenever any of us are sad or mad," James said before pausing. "Do we have a stalker?"
"I sincerely doubt it, James," Remus replied. "Somebody could simply be a very observant person. Besides, it isn't just us who receives a note. Most of the school does as well." He pointed out.
"Your theory isn't as fun as mine," James said. "But honestly, how does Somebody do it?"
"I don't know," Sirius drawled. "But Remus, you received a letter by Somebody today, in our seventh year and we've been getting them ever since our first. You know what that means don't you?"
Remus nodded thoughtfully. "Somebody is in our year. It makes sense."
"And nobody knows Somebody's identity," James continued, his voice gaining excitement.
"Precisely." Sirius nodded, grinning. "Boys, I think you all see where I'm going with this."
"Oh, we sure do, Sirius!" Peter replied before pausing. "But just so we're on the same page, could you please tell it out loud."
"We—" Sirius smirked "—are going to find out the identity of Somebody before the end of this academic year." He declared.