𝐓 𝐇 𝐄   𝐁 𝐄 𝐆 𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆

        𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘 Rose Prewett trusted the stars.

She first decided this at age six, while staring up at the sky from a grassy patch beside the Black Lake. Clearly full of wisdom beyond her years, the young girl decided that they were her personal guardians.

From then on, her grey eyes sparkled every night, skipping with the light of those burning balls of flame, millions of miles away. They were independent, glittering, surrounded by darkness, and Melody knew — they understood her.

After all, her life hadn't been a fairytale.

Parents tragically killed at age two, raised by a grandmother who was tightly wound, and haunted by the ghost of her shrouded past, Melody was no stranger to independence and darkness.

It's not like she wasn't familiar with glitter, with happiness, either — she had lots of freedom within Hogwarts Castle, and plenty of older students to keep her company. She'd become a school celebrity in a matter of days, and slowly grew into the role. She spent her youth exploring the secret corridors and annoying Snape in any way possible — a five-year-old begging Madam Hooch to lend her a broom, a seven-year-old running away to Hogsmeade because her grandmother hadn't yet bought her a wand, a nine-year-old breaking into Filch's office alongside Fred and George. (Soon, she was practically a third Weasley twin.) Her ego was large, no doubt, and everyone wondered who she had gotten it from.

Sure, Melody had an abnormal childhood. She certainly caused a lot of trouble for someone related to Minerva McGonagall, but she couldn't be expected to behave in a castle full of magical mayhem, could she?

Everyone Melody met was left in awe and bewilderment. She'd slap you before she'd smile at you, but you could gain her trust in a moment's time. She was a glimmer of light behind a dark obscurity, proof that the sun will always conquer the moon. She was a shining galaxy, an undiscovered cosmos. She was light years away, yet full of glowing orbs.

Melody Prewett was indeed celestial, in every meaning of the word —

But she doesn't yet know what happens when two heavenly bodies collide.

On that glorious, monumental evening, the orange leaves were filling up the grounds, and the setting sun felt warm against her skin. Every castle wall was lit with flaming torches, like small explosions of stardust combating the gentle gust of wind outside. Autumn had dressed up in gold, the richest season of the soul. It was the start of a new term, and plain as day — the start of a new chapter.

September 1st, 1991.

Melody stood upright on the grand marble staircase leading down to the entrance hall. She had to admit, despite how many Sorting Ceremonies she had witnessed, she was quite nervous. Her Hogwarts robes, although they had been worn countless times before, felt different. It came as no surprise that she was anxiously fidgeting with the ends of her chocolate brown hair, waiting for the other first years to arrive.

She had never had any problems making friends, not at all — but the concept of growing up frightened her half into her deathbed. Every day of her childhood had been full of starlight, regardless of the darkness shadowing it.

Finally, after what felt like endless minutes of worried contemplation, there was a magnificent creak from the large oak front doors, and Melody looked up from the flagged stone floor.

A group of about fifty first-years shuffled into the entrance hall, sporting identical Hogwarts robes. There was no one kind of student — each had a different expression, a different past, and a thousand different thoughts running through their head. They followed Melody's grandmother through the doorway, and crowded in, glancing about nervously.

Melody let her gaze wander across every student's face from her perch on the staircase. She could tell several of them were staring at her, wondering how she'd gotten there early, —ten years early, to be exact— but she was certainly used to it.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said her grandmother, in a voice echoing with importance. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you."

Melody watched her grandma disappear into the Great Hall, then turned back to the group of students. She took a breath, and decided that now wasn't the time for second-guessing herself.

Adding an excited bounce to her stride, she hurried down the marble steps, and over to her fellow classmates. Her chocolate hair flowed down her back in tumbling waves, the anxious fidgeting long forgotten.

There — near the center of the group, a recognizable head of red hair stood out amongst the rest. Upon closer look, it belonged to a friendly-looking boy, who was undoubtedly a younger sibling of Fred and George.

Melody slowed to a stop just in front of him, wearing a smile so dazzling it could've illuminated the entire night sky.

"Hi!" she said brightly, surveying his expression with the immediate notion that they would be friends. "You're Ron, aren't you? We're cousins, I know Fred and George, your brothers—"

"Oh, you're Melody!" Ron exclaimed at once. He broke into a grin of both awe and recognition, then gestured to the boy beside him. "Yeah, I'm Ron. This is Harry."

Melody turned the boy Ron was pointing to. He was skinny, and hardly taller than her, with absolutely untameable black hair cascading over his forehead. He certainly looked nervous, but something vivid glistened beneath his wire-framed glasses; something familiar.

Then, as if in slow motion, he raised his eyes. They were a vibrant, glistening shade of deep emerald green. Melody felt her heart drop into her stomach, for a reason she wouldn't quite comprehend until years later. She had never felt so sure, yet so lost at the same time — for those eyes, as bright as they were, seemed to be filled with as many secrets as there are galaxies in the universe.

        𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 James Potter didn't know much about the stars.

He never quite had a view of the sky from his cupboard under the Dursley's stairs, and he wasn't really torn up about it. Today, he'd rather focus on this exciting new world that was just at his fingertips. Today, he was starting fresh.

Harry didn't know much about the stars, it was true —

But oh, how much they knew about him.

The stars saw a great deal of themselves in young Harry, and with good reason.

His years at Privet Drive had proved that loneliness is oftentimes unavoidable, even preferable to other alternatives. He had always appeared to have some dreary bubble surrounding him, some barrier that shielded him from life's everyday joys. Endless nights of dark, dusty silence under the staircase had reminded the stars that kindness could conquer any evil — and although boys like Harry were a bit of an unfamiliar entity, they were ready to take him on. Despite their beauty and radiance, they recognized his loneliness; they understood it.

And so, proving that they did indeed play a vital part in human destiny, the stars sent him Melody.

Students were chattering around the entrance hall, some sparing lingering glances in his direction. Hogwarts Castle seemed like a place of comfort and welcome, like his own New Colossus. Nothing had ever felt so dreamlike.

That is, until he locked eyes with her.

Melody —he doubted if another name could've possibly suited her better— was beaming at him, with a smile that must've caused half the solar system to exist.

He felt as though he recognized her from some chapter of his past, but he couldn't quite remember which one. When he tried to reach back and retrieve it, every memory seemed to float away like the last snowflake of a mild winter.

If he couldn't recall it, Harry assumed it wasn't life-changing. After all, what mattered now was the sudden feeling of warmth spreading from the center of his cheeks to the tips of his toes.

Decades later, he would still struggle to believe that any mortal could live a truly fulfilling life without feeling as he did in that second. It wasn't love at first sight, not exactly — more like familiarity, he figured. Oh, it's you, isn't it? It's going to be you, whether I like it or not.

No, he'd never forget that moment. When, standing in the entrance hall surrounded by chattering students, their eyes acquainted, as though they had been made for each other.

It was more intimate than words could ever be — one of those unexplainable scenarios that is immediately overanalyzed and inevitably misread.

A trivial, passing glimpse that meant virtually nothing, until it became the timeless beginning of everything.

"Harry . . . Harry Potter, isn't it?" asked Melody, eyeing him curiously. Her light voice snapped him out of his stupor, and he swallowed.

"Er — yeah," he answered, somewhat stupidly. Everyone seemed to recognize him, and he was already growing weary of it—

"I thought so," she continued, still possessing that alluring smile. "You know, you've got your mother's eyes."

Harry blinked. Maybe he had heard her wrong. "You knew my mother?"

"What?" said Melody at once. Her light grey eyes widened in what seemed like apology, and the constant smile she had been wearing suddenly fell off. "Oh — no, no, I've just seen pictures around the castle. She was a really great witch, though, top of her class . . . Tied with my mum, actually."

"Oh," Harry said, again wishing his responses weren't so lackluster. "Does your mum live here, in the castle?"

"Harry!" hissed Ron suddenly, "No, her parents are—"

"It's okay, Ron," Melody broke in gently. She turned back to Harry, with a thin smile. "My parents are dead. It's my grandmother who teaches here, Professor McGonagall."

Harry immediately wished he could take the next train back to King's Cross and hide in a bathroom stall for the rest of his days. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I had no idea—"

"Don't worry!" Melody shook her head. Harry broke off, and peered at her nervously. She was grinning, actually appearing lighthearted about the whole ordeal. "Living at Hogwarts Castle was more exciting than any other childhood could've been. Although, I've got to say . . . If I don't get into Gryffindor, I'm drowning myself in the Black Lake tomorrow—"

Ron burst into a fit of laughter. "As if!" he howled. "You're Melody Prewett! You ran away for a week when McGonagall wouldn't buy you a wand! You broke into Snape's office and redecorated it for Valentine's Day!"

Melody snickered. "I forgot about that."

"It was brilliant, George told me all about it over the holidays. And you're the one who coordinates all the big Gryffindor parties, anyway, I really don't think they'd last a minute without you . . ."

Harry was feeling quite clueless at this point. Everyone around them was talking excitedly, but he still had no idea what was about to happen. "How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" he finally asked Melody and Ron, who were both still eagerly rehashing Melody's pranking repertoire.

"Some sort of test. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking," Ron replied matter-of-factly.

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet — what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived . . . Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

But Melody, still beside him, gave a beautiful chuckle and looked into his eyes again. "Fred was joking, Harry, I don't know what he's on about. It's not a test, either, all you have to do is—"

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

"What the—?"

He gasped. So did the people around him, save for Melody. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered for a moment. Then, Melody stood up tall and beamed at the silvery man.

"First years!" she exclaimed. "We're waiting for grandma to get back."

"Ah, new students!" realized the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely, but Melody chimed in again. Her gaze narrowed in on the ghost wearing the ruff. "Yeah, hope I'm at your table, Nick!"

"But of course you will be!" said the ghost merrily. "You were born a Gryffindor, my dear! Don't even know why they're bothering to Sort you, to be completely honest!"

"Oh, stop it," Melody muttered, pretending to blush.

"Well, I hope to see you all in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start." Harry wheeled around — Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

Harry was certainly feeling more nervous than before. It was all happening, and he was surely about to make a fool of himself in front of the entire school . . . What intrigued him most of all, however, was how relaxed Melody seemed. Introducing herself with ease, making conversation with ghosts — he had never met someone so effortlessly bright. She hadn't even asked about his scar, either . . . only recognized him by his eyes.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Harry got into line, feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead. Melody stood in front, with Ron behind him. They walked across the entrance hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

        𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘 was a lot more anxious than she was letting on.

Sure, she fit the Gryffindor mold, that much was obvious — but what if something went wrong? What if the Hat decided she was better off in Slytherin . . . or even Hufflepuff? With a deep breath, she tried to push all those tragic worries out of her mind.

Put your trust in the stars, Melody, she reminded herself. They've never let you down.

She forced her feet to follow the moving line into the Great Hall. She'd entered the place thousands of times, but none of them felt quite so special as this.

The rest of the students were already sitting at the four tables, which were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Melody glanced upward, and saw the velvety black ceiling dotted with familiar stars. They were glistening for her, it was obvious — a small, necessary reminder that she was finally ready.

In front of her, a girl with bushy hair whispered: "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"You did?" murmured Melody impressedly. She'd never bothered to pick up that book, since she probably knew everything in it and then some. "Good for you."

Melody looked back down from the skyscape when her grandma silently placed a four-legged stool in front of them. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat — The Sorting Hat.

Everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing.

After a few minutes, the whole hall burst into applause, and Melody combated her nerves by whooping loudly. The hat bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Melody heard Ron whisper to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"Classic Fred," Melody whispered back to them. "I don't think he's ever said something seriously in his life."

"Probably right," muttered Ron.

Melody grinned at the pair of them, and Harry smiled back weakly. She could tell he wished he could try on the hat without a single person watching.

Her grandma now stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause — "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Melody saw the Fat Friar waving joyously at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" said the hat.

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Melody glanced to the table on the far right — they definitely still looked like an unpleasant group, just like every year she could remember.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat yelled.

"Finnigan, Seamus," a brown-haired boy near Melody the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione practically ran to the stool, and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. "GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

"Mental, that one," he whined to Melody. "I'm telling you!"

Melody looked back to Hermione, who over rushed to sit at the Gryffindor table. She certainly seemed a little overzealous, but not dreadful.

When Neville Longbottom was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with him. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

A blond boy, "Malfoy, Draco", swaggered forward when his name was called.

Melody had heard about the Malfoys — their name had slipped from Dumbledore's tongue several times through the years, and it never sounded pleasant. From his smug expression, she knew where Draco was heading before the hat even touched his head.

And she was right: the hat screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" at once. Malfoy went to join the students wearing green robes, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now, and Melody was beginning to feel more uneasy. What if the hat decided she didn't belong anywhere, and created a new House just for her? What if she had to sit alone at meals and sleep alone in a dormitory?

"Moon" . . . "Nott" . . . "Parkinson" . . . then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . . then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . and then, suddenly — "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Melody wished she could've put a Silencing Charm over the entire student body — she was quite good at them, but she doubted it would make the best first impression on her fellow classmates. Harry was positively trembling when the hat dropped over his eyes, and she desperately wanted to give him a hug. Biting her tongue in curiosity, she waited.

After what felt like years, the hat raised its voice once more.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Melody clapped excitedly, heart brimming with a sudden warmth. She had expected as much — both his parents were Gryffindors, after all. It was clear from the roar of applause that he was getting the loudest cheer yet.

Harry took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table.

Melody saw Percy Weasley stand up and shake his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down in a seat beside them, looking as though a heavy weight had been removed from his shoulders.

Melody sent him a smile of encouragement, and he grinned back — the first real smile she had seen him produce. Even from across the hall, she was falling into those emerald eyes again. They were as bright as the stars above . . . Then, a sudden voice snapped her out of the momentary worrylessness.

"Prewett, Melody!"

Melody's eyes darted back to her grandma, who was holding the hat out for her.

This was it . . . her moment of truth. With legs that felt a little too much like jelly, Melody somehow trotted up to the stool and sat down.

At once, the hat dropped over her eyes.

"Melody . . ." came a mutter in her ear. "Finally your turn to be Sorted, eh?"

Please just put me in Gryffindor, Melody thought determinedly. Gryffindor, please—

"Not so quick!" the hat told her. "Let's see, let's see . . . well, it's no surprise you're smart, and not exactly hardworking, more resourceful . . . Oh, but the strength!"

Strength? Melody blinked under the hat, somewhat concerned.

"Right, right, and loyal, friendly, confident . . . The nerve!"

Quit wasting time, thought Melody furiously. You know where I belong.

"Oh, I do, don't I?" murmured the hat. "Your bravery, daring, quick tongue and sharp mind all lead to the same conclusion. You'll do your parents proud, won't you?"

Of course I will, Melody answered silently, gripping the edges of the stool in hope.

"You've always known . . ." the hat whispered. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Melody pulled the hat off her head, and broke into that glistening smile once more. The hall was clamoring with applause, most of it from the table on the left.

She could see the older Gryffindors leaping to their feet, Harry beaming at her, Percy clapping with as much dignity as he could — and then she was there, getting thrown into the arms of the Weasley twins, who were hopping up and down with excitement.

"Thank Merlin!" Fred shouted over the tumultuous roar. "We were planning to raid the kitchens tomorrow night, and we need your help!"

After a few seconds of absolute chaos and endless high-fives, the noise died down, and Melody slid into the seat beside Harry.

"Not too surprising," she muttered to him happily. "Congrats on making the best house, by the way."

"You too," said Harry, smiling widely.

Melody's gaze shifted away from him, and up to the High Table, where Hagrid gave her a bright thumbs up. She grinned at him, then looked to Dumbledore, who was sitting in his large gold chair. He caught her eye, and the twinkle beneath his half-moon spectacles seemed to say "I told you so".

Melody gave him a nod, then glanced up to the starred ceiling and muttered a soft "thank you". Satisfied, she turned back to the Sorting Ceremony. She saw her grandma looking at her proudly before raising the scroll once more. There were now only four people left. "Thomas, Dean," joined them at the Gryffindor table, "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now.

Melody crossed her fingers under the table, and a second later the hat shouted: "GRYFFINDOR!"

At once, she jumped up and hollered loudly for him —the other Weasleys were doing the same— as he collapsed into the seat across from her and Harry.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy pompously.

Finally, "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Melody watched her grandma roll up her scroll and take the Sorting Hat away.

For the first time, Melody looked around at the other Gryffindor members in her year. Lavender and Pavarti seemed to have become friends already, and Dean and Seamus were talking to each other amicably. Hermione, the bushy-haired girl from before, was rambling eagerly to Percy about lessons, and Neville was staring around anxiously, as though he didn't think he belonged.

She glanced down at her empty gold plate, wishing it would fill with food. Then, as if her thoughts had been answered, Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Melody cheered loudly, along with most of the members of her house. Harry, next to her, looked around skeptically.

"Is he — a bit mad?" he asked.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! His skill with a wand is legend, and have you heard about—"

"Calm down, Percy, don't give him the wrong idea," Melody broke in, reaching for a nearby dish. "He is a little mad! All the best people are . . . You know, Harry, when he and my grandma had to send you all those acceptance letters, he was sitting in his office, chuckling — Potatoes?"

Harry's mouth had fallen open. The dishes in front of them were now piled with food. He looked as though he had never seen so many things he wanted to eat on one table. When Melody piled her plate with a bit of everything, he did the same.

"That does look good," said Sir Nicholas sadly, watching Melody cut a piece of chicken.

Harry turned to him uncertainly. "Can't you — ?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," responded the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"Oh, now I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—" the ghost began stiffly, but Hermione interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Melody immediately shot her a look of warning, but it was too late.

Sir Nicholas already looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

"Oh, don't remind me," Melody sighed, slumping her face into her hands. Now, any of her wrongdoings would warrant more than a beration from Snape . . . and she assumed he was going to try and make up for the past ten years of not being able to dock points from her.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later, the desserts appeared.

As Melody helped herself to a jam-filled doughnut, the Gryffindor talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Melody graciously.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," replied Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages, because nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased."

"How about your parents, Melody?" Dean wondered. "Do they teach here?"

Melody set down her half-eaten doughnut, ignoring the look of worry Percy was sending Dean. "My parents died when I was two," she said quietly. "Professor McGonagall, my grandma, teaches Transfiguration — but Ron, Fred, George and Percy are cousins on my dad's side."

Ron stared around impressively, as if this made him superior in some way.

Hermione, a few seats down, heard the word "Transfiguration", and immediately broke into speech. "You know, I do hope they start classes right away, there's so much to learn! I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, it's supposed to be very difficult, but I think Professor McGonagall seems like a great teacher—"

"We'll just be starting small," Melody said, shaking her head sadly. "Matches into needles and that sort of thing . . . But my grandma's an Animagus, so she really knows her stuff . . . I guess it's a genetic thing, because I've learned everything up to O.W.L standard by now—"

"O.W.L standard?!" repeated Hermione shrilly, with a look of admiration. "But that's not until fifth year!"

"Right," shrugged Melody. "But other than pulling pranks, I didn't have tons to do growing up. I sort of started going to classes, sitting in the back, that sort of thing."

"Wow," Hermione breathed. "O.W.L standard . . . how about the other classes? Are they any good?"

"I suppose," Melody answered nonchalantly. Despite being a bit overenthusiastic, this girl seemed to have a level head. "I've gone to Astronomy quite a lot, but I taught myself the basics of Potions . . ."

        𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘, who was beginning to feel warm and sleepy, started to become disinterested in Melody's and Hermione's conversation about classes. He turned back to the High Table. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in an absurd purple turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Melody at once, whipping around to him.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look — a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Melody nervously.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?" she responded, following his stare. Almost immediately, her eyes clouded over in unmistakeable dislike. "No wonder he looks so frightened, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. He knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts . . . and not a lot about shampoo."

Harry chuckled, giving her a grateful look. She really was being quite nice to him, and he didn't exactly know what he had done to deserve it. People like her were definitely hard to come by, at least in his life. He silently thanked the heavens that they had been put into the same house.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils, and a few of our familiar students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Melody, who failed miserably at containing a smile.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"Melody!" George Weasley hissed down the table. "Are you trying out?"

"First years aren't allowed to own broomsticks, and I already broke that rule," Melody whispered back, leaning across her plate to answer. "But you've already got three Chasers, Alicia, Angelina, and Katie— so I'm going to wait until Alicia graduates this year."

"All right," nodded George. "But you'll still come to practices, right?"

"Of course!" came Melody's response. As she leaned back into her seat, Harry got the slightest whiff of lilac and vanilla — his heart fluttered against his chest, for some mysterious reason.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death," Dumbledore said solemnly.

Harry turned back to Melody at once. "He's not serious?" he muttered to her.

"Must be," breathed Melody, frowning at Dumbledore. "But he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," instructed Dumbledore, "Off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling with some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot!"

Everybody finished the song at different times. Melody seemed to have sung to the tune of Fur Elise, and at last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy to even be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

Melody, however, was skipping about excitedly, rambling about how great the Gryffindor common room was. Harry listened, interested despite his grogginess. They climbed more staircases, he was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

"Here we are," stated Percy importantly.

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" she requested.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall.

They all scrambled through it, and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. Melody had been right — it radiated a homey feeling, one of coziness and stability.

Percy directed the girls to the staircase on the left, and the boys to the one on their right. Drifting away to sleep sounded amazing to Harry, but he turned around to Melody without really knowing why.

"Thanks for —er— everything."

"Don't worry about it," Melody replied quietly. Everyone seemed to be climbing the spiral staircases to their dormitories, leaving the common room mostly empty. "We'll get our timetables tomorrow morning at breakfast, and our classes will probably be identical."

"All right," yawned Harry in soft acknowledgement. "The dorms are nice, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but I had my own room in that corridor over there," Melody answered, pointing to a door in the corner near the fireplace. "Anyways, I was wondering—"

"Harry! Melody!" came Percy's superior voice from the staircase. "Get up to bed!"

The common room was warm and drowsy, and Harry let out a sigh without thinking. Percy was a prefect, so they'd better follow his rules — but he wanted to talk to Melody as much as he could before his first day of classes.

He turned back to his new friend, but her soft, innocent smile had vanished. In its place was a mischievous grin, and a twinkle in her thunder-tinted eyes.

"Sure, Percy, sleep well!" she called loudly, before seizing Harry's arm and pulling him toward her. "Meet me back here in five minutes, okay? I want to show you something."

"Uh — what?"

"It's a surprise," answered Melody. "Go grab a scarf, it'll be chilly up there."

A horrible pang echoed through Harry's chest. "Wait, we're not — we're not sneaking out, are we?" This was only his first night in the castle, and he'd rather not be expelled so soon—

Melody's eyes widened, as though she heard every one of his thoughts. In a tone that was almost motherly, she patted his shoulder and responded: "Of course not!"

"Okay then," nodded Harry. "I'll, er, see you in a bit?"

"Yeah, see you." Melody shot him that winning smile once more, darted up the girl's staircase, and vanished from sight.

She was gone, leaving only the faintest scent of lilac and vanilla behind. Harry stared at the space where she had just been, with the tiniest desire to run after her.

Maybe that's just what friendships are, he thought, climbing the stairs to his own dormitory. One to change the world, and the other to embrace them when it's all over. One to lead, and one to follow. Someday he'd understand, but for now, he grabbed a scarf and hurried back down to the dimly lit common room.

Because Melody Prewett, whether Harry knew it or not, would always be a few steps ahead of him.

        𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘 wasn't lying. Technically, they weren't going to sneak out.

She didn't think of it like that . . . more like going for a little walk after hours, even though it was forbidden . . . All right, maybe she was a bad influence.

Regardless, she grabbed her own red and gold scarf, tucked a leather-bound journal into her cloak, and tip-toed back down to the common room.

Harry was already there, black hair strewn chaotically across his forehead. His lightning bolt scar was framed by a few lopsided pieces, but for a second, Melody had forgotten all about it.

"Come on," she whispered, gesturing towards the portrait hole.

It all happened quite quickly — before Melody knew it, she had led Harry through countless corridors and passageways, pulled him behind a statue to hide from Mrs. Norris, and made Peeves swear he wouldn't tell on them (by means of blackmail, of course).

Along the way, she discovered that Harry was somewhat of a missing piece to her soul. He was polite where she wasn't, funny in the same ways as her, and clever enough to keep up.

"How much further?" he finally asked. They had arrived at a small staircase after nearly twenty minutes of wandering through the castle.

Melody spun around with a wide grin, and gestured to the stairs he was looking at. "Thirty seconds, give or take? Let's go."

Without thinking too much, she seized Harry's hand and tugged him up the steps behind her. This was her favorite place in the entire castle: a region of vulnerability, chaos, and moonlight. It was almost like her little secret; a place where she could go to feel heard. Now, she was going to share it with him — after all, she knew they'd be best friends the second they locked eyes.

When they emerged out to the chilly floor, Melody heard Harry gasp quietly.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured, when they emerged out onto the chilly floor. She dropped his hand and started over towards the railing. "Welcome to the Astronomy Tower."

Surrounding them lay the gorgeous, clear, shimmering skyscape which Melody had come to love. Hundreds and hundreds of stars littered the deep black canvas, shining valiantly into the cosmos. The moon, a glowing crescent, rested slightly to the west.

With a blissful exhale, Melody dropped down to a seated position, hanging her legs off the edge of the tower. She reached into her cloak, and pulled out the journal she had tucked away earlier.

The night was perfectly silent, and raw waterways of divinity seemed to spill from the sky. After taking one last look up, Melody turned back to Harry.

The green eyes beneath his glasses shone with wonder, with admiration. He was drowning, struggling to stay afloat in the beauty of the endless ether before them. After a moment, he blinked and looked down at her.

"Wow," was all he said.

Melody beamed at him. Thank god, he likes it.

"All right, I know this seems unexplainably stunning and spectacular," she began gently, "But I promise there's a system to it."

With a wordless nod, Harry slowly came forward and sat beside her.

"I first discovered this tower when I was seven," continued Melody, leaning backwards onto her hands. "It's the tallest in the castle, so that's why it took a while to get here."

"I thought it was because you wanted to show me the trophy room and the kitchens on the way," Harry chuckled, without moving his eyes from the starscape.

"Well, yeah, that too," shrugged Melody in response. "But anyway, it lies almost directly above the front doors of the castle. Clearly, it's tall enough to have a perfect view of the sky, all the way around."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Are we allowed to come up here every night?"

Melody brought her journal onto her lap. "If you don't get caught."

"I thought we weren't—"

"Sneaking out?" she finished, letting her gaze travel back to the view. "Sorry, I just thought you'd like it. Besides, I haven't gotten caught out of bed after hours since I was eight."

To her relief, Harry broke into a grin.

Maybe he'll turn out like James, that'd be amazing—

"I love it," he whispered, finally ripping his line of sight away from the sky. Instead, he timidly met her eyes. "I guess I'll stick with you from now on."

Melody laughed and looked back out above them. "You better. When grandma said you were coming this year, I nearly had a heart attack."

Harry furrowed his brows in slight confusion. "Wait . . . why?"

Melody took a breath. "We were destined to be friends," she answered honestly. Something about this boy laced her with comfort and warmth, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. "Yeah, our mothers were close, but your dad is considered a legend in the walls of this castle— by me, at least."

"Really?"

"He's one of my biggest inspirations," she replied. "His sense of humor was unmatched, truly, and he played Quidditch . . . I'll show you some student records later."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"Plus, his jokes were aimed at Snape a lot," Melody muttered. She reached down to pick up her journal, and slowly peeled it open. "That's a great man in my books."

Harry broke into a laugh — a real, kind-hearted, joy-filled laugh. It was a beautiful sound, quite like music to Melody's ears. She grinned over at him before lifting her journal to reading height.

"Before I get too sidetracked, let me explain this," she said, with a glance up at the ever-bright sky.

"Explain what?" Harry asked skeptically. "I know how stars work, don't worry—"

"Oh, but do you?" Melody broke in, voice ringing with importance and even a twinge of emotion.

Harry shut his mouth and looked back at her.

"Let me tell you, Harry," she murmured, running a spare hand through her brown waves of hair. "Let me tell you the laws of the stars."

His brows knit together, signaling interest. This was it. She was about to share one of the most special pieces of her heart with him, despite only having known him a few hours.

It felt more like a few lifetimes.

"I always wanted to understand them a bit better; study them a bit closer," Melody started. Her tone was formal, but her eyes shone with a deep confidence, something beyond words. "I trust the stars, however strange that might sound. They've always been there for me. With barely any supervision and a limitless imagination, half my childhood was spent staring at them. As a result, I've been developing these five laws since before I can remember."

Harry was gazing at her intently, as though mesmerized by her words. With a slight nod, he prompted her to go on.

"Well, then. Law one," Melody sighed contentedly, looking down to her journal. "The stars each had a beginning, and each will have an end."

She paused, and glanced up at the illuminated sky.

"It might sound simple, stupid, even— but I think it brings a sense of humanity to them. We all had a beginning, regardless of differences, and so did they. Some starts might be happier than others," —something in her expression shifted to sorrow, but it disappeared within moments— "But we can all respect and cherish each other, just like they do.

"Then someday, when all the light has faded, they will too — the end of all ends; when the work is done. Endings can be bittersweet, and so it is with the stars, but that's why they shine so brightly, even until their dying day."

Harry's eyes had widened, and he was looking somewhat shocked. "How—how did you come up with that?" he stuttered.

Melody smiled and shrugged. "It just came to me," she answered. Then, upon seeing his totally dumbfounded expression, she patted him on the knee with a grin. "Don't be intimidated, I promise I'm not usually this intelligent."

"I'm sure that's not true," countered Harry with a sheepish shake of his head. "When you were talking to Hermione about our classes, you sounded like a genius."

"Thanks," Melody chuckled. "I'll pass you my notes whenever you need them."

Harry broke into a red-faced smile. "Promise?"

"Of course."

"I need all the help I can get," he mumbled.

"Well, I'm sure that's not true," Melody insisted. "You're going to be a great wizard."

"I lived under the stairs for ten years, but whatever you say," said Harry, fidgeting with the ends of his scarf.

Melody's heart skipped a beat. "U-Under the stairs?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

Melody could read the hurt in his body, the hole of loneliness in his heart. She looked back up at the sky, and lowered her voice to a tone just above a whisper. "That's awful, Harry, I'm sorry."

"Thanks," he breathed back. "It's okay."

"It's not," Melody said firmly. "You didn't deserve to be treated like that."

"Well . . ." Harry stared down at the castle beneath them. "It will be okay, then."

"It will be," agreed Melody, nodding. "The stars cannot shine without darkness."

"What?" Harry said, turning back up to look at her.

"Law two," she clarified. "The stars cannot shine without darkness. There can be no good without the bad."

"Oh," said Harry. "That's even more poetic."

"I know. The rest of them don't get any better, so be warned," Melody remarked. "But that law always calms me down when I'm upset or worried. There is a plan for each and every one of us, even if the universe seems cruel."

"Nothing is permanent," Harry mumbled.

"Come again?"

"Nothing is permanent," Harry repeated, louder this time. "I think I read it somewhere once."

"Well, you're right," Melody said. How he had read her mind like the most ancient of novels, she didn't know, but those words sent a barren frost throughout her body, and his careful tone prompted her to continue. "Wise words, Harry — nobody ever really stays forever."

He nodded slowly, an odd, authentic tapestry of understanding weaving itself between them, then turned back out to the sky.

And all at once, Melody's mind broke into a fit of chorus.

Nothing is permanent, it sang, derisive and callous. He'll leave someday, too, so hold tight to every moment; shine bright until your dying day. Nobody ever stays . . . After all, why would they?

She took a quick breath and turned away, shoving those dark thoughts aside; willing them to vanish. "Some things can last for a while, though."

"Like what?" Harry wondered.

Melody twisted her lips into a thin smile, which sunk itself into doubt before she could prevent it. "Love, I suppose."

"I wouldn't know much about that kind of thing," Harry said quietly.

"Me neither," admitted Melody. "That's why I talk to the stars. They're always ready to listen." She glanced over to Harry briefly, but just long enough to see a tiny smile forming on his starlit face.

"Law three?" he asked.

Melody nodded. "My grandma was usually occupied when I was younger. She loves me, of course, but she's a busy woman, so I learned to give my worries to the stars. They might not answer, but I know they hear me. 'The stars are always ready to listen'."

"So you come up here a lot?"

"Yeah. Even on a cloudy night, I know they're still there. Even when we can't see them, even when it's daytime— they're always watching, hearing, helping. That's Law four. 'The stars play a vital part in human destiny.'"

There was a pause in their dialogue, a natural silence which seemed to speak volumes. When Harry next spoke, he sounded somewhere distant, in the riddling land between awe and fret.

"Do you always think like this?" he murmured, "In such a bright way?"

Melody smiled again. She didn't really know the answer to his question, only that her thoughts had always been deafening.

At the moment, they covered how he, sitting in the faint glow of moonlight, seemed crowned with peace. How their breaths were coalescing in the chilly night air, heedless to all conflict. How her own daunting shadow seemed to have his emerald eyes. How the voice of her soul was screaming his simple name, louder than any title ever before.

But "I guess so," was all she said, that dreamlike smile still glitzing across her countenance. "You've got to understand, Harry, I trust the stars much more than my own intuition. They haven't totally ruined my life yet."

"Yet," he repeated dramatically.

Melody grinned over at him. "Hush, Potter. They sent you to me, so everything might go wrong."

"Ouch," he said sarcastically. "Maybe I don't want to stick around you."

"Fine, good luck passing grandma's class without my help," replied Melody. She pointed to a bolded sentence in her journal. "Lastly, Law five. The all-encompassing rule which makes everything align."

Harry looked at her, intrigued. "What is it?"

She gave him a bright smile and turned back to the sky. "The stars all have stories to tell."

"The stars all have stories to tell." Harry repeated softly, after a moment. "Like people do."

Melody turned to him in surprise. "Exactly," she said, voice even and quiet. She looked back up at the mazes of constellations. "The blood of the stars flows through everyone's veins. We're all different formations of space dust, some more unlikable than others. But we can't deny — someday, everyone will have a story to tell. It's up to the rest of us to listen."

The silence after her words was peaceful, harmonious. Every star in the sky, it seemed, agreed with her.

It's up to the rest of us to listen.

Finally, Harry's small voice broke into the night. "I like this castle."

Melody smiled. "Me too."

She stole a glance over at him. He looked innocent, angelic, awestruck — a boy who was still discovering his place, slowly but surely.

He was blissfully unaware that Melody, sweet as she was, would become his partner in crime within the next twenty-four hours. He was clueless of their chemistry, of the danger that lay ahead, of the secrets in her past. He didn't know if he would ever stay, leave, or return, but he would reach those decisions soon.

Harry was oblivious to the story that they would craft, together; the hundreds of pages of adventure, loss, hope, and love.

Someday, someday, someday.

He would learn, someday — they both would.

But tonight, the future felt too foreign to muse over. The glistening atmosphere above promised a blanket of peace and safety for all who were listening, and Hogwarts shone with a comforting, homelike elegance —

Because tonight, Harry and Melody sat on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, looking at the stars.