𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐄 𝐏 𝐇 𝐎 𝐍 𝐄 ' 𝐒    𝐏 𝐎 𝐌 𝐄 𝐆 𝐑 𝐀 𝐍 𝐀 𝐓 𝐄

        𝐈𝐅 there was one thing you could be sure about when it came to Melody Prewett's summers, it was that she was most likely always doing something she shouldn't be.

It sounded like an exaggeration, perhaps one which she herself had constructed upon the September arrival of her peers — but there had never been a truer conclusion.

The months seemed to trickle away beneath her soft fingertips, moving so meticulously slow that she was left with no other option than to create some excitement for herself.

August had always smelled sweet in the castle — perhaps it was the looming promise of crisper air; or the ripe fruit ready to be plucked from the gardens. The hours of sunlight were noticeably shortening, lost to the endless cycle of pitch black night. During the day, however, luminescent golden patterns fell across the Hogwarts hallways. The grounds, inspired by the late summer weather, were lush and green.

She found it difficult to appreciate the large land entropy that was Hogwarts Castle when so much could be done, so much could be discovered instead.

Thus, there she was, stealthily drawing her wand and tapping a statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor.

Melody was going to Hogsmeade.

Sneaking out, her grandmother would have called it, but that sounded quite close-minded: Melody had friends in the village, and she always loved to pay them a visit.

With a hushed "Dissendium", she had her prize — the hump on the witch's statue opened to reveal a short slide into a tunnel.

This was the One-Eyed-Witch Passage, and it led straight into the cellar of Honeyduke's. Melody checked both sides of the silent Hogwarts corridor, then ducked into the tunnel smoothly.

"On my way, Liquorice Wands," she murmured beneath her breath, illuminating the passageway with a flick of her wand.

The walk wasn't terrible, perhaps twenty minutes total, and it forced her to decide that she would need to stop by Gladrags Wizardwear to obtain a new pair of sneakers before the start of term. Hers were beaten and dirty, hardly sufficient for a new school year.

She didn't even realize she had climbed out of the tunnel and into the cellar; it had become second nature by now — but a friendly voice snapped her out of her stupor.

"Again, Melody?"

She turned — it was the shopowner's wife, Mrs. Flume. Melody tucked her wand into her pocket and grinned. "Not even a hello?"

Mrs. Flume sighed, wiping her hands absentmindedly on her Honeydukes apron. "You know Minerva doesn't appreciate your little adventures around the village."

"I do know that," answered Melody. "But how else am I supposed to visit friends like you?"

From her perch on the staircase, Mrs. Flume gave Melody a probing look for a moment, then inevitably flushed into a charitable smile. "Well, come on up, dear, I'll make you a bag or two."

"Thanks," said Melody, hastening after the round woman. "I heard you've got some new inventory, and I wouldn't be opposed to some sampling—"

"Oh, and I've got just the thing for you!" exclaimed Mrs. Flume. She headed straight through the doorway to the shop, which was free of guests today. "A new flavor of Liquorice Wands, your favorite, and it just came in a few days ago . . . Now, where did I put it?"

As Mrs. Flume began to rummage through some boxes near the register, Melody's eyes danced across the bright shop — the shelves were full of endless sweets, like usual. There were creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-coloured toffees, and hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows. Near the center of the shop, there was a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizzbees.

"Pick out whatever it is you want," Mrs. Flume said from behind her. "No more than two bags, though, we don't want a repeat of last time—"

"Right you are, Genevieve!" came a booming voice from the front of the shop. "Don't want you draining our inventory again!"

The speaker, a rather large, bald man, appeared from behind a shelf of Jelly Slugs — it was Ambrosius Flume, the shopowner. He had always been very friendly, as well as generous when it came to Melody's summer escapades.

"Good morning, Mr. Flume," she greeted. "How have you been?"

The man chuckled lightly, and started over towards his wife. "It's two in the afternoon, Melody, and I saw you last week."

"Ah, a couple slight technicalities," responded Melody charmingly. "You see, it's summer break, meaning I shouldn't really have any responsibilities . . . Obviously sleeping until noon is perfectly acceptable, and I definitely don't have anything to do except visit you fine people."

"Besides bothering Severus Snape, of course," Mr. Flume grinned. "Sneaking out is your least rebellious act of the last decade."

"I didn't sneak out!" Melody declared, crossing her arms stubbornly. "I demand strict proof thereof."

"So I suppose you wouldn't mind if I mentioned this to your grandmother?" Mr. Flume tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think I'll get some parchment right now . . ."

"Fine, you win!" Melody raised her hands in defeat, and walked over to the register. "If you throw in an extra Liquorice Wand, we'll call it square. What was your new flavor again?"

Mr. Flume frowned, concerned: "That's not how it—"

"Hush, Ambrosius," Mrs. Flume muttered, placing a bag of bright red Liquorice Wands on the counter. "She gives us more advertising at Hogwarts than a front page article in the Daily Prophet."

"Exploiting a child for their services," Melody gasped. "I expected better."

"You hush too," said Mrs. Flume, giving her half a frown. "This is our new flavor, Persephone's Pomegranate. They're fairly tart, with a bit of sweetness underneath, and the limited edition packaging features a portrait of Persephone, goddess queen of the underworld."

Persephone. A character from a constellation, how fitting.

"You know, the constellation Virgo is often said to personify Persephone in the early evening sky," Melody found herself saying, engulfed by the information engraved into her mind. "Because she was taken from her mother for a few months every year, it's spring when the constellation Virgo is above the horizon in the early evening, and winter when she's not."

The Flumes both looked intrigued. "Really?" said Mr. Flume, prompting Melody to finish her mini Astronomy lesson.

"From the perspective of the Northern Hemisphere, Virgo is absent from the early evening sky in late autumn, winter and early spring. Virgo's return to sky at nightfall coincides with the verdant season of spring. Bottom line is, the constellation Virgo the Maiden fully returns to the sky at nightfall, with her feet planted on the eastern horizon, by late April or early May."

Silence, a brief awkward bout of it. Then—

"Well, take the whole bag."

Melody raised her eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"You heard me, take it," said Mr. Flume. "To know all that, you must idolize Persephone."

Melody paused, a glowing smile materializing. "Not Persephone, Mr. Flume. Just the stars."

"In that case, half the bag. Pick out a couple more treats, and we can send you back to the castle."

Melody almost found it within herself to argue, but obeyed regardless. Half a bag of Liquorice Wands for free was better than nothing. She quickly seized a few Chocolate Frogs, a package of Bertie Bott's, and a handful of Fizzing Whizbees to complete her assortment, then plopped everything on the counter.

"You're my favorite shopowners in the village, but don't tell Madam Rosmerta."

Mrs. Flume giggled and transported the selection of sweets into a pair of large bags. When she pushed them back over the counter, though, Melody's eyes were already out the storefront to the rest of the village — Gladrags was her other stop, then she could have a snack.

"Stay safe out there, Melody," warned Mr. Flume, following her gaze.

Melody grabbed her bags of candy, then turned back to him. "What do you mean?"

"Sirius Black, of course."

Sirius Black — she'd heard that name non-stop over the past few weeks, and it never seemed to be positive. Dumbledore was concerned about him for reasons beyond his mass-murdering spree, and Melody couldn't quite put her finger on it. With a half-hearted sigh, however, she mustered a smile. "He's not going to wander into a large settlement like Hogsmeade, Mr. Flume."

"Says who? He's a madman, it's been proven," argued Mrs. Flume, sounding worried from behind the counter.

Melody slung her candy bags over her shoulder. "He escaped from Azkaban, for goodness sake, he has to be somewhat intelligent. Anyways, I'll see you later."

"Aren't you going back to Hogwarts?" Mr. Flume asked, watching Melody's back start to approach the front door.

She spun around for half a second, grinning — "Soon enough."

        𝐓𝐖𝐎 hours later, Melody had what she came for, and then some — two new pairs of shoes, an orange sundress, three pairs of striped socks, and, upon insistence of Mr. Gladrag, a sparkling silver hair ribbon.

Several new bags now adorned her shoulders, full of goods, and she looked up: the sun was noticeably lower in the daytime sky, meaning it was about four. Now was as fine a time as any to help herself to some of her Honeydukes sweets, she figured.

She scanned the village before her, and located a small wooden bench near Madam Pudifoot's tea shop. After shuffling over and plopping her bags onto the ground beneath her, she seized her bag of treats, and pulled out one of the new Liquorice Wands.

In the bright August sunshine, she could finally examine the limited edition packaging Mrs. Flume had mentioned — Persephone was staring back at her, crowned in flowers and wearing an expression of spirit; determination.

Melody gazed at the goddess for a moment, lost in her opalescent eyes. An unpreventable analysis seemed to ignite before she could quite stop it, and poetic lines of prose were at once circling around her head.

Persephone had waited decades for the faintest glow of fruit, and she had never, ever settled for less than extraordinary. A daughter of kings and queens, a goddess in her own right, yet the world still saw a victim held captive.

But she could play both sides, Melody reminded herself. A maiden goddess of life, and a queen of all the dead. She brings mortals springtime, bursting with light, then leaves them with winter: dreary, cold, and harsh.

The ruler of the Underworld wasn't taken, after all, she left. Why would she care to be a flower child, when she could be a queen?

"Maybe I do idolize Persephone," Melody muttered to herself, drawing one of the blood-red strands of liquorice from its packaging. "Even Hades trembled under her gaze."

She took a bite, and savored the taste — a twinge of sour, but overall sweet and subtle. After years of raiding Honeydukes, she liked to consider herself a Liquorice Wand connoisseur, but she didn't remember one with such a particular flavor.

Persephone's Pomegranate was easily her new favorite, she concluded, devouring the rest of the candy. Just as she reached for another, however, there was a soft noise from behind her.

It had sounded like the whine of an outcast animal, one which hadn't felt warmth in months, years, even.

Melody spun around, and there it was — a large, black dog, skinny and panting, sitting a couple paces away. He looked harmless enough; friendly despite his malnourishment.

"Hey," she said quietly, rising to meet him. With a gentle hand, she reached out to stroke the dark fur on his forehead. "Are you hungry?"

A set of large, lonely, glistening grey eyes rose to meet hers, a cloud storm of confusion, recollection, amazement, and swirling memories.

"I'll take that as a yes," Melody murmured, turning back to her Honeydukes bags. She grabbed one, and set it on the ground in front of her new friend. "Oh — there's chocolate in there, let me take it out—"

The dog gave a yap of disagreement, and seized the bag in his teeth.

"No? Well, it's not my fault if you die." She sat back down on the bench, and the dog crept a bit closer. "Do you have a name?"

The dog gave another bark in response.

"That was indistinguishable, but you do look like a dog from my Astronomy textbook," said Melody, moving the second Honeydukes bag onto her lap. "I doubt you've heard of it, but there's this constellation called Canis Major — it resembles a dog, and it's made up of stars like Adhara, Wezen, Mirzam, and Sirius."

Eyes still twinkling in the bright sunlight, the dog gave a soft whine, as though he was very familiar with the information.

"Not to be confused with Sirius Black, obviously," Melody continued, shrugging off the name. "Anyways, my textbook has a picture of a big black dog next to the description. Looks just like you, except not so underfed — you should really start on some of that food."

The dog stared at her for a moment longer, then dropped the Honeydukes bag and forcefully shoved his nose into it.

"Good to know I can speak to animals," she muttered, watching him devour an entire chocolate frog in one bite. "So what should I call you? Snuggles? Sniffles? Snuffles?"

Snout now smudged with chocolate, the dog raised his head and gave a contented woof at the last name.

"Snuffles? Nice to meet you, I'm Melody. I live at Hogwarts, but I usually come to the village when I'm not bothering Snape."

Snuffles' next bark sounded mysteriously like a laugh, and Melody couldn't help but smile — those eyes seemed so indescribably familiar, as though she had looked into them hundreds of times.

After a moment, the dog shifted his gaze to the bag on her lap. Almost instantly, he lunged forward, directly at the Liquorice Wands—

"Hey! No, these are mine," Melody ripped the bag backwards, out of his reach. "They're valuable, but I suppose you can have one."

She grabbed one of the red pomegranate strands, and tossed it to him. The treat was gone within a second, and Melody grinned, satisfied.

"You know, I should probably get back to the castle. It's past four, and I want to visit Buckbeak before dinner. It was nice talking to you, Snuffles." She gave the dog's head a final pat, and rose from her seat to collect her bags. "You've got very pretty eyes."

Very pretty eyes, thought Snuffles, watching her begin to trek back towards Honeydukes. If only she knew.

The sun sank lower onto the horizon, a glorious canvas of purples, pinks, and oranges — the dog was still getting used to it; each unique sky as it ultimately claimed the twilight. Most days, he liked to watch the colors fade away into darkness.

But not today.

Today, he watched Melody, her silhouette waning into the distance.

In his mind, she was more colorful than the most distinct of sunsets; brighter than the brightest of stars. This was the last time he would let her go, but he had sworn that last time — each vow seemed built to be demolished, a tumbling ruin of fragility that kept him awake at night.

Whether he knew it or not, the tired shadows of his emotions were singing songs — countless, echoing songs, beautiful and alone, of the dreamless sky above, and of his broken promises stranded underneath.

        𝐓𝐇𝐄 journey back to Hogwarts seemed much shorter than before, and Melody resolved that it was due to the number of thoughts shifting through her head. Her mind tended to wander on these walks, and rightfully so — the silence of the tunnel was ideal for existential deliberation.

September was still several weeks away, but it was approaching more rapidly than ever — each ivy-green leaf decorating the foliage was sure to crinkle into autumn oranges and browns soon enough. Melody had always admired the beauty in the changing of seasons — lesser, though, was her adoration for the omens which ensued.

Fall meant change, the start of new chapters, and homework. Sure, her friends would be beside her, but she had friends now: the Flumes, her grandmother, Dumbledore, soon-to-be-Professor Hagrid . . .

Even Snuffles, she smiled to herself.

Then there was Petar to consider, as well — she had barely visualized the slightest syllable of his name when her heart exploded into butterflies.

He was a boy, she told herself sparingly, just a boy.

A boy whom she had started writing to over the summer, after a completely unforeseeable set of circumstances involving a confused owl who flew all the way to Bulgaria and a response that came within days. Petar went to Durmstrang, and he was a few years older than her, but he was gorgeous — the stars certainly hadn't skipped his favors.

They had been talking since June, and Melody was already beginning to feel herself let go in ways that seemed entirely unfamiliar and frightening. Nobody ever stays, and she knew it. Why would she be given something beautiful, if not for it to be ripped away?

She could always pretend to understand the workings of the stars, of fate, but in the end, she was a helpless mortal, and an insignificant one at that.

Now, though, her mind had already moved on — several slivers of torchlight from ahead told her that she had made it back to the castle, and she needed to find a way to sneak all of her new goods into Gryffindor Tower without encountering her grandmother. Or Peeves.

With an exhale, she pulled herself and her bags out of the tunnel, then headed for the seventh floor.

She was there within minutes, dangerously close to success. The sun was long gone, and the corridors were now warmly lit — most of the teachers were probably having dinner. She'd grab something to eat later, from the kitchens, most likely, after going down to see Buckbeak. For now, however, it seemed as though her path was clear.

But just then, the unmistakable muffle of voices carried down to her from around the corner.

Melody drew a quick breath: the conversation sounded important. She crept forward as far as she could, then tucked herself behind a pillar to make out what they were saying.

"Is he safe?" one voice echoed. Melody recognized it as her grandma's, and her stomach flipped. She was twenty paces away, and caught red-handed if she didn't hide these bags. Acting on impulse alone, she shed them from her arms and shoved them against the wall, so they were safely stowed behind her pillar.

"I spoke with Mr. Potter last night," Melody heard another voice say. This one she didn't recognize. "I warned him of the danger, and his aunt is doing just fine."

"Where is he, might I ask, Minister?" a third voice asked. The deep, serene tone was undoubtedly Dumbledore, but Melody's eyebrows had shot into her forehead — the Minister for Magic was at Hogwarts, and he had spoken to Harry about danger?

"The Leaky Cauldron," she heard him answer. "I took the liberty of purchasing all his materials for school."

Harry's in London? Melody felt her face contort. She had heard no such thing.

"Oh, thank you, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, sounding as unbothered as ever. "Well . . . Until next time."

"Yes, yes, look for my owl," the Minister replied, a definite end to the conversation. "Good evening."

Melody held her breath for a moment longer, until his heeled footsteps had faded away into the distance, taking a different route than her. Thank god.

She let out a sigh, and shook her head thoughtfully. Her grandmother and Dumbledore were a direct blockade preventing her from reaching the common room. Any other route would take upwards of ten minutes, which ensured a run-in with some teacher or ghost. The odds of a tattletale were about fifty-fifty, which wasn't at all worth it.

Unless . . .

Her face lit up instantly.

Harry.

"Oh, I'm a genius," she muttered under her breath, already rounding the corner. In a split second, she shifted her expression to one of feigned cluelessness. "Why was the Minister here?"

Her grandmother turned around from Dumbledore, not a sliver of surprise in her voice. "Still eavesdropping, Melody?" She shook her head disapprovingly. "I thought you had grown out of it."

Melody frowned. "Eavesdropping? That doesn't sound like me."

Dumbledore, glowing with entertainment, beamed at her. "You really are a terrible actress."

In surrender, Melody grinned.

"Fine, Professor, fine," she said. Now was the time to pitch her stellar plan. "So anyways, I recently received word that Harry's at the Leaky Cauldron. I know you'll miss me terribly, but would it be too much to ask—"

"If you could stay with him for the next two weeks?" Dumbledore finished, eyes twinkling. "I would have assumed you'd be packed already."

Melody crossed a pair of fingers behind her back. "So is that a yes?"

Her grandmother cast a glance to Dumbledore, a look close to worry clouding her eyes. The Headmaster raised his shoulders in a shrug-like motion, but nodded his head ever-so-subtly.

At that, Melody's grandma turned back to her. "Yes, you can go," she agreed. "I have a lot to organize before the start of term, and I would love a few days without Snape breathing down my neck about another one of your practical jokes—"

"Say no more," interrupted Melody, exchanging another grin with Dumbledore. "I'll go pack a trunk." She turned on her heel, back towards her Hogsmeade bags, but heard the Headmaster's voice from behind her.

"Stay out of trouble, won't you?"

Melody whipped back around, glowing with mischief. "It's like you don't know me at all, Dumbles."

Her grandmother disappointedly shook her head, scandalized. "Melody Rose, what did I tell you about addressing your Headmaster with respect—"

"Quite all right, Minerva, quite all right," Dumbledore chuckled deeply. "Wee Melody will never quite grow out of her stubbornness."

"It's genetic," said Melody, bowing without hesitation. "Now, like I said, I'll go pack a trunk — and thanks for letting me go, grandma."

Her grandmother's expression softened into something more maternal than disciplinary. "Of course, dear. You're welcome to ride the train back before the start of term."

Melody gasped. "Really?" She had never taken the Hogwarts Express before — just watched as students rode off on it, year after year.

"Really," came her grandma's response. "And stay with Potter, please. I don't want a missing granddaughter on my hands."

"Always," Melody scoffed. The very idea of leaving Harry alone felt like knives to her heart. "Believe it or not, I know there's a mass-murderer on the loose—"

"Enough, Melody, it's not something to joke about," Melody's grandma cut her off stiffly. "And I mean that."

In acquiescence, Melody nodded. It's not like Sirius Black was going to try and murder her, but agreeing briefly with her grandmother in exchange for two weeks with Harry was an exceptionally good trade-off.

"Right, sorry," she muttered. "I'll be ready tomorrow, nine o'clock?" She turned around, then threw a smile back over her shoulder to Dumbledore. "See you on the first, Headmaster."

He winked at her from behind his half-moon spectacles. "Enjoy yourself, Melody."

Beaming, she offered him a wink back and started towards her Hogsmeade bags. She'd get them up to Gryffindor Tower, some way or another.

"I always do."