The Order of Mischief I

2.21

A week had passed since classes had restarted. A little over a week had passed since the Christmas holidays ended. And a little less than a week had passed since the name 'Zion' was last mentioned.

The daughters of the ancient bloodline were deemed forgettable as soon as classes resumed. Many of the students still carried their seasonal laziness, much of which presented itself in the form of tardiness to classes and inability to present homework on time. Their habits started to grate the professors to the point where the adults handed out warnings, scolding, lectures, and detentions often. It was all in hopes that the children would sort themselves out and reset their academic drive and focus.

Homework started to pile up for pupils, with at least one essay assigned by the end of the week. And many retreated to quieter spaces to complete their work. However, for almost every single pupil, the process included many grunts and lots of whining. That was especially the case for the younger pupils, especially those in their first and second year at Hogwarts.

Thursday night had come to a slow and dark end as the candles were slowly lit up around the castle. There was a faint hum of chatter at every turning of the school, thanks to children who were still awake and out of bed after dinner. The poltergeists and ghosts had tucked themselves away into the quieter corners of the grand academy, surrendering the night to the living that pumped blood through their veins.

Phoebe Stevens had gathered her books in her arms and slid them into her bag, before she decided that she would retreat to the library to finish the essay assigned to her by Professor Drull. She walked quietly through the corridors and hummed a slow tune she heard once and could not quite forget after.

It was a lullaby that she had heard one night over the Christmas holidays, during her trip to Paris. The tune came from inside a French restaurant, when a strange man played the tune on the piano. He had piqued her curiosity when he turned to face her, mid-son, and watched her as she watched him. Her parents were too busy talking to each other about their plans for the rest of the holidays and of how delectable their dinner was. Phoebe agreed but her attention swayed as she watched the stranger play the piano. And for a brief second, she could have sworn that she saw his fingers lift from the keys. She noticed how, in the absence of the pressure of his touch, the keys played themselves, sinking into the instrument before rising, and letting the song continue. Magic, Phoebe concluded, was responsible for the beautiful song she was enjoying that evening.

Since that night, the song never left her. She sometimes wondered if what she had witnessed was real. She wondered if the man had ever been real. She never saw him leave the restaurant, and neither did she see him ever again. However, she did always hear the same tune in her night ever since, playing faintly through her shutters and blinds and drapes in the early evenings, no matter where she went. The beautiful music had fixed itself into her memory and she was left with nothing but the song alone - even the questions she once asked about it had evaporated.

Phoebe approached the astronomy tower and climbed up its stairs. She was greeted by the chill air that engulfed the castle that night. She dropped her bag along the wall and walked over to the railings of the tower. The lullaby haunted her mind and she sung its tune to herself. It was a short-lived moment of relief and comfort, before she trailed along the route to the library. The song, however, did not come to an end, even as she walked for what felt like hours to get closer to her destination.

She trudged along the path and soon saw Remus lazily climbing the stairs to the library. He wore a faded shoulder bag that hung by a long strap. Phoebe contemplated calling out to him, but she did not want the song to end abruptly. So, she let the humming continue and watched as the tall boy before her continued walking ahead, his large steps pulling him away from her. She did not halter in her tune, she continued on at her own pace and patiently waited to arrive at the library.