Disturbed ((Carlin))

[Melody Bang-Bala G6]

Melody Bang-Bala stood by a small window on the winding stairs up to the North Tower. With the step she was on, the window was right at eye level. The window itself was small enough that it could more accurately be described as an arrow-slit, slightly widened and embellished in style. She looked because a flash of red and gold had caught her eye, and she had a perfect keyhole view of the scene from here. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, practicing without her. Which was perfectly natural, given that she wasn’t on the team anymore. But it still stung: all those years building up her skill, becoming a first-class Beater and even a reasonable Seeker when given the honour, brought to an end simply by the new captain telling her she was no longer welcome on the team. That they wouldn’t be able to recruit anyone new with her on the team, that no one wanted to play on a team with the likes of her. Team-mates she’d been playing with for years avoided meeting her eye, none of them asking what had happened. Probably they knew and were quite happy to have her gone...

It was no coincidence that Melody was in this secluded spot - it was restful to be away from people. Her eyes had a permanently watchful quality about them nowadays. When in the corridors, it wasn’t at all unusual for a spelled paper dart to hit her in the back of the head, accompanied by giggling second years. Frequently, someone would trip her up or yank her hair. It really would be a lot more convenient if she was a hot-tempered murderess, then presumably people would steer clear of her. Having spent two years back at school and not harmed anyone, there was no question of people being scared of her in the main corridor. Maybe in quieter passages, if they passed her alone, they hurried their step. To start with, lonely and frightened after her stint in Azkaban, the hardest thing for Melody was that no one would talk to her. Now she preferred it.

Melody sighed and, looking away from the window, sat down on the step and took out her flute. She’d brought it here to play for much the same reason: the music rooms were off a main thoroughfare, and her music was a personal thing. Her newly-dyed blonde hair tipped forward as she began to play, the liquid notes a soothing balm as she absorbed herself in music-making.

She was so absorbed, she didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until they were almost rounding the corner of the staircase. She stopped playing abruptly and stood up with a small exclamation, clasping her flute as she shrank back instinctively. It was Carlin Lennox, the Head Girl. Not venturing any words, Melody eyed the newcomer warily, a hint of a challenge in her gaze.

[Carlin Lennox S7]

"I still can't believe that someone was stupid enough to put you in a position of power." Damien sighed and shook his head, his grin teasing as he reclined back on his bed lazily. "I mean, yeah, sure, it's limited power but still. So what's your next move?"

That was a good point. Not the rubbish about her being Head Girl; Damien was a Prefect, and in her eyes that was far more absurd. Everyone knew that her cousin was hardly the most responsible boy in the world. She did need a new strategy for their final year at Hogwarts though. Carlin prided herself on being prepared for everything; you couldn't sabotage other people effectively if you weren't expecting the opportunity to arise, after all. No, this year she needed a different approach. She needed to win their game by such a large margin that Damien would have to admit, once and for all, that she was the ultimate Lennox.

Bedding Stephen would be a step in the right direction, Carlin considered idly when her eyes passed over his bed. Damien was fond of him to some extent (and it annoyed Carlin immensely that she couldn't figure out just how fond, but she had it on good authority that Stephen was straight anyway so that hardly mattered) and, besides, he struck her as far more of a challenge than any of the other boys in the castle. It was the Azkaban thing. He'd killed someone or been accused of killing someone and had been yanked out of Hogwarts and locked away for a year or two. Carlin had never bothered to learn the details - she had had her own business to attend to, all of it far more pleasing than dementors and prison guards - but it added an element of intrigue that made life so much more exciting.

"You just focus on Hunter," Carlin advised coolly, softening only enough to smooth down her cousin's hair on her way out of his dorm. She didn't have to look behind her to know that Damien was scowling at the reminder that he still hadn't managed to coax Hunter into bed with him. His charm evidently wasn't as spectacular as he thought it was.

It was just supposed to be a quick trip to the North Tower, she would linger there for a few minutes, just long enough to take in the view and clear her head. She hadn't been expecting to hear music floating down the stairs and she certainly hadn't expected to see this girl settled comfortably on one of the stone steps. Carlin was much better informed now than she had been a few years ago, and the news of a student being carted off to Azkaban had been more than enough to interest her. First Stephen, and then a Gryffindor, of all things. That had been two years ago though and nothing much had come of it. Carlin had never been curious enough to actively seek the girl out but if she was standing right in front of her, then she wasn't going to let the potential entertainment pass her by.

"You're good," Carlin commented blithely, brushing past the convict carelessly to lean her back against the windowsill. "Not self-taught, I think. This is a rather strange choice for a concert hall though. We do have music rooms, you realise."

[Melody Bang-Bala G6]

Melody palpably bristled as Carlin approached her, worried for a moment that the Head Girl might be going to confiscate her beloved flute out of spite. Her relief must have shown as she realised that wasn't Carlin's intent. Melody blushed, not at the compliment, but because she was embarrassed at how jumpy she had been: first of all scrambling to her feet and now flinching just because someone was walking past her. Her pride came to her rescue, and she stood up a little straighter and forced herself to look the Head Girl in the eye.

"Ah wusn't playing for anyone else but mesen," she said, "so's it seemed as good a place as any." She paused a moment, looking defiant, and then added, "Anyroad, Ah don't think Ah'd be welcomed in most concert halls."

A note of self-pity had crept into her voice unbidden. Normally she guarded against it, too proud to want anyone to know that they were getting to her, but she had let her guard down slightly. She was secretly pleased that the Slytherin had said that her music was good - of course Melody knew perfectly well that she was good and didn't need anyone else to tell her so. But she had always craved the approval of those in authority, and even more so now that she was alienated from her family.

Still, Melody couldn't help eyeing Carlin with some suspicion. Was she just toying with her? Waiting for some excuse to hand her a detention? Carlin's expression wasn't easily readable. Melody was all too aware that her own face was betraying far more of her secrets than advisable - not just the wariness, but the everyday hurts, her tiredness with her situation, and the hope that came from a single person talking to her without slinging a dozen insults into their sentence.

"Ah prefer to play here," Melody confided, because silence made her awkward. She'd been a chatterbox when she was younger. Now she was talking herself into trouble again. "But Ah'd appreciate it if thoo'd not let me fangroup" - she grimaced at the sarcasm - "get wind of it, or Ah'll be havin' to move to t'Forest where they'll not follow me in case Ah bump 'em off."