Kalon
/kA-lon/
(n.) Beauty that is more
than skin-deep
❝In the dark depth of her steel gaze, you can see the brightest of the stars.
She has magic in her eyes that even the stars envy.❞
"Blimey Fred, are you one of those anguished cursed poets now...
Professor Remus John Lupin was no longer a teacher at Hogwarts.
The news of his resignation travelled fast after the night in which Sirius Black had become a free man again. Betelgeuse had not the chance to speak with the man, but Harry had come back to the Gryffindor Tower raving about Snape being a slimy bloody snitch. The Potion Master had accidentally let slip that Remus was a werewolf, forcing the man to resign his post, given the many letters of concerned parents that would have invaded the Headmaster's office.
Betelgeuse was sad for the gentle scarred man; the prejudices against werewolves were deeply rooted in the Wizarding Society. The miserable souls that had the misfortune of been bitten were condemned to a life on the fringes of society. They were shunned by most, regarded with fear and mistrust, even when in their human form. Betelgeuse shook her head; Remus Lupin would have difficulty getting a job in the wizarding community, especially after his recent exposure.
She decided she would scribble to the man at least once during the summer. A sudden thought struck Betelgeuse. Write.
She had not written a single letter home after the liberation of Sirius and the clearing of his name. However, he surely knew by now. The Daily Prophet had raged about the unfairness of the events that had befallen Sirius Orion Black, the ill-fated man framed for a crime he had not committed, and the ineptitude of the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot.
Betelgeuse had not received a letter from him, neither a howler. The total lack of contact from the man disturbed her greatly. He was a man of deep understanding and weighted reactions.
Hopefully, he will not blast us through the door when we arrive home.
The exam results came out on the last day of term.
Betelgeuse had momentarily forgotten about them until then when all the fifth-years and seventh-years received large sealed envelopes.
She stared at the letter a large barn owl had left on her golden plate after breakfast and heard fast approaching footsteps and a pair of hands landing on her shoulders. She diverted her attention from the letter gazing up.
It was Sirius. The grey-eyed man still received curious and sometimes intimidated glances from the students, but true to his nature, he did not care. He had fulfilled his promise to her and waited patiently for the end of the term.
