𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼: ǟ ʀɛǟʟɨȶʏ ֆɦɨʄȶɨռɢ ȶǟʟɛ ✤ ֆɛʋɛʀʊʂ ҳ օƈ

𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

". . . who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

. . . of wild things . . .

Who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

. . . of wild things . . .

Peace______________________

. . . wild things . . .

Who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief---"

Flitwick lowered his wand. "Look at measure 35. Remember we switched from 2/4 to 4/4 time signature, so you need to stretch out the note on grief. As always, sparingly use the crescendo charm. Only cast it if your vocal chords ache from the intensity."

Papers shuffled and glass ink jars clinked as students scribbled on their music. Felicity drew a long < over measure 35, and she found Luna still doing the same, but using the extra time to swirl artistic accentuations upon hers. For a peace of mind and with respect to the class, the two took notes whenever Flitwick directed them to. Yet, Felicity knew she and Luna, and a good portion of the Ravenclaw singers mastered most of that beforehand. But the other three houses often needed that help, so it was best to set a good example.

Flitwick plopped back on the piano bench, playing the four starting notes at measure 30. Soprano, alto, tenor, and base.

With one hand resting on the keys, another raised his wand up. "Sopranos, you have progressed on the lower notes. But as an upcoming performance reminder, make sure not to lower your heads on low notes, or lift your chins on high notes. Again, now. SATB." He mouthed three, two, one, then gestured his wand.

"I come into the peace of wild things . . .

who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

Peace___________________

. . . of wild things . . .

I come into the presence of still water . . ."

They finished the song, with an undecided look on Flitwick's face. ". . . Yes, very good. I think," he angled his head and glanced at Felicity a moment, then back to the choir as a whole. "We've mastered the song itself, but not the feeling."

Flitwick rose from the piano, pocketing his wand. He approached them in the fine center of the choir before him, pausing. "Imagine the stress you face on a daily basis. The return of You-know-who, the pressure of the O.W.L.s, the future of career decisions looming before you." He paced back and forth.

"And when despair grows in you, you go and lie down where the wood drake rests, in his beauty on the water. On the Black Lake. Imagine coming into the peace of wild things. Any descriptions that come to mind?"

Luna raised her hand. "Free spirits. A wood drake, like all creatures, live in the present. They simply focus on the tree beside them, the kelp beneath the waters, or protecting their offspring at their side. Free spirits are wild things that know no consequence in the here and now, but only inner peace."

Flitwick beamed. "Precisely, Miss Lovegood. 5 points to Ravenclaw. When you come into the peace of wild things, you no longer tax your lives with forethought of grief. The beauty of the water cleanses your mind of all fears, of homework, of anxiety. The concepts of dwelling on the past and challenging the future have no place amidst wild things.

"Imagine . . . simply being."

Felicity closed her eyes. Immersion with the present. Niamh within her, Niamh around her. In the presence of simply herself. The cool, black waters cleansing her soul of toxins. Just home and love.