Ten years after I began at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow is back. And he's Professor Sallow now. He disappeared after the fall of Ranrok and Rookwood, after I lost Professor Fig, and after Ominis and I couldn't keep him from losing himself. But I never...
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Sometimes I find myself in places I don't actually remember walking to, or remember my wand leading me to. And the reason I notice it now is because it's been happening less and less, lately. But tonight I've slumped down on the piano bench, unsure of how and when I arrived.
It makes sense, I suppose. It's an automatic kind of a thing to find oneself in a routine or a habit that is as deeply ingrained into memory as one's own name. As a student, most of my evenings ended here, plinking away at some piece or another as a way to unwind my heart and soul. Often April would join me, humming along when she knew the tune or just listening.
We spent so much time together saying nothing at all.
I suppose it also makes sense that tonight my muscle memory was inclined to do the same, given that so many elements about this evening felt like being a student. Sitting with Anne, Sebastian, and April. Being lectured in a way by Professor Sharp and Headmistress Weasley. Though...tonight's lecture was particularly enlightening. It feels like something has shifted within me, though I can't quite put my finger on what. But it gives me a similar sensation as the relief of casting off one's muddy boots and heavily-soaked overcoat after trudging home through a storm.
A storm that has finally stopped its downpour. And, indeed, I am home.
If I think about it, I realize that Thiago was busy chatting with Kai about the arrowhead that had pierced April. Professor Sharp and Headmistress Weasley had said their goodbyes and taken their leave. Sebastian was talking with Anne, and I suppose my feet just...left, and I with them.
"Hello, dear," I call to April standing in the doorway. I can always feel her presence. Like stepping out of the shade of a tree into direct sunlight.
"Hey," she says, kindly as she approaches and scoots onto the edge of the bench with me, wrapping both her arms tightly around my waist and tucking her head onto my shoulder. "Saw you snuck away. Looked like a good idea," she says with a smile and a tease somewhere in her teeth. As a moment of quiet descends like the veil of twilight between us, my fingers find themselves absentmindedly playing some soft chords as she asks, "how does it feel to finally be credited for your tireless contributions to saving the magical world, hmm?"
"Oh please," I retort with a scoff, "the very idea of it makes reason stare." We chuckle together like old times. "But...I admit I wasn't expecting the apologies. And the insight to Solomon was interesting...certainly puts things into a different context..."
April squeezes me tightly and exhales a bit, letting the piano speak for us both, releasing the tension of years of guilt that we have entertained for so long as our shadowy, third companion in Sebastian's stead. The vibrations of the music seem to acknowledge its presence, invite it to finally leave, and allow us both to process the strange, tender grief of losing it tonight. How strange to see that a part of me feels bittersweet to lose such a terrible feeling: a shadow I never wanted in the first place, but has apparently become a comfort in its own strange way, simply for having existed alongside us for so long and becoming familiar.
