Miracle
There were no winners or losers of the massive snowball fight, everyone was wet, cold, and gasping for breath as they headed into the castle. What mattered was it was the first time Meadow's wasn't thinking about much of anything except how much fun she had with the Gryffindors. Of course, that could have been from noticing George didn't aim at her often, and when he did, he'd wink at her with a huge smile upon his face. She couldn't help but remember that he squeezed her knee during Christmas dinner as well. Meadow found solitude in knowing he still was there for her; a skip in her step as she split off from the maroon and gold group as she headed town to the Slytherin Common Room, where all she could think about was getting warm, into dry clothes, and curled up next to the fire on her bed.
Chapter 14: Memories of Thought
Terence was quiet that night, reading a book on his mattress in front of the fire as Meadow curled up with Bee on her own mattress. After grabbing a shower and changing into her pajamas, an oversized shirt and flannel shorts and bringing down a black sweatshirt, Meadow snuggled under her blankets cooing at Bee. Her large, pointed ears that looked dipped in black paint had grown even bigger, the fur had grown long, passed the end of her ears, coming up to a point. Bee was purring, and Meadow had no idea why that shopkeeper was so terrified of the kitten.
Eventually, Terence laid down and Meadow knew as soon as his head hit the pillow, the boy was out. His breathing got heavier and as Meadow checked, his eyes were closed and rapidly moving. The Mirror was on her mind yet again. For the second night in a row, Meadow carefully slipped through the wall and out to the chilly corridor. She didn't wear her winter cloak, instead she threw on the black sweatshirt she brought with her, her legs were bare, and her feet were sockless. Quite a different experience from the previous night, but she pulled her hood up covering her blonde locks. Still not having any idea of where to even find the mirror, Meadow set off, letting her legs do the work as her mind wandered.
Since Terence scolded her slightly and Meadow didn't want to admit she was wrong to her friend, she thought back to the conversation.
"He's trying, isn't he?" His voice slightly annoyed.
"I suppose," Meadow remembered herself mutter, disgruntled about not being able to complain properly. "But that doesn't excuse some of the things he's been doing!" Like trying to jinx Harry's broom during the Gryffindor verses Slytherin Quidditch match.
Terence threw his hands up in exasperation, "You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it. Instead of putting all the blame on him, why don't you ask him?"
As always, Terence had a point, Meadow was at blame for not talking with her father and jumping to conclusions with the Gryffindors. But Meadow didn't think about that when she responded, "He'd never tell me. He's not like that—just because I'm his daughter doesn't mean he gives me a reason why he does what he does. I don't get any special privileges or favors from him; he treats me just the same or harder than he treats you or anybody else."
"Doe, listen," Terence said shaking his head as his voice was very serious. "He's trying with you. Just be grateful you have a father that cares about you, not matter how messed up you think your relationship is—you got presents from him, he's taking you somewhere tomorrow. I've heard that you've been the one avoiding him. And that you've been cold towards him ever since you were released from the Hospital Wing."
Silence. From Meadow during that conversation and in her head as she remembered it. It was true, since she had been released from Madam Pomfrey's watchful eyes, Meadow had been avoiding her father and cool towards him. She darted around a corner and into the shadowed wall, the one away from the moonlight. Even with the cold air, Meadow felt hot from the adrenaline that was rushing through her body. The thought of being caught excited her as it made the Mirror even more irresistible.
But there was a lot of evidence, Harry's broom being bewitched, his leg mangled and bloody the week after the troll attack, the potions lessons where he bullied Harry… and the rest of the Gryffindors. There really wasn't a lot of evidence that her father was after whatever was being hidden, just the fact that he said, "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" He tried to get passed Fluffy, that meant something, right? And the way he was staring at Harry during the Quidditch match, his lips moving and eyes unblinking. . . that counted for something, right?
Maybe Terence was right, maybe he did have a messed-up way of trying to be there for her. Another jump from wall to wall, hugging it as close as she could.
". . . he didn't lie to you. You never asked him why he was limping or what he was doing. You overheard a conversation and saw his leg without knowing the context of that conversation."
"If I didn't know any better, it sounds to me like you want me to go make up with him," Meadow's response echoed in her ears. The annoyance. The anger. The frustration. All evident in her voice. Why should she make up with her father? She's allowed to be mad at him, she was her own person. Just because Terence's parents wanted nothing to do with him, doesn't mean that Meadow can't ignore her own. Besides, Dad would be much more tolerable if Mum was around. If Mum didn't put herself in the way of that duel she would have never been—
The thought hit Meadow like a pound of bricks on her chest as she stopped herself from finishing the thought. Her mum didn't deserve that anger. It was misplaced. In fact, it wasn't even anger. It was just frustration. The world was no longer the fair and just world Meadow once knew. It was ugly and mean. People bullied from teachers, from classmates, and from housemates.
"You have parents who love you and watch over you. I don't see why you're not giving Professor Snape a chance when he's been trying to make it up to you and talk to you. . . He got you that sleeve before Christmas—I know you'd asked for one, you didn't have it before you got attacked by a troll, something's wrong with your arm—"
"—Nothing's wrong with my—"
"Don't lie, Meadow," Terence's voice was soft, as if he pitied her. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something happened where you wear that sleeve at all times around others. I know you sleep with it on too, in case you're forgetting, we did levitate our beds to the common room, so it didn't seem so lonely in the dungeons."
Of course, he knew. There were probably others who figured it out as well.
"You don't have to say anything, I just know it's from the troll attack," Meadow remembered that look on Terence's face, the distance of what he was looking at and what he was truly seeing. She realized that despite all the talks she and Terence had; Meadow really didn't know much about him.
Did she know anything about her friends?
Meadow brushed that thought away, of course, she knew her friends. Maybe not Ron, Bhu, and Gabriel as well as Harry, Shane, Hermione, Daphne, and Theo, but she knew her friends. And she definitely knew Shane like the creases in her palm.
"I'm just saying, Snape is trying with you. He's trying to be a father, a teacher, and a Head of House all in one shot. Despite how difficult it is for you; think about everything he's trying to accomplish as well. If I had a father who tried to be in my life. . . well, suppose I wouldn't be at Hogwarts right now." The words took a second shot at Meadow for the day.
"AAAHHHHH!" an anguished howl filled Meadow's ears. A piercing, blood-curdling scream echoed in the corridors, and then it became slightly softer, but still just as pain-filled.
Meadow's eyes went wide as she looked around the corridor. That scream was from nearby. Frozen in place, she blinked around at her surroundings. She was by the library. Shuffling from the right had Meadow snap into action as she hid in the shadows of a large suit of armor. Filch streaked down the hallway, not noticing her, towards the source of the sound. His yellow eyes large and bloodshot, an angry expression on his face, the permanent scowl on his face even deeper in the night. As Filch's footsteps faded, smaller, rushed footsteps came towards her.
Cautiously, Meadow peeked out from behind the suit of armor and something, invisible, collided into her, sending her sprawling backwards. Making yet another racket which was sure to get the attention of Filch who had disappeared into the library.
With her vision blurred, Meadow felt something being thrown around her as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged behind the suit of armor. A hand was clamped firmly over her mouth to muffle her potential scream. She couldn't even think to scream, just froze as she was manhandled into the shadows under something silky.
Slowly, the hand removed itself from over her mouth and the second turned her around. Harry. Meadow let out a breath in relief. But she held it again as she heard Filch's voice right behind her.
"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library—Restricted Section," Filch said, his voice low and hoarse, it was as though he hadn't just been sprinting down the corridor moments ago. He must have known a short cut.
Blood drained from her face as she heard her father's voice reply, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."
Harry put a finger to his lips, motioning to Meadow to stay quiet. He put his hands on her biceps and pushed her forward very slowly. The corridor was narrow, and they had to be very careful not to bump into the two adults who were moving towards them. A few meters away, a door stood ajar to their lefts and Meadow pointed at it for Harry to see. Very slowly, the two moved forward and inched into the room without Filch or Snape noticing. They walked past the door and Meadow let out a second, deep breath that she was holding. Harry leaned against the wall; a sigh left his lips. Filch and Snape's footsteps faded away and Meadow took a look around.
It was the Mirror room. The classroom was abandoned, all the tables and chairs were pushed up against the far wall, stacked on top of each other. The garbage basket thrown askew and scattered quills and ink bottles looked just as it had the night before.
Slowly, Meadow pulled off whatever silk material was thrown over her, by now, she had put together that it was an invisibility cloak. Despite that being impressive that Harry had one, the Mirror was pulling at Meadow's conscious.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Harry's voice snapped Meadow out of her trance. She looked around and couldn't see him. "Oh, right," he said stupidly and pulled off the cloak.
Harry appeared, black, messy hair even more unmanageable now, with bright, emerald green eyes looking at her from behind his large, round glasses. "I couldn't sleep," Meadow said distractedly. "When'd you get an invisibility cloak? Those are extremely rare, almost impossible to find, let alone keep up the maintenance for it without knowing advanced magic."
"Got it for a present, dunno who sent it," Harry said, looking around at the classroom.
"Weird," Meadow replied watching his face. "Couldn't sleep, either?"
"Trying to find Flamel," Harry answered, shaking his head. "I was looking in the Restricted Section in the library, but one of the books—it just started screaming."
"It was you I heard!" Meadow exclaimed, a smirk on her face.
"Guilty," Harry said. "How was I supposed to know books screamed? I even tried to shut it and put it back, but it just kept howling away."
She shrugged. She might have grown up in the Muggle world, but she was no stranger to the magical world either. Many things happened without needing an explanation or second thought—because that's how it worked.
Harry glanced at the door nervously. Meadow's eyes looked over at it too, worried that somebody found them. "Do you think someone will find us?"
"I don't think so," Meadow whispered, though she too worried if they would be caught. She wandered around slowly before finding herself in front of the mirror again.
The image that produced itself was a tad different than last night, Meadow saw herself, she looked a bit older and had on a short sleeved Slytherin Chaser uniform, her left arm was bare and smooth- no scar in sight. She was holding up the Quidditch Cup with a beaming smile upon her face with one hand waving it in the air and with the other she was holding up a plaque. It was made of a dark wood with a large bronze cauldron and the words: Potions Master 1995. The Daily Prophet was framed and hung on a wall behind her: World's Youngest Potions Master Ever: Meadow Snape! The Title said. That bit was all the same, but now, she saw a very proud looking Severus Snape standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder. And her mother stood on the other side of Meadow, beaming and crying as her hand kept wiping away the tears of happiness.
Meadow's eyes bore into the mirror's image, how did it change? Why did it change? What does it mean—
"What's that?" Harry asked, looking at the mirror curiously.
"Some sort of mirror," Meadow responded. "I see myself in a Chaser uniform, holding the Quidditch Cup in one hand and a plaque that reads: Potions Master 1995. It's strange."
"I don't see that," Harry replied as he appeared behind her. "I only see you. Are you going mad?"
Meadow rolled her eyes, "Here, you have a go. I wonder what you see." She moved from the spot in front of the mirror rather reluctantly, her eyes on her mother, who was full of life, and urged Harry to replace her. "Do you think this mirror sees the future?"
"Doubt it," Harry's voice was breathless. "Dead people can't be alive in the future."
Meadow sucked in a quick breath, "You see your parents?"
Harry looked away from the mirror quickly and scanned the room. His green eyes snapped back onto the mirror and Meadow watched as his hand rose to his shoulder and swatted the air. "It's all in the mirror, Harry," Meadow said softly.
The desire she had to see her mother alive and apart of her daily life. . . she knew it must feel something like what Harry felt about his parents. But Harry never had the hope to see his parents alive, and Meadow did.
"Do you want to describe them to me?" Meadow's voice surprised herself.
As Harry pondered her question, she took a seat on the stone floor, it was cold and sent a shiver up her spine.
"Sure," Harry said and looked to the right of the Mirror, studying its reflection that Meadow couldn't see. "My Mum," he said with a sad smile, "She's very pretty. She has dark red hair and her eyes—her eyes are just like mine—" Bright green. "—same color, same shape. . . she's crying, but she's smiling too."
"I'm sure she's proud of you, Harry," Meadow whispered.
But Harry wasn't listening, he stepped closer to the mirror as he looked to the left. "My Dad, he's tall and thin. His hair is like mine, black and untidy. It sticks up in the back, like mine. He wears glasses, but more rectangular in shape."
Harry's nose was nearly pressed up against the mirror as he stared into the reflection. Slowly, his eyes wandered the rest of the mirror, drinking in whatever he was seeing. Meadow felt as though she was intruding now. But she didn't want to leave, she wanted to look into the mirror again too, to see her mum. Instead, Meadow found herself curled up on one of the desks that was pushed off to the side. The wood wasn't as cold as the stone floor, but Meadow brought her knees up to her chin and studied her friend.
He was quite scrawny, despite having better fitting clothes than the first ones she saw him in. The nasty brown color shirt that was at least ten sizes too big hung off him loosely on the train ride. The cargo pants, also dyed a nasty brown, were held up by a belt that stretched halfway around his waist. The memory came back to her almost instantly:
"Do you mind?" A boy with stunning emerald green eyes that stood out behind his messy, black hair. He wore large, thick, black glasses.
The Weasley twins, dressed in faded blue jeans and gray jumpers, were gawking at Harry before a voice called up to them.
"Fred? George? Are you there?" Mrs. Weasley's stern voice rose to the compartment.
"Coming, Mum!" They answered as their jaws replaced themselves, and one last glance towards the black-haired boy, they headed back off the train.
"Not at all," Meadow's response came once the twins moved out of eyesight. She moved Bee from the bench, who hissed in response. "I'm Meadow," she said with a smile, trying to put on her best hospitality voice. "That's Shane."
Meadow took a deep breath in before closing her eyes as she remembered that day on The Hogwarts Express. The crowd on the platform full of families bidding each other farewell and friends meeting up. The steam rising from the front of the train. The excitement and nervousness that Meadow felt sitting on the train as she watched it all happen.
"Harry," he grinned, pushing his trunk under the seat and held out his hand.
Meadow shook it, not needing his last name to know exactly who he was, Harry Potter.
"Harry?" Shane perked up, looking less sick then he had been in the last few minutes, looking from the window at his father to Harry. "As in THE Harry Potter?" He shook Harry's hand vigorously.
"I guess I am him," Harry shifted on his feet, displaying he was uncomfortable.
"Don't bother him, Shane," Meadow said lightly as she looked at her friend. "How often would you like people gaping at you?"
Shane's face went pink with embarrassment, "S-so-sorry, mate. I just never thought I'd meet you." Harry Potter was a common wizarding household name, he was The-Boy-Who-Lived and vanquished You-Know-Who as just a baby. It should haven't been a surprise to her that Shane knew who he was, given that Remus was a wizard too.
"It's alright, I suppose it'll be a shock for most everyone," Harry's voice was even, almost like he didn't care, or he was good at hiding his feelings. Harry peered out of the window, looking at the family of Weasleys, all rushed in saying their goodbyes.
"Ron, you've got something on your nose," Mrs. Weasley said harshly, and Meadow's eyes also went to the family of redheads. The mom grabbed the youngest boy and began rubbing the end of his nose.
"Mum—geroff!" The youngest said, wiggling free from his mother.
"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" One of the twins said. Meadow smirked at the memory, knowing she smirked then too. Just like back then, the thought of befriending the twins crossed her mind. Fred and George were good fun to hang around, despite Meadow never really talking much to Fred. The two were always in some sort of trouble for the shenanigans they pulled on other students and the teachers too.
"Shut up," Ron replied, scrunching up his nose.
"Where's Percy?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at the twins.
"He's coming now," one of them said as the oldest boy came striding into sight. He already changed into his black Hogwarts robes, which were billowing behind him. A shiny silver badge stuck to his chest with the letter P on it.
"Can't stay long, Mother," he said, his voice as pretentious as he turned out to be, smoothing down his collar. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—"
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" A twin said, a great look a mock surprise on his face. "You should have said something, we had no idea."
"Hang on," the other twin said. "I think I remember him saying something about it. Once—"
"Or twice—"
"A minute—"
"All summer—"
"Oh, shut up," Percy said, rolling his brown eyes, as the twins burst into laughter. Meadow felt a smile form on her face. It was a nice reminder that no matter what was going on, there was always a reason to find happiness and smile.
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" Meadow didn't know which twin asked their mother, as she couldn't tell them apart then, it was hard to remember who was who, or decipher which twin was which in her memories.
"Because he's a prefect," Mrs. Weasley beamed, her voice full of warmth as her eyes shown with pride at Percy. "All right, dear, well, have a good term—send me an owl when you get there." She kissed Percy on the cheek, and he left. She turned to the twins with a stern face, her brows pulled down and her mouth pursed. "Now, you two—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've—you've blown up a toilet or—"
"Blow up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."
"Great idea though, thanks, Mum," the other teased.
"It's not funny. And look after Ron," she told them.
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us," one smirked and caught Ron with his arm, rubbing his fist on the younger brother's head, messing up the identical red hair.
"Oi! Geroff!" Ron complained and pushed the twin off, smoothing his hair back down.
Meadow's face had a smile on it as she fondly remembered the train ride. Sharing food with the boys, their same annoyance Hermione and Draco, and getting to know each other. She felt like that was part of why Ron would still put up with her, because they all talked on the train ride.
"Anyone sitting there?" Ron asked, pointing to the empty seat next to Shane. "Everywhere else is full."
When she, Shane, and Harry shook their heads, Ron sat on the bench, pretending to be interested in the world flying by in the window as he'd sneak looks at Harry's forehead. There was dirt on Ron's nose, which had turned from the rubbed pink color back to his normal freckled, pale skin.
"Hey, Ron," the twins stuck their heads in the compartment. "Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," Ron's face became even paler.
"Harry, did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother," one of the twins said with a smile upon his also pale, freckled face.
Meadow assumed that it was Fred, since he said his name first. When she looked at the other twin, George, he's blue eyes were on her black orbs. "I'm George, he's Fred," he said with his hand outstretched and a lazy smile upon his lips.
Meadow took it, a small smile upon her face, as a warmth spread up her arm. "Meadow," she responded as she blinked and looked away from his eyes, suddenly she felt shy. "And that's Shane," she nodded her head over to her childhood friend, his brown shaggy hair covered his eyes again.
"Hello," was the quiet response with a timid smile. Shane was never great at introductions.
"Right, we're off. If any of you are interested in seeing the giant tarantula, come find us," George said, letting go of Meadow's hand and all the warmth dissipated.
"See you later!" Fred added, waving as the two hurried down the corridor.
Reminiscing on the memory of the first train ride to Hogwarts was one of the happiest memories Meadow had. When she started a new chapter of her life, one that was full of hope and happiness due to Hogwarts. A place where people came together. And it was like that for a long time, just recently it seemed to fall apart. Well, not the whole thing, just between her and her father. . . and her and Draco.
Meadow wished that Draco would realize how dumb he was being. Tormenting the Gryffindors was dumb. It was reckless and without any cause. Well, maybe some cause. . . Harry did embarrass him on the train. But this got her thinking, maybe it was time for her and Draco to part ways. For a little while.
Her heart gave a pang, Meadow wasn't ready for the break-up just yet. Despite Draco being a toxic person, she knew it was from all the shite his father was feeding him. She knew how he was acting wasn't because it was who he was, it was all he knew how to act when feeling intimidated. Or at least, that's what she wanted to believe. Meadow decided she'd ask for her mother's opinion on what to do about Draco tomorrow.
When Meadow opened her eyes Harry was still in front of the mirror, staring at it intently. Meadow wondered if she should open-up about her mother to him. But quickly dismissed that thought, it wasn't about her, it was about him. And knowing how much Harry had already gone through, it wasn't fair to put that on him. Besides, if Meadow was going to keep up the fake "Mom's at home," she didn't need anyone to know.
Granted, she was sure Shane and Draco probably knew something. They must have, Shane grew up with Meadow at Muggle school and knew she was being looked after by a nanny named Ms. Kashmire. And Draco probably knew too. The amount of times she had gone over to Malfoy Manor as a toddler and kid without her mother, it was obvious that he'd know her mother wasn't in the picture. Of course, there was also Neville Longbottom, who saw her at St. Mungo's when he was visiting his own parents. Meadow shook her head, Neville wouldn't tell anyone about her mother being there, he didn't tell anyone about his own parents being at the hospital.
Slowly, Meadow lowered her legs from her chin and shook out the stiffness that settled on her. "Harry," she called softly. "Do you mind if I take another look?"
"What's interesting about holding a Potion's Master plaque and the Quidditch Cup?" Harry's voice snapped. "I get to see my parents."
Meadow blinked in surprised, "I don't just see that stuff, Harry."
"What's more important than seeing my parents?" Harry questioned her as he stood up, his eyes were angry.
"Don't snap at me," Meadow replied, her own temper flaring. "You've been at it for ages."
Harry's nose flared, "What of it? You have parents. I don't."
"You don't know everything," Meadow snarled at him taking a few steps towards him. "Don't let the fact that you grew up at your awful Muggle family's house blind you from the fact that other families lost just as much or more than you when You-Know-Who was in power."
"And what did you lose?" Harry seethed. "You have your father, here, at school. And he's still trying to pull something from under Dumbledore's nose. And your mother? Why didn't you go home to her during the holiday?"
Meadow's jaw clenched. "It doesn't matter why I didn't go home," she replied finally, her eyes narrowed at the Gryffindor.
"Then what do you see in that mirror that's so important you want to take time away from me and my family?"
Meadow shook her head furiously, even though her anger was still evident, it fizzled down like a can of soda being opened, "This isn't you, Harry."
"Then go," Harry replied, his eyes back on the mirror.
"I don't think I will," Meadow said. "We don't know how that mirror works. We shouldn't even be here—"
"Why were you out walking around?" Harry asked for the second time that night.
"I told you," Meadow said, "I couldn't sleep."
"You were trying to find the mirror again," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"I was out for a walk," she didn't know why she was trying to hide the fact that she did stumble across the mirror last night. "You're being really aggressive, Harry. Look, I just want one more look at the mirror and then I'm going back to bed—stay if you want."
Harry's eyes peeled off the mirror again and landed on her black orbs. There was a change in him, "Sorry, I didn't—"
"It's fine," Meadow said. "Don't worry about it. . . It's probably just the mirror."
"Right, here—" Harry moved out of the way.
Slowly, Meadow felt her feet plant in front of the mirror and her eyes timidly looked up to the mirror, unsure of what she'd see this time. It was the same picture as earlier that night. Meadow was a bit older, holding the Quidditch Cup and Motions Master 1995 plaque. Her left arm was smooth and scarless. Her mother on the side, beaming and crying. Her father, a hand on Meadow's shoulder, looking genuinely proud as he had a rolled up Daily Prophet was in his other hand. She studied her face more; her skin was flawless and clear. Her hair hung in loose curls that looked natural. And her eyes were lined with eyeliner. She looked taller than Meadow ever imagined herself to be, as she was the smallest in her year. The older version of Meadow had curves, and a nice smile with full lips. And her skin looked nice and tanned.
And that was when she realized that this mirror didn't show the future or any truth other than her own desire. She didn't want the scar on her arm, and the mirror shown that. She didn't like her lips, she thought her upper lip was too thin, and the mirror showed her with a fuller upper lip. Meadow wanted to make her father proud, and it shown that. She wanted her mother to be alive in the sense of awake and moving, living her life as she should, and the mirror did that.
Meadow tore her eyes away from the Mirror, her stomach sick. "Are you okay?" Harry's voice asked from a distance.
"I just want to go to bed," she mumbled, pulling up the hood of her sweatshirt.
"What did you see?" Harry asked, concerned. But Meadow knew all he wanted to do was go back to the mirror and look at his family.
"I. . . I saw my father proud of me," Meadow said quietly, her eyes on the ground. She didn't want to ruin the mirror for Harry. "I'm just going to go to bed, Harry."
Harry sighed, "Let me get you to your common room."
She shook her head, "No, no. It's fine. I think you should have some time with your family—you don't know when you'll see them next."
"I think it's time I turn in too," Harry said, walking close to her. "I don't want Filch to find you."
Without accepting her protests, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over her and pushed her out of the room.
As if she was on autopilot, Meadow moved towards the dungeons and down to the Slytherin common room. It didn't matter much if Harry knew were it was, not to Meadow. She knew where the Gryffindor common room was. "Harry," she whispered as they got closer to the wall that slid open. "I don't think you should go back to the mirror."
"'Course," he said, but she knew he was lying. What the mirror shown was too good to be true, and Harry finally was able to see his parents.
"Here's my stop," she said quietly. "Thanks for walking me back. Be careful on the way back."
"See you," Harry said and gave her a quick hug before he slipped the invisibility cloak off her. His footsteps quietly faded away as Meadow walked down to the opening of the Slytherin common room.
Thankfully, when the wall slid shut, Meadow saw Terence still asleep on his mattress. As she settled herself down into her blankets, Bee mewed in protest and licked her finger in comfort. That night she had a nightmare.
-.-.-.
