A/N: This was written for the third round of the QLFC. This year, I'm competing as Keeper for the Kenmare Kestrels. Thank you to Pixileanin for the beta read! 1391 words.
(Prompt:) Keeper: Bragi "God of Poetry" [Norse] Write about someone reciting a poem or verse during an important/major scene in your story
The bitter November wind whistled through the dorm room. Her roommate Aicha summoned another blanket and turned on her side, shivering violently. "Would you close that blasted window?"
Luna rose from her bed, where she was sitting cross-legged on top of the covers reading, and walked over. She reached for the sash, but her slim fingers hesitated just a brush away. She stared out at the grounds, the wind blowing her hair back from her face. The cold of it brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away and just watched for a moment. The moon, high and pale above, cast a strange pallor over the world. Treetops rustled in the breeze.
"Luna!"
"Boreas is especially unforgiving tonight," she said distantly.
"Please close the window?"
Eyes still locked on the movement of branches below, shifting like a dark green sea, Luna slowly shut out the wind.
"Thank you," Aicha said sarcastically, shutting her curtains with a snap.
Through the panes, Luna looked for the little clearing where she knew the unicorns once sheltered. It was empty tonight, like it had been every night since the school year began. She suspected that they could feel the evil in the castle, and had fled far away.
"Are you coming tonight?" Luna asked.
"Do I look like I'm coming?"
Luna turned to stare at the closed bed curtains and smiled slightly. "I suppose not."
There was a pause, then—
"So you're really going to go through with it?" A face masked in well-concealed worry poked out at her.
Luna didn't say yes, because that's not enough. She didn't say of course, because while it was obvious to her, she knew that not everyone understood the way she did. So she said, "It's Thursday night," and while it still wasn't enough, it meant everything she needed it to.
The face pinched, then fell lax with a sigh of resignation. "Things are different now, Luna."
"You can't forget the little things," said Luna, leaving the window and picking up the small scroll on her bedside table. "If you do, the big things don't matter anymore."
Her roommate just shook her head and disappeared behind the curtains again.
Luna left their dorm room, softly shutting the door behind her. There had been more of them, once. Now, for one reason or another, the room housed only the two of them. Padding down the stairs, she met a prefect on the landing to the common room.
"Professor Amycus and Alecto cancelled this, Lovegood," said the tall fifth year.
Luna just looked up at him, and he glanced away in shame.
She stepped past him to see the others gathered around. There were far less of them than there used to be, but a couple more than she'd expected. She gave each one a vague smile and sat down on the chaise. Behind her, the prefect dithered for a moment before giving up and crossing the room to disappear into the boys' dorms.
"As I'm sure you've all heard," Luna began, tucking her wand behind her ear, "tonight's monthly poetry slam was banned. It seems that some professors don't understand that the arts are beautiful, and that nothing which expands the human mind is ever a waste of time."
A few nods. Several anxious glances around the room. One girl wrapped her arms around her knees.
"Some traditions must be upheld. They remind us of who we are, just as tonight's theme reminds us of who we were. When we lose our roots, we lose ourselves."
"Also, Alecto and Amycus can go fu—" a fourth year began, before her friend clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Technically we're 'infringing on curfew'," Luna continued, as if there hadn't been an interruption, "but I believe that as long as we don't interrupt anyone's studies, we can be doing no real harm in the common room."
Poetry slam hadn't been cancelled out of concern for anyone's studies, but in a wave of censoring student expression that had led to a lot of new rules within the last few weeks. No one chose to point this out.
"Just as a precaution, however," Luna said, eyes laughing as she pulled out her wand and waved it in the air, "we'll put up some silencing charms."
A few titters of laughter. She smiled and tucked her wand away again. "This month's theme, chosen by last month's winner, was 'The Forgotten Ones'. As always, we'll start with our newest and youngest members. Polly, would you like to go first?"
The second year, who blinked in surprise that Luna knew her name, gave a shaky nod and stood up. Her older brother, who was sitting next to her, squeezed her hand supportively.
The girl's sonnet was beautiful, a bit confusing, and about forgetting who you are. From the glance she gave her brother afterwards, he probably helped her write it, but no one minded. Anthony…
Anthony Goldstein used to say that art was never created in a vacuum. Anthony didn't say much about art, anymore. He used to be a big participant in poetry slam night. Now, Luna knew, he spent most of his time in the Room of Requirement. Her heart ached a little bit at how much he would have liked to be here.
One by one, everyone read their poems. It wasn't anything like it used to be; instead of loud laughter and clapping, everyone nodded softly. Instead of dramatic readings, students said their piece in a whisper. No silencing ward could quiet their fears of being caught. The consequences if they were would be heavy.
Luna looked around. Everyone's eyes shined as they listened to the fourth year's rambling words about forgetting where you've been and losing where you're going. Someone's cat had curled up on Polly's lap. People were leaning in towards each other, awkward glances revealing just how much they cared about the words they were trading like beautiful little secrets in the night.
It was stilted, and tense, and dangerous, and it was the best poetry slam Luna had ever attended.
Finally, it was Luna's turn to read her poem. She was the last speaker of the night, and everyone turned to her expectantly. The scroll in her hands wasn't very long as she unravelled it and stood up.
"Do gods die from lack of belief,
Or do we cease to believe because they are gone?
Is it the faithlessness of humanity that kills them,
Or something else entirely?
The one thing that may bring
Power to its knees
Is a doubt that it was ever there at all.
What could send the strength of the heavens
Through a bolt of electric power
May shrivel and die from a seed of cynicism
Things die when we give up
On our belief, on our gods, on ourselves
They fade away
Until we forget how much we once loved them."
"That was cheery," said the fourth year. Her friend elbowed her. Luna smiled at them.
"That concludes this month's poetry slam," she said. Everyone blinked, and the spell was broken. Slowly, like people coming out of a dream, they stood and stretched. Polly's older brother came up to her, steps hesitant, as the others began to disperse. Luna dropped the silencing charm and turned to him.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"You're welcome."
He looked at her, as if trying to learn the lines of her face, before nodding. "You know that, if Amycus and Alecto find out, you'll get most of the blame for organising it."
"Yes."
He shook his head. "I couldn't do it, if I were you."
Luna glanced at Polly, who was holding the cat and looking over at them curiously. "Oh, I don't know. For the right reasons, you might." She waved dreamily at them and wandered back towards the stairs, rolling up the scroll as she went.
Back in their room, Aicha was pretending that she hadn't waited up to make sure Luna got back alright.
"It went well," Luna said, dropping the scroll onto her nightstand and heading towards the window.
"No Death Eaters storming the common room, then?"
Luna looked down at the forest and thought she saw a flash of white. When she looked again, it was gone. "It didn't fix anything," she admitted softly, pulling the drapes shut. "But it helped."