Power of the Musea

Chapter 6: A return to normalcy

For Melanie, the rest of the school day passed like a blur. She could not recall ever feeling so happy to hear the final bell ring in all of her years at school. She purposefully avoided people as she quickly walked to her locker and tried to get her things together. It took longer to gather her things than she remembered, mostly because her mind kept wandering. She finally managed to decide on which books to bring back home and started to walk out of the school.

"Melanie, where are you going?" a voice, followed by quick footsteps, echoed towards her. Melanie sighed and stopped, turning to face Ashlea.

"Aren't you coming to practice?" she asked, motioning towards the gym.

Melanie groaned. "I completely forgot."

"Well, come on, then! We're learning a new dance routine tonight." Ashlea grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the locker room. Melanie sighed again as she pulled shorts and a t-shirt out of her locker and changed. She was readjusting her ponytail in the mirror when Ashlea poked her head around the corner.

"We're about ready to start, c'mon!"

Melanie nodded and reluctantly followed her out onto the gym floor.

Once the obligatory hugs of support and "welcome backs" were through, Coach Brunen began teaching them the new dance they would perform at halftime. For the first time all day, Melanie finally felt like she could absorb herself in something. As Coach Brunen counted off the beats, her mind busied itself focusing on the position of her body and the flow of the movements. When they finally put the first half to music, her heart leaped for joy. She was exhilarated from the physical activity and the music seemed to flow through her body and calm her mind. She was happier than she had ever been since....

Her mind thought back-the end of the year, pulling pranks in the hotel in London, then came memories of Hogwarts-the sorting hat, a face looking at her across from the dungeons...

She tripped as she spun and fell down. The rest of the squad stopped and looked at her.

"Are you all right?" Ashlea asked, helping Melanie to her feet.

Melanie nodded, brushing off her back where she had fallen. "It's been a while since I've done this." She laughed forcibly. The group nodded as the music started again.

The rest of the practice didn't take long, and Coach Brunen let them out early. Melanie quickly changed and left before anyone could try to talk to her. She walked out onto the parking lot to find Simon's car and heard a whistle over at the football field.

"They must still be practicing," she whispered to herself. She looked from the car to the road. It was only a five or ten minute walk home and that appealed to Melanie more than waiting for Simon to get out of practice.

She quickly pulled a piece of paper out of her backpack and wrote a quick note to Simon. She slid the note underneath one of the windshield wipers, laughing as chips of paint fell from the old wipers onto the note. She readjusted her backpack and started to walk down the road.

It didn't take long at all for Melanie to reach home; no longer, she thought, than the walk from the dungeons to the Ravenclaw common room.

"And the walk over the sidewalk was a whole lot less tiring than walking up all of those stairs," she added to herself as she unlocked the front door. She was all of the way upstairs before she realized what she had said.

She stopped in the middle of the hallway and sighed. "You've got to stop thinking about that," she told herself.

Her eyes landed on a plain, closed door in front of her-the door to the attic. Before she could stop it, she thought about her trunk, stored somewhere in that secret room. Neither she, nor Simon, had ever been allowed into the attic. They had never seen the door unlocked; they had never seen either of their parents go into it. She remembered herself, back in grade school, a little blonde girl with her hair in a ponytail on the side of her head....

"Mommy! I need to go up in the attic!" Melanie set down her pink Barbie backpack on the kitchen table and walked up to her mother holding a large piece of paper.

"You're not allowed to go up in the attic, sweetie," her mother answered, not taking her eyes off of the pot she was stirring.

"But I have to! It's for a class project!" Melanie protested, sitting down at the kitchen table. "We're supposed to look for things from when we were little in the attic and write about how we've changed!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but you're not allowed in the attic. Only your father and I can go up there. It's not safe for you."

"Why not? Sophie's parents let HER go up in the attic."

"Our attic is different from Sophie's. It's not strong like the rest of the house. Daddy and I have to be very careful when we go up there, and it's too dangerous for you or Simon."

"But what am I going to do about my homework? I have to have things from when I was a little baby!" Melanie whined.

Her mother sighed. "There's nothing up there anyway. You know we don't have anything from when you were a baby, Melanie. Daddy and I have told you before-our house burned down when you were little and we lost everything. There'd be nothing for you to look at even if you could go up in the attic."

Melanie huffed disappointedly and leaned back in her chair. A small tear slid down her cheek. Her mother sighed and turned off the burner on the stove. She walked over to Melanie and wiped away the tear.

"What am I going to do for my homework?" Melanie asked her voice quivering.

"Oh, sweetie," her mother said, giving her a big hug. "Don't worry. We have some pictures and things from when we moved here. You were one or two then. You weren't a baby, but that should be enough for your paper."

Melanie sniffled and nodded.

"Ten years later and the attic is still too dangerous for me," Melanie commented to herself, reaching out and trying to turn the doorknob. As she expected, it was locked.

Melanie laughed and thought about the thousands of times that she and Simon had tried to pick the lock when neither of their parents were home. They had never even gotten close.

An idea flashed through Melanie's head. She looked down at her watch. Simon could be back from practice at any minute, but it would be at least half an hour before either her mother or father returned home from work. She smiled mischievously and ran to her room. She unlocked her drawer, pulled out her wand, and was standing in front of the attic door again in the blink of an eye.

"Alohomora!" she commanded, pointing the wand at the door. She reached out again at the doorknob. Still locked.

"What?" she asked herself. "Alohomora!" She tried the knob again. Still locked.

"ALOHOMORA!" she yelled, shaking her wand furiously at the door. Still, the door would not unlock.

"What the...?" she asked, looking from the door to her wand. Before she could come up with another idea, she heard a car door slam.

"Simon," she whispered to herself. She sighed and quickly put her wand away. It wasn't worth telling Simon. She didn't know if he knew that she was a witch, and she saw no reason to tell him when the spell wasn't even working. She locked her wand away again, and started to tackle her homework.

She stayed upstairs in her room working on homework for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the opening of the front door as her parents returned from work and the random ringing of the telephone. She didn't leave her room until her mother shouted for her to come down for dinner.

She didn't say much at dinner, either. She just sat there, staring down at her plate as she used her fork to play with her peas. She wasn't hungry, and she lacked the energy to force herself to eat.

Her father cleared his throat. "So, Melanie, how was school?"

"All right," Melanie answered plainly, not looking up from her peas.

"Did everything go okay?" her mother asked. "No problems?"

Melanie sighed and thought back to choir. She shook her head. "Nothing big," she lied.

"Hmmm," her mother said, stirring her own peas around. "Well, Mrs. Blanhart, the counselor, called this afternoon. She wants to have a meeting with us tomorrow after school to look at how you're adjusting."

Melanie just nodded.

"You'll need to be there, of course, Melanie," her father answered.

"Right after school, in Mrs. Blanhart's office?" Melanie asked.

Her mother nodded.

"I'll be there," Melanie assured her. She quietly returned to her peas and there was an uncomfortable silence at the table.

"Now, I'm sure it's just to double-check that you're adjusting well enough," her mother began slowly, "but you would tell us if there was something else wrong, wouldn't you?"

Melanie nodded. "Of course, Mom."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Then there's nothing wrong?"

"No."

"But you do seem awfully quiet tonight."

Melanie sighed. "I'm just tired. My body hasn't gotten used to this time zone yet. It's just jet lag." Melanie stood up. "I'm going to go upstairs and finish my homework."

"Okay, darling," her father said as she walked past him, put her dirty dishes in the sink and walked up to her room. She sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on her homework. She stared at her history book and tried to read, but the words just passed through her mind without understanding. She sighed and slammed the book shut. She looked around the room for a second before grabbing the key out of her jewelry box and opening the desk drawer. She pulled out the Ravenclaw badge and looked at it, sighing.

"I need to stop thinking about this," she told herself, shoving the piece of material underneath her history book. She sat there for a moment, silent and breathing deeply.

There was a knock on the door behind her, and Melanie turned around to see her dad's head poking inside of the room. "You got a minute?" he asked. Melanie nodded and he walked inside and sat down on her bed.

"You seemed a little down at dinner," he began, the concern obvious in his voice.

Melanie shrugged. "I'm just tired. I told Mom that."

Her father nodded unbelievingly. "I know." He took a deep breath. "Melanie, I know this is all hard for you. It's okay for you to have problems. You've been through a lot, and we don't expect you to recover from all of this immediately."

"I'm fine," Melanie answered quickly, reopening her history book and pretending to be immersed in it.

"I don't think you are," her father countered. "Melanie, it's okay to be upset, or sad, or even angry. Whatever emotions you're feeling, they're okay." He closed her history book and looked at her. "You don't have to pretend to be so strong, Melanie. Hiding your problems and hoping they'll go away won't help anything...." He trailed off as he noticed a piece of material sticking out from under the closed history book.

"What's this?" he asked, picking up the Ravenclaw badge before Melanie could stop him. He looked at it carefully, tracing the eagle with his finger.

"Ummm, it's off of my school robes from, er, England," Melanie admitted. "It represents the House I was in at school there. I took it off of my robe before you put my trunk in the attic." She took a deep breath, waiting for his reaction.

Her father was silent, and looked at the badge sadly. He closed his eyes and sighed, handing the badge back to Melanie. He took a deep breath and looked at her. "I know this is all hard for you, Melanie. Just remember that everything's for the best." He reached out and touched her cheek. "Your mother and I love you very much, and we just want what's best for you." He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say more, but just sighed and walked out. Once he had gone, Melanie picked up the badge and looked at it a little bit more before putting it back underneath her diary and locking the drawer. She tried to return to her history, but gave up and went to sleep.

The next morning at school, Melanie found it easier to just sit quietly in the back of her classes than to try to say or do anything. Ashlea and a few other classmates tried to talk to her at the beginning of school, but her silence soon drove them away. It didn't bother her, and she spent most of her day absorbed in her schoolbooks.

After the final bell ring, she made her way to the counselor's office. When she knocked on the door, Mrs. Blanhart, a short woman with puffy brown hair, opened it with a big smile.

"Yes, Melanie. You're right on time." She moved aside and let Melanie walk in. Her mother and father were already there, sitting in two of three chairs facing Mrs. Blanhart's desk. "So, since we're all here, we can begin," Mrs. Blanhart announced as she sat gracefully behind her desk. She folded her hands on the desktop and looked up at Melanie's parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Harver, I think it would be best if we just got straight to the issue at hand. Several of Melanie's teachers have voiced concerns about Melanie's adjustment back to school, and I must say that I quite agree with them."

"Adjustment?" Melanie's mother asked. "She's only been back for two days, how can you possibly know if she's adjusted or not?"

"True, Mrs. Harver, but in manners like this it is important to act quickly to give Melanie the best possible environment. She's been through a lot, both physically and mentally, and it is imperative right now that she be quickly placed into an environment that will allow her to recover. It is possible that Melanie could recover quite well and remain in school here, but these past few days have created doubts of this in my mind. And in no way is it healthy for Melanie to remain here if she is not adjusting properly."

Melanie's mother sighed as her father nodded.

"We understand, Mrs. Blanhart. So, what do you suggest?"

Mrs. Blanhart reached into her desk and pulled out a small pile of papers. "Here are brochures for many fine private schools in the New York area. Mr. and Mrs. Harver, I...I know that you can afford to give Melanie whatever she needs financially. Knowing that, I would suggest that moving her to a different school would help her adjust much more quickly and wholly."

"But every source we've read said that a return to normalcy was what was needed!" her mother protested.

Mrs. Blanhart nodded patiently. "Yes, but, in Melanie's case, normalcy here means constant reminders as to what happened and what she has lost. In my opinion, and the opinion of several others I have consulted about this, Melanie would do much better in a different environment."

Melanie's mother opened her mouth to say something more, but instead sighed and leaned back in the chair. Her father looked at her and then turned to Mrs. Blanhart. "So you are suggesting sending Melanie to another school that she has never seen over a month into classes? Wouldn't that cause some adjustment issues in itself?"

Mrs. Blanhart nodded. "True. But, dealing with that adjustment would help her adjust to everything else, as well. Mr. Harver, it is impossible to lay down a single rule of thumb to assure recovery from a situation like this. One must look at all of the elements involved and make a judgment call. I have thought of and analyzed every possible option. In my opinion, your daughter will be better off if you allow her to switch to a different school. Every school in this pile has the facilities to provide anything your daughter needs and will be positive for her. They will also accept a late enrollment under these circumstances. What I suggest is to look through these brochures, take some time this weekend to visit each of them, then discuss them with Melanie and come to a decision. The sooner Melanie gets into a different environment, the sooner she will start to adjust and recover."

Melanie's parents exchanged looks, then looked over at Melanie. Melanie had not moved or spoken during the entire meeting. She had only barely even been paying attention. She just stared out the window, one thought running through her head, "great, a third school..."

Her parents discussed other issues with Mrs. Blanhart until finally they were satisfied and stood up to leave with Melanie. She refused to talk during the car ride home or at dinner, creating an eerie and uncomfortable silence. She didn't even try to work on homework after she was finished eating and instead crawled right into bed.

The clock next to her bed read 11:03 when she woke up again. She sighed and got up to go to the bathroom before she slept some more. She paused at the bathroom door, blinking as she looked at the lights still burning downstairs. She quietly tiptoed to the stairs and looked down. She could barely see her parents sitting at the kitchen table, Mrs. Blanhart's brochures spread around the table.

"What about this one, Octavian? It looks old and dignified. Plus, it's in the city and she can come home on weekends," her mother said.

"You know how I feel about this whole thing, Violetta," her father grumbled. "I don't like the idea of shipping my daughter off to a third school within the first two months of the year, not to mention to a school that we're not going to know anything about."

"What else is there to do, Octavian?" her mother complained. "Mrs. Blanhart said that she needs to be in a different environment."

"But Mrs. Blanhart didn't have all of the information," her father said under his breath.

"What were you going to do, just blurt it all out?" Melanie's mother sighed. "I thought we were going to put all of this behind us, Octavian. That's what we agreed." Her mother's voice was starting to quiver.

"And look at where we've ended up-the exact same place that we've started. Violetta, it's the change of environment that she needs, and we already know she'll like it more than any of these schools."

"You're not actually considering sending her back to Hogwarts!"

"Why not, Violetta? It seems to be a better option than any other one we have."

"But not back THERE! Octavian, she was attacked, almost killed! You honestly don't want to send her back there where she will be in danger again? She's safe here, at home, not there."

"Violetta, it was a random attack. Hogwarts is safe, we have Dumbledore's assurances."

Her mother scoffed. "Safe? A random attack? You can't believe any of those excuses!"

"They're not excuses, Violetta..." her father returned.

"Oh, they're not excuses? You can't be telling me," her mother said slowly, her voice filled with fury even though it was quiet, "that it was pure coincidence that Melanie was attacked. Of all of the people in London, of all of the people in her choir group, that she was the one attacked!"

"Violetta..."

"Octavian, listen to me! Coincidences like this don't exist, not there. They knew who she was, it's the only explanation."

"Dumbledore assured us that nobody knows..."

"Like it isn't obvious? If any...any of them would look at her, all they would see is Rimian. She wears her identity all over her face. It's like a scar, impossible to get rid of and marking her forever."

There was a pause. "That may be true, but if Dumbledore's assured us that nobody knows, then I will trust him. Besides, if they already knew, she would not be safe anywhere, even here."

"Then we're just going to thrust her back into danger?"

"She's always been in danger. Always. We've just lulled ourselves into thinking that we weren't. Violetta, somewhere you must know that this is what's right for her."

Her mother laughed. "That's just because you're biased. You've never liked any of this."

"True," her father agreed, "but this is not about that. This about not making a big mistake. Think about Melanie, and what you think is best for her."

There was a silence, and a thousand thoughts pounded through Melanie's head. She heard her mother sigh. "I hope you're right, Octavian. You can get her trunk out and I'll go with her to Hogwarts in the morning."

A giant smile cut across Melanie's face, and it took every power of self-control she had to keep herself from jumping up and down. Instead, she quietly tiptoed back to her room and climbed back into bed.