Chapter 25: The Girl who let the fire burn

Something in me broke that night. Not shattered, not quietly cracked, but split wide open in a way that could never be sealed the same again. I stood alone in the girls’ dormitory long after Hermione had fallen asleep, staring at my reflection in the dark window. The girl looking back at me felt unfamiliar. My eyes were swollen, rimmed red, my face pale and exhausted. But beneath the hurt, beneath the tears, there was something else. Anger.

Hot. Sharp. Alive.

I was tired of being the bright girl.

Tired of being gentle.

Tired of swallowing pain until it hollowed me out.

I pressed my hand to the glass, my breath fogging it. “Never again,” I whispered. That was the moment Melody died. The next morning, the castle felt different. Or maybe I was. I dressed in black without hesitation. Not careless black, but deliberate. Dark sleeves that hid my arms. Silver rings. Boots that echoed against the stone floors. My hair, once soft and loose, was pulled back sharply, my expression closed off and unreadable. Whispers followed me through the corridors.

“That’s Melody?”

“What happened to her?”

“She looks different.”

Good. I wanted them to see it. In class, I did not raise my hand. I did not smile. I did not soften my voice. When someone spoke over me, I spoke louder. When someone tried to mock me, my stare alone was enough to shut them up. The anger lived just beneath my skin, buzzing, waiting. By lunch, I felt it boiling over. I skipped the Great Hall and climbed the Astronomy Tower instead, my footsteps fast and heavy. The wind whipped around me as I reached the top, tugging at my robes like it wanted to pull everything loose. I screamed. Not a pretty cry. Not quiet tears. A raw, furious scream ripped from my chest, tearing itself into the sky. I pounded my fists against the stone railing, once, twice, again, until my hands ached and my breath came out ragged. “I gave you everything,” I shouted to no one. “I trusted you. I loved you.” The words burned as they left me. Tears fell, but they were different now. Darker. Sharper. They did not beg to be comforted. They demanded to be felt. When I finally went still, my chest heaving, something inside me felt calm for the first time in days. Not healed. But controlled. From that day on, Dark Melody walked the halls of Hogwarts.

She did not flinch when Draco’s name was spoken.

She did not look away when Slytherins stared.

When Pansy smirked, Dark Melody smirked back, slower and colder. Draco tried to approach me once. I did not stop walking. “Melody,” he said, his voice breaking behind me. I turned just enough to meet his eyes. There was no warmth there. No tears. “Save it,” I said quietly. “You lost the right to my softness.” And I walked away. At night, I wrote instead of cried. Ink scratched harshly across parchment, thoughts spilling out unfiltered. Rage. Betrayal. Power. Strength. Survival. I was no longer the girl who needed reassurance. I was the girl who survived heartbreak and learned how to sharpen it into armor. The bright Melody had believed love would protect her. Dark Melody knew better. She protected herself.