reopened - 3 Oct 2025 Melody and new meeting pv

𝓖uitars were a popular choice of instrument. Ukuleles…not as much. They were smaller, cradled like a baby, strummed and plucked to songs that leant towards happy-go-lucky rather than remorse. It fit perfectly with Ruth Fairchild, whose hands could barely grasp one end of a guitar to the other, whom would rather be caught humming to something joyful rather than sombre. Having been gifted a ukulele just a year before, she was more than excited to learn songs, strumming patterns, anything that could substitute her lack of skills in the guitar. Her ukulele made of polished red wood soon bore scratches from her use of a pick before months of training led her to brush at the plastic strings with her fingers instead, earning temporary press marks from the hours of practise.

Ever since she arrived to Hogwarts, though, she had only managed to touch it once.

Or twice, or a couple of times. But those don’t count. It was used for the club she attended, Battle of the Bands, but Ruth never got to use it on her own, most of the time busy reading her fill at the library, walking in the grounds, or interacting with friends… Her precious, red wood ukulele, was left at the side of her hammock, untouched and sealed in its black bag.

Okay, fine, it had only been a month since she arrived at Hogwarts, but the break between her and the instrument was long compared to her usual. Thus, she decided that some music accompaniment would be fantastic on a solo walk. Maybe she’d be able to find a suitable tree to learn against and strum away, perhaps write some songs in her head that she’d forget in an hour.

Thus, Ruth slung her bag over her shoulder, traipsing out of the Hufflepuff cellar and up to the grounds, enjoying the fresh breeze of air and the beauty of those auburn leaves that were the tiny little reminiscences of home. She found herself whispering low tunes of Autumn as she walked, almost skipping as a grin dominated her face, the bag thumping against her back. What could she say? She enjoyed her walks, enjoyed the freedom, enjoyed the…

Noise. No, music. It was faint, but enough for the Hufflepuff to stop singing completely. It came from the tree just to her right, but the source was hidden behind it. Or in front, depending on where you looked. Ruth, ever the curious one, snuck closer, her ears perking at the beautiful melody that felt as though it was the reason to the soft winds dancing around the leaves, causing them to gently sway on its branches. She grasped onto a tree just a few metres away from the other, then peeked.

To her surprise, it was a lady. A professor, more like. That Ruth could tell, for she wore not the school robes but her own unique ones. Ruth had never seen her before. Then again, who was she to say anything? She had barely seen all of the professors as is. However, wouldn’t she have known of the professors existence? After all, they always sat at the front of the great hall for meals.

The sounds came from a guitar nestled on the professor’s lap, her nimble fingers expertly playing. It was melodic and beautiful, quite unlike the songs that Ruth could even attempt playing. (That was, of course, her thought.) She peered out for a closer look, accidentally crushing the leaves under her in the process. This lead to an inevitable crunch that probably drew the professor’s attention. Ruth winced.

𝕽uth froze as the woman gave her a long stare. And as though unfazed, she offered a smile to the Hufflepuff, "Hey. Do you like my playing?" Ruth squirmed nervously, partially embarrassed to have been caught watching the adult, but nodded nonetheless. She kept her mouth shut, not wanting to end up spoiling her first impression even further through sputtering endlessly.

"You can come closer if you want," the lady continued to say. Ruth nudged herself forward slightly, then halted, hesitating. Should she really do that? Ruth didn't want to be a nuisane. Yet...her presence had been welcomed. Well, what if the lady was just being nice? Maybe she didn't actually want her there. But oh, the music. A different melody now, a beat that thrummed in her heart. Ruth shook her head to herself, frustrated from her endless wave of overthinking. Before she could regret her swift decision, the Hufflepuff walked with purpose till she was directly in front of the woman, sweeping her robes under her feet as she settled onto the uneven ground, the leaves of auburn littered around her.

Minimising her shuffles to the bare minimum, Ruth watched the professor's (possibly?) fingers glide effortlessly on the string, each note blooming into the air as though a blossom in springtime. The lady's lips were turned up to the sweetest of smiles, her body relaxed as she seemingly coaxed the guitar to sing in hushed, velvety tones, leaving Ruth to close her eyes and sway with the breeze. The music filled the quiet space around them with a soothing cadence that settled deep in her soul, the 11year-old's previous disturbance long forgotten.

Ruth stayed like this for a long while, letting herself ease into the melody and just...exist. She made no attempt to converse with the woman in efforts of avoiding interruptions. She would know, having experienced the annoyance when that occurs. Instead, she gingerly slipped her ukulele bag off her shoulders, unzipping the case as quietly as possible before distributing her prized possession into her arms, cradling it on her lap. As the music died from the lady's fingertips, Ruth waited until the very last note finished lingering in the air before clapping softly, as though relenting against making a loud noise and dissipating the peace from before, kudos to the wonderful melody played by the lady.

"That was beautiful," Ruth finally brought herself to say, meekly. "Perhaps you would be able to make a living out of this." She hadn't framed it in a manner of question, though it would seem as such. She cleared her throat, scratching at the back of her neck. "I would like to apologise for spying on you, miss," she admitted, dipping her head to avoid the woman's light gaze.

𝕽uth raised her eyes back to the other's face only to shrug feebly, mustering a shy smile. "Hobbies sometimes turn into things that can earn you a bit of money, especially when you're really talented at what you do." She raised her eyes to meet hers but didn't say more. There didn't feel like a need to pour compliments down on the lady. She carried herself in a way that spoke to Ruth as someone who knew her worth and that was all that mattered.

The young Hufflepuff relaxed under the lady's gaze, one that was far from critical. Letting her listen to the other play the guitar was one thing, but not chiding about it was another. Ruth had at least expected a teasing admonishment that Ruth shouldn't disturb those who were most likely wishing solace. Instead, the smile on the professor's face only seemed to grow bigger, much to her pleasant surprise. Ruth gave a hesitant nod in her direction, then raised her eyebrows at the lady's request in surprise.

"Oh-oh, well, yes. It is a ukulele." Ruth couldn't help but bring a hand to her lips, letting out a mumbled laugh. "Sorry. I just remembered the time when my younger brother called it a small guitar. It seems to be a misconception I hear a lot." Ruth paused, then quickly brought herself to add, "So I was just a little surprised, miss. Ah, you seem to know your stuff." Ruth slipped past the point of formality then. Realising a second too late, a rosy hue crept up her neck and she scratched at its back.

Flitting her eyes back and forth from the ground to the professor and back to the ground again, she drummed the body of her ukulele, the sound of red wood against the tips of her fingers heavy in the air, almost suspenseful. Ruth hesitated for a moment, then got the courage to utter, "Sure, miss." Ruth wanted to throw in a small joke, I hope you know how to improvise, miss, but it felt wrong to tell that to a Professor and sound disrespectful.

It had been a while since Ruth had played together with another. The last time may as well have been in April, a simple, Fairchild version of Happy Birthday. Ruth on the ukulele, Rita on the piano, and Ace volunteering to be the vocal instrument in the trio. As she let out the first strums on the ukulele, her fingers gingerly positioning themselves over a chord, Ruth could almost hear a faint tinkle in the air, her mother's laughter dancing in the breeze. Her lips curved into a small smile as she began strumming, hoping that an improv duet would be better than no duet at all.

Maybe she'd feel something again.

𝓕rom the minute the lady had begun to play, Ruth had known that she lacked expertise in playing with another. However, should Ruth have never played around with others in attempts to duet with them, she would have never guessed it. There was a certain grace and cautiousness to the professor's strumming, but the underlying confidence let her harmony smoothly run through Ruth's melody. Their notes weaved and spun, and Ruth could swear she saw the notes floating out of the holes of their string instruments, crystallising midair and bouncing off the surrounding trees before softly landing on the cluster of leaves. In eager excitement, she switched from strumming to rapid plucking and chucking, the minute sting of accidental nail grazes numbing from joy. How could an improvisation, two people no less, sound so good?

It was after a while that Ruth let the music reach its crescendo before letting her strums grow lighter and sound go softer until there was nothing but a quiver in her strings. This she silenced with a palm before glancing up at the lady, eyes shining. "That was good, miss," she gushed breathlessly, squeezing the ukulele to her chest. "Really good. It may have been the best duet I've had in a while." She let out a laugh. It was somewhat true. After all, she hadn't said it was the best duet she had ever had.

Ruth grew silent for a moment, fingers ghosting over the frets. It was still not obvious as to why the woman before her had decided to come here, of all places, to play the guitar. Would asking be rude? Ruth never had trouble speaking up before. Yet, a strange something was holding her back. Ruth didn't want to ruin her first impression of the Hufflepuff. She decided to keep quiet about it for now. There was still another she had to know, though.

She glanced up at the lady curiously, unable to contain the question any longer. "Miss, what do you teach?" She frowned. "I don't think I've seen you around at all." Then, not wanting to be misunderstood, quickly apologised, "Sorry." Even that was odd. Ruth would have never glazed over a lady with such serenity within the corridors of Hogwarts.

𝕭eauxbatons! Ruth's eyes lit up in awe. Was that not the school for magic in France? Ruth had yet to go to France – to be frank, she had yet to be anywhere. It was a bit of a disappointment to admit that her world was her oyster and that oyster only stretched as far as Bath and the Scottish Highlands, which wasn’t really far. One of Ruth’s only wishes, as any innocent child would wish, was to travel the world.

May her dreams never be dashed.

“France? Beauxbatons? What’s it like?” The young Hufflepuff couldn’t help but bubble out, curiosity getting the best of her. In the midst of brushing stray, fallen leaves away from her instrument and the tangled array of hair, Ruth failed to catch the minor glimpse of sadness within the missus’s eyes. “I’ve never been to France, though I’ve seen pictures. It looks like such a wonderful place. A land filled with art and philosophy! At least,” she bit her lip, slightly embarrassed. “That’s what I heard.” How embarrassing it would be to exclaim false declarations of a country that the First Year had never once set foot in. Best move on.

In an absent-minded manner, Ruth stroked the saddle of her ukulele. “Care of Magical Creatures…What’s the subject about? I’ve heard a little, but I only know so much.” She blinked up at the woman, inquisitive, forest-green eyes wide with wonder. The lady’s warm, soft eyes beamed down at her.

Yet, the question seemed oddly out of place against her tranquil face.

Ruth stared for a moment, then uneasily scratched her head in mild confusion. “Uh…” she chuckled nervously, “I’m not sure if it’s true, but it’s only fair to believe so. Ah…why do you ask?” Had something happened? Surely it wasn’t random. There was something ominous about the way it was phrased that she had trouble putting a finger on.