Marion turned slowly, as though emerging from a half-remembered song, her eyes refocusing on the present. Her expression brightened with fond familiarity upon seeing Miss Joshi accompanied by her friend.

“Miss Joshi,” she greeted, her voice as light as parchment pages turning. “Eeeeeeeeeeeever a welcome presence. I do hope you brought your ears as well as your curiosity. Tonight’s lesson may prove as much a concert as a class.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the table of instruments, hardly a secret that this evening involved certain musical elements. “Find yourselves somewhere comfortable. Just not toooooooooooo comfortable as not to go drifting off to lullabies this evening. That would be teeeeeeeeeerribly rude and result in detention”

She offered a small, knowing smile before turning back to the instruments once more.

Marion, ever so perceptive despite her lack of corporeal ears, turned smoothly mid-drift as Kara entered. Her eyes twinkled in thanks to the moonlight more so than her own ghostly glow.

“Miss Walsh,” she greeted with a graceful nod, her tone light but knowing. “It’s a pleasure to see you again—upright and unscathed, no less.” She floated just a touch closer, folding her translucent hands in front of her as if settling into a fireside chat. Ooooooh those days of feeling the warmth of a fire lick her cheeks as she settled in for the evening over a good book and the snores of her dear husband wafting from the bedroom. “Now, I dooooooo believe you were on the verge of a theory about the lighting. Something about your feet, perhaps?” Her expression was the very picture of polite intrigue, though there was a hint mirth behind it. “Do go on, my dear. I do SOOO adore a well-formed complaint dressed up as scientific reasoning.”

Her head tilted ever so slightly at the sound of Miss Thanatos-Misra’s voice, as if tuning into a familiar frequency, and turned with a smile that bloomed slow but sincere.

“Miss Thanatos-Misra,” she said, with the cordial warmth of someone greeting a favored niece. “A pleasure, as always. I trust the stars haven’t lost their sparkle for you, hmmmm? Not even in the shadow of sweet confections.” She gave a graceful sweep of her hand toward the seats, the candlelight catching in the filmy edge of her translucent sleeve. “Settle in, dearie, yes, settle in. We’ve a bit of magic to coax from all these lovelies before the night is done.”

“Mr. Amstern,” she said warmly. “You have the look of someone peeeeeeeeeerfectly in tune with the rhythm of twilight. I suspect you're one of the few who find the late hour a delight rather than a demand.”
Her gaze drifted to where his attention had flickered—the instruments, polished and peculiar, catching stray starlight. “Curiosity suits you, dearie. We'll be putting it to use shortly, I pooooooooooositively assure you.”

Marion paused mid-glide, the candlelight flickering curiously through her translucent form as she turned toward Mr. Cadwallader.

“Well now,” she said with a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, “unless time has unraveled and rewound itself in the stairwell, I do believe we’ve skipped straight through breakfast and tea to find ourselves firmly planted in the evening.” Her tone was light, not unkind, and much more amused than admonishing. “Still, Mr. Cadwallader,” she prompted gently, floating a little nearer to peer at him over the rim of her spectacles. “I rather admire the optimism of greeting every hour as morning. A clean slate, a bright beginning, a perfectly blank star chart. Though I CERTAINLY hope you have not slept the whole day away and thus the good morning.”

“Ah, a goooooood evening to you too, Miss Bay,” she greeted with a serene, airy lilt, gliding a touch closer to the transfer. “Still settling in just fine, I hope? I do imagine the past month has felt rather like being dropped into someone else’s dream—new halls, new faces, and Peeves hurling inkpots at your head.”

She tilted her head, eyes lifting to the dome as if sharing in Rory’s quiet awe. “A beauty, isn’t she? The sky never quite looks the same twice… though I suspect that’s a big part of what draws us to it.”
She paused and then in a quieter voice, “Dooooooo let me know if anything feels a bit too new. Transitions can be tricky little things, and I’d be dreadfully cross with myself if one of our brightest new stars felt adrift.”

Her expression softened with visible fondness as Hermione finished her thought. A faint arch of her translucent brows followed as if a clarification hovered gently at the edge of her tongue, waiting its turn with grace.

“How aaaaaaaaaaabsolutely lovely, Miss Laramore,” she began, her tone gentle, measured, touched with genuine appreciation. “Though I must note, ever so softly mind you, that Hermes himself isn’t one of the 88 officially recognized constellations.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that conjured the patient affection of a grandmother correcting a beloved child mid-reverie. “But it’s an easy mistake to make, eeeeeeeeeeeeespecially when myth and starlight have been tangled together for thousands upon thousands of years.”

She glided forward, her ghostly feet not quite touching the floor, hands folded neatly behind her back as she continued. “Hermes, the fleet-footed herald of the gods, is traditionally linked with several constellations, however. Pleiades, for example, where his mother Maia resides. Some even connect him to Lyra, for the lyre he crafted and traded to Apollo…” She paused to give the instruments a very pointed look accompanied by a coy ‘hmmmmmmmmm’.

She paused just beside Hermione’s desk now, her voice softening further. “But how positively divine, my dear, knowing your name is etched in the sky like that… that’s more than memorable. That’s legacy.”


Marion drifted ever so slightly nearer, her silvery form catching the faintest glimmer from the overhead starlight. At the Gryffindor’s half-yawned answer, she inclined her head with a grace that was somehow both amused and approving.

“Libra,” she said gently. “One of the few constellations to represent an object rather than a being and often tied to balance, justice, and yes of course, the zodiac.” A faint smile flickered. “Whether one believes in such things or not, the symbols tend to stay with us. That alone gives them power of a sort. I find reaching my horoscope to be a fanciful delight at times. I’ll admit there’s something delightfully indulgent about reading a forecast and pretending the cosmos cares whether I have a lucky color. Last one I read advised me to stop collecting antique spoons and start preparing for an unexpected lightning. Oh yes, and I am meant to avoid snacking on pickled dandelions.” It had all provided her a proper chuckle―not a single antique spoon in any of her remaining personal belongings and lightning could do her no harm.

Or had it read lightEning? Well, one couldn’t get much lighter than a ghost now, could they!

She hovered for a moment longer, translucent hands clasped at her waist as her gaze flicked over the young lioness’ barely-contained restlessness. It wasn’t the first time a student had looked more ready for bed than for a lesson. Nor would it be the last. And oh, if only they said what they were wondering they may actually receive the answers they sought.

Hmmmm…no response to her playful query? No matter. Marion would not press the boy on his sleeping habits for the time being.

She gave a theatrical shiver of amusement, though no sound accompanied it. “Sagittarius, the archer—one of the more easily spotted zodiac constellations, especially on clear winter nights, some might say. And yes, while astrology might not be an exact science,” her tone dipped into playful irony, “as I told Miss Calrissian-Carter, I dooooo admit that reading my horoscope has become one of my guilty posthumous pleasures.” Her gaze drifted upward toward the dome, a giggle escaping her lips—light and staccato, not unlike the cluck of a particularly amused hen. “A particularly sacred and important constellation to our Forbidden Forest dwelling centaur colony as well.”

“Oh, how absolutely splendid, Miss Joshi!” she exclaimed, her voice rich with admiration and a whisper of awe. “Another with their name directly woven directly into the sky.” Marion had not done so with her own children, but she knew many the stargazing soul who had done just that―one of them being a former professor of Astronomy as well. Though goodness gracious HEAVENS above had it be surprising to hear that man had managed offspring. Not that Marion judged, CERTAINLY not.

She floated a few thoughtful paces, the dome above casting soft starlight across her translucent features. “You are quite right—the Pleiades, also known as the Seven Sisters, are nestled within the constellation Taurus. And in many cultures, including your own, they hold stories far older than our textbooks can contain.” She paused and wiggled mid-air eagerly. “Another example, shall we? Although Taurus is not explicitly named in Lakota tradition, the overlap between the Pleiades and the bull symbol, specifically a bison in this case, strongly echoes what Western astronomers later defined as the Taurus constellation.”

She tilted her head with a soft smile as the young Ravenclaw spoke, finding the simplicity and sincerity of his response to be terribly endearing. “Leo,” she echoed warmly. “Three letters. Bold creature. Memorable indeed. Sometimes it really is that simple. And while ‘because lions are cool’ may not be the most perfectly sound astronomical reasoning, it is nonetheless valid in this context, Mr. Amstern.”

She drifted slightly across the classroom floor, the hem of her spectral robes trailing like mist behind her. “The lion is, after all, a symbol of strength, courage, and pride…attributes civilizations have revered for centuries as well as one of Hogwarts very own Founders as I am suuuuuuure you are all very well aware of. The Greeks gave us the story of the Nemean lion, whose hide was impervious to weapons and was ultimately bested by Heracles in one of his labors. In some Mesopotamian star charts, the lion constellation is tied to the goddess Ishtar, whoooooooooo is primarily known for her roles as the goddess of love, war, and fertility. Well spotted, dearie. A solid reminder that even the shooooooooortest names can carry the loooooooongest shadows of meaning.”

“Aries,” she said fondly, as though the name of the constellation were an old acquaintance. Which was partially true, though an old acquaintance for someone signiiiiiificantly younger than herself felt a bit silly to coin. “A fitting start for someone with your sense of curiosity, Miss Bay.”
She drifted a step closer, her voice laced with a mild, scholarly amusement, and her words directed to the entirety of the class and not simply at the young Hufflepuff transfer. “Now, I’ve heard quite a few students today mention their zodiac signs—and it always delights me. Not because I put stock in Astrology myself,” she added as a reminder, “but because it means you’re asking questions. Seeking stories. And that, my dear, is the very first step in becoming an astronomer.”

She glided slowly through starlight cast by the enchanted dome, flapping her arms a bit as though she were conducting an orchestra. “Aries, as a constellation, is often linked to the golden ram of Greek myth. A creature of salvation and sacrifice, its fleece later became the prize of the Argonauts. But beyond the myth, Aries has guided agricultural calendars, shaped navigation routes, and even marked the beginning of the zodiac year for many ancient cultures such as the Babylonians whooooooooooooo are ALSO often credited with formalizing the zodiac as we know it today.”

Marion’s wispy silvery gaze lingered on Hermione with a soft, approving gleam as the girl settled back into her seat, violin in hand.

“A fine choice, Miss Laramore,” she said, voice light and laced with something almost secretive. “The violin is a complex and breathtaking companion—elegant, precise, and capable of surprising resonance. Much like the stars, I’d say… or perhaps like those who study them with such earnest care. Quite reflective, wouldn't you say?”

She didn’t elaborate further, only gave the faintest amused nod, as though she knew something about both violin and student that she wasn’t quite ready to share.


She observed Miss Thanatos-Misra’s selection with clear delight, a curl of misty fondness shaping her features.

“Ah yes, the ukulele,” she hummed with a voice light as moonlight on water. “A curious little marvel…easy to carry, bright of tone, and often underestimated. Much like the smaller constellations in the sky, wouldn’t you say? Constellations small in shape, but quite bold in stories.” Her eyes twinkled with that signature Burbage way.

Her smile bloomed as Mr. Cadwallader approached. “Oh, Mr. Cadwallader,” she said with a soft chuckle. “You’ve no need to apologize, though your courtesy is duuuuuuuely noted and most welcome. Precision is admirable, yes, but a kind heart and a genuine spirit make the finest impression of all. Though I MUST confess, for a moment I feared you’d been asleep all day. It is certainly a relief to know it was simply a matter of a slip of the tongue!” Her tone was light, teasing, with a wink to soften the jest. “Though truthfully, at Hogwarts, you’ll find lessons can happen at nearly any hour. The stars, after all, keep their own schedule.”

Her eyes twinkled as he lifted the banjo. “[b]And what a bold choice,” she added, voice lilting with delight. “The banjo’s not shy, nor is it subtle. It rings out, joyfully and unmistakably. A rather charming mirror of your presence, wouldn’t you say? No telling off necessary. I dooooooo hope to not put it in such a sour mood it refuses to perform for you.”


Professor Burbage looked up just as Miss Joshi’s hand lifted, her eyes already crinkling in a pleased smile. “Ah, an excellent question indeed,” she chirped. “And yes, it does.” She floated slowly in a figure eight as she spoke. “Now, there are far more linguistically included members to the Burbage family than myself, but I can say that the word lyric traces its etymology back to the Greek word ‘lyrikos’. A word which quite literally means 'of the lyre.’ In ancient times, as you may recall, poetry was often sung and when it was it was almost always accompanied by a lyre rather than simply read aloud.”

Her gaze swept fondly over the harp in the young lady’s hands. “And what a fitting instrument you’ve chosen. The harp’s gentle resonance echoes that same intimacy, if I doooooo say so myself. And I do,” she chortled. “Delicate, thoughtful, and deeply expressive. Much like yourself.”


Marion offered Rory a small smile as she settled back into her seat with the violin. “Lovely choice, Miss Bay. The violin is one of the most versatile instruments in the world—capable of carrying both melody and harmony, and used in everything from classical symphonies to traditional folk music,” she noted appreciatively. “It takes both curiosity and confidence to pick it up without hesitation. Well done.”

Originally Posted by blackboard

Originally Posted by badger_boy_93

Originally Posted by FearlessLeader19