Disclaimer: JK Rowling is great, and she doesn't write songfics. This is not a songfic. But, it does refer to some good songs.

Schubert's Impromptu Op. 90 No. 4 in A-flat major wouldn't just play itself. It seemed like it did, though, when Aurelia Balogh was sitting in front of the keys.

She played it in the morning while her grey-brown hair was still damp from the shower and her laundry turned in the machines. It was her favorite piece this month; she enjoyed its fascinating and indecisive mixture of light and dark, playful and sophisticated. She let the music run under her fingers as she gazed out her front window at the day beginning. Cars rolled down the steep drive from the neighborhood toward the city. Power lines cris-crossed through the trees, and birds sat indiscriminately atop lines and branches as they, too, started the morning with song.

The sky was overcast; it wasn't unpleasant, but a gentle grey that gave the world a far-off look. The weather was always beautiful if you found the right kind of song to match with it. Aurelia thought about the lessons she would be teaching that afternoon. One student, Liz Cheever, had performed and placed in the regional competition last week. She would need to choose a set of solos to take to nationals, which would be a tricky choice, but trickier still—Liz would need Aurelia to give her just the right balance of praise and push to keep practicing hard. The longer she taught, the more Aurelia realized that piano teaching was just as much about dealing with the minds and motivations of young people as it was about the piano. As Aurelia considered her day's teaching, she only gave corners of her attention to the scene she was watching outside and the rapid descending arpeggios she was playing.

Aurelia played a wrong chord. A purple sports car had zipped past, and there were two people standing on the pavement that had not been there before; a blonde man in a long black coat, and a little son that matched in everything but his expression. While the man was scowling, the boy was smirking like he had just gotten away with stealing candy. They stood on the previously empty sidewalk.

Well, they must just have stepped out from a house while Aurelia was lost in musing. She started playing again from the start of the second repeat.

The song was like…a sparrow fluttering through a moonlit forest…or a child running downstairs on Halloween night…or crystal chandeliers in a dusty deserted palace. Aurelia listened to the notes roll down and she landed on the two final chords with satisfaction.

"You see, that is the kind of music I want to play!" said a small but forceful voice behind her. Aurelia whipped around to see the two from the pavement standing in the doorway of her music room.

"Excuse me, did you knock?"

The man looked slowly from Aurelia's bookcases to the hanging ceiling lamp, to the recording equipment, the grand piano, and finally to her. He sniffed.

"You're Madame Balogh…the best piano teacher in the county?"

Aurelia gave an uneasy laugh; no one had ever called her Madame, and though she knew she was the best in the county and one of at least the top ten piano teachers in all of Britain, she tried to avoid saying so herself.

"I am Aurelia Balogh, yes." She answered.

The boy spoke out, "And are you the best? I want the best."

"I suppose, in this county, yes I am."

"Fine then. My son wants to play the piano." Said the father. There was something disturbing about the man, and Aurelia certainly didn't like his manners, but she noticed a conscious elegance to the way he tapped his fingers on the silver buttons of his coat. His fingers were long, and moved rhythmically. Perfect piano hands.

"Are you a musician yourself?" She asked.

"A musician? No." He said, as if the idea was funny, and Aurelia couldn't help but be offended. She could see that friendly conversation was pointless with a person like him, so she jumped to business.

"For a student his age, I teach weekly lessons for £35 a half-hour."

Aurelia expected him to disagree with such a high price, in fact she half hoped it might get rid of them, but he pulled a brick-sized stack of cash out of an inside coat pocket and stepped forward to hand it to her, saying "This should do for a few weeks". It looked like real money, and would do, certainly, for a few years. What business would any decent person have carrying that much cash? She decided not to think about it.

The man addressed the boy. "I'll be back in an hour or so, Scorpius. Remember, not a word about this to your grandfather."

"I know," the boy said, rolling his eyes, while his father turned to leave.

"Wait," Aurelia stammered, "I prefer parents to stay and listen for—" but he strode down the hall and out the front door.

Aurelia took a few deep breaths.

She looked at the young boy, who was seating himself on the piano bench. "Well then, so, is your real name Scorpius?"

He glared. "Yes! Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy."

"Very well, I wondered whether it was a nickname. Scorpius, before you play—wait—put your hands in your lap while we—ok, I'm putting the cover down for now."

He glared at her again. This lesson may have started off strangely, but Aurelia was determined to be calmly in control. The first lesson was the most important; be strict in the first lesson, and you could lighten up later; be light in the first lesson, and you would forever be struggling for discipline.

"I always start by asking a few questions. How old are you?"

"Eight."

"Do you have a piano at home to practice on?"

"Yes."

"Your father said he isn't a musician. Is anyone else in your family?"

"Not really. Mum sings sometimes..."

"Well, perhaps she could come to your lessons in the future and help you practice. For students your age I very much prefer having a parent come."

"Maybe…but she is busy a lot. I'm good at doing things by myself."

Scorpius' fingers kept moving, and he lifted them up to run along the edge of the cover. Aurelia decided to let him play just a little, then go back to talking.

"We'll see about having your mother come. Now, I am going to open the lid, but please don't play until I tell you to. Agreed?"

"OK."

Aurelia explained the pattern of white and black keys, and the letter names of each note. Scorpius sniggered.

"You only go to letter G? Wow, you really are stupider than us."

"First, stupid is not a polite thing to call anyone. Second, we only go to letter G in music because the next note is an exact octave up from the first. Listen, these are all A: she played all eight A's on the keyboard from lowest to highest. Can you hear that they are the same note?

"Yes! So that means, these are all B's—" He reached for the lowest B, but Aurelia snapped the cover shut.

"You agreed not to play until I said so."

"Fine!"

"The distance between one A and the next, or one C and the next, is called an octave—"

"—because there are eight white keys. Like an octagon or an octopus."

In spite of his poor manners, Aurelia found that Scorpius was fairly clever, and fascinated by the piano. He naturally sat up straight on the bench with nearly perfect posture. It looked like his hands would be long-fingered and graceful like his father's.

She got out a block seat to raise him to the level where his arms could be square with the keyboard, and a box for his feet. "Go ahead and put your right thumb on middle C," she instructed, "and line up your other fingers, one on each white key. Keep your wrist up, like you are…yes, and your fingers curved just like you have them. You have very nice posture, did you already learn this?"

"I'm just doing what the mug—people in the shop do." Said Scorpius, and began playing all 5 of the notes his fingers were on at once.

"Wait, please. I want you to play them one by one. Watch me first: 1-2-3-4-5."

Scorpius played 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1, in a steady rhythm, which was impressive enough for a beginner, but he also swung his elbow out and back gracefully and even gave the phrase a bit of a crescendo and decrescendo. Aurelia smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he would be worth the trouble.

Caesura

(To be continued)