Harry heard the music and sighed softly. It was a beautiful, haunting tune that struck a chord in him. Slowly, he made his way to the pond he knew was in the small forest near Privet Drive. A man stood in the water, his clothes elegant, and he played a tune on a black violin. He stopped playing and looked at Harry.
"What is your name, child?" He asked, his voice soft. Harry blinked back tears. No one had ever asked him that.
"Harry, sir. Harry Potter." Harry responded shyly. The man regarded him thoughtfully for a moment.
"I am Ceol, little Harry." He said softly, lowering his violin. "You are upset, little Harry. What is upsetting you?"
"No one's ever been this nice to me. My aunt and uncle call me freak, because sometimes things happen and I can't explain it." Harry said, sitting down. Ceol joined him, and sat down on the fallen trunk.
"They are cruel. You are not a freak, they are the freaks, little one." Ceol said soothingly.
"Can you teach me to play violin like you?" Harry asked softly, pointing at the instrument. Ceol looked at it, as if surprised he was holding it.
"As you wish, little Harry. It will take me a week to craft you one, but come visit as you wish. I am glad to have company after many lonely years." Ceol said with a small smile. Harry smiled a bit at Ceol ,who chuckled softly, and pulled Harry into a small hug. Harry smiled, and waved as he left, picking up his bag where he'd dropped it when Dudley had chased him into the forest.
A year later, Harry turned ten, and Ceol began to let Harry take his own violin home, and the little boy was a talented musician, to say the least. Ceol was surprised at how quickly the boy caught on, especially when he'd do his schoolwork at the pond, and have so much trouble with it.
"I don't understand, Athair, it doesn't make sense. He's musically inclined, but his schoolwork is horrible." Ceol complained to his father when his visited for his yearly visit to make sure Ceol was alright.
"Can I meet him, mo mhac?" Righ, Ceol's father asked softly. All of their kind had smooth, flowing soft voices, and after a week of meeting with Ceol, Harry's voice had taken on the same flowing soft feel.
"I do not see why not, Athair, but I do not know how he will feel to another person joining us." Ceol said, biting his lip, a habit he'd picked up from the child. Righ saw the little habit, and thought it was hilarious that his almost one thousand year old son was picking up habits from a ten year old boy.
"Ceol!" Harry's voice called softly. "I am here." Harry had picked up the habit of no longer using contractions, and it drove the school he went to nuts. But his handwriting had improved in the past year, as Ceol had explained to him the importance of neat handwriting.
"Child, do you allow my father to join us?" Ceol asked in the same tone as Harry.
"I do." Harry responded firmly. Taking a closer look at the boy's face, Righ saw traces of his kinds blood.
"The reason he is musically inclined is because he is one of us. Who are your parents, child?" Righ asked gently.
"I do not know my parents names. They died when I was but a year old, and I do not remember them." Harry responded with a soft frown. Ceol sent a quick glare at his father, before hugging Harry.
"How did your assignment for class go?" Ceol asked. Harry brightened up.
"Well. I spoke as you suggested, Ceol, and it worked! I got a good mark." Harry smiled widely. "I spoke of my music for public speaking, Athair mo chara." Harry said respectfully to Righ, surprising the older man.
"You taught him some of our language?" Righ asked, a dark red eyebrow arching. Ceol's face hardened.
"Yes, Athair, as you have noticed, he is much like us. I see no reason to not teach him some of our ways." Ceol responded tightly. Righ nodded, and knelt down beside Harry, noticing the boy had no problem with getting the pants he was wearing wet, but Righ then noticed his clothes matched Ceol's almost perfectly.
"Harry, do you know what we are?" Harry shook his head, his shoulder length hair hitting his nose, and the boy pouted slightly, before brushing it out of his face. "We are descendants of Nøkken. Research him, and then come back. Ceol, I shall see you soon." Righ sighed and walked back towards the small cave where his cloak awaited him. He would have to check on Ceol's brother to see that Cumhacht was safe as well, before heading back to his home, to figure out where Harry had sprung from.
"Are we still practising, Ceol?" Harry asked softly, softer than usual. Ceol sighed and looked a bit miserable.
"No, little one. I must go make sure I have not caused any harm teaching you what I have. Do as my father said, and research my ancestor. Perhaps you will get some answers to some of your questions." Harry nodded sadly and began to leave. He dropped a piece of paper, and Ceol only saw it once Harry had disappeared. He opened it, and began to read.
Public Speech- Draft 1
As the saying says, 'focail bog im aon meacain bhána, ach ní bheidh siad harden i gcroílár an cabáiste oiread.' That has spoken a lot to myself, as the one person I consider dear to me butters the truth, so to speak. His name, Ceol, means music, and that is what he teaches. He is the one who taught me to use the violin correctly, and to draw haunting tunes that speak of my emotions from the delicate strings. I have been playing violin for a year now, and it means the world to me, my violin.
For part of my presentation, I will be playing a tune of my own composing, and I call it Na Deora an Aerspáis. That means 'The Tears of the Sky' and I composed this while watching the dew fall from the sky to the lilies in my aunt's garden one morning. It is short, true, but I think the music speaks for itself.
(play tune) This tune reminds me of my teacher. Ceol and I have only known each other for a short time, and yet he is like my uncle, or my brother. I do not think that I would be the way I am now, if it were not for him.
He is usually a very secretive person, and yet with me, he holds nothing back. The first time I met him, he let me rant at him for a long time, simply because he saw I needed it. He then proceeded to do the same with me, except took about half as much time as I did. I am happy he trusts me like this, and am glad he finds me an interesting conversation partner.
Some people tell me he is all in my head, and I am not actually meeting up with anyone; that it is my imagination. In that case, I thank my imagination, because Ceol is what has kept me sane.
Ceol smiled at the words. Harry meant well, and he had attempted to express how he felt in words. There was a smaller, more recent note at the bottom which read 'Just say how you feel. Planning ahead will do nothing for you.' Ceol chuckled and folded the paper back up, and slipped it into the small pocket in his vest. He would keep those words for a long time.
Quickly slipping into his small cave, he followed his father.
"Ceol, what is Hogwarts?" Harry asked a day after his eleventh birthday. Ceol gave him a look, before answering hesitantly.
"A school for wizards and witches. Why do you ask?" Ceol responded in a softer voice than usual.
"I got a letter from them, telling me I had been accepted there. Do I have to go?" Harry siad with a pout. Ceol chuckled.
"I would honestly suggest writing to Durmstrang and requesting the chance to go there. You would like it more, and could learn to use magic using music as well. However, I suggest you write to Hogwarts and tell them you are going, if only to get them to leave you alone." Harry nodded and got two pieces of paper out of his bag. He opened a black pen he had, and quickly scribbled in his old handwriting to the Deputy Headmistres of Hogwarts, who's name he knew was Minerva McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall,
I will be on the train headed to Hogwarts on September 1st. I will be able to by my own books, as my aunt has told me where Diagon Alley is.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter
Harry then wrote the next letter in his nicer handwriting, but paused before starting.
"Ceol, what is the name of the Headmaster of Durmstrang?" He asked. Ceol smiled.
"Igor Karkaroff. He is a former Death Eater, and if you suggest that your aura is even remotely dark, he will believe you to be the next Dark Lord. The truth is Lord Voldemort is still alive, living with near my brother." Harry nodded and began to write.
Headmaster Karkaroff,
My name is Harry Potter. I have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, however, I feel my magic would be more comfortable at Durmstrang. I request the chance to attend for my first year. I have been in contact with the youngest descendant of Nøkken for over three years, and have learned to begin to command my magic using music. I would like to know if there's any chance of learning how to further use that skill at Durmstrang.
Harry paused. "Ceol, what's my relationship to Igor Karkaroff that makes you so certain that he will accept me at Durmstrang?" Ceol chuckled, having watched as the boy skillfully wrote letter, waiting for that question.
"Igor is your godfather. He was close with your mother during their years at Hogwarts. Lily went for her seven years, Igor was there for the last two. He was in Ravenclaw, although Slytherin would have accepted him just as well. He is a brilliant wizard, but quite cowardly. Lily named him godfather without telling him." Ceol explained. Ceol had done Harry a favour and gone to Diagon Alley and gotten the boy a wand, one that didn't work so well, and some basic books, as well as a list of all of his vaults, the activity in them since his parents' death, and James and Lily's wills. Ceol had kept the wills, giving the boy everything else. He had purposely avoided giving the boy knowledge of the schools in Europe, as he didn't want the boy doing as Dumbledore wanted, and just blindly trusting him. Ceol wanted the best for Harry; he had become quite attached to him.
"Alright." Harry said calmly before finishing the letter:
Your godson,
Harry Evans-Potter
Smiling, Harry handed the finished letter to Ceol, who whistled in his soft tone, and a midnight black owl flew into the clearing.
"This is Ares. He is my owl. Recently, his mate had a son, I shall give you little Hades as a gift, Harry." Harry smiled gratefully.
"Alright, Ceol. If you insist upon it." Harry chuckled as he saw the look on his friend's face as his said the word 'upon'.
"No! Harry, don't," Ceol groaned as Harry laughed softly.
"Alright, Ceol." Harry repeated cheerfully. He tied the letter onto Ares' foot, and quietly said "fly, Ares." The owl took off and Harry smiled.
"Harry, I made you a gift for when you go." Ceol said, holding out a beautifully carved wooden flute. "They will begin your lessons using musical magic with a flute, and I thought you'd prefer one that you are used to, rather than a ridiculously rough piece of wood with holes carved into it." Harry smiled gratefully and took the flute carefully. He lifted it to his mouth and played a simple, four note progression. The notes hung clearly, and then the water ripple slightly. It was a very basic scrying spell that Ceol had taught him so they could keep in contact with something besides letters. Ceol smiled proudly.
"Go home, Harry. Rest, and I'll send the letter when it arrives." He said knowing the boy was exhausted. He could see the bags under the young boy's eyes, and the weariness in his green eyes.