Title: Ah music!
Summary: Dumbledore wasn't just being his usual eccentric self at the First year feast. Music is a magic in and of itself and Harry Potter is setting out to learn it.
1
Twelve year old Harry Potter stopped at the top of the stairs and wheezed. It was a sunny day in Surrey and he was sweating buckets under the weight of the cello he was dragging.
But, at least he had made a good bargain for it. Hedwig was now flying outside of her cage.
Returning from his first year at Hogwarts had been as painful as he thought it would be. All the threats of magic couldn't change the fact that he was stuck there and still a child. All his things had been locked up tight and he was stuck doing chores to 'earn his keep' and listening to Petunia and Vernon gush over their whale of a child.
It had been particularly bad this time around. Now he knew what it was like to have a room filled with warmth and friends, he had actual things and people he missed.
(Although they didn't seem to miss him much judging by their lack of letters.)
Smeltings had suggested that Dudley take up a musical instrument and he had chosen the biggest of the lot. A music store had opened up nearby and he had picked out the most expensive cello there was. He went to classes for a good two weeks, Petunia waxing poetic about how her little Dudders was sure to be a genius and pick things up in a snap.
She was wrong. She was so very wrong.
Dudley had had to practice the cello as part of his homework, much to his consternation. He did it half-heartedly and the result was pain for the rest of the household. The screeching sounds of the cello had driven everyone mad, even Petunia hadn't been able to defend him after a while and yesterday Harry had watched Vernon get pissed off at Dudley for the first time in his life. Dudley had been ordered to 'put that thing away, for the love of God!' and done so with a pout.
And so, here Harry was, carrying the cello all the way to the store to return it.
Just one more flight of stairs and he was standing outside the glass of the store. Someone left the store and Harry felt the cool rush of air-conditioned air upon his heated skin. It gave him the burst of strength he needed to haul the cello inside as quickly as he could.
There was only one person there, at the counter a man stood in dark green pressed slacks and a white shirt with bright red suspenders. He looked happy and that was an odd sight in Privet Drive. Mostly people in the neighbourhood looked constipated and smug.
"Excuse me, I'm here to return this cello."
The man looked at him in surprise but the second Harry handed him the receipt his mouth twisted in distaste and expectation. "Dudley Dursley, why am I not surprised." He muttered and waved his hand at the seat in the store and Harry took the gesture for what it was and sat down. The man opened the cello case and inspected the instrument carefully.
Harry took the opportunity to look over the shop. It was incredibly...pretty. It was embarrassing to say but he couldn't think of any other word that suited it. The walls had guitars of all types hanging off them, gleaming in cherry reds and deep browns, some of them spiking up in the way those electric ones did, the ones he had seen on TV at least, keyboards on another side along with sprawling drum sets. Violins were studded around a stand in the middle and a great big saxophone was on display as well. There was just something about the room that was soothing, perhaps it was the woodsy smell in the air or perhaps it was the melody playing over the speakers. It made Harry think of broom wax and the sound of air whipping by him as he flew and he sunk into the plush chair with a happy sigh.
"Music, it's a magic beyond anything else."
It was an innocuous little statement by the man. Any other time and Harry wouldn't have given it a second thought. But he felt at peace there in a way that reminded him of Hogwarts and he had been thinking of magic and how much he missed it all for so long that it struck him as an odd thing to say.
"Or at least that's what my old headmaster used to say," The man continued cheerfully and Harry sat up straight, all sense of lethargy leaving him.
"I don't suppose that school of yours was out in Scotland?"
The man looked up then, a grave look on his face and his eyes flickered over Harry taking him in quickly, honing in on his scar that was peeking out from behind bangs.
"...Harry Potter?"
Harry almost died in relief. For a while, he'd convinced himself Hogwarts was a dream, magic was a dream. Setting Hedwig free had been a good thing but he'd also ended up losing his one last anchor to the Wizarding world.
He had never been as glad to be so recognisable until then.
"That's me." He swallowed. "You're a —?"
"Wizard." The man declared with a grin and held out his hand, "Dylan Baines, at your service."
The smile dropped from as his face as Harry buried his face in his hands to keep him from seeing just how close to tears he was. It took him a while but he finally managed to get a hold of himself and when Harry looked up again Dylan's face was much closer and twisted in concern.
"You alright, lad?"
"Fine, fine just didn't think I'd meet a wizard here."A bit embarrassed by his thick voice Harry coughed and changed the topic, "About the cello."
"The Dursleys made you carry it all the way here?" Dylan said sharply and Harry didn't say anything, twiddling his thumbs. Wizard or not, no one had ever taken his complaints about the Dursleys seriously, all it had ever done was get Harry himself into trouble. "Well, I'll need to call them and make sure they really were the ones who sent you here with it."
Harry felt a pang at that. No doubt even Dylan had heard about 'that cousin of Dudley's, the troublemaker' and wanted to make sure that he hadn't stolen it.
"Right, of course." He said in a dead voice and Dylan frowned.
"Look around the shop if you want." There was an odd look in his eyes that reminded Harry of Ollivander, an eerie air to his voice that made him seem mysterious. "Perhaps something will jump out to you."
"Um okay, thanks." Harry edged away and ended up near the wall with the guitars. In the mirrored side panels, he saw Dylan pick up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't take long for the man to gain that harassed annoyed look that sane people got when talking to the Dursleys and when Harry was sure his attention was entirely on the call he began looking around.
His fingers brushed out against a guitar and ran softly over the strings. The low thrum fascinated him and he pulled back with a smile on his face. It was just amazing and he could almost believe that they really were magic. The call was taking a surprisingly long time and Harry took advantage of that, slowly perusing everything in the shop as if he was in a bookstore.
The stringed instruments called out to him and he stroked his hands over most of them, fascinated by how different they sounded though they must have all just been sounds caused by the tension in them. The different sounds in the banjo, the mandolin, the guitar, and the bass were amazing but it was the one ukulele that stole his attention. It had a pale yellow body and its stem was a darker wood. If it weren't for the label, he wouldn't even know it was a ukulele, the shape was oddly triangular and it didn't go with what he thought ukuleles looked like. When his fingers touched its strings he felt a rush of warmth not unlike when he had gotten his wand and before he knew it, it was in his hands and he puttered around with it, not knowing if he was holding it the right way, or which hand he should use to play it even, only that he needed to hold it.
"—oh Ms Smith, I'll be with you in a moment," Dylan said and Harry turned with the instrument cradled in his hands as if it was something holy, only to find no one else in the store but him. He turned questioning eyes to Dylan but the man just winked at him and went back to the call. "Mrs Dursley, your son has caused considerable damage and—"
He was cut off as the voice on the other side rose in volume and what followed was a series of agreeing sounds before the call finally ended.
"What happened?" Harry asked, only to flush as Dylan looked down at the instrument Harry was holding close to himself and smirked.
"Well Harry, I'm afraid the cello has been handled quite rough for something that's only been out of the store for a few weeks."
"But why did you say Ms Smith-?"
"People like Petunia Dursley don't like it when others talk about them especially in a disparaging tone. But of course I'm just a store owner so..."
He had manipulated her. Aunt Petunia could care less what a 'hippy' like him thought but if anyone else— say, an imaginary Ms Smith— was to hear that her son had run roughshod over the cello and then wanted to return it, then that would make Petunia care.
Petty Petunia, as her 'friends' called her behind her back.
"So I'll have to carry the cello all the way back again?" Harry cried out in dismay, his heart sinking. It was a heavy thing.
Dylan beamed, "Well we worked out a deal. I'll return half the cost of the cello and you will work off the rest."
"What?"
"Yes, I know it's quite tedious but I'm afraid you'll have to report here every morning and help me out here. At the end of summer I'll be refunding the other half of the money."
Harry frowned, his eyes flicking over to where the cello stood. It didn't look that broken to him, still shiny and clean. Dudley hadn't even practised on it all that much, he preferred to bully kids in the park instead.
"Is it really damaged?" He asked, suspicious and Dylan's grin widened.
"Not as much as I told her it was."
"Then why-?"
"Do you like the Dursleys?" He asked suddenly, all hint of amusement leaving his face and Harry was taken aback by the sudden change.
"No but-"
"I figured you might want some time away from them."
"I-"Harry was grateful but not exactly used to people helping him. What reason could Dylan possibly have for this? "Why?"
"Penance." Dylan said with a sad smile.
"I don't understand."
"There was someone else that I could have helped, should have. However, I didn't. I'd like to make it up to them." He wilted only to spring up again. "Besides it's the first time in a while I've met a Listener, might as well pass along my skills."
"A Listener?"
"You felt it didn't you? The magic in that." His eyes flicked to the ukulele and Harry looked down to stare at it. He felt something sure, but that it was magic?
He had never read about that in any of his school books.
"Magic?"
"A magic beyond anything taught in Hogwarts." Dylan's eyes shone as if he was another Dumbledore in the making. "Do you want to learn?"
Magic? A new type of magic? One that he could do now, outside of school?
Harry could ask for nothing more.