"Music gives a soul to the univ
erse, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything."
- Plato
During first year, she had been pretty sure she would never miss the piano. She had been so overwhelmed by all the new challenges that Hogwarts School of Wizardry presented that she had not even thought about her piano once during the first couple of weeks. But then the bullying had started, because she was too much of a know-it-all for most of the other kids. She had not found friends easily and especially Ronald Weasley had been an insufferable idiot towards her in the beginning. That was before the troll and before they had somehow ended up in the golden trio with Harry Potter.
Professor McGonagall found her sitting on the stairs in front of the library where she was trying to hold back the tears. The teacher took her to her office, sat her down in front of a warm fire and handed her a cup of tea with at least two spoonfuls of honey in it. Then she sat down in the huge green velvet armchair opposite her and let her talk. Hermione had told her everything from how much she missed her parents and their support to the fact that she just didn't fit in anywhere.
Is there anything I can do to help you cope?", McGonagall asked, watching her intently over the rim of her glasses.
Hermione bit her lip, insecure whether she was really allowed to speak openly in front of the head of Gryffindor house. She had not been a happy pupil at primary school either. She had always been the bookish type and her class mates had hated her for it. They had called her names, played tricks on her and waited for her after school to beat her up. When she had come home she had neither talked to her mother nor to her father but sat down on the piano stool and played, played, played, until all the pain and all the anger and all the frustration had bled out through her fingers and turned into music. She did not say any of it, but Professor McGonagall seemed to read her mind.
"I remember reading in your files that you were a keen musician before you joined our school, Miss Granger."
Hermione nodded in consent.
"Yet I have never heard you play. Wouldn't you like to practice? A lot of pupils do that in their free time. There is a soundproof little chamber on the fourth floor that was erected just for that purpose. It's got a piano in it which has been enchanted by Dumbledore so it tunes itself. The room is not frequented by a lot of students at the moment, so I guess we could easily find a slot for you."
Professor McGonagall went over to her table, pulled out a small leather bound folder and filed through it.
"Yes. There is a spot for you. If you want to, you can play every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday afternoon between four and five. That would be after the Weasley twins and before Mr Malfoy. Should I put your name down?"
Hermione stared at the teacher for a second, before she nodded happily. But as she walked back to the Gryffindor common room she was still contemplating what she had just learnt. Fred and George Weasley played music? That did come as a surprise. But it was much more possible to imagine them as musicians than that egomaniac horrible Slytherin boy Draco Malfoy.