Disclaimer: Don't own it, so don't sue me.
Note: Mmmmm, love this chapter! Blessings!
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Herbology had calmed her down marginally; even though she had been busy denying that she was upset to her observant friends, the plants that they were repotting that day were tame and soothing. They were Muse Lilies, and they sang in beautiful voices to the students as they were being cared for. The only things that troubled her as she walked back up to the castle were her bruised arm, which was already turning black and blue in many different places, as well as her hip from where she had struck the table when Professor Emelius had shoved her. Limping in pain, Olivia knew that only one thing would truly calm her spirits, and that was music. It was time to try and enter the strange room that Professor Merrythought had told her about.
It seemed to take hours to climb the seven flights of stairs because of her battered hip, but eventually Olivia made it. She eyed the tapestry that Professor Merrythought had told her about, and smiled at the bemused look on the trolls' faces as they whirled clumsily in pink tutus. Closing her eyes, she thought with all her might, "I need a piano. I need a piano. I need a piano." After limping back and forth three times, she opened her eyes. A polished wooden door had suddenly appeared in front of her. Looking around to make sure that no one was around her in the hall, Olivia limped over to the door, and threw herself in, closing the door behind her.
Her breath caught in her throat. Deep purple walls with silver drapes met her emerald eyes, and bookshelves filled with music books lined one whole wall. But there, in the middle of the room, was the most beautiful piano that Olivia had ever seen. It was a grand piano made of cherry wood, and it stretched almost across the whole room. The keys gleamed white, and they called to her.
As if in a dream, Olivia crossed the room, her pain and indignity forgotten. Her fingers brushed the keys reverently for a moment, before she sat on the polished bench. For you, mummy and daddy, she thought, and began to play.
Rich, beautiful chords filled the air as a she played a pensive piece, her feelings almost tangible in the notes and melody. The harmony was thoughtful, and well written. Pouring herself into the music, Olivia lost track of where she ended and the music began. It was a part of her now, just as the magic was. This is magic, she thought. My music is my greatest magic; a powerful thing, at least that's what Madame Galen said. She smiled. The music, the magic, herself. They were all one now, all were her voices. She didn't need a slate for this, even a magical one.
Outside the polished oak door, someone listened, entranced. Who was this that played with such feeling, such talent? It must be someone young, to forget to make the door Unplottable. Anyone could walk in the Room of Requirement now and see who was playing. When the first piece ended, the person couldn't wait any longer, and pushed open the door silently to walk in, as new music filled the air.
This piece began cheerfully, with joy. Then, it moved into sadness, depression. Tears came to the watcher's eyes at the sheer despair that filled each note, in its minor key. However, the sadness smoothly gave way to the next movement, filled with peace. It wasn't joyful, but more contented and blissfully happy. Suddenly, the chords became harsh, dissonant. Anger filled the room, and grief tore at the listener's heart. Then, the thundering chords quieted, fading away like the wind. Now, the music was questioning, longing. This section faded away completely, to be followed by nothing else, unresolved and uncertain.
The player slumped against the stool, and leaned her head on the music rack. Sobs began to shake her tiny shoulders, and she trembled enough to shake her small body apart. She didn't hear the quick step behind her, and without warning, felt a tentative touch on her bruised arm.
A grimace of pain crossed Olivia's face while her bruises screamed. She felt raw, empty, depleted of all that made her herself; playing the piece that she had composed and adding in the music of her parents' deaths and her coming to Hogwarts has been painful and cathartic at the same time. Turning to see who had touched her, she almost fell off the piano bench at the sight of Professor Dumbledore, looking furious. Why did he look so angry? Was she not supposed to be here?
Little did she know that it wasn't Olivia the professor was angry with. He had seen the intense look of pain cross the pupil's face, and he knew that she had been hurt somehow. What had happened? He returned to himself at Olivia frantically waving her slate at him. It read, "I'm sorry if I'm not supposed to be here, Professor. Please accept my apology. I didn't mean to do wrong, I promise. I'll leave at once; just don't be angry with me. I couldn't bear that!"
Shaking his head, the professor spoke, in a warm deep voice. "I am not angry at you, Olivia. Students are allowed in the Room of Requirement, you have done no wrong there. Most students do not know of this room, in any case. I was frowning because I am concerned. You flinched. Are you in pain?"
Olivia cast her ashamed eyes at the floor. She couldn't tell him, not even Professor Dumbledore. She didn't know who to trust anymore.
The professor could see that asking directly would bring no results. She's too stubborn to be forced. She must be coerced. Professor Dippet did not give me an easy task…
Seating himself beside the girl on the piano bench, he ran his long fingers lightly over the keys. Then, to Olivia's delight, he began to play. It was a rich piece, filled with masterful chords and strong entrances and exits. In places, it was light and cheerful, while in others it became brooding. But over it all, both the joy and the contemplative, it ran kindly. Olivia thought that the piece personified the professor himself.
Finishing that piece, Dumbledore began another, this time a duet that Olivia knew and loved. Raising his eyebrows at Olivia, he nodded at the piano. She sighed, placed her fingers on the keys, and began to play with him. The duet was beautiful, and both players forgot themselves for a moment, and poured themselves into the music, allowing it to fill them up with hope. In talent, they were almost perfectly matched.
The piece came to a gentle end, and both players sat back on the bench. Olivia looked up at Professor Dumbledore, and knew she could not continue to lie to him. It would be wrong, and he'd given her no reason not to trust him. But how much should she tell him? Should she withhold the name of her antagonist?
With trembling fingers, she picked up her slate. It read, "I am sorry that I lied to Professor Dippet. He sent you, I presume, sir?"
Dumbledore nodded his auburn head. "Yes, he did. He was worried about you. He knew that you weren't telling the truth, or at least all of the truth."
Encouraged by the fact that she didn't appear to be in trouble with the headmaster, Olivia's slate displayed words faster and faster. "I don't think I can tell you everything, even though I want to. It would just bring more trouble, and I couldn't do that. I did drop my slate, but because someone frightened me."
Although he kept a gentle look on his face, the professor felt fiery anger leap up inside him. "Did this same person bruise your arm?" Olivia nodded, being unable to bring herself to say anymore. "I see. Well, I believe the first order of business is to take you to see Madame Galen. She'll fix those bruises in a heartbeat. Then, I think you should perhaps go to bed. You look exhausted, and I've always found rest to be good for troubled minds and hearts."
Olivia nodded, and made to stand up. But the professor wasn't finished yet. "However, Olivia, I want you to know that while I understand to a certain degree why you won't tell me everything, I wish to make it clear that I'd rather you did. Violence of any sort is absolutely against the rules at Hogwarts. All violence, whether it be on the part of the students or the faculty and staff, is completely unacceptable here."
Startled, the young girl looked up into Professor Dumbledore's face. Did he know what had happened? How could he possibly?
"By not reporting who attacked you, you allow the cycle of violence to continue. It might not be you next time who is hurt, but someone else. Can you live with that? If someone else suffers pain because of your neglect and fear, it will be as if you yourself are the one in pain."
Tears slid down the girl's cheek. What was the right thing to do? If she told Professor Dumbledore, Professor Emelius would get in trouble, and then he would make her life a living hell. Was he powerful enough to have her expelled? But to have Professor Dumbledore disappointed in her! What if Professor Emelius attacked someone else? How would she feel then?
Professor Dumbledore watched the mute girl's face, emotions passing over so quickly that they were hard to identify. Was this the same girl who sat stoically in her guardian's house, keeping all of her thoughts under lock and key because of her fear? How wonderful that she was now able to show herself enough to cry in front of him-and how sad that she was indeed crying. Laughter, even silent laughter, would have made him much happier.
Suddenly, something her mother had once said popped into Olivia's mind. "Fear is worse than your bad tongue, lovey. It can put you in a prison even more than being mute can. If I could have anything for you, I wouldn't wish for your voice. I would wish that you could live your life without ever experiencing fear. Fear can make us grow, that's true enough. But so can joy, and laughter."
The conflict left Olivia's heart. She knew what to do. Allowing the cycle of fear and pain to continue was wrong, even if she herself experienced more pain and fear because of her actions now. It was a sacrifice that she was willing to make. Seizing her slate, a single name flashed across it.
Professor Emelius.
Professor Dumbledore stood up quickly. Although his face remained kind as he looked at Olivia, his blue eyes became the heart of a fire, snapping and roaring. "I see," he said, in tones as cold as an English winter. "Thank you for telling me, Miss Price. We must first get you to the hospital wing, and then we will both go and see the Headmaster. You understand that you must report this incident to him, don't you?"
Fear seized Olivia's heart in icy fingers once again, and the slate flashed. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore, must we? I thought if I just told you, it would be enough. Professor Emelius said that if I put so much as one toe out of line, he'd have me thrown out of Hogwarts and placed in a mental institution! I can't leave Hogwarts, this is the happiest I've ever been in my life-at least, since my parents died. Please, professor, don't make me…" Sobbing too hard to continue, she placed her aching head on the piano's keys. Why had she said anything? She knew that it was wrong to trust Professor Dumbledore! She couldn't trust anyone!
But then the teacher's quiet voice broke through Olivia's panicked thoughts. "Olivia, you have been extremely brave to tell this to me. It would have been easier for you to remain silent, no matter what you think at the moment. Telling me was not weakness. However, I must ask you now to be brave once more. Show us all that lovely mental control that you demonstrate in my classroom. Stop crying, stand, and we'll go."
His voice was slightly stern, and Olivia knew that she was being issued a challenge. Was she strong enough to do this? He was right, and she knew it. Her parents would be ashamed at her for sniveling in this way. There was only one choice to be made.
