A/N: I am soooooooooooooooo sorry that I have not updated in forever! I have been to very busy, and I have had a bit of writer's block. I knew what was going to happen in the beginning of this chapter, when I only had three or so pages, I need to add some more, and then school got harder, and I swear I didn't mean to leave this for so long. I decided to get this up before midterms start. Hey, at least I updated again. All reviews are welcome and appreciated. Once again, I have no title. Once Christmas break starts, I'll probably edit everything. By the way, if you find any grammatical errors (which I am quite sure you will), feel free to point them out to me. Thanks!
Disclaimer: This story contains characters created and owned by, including but not limited to, J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. and AOL/Time Warner, Inc. No permission has been given and since no money is being made here, no infringement is intended.
Written by Shiruba Fokkusu
Harry didn't understand the silence until he heard a knock. And another knock. More knocks followed, quick and erratic. His eyes widened. Immediately, the room changed itself into the exact room they used last year for the D.A. Everything in the room shifted, and Harry didn't have enough time to see everything that changed. The chair he had been sitting in turned into a huge armchair and a book dropped into his lap. He had no time to see what the cover was when the door opened and recognized who opened it.
Untitled
As the room shifted and changed, a book dropped into Harry's lap. He identified the face as soon as it appeared. The head stuck itself through the doorway even more and Harry pretended to be busily engrossed in the book. In doing so, he read a few sentences. "Rule 50: To avoid suspicion when caught, act suspicious about something of a lesser degree". Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly but followed it anyway. He snapped the book shut and pretended to try to hide it behind his back when two people stepped in.
"Harry Potter! What are you hiding behind your back!" the female voice yelled once the door was closed. The other person cringed a bit at the first's volume, but he seemed to want to shout the same thing.
Harry sheepishly pulled out the book and saw the title morph into something else. The bushy-haired girl swiped it up and read aloud, "Hogwarts, 1977-78." At that, she paused and looked down at Harry. The change surprised him, but by averting his face away from hers, he could pretend to be hurt or embarrassed and hide any emotions his face might reveal. His other friend slowly walked to them and gently took the book from Hermione's hands. Harry stood up to see what he was doing. Ron flipped to a random page in the middle of the book where a picture had two people waving to them. One had fiery red hair and real-looking fox ears, and the other had a mask on. The one with the mask had messy black hair, so Ron and Hermione both concluded that it was none other than Lily and James. Ron read the subtitle aloud for Hermione and Harry. "Hallowe'en, '77" He flipped the page to reveal the same two people, except they were kissing. That subtitle read, "The Lovebirds' First Public Kiss." Black hair hid the actual kiss, but they could clearly see Lily's eyes sparkling with happiness. The one with the black hair pulled back, but did not turn around. Lily pushed the boy aside and must have pushed the person holding the camera, because the picture went black. In an instant, the picture was back the way it was before, and the scene replayed itself.
Ron laid the book down on the vacated chair and looked Harry in the eye. "You left around midnight, and hadn't come back."
Pulling off a remorseful face was not that hard, because he was feeling slightly guilty for having worried his best friends. "How did you find me?"
Hermione smiled slyly. "You must have been in a rush, because your trunk was still open. We, er, got the Marauder's Map out," she said, taking out the worn parchment. Harry cursed his skewed foresight.
He chuckled and picked up the yearbook. "Yes, well, I guess we should be going now, hm?" Ron nodded, and watched as Harry unhurriedly ran his fingers down the cover of the book.
Hermione was already outside the Room of Requirement when Ron turned around and quietly said, "If you wanted to see that, you could've borrowed one of our yearbooks."
Harry was surprised. "Why would you have one? None of your brothers would be old enough for Hogwarts in 1977." He asked, just as quietly.
With a smile, Ron answered, "I had a cousin who went there that year. He was a Prewett." He seemed to want to drop it, so Harry made no other remarks.
They walked in silence, all three almost completely hidden by the invisibility cloak. Ron's ankles were peeking out, but not by much. The halls were quiet in the school, and they could hear nothing but the soft taps of their shoes on the stones beneath them. They continued until they reached the dormitories and told the weary portrait the password. Ron and Harry walked up to the boys' rooms and Hermione to her own.
As Harry lay on his bed, he could not help but remember the picture of his mother. In previous years, he would have just smiled and continued on to the next picture. Now, he could not help but wonder whether the messy-haired seventh year was his father or James Potter.
Severus's hand shakily rested on the brass doorknob. With a determined nod to himself, he pulled the knob to himself and the door effortlessly slid open.
The walls were black. There were only two things of importance in the room. One was black cello case in the corner, and other was the person looking straight at him.
From within, a voice asked, "Snape?"
Severus was taken aback by the voice. He expected it, but it was a surprise all the same. Severus was threatened to smile at the familiar voice. "Snape? When was the last time you called me that?"
"Sono spiacente, Gato!" the voice said sheepishly. "You have not visited me in what seems like a whole decade!" He then sternly reprimanded the grown man.
"Spiacente, Antonio," Severus said. "I was merely caught up with…things." Severus looked back to the painting. He suddenly felt very guilty for leaving him alone in such a small room with no communication for over ten years.
Antonio sniffed in disdain. "Yes, I've heard about them."
"From whom?" Severus asked. To whom had Antonio been talking? Who had the gall to break into his office, and then into his closet?
"Not telling!" Antonio laughed. The composer reminded Severus of a giddy first year. He could already feel a headache coming on.
Severus enlarged the closet to make it a sizeable room, and then conjured his usual wooden chair with cream-colored cushions. In his Hogwarts years, those had been the chairs Lily conjured. She said her old violin teacher had the same chairs in his living room. He elegantly sat down, keeping his eyes trained on the happy composer all the while.
"Why aren't you telling? Are you protecting someone? Antonio, I need to know if anyone has been through my office," Severus said seriously.
Antonio grew serious as well. "You could say I am protecting someone. But it's none of your business."
Snape was exasperated. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The person I've been seeing has not been through your office. I know, for sure, that this person is finding me through another room. I am not sure how, but it's amazing!" Antonio said excitedly.
"Indeed?" Severus said dryly. Antonio nodded enthusiastically.
"What can you tell me about this person?" Severus asked, playing along with the hyperactive composer.
"Oh, this person is great!" Antonio said with sparkling eyes and a cheery voice, "This person has the most amazing talent, and has an affinity for Italian. He picks up the words, just like that!" Antonio said, emphasizing the last word with a snap of his fingers.
Whether he knew it or not, Antonio just revealed that this certain person was a 'he'. Severus thought long and hard about everyone in the castle. It could be anyone.
"I suppose you will not just give me 'this person's' name?" Severus asked with a single raised eyebrow.
Antonio shook his head vigorously. "Of course not! He told me not to tell anyone," Antonio said with a decided nod.
Severus sighed and pretended to give in. He would have to keep a sharp eye out for whoever was visiting Antonio, because as ingenious as he was, Antonio tended to talk a lot. If Antonio told anyone else about either himself or Lily, it would mean serious trouble.
Antonio looked at him. "Severus, how about you cheer up? There is still that music. I have not heard it in quite a while…" Antonio let the sentence hang, intending for Severus to interpret his words correctly.
"Why not?" Severus asked both himself and Vivaldi. He wordlessly conjured a music stand, and then walked over to the corner in which a big black case rested. Quietly, he pulled out the instrument. He noted the lack of varnish and the dust resting on the wood. The bow had no rosin, and it looked like the hairs were about to fall off.
"You let it go into a bad condition," Antonio noted with a displeased voice.
Severus inspected the bow and the instrument. It was not too horrible. "I guess I did. These things are easily fixed." With two different wand strokes, the bow hair was replaced and rosined. He looked at the cello with a critical eye.
"Don't use your magic to varnish the cello, Gatto. You must do that by hand," Antonio warned him. Severus nodded. In his previous years with Antonio, he would always tell Severus to do most of the things by hand, because musicians played their instruments with their hands, not with magic. Lily had agreed readily, but Severus remembered being stubborn about not using magic.
"Then I shall do it later. I suppose you'll want me to tune by hand as well?" Severus asked. Antonio nodded. Severus silently agreed. Tuning an instrument with magic was just asking for a string to pop or the bridge to become crooked. "Magical A?" Severus asked as well.
Antonio seemed to consider the two words and then said, "I guess so. Your voice might be good, but it is not as accurate as you need it to be in order to tune to a vocal A. And I know you have no other options."
Severus cast a spell, and the single note rung through the small room. Using it, he tuned the cello. The horrible out-of-tune screeches did not surprise him. After all, so many years with the same strings in an old closet in a dungeon would do that to a cello. Severus started with a scale, and then moved on to etudes and exercises, just to get his fingers relaxed on the cello. He was a little annoyed that his right hand would not cooperate with him. His hand was either too tight or in the wrong position. His left hand did not want to shift into the higher positions or land on the right notes. Overall, he was disappointed with himself.
He glanced at Antonio and saw the self-righteous look in his eyes. "That is why most serious musicians practice every day," Antonio said.
Severus looked down at his cello. "I guess it has been too long."
"It might have been too long, but it is never too late. Start practicing every day, and it will feel natural to you again," Antonio advised. Severus nodded, but put the cello away.
"I will later. I believe I have brats to teach today, and I am tired."
Antonio let him go, saying a short goodbye. All he needed was to get Gatto and his son in the same room…
The next day was the first day of the classes at Hogwarts. At breakfast, Harry realized that he still did not know the password. Although Hermione had to whisper it to the Fat Lady when they arrived at Gryffindor Tower, he did not remember it. He thought it might have begun with an 'A'. "What's the password?" Harry asked Hermione with confusion the next morning.
"Aquacarro," she said, chuckling a bit.
"So that's water, um, carry? To carry water?" he asked.
"It's an inside joke with the first years," another boy piped up.
"So why's it our password?" Harry asked exasperatedly.
A few of his fellow classmates laughed. Sitting at the breakfast table the next day, he felt energized rather than tired like one would expect.
"There's a really odd first year. A muggleborn and he's obsessed with that muggle band, the Beatles," Seamus added. Other students nodded to agree with him.
Dean commented, "And ever since he got here, he's been singing this Latin phrase over and over."
"What was it?" Ron asked,
Lavender giggled. "It's the most childish muggle thing ever!" she said in a way that she should have patented.
"Are you planning to tell me?" Harry asked, half-curious and half annoyed.
Another student giggled and starting humming the tune to a Beatle song. Soon others joined in, including a few from other houses. Harry recognized it and raised an eyebrow. "What do yellow submarines have to do with 'aquacarro'?"
Hermione smiled as she said, "Habitamus in flavo aquacarro." Harry did not understand, so Ron sang the phrase to the tune of the first line of the refrain.
"We all live in a yellow submarine?" Harry asked. He supposed 'habitamus' meant live, since it sounded like habituate or habitat. However, he did not understand how 'yellow submarine' translated into 'flavo aquacarro'.
"That's what the kid said. Honestly, I have no idea where the 'flavo' comes from, because the word I would have used is 'crocus' rather than flavus. I suppose whoever first said that made up a word for submarine. Aquacarrus is made up of aqua and carrus. Aqua means water, and carrus means wagon or cart. Essentially, aquacarrus means water-wagon," Hermione said. She continued talking about the dead Latin language and Harry easily tuned her out. When would he need to know Latin anyway?
"Why on earth did anyone agree with the kid anyway?" Harry asked, directing his question to Ron. His friend shrugged and continued to eat.
"Beats me. Ask the kid, whoever he was," he said. Harry ignored his helpful advice and opted to eat his food. "How long before Hermione realizes I'm not listening?" Harry asked Ron disinterestedly.
"I would say you have at least three minutes or so," Ron said. Harry nodded and took another bite of whatever was on his plate.
"Harry!" a voice screeched. Harry almost dropped his spoon when Hermione's voice accosted his ears.
"So much for three minutes," Harry growled to Ron.
"Sorry, mate. I didn't take into account the fact that today is the second day. During the school year, she doesn't care as much if you don't listen," Ron said, shrugging. Harry turned away from him to look at Hermione, but she was already chewing on her own food.
During his free period, instead of going with Ron to play or study, he headed for the Room of Requirement. He felt he needed to apologize to Antonio for the abrupt disturbance. He walked in happily, looking for the portrait. Indeed, the man was in his portrait, asleep.
"Antonio?" he asked, poking the portrait. The man jerked awake and upon seeing Harry, beamed.
"Ah, Harry! What brings you here? I know you have class right now!" he said, wagging a playful finger at him.
"I have a free period. Listen, I'm sorry my friends interrupted us last time, but—"
"That is okay! In fact, yesterday, I had the chance to see Gatto again! He is out of practice, you know. That is what happens when you neglect practice," he wagged a finger at Harry and continued to chatter on, "I also believe his livello di magia have gone down because of it."
Harry was about to ask about how he had the chance to see Snape when the bit about magic levels distracted him. "What do you mean, 'livello di magia?"
Antonio waved his hand dismissively. "Magic level, or level of magic. You know, how magic corresponds with the arts like music. It is like that."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows. He had no idea what the man was talking about. It must have been obvious to Vivaldi, because the man gasped. "You do not know! I thought every wizard and witch knew!" He huffed. "This shows how advanced this civilization is now!"
"No, Antonio. I haven't the faintest about what you're saying," Harry said, almost exasperated with the man. If anything, he loved to frustrate people.
"Then I will tell you!" Antonio said, picking up his own violin.
Harry waited a few seconds before saying, "Then go ahead." He was a bit impatient to know what the man was hiding.
"All good things come in time," Antonio said with a smirk.
"Yeah, I guess. Well, while you are thinking of what to say, I will come back later tonight and you can tell me then. Arrivederci," Harry walked toward the door, and stopped when he heard Antonio.
"Fine, fine, come back. I will tell you!" Harry casually walked back, smiling the entire time. The man was too predictable. He sat down on the cream-colored cushion of one of the wooden chairs. He looked to Antonio and expectantly nodded his head for the man to continue.
"Okay, I have no earthly idea why you do not know this. I thought all wizards knew this?" Antonio started.
"Antonio, please, just tell me what you meant," Harry said wearily. He was tired of this back-and-forth play between them, however entertaining it was, and he wanted an answer.
The man nodded and looked Harry in the eye. He cleared his throat and laid his violin down. "Most wizards and witches know what I am about to tell you. From your reaction, I suspect that this generation is ignorant of this information. Why, I do not know. Many years ago (and I mean many) I was a priest. You know what happened. However, there was also a reason why I never said mass. I believed in God, but I was also friends with many wizards. According to the bible, magic is evil, or so it says in the passage of Exodus 22:17. These people were not evil at all, and I would surely never put one to death! Unless she were a strega diabolica, an evil witch…but I am digressing. In fact, most were just like the normal people around me. Some of these wizards were better people than the non-magical people I knew!"
Harry interrupted, "Wait, weren't you a wizard?"
Antonio smiled. "No, I was not a wizard, nor have I ever been. Let me continue. I loved music, and music was my life. For some reason, whenever I was composing or maybe even playing an instrument, I saw strange things. Once, when I was singing with the choir out on the street in front of a church, I was leading them. Behind them, I saw a door appear. It was the most inconspicuous door, and I had never seen it before. I came back a few days later, and it was gone. I forgot about it until a trio from the girls' school played on that same street, with me playing a violin, making it a quartet. As I played, the door appeared again! I left them to continue during an intermission, and my students were very competent so the girls did not even need my help in the first place. I went over to the door and opened it, and I found so many different people! They were wearing odd clothing, and they spoke of things I had never heard. I met a few people, and they were magical. That was my first meeting with them.
"One man explained why I could see the door at times and not at others. He said that the ability to do magic was in everyone, but the amount of magic one had affected whether one was a wizard or muggle. In fact, a few muggles have levels just below the minimum for a wizard. That is how these things work. For some reason, my friend could not explain it, and neither could I, but music can affect those magic levels. It sounds odd, but it is true. The reason I could see the door those two times was because I was thoroughly engrossed with music, and music itself is a great magic. The one time I tried to find the door again, I had no thought of music, so my levels were lower. Many pureblood families introduce their children to music at an early age to make sure he or she is not a squib. Even a born squib can become a wizard if a person involves himself or herself with quite a bit of music. Other arts can affect magic, like language arts, dancing, drawing, and even knowledge can trigger magic levels to increase. However, the strongest, I believe, is musica.
"I believe Albus agrees with me as well. He has a fondness of chamber music. I remember a few years back when I noticed that Gatto was very on edge, but I could not speak with him. I reminded Albus how strong a magic music was, and that year, he had the students sing the alma mater. I was not very surprised when he ended with, 'Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here'. I have not heard the song since then, but I wish I could hear the students sing it again. They do not have the most miraculous voices, but at least they sing from their hearts!"
Antonio finished with a sigh. "And that is the connection between music and magic. I am sure this is not all new to you."
"No, it is very new! Are you saying that the more I practice, the higher my magical levels will be?" Harry asked.
Antonio nodded vigorously. "Indeed! For example, Celestina Warbeck is one of the most powerful witches I have ever met!"
"Warbeck? As in the singer of the Puddlemore United team anthem?" Harry asked.
"Yes, it is. She has visited me quite a few times. She has amazing vocal cords," Antonio said.
Harry thought on Antonio's words. They were surprising, to say the least. To hear that muggles could become wizards if they threw themselves into enough music was amazing. What did that mean for the Beatles? What did that mean for other great muggle singers and bands? Wondering about this, he vocalized his question.
"Those muggles are usually too old to go into the wizarding world once they have found their music. Sometimes, they do not want to leave their glamorous lives for something as ridiculous as magic. The ones that fall out of the limelight usually either lose their passion for music or cannot survive in the magical world with only their music to support their magic. The amount of magical levels can be genetic, but sometimes if a young muggle person finds an art that creates higher magical levels, that child can be what society calls a muggleborn. High magical levels are recessive genes, so it is possible for one person with high magic levels and a person with normal magic levels to have an offspring with low magical levels, a squib. If a squib has a child with a person with genes for high magical levels but actually have a normal amount of magic, they can have children with high magical levels. It is more complicated than what I have told you. I believe muggles these days go more in depth in genetics than wizards. Unfortunately, you have to be in class soon."
Harry blinked and averted his eyes from Antonio's, to look at his watch. Cursing and earning a chiding remark from Antonio, Harry flew out of the Room of Requirement and toward his next class.
He thought of his conversation with Antonio as he flew through the hallways. If what he said were true, then if he practiced enough, he would have magic that is more powerful. Adding to that the removals of spells his mother placed, he would have even more magic! Harry wondered whether any of this could help in his final battle against Voldemort. At this rate, he did not think he could handle any more revelations about more magic.
He skidded to stop outside the dungeon door. It was so perfect, Harry thought, that he should be late for this class, of all the classes he took. He took lungful of breath to regain that which he had lost by running the speed he did. Some in the classroom were snickering at him, but most ignored him. The only person with a positive reaction was Hermione, who looked relieved.
"Mr. Potter, why are you late?" the professor asked snappishly. Harry looked sheepishly at him but did not answer. He could hardly say he was hanging with Vivaldi.
Harry was ready with a clever lie, but he found himself inarticulate when met with the man's intimidating glare. "I was, er, that is, I—"
"Eloquent, Potter. You have detention at seven. Take a seat and try not to botch this potion," Snape interrupted, pointing to a seat next to Hermione, one of the four empty seats in the classroom. Harry nodded and sat next to his friend. The potions class was about the same size as always, but it seemed all four houses were in the same class. Snape had cut many students because of their OWL scores, and Harry was surprised that he was still there.
"What potion is this?" Harry asked her in a hushed tone. Hermione whispered the name of it to him, and they started on the potion. They worked in almost complete silence, breaking it only to ask for an ingredient. They were almost finished.
In all this silence, Harry had time to think. Why did Snape put him with Hermione? There were certainly other empty seats. In fact, there was one right in front of Malfoy, a perfect place for Malfoy to throw ingredients into unsuspecting cauldrons. Harry knew that Snape would have no qualms about giving Harry another detention when Malfoy destroyed cauldrons. However, he started questioning what he knew of the professor.
Harry got off that topic and thought of Vivaldi. The composer said he had talked to Snape earlier. Was that why the usually scowling man was absentmindedly and leisurely sitting in his desk, scribbling like there was all the time in the world? Harry thought this a good change. A calm Snape could not overreact about exploding cauldrons.
As he was thinking of this, Harry froze. Something flew through the air, and Harry watched as it plopped into Malfoy's cauldron. With a tremendous force, the cauldron exploded with bright incandescent colors. He, along with the other students, was unfortunate enough that the colored goop landed on him.
"If this…potion," Snape wrinkled his nose in distaste, "landed on you, come up here. Afterward, vial all you have accomplished so far." Students sluggishly inched their way toward his desk, the goop slowing them down. The first to reach the front happened to be a Ravenclaw student. With one swift motion, the goop disappeared from her and Snape gave the still lethargic student a tiny vial to drink. She downed the potion quickly and perked up immediately.
"Thank you, Professor," she said happily, almost running back to her seat to get away from the potions master. Snape healed more students until Malfoy was the last left. By this time, all the students were back to their own potions, salvaging what was left into small glass vials.
From where Harry was sitting, he could hear Malfoy and Snape's conversation.
"What happened, Draco?" Snape quietly asked.
"I don't know, Professor. One second, I was adding the last ingredient and the next second, my potion blows up!" Draco said angrily but just as quietly.
Snape did not answer for a while before curiously asking, "What ingredient did you mix in before your potion exploded?"
"I had just drizzled in some Easter Lily root," Draco answered. Harry heard Snape dismiss the last student. He saw, in the corner of his eye, Draco inspecting his own cauldron. Harry went back to the potion, ladling as much accurate potion as he could.
Snape walked up and down the aisles, taking the marked vials. This was unusual for the irritable Potions Master who usually sat at his desk awaiting the potions, but Harry dismissed it as part of Snape's oddities for this day. As Snape collected his vial, Harry saw the man's eyes scanning the desks. He noticed the self-satisfied smirk on the man's face and felt a tendril of dread.
"Mr. Potter, detention tomorrow as well," Snape said, continuing on his way. To the side, Harry heard Hermione huffing indignantly. Harry had no idea what spurred this on, but he decided it was just Snape being Snape. It was only when Hermione was collecting the remaning ingredients that he noticed something amiss.
"Harry, do you know where those cat parts went?" Hermione asked. Harry winced, because he was not overly fond of those ingredients. For some reason, their potion required a variety of cat organs and parts. He found it more than a little disgusting. He searched the desk, but found nothing. He paled.
Pausing to look his friend in the eye, he asked, "What happens if one adds some of those cat parts to the potion right after the Easter Lily?"
She shrugged, continuing to clean their desk. "Either the potion will be neutralized, or the reactants will create a bright-colored…Harry, where did you get that idea?" Hermione asked, looking up at him with unbound curiosity.
"Our cat parts are missing, and I overheard that Malfoy had just added his Easter Lily roots before his cauldron exploded." Harry quickly looked at other tables and saw that the cat organs of all the other groups were all there.
Hermione's eyes widened. "That's why he gave you detention." She furiously examined the desk, looking for any remains of their missing ingredient. "That is sure wrong. We needed those ingredients for the final step," she turned to Harry. "You are not childish enough to do something like this, right?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Harry quickly shook his head negatively. With her, they took their vials up to the front desk with their names on them. Overall, Snape had actually been fair today. He had only given detention when Harry deserved it, or when there was evidence that Harry was to blame.
Harry left potions with an odd sense of pride in Snape. If only Snape were this fair all the time. Vivaldi must have been rubbing off on him, and Harry appreciated it. He left for the Room of Requirement for his next free period while Hermione ran to the library.
Vivaldi was just as enthusiastic as ever once Harry picked up the violin. Antonio pointed out a few flaws in his posture and helped him count out the rhythms in the book of etudes that happened to appear. Harry was smiling broadly by the time he had to leave. Today, nothing could possibly ruin his mood.