Chapter 4: Mocking Music
"A secret admirer now, have you, Harry?" asked Ron.
"What else do you call them? Stalkers?" Hermione snapped.
"And she's either a sister of Draco's or a relative of Dumbledore's – that's why Dobby obeys her."
"Draco has no sisters. Besides, he's free! And why on earth would he follow orders from a tormenting family like the Malfoys?"
"You're right as usual, Hermione," Ron's eyes glazed over.
"A relative of Dumbledore's…remember what Sirius said last year when he showed you the family tree? Everyone's a cousin some way or another."
"Interesting point – perhaps it's some great-granddaughter…you know, Dumbledore's 150 years old – so that would probably work…or would we have to go down to great-great-great granddaughter?"
"Never mind that."
They made their way down to the Great Hall, where the post was just arriving. Pigwidgeon swooped down, bearing the tiniest letter imaginable.
"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed when she saw the letter. The print was as small as her own writing, and there were delicately drawn sketches adorning the margins. "Another anime fan has joined the wizarding world."
"It's my cousin, Harriet."
"Harry n' Harriet," chorused Ginny. "Harriet's about your age too. Similar height as well."
"Who are you to judge Harry's height?"
"I can tell…because, when I stand next to Harry, I come up to his shoulder. When I stand next to Harriet, I come up to her shoulder too."
"Big deal."
"What does the letter say, Ron?"
"It says…" Ron opened the letter. "She's won a scholarship to come here."
"Hogwarts gives out scholarships? I never knew that – so do you mean – I could have won a scholarship and got here free?" Hermione looked ready to explode.
"Well, apparently it's for foreign students – it only pays for their muggle airfares. It's for muggle-born children overseas who are exceptional. And the countries have to be affiliated with Britain. That's because apparently Hogwarts is one of the top schools in the world. What's affiliated?"
"Oh…that's better then. Thank goodness. Affiliated means…associated with…"
"Darn…out go France and the USA."
"Why?"
"Bill and Charlie say all the hot chicks are there."
"Ron!!" Once again, Hermione was appalled.
"Did she ever go to magic school before?"
"Yes – in Australia they've got schools too. Shame I don't remember the names of any of them…you'll have to ask her when she comes at Christmas. She says she'll keep writing and she wants us to write back and tell her 'all about Hogwarts'. Fantastic."
The weather was getting colder, and the fact of science that "hot air rises" didn't help Harry and his fellow Gryffindors when they were suffering double potions down in the deepest dungeon.
"Polyjuice Potion is a very advanced, very complex potion. We will not test out this potion as the Ministry of Magic does not permit students trialling upon each other. Instead, we will be making some modifications and stewing my own version of the Polyjuice Potion, which will enable you to present it to an animal and transform it into a tortoise for five minutes."
"Dang, that takes all the fun out of it!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear. Neville leaned too close to his fire whilst he was stirring his Polyjuice Potion and set himself on fire. Neville was left to writhe on the floor of the dungeon, rolling out all the flames he could.
"Careless boy – you haven't changed a bit since first year, have you? Take him away, Mr Weasley."
Ron winced when he saw the third-degree burns and smelt the singed flesh, but he led Neville, whimpering, away.
"Now – this is a week-long project – you will leave your potions simmering here, and over the next few lessons you will add more lacewing flies, and this time next Friday, you will come back and sample them out."
"I'm not sacrificing poor Hedwig," Harry declared to Hermione.
"Harry, we've done this before – it's exactly the same thing we did four years ago, except that there's a few more ingredients, and it doesn't stew for as long."
"I won't take any chances."
"Well then, suit yourself. Fail potions. I'm going to find Ron."
Harry felt forlornly lonesome. He went to the music room, hoping to find Scout there, and hoping that she might teach him how to play the piano and mesmerize an audience the way Stella-Hermione did.
Harry opened the door just a crack, to the sound of live music. Someone on a slightly squeaky violin was sawing away at some complicated chords very violently.
"No, Runa, you have to do it like this." The violin was obviously seized as some sweet-sounding notes came out. "Now you try it."
"Runa, you know I can never be bothered when it comes to violin."
"Why can't you care about violin the way you care about piano?"
"The violin is my second instrument! I only play it so I can go on tour with the orchestra twice! By the way," her tone switched completely, "Have you read 'To Kill A Mockingbird' by Harper Lee? It's great – I've read it for about the fifth time or something."
"Oh come on – let's go from the start. One, two, three…"
Stella-Hermione Chang lifted her bow with a flourish, and brought down a note with a slight scratch, followed with a ringing vibration.
"Vibrato, please, Runa."
"I'm trying!"
"You're in sixth grade. I'd expect better of you."
Stella-Hermione's hands were rattling as if she had arthritis as her dextrous fingers pressed down in different places on the neck of the violin. She continuously made scrapes when she brought the bow in her right hand at the wrong speed, or at the wrong angle, as Scout snapped at her. Seven or eight minutes later, Stella-Hermione brought down her bow in a long sweeping stroke, and tossed her hair back.
"Did I make an improvement?"
"I suppose so…that'll do for now…okay...do you want to do theory now?"
"Hang theory. I've got through millennia without it."
"Suit yourself."
Harry coughed.
"Oh, Harry! What're you doing in here?" asked Scout.
"Well – I had some free time – Hermione and Ron are off at the hospital wing with Neville – he's burnt himself – and I thought…"
"Well I'm glad you've come here. Have you considered what instrument you're going to do next semester?"
"Er…no…"
"Well, do you want to try my violin?" piped in Stella-Hermione.
"Sure…" Harry took it from her.
"Well, what you do, is you put it up on your left shoulder, and you take the bow in your right hand, and…bend your thumb and stuff it in the joint here…put your pinky finger on the end…not quite that far…put your second finger on the silver bit and hang your other fingers over…"
"Right…I'm tangled now…"
"No – you've got it right. Now pull it down."
Harry closed his eyes and pulled the bow down, and it made a sound.
"Right – that's E. Now play the string to the left of it." Another note came out. "That's an A. now you play A, and then E, and then E again. Then you put your finger on this stripe…" Scout waved her wand and a spot appeared. "That's F," continued Stella-Hermione. "Now play E again." Now put your third finger on this blue spot, then your second on the yellow spot, and your first on the red spot, and then A again."
"You just played 'twinkle, twinkle little star' on violin, do you realize that?"
Harry was spellbound. In the space of ten minutes, he had learnt to play a violin, a difficult stringed instrument!
"Well, your intonation could do with a bit but that'll come," Scout screwed up her face.
"Ru…I mean, Scout…can I show Harry the piano too?"
"If you must…"
Stella-Hermione leapt up and ran over to the great grand piano, which had been moved in here. "I took the other one back home because my parents missed it – it's their link to me, the piano. Sit here – you can have this half of the seat – I'll play a song that's all the way up above middle C."
Scout's eyebrows went up.
"Oh, Harry," she pointed out, as he sidled alongside her. "You've got an eyelash on your cheek. I'll get it off." She brushed his cheek with her hand. "There – it's gone now. I'll play you…I know…this one's called the Latin Prelude. It's contemporary – you might like it, because it was only written six years ago. It's by Chris Norton…"
She crossed over him. "Oh…sorry about that…I forgot the low A." Scout's eyes were sparkling violet. "I'm going to teach you how to play…"
"Sorry – I'd better go now – Hermione will be wondering where on earth I got up to."
"A secret admirer now, have you, Harry?" asked Ron.
"What else do you call them? Stalkers?" Hermione snapped.
"And she's either a sister of Draco's or a relative of Dumbledore's – that's why Dobby obeys her."
"Draco has no sisters. Besides, he's free! And why on earth would he follow orders from a tormenting family like the Malfoys?"
"You're right as usual, Hermione," Ron's eyes glazed over.
"A relative of Dumbledore's…remember what Sirius said last year when he showed you the family tree? Everyone's a cousin some way or another."
"Interesting point – perhaps it's some great-granddaughter…you know, Dumbledore's 150 years old – so that would probably work…or would we have to go down to great-great-great granddaughter?"
"Never mind that."
They made their way down to the Great Hall, where the post was just arriving. Pigwidgeon swooped down, bearing the tiniest letter imaginable.
"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed when she saw the letter. The print was as small as her own writing, and there were delicately drawn sketches adorning the margins. "Another anime fan has joined the wizarding world."
"It's my cousin, Harriet."
"Harry n' Harriet," chorused Ginny. "Harriet's about your age too. Similar height as well."
"Who are you to judge Harry's height?"
"I can tell…because, when I stand next to Harry, I come up to his shoulder. When I stand next to Harriet, I come up to her shoulder too."
"Big deal."
"What does the letter say, Ron?"
"It says…" Ron opened the letter. "She's won a scholarship to come here."
"Hogwarts gives out scholarships? I never knew that – so do you mean – I could have won a scholarship and got here free?" Hermione looked ready to explode.
"Well, apparently it's for foreign students – it only pays for their muggle airfares. It's for muggle-born children overseas who are exceptional. And the countries have to be affiliated with Britain. That's because apparently Hogwarts is one of the top schools in the world. What's affiliated?"
"Oh…that's better then. Thank goodness. Affiliated means…associated with…"
"Darn…out go France and the USA."
"Why?"
"Bill and Charlie say all the hot chicks are there."
"Ron!!" Once again, Hermione was appalled.
"Did she ever go to magic school before?"
"Yes – in Australia they've got schools too. Shame I don't remember the names of any of them…you'll have to ask her when she comes at Christmas. She says she'll keep writing and she wants us to write back and tell her 'all about Hogwarts'. Fantastic."
The weather was getting colder, and the fact of science that "hot air rises" didn't help Harry and his fellow Gryffindors when they were suffering double potions down in the deepest dungeon.
"Polyjuice Potion is a very advanced, very complex potion. We will not test out this potion as the Ministry of Magic does not permit students trialling upon each other. Instead, we will be making some modifications and stewing my own version of the Polyjuice Potion, which will enable you to present it to an animal and transform it into a tortoise for five minutes."
"Dang, that takes all the fun out of it!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear. Neville leaned too close to his fire whilst he was stirring his Polyjuice Potion and set himself on fire. Neville was left to writhe on the floor of the dungeon, rolling out all the flames he could.
"Careless boy – you haven't changed a bit since first year, have you? Take him away, Mr Weasley."
Ron winced when he saw the third-degree burns and smelt the singed flesh, but he led Neville, whimpering, away.
"Now – this is a week-long project – you will leave your potions simmering here, and over the next few lessons you will add more lacewing flies, and this time next Friday, you will come back and sample them out."
"I'm not sacrificing poor Hedwig," Harry declared to Hermione.
"Harry, we've done this before – it's exactly the same thing we did four years ago, except that there's a few more ingredients, and it doesn't stew for as long."
"I won't take any chances."
"Well then, suit yourself. Fail potions. I'm going to find Ron."
Harry felt forlornly lonesome. He went to the music room, hoping to find Scout there, and hoping that she might teach him how to play the piano and mesmerize an audience the way Stella-Hermione did.
Harry opened the door just a crack, to the sound of live music. Someone on a slightly squeaky violin was sawing away at some complicated chords very violently.
"No, Runa, you have to do it like this." The violin was obviously seized as some sweet-sounding notes came out. "Now you try it."
"Runa, you know I can never be bothered when it comes to violin."
"Why can't you care about violin the way you care about piano?"
"The violin is my second instrument! I only play it so I can go on tour with the orchestra twice! By the way," her tone switched completely, "Have you read 'To Kill A Mockingbird' by Harper Lee? It's great – I've read it for about the fifth time or something."
"Oh come on – let's go from the start. One, two, three…"
Stella-Hermione Chang lifted her bow with a flourish, and brought down a note with a slight scratch, followed with a ringing vibration.
"Vibrato, please, Runa."
"I'm trying!"
"You're in sixth grade. I'd expect better of you."
Stella-Hermione's hands were rattling as if she had arthritis as her dextrous fingers pressed down in different places on the neck of the violin. She continuously made scrapes when she brought the bow in her right hand at the wrong speed, or at the wrong angle, as Scout snapped at her. Seven or eight minutes later, Stella-Hermione brought down her bow in a long sweeping stroke, and tossed her hair back.
"Did I make an improvement?"
"I suppose so…that'll do for now…okay...do you want to do theory now?"
"Hang theory. I've got through millennia without it."
"Suit yourself."
Harry coughed.
"Oh, Harry! What're you doing in here?" asked Scout.
"Well – I had some free time – Hermione and Ron are off at the hospital wing with Neville – he's burnt himself – and I thought…"
"Well I'm glad you've come here. Have you considered what instrument you're going to do next semester?"
"Er…no…"
"Well, do you want to try my violin?" piped in Stella-Hermione.
"Sure…" Harry took it from her.
"Well, what you do, is you put it up on your left shoulder, and you take the bow in your right hand, and…bend your thumb and stuff it in the joint here…put your pinky finger on the end…not quite that far…put your second finger on the silver bit and hang your other fingers over…"
"Right…I'm tangled now…"
"No – you've got it right. Now pull it down."
Harry closed his eyes and pulled the bow down, and it made a sound.
"Right – that's E. Now play the string to the left of it." Another note came out. "That's an A. now you play A, and then E, and then E again. Then you put your finger on this stripe…" Scout waved her wand and a spot appeared. "That's F," continued Stella-Hermione. "Now play E again." Now put your third finger on this blue spot, then your second on the yellow spot, and your first on the red spot, and then A again."
"You just played 'twinkle, twinkle little star' on violin, do you realize that?"
Harry was spellbound. In the space of ten minutes, he had learnt to play a violin, a difficult stringed instrument!
"Well, your intonation could do with a bit but that'll come," Scout screwed up her face.
"Ru…I mean, Scout…can I show Harry the piano too?"
"If you must…"
Stella-Hermione leapt up and ran over to the great grand piano, which had been moved in here. "I took the other one back home because my parents missed it – it's their link to me, the piano. Sit here – you can have this half of the seat – I'll play a song that's all the way up above middle C."
Scout's eyebrows went up.
"Oh, Harry," she pointed out, as he sidled alongside her. "You've got an eyelash on your cheek. I'll get it off." She brushed his cheek with her hand. "There – it's gone now. I'll play you…I know…this one's called the Latin Prelude. It's contemporary – you might like it, because it was only written six years ago. It's by Chris Norton…"
She crossed over him. "Oh…sorry about that…I forgot the low A." Scout's eyes were sparkling violet. "I'm going to teach you how to play…"
"Sorry – I'd better go now – Hermione will be wondering where on earth I got up to."
