As you have probably guessed by now, these stories are MAJOR OotP spoilers, just to warn you. In my new series, the characters I choose will go through changes and learn how to deal with life at its worst. The famous trio will grow older and learn new things that will change their lives forever. So watch for the next stories in the series, and enjoy! Please review!
I will begin with Hermione's story. And lucky you! You get two quotes today! One is from J. K. Rowling herself, and one is from Martin Luther. I felt both were appropriate, so I included both. I've rambled on long enough now, so please enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: No, I'm not J. K. Rowling, so don't even ask. I don't own the quotes at the beginning of the story, and I also don't own the quotes Mrs. Swartz uses. I don't own "A Winter's Tale"; that's by William Shakespeare. That ought to clear things up for everyone ;)
My heart, which is so full to overflowing, has often been solaced and refreshed by music when sick and weary.
-Martin Luther
Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here!
-J. K. Rowling
REFLECTIONS AND REALIZATIONS
PART ONE
A SONG FOR HERMIONE
"'Miiiiiione! Time for your piano lesson!"
"I'm packing up my music right now, Mum," called Hermione. She stuffed her last piano book in her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her mother came bustling out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and holding out some money.
"This is for your lesson, dear."
"Ok. Thanks. I'm probably going to take a little walk afterwards."
"Just make sure you're back in time for dinner." Her mother looked concerned. "You've been looking awfully pale lately."
"I'm fine," muttered Hermione, heading for the door. "It's nothing." Mrs. Granger still looked rather worried, but all she said was, "Have a good lesson."
"Thanks-Mum-I-will," mumbled Hermione, darting out the door. She closed it behind her and sighed. Her mother had been fussing over her quite a bit lately, and Hermione didn't blame her.
Hermione set off down the street for Mrs. Swartz's house. Mrs. Swartz, her beloved piano teacher and mentor since she was six, was an optimistic old lady in her 70s. She was one of Hermione's grown-up friends, and she was the one of the kindest adults Hermione knew. Hermione began to think about piano as she walked.
Piano was her passion. She had discovered that when she was six years old. It helped her express her feelings. Many people said she was excellent in school, but she really excelled in her favorite instrument.
When she was about 10 years old, Hermione had decided to start writing music to express herself and her moods and feelings. With the guidance of gentle Mrs. Swartz, Hermione was now writing some superb pieces of her own. Lots of things inspired Hermione--including things at Hogwarts.
Hermione had never told anyone at Hogwarts about her passion--not even her best friends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter--save one person. The one person at the school who knew about her love for the piano was Albus Dumbledore. She smiled as she remembered herself stumbling bravely into his office at age 11, saying in an almost humble voice, "Please, Professor, aren't there any pianos at Hogwarts?" She could almost hear his voice now, answering back in a smiling tone, "Well, Miss Granger, that is quite an unusual request here at Hogwarts, but I think that if you look in the thirty-second room of the sixth floor, you may find something to satisfy your curiosity."
Hermione had looked. To her immense delight, it was a music room, with everything one needed concerning music. And there, in that room, was the most wonderful piano you could ever hope to play!
For the past five years, Hermione had gone to the music room often, to practice, write music, or simply get her feelings out. The room was rarely used by anyone else. Most wizards didn't bother with music because they could simply enchant an instrument to play itself. This factor ensured Hermione her privacy. In the five years since she had been at Hogwarts, no one had discovered her secret.
But this past school year had been a wreck. With more homework than even she herself had imagined, O.W.L.S, Professor Umbridge, and the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione's music compositions had become more and more dismal. And at the end of the year, Sirius, Harry's godfather, had died and the Second War with Voldemort began. The piece Hermione had written after that had been one of her biggest compositions ever. She called it "Requiem in F Minor", and it was possibly one of the most tragic pieces ever written. When played, it sounded as if the keys were being drenched in tears, as if the world was coming to an end.
Hermione was feeling so miserable she half wished the world would end. In the two weeks since she had left school, she had become extremely pale, thin, and tired. Everyone fussed over her, insisting that she just needed more rest and food, but she knew that that wouldn't help much. It surprised her, however, that even her compositions couldn't help her this time. She had played "Requiem in F Minor" over and over, trying to get it out of her system, but it only made her feel worse. She was beginning to feel that this heavy, harsh weight on her shoulders would never be lifted.
Hermione looked up and was surprised to find that her feet had automatically taken her to Mrs. Swartz's house. She trudged up the path and rapped at the storm door. "I'm here, Mrs. Swartz," she called. Hermione took a refresher course each summer from her beloved teacher. They would go over pieces from the music book, Mrs. Swartz would teach Hermione some new techniques, and they would go over Hermione's compositions and edit them.
"Is that Hermione? Come in, dear," called a voice that was surprisingly crisp for a 76 year old lady. Hermione wiped her feet on the mat and stepped inside.
Mrs. Swartz's house was always cozily untidy and smelled pleasantly of peanut butter cookies, Hermione's favorite. Mrs. Swartz herself was just sitting down in the chair next to the piano bench.
"Hermione," she smiled. Hermione never ceased to marvel at how she seemed so much younger than she was. There were few wrinkles on her warm face, her hair was a faint grey, and she still had all her teeth. Her brown horn-rimmed glasses twinkled up at Hermione as the girl walked in. "It's so wonderful to see you again. How was Hogwarts?"
Mrs. Swartz was one of the few Muggles who knew Hermione was a witch. Hermione had begged her parents to be allowed to tell her, and they had finally complied.
"It was fine, Mrs. Swartz." Hermione forced a smile. "How was your year?
Mrs. Swartz ignored the question. A faint frown creased her brow. "But that's not normal for you, dear. Usually it's fantastic or magnificent!" Her frown deepened. "And you're thinner-and paler! Did something happen?"
Hermione unpacked her bag and set up her books on the piano. She opened her music. Mrs. Swartz waited patiently. Hermione knew she couldn't put it off any longer.
Tears blurring her vision, Hermione choked out, "My best friend's godfather died, ok? And the second war with Voldemort began in the wizarding world, and it's very likely a lot more people will die!"
There was a long, hateful silence. Hermione almost wished she hadn't spoken. Why did she need to go blabbing all her sorrow to Mrs. Swartz? She was perfectly capable of handling it herself. And yet—
Was she capable of handling her grief herself? Maybe she needed to talk to someone else about it. Maybe, just maybe, that was why she told Mrs. Swartz.
Hermione finally dared to look up at Mrs. Swartz. The woman's expression was hard to read, and Hermione was surprised. There was no pity saturating her face, as there was with other adults when they looked at Hermione. Hermione saw only the faintest trace of sadness in her neighbor's eyes. The rest of her face was calm, almost serene.
"Oh," said Mrs. Swartz softly. "I see."
Somehow Hermione liked that response better than all the "I'm sorry's" she'd ever heard concerning Sirius's death.
"Hmmm...I think we'll skip your bookwork for right now and take a look at your own compositions," murmured Mrs. Swartz, flipping though piles of sheet music. "What have you composed lately?"
Hermione took out "Requiem in F Minor" and set it on the piano. "I wrote this...right before school let out," she whispered.
Mrs. Swartz peered through her glasses at the music. "Well, then," she said almost briskly, "perhaps you will play this for me."
Hermione picked up her fingers and placed them on the opening notes, preparing to jump full force into the music. She did so with great, remorseful notes. The piece seemed to imitate great, choking sobs, and a wailing that screeched throughout Mrs. Swartz's house. Hermione did know how to write music. The piece was unlike anything Mrs. Swartz had ever heard before.
Hermione finished with a loud CRASH! on the keys. By this time, her eyes were red, and she hastily wiped them on her sleeve as she said, "I know it's unusual, but—"
It was Mrs. Swartz who stopped her. Mrs. Swartz had been sitting back with her eyes closed, like she always did when Hermione played her own pieces. Now she opened her gray-blue eyes and gazed at the piece of music Hermione had composed, for a moment transfixed. Then she straightened up, and Hermione wondered what she was about to say. But what came out of her mouth was the last thing Hermione expected to hear.
"Hermione, have you ever read Shakespeare's 'A Winter's Tale'?"
Hermione blinked. How was Shakespeare going to help her? "No, Mrs. Swartz. I can't say that I have."
"There is something very wise said in that play, something that I think you should hear." Mrs. Swartz straightened her glasses. "It goes something like this: 'What's gone and what's past help should be past grief'." Mrs. Swartz looked at Hermione wisely. "It means that you can't dwell on grief, dear. You have to go on living...before your soul dies from lack of happiness. Your world is going through a very tough time, but you have to remember that there IS happiness, and the world is not full of sadness. I agree that you have to get it out, and you were right in writing this piece, if it made you feel better, but I can see that now it's only making you look back. It's making you forget that you have to move on. You always remember, of course, but you have to move on. In the words of Helen Keller, 'Life is a daring adventure or nothing'. Just always remember that, Hermione."
Hermione sat quietly on the piano bench as she took all this in. Mrs. Swartz is right, she realized. This piece has been weighing me down. I don't constantly have to be gloomy. But I can always remember, and I can help the wizarding world win this war. Her advice will help me for the rest of my life.
Mrs. Swartz suddenly snapped back into cheerfulness, startling Hermione. "Well!" she said. "Let's go over your bookwork now, shall we?" Hermione nodded, unable to speak. The talk with Mrs. Swartz gave her something to think about all through the rest of her piano lesson and on the walk home.
"I'm HOME!" Hermione yelled as the storm door slammed shut.
"Hermione?" She could hear her mum in the kitchen. "Did you have a nice piano lesson?"
"It was..." Hermione fished for the right word. "It was intriguing," she decided. That was about as close as she could get to describing her afternoon with Mrs. Swartz.
"Oh. Well, that's good. Would you set the table for dinner, dear?"
"In a minute, Mum," Hermione called. She unpacked her music and set it on the piano. She sat down on the piano bench with a fresh piece of music paper and a pencil beside her. Hermione wrote the title of her new piece at the top of the paper and rapidly began to write down notes, trying out the music on the piano as she went.
"THE BEGINNING"
Please review and tell me if you liked it, if you hated it, if it was boring, if it was sappy. Review and give me constructive criticism, I like to hear it. But please review! I need feedback, and I need to know if anyone wants Part 2 of "Reflections and Realizations". Thanks for your time!