Cyrus plays the cello on Remembrance Day -

Prompt Group #1 - 01.2 - Creative Outlet

Hogwarts was at its quietest at dawn. The encroaching morning sunlight gradually spread across the grounds and slowly begins to spill through the main doors. Cyrus' footsteps are quick and sure as he makes his way toward the entrance hall, his cello in hand.

Headmistress McGonagall had announced the previous day that May 8th would be a free day to remember those who fought and fell in the Battle of Hogwarts against "You Know Who." Even now that he was dead, they still feared to speak his name. Cyrus had only ever used the euphemism as a polite courtesy, but now after everything Voldemort had done to his family, he refused to shy away from it. Instead, he spat the name like venom. The dark lord was dead and he didn't deserve the reputation of a wraith.

Once at the spot in the entrance hall, he took his wand and drew a simple wooden chair. It would be uncomfortable, but this wasn't about comfort. It was about penance. He owed those who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, for making the world free from Voldmort's scourge. While they were fighting for their lives, he was safe across the ocean in the Eyrie. It still haunted him.

He was careful as he opened the case. First, he tightened the bow and then applied rosin with several strokes; he needed to make sure it was good for several hours. He pulled out his cello, running his fingers lovingly over the upper bout and then to the strings. He closed the case and sat down with the cello between his legs. Then slowly and carefully he dragged the bow across the A string, allowing its sounds to emanate through the hall. The acoustics weren't as bad as he'd feared.

Up to this day, he'd spent hours practicing so the A string needed mere tweaking to put it in tune. He used A to tune C, G, and D until they all harmonized. He raised the bow and allowed the sound to fade away. He smiled and nodded to himself. He set his fingers and stared out the open doors at the rocky landscape, forest, trees, and lake twinkling in the distance. A perfect day, a beautiful day, marred only by the events from a year ago.

Cyrus took a deep breath and began playing. He started first with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata: Movement 1 to match the tone he wished to start with. It wouldn't be an entirely somber affair, but he needed something calm to settle his nerves. It had been nearly a decade since he'd performed in front of an audience. He closed his eyes and let the notes flow.

He heard the quick approach of brassy footsteps against the stone floor and opened his eyes to find Headmistress McGonagall standing before him, her stern demeanor softening with approval. He'd approached her the day before to get approval for this performance and she'd happily granted it. After a few minutes, she returned to whatever she was doing and let him be.

Slowly, the castle awoke around him. People trickled down the stairs into the Entrance Hall, peering at him curiously. He wondered briefly if he looked even more low class for playing an instrument; he rather doubted many in the nobility played an instrument.

His friend Julian stood watching him for some time, his eyes closed as he nodded to the rhythm. Eventually he wandered off. He appreciated his friend not eating breakfast in front of him. It would make fasting for the day that much harder.

The next piece he seamlessly transitioned to was Bach's Cello Suite No. 2 in D Minor - Prelude. He just barely caught a glimpse of Hermione coming down the stairs. She'd stopped in surprise; he hadn't told her what he was doing. She stood a respectful distance and listened through to the end of it. Her friends Ginny and Neville had given him curious looks, but started towards the entrance hall until they saw her stand, then they joined her.

Hours passed and the shadows grew smaller, but still the sound of his cello rang through the hall. There was a decent crowd who stood, watching him in quiet contemplation. Professor Flitwick pulled up a chair at some point after breakfast and remained there.

As he was making the switch to an arrangement of Mozart's Lacrimosa, he caught Daphne's eye. She continued to be decidedly neutral, but he thought he saw the edges of her lips curl into a smile. He warmed at the thought that she approved. To think they'd never spoken before this year.

Cyrus thought he saw tears sliding down Dennis Creevey's face as he played Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G.

He nearly stumbled when he caught Draco Malfoy lurking in the back. A hot swoop of fury boiled in his stomach and it took every ounce of energy he had to close his eyes and center himself. He'd practiced enough that his fingers flew over the fingerboard almost with a mind of their own.

The only time he stopped was a brief moment between songs, when he would rosin up his bow once more and begin again.

When the shadows were stretched to their breaking point, Headmistress McGonagall came out once more and said, "I think that's enough, Mr. Alexandratos." So he left the bow off of his strings. At that point, only a few people remained. They clapped politely before wandering off. Cyrus kept his composure but his eyes stung with exhaustion, the tips of his fingers had started to peel from the excessive pressure against the strings, and his back ached from sitting ramrod straight for hours on end. However, putting away his cello was just as much a part of the ritual. He loosened the bow, he pushed in the end stopper, and carefully laid his cello to rest. Finally, he carried it back to his trunk.

He was late to dinner, but Julian, Daphne, and her friend Tracey Davis were still there. The pain from fasting all day twisted his stomach sharply and when he reached for his silverware, his hands were shaking.

"You play beautifully," Daphne said.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but decided against it. Then she pulled out a book to read.

Julian clapped him on the shoulder and departed. Nothing needed to be said between them.

Tracey also made her excuses and left, leaving the two of them alone. Cyrus leaned into Daphne's warmth; he did catch her smile that time.