Ron and Hermione had ambushed Harry outside their first classroom, wanting to know where he'd been. Harry brushed them off, telling them that he had felt like a walk in the early morning. Ron had looked at him, shocked that anyone would want to do anything but sleep before breakfast, but Hermione had nodded in understanding.
At the end of their last class, Harry headed slowly up to his dormitory once more. Ron looked at him, confused, and then grabbed his arm to stop him. Harry couldn't help it- he flinched. It was only a small flinch, and he didn't think Ron or Hermione had seen it, but Harry knew he'd need to control that impulse soon.
"Harry, where're you going? I thought we were going to the lake."
He glanced back at Ron's freckled face, which was screwed up in confusion, and guilt swelled in his stomach.
"I'm sorry Ron, but I can't."
Harry tried to think of what more to say. McGonagall hadn't exactly been forthcoming. He didn't want either of them to know about his viola. It was too personal at the moment.
"McGonagall said that she wanted to see me, or something. I don't know why, especially after she already fussed over me last night. Perhaps she just wants to check that I'm fine."
Ron did not look totally convinced. "Sure, mate. She's a bit overprotective, isn't she?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Tell you what, I'll have a game of chess with you after dinner."
Ron looked appeased. Hermione did not.
"Harry, what about your homework? We've got ten inches for Professor Flitwick, remember?"
Harry looked her in the eye. "Hermione, there's plenty of time. That's not due til Thursday. McGonagall probably won't take too long. It'll be fine."
"If you say so, Harry."
The pair walked out into the sunshine, arguing about the necessity of doing homework as soon as possible while Harry heaved a sigh of relief and wandered up to Gryffindor Tower.
Harry stood outside of McGonagall's office for a good five minutes until he finally dredged up the courage to knock.
"Come in."
Wrapping his white knuckles around the handle of his viola case, Harry eased in through the door and stood uncertainly until McGonagall beckoned him to a chair in front of her desk. He cradled his instrument in his arms and sat down on the edge of the chair, ready to flee at any moment.
McGonagall was smiling gently. She was probably just trying to put him at ease. Harry knew that he looked like a frightened rabbit but he couldn't help himself.
"Mr Potter, that is a viola you are holding, if I am not mistaken?"
He nodded, then added in a wavering voice, "Yes. Yes Professor." By his second word he forced himself to project more confidence, and straightened in his seat.
The professor was now smiling even more. "Harry, can you play it?"
Harry couldn't stop himself from narrowing his eyes at her. What was she getting at?
"Well, yes, I suppose so, Professor. I've played since I was seven. But why…" He trailed off. It wasn't his position to ask questions of her, even if they really needed answering.
McGonagall now looked like the cat that had got the cream. Of course, that made sense, as she was able to transform into a cat… No. Harry needed to concentrate on right now, not on images of a spectacled cat curling up on McGonagall's armchair with a bowl of cream.
She had begun speaking once more as Harry shook his head to clear it.
"I apologise, Mr Potter, for not providing a sufficient explanation for all this." She gestured around the room at large. "I suppose that I was rather too enthusiastic… But I shall explain now. I am simply unused to divulging this to students."
Harry tilted his head at her in confusion, his arms still around the case, but remained silent.
"Tell me, Harry, have you heard of the Hogwarts Quartet?"
What on earth was she talking about? Harry shook his head and wondered how much longer she would keep him.
"Well, it is not to be expected, as it is only really known in music circles. I don't suppose that your relatives," she sniffed in disdain, "provided you with much art."
"No, professor."
"The Hogwarts Quartet is a string quartet composed of teachers from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are well known in both wizarding and muggle circles, although of course some aspects of our craft are not used when performing for muggles."
Harry was watching the professor, and with every sentence she said her eyes seemed to gleam. Clearly the woman was deeply invested in this quartet.
"Professor? Do you play in it?"
McGonagall smiled fully at him. It was a shock when compared to her usual stern outlook.
"I play the cello. Now, the reason that I brought this up is because of our problem. As I said before, the Hogwarts Quartet is composed of teachers from this school. However, this year, as you may know, Professor Kettleburn retired."
Harry nodded at that, starting to smile. "Ron and Hermione told me that Hagrid's now a teacher instead."
"Yes, that is correct. While this is good news for Rubeus Hagrid, unfortunately it means one of our four players is gone."
Harry was beginning to see where this was going. "Kettleburn played the viola, didn't he?"
McGonagall's eyes gleamed even more. It was almost frightening. "Professor Kettleburn, Harry. And yes, he did. Can you see what I am asking you to consider? None of the other teachers are able to join us, and Hogwarts is not a school that specialises in music."
Nodding slowly, Harry relaxed into his chair slightly. This was an exciting prospect. For a moment he considered it, but then remembered that he hadn't played in over a year. He wasn't ready to, yet.
Harry stayed silent.
"I am asking for your discretion in this matter. All three of us like our privacy, and our relatively unknown status helps with that. We will need to see if you can fit in with our playing styles as well, but that will have to wait."
Harry was thinking. He was quite good, well, for someone who was only able to play in the summer. His intensive sessions before Hogwarts and in the summer before second year had left him quite proficient, as it was his way to escape from the boredom that the Dursleys brought. He knew that he wanted to play in the future, and he couldn't imagine a life without it, but he still wasn't ready for the heavy emotions that would be brought with it.
"Harry, if you are amenable, I would like you to play a little for me so that I can judge you capabilities."
There were a few moments of silence as Harry struggled with himself. He knew that he would feel the pull to play sooner or later, and this really was a good opportunity. Finally, he made his decision.
"Professor, I can play for you, but would it be possible to hear you play first? It's been a while, and I don't know if I can just start like that. I mean…" He trailed off. Sneaking a glance at her, he was glad to see that she didn't seem angry at him for his presumption, merely thoughtful.
"I think that your request is reasonable. After all, I am asking it of you."
McGonagall stood up briskly, then strode to a tall mahogany cupboard behind her desk, Harry's eyes watching her every move. He saw her whip out her wand and move it in an intricate pattern before opening the door and retrieving a tall, battered case.
Noticing Harry's questioning look, she said, "It is warded. On one memorable occasion Peeves stole it and threatened to throw it in the lake before I got the Bloody Baron. He was quite subdued after that incident."
Harry nodded slowly in agreement. He could understand that moment of terror when something that one loves is being threatened. He wished that he could ward his case so that when he returned to the Dursleys they couldn't ruin his precious viola.
McGonagall's playing was brilliant. She seemed to be technically fluent and completely calm as she played a gentle refrain. Her playing somehow reminded Harry of sitting before a fire on a chilly winter's evening, and before he knew it she had stopped. It was far too soon. Yes, he had missed this.
Harry spared a moment's thought for Alexis before opening his own case and withdrawing his viola. As he rubbed rosin on his bow, he remembered the last time he had done this. It was the day before he had been locked in his room for the house-elf fiasco.
Thrusting all thoughts of that away, he chose one of Bach's viola solos. A sense of calm descended on him as he began. Even though it had been more than a year, he still remembered.
Harry knew that he wasn't playing to the best of his abilities, but when he lowered his bow, McGonagall still had that fierce gleam in her eyes. She smiled gently at him.
"Harry, that was beautiful. It's obviously been a while since you've played, but your technique is fine and I'm sure your style will fit well with ours. We can help you improve, and teach you some wizarding techniques for playing as well. So what do you think?"
Wizarding techniques sounded fascinating. Harry had absolutely no idea what they could be, but he wanted to learn. And mentoring would be great, too.
Yes, he would do this. For Alexis, and for himself.
He met her eyes with a quiet confidence. "Yes, professor. I will."
As he walked away down the corridor, he could have sworn he heard a muffled whoop. But McGonagall couldn't have done it. She wasn't that enthusiastic, was she?
Harry pushed his thoughts away. It was almost time for dinner, and he needed to return his viola to its hiding place under the bed. McGonagall had said she would contact him in regards to the time of their first rehearsal. Now all he had to do was make an excuse for Hermione and Ron as to his non-appearance by the lake.
He was almost bouncing down the corridor. Everything just seemed so much better. Hermione would be pleased at the lift in his spirits.
However, after he had slid his case gently away, he was hit with a moment of doubt. He had never asked who the other players were. He stood still for a minute trying to think. None of the teachers gave any hints as to who it might be. Then he shrugged. He would know soon enough.
So, as Harry walked down to dinner, he amused himself with pictures of Flitwick trying to play the double bass.
Minerva was highly excited. Harry had been quiet, seemingly timid, not like she remembered him from last year. Of course, the image of him dripping blood and gore while hefting a sword after having saved Ginny Weasley did send an impression of confidence and bravery. But after a while, he had opened up more, and she could tell that he was hooked as soon as she had begun playing. Harry had seemed content in that moment, more at peace with himself than she had ever remembered seeing him. He had kept that aura about him when he played himself. This could only be good.
Filling out more paperwork did not appeal to her at this point in time, so filled with adrenaline was she. All she could do was laugh with exhilaration. Harry was really good for his age, and she knew that he had potential. This would help him and them at the same time.
She could not wait for Severus's reaction, though. It ought to be interesting, to say the least. And Harry too, might not be best pleased. But she was sure that Harry would try his hardest to get along with the antagonising potions master. Harry wanted this, she could tell. Severus would have to deal with it.
He would just have to accept it. They had to have someone from Hogwarts after all, and no better option had presented itself. He would moan and gripe about it, but she and Albus could get him to accept it in the end.
This was going to be fun.