Music is a true art.


It was when Harry was seven that he discovered the joy of music.

He had been hiding from Dudley after school, and had stumbled into a room filled to the brim with strange looking…things hung on the walls, or placed carefully on the floor.

He hid in the corner, hoping beyond hope that Dudley wouldn't see him if the overweight boy looked into the room. He heard heavy footsteps come up to the door, and he tensed. The footsteps paused, before continuing on, like nothing had ever happened.

Harry waited for a good five minutes, wondering if he was really safe. He didn't put it beyond his stupid cousin to do something so horrible as trick him into believing himself safe. Eventually, he uncurled and looked around the room.

The strange looking things caught his interest, but one in particular drew him in. It was large and black, gleaming in the sunlight from the window. He sidled up to the bench that sat in front of the glowing white keys and reached for them before freezing. He didn't want to break it—he would definitely be punished, very badly, for that. Uncle Vernon would probably lock him in his cupboard for a month if he did. He shuddered at the possibility.

"Would you like to play?"

The voice startled him. He whipped around, only to be greeted by the smiling face of one of the teachers. He stared at her, wide-eyed.

"It's alright, you know," she said lightly. "Here!" she sat on the bench, patting the spot beside her. "Sit, and we can play something!"

He sat down hesitantly, his short legs dangling above the floor.

"What would you like to play?" she asked. He shook his head, biting his lip and looking away. "Hm. How about Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?" despite the fact that he didn't answer, she began to play, her fingers pressing the white keys.

Harry found himself captured by the sounds drawn from the instrument, watching in awe.

"Here, you try!" she cajoled, gently placing his right hand on the keys. "Just follow along!"

And together, they slowly plinked out the simple tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

As Harry left that room, with the teacher—Miss Lissa—making him promise to come back tomorrow after school, he thought about the sounds that had come from that incredible instrument. It still awed him, that a freak like him could draw such incredible sound from something so beautiful.

Harry vowed that he would go back the next day. And the day after. And the day after that.

He would learn to play that incredible instrument.

No matter what.