Finding the Muse
By Rain Fletcher
Part 4 (continued)
Over the sound of pages turning, Hermione leaned in and whispered in Harry's ear. "I don't understand how she does that."
"Sounds to me like you were both doing that," Harry grinned.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Hermione went on. "I've no business playing that well without magic. She must be doing something. I just don't understand it."
He looked over at her, and his planned witty rejoinder stuck in his throat as he took in the look of confusion in her brown eyes. "Hermione," he said, his smile softening, "has it occurred to you that there are some things that no one can really understand? Not even you?" He said the last with the tiniest smirk.
She gave him a decidedly sardonic look, but her reply was lost amidst the singing voices of Hufflepuff House.
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
O, ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
They sang and played together through several more folk songs before Sprout turned her attention back to the board to call forth the next recitals. The first came from a very nervous first-year boy who gave them some shaky Mozart on the piano. He was frankly not very good (though it appeared to be fear rather than lack of talent), but the Hufflepuffs listened raptly and applauded, and he was roundly thumped on the back by Ernie and Justin as he returned to the crowd.
Following this, Professor Sprout looked again to the board and all but crowed with laughter. "I see Miss Wells is next!" There were some bordering-on-lusty cheers from some of the boys, earning them mock-surly glares from the professor.
"Miss Wells" turned out to be a seventh-year girl Harry had only ever seen in passing, and her appearance seemed at odds with the boys' reaction: she was decidedly mousy, barely five feet tall if (that), with thick glasses and loose-fitting clothing. Looking almost timid, she brought a sheet of music to Professor Sprout, then turned to smile shyly at her housemates.
Once Professor Sprout started the accompaniment on the dulcimer, however, her face broke into a wide, decidedly wicked smile, and she began to sing the most unlikely of lyrics in a trilling soprano:
Young I am and yet unskilled
How to make a lover yield
How to keep and how to gain
When to love and when to feign
Take me, take me some of you
While I am still young and true!
Stay not till I learn the way
How to lie and to betray
'Ere I can my thoughts disguise
Heave my chest and roll my eyes
Take me, take me some of you
While I am still young and true!
Could I find a blooming youth
Full of love and full of truth?
He that has me first is blest
For I may deceive the rest!
Take me, take me some of you
While I am still young and true!
The cheers from the boys were nothing short of raucous, leading to many eye-rolls and swats from the girls (who nonetheless applauded the song), and Wells, once again shy and mousy, gave a tiny curtsy before returning to her seat.
"For the benefit of our guests," Professor Sprout explained, "Miss Wells is our resident expert on, shall we say, the art of the bawdy song. Thank you, my dear. As always, that was frighteningly close to the limits of decency."
"You get to sing bawdy songs in here?" Ron piped up suddenly, looking incredulous.
"We have been known to dabble," the professor replied, "so long as we refrain from the truly vulgar. Why do you ask, Mister Weasley? Have you something in mind?"
Ron gaped, having obviously not expected this. "I - that is to say, I - know a couple that my brothers taught me…"
"WEASLEY!" Ernie suddenly cheered, clapping his hands loudly. He then led several of the Hufflepuffs into a chant of Ron's name, clapping their hands in time. "Weas-LEY! Weas-LEY! Weas-LEY! Weas-LEY!" Soon the entire room had taken up the chant, and here again, they seemed genuinely encouraging rather than derisive.
Ron gave Harry a wide-eyed expression of pure terror. Before Harry could think of any words of encouragement, though, Luna leaned in and whispered something in Ron's ear. His expression gradually softened, and then he nodded. Screwing his face into a look of determination, he stood up, and as the chant died down, he took a breath and began to sing.
Reflecting later on his friend's performance, Harry found that words failed him. He understood very little of the text - it appeared to be filled with puns and double-entendres unique to the wizarding world - and all he could really tell was that it had something to do with a hedgehog.
Most of the Hufflepuffs, however, hung on his every verse, and giggles and hoots accompanied each of his punch lines. Professor Sprout looked maybe a little glazed, but did nothing to intervene. His finale was met with thunderous applause and a partial standing ovation, and when he sat down again, Harry was surprised to see that he was both smiling and blushing beet-red.
"Thank you, Mister Weasley," Professor Sprout said evenly, though it appeared that she herself was trying to contain her laughter. "I daresay we've not heard… that one in some time. Well! Let's move on, shall we?"
Another solo singer followed, performing a decidedly operatic piece in Italian, and he was followed by a fourth-year cellist. Both were met with encouragement and approval. Harry found himself growing more and more amazed at not only the music, but at the reactions to it: every action of the house showed its solidarity and its members' belief in one another. Even the weakest performances (and none of them were terribly weak, truth be told) received applause and laud.
At this point, the Fat Friar made a belated entrance, much to Professor Sprout's scolding. She gave him the floor for a time, and he led a small choir of the deeper-voiced boys through some beautiful (and haunting) Gregorian chant before leading the entire house in a choral lesson, teaching them a four-part liturgical piece by a composer named Tallis. (The four guests did the best they could to pick an appropriate part and follow along, with Harry and Ron attempting to be tenors and Hermione a soprano: Luna, predictably, had the alto part spot-on after the first go.)
The evening had already been a little disorienting for Harry, but he found the presence of this obviously sacred music even more so. He had almost never been to church while living with the Dursleys, and religion was never much of a topic at Hogwarts, even at Christmas and Easter. It was as much a contradiction as the Fat Friar himself, who had apparently been both a wizard and a monk in his life. Harry made a mental note to follow up on this, though he wasn't quite sure where to begin.
Once the Fat Friar was finished, Professor Sprout again took the helm, this time to lead them through some rousing choruses from a couple of Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. Harry found that he had actually heard some of these: he had vague memories of this sort of music drifting into his cupboard, probably from the television. Whatever the source, he found it easier than ever to join in and sing full-voiced with his friends and schoolmates.
For he is an Englishman!
For he himself has said it
And it's greatly to his credit
That he is an Englishman
That he i-is a-an E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eeeeeeeenglishman!
"Wonderful! Well, sung, children!" Professor Sprout again looked over her shoulder to consult the board. "Well, now, it appears we have one last trio, and then we'll wrap things up with another chorus. Miss Abbott? What do the three of you have for us this evening?"
Hannah and the two friends she'd been talking to earlier detached themselves from the crowd and took their place at the front, standing shoulder to shoulder. "This one is an original composition," Hannah told the house, looking to the dark-haired girl standing in the center of their trio, who flushed and smiled shyly. The three then leaned in close, and the third of them (a blonde girl anonymous to Harry) hummed a note, which Hannah and the dark-haired girl matched softly. They then took a breath together and began singing, their voices blending together so seamlessly that Harry was strongly reminded of the multi-toned voice of the mermaid on the portrait outside.
Girl… in the long grass, now
Watching the clouds stroke the sky
Tears in your eyes…
You… you are my dearie
My heart aches so clearly 'cause I…
Made you cry…
During this verse, the dark-haired girl in the middle (apparently the composer of the song), opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Harry. It was at that moment that he recognized her: she was the Hufflepuff girl who had, out of the blue during his fourth year, approached him in the hallways between classes and asked to be his date for the Yule Ball. He had declined as politely as he could at the time considering his lack of experience in such matters, and had never given her another thought.
And now here she was, singing a melancholy love song and looking at him. It was only a brief glance, but for that moment her eyes locked with his, and he could see in those eyes that she still remembered, even as he had forgotten. For a moment he wondered why she would sing such a song to him, as she had never made him cry, but then it dawned on him that the song was not for him, but for herself.
Won't you forgive me my sins, love?
Won't you touch me?
You're… alone in the heather
Healing your heart so another
May hold you close
Harry's next breath came as a shudder. Somehow, all these years later, those songs that had gone straight over his head were beginning to make sense. Even tonight, in the midst of all the folk songs and classics, many of the lyrics had been about love, or love lost, or love unrequited. Suddenly everything was connected, from the singers of old to the Beatles to this Hufflepuff girl whose name he'd never known, or even taken the time to learn. How long had music and love been so connected? And how had he never known this?
Whether it was because she had heard his shudder, or because she had some inkling of the turmoil in his thoughts, Hermione's hand was suddenly on his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Could they ever love you so?
The way I did you? Ah!
Please… just look my way, love
Smile and say that you will love me…
Again…
Their final chord faded while the room held its collective breath, and then the cheers came. Harry applauded numbly as Hannah hugged her friends, whispering congratulations of her own to the song's composer.
"That was quite lovely indeed," Professor Sprout smiled maternally as the three seated themselves. "Well, Hufflepuff, our time grows short. What shall we close with this week?"
Several hands went up, waving frantically for the professor's attention, but Susan actually spoke up as she raised her own. "Professor?"
"Yes, Miss Bones?"
"Professor, I don't think we've heard anything yet from Harry!" She shot an amused glance at him as she said this, and even winked.
"Bless my soul, so we haven't! Well, Mister Potter, we can't let our guests leave without offering them the opportunity to share. Do you have anything for us?"
Harry blanched. Just like that, every eye was on him, and he made a silent vow that Susan would pay for this. "I- I'm sorry, Professor Sprout. I've never played anything at all until tonight, or sung anything for that matter. I don't really have anything of my own."
"Oh, it can be anything, dear," Sprout assured him. "This is Hufflepuff House, Mister Potter. No one will laugh at you."
Harry swallowed nervously. "I appreciate that, but honestly, I can't think of anything…"
"Oh, come on, mate, you got to hear me sing," Ron prodded him.
Before he could shush Ron, though, he felt Hermione's hand on his once more. "Perhaps something… buried away?" she said, quietly.
He looked over at her, and saw that her mouth was turned upward in the tiniest smile. For a moment, he could not for the life of him think of what she might be driving at, but then it hit him with such force that seconds passed before he could even take a breath.
"Okay," he said to Professor Sprout, though he never broke eye contact with Hermione. "I… think I know a song I could sing for you."
"Very good, Mister Potter. Please, stand. Will you need accompaniment for this song?"
Setting his drum to one side, Harry pushed himself to his feet, looking nervously about at all the Hufflepuffs. "I'm afraid it's a little different than tonight's music," he said, somewhat lamely. "It's by the Beatles."
Zacharias gave a single snort of laughter, but by the expression on his face it was genuinely good-humoured. "Oh, we know a thing of two about the Beatles," Sprout grinned, shooting a glance toward the guitarist. "Why don't you go ahead and start, and if it's one we know, we'll jump in?"
"That'd be… brilliant, thank you," Harry nodded. "I'm - er - not sure what key it's in."
"Sing it however you'd like, Mister Potter. We'll make do."
"Right."
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to pay too much attention to the way his heart was hammering against his ribs. After the shared experience of the evening's music, he suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable.
Realizing that there was nothing else for it but to take a breath and sing, Harry did so.
I… once had a girl
Or should I say - she once had me…
In his head, he heard the guitar accompaniment from his oft-played tape join in, and it heartened him. It was different, somehow, but it still sounded perfect.
She… showed me her room
Isn't it good - Norwegian wood…
As he came in on the next line, where two of the Beatles had sung in harmony, Harry was shocked to hear another voice add itself to his own - a girl's voice. His eyes popped open, and he nearly dropped the line as he saw that Hannah was singing the harmony to his melody. Moreover, the guitar he'd been hearing was not in his head at all, but was being played by Zacharias. In just one verse, they'd managed to match themselves to his pitch to provide a perfect accompaniment.
There was no time to marvel at musicianship, though: there was a song yet to be sung.
She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair
With the next verse, Justin joined in as well, tapping out the beat on his seat-drum. Professor Sprout had the hammers poised over the strings of the dulcimer, apparently waiting for the right moment to enter.
I… sat on the rug
Biding my time - drinking her wine
We… talked until two
And then she said - it's time for bed
An instrumental bridge followed. In the recording, the melody had been played by a stringed instrument that Harry had never been able to identify. In this performance, though, it was played by Susan and her violin. Susan played with her eyes closed, a solemn expression on her face. Harry closed his eyes again to finish the song - a part of him felt unworthy to be accompanied by musicians like these, and he found he could no longer watch them.
She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh
I told her I didn't, and crawled off to sleep in the bath
And… when I awoke
I was alone - this bird had flown
So… I lit a fire
Isn't it good - Norwegian wood…
The impromptu quartet finished out the last few measures of the song, leaving only silence. A few moments passed, and Harry slowly opened his eyes to see that most everyone in the common room was staring at him. A few of the younger students looked like they wanted to applaud, and were glancing around at their classmates as though waiting for the signal to do so.
Harry looked to Zacharias, who was gazing at his strings, to Hannah, who had her hands over most of her face, leaving only her wide, unblinking eyes, to Susan, whose face was streaked with tears.
The silence was unbearable, so Harry smiled awkwardly and spoke. "I'm sorry. I… guess that wasn't very good, was it?"
"Oh, no, Harry," Hannah said, sounding breathless and on the verge of weeping. "No, it was beautiful, it's just… that song… that song was…" She broke off, and the tears welling in her enormous eyes began to fall.
"It was one of Cedric's favourites," Zacharias said quietly, not looking up from his guitar. "One of the songs that he used to sing for us here."
Harry felt as though a bludger had knocked the wind from him. "I'm… I'm sorry, I didn't…"
"It's alright, Harry," Ernie assured him, though even he sounded as though he were fighting back tears as well. "I'm sure Cedric wouldn't have minded at all. He always spoke very highly of you."
"Yes, he certainly did," Professor Sprout agreed, smiling sadly. "Thank you, Mister Potter, that was very well sung." She then made a business of scolding her house by saying "For Merlin's sake, Hufflepuff, a round of applause for Mister Potter."
The students applauded, and Harry carefully seated himself on the floor, suddenly feeling as though his legs might give way if he stood any longer. "Nice job," Ron whispered from his left, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
"Yes, Mister Diggory had a great fondness for the Beatles," Sprout went on as the clapping died down. "In fact, I do believe that would be as good a way as any for us to close the evening. Page one hundred seventy-four, Hufflepuff! Mister Smith, kindly lead us in."
Another mad shuffle of pages ensued, but Harry felt too numb to even pick up his book. As it turned out, he didn't need to - the introductory measures played by Zacharias were more than enough to remind him of the words to another song he'd long thought forgotten. He added his voice to the chorus of Hufflepuffs, singing in spite of the lump in his throat.
There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all
Harry felt another hand take his own, and he looked to his right to see Hermione smiling at him as she closed her fingers around his. Fresh tears shone on her cheeks, but she looked nothing but happy as the singing continued.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one who compares with you
And these mem'ries lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more
To his left, Ron and Luna were sharing a book (she appeared to know the words, while he most certainly did not), and both were smiling as they sang - Luna with a sort of distant joy, and Ron with humor as he tried to follow along with her.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more
The hand holding Harry's squeezed more tightly, and he suddenly felt very full of warmth. A song he had thought of as his and his alone was now something to be shared, and the idea of this was more than he could fathom. It was something beautiful and at the same time terrifying. Somehow, though, he had the feeling that everything would be okay.
In my life… I'll love you more
The song drew to its quiet close, and after a moment of silence, Professor Sprout again clapped her hands twice, as she had at the beginning. "Good night, Hufflepuff!"
"Good night, Professor Sprout!"
* * *
"Girl in the Long Grass" - words/lyrics/music © 2003 Nancy Lorenz - Lyrics used with permission. (Thanks, Nacey!)
"Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)" and "In My Life" - words and music by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, performed by the Beatles, from the album Rubber Soul - darned if I know who holds the copyright nowadays, but it's not me.
Author's Note: If you want to hear an mp3 of "Girl in the Long Grass" by Nancy Lorenz (yes, the same Nancy Lorenz who wrote "The Snitch" and several other amazing fics), click here. Thank you for bearing with me during a chapter which has been, quite frankly, very difficult to write. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.