𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 - wizarding world

I. AN UNCOMFORTABLE CONDITION

I. AN UNCOMFORTABLE CONDITION

tw: child abuse (mild)
__________

The clicking of low heels echoed sharply off the black marble floor, fast and irregular as the young girl hurried through the corridor. Ionic half-pillars rose high above her; the deep green, carpeted walls sped past as she turned through the open doorway on her right. The sound of soft yet icy piano reached her, and she swiftly tucked her pin-straight hair behind her ears.

Her mother spent one morning each week treating the girl's hair with a rather expensive, herbal-scented potion to get it that silky and straight. It was important she kept it flat and neat; She had never even seen her hair without it.

"Good morning, father," she said, keeping her head bowed, trying to disguise her laboured breathing.

Her father looked up at her, his face more relaxed than his wife's ever could be. His wide, strong hands resumed on the ivory keys of the grand, glossy black piano. He would stop every so often and take his wand from the wing to change the order of the notes on the music sheet before him. The notes would pop off the pages, hanging in the air like a cot mobile, changing shape and placement on the five thin lines that made up the stave.

The girl kept her hands behind her back as she listened to her father compose, entranced. She knew not to disturb him when his eyebrows were creased in the way they were now, deep in concentration. Her father didn't acknowledge her, not for five melody-filled minutes, until finally he let his hands drop to his side. He looked up at his daughter, his eyes smiling but not his mouth.

"Have you been running in the halls again? You know your mother doesn't like it when you do that. Come, Aurora. Sit with me." He scooted to the edge of the wide, velvet cushioned piano stool.

The clicking of heels returned as Aurora walked behind the piano, sitting down beside her father in a graceful motion.

"My mother taught me piano when I turned eight," he said, shuffling through the stack of music sheets, finding the one that best suited his daughter's untrained fingers. "I do believe it's time I taught you. Would you like to learn?"

Aurora, who didn't have the same familiarity with her father as she did with her mother, simply nodded, her rosy lips pulled into a polite little smile.

"Use your words, Aurora, like your mother taught you."

"Yes, father," she quickly corrected. "I would like that very much."

There that look was again, the one she had been chasing for years now, and Aurora felt a swelling in her chest. Her father found the sheet he was looking for and laid it in front of them. "First, we learn the keys. You cannot learn a language without knowing of what it consists. For English it's the alphabet. Have you covered its history yet in your lessons?"

Aurora nodded her head, but quickly thought better of it and used her words. "Yes, father."

"Good. Now, this key is called C4. Or the central C, as it stands in the middle of the piano. It represents the fourth octave..."

For hours on end that day, her father explained to her the intricacies of the piano. He taught her the language of music; the melodies that were waiting to be carved from her mind. When the sky outside turned grey and stormy, crying down on the expansive manor, the father and daughter still sat at the dark piano. Aurora's fingers grew sore, memorising and practicing note after note.

When the grandfather clock against the wall struck six, the little house elf with its big, chipped ears and bulging eyes appeared in the living room, keeping its gaze subserviently to the floor.