Walking through the corridors, she had finished all her classes for today. A mix of guilt and relief swelled in her mind – she hadn’t practiced her piano for quite a while, at least since she came to Hogwarts. Her relationship with the piano or music was quite complicated. She loved playing the piano and listening to music, yet the long hours and continuity of it made her exhausted sometimes. No longer under her piano tutor’s and her parents’ supervision, she had freedom to choose whether she wanted to play or not, so she chose to put the practice aside. But today, she suddenly felt she should practice again. She missed the feeling of pressing the keys and the sound of a fine-tuned piano.
She went back to the dorm to change her clothes. The weather wasn’t really cold. She wore a baby-blue button-up paired with an earthy knit vest, patterned with brown, grey-blue, and fine white lines, topped with a cropped khaki blazer. The look was completed with a pair of wide-legged royal blue trousers and her brown loafers. She grabbed her sheet music, ready to go. As Rosaline descended the stairs, she hummed the melody from Chopin’s Heroic Polonaise. The piece was too hard for her to play for now, but one could dream. She didn’t plan to play Chopin today; instead, she brought the sheet for Beethoven’s Bagatelles, and intended to play through the three sets of pieces. She was fond of these pieces because they could be cheerful, lively, passionate, serious… They allowed her to feel and convey different emotions in one practice session. Also, she didn’t want anything too difficult, as she hadn’t practiced for nearly a month.
Luckily, there were no moving staircases this time, and Rosaline soon arrived on the fourth floor. It was a rather strange place to her. She hadn’t set foot before, but she had heard of the Rehearsal Room before, a kindhearted Hufflepuff told her. To her, it was exciting to enter the new place, doing an activity she had long been familiar with. She stood outside the Rehearsal Room. There was no one playing music, she supposed, and she hoped to have an empty room to spend time alone. She pushed open the wooden door with both hands. The scent of instruments instantly filled the air – the rosin, the wood, the slightly metallic fragrance. She loved it. It felt strangely like another home to her. Though a demanding one.
The young Everhart spotted the piano, which was bathed in the remaining sunlight. Dust was dancing in the air. It was a grand piano, which seemed to be well taken care of. She walked toward it, admired the piano she had just found for a moment. As she opened the front panel, she could see that every key on it was perfect. Wondering if it was tuned by a piano tuner, or if there was no need for it at all because of the magic, she put the sheet on it. Though she had memorized these pieces thoroughly, she still wanted to bring them. The sheet wasn’t tattered or shredded, but merely yellowed with age and bearing the mark of how often she had read it.
Her mind went through her memory of playing piano. The first time she fell in love with it was when she was five. After a concert and her parents’ encouragement, she had begun her music career, if one could call it that. The word might be too serious for an 11-year-old kid, but it indeed occupied quite a lot of Rosaline’s time. She could be motivated and captivated by music sometimes, but other times, she just did not feel it was the right time to practice. Today was the day she had motivation.
Sitting on the velvet bench with her back straight, she started from Beethoven’s Bagatelles, Op. 33. She intended to play three sets in chronological order. It was always fun to experience the change during the composer’s lifetime. The first piece was light, elegant, and cheerful. Her slender fingers pressed the keys. The notes flew from the piano, as if they had wings. The piano was fine-tuned and in a great state to play. She loved the sense of control she could exert and create through music. The familiarity of pieces anchored her heart a bit more. It wasn’t her greatest day after she came to school; she had doubted herself, nearly lost in the castle, but also met so many good friends. As a smile appeared on her face, she finished the pieces from Op. 33 and continued to Op. 119.
There was one song she particularly liked, Op.119: No. 4. The score indicated that it should be played ‘andante cantabile’, which meant going in an easy pace and in a singing style. The piece was calm and relaxed like a walk in a perfect fall afternoon, not too slow but also not too fast. The piece was short, and she needed to prepare for the next one. Her mind had been occupied, and she enjoyed it very much, throwing away all the doubt and concern she had before. If anyone walked in the room right now, she wouldn’t notice at all. The next one, No. 5, should be played in ‘risoluto’, meaning resolute. It was quite a contrast with the last one. She loved the dramatic effect. Her eyes lit up with joy.
