xxxxxThe silent night aches in Emery, and the mourning within his soul yearns to express itself in music. He yearns for a piano and so he exits his office and heads to his quarters where he owns a small quaint piano, transferred here from his home in Nuremberg. He sits on the piano chair and opens the piano cover with a heaviness in his heart. He smiled gently and breathed in and out letting himself forget the world around him at least for a moment. This was a gentleness that only a few in his life knew of. Emery could imagine in another world he would have found his passion in this instrument, perhaps in a world where his desire for importance had not existed, perhaps in a world where he had not been skilled in magic. The notes played silently in his head as he created the piece note by note. He placed his hands upon the piano, and played. In his head, he thought perhaps this would be called Durmstrang’s Lament, a grieving song for the lives lost. He had not been acquainted well with the students who had tragically lost their lives nor with the late Headmistress, but to Emery, any life lost was a grief. He played and played up until the sun rose, in a loss of awareness of the world around him. Emery would stand up and close his eyes and open them at the end, pushing down all emotion so that he could be strong for the students, strong for the students who should have never experienced death this young. He, at forty four had experienced far more death due to his professions, but this was a tragedy and a pyre, a massacre that should have never happened. His anger would pour into his playing, a loud sound echoing in his quarters. Perhaps a student would hear his mourning, perhaps they would not.
