Caught In The Act PV George Henry Finished

@Ivy Bellamy

George found it quite curious that the ballroom would be placed on the fourth floor of the castle. Almost as curious was the fact that the school had a ballroom to begin with. But the fact that George most truly could not reconcile was the fact that this castle was a school at all. Not only that, but a school for magic. A school for magic which he attended. He would've thought it was a dream if it weren't for a fact that his mother had seen the letters and taken him through Diagon Alley. She had seen it all too. That would never be the case if it were a dream, as George's mother had many razor sharp methods of bringing those back to reality.

The hallways were wide open and torch-lit, leaving George plenty of room to wander around with his arms spread wide, enjoying the lack of traffic or crowding that came when the ballroom was not prepared for hosting an event. There were no classes today and he was not restricted to just his uniform, which pleased him, as it meant his shoes no longer tapped loudly against the cobblestone as he walked. He could enjoy the peace and quiet without ruining it for himself. But tonight, it was not quiet. From one of the rooms he had not yet visited, the boy could hear a sound that was not like anything in Hogwarts he had yet experienced. Just the opposite, actually. Unlike the school the sound was familiar.

When George passed the doorway, he was stunned in shock of the Gryffindor girl that was waiting, poised to attack the first trespasser. Suddenly, the familiar sound stopped, replaced by a record scratch. A gramophone. When the girl began to speak, George put his arms up defensively, hiding behind them as though he was being splashed with venom.

"Why did you think that?!" George protested, lowering his defenses and giving the girl a quizzical look. She acted like he had just walked into her bedroom, not what appeared to be a rehearsal room. The whole situation was so absurd that the boy could not think of what to say next at all, and so his mind wandered back a few steps to what he had heard outside. He pointed toward the gramophone. "Are you going to put that record back on?"

@George Henry

The intruder was a boy with dark brown hair and startled brown eyes. He looked at her rather strangely when she spoke and asked her why she thought so - of what he was asking, Ivy was unsure. Was he asking why she thought he'd knock or why she thought everyone was in the library? After a brief contemplation, Ivy decided to answer the latter.

"Well, unless you're blind, deaf or stupid, you would have noticed that there's a storm going on," Ivy said, haughtily. As if on cue, lightning struck and thunder rumbled loudly outside. "No one would be outside now. Everyone's gone to the library or the common room or something - just not here, no one ever comes here unless there's some big performance or something. Why are you here?"

Ivy was well aware of how arrogant she sounded, but she didn't really care. She was embarrassed for being caught listening to Muggle music, and was preparing herself for an onslaught of taunts and mocking laughs when the boy asked if she was going to put the record back on. "Wha - no, I was just passing time. Why do you want me to put the record back on?" Ivy was perplexed. Why would anyone want to listen to Muggle music? It wasn't bad, necessarily, only students here were surrounded by magic. Ivy was used to it, but from what she had seen and heard from Muggleborn acquaintances, they thought the magical world much more interesting than their own. She was yet to encounter a first-year Muggleborn student who was homesick for the Muggle world.

Ivy hoped the boy wouldn't tell anyone. If he did, she would surely be subject to pointed fingers and mocking laughs in the hallways. When she spoke again, her voice was pleading and uncertain. "Wait - you won't tell anyone will you?"

@Ivy Bellamy

It was the first hostile reception that George had been given at the school. From his friends on the train to the kind Hufflepuffs who welcomed him to the common room, the students had welcomed him with open arms. All but this one. This one was apparently irritated by the mere presence of him in a place where he had the right to be. He approached cautiously - still hiding from her verbal assault while trying to get closer to the source of the muggle music.

"I'm just exploring, same as you are- you're here too! Why are you here when there's no performance or nothing? What do you know?" He was trying to fight fire with fire, but he never had the energy to maintain his own fire for long. When she asked the question about why he might want the music back on, he just gave her another quizzical look. This girl was full of bizarre questions. "I think I know the song. Come on- put the record back in."

George reached out to lift the needle on the gramophone. His father had a record collection, an expansive library of muggle music that would make muggle artefact enthusiasts weep with its broad selection and meticulous maintenance. He knew quite a few songs that were older than he was, and he passed that knowledge on to his son, who knew all sorts of old-fashioned rock and pop songs that he used to dance along to growing up. The girl spoke again, and almost seemed afraid, but George couldn't fathom why exactly - this was a good song. Not like she should be ashamed of her taste in music, anyway. "I won't tell anyone... what? That you were listening to the records? That's what they're there for, isn't it?"

@George Henry

The boy approached carefully, clambering up onto the stage as he questioned why she was here. Ivy tossed her pretty brown head, irritated that he was there. Couldn’t he just leave, for God’s sake? Pale cheeks flushed and grey eyes indignant, she glared at him as she responded. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.” Truth be told, there was really nothing extraordinary about her presence there that afternoon. The Gryffindor merely had wanted something to do on her own and the store room had contained something curious - the records.

The boy stated that he knew the song, lifting the needle and fiddling around with it. Ivy hoped he didn’t break it. While the young pureblood knew that a simple spell could fix it, she was yet to really learn anything in her classes and did not wish to have to run for a professor or a prefect. “You know the song?” Her tone was inquisitive. “So you’re a Muggleborn.” The Bellamy family looked down upon all things Muggle-related, but this trait and habit of being a “typical pureblood” had not been passed down to Ivy and her sisters. Ivy’s older sister, Lillian, had fallen in love with a Muggle boy and eloped five years ago, and her younger sister, Alison, was determined to like everything their parents did not. It had been this that had broken the hatred of Muggles in Ivy, although unlike the other two, she had never acted on it and kept her true thoughts from her parents as she was perceived as the “perfect daughter” of the three. Well, not so perfect anymore. Being sorted Gryffindor instead of Slytherin had given her parents a field day.

The boy sounded confused at her request that he kept it a secret. Ivy rolled her eyes and turned to face him, making an irritated, disapproving noise in the back of her throat. “No, not for listening to records. Are you completely thick?” Ivy was, admittedly, being too harsh now, but she did not stop to apologise. Her pride did not allow it.

“I’m a pureblood, and my family hates all things Muggle-related,” she said, as if it were obvious. “There are also plenty of their so-called friends’ kids who are absolute snitches. If word got out that I was listening to Muggle music, do you think they would hesitate in writing to their parents, who will surely tell mine? As if being sorted into Gryffindor wasn’t enough. Would you like to give my mother a heart attack?” she asked incredulously.

Ivy turned away from him, as her rant explanation had rendered her slightly breathless. “What’s so good about this song, anyway?” she muttered under her breath. Ivy had not been paying attention to the lyrics or the melody. She saw the records as simply another way to pass the time, and most certainly had not expected anyone to catch her listening to them. This boy couldn’t have come by when someone else was in here, could he?

@Ivy Bellamy

George threw his arms up in resignation as Ivy scolded him about minding his own business - if that was her concern, she ought to try it herself. He was here for the same reason she was. Curiosity and boredom brought them together, and rather than having some fun exploring, she went and made it a confrontation. Some people just made it their business to make problems. At least she offered a suitable explanation for that, as well - an argument was a fine way to pass the time. George just didn't like it when they came uninvited. He didn't bother with a response to her chastising, instead leaning in for a closer look at the gramophone and its needle.

"Come on- let's put it back on," he said in a low voice, grumbling as he tried to get the needle to catch on the record. He wasn't entirely sure how to start the thing up again. It was no muggle contraption with easily labelled buttons and plugs, certainly. Did he need a spell to get it spinning again? He started to blush as he spent longer at it, knowing that Ivy must've known the way to turn it back on. His cheeks grew even redder as she noted his muggle heritage. He'd been warned already about the possibility of 'tension' arising from the quality of his blood, but had been waiting for the first of it to hit him. Was it time already? She only got worse, rolling her eyes and scoffing at his suggestion that she was ashamed of listening to records. He could feel a bit of tightness in his chest as she scratched at his insecurities, but he was tough enough not to show it.

His face twisted as she explained her pureblooded family. It looked like he had something sour on his tongue that he was too polite to spit out, and he did. There was plenty he wanted to say but thought better of. He was a Muggle-related thing - that was probably all her parents would think of him as. He remembered a word, whispered under someone's breath, so nobody could hear it but George. Mudblood. Would he like to give her mother a heart attack? Was there a spell that could give her one? Again, he was too polite to say.

Finally, the girl ran out of words to say. He needed an outlet, quickly, before he raised his voice at her. This was not a fun argument. It wasn't a play-fight like he was used to. She was only speaking about her family, but it still felt personal. Why would she be any different from her mother? Finally, the gramophone clicked, and he got the song playing again, the Muggle rhythms soothing his weary heart. He looked at Ivy once again.

"What do you mean, what's so good about it?" It was obvious! The rhythm, the melody, the whole shape of the song was built for dancing. George demonstrated, his sneakers squeaking on the stage as he boogied sideways in Ivy's direction, doing a dance from the 80's his mother had taught him. The tension was leaving his body. He didn't feel like he had to prove anything to her besides just how groovy this record was. "Just listen to it! It's so... funky!

@George Henry

Arguments, Ivy found, were not very fun when they were one-sided, and especially so if it was her shouting. Although, technically, she wasn't really shouting at him, but her words were very aggressive. When he didn't respond with anything except for a red face and hurt brown eyes, Ivy felt bad, just for a moment. Then irritation. Honestly, couldn't he just say anything?

His eyes seemed to light up when the music turned back on, and Ivy sighed. Her grey eyes widened when he began to dance, sneakers squeaking across the stage as he did so. What the hell was he doing? She looked around to make sure no one was watching before grabbing his wrist as he passed. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "Aren't you scared that someone will come by and see you or something?"

Ivy was. Knowing her luck, someone who knew her parents would walk by and catch her listening to Muggle music, hanging out with... whoever this boy was. She marched over to the gramophone and stopped it again, hopefully stopping his dance as well. Ivy spun around and glared at him. "Can you not?" She was sick and tired of this. "There really is nothing..." Ivy paused. What was the word he had used? "...funky about this music. It's very irritating, actually. Like you."

@Ivy Bellamy

He looked up at her in surprise when she grasped his wrist, halting him where he stood. "Oh no! If someone sees me dancing to music, they might think..." He paused, unable to come up with a suitably absurd retort. It's what people were meant to do with music - even if it were Muggle music, how could she be so worried? All of the negativity he had held back to start his dancing flooded back into his mind. Something he had ignored before stuck in his head. "And hey, what problem do you have with Gryffindor, by the way? They're the house I wanted."

George stood with his hands on his hips, looking to Ivy with a judgemental glare. She resisted all of his efforts to just smooth things over, to let the both of them enjoy the music - evidently, the girl wanted a problem to be made. It was a good thing that George was exceptionally talented at creating those.

"Is that right?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as the exhausted Ivy told him that he was not funky, but in fact irritating. If she thought he was irritating now, then he would do her one better. "Very irritating Muggle music, is it? That why you're out here listening to it by yourself?"

He stared at her with an angry gaze, looking her over from head to toe. What could be so different about Muggle music that it was irritating for her to hear? Were pure-blooded wizards all tone-deaf? Maybe it was just because she didn't know how to dance. " Maybe we can go out over to the library and tell everyone about how you were out here listening to this annoying music?"

His sneer softened up and he raised an eyebrow, a smirk rising on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. If she hated it so much, surely she wouldn't mind spreading the word? His eyes darted to the gramophone briefly. He tapped his foot softly to the now-silent beat.

"What's so different about wizard music that you don't like that, anyway? It's a good record."

@George Henry

Ivy raised an eyebrow at the other boy's unfinished retort, and looked at him inquisitively at the mention of the four houses. He wanted to know what she had against Gryffindor, and Ivy huffed in annoyance. Hadn't he been listening? "It's not me who has anything against Gryffindor, it's my family." If there was any resentment toward the house, it was in the back of her mind and because it was the reason that her parents were now disappointed in her.

Ivy's annoyance only rose when his next words suggested that she was lying about not liking the music. "I was bored," she protested, flustered. It seemed that she could find no other words to say to explain, and this agitated her. It turned into panic when the boy suggested that they tell everyone in the library.

"No!" Ivy's voice was almost a shout as she grabbed his wrist again, regardless of whether he was heading toward the door or not. She softened her tone and facial expression, although her grip was still firm. "Please don't." Ivy was panicking - she knew that some of her parents' friends' children were in the library, and if they headed to there, she was done for.

The boy seemed to listen to her protest, and asked why she didn't like the song. "It's not so much who wrote the song or anything," Ivy explained. She was playing nice so that he wouldn't tell, and it was hard. The Gryffindor did not like being nice to strangers - it was a side of her that only her close friends were permitted to see. "I've never cared for songs like that - too loud and cheesy, and too many - too many words. I prefer classical music - compositions by Paganini and Bach and Tchaikovsky. You know," she continued to explain, just in case the boy didn't know the definition of classical music, "classical music. Violins and pianos and flutes."

She had listed three random classical instruments off the top of her head - and it was just so that there was a piano set up in the corner of the stage. Ivy had taken piano from the tender age of two. When a sudden idea occurred to her, she thought over it briefly. Yeah, why not? She walked over to the piano and commenced playing the opening few bars of Liszt's La Campanella, partly to show off, partly to prove her point, whatever that may be, to this impertinent boy.

Reducio

Below is the piece Ivy is playing. I know Liszt is rather advanced for an average eleven-year-old, but it is not impossible ... also, La Campanella was the first piece that came to mind for me.

@Ivy Bellamy

"Bach was a Muggle!" George said with an accusing jab of his finger in Ivy's direction. The other two - Pagliacci and Kovkovsky - he had no idea. They sounded like pureblood names, so they were probably wizards. Violins, pianos, flutes - Muggles played them all just as well as a wizard could, although they needed to use their hands and mouths rather than just charming the instruments to play themselves. The application of a little elbow grease didn't diminish the quality of the tune, did it? The girl could clearly see the merit in Muggle music, given that she was just listening to it, but he couldn't figure out how to get her to just admit it!

"Panini and Tchai-insky too! All Muggles!" He refused to play nice with this girl who ran counter to everything he stood for. He still considered himself to be a representative of Gryffindor, despite the yellow trim of his school robes. He was sure there had been a mistake, even if the Sorting Hat assured him otherwise. What did a hat know? Nothing about him! Less than him about himself, surely, and he knew he was in Gryffindor. "You know, you sure are picky with your music. Maybe you ought to just dance."

But the girl got away from him after releasing his wrist - he wanted to seize hers, but she was too fast, and he didn't get the idea until she was already sitting at the piano. By then, he was curious, and he followed her over to watch her play. All thoughts of Muggle music fled his mind as he watched her play, in awe of her ability. His mother could play piano, but not nearly as well as Ivy, and Ivy was only a first-year. Maybe the purebloods were onto something with their music. Maybe he was wrong about Bach and Palomina and Chiveskovsky.

He followed along, bobbing his head with the music until it came time for that horrid flourish near the end of the composition, the notes coming so fast that it sounded like an alarm clock. He interrupted her by bringing down his palm onto a span of 10 keys, smashing through the song with a horrible, low-pitched sound. Before he could incur her wrath again, he moved to soothe her - and move on to a curiosity that had suddenly gripped him.

"That was really good," he assured her, his mouth still hanging open slightly from the shock when he finished speaking. He smiled, then - although his hand still hovered over where he had pushed it to interrupt her performance. "Where did you learn how to play like that? Can you show me?"