Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the world of Harry Potter. That includes any characters, creatures, or "wizard terms" from the books. (I'd think that everyone knew by now that those things belong to J. K. Rowling!) However, I do own all of my original characters, etc.

A/N: This takes place during the summer after Harry's fourth year and during his fifth school year (June 1995 -June 1996). I plan on finishing this whole story by the 20th of June, by the latest, 'cause I don't want to get all messed up by reading the 5th book (which I can't wait to get).

Child of Memories

Written by Elfmoon87

Chapter 1: Music in the Night

I slowly opened my eyes. What had woken me, I wondered. Then I heard it: the trickling notes of a piano. They floated into my room, teasing me by growing softer and then louder. I rose from my bed, shedding the warm covers. My bare feet stepped down to the cold floor. As I lifted a soft blood-red blanket and carefully wrapped it around my shoulders, I walked to my door. Turning the cool handle that was level with the middle of my small neck, I stepped into the corridor. I didn't bother closing the door behind me. I paused, listening. The music seemed to be coming from my right, toward the lowers levels. I set off down the corridor quietly, my feet beginning to numb.

Who could be playing that music? My uncle hated music, I was sure. He had snapped at me when I was humming on the drive here. Just as he didn't seem to like the fact that my favorite color was red (I discovered that when we were setting up my room).

I am not quite sure why, but I desperately wanted to find the source of the beautiful music. Beautiful, yet sorrowful, I realized. Not all of it was sad though. As I started down the stone stairs, there were tiny bursts of happiness, but they were soon swallowed in anger. My right first toe touched the floor at the bottom, and the anger melted into sadness once more. The air was colder here. My breath rose in a small cloud before me, which amazed me somewhat, because it was the end of June. I clutched the blanket closer to me with my left hand, my right hand skimming over the smooth, icy wall.

I had no thoughts of what I would do once I found what I was looking for. The music was drawing me closer; I was almost upon it. There was a sliver of yellow light ahead on the floor. I stopped as I reached the light. It was coming from under a door that was slightly ajar. The light flickered, and I realized it was from a flame. I leaned forward and peered through the opening. Inside was a room I had never seen before (Though that wasn't saying much, as I had been in this manor for only night).

In the wall opposite the door, there was a large fireplace with a crackling fire in its grate. Above the fireplace was a mantle on which a long silver and jeweled sword lay on a black velvet cushion. Also in my view from the small opening, I could see that in the center (or what I assumed was the center) of the room was a beautiful, glossy black baby grand piano. It was turned three-fourths of the way away from me. The music was still playing, but I couldn't see who was playing it. I gently nudged the door open a bit wider and stepped into the room.

Sitting at the ebony-colored wooden piano bench was a young man - probably about sixteen or seventeen from his looks - all in black. He seemed swathed in darkness - all but his face and hands, which were very pale. His turtle- necked sweater strongly contrasted with his hair, which was the color of the very center of a candle flame and hung loosely, just barely touching the neck of the sweater. His eyes were closed, yet his fingers danced over the keys without error. I realized with a start that he was making the music up as he played! I couldn't believe it; how could anyone do that?

Suddenly his brow furrowed as he frowned, and he stopped playing. Before I could react, his eyes snapped open, and he turned to look at me. For a moment, he just stared. The only sound in the room was the snapping and hissing of the fire as it swallowed logs.

He was the first to find his voice, his misty gray eyes questioning. "Who are you?"

"I -" I didn't know what to say.

He seemed to find this amusing. "Well if you don't give me your name, then I shall give you one. Kage," he replied before my brain could respond.

"What?"

"Kage. Shadow. It's Japanese," he added.

"Oh. Why 'shadow' though?"

He smiled slightly. "You snuck up on me like a shadow."

I bit my lip. Was he going to get angry with me? That's what my uncle would do, I would soon find out. He wouldn't yell, but his voice would get fiercely quiet, and his dark eyes would blaze. "Um. so what is your name?" I didn't want it to be quiet again; I don't like silence, for it makes me uncomfortable.

"Taliesin." He paused. "What are you doing here?" He didn't seem irritated in any way, only mildly curious.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening. I must have looked similar to a rabbit that has just realized its foot is caught in a snare. "The - the piano woke me up. I, er, wanted to find out where it was coming from."

For some reason, he looked surprised. "I woke you?"

"Don't worry; I don't mind." Then I added shyly, "It sounded pretty."

"I'm glad you liked it." He stood up.

I hesitantly stepped back. Though he hadn't moved any closer, he still towered over me. I had to tilt my head up slightly to look at him. I was only three-foot ten, and he must have been about two feet taller than me. Trembling, I watched as he seemed to realize something. He also took a step back, but then he turned and walked over to a large and soft-looking crimson armchair to the right of the fire and sat down in it.

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A/N: Well, what did you think? I hope you liked it. Who exactly is Taliesin? Don't worry, you'll find out eventually. Don't forget to review! (I'll try to answer questions, as long as they don't give important things away!)