“Ah music, the magic beyond all we do here”

Music is the most humble method of expression. It comes from the depth of the words; in fact music is the fabric buried deep within the words. Music communicates with your soul; it soothes your senses. It allows smile to linger on your lips. It makes you juvenile – it makes you sing and it makes you dance.

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

(Twelfth night, Shakespeare)

It has an odour of its own; it is the fragrance of love. It inhales melancholy and exhales mirth. It is dear to even the most abominable soul. It fills in the milieu subtly and silently; it compels you to enjoy the solitude. It is like a woman to a man; it anaesthetizes you, lobotomizes you – it makes you ‘do’. It heals the broken heart. It amazes you. It makes you holy.

Rowling has a deep love towards music and has established a profound, though not expressive, connection between the music and magic. Music is the core of every word. Every word we speak or think or imagine is but different music knitted together. In other words, music, like words, is, most certainly and unequivocally, the most inexhaustible source of magic, capable of both inflicting an injury and remedying it. Music is the core of every incantation, it is the core of every word we speak or think of. It is how we express anger; it is how we display concern. It is how we hurt; it is how we spread love.

It is really subtle – unquestionably kind if one treats it well, disastrous should you be unjust. It is the soul of our thoughts; the good, the prudent. I would like to take this opportunity to reassure my dear friend muggles that words or music, if treated well, do not hurt you. To wizards I merely say “Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus”!!!