Harry Potter is not mine, and belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just borrowed her character for a few hours.
"One must never underestimate the sheer power of music." -Unknown
It was in his second year when he first found the room with the perfectly cared for grand piano. It's ivory and black keys begging to be played. It was here that he did his best to try to play anything that didn't sound like it was dying.
She had been wandering the castle, doing her rounds even if it wasn't her night to do them, when she heard what sounded like the piano playing. Or rather, someone who didn't have the basics quite down, but was trying to learn too fast. Minerva poked her head into the room to find a young boy with untidy black hair playing the chopsticks. He was doing well with that at least. She waited for him to stop and then clapped her hands with a smile on her face.
"Well done Mr. Potter, for having almost no proper training I assume?" his transfiguration professor stated before moving fully into the room. He spun around and nodded shyly.
"Yes Professor, I'm sorry though, I should get back to the common room probably." He stated whilst trying to subtly find an escape route out. Minerva smiled and held up a hand.
"Harry, you don't have to run, and if you really are interested in this I would be more than happy to teach you, I have taught a few dozen students piano over that last few years. You are not the first nor will you be the last to find my piano." She paused as she moved to the instrument and sat down. She twisted around before Harry could escape and smiled patting the space on the bench beside her and nodding encouragingly. He hesitantly went and took his place beside his teacher.
And so lessons began with the formidable woman. As her pupil progressed she found that all he had really needed was the basics. She was proud to teach someone her second joy in life. Harry was just happy that he hadn't been hexed for being out late and playing an instrument that wasn't his to play.
It was in his sixth year when the two became very close. They were closer than a mentor and student should be at any rate. He was playing a rather complex piece and she had heard him. Her steps were drowned out by the music that was coming from the room that had been a safe haven for them both. She had found him here after Sirius had died, and he had found her there after Cedric Diggory had died. Minerva always mourned any students' loss; they were in effect, her children. Harry had calmly sat beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder as she played.
That had been six years ago, that Dumbledore had passed, and five since Voldemort had been defeated. It was now that the woman let down her guard and her hair (literally) to walk into the room to play. Her fingers ghosted over the keys as she thought of something to play. It was now that she found that with her mind full that she just let her body play whatever came to mind. It was hours later when Harry found her and this time there was no hand of support on her back. He sat down and his fingers ghosted over the keys as well. A dual played piano with two people that had done it before.
They played like a well oiled machine, their hands and fingers never hindering the others playing at all. The routine was one that they both were accustomed too. Having one person handling the foot pedals and both playing on the keys was a good way, especially if they had worked together before. Harry was still thankful for his transfiguration professor, and friend. She had taught him about musical healing. And that was the most wonderful thing to him. It began to fascinate him, how music could heal a soul should it need it. One can pour all their emotions into a song and have people laughing or weeping at the end. Minerva McGonagall had taught him that. It was a skill that he would never forget and he wanted to pass it on to his children as well.
And so the generations of the Potter line became known for their music, and each and every person attributed that fact to the McGonagall's, Minerva in particular. The two families became one, with the marriage of Harry's oldest daughter Lily-Luna, to Minerva's middle grandson, Michael McGonagall. The two children were exceptionally gifted. Having been taught by Minerva and Harry both in school and out of school as well, their children learned and so on.
Thus generations of both families stayed together and Harry Potter was no longer the boy who lived, but the man of musical healing and similar to Minerva as well. She was not remembered as the ice queen of Gryffindor, but the mother of musical healing.
~Finite~
I know it's not my best but please review! -Andria