I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.

Harry Potter and the Music room: what if Harry went to Hogwarts having found a love of music before he went?

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The door slowly opened and Harry Potter peered inside. He was a little hesitant about entering the door, it did magically appear before him when moments before there was bare, solid, stone wall. However, he was at a magic school that taught magic, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry to be precise, so perhaps doors that suddenly appear was a normal thing here.

Normal.

Harry had spent his whole life wishing he was normal. He felt that if he was normal, the Dursleys would have treated him more nicely, would have treated him like a part of the family. Since he was not normal though, something they told him every day, he was never treated like a part of the Dursleys.

Admittedly they treated him more nicely when they discovered his talent for music. One of the teachers at his primary school praised his playing, something that confused the Dursleys. As far as they were concerned, he had no talent of any kind. He was a freak, useful only to clean and cook for them. To be abused by them. When they finally heard him play, they decided he was still a freak, but a talented freak.

They "let" him play for guests. They "allowed" him to entertain their parties. They ate up all praise directed at him and said he was finally earning his keep. He did not mind terribly. They fed him a little better when he played for them. He wore nicer clothes during his performances. He was treated ever so slightly better.

Sadly, that was still a vast improvement over how he used to be treated.

Now he was hundreds if not thousands of miles away from the Dursleys. He had learned that his abnormality had a name: magic. He was a wizard. He was talented with more than just affinity for music.

Some things remained the same. He was still horrifically shy. He still had trouble talking to people. He was ignored on the train save for one person who was busy with other things at the time. He was still stared at, whispered about by others.

He was still a freak.

He spent days looking for the comfort he had discovered at his old school. Days he wandered, looking, seeking. It never occurred to him ask for information. He never had his questions answered before after all. However, today he found this appearing door beside a funny tapestry of a wizard trying to teach trolls to dance.

The room was large and clean, behind the door. The ceiling was arched, sound seemed to echo just right inside. Yet the thing that drew his eye was a beautiful piano that sat squarely in the middle. It seemed to beckon to him, asking him to approach. It gleamed in the torchlight, shining and polished.

It was as if it was waiting for him, all this time.

With barely any hesitation he sat on the bench before the piano. He ran his fingers lovingly over the polished ivory keys. With trembling hands, hands that shook from anticipation and want, he began to play. He almost cried when he heard the notes fill the air, delicate sounds that he had missed for weeks. He felt his heart beat in tune with the notes, and after playing a warm-up scale, he settled for a song that he loved.

Now I've heard there was a secret chord,
That David played, and it pleased the Lord,
But you don't really care for music, do you?

He never really liked hearing himself sing. He always thought he was ruining the beauty of the music. However, he wanted to fill the echoing space with sound. He wanted to release all his pent up pain and anxiety. He wanted to feel like he could do one thing right. So he sang.

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
The minor falls, the major lifts,
The baffled king composing Hallelujah.

He felt more at peace now, letting his worries drift away. He let the music fill him inside, build in his lungs, and escape his body. He let himself cry, to feel release and relief. To feel something.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

When he finally stopped playing, he realized he had an audience. He froze, seeing people standing in the open door. He apparently had left it open and he felt horribly self-conscious. He recognized the brown, bushy-haired girl that was sorted with him in Gryffindor. He saw a girl in black and silver and green with long, straight, blonde hair. He saw students that he did not recognize, all older than him.

A diminutive figure strode out of the crowd, clapping enthusiastically. It inspired the others to do the same. "Incredible!" Professor Flitwick praised. "Wonderful playing and singing Mister Potter! No wonder you are so good at Charms work!"

Harry was unused to praise and it showed, his face red and his shoulders curled. Yet he felt warm inside for being praised for magic too. "Really?" he asked shyly, his speaking voice lacking the confidence of his singing voice.

"Oh yes! Incantations require proper enunciation and pronunciation and your singing is perfect examples of both. Not to mention your wand movements are quite sharp and show off your dexterity. At first I thought your skill was natural, and not to say it isn't to some degree, but seeing how accomplished you are musically can only enhance your abilities!"

Harry smiled for the first time since coming to Hogwarts. It was a tiny smile, an uncertain smile, but a smile. "You really think playing music can help me be better at magic?"

Flitwick winked. "I think you already are rather accomplished. And with this, you can only get better." He conjured a series of chairs and sat in the smallest one. "May I trouble you for more? If you're comfortable of course."

No one had ever asked Harry to play more. He was only ever told to play more, that he needs to or should. Never asked.

Heartened, he began to play. He was able to ignore the students drifting in to sit and watch and listen. Instead he lost himself to the music once more, feeling like he found his place again.

Hallelujah.