The Music of Minstrel

(Dis/Claimer): I do not own any of the canon Harry Potter characters nor the world in which they reside; Harry Potter is the creation of J. K. Rowling, and she is welcome to him. On the other hand, this painstaking reconstruction of "background events" starting from the Marauder's Era is entirely of my own making. I did the research to make it as canon as possible, while keeping a certain logic, only adjusting some details to make things jell better. However, this is NOT Harry's story at all. If you are looking for things that have a relation to the plot of the actual Harry Potter series, kindly turn elsewhere. However, if you are looking for something extremely long to read, carry on. Thank you.

The Music of Minstrel

It Begins

Eileen Snape bounced her little boy on her lap, humming the newest single from the controversial singing idol Elvis Presley. The little boy tried to grab his mother's hair, but the strands slipped through his chubby fingers. Frowning, he tried again, and this time succeeded in capturing a few dark strands in his round fist. He cooed and stuffed his fist, hair and all, into his mouth. "Now, Severus, don't do that," Eileen said gently, disentangling her heir from her hair. "Mummy's having visitors over. Aunt Calypso's coming with her new baby! Don't you want to meet them?"

The two-year-old, who was not very interested in his mother's babble, chortled and tried to reach hers hair again. However, before he could succeed, the doorbell of 6 Spinner's End rang. Eileen lowered little Severus into his crib and hurried to welcome her sister into her house. The baby rolled onto his stomach and used his crib to support him as he sat up. He could hear his mother saying, "Cally! Zhang! And this must be little Nimue, isn't she precious?"

"Now, you can put Nimue down here with Severus for a moment," Eileen continued. "Then you two can have a bit of tea. It must have been a pretty long ride from the Moor."

"Yes, thank you, it has," said a cultured male voice. Severus watched with some interest as a man who was not much taller than his mother, but very thin and graceful, came into the room holding a baby girl. When the man came up to the crib Severus blinked in confusion. The man had no eyes! But before he could screw up his little face to cry, the man gently placed the infant into the crib with Severus, and the boy was distracted. The baby was very small; in fact, she was only a few weeks old. But her eyes, which were slanted and chinky like her father's, were open, and they were a most startling violet color. After her bleary gaze roamed over her new environment for a few seconds, however, the baby went to sleep. Severus spent the next half hour looking at the new addition to his crib and wondering what to do with it, until he, too, finally fell asleep.

*

Severus fidgeted as his mother tied on a tiny bow across his neck and slipped him into a pair of short pants, fastening them with suspenders. "Mama," he complained when she put a pair of socks and black shoes on his feet. The shoes were old and pinched somewhat. Eileen frowned and pursed her lips. She slipped a wooden wand from her pocket and pointed it at the shoes. "Engorgio shoes," she said. The leather immediately expanded. She smiled slightly at her four-year-old. "Is that better?" she asked him. The child tried to wiggle his toes in the newly-roomy shoes and succeeded. "Yes, Mama," he said. "But where are we going?" he added quickly. "Are we going to the park?"

Eileen looked at her little son fondly. Tobias Snape, his father, was not often home, being busy working at the Postal Office; but when he was, he liked to take his son to play ball or something or other in the park. Something mundane. Tobias did not know that his wife was a witch, did not know that his wife's sister - like the rest of her pure-blooded wizarding family - was married to a wizard and lived in a world totally unlike their own at Spinner's End, which was inhabited almost exclusively by what his wife and her kind referred to (out of earshot) as "Muggles", or people who did not have a shred of magic in their veins. He did not know that his wife had been a brilliant brewer of potions, winning awards for her ability while she had attended the most prestigious school of magic in Europe. Neither did he know that his son, most probably, had inherited his wife's abilities. Instead, he reveled in the simple joys of passing a ball back and forth between him and his son on Sunday afternoons, thinking that it was only his salary and good leadership that was keeping his little family in relative comfort.

Severus was quite aware of his mother's abilities. He was also aware that he could sometimes do things like she could, things that other children could not do. He knew that she did not like it when he did those things in front of anyone except herself. More to the point, he knew that none of the children living nearby liked it when he made things happen. Severus learned to play alone. This did not help matters; all the more, the children around him saw Severus as a pariah, as a freak. He was not well-liked by his peers. On the contrary, he was jeered at and teased, or else kept away from. Because of this, Severus had become a quiet, serious boy at an early age; he was an extreme introvert, even to the point of deliberately shunning human contact aside from that of his parents'. Yet being a child, he continued to secretly crave the companionship of others of his own age.

The previous Sunday, at the park, a red-haired girl around his own age had plopped herself down on the swing beside his and commenced prattling in the good-natured, generous way all children have when they're not being little hellions. This had surprised Severus, who was not used to the attentions of his peers. By and by, he relaxed in the little girl's presence, and soon found himself enjoying it; he, too, began to talk, usually responding to her questions. After a few hours, however, another young girl arrived. She seemed a little older, and also rather paler than the red-haired girl; she had a kind of reddish-blonde hair color, as if her hair had not decided whether to be gingery or yellow, and her eyes were a murky brownish-green hazel, unlike the very vivid green eyes of Severus' new acquaintance. "Lily," she said imperiously, ignoring Severus, "it's time to go home." Lily had obediently given her hand to her older sister, waving a small good-bye at Severus. "Nice meeting you," Severus said softly, "Lily."

He had eagerly taken each opportunity to go to the park since then. Eileen had been amused at her son's apparent early crush. "No, honey, I'm sorry," she told the little boy, who pouted. "We're going to see Aunt Cally, though," she added. Severus's expression cleared quickly. He liked going to Aunt Cally's; at the Moor, everybody could do things - magical things. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted, if he could. There was always good food there, and new places to explore. And there were toys, and books. And his cousin. She was a baby, but Severus liked carrying her around and doing things for her. She would look at him with large, intent purple eyes, just like the color of his grape-scented markers, and if he moved or went anywhere she would crawl after him like he was the sunshine on daisies. "Nimue there?" he asked his mother hopefully. She nodded yes. "Okay," he replied. When his mother held her hand out to him, Severus took it firmly; he closed his eyes and joined his mother as she spun on the spot, feeling a jerky sensation pulling from somewhere behind his stomach as cold and darkness enveloped him for a quick moment. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing knee-deep in the heather just outside the gates of a familiar house, a house much bigger than their own at Spinner's End. "Welcome back to the Moor," his mother whispered. Severus smiled.

The inside of the house was always lit more brightly than the hanging chandeliers or new-fangled electric lights could possibly do. Severus had always attributed this phenomenon to the happy and cheerful family who were masters of the Moor. His Aunt Cally, like his mother, had black hair, but unlike the slim Eileen whose eyes were an imperturbable black and whose skin was pale and wan like her son's, was rounded and had shiny blue eyes and blushing skin like peaches. Her husband, Zhang, whose skin was a pale yellow and very clear, was somewhat shorter than his wife, rather more slender and graceful as well; his chinky black eyes, which had once frightened Severus, could hardly ever be seen in his ever-smiling face. Of course, there was also Severus' personal favorite, his cousin Nimue, who burbled and giggled and who looked like her parents combined, with clear, faintly yellow and still peach-fuzzy skin, black hair and bright purple eyes. As soon as he saw her, in the arms of her nanny, Severus let go of his mother's hand and ran over. He stretched his hands upwards reaching for the baby.

"Oh look, the son's got better taste than his mother after all," a cold, sneering voice said.

From across the room, Severus felt rather than saw his mother flinch and turn unfriendly eyes towards the speaker, a tall man with very pale, nearly white hair. Beside him was a boy, equally pale, with an almost heart-shaped face and a stubborn jaw, and whose nose was upturned just like the one of the tall man. "Hello, Eileen," the pale man said to Severus' mother. "That's your half-blood brat, isn't it? Is it too much to hope that you've finally come to your senses and decided to come back among decent folk?"

"Don't talk about Severus like that," Eileen said, her fists clenching.

"Oh, so the brat's named Severus," the pale man said, as if it was of no importance. "Have you met my son, Lucius? A good child, my Lucius, doesn't like mingling with -"

"Please, Nero, won't you come into the sitting room for a drop of tea?" Aunt Cally intervened swiftly, placing a protective arm around her sister. Zhang went up to the pale man and turned him and his son deftly around, steering them into another room. As they left, Severus heard the pale man say haughtily, "Really, Evermoor. I don't understand why you hire Muggles and Squibs around your house like this," and Zhang reply smoothly, "Well, they're good at their jobs, and it's hard to find house-elves for hire nowadays, so..."

"I'm so sorry, Eileen," Aunt Cally said softly to her sister. "Nero and Lucius arrived this morning about some sort of amulet thing Zhang inherited from his grandparents. It's been so busy, I didn't remember you were coming too, so I-"

"It's okay, Cally," Eileen sighed. "I'm used to it by now. You don't have to apologize for pureblood elitists like Nero Malfoy."

Aunt Cally looked as if she was about to say something else, then decided against it. Instead, she crossed the room and took her daughter from the nanny, who looked a bit peaked after hearing the pointed comment (which she could not quite understand, but somehow felt was directed against her). "Thank you, Aggie," she said. "Please don't be bothered about that, Nero's just tired from his journey and a bit irritable." The nanny bobbed a short curtsy. Aunt Cally leaned down and took Severus' hand in hers. "Would you like to see a new toy?" she asked him kindly. "Andrew Prewett sent it to me, he said Fauntleroy Lovegood and Cygnus Black made it."

The little boy nodded eagerly and followed his aunt into the drawing room, where she seated him and his cousin beside each other on a plush sofa. Aunt Cally showed him a small box with three feet and a large shiny metal disk attached to it. "This is a camera," she explained. "It puts your image onto a piece of paper, like a portrait but smaller and quicker. Fauntleroy and Cygnus bought one off a Muggle, and they fixed it up. I have one of the first ones." Severus tried to slip off the couch to look at the "camera" closer, but his aunt waved him off. "No, hold on to Nimue for a bit," she said. "Now look at the camera and smile... One... two... and... three!" There was a bright flash of light and a singed smell; but Aunt Cally was holding a little piece of square paper. Severus picked up the two-year-old Nimue, who happily chortled and tried to eat his hair (much as he had done to his mother when he had been two), and went over to Aunt Cally. She took her daughter from Severus and passed him the picture. There, blooming onto the paper, were himself and his little cousin, her violet eyes still visible even though the rest of the picture was in black and white.

***

Minstrel Lehman woke up, but stayed lying down, staring at the ceiling, for a few moments. She had had a funny dream again; a dream of seeing the countryside rush past her, a dark and gloomy countryside of mist and gorse and heather (she didn't even know what gorse or heather were, had just read about them in books, but they seemed to fit the scene playing out in her head). She couldn't remember why she was moving or why there was such a strong smell of smoke around her; nor could she remember ever seeing the moon so small. This was Switzerland, after all, and the chalet she lived in with her parents was high up on the mountain, much closer to the moon than the lowlands were. Nor had she ever seen such an amount of mist. There was no mist up in the mountains, which were cold and dry; neither was there mist in the house of her grandparents, which was in an island nation called the Philippines, a nice tropical place with lots of beaches and coconuts and other yummy foods. Ah, well. She was sure Mama or Papa could explain.

She sat up and picked up her glasses from her bedside table, on top of the book she'd been reading before she fell asleep last night. It was Lolita, a funny book about an old man who was in love with a little girl about her age. Mama had not been quite sure she should be allowed to read it, but Mr. Nabokov, whose name was printed on the book's cover in tiny letters and who had given it to her as a tenth-year birthday gift, was Papa's friend, so they could not refuse it. Papa had read the book first before allowing her to do so; it irritated her a little, because Papa had glued together certain pages, and Minstrel could not unstick them. She had even gone through the trouble of stealing, first her father's scepter, and then her mother's clasped orb, in order to attempt to charm open the pages. But Papa must have put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the things. Minstrel made a moue of her lips (in a very Lolita-ish manner, she thought) and got out of bed, carefully folding her blankets and putting them on top of her pillows as Mama had taught her to do, before covering her entire bed with her comforter.

She made her way downstairs to the dining room, where she could smell her favorite sinangag (Filipino fried rice) and tocino (sweetened pork). Mama must have cooked breakfast today, or else Papa would have made crèpes Suzette and omelette du fromáge (thin pancakes and cheese omelet, about the only things he could cook). As she passed the large bay windows she noted it was still rather dark outside; she could see her reflection on the glass, and paused to run her fingers through her thick, straight black hair. Like Mama's, she thought proudly, but thicker, like Papa's, and with a kind of flippant wave that ran through it now and then. And she had Papa's violet eyes, even more vivid than his own, which sometimes looked gray. Minstrel was very happy about the way she looked; not because she was vain, although she thought herself pretty enough, but because she looked very much like the child of her parents. Minstrel could not think of anybody else whom she loved more, and therefore would prefer to resemble. Mama, whose name was Lucita, was a lovely little thing, neither chubby nor slender, only around five feet tall, with a perpetual golden-yellow tan, slanted almond-shaped brown eyes, a little button of a nose, and straight, shiny black hair (traits that ran in the Aguilar family, which counted Chinese traders among their Filipino ancestors). Papa Alain, who was Swiss, was tall and lanky, with thick, wavy light brown hair, a generous dimpled mouth, a classic patrician nose and grayish violet eyes with long, lush lashes. With a last look at her reflection, Minstrel turned and padded over to her seat at the dining table.

"Bienvenue, ma petite cheríe amour (welcome, my little darling love)," her mother greeted her as she sat down. "Bonjour, Mama," Minstrel returned as she began spooning rice onto her plate. "Où est Papa (where is Papa)?"

"Nandiiii-to ako... umiibig sa'yo... kahit naaa--- (I am here, loving you, even though...)"

Both Lucita and Minstrel burst out laughing as Alain entered the room singing a Filipino love song. "Yes, I know you're here, and I'm glad you are," Lucita told her grinning husband. They often played this game in the house, where English tended to be the medium of communication between the parents; Lucita, having grown up in the Philippines, spoke English well, but she was not very fluent in French (and knew nothing of Italian, German or Romansch), while Alain, having been born and bred in Switzerland, was fluent in European languages but had an atrocious accent as far as talking in his wife's native tongue went. Only Minstrel was fluent in all of her parents' languages (at least enough to speak them tolerably well, though she preferred French), so she would often to talk to either one in the language they most needed practice in. "Papa, mangalmusal na po tayo (let's eat breakfast)," she said.

All three of them laughed again and began to eat their breakfast. After a while, though, Minstrel finally broached the subject that had been on her mind. "Papa, Mama," she began, "I've been dreaming... things."

"What sort of dreams?"

Both parents were immediately on the alert. "Sometimes dreams can show the future," Papa said. "Or the past," Mama added.

"I... well... there's this - burning smell, I guess," Minstrel said hesitatingly. "And it's like I'm moving, not very fast, but - but... well, I'm moving across a moor, there's lots of grass and grayish flowers, and the moon is small and reddish and far away..."

Alain and Lucita looked at each other. "You see, Minstrel -" Alain began, at the same time Lucita said, "I'm sure it doesn't -"

At that moment, however, an owl tapped at their kitchen window. The family was used to owls and other birds knocking at their windows; birds were often used to convey messages in wizarding communities, and as it so happened, both Alain and Lucita were of pure magical blood. Alain came from a line of illuminators, who specialized in written charms and portable magic. Lucita, meanwhile, had babaylan, or spirit mediums, in her ancestry. They had met each other in the Philippines, where Alain had been studying the alibata or ancient alphabet, which was most commonly used as runic symbols; there was some political unrest, and Lucita, to escape the possibility of being trapped and discovered during the impending period of martial law, had taken the opportunity to escape with the handsome Swiss wizard. So, despite their not owning an owl, they were accustomed to having their magical mail delivered by such. Alain stopped talking immediately and went to open the window.

"There's a letter," he said, a little unnecessarily. He turned over the parchment envelope, which bore an ornate seal on dark purple wax, and read out the address at the back. "Nimue Evermoor," he said slowly.

"I've never heard of anyone like that," Minstrel said. "Maybe the owl got lost."

But Alain did not reply; rather, he and Lucita took a rather long time to break each other's worried gaze.

*

Letters continued to arrive every few days. At first they ignored it, but finally (several owls having pecked at her fingers and arms until she took the letters from them) Minstrel took one herself and opened it.

Dear Ms. Nimue Evermoor, the letter said, Greetings! We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

"So the Hogwarts letter came for you after all," Lucita's voice said, startling Minstrel. Her mother had appeared behind her as she read. "I don't understand," Minstrel said. Lucita took her hand. "There's something Papa and I have to tell you," she said.

So, at ten years old, Minstrel Lehman sat stonily in front of the people whom she called Mama and Papa, whom she was so proud of belonging with and resembling, and listened to them as they told her that they were physically unable to have children, and that she was not their biological daughter. "We don't actually know who your parents are," Alain explained. "We guess they must have been British. We were just visiting a famous Runes master; we were headed back to our hotel for the night, and there was this woman lying there..."

"She was dressed in a maid uniform. You know, like the things people wear in movies where the protagonist lives in a big old house with lots of servants and a butler," Lucita supplied. "She was covered in soot. And... she was..."

"She was dead," Alain said. "But she was clutching an infant to her chest, and the baby was alive. She looked around two years old. And we couldn't have children, so---"

"We took the baby," Lucita finished. "She looked just like us. And we really wanted a child. So... we named her Minstrel, and she became our daughter from then on."

"So I guess this is who you really are," Alain said, with a small, defeated sigh. "Nimue Evermoor. I remember this name," he said. "It was on the Daily Prophet. The Moor mansion burned, and there were no survivors, the reports said. Except you."

"But..."

And Minstrel started to cry, throwing herself at Alain and Lucita. "But I don't want any Mama and Papa but you," she wailed.

Warm arms enveloped her. "You're our daughter, Minstrel," Lucita said softly. "And we'll always love you, no matter what."

To be continued...

Questions? Comments? Owl me :D By the way, I'm really sorry for the arbitrary chapter cutting. I just wrote entire panels and cut them at what seems to be the most convenient parts for submission to FA... really, this thing is meant to be read at one go.