Unofficial Portkey Archive

Title: Harry Potter's Day Off

Author: Arachne

Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! I know I said I'd upload all the remaining chapters of the story tonight, but I've spent the day assisting my friend in the birth of her son, and I'm kind of exhausted right now, so I'm going to postpone that til tomorrow. However, I didn't want to break my promise entirely, so I'm posting one chapter tonight. This chapter is my absolute favourite in the whole story, and I hope I've done it justice. Cheers, Arachne.

ps: Oh, and in case it isn't entirely clear to some people ... this is an AU fic, so yes, the characters will be slightly out of character!

"Don't be daft, Ron! He didn't leave, he's probably just off doing something."

Hermione and Ron struggled to make their way through the burgeoning throngs of witches and wizards gathering on the fringes of Solstice Square for the Beltane parade. The atmosphere was noisy, colourful and jubilant. Music and singing surrounded them and everywhere they turned, people were dancing, eating and drinking. Some took turns jumping over a small bonfire that had been lit in a corner of the square. Morris Dancers, Jack-in-Greens and Faerie Queens dotted the crowd, while young witches and wizards cheered and waved brightly-coloured ribbons, their parents draped in fragrant, vivid boughs and garlands of flowers. At the back of the square, a May Queen sat on a raised dais, flanked by parade officials. She surveyed the scene before her, a beatific smile on her face.

"He bloody drives me mad!" Ron fumed.

"Look, he didn't leave, all right? He's here." Hermione glanced around, narrowly avoiding being knocked over by a young witch dancing around a Maypole. "Somewhere."

"For all we know, he probably went back to Hogwarts," Ron said flatly.

Hermione's eyes widened incredulously. "He would not go back to Hogwarts!"

"Yes he would! He'd do it just to wind me up!"

"Oh, honestly, Ronald! It's not always all about you!"

"Drives me mad," he muttered, kicking at an empty can of pumpkin juice lying in the gutter.

Just then, a familiar voice called out over the crowd behind them.

"Ladies and gents, you're such a wonderful crowd, we'd like to play a little tune for you. It's one of my personal favourites and I'd like to dedicate it to a young man who doesn't reckon he's seen anything decent today. Ronald Bilius Weasley, this one's for you ..."

Hermione and Ron slowed, then stopped dead in their tracks and whirled around only to see, to their shock and horror, Harry posing atop a flower-and-ribbon-encrusted float (that was quite literally floating above the ground) entitled Wanton Wytches for Walpurgis. He was surrounded by half a dozen plump, lusty, middle-aged witches in tight, bright, low cut dress robes, some holding musical instruments. They were all barefoot and wore garlands around their necks and crowns of flowers in their long, flowing hair.

"Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen, thank you for all the joy and pain ... Puddifoot's for tea was the place we'd meet, window seat, go dutch treat, you were sweet ..."

"Oh, dear Merlin!" Hermione gasped, as Harry playfully squeezed the shoulder of the fleshy witch accompanying him on the lyre. She blushed, looking up at him coyly from underneath her lashes. "Harry! Harry, get off the float!"

Ron was doing a most impressive impersonation of a goldfish. "What is he like! What are you like?" he shouted at Harry, who gave him a cheesy grin as he waved back. "What are you doing?!"

"Harry, get off the float! Have you lost your mind?" Hermione shrieked, though she was trying very hard not to laugh.

"You're bloody barking!"

They made a mad dash for the float as it drifted lazily along the square, only to be stopped and escorted back to the sidelines by a burly watchwizard in navy robes. Meanwhile, as flustered parade officials double-checked their parchments detailing the afternoon's events, Harry continued to croon and serenade the cheering crowd.

"Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen, save those lies, darling, don't explain ... I recall Hogsmeade High Street in fall, how you tore your cloak, what a joke ..."

Hermione and Ron began to walk along the parade route in companionable silence, each inwardly marvelling at Harry's sheer outrageousness. But while Hermione's thoughts were tempered with exasperation (stemming from the fear that news of this latest stunt of Harry's would make it back to Hogwarts faster than they would), Ron's were mixed with equal parts awe and envy.

"You know, I grew up hearing and reading about the legend of Harry Potter, and I thought he could do everything," he eventually mused out loud. "Then I met him on the Hogwarts Express, and I realised it was true. As long as I've known him, everything has a way of working out for him. There's nothing he can't manage. I can't manage anything. School, Quidditch, fighting evil, getting the girl ... Harry can do anything." Hermione smiled at him sympathetically. "I don't even know what I'm going to do after I leave Hogwarts."

"Uni?" she shrugged. "The Ministry?"

"Yeah, but to do what?"

"Well, what are you interested in?"

"Nothing," he sighed deeply. "You?"

"Everything."

Ron laughed good-naturedly, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "Watch out, Wizengamot, Hermione Granger's coming to kick arse and take names."

Hermione grinned, but it faded as easily as it appeared, and she stared at the ground lost in thought again.

"What do you think will happen to Harry?" she asked timidly several moments later.

"Him? He's going to be a house-elf for the Malfoys," Ron grinned, then bellowed at their best friend, still prancing around atop the float in the distance behind them. "You're bloody buggering mad, you know that?!"

Ron slung a brotherly arm around her shoulder as they continued to walk. "Chin up, Hermione," he smiled, giving her a comforting squeeze. "He's going to save the world."

Before the tears that had suddenly gathered in Hermione's eyes could begin to fall, the song Harry had been singing came to an end. As the crowd cheered enthusiastically, Ron and Hermione smiled at each other in relief, but it soon turned to disbelief as the Wanton Wytches for Walpurgis struck up the opening chords of their next number--and Harry showed no signs of stepping down.

Ron looked bemused. "Is that ..."

"It couldn't be ..." Hermione frowned.

But it was. The Wytches launched into what was possibly the most cherished and beloved popular song in all of wizardom, "Swish 'n' Flick", by its biggest and most popular band, the Beetles. The crowd went absolutely wild, roaring its approval. And there, amid the cheering and clapping and whistling, was Harry, belting out the lyrics as if he were born to do so.

"Well, bewitch me, oh, baby, now (Bewitch me, oh, baby),
Swish and flick (Swish and flick)!
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby, now (Come on, baby),
C'mon and work your magic (Work your magic)!"

He danced, pranced, grooved and sang his way along the length of the float, the Wytches by his side at every step. A number of participants on other floats picked up their musical instruments and began to play along, creating a wall of sound that was nearly deafening.

"Well, work your magic, honey (Work your magic),
You know you look so good (Look so good)!
You know you cast a spell on me (Cast a spell),
Just like I knew you would (Like I knew you would)! Oooooh!"

Witches and wizards of every age were dancing and singing along on the sidelines, whipping themselves up into a frenzy. High amid the skies at the nearby Museum of Magic, a constructionwizard restoring the museum's resplendent gold-plated dome even twisted along on his scaffolding, waving his wand in appreciation. The ranks of musicians from other participants in the parade continued to swell, as they hopped down from their floats and danced along beside Harry's, happily bleating away on their instruments. For his part, Harry continued to twist and shout, the Wytches waving their arms and screaming in delight beside him.

"Well, bewitch me, oh, baby, now (Bewitch me, oh, baby),
Swish and flick (Swish and flick)!
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby now (Come on, baby),
C'mon and work your magic (Work your magic)!"

The crowd could no longer contain their excitement and enthusiasm. They spilled out from the sidelines on to the parade route, where they danced unabashedly in the cobblestone street. Several large clusters of witches and wizards even broke out into impromptu group dances, clapping and shaking and twisting along together in perfect unison. Harry fed off their energy, and the Wytches fed off him (quite literally, it would seem, if they could have).

"You know you swish your little wand (Swish your little wand),
You know you swish it so fine (Swish it so fine)!
C'mon and swish it a little closer, now (Swish it a little closer),
And let me know that you're mine (Let me know you're mine)!"

The Wytches showed their appreciation to Harry by performing flips, twirls, jumps and kicks in the air (and, in one case, the splits) with unbridled glee. Their passion was only matched by that of the ever-growing crowd, many of whom had now rushed several of the floats and danced brazenly upon them, their bottoms shaking wildly and their arms twisting in the air. In the background, an elderly wizard did a back flip over several of the members of the Tír na nOg Primary School, as a baby witch in her pushchair happily wiggled to the beat and clapped her hands in approval. Nearby, Ron grinned at Hermione as he unselfconsciously waved his arms and stomped his feet in his own strange approximation of dancing. A little ways down from them, a short wizard in a tall hat rattled his head up and down in rapid succession, like a Muggle jackhammer, while across the street, a window washer outside the second storey of Flourish & Blotts wriggled his harness-clad bottom in tune to the beat. Beneath him, identical triplet wizards in deep purple business robes did a sort of robotic chain dance, and a short distance away, a rotund witch performed a series of moves that would not have looked out of place in a Muggle disco circa 1978. A pair of Ministry officials and an elderly, wizened wizard who bore a suspicious resemblance to Dumbledore discreetly tapped their feet beneath their robes from their vantage point atop the Observation Platform in the Gringotts' Trading Tower. Even the parade officials were getting into the groove of things, clapping their hands and swaying to and fro in spite of themselves.

"Ahhh ... Ahhh ... Ahhh ... AHHHH!!!!!"

Harry shouted the refrain as loudly as he could, raising his hands and urging the massive crowd to join in. They did not disappoint. It suddenly felt like the entire district of Diagon Alley had been filled with a deafening roar of song--one melody, some 10,000 voices strong.

"Well, bewitch me, oh, baby, now (Bewitch me, oh, baby),
Swish and flick (Swish and flick!)
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby, now (Come on, baby),
C'mon and work your magic (Work your magic)!"

Pandemonium reigned as what little sense of decorum left in the crowd vanished, leaving nothing but a sonic wave of hooting, hollering, clapping, cheering and raucous laughter in its wake. Ribbons, streamers and confetti rained down everywhere, and from the doorway of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Fred and George spontaneously set off boxes of Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs high into the sky. A sea of witches and wizards as far as the eye could see stormed the parade route, dancing and singing like there was no tomorrow, fighting to be heard amongst the swell of hundreds of musical instruments. And there, in the centre of it all, in his element, was Harry, giving the performance of a lifetime.

"You know you swish your little wand (Swish your little wand),
You know you swish it so fine (Swish it so fine)!
C'mon and swish it a little closer, now (Swish it a little closer),
And let me know that you're mine (Let me know you're mine)!"

By now, the Wytches were literally throwing themselves at Harry, their ample bosoms heaving and straining in their tightly laced gowns, their dancing so frenzied it would put Veela to shame. In the near distance, he glimpsed Hermione twisting along to the beat, her hair flying around her like a thick curtain. He caught her eye for a millisecond amid the melee and they shared a private, lascivious grin.

"Well, bewitch me, witch me, witch me, oh, baby now (Bewitch me, oh, baby)!
Well, bewitch me, witch me, witch me, oh, baby now (Bewitch me, oh, baby)!
Well, bewitch me, witch me, witch me, oh, baby now (Bewitch me, oh, baby)!"

The dancing, screaming, singing, squealing, fevered crowd writhed in mounting anticipation, led, of course, by the Wytches, who twirled around Harry like half a dozen dervishes, lifting their robes up as high as they could without risking impropriety.

"Ahhh ... Ahhh ... AHHHH ... AHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

The climax of the final refrain was deafening. It seemed like every witch and wizard within a 100 mile radius had joined in. Surely the festive atmosphere stretched that far--the air was thick with flags and balloons and fireworks and confetti and ribbons and streamers, not to mention the clapping, shouting and unbridled emotion radiating from the crowd. Strangers hugged and kissed each other like old friends and long-lost family, their cheers and laughter blending together in a cacophony of joy.

As the last note finally died out, an exhausted Harry fell backwards into the eager and waiting arms of the Wytches. The crowd roared for a full five minutes, and after he finally broke free (his neck adorned with two garlands, his jumper torn in several places, his hair more tousled than usual and his entire face and glasses covered by lipstick prints), Harry took bow after bow, grinning, waving and raising his fist in victory to his adoring public.