Hogwarts Drama Co.

Hey guys, make sure you check this story out in the '7 before 7' challenge forums and give it a high rating! Or a low one, if you want to, but you won't get any pumpkin pie. :) The story can be found here:

http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=24005

Ficlet Challenge #4: The first kiss (fluff).

Although this is challenge number four, it is the first of the series ‘Hogwarts Drama Co.’ chronologically. I encourage the readers to read this one first, as some of the more descriptive details (such as the theater) in the series are only written in this fic. Enjoy!

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Once Upon a December

For the first time in over a decade, Great Britain was celebrating.

It had been two in the morning when a long, gruesome battle on the outskirts of London had finally come to an end...and from the smoke and ashes emerged Harry Potter, victorious, holding the wand of the defeated Voldemort.

By the time Harry regained consciousness at St. Mungo’s, the parties had already started. Every wizarding household in the Isles was celebrating, with even greater fervor than when Voldemort had been supposed dead nearly sixteen years prior.

When Harry woke, only Hermione was at his side. Ron was lying in a bed next door, still unconscious, while the rest of the world celebrated.

No words were said. A lone tear fell from Hermione’s cheek as they embraced, before the healers came rushing in to make sure he was alright.

A week later, the parties had died down, and the school year continued on. It was still December, and the students still needed to learn.

It was a cold night that found Harry standing alone on top of the Astronomy Tower, staring at the spot where he had seen Dumbledore die. The sound of the door to the terrace opening didn’t startle him...he had been half expecting it.

“Harry?” asked Hermione softly.

“Hey,” he replied. “Why are you up here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, walking over to him.

“Too much commotion for me.”

“Still?” she asked. “The parties have died down, you know.”

“Doesn’t stop people from bothering me with questions about how it all happened.”

“You can’t blame them,” she shrugged. “I still wonder myself how you managed it.”

“It was because you and Ron were with me, you know that,” he smiled, as a light snow began to fall.

“I suppose,” nodded Hermione.

“It just seems so weird,” sighed Harry, sitting with his back against the rampart. “I know I said I wanted to be an auror...but after this, I’m not so sure anymore.”

“You can be whatever you want to be,” replied Hermione. “And you know your friends will support you no matter what you do.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course,” said Hermione, sitting down next to him.

“I...I’ve always had an interest in theater.”

“You mean the stage?” asked Hermione, curiously.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It seems so...I don’t know, eloquent.”

“I confess to being a bit surprised,” said Hermione, “but I think it’s wonderful.”

“I wonder if we could get a drama company started here,” he replied. “I’d definitely like to try it out before making any career decisions.”

“I’m sure McGonagal would approve,” nodded Hermione. “And I would definitely be a part of it.”

“That’s good to hear,” he smiled. “I’ll go speak with her first thing in the morning.”

“Good,” replied Hermione, shivering.

“Here,” said Harry, offering her his jacket.

“You’ll freeze,” she protested.

“I’ll be f-fine,” replied Harry, teeth chattering.

“We’ll share it,” smiled Hermione, snuggling up against him.

“Do you...do you think they’re celebrating?” asked Harry pensively after a moment.

“Who?”

“My parents...Sirius...Dumbledore...all of them.”

“If your father and Sirius have any say, they’ll be celebrating until the end of the world.”

“I think so too,” smiled Harry.

“They would be so proud of you,” said Hermione softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” replied Harry, squeezing her shoulders.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I...um...”

“What is it?” he smiled. The way she way looking up at him hesitantly, slightly biting on her lower lip made his heart swell. Harry wasn’t sure when it had happened, but he had definitely fallen for his female best friend sometime during the search for the horcruxes. The way she was looking at him at that moment made him wonder if she didn’t feel the same.

“It’s bloody freezing,” she said looking away. “Do you mind if we go inside?”

“Not at all,” he said, slightly disappointed.

“Thanks,” smiled Hermione, and they walked back inside and down the stairs in a comfortable silence.

=====

The next day...

“Professor?” asked Harry timidly, knocking on the door to the Headmistress’ office.

“Come in.”

Harry entered to find McGonagal at her desk, gazing passively at the fire.

“Hello, Harry,” she said warmly. “What can I do for you?”

“I...I have a request,” he confessed.

“Yes?”

“I know that in the past I said I wanted to be an auror, but lately I’ve been feeling that...that...”

“That you’ve had enough evil villains for a lifetime?” she finished, with a small smile.

“Yeah,” said Harry, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I was wondering...would it be possible to start a drama company here at Hogwarts?”

“A drama company?” repeated McGonagal, eyebrows arched.

“Yeah...there’s something about theater that’s always intrigued me and I was wondering if we could get something together...for everyone in the school, of course.”

“It would cost a good deal of money,” said the headmistress, steepling her fingers.

“That’s not a problem for me –”

“I know, but if you want this to be for everyone, then you can’t fund performances completely out of your own pocket,” said McGonagal. “It would look bad...especially if you ended up as the lead in a performance.”

“I’d prefer directing, but that aside I think I could get sponsors,” said Harry thoughtfully. “And them give them adverts in the programs when we performed.”

“That is a good idea,” nodded McGonagal. “I will discuss this with the Board of Governors and let you know when a decision has been reached.”

“Thank you very much,” smiled Harry, and he left the office.

Reaching the landing below, he found Hermione and Ron waiting for him, along with a few other students Harry had seen before.

“What’s all this?” he asked, the stone gargoyle sliding into place behind him.

“It sort of...got out that you were starting a drama company,” said Ron sheepishly. “All these people want to be part of it.”

“Really?” asked Harry, looking over the crowd. “Wow.”

“I told you it was a good idea,” smiled Hermione.

“Well, McGonagal said she would meet with the Governors and she’ll let us know,” said Harry. “If it makes anyone feel better, she thinks it’s a good idea too.”

“Potter?” said a voice from behind him. Harry turned around to see McGonagal emerging from behind the gargoyle.

“Yes, Professor?”

“I can say, with certainty, that the decision reached by the Governors was one of the fastest ever.”

“And?” asked Ron after a moment of silence.

“Hogwarts Drama Company has officially been created, with yourself as the President.”

A cheer went up from the group assembled, and a huge smile broke out on Harry’s face.

“You will, of course, have to delegate positions to people such as Vice President, Treasurer, Secretary, and the like, but I’m sure you can handle that.”

“Of course,” nodded Harry. “Thank you very much, Professor, you wont regret this.”

“I know I wont,” she smiled. “The one stipulation is that the productions to be performed will be a joint decision between myself, the Governors, and you, Harry.

“Fine by me,” he nodded.

“Then, good luck.” smiled McGonagal, as she turned around and headed back up to her office.

“Alright everyone!” called out Harry, calming people down. “The first thing I need all of you to do is put up signup sheets in your house’s common rooms. The first meeting will be in two days in the Room of Requirement. Anyone who doesn’t know how to get in, see me beforehand.”

Everyone immediately hurried off, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing there alone.

“So do either of you guys want to be Vice President?” asked Harry.

“We should probably let everyone vote at the first meeting,” said Hermione. “But I wouldn’t mind being Secretary.”

“I can handle Treasurer,” shrugged Ron. “But yeah, we should let everyone vote.”

“We’ll do that, then,” he nodded. “Well, come on, we have a meeting to plan for.”

=====

Two days later found Harry, Ron, and Hermione walking towards the Room of Requirement, paperwork in hand.

“From what I’ve been hearing, there’s been an enormous response,” said Hermione.

“Well, we’ll find out in a minute,” said Harry, as they reached the door.

They entered to find a grand theater waiting for them. Rows upon rows of velvet lined seats led up to an orchestra pit and massive stage with a gorgeous red curtain. Above their heads were several balconies, and to the sides were private boxes. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow over the house.

“Wow,” said Harry in awe.

“Do you like it?” asked Ernie MacMillan, coming up to him. “I was the first one here so I made it like this...what do you think?”

“It’s amazing,” said Ron.

“I agree...great work Ernie.”

“Thank you, Harry, and on behalf of everyone here I’d like to thank you for starting this company.”

“Speaking of which, who’s here?”

It was then Harry noticed that at least the first four rows of seats on the floor were filled with students...a good hundred students.

“Cor...” said Ron as they walked to the front. “Look at all this.”

“I know,” whispered Harry. “A bit unreal.”

“You should say something,” nudged Hermione. “They’re all looking at you.”

“Er...right,” said Harry, clearing his throat. “Everyone, welcome to the first meeting of the Hogwarts Drama Company.” There was applause at this. “The first order of business will be to elect the officers, which will be done by a nomination followed by a vote. Firstly, Vice President.”

“I nominate myself,” called Ernie MacMillan from the back.

“Seconded,” replied Hannah Abbot.

“In favor?” called Harry. Almost everyone’s hand went up, and no one objected vocally.

“That makes that easy,” said Harry, writing Ernie’s name his clipboard. “Hermione has nominated herself for Secretary, does anyone object?”

Nothing was said, and Hermione’s name joined Ernie’s on the parchment.

“Ron for Treasurer?”

“Are you sure he’ll know what to do with the money once he gets it?” said a snide voice from the back. Harry squinted and his jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sitting quite nonchalantly in the fifth row of seats.

“Is this a joke?” asked Harry, brow furrowing.

“Not at all, scarhead,” laughed Malfoy. “After the escape act the three of us pulled over last summer, we agreed that acting would be the perfect way to utilize our talents while slacking through the rest of the school year.”

Harry glanced at Hermione, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“I hope you don’t plan on slacking through this,” said Harry. “We’re going to be taking this seriously.”

“As will we,” said Malfoy, waving his hand dismissively. “And I don’t have a problem with Weasley being Treasurer, I was just having a go at him.”

“...alright,” nodded Harry, making the notation on his sheet. “As for the other positions, like director, costume designer, and makeup artist, we’ll be assigning those individually for each production.”

“So what are we performing first?” asked one of the younger students.

“Actually...I don’t know,” shrugged Harry. “The condition of the company being formed was that the production decisions would be decided jointly between myself, McGonagal, and the Governors.”

A collective groan came from the group.

“But!” exclaimed Harry, quieting everyone down. “That does not mean we can’t make suggestions.”

“Robin Hood!” one of the fourth years yelled.

“That’s so cliche,” sighed a fifth year girl. “Let’s do The Sound of Music!”

“...pardon?” asked Harry.

“It’s a muggle musical,” she replied cheerily.

“I’ll remember that,” said Harry, writing it down. “Any others?”

Over the next half hour they discussed ideas for the first production, debating and joking with each other as the meeting progressed. Finally, after about forty-five minutes, Harry called an end to it.

“Alright everyone,” he said as they began to file out the tiny door at the back of the theater. “Next meeting is same time in two days. Hopefully we’ll know what we’re doing by then.”

“I’m going to go walk Luna back to Ravenclaw,” said Ron hoping down off the stage. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Bye Ronald,” smiled Hermione, as he bounded up the aisle after the blond.

“Heh...just the two of us now,” smiled Harry as the last students filtered out.

“That certainly went very well,” she said, stretching. “Everyone is so enthusiastic.”

“I just hope it stays like that,” replied Harry, getting up on the stage and walking around. “Look,” he said pointing up, “there’s even a catwalk for the lighting crew.”

“There are some wonderful spells we’ll be able to use that will make it much better than a muggle production,” said Hermione, joining him. “Wizard theater isn’t all that popular, but it’s still around.”

“I hope this works out,” said Harry with a tinge of nervousness.

“It’ll be fine,” smiled Hermione, standing near him.

“You didn’t suggest anything today,” he stated after a moment.

“No,” laughed Hermione.

“There isn’t anything you’d like to perform?” he asked.

“Well,” blushed Hermione. “I’ve always been partial to the old Disney movies.”

“Disney?” asked Harry.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them?” said Hermione, looking at him squarely. Harry shrugged. “They’re wonderful.”

“Tell me,” he smiled.

“They’re all fairy tales, mind you,” she said hesitantly. “But there’s this one I love about a Russian princess who gets separated from her aunt – her only family – when she’s very young because of the revolution in the early 1900's.”

“And?”

“She ends up meeting the boy who helped her escape...she doesn’t know it, of course, and he takes her to Paris to find her aunt.”

“Do they find her?” asked Harry, looking at Hermione softly.

“They do...but in the end she runs away with the boy to elope.”

“Sounds romantic,” said Harry softly, not noticing he was moving closer to her.

“It is...but I don’t know...I would love to be the lead but I couldn’t imagine having to kiss someone on stage.”

“What if it was someone you trusted?” asked Harry boldly. She looked up at him slowly.

“If it was someone I trusted...”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe...if the moment was right.”

“How about now?” he whispered.

“Harry...”

His lips met hers softly, and for the longest time, Harry felt as if there was nothing more perfect in the world. When they finally broke apart, Hermione looked up at him, a glossy expression on her face.

“I hate to break it to you,” smiled Harry. “But you just kissed someone on stage.”

“We didn’t have an audience,” replied Hermione, smiling back.

“How very right you are,” nodded Harry. “We should practice for when we do have one.”

“That sounds wonderful,” grinned Hermione as their lips met again.

Unbeknownst to them, a lone figure was sitting in the topmost balcony, high above, watching with an amused expression on her face.

“Anastasia,” muttered McGonagal, leafing through a stack of parchment. “That would definitely be an interesting choice.”

And without another word she left, leaving Harry and Hermione grinning like idiots at each other.

---------------

And there it is!

Stay tuned for the next one, it’ll be out soon unless you can weasel it out of me sooner!

Okay! I admit it! I made a faux pax! The brilliant minds who wrote/produced Anastasia were from Fox, not Disney! I knew there was a reason I liked it! I’ll get around to fixing it eventually, but for right now let’s just all pretend I said Fox...I don’t need to be getting any cease and desist letters in my box. :)

As for that, you have the Company’s first performance this time around, and an enjoyable after-party. Have fun!

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Pots of Gold, Rainbows, Horseshoes, and Balloons

“Thanks Tom!” called Ron, waving to the barkeep as he and Harry exited the Cauldron into Diagon Alley. As the Treasurer and President for the company respectively, they had taken it upon themselves to go out one Saturday and find sponsors. They had met with great success, as many of the shops Harry had visited in his years were more than eager to get some extra advertising at a small expense.

“Not bad,” said Harry, looking over his paperwork while writing down Tom’s name. “We need one more and we’re good.”

“Any ideas?” asked Ron as they wandered down the cobblestone.

“Actually...” trailed Harry, his eyes flicking over the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes sign ahead of them. Ron seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Please tell me you’re not seriously considering the twins,” he said, pleading slightly. “Harry, you know they’ll try something.”

“I was thinking maybe the time was ripe to turn the tables a bit,” pondered Harry.

“Oh?” asked Ron. “What have you got in mind?”

Harry leaned over and whispered something in Ron’s ear, causing the bespeckled boy’s expression to turn from sour to a grin.

“I suppose we could give it a shot,” he smiled.

“That’s more like it,” said Harry, clapping Ron on the back as they entered the shop to the sound of a cow mooing.

“What the bloody hell was that?” asked Ron, looking at the door.

“That, my surreptitious brother, was our welcome bell,” grinned Fred from behind the counter.

“Who are you calling surplicious?” asked Ron, raising his eyebrow.

“Now, now, let’s not alienate Ickle Ronnikens in front of our financial backer,” said George, coming out of the back.

“Funny you should mention that,” said Harry, pulling a sheaf of parchment from his clipboard and handing it to Fred. “Take a look.”

Fred and George scanned over the paper quickly and looked at each other in disbelief.

“Why on earth didn’t you tell us about this earlier?” asked George, turning back to Harry.

“We only started it up a month ago,” replied Ron. “We’re starting to get the technical stuff ready, so we need support.”

“Couldn’t you fund it yourself Harry?” asked Fred.

“I want to do it the honest way,” he replied. “Are you in?”

“Course we are,” they nodded, each signing the parchment. “Wish we could’ve been in it though...acting has always been a forte of ours.”

“Hmm, well I’ll tell you what,” said Harry, nudging Ron with his foot discretely. “The first show will be in a couple weeks, and we’re going to have an after-party. Why don’t you two come and stop by?”

“Sounds like fun,” nodded George.

“We’ll be there,” agreed Fred.

“It’s a date,” grinned Harry.

“I’ll let you know when it is exactly,” said Ron as they left the shop. “Boy...that was easy.”

“We’ve still got a long way to go,” smiled Harry. “Now let’s get back to Hogwarts and start planning.”

They found the Room of Requirement empty upon their arrival, and agreed to get a head start on hanging some of the set pieces from the catwalk.

“So how exactly are we going to carry this out?” asked Ron, levitating a large wooden cloud up to him.

“I was thinking I’d ask Dobby to help,” replied Harry. “He’d be more than happy...I think.”

“He’d be more than happy to what?” called a female voice from the entrance.

“Oy, Hermione, give us a hand with this,” replied Ron, teetering dangerously over the rail trying to hang the cloud.

“I like my feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much,” she answered. “What is Dobby going to help with?”

“I got the twins to sponsor us and invited them to an after-party,” replied Harry. “We’re going to prank them as a thank you.”

“You what?” exclaimed Hermione, staring up incredulously at the two of them from the stage.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Ron, shrugging.

“The deal is that we’re supposed to be taking this seriously,” she chastised. “We’re supposed to be practising and such, not planning some elaborate scheme. You’re the one who wanted to take this seriously, am I right, Harry?”

“You are,” he nodded. “But at the same time, we all need to keep a sense of humor. Everyone will be in high spirits after the first show, I hope, and I thought it might be nice to throw a little party for them.”

“And you wanting to get a laugh at Fred and George’s expense had nothing to do with that?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“A little,” admitted Harry. “But it’s more for everyone else’s enjoyment.”

He and Ron climbed down the ladder to where Hermione was standing, staring at them.

“You’re not going to hold a grudge against us, are you?” asked Ron, wiping his hands on his trousers.

“I suppose not,” she sighed after a minute. “So what are we doing?”

“We?” asked Ron.

“You don’t think for a minute that you’d get to keep me out of a prank on the twins, do you?”

“Glad to have you aboard, dear,” grinned Harry, kissing her on the cheek. “Now here’s what we’re doing...”

=====

The night of the first show brought a throng of people to the castle. The work had been advertised extremely well, Ron had even gone so far as to take out an advertisement in the Prophet and the results were palpable. Wizards and witches had traveled from as far as the mainland to see Hogwarts’ production of Anastasia. While most of the cast was nervous, they were definitely prepared.

“Are you ready?” asked Harry to Hermione, who was getting her makeup done by Lavender Brown. Other performers and stagehands were running around backstage, trying to finish up the last-minute preparations.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” she sighed. “I can’t believe you all picked me to be the lead. I don’t even have the right color hair.”

“That reminds me,” remarked Lavender, flicking her wand. Hermione’s dark, unruly hair instantly turned a soft, auburn color. With another flick it was done up into a delicate ponytail.

“That doesn’t look half bad,” commented Hermione.

“Thank you,” smiled Lavender. “How about you, Harry, are you ready to go under the wand?”

“I suppose,” he sighed, sitting down next to Hermione.

“You lot about ready?” called out Ron, wearing what looked like a muggle headset. He had opted out of performing in the production, and instead was working as the technical director.

People called out the condition of the tasks they were working on as Ron made marks on a clipboard.

“This charm is really going to come in handy, Hermione,” he said, coming over to them as everyone resumed their tasks.

“It’s just a version of the Protean Charm,” she shrugged. The headsets, while of muggle origin, had been charmed in a fashion so that the crew could communicate with each other quietly during the performance.

“Alright, Harry, your turn,” said Lavender, turning to him.

“Be gentle,” he joked, as Hermione got up and walked over to where the costumes were being held.

A few minutes later Harry could barely recognise himself. The once jet-black hair was now a light brown, his face was as bespeckled as Ron’s, and the scar that had defined him for his entire life had vanished.

“You’re a miracle worker, Lav,” he said, getting up. “I look just like a con-artist.”

“Thanks,” she grinned. Gently, she tapped his glasses once, causing them to vanish while leaving Harry’s sight the same.

“Where do you learn all these spells?” asked Harry in awe.

“I did my research,” she laughed. “Don’t forget you’re wearing glasses now. And send over Malfoy if you see him, I need to make him old and insane.”

“He’s loving playing the bad guy,” chuckled Ron.

“And you said I wouldn’t fit in, scarhead,” drawled Malfoy, walking over.

“Well you know how to play someone who wants revenge better than most, I suppose,” quipped Harry.

“Touche,” sneered Malfoy, sitting down. “Easy on the goods, darling.”

“You are so full of yourself,” laughed Lavender, rolling her eyes. A large crash caused them to turn and look over at Goyle, who had walked headlong into a large stone statue of a horse.

“Damnit, Goyle watch where you’re going,” sighed Malfoy.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and lumbered off.

“Harry, come here,” whispered Hermione from the edge of the curtain. “Look.”

He walked over to her and took a peek out at the audience.

Every last seat was filled, from the front row to the highest balcony. About halfway through the audience, he saw two unmistakable faces with flaming red hair dressed to the nines.

“Sold out,” he smiled to her. “We’ll have to give them a night to remember.”

“On the ice?” she laughed.

“Everyone, we’re moving out!” called Ernie, walking forward in his tuxedo. “The orchestra’s already on their way to the pit.”

Having scouted most of the school, Hermione had been able to recruit the most talented musicians Hogwarts had to offer.

“Final positions!” called Ron.

“Go put on your costume,” said Hermione, nudging Harry. She was already wearing her winter coat and scarf for her first scene.

“Harry,” said Ernie walking over to him. “I’ve already congratulated Ron, but I wanted to thank you too for the great success in selling out this show.”

“Thanks, Ern,” he smiled. “But it’s not a success yet.”

“Quite right,” smiled Ernie. “Ready?”

Harry and Hermione nodded.

“Then let’s get the show on the road,” he said, stepping out from behind the curtain and onto the stage. High above them, Harry could see Ron holding his lit wand into what looked like a large funnel with a magnifying glass in the large opening, effectively creating a massive spotlight which followed Ernie on the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention please?” he called out. The hubbub from the crowd died down instantly. “On behalf of the Hogwarts Drama Company, I would like to welcome you all to our production of Anastasia, the young Russian princess who was torn from her family at the mere age of eight. I will be your conductor this evening, the narration will be given by Dean Thomas.” He paused for a moment while the audience clapped politely. “And now, without further ado, on with the show!”

He stepped into the pit as the crowd applauded and the spotlight faded away. Ernie raised his arms as silence fell over the theater, and began conducting as the orchestra began to play the overture.

“There was a time not too long ago,” said Dean’s magically amplified voice, “when the great Romanov family of Russia lived in a world of elegant palaces and grand parties. The year was 1916, and Nicholas Romanov was the Czar of Imperial Russia.”

The curtain lifted to reveal a grand ballroom with many pairs of people dancing in the center. Gold and diamonds glittered in the light, and above them, a great chandelier hung.

“On this particular night,” continued Dean. “The royal family was celebrating the 300th anniversary of Romanov rule...”

=====

The night was coming to an end, and the once bright and cheerful stage was now cast in an eery glow, the night sky shrouded by foreboding clouds.

“Anastasiaaaaa,” a dark, low voice called.

Hermione glanced around her surroundings before jogging out onto the bridge they had built high across the stage, which had now been magically transformed to look like a river.

“Who’s there?” she called as a murky mist began to form across the bridge.

“Anastasia...your Imperial Highness,” said Draco, emerging from the other side, looking remarkably like Snape...but more dead. “Look at what ten years have done to us. You, a beautiful young flower...and me. A rotting corpse.”

“That face...” whispered Hermione.

“Last seen at a party like this one.”

“The curse...”

“Followed by a tragic night on the ice...REMEMBER?!” roared Draco, the glass phalanx in his hand roaring to life with green magic, covering everything on the stage with a thin sheet of ice.

“Rasputin,” spat Hermione.

“Rasputin,” mocked Draco, in a feminine voice. “Destroyed! By your...despicable family. But, what goes around, comes around....and around...and around!”

The crowd watched in awe as the reliquary roared to life again and cracked the part of the bridge that Hermione was standing on. Harry smiled from the side of the stage as the crowd gasped at the chunk of stone and metal now hanging precariously above the frozen river.

“Say your prayers, Anastasia!” cackled Draco. “No one can save you now!”

“Wanna bet?” growled Harry, sprinting forward and tackling Draco. Not missing a beat, he ran over to the cracked portion of the bridge and reached for Hermione’s hand.

“Dimitri?” she asked, struggling up to him.

“How enchanting,” spat Draco, getting up. “Together again. FOR THE LAST TIME!”

The green magic swirling about gathered up and coiled around Harry, flinging him high against the stone horse Goyle had run into earlier.

“No!” cried Hermione, struggling to get back to safety as Harry fell onto the bridge, getting up slowly. Draco quickly ran over to her and grabbed her by the hair.

“Do svidanya, your highness,” he grinned through decaying, yellow teeth, before releasing her off the edge.

“Anya!” yelled Harry as Hermione began to drop, but grabbed a chunk of stone and pulled herself back up.

“Finally, the last Romanov...DEAD!” cackled Draco, failing to see Hermione behind him. “Long live the Romanovs!”

“Yeah!” yelled Hermione. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

With a great lunge, she tackled Draco, grabbing the glass reliquary from his hand and getting up.

“This is for my family!” she yelled, raising it high above her head.

“Give it back!” yelled Draco as she shattered it on the cobblestone of the bridge.

The stone statue exploded, a great chunk of it hitting Harry on the head. Draco’s eyes widened in fear as a great ray of energy came hurtling down from above onto him. A great crash sounded throughout the theater and Draco was gone, his tattered clothes the only part of him left.

“Dimitri,” said Hermione, running over to Harry, who was unconscious. “No...”

“Ugh...”

“Dimitri!” she exclaimed, embracing him, not caring that her dress was torn and covered in dirt.

“Ow, ow,” he groaned, shrugging out of her grip. “I know...all men are babies.”

“I thought you were going back to St. Pet –”

“I was.”

“You didn’t get on the tra –”

“I couldn’t.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Hermione looked at the crown that had fallen from her head. Harry followed her gaze and picked up the crown.

“They’re waiting for you,” he said, handing it to her.

The lights faded and Harry and Hermione quickly got off the stage as the set changed instantly before the lights came back, illuminating the left half of the stage with Ginny, looking sixty years older and grayer, holding the crown and a note in her hands. Luna was standing beside her, looking over her shoulder. They were in a room above the stage with a balcony overlooking the river below.

“Dear Grandmama,” she read aloud. “Wish me luck. We’ll be together in Paris again soon. Au beintot!”

“They’ve eloped!” exclaimed Luna with a high pitched squeal. “How romantic! It’s a perfect ending.”

“No,” smiled Ginny. “It’s a perfect beginning.”

The lights faded from the left half of the stage and illuminated the right as Harry and Hermione walked hand in hand onto the deck of a boat on the river. As the orchestra continued playing the finale, they began to waltz to the music.

“Ready?” mouthed Harry silently.

Hermione smiled and stepped in close, kissing him passionately as the final strains of music came to an end, the curtain falling to tumultuous applause.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” smiled Harry, the applause still continuing on the other side of the curtain.

“Not at all,” she grinned. “We have to go take our bows.”

“Let’s go do that,” he smiled, following her off the side of the stage.

=====

“Everyone!” called Harry over the din of the party. “I have an announcement to make!”

Everyone in the room quieted down. The company had waited for the audience to vacate before changing the room into a grand hall to hold the after-party in.

“You were all bloody fantastic!” he yelled, and cheers went up, glasses of butterbeer and firewhiskey being raised.

“That was great,” smiled Fred as he and George came over to Harry.

“Abso-bloody-lutely brilliant,” grinned George.

“Thanks guys,” smiled Harry. Spotting his favorite house elf a little ways away, he motioned to him discreetly. Dobby instantly appeared at his side holding a tray of treats.

“Would Master Wheezeys care to try the treats?” he asked politely, bowing.

“What are they?” asked Fred.

“Lucky charms treats,” smiled Hermione.

“What are lucky charms?” asked George.

“It’s a muggle cereal,” she explained. “You melt down marshmallows and butter and stick the cereal together. I made them.”

“They’re delicious,” grinned Harry.

“Oh why not,” said Fred, grabbing one and shoving it into his mouth whole.

“They are quite good,” nodded George, taking a bite as well.

The entire party quieted down for a moment as all heads turned to stare at them.

“What?” asked Fred, looking around. “Did we do something wrong?”

“No,” grinned Ron, from next to Luna.

“What the hell is going...oh you didn’t,” said George, turning towards Harry.

“I didn’t do what?” asked Harry innocently.

What he did or didn’t do though, was never found out, because at that moment Fred and George each gave a loud pop and turned into two, short, green, leprechauns.

“I think we’ve been had,” said Fred in a thick Irish accent, amidst a massive uproar of laughter from the company. Dobby was grinning bashfully, and even Malfoy was failing at trying to contain his glee.

“I say, I agree,” nodded George as Hermione each handed them a small blue candy.

“It’s the counter-jinx,” she smiled. “Eat up.”

They took the candies from her warily and ate them, returning to normal a moment later.

“That was brilliant!” roared Ron, tears of laughter running down his face.

“I suppose we’ve had it coming,” admitted Fred, clapping Harry on the back. “Good on you, Harry.”

“Ron and Hermione were in on it too,” he smiled.

“And Dobby!” piped the elf.

“And Dobby,” grinned Harry.

“Well done, either way,” grinned George. “Would you like to sell that formula to us?”

“We’ll talk about that some other time,” laughed Harry. “Right now we’re having a celebration!”

“Too right!” yelled Ron, raising his butterbeer. “To the company!”

“To the company!” echoed everyone assembled.

“You know,” said Harry, pulling Hermione close to him. “We did good.”

“We did,” she smiled. “We make a good couple.”

“On the stage or off?”

“Both,” she grinned, leaning up to kiss him as the party continued on into the night.

---------------

That’s it for now!

For those of you who know the movie well, you’ll notice I didn’t script in Pooka. Couldn’t figure out how to do it. Tried, couldn’t. Sorry. A preview of next time for you instead!

Having met with tremendous success in their production of Anastasia, the company sets it’s sights on something more professional. But a guest director surprises everyone, and some problems arise.
Next time, on Hogwarts Drama Co.:

All the American Asks of You

Au Beintot!

Welcome to the 3rd installment of Hogwarts Drama Co.! There isn’t much to say, so just read on!

Ficlet Challenge #3: Write Yourself In

---------------

All the American Asks of You

“You wanted to see me?” asked Harry, walking into the headmistress’ office.

“Yes, thank you Harry,” she nodded.

It had been a week since the final performance of Anastasia, and the show had been met with rave reviews from everyone.

“Everyone’s really happy about how well we did,” commented Harry. “Especially with the article the Prophet wrote.”

“Yes...I was a bit surprised at that, to be frank,” nodded McGonagal. “But it was quite welcome, nonetheless.”

“A lot of people have been asking me what our next production will be and when we can start on it,” said Harry.

“Which is precisely why I called you up here,” said McGonagal, reaching for a sheet of parchment. “The Board voted on the suggestions you gave us.”

Harry took the parchment and read it carefully.

“I was rooting for The Wizard of Oz, but I think everyone will be happy with Phantom of the Opera,” he smiled.

“Yes, well...” trailed McGonagal.

“What is it?” asked Harry, seeing her lack of enthusiasm.

“Before I tell you this Potter, I want you to know I voted against it, but lost anyway.”

“Lost what?”

“The Board of Governors was contacted by one of the eastern American academies a few days after the first show,” she said. “The one in Salem, to be exact.”

“And?” asked Harry.

“The Salem Academy’s Drama Company was disbanded last year due to lack of membership,” said McGonagal. “And after much discussion between the schools’ respective boards...it was agreed that the former director would come and ‘guest direct’ this production to ‘strengthen’ international relations, if you will.”

Harry balked.

“Say what now?”

“I am sorry, Harry, but it’s completely out of my hands,” sighed the headmistress. “He’ll be here in three days.”

“I see,” said Harry.

“Please try and treat him as if he were one of us,” asked McGonagal. “From what I hear, he’s extremely bright and observant. He’s being sent over for a reason.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I just...he’s not going to be a tyrant, is he?”

“I doubt it,” replied McGonagal. “From what I’ve heard, he was offered several positions in various professional companies, but turned them down to finish school.”

“What’s his name?”

“Greg,” she replied. “He was spoken very highly of.”

“Alright,” nodded Harry. “Might as well go and tell the troops.”

“Good luck,” smiled McGonagal as Harry nodded again and left the office.

He made his way back to the Gryffindor common room in silence...the company wasn’t meeting again until the next afternoon.

“Macbeth,” said Harry to the portrait of the fat lady.

“Something wicked this way comes,” she replied with a grin, swinging open while Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

“Hey, mate,” nodded Ron, as Harry stepped through.

“‘Lo,” nodded Harry. “I’m not directing the next production.”

“Say what?” asked Ron, looking up at Harry from the armchair next to the fire.

“We’re having a guest director,” he sighed, sitting down on the couch next to Hermione. “The Governors seem to think it will promote international relations...or something like that.”

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Someone named Greg S.,” shrugged Harry. “McGonagal didn’t know any more than that.”

“Where’s he from?” asked Ron.

“America,” replied Harry. “He goes to the academy in Salem.”

“Well we’ll just have to welcome him and treat him like one of us,” said Hermione.

“He’s a bloody Yank,” pointed out Ron.

“And?” asked Hermione.

“I’m just saying,” shrugged Ron.

“There’s no point in dwelling on it,” interjected Harry. “We’ll just have to make do.”

“Right,” nodded Hermione. “And he might turn out to be brilliant.”

“Sure,” said Ron sarcastically.

“You never know,” replied Harry. “And I don’t want you giving him a hard time, Ron.”

“Fine, fine,” he nodded. “You have my word.”

“Good.”

“So what are we performing?” asked Hermione.

“Phantom of the Opera,” replied Harry.

“That was the popular vote,” she commented. “Everyone will probably be happy.”

“I just hope it isn’t marred by our guest,” he said. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

=====

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were standing on the platform at Hogsmeade Station waiting for the train to arrive with their new director. It was cold and cloudy and as a result the four of them were in fairly sour moods.

“Bloody train,” said Ron, teeth chattering. “Could it get here any slower?”

“Always,” replied Hermione.

“Oy, look,” said Harry, pointing down the tracks, where a single light had appeared in the distance.

“Finally,” sighed Ron.

“Good,” said Ernie. “I wonder what he’ll be like.”

“Probably a git,” muttered Ron.

“He will not be a git,” chastised Hermione. “And I swear Ronald, if you embarrass us in front of him because you forget your manners...”


“Whatever,” shrugged Ron.

“What’s got in your arse lately?” asked Harry, turning to his friend.

“Huh?” replied Ron, taken aback at being called out so candidly.

“I asked you why you’re being so bloody anal about this guy,” answered Harry. “He hasn’t done any wrong to you.”

“Yet,” replied Ron.

“Why are you even here?” asked Hermione furiously, turning to him. “All you’ve been doing is complaining lately.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the weather,” he shrugged.

“I thought you got turned down by Luna,” commented Ernie.

“Where did you hear that?” snapped Ron, turning bright red.

“I overheard Susan talking about it to Padma Patil,” he shrugged.

“She didn’t turn me down,” muttered Ron. “She just...didn’t hear me.”

“That’s what’s got your knickers in a twist?” asked Hermione, raising her eyebrows. Harry snorted at this. “What?”

“I didn’t expect you to say something like that,” he chuckled, as the train pulled into the station.

“Yeah well, don’t really tell anyone,” said Ron. “I need to handle this on my own...and I don’t like not knowing what Luna or I’ll be doing for the show.”

“Alright, well, if it helps, I’ll talk to him about it,” said Harry as the train stopped.

The door opened to reveal a stocky young man with dark brown hair, who was wearing glasses almost identical to Harry’s. His black jeans and t-shirt were an indication that he didn’t expect it to be as cold as it was.

“Wow...” he said stepping off the train. “Cold, huh?”

“Yeah,” nodded Harry.

“I’m Greg,” said the boy, extending his hand.

“Harry,” nodded Harry. “This is Ron, our Treasurer, Hermione, the Secretary, and Ernie, our Vice President.”

“They sure sent out a welcoming party for me,” commented Greg. “I was expecting to have to find the castle on my own.”

“Well, it’s not like you can really miss it,” said Hermione warmly.

“I see that,” replied Greg, nodding at the castle. “I don’t mean to be a jerk, but could we start back? I’m freezing my ass off.”

“Sure,” nodded Ernie. “I’ll get your bags.”

“I’ve got them,” said Greg. “They’re in my pockets.”

“Oh...alright.”

“His language is so...American,” whispered Ron to Harry as they starting trudging back to the castle.

“I can speak proper English if you’d like me to,” laughed Greg. He chuckled when Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “When you direct for several years, you develop good hearing for when people are talking about you.”

“Sorry,” muttered Ron, reddening.

“Not at all,” he chuckled. “You all seem nice enough...I didn’t expect to be treated this kindly at all, actually.”

“Why not?” asked Hermione.

“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t be too pleased that some Yank was coming in to steal your show from you,” replied Greg. “Though I confess...I’ve always wanted to direct Phantom.”

“Well, you’ll get to test your mettle against the entire company when we get back,” said Harry. “The next company meeting is in an hour.”

“Perfect,” said Greg, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Just enough time to make an arse of myself.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Hermione. “You seem to have a level enough head.”

“Yes well, we’ll see what you have to say about that once we start working,” replied Greg. “I can be...overbearing sometimes.”

“Oh we all can from time to time,” nodded Ernie.

“I saw your production of Anastasia, by the way,” commented Greg, as they crossed onto the grounds. “It was rather brilliant.”

“Thanks,” nodded Harry.

“How’d you manage that?” asked Ron.

“The Academy bought one of the recordings for me to watch.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll be staying in the teacher’s quarters,” said Harry, as they entered the castle. “The headmistress will show you where they are.”

“Ah, you must be our new director,” said McGonagal, coming down the stairs to meet them.

“Yes, ma’am,” nodded Greg.

“A pleasure to meet you,” she smiled. “Please follow me, I will show you to your quarters.”

“Thanks.”

“Meet us back here in forty minutes,” said Harry. “We’ll show you to the Room of Requirement.”

“Room of Requirement?” asked Greg.

“You’ll see,” replied Harry, with a grin.

“Alright, see you then,” he nodded, following the headmistress off up the stairs.

=====

“This place is huge,” commented Greg, staring around the halls as he, Harry, and Hermione walked up towards the seventh floor. Ron and Ernie had gone ahead to brief the others.

“It isn’t like this in Salem?” asked Hermione

“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s all underground...the entrance is this tiny shack that looks like it’s about to fall down.”

“Must be depressing, not ever seeing the outside,” said Harry.

“Well, we do play quidditch too, you know,” he smiled, looking up from his stack of notes.

“Do you play?” asked Harry, perking up.

“Chaser,” grinned Greg. “Best in the school.”

“You should go one-on-one with Ron,” suggested Hermione. “He plays keeper for our house.”

“I’d love to,” he replied with a grin. “I even brought my broom with me, so I have no excuses for losing.”

“What do you ride?” asked Harry.

“A Firebolt,” replied Greg offhandedly.

“You trying to take the mickey out of me?” asked Harry with a skeptical laugh.

“Not at all,” shrugged Greg. “I’m a bit of a gambler back in the states...and fairly good at it too, so I saved up for a while. Wonderful broom.”

“Harry has one too,” smiled Hermione loyally. “He’s quite brilliant.”

“You play seeker, right?” asked Greg.

“How’d you know that?” countered Harry.

“Well, just because Voldemort wasn’t in America, doesn’t mean we didn’t hear about everything that happened,” replied Greg. “I wish I could’ve helped out...I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say something like that.”

“It’s alright,” said Harry. “We’re here.”

“This?” asked Greg, pointing to the small door in the middle of the wall. “How on earth did you manage to squeeze a full house through that?”

“Magic?” laughed Hermione, as they opened the door and walked through into the theater.

Everyone was already seated in their usual seats in the front rows, while Ron and Ernie were standing on the stage discussing something in hushed tones.

“Hey guys,” called Harry, as the three of them walked up onto the stage. “As you all know, our production of The Phantom of the Opera is being guest directed by a student from the Salem Academy in America. I’d like you all to meet Greg...?”

“Just Greg is fine,” he finished, smiling at the crowd.

“Right then,” said Harry. “We’ve actually been waiting for you to make casting decisions, so how about we get started on that?”

“Sounds great,” nodded Greg.

“Um,” said Ron, stepping forward. “Ernie and I would kinda like to keep our positions of musical and technical directors.”

“I don’t mind,” shrugged Greg. “Does anyone have a problem with that?”

No one said anything, and the new director turned to them.

“As I said before, you two did a brilliant job before, I’d be insane not to let you do it again if you wanted.”

“Thanks,” muttered Ron, the tips of his ears turning slightly red.

“So, shall we audition the parts?” asked Greg, turning to Harry.

“That’s how we did it for Anastasia,” he answered. “I think that should be fine.”

“Alright then,” said Greg as he and the other four took seats in the audience. “Let’s just take it one role at a time and work from there.”

“Okay, if you want to tryout for Christine, go on up to the stage,” said Harry.

“Who are you planning on trying out for?” Greg asked him as Ginny and four other girls who were in younger years stepped forward.

“Piangi,” he grinned. “Hermione’s going for Carlotta.”

“That ought to be quite the show,” chuckled Greg, as the five girls on the stage began warming up.

“I wonder who’s going to tryout for the Phantom,” commented Ron. “It’s got to be the most popular part.”

“Me,” said a voice from behind them. The five of them turned their heads to see Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sitting behind them.

“You are?” asked Greg, thumbing through a stack of parchment.

“Malfoy,” he smiled. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Don’t corrupt the American,” chastised Harry. “If that line didn’t work on me, it won’t work on him.”

“You’re Lucius’ son, aren’t you?” asked Greg, looking him dead in the eyes.

“...I used to be,” replied Draco, obviously caught off guard at such an up front question. “I don’t have any ties left to what he stood for.”

“You know he killed a good friend of mine who was on vacation here,” said Greg evenly.

“I...”

“She was a muggle,” he continued. “On vacation with her family...they had gone to see a Manchester United match and he killed her during the riot after the game...along with twenty six others, if my memory serves me right.”

Draco turned away, obviously ashamed at his deceased father’s actions.

“I wanted to come here and find everyone with the Malfoy surname and kill them,” continued Greg, though there was no menace with which he spoke. “My friends had to tie me to a chair with anti-apparition cord until I had calmed down.”

“I’m sorry,” said Draco softly. “I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” replied Greg. “Which is why I’m not mad at you. I just wanted to make sure you were really his son.”

“You have my word that I’m nothing like him...not anymore.”

Greg glanced at Harry, who nodded discreetly.

“I’m here to direct an award-winning production, not exact revenge,” commented Harry. “And my reminiscing about such dreary things has killed the good mood we were all in. Let’s start with the audition!”

He and Ernie stepped off to the side together to discuss the candidates, while Harry, Hermione and Ron remained in their same seats.

“Do you think he’s alright?” Hermione whispered to Harry as one of the younger girls stepped forward and began to sing.

“He seems like it,” he answered as Greg watched the girl with rapt attention. “I think he’s a lot like me, actually.”

“How so?” asked Ron quietly.

“Like he was forced to grow up all too fast,” said Harry as their director leaned back in his chair, a peaceful smile on his face as he listened to the girls sing.

By the time the day came to an end, the entire production had been cast, with Ginny as Christine, Neville as Raoul, and Draco as the Phantom (which came as a surprise to many people). Harry and Hermione had also been given the parts they desired, and in the end, everyone seemed to be satisfied.

“That was good,” said Harry, as the last few people filtered out. “We got a lot done today.”

“Wait until you see me actually have to do something,” smiled Greg.

“Why’d you cast Draco in the part he wanted, after all that before?” asked Ron.

“I told him that I wasn’t here for revenge,” he answered. “And although there’s a part of me that wants to make him suffer like I did, he doesn’t seem to be a bad person. And he was also the best choice for the role, without question. It wasn’t a hard decision for me...he’ll be brilliant.”

“Neville, Ginny, and Draco,” commented Ernie. “It will certainly be very interesting.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Greg.

“Well,” continued Ernie, lowering his voice slightly and double checking to make sure the five of them were truly the only ones left. “From what I hear, Nev and Draco both share a slight attraction to our young actress.”

The plaster statue Ron was moving across the stage fell from his hands with a tremendous crash, breaking into a million pieces when it hit the wood.

“What did you say?” he asked, not even caring that his prop was lying in a thousand pieces at his feet.

“I said they both like your sister,” replied Ernie honestly. “Or so I hear.”

“From who?” pressed Ron.

“Well, I know Neville likes her because Dean told me a while ago, and I overhead Blaise talking to Parkinson about Draco.”

“It doesn’t really bother you, does it Ron?” asked Hermione.

Ron didn’t say anything, he just grunted and pulled out his wand, repairing the shattered statue a moment later.

“We’ll have to work on that,” laughed Greg. “But we have good people here. It should go swimmingly.”

“Agreed,” nodded Harry.

“Now let’s get some rest, rehearsal starts tomorrow, after all.”

---------------

Of all the challenges, this one is my least favorite...I didn’t like writing myself in at all, so please feel free to be candid in your reviews about how you felt. Next time:

Preparations for show time are in full swing, but a problem outside the company’s control threatens to ruin everything. Next time on Hogwarts Drama Co.:

Music through the Night

Until next time!

Well I couldn’t go an entire story (or series, in this case) without having some action, so you get it in this chapter. It’s a shame there’s a 3,000 word cap on each of these or else I’d definitely put some real solid effort into this one and make it a good 5-6k, but oh well. Enjoy!

Ficlet Challenge # 5: You cannot possibly expect me to wear that.

---------------

Music Through the Night

Harry walked in silence down the hidden corridor to the quarters Greg was staying in. There was only a week until opening night and they had been working extra hard to make sure everything was ready. Arriving at the oak door, he knocked politely.

“Come in.”

Harry opened the door to find Greg sitting at the desk, which was covered in parchment listing everything from the cast list, to set construction orders, and lighting patterns was covering it. A simple muggle picture of a young brown-haired woman, no older than eighteen was sitting atop the stacks of paper, and he was staring at it quite intently.

“Is that her?” asked Harry delicately.

“Yeah,” sighed Greg, not looking away.

“What was her name?”

“Hannah,” he replied, leaning back in his chair.

“She looks a bit like Hermione,” commented Harry. Greg turned and smirked at him.

“She does, doesn’t she?” he chuckled.

“I remember reading about the riots,” said Harry, pulling up a chair. “How’d it happen?”

“I wasn’t there, so I couldn’t tell you,” said Greg, “but from what I heard, Lucius used the Imperius Curse to control some supporters of Chelsea, which was the club that lost, and started the riot. One of them threw an empty beer bottle at her because she was wearing a Manchester jersey, and it struck her on the head. She got knocked out cold and was trampled underfoot.”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry solemnly.

“Her parents came to me after it happened,” he continued, staring out the window at the night sky. “They knew about my magic and wanted to tell me.”

“How close were you?” asked Harry.

“I loved her,” sighed Greg. “I don’t think she felt the same way...but that doesn’t really make it any easier to bear.”

Harry said nothing, only nodded in silence.

“You know, for the longest time I blamed myself,” he continued. “She and her family were muggles, they had no idea about Voldemort and the killings...I blamed myself for not warning them. But I realized that she never would’ve wanted that. Even if I had told them, they would’ve gone anyway, because they weren’t the kind of people to be bullied around by terror. It was one of her best qualities,” he said with a smile.

“It sounds like she was a remarkable person,” said Harry.

“She was,” nodded Greg. “Make sure you don’t let the same happen to Hermione.”

“You...you know about that?” asked Harry. While he and Hermione weren’t making a conscious effort to keep their relationship a secret, they hadn’t been flaunting it in public either.

“When you get to experience as much as I have, you become very observant,” smiled Greg. “It’s not how you act. It’s how you react when you see each other. The way the both of you can’t help but smile when one or the other walks into the room.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” replied Harry, a goofy grin appearing on his face.

“I don’t mean to depress you with stories of my past,” chuckled Greg, turning around to face him properly. “What brings you by?”

“The newest set lists from Ron,” replied Harry, handing a sheet of parchment to him. Greg took the paper and peered at it over his glasses.

“This should be fine,” he said, continuing to read it. “Six dozen white, heavy candles...I have to admit, he does have the eye for it.”

“That’s for the scene in the Phantom’s lair, I think,” said Harry.

“I would hope so,” laughed Greg. “I can’t imagine where else they’d be used.”

“What do you think of this triangle you’ve effectively set up?” asked Harry candidly.

“Ginny, Neville, and Draco?” asked Greg. Harry nodded. “I sat down with Ginny a couple days after you all told me about it.”

“And?”

“If I told you who she liked, that would ruin all the fun, wouldn’t it?” laughed Greg. “Suffice it to say, she’s not complaining about her situation.”

“I’m sure Ron will be thrilled about that,” said Harry.

“I suppose I should head down to the theater,” sighed Greg, getting up. “Make sure set prep is going well.”

“You were there for twenty hours yesterday,” Harry pointed out.

“I take my business seriously,” shrugged Greg, grabbing a bottle of water from his nightstand. “Shall we?”

“You’re the boss,” joked Harry as they left the room.

“You’re funny,” droned Greg. “Ever consider standup?”

“Now, now, let us remember our theater hierarchy,” said Harry. Greg raised an eyebrow at him. “Legitimate theater, musical theater, standup, magic, ventriloquist, mime.”

“Did you stay up all night thinking of that?” quipped Greg.

“I got to sleep around two in the morning,” retorted Harry.

“Hilarious,” laughed Greg as they arrived at the Room of Requirement. “I like that.”

“Glad to hear it,” chuckled Harry as they walked inside.

Preparations were in full swing and Ron had the tech crew working overtime to make everything perfect.

“Greg!” called Ernie, jogging up to him and Harry. “The costumes just arrived.”

“Excellent,” said Greg. “Has everyone been fitted?”

“Everyone except Harry and Hermione,” replied Ernie.

“Get to it,” said Greg, nodding at Harry.

“Yes sir,” he smiled, walking off towards the back of the stage.

“Where is Hermione?” asked Greg, turning back to Ernie.

“She was helping construct the opera set last time I checked,” he answered.

“How hard can it be?” laughed Greg. “We’re bloody in one.”

“It’s the chandelier, I think,” said Ernie. “It’s been a pain in the arse.”

“We should be happy that we have magic,” replied Greg as they started walking towards the stage. “Otherwise we’d have to rig it with cables and safety catches...I saw Phantom done by muggles once...I was not impressed.”

“I can imagine.”

They spotted Hermione fixing small crystals to the large brass chandelier in the back.

“Hermione,” said Greg, walking over to her.

“Hello,” she said, looking up. “Give me one moment...there. What’s up?”

“The costumes came in, I need to you try on your dresses,” said Greg. “Harry’s already working on his.”

“Alright,” she said, getting up. “How many do I have?”

“Three, if the order came in correctly,” replied Greg. “The Hannibal dress, the Il Muto dress, and the masquerade dress.”

“Alright,” smiled Hermione, walking over to the costume rack, which was being tended by Lavender and Parvati.

“This is what you’ll be wearing in for Prima Donna and Il Muto,” said Lavender, taking an enormous pink lampshade dress off the rack with frills everywhere.

“...you cannot possibly expect me to wear that,” deadpanned Hermione.

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to be Carlotta,” said Greg, checking the costumes against his list.

“I know, still though,” said Hermione. “It looks like the Easter Bunny exploded all over this.”

“Well said,” laughed Greg as Harry walked over. “Does everything fit?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “I look like a fool.”

“You’re supposed to,” replied Greg. “Hermione feels the same, if it makes you feel any better.”

“We can share our disappointment together,” said Hermione dramatically.

“I think we’ll manage,” smiled Harry. “After all, I – ”

A crash from the front of the stage caused them all to jump and turn. Ron was standing high up on the catwalk above, wand pointed at the large foam gargoyle he was supposed to be raising up near the ceiling.

“What happened?” asked Greg, walking over.

“It just fell,” said Ron, shrugging. “One second I was levitating it up here, the next...”

“Greg!” called Lavender, hurrying over. “I can’t trim any of the costumes...it’s like my wand is broken.”

“What?” asked Harry, spinning around.

“Do you know what’s going on?” asked Greg, turning to him.

“I hope not,” said Harry, drawing his wand. “Expecto Patronum.”

Nothing happened.

“Bloody hell,” whispered Harry.

“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is,” said Hermione.

“Could someone tell me what’s going on?” said Greg, exasperated.

“Back when I was fighting Voldemort, the Order placed special wards on the school in case it came under attack.”

“The Order?” asked Greg.

“The Order of the Phoenix,” explained Hermione. “It was the secret organisation dedicated to Voldemort’s downfall.”

“Go on,” said Greg.

“One of the wards was a magic dampener,” continued Harry. “It would shut off all use of magic within the grounds.”

“So we’re under attack?” asked Greg.

At that point, McGonagal came bursting through the doors of the theater. Harry quickly ran forward to meet her, followed by Hermione, Ron, and Greg.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The wards were set off,” she said. “ All the secret entrances and outer doors on the tops of the towers have been sealed.”

“What set them off?” asked Ron.

“...death eaters,” she said, hesitantly.

“I figured as much,” said Harry, running a hand through his hair. “Knew it was going to happen eventually.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Hermione.

“Fortunately there aren’t many,” said McGonagal. “And the wards have confused them enough to stall them until the Order gets here, but they could still put up a decent fight.”

“How many are there?” asked Harry.

“About sixty,” she replied.

“Will we be able to use the plan we had made?” asked Harry.

“I think so,” said McGonagal. “You should address your friends...we need to take positions now.”

“Alright,” replied Harry, turning around. “Everyone!”

Everyone had long since stopped working to observe the conversation with the headmistress, and was now staring at Harry with rapt attention.

“We’re under attack,” he said. “The last few death eaters that are free have come here...probably wanting revenge on me.”

“Kick their arses Harry!” called out Seamus, which was met with resounding approval.

“Thank you,” he nodded. “But we could use some help...those of you who were rready to fight before...I need you again now. If you’re not coming with me, barricade yourselves in here and wait for news.”

Most of the seventh year students stepped forward, including all the Gryffindors, Ernie, Luna, and, to the surprise of a few people, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

“I’m coming too,” said Greg, from beside Harry.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Fighting is very different when you’re right in the middle of it.”

Greg turned to face him and there was a of look steeled determination in his eyes that Harry had never seen before.

“I’m sure,” he replied.

“Let’s go then,” said McGonagal, leading them out of the Room of Requirement.

They walked in silence until they reached the Entrance Hall, where the members of the Order were already waiting.

“Who’s that?” asked Moody, immediately spotting Greg.

“A friend who is helping us fight,” said Harry. “I trust him.”

That seemed good enough for Moody, who nodded and faced the door.

“They still haven’t left the forest,” said McGonagal. “We can get into position anytime.”

“What are we doing?” whispered Greg to Harry.

“We’re going into the forest and catch them off guard,” he replied, as the doors opened. “When we’re in position McGonagal will lift the wards and we’ll attack.”

“Won’t they see us?” asked Greg.

“Hopefully not,” replied Harry.

They all walked out along the edge of the castle in silence. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the stars were all twinkling down at them merrily, the moon casting a pale glow on the grounds. When they were near the forest, Moody motioned for Harry to come over to him.

“Six people are staying out here to flank...and keep them from escaping. Do you have any preferences?”

“Myself, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Ernie, and Greg,” he replied instantly.

“Stay here then,” said Moody. “When you hear the ruckus, charge in.”

“Will do,” said Harry. He motioned for the other five to stay put while Moody led the others off into the forest.

“What’re we doing?” asked Ron.

“We’re staying here to flank,” said Harry. “And not let them escape.”

“Couldn’t they apparate?” asked Greg.

“You can’t apparate on the Hogwarts grounds,” said Hermione instantly.

“You can’t?” asked Greg.

“Haven’t you ever read ‘Hogwarts, a History?” smiled Harry, before Hermione could respond.

“Can’t say that I have,” he admitted. “How long?”

“Five minutes, tops,” said Harry, leaning against the stone of the castle. “Moody’s pretty fast.”

“I see.”

The six of them stood in silence for a minute before Greg started humming. “You were once my one companion,” he sang softly. “You were all that mattered. You were once my friend and father...then my world was shattered...”

“Wishing you were somehow here again,” joined in Hermione. “Wishing you were somehow near...”

“Sometimes it seemed,” sang Harry, “if I just dreamed....somehow you would be here.”

“Wishing I could hear your voice again,” added Luna. “Knowing that I never would...”

“Dreaming of you,” all six of them were singing softly now. “Won’t help me to do all that you dreamed I could...”

“Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental,” sang Greg, looking up at the night sky. “Seem for you the wrong companions...you were warm and gentle.”

“Too many years, fighting back tears, why can’t the past just die?” they all sang. “Wishing you were somehow here again...knowing we must say goodbye. Try to forgive, teach me to live, give me the strength to try.” A lone tear fell down Greg’s cheek. “No more memories, no more silent tears, no more gazing across the wasted years...” They paused and looked at Greg.

“Help me say goodbye. Help me say.....goodbye.” he finished by himself, Harry clapping a hand on his shoulder as bangs sounded off in the forest.

“Charge!” he yelled, as the six of them drew their wands and sprinted into the forest.

=====

It took less than ten minutes for all sixty one death eaters, led by Bellatrix Lestrange to be killed or caught. Bellatrix herself was killed in the battle by a falling tree, and the sixteen that survived were carted off to Azkaban by aurors who arrived on the scene just as the battle ended.

A week later Hogwarts Drama Company performed The Phantom of the Opera in front of a sold out crowd, and again it was met with lavish praise and rave reviews. People came from as far as America to watch, due in part to Greg’s contribution to the show, and none left disappointed.

During the first after party, Ginny and Neville were spotted down on the grounds, walking hand in hand. Harry approached Draco with the intent of consoling him, but the blond laughed and dismissed Harry with a wave of his hand, saying that he had only been trying to get Pansy Parkinson off his back with that rumor.

All too soon the show’s run was over, and it was time for Greg to head back to Salem. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone with him to the train station to see him off, and he was almost on the train when Harry called out to him.

“Greg!” Harry jogged up to the car and looked at his new friend. “I pulled a couple of strings to get these,” he said, taking some photographs from his pocket and handing them to Greg.

He unfolded them to see still shots of the riot outside Old Trafford Stadium from last year.

“There,” said Harry, pointing at a figure in one of the photographs.

“Is that...?”

“Yeah,” replied Harry. “Bellatrix.”

“She was there too,” said Greg softly.

“I thought you deserved to know,” said Harry with a sad smile.

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“One other thing,” said Harry, fishing in his robes. “This was taken by a wizard at the match.”

Greg unfolded it to see a wizarding photograph of the interior of the stadium during the match, the players chasing the ball up and down the pitch while the crowd was screaming wildly.

“I don’t understand,” said Greg, his brow furrowing.

“Colin Creevey is a bit of a photo genius you see,” replied Harry taking one last photograph from his robes. “He managed to find a small portion of that photo and enlarge it quite a bit.”

He handed it to Greg whose mouth opened slightly in shock. Staring back at him from the photo was Hannah and her parents, cheering fanatically.

“I...I...” stammered Greg.

“You don’t need to say anything mate,” replied Harry. “A good friend of mine once did something like that for me...I figured I could repay the favor.”

“Thank you,” whispered Greg, his eyes unmoving from the picture.

“Have a safe trip back to America,” smiled Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. “Make sure you send an owl or two.”

“You have my word,” nodded Greg. “Tell everyone thank you for me.”

“Will do,” replied Harry, as the train whistle blew and Greg stepped on, closing the door behind him.

“See, Ron,” said Hermione, as Harry walked back over to them. “All Americans aren’t so bad.”

“I guess not,” smiled Ron. “I’m kinda gonna miss him, to be honest.”

“I think we all will,” said Harry, turning as the train pulled out of the station, speeding off towards the pink sunset in the horizon.

---------------

I quoted a popular comedic television show TWICE in this week’s episode, so pumpkin pie to anyone who can tell me what series it is.

That’s it for your American director, he’s back off to the states. Hope you all liked him! A preview of next time!

The Company prepares for its newest production...and it’s easily their craziest and most comedic show to date! Next time, on Hogwarts Drama Company:

Harry Potter, King of the Britons

Until next time!

Ficlet Challenge #1: Confusion over a Muggle object.

Before you begin, let me state that the stories I’m writing for the Portkey ‘7 ‘fore 7’ challenge are all part of a series called ‘Hogwarts Drama Club’. They all take place on a single timeline, but are not in order. Therefore, this is NOT the first story in the series. If you wish to read them in order (and it will help you avoid some confusion), start at Challenge #4.

I don’t have much to else say before you begin this one. I’m purposely leaving which object the confusion is over ambiguous. Enjoy!

---------------

Harry Potter, King of the Britons

Harry Potter was walking down the 7th floor corridor with a great feeling of apprehension. He had been meeting with McGonagal over what the next production for the drama club would be, and the decision was one he thought would be met with mixed enthusiasm.

“Harry?” asked a gentle voice from behind him.

“Hello luv,” he smiled as Hermione jogged up to him and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“How come you’re not in the meeting yet?”

“Just got done with McGonagal,” he said. “Going to tell everyone what we’re performing next.”

“Can you tell me?” she asked sweetly.

“You’ll find out with everyone else,” he smiled. “Though...there aren’t many female parts. I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to have to be if you’re not a tech.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” she said.

“I’ll do my best to make everyone happy,” replied Harry as they reached the Room of Requirement. They entered the theater to the familiar chatter of the club members, although it quickly died down as he walked up to the stage.

“What are we doing for the next production?” asked Ginny, sitting next to Neville.

“Right to the point, eh?” he laughed.

“Come on then, tell us!” encouraged Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“It has been decided by the Board...”

“Yes?” chorused some of the people in the room.

“We will be performing Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and I’m directing.”

A large uproar met these words, some of it cheers, some of it groans of disappointment.

“We’ll be doing tryouts today,” said Harry, speaking over the din. “The best choices for those parts will be selected, and the others will be assigned to where I feel they will best be suited.”

“Tell us why you get to be the director again?” asked Seamus.

“Because I started this club in the first place,” shrugged Harry.

“Right, right.”

“Now then,” said Harry, clapping his hands. “Let’s go with King Arthur first.”

“You’re not going to make me be Zoot, are you?” asked Hermione with a hint of dread as Ernie and a couple others hurried up to the front.

“No, but if you would like a spanking I’ll be more than happy to oblige,” whispered Harry.

“You are something else,” she laughed.

=====

About six weeks later...

“One more time, from the top please,” said Harry, from a few rows back.

“We’ve been practicing for hours,” whined Ron poking his head out behind the curtain. “Can’t we take a quick break? Or a kip?”

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Says you,” replied Ron. “You get to sit there and bark at us.”

“I had to take orders for seven years of my life, I feel entitled to do it to you from time to time,” joked Harry.

“You could have at least let me be someone other than Sir Robin,” sighed Neville from the stage.

“What are you complaining for?” asked Dean, who was standing behind him. “Seamus and I are your bloody minstrels. We get eaten for Merlin’s sake!”

“Enough,” chastised Harry. “Do it again.”

“Brave Sir Robin ran away,” chorused Dean and Seamus.

“No I didn’t,” droned Neville.

“Bravely ran away, away.”

“No!”

“When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled –”

“I didn’t!”

“Alright that’ll do it,” laughed Harry. “One of the best scenes, I say.”

“Go sod yourself,” said Neville, though he was slightly smiling.

“Let’s see...how about we do the first French scene now?”

Harry had to stifle his laughter as Malfoy marched out onto the stage clad in his French armor.

“I swear, I’m never going to forgive you for this one, Potter,” he said through closed teeth.

“Oh, you love being able to throw insults at Ernie and you know it.”

Draco said nothing, but grumbled and climbed the ladder to the top of the set as Ernie Macmillan, Colin Creevey, Neville, and Ron all shuffled up.

“Hello!” bellowed Ernie.

Harry saw Malfoy roll his eyes and had to stifle another laugh.

“‘Ello! Who is eet!” he yelled back in a perfect French accent.

“I am Arthur, and these are my Knights of the Round table!” said Ernie in a strong voice. “Whose castle is this?”

“This is the castle of my master Gui de Loimbard!”

“Please go and tell him that we have been charged by God with a sacred quest, and if he will give us food and shelter for this night he can join us in our quest for the Holy Grail.”

“Well I’ll go tell ‘em, but I don’t think ‘ell be very keen. He’s already got one, you see.”

“What? Already has a grail!”

“Preposterous!” exclaimed Creevey.

“Are you sure?” asked Ernie.

“Oh yes, it’s very nice,” he replied. Harry thought if Draco talked through his nose any more than he was, he’d start spraying Ernie and the others with bogies.

“Well, may we come up and have a look then?” yelled Ron.

“Of course not! You are English types!”

“Well what are you then?” yelled Ernie.

“I’m French! Why do you think I have this outraaaaageous accent you silly king!”

“Well, if you do not show us the grail we shall storm your castle!”

“You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose on you, so-called Arthur-king, you and your silly English Knnnnnnnnniggets!”

Harry couldn’t help from snorting at that, causing them to pause and look at him.

“Carry on,” he said chuckling. “Don’t mind me.”

“Now look here –”

“I don’ wanna talk to you no more! You empty-headed animal, food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction! You mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!”

“Um, is there someone else we could talk to?” asked Neville weakly.

“No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time!” retorted Malfoy.

“This is your last chance!” yelled Ernie. “I have been more than reasonable and I – bloody hell!”

Harry watched as Ernie and the others ran off the stage as the mooing sound of a cow was cued perfectly.

“Well done!” said Harry, standing up. “Let’s get two more scenes in before we call it a day. First...how about...let’s see. Ron’s scene.”

He watched as Ron poked his head out from behind the curtain.

“Really?” asked Ron with apprehension.

“You’re the one who wanted to be Galahad the Pure,” shrugged Harry.

“Yeah but...blimey Harry...I didn’t know...I didn’t know...”

“What, that Luna was going to be Zoot?” he asked.

“Shhh!” exclaimed Ron, reddening.

Harry laughed and got up. Walking to the front of the stage, he beckoned Ron over.

“You should tell her how you feel, you know,” said Harry quietly. “But for now, the show must go on.”

“I suppose,” he nodded.

“Get on with it!” yelled Harry as he headed back to his seat. The curtain rose to reveal Ron struggling toward the doors of a castle.

“Open the door!” he yelled. “In the name of King Arthur open the door!”

The door opened slowly to reveal every girl in the drama club who wasn’t working on the crew, led by Luna.

“Hello!” they chorused.

“Um...hello.”

“Welcome to the Castle Anthrax,” smiled Luna.

“The Castle...what?”

“I know, it’s not a very good name is it?” asked Luna. “But we are nice and shall attend to your every need! The beds here are warm and very soft.”

“Well look, I...er...”

“What is your name, sir knight?”

“S-sir Galahad. The chaste.”

“I am Zoot,” she smiled. “Just Zoot.”

“Look, I must –”

“Sir Galahad, you would not refuse our hospitality?” asked Luna as the other girls began to fret with worry.

“Um...”

“I'm afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet compared to yours,” said Ginny. “We are but eightscore young women, all between sixteen and nineteen-and-a-half, cut off in this castle, with no one to protect us. Oooh. It is a lonely life...bathing...dressing...undressing...making exciting underwear...”

Harry’s gaze met Hermione’s for a moment and he chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

“No, no, this cannot be. I am sworn to chastity!” exclaimed Ron.

“You must come to your bed at once,” said Luna. “You are wounded.”

“I must go!”

Harry watched as Ron ran right across the stage into Lavender Brown, who was playing Luna’s twin sister with the help of Polyjuice.

“Um...Zoot?”

“No, I’m Zoot’s twin sister, Dingo.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry, but I must be going.”

“But...Zoot said you were going to stay forever?”

“Oh...but...”

“Wicked, bad, naughty Zoot!” exclaimed Lavender, stomping her foot on the stage. “We must punish her...and in Castle Anthrax, there is but one punishment.”

“A spanking, a spanking!” cheered all the girls.

“That is right,” said Lavender. “You must spank her...and then you may do with her as you like. And then you may spank me.”

“And me!” yelled Parvati.

“And me!” echoed Susan Bones.

“Well...well I suppose I could stay a bit longer,” said a flustered Ron.

“Galahad!” yelled Colin Creevey, bursting onto the scene. “We must go! You are in great peril!”

“No he isn’t,” said Lavender.

“She’s got a point,” shrugged Ron as Colin grabbed his arm and began dragging him away. “Look I can tackle this lot single-handed!”

“No you can’t!” yelled Colin as he continued dragging Ron away. “Tis too perilous!”

“It is my duty as a knight to face as much peril as I can!”

“No, we must find the grail.”

“Just a little bit of peril?”

“No.”

Harry grinned and waited for it.

“....I bet you’re gay.”

“No I’m not.”

“Excellent,” laughed Harry, and the curtain fell. “That’ll be it. Let’s have the knights and Dennis out for the last bit of today.”

“Finally, the fun stuff,” laughed Neville as everyone took their places.

“When you’re ready,” nodded Harry.

The curtain rose to reveal a large pit with a cave towards the back.

“Look!” yelled Dennis Creevey in a Scottish accent, dressed in true wizard garb. “There it is!”

A small, fluffy white bunny appeared from the cave.

“The rabbit?” asked Neville.

“Caerbannog!” yelled Dennis. “Tis the most foul and gruesome thing ye will ever lay eyes on!”

“Right then,” said Ernie drawing his sword. “Bors, go lop its head off.”

Goyle lumbered forward, sword in hand as the rabbit magically flew up and threw itself at his neck, and, after a shriek, fell to the ground, Goyle falling dead next to it.

“Bloody hell!” yelled Ernie.

“I really did soil myself that time,” groaned Neville.

“I warned you,” said Dennis, “but did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew it all, didn't you? Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it?”

“Oh, shut up,” said Ron.

“What now?” asked Ernie.

“Let us taunt it,” said Neville. “It may become so cross that it will make a mistake.”

“Like what?”

“Erm...”

“Stop being such a nuisance,” scolded Ernie. “And go change your armor.”

“We do have the Holy Hand Grenade, sire,” said Colin.

“That’s right!” exclaimed Ernie. “Tis a sacred relic Brother Maynard carries with him. Bring out the Holy Hand Grenade!”

Justin Finch-Fletchley walked forward dressed up as a monk, carrying a small wooden chest to the sounds of a church choir.

“Um...how...how does it work?” asked Ernie.

“I know not, my liege,” said Ron.

“Consult the book of Armaments!” exclaimed Ernie.

“Armaments, chapter two, verses nine through twenty-one,” said Justin, pulling out a large tome from seemingly nowhere. “And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, ‘O Lord, bless this Thy hand grenade that, with it, Thou may blow Thine enemies to tiny bits in Thy mercy.’

Harry stifled a laugh as the cast turned to look at him in amazement.

“And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans and breakfast cereals and fruit bats and large chu–”

“Skip a bit, brother,” said Ernie.

“And the Lord spake, saying, ‘First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three. No more. No less. Three shalt be the number shalt thou count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then, lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it.’”

“Amen,” said Ernie, bowing his head slightly.

“Amen,” chorused his knights.

“Right then,” said Ernie, taking the grenade and pulling the pin. “One...two...five!”

“Three, sir!” said Colin

“Three!” yelled Ernie, hurling the grenade at the rabbit. A tiny explosion went off and everyone gave a cheer.

“Excellent,” said Harry, getting up and clapping his hands. “That should do us for today.”

“Harry?” asked Ernie, coming down from the stage. “Do you really think that the people will like this? Isn’t it a bit too...ludicrous?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, as everyone went to go change back into their normal clothes. “But hey, it’ll be fun at least.”

“I suppose,” shrugged Ernie.

Harry stayed in the audience until most of the people had filtered out. Making his way back towards the dressing room, he knocked softly.

“Hermione?” he called. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, come in,” she said. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. Hermione was in the process of cleaning her makeup off, already wearing her normal school clothes.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

“Flatterer,” she said, blushing. “It’s the makeup.”

“You look absolutely gorgeous without it,” he added with a smile.

“What am I going to do with you?” she sighed with a lazy smile, turning around to face him.

“I can think of a few things,” grinned Harry, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Prat,” she laughed, swatting at him. “You’re a right tyrant out there, you know that?”

“As bad as Greg?” he chuckled.

“Just as bad,” she laughed. “I wonder how he’s doing.”

“I got an owl from him a few days ago,” said Harry. “He’s doing fine.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?” asked Hermione.

“I meant to, it slipped my mind,” apologised Harry. “Apparently he got three more offers to direct from wizarding companies in the States.”

“Did he take any of them?” she asked.

“He’s probably not going to,” he replied. “He doesn’t really know what he wants to do with his life yet.”

“I feel awful for him,” admitted Hermione. “It must be terrible to lose someone like that.”

“It is,” said Harry grimly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking his hands in her. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” smiled Harry, leaning in to kiss her softly. “Come on, we should get back to the common room and relax a bit before dinner.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Hermione gathered up her things and they were about to leave when they heard voices from the other side of the door.

“You really acted quite brilliantly,” said Luna’s airy voice.

“Thanks,” mumbled someone that sounded like Ron. “You we’re great too.”

“Thank you, Ronald,” she said. “It’s rather fun to have a bigger role, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Hey, um...”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering...would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” he asked. Hermione’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.

“I can’t believe he actually asked her,” whispered Harry in amazement.

“Oh Ronald,” chuckled Luna. “We have dinner in the same place every night.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” stammered Ron. “I meant like...you know, in Hogsmeade or something.”

“That’d be so much fun,” agreed Luna, clapping her hands together. “I’ve never had dinner with a friend in Hogsmeade before.”

“No!” exclaimed Ron, exasperated. “I mean...that’s not what I mean either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I meant...like, as more than friends.”

There was a dramatic pause while Harry and Hermione anxiously awaited Luna’s answer.

“Ronald,” she said softly. “Do you fancy me?”

Harry had a feeling Ron’s face was probably redder than his hair by this point.

“A bit, yeah,” he said hesitantly.

“A bit?” asked Luna.

“A lot, okay?” said Ron, frustrated. “I’m sorry...it’s just this stuff isn’t easy for me to talk about, and I never really thought you liked me back –”

There was suddenly silence and Harry and Hermione wished that they could see through the door to find out what was happening.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Ronald,” said Luna softly. Harry and Hermione waited until her footsteps faded before opening the door to see Ron standing there in shock.

“Sorry mate,” said Harry, coming up to him. “I can’t believe she turned you down.”

“She kissed me,” said Ron in shock. “She kissed me.”

“She what?” asked Hermione.

He turned to face them with a massive grin on his face.

“Hey...congratulations,” smiled Harry, clapping Ron on the back. “See, I told you.”

“Just a minute ago you thought she rejected me,” pointed out Ron.

“So you’re a better actor than I give you credit for,” laughed Harry. “Come on, let’s go back to the common room and you can tell us all about it.”

“Wanker,” laughed Ron, as the three of them left the theater.

---------------

Well that’s about it for this time, I hoped you all liked it. Well, two more to go in about 5 days...I think I can do it. A preview of next time!

It’s almost time for the seventh years to graduate...Monty Python and the Holy Grail was a success, but there’s enough time left in the school year for one more performance...and the biggest surprise of all. Next time, on Hogwarts Drama Company:

The Great Debate

Until next time!

Well, we’re almost getting to the end...of both this series and Harry Potter in general. I do expect to have the last episode out before Book 7 is released...but not by much. For now though, enjoy!

Ficlet Challenge #6: A Daily Prophet article filled with mistakes.

---------------

The Great Debate

“Hey everyone, have a look at this,” called Ron, walking into the theater while they were taking down the set from Monty Python. He was waving the new Prophet in his hand as a few students gathered around him.

“Did we get good reviews?” asked Harry, walking up to him.

“In a manner of speaking,” laughed Ron. “‘Hogwart’s Drama Club put on another splendid show this past week, performing ‘Munty Python’s the Holy Grail’,’ writes theatrical correspondent Joshua Wright,” he said. “An exceptional performance was given by all, including the Creepey brothers, playing Sir Launcelot and Tim the Enchanter.”

“What, was the editor drunk when he sent this out?” asked Hermione, coming down with the rest of the crew.

“It gets even better,” laughed Ron. “Neville Longbottle plays the role of Sir Robin, the brainless knight to perfection, while...Ronald Weasel gives ‘chaste’ a whole new meaning...”

“Didn’t read it all the way through, did you mate?” laughed Seamus, clapping Ron on the back.

“Go sod yourself,” muttered Ron. “Many people are calling for the group to perform in the annual World Wizarding Drama Competition to be held in Paris in six weeks.”

“What?!” exclaimed Ernie, snatching the paper from Ron’s hands as the entire group let out cheers of agreement. “The ‘Under Eighteen’ division has been won by Beauxbatons Academy of Magic the past two years, and the Salem Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry before that.”

“Greg was the director that year,” said Hermione to Harry.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he shrugged with a smile.

“This year, fourteen institutions from all over the world are expected to compete in the division over the first week. If Hogwarts is going to attend, they will need to register for a spot by tomorrow...tomorrow?!” exclaimed Ernie.

“We have to do it, Harry!” called Ginny. “We’ll give them a run for their money!”

“For certain!” agreed Neville.

“Everyone quiet down!” yelled Harry, raising his hands. When at last everyone had calmed down, he took a deep breath. “There is no harm in going to McGonagal and requesting we attend.” A huge cheer erupted at this. “But!” he called, quieting everyone again. “I need to remind everyone who is under the age of seventeen that a parent or guardian’s permission will be required if we get to attend, and more than likely a small monetary contribution...Paris is hardly free, after all.”

“What about the budget?” called out Dennis Creevey. Harry turned to Ron.

“Because we’ve been selling out, our budget has substantially increased,” said Ron. “I imagine that the lot of us could go for twenty galleons each before food.”

Another cry of assent came from the group, and Harry hushed them again before speaking.

“If there are no objections to this?” he asked, looking out at the group. Malfoy raised his hand, causing everyone to go silent.

“Potter,” he sighed. “I have one question.”

“Yes?” asked Harry.

“If we’re to be performing in front of thousands of people in a competition,” he said, “do you think it might be possible to have me not play the bad guy for once?”

“But you do it so well,” grinned Harry.

“Potter,” groaned Malfoy.

“Alright, alright, we’ll see what we can work out,” acquiesced Harry.

“Carry on,” sighed Draco, waving his hand.

“What do you think?” Harry asked Hermione.

“In terms of feasibility or just how I feel in general?” she asked.

“Both.”

“If the Board of Governors agrees, it’s feasible,” she shrugged. “And I’d love to go to Paris.”

“Ernie?” asked Harry.

“You know I want to do it,” he smiled.

“Alright,” shrugged Harry. “Let’s go talk to McGonagal.” A huge cheer went up from the crowd at his words. “Myself, Hermione, Ron, and Ernie will go,” he continued. “Everyone else should stay here and continue disassembling sets. We’ll come back when we know something.”

“Good luck!” several people called, as the four of them walked out of the Room of Requirement.

“Do you think they’ll go for it?” asked Ron, as they approached the stone gargoyle.

“I think I’ll be able to make them see reason,” said Harry, as they ascended the stairs towards the office. Once at the landing, he knocked hard on the wooden door.

“Come in,” called McGonagal from inside.

The four of them entered to find the headmistress pouring over parchments on her desk.

“Ah, what brings you all up here?” she asked, barely looking up.

“We have a request,” said Harry.

“Oh?” she asked. “You want to perform again before the year is out?”

“In Paris,” he said. “At the World Wizarding Drama Competition.”

McGonagal put down her quill and looked up at the four of them.

“The Board discussed this already,” she said with a frown. “They agreed that having less than a year of experience is not enough to compete.”

“What?” asked Ernie. “That’s preposterous. We’ve sold out every show we’ve had. People have come from as far as the States to see us.”

“I’m afraid the decision has already been made,” she said. “Personally, I would have loved to see you all compete...I think you would’ve stood a real good chance, but the Board has decided.”

“This is absurd,” said Hermione, stepping forward. “This is in clear violation of the students’ autonomy granted to us by Provision B in Section Twenty-Nine of Hogwarts School Law, which states that any student-governed organization has the right to decide for itself its own course of action, providing said action breaks no existing rules. I think we’ve been kind enough to let the Board have say in what we perform when we never had to let them in the first place, but this is taking it too far.”

“We could’ve been deciding what to perform all along?” asked Ron, staring at her.

“In the interest of the group, I decided not to fight the decisions,” said Harry. “Hermione told me about the provision right after we formed...but I thought it would be less hassle to not have to go through any red tape.”

“So as you can see,” said Hermione, “we are going to fight that decision.”

“I see,” said McGonagal with a sigh. “Well, we might as well go to the Board so you can present your argument.”

“Now?” asked Ron.

“Yes, Mister Weasley, they are in session right now,” said McGonagal, taking a pinch of floo powder and throwing it in her fireplace, causing the flames to roar green. Crouching down, she stuck her head in for a moment, before pulling it out again a moment later. “Your destination is the Ministry of Magic, Conference Room Two.”

The five of them each stepped into the flames and said their destination, and a moment later were standing in a small conference room in the Ministry of Magic, all twelve members of the Board seated at a large circular table.

“What’s all this then?” said a large beefy man who reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, standing up. “You told us you had something to discuss, Minerva.”

“And I do, Edward,” she said, brushing the soot off her robes. “It is the matter we discussed earlier.”

“That matter has been resolved,” said another man from the back.

“That ‘matter’, as you call it,” said Hermione, “is in violation of the Hogwarts School Laws.”

“And what would you know of the Hogwarts School Laws, miss...?”

“Granger, Hermione Granger,” she said, stepping forward. “And although you all may not be aware of it, a student-governed organization has the right to decide for itself what it can and can’t do, providing no rules are broken.”

“She’s right, you know,” said an older gentlemen, nearby. “Provision B in twenty-nine.”

“The condition of the club –”

“Company,” corrected Harry.

“Company,” said Edward. “Was that the Board would have full say in its goings on.”

“Whether or not that’s the case,” continued Hermione. “The moment the Company became an official organization, that agreement became null and void.”

“I knew this from the beginning,” said Harry. “But, in order to not cause any problems, I let you all continue to decide what we would perform. Denying us the right to compete, especially after the entire company has voted for it, is against the Laws of the school.”

“You’ve already talked about it, then?” asked Edward.

“Of course,” nodded Harry. “Our Treasurer has even figured out how much it would cost.”

“And how much would it cost, Mister Weasley?” asked the older gentlemen.

“Erm...we have roughly six-thousand five hundred and fifty galleons in the budget,” said Ron. “The costs to produce a show, on average, have been slightly more than three thousand.”

“Thirty-five hundred galleons is not enough to board the entire company for a week in Paris,” said Edward.

“Actually it is,” said Ron. “My brothers, Fred and George, own a large bit of real estate in the area...they’ve been expanding their business after all. They can get us accommodations very cheaply.”

“Let us assume we agree,” said a balding man from next to them. “You have six weeks to rehearse, construct a set, and transport it, along with yourselves, to Paris. Do you actually think you can pull it off?”

“Of course,” replied Harry with no hesitation. “Everyone is confident we can perform just as well as we have in the past.”

“And what are you planning on performing?” asked Edward.

“The Wizard of Oz,” said Ernie, before anyone else could say anything. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to glance at him but said nothing.

“Very well,” sighed Edward. “I think I speak for all of us when we say that it’s easy to tell how committed you are. We might not necessarily agree, but...we will all certainly wish you the best of luck in Paris. We will send in the registration immediately.”

“Thank you very much sir,” nodded Harry.

“Now then, if you will excuse us, we have business we must discuss,” said Edward, sitting back down.

“Right then,” said McGonagal, ushering the four of them back towards the fireplace. “Let us get back to the school.”

They arrived in the headmistress’ office a moment later, and immediately Hermione leapt into Harry’s arms while Ron and Ernie exchange high-fives.

“I have to say, I’m most impressed with your determination,” smiled McGonagal. “Not many people would have the resolve to stand up to the Governors like that.”

“You have to stand up for what’s right,” smiled Harry. “I learned that the hard way.”

“You did indeed,” nodded McGonagal with a sad smile. “Now go on and tell the rest of the company...I’m sure you’ll need to start preparing right away.”

“Thank you,” smiled Harry, as the four of them dashed off towards the Room of Requirement.

They arrived not a minute later and opened the door, entering to a very fast silence.

“Well?” called Ginny from the stage.

“We’re going to Paris,” grinned Harry.

Huge cheers erupted from the group as people began to embrace and dance on the stage, the floor, and the catwalk high above.

“We’ve got to get moving,” laughed Harry, as people came over to congratulate him. “We’re doing The Wizard of Oz, and we’ve only got six weeks to get it right.”

“What are we waiting for then?” called out Ron. “Get a move on!”

“Out of curiosity,” said Harry to Ernie, as everyone else hurried off to finish what they were doing. “How did you come up with the Wizard of Oz so fast?”

“It had been the majority vote over Anastasia,” he shrugged. “I figured everyone would want to do it...and we needed to come up with an answer fast there.”

“Good on you,” smiled Harry. “I can say one thing for sure about all of this.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s going to be one hell of a trip,” he grinned.

---------------

I know it’s the shortest one I’ve posted so far, but it’s filler. ::grin::

On the finale of Hogwarts Drama Company:

The Company is in Paris to perform it’s final show of the season. The city of romance works its magic for more than one couple, and several friends make an appearance to witness the show. Next time, on Hogwarts Drama Company:

Together in Paris

Au bientot!

Well, here we are. I remember posting the last chapter of Fawkes’ Gift on the day of the release of HBP...let us all pray for better luck this time around. Unless a miracle happens in Book 7, I think we all have a feeling as to how it’s going to turn out. I can’t tell you when, or if I’ll be able to bring myself to write something after this. So I’m going out with a bang. This is going to be the sugariest, fluffiest, most sickeningly sweet chapter I’ve written to date. I’m also wearing a t-shirt to the midnight release with my ‘parting words,’ so to speak, printed on it, slamming R/Hr shippers as hard as I can. I’ll post the rant , and the rest, at the end.

Ficlet Challenge #7: Anything you want (as long as it works in Book 7)

---------------

Together in Paris

“Alright everyone, listen up!” yelled Harry, over the din of the excited chatter in the theater. “The portkeys are set to go off in five minutes...does everyone remember which one they’re assigned to?”

Calls of assent came from the crowd as everyone sorted into their various groups for transportation to Paris.

“The sets have been shrunk down and are safe for transporting?” called out Ron to the crew. More nods and affirmative answers.

Harry was standing with Ron, Hermione, Ernie and McGonagal going over last minute details.

“Three minutes to nine,” he said.

“We’re lucky we got everything ready in time,” said Ron. “I knew getting an early start was a good idea, even with a nighttime portkey.”

“Now remember, the four of you are the officers of the Company,” said McGonagal. “You are the chaperones here. I will stop by once a day though to make sure everything is going well.”

“Alright,” nodded Harry, holding onto the kettle that he and the others were taking.

“I will most certainly be there for the performance,” nodded McGonagal. “I wish you all the best of luck.”

“Thank you,” smiled Hermione.

“Thirty seconds!” called Harry.

“Are you ready?” she asked him, smiling.

“Oh save the mushy stuff for when we get there,” groaned Ron.

“I’m sorry,” laughed Harry. “Weren’t you the one who assigned your room to be next door to Luna’s?”

“Touche,” muttered Ron, turning red.

“Here we go!” laughed Harry. “Five...four...three...two...one...”

The familiar sensation grabbed him behind the navel, and he was whisked off into the whirling abyss before crashing to the ground a moment later inside what looked to be a large, empty tavern.

“Oy, you’re late!” yelled a familiar voice from behind the bar.

“Like hell we’re late,” said Ron, getting up and dusting himself off as the other members of the company began to appear around them. “You two set up the portkeys.”

“Did we now?” asked Fred, coming out from behind the bar with his twin. “I suppose you’ve got us there, Ronnikens.”

“Fred, George,” said Harry, walking forward and shaking their hands. “I didn’t know you both were going to be here.”

“We do own the place,” laughed George.

“You forgot to mention that,” said Hermione, looking at Ron.

“Yeah, well, I just thought that this might one of those cases where having plausible deniability might help us avoid some red tape,” he mumbled slightly.

“Have you been reading the dictionary, Ronald,” quipped Hermione. Ron rolled his eyes but bit back any retort that might have been coming.

“Now then,” said Fred. “The entire place is yours for the week you’re here. We’ve stored and locked all the alcohol so there’s no need to worry about the midgets getting into it.”

“Thanks,” laughed Harry.

“Ronnikens and Ernie here can show everyone where they’re staying,” said George. “We’ll give you two a quick tour of the place so you have no questions later on.”

“Alright,” said Hermione.

“We’ll bring your stuff up,” said Ernie, grabbing their bags.

“Thanks,” nodded Harry, as he and Hermione followed the twins through a door behind the bar.

“This leads down into the basement,” said George. “I assume you know where the competition is held?”

“There’s a large area beneath the Eiffel Tower that only wizards can reach,” said Hermione. “I heard they turned part of it into a grand theater specifically for the competition.”

“You’re quite right,” nodded Fred. “Being underground also gives it the unique acoustic advantage of not having any sound escape...it’s quite brilliant, actually.”

“Sounds interesting,” remarked Harry as they reached the basement, filled with aging barrels of mead and wine.

“Not at all,” laughed George. “Muggle stuff, that is. Anyway, the reason we’re down here, is because if you open this door here,” he said, reaching for the handle of a nearby door, “you can see there’s a nice little passageway that will take you straight to the theater.”

“Oh this will make everything much easier,” said Hermione, looking down the hall, which was very nice for being underground. A hard wood floor, paintings hanging on the walls, and several candles gave the passageway a very welcoming feel.

“We agree,” said Fred. “Anyway, who’s going to the drawing?”

“Drawing?” asked Harry.

“The drawing to determine what order the schools perform in?” asked George. “It’s starting in twenty minutes.”

“Bollocks, I completely forgot about that,” cursed Harry. “You go and get everyone settled in and assembled, I’ll attend this and we can have a quick meeting before settling in for the night.”

“Alright,” said Hermione, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “See you in a bit.”

“So I just head down here?” asked Harry, as Hermione went back upstairs.

“Just go as far straight as you can,” nodded George. “You’ll end up in the lobby.”

“Thanks,” nodded Harry, setting off down the corridor.

It wasn’t a long walk, and he soon heard the chatter of people talking ahead of him.

“Everyone!” someone called out in a Russian accent as Harry entered the lobby. “My name is Nicolas Dimitrovich, and I am the chair for this year’s competition. If you’ll all follow me into the nearby conference room, we can begin the drawing.”

Harry quickly counted himself and fourteen others, each representing the other schools attending. He didn’t recognize anyone as they filed into the room.

“There are fifteen schools competing this year,” said Nicolas conjuring a top hat as everyone sat down at the large round table. “And in this hat there are the names of each of those schools. Whoever is drawn first will perform first, second will go second, and so on. There will be three performances a day, for five days, and each will be judged by the panel of ten judges. The highest score will win. Are there any questions?” No one spoke, and he reached into the hat and pulled out a slip of parchment. “Very well then, the school performing first is...the Sydney School of Magic.”

The drawings continued on for another ten minutes, and with only two names left, Hogwarts still hadn’t been chosen

“Only Hogwarts and Beauxbatons left now,” said Nicolas, drawing from the hat again. “Performing fourteenth is...the defending champions, the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, which means Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will perform last. Thank you all for coming, and we will see you on the stage.”

Everyone filtered out in relative silence, Harry hurrying back down the corridor towards the pub to share the good news. He reached the basement quickly and took the stairs up to the main floor two at a time, where everyone was sitting around sipping various drinks, from butterbeer to muggle pop.

“Everyone!” called Harry, causing the room to go silent. “We’re performing last.”

“Is that good?” asked Dennis Creevey.

“Of course it is,” said Hermione, getting up. “Aside from the extra few days of rehearsal, we’ll get to know right away if we’ve won or not.”

“There’s a panel of ten judges grading each performance,” said Harry.

“Yes,” nodded Hermione. “Each from different countries, if I remember correctly.”

“Since we’re performing last,” said Harry. “We’re going to have a few days to relax...that doesn’t mean we’re not going to practice,” he added quickly, seeing a few faces light up. “But we are in one of the greatest cities in the world, so it’d be a shame not to see any of it.”

Cheers went up from the Company at this, as people raised their drinks in a toast.

“Not tonight though,” said Harry. “It’s almost ten, and we should all be getting to sleep.” A few people groaned. “Plan for rehearsal at two in the afternoon, that should give you all enough time to sleep in, explore the city a little, and have lunch.”

“We have a great big room you can expand to rehearse in,” offered George. “Not as good as a theater, by any means, but it’ll get the job done.”

“Great,” smiled Harry in thanks. “Now off to bed!”

Harry and Hermione watched as everyone filtered out, not bothering to hide their smiles as Ron and Luna walked hand in hand up the stairs.

“Where are our rooms?” asked Harry, as he and Hermione walked up the stairs once everyone had gone ahead.

“We’re right next to each other,” she smiled. “We have a door the connects the rooms.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. “I can come and bug you with my presence.”

“I was actually thinking about something else,” she said softly, stopping to face him properly.

“What?” he asked. “What do you...oh. Oh,” he said, eyes widening with the realization.

“If you don’t want to,” she started.

“I want to,” he smiled. “Very much...you’re not worried about the example we might be setting?”

“That’s why we have the door that connects the rooms,” she smiled, leaning close to him. “And besides...breaking the rules from time to time can be a bit...exhilarating.”

“I love you,” whispered Harry, kissing her softly.

“I love you too,” replied Hermione. “I’ll meet you in your room in ten minutes?”

“Sounds perfect,” he smiled, as they parted ways for the time being.

Harry entered his room and smiled when he saw it had a perfect view of the Champ de Mars, and the Eiffel Tower glowing golden in the background.

“Have you seen the view?” gasped Hermione, whipping open the door between their rooms.

“What happened to ten minutes?” laughed Harry. “Yes, it’s gorgeous.”

“I haven’t been here since I was a little girl,” she said, walking over to him at the window. “It’s so much more beautiful than I remembered.”

“It’s a hundred times better because you’re here,” smiled Harry, nuzzling her neck.

“Harry,” she whimpered. “Oh sod it all.” And she spun around and tackled him onto the bed.

=====

Five days later...

“Beauxbatons Academy of Magic final score is 92.4,” announced Nicolas, as the audience applauded. “There will be a thirty minute break, and the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will perform The Wizard of Oz.”

“That puts them in first place,” said Hermione as the company began hurrying towards backstage to begin setting up.

“Alright everyone,” called Ron, wearing his traditional headset. “Get it set!”

Immediately everyone began enlarging pieces of the sets they had brought with them, and started setting them up in the appropriate places.

“Wardrobe is ready,” said Lavender, hurrying over to Harry.

“If you’re in the cast, follow Lavender and get yourselves ready!” yelled Harry. “You’re going to be great, Hermione.”

“I hope so,” she said nervously, giving him a quick kiss. “I’ve never had a role this big before.”

“Everyone agreed you should be Dorothy,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, hurrying off with the rest of the cast.

“Do you think we’re ready for this?” asked Ernie in his tuxedo, coming up to Harry.

“I think so,” he nodded, putting on the Director’s headset. “You just make sure the orchestra sounds like the bloody angels.”

“I can handle that,” smiled Ernie.

“How’s setup coming, Ron?” asked Harry into the headset.

“Good,” came the reply. “I’m a little concerned about the monkeys though.”

“You leave the monkeys to me,” said Harry. “I’m a master of illusion, remember?”

“I hope so,” laughed Ron. “Are you going to be up here with me?”

“I think so,” nodded Harry, as the cast started to come back from wardrobe.

“Do I look alright?” asked Hermione in a light blue and white dress.

“Fabulous,” smiled Harry. “Where’s Biscuit?”

They had been able to borrow a very well-trained terrier from the witch who ran the Magical Menagerie to play Toto.

“Right here,” grinned Luna, brining the dog over. “He’s such a sweetie.”

The dark barked at her playfully and licked her face.

“Ten minutes,” said Ron through the headset.

“Final spots, everyone!” called Harry. “I’m on my way up, Ron.”

“Alright everyone,” called Ernie, as Harry climbed the ladder up to the catwalk. “Let’s show them why we belong here!”

=====

“There’s no place like home...” mumbled Hermione, the set having changed back from Oz to the house on the Kansas prairie.

“I found Dorothy!” called Draco. “She’s in the house!”

“Dorothy!” exclaimed Ginny, running into the house followed by Justin Finch-Fletchley, Neville, and Dean Thomas.

“Auntie Em? Asked Hermione weakly. “Uncle Henry?”

“Shhh...we’re here,” said Justin, kneeling over the bed.

“Where...I’m back in Kansas...” she said.

“Of course you are,” nodded Ginny. “Where else would you be?”

“I was in a magical world called Oz,” she explained as the orchestra began to play the finale. “There was this mighty awful witch that I had to deal with...and you, Hunk, you were the Scarecrow!”

“Me?” asked Neville.

“Yes, you needed a brain...and you Hickory, you were the Tin Man and needed a heart!”

“Now that’s not very nice,” scoffed Draco.

“And Zeke...you were the Cowardly Lion!”

“Just because I get a little jumpy, that don’t mean you should be calling me a coward,” said Dean with a slight frown.

“Dorothy, I think you were just dreaming,” said Ginny gently.

“It was real,” said Hermione, with a smile. “But...there is no place like home.”

The crowd applauded as the curtain descended, and Harry, Ron, and the rest of the crew in the catwalk climbed down to the floor backstage.

“How’d we do?” asked Hermione, coming up to them.

“We’ll find out in a minute,” smiled Harry. A couple minutes passed before Nicolas spoke up.

“The scores for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are as follows,” he said. “The Russian judge gives a score of 9.2.”

Applause.

“The German judge gives a score of 9.”

More applause.

“The Irish judge gives a score of 9.4.”

“We’re almost right on par with Beauxbatons,” said Hermione.

“The English judge gives a score of 9.3...the French judge gives a score of 8.6...”

“Favoritism!” exclaimed Ron over the continuing applause. “That’s bloody fair!”

“The Japanese judge gives a score of 9.3...the Indian judge gives a score of 9.2...the Mexican judge gives a score of 9.2...the Spanish judge gives a score of 9.3...”

“Eighty-two and a half,” said Hermione with a slight frown. “We need a perfect ten to win.”

“And finally, the American judge gives a score of...ten, giving Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a 92.5, and first place!”

Harry was in shock as cheers erupted from the group.

“We did it!” bellowed Ernie, jumping up and down in an embrace with Justin.

“We have to go receive our award,” said Hermione, pushing Harry out onto the stage, as everyone else followed, McGonagal coming forward to congratulate them.

=====

There were no toasts in the pub that night, just constant cheers and celebrations. Harry and Hermione were sitting at a table in the back, smiling as they watched everyone in the company celebrate along with Fred and George.

“I can’t believe we won,” said Harry, the massive trophy sitting on the table in front of them.

“I can’t believe the American judge gave us a ten,” said Hermione. “Who do you think it was?”

“A friend,” said a familiar voice to their left.

“Greg!” exclaimed Hermione, jumping up and hugging him.

“You were the judge?!” said Harry in shock.

“They asked me right after we performed Phantom,” he laughed. “They had no idea you guys were going to compete...and I knew that French twit was going to underscore you, so I had to make up for it.”

“So how did we really perform?” laughed Hermione, sitting back down.

“Nine and a half, in my opinion,” he smiled. “Which, if you think about it, probably gets you the win if he scores you at least a nine instead of that bollocks 8.6.”

“You must stay and have a drink with us,” grinned Hermione.

“Unfortunately I can’t,” he frowned. “There’s still another week of judging to do for the Adult Division and there’s a large meeting in a few minutes to discuss it...but I definitely wanted to stop by and congratulate you all.”

“It’s good to see you again, mate,” smiled Harry, shaking his hand. “Don’t forget to keep sending owls.”

“Of course,” he smiled, before heading back down the door behind the bar, Fred holding it open ceremoniously for him.

“Hey,” whispered Harry. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And go where?” grinned Hermione impishly, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he laughed. “Follow me.”

They walked in silence to a small, deserted alley out behind the pub.

“Out here?” asked Hermione. “Isn’t it a little dirty?”

“You are such a pervert,” laughed Harry. “That isn’t what I have in mind.”

“What do you have in mind then?”

“Hold on tight,” he smiled, lacing his fingers with hers.

The familiar compression of apparation overtook each of them, and a moment later they were standing on top of the Eiffel Tower.

“Fred and George said that the lift closes down at eight, so there’s no one to bother us,” smiled Harry, as the night lights of Paris glittered up at them from far below.

“It’s gorgeous,” breathed Hermione, looking over the edge. “Harry, it’s beautiful.”

“I know,” he said, looking at her. “I also brought,” he added, pulling something out of his pocket. “A little celebration, compliments of Fred and George.” Tapping his fist with his wand, a bottle of champagne enlarged into his hand along with two flutes. “Cheers,” he said, pouring her a glass.

“This is by far the most romantic thing anyone has done for me,” smiled Hermione, taking a sip.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t think this night could get any better,” she smiled, leaning into his arms.

Harry hesitated. He had brought along something in case the moment presented itself, and it certainly had right at that moment. His apprehension didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione, who turned and looked at him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “I just...when you said this night couldn’t get any better...”

“Yes?” she asked.

He sighed and placed his glass on ground next to them.

“Hermione, I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she smiled.

“How much?”

“With everything I have,” she laughed. “You know that.”

“Then maybe,” he said, getting down on a knee and pulling a velvet box from his robes. “Maybe you’d want to be my wife?”

“Harry,” she gasped, covering her mouth.

“Will you marry me?” he asked hopefully, opening the box to reveal a beautiful platinum ring with a simple, yet elegant diamond set in the middle of it.

“Yes,” she said, a lone tear running down her cheek. “Yes!”

He grinned as he slipped the ring on her finger, before standing and picking her up and spinning her around in glee.

“Stop it!” laughed Hermione. Harry put her down and grinned at her.

“You said yes,” he pointed out, smiling like an idiot.

“I know,” she laughed. “It’s a perfect ending, isn’t it?”

Harry saw the opening and couldn’t resist.

“No,” he laughed. “It’s a perfect beginning.”

“Prat,” she laughed leaning up and kissing him passionately, the city of Paris glowing beneath them, the stars twinkling away merrily above.

---------------

And now........the end is near.
And so I face, the final curtain....
My friend, Ill say it clear,
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.
I’ve lived a life that’s full.
I’ve traveled each....and every highway...
And more.......much more than this,
I did it my way.

I started reading Harry Potter when I was twelve, right after the second book came out. I have never once put Harry with any girl in the entire series other than Hermione, even at that young age. How could you? He was the only one who treated her with respect, aside from Neville. I’ll be honest, when it comes down to it, I could deal with Hermione/Neville. Just NOT Ron/Hermione. My rant goes as follows:

I ship Harry/Hermione, and I know it’s not going to happen in Book 7. Letting two people like Ron and Hermione get together isn’t considered wrong in our age, hell, it’s not even considered out of the ordinary. Two people who insult each other to their faces AND behind the other’s back, two people who yell and scream at each other in front of an audience, two people who probably wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for a third party. But they can be lovers. Yeah. I’m sure. Fastest divorce ever. Does anyone else NOT see the folly in this? Hell, even EMMA BLOODY WATSON said in an interview “It’s going to happen. They’re completely wrong for each other, but it’s going to happen.” Let’s use our heads for once people. I, for one, would rather see our poor, trodden, hero get some love from the person who has been there the most for him (it would’ve been ‘been there always’ but someone decided to make Hermione stupid in Book 6). I mean hell, even the directors of the past two movies have been kind enough to throw in a couple H/Hr moments just for the poor bastards like me who know in their hearts it’s never going to happen in canon even though it should. It doesn’t matter that it’s not going to happen, really. Because there will always be people like me, reminding the R/Hr shippers why they’re morons and deserve to be weeded out by natural selection (::cough Emerson and Melissa cough::). And in the end, as long as I still have Portkey.org, I can always write it the way it should be. I am a Harry/Hermione shipper. I am crazy, I am militant, and I am delusional. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My friends, we reach the end of a long journey. No longer does it matter to me who lives or who dies. The last book will not exist in my mind unless some really strange miracle happens and JKR recovers the flair for writing that she had during the early books. No matter what happens, Harry/Hermione will always live on in our hearts. We are the people who can bring some light to this world, and we cannot ever forget that. If you’ve learned nothing from my writing, at least do your best to help people understand why Hermione and Harry really do love each other, even if it’s not written that way. To all my readers out there, I thank each of you dearly for the support you have given me over these three and some odd years. I will never forget the days of happiness or the hundreds of thousands of words we’ve shared together, for they have been some of the best of my life. Let the thousands upon thousands of pages of fanfiction be a testament to our beliefs, and may the words still ring as loud and true to our ears in a century as they do now.

Your devoted author,
Greg S.
a.k.a., TheGreatFox2000