A/N: MY GOD THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG! As you might have guessed from my delightfully unoriginal title, this is basically a massive paraphrasing of Much Ado about Nothing to the pure essence of brilliance that is Harry Potter. I'm hoping it'll work; though it may take sometime… rather inspired by my over-exposure to the works of the Bard on a school trip to Stratford (England everyone!) followed by an English lesson where I delved into my thoughts and came up with the title. Draco makes a perfect Don John! Whoo hoo!
Dis: I came up with nothing, not even the story line. That belongs to the bard, Characters to his modern equivalent in the world of Children's books, the god that is JK. And if anyone says otherwise, they'll have to deal with the wrath of the Ross. The teacher who sacrifices goats for Christmas. You have been warned…(evil Cackle…) I have on occasion quoted directly from a Shakespeare play, but just to confuse you, not just Much Ado. Spot the bit of Hamlet too! Also, the underpants gnomes are just a figment of twick's imagination… or that of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Don't ask me how I got that one in. Phase one, collect underpants…
This is dedicated to all the bard lovers out there… you know who you are.
Much ado about Quidditch!
ACT ONE
Harry was going to have the best summer ever: He was going back to Hogwarts. He was the first one to arrive, and that was deliberate. It was early morning and he had flown through the night, much to Sirius' objection, on his beloved Firebolt covered in the invisibility cloak, and reached the school in the early hours allowing him to view Hogwarts in an unusual light. He'd never seen it empty of it's students: The halls filled with mere ghostly images of his fellow pupils rushing to get to their next class, only they were in his mind. As he heard his footsteps echoing down the hall, he realised how much he loved it.
Harry at last felt at peace. He sighed heavily as he walked up to his dormitory in the Gryffindor tower, dragging his trunk behind him. Although term didn't start for another month at least, he was going to spend a couple of weeks basking in its safety. After the disastrous events that had marred his fourth year with the triwizard tournament, Dumbledore had thought an intensive Quidditch competition would cheer up the troops and make up for the lack of wizard sport over the past twelve months. Harry had felt excited, then nervous, ecstatic, then nauseous. He hadn't played Quidditch for a year and didn't know whether he was still any good. The Hogwarts pitch had been the scene of the third task and so was scarred by the memories that came with Voldemort's return. Secondly, the Gryffindors lacked a keeper as Oliver Wood had left the previous year and now was steadily advancing his career with Puddlemere United. That also left a void in the captain department. Harry did wonder at times whether it was worth all the hassle.
Indeed even Sirius had been sceptical. Harry had in fact seen him several times since the third task: He'd come disguised as Padfoot to visit Harry at Privet Drive, carefully hidden among the cherry trees at the bottom of the garden so Aunt Petunia didn't try to get the RSPCA onto him. His godfather was naturally concerned over Harry's state of mind after his encounter the previous summer, but was forced to admit defeat in the face of Harry's enthusiasm. Harry had obviously proven his worth.
All too soon however, the other students began to arrive. With no uniform restrictions, it appeared muggle clothes were the order of the day, and Harry was grateful that with his return he was able to place every enchantment he could think of upon his second hand rags to make them vaguely respectable. Dudley's clothes had never fitted him. He felt his stomach churn as he descended into the grounds to greet his friends: He hadn't really seen or heard from them since the end of term, each and everyone absorbed in their own thoughts that to disturb Harry's would be the ultimate crime.
'Harry!' he heard a familiar cry. Ron came running up to him across the grass wet with morning dew and almost knocking him over with the force of his impact. He was obviously overjoyed to see him.
'Hey Ron!' Harry said happily as he embraced his friend. 'How are things?'
'Oh. Fine, fine!' he cried 'Bill came home for the summer again and Percy had to go to a conference in Transylvannia so it's been peaceful for once. You can only debate Caldron Thickness so many times you know!'
'Well, he's running the department now so I expect he's busy…'
Ron rolled his eyes 'Yes, he's rushed off his feet, but somehow saves the time to bore us poor souls to death with all his antics.'
'I still think we should have locked him in the pyramid when he had the chance.'
This was the voice of Ron's brother Fred, who was shortly joined by his twin George at Harry's side. Always the mischief-makers, Harry thought.
'This is going to be great!' he cried, waving his broomstick excitedly over his head. 'Two solid weeks of Quidditch! Whoo hoo!'
'I wonder who's going to be keeper?' muttered Ron wishfully.
'Haven't eloped with Fleur Delacoeur yet then Ron?'
Hermione's voice was as distinct as ever: She had wandered over to join them but was staring at Ron angrily, her arms folded defensively across her chest.
'Oh hello Herm,' Ron replied sarcastically 'Managed to spare some time in your busy schedule to give us the honour of your company?'
'I don't know why I bother…' she continued. 'I don't even like Quidditch that much.'
These words were like poison to Ron's ears, which turned pink in response.
'Then why bother? You could have spent the summer skinny dipping with your beloved Krum instead. Much better use of time.'
Now it was Hermione's turn to get herself a rosy glow.
'That's none of your business Ron,' she muttered 'And for your information I did go, and it was lovely.'
'I suppose you've set the wedding date then?'
'Harry, will you tell your insolent little friend here that me and Victor are just good friends.'
Harry had barely opened his mouth when Ron shot down a nasty reply.
'Harry, will you tell this excuse for a girl that I don't really care?'
And with that, both parties turned abruptly as sat at opposite ends of the Gryffindor table, scowling.
'And what was that about???'
'Search me. They've been like it all summer. I reckon the lady doth protest too much…'
'Huh?'
Harry was unable to think any more of George's unusual reply before he was swept back by the ever growing crowd into the depths of the great hall. Harry almost felt he'd returned from a victorious battle: The crowds around him smiled favourably as they made their way to the great hall, where Dumbledore would address them with the outline of the next two weeks. As they stood waiting expectantly, the old man shuffled before them as great as ever, yet the stress of the summer's events showing behind those half moon glasses, despite the twinkle remaining.
'Hello everybody!' He said, looking over the hall with fondness, 'And welcome back to Hogwarts for two weeks of Madness and Mayhem! We are attempting a feat never done in the history of the school: Fit the Quidditch season into two measly weeks. I hope you are all up for the challenge! You will be gallantly supported no doubt by your particular houses, and I expect some quality Quidditch to be played on our newly refurbished pitch! Now I expect you are all in need of a mighty fine breakfast, so please tuck in!'
The food appeared at once upon the house tables where Harry was now sitting, next to Ron and Neville Longbottom who straightaway managed to topple over the milk jug. Harry had to suppress a giggle as poor Neville attempted to mop up the mess. Ron was obviously in the same position, his sniggers making his shoulders shake with the effort of holding them in. Hermione merely snorted and produced some tissues to help mop up.
'Ron…' Neville said nervously, his eyes darting round the table in case anyone was listening, 'Has your sister come back with you at all?'
'What, Ginny?' exclaimed Ron, almost spraying the table with his cereal. Hermione turned in disgust of Ron's immature reaction and began a deep conversation with Lavender Brown. 'She's just over there. Why, dare I ask?'
'It's just that… well…' Neville began to stutter 'I was wondering if she was seeing anyone right now, you know, don't you?'
'Sorry. You've lost me.'
Neville looked even more timid at the thought of any further explanation. 'I just wondered… in case I was to ask her out…'
'What?' bellowed Ron, so loudly that Harry jumped and was alerted to the content of their conversation. 'You as well? What is it with this love bug thing? I hope it's not catching! Urgh, what a thought… Well, I'm sure she's a nice enough girl, but I don't know, she's my sister! I mean, if it was someone like Hermione I might understand. She might be OK if she wasn't so bitter and twisted. But I really can't comment on the sister thing. Personal taste I suppose…'
'Neville!' Harry exclaimed 'Why didn't you tell us?'
'Well…' he replied, looking as pale as a sheet now his secret was out 'I was scared you know? Ron could've lynched me for all I knew.'
Ron simply grinned.
'Do you think you could put in a good word for me Harry? She'd listen to you.'
'I'll try. No guarantees though.'
Harry them turned silently and finished his beans on toast. The confrontations of the day had given him much pause for thought.
*
As fate would have it, the afternoon training sessions brought with it some unexpected but highly welcomed news. As well as Ron now joining the ranks of his brother's as the team's new keeper, Harry had been given the delight of captaining the side, apparently at Wood's request.
'Oliver said you'd be the best man for the job, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall, who had come out to oversee their practise 'and I hope you do him justice.'
The rest of the team obviously approved, as they whooped and clapped in celebration and Alicia, Katie and Angelina went on to give their best practise yet. Harry despite his initial reservations didn't find the task as daunting as first thought: His team was talented and responsive to his command and he began to ponder why Wood had made such a fuss.
'He was a control freak that's why,' said Angelina as she got the quaffle through the hoop from the fifty yard line, 'But hey, we loved him all the same. Ron's looking promising though.'
And she was right. Harry had never really seen Ron play Quidditch without the restrictions the muggle world put upon it, but he was obviously a natural. The majority of Katie Bell's attempt to get past him often resulted in the quaffle ending up anywhere but through the hoop. He was like a human wall.
'Well, I hate to say this, but our first match might just be in the bag.' Harry ducked as George and Fred hit the Bludgers in his general direction at the use of a wood-esque phrase 'We've got Ravenclaw tonight and as long as we stick to the plan, it'll be a clean sweep.'
At this point, he frowned as he saw a rare sight: Hermione was sitting in the stands watching intensely: Her book laying forgotten on the chair beside her, mesmerised by the Gryffindor practise, and Ron in particular, the scowl on her face unmistakable. Harry shrugged it off as they went into the showers but stopped George and Fred for a quick consultation.
'So what exactly happened over the summer with Ron and Hermione? I know they bicker but I've never seen them like this…'
'Oh,' said Fred, his eyes glistening menacingly 'There was a little bit of an incident…'
'Some crossed over Owls…'
'Which might have had something to do with us…'
'… or not'
'You know us, anything to help ickle Ronniekins…'
'But anyway Ron accidentally received a letter that was supposed to be for Krum…'
'Which said why Hermione was breaking it all off…'
'And he got the wrong end of the stick.'
'Basically, Ron and Hermione got a little friendly as a consequence but it all went a tad sour…'
'Such as Herm found some of Ron's old letters to Fleur…'
'And that was the end of that.'
'They've been re-enacting world war three ever since.'
Harry stood there for a moment, unable to utter a word. He always suspected Ron likes Hermione more than he would let on, but this was ridiculous. Why didn't he tell him? He sighed heavily at the stupidity of his two friends. They had now showered and changed, wandering out of the Quidditch grounds as the Slytherins began their practise slot. He could see Ron ahead in the distance, in the midst of yet another blazing row with Hermione. The twins glanced over at Harry and rolled their eyes. Suddenly, Harry's face broke into it's biggest grin it had seen for a long time, one that lit up is face like a lantern and caused his companions to turn and stare.
'What are you so happy about all of a sudden?' snapped Fred as he saw Hermione eventually give up and stop off in the direction of Hagrid's hut.
'I've just had an idea…'
*
Draco Malfoy was not a happy bunny. He thought he'd have a good holiday, at the centre of it all, his father, now back with You-know-who was bound to have some interesting news about the uprising. But no such luck. He'd barely settled in before he got called back to this dump for some stupid Quidditch tournament. Draco wasn't particularly good at Quidditch, although he never admitted it to himself. His position as seeker on the Slytherin team was only secure as long as his father kept pumping the money. Draco remained on the sidelines at practise, polishing his Nimbus 2001 professionally, checking it for any fault, anything at all that would put him at a disadvantage. He was a perfectionist. The rest of the team wasn't bothered with his absence from the air. They were all too absorbed in their battle of tactics: Each one so dominating, so ambitious, that despite the captain being clearly defined by their head of house, Snape, each and every one of them wanted a slice of the cake. Draco sighed heavily and continued to polish.
'Draco?'
It was the voice of Vincent Crabbe, one of his, supposed friends. Draco didn't like Crabbe much: He was so sickeningly stupid that he really wondered how he managed to breathe sometimes. Goyle was just as bad, but that suited Draco down to the ground: He didn't need friends. As soon as he was out of school, before that even, he'd join his father and then would be in the company of all the friends he'd ever need. But that was a long way off. For now, he'd just have to put up with it.
'What is it now, Crabbe…' he said with his usual scowl 'Goyle hidden a whoopee cushion in your bed again?'
'No actually. I've just overheard something rather interesting.'
Draco waited for Crabbe to continue, but he didn't. He just stood there like an expectant puppy dog, waiting for praise top be bestowed upon him lavishly.
'Are you actually going to tell me or just stand there like the idiot you are?'
'Sorry, sorry…' he muttered before sitting down next to Draco 'It's just I was at breakfast today when I overheard Longbottom telling Potter that he fancied the pants off Ginny Weasley…'
'Yuck!' squealed Draco, disgusted by the thought 'Longbottom getting a girlfriend? What a horrible thought. Nice work Crabbe.'
Now Crabbe looked as if he'd got the bone. He grinned stupidly.
'I could really use this. Hmmm.' He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. 'Did you hear anything else?'
'Well, I think Potter is going to talk to the Weasley girl about it after the match tonight, probably at the Gryffindor celebration party. I think they're being just a tad over-confident. Hope it's more like a commiseration do. He he.'
Draco wasn't listening to Crabbe's banter. The plan begun to formulate in his mind, and he grinned mischievously as he finalised it.
'I think, Crabbe,' he began 'We're going to have a little fun…'
*
A/N: Any queries, I refer you to the additional author's note, and naturally the little box below. Review is right up there with university acceptance letters: Its horrible waiting for the post!