Abelard and Heloise
Act 1 – Selecting the Play
**Scene One – the Ravenclaw Rehearsal room**
Richard Goodfellow, Ravenclaw, sixth-year, sat curled up in the window of the Ravenclaw Rehearsal room and stared out the window to the courtyard below. He was absentmindedly tapping his head with his wand, charming his hair to match the heads below.
There went Crabbe. Tap. Richard's hair became dark with a pudding bowl cut. Malfoy. Tap. Straight blond hair. Goyle. Tap. Very short dark hair.
It was the first day of the school year. Breakfast was going on in the nearby Great Hall. Students were walking in the courtyard on their way to classes.
A Weasley twin. Tap. Red hair. The other twin. Tap. Red hair.
Richard was annoyed. He'd gotten the schedule of what dates the theatrical troupe could have for their plays, and the first was October seventh, a month away, and a Hogsmeade weekend at that. Not enough time to buy rights, let alone do a decent job of it. This would, of course, have to happen on his first directing job.
A blond girl walked by. Tap. Blond hair. Cho and Marietta were in the courtyard. Tap. Black hair. Tap. Brown hair.
To make it work, someone-probably Jerome Pye-would have to write an original, he thought. The play would have to be done "on book", as there would not be time to memorize, so it would have to be something where the books might also be props. If the play could be based on literature that was already in the public domain, it wouldn't take long to put it together.
The problems were now challenges. He felt better.
Professor Snape was in the courtyard. Tap. Straight black greasy hair.
Richard felt a wave of anger. If Professor Snape hadn't told others about Professor Lupin being a werewolf, then Lupin would have been the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher instead of the phoney Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. "Uncle Al" would not have suffered as he had (he spent a month recovering at St. Mungo's Hospital), and Cedric Diggory would still be alive. And the Yule Ball... Richard firmly stuffed his memories of it back into the furthest recesses of his mind.
Professor Snape had told a secret: Professor Snape now owed a secret. Only what secret could Professor Snape have that was as devastating as Professor Lupin's?
Harry Potter. Tap. Dark messy hair. Ron Weasley. Tap. Red hair.
The Professor was still there, lingering. Tap. Straight black hair again. What was he waiting for?
Students continued to pass by. Tap. Blond braids. Tap. Tawny tresses. Tap. Dread-locks. Tap. Bushy brown hair. The Professor then left in a swirl of robes.
Richard peered out the window at the familiar activities and frowned thoughtfully as he watched Hermione Granger catch up to her friends.
**Scene Two – the Potions classroom**
Richard quietly slipped into the classroom where the fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors were finishing up double Potions. The room was noisy; the students were handing in what looked to Richard to be an odd assortment of potions. The bell rang. Harry Potter was the first to leave the room, storming angrily out of the door. Draco Malfoy sauntered after him. Then most of the class left, followed by Crabbe assisting Goyle, whose robes were smouldering. It did not look like Professor Snape had had a good day. But then, Richard doubted if he ever did.
Richard hurried over to where Professor Snape sat at his desk. He glanced over the class, looking for Granger. She was still sitting at a table, stuffing parchments back into her bag, her friend Weasley sitting next to her.
"To what do I owe the honour of your visit?" Professor Snape asked Richard, while watching Longbottom chip something out of his cauldron.
"Thank you, Professor, sir. I've got a Potions problem. I need to 'paint' the ghosts so that they show up on stage. I was thinking of doing A Christmas Carolfor the Christmas holidays," he said as his eyes scanned the glass flagons.
"A Christmas Carol. So the Grey Lady would be Christmas Past, the Fat Friar, the Present, and the Bloody Baron, the Future. I would have thought you would do something more original," Professor Snape said, sneering as Longbottom brought up his sample, which looked like a rock perched on top of the flagon's mouth.
"Having ghosts play the ghosts is original, sir." Richard tried to look earnest.
"Of course. Very original," he dryly remarked. "How would you 'paint' them?" The teacher rearranged the flagons, putting them in order of quality.
Richard could see that there were four that looked like they might be the Draught of Peace. Longbottom's looked like Chunk of Curb. Who knew what the rest were?
Richard covertly glanced over at Granger, who looked like she was talking with Weasley. Most of the other students were gone. He raised his voice slightly. "Like how Sir Nicholas was treated with the Mandrake Draught-–using an atomizer or a mister, sir. If the paint or dye could be made with a polarity that would bond with the plasma of the ghost, that might work," Richard suggested.
She looked up at Professor Snape. The teacher glanced back at her, and then down to the flagons. Richard noticed him separate hers from the rest. Two of the others were the same shade as hers, but Draco's was just a hair off.
"Sir, without paint, the ghosts simply vanish under the stage lights. And even if the lights are dim, they're still too bright to see the ghosts," Richard added.
"It does sound interesting." The Professor mused. "I could present it in the N.E.W.T.s class."
"Professor Snape, might I be able to work on the project?" Granger spoke up eagerly.
"Five points from Gryffindor for listening in on a private conversation. No, you may not."
"Private conversation. Ha! You could hear it all the way to the Hufflepuff common room," Weasley snorted.
"Five more points for cheek, Mr. Weasley, and five more for your listening in. Anything else, Mr. Goodfellow?"
"No, thank you, Professor, sir. Just wanted to ask about the paint job," he lied.
**Scene Three – the Great Hall**
Dinner was as uneventful as usual. Richard excused himself and went up to the end of the Gryffindor table on the pretext of talking to a student there. Granger was seated halfway down the table, between Potter and Weasley. Richard turned and found himself in direct line between her and Professor Snape, who, at the moment, was talking to another staff member.
**Scene Four – the Potions classroom**
Richard went over to the potions cupboard and got to work immediately on its messy inventory. He had had the job for a few years, due to some unusual circumstances, and was somewhat used to the habits of the Professor.
He had the place to himself, as he knew he would.
Cradling a couple of jars of nettles in his hands, he walked quickly over to the Professor's desk, where the professor had been sorting some papers. Interestingly enough, they were copies of Granger's papers, all with "O" on the top. Last year Richard had helped the Professor with reading essays and marking exams. He knew that Ernie Macmillan did better work than Granger, and that Draco Malfoy's work was just as good as hers, but where were their papers?
**Scene Five – the corridors**
There are three rules for avoiding Professor Snape when he patrols at night. Rule one: Don't be there. Rule two: See rule number one. Number three, and dangerous: Quietly follow him. He rarely looks back.
Richard took the risk and went stocking-footed on the cold stone floors. He discovered that the Professor patrolled the Gryffindor corridor five times for the one time he patrolled the other areas. That really didn't mean anything, Richard reflected. Yet while he watched the Professor pace the floor, he thought back on the times when he had duties in the hospital wing and he would watch the Professor check on the girl. She, Cormac McLaggen and Justin Finch-Fletchley seemed to be tied for amount of time spent in the hospital; only the Professor never checked in on McLaggen, and very rarely did he check on any other students.
**Scene Six – the Ravenclaw Rehearsal room**
The Rehearsal room was a vacant classroom that had been used by Ravenclaws for decades. Blotches of paint and pieces of tape were stuck on the floor, and theater posters were on the walls. One wall was half covered with a large mirror, the other half with a bookcase full of books and parchments, and boxes of make-up, small props and paint. French folding screens, a costume rack and a push broom were at the other end of the room. Mirrors-concave, convex and flat-were stored on the ceiling. An eclectic assortment of furniture, larger props and rubbish bins were piled up in a corner. There were a few chairs and floor pillows scattered around the room, some occupied by members of the troupe.
Richard was sitting in the window, waiting for a few more people to show up to make a quorum. He was dusting the boots he was wearing; he'd been a pirate in a play during the summer, and was allowed to keep them. Jerome, a seventh-year, was practicing walking and swishing his robes in front of the mirror. Cassey, another seventh-year, was sitting on the floor, charming a school robe into different colors; she was using a copy of the painter Vincent Van Gogh's "Ravens Over a Cornfield" for a guide. Cissy was lying on the floor, reading a book and toying with her hair. A few more members entered the room.
Geoff came in and immediately started laughing. "Jerome, what are you doing?"
"Before I leave this school, I want to be able to make my robes billow like Snape's," he said as he tried again.
"Well, if that's what you want, I could have told you how to do it ages ago," Cassey said. "His robes are cut on the bias, and the back gathering is higher than an ordinary robe. The fabric is also a lighter weight, the hem not so deep, therefore the back panel is not as heavy as ours are. There might be extra fabric there, too. Also, I suspect a charm might be in place, but don't quote me."
"Can you make me one?" Jerome asked.
"Just buy one. The manufacturer is 'Cilla's', and there's probably a ton of them at the second-hand shop; they went out of fashion some time ago. That's probably where Snape gets his, unless those are his originals he keeps wearing." She frowned as she kept trying to adjust the yellows on the fabric to match the picture.
Richard counted heads. There were twelve members; it was enough.
"Would you charm one for me? And make it colorful? So I could change its color when I wanted to?" Jerome asked.
"You could do it yourself. I'll teach you." Cassey promised.
Richard spoke up. "Hello, everyone." No one noticed. Richard used the Sonorous Charm. "Hello, could someone ward the door, please?"
Geoff went over to the door and set the wards. One ward would allow late Ravenclaws to walk in, but no one else. The other was a Silencing Charm to prevent eavesdropping, a nasty habit of the Hufflepuff Acting Guild and certain Slytherins.
The talk drifted off and everyone looked to Richard, who was perched on the window sill, his boots braced on the wall beneath him.
"As some of you know, we have a month and a few days to put on a play. According to rotation, we are due for a love story…"
"Aw…" Some other students playfully sighed. Cissy made kissing noises on the back of her hand.
"And due to lack of time, it will have to be original."
"What about Romeo and Juliet?" someone asked.
"Something we can do 'on book'," Richard added.
"Well, scratch that, we'll look like prats," a third-year remarked.
"We don't have time to memorize," Richard pointed out. "So it would have to be a love story that included books, or parchments, or letters."
"Two people reading letters to each other." Geoff snorted. "Where's the drama in that?"
"A love story of anguish and forbidden love, with defiance against the world, and death at the end," Richard said dramatically.
"Not Tristan and Isolde," Cassey groaned. "Harold and Maude?" someone else asked. "Peter Pan?"
"No, no, and what? No! A love story that is almost as old as Hogwarts itself, and still, after all these years, is forbidden. Passionate love between a teacher and a student." Richard smirked. "Real life, with their love left in their letters, which will be the basis for our script. Anguish, torture, and redemption."
The room was silent.
"Let's do..." Richard licked his lips. "Abelard and Heloise."
The room was silent.
Jerome cleared his throat, and hesitatingly asked, "Isn't that where the bloke gets, ah, chopped?"
.
beta-ed by Somigliana and JackieJLH. Loosely inspired by historical events.