What Voldemort Does in His Spare Time
AN: Voldemort isn't evil at all! He's musical, and he's formed a band known as the Death Eaters. James, Sirius and Remus (in their early thirties) go to one of his cheaper performances.
"Hey, guys, Peter just gave me three free tickets for some rock concert or other. He says his mum bought them by mistake. It's this Saturday. Wanna go?" This all came out in a rush from Sirius, but he got his point across.
Remus looked a bit sceptical. "Full moon's on Thursday…"
James laughed. "Well, I'd love to go. Anyway, Moony, You'll be fine by Saturday. Padfoot and I'll join you that night and you won't have anything to worry about. By Saturday you'll be just as fit as us!"
Sirius looked anxiously between the two of them. "C'mon, Moony, you've got to go, if only for a new experience. Please?"
Remus laughed at the two pairs of puppy-dog eyes coming from James and Sirius. "Oh, all right. Is Peter coming?"
Sirius frowned. "I don't know, actually…"
Remus sat in the hastily constructed stadium at Hogsmeade. He was bored.
"Hey!" Sirius nudged Remus. The Animagus had been in the Three Broomsticks for quite some time, presumably drinking Butterbeer, although Remus suspected Firewhiskey was the chief culprit. "'Ere they cooome!" He pointed towards the previously empty stage. "See?"
Remus peered at the front of the stage. "Wha-? Oh, yes."
There was indeed some movement at the front of the stage, but it was only the bodyguards taking up their positions.
"Crabbe junior," Remus heard James deciding, "and that must be Goyle junior. I think they're in Harry's year at Hogwarts."
Remus leaned over Sirius. "They are. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. I don't know the others."
"Me neither," James admitted. "Look! There's the dancers!"
Remus glanced towards the stage. "Yes, there are your cousins, Sirius. Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Black."
Sirius looked up from his lap, where Remus was still leaning. "Oh… oh, yeeeah… Heey! N-narcccy! Oi! B-b-bellaaaa!"
Remus could smell the alcohol on Sirius' breath. "You're drunk, aren't you, Sirius?"
"Wh-wha? Noooo, 'mnot drunk…" he slurred. "P'rfectly s-s-sobeerrr…"
"And I suppose that's the infamously huge Mrs Nott," James muttered.
"She's toofat to- to- tidance…" Sirius interjected.
"And Mrs Crabbe and Mrs Goyle," Remus added.
"They're too big, too."
"And I suppose," James frowned, "that that tall, thin guy's the famous Voldemort."
"S'pose," Sirius mumbled.
"Yeah."
The drummers (all five of them) were next onto the stage, each carrying various parts of drumkit.
"Crabbe, Goyle, Rodolphus and Regulus Lestrange, and- hey, Sirius, what's Regulus doing there?"
"Dunno."
Lucius Malfoy and Argus Filch, each carrying his own brightly coloured guitar (lime green for Filch and pale pink for Malfoy), sauntered onstage, closely followed by the keyboardist, "Knotty Nott," and Severus Snape. This caused many more gaping mouths from the once notorious marauders.
Sirius sniggered. "Hehehe… Sniv'lly's playin' the triangle… hehe."
James, on the other hand, frowned slightly. "He's got more taste in music than we thought, hasn't he?" he asked Remus, absently.
Sirius didn't allow the werewolf to reply. "Hey, Rim-rom-remus, gerroff ma thingy, wossname, lap, wouldya?"
Finally, a small, blond figure wearing a leather jacket sauntered towards the solitary microphone in the centre of the stage.
"Hello, there, everybody!" called the figure, confidently waving at the crowd.
"What's Peter doing there?"
Peter was singing happily, his strong tenor soaring through the stadium, and scanning the crowd for his three friends. They were up there somewhere, but he couldn't see them anywhere. He shrugged and smiled at the subject of his song.
"Narcissa! Narcissa! Oh, my Narcissa!"
Lucius 'squealed' his guitar. Peter didn't know what it was really called, so he just made up a word to match the sound.
"Why do you stare at your reflection, no more solid than air?"
Mrs. Malfoy gazed at herself in an enormous mirror with clawed feet in the background. It was called the Mirror of Erised, or something.
"Narcissa, oh, Narcissa! Narcissa…"
Peter sighed.
"When will you see the mirror is not all that it seems to be?"
Narcissa twirled, her blue skirts floating around her as if they were feather-light.
"Dear Narcissa! Narcissa, Narcissa…"
Peter grimaced to himself. Peronally, he thought Narcissa was an ugly, vain little –bleep-.
"Where can you glance? Your reflection is just one endless romance…"
Yeah right. This song was not suited to Peter.
"Narcissa! Narcissa! Narcissa!"
And the tune was for too slow and quiet.
"I know who you love," he whispered. Whispered! You weren't supposed to whisper in any songs! "I know it's not me, but, oh, dear Narcissa, why can't you see that enchanting reflection has eroded your charm and, beloved Narcissa, don't be alarmed when people stop seeing the beautiful you, for saying you are stunning is no longer true."
Narcissa Malfoy continued to ignore him. Her attention was entirely focused on herself and the mirror.
"Narcissa! Narcissa! Beloved Narcissa!"
Peter was sure he heard someone snort. It was probably Nott. He was, as Narcissa put it, 'very vulgar'.
"Through time, I'll admit, you've changed quite a bit," Peter confessed, as Narcissa turned her back, "but Narcissa, it's true that I stiiiiiiiiiiiiiill looooooooooooove yoooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuu!"
The applause was thunderous, of course. And, finally, Peter spotted his friends. At least, he saw Sirius jumping up and down on Remus, yelling, "Hey, Narcy! Over heeeeeeeeeeere!" He looked drunk. James pulled Sirius off Remus and sat him down, Remus looked like he performed a charm invented for tired parents, to keep Sirius on his seat. That didn't shut Sirius up, though. "Beeeeeeeeeeeeeellaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Luckily, a silencing charm did.
"And for our next song, I would like to introduce our guest piccolo-player, Lily Evans!"
"WHAT?" James bellowed. Sirius blinked and gaped.
"But – I thought – I mean – doesn't she play the cello?" asked James blankly.
"That too." Remus started to laugh. "You've been married to her for fifteen years and you didn't know what instruments she played? Dearie me, James, you're neglecting your duties as a husband."
"But… she never told me! I mean…"
"Just shut up and listen," Sirius mouthed, the silencing charm still to wear off. He elbowed James, who seemed to get the point.
Remus was bored. The silencing charm had worn off, as had the sticking charm, and Sirius was leaping about above his seat. James was even worse.
"LOOK AT MCGONAGALL!" Sirius yelled as he leapt over Remus.
Remus looked up…
...and hurriedly looked back down again. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts, was screaming and jumping up and down like a fangirl, but that wasn't what bothered Remus. What bothered him was that she was throwing her grey underwear onto the stage and Argus Filch was kissing it and draping it over his guitar. Presumably, the underwear had once been tartan, but now it was the same shade of grey as the fluff you got if you didn't dust enough and you ran your finger across a surface. Some of it, especially her bra, seemed to have some unidentifiable blotches on it. Remus shuddered.
"Thankyou for that, Sirius," he muttered.
"WHAT?"
"I SAID THANKYOU FOR THAT, SIRIUS!"
"OH! RIGHT! YOU DON'T HAVE TO SHOUT!"
Three songs that were so loud they were painful later, Sirius, James and Remus wandered into Hogsmeade. James looked dazed.
"Wow," he said, as quietly as he could – which wasn't very, after the concert. "I mean – wow."
"I still don't see the point," Sirius half-bellowed.
"I know," agreed Remus. "It was so boring."
"WHAT?"
"I SAID IT WAS SO BORING!"
"No, not that," Sirius said, distractedly. "I mean, they had five drummers and a percussionist, but only one drumkit. Now what was the point of that?"