Naturally, I'll begin with a disclaimer: As you've probably guessed, I am not the J.K. Rowling who keeps you up at night reading like mad when you should be studying. I'm just a random Harry Potter fan who also likes to write and act, and just got the biggest kick out of combining all three in a fanfic.
By the way, this is a story in eight parts; Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny each tell two sections in first person. It takes place during Harry's fifth year.
With that said, please please read and review! This is my first HP fic, and I'd love to know what you think (provided it's not too terrible...). Well, here goes. Hope you like it.
Glass Slippers
by Scabbers
Chapter 1- Harry
To tell the truth, I hadn't noticed the parchment until Hermione pointed it out to me.
"Hey, guys, did you see this?"
Ron shrugged nonchalantly, but the sudden flush to his cheeks revealed his shameless interest. "A Muggle play, here at Hogwarts?" he asked, brow furrowing.
I turned to Hermione, surprised. "There are Muggles coming to Hogwarts to perform for us?" I imagined my cousin Dudley delivering Hamlet's soliloquy for an audience of young wizards and ghosts- worth a laugh or two, I think.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a Muggle play, but it's being performed by us, the students. My old Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Geary, is directing it. She paused for a second, and seemed almost embarrassed when she continues. "And I think it sounds interesting."
Ron grinned and nudged Hermione with one elbow. "So when is Hogwarts' number one bookworm going to find the time to become a, whadjamadiggit, actress?"
"I'll find the time," said Hermione, blushing like a Weasley, "And anyway, I think it would be an invaluable opportunity to learn about Muggles and their social-"
"Uh, Hermione," I reminded her, "You grew up with Muggles."
"I know that!" she snapped, "I meant educational for you guys, well Ron, anyway, but nevermind. I forgot that you don't-"
"Hey, if it means that much to you, I'll do it with you," Ron said, attempting an air of self-sacrifice that I didn't buy for a minute.
Hermione raised her eyebrows and said in her loftiest tone, "Well, don't do me any favors."
"I'm not," Ron immediately countered, "I love-". His eyes flashed quickly to the title of the play, which he pronounced slowly and gracelessly.
"Cin-der-el-la."
Suddenly, the dreamy smile on Hermione's face made more sense to me. I don't claim to be an expert on females, but the one thing I know is that they all want to be Cinderella. I guess even girl genius Hermione Granger isn't above that.
As for me and my acting debut, I didn't think so. The whole mess with Voldemort had given me enough attention, thank you very much. Still, for a minute, I pictured myself in the spotlight, waltzing on a stage with Cho Chang. But I could hardly make that kind of time commitment, what with quiddich and all. Anyway, I realized with some satisfaction, neither could Cho.
I admit, however, I felt a bit left out when Ron and Hermione planned to meet in the common room after dinner, so she could give him the gist of the Cinderella story before they auditioned the next day. "You'll love it," she promised, "The plot is kind of contrived, but...it's sweet."
Ron's ears turned such a striking shade of pink that I wondered, not for the first time, if he didn't, well you know, fancy her or something. Whoa.
~
I was surprised at how quickly the Cinderella bug spread. I suppose they wanted to give us a nice, safe way to amuse ourselves after last year's disastrous Triwizard Tournament. I preferred not think about the tournament. I wondered if Professor Dumbledore thought a bit of theater would keep Voldemort at bay. Hmmm...
Anyway, people were really getting into the idea of it. At dinner, everywhere you looked, it was the Muggle-borns at the center of the conversation, because they, of course, know all about Cinderella. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had even brought a library book of Muggle fairy tales to read at the table, while their food just sat there getting cold.
And from the conversation in the common room that evening, it was evident that the Gryffindor girls had only one role in mind.
"They story is a finely tuned masterpiece," declared one third-year in a authoritative tone, "Making the ultimate statement on the human tendency towards metamorphosis..."
"Actually, it's never struck me as more than an escapist fantasy, pure fluff," said Hermione under her breath, "The cotton candy of the Muggle literature world." She licked her lips, and we all laughed softly.
"So, naturally," concluded the smug third-year, "Cinderella is every actor's dream role."
"Not my dream role," said Ron, and I quite agreed. Hermione, however, promptly turned red and wouldn't meet our eyes.
Ron flung his arm across her shoulders and tweaked her nose. "Cotton candy, my bum," he said, "Our Herm-own-ninny wants the part just as much as the rest of them." I believed he was right, but I expected Hermione to trounce Ron for saying so, or at least for making fun of Viktor Krum. I didn't know much of what went on over the summer, why Hermione didn't visit him in Bulgaria; it seemed to be a sore spot with her, so Ron and I usually tried not to bring it up.
But instead of yelling, she said, so softly she was almost whispering, "Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I don't want to wear the dress and be gorgeous and everything."
And with that, she slipped out from under Ron's arm and fled from the common room. We stared after her in confusion, and I half expected her to drop a shoe.
~
After that, Ron started acting weird, too. The next morning, he asked me to tell him, honestly, did I think that maybe, just maybe, he had the slightest chance at prince Charming?
I choked on my pumpkin juice, then answered between coughs. "Sure, why not? You'd make a fantastic prince." Being the supportive best friend that I was, I opted not to tell him I'd always thought Prince Charming was a bit of a pussy.
Evidently, Fred and George Weasley agreed with me; they had heard his question, and were now, based on the bits of the story they had picked up here and there, performing their own rendition of Cinderella at the breakfast table, for Ron's benefit. By the time George had dramatically slid Fred's old tennis shoe over his grubby sock, several Gryffindors were applaudingm and Ron's face was as red as his hair.
Finally, as an explosive conclusion to their surprisingly accurate demonstration, Fred and George pranced over to where Ron was sitting. Fred planted a slimy kiss on Ron's hand, while George gave him a noogie. "Good luck at auditions, little brother," George said with a grin.
I glanced across the table at Ginny Weasley, who was hiding a smile behind one freckly hand. "Well, at least he doesn't want to be Cinderella, like everyone else," I said to her with a shrug. At this, she laughed, but the look in her eyes reminded me, strangely, of Hermione.
After breakfast, Professor Dumbledore surprised us all with the announcement that, due to the overwhelming number of students signed up to audition for the play, classes would be cancelled that morning so they could fit everyone in. The room burst into uproarious applause, with Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins dancing on the tables. Hermione looked like she was going to be sick.
Our new captain Angelina took advantage of the extra few hours to call a spontaneous quiddich practice, so I didn't see Ron, Hermione, or any of them until lunch. "How did it go," I asked them, trying to interpret their expressions.
Ron made a face. "I bombed it. But Hermione, she was fantastic. She was-"
"I was okay," Hermione said bluntly, "Not terrible, but I won't get Cinderella or anything."
I didn't know what to say; I hadn't even seen the audition, you know. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I mean...I mean, I'm sure you'll get the part."
She shook her head and smiled sadly. "Thank you, Harry, but no, I won't. You should have seen some of the girls who tried out. I mean, Ginny was incredible. She surprised all of us."
My jaw dropped. "Ginny, like THAT Ginny?" I asked, gesturing to the other end of the table, where the only Ginny I knew was sitting with some other fourth-years. She was so shy, I couldn't imagine her even trying out.
Ron nodded. "I don't see why you're so surprised, Harry," he said with a shrug, "I keep telling you she's only like that around you because she-"
"Right," I cut him off, before he could embarass me further. He grinned and winked.
"Anyway," sighed Hermione, ignoring the death glare being transmitted from me to Ron, "I suppose it doesn't matter who gets the part. I'll be happy as long as it's not Lavender."
Ron and I laughed, because even I knew that Lavender had been going around telling everyone that she was going to be Cinderella. But it was hard to be lighthearted when Hermione looked so disappointed.
The thought of Ginny Weasley in the spotlight secretly bothered me as well. I had her placed in her box just fine, as the timid baby sister of my best friend, the girl with the perpetual blush. It wasn't very thoughtful of her to bust open my perceptions.
~
And that, my friends, is the end of part one. Please keep reading! Oh, and tell me if anyone knows the real name of the Muggle Studies teacher. I just made this one up.
Thanks and much love, from everyone's favorite evil rat Scabbers.
By the way, this is a story in eight parts; Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny each tell two sections in first person. It takes place during Harry's fifth year.
With that said, please please read and review! This is my first HP fic, and I'd love to know what you think (provided it's not too terrible...). Well, here goes. Hope you like it.
Glass Slippers
by Scabbers
Chapter 1- Harry
To tell the truth, I hadn't noticed the parchment until Hermione pointed it out to me.
"Hey, guys, did you see this?"
Ron shrugged nonchalantly, but the sudden flush to his cheeks revealed his shameless interest. "A Muggle play, here at Hogwarts?" he asked, brow furrowing.
I turned to Hermione, surprised. "There are Muggles coming to Hogwarts to perform for us?" I imagined my cousin Dudley delivering Hamlet's soliloquy for an audience of young wizards and ghosts- worth a laugh or two, I think.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a Muggle play, but it's being performed by us, the students. My old Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Geary, is directing it. She paused for a second, and seemed almost embarrassed when she continues. "And I think it sounds interesting."
Ron grinned and nudged Hermione with one elbow. "So when is Hogwarts' number one bookworm going to find the time to become a, whadjamadiggit, actress?"
"I'll find the time," said Hermione, blushing like a Weasley, "And anyway, I think it would be an invaluable opportunity to learn about Muggles and their social-"
"Uh, Hermione," I reminded her, "You grew up with Muggles."
"I know that!" she snapped, "I meant educational for you guys, well Ron, anyway, but nevermind. I forgot that you don't-"
"Hey, if it means that much to you, I'll do it with you," Ron said, attempting an air of self-sacrifice that I didn't buy for a minute.
Hermione raised her eyebrows and said in her loftiest tone, "Well, don't do me any favors."
"I'm not," Ron immediately countered, "I love-". His eyes flashed quickly to the title of the play, which he pronounced slowly and gracelessly.
"Cin-der-el-la."
Suddenly, the dreamy smile on Hermione's face made more sense to me. I don't claim to be an expert on females, but the one thing I know is that they all want to be Cinderella. I guess even girl genius Hermione Granger isn't above that.
As for me and my acting debut, I didn't think so. The whole mess with Voldemort had given me enough attention, thank you very much. Still, for a minute, I pictured myself in the spotlight, waltzing on a stage with Cho Chang. But I could hardly make that kind of time commitment, what with quiddich and all. Anyway, I realized with some satisfaction, neither could Cho.
I admit, however, I felt a bit left out when Ron and Hermione planned to meet in the common room after dinner, so she could give him the gist of the Cinderella story before they auditioned the next day. "You'll love it," she promised, "The plot is kind of contrived, but...it's sweet."
Ron's ears turned such a striking shade of pink that I wondered, not for the first time, if he didn't, well you know, fancy her or something. Whoa.
~
I was surprised at how quickly the Cinderella bug spread. I suppose they wanted to give us a nice, safe way to amuse ourselves after last year's disastrous Triwizard Tournament. I preferred not think about the tournament. I wondered if Professor Dumbledore thought a bit of theater would keep Voldemort at bay. Hmmm...
Anyway, people were really getting into the idea of it. At dinner, everywhere you looked, it was the Muggle-borns at the center of the conversation, because they, of course, know all about Cinderella. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had even brought a library book of Muggle fairy tales to read at the table, while their food just sat there getting cold.
And from the conversation in the common room that evening, it was evident that the Gryffindor girls had only one role in mind.
"They story is a finely tuned masterpiece," declared one third-year in a authoritative tone, "Making the ultimate statement on the human tendency towards metamorphosis..."
"Actually, it's never struck me as more than an escapist fantasy, pure fluff," said Hermione under her breath, "The cotton candy of the Muggle literature world." She licked her lips, and we all laughed softly.
"So, naturally," concluded the smug third-year, "Cinderella is every actor's dream role."
"Not my dream role," said Ron, and I quite agreed. Hermione, however, promptly turned red and wouldn't meet our eyes.
Ron flung his arm across her shoulders and tweaked her nose. "Cotton candy, my bum," he said, "Our Herm-own-ninny wants the part just as much as the rest of them." I believed he was right, but I expected Hermione to trounce Ron for saying so, or at least for making fun of Viktor Krum. I didn't know much of what went on over the summer, why Hermione didn't visit him in Bulgaria; it seemed to be a sore spot with her, so Ron and I usually tried not to bring it up.
But instead of yelling, she said, so softly she was almost whispering, "Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I don't want to wear the dress and be gorgeous and everything."
And with that, she slipped out from under Ron's arm and fled from the common room. We stared after her in confusion, and I half expected her to drop a shoe.
~
After that, Ron started acting weird, too. The next morning, he asked me to tell him, honestly, did I think that maybe, just maybe, he had the slightest chance at prince Charming?
I choked on my pumpkin juice, then answered between coughs. "Sure, why not? You'd make a fantastic prince." Being the supportive best friend that I was, I opted not to tell him I'd always thought Prince Charming was a bit of a pussy.
Evidently, Fred and George Weasley agreed with me; they had heard his question, and were now, based on the bits of the story they had picked up here and there, performing their own rendition of Cinderella at the breakfast table, for Ron's benefit. By the time George had dramatically slid Fred's old tennis shoe over his grubby sock, several Gryffindors were applaudingm and Ron's face was as red as his hair.
Finally, as an explosive conclusion to their surprisingly accurate demonstration, Fred and George pranced over to where Ron was sitting. Fred planted a slimy kiss on Ron's hand, while George gave him a noogie. "Good luck at auditions, little brother," George said with a grin.
I glanced across the table at Ginny Weasley, who was hiding a smile behind one freckly hand. "Well, at least he doesn't want to be Cinderella, like everyone else," I said to her with a shrug. At this, she laughed, but the look in her eyes reminded me, strangely, of Hermione.
After breakfast, Professor Dumbledore surprised us all with the announcement that, due to the overwhelming number of students signed up to audition for the play, classes would be cancelled that morning so they could fit everyone in. The room burst into uproarious applause, with Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins dancing on the tables. Hermione looked like she was going to be sick.
Our new captain Angelina took advantage of the extra few hours to call a spontaneous quiddich practice, so I didn't see Ron, Hermione, or any of them until lunch. "How did it go," I asked them, trying to interpret their expressions.
Ron made a face. "I bombed it. But Hermione, she was fantastic. She was-"
"I was okay," Hermione said bluntly, "Not terrible, but I won't get Cinderella or anything."
I didn't know what to say; I hadn't even seen the audition, you know. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I mean...I mean, I'm sure you'll get the part."
She shook her head and smiled sadly. "Thank you, Harry, but no, I won't. You should have seen some of the girls who tried out. I mean, Ginny was incredible. She surprised all of us."
My jaw dropped. "Ginny, like THAT Ginny?" I asked, gesturing to the other end of the table, where the only Ginny I knew was sitting with some other fourth-years. She was so shy, I couldn't imagine her even trying out.
Ron nodded. "I don't see why you're so surprised, Harry," he said with a shrug, "I keep telling you she's only like that around you because she-"
"Right," I cut him off, before he could embarass me further. He grinned and winked.
"Anyway," sighed Hermione, ignoring the death glare being transmitted from me to Ron, "I suppose it doesn't matter who gets the part. I'll be happy as long as it's not Lavender."
Ron and I laughed, because even I knew that Lavender had been going around telling everyone that she was going to be Cinderella. But it was hard to be lighthearted when Hermione looked so disappointed.
The thought of Ginny Weasley in the spotlight secretly bothered me as well. I had her placed in her box just fine, as the timid baby sister of my best friend, the girl with the perpetual blush. It wasn't very thoughtful of her to bust open my perceptions.
~
And that, my friends, is the end of part one. Please keep reading! Oh, and tell me if anyone knows the real name of the Muggle Studies teacher. I just made this one up.
Thanks and much love, from everyone's favorite evil rat Scabbers.
