Disclaimer: My name is J. K. Rowling! Harry Potter is mine! Mwahahahaha!

…Okay, my name isn't even close to Joanna, therefore (sigh) I don't own Harry Potter. My name is not on the list of those credited with Wicked…I don't own Wicked. Comprenez-vous?

This is a REWRITTEN, CLEANED UP, and REPOSTED version of Wicked: A Harry Potter Musical. I have deleted the old version that was discontinued.

Enjoy!

Chapter One, Act One, Scene Two: Dear Old Hogwarts

The Great Hall was filled with chatter that evening in early September, and she was oblivious as to why. Madeleine sighed slightly and strode over to the Slytherin table, sliding in at the end, next to Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis, the only two Slytherins in her year that would talk to her at all. Her punishment for not being as pureblooded as the rest. She'd rather call it less inbred…at least she wasn't betrothed to a distant cousin, like Malfoy and Parkinson.

But then again, she was the only half-blood Sorted into Slytherin since Tom Riddle himself. And no, she was not oblivious to the fact that the so-called Lord Voldemort was a hypocritical half-blood preaching the pure-blooded ways. Madeleine shook her head slightly and turned to her neutral companions.

"What is everyone so chatty about?" her British/Irish accent was cascading and flawless, and could easily reduce most boys to quivering lumps of adoration…not that she spoke much. Blaise raised an eyebrow at her. "You haven't heard yet? The Headmaster is putting on a school-wide play." His fingers stroked the back of Tracey's pale hand unobtrusively, but Madeleine noticed anyway, not commenting on their growing closeness. Then her mind caught up to what Blaise had just said.

"What?" her stricken voice was low and her stomach flipped unpleasantly.

Tracey frowned at her, but continued where Blaise had left off. "The name of it was 'Wicked', I think, or something along those lines. Dumbledore will be changing it though. The new title will be something along the lines of 'The Witches of Hogwarts'." Madeleine had never been so inclined to throw up as much as she did now. She raised clear topaz eyes, gazing across the Hall at the Gryffindor table, meeting a pair of equally horrified bright green eyes. Their eyes spoke the same message: Why us?

Dumbledore rose from his seat at the High Table, clearing his throat to catch all the students' attention. "Ahem. To be able to audition for 'The Witches of Hogwarts', adapted from the musical 'Wicked' for magical understanding, you must be able to sing well. This is necessary, and unfortunately, unavoidable. There are no parts that do not require some singing and/or dancing. Auditions for the play will be held this Saturday, with female parts during the morning, and males in the evening here in the Great Hall. We ask that you look through the booklets that will be on your pillows this evening. They contain one song for each character. You may audition for two roles, but we ask that they correspond to your gender and that you choose varied characters versus choosing two lead parts. That will be all, thank you."

Madeleine didn't listen to a thing. Ignoring Blaise and Tracey's murmurs, she rose numbly from the Slytherin table, heading to the doors of the Great Hall and exiting swiftly. Just outside the Hall, she leaned heavily against the wall, breathing hard. How could they? Growling softly in frustration, she punched the stone wall behind her. Hard. "Ow," she said softly, shaking her hand out, ignoring the blood that seeped from her skinned knuckles. A quiet, husky voice chuckled behind her. "I thought we got rid of that habit."

The green-eyed, black-haired boy patted her shoulder and picked up her now limp hand. "I think you actually broke a knuckle this time," he said amusedly, prodding her hand slightly. She let out a hushed whimper at the small crack that echoed in the Entrance Hall. "Yep, definitely broken. Come on, off to Madam Pomfrey we go." The Gryffindor took her unbroken hand and began to lead her through the halls to the Hospital Wing.

"How are you so calm?" Madeleine asked amazedly, staring at his profile, then leaning her head against his shoulder. "I know I'm furious." She shook her long, straight hair out from her face, the dark brown streaked with gold and violet vibrant in the torchlight.

Harry Potter, for of course it was he, chuckled softly before his voice turned glacial. "I am furious, kitten. I wish I could go up to Dumbledore and tear him to pieces for destroying this musical." His voice was cold and absolutely infuriated. "But I can't," and his voice warmed slightly, "so I've got to make the best of it. Besides, my Gryffindor friends would not take too kindly to their Golden Boy murdering their Light Lord over a play."

Madeleine smiled slightly, imagining the look on the Gryffindor's faces when they realized that the Boy-Who-Lived was more Slytherin than they thought. "You always have an answer, don't you?" she asked amusedly. He smiled down at her, then pressed his lips to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her vanilla and roses shampoo. A content sigh escaped her as she pressed herself closer to him, his arm wrapping around her waist and her damaged hand cradled to her chest.

They arrived at the Hospital Wing without incident, still together. Madam Pomfrey was the only person in the entire school that knew about their relationship, and she greeted it with open arms and sealed lips. The matron shook her head and half-smiled when she spotted Madeleine's hand, healing it with a quick tap of her wand and a whispered "Episkey". The duo smirked at each other before departing with a quick hug and whispered promises to meet up tomorrow at their special place.

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That night found Harry lying on his bed, contemplating the very real possibility of murdering his manipulative (although well-intentioned, but everyone knows what they say about good intentions) headmaster. He had found the booklet Dumbledore had talked about sitting innocently on the end of his bed. Uncertain whether to read through it or not, he had finally decided, what the hell, it couldn't be that bad. Now he was quickly regretting that decision.

The small black book with the Hogwarts insignia was quickly becoming kindling for the fire in the dormitory, and he didn't regret it one bit. Dumbledore's leaflet had contained more then just lyrics, but character profiles and a brief description of what the adapted play was about. Harry had never fumed this much in his life. Albus Dumbledore had completely ruined a beautiful story of romance, friendship, and betrayal, turning it into a complete farce of a musical.

"Hey Harry. Are you going to audition? Sounds like a fun play to me."

Harry turned to Ron, knowing his eyes looked murderous, but deciding that Ron wouldn't notice at all. He was perhaps the most oblivious person Harry had ever had the misfortune to befriend in his short life.

"There is no way in hell I would ever audition for this…idiocy."

Ron stared long and hard at his best friend, (though he was constantly questioning this nowadays) aware the answer Harry had given was curt and angry sounding, but also completely unnecessary.

"What's with you, mate? Ever since you heard Dumbledore this morning you've been really snappish and angry, especially when it comes to this play. And that was way out of line. Our play is not idiotic!"

Harry sighed, trying desperately not to blow up on the ignorant redhead.

"You wouldn't understand Ron…and yes, it is. It is nothing compared to the true musical."

Ron glared at Harry but didn't comment. He knew nothing about the real musical, and hell, he didn't much care either. Turning away from the ebony-haired boy, he muttered, climbing into his four-poster, "Whatever…what would you know about 'Wicked' anyway? You've never even seen it."

Ron pulled his curtain closed, the other boys following suit. It wasn't until Harry could hear the other boys light snoring or in Ron's case, loud snoring, that he reached in under his pillow to withdraw a golden button engraved with a fancy 'F'.

A Cheshire cat grin crossed Harry face as he stared down at the item in his hand.

"Believe me you, Ron; because everything you know about me is about to change…and hell, it's about time."

Harry lay back on his bed, thinking about the crux of all his change – the appearance of Madeleine Nyx in his life. She lived a few streets down from Privet Drive, and they'd met that summer at the park. Ignoring the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, they'd become fast friends. He found out that her mother was a witch who worked in a muggle hospital. She was considered a miracle worker, as it were, because she had a special affinity for healing and was proficient at it. He found out about her dead father, and her stepfather who enjoyed pretending she didn't exist, coddling his other two daughters from an earlier marriage extensively. She and her mother were very close though. She'd found out all about his life at Privet Drive, his frustrations, his past, his hopes and dreams, his most secret fears. They were closer than close, but far more than brother and sister.

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

Review if you're not like the Tin Man and don't have a heart.

Love from,

Avalon

PS: This will be updated every day until it is completely posted.