Chapter 2: The Audition
Audition day arrived that upcoming Saturday, and with it a very snippy Hermione and a very snappish Snape, sitting in the front row of folding chairs as the auditions took place. And the very first squabble they had was over something comparatively minor…
"What's that you're chewing on like a cow?" Snape demanded.
"It's…gum, sir," Hermione answered, trying hard not to lose her cool. "Spearmint gum."
"Well, spit it out," he instructed. "You know there's a rule against gum in class."
"But…we're not in class," she reminded him testily. "Many professionals commonly…"
"I don't care about professionals, you silly girl," he snorted. "You're not going to be chewing that stuff next to me for the next hour of cruel and unusual punishment."
Although she really, really wanted to mouth off, and would have felt perfectly justified in doing so, and knew that her friend Harry Potter no doubt would have…she restrained herself and put the gum back in the wrapper.
Unfortunately, the turnout for auditions had been less than expected, and filling up the two hours' worth of program guide was going to be a strain. Still, the Potions Master seemed determined to banish as many of the talented hopefuls as possible from the running.
Granted, the assortment was a bit…unusual. It started with a girl from Hufflepuff, in a rather unusual costume. It looked a bit like zipped up striped pajamas, a straggly mop wig, and some sort of string attachment for a tail.
"Why is she dressed like a possessed scarecrow from a low budget horror film?" Snape inquired dismally.
"I think she's trying to be a cat," Hermione informed him. "You know, she's singing 'Memory' from the musical Cats…"
"Profound correlation," he huffed. "She's evidently trying to create as garish a memory as she can upon the victimized minds of the onlookers. Thankfully, she won't get the chance to mar this production."
"That's…really not very fair, Professor," she chided. "I mean, she hasn't even sung yet."
He exhaled, then bellowed out at the stage, "Well, spit it out girl, and get it over with."
"I can't sing without my music, sir," she protested.
"Harry and Ron should be coming to hook up the sound systems any minute," Hermione assured.
Snape turned and glared at her. "What?"
She shrugged. "They volunteered to help backstage."
"Those maladjusted idiots will no doubt electrocute themselves…" He paused for a moment, and smirked rather disturbingly at the premise.
"They'll do fine, they've been dealing with a lot of magic currents lately, and are getting the hang of things. They've even used their magic to plug in their guitars."
Snape's spine straightened. "You said…guitars?"
"Well, they've started something of a Boys' Band, really. You'll hear them perform shortly."
"What the…"
"Hey, sorry we're late," Ron announced as he and Harry lugged in the magic amp, with the promised electric guitars slung over their shoulders. "We wanted to get our instruments tuned up before…" His eyes fell on the dark visage of the potions master, and his mouth fell open.
"Oh…Professor Snape," Harry filled in, rather in a daze, then joined his friend in just staring blankly into what would surely be an excruciating backstage experience.
"Don't take my name in vain," Snape growled. "Do you have a reason for addressing me or don't you?"
"Uh…well, Hermione indicated it was going to be Professor McGonnagall who would…"
"She indicated wrong," he snapped. "Now tell your gaping hanger-on to shut his drooping jaw before he catches a fly."
Reluctantly, the two teens headed onstage to set up the sound system (after Ron made an expectedly ill-timed comment about the Hufflepuff girl's costume looking like something from a Rug-Rat themed slumber party). The process took a bit longer than expected, as they both plugged the wires into every conceivably wrong socket and tested the mic a zillion times.
"I think…I am going to fire them," Snape stated blandly.
"No, you can't!" Hermione protested. "They're the only ones who offered to do anything to help out in this department!"
"My snakes will surely be worlds more capable then these electronically stunted peasants," he growled.
"Professor, your snakes refused to even touch the new electrical systems," she huffed. "They consider it…beneath them."
"And right they are," he concurred haughtily. "We never should have bothered installing these primitive muggle wiring arrangements in the first place…"
"Remember, sir, change comes alike for the good and the…"
"Yowee! It's working!" Ron exclaimed exultantly as the music for the Cats number started blaring over the sound system. The poor cat-costumed girl, who awkwardly had the microphone strung through her attire via an extension cord, seemed to be having trouble turning it on, but tried to sing over the music anyway. When the mic finally came on, her voice blasted out in a very catlike screech, nearly knocking Snape and Hermione out of their chairs.
"Alright, enough! SILENCE!" the professor bellowed over the din, finally encouraging Harry to pull the plug on the systems so they could all make an effort to restore their hearing.
The girl, onstage, looked mortified.
"Uh, I'll get back to you with the results, Nancy," Hermione chirped, trying to sound as positive as she could, even though she herself had a hand pressed over her ear nearest the amp.
Snape was giving her the death glare, and she quickly tossed in, "Don't worry, the next act is a dance routine. No singing." She tried grinning, but looked decidedly unconvincing.
The next act involved a Ravenclaw couple doing some sort of dance on a park bench prop. It went okay for about two minutes, but then the rather hefty lady dancer was supposed to be picked up and swung about by her rather scrawny male mate, who proceeded to lose balance and tip the bench over. Snape, perversely, clapped at this point, and Hermione gave him a scolding look.
"Wasn't that supposed to be the laugh line?" he drawled as the kerfuffled couple straightened themselves up and started to reassemble their somewhat disassembled bench.
The next up was none other than the intrepid electronic whizzes, Harry and Ron in their role as boys' band idols. The name of the band: "High on the Hog." They assured Snape it was meant to pay some homage to their alma mater. He seemed…less than convinced. As soon as they finished tuning up their guitars (yet again…it seemed to be a pseudo-religious ritual for them), they began to jam a merry beat to the tune of "Wild Thing." This lasted for about twenty seconds before Snape stood, made a beeline for the amp systems main plug, and pulled it out with definitive finality, draining the life out of both their super-mics and their sacred strumming. He then wordlessly directed them off the stage, with his hand extended like the ghost of Christmas future showing Scrooge his grave.
The rest of the day proceeded with a succession of colorful acts, including a couple of wand twirlers who twirled too little and dropped too much, as well as almost setting the curtains on fire when one tried to do a "glow-in-the-dark" segment.
There was a boy who claimed his guinea pig could do tricks, although said pig seemed more interested in staring and sniffing in a rather lethargic manner before getting spooked by something and proceeding to bite his young master. Snape, with a groan, went into first-aid mode to staunch the bleeding and cheerfully inject his young charge with a rather large needle from his emergence kit just in case the poor creature started foaming at the mouth.
Another girl came out dressed in something out of an American Western TV serial towards the tail end of the golden age, singing in a very piercing pitch, "The Sun in the Morning and the Moon at Night," and attempted a clumsy dance at the end in her spur-spiked high-heeled boots. She proceeded to fall and scrape her leg with a rusty spur…again causing Snape to groan, go for his emergency equipment, staunch blood flow, and pleasantly give her the needle…for the sake of blood poisoning prevention, of course.
Then, brightening up his overall view of life just a tad, the lone Slytherin stepped out onto the stage. It was none other than the charmed and charmless Draco Malfoy, decked out in a long black cape and a top hat and half a mask, preparing to sing "Music of the Night" from Phantom of the Opera.
"Finally," Snape exhaled. "Some talent."
"We'll see," Hermione clucked. "Ready, Malfoy?"
"Don't rush me, muggle-born," he hissed. "I have to do my warm-up exercises first."
"Warm-up exercises…"
"A background of prestige requires extra consideration," Snape sniffed.
"Right, get on with it, Malfoy," Hermione snarled.
He proceeded to make lots of weird noises in the pit of his throat, bitterly complain about his mic not being loud enough to Harry and Ron, who nearly pummeled him, and then he began to sing. The singing, even Hermione had to admit, was good to a point, even if he seemed like he was trying too hard. But then in the middle of nowhere, his voice sputtered and he started coughing. It completely sabotaged his style, and he went into a lengthy excuse about how he needed to suck on lemons to keep his sensitive vocal chords in shape…
But even Snape seemed a bit less than convinced about the excuse of his prized puppy, muttering rather blandly, "Lemons…lots of lemons…"
Meanwhile, as the procession of doomed acts proceeded, Hermione had started having lunch, a rather messy sloppy Joe sandwich, which she promptly attempted to foist on Snape (he declined rudely), a tropical fruit juice box, Cheddar Extreme goldfish crackers, and a jumbo banana nut muffin. She then brought out a bottle of some type of pills and took two.
"What are those for?" Snape queried.
"It's…it's my time," she stated.
He started to look her over strangely, and then suspiciously over at the noble electronics team at the side of the stage. "What…are you saying Ms. Granger?"
"No, no, nothing like THAT!" she blurted, turning red. "I mean…that time of month."
"Oh."
"Yes, you see, I get headaches, and…"
"Those pills help with headaches?"
"Well, yes, umm…oh…" Before she could go any further, he had snatched the bottle and taken two of them himself.
It was timely, too, because the next person out was Professor Trelawney, with a roll-on piano.
"Wait, what?" He looked at Hermione desperately. "But she's a member of the staff!"
"It's allowed, professor," Hermione assured, as Trelawney began a rather excited version of "Carol of the Bells"…which she messed up about three times.
"But…why is she playing Christmas music in September? It's horrible even in November!"
"It's her all-year favorite," Hermione explained. "Besides, it's going to be a medley. She also does 'English Country Garden', 'Swanee River', and the national anthem of Thailand. Nice for international flavor, y'know?"
After Trelawney was finished, and asked with pathetic nervousness if she had done alright, which even made Snape feel slightly sorry for her, an even more illustrious appearance was made…
"Hagrid?!"
"He's apparently been taking breakdancing lessons," Hermione explained.
"WHAT?!"
It was too late to stop the atrocity as the electro-hip-hop music blared across the speakers, accompanied by a sequin-studded Hagrid making some type of awkward gyrating motions to the wild applause of Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Snape just looked like he might throw up on his assistant's magical pink 3-D folder.
But after all was said and done, even Hermione was a little bit stunned when Neville Longbottom appeared onstage with what looked like some sort of complicated chemistry experiment on a wheel-in table.
"Bloody hell, he'll blow the damned building apart!" Snape blurted.
Neville, who evidently had not realized that Snape was head honcho of the operation, froze in horror as the voice of his boggart metamorphosized.
"Oh…oh…Pr…pr…professor…Sn…sn…I…I was just going to…"
"Going to what, Longbottom, commit scholastic genocide?" Snape sneered.
"Professor, you're throwing him off," Hermione exhaled.
"Off is a mild way of putting his ability range."
"Now, this isn't class…you've got to give him a chance…" She stood up from her chair and called out to the stage, "It's alright, Neville, I'd like to see your project."
"You're encouraging the execution your own demise," Snape predicted.
But Neville was already setting up his equipment, and announcing in a shaky voice, "Today, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to be showing you how to make a chemically-powered rocket…"
Snape very nearly leapt out of his chair, but Hermione gripped his arm and faced him down with an almost menacing grin.
"First, I'm going to add this formula…uh…the blue one…I forget the name…let me read the label…" Neville squinted at it. "Hydr-el-erm…well, anyway, I'm to mix it with this one…this yellow-colored that turns green when I mix them…oh, rats…" The test tube slipped out of his hand and rolled across the stage. "Let me just…uh…get that one…"
"I believe we get the general…picture," Snape declared. "Now remove yourself and your weapons of mass destruction from the stage area to make room for the next act…"
"There is no next act," Hermione informed, waving the list in front of him.
"What…?" Snape squinted. "Surely you jest."
"Surely I don't, sir."
"But…there's not a fraction of enough talent to make a bloody show of this, not unless…"
"We accept everyone who auditioned and do a sing-along and give out snacks to the lengthen the intermission."
Snape looked horrified. "I…want no part of this."
"Professor, I…don't either. But we have no choice. We have to simply do the best with what we've got."
"You're just hell-bent on credits like a she-shark after blood!"
She exhaled. "We all have chips in the game, all have eggs in the basket, all have…"
"A lot of bull in the head," he snarked.
"Professor SNAPE!" She had just about had enough of him, and even her self-preservation instinct was starting to wear thin. But seeing a dangerous gleam in his eye that courted the option of point snatching or detention, she let out her breath of hot air and inquired as meekly as possible, "Might I have your cell phone number, please?"
"You're not getting me sucked into another date at that damned Italian place and then try to sic the bill on me."
"No, no, no, you know perfectly well that's not…" She bit her tongue. "Look, I just will need to phone so we can coordinate our schedules in preparation for the big day, and, well, now that everyone here in Hogwarts has a cell phone…it makes it easier than owls!"
"It's a cruel breach of tradition," he grumbled. "I don't like to use the bloody thing; don't even have the number in my mind…"
"Well, then you can…owl it to me." She grinned with an admirably determined brilliance, waved in a rather cutesy fashion in the face of his blank visage, and practically skipped out of the room, feeling as if she had been released from a lifetime of imprisonment for the love of educational furtherment.