A/N: We're getting there slowly in this Harry Potter version of the Shakespearean great Much Ado about Nothing. Lovely stuff. I hope I do not continue to murder it too much and of course reviews are essential. I need to feel good about myself somehow…
Dis: I own the concept, Shakespeare owns the plot, JK owns the characters. For all other info and anything else that bothers you, please read all the other parts and the author's note. Enjoy!
Much Ado about Quidditch
ACT IV
The group departed soberly, Harry beckoning for Ron to join him and the twins as they headed towards the Quidditch pitch. As tempting as it was to get a bit of warm-up under his belt, Ron was being drawn unwillingly to other places. Before his brain could complain, he'd yelled he'd be there in a minute as his feet drew him magnetically to the shoreline of the lake, and a down trodden looking Hermione.
'Mind if I sit down?'
Hermione nodded quietly and continued to look out across the shimmering lake, the giant squid making occasional dives further out form the shore, the only body making ripples on an otherwise clear morning. She sighed wearily.
'All this Ginny business is really taking it out of you, isn't it?
'She's my friend, Ron,' she said softly, her speech lacking its usual air of distaste. 'I don't like seeing her upset.'
'I don't like seeing you upset, Herm.'
If Hermione took note of this statement, she didn't show it. 'Shouldn't you be more upset, Ron? I mean, Neville just totally humiliated your sister in there? If it were me, I'd be vying for blood. If you really loved her, you would.'
'I don't doubt that Neville's got the wrong end of the stick. Any idiot could see that. We've just got to convince him, that's all.'
'He doesn't know a good thing if it jumped out the lake and slapped him round the face with a wet fish.'
'Most of us don't.'
Hermione paused for a minute, absorbing the full impact of the first conversation in months where her and Ron hadn't insulted each other. 'So…' she stuttered. 'What are you saying?'
'You do realise you mean a lot to me, don't you?' he said quietly, ears reddening. Hermione's open mouth forced him to continue. 'That isn't so strange, is it?'
'No, I suppose not…' Hermione said, suddenly wide-eyed but deep in thought. Did he mean what she thought he did? Were her gossipy roommates really telling the truth? She began to stutter. 'I mean, well, what I really mean is… you mean a lot to me too.' She blushed furiously too. 'I'm sorry Ron. That probably came out all wrong. I'm just in a bit of a tizz over Ginny, you know…'
'Come off it Hermione,' Ron said suddenly an air of nervous determination in his voice as he turned to face her. 'There's more to it than that, isn't there?' He was taking a dive into uncharted waters here. There was no turning back. 'I know there is for me.'
There. He did it. He closed his eyes daring not to hear her reply as doubts plagued his mind. 'What if this was just a massive wind up on the part of Fred and George? He wouldn't put it past them, the mischievous pair of good for nothing…'
'Really?'
He nodded silently, still looking at the floor, not daring to make eye contact. Then she spoke.
'Ditto.'
Such a simple word was enough to raise Ron out of his self-imposed melancholy and finally look her in the face. He grinned foolishly.
'Well,' he said, his voice going back to his usual cocky tones. 'I'll just have to find means of cheering you up! Come on,' he began to move closer. 'You name it, I'll do it.'
But in that brief second of hesitation that came before her reply, something unrecognisable flashed across her eyes, something that Ron wasn't going to like.
'Challenge Neville to a wizard's duel.'
'What?'
'You heard me.'
Ron sat leapt back, as if he'd just received an electric shock, jumping to his feet as Hermione stared up at him expectantly. Had she gone mad? He merely started back, wide-eyed.
'I'll take that as a no.' she said stubbornly, now taking her cue to stand up and prepare to leave. 'And if that's how you feel about it…'
'Hermione…' Ron said desperately, letting go of all inhibitions as he went to grab her arm.
'I honestly don't believe you, Ron!' she pulled it away sharply. 'Ginny's devastated! Neville had no right to go blundering into the great hall and start shooting his mouth off! Someone needs to sort him out.' Her eyes were now wide with a frightening rage. 'If you can't see that, then - '
'But Hermione! Neville's my friend! Yeah, sure he gets a little hotheaded at times but that doesn't give me an excuse to start dusting off the attack charms…'
'She's your sister, Ron! And one of my closest friends! If I were in your shoes I would have chucked him in the lake already…'
'But - '
'Ginny would never have mucked around with a Slytherin! The suggestion's so ridiculous, it's almost laughable. Honestly, I thought Neville had far more sense than that. And I don't think it would hurt to have that knocked into him! Come on, Ron…'
She looked close to tears, indeed they were in fact glistening in the corners of her cinnamon eyes and beginning to spill down her cheeks as her rage feel into a disbelieving silence. The sight was already melting Ron's defences, as he stepped back closer to her.
'Do you really believe that?' he whispered.
'As Snuffles is innocent, yes.'
Ron swallowed hard. 'Then, I suppose I have no choice, do I?'
Hermione nodded slowly a she wiped away a tear, something that seemed so alien on her normally cheerful face that it chilled Ron to the bone. He then became vaguely aware of Harry yelling at him from across the grounds, the impending Hufflepuff match now most forward in his otherwise distracted mind.
'Look, I've really got to go.' Hermione instantly understood. 'Keep an eye on Ginny for me, will you? Don't worry, I'll sort Neville out.'
As he grabbed his broom and began to depart, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, lingering for a moment as the acknowledgement of what had passed began to sink in. Both failed to conceal their ever-spreading grins, yet slightly tainted at the reality of their cost.
*
'Mr Filch! Mr Filch!'
Argus Filch was already having a bad day, and by the sound of the high pitched squeaks that pursued him down the corridor, it was about to get worse. The summer used to be his peace haven, the school kept quiet and clean as those troublesome irks went home for the holidays and he was able to finally breathe a sigh of relief. Always out to make his life that but more difficult. This was no exception.
'No peace for the wicked, my sweet,' he purred to Mrs Norris bitterly as the footsteps came closer, turning to address the on-comers. 'What do you little trouble-makers want now?'
Colin and Dennis Creevy, the comedy double act, finally waddled up to the caretaker, a little out of breath but positively glowing.
'Well, Mr Filch, if you don't mind, sir, I mean if we're not distracting you…'
'Cut the claptrap, Creevy! I have enough of that term time!'
Dennis saved his bacon. 'We caught a couple of Slytherins drunk and disorderly on the Quidditch pitch, they were yelling and-'
'WHAT?' spat Filch, the anger visibly boiling behind his narrowed eyes. 'Sabotage? Lead the way, Creevy!' he snarled. Dennis let out an excited squeak as they proceeded across the entrance hall towards the dungeons. Filch was silently cursing under his breath as the boys left a trail of mud behind them, the disapproval being continued by Mrs Norris, tail held high in an act of premature victory
Eventually, the Creevys led the frustrated party to a little used corridor, Colin pulling out his wand and tapping a portrait of Uric the Oddball three times on the nose to reveal a hidden door. Filch looked completely outraged.
'You little scoundrels!' he yelped, Mrs Norris winding between his legs giving the brothers a menacing stare. 'How did you find out about that? This area is clearly staff only! You…'
But his ramblings were soon silenced upon the sight of the condemned, currently out for the count but strung upside down by a pair of very old shackles, about to give way any minute under the grossly underestimated weight of Crabbe and Goyle.
'Well, well, well…' he muttered, unable to disguise the immense satisfaction in his voice. 'What do we have here, my sweet?'
'A couple of low life, good-for-nothing…'
'Silence Creevy! I want to hear what these fiends have so say for themselves.'
'Well,' said Dennis timidly. 'You'll have to wake them up first. They're only stunned.'
Colin could've sworn Filch went a minimal shade of crimson at this proposal. 'Ah, well I erm… forgot my wand.' The panicky expression was quickly clouded. 'And you need the practise!'
Colin quickly woke up the oafs (With a couple of slaps across the face for good measure) as they moaned and stirred, beginning to thrash wildly against their restraints. Filch stared.
'Well?'
The pair of them looked at each other then back at Filch. 'Well what?'
'What have you got to say for yourselves! These two nitwits said quite clearly that you two were rolling about as drunk as anything on the Quidditch pitch at all hours! That just isn't acceptable behaviour!'
'So that's why my head feels like its been through a cheese grater…' Crabbe muttered, swaying slightly by his ankles, face as red as a beetroot.
'Yeah!' said Colin loudly, not wanting to miss out on the action. 'You heard that sir! That's a confession if I ever heard one!'
'Quiet Creevy!' snapped Filch. Then he added, 'I'm glad to see the old ball and chain came into good use. Strong punishments, that's what I say! This detention malarkey's no good to anyone…'
'It's not just that Mr Filch!' said Dennis quickly, 'Along with Draco Malfoy, these two snuffbuckets tricked Neville Longbottom into thinking Ginny was having a fling with this excuse for a brain cell.' He prodded Goyle in the back as he hung there, looking a stupid as ever. 'I think they were trying to wind up the Quidditch team so they wouldn't win the cup!'
Filch frowned a little at the latest piece of gossip, unsure of its relevance, then sudden realisation dawned on his gruesome face. 'So that's what all that racket was at breakfast this morning? I heard that Longbottom going off on one, stupid, childish behaviour if you ask me. Maybe he should be hung up here too…'
'No!' said Colin desperately. 'You don't understand! They were trying to fix the Quidditch cup!'
Now it had been spelt out in plain English, even the squibbish mind of Filch was able to comprehend it. The grin of evil satisfaction was back with a vengeance.
'Well, my sweet,' he said, glancing down at a purring Mrs Norris. 'I must go and tell Professor McGonagall! The headmaster if I can get hold of him!' He turned to address the gobsmacked figure of the Slytherin boys. 'You haven't heard the last of this! Match fixing! You and that Malfoy boy have really landed yourselves in it this time!'
'Oh,' drawled Goyle menacingly, 'Shut it you squib…'
Not that either Colin or Dennis knew what this meant, the effect on the caretaker was unmissable. His face swelled up like a bright red balloon, threatening to explode at any second with his erupting anger. It even made the Creevys cringe.
'Did you hear that!' he bellowed, so much that it echoed right through the portrait and filled the dungeons with its outrage. 'Did you hear that! They called me a squib! I…I…' he was too angry for words. 'You've well and truly crossed the line with your insolence! I was going to let you go, but after that a few more hours strung up wouldn't do you the slightest bit of harm. A squib??!?'
And with that, he dashed back out the portrait hole and belted down the corridor, Dennis and Colin tripping over themselves to catch up. As the light began to fade from the closing door, Crabbe glanced over to his companion, panic setting into his face.
'Malfoy's going to kill us…'
*
The pitch was crowded out for the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match, and this combined with yet another morning of scheming and scamming, the changing room was just as packed with tension and anxiousness. Their minds were certainly not on the game at hand.
'Come on!' urged Harry as he laid his eyes upon a much crest-fallen Fred and George, 'We can't let all this Ginny business get to us…' Harry then paused, a little taken back 'and I'm really beginning to sound like Wood, aren't I?'
The twins nodded grimly as Harry joined them in their melancholy. The three of them continued to stare at the floor, Harry feeling the familiar set of nerves began to settle in.
'Poor Ginny…' George said sadly. 'She must be feeling awful. When I see that Longbottom I swear I'll punch his lights out! Dissing a Weasley in front of the whole school… it's a criminal offence!' Now it was his turn to pause. 'And I'm sounding like Malfoy, aren't I?'
His brother couldn't help a small ironic smile from creeping over his lips. Harry was grateful for the light relief. Fred shook his head and finally rose, grabbing his broomstick for a last minute check when Ron came bursting into the changing rooms, a little out of breath.
'Oh hey there stranger…' said Fred, lightening for an instant. 'Decided to join us then?'
'Erm, yeah,' we said, blushing slightly.
'What, no come back?' said George with fake astonishment. 'No witty remark to send us on our merry way? No charming anecdote…'
'And to think,' continued Fred, a twinkle in his eye, 'that just the other day we had Hermione in here after practise singing your praises, didn't we boys?'
'Sure was…' said Harry, cottoning on. 'Wouldn't shut up. 'Ron said this' and 'Ron said that' and I couldn't get a word in edgeways. And when she finally allowed me to voice my opinion on how sometimes your 'inventive' sarcasm sometimes was taken as offence, she wasn't hearing any of it. Apparently her little Ronniekins wouldn't hurt a fly.'
The twins grinned evilly at the use of Ron's family nickname. His ears reddened.
'Well, yes, erm…'
'Ah,' said Harry, truly on the wind-up. 'Then we finally squeezed it out of the library bound one that there's a little more to you two than meets the eye…'
Ron looked completely panic-stricken. George picked up the story and delivered the punch.
'I mean, we'd heard it all from Ginny,' he winked at the other two slyly, 'But her defensiveness just confirmed it. Seems like she's smitten, mate!'
Ron flushed an even deeper shade of red and was almost camouflaged by his Quidditch robes; He grunted something about a warm up and tried to make a run for it.
'Sorry, brother darling, you're not going to get out of this one.' Fred jumped up and slapped Ron hard on the back. 'So when do we let the swooning maidens of the Gryffindor tower know you're taken?'
'If you must know,' Ron said loudly, as if to confirm the lie to himself. 'I'm beginning to think you lot are turning into a bunch of gossipy old biddies. To be honest, there are more important things to deal with right now, Quidditch just being one of them. Come on, we've got a match to win.'
And with that, he disappeared out the door and onto the sidelines. Harry merely grinned.
'He's got it bad.'
The laughter that followed was sure to echo right to the top of the Quidditch stands as they too stepped out to face the Hufflepuff ranks.
*
The match was a close one. Too close for Harry's comfort, a lucky save from Ron as his fist encircled the snitch the only thing that saved them from an embarrassing defeat. Nobody played a decent game, Harry almost being splattered by an unattended bludger as his eyes were distracted, curtains drawn across a single window back in the Gryffindor tower causing his mind to dangerously wonder. Even the chasers weren't putting in much effort, everyone somehow presuming the Hufflepuffs to be a soft touch. The minutes silence at the beginning of the game had a sobering affect on all present, but awarding the Hufflepuff team with an extra incentive for victory. It didn't bode well for the decisive match against Slytherin.
The guilt trip thesis for Ginny and Neville seemed to be slow on the uptake. He was still taking refuge in the comfort of Dean and Seamus, who still shot the occasional angry glance over in the Weasley's general direction, but with Neville giving Ron a more cautious eye. He refused to return the glance. The bad feeling accumulated at the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game, the Gryffindors praying in vein for a Slytherin defeat that would ensure an easy path to the cup. The morning meal was more nerve-tracking than normal, the Gryffindors picking at their pancakes more down-trodden than usual, Ginny not eating a bite as Neville and his band continued to stare, their evil looks piercing her morale to the core as she gazed misty eyed into her plate. As Hermione put an arm around her young friend's shoulders, it arrived.
The owls were much less in number than in term time, but that didn't mean that parents and old school alumni didn't want to know the ins and outs of this most controversial of Quidditch tournaments. And it was about to become more so.
Errol, the Weasley family owl, was on his last legs. Indeed Harry wasn't sure that the journey was such a good idea, as the ball of fluff landed with a plop into the now over-flowing milk-jug. It certainly bore a burden: A burden of the red and smoking variety. Ginny didn't have a chance.
'GINNY WEASLEY!' Her mother's voice screeched across the Great hall, much to the surprise of the rest of the Gryffindors who turned and stared more so. 'I CANNOT BELIEVE A DAUGHTER OF MINE TURNED OUT TO BE A MANIPULATIVE, DISLOYAL EXCUSE FOR A FLOBBERWORM! YOUR FATHER WAS SO ANGRY WHEN HE HEARD WHAT YOU DID TO THAT LONGBOTTOM BOY!' Neville looked up, unsure whether to take a bow or hide behind the confused figures of Seamus and Dean. The Howler continued. 'NEVILLE IS SUCH A NICE BOY, AND I DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO TREAT THEM LIKE THAT….' Harry gulped, as for sure he knew the rub. 'I HAVE ALREADY SPOKEN TO MADAME MAXINE AND YOU'RE OFF TO BEAUXBATONS, YOUNG LADY! AND PERHAPS THAT'LL TEACH YOU SOME MANNERS!'
And the pure anger that went into the howler took over; burning the little re letter to a cinder before the message could be finally delivered. A silence had fallen over the hall that had never been witnessed. Hardly anyone transferred magical schools, so whatever Ginny Weasley did must have been serious. Neville was mumbling to his cronies at the other end of the table, evaluating his next move, as Madame Pomfrey came over to Ginny.
'Your mother will meet you in Hogsmeade, Miss Weasley,' she said, firmly raising Ginny to her feet. 'She thought it best of you stayed at home for the rest of the holidays. Say goodbye to your brothers, quickly now…'
And with that, Ginny Weasley was quickly hushed out of the Great Hall and into the world unknown. Harry glanced up at Dumbledore on the top table, along with Professor McGonagall, both of whom here looking intensely at Neville with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. He supposed Mrs Weasley had filled them in. But nothing. Neville was continuing to enjoy his pancakes, even covering them with an extra dollop of lemon and sugar as he further conversed with Seamus, Dean, and a few of the Gryffindor fifth years. However, the Quidditch team turned to look at Harry expectantly.
'Now we just have to wait,' he said finally, clearing his plate and lining up his cutlery. 'If Neville had any feelings for Ginny in the first place, the guilt trip we're sending him on should be a right old roller coaster. If not then…'
'Harry,' said Hermione sternly, getting back into her term-time mind. 'This is awfully risky, you know? I know this buys us time, but if Neville doesn't forgive her, or we don't find any way of proving him and those Slytherins wrong…' she narrowed her eyes in the direction of the Slytherin table, which was strangely absent of certain key players, 'Then we're up a creek without a paddle.'
'Shush,' said Ron, looking at Hermione in such a way that Harry couldn't help the smile spreading over his paled features. 'Trust him Herm. When has he let us down before, hey? It's the great Harry Potter! Dark Arts fighter extrodinaire! If he can't quash a stupid bit of gossip then no one can.'
'So are you with us, Ron?'
He shifted in his seat for a moment, glancing back at Hermione and nodded quietly. 'Yeah, count me in. But remember Neville's a mate as well. I believe you and all but I need to keep things up with him.' Hermione looked at the ground, impassive.
'Understood.' Nodded Harry, who now rose from the table. 'I think Madame Pomfrey has installed Ginny back in her room, so I'll go and check on her. See you at the match.'
As he disappeared out the same way as Ginny, George traced his footsteps with his eyes. 'Honestly, I don't believe that kid,' he sighed in awe. 'He even got the teachers in on it. I just hope for Merlin's sake it works…'
'It will…' said Fred, his voice wavering slightly to attack his otherwise unquestioned confidence. 'As long as we keep up the act. I'm too angry at Neville not to.'
'I think we just all need a bit of fun,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'Last year was hard, next year will be harder still. And if we don't smooth over the cracks now, someone will seize every opportunity to rip them apart.'
*
The stands were packed out; the only seat available to Ron when he arrived as the whistle signalled the match's commencement was aside the ill-fated Longbottom.
The look upon Ron's face at the thought of his companionship was confused. He tried to maintain a fierce objective, taking the seat but refusing to meet Neville's stare. His cheerful greetings were ignored, met by a passive Ron who focused so much on the action ahead of him that his eyes almost watered. Neville tried to break his gaze with a waved hand
'Ron? Are you with us?' he said half-mockingly, the brightest he'd sounded for days. Ron snapped top attention, something like condolences briefly flashing across his eyes before he launched into the required battle-banter.
'Look, Ron,' Neville continued, sounding genuine. 'I'm really sorry about all this Ginny business. I know she's your sister and all, but I think you know where I'm coming from…'
Ron reluctantly cut his down, the pained expression obvious on his face. 'We need to talk.'
Neville mistakenly took this comment in jest, willingly edging closer to Ron for conference.
'Neville…' he said quietly, with a mixture of suppressed anger and annoyance. 'You've hurt my sister beyond belief. You do know that mum is thinking of sending her to Beauxbatons?'
Neville nodded in acknowledgement. 'Probably for the best. At least her reputation won't follow.'
At this point, Ron genuinely responded. 'Reputation? Neville, you've really got with way out of proportion.' Then he lowered his voice with some vague attempt at malice. 'This isn't the place to discuss this. Ginny would never, and I mean, never, go along with a death-eater like Goyle. And at this rate, I'll have to resort to other… measures… to get that through to you.'
Neville flaked for a minute, a brief expression of bafflement forming on his rounded features.
Ron had to spell it out. 'You. Me.' He gulped apprehensively. 'Wizard's Duel. After the next Gryffindor match. Remember this is all your fault.'
And with that, Ron sighed heavily with the relief of delivering his burden before descending the stand, just in time for the capture of the snitch. As he disappeared into the crowd celebrating a stonking Ravenclaw victory, Neville felt a little dazed. There was certainly something amiss.
*
A/N: Dun dun DUN! Only one act to go, and will all be resolved? What do you think? Please skip along to the next part, and of you haven't read the play, please do. Otherwise I'll be a very sad little girlie. Shakespeare rocks.
