Chapter Thirteen – Seeing Red

The day of our presentation to Sinistra and the Club arrives.

I go to breakfast. I go to class. I repeat the circuit once more around midday, and for a third time near sunset. Then I return to the dormitory for a change of clothes, and give myself one last mental pep talk before the dressing mirror. After that I go down to meet Colin and Neville in the common room, and once Eloise joins us outside the Fat Lady, we all leave together for the Club's balcony room.

I'm not thinking much of anything on my last journey through the castle. I know I've done everything I could to get ready for this moment, and so have the others. There's nothing left but to do the deed. Yet still I can't help silently wishing that I had something more to drive me on tonight than simply one-upping Pansy, no matter how gratifying the thought...

As I ascend the staircase towards the classroom, I see Pansy waiting outside along with the members of her clique - and surprisingly across the aisle from them almost all the remaining members of the Club. I raise my brows.

"Good luck, Ginny! Good luck, Colin!" calls out a little Ravenclaw girl.

"We're counting on you all," adds a Hufflepuff.

The Slytherins scowl at them, and I realize that there's more hopes than mine alone riding on this performance. No one else wants to see Pansy wind up in charge of whatever act the Club presents at the Revue.

Suddenly, I'm feeling much more heartened.

Pansy, of course, is keenly aware of the tide of support on our side, though trying to play it cool. As I near the Slytherins, she leans forward and simpers at me:

"Break a leg, Weasley. I mean that sincerely, you know."

I mimic her phony smile as I glide right up to her.

"I certainly will, Parkinson, but not for your benefit."

Then I turn my back on her snarling face and enter the room.

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The verdict is delivered the next day at the conclusion of Dance. Professor Sinistra calls for our attention and then announces her decision: the Club will be performing The Red Shoes for the Revue with Eloise's choreography, and Colin and I would keep our parts, while auditions for the remaining roles would occur the following week. Excitement breaks out among the group, and Eloise, Colin and I receive a round of hearty congratulations from various directions. The flabbergasted expression on Eloise's face especially buoys my heart with a warm feeling, but it's a darker sense of satisfaction that makes me turn and stare at Pansy, who looks as if she's swallowed something horrible.

Thank you, Parkinson, I mouth at her. She fumes.

But my merriment at this outcome lasts for a scant few seconds more before Sinistra adds another announcement:

"I'm very pleased that you all are so supportive of this choice. I also know that many of you are eager to have a role on stage, but I want to remind everyone that we will also need off-stage help to carry off this performance. Additionally, all of you who land dancing parts will need appropriate clothing for your roles. Unfortunately, Miss Midgen, I'm afraid we don't have a costuming budget, so please take that into consideration in your planning. However, Miss Weasley, you particularly will need to have the proper shoes for the role. We can't very well have a performance called 'The Red Shoes' without them, after all. All right, now that's all been said - class dismissed!"

I look down at my shoes. They haven't been faring too well. All the extra sessions with Colin have really taken their toll. What's worse, they're not even proper dancing shoes – they're actually my spare pair. My "best" shoes – the ones I wore to the Yule Ball last year – have become my everyday pair. My heart sinks as I realize Sinistra's right. I can hide them somewhat under my robes but for the performance everyone will have to see my feet.

Worry suddenly grips me. I can't afford a new pair, much less red! They'd have to be brown or black, for everyday…. I suppose I could try to borrow some. Or perhaps I could charm my everyday pair to red. But they would still be scruffy and ugly, only red… And regardless, they still wouldn't be proper dancing shoes.

I see Pansy looking over me nastily. Her face clearly tells me that she knows I can't afford such a luxury. I tense.

People are passing by me on their way out. Longing for my own escape, I turn and quietly make for the door. I'm three steps away… two… one –

"If anyone has a spare pair, I'm sure Weasley would be ever so grateful!"

I could die.