I feel absolutely horrible for taking this long to update. Sorry guys. I've had this chapter written by hand for almost a month now, but with being away (moving into a new house 3 days before Christmas is not fun) and not having my own computer, I've only just gotten around to typing it up. It's a long one, so hopefully that'll make up for it.
Since has changed its rules and I'm no longer able to respond to your reviews here, I'll only say a few things. I'm glad you liked my interpretation of Peeves. And a few people mentioned that q was called Quintin in the series (by the Voyager crew anyway). Well, here's the deal: a couple months before I began this fic, I read a bood co-written by John D'Lancie called I, Q and in it they referred to Q's son as q and his wife as Mrs. Q. I rather liked that differentiation, since I kinda got the idea that Qs don't really name themselves and just refer to each other as Q, so it would make sense for Q to think of his son as q. By the way, the book is hillairous and really well written and it's where I got theinspiration for how to write my Q.
In the future I'll be responding to your reviews directly using those wonderful review response links. .. which only work if you're logged in. Or you can ask me questions on my livejournal, where I've started posting random updates on how my storie's going (and occasionally giving teasers about the next chapter). I'm morenaevensong .
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, except for the oddly twisted plotline. . . at least I think there's a plot.
A Year with Q
Chapter 36 – Missing: One Head Table
Q was bored.
And more than a little upset with Voldemort for attacking Hogsmeade, thus disrupting an otherwise dull visit and creating the situation he found himself in now. Which made even the dull Hogsmeade visit seem somewhat exciting.
The entire school was in the Great Hall, apparently for protection. Q rolled his eyes at the notion that having everyone in the most obviously room in the castle was going to keep them safe. Remus Lupin was standing by the doors watching over the students anxiously. Professor Sprout and several of the professors were walking amongst them trying to reassure them.
Needless to say, most of the students looked terrified, although thankfully most of the panic attacks had passed. Or passed out.
I wish I could turn Voldemort into a nice, fat pig and then feed him to a ravenous Cardassian lizard beast. Heck, I'll even give him a blonde wig with pigtails. Stupid bet.
He looked over at his housemates and frowned. The death eater attack had left 12 students dead, although only Q knew the exact number. He knew that two out of the five students being transported to St. Mungo's wouldn't make it through the night, no matter what the healers did. Among the dead were two Slytherin fifth years.
The sudden, shocking realization that it didn't matter which house they were in, or who their parents were, had sent the house into a stupor. Draco Malfoy had sat down and said: "They attacked us as well" and hadn't moved since.
Pansy was the only one who seemed to have found the strength to pull herself together. She walked around the Slytherin table, talking to the lower years, trying to convince them everything was going to be all right. She even tried rousing Draco with no success.
Q looked to the other side of the room and noticed the Gryffindors were in some sort of conference.
Well, that has to be more interesting than a bunch of nitwits staring into space.
"We have to do something," Hermione was saying. "Just look at them, they're terrified."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," said Ron.
"Hermione's right," Ginny said. "If we let the fear control us, we've already lost."
"So what do we do?" Harry asked. Then he frowned. "And please tell me you want me to give some sort of uplifting speech."
"Well, now that you mention it. . ." Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, before she noticed Harry's glare. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You're their hero. They look up to you. What they need right now is hope. . . they'll listen to you."
You're not serious, right? The only good thing that could possibly come of that is that the Slytherins will look up and start transfiguring random objects into rotten fruit in order to throw it at them. Hmm. . .maybe I do approve of this idea. It would certainly wake everybody up.
Harry groaned.
"You have no idea how sorry I am right now that I brought it up."
"Well, I'm sure the Slytherins would appreciate an inspirational speech from the Boy-Who-Lived," Ron joked. "Luckily for you, there's no food on the tables."
Exactly!
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Speaking of the Slytherins. . ." Harry began, "am I the only one who's confused about them warning us about the attack?"
"Technically they didn't actually warn us per say," Hermione said. "Picard told Ginny after she asked him what was going on."
"True, but I'm pretty sure I saw Picard and Malfoy actually fighting the death eaters."
"You sure 'bout that mate?" Ron asked sceptically.
"Positive."
"Well, that's. . . unexpected. . ." Hermione looked slightly confused.
What's so unexpected about it? They were trying to kill us! I mean sure, technically they couldn't have killed me anyway, and honestly my list of top one thousand most terrifying things in the galaxy doesn't even come close to mentioning them. . . but I think I have a right to be offended when such a pathetic excuse for a life form dares to even conceive of the notion that it can destroy me.
"It's not really like they had much of a choice really," Semus interjected. "The death eaters were pretty much cursing anything that moved."
"I heard they even killed some of the Slytherins," Lavendar added.
"Good thing Professor Janeway showed up when he did, or we'd all be dead," Neville said and everyone nodded.
"I have never been so glad to be wrong in my entire life," Hermione stated. "I was sure Janeway was just another Lockhart, except with better acting skills and a worse wardrobe."
"Yeah, that spell he did was bloody brilliant!" Ron agreed. "I wonder if he'd teach it to us."
"Just so long as you don't conjure up the same thing he did," Neville said and shuddered. "Those things were horrifying. Why would anyone create something so ghastly?"
"Entertainment," Semus said. "I saw all four movies two summers ago with my older cousin. Had nightmares for a week afterwards."
"You call nightmares entertainment?" Harry asked.
"No, but they prove just how good and realistic the movies are."
"Muggles are strange," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Um. . .what's a movie?" Neville asked.
"It's this muggle thing that happens inside a box called a televisor," Ron said, excited to be able to explain something from the muggle world. "It's kind of like a wizarding portrait, except that the pictures move from place to place and have all sorts of different people in them pretending to be other people and it tells a story."
Ok, even I'm confused by that explanation.
Neville still looked confused, but decided not to ask anymore questions for fear of getting even more.
"Anyway, so back to the Slytherins. .." Hermione began again.
"Of course, the Slytherins!" Ginny exclaimed. She turned around and hurried towards the farthest table in the Great Hall.
"Huh?" was the only thing Harry could think of saying. He looked at Hermione, whose only response was to shrug.
Pansy was rounding the end of the Slytheirn table, preparing herself mentally for another attempt at getting Draco to help her with the students. Seeing their unofficial leader staring lifelessly into space, was not helping morale.
Suddenly someone grabbed her arm. She turned around and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw who it was.
"What do you want, Weasley?" she asked. She would've added a sneer if she had had the energy for it.
"Could you play the piano?" Ginny asked in response.
"I should think you already know very well that I can play the piano. . . "
"No, I mean now. Could you play the piano now? And maybe have Goyle sing along or something."
"Slytherins perform for Slytherins. Why in Merlin's name would we want to change that?"
"Look around you Parkinson, everyone's absolutely terrified. They need something to take their minds off the attack."
Pansy looked around the Great Hall. She hadn't been paying attention to anyone other than the Slytherins.
"Please."
Pansy met Ginny's eyes and studied the Gryffindor's earnest expression. She nodded slowly. Ginny's face lit up.
"I'll have to talk to the others and they might not agree. . . "
"That's ok, as long as you try." Ginny turned to leave.
"Oh, and Weasley. . ." Ginny stopped and looked back at her. ". . .my name is Pansy." Ginny grinned.
"Then I'm Ginny."
The girls nodded and went back to their respective houses. Ginny was immediately cornered by her brother, who demanded to know why she had gone to talk to "that cow Parkinson". Ginny replied that she and Pansy "had prefect business to discuss", which of course started an argument over the fact that Ginny was on a first-names basis with future death eaters.
Pansy, meanwhile managed to convince her friends to go along with the plan.
"But Pansy," Goyle said, "what about the instruments. How are we going to get them if we can't leave the Great Hall?"
"He's right," Evergreen, the second-year violinist, said, crossing his arms. "And I absolutely refuse to play a transfigured violin. Violins sound absolutely dreadful when they're transfigured."
"The same goes for saxophones," Goyle added.
Pansy opened her mouth to respond, but closed it when she realized she had no idea how to answer that question.
"I have an idea," Blaise piped up. Everyone turned to him and he smirked. "Dobby! Dobby, get over here!" he called. There was a small 'pop'.
"Yes Mister Zabini, sir," a small squeaky voice said. "What can Dobby do for Mister Zabini?"
Several sets of wide eyes stared at the house elf. They weren't really staring at the creature itself, but rather at what it was wearing. Instead of the standard tea cozy, it was wearing a full set of robes, complete with an ornate clasp. He may actually have looked like a distinguished, if very small, wizard if he hadn't been wearing four hats on his head with the letters SPEW embroidered on them.
Ok. . . that's possibly one of the odder-looking things I've ever seen. What am I talking about? He doesn't even come close to competing with my son for the 'worst dresser of the year award'.
"You know, I might be going a tad barmy," said Draco as he eyed the bizarre-looking creature thoughtfully. "But I think it looks vaguely familiar."
The house elf suddenly spun around to look at Draco with eyes that looked they were threatening to pop out of its skull at any moment.
"Young Master Draco, sir," it squealed in alarm. Surprise fluttered over Draco's face, before he narrowed his eyes and examined the house elf.
"You used to work at the Manor," he pronounced finally.
"Young Master Draco remembers Dobby!" the former Malfoy elf exclaimed and practically jumped for joy. Then it sobered. "But Dobby does not belong to Master Lucius anymore, because Dobby is free and so Young Master Draco is not Dobby's master either and so Dobby does not have to call Young Master Draco, 'young master' anymore because the great and noble Harry Potter tricked Master Lucius into freeing Dobby. Dobby is now free and making money and does not belong to anyone anymore."
And that was supposed to make sense in which dimension?
"Umm. . . yes, thank you for clearing that up Dobby," Blaise said. "Anyway, I have a favour to ask of you."
"Mister Zabini wishes for Dobby to hang up more pictures?"
"No, not this time. I have a different favour to ask of you."
Dobby frowned. Suddenly his eyes doubled in size and he looked up at Blaise with a horrified expression.
"Dobby will not harm Harry Potter!"
Huh? Did I just have a time lapse? Where did that come from?
"Why not?" Draco immediately countered. Blaise just blinked. Pansy was clearly taken aback, but soon her surprise was replaced by amusement.
"Uh, that's not what I was going to ask Dobby. . ." Blaise said slowly.
"But it is a great idea Dobby, thanks for the suggestion!" Draco interrupted cheerfully.
Blaise glared at him.
"I should've known mentioning Potter's death would bring him to his senses," Pansy muttered.
"What I was going to ask," Blaise began again, loudly, "was if you also had access to our dormitories."
"Brilliant idea!" Draco cried enthusiastically. "You can smother Potter in his sleep with a pillow! Preferably a green pillow with snakes on it!"
Everyone, except for Dobby, groaned. Dobby looked scandalized.
"Yes, wonderfully original idea, Othello," Q said. "Why didn't Voldemort think of that?"
"Because he has the intelligence of someone who was defeated by a one-year-old?" Blaise asked innocently. Q's eyebrows shot up as everyone else stifled chuckles.
Did he just. . . ? Oh I'm good, I'm so good. That's at least 50 points to me and a big fat zero points to the big, bad, snake wizard. And I seriously need to get out of this school. . . it's corrupting my thought patterns.I actually just awarded myself points.
"Who's Othello?" Draco suddenly asked.
"A character from a Shakespeare play," Q answered.
"You mean there are more Shakespeare plays I haven't read!"
Just when I thought humans were semi-intelligent creatures.
"Of course there are, seeing as how he wrote 37 of them!"
"Oh."
"Anyway," Blaise began again. "Dobby, could you get into Slytherin and bring us back a few things?"
"Yes, Dobby could do that," the sceptical elf said. "But only if it isn't going to harm Harry Potter."
"Dobby, I solemnly swear Pansy will not use the thick rope under my bed to strangle Potter." Everyone glared at Draco, who was smiling cheerfully. "Because I will."
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Malfoy!" Millicent exclaimed. "What are you, drunk?"
That shut Draco up.
"Dobby, please ignore Draco," Pansy said sweetly. "All we wanted you to get was a few instruments. For music."
"Musical instruments?" Dobby echoed.
"Yes. Evergreen's violin, Goyle's saxophone and the stack of parchment from the piano in the Common Room."
Dobby thought about that for a few minutes. Then he nodded.
"Very well, Dobby can do this," he straightened up resolutely. "What will you give Dobby if Dobby gets the musical instruments from Slytherin House?"
Blaise and Pansy looked a bit uncomfortable at the question.
"Well, umm, you see Dobby, we can't leave the Great Hall, so therefore we don't actually have anything at the moment," Blaise said.
"But we give you our word that we'll pay you back as soon as we're let out of here," Pansy quickly added.
Dobby shook his head.
"No, Dobby does not think that is a very good idea. Either Mister Zabini pays Dobby now, or Dobby does not get anything."
Well, what do you know, the creature has an inner Ferengi.
Blaise and Pansy looked at each other with flabbergasted expression on their faces. They apparently hadn't expected Dobby to refuse and had no idea what to do now that he had.
Suddenly Draco knelt down next to Dobby and held out something to the house elf.
"Will this be sufficient payment?" he asked. Dobby caught sight of the small object in Draco's hand and his eyes widened in disbelief.
"Young Master Draco would give Dobby his family ring?" he asked quietly.
Draco nodded solemnly. Dobby snatched the ring out of the blond's hand and disappeared with a pop. Draco stood up again.
"Draco. . . " was all Pansy could think to say.
"You know, that felt rather cathartic," Draco said lightly before he walked towards the Slytherin table, where food had appeared about five minutes ago. He turned around.
"Well, what are you lot waiting for? Start setting up already!"
Still in a partial state of shock, Pansy immediately set out to track down her seventh year transfiguration wiz of a friend. Goyle and Blaise began organizing some of the other sixth and seventh years in creating a music area in the Slytherin corner of the Great Hall.
". . .they're all death eaters-in-training and you're being friendly with them!" Ron was still ranting five minutes after Ginny returned from her meeting with Pansy. "Next thing you know, you'll be snogging Malfoy and going to pureblood only tea parties!"
"Ron, I think you're exaggerating," Harry said in an attempt to stop the redhead's rant before Ginny's impending explosion. Though legendary for their bravery, all the Gryffindors knew better than step between the two siblings when their tempers flared.
Hermione was alternating her attention between her friends and the entrance to the Great Hall, where some of the professors had gathered with a few Order members. The adults were oblivious to what was happening. Apparently, whatever was going on outside the hall was more urgent.
The bushy-haired girl watched as most of them suddenly dashed off, leaving only Remus Lupin and Professor Snape inside with the students. Snape wasted no time in sneering at the werewolf the moment the doors had shut behind the others. Then he abruptly turned and headed for a group of Slytherin first years, who were huddled together at the end of their table.
She took the opportunity to really look at the students of said house for the first time since the attack.
She wasn't quite sure what she had been expecting, but the downcast, frightened expressions surprised her somewhat. She felt a pang of guilt for having even considered that they might be celebrating.
Then she spotted Malfoy and his group, which for some reason included a second year she didn't recognize. They were standing on the far end of the Slytherin table in a small circle and talking amongst themselves.
"Harry," she said. When there was no answer, she turned around and found him arguing with Ron. She rolled her eyes.
"Harry! Ron!" she yelled at them. Both boys stopped mid-argument and looked at her with 'what now?' looks. She motioned towards the Slytherin Table.
"Oh look, figures Malfoy would be up to something," Ron said venomously. "Probably planning a little celebration in the name of his father's enormous success today."
"Shut up Ron!" Ginny snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, none of the Slytherins look like they particularly want to throw a party!"
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Harry cut him off.
"Ron, no," he said. "Besides, she's right. Which could mean they're all really good actors, but- woah, what the. . !"
"Is that Dobby?" Hermione asked.
"I-I think so."
"Merlin! I know I haven't seen him since before Christmas, but still. . . he's wearing robes!" Ron said.
Sure enough, Dobby was standing in the middle of the Slytherin cluster and talking to Zabini and Parkinson. Then Malfoy got involved as well. His friends, however, didn't quite seem to appreciate the blond's input and spent a lot of time glaring at him. Until Bulstrode finally said something and he clammed up.
The Gryffindors jumped as food suddenly appeared on the table in front of them. Ron's stomach grumbled.
"Must be dinner time," he shrugged and went to sit. Everyone else chuckled and followed his example. Hermione was in the middle of pulling her chair out from the table, when Ginny grabbed her arm.
"Hermione look!" she said.
Now, since she was a child, Hermione had always had a very active imagination. It was partially thanks to this imagination that she was so good at solving riddles and finding solutions to whatever problem was put before her. But never, even in her most abstract daydreams, had she ever imagined seeing Draco Malfoy, self-proclaimed Prince of Slytherin, down on one knee in front of a house elf.
She was sure she'd have an incredibly intelligent and witty comment to make on the spectacle. . . just as soon as she recovered from her shock.
"I think the death eaters might've permanently damaged him," Harry remarked.
Suddenly Dobby snatched something shiny from Malfoy's outstretched hand and disappeared. Malfoy stood up as if nothing had happened, but the others were staring at him as if he'd proposed to Dobby.
Realization hit Hermione like a blunt speeding bullet with jetpacks.
"Oh Merlin," she gasped and brought a hand to her mouth. "That's absolutely brilliant!"
Harry, Ron and Ginny looked at her expectantly.
"Sorry, but what's brilliant?" Harry eventually prompted her. Hermione turned to him.
"You know those cartoons that started mysteriously appearing in the common rooms just after we got back from Christmas break?" she asked. Her friends nodded. "And you remember how not even Professor McGonagall could figure out how the person was getting them in?"
More nods.
"Oh wow," Ginny suddenly said. "You're right; that is brilliant!"
The boys looked at each other.
"Wait, hang on," Ron looked at Hermione incredulously. "Are you seriously suggesting that it's one of the Slytherins doing it and they've been bribing Dobby to put the pictures up?"
"Yes, I am."
"You're mental!"
"Why do you think it's a Slytherin?" Harry asked. "It makes no sense."
"Think about it Harry, who else would go to such lengths to remain completely anonymous?" Ginny reasoned. "I mean, at this point, whoever started the whole picture exchange thing is practically a hero in their own way."
"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "However, if the artist is a Slytherin, then he or she would probably get crucified by their housemates if they ever found out."
"Not to mention their parents," Ginny added with a thoughtful expression. "If their parents are death eaters and they ever found out about the artwork. . . well, I can imagine that to say they wouldn't be happy about it is an understatement."
"So, basically you two are saying that you think a Slytherin is responsible for one of the biggest student-led anti-Voldemort campaigns Hogwarts has ever seen?" Harry asked slowly.
"Uh. . . well, yes, I guess we are," Hermione seemed to have finally realized where her logic had taken her.
"Whatever, I'm starving," Ron dismissed the group in favour of the chicken in front of him.
"Everything all right here?" a voice asked from across the table.
"Professor- I mean, Remus!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm glad you're here."
"So am I, although I do wish the circumstances were better," their former professor smiled weakly. "Although at least I seem to have managed to calm down the more hysterical of the younger students."
"You should sit down and eat with us," Ron said.
"Yeah, absolutely," Harry agreed.
"Thanks boys, but I think I'll go eat at the Head Ta-" Remus motioned to the front of the Great Hall and did a double take. He stood staring at it for a few moments. "Umm. . . where's the Head Table?"
"Uhh. . . good question. . . " Ron said.
"It was there a minute ago. . .I think," Hermione added.
"Well, Snape sure doesn't seem all that concerned," Harry commented as he spotted the Hogwarts Potions Master sitting at the head of the Slytherin Table chatting idly with Draco, Q and a few other Slytherin students.
Just then Headmaster Dumbledore and the other house heads entered the Great Hall. They were engaged in a heated debate. Professor McGonagall momentarily looked up and froze in place. She lurched forward as Professor Flitwick walked into her.
After the group of professors all blinked wordlessly at the podium where the Head Table usually sat, they made a collective beeline for Remus.
"Remus," McGonagall said, "where in Merlin's name is the Head Table?"
"Er, I haven't the slightest clue, actually," Remus answered sheepishly.
"Professor," Lavender Brown called from a bit further down the table. "I saw the Slytherins levitate it down and into the corner, but then Professor Snape went after them, so I didn't say anything."
"Oh."
The professors looked at each other.
"Well, I'm sure Severus has an excellent explanation for our missing table," Professor Dumbledore declared calmly.
Whatever he was about to add was cut off by a single, long violin note that cut through the hall. All noise stopped as everyone looked around to see where it was coming from.
The single note turned into another and was joined by soft piano music.
Ginny immediately recognized the intro Pansy had played when Ginny had been in Slytherin House before. Hermione also recognized it. Her glass froze halfway to her lips.
Then above both instruments, a clear, deep voice rang throughout the Great Hall as it sang in Latin.
"Ave Maria. . . "
The glass slipped out of Hermione's hand. It bounced off the edge of the table, spilling pumpkin juice all over her lap. But she barely noticed.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked. She nodded even as she felt her eyes begin to water.
"This is Ave Maria by Bach," she said as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "My grandmother loved this piece."
She stopped and closed her eyes, listening and remembering.
"They played it at her funeral," she whispered.
"It's beautiful," Harry whispered. Everyone else nodded.
The piece ended and silence spread through the Great Hall. Professor Snape was the one to break it with three short claps. Soon the rest of Hogwarts was also applauding the unexpected performance.
A few more professors entered the hall at this point, along with more Order members. Naturally, they were somewhat confused by the clapping. And the absent Head Table.
"I wonder who the singer was," Harry said.
"Goyle," Ginny answered automatically. She cringed when she realized that, logically, there was no way she should know that. Sure enough, no one missed her blunder.
But before they could question her, the musicians started up again. This time, Ron was the one to recognize the traditional wizard ballad.
"Bloody Hell!" he exclaimed part-way through. He was at this point standing on top of his chair in order to get a better look at the Slytherin corner of the room, where the music was coming from. "It really is Goyle!"
"What!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed and also began climbing onto their chairs.
"Well," Professor Dumbledore said, "I suppose this solves the mystery of the missing table."
"And such a wonderful, rich tone as well," Professor Flitwick added.
"Yes, that's quite the transfiguration's feat," McGonagall said. "I wonder who did it. . . "
All over the Great Hall, students were standing up and craning their necks to see who the performers were.
The song ended and Professor Dumbledore was the first to begin clapping. Goyle, not used to being applauded by such a large room full of people, looked uneasily from side to side. Pansy stoop up from the piano and leaned over to whisper something to him. He looked at her and nodded.
"Well, who'd have figured that Goyle, of all people, was musically inclined," Hermione said as the entire student body watched Goyle walk over to the wall and pick up a saxophone.
"Yeah," Ron agreed.
"I honestly didn't think he could read words, let alone notes," Harry said.
"Apparently Professor Snape did," Hermione pointed out. "He doesn't seem at all surprised by any of this."
Piano music once again filled the Great Hall. Except this time it was slightly more upbeat and without the violin. Everyone could practically heard Pansy's fingers dance across the keyboard. Deep, mellow tones of a saxophone joined in.
"Clearly, they've been practicing together," Remus suddenly said. "They're definitely good. I wonder if they ever perform."
"Only for Slytherin House," Ginny said. She cringed once again. Hermione turned to look at her.
"This is what you went to discuss with Parkinson, wasn't it?" she said. Ginny nodded.
"Well, why didn't you just say so?" Ron demanded and his sister rolled her eyes a dozen nasty responses on her lips. However, she opted for the more diplomatic response.
"Because Pansy wasn't sure if she could get the others to agree. They usually only perform for Slytherins."
"Then how exactly did you know about this, Miss Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"With all do respect, professor, I-I'd rather not say. . ."
"Miss Weasley!"
Ginny winced.
"Well, I uh. . . sort of snuck into Slytherin House on evening to put up a picture on their board and well, they happened to be performing when I did-"
"When did you sneak into Slytherin House!" Ron demanded.
No one really took notice of q when he walked into the Great Hall with Moddy and several Weaselys. Whatever they had been doing up 'till now couldn't have been too interesting, because the fish on q's robes had fallen sleep. In other words, they all had cartoon-like speech bubbles pointing to them with several z's floating around inside.
Q looked over at the group as they entered. He smirked at the look of utter misery and boredom on his son's face.
q looked at his father and glared. Then his eyes flashed as he got an idea. q snapped his fingers and sat down at the first available seat looking very pleased with himself.
Q frowned. He didn't see anything different. He concentrated on his son's Q essence and followed its trail with his consciousness. Then he figured out what q had done.
Oh this is priceless, absolutely priceless and wish I had thought of it first.
To the humans in the room, Q appeared to be sitting casually at the Slytherin table, listening to Goyle playing jazz on his saxophone. To everyone else, he was laughing hysterically.
He was still laughing when the saxophone stopped and Goyle walked over to the table to get a drink of pumpkin juice. The Great Hall was silent.
All of a sudden, a chair screeched and curious students watched as Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw walked up to the piano. She briefly talked to Pansy. Pansy nodded and turned to her notes, flipping through them until she found what she was looking for.
Long, airy notes filled the room and Luna began to sing. Her voice wasn't rich and deep like Goyle's, or even strong like the Slytherins knew Pansy's was. It was light and sweet, but not screechy. Luna sang an old love song, most purebloods in the room recognized about the unrequited love of a young witch.
Before she was half-way through, several others had joined in.
Everyone clapped when it was over. Luna bowed and went back to the Ravenclaw table amidst a sea of excited voices.
Two Gryffindor fourth year girls ran to the piano. After a short conversation, Pansy got up and let one of them take her place. The other girl jumped onto the podium where the Head Table usually resided. She shrugged off her outer robes to reveal muggle clothes: faded jeans and a yellow t-shirt that read "Dance Camp 1993" in big, black letters. She pointed at her feet with her want and said an incantation. Then she carefully placed her wand on top of her robes.
She went to stand at the centre of the podium and nodded to her friend at the piano. The other girl flexed her fingers and started up a lively melody. But all attention was on the podium as the girl on it began to dance. Her legs seemed to fly in all directions as she tapped her way from one end of the podium to the other, sometimes jumping so close to the edge that everyone was amazed she didn't fall off.
When she was done, a Hufflepuff seventh year performed a gymnastics routine.
Hours later, when the professors finally sent the reluctant students off to bed, everyone knew a bit more about each other.
They knew, for instance, that Hufflepuff had a stand-up comedian capable of giving Professor McGonagall stitches. They knew that Ravenclaw could easily put together a decent dance troupe if they wanted to, that Semus knew way too many drinking songs for someone who wasn't legally able to drink yet, that the Weasley Twins couldn't sing, that their younger brother was even worse, that Cho Chang could play the harp and that Professor Hooch had a surprisingly operatic voice.
And Professor Dumbledore knew that no matter what happened, his students would make it through.
Several dozen kilometres away, in what from the outside looked like an old, abandoned shack on the edge of a cliff, Lord Voldemort sat frowning on a high-back ornately carved wooden chair. All around him, on the floor, the mantle above the fireplace, on the chairs and even inside the iron maiden he had confiscated from the house of a particularly odd muggle, spread a colourful sea of furry balls.
One of them moved. the Dark Lord's right hand shot up and a green light came out of his wand, hitting the fur ball dead on. It stopped moving.
Slowly, and quietly, his death eaters resumed floating the things out of the room.
By the left back leg of Lord Voldemort's throne, lay a partially crumpled piece of parchment. It read:
Dear Voldilocks,
I am simply writing to congratulate you on finding a new and inventive way of livening up Hogwart's monthly Hogsmeade weekends, which can sometimes become quite dull and tedious.
However, I would like to respectfully request that next time you remind your minions to tidy up a bit before they flee back to your super secret hideout. After all, cleanliness is next to godliness. If you are so adamant in pursuing god-like powers, I believe you should keep that little proverb in mind. Also, a nice little message telling us that they have indeed gone and are not still lurking about would also be greatly appreciated. As you can imagine, it would save us a lot of time.
I certain hope there is no bad blood between us as I have nothing but respect and admiration for your noble goal of riding the planet Earth of all lower life forms. Although, I fear you may find this goal somewhat difficult to achieve even with your advanced level of evilness.
As a token of my appreciation, I send you these creatures. They are called Tribbles and make wonderful house pets as they are remarkably low-maintenance. All they require is plenty of food.
Your's truly,
q.
Well, I hope that made up slightly for the wait. I promise to have the next chapter up sooner. Much sooner.
Author's Notes:
Othello - The main character from Shakespeare's play of the same name. He smothers his wife to death with a pillow, because he believes she was unfaithful to him.