So here I am writing this, because it'll prevent me from having nightmares.
Side note: Just wanted to take a second to thank everyone who reads and reviews my babblings. I didn't write for a few years and I was nervous about starting up again. Reviews sort of make my day. Thank you.
Okay, we've had a moment now and gazed into one another's eyes. It was soulful and touching. Let's get on with the story, shall we?
Side side note: It's amazing how much mental time I'm putting into this piece. Thinking about it was only thing that got me through "Vanilla Sky."
*Sob* We were supposed to see "Lord of the Rings"!
Here, with no spoilers, are the two best things about "Vanilla Sky."
1. It ended
2. Cameron Diaz
Oh right, you were looking for the story, weren't you? Need the map again? No? Okay. You're such a clever little monkey!
Sorry. You're not a monkey. I didn't mean it.
Onward!
Or, Why God, Why?
Chapter 2: The Sorting Tiara
Or, The Glittery Chapeau to be Humorously Used in Place of the Dirty Old Sorting Hat, because What
Bloody Else Would You Suggest for the "Rocky Horror Picture Show"?
The early morning peace was shattered by the Beatles "Good Morning, Good Morning" being played at an ungodly volume. Harry Potter shot from his bed and scrabbled madly for his glasses, wondering if the world was ending. Was this some sadistic new form of torture implemented by Voldemort, Ultimate Fuzzy Bunny of All that is No Good? Was this Dumbledore's idea of an amusing alarm clock? Were the Beatles back together and playing a jolly concert? No, dear Harry, it was just another day on the set of "The Rocky Harry Potter Show" and Patricia had decided that it was bloody well time for everyone to get up.
Harry stumbled from his nicely appointed bedroom and met Ron and Hermione in the hall. "Make it stop!" Ron begged, or at least that's what Harry thought he said, because the music was about to make his eardrums explode. The three of them ran to the vibrating stage and waved at Patricia that they were awake already and the music needed to be turned off.
Patricia waved back happily, ignoring the pained expressions on their faces. She'd already had her pot of coffee for the morning and she was raring to go. The music didn't bother her at all; indeed it had been her favorite tune to wake up to during high school, except for that hardly remembered 'Hootie and the Blowfish' phase. On her lap she held a large velvet box, and in the center of the stage was a wooden, four-legged stool. "Good Morning, Good Morning" came to an end and . . . started right back up again.
Neville and Ginny appeared next with their hands over their ears. Neville looked suspiciously close to tears; the animal noises on the track had made him think he was being attacked in a barnyard, which is never a pleasant way to wake up. Ginny, on the other hand, just looked confused.
Dumbledore emerged next with a large smile on his face, waving cheerily at everyone. The music didn't seem to be upsetting him one bit; in fact he bopped a little bit before he took his seat.
Fleur and Viktor came in together with identical looks of horror on their faces. Ron looked horrified at seeing them together, as did Hermione. Her mouth moved angrily, but no one could hear what she said over the music. I can assure you that it wasn't very nice.
Draco was next, his blonde hair rumpled and his eyes wild. He ran to Patricia and screamed into her ear. "I'm up! Turn it off!"
"We're waiting for a few more people!" Patricia screamed back. Over his shoulder she saw Severus Snape come in, eyes bloodshot and hair mussed. He looked extremely irritated and about as far from cheerful as one could get - she thought it was darling.
Finally, Sirius and Remus came in, wearing identical blue jammies. The music snicked off abruptly just as Draco yelled, "See, they are too gay!"
His voice was deafening in the sudden silence and he immediately looked like he regretted the statement.
"Thank you," Patricia said, "For stating the completely obvious at a volume too high for human consumption."
"I'm not gay!" Sirius hollered and Remus patted his hand comfortingly.
"Of course you aren't, dear."
"And I'm the fucking tooth fairy," Patricia said brightly, smiling at her victims. Sirius took a threatening step towards her and she suddenly brandished a wand at him.
("Where did that come from?" Ron asked.
"That might not be the wisest of questions," Hermione replied.)
"Sit down," Patricia said to Sirius, "Or I'll put the Imperious Curse on you."
"You can't do that," Ginny gasped, "It's forbidden!"
"Forbidden, schmorebidden," Patricia retorted, "This is my fic and I'll do whatever I want."
"We'll see about that!" Harry said, rising to his feet. "Accio wand!"
Nothing happened.
"Accio wand!" Harry repeated desperatly.
"By the way," Patricia said, "I put a block on everyone's powers. Just thought you'd like to know."
"I really hate her," Severus said bitterly, "Even more than I hate you, Potter."
"I'm amazed that she hasn't been crisped by the power of hatred filling this theater," Hermione said.
"When it's all said and done, we may get to kill her," Sirius said, "So let's keep that in mind while we humor her."
"Today," Patricia said, ignoring them all, "I've decided that we'll have a Sorting Ceremony for the entire school."
"What do you mean, the entire school?" Remus asked, "There isn't anyone here but us."
"They're in the lobby," Patricia said, "I'll be bringing them in one by one."
"The theater has a lobby?" Ginny asked.
"Yes it does," Patricia said, "I've just conveniently mentioned it and put all your classmates there."
"Why do we need to be Sorted?" Harry asked, "I thought you had everyone in the play cast." He was dreading the idea of Cho Chang learning that he was performing in a piece of poofy pointlessness like the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Patricia made a pained face. "Could you please just cooperate? I haven't cast the chorus and I forgot that the photographer had lines. Besides, I always wanted to have a Sorting Ceremony of my very own. Is that so much to ask?"
"I don't think so," Draco said with a winning smile, "You should be able to have whatever you want."
"Oh stop it," Hermione said in a pained voice, "She's not going to let you go. And since when are you nice to mudbloods?"
"Since she's the only one with the wand," Draco said in his snottiest voice, "And since we're in her world, not ours, I can afford to suspend my prejudice in favor of survival."
"Good point," Hermione said, and turned to face the front again.
"Now," Patricia said, "Go and join your friends in the lobby - getting through 280 students is going to take a while, not to mention the Professors."
"280 students?" Hermione said, "How do you figure that?"
"Logic," Patricia replied, pointing the wand at her head. Everyone wished it would explode, but that would have been too simple, and the world wants to know who'll be cast as Frank N Furter anyway. "First of all, Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville are the only male Gryffindors talked about in Harry's year. Never once are more than five students of either gender mentioned in a given year in a given House. Do you follow?"
"Yes," Hermion said irritably, "But that certainly doesn't mean-"
"Second of all," Patricia said, drowning Hermione out, "In Harry's first year, Madam Hooch has laid out twenty broomsticks for the first flying lesson. Ten brooms for each House, five for each gender. Good so far?"
"Excellent," Hermione said, glowering.
"Finally, the British are very orderly people, so logically J. K. Rowling would have organized the school in a sensible way. I assume that only a certain number of students are accepted to Hogwarts each year, that there would be an equal number of boys and girls, and that they would be Sorted neatly into Houses, with an equal number in each House. With me?"
"You're completely obsessed," Ron said.
"Utterly," Patricia said, "And now we do math. Five students of each gender to a House per year; that's ten. Seven years with ten students each, that's seventy. Seventy students in each House, that's 280. Logic."
"Impressive," Snape muttered, "For a raving lunatic."
Patricia blew him a kiss and the frown lines in his face deepened even more.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore said, "I knew this would be entertaining!"
"Thank you," Patricia said, "Now before I send you off to the lobby, I have two orders of business. First, this play is going to be called "The Rocky Harry Potter Show," not "The Rocky Horror Picture Show."
"That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard," Sirius said loudly.
"Funny," Patricia said, "The most idiotic thing I've ever heard is that you're straight."
Snape snorted with laughter and Draco grinned evilly. "Hey!" Harry said, standing up, "I thought you said that we weren't allowed to make personal comments!"
"That was yesterday," Patricia said, "And he called me an idiot."
"No he didn't," Neville said timidly, "He said that the title of your play was idiotic, not that you, personally, were an idiot."
"Do you think the title is idiotic?" Patricia asked in a dangerous voice.
"No," Neville squeaked and hid behind the seat in front of him.
("I can see why Snape is her favorite character," Remus said drily.
"Two of a kind," Sirius said.)
"Why "The Rocky Harry Potter Show"?" Harry asked, "I mean, we're just putting on the play, aren't we? Why change the name?"
"It'll be the play with a few changes," Patricia said airily, "And you have the same initials as "Horror Picture"."
"Those aren't initials," Hermione said, "They'd have to be a proper name to be initials. "Rocky Horror" is a name; "Horror Picture" is not."
Patricia scowled. "No one else has the correct initals, do they Miss Sassy Pants?" (Draco snorted laughter at that one.)
"Rubeus Hagrid," Hermione said immediately, "Same initials as "Rocky Horror". Your argument is invalid."
"Hagrid isn't in the play," Patricia said, "And if you don't shut up I'm going to find some Spello tape." Hermione dropped angrily into her seat.
"Second order of business," Patricia said, opening the black velvet box, "This is the Sorting Tiara." The Tiara was crusted with large, glittering rhinestones and looked to be about a foot tall. "You know how Sorting goes; this little item will divide Players from Audience from Choir."
"Couldn't you just do that yourself?" Ron groaned.
"I really want to use the Tiara," Patricia said, "It's great plot twist. Besides, I want to have a vote on who looks the prettiest with it on their head."
"That's it!" Snape roared, coming to his feet in a black-cloaked rush, "I refuse to participate in some asinine 'beauty contest' for your amusement! That Tiara will not come within one meter of my head and my patience with this little project of yours is through! I demand to be sent back to Hogwarts immediately!"
"You're just scared that you won't be pretty enough," Remus sniffed, "You're scared that everyone will think Sirius is prettier than you, which, I'm afraid, is true."
"Sirius has the advantage of being a poofy bitch," Draco said, than looked shocked at himself.
"Thanks Draco," said Patricia, "You took the words right out of my mouth. As a poofy bitch, Sirius should be automatically disqualified."
"I am not gay!" Sirius screamed.
"But for form's sake," Patricia said, "We'll still make him wear the Sorting Tiara, although we won't add him to the list for Pretty judgement."
"That's not fair!" Sirius said, "If everyone else is judged on how pretty the Tiara looks, then I should be too!" He looked around and realized that Patricia, Snape, and Malfoy were laughing at him.
"Gotcha!" Patricia sang, and Sirius sunk back into his chair.
"Bugger," he muttered.
"Now," Patricia said, "We're running behind schedule, so I'll speed things up a bit. I was going to have some sort of pre-Sorting Ceremony ceremony, but that'll be too time-consuming." With a flick of her wand, the theater doors opened and the Hogwarts students and teachers streamed in. Harry tried desperatly to hide from Cho; Fred, George and Lee looked for ways to cause mayhem; and Professor McGonagall leapt for Dumbledore and Snape.
"This is very disturbing!" she said, "We were disapparated from Hogwarts, stuffed into that sweltering lobby, and there are people present who simply shouldn't be! Cedric Diggory has apparently risen from the dead; Percy, Bill, and Charlie Weasley were with us; and I thought I caught sight of Professors Quirrell, Gilderoy, and Moody. And there's Lupin!" she said, pointing to where he sat with Sirius, "And Sirius Black! What on earth is going on?"
"Patricia's quite thurough, isn't she?" Dumbledore said with approval.
"This is FanFiction," Snape said, answering McGonagall's question, "You don't appear in enough of it to know the drill like we do. Whatever the girl on the stage says, goes. She's the author."
"But if she's the author," McGonagall said, "Then why is she here? Isn't she supposed to be writing, not participating?"
"Sheer vanity," Hermione said, and a strip of Spello tape appeared over her mouth.
"Attention," Patricia said, glowering at Hermione, "Attention please." The theater fell quiet and everyone looked at Patricia. She smiled cheerfully at the vast array of victims before her. "When I call your name, please come foward and place the Sorting Tiara on your head. You'll be sorted into Audience, Choir, Player, or Tech. I'll give you the correct script, then you'll return to your seat. Understand?"
"Yes," everyone chorused dutifully. They all knew that going along with the author was always the safest thing to do.
"Great," Patricia said, and placed the Sorting Tiara on the stool. A line of rhinstones across the middle opened and began to sing.
"Mimimimimimimi! Lalalalalalala! LAAAAAAAAAAAA!" The last note rung around the theater quite prettily and Patricia grinned.
"Years of operatic training," she said in a stage whisper.
"I'm beginning now," the Tiara said in a snotty voice.
"Oh, sorry," Patricia said.
"I know I'm very lovely,
And my rhinestones twinkle bright,
Less valuble than diamonds,
but heck, the price is right!
"I'm to be your Sorter,
So place me on your head,
Where I will sparkle prettily,
Even if your face is red.
"No need to be embarassed,
Do not act alarmed,
Maybe sashay a little bit
and we will all be charmed!
"Boys, take this, your only chance,
to wear a Tiara on your bean,
(Unless of course you're Sirius Black,
Every day he is a queen!)
(From the audience, there was a stifled shriek, but the Tiara continued smoothly onwards.)
Where is it that you belong?
Into your thoughts I'll peer,
My every word is final,
Accept it with good cheer.
The Audience is lovely,
and cheers the Players on,
battering them with toast and rice,
All in the best of fun!
Perhaps you'll join the Chorus,
And Time Warp through the night,
Be sure to wear cute knickers,
For the Audience's delight!
Maybe you'll be a Techie,
Rigging light and sound and spells,
Rainstorm, music, tap dance,
And even the church bells!
But could you be a Player?
There may only be a few,
Remember, actors, the entire piece
Really depends on you.
So come here and be Sorted,
It's past time to begin,
Don't forget to vote on the prettiest,
Who do you think shall win?
Everyone clapped politely, and Patricia unrolled a discouragingly long scroll of names. "Abbot, Hannah!" she called, and the Sorting began.
Three hours later it was all over. The entirity of Ravenclaw had been made the Choir. ("Like that wasn't rigged," Harry said with annoyance.) George, Fred, and Lee had been made Techies. ("Typical," Ron said, "They get to do all the fun stuff!"), and the Players had remained the same, except for the addition of Professor Flitwick and a Ravenclaw no one had ever heard of called Aurora Hyperion.
"I'm in the Ember and Serpent series," she explained to everyone, "I just haven't showed up yet."
Hermione screeched something underneath the Spello tape, and Patricia marched over and tore it off.
"Ow!" Hermione screamed.
"That was tremendously satisfying," Patricia and Severus said together. Patricia blushed and Snape looked disgusted.
"What did you say, Hermione?" Patricia asked, attempting to recover some dignity.
"Pure vanity!" Hermione spat, "Putting in one of your own characters."
"Someone has to teach you idiots to sing," Patricia said, "And it just so happens that Aurora is very talented at Voice Magic - her creator of the same name says so."
"There is no voice magic!" Hermione screamed. The Spello tape reappeared instantly over Hermione's mouth.
"You're only a Fourth Year," Patricia said, "What do you know? And speaking of Fourth Year, I'd better bump you all up to Seventh Years so it's legal for everyone - including Ginny - to perform in this play."
"That has a rather ominous sound to it," Draco said, but he looked positively excited. (He was also a very handsome seventeen year old, with, hint hint, a lot more muscle than one would have expected.)
"Weirder and weirder," Ron said in a slightly deeper voice.
Harry scratched the stubble on his chin. "Could be worse, I suppose."
"I have breasts!" Ginny cried from halfway across the theater.
"Maybe I should go check them out," Draco said, climbing over the seats.
Ron grabbed his arm. "Stay here or die," he said.
Patricia was back on stage. "Right then," she said, "You all remembered to vote on who looked prettiest in the Sorting Tiara, right?"
"That wasn't part of the instructions!" Terry Boot called from the back.
"Look, you strange shoe person," Patricia said, "The Sorting Tiara made it perfectly obvious!"
"No one voted!" the genderless Blaise Zabini said.
"Fine then," Patricia said huffily, "It's up to the readers, isn't it?" Everyone groaned and Patricia glared. "It's your own fault for being idiots!"
