Chapter Thirty-One: Rehearsals Commence
"You want me to what?" Malfoy asked Dumbledore in deep shock. "I can't even pretend I'm French, let alone an evil American!"
"You can still be English, Draco. All you have to do is look like a Death Eater and be little Julie Snape's bodyguard. You've done harder things."
"But why Julie? She's not even sixteen and you're asking her to do more than her father did?"
"Whether her contribution is more or less than anyone's is purely dependant on your point of view. And she will be sixteen by the time you leave. The Stateside portion of the charade does not require and in fact would be hindered by her presence before it is certain Diablo perceives it and believes her to be as powerful as Voldemort. The stage is being set in America, all you have to do right now is rehearse and get used to the British cast. Ron Weasley has already agreed to go."
"It's not a question of Ron and I working together, we've gotten over most of our old differences long ago. It's Julie."
"Does the idea of playing acolyte to a teenager bother you? Imagine for one second that it's real."
"It's not even that! I just don't think you should send her to do this!"
"Oh, I see." Dumbledore gave him a scrutinizing look with those infathomable blue eyes. "Severus is lucky to have a friend so protective of his daughter. But she has already decided she wants to go. How better can you protect her than going along with this?"
"It isn't that I don't want to go, sir, just that I worry about what all of this will do to her. Think about it, in the space of eight months she will have gone from the orphanage to being a witch to having parents to a Voldemort scare and several injuries to a spy-in-training to the savior of two countries she's never even so much as been to before! It just seems a little unfair, that's all!"
"I've seen people who could handle it," Dumbledore said quietly. "In the space of four months, going from having a father who intended you as his heir withing the Death Eaters, to being fatherless with a mother who turned against the very order that not only enslaved but killed your father, to spying yourself and saving a fellow student whom you had previously disliked if anything. Your work as an Auror was not the only reason I chose you, Draco. More than that, Julie thinks a lot of you and will feel safer with your presence. Her Uncle Ron is not enough. If at any time she goes out of character, Diablo's spies could realize the charade and the entire world could be drawn into a war. Not just wizards, either, but Muggles, too. Can I count on you?"
It was a question he had asked Draco once before. Except then it was in a time of war in his own country and with his own father dead at the hands of the enemy. There were differences. But at the same time, considering the way he was starting to feel about Julie Snape, there weren't that many.
"You can, sir. When does the planning start?"
"Rehearsal? Tonight, if you can manage it. I want you and Ron to get used to viewing Julie as your equal so that you can better pretend to view yourselves as her inferiors. I also want you all to get used to concealing the true nature of your relationship among others, so the three of you will be working in the new Hogwarts drama club. Keep in mind, though, this is a practice stage, so if students figure it out there will be little consequence, but I would like you to treat it as if it were the real thing. Nobody must find out that there is any difference in the way you and Julie treated each other before all these plans were made. If you argued, argue. If you fought, fight. If she flirted and you were stern, then keep being stern. Whatever the students think must be maintained for the next several months. The three of you leave in May for America. By then the Americans should have everything ready for you to just step into. There's a lot to learn before you visit a foreign land, even if they do sort of speak our language. You and Weasley will have little trouble as wizards, but Julie's going to trip over her tongue horribly. All differences between the cultures, Muggle or magical, must be memorized and made familiar with. You'r going to have to look as if you've been in America for several months even though you just landed, do you understand?"
"It's going to be a little like Paris, then?"
"A bit. Except the Americans don't put vinegar on their chips and they call them something else. I'm told their candy is well worth a glance-over, try to find out what a twizzler is."
Some things about Dumbledore never changed.
"About the Death Eater disguise...is it just a run-off of You-Know-Who, Dark Mark and all of that?"
"Imagine Voldemort were a teenage girl. You and Julie are going to have to improvise a new way for the Death Eaters to look."
"Patch shirts and tight pants –errgh!"
"No, not quite. I was thinking maybe some more fashionable robes, though."
"Is Julie pretending to be someone else?"
"No."
"Then her personal taste in clothes is going to be the order of the day?"
"Yes, Draco, you're getting the idea perfectly. It's not going to be entirely castoff chic, though, as a Dark Lord has a much better budget than an orphan does. I'd suggest reading a few books on Muggle theatre and character development."
"Does she have any idea what she's doing, sir?"
"Actually, I've spoken to Judy Parkington a little about her background. Julie's got more theatrical experience than you know. True, it was all in children's and amateur theatre groups, but she can act fairly well for a girl her age."
"Must be Severus's side."
"Well, no, she and her mother were talking and it seems that Gingersnap was just as good back in her school days. This isn't going to be as hard as it sounds, Draco."
"It's not so much hard as intimidating."
"Yes, I know. If it makes you feel any better, you do get to watch Ron Weasley attempt Shakespeare in the process."
"I've never read any," Draco admitted.
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"I am not a teacher. I am not a professor. I am a director!"
The Weasley boys were shocked at the difference in their usually quiet and friendly soon-to-be-Aunt Judy. Put into a position of authority over actors, it seemed, she had a temperament to rival Professor McGonagall.
There were only about twenty-four people present for the first meeting of the new Hogwarts Drama Club, mostly students, but a few teachers as well including Professors Malfoy, Granger, Potter, and Hagrid, with Ron there almost as a kind of afterthought. The Weasley boys were there with the rest of the Quidditch team minus Julie, as well as Chloe and Hannah Stern. The rest of the girls there were Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and about two of the other boys were from Gryffindor, including, of course, Kenny Longbottom. By some accident or prank, the Slytherin Quidditch team was there as well, Lyff Grudgett giggling softly under his breath at Judy.
"Does anyone know the difference between directors and professors?"
This was the cue. Kenny Longbottom tentatively raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"Uh, directors...are meaner?" little Kenny squeaked nervously. Judy gave him a very Professor Snape-ish look before smiling.
"Correct, Kenny. Five points to Gryffindor." She shot Grudgett the smile as well, instantly silencing the big Slytherin Chaser.
"That is the last time I give out a point tonight. As of right now, I don't care that you're wizards. It doesn't matter what house you're in or whether you can turn a match into a firefly anymore. All of you are to arrive for the next meeting in weekend clothes; shirts, pants, socks, shoes. That's it. Consider it the drama club uniform. I have worked in theatre since the turn of the century and I don't want you tripping in those robes you wear. Remember to wear shoes you can dance in, no dragon boots. You will be singing and dancing and learning lines. Some of you are going to quit because you can't do the work that the stage requires. Right now none of you have a prayer of measuring up to my last group."
There was a ripple of shocked and even offended gasps.
"Muggles can outdo pureblood wizards, sure." Grudgett snapped.
"I have gotten work out of those so-called Muggles that professionals would have a hard time matching, Mr. Grudgett. Five points from Slytherin. As a matter of fact, I doubt that many of you will able to do as well as my nine-year-olds. They actually knew something about acting."
It was more than evident both by Grudgett's expression and Hermione's ill-concealed giggling that Judy was reminding everyone of Professor Snape. "Considering none of you share the unique obstacles my last group did, I will expect you to turn out performances equal to theirs in…about half the time. It seems only fair as you are wizards."
Julie had warned Tom and Tim about her opening speech. Every year since she was seven Miss Parkington hed required less and less time to prepare than 'her last group' had had. The veteran students were meant to find this funny, while the intimidation helped to weed out aspiring actors who would not put in the work. She had also warned them that the orphanage drama club had been fair to moderately incredible, so Judy would be expecting nothing less than first-class effort. Very few wizards there had ever seen a Muggle play before, excepting those who had gone on the annual third-year Muggle Studies field trip, and almost none of them had seen a movie or TV before. Tom and Tim, however, did not have an honorary uncle, aunt, and cousin who had grown up with Muggles for nothing.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Judy couldn't quite tell her new nephews apart yet.
"Which play are we doing this year, ma'am?" Tim asked.
"We will be doing several depending on various factors such as cast available, casting, available budget and time to rehearse, actually. I was planning to start with Shakespeare, perhaps a comedy."
Grudgett raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"Will we by any chance do 'Macbeth' this year?" It was the only Shakespearean play most Slytherins had read.
"First of all, Mr. Grudgett, it is a theatrical tradition that one does not pronounce the name of that play aloud within a theatre. In the future, please refer to it as 'the Scottish play.' There is a distinct possibility with this large a cast."
A forest of hands suddenly sprouted.
"Miss Abbott?"
"Why must you never say that name aloud here, ma'am?"
"It's bad luck, as is telling an actor 'good luck' on the night of a performance. It is proper instead to say 'break a leg,' as for many years ators were equated with lawbreakers and therefore assumed to do the opposite of what they were told. There's a long etymology to theatrical traditions, but those two should be sufficient for the time being. Miss Davies?"
"Will we be doing musicals as well this year?"
"Will the sky continue to remain above our heads? Of course! Mr. Weasley?"
Judy had indicated Ron, who had his hand up, too.
"I was just kind of wondering what the thing you had me carry was." He pointed to a large and very obviously heavy box. Judy smiled beatifically and several Hufflepuffs went 'aww' at them.
"That was something I was hoping you and your nephews would kindly unpack for me. Hermione knows how to set it up. Next question?"
While a Slytherin haltingly asked if he really had to dance, Ron and the cousins hastily unpacked a VCR and what looked like a camera except for being squarish and generally like a box. There was also a screen and a whole collection of videotapes, as well as an ancient camcorder dating from the nineteen-eighties at least. Professor Granger connected the box-with-a-lens-in-it to the VCR with two coaxials and Summoned a desk to put them on somewhat behind the group of students' heads.
"This is what the Muggles call a TV projector. It's basically the same idea of most very big-screen TVs, crossed with how Muggle movies in theaters work. The other little box is a VCR. Does anyone know what Muggles use these for?"
A Ravenclaw seventh-year raised her hand.
"Yes?"
"They used to use these to watch their movies in their homes a long time ago. Now they use something called a VDV player."
"DVD, dear, we couldn't afford one at the last place I taught, you know. Can anyone tell me what this other thing is?" she asked, holding up the camcorder. Not even Harry or Hermione raised their hands. "Okay. This is a very, very old Muggle camcorder, the kind that takes actual VHS tapes and not the little tiny compact sort. They don't make them anymore and it weighs about as much as a small basilisk, so I'll probably have a professor handle whatever we choose to film for the first few months. Can someone show the other students how a VCR is used?"
To everyone's surprise, Matius Flint was among the students who raised his hand. Judy called on him and very quietly he came up, chose a tape at random from the box, inserted it, and pressed the 'play' button. Judy flicked on the projector as well.
"Thank you, Mr. Flint, that was correctly done. Would you like to see something my last group did, just to get an idea of how the theatre program here will work?" There was a multitude of nods as the screen ceased to show nothing but wavy gray lines. "Alright. This must be one of our later musicals."
The picture focused suddenly on a worn and dusty red velvet curtain, which opened to reveal a fairly tiny stage. The set was bizarrely constructed, but effective, considering it was clearly meant to depict a Muggle junkyard with dented dustbins, a metal sign reading 'Dennon Street,' numerous flat tyres, and what looked like an entire junked Volkswagen Beetle with the headlights out.
"A small note, here, that sign at the corner of the stage, one of my actors did steal that and return it when the show was over with a screwdriver. The car is mine, they moved it to the stage and made it look a little messier."
Suddenly, children wearing black t-shirts and worn-out excuses for what had once been denim jeans ran over the stage like a clan of mice, disassembling and removing the entire set. It was evidently a very well-practiced drill, as the instant the stage was completely clean, someone's voice yelled out their time in seconds and announced that they had gotten it down fast enough finally. The orphans cheered. The same voice who had timed them than counted three and blew a whistle, and the set was rapidly changed to a French boulevard of the 1800's, complete with hideously ugly little rubber rats.
One kid put a rat down a smaller one's back, and the timer (Miss Parkington at twenty-five or so,) had to run over and break up the ensuing scuffle. The one who had played the prank had his nose bloody, and the other kid had to be pulled off by the back of the shirt and restrained by two other kids. The wizards couldn't tell if the small fighter was male or female, but they couldn't have been more than seven, going by their height. Miss Parkington onscreen reprimanded first the one who had 'played with the props' and then the one who was 'wasting rehearsal time.' Then the not-overly-contrite little one was put right back to work with the prankster and they succeeded in assembling most of the left-hand side of what looked like a wall of junk without bickering.
The screen went fuzzy again a short while afterward.
"That would be our set-striking, when we tear down one and put up another set. We used to have to be able to change scenes even faster, so we practiced it over an over again." Judy put on another tape. "Here's the part of 'Les Miserables' that the set they were building was for."
The screen came up on the same little auditorium filled with people, and just a few minutes after, a voice announced:
"Please take your seats, Act Two will begin in just a few moments. Please take your seats."
Only a minute or two later, the lights were dimmed, and amid thunderous applause, an all-orphans' miniature orchestra began the enter'acte. They were all about the age of the Quidditch players, with only two acoustic guitars, a piano, drums and an electric keyboard to play the music on.
"People from the marching band," Judy Parkington explained. "Our budget was the size of a lentil then."
As it happened, 'Les Miserables' had been running in England for the past several years, and everyone third-year and over who took Muggle Studies had gone to see it once. Tim and Tom were transfixed as they watched the Broughton orphans play Act Two, especially when the child playing Gavroche tripped Javert on purpose and then got away, stealing his hat. The odd thing was the shortage of males in the cast. A female orphan was cleverly portraying Thenardier, and Gavroche seemed to be a girl as well.
"We had a problem when five of our guys were transferred to Abercroft," Judy explained. "The girls who played Gavroche and Thenardier had to learn the parts cold almost overnight. This was my first year as the director, and we probably shouldn't have tried such a giant show, but it couldn't be helped that we lost those boys that way."
"Were children transferred often?" Hermione asked Judy quietly.
"Sometimes more than seven times a year. The saddest thing is when it coincides with when the kid just did something wrong, then they tend to think that they were kicked out, you know? I didn't want to make a big deal in front of the Slytherins, but that's Julie playing Gavroche, you know."
Just then the battle at the barricade grew quieter and Gavroche went out to steal some bullets off of the dead soldiers on the other side. There was a gunshot. Julie/Gavroche started singing rather cheekily. Another shot. Frantically she gathered up the ammunition, (which was really dead 'D' batteries,) singing as loud as she could manage in extreme terror. Nobody watching the tape could make a single sound, so tense was the situation.
BANG!
The little French gamin fell over, dead. Several of the wizard girls burst into tears. Someone in the back, however, stifled a snort. Judy and Hermione spun around in their chairs to see Julie almost cracking up with the memory and Severus petrified.
"Who was that? They just shot him!"
"Not for real, though, Dad."
"That wasn't-?"
"Regrettably. I messed it up."
"What?"
"I was supposed to fall the other way. It gave me a stiff neck all night."
"That was you?" Draco asked in a loud whisper.
"When I was nine, yeah. Roddie got sent over to Abercroft."
"You were nine?" her father asked, entirely shocked. "You could be six at that height."
"I was a little small back then."
"Small? I could have picked you up and written a note with you!" Draco whispered.
"You could have tried," Julie whispered back.
"Did they really shoot a gun at you?" Ron asked her.
"Don't be stupid, love, it was just a small thirty-eight," Judy quipped. Severus gave her a look of pure venom. "I'm kidding. We had a cap pistol... a kind of toy."
"Oh."
"Couldn't you have- oh, yeah, no magic there."
"I think I better switch this tape," Judy announced. "It's almost over anyway." There was a little uproar as the wizards wanted to see the end of it. "Okay, then."
After what was admittably a very well done if slightly inexpensively lit ending, there was a curtain call under the house lights, showing off just how small the costume budget really was. Too-small bluejeans had been turned inside out and smeared with dirt to look like they were old breeches, school uniform vests had strips of yellow electrical tape to make them look like French revolutionary students'ones, and Gavroche/Julie was wearing several torn t-shirts and a red scarf around her little waist. When it was her turn to bow, she took off the cap she had stuffed what was even then a very dark ponytail into, and some members of both taped and live audiences were surprised to realize that she was a girl. Then she grinned, more nervously than she had seemed in character when she was being shot at, and the rabbit teeth and long nose were evident. Tom and Tim burst into laughter when they realized it was their Seeker at nine years old. The fifteen-year-old Julie was reddening as if they'd discovered old baby pictures, knowing Grudgett would make her life a living hell for this.
"That was really incredible, Julie," a voice to her left whispered. It was Flint. "Can you still do it?"
"What?"
"Make people cry when you get killed."
He was rather abruptly swept away by Donaghan, who felt the bizarre need to pick up and swing his girlfriend around.
"Tha' was th' coolest thing I've ever seen y'do! How old were y'?"
"Nine." Julie desperately hoped that Malfoy didn't realize they weren't still just friends. "Pity I didn't stay small, I might fly faster."
"I d'know, y' look rather nice as y'are."
By some miracle, the Weasleys came and distracted things before either Donaghan or Draco caught on to what Julie had to tell them soon.
She was going to that night if she could manage it.
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"Hey, Donaghan," Julie greeted, steeping into the otherwise-empty Common Room. Donaghan was sitting by the fire with a wizard who looked to be about her father's age. The man's robes were patched in many places and had fraying hems, and there were the beginnings of gray in his brownish hair.
"Julie, hi," the Scot responded. "This is Remus Lupin, one o' y're uncle's friends. Mr. Lupin, this is Julie Snape."
"It's nice to meet you, sir." Julie recognized Lupin from the photograph in his book.
"The pleasure is mine, Julie. Donaghan has told me that you are one of the few who know about his lycanthropy. I'm here to help him for fairly obvious reasons."
"The other kids think we're discussin' m'graduation project."
"I assume you can be trusted to keep confidence in all of this?"
"Of course, sir. I- I read your book earlier, it was very informative."
"Ah, yes, I had figured you'd have gotten ahold of that by now. Tell me, which symptoms gave Donaghan away to you, so he can work on them?"
Briefly Julie explained how she had actually discovered it. Lupin seemed a little amused by the idea of Fleur Delacour's daughter taking Slytherin lessons, and Donaghan assured him that Chloe could be trusted just as much not to tell.
Evidently the biting episode was a common occurrence when lycanthropy commenced in the teenage years, and after a cursory inspection of her neck, Julie was told that the bite would probably have a positive side effect; limited resistance to lycanthropy.
"Your father and I did some work toward a vaccination awhile ago, but it's not nearly as effective in potion form. When Donaghan bit you, he was still human, so you aren't going to become a wolf yourself, Julie. However, the antigen was still present, so it's likely a good thing that it happened before your upcoming project for Minister Dumbledore."
Donaghan looked confused when this was mentioned, but assumed she would tell him eventually. He sighed at that point and looked to Lupin as if to gather his courage. Remus returned his distinctly saddened gaze, as if asking him if what he was about to do was what he felt was right.
"Julie, coul' I 'ave a word with you?"
"Sure."
"I'll be back in a few minutes." Lupin disappeared into the fireplace.
"Is something wrong?" Julie asked.
"I don' think it's going t' be safe for us t' see each other any more."
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A/N: Well, an iota of the new plot twist has been revealed…does anybody have any ideas of where an expatriated British Dark Lady would set up shop in America? I'm thinking either New Orleans, Lousiana, or Tarrytown, New York, so far. (Tarrytown=Sleepy Hollow=Headless Horseman, etc.) The next chapter will have a new character, a bit of a make-up for all the cracks about Americans, but also a justification in a sort-of-way. Sorry it's taking me so bleeding long to upload, but I've just gotten out of hospital for tests again and I can't take my mum's laptop to type unless there's a plug around. Bites, I tell you, having story building up between your ears. Sooner or later my head may explode.
Thank you all for reviewing me so often! It's nice to know I'm not just talking to myself all the time.
-J. McN.