Chappie 76

Araminta (is there some reason behind that name, because if not it really is a bit overboard)

It's a family name (on Narcissa's side).

ROUSING DIRGE? Funeral music isn't rousing.

Have you ever seen the musical Oklahoma? One of my favorite dirges puts Jud in quite a mood.

Crucio would be Crew-kee-oh, for instance, as there is no soft 'c'.

Araminta, as a singer, prefers Church/Italianate pronunciation. She tried to read up on her W. Sidney Allen, but it bored her.
Wine isn't made from grape peels anyway, it's made from the actual grapes, so Harry's comment doesn't really make any sense.

He's not much of a connoisseur.

Thanks Marek, it was a typo! I fixed it.

I wouold appreciate the Author of this fan fic to briefly visit...

My gargoyle did just fine--the only role he has in this fic is to guard the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

Bella Black?

I named her after a girl on Days of Our Lives. She's the daughter of Marlena and one of her husbands. I'm always afraid to say because I think they'll change who her dad is if I say it or write it down. Sort of like in my story.

(this space dedicated to sarcasticmuse)


Araminta had hardly made any progress toward the girls' bathroom before a suitor blocked her. "May I have the first waltz?" asked the spandex-clad, red-caped superhero.

"Oh, you rake." Araminta giggled behind her hand. "I'll let you have a reel if you tell me your name."

"Not a chance." Superman grinned cheekily and scribbled 'Kal-El' on Araminta's card. "May I get you some punch?"

"Um, I think I've already had enough," said Araminta, inclining her head toward the loo. "If you'll excuse me?"

After taking her leave of the strange man with his bottoms on wrong-layer-out, Araminta managed to make it to her destination relatively unscathed--Snape had made her promise him a tango, and Dumbledore, as godfather, claimed the cha-cha.

"Hermione?" Araminta knocked on the doors of the stalls, but was greeted with Moaning Myrtle's tears instead. Surely Hermione couldn't be enjoying herself on the dance floor? How could she stand to be a wallflower when her true love was in the same room? Adjusting her fishnets (which had drooped down to the point that Araminta felt akin to a penguin), she resumed her search.

Hermione wasn't staffing the punch bowl, nor was she in the garden, by the lake, or in the Astronomy Tower. It surprised Araminta that the Great Hall could be so crowded when so many students were pursuing pleasures elsewhere--every bench in the garden had a couple exchanging sweet nothings upon its stony seat.

Araminta's card lit up and flashed until she put her finger on the first reel. "Almost time for a turn about the floor!" it chirped merrily.

Sighing, Araminta went inside and was pounced upon by the superhero. She decided to let her partner lead; this made it easier for her to look over his shoulder at the other dancers. No eyes met hers across the crowded room. Finally, winded, she gave a little bow to her overzealous dance partner and broke away. Remind me never to wear spandex, ever, she thought.

"Everybody!" Dumbledore shouted over the din. "Time for the Hustle!"

"No!" Araminta exclaimed. This meant that the dancing was at its midpoint, and she hadn't located her mother or Draco much less danced with her one true love. She stood very still and opened her mind. There were too many people in the room to read clearly and if she didn't move soon she would be stepped on.

There. Half-hidden by a palm (tree, not hand), Hermione Granger lurked in a shadowy alcove on the far side of the room. Araminta patted her corset. Yes, her secret weapon was ready. The time was at hand, but she still needed one more person before she could dare make her attempt.

"Ah, Araminta." Araminta's dance card blinked rapidly as Dumbledore, dressed as a farmer, took her arm and cha-cha-cha'd to the lively tune. "Where have you been all evening?"

"Oh, here and there," Araminta replied, trying to keep up with him. Dumbledore was certainly lord of the dance. "I've been trying to guess the identities of the attendees. You wouldn't tell me a few of your favorites?"

"Not for anything, dear." He bowed to her as the music came to a halt. "Thank you. It will be many years before we shall dance again."

"What?"

"You are not long for this time," Dumbledore answered. He took a small slip of paper out of his pocket and pressed it against Araminta's wrist. It glowed red and green and then shimmered with every color of the rainbow. He looked at her fondly but seriously. "If we do not meet again, I wish you the best of luck. I have not known anyone quite like you."

"Nor I you," Araminta replied, unable to stop herself from clasping his hand in her own tightly.

"There's the tango," he said. "Minerva will be expecting me. Goodbye, Araminta."

Araminta's heart nearly broke free of her ample chest. If she was to travel again in time, and very soon, she was moments away from complete victory or utter failure.