Chapter Fifty-One: No Static at All

A searing, crazed guitar lick shredded across the darkened sky. As hundreds of radioes across England and the East Coast of America picked it up, people gasped in both horror and glee.

("Shh! It's on!")

("Good lord, what was that?")

"Good evening, Great Britain!"

Ginny hugged Harry with delight as he turned the wireless up in the Common Room. Even the first-years were gathered excitedly to listen.

"This is Mel Watling, coming to you live from the studio, WWFB, 96.9 FM, that's Wizarding Wireless Free Britain, the Voice of the War Against Voldemort! Yes, ladies-an'-gentlemen, the nasty ol' snakey's back and up to his old pathetic tricks to take over. Sonofabitch jes' don' know when he's licked."

The first-years grinned and trembled, excited by the profanity just as they were scared by the announcement. It never failed to sting whenever someone reminded them of the situation, but a good cussword went a long way to reassure. The DJ's outrageous semi-Southern dialect concealed her identity very well, even if it did narrow down the list of possible suspects, and many students imitated it. A good many had met her personally long since, but they'd rather admit to not liking Quidditch than turn their professor's friend in to the Ministry.

"With us tonight in the studio is longtime listener and cat fancier, Arabella Figg, with a report on the latest litterbox technology; and reknowned guitarist Donaghan Tremlett of the Weird Sisters, here to tell us the latest on the music scene. But first, the news! Moldy-Voldy still has Hogwarts' student Hermione Granger as hostage, spinelessly admitting that the best person he can swipe is a seventh-year. Donaghan, what do you think of that?"

A John Lennon-esque voice replied angrily:

"Ruddy cowardly of the scaly ol' wanker! Why da'n he try ta' kidnap somebody his own size, the puf'ta scum?!"

"Arabella, any thoughts?"

"Well," a quiet, ladylike voice observed, "I do think it says a lot about the Dark Lord that he captured a student rather than say, Cass Tyler. He's probably every inch as scaed of werewolves as he should be of Squibs."

"Should be?" Tremlett asked.

"Oh, certainly. See, where wizards may lose their standing in the community or a vaultfull of Galleons, a Squib can walk right up to Lucius Malfoy or Greg Goyle and kick him in the nads with a stiletto heel. We've got nothing to lose, so we can hurt them the most, not to mention we're not above using Muggle methods to attack."

"Speaking of Muggles, what do you two think of the Ministry's latest attempt to ban Muggle Studies class at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, it's a cheap shot if evah I saw one. That dykey ol' Umbridge is so ready to crap herself about the Americans, she'll try anything."

"Now, now, Mr. Tremlett, we can't go saying things like that," the DJ reminded gently.

"Sorry, luv."

"I mean, what female or male would want to shag the toad? She'd have to be a lesbian by default."

"I think Muggle technology is necessary. Look at how useful the wireless is to the war effort."

"Good point, Arabella. That brings us to the first call-in question of the evening: Muggle Technology, Necessity or Hobby? Call us up by fireplace and tell us what you think, right after our next song. And no, we don't censor like the Ministry! Here's Arucard Dunsany and the Cauldron-Born!"

As soon as the first-, second-, and third-years finished dancing about and singing along with the older kids, they all settled down to hear the callers.

"Okay, first in the fireplace we have –drumroll, please?" There was a tacky sound-effect drumroll. "Dolores Umbridge of the Ministry! Talk to me, Lorry, tell me all about it!"

"I think it's horrible that you're corrupting Britain's youth this way! How dare you second-guess the Ministry's opinion on Muggle technology? These treasonous thoughts are just what let You-Know-Who come back!"

"Erm…okay, luv, but wasn't it the Ministry who disavowed Voldemort's return for close on a year, even though Harry Potter had the proof as early as 1991 that he was making a try for it?" Donaghan Tremlett was a very well-informed rock n'roll sex god, you had to give him that. "And what's treasonous about saying you lot are ineffective bureaucratic cockheads? You are!"

"Now, Donnie, mate, don't be so argumentative. Ms. Umbridge, why did you close the Sticky Lick?"

"Homosexuality is immoral! It's this kind of loose behavior that makes the Dark stronger!"

"Bullshit."

"Donaghan! Then explain, Ms. Umbridge, why the Death Eaters are such an openly anti-gay, homophobic community? You're actually promoting Voldemort's dogma by agreeing with these hatemongers. And what's immoral about two people in a loving, committed relationship?"

"It's wrong!"

"Why? Tell me that." There was a few seconds of dead air, before the sound of Mel and Tremlett snorting was heard. "It seems that Ms. Umbridge has hung up on us."

"No cockin' wonder."

"On that note, I'd like to turn the show over to Ms. Figg for a moment, for tonight's Muggle Music Headliner. What've we got, Arabella?"

"Tonight's Muggle Music Headliner is the Beatles' classic, 'All You Need Is Love,' written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney. It's an excellent reminder of what can really help win this war."

"Here you are, Britain. The Beatles!"
Even as the other Gryffindors sang and passed butterbeers around, Harry leaned over to Ginny.

"She's right, you know." The first-years barely noticed them kissing as the song ended.

**********************************************************

"Mel, darling, that was electric." Cass pulled her fingerless gloves off and tossed her coat onto an armchair. "I particularly liked the segment where the dishy rock star and the cat lady discussed the Ministry's Top Ten Fuckups for the week. They were even better than last time."

"What about the advertising?"

"That was darling."

"It was awfully sweet of Fred an' George to buy airtime for their wives' shop, but even more so when we found out Jacquie and Marguerite had done the same for Wheezes Hogsmeade's autumn sale. It's so romantic and all… could we continue their contract indefinitely?"

"If they'll send over more sound effects stuff, why not give 'em their airtime free?"

"Well, we do need some funding, you know." Mel frowned. "I accidentally shorted the C amp during Donaghan's live number."

"No problem. We have plenty of backing. Just write down how much you need and owl it to Clipring at Gringotts Cairo."

Mel grinned only slightly.

"And where is this mysterious cashflow coming from?"

"Why would you want to know a thing like that?" Cass replied absently. "Do we need new fuses already? Teach me to use copper wire."

"Lady Cat, you're keeping secrets from me." Mel knew the werewolf's fanficker name would throw her off at least a bit.

"Speaking of, have you read that new Lord of the Rings parody from what's-her-name? The one where Gandalf has a mid-life crisis and changes his name to G-dawg?"

"Cass, why don't you just tell me –G-dawg?"

"I kid you not, pal. There's also a whole messload of marijuana references, so if you get confused, watch a Cheech and Chong movie."

"Who wrote it? Livingdeadgirl67?"

"I think. I also liked the one where the elves are all glam-rock and the hobbits go punk. Too funny."

Sometimes fanfiction writers were too easy to distract.

***************************************************************

It was weird, waking up from a haze, like walking through London fog into the glowing lights of a familiar storefront. She could dimly see light, vaguely hear music and almost touch the sheets below her fingers. Hermione slowly became conscious of a blond lady, taller than her mother, who was wearing a beautiful Renaissance-style gown and playing some very anachronistic air guitar to what sounded like…good lord. The Beatles? She must be at her aunt's, or…

"An' that was the Beatles, with 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer,' from their hit album-"

'Abbey Road,' Hermione thought. 'Third track on the first side. Paul is barefoot on the cover.' The radio voice continued:

"Wish we had a few Silver Hammers in the hands of our crazy Americans here at Hogwarts, wouldn't you say, Professor?"

"Who told you we don't, already?"

Cass on the radio? This was just…weird. And where was she, anyway?

"If you're just tuning in, this is WWFB, 96.9 FM, the Voice of the War Against Voldemort, Wizarding Wireless Free Britain and I am Mel Watling, bringing you rock and resistance to tyranny. Our guests tonight are Professor Cass Tyler of Hogwarts, with a segment on how to protect your youngest children from the lure of the Death Eaters; as well as acclaimed authors Cat and Wolfe Allegheny, whose sex guide has broken all wizarding bestseller records since Miranda Goshawk's magic curriculum hit the shelves."

(WWFB was having a slow night and doubling up on guests. Cass covered her dual role by giving 'Cat Allegheny' the thickest Irish brogue possible. She sounded only vaguely like the leprechaun who advertised cereal and was doing a splendid job of arguing with herself while John pretended to be Scottish. The videotapes of that particular edition of WWFB At Eight showed Mel Watling trying desperately not to wet herself.)

"So, Professor, did your students give you a list of songs they wanted you to play?"

"What?"

"You're our Guest DJ."

"Oh, right. I was just leafing through this…book…" She abruptly switched mikes and dialects. "Are y'after bein' fascinated by somethin'?" In her own voice: "Is that even possible?" Irish: "Y' bet y're Yankee boots. Just try to stretch y're legs a bit first, or you'll get one sod of a-"

"Okay! I'm sure our listeners get the idea!" The airwaves concealed a hearty snort as Mel chortled into her sleeve. "What song do you have in mind?"

"Well, a few of my students did ask me to play songs for the ones they've got crushes on, but I think this request is the most heartfelt. From a loyal wizard to his heart's enchantress, with much love and wishes for her return."

Hermione had never heard anything by Styx before. The lyrics were heartfelt, there was passion in the guitar and the electric keyboards, and she felt the familiarity of the emotion, but the potions left her too hazy to really consider it. The song made Narcissa cry. She knew full well who was sending it, as she was familiar with a certain black-haired classmate of hers' fondness for arena rock. She didn't know to whom, but she had a few guesses.

'You're my lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes
Sparkling clear and lovely
You're my lady…'

Hermione fell asleep in spite of the drums and guitars, but with one difference. She felt safe, for the first time since this weird waking dream began. Narcissa noticed she had stirred only as she was going back under, and as she tucked her charge back in, she realized something. Severus wouldn't fancy Nymphadora Tonks or Mel Watling. Tonks was too Gryffindor, too wild, and Mel was too mysterious and Muggle-fied. It had to be Hermione. Why else would he be longing for her return? He wasn't just concerned about his student, the two were lovers! How astonishing!

She'd lay odds as to who had a hand in arranging it and making certain the affection grew. John Tyler was perceptive enough to notice the seeds of love, and Cassandra was mischievous enough to water them. Now that she considered it, it was a perfect match. She didn't know the unconscious girl before her very well, but she knew Severus, and she knew he wouldn't even look at someone not brilliant. The Granger girl was extraordinarily bright, enough for Lucius to consider her for the-

Oh, holy crap!

She had to get the girl out of there, and fast!

*********************************************************************