Chapter Sixty: History Doth Forgive Much
The following is taken from the recent poet Andronicus Diggle's play 'At War,' part five. Diggle, critics have often claimed, was more zealous in trying to emulate the work of Shakespeare and Marlowe than of accurately portraying history, and it has well been said that he was grievously premature in the composition and performance of his opus. Indeed, when his play of the war against the Dark first premiered, no less than twelve of the historical characters portrayed in it were not only still alive, but actually present and in the expensive seats offered by the director–all but the offspring of several principles, who favored the balcony that they might watch in the company of friends. The play, while considered a success in terms of verse and drama, was, to put it mildly, laughed to scorn by the critics and most viewers for it's historical laughability. Diggle was reported to have been gravely disappointed by the play's reception, in spite of some very kind letters attributed to Mrs. Granger-Snape and Mrs. Weasley the elder, and decided to embark on an opus detailing the first war against the Dark, reasoning being that fewer people would remember it.
After the critical laughability of 'At War,' however, the only theatrical company willing to perform his new work at the time was the drag show at the Sticky Lick under the direction of its' finest master to date, Madam Blaise Zabini. In this gender-reversed production, Mr. Draco Malfoy received astonishing reviews for his performance as his own mother. Similar plaudits were awarded Ms. Cho Chang, who in what many feel was the most appropriate send-off to a hated villain was cast as Voldemort himself. 'To put it as politely as possible,' wrote journalist Maggie Skeeter, 'she made Moldy-Voldy look like California fresh fruit with a side of chips.' But we digress. The following scene is quoted from Diggle's play to give a sense of the early perception of the war's events. The play was written before certain revelations were made to the public, and after others, which make some lines unfortunate to the point of laughability. And finally, despite being so wildly inaccurate as to be absurd, it made we, the editors, cry. So we put it in. From Part Five, Act One, scene two:
LONGBOTTOM: Professor, wherefore don you thy silver swords?
The arms of men are best in comp'ny borne
And thou alone, i' spite thy honest ire
May fall unmarked, or else in snare be wire'd
Lean wolves do fight their finest within th' crowd or pack
And so, Tyler, I pray thee, come thou back.
CASSANDRA: Prithee, Neville, cease thy pleadings
Such fears d'not become such things
When forth a soldier marches it is courage thou should speak
My heart is forward gone to battle
And in fury am I weak
I'll heed no sigh, no barrier, no halt to my great rage
For now my hand doth twitch to murder
This, the evil of our age (Departs.)
LONGBOTTOM: The days are strange when forth our teachers
Go to battle with our foes
And neither clerkly men, but ladies
Though ne'er wore she skirt or hose
I thought Cassandra but slight childish
Wore she bluejeans and t-shirts
Yea, this war doth spin the mildest
And turn jests to foulest oaths (Exit.)
DRACO: Speak, thou capture'd spy and liar
Yet be not false, for thee I knew
When but a shy and trembling child
First her wand timidly drew
My friend you were, not long ago
When but youths were we, and small
If thou couldst fall and join the evil
There is little hope at all
PANSY: Call me a spy? Thou art a traitor
To thy father and thy class
You have scorn'd thy lady mother
And become the jester ass
Is pure blood now so devalue'd
Are thy veins no longer blue
That like a dog to ancient Albus
You have turned and lick'd his shoe
DRACO: Pure blood? I scorn to call it
Purity in virtue lies
Not in snob'ry, nor in evil
See, now my blood I do despise
Observe how calmly I pronounce
The name of loathsome Voldemort
You cringe? I mention but your master
For I percieve thou art his whore
PANSY: You speak wiser than thou know'st, Draco
And yet, 'twas not with scorn
See thou the bruises on my shoulders
And the slashes on mine arm?
If you can offer me a trade-off
Oh, thou prince of Slytherin
Let me see my tormentor gutted
And to wise Albus will I turn
DRACO: What tormentor do you speak of?
PANSY: The name you spoke, and but some others
One of two that with you march'd
Through the halls of hallowed Hogwarts
Despite idiots they were
DRACO: It is Crabbe, thou clearly mention
I already owe'd him death for death
I do not trust you by, but haply
Thou wilt prove thy intent yet
It should be obvious to the reader how many errors Diggle had. For one thing, Cassandra Tyler did not use swords, but guns. In her journal and to friends she mentioned being bitterly lacking in fencing ability, to the point where despite her admiration for the art, she would sooner watch it that join in. Also, no werewolf uses silver implements if they can possibly manage it. It makes 'em nauseous, for chrissakes. The exchange between she and Neville is reasonably plausible apart from that, but the scene with Draco and Pansy is considered one of the true dramatic jewels of the piece. Pansy's shame, confessed to Draco, was heartrending from the first production, and despite admitting that he doesn't and can't quite trust her, his words are always gentle. The viciousness with which Pansy demanded her abusers killed is said to be very true to life, and according to Mr. Malfoy himself, 'gutted' is the mildest of the things that she really said.
Below is the play's great soliloquy; the part that we said made us cry, in which Mr. Snape wonders if and why he can live without his kidnapped lover. It's especially heartrending in context, even if the real Mr. Snape had left the auditorium to play poker in the lounge with Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy during this part of the play. His wife liked it, and his daughters, and his son, we think, was asleep. The two scenes preceding were rather dull, tactical foreshadowing in scene four and hack-job comic relief in scene five. The actors couldn't do American or American Southern accents to save their lives. But anyway, the emotions evoked by Mr. Diggle's verse were, we felt, a good addition to our account.
Scene six: Severus' chambers. Enter Severus, awakening in a chair.
SEVERUS: Do my dreams again come forth to wound me?
Fie, again I dream'd of war
My love is stol'n, my friends are arming
Live I still? And sooth, wherefore?
Were it my sadness rule'd my body
I would fein not live anymore
Wherefore doth any man his sad soul plaiting
With another's, tie in love?
A man of warlike wit and raven cloak
Becomes a man of peace, a dove
If then the fates decree his love lost
His suffering knows no bounds, no ends
His ache no balm save sleeping liquor
No distraction save two friends
It is odd that Friar Lawrence has a sort of Juliet
Nay, she is Viola, she is Beatrice, she is love!
I miss her yet!
I long but for a whisper'd word
Her voice to hear again
I'd have her sigh, her smile, her homework
Yet my cries are all in vain
Pour I a dram of sweet escaping
A potion brew'd to call back dreams
So that in my memory's landscaping
I can have what like her seems (pours a cup and drinks)
A toast to you, my absent lady
I adored you then and do so still
I'd give my life to buy your safety
For you I love and always will
(falls asleep.)
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A/N: Short chappie, I know, but more Sevvy than of late and a sweet Draco scene. Next chapter to be struck with Eponine's Disease!