"Ah- ah- ah- ah, staying alive, staying alive. Ah- ah- ah- ah…"
Minerva cleared her throat and sighed.
This was their very last rehearsal, she knew- in a few hours, she would stand there, on that stage, wearing… Yes, wearing what?
With an irritated glance, she checked her watch. Rolanda Hooch was, as usual, too late, and she sighed once more. Even if Ro arrived… She had been such a fool to let her nice, but oh-so-fashion-disastrous friend arrange the show clothes… Rolanda had a strange liking for miniskirts- for miniskirts and particularly not-done colours. And the combination of those two…
Minerva sighed once more as she fell down on the couch, slamming her empty glass on the table.
"Sera, more whisky!"
Serena Sinistra chuckled, but obviously hesitated, the half-empty bottle in her hand.
"Minerva- you've had almost half of this bottle. Don't you think it's been enough- you may get- drunk…"
This felt like sacrilege the moment she'd said it. Minerva McGonagall, drunk?
Minerva allowed a small smile to take over her lips, yet raised her glass.
"Sera, for heaven's sake, I am a Scotswoman. I can honestly say I can empty three full bottles of whiskey without getting even the least tipsy. Now fill my glass- my voice sounds a wee bit hoarse."
Sera obeyed and Minerva emptied the small glass in one, big pull.
"Ah, ah, ah. Ah- ah, ah…"
Serena smiled.
"It'll turn out fine, Min- I mean, have you ever heard me sing?"
Minerva smiled and nodded, putting down the now empty glass in the process.
"As a matter of fact, I have, Sera." she then said in her own, precise way. "Take a glass of whiskey, dear. It warms up the voice."
Serena could not oppress a slight chuckle at that remark. Minerva's students should actually hear their strict teacher now… Their strict, hypocrite teacher…oh, the way she always ordered "a small gillywater" at The Hog's Head! As if she'd never drunk anything else in her entire life!
Yes, as if…
Because Serena Sinistra knew very well, very well indeed, about what she and Rolanda with a smile called "Min's scandalous past". Not that it was all that scandalous, of course- but she had to admit that Minerva probably would rip her or Ro apart if they ever told anyone something about what had become famous among their housemates as "the major bet".
Roger Weasley, a boy one year their senior, had one day bragged that he was the Hogwarts drinking champion. Poor boy, Sera mentally added, still smiling at the thought after all those years.
Poor, poor boy.
He had laughed at first as Minerva had dared him. She even proposed whiskey!
They- she and Roger- had always got on quite well together, but even he could not believe "little Minerva" wouldn't faint straight away after one single glass of Firewhiskey… Still, despite everyone's vain attempts to stop her, Minerva insisted on having her try.
Roger's brother Daniel had provided the whiskey, and then, on a stormy, Winter night in the Gryffindor Common Room, the Challenge of the Century had begun.
Poor, poor, poor Roger Weasley.
Minerva had hardly blinked while emptying her three, full, bottles of the strong liquor.
Roger Weasley was sprawled on the floor after only one and a half of them.
Minerva, only slightly tipsy, had been crowned the Whiskey Witch immediately- and exactly that title had become her greatest secret and fear when she started her teaching career. She had made Arthur Weasley- son of the notorious Roger- solemnly swear to keep his mouth tightly shut about the dishonour of his father by the black-haired Transfigurations Professor. He had never broken his vow since then.
But then again, Minerva's wrath truly was one to fear.
That was exactly what Rolanda Hooch experienced as she, exactly half an hour to late, stumbled into the Room of Requirement.
Minerva, who had just finished the last notes of "I Say A Little Prayer", looked very much like the furious tabby cat that was her counterpart as she strode towards her friend.
"Rolanda Elaine Hooch." she spitted. "Have you any idea of the time?'
Serena mouthed "Shut up!" but of course, Rolanda did not. She smiled rather sheepishly, then theatrically looked on her pocket watch.
"On the third beep it is exactly half past six… beep, beep, beep!"
Serena closed her eyes and sighed. Wrong, Rolanda. Wrong-wrong all the way…
"Rolanda. Elaine. Hooch. Don't go all "beep" with me! You know very well we agreed to…"
Serena could almost hear Rolanda shrug.
"Yeah, but, you know, I had to fix our dresses and everyth-"
"You brought our dresses?"
This was the point where Sera Sinistra decided she could open her eyes again. Minerva's voice had changed from fury to frightened curiosity- and, what was more, she was very curious herself.
"Yup, I did!" stated Rolanda proudly, a broad smile on her lips and
"Engorgio!"
With a quick swish of her wand and the carefully muttered spell, the three tiny pieces of coloured cloth Minerva and Serena had hardly noticed, suddenly grew into the size of… well, of dresses really!
"I present to you, my beloved friends…" declared Rolanda Hooch dramatically…
"The dresses!"
Minerva cleared her throat and sighed.
This was their very last rehearsal, she knew- in a few hours, she would stand there, on that stage, wearing… Yes, wearing what?
With an irritated glance, she checked her watch. Rolanda Hooch was, as usual, too late, and she sighed once more. Even if Ro arrived… She had been such a fool to let her nice, but oh-so-fashion-disastrous friend arrange the show clothes… Rolanda had a strange liking for miniskirts- for miniskirts and particularly not-done colours. And the combination of those two…
Minerva sighed once more as she fell down on the couch, slamming her empty glass on the table.
"Sera, more whisky!"
Serena Sinistra chuckled, but obviously hesitated, the half-empty bottle in her hand.
"Minerva- you've had almost half of this bottle. Don't you think it's been enough- you may get- drunk…"
This felt like sacrilege the moment she'd said it. Minerva McGonagall, drunk?
Minerva allowed a small smile to take over her lips, yet raised her glass.
"Sera, for heaven's sake, I am a Scotswoman. I can honestly say I can empty three full bottles of whiskey without getting even the least tipsy. Now fill my glass- my voice sounds a wee bit hoarse."
Sera obeyed and Minerva emptied the small glass in one, big pull.
"Ah, ah, ah. Ah- ah, ah…"
Serena smiled.
"It'll turn out fine, Min- I mean, have you ever heard me sing?"
Minerva smiled and nodded, putting down the now empty glass in the process.
"As a matter of fact, I have, Sera." she then said in her own, precise way. "Take a glass of whiskey, dear. It warms up the voice."
Serena could not oppress a slight chuckle at that remark. Minerva's students should actually hear their strict teacher now… Their strict, hypocrite teacher…oh, the way she always ordered "a small gillywater" at The Hog's Head! As if she'd never drunk anything else in her entire life!
Yes, as if…
Because Serena Sinistra knew very well, very well indeed, about what she and Rolanda with a smile called "Min's scandalous past". Not that it was all that scandalous, of course- but she had to admit that Minerva probably would rip her or Ro apart if they ever told anyone something about what had become famous among their housemates as "the major bet".
Roger Weasley, a boy one year their senior, had one day bragged that he was the Hogwarts drinking champion. Poor boy, Sera mentally added, still smiling at the thought after all those years.
Poor, poor boy.
He had laughed at first as Minerva had dared him. She even proposed whiskey!
They- she and Roger- had always got on quite well together, but even he could not believe "little Minerva" wouldn't faint straight away after one single glass of Firewhiskey… Still, despite everyone's vain attempts to stop her, Minerva insisted on having her try.
Roger's brother Daniel had provided the whiskey, and then, on a stormy, Winter night in the Gryffindor Common Room, the Challenge of the Century had begun.
Poor, poor, poor Roger Weasley.
Minerva had hardly blinked while emptying her three, full, bottles of the strong liquor.
Roger Weasley was sprawled on the floor after only one and a half of them.
Minerva, only slightly tipsy, had been crowned the Whiskey Witch immediately- and exactly that title had become her greatest secret and fear when she started her teaching career. She had made Arthur Weasley- son of the notorious Roger- solemnly swear to keep his mouth tightly shut about the dishonour of his father by the black-haired Transfigurations Professor. He had never broken his vow since then.
But then again, Minerva's wrath truly was one to fear.
That was exactly what Rolanda Hooch experienced as she, exactly half an hour to late, stumbled into the Room of Requirement.
Minerva, who had just finished the last notes of "I Say A Little Prayer", looked very much like the furious tabby cat that was her counterpart as she strode towards her friend.
"Rolanda Elaine Hooch." she spitted. "Have you any idea of the time?'
Serena mouthed "Shut up!" but of course, Rolanda did not. She smiled rather sheepishly, then theatrically looked on her pocket watch.
"On the third beep it is exactly half past six… beep, beep, beep!"
Serena closed her eyes and sighed. Wrong, Rolanda. Wrong-wrong all the way…
"Rolanda. Elaine. Hooch. Don't go all "beep" with me! You know very well we agreed to…"
Serena could almost hear Rolanda shrug.
"Yeah, but, you know, I had to fix our dresses and everyth-"
"You brought our dresses?"
This was the point where Sera Sinistra decided she could open her eyes again. Minerva's voice had changed from fury to frightened curiosity- and, what was more, she was very curious herself.
"Yup, I did!" stated Rolanda proudly, a broad smile on her lips and
"Engorgio!"
With a quick swish of her wand and the carefully muttered spell, the three tiny pieces of coloured cloth Minerva and Serena had hardly noticed, suddenly grew into the size of… well, of dresses really!
"I present to you, my beloved friends…" declared Rolanda Hooch dramatically…
"The dresses!"