Wishmasters
Chapter 8
Disclaimer – I do not own this world. Its not owned by anyone I know. It is, however owned by somebody I met once at a party thrown by the Lord Lieutenant of Gloucester. How freaky can you get?
Authors Note : ok, so this is getting weirder by the minute. First I get a job offer from a job I applied for a year ago, which I cant take as I moved house about 120 miles north. Then, I find out that work want me to work on my birthday, which, of course, made me storm off to the HR department and tell them to get bent. Needless to say, I now have to face a disciplinary hearing. Whoops! Then I found out at 8am that I DIDN'T have to be at work at all today, and I actually have a day off twice a week… sometimes I wonder what the hell is going on with this world. Enough babbling… time to write some more randomness.
Harry sat listening to a magical cd player in the common room. It was 2am, the party had disbanded, and he was contemplating some awesome songs he'd just had delivered by Hedwig. Glancing at the clock in the corner, and realising he had a potions essay to do by 8am that day, he sighed and summoned ink, parchment and textbooks to him, and set to work.
Several hours later, Ron came down after finding his friends bed empty and unslept in. He laughed outright at Harry sitting up and yawning with his potions essay sticking to his face where he had fallen asleep within minutes of finishing it, and Harry grimaced while pulling it off, and magically removing the drool.
Grinning and yawning, the two friends went down to breakfast, and saw Dumbledore winking and staring at his plate. Wondering what he was getting at, the two boys glanced at their plates to see a message waiting…
"Albus says touch your nose if you can read this."
The boys stared at the headmaster, who touched his nose. Feeling utterly confused, Harry did likewise, and saw Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Crabbe do the same.
"Good," the plates now read "I hope that you are all available tonight for another practice. I have decided to re-announce the contest, and get official sign-up sheets put out tomorrow morning. Same place, same time."
The group grinned, and as one touched their noses. Then, all of them including the aged headmaster burst out laughing.
Even potions couldn't put a damper on their spirits that day, with Malfoy and Crabbe helping to keep Snape off their backs. At lunchtime, Dumbledore stood and made an announcement that set the hall babbling.
"I know that many of you are in bands, still. In precisely one month, we will be holding a battle of the bands competition, which I'm sure you all remember me mentioning a while ago. Sign up sheets will be available tomorrow morning, which must contain the names of all your band members, your bands "handle" and the name of the song you wish to perform. Now, I can hear your stomachs rumbling, so Tuck In!".
The hall was in full chatter now, and every member of Wishmasters knew that their houses hopes lay upon them, as the rest were musical dunces. It was a matter of pride, and stubbornness for the Gryffindors, and bloody mindedness for the Slytherins. Neither wanted to be the failure!
Later That Night
The "Wishmasters" were panting and grinning at eachother, knowing that they had just nailed the song they had chosen for the competition for the first time. Though Harry had doubts about their stage look.
"Guys," he said. Hermione glared at him, and he hastily added "And gals, we got the song, we need to look at our image now… it's a big part of the performance."
"I have an idea," muttered Crabbe, unexpectedly. After a whispered conference with Draco, who grinned, nodded and raised his wand, the band found themselves facing mirrors, and wondering what happened to their clothes. They were all clothed in black, varying black to be sure, and their instruments were all pure white. Harry shot a glare of pure venom at Draco, who hastily turned his bass back to its original colour. Nobody messed with Harrys guitar.
Later, they would find themselves amazed at the recording of their song, and wonder where Harry had gotten his inspiration from. All of them, including the boy who lived himself. But, a recounting of the lyrics for you seems to be in order, doesn't it?
Travelling through this land,
Hunter becomes the prey,
So much pointless suffering,
We hope for better days.
Air strikes upon the hour,
Big machines from the wheels of power,
A Young mans dream of destiny,
War machine brings him to his knees.
Didn't know it could come to this,
The howl of crying and a flood of tears,
All the destruction through so many years,
The bastards sending missiles here.
All in all the dead mans song,
His love another one gone,
Still Searching to find the one,
Still searching for the queen,
The queen of the sun…
Marching on and on,
The queen of the sun,
The war still goes on…
The queen of the sun,
Marching on and on,
The queen of the sun,
The queen of the sun…
(insert insane guitar solo here.)
Tracking them through this land
To escape this misery,
We have no choice in this,
Just pawns in the endless Game,
Fighting to survive,
Murders all through this barren land,
Is there a god in which to believe?
War machine brought him to his knees.
Cant help my family,
All I know is that they need me,
Just a prison that this hell brings,
Just a slave to the killing machine.
All in all the dead mans song,
His love another one gone,
Still Searching to find the one,
Still searching for the queen,
The queen of the sun…
Marching on and on,
The queen of the sun,
The war still goes on…
The queen of the sun,
Marching on and on,
The queen of the sun,
The queen of the sun…
As the group finished the song, Ron had tears in his eyes, and for a few moments, the group saw Harry's inspiration for the song, the war with Voldemort, the loss of his parents, the pain that was being inflicted on the world every day by the dark lord. They soon forgot though, through the smiles that broke through for a perfect song, and the shock from what happened next.
Almost as in slow motion, Harry turned, reverentially laid down the guitar he prized even above his beloved firebolt, and walked across the room to Draco. Then, he hugged him. Turning about, the boy-who-lived walked back to his place, waved a hand at his music and changed them all to the other song he wanted to nail that night.
Ron, Hermione and Vincent all looked shocked at the occurrence. Dumbledore, on the other hand, merely had a slightly brighter twinkle in his eye.
Even Later, back in the Gryffindor Common Room
"Harry," bellowed Hermione, "What the hell was that all about?"
"Leave it, please, 'Mione" muttered Harry. Ron looked amused. Though he might not seem to notice what was going on about him much, he did notice it, and stored it in his head for future reference. All part of what made him a great chess player. (Just a note here, The best players of the game aren't necessarily great players, but more great students of the other person. If somebody is daring by nature, then their strategy will be bold too, for example.) He had seen this coming for almost a week now, and was relieved it was done, even if his instincts rebelled against it.
At the same time, in the Slytherin Common Room
"Umm, Draco?" Crabbe stammered to his blonde haired companion "What the hell was that?"
"I wish I knew Vin, I wish I knew." Draco was obviously shaken, but surprisingly calm about the whole thing, it seemed to Vincent Crabbe. He thought that if Potter had hugged him, he would have punched him in the mouth, or hexed him in Dracos position. Still, this was why he was the sidekick, and Draco the boss.
Back in the headmasters office
Albus Dumbledore was thinking. He was remembering his arch-enemy in school, and his battle of the bands… though they had been orchestral pieces in those days. The '70's and 80's had done wonders for music in his day. But Grindlewald… Grindlewald hadn't taken the gesture as well as Draco had. Dumbledore's mind went back to that night.
They had just finished their rendition of the piece that Gryffindor wonder boy Albus Dumbledore had written, and even Slytherin Prince Grindlewald was smiling at the beauty of the music. Dumbledore had laid down his Viola, and shuffled across to Grindlewald. And hugged him. Grindlewald looked stunned, and an instant later, both of the students were being put into detention, wands still in duelling position, both with massive hexes charged in their minds, and ready to unleash.
It had taken a week to finish polishing the damn silverwork, Albus remembered.