A/N: Thank you so much to the following: 404, Gaerwen, Tokyo no Ecchi, Mrs Pierre Bouvier, All-American Vampire, shadowglove, PapayaCrazy, Technocratic Sith Lord, w1cked angel, and Katcheswims.

Chapter 13 – Practice One

McGonagall watched the Minister pace her office as he waited for The Boy Who Lived to walk through her door. She had sent Ron Weasley after him, and it hadn't been that long, but the Minister was an impatient man.

"Surely it can't take this lo-," Rufus began heatedly, but Harry's arrival shut him up.

Harry and Ron came walking into the office and Scrimgeour extended a hand to Harry with a gracious smile. Harry excepted his hand and shook it briefly with a sideways glance to McGonagall who was looking pale. She forced a weak smile and gestured to three chairs.

"Gentlemen... please," she said as she took her own seat behind the desk.

"Mr. Potter, I'm sure you're well aware of the impending danger in which is drawing in upon you," Rufus said. "Well, the danger is growing ever larger and at a rapid pace. An attack on Hogwarts has been planned among the Dark Lord's ranks and we must remove you from harm."

"But Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizarding world," Harry pointed out as he looked from McGonagall to Scrimgeour.

"Now, now, Harry, not to worry. We have picked out six houses... from which you will choose one and then tell me and only me," Scrimgeour explained.

"Like a Secret Keeper?" Harry repeated as he looked from Scrimgeour to McGonagall and then to Ron. Scrimgeour followed Harry's path of sight and frowned as his eyes landed upon Ron.

"I don't believe that we should make your young friend here the Keeper, so I thought it best that I do it," Scrimgeour informed. "It's too well known that you two are friends... especially after that little scrapple last year here at Hogwarts."

Ron frowned and Harry bowed his head as he looked at his hands in his lap. Here he was, The Famous Boy Who Lived, and he was going into hiding against the man that only he could vanquish. His parents had done the same. Except they made a mistake with their Secret Keeper. 'They should have trusted Dumbledore' Harry thought sadly.

He looked up at McGonagall and then to the pictures along the walls. His eyes ran over four Headmasters before coming to a stop on Dumbledore's frame. Harry was surprised to see Dumbledore pacing there, usually he wasn't in his frame. Harry quickly turned his head away and looked to Scrimgeour who was studying Harry.

"I want to see the houses," Harry commanded.

"Good, good," Rufus merited as he took a folder from Percy and handed it to Harry.

Harry opened the folder and grabbed six large pictures before they fell out. He looked them over and saw that each house was made of brick and had high, small windows upon the walls. The front doors looked to be made of a heavy wood, and the roofs were all black and made of tile. Harry frowned, this was worse than the Dursley's house. At least there he could go outside or see the outside. He was starting to feel like he was being put back into the cupboard under the stairs.

"Let's leave, shall we?" Rufus suggested. "Give our young Harry time to choice wisely before I come back and he tells me. You'll find each address upon the back."

Harry nodded and waited for the four of them to leave. He looked up to Dumbledore who was watching the door intently. Harry quickly fanned through the houses, all of them identical. He flipped the pictures over and saw that each address was significantly different. There was one in Scotland, Ireland, America, Russia, France, and Spain. He had never thought that he would be so far away. What if he need to get to the Order quickly or something? Would he be able to use the Floo Network?

"Probably not," Harry mumbled.

"I was always partial to the Irish hillside, myself," Dumbledore whispered from his picture frame with a smile and a twinkling eye.

Harry looked to him and narrowed his eyes in thought. Then something hit him. He fanned back through the pictures again and found the one in Ireland. He grabbed the five remaining pictures and stuffed them into the tray at the bottom of Fawkes's perch. He pulled out his wand and set them on fire before running over to Dumbledore's frame and showing him the back of the picture.

"You're my new Secret Keeper. I won't make the same mistake my parents made and not trust you with my life," Harry whispered as he took the picture and placed it inside the frame behind the painting.

Harry then moved to the door and opened it, running down the spiral staircase and seeing Scrimgeour, Percy, McGonagall, and Ron waiting at the bottom. Harry smiled at McGonagall and Ron before turning to Scrimgeour who looked at him eagerly.

"I've decided," Harry stated.

"Let's go upstairs then so that you can tell me... or rather show me the picture," Scrimgeour informed as he let Harry lead the way back up to McGonagall's office. "Now, Harry, where's the picture."

"I burnt them all," Harry replied. "Oh, and I picked a new Secret Keeper, Minister."

Rufus shook with rage as his knuckles turned white with a tight grip upon his walking stick.

"You WHAT!" Rufus bellowed.

"I'm sorry, I just don't think that you being my Secret Keeper would have worked. The purpose of a Secret Keeper is to have it be someone you trust deeply, and you're just not that person," Harry answered as McGonagall, Percy, and Ron came rushing into the room.

They had apparently been just outside the door or on the stairs and heard Scrimgeour yell. Harry smiled triumphantly and looked to Ron and McGonagall before slipping past the Minister and walking out, Ron close behind him. McGonagall watched as Scrimgeour turned to Percy and scowled while Dumbledore's light chuckle could be heard in the background.

The week that separated Hermione from her practice with Tom and the others seemed to fly right by. It was Saturday morning before she knew it and things were starting to make her nervous.

"What made me think that I could do this in the first place?" she sighed as she walked to dinner with Tiffany and Sandie.

"Just relax," Sandie coached. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah, Sandie's right, Al," Tiffany agreed cheerfully. "Personally, I can't wait for practice. And besides, you get to be with me a good part of the time... I mean, I play your best friend in the play."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Hermione said as they sat down and began to serve themselves some of the delicious looking dinner before them.

Dinner went by quickly and the more Hermione thought about it, the less the play bothered her. She would never see these people after this. What did she have to worry about? And even if she did embarrass herself or something, she wouldn't be around much longer because surely they were missing her in the future.

"Will the main cast members please remain after the hall has cleared," Dumbledore ordered as dinner ended.

The hall cleared quickly with the help of some of the teachers and they bid Dumbledore good luck and good night as they left. He smiled as he turned to the remaining twelve students.

"Will you all come forward and take a script, please?" Dumbledore pulled out a basket from behind his seat at the staff table and sat it upon the staff table. "This is your permanent script, so please don't lose them."

Everyone walked forward and took a script, Leo handing Hermione hers and smiling as he did so. He leaned over as they stood there waiting for Dumbledore to continue and whispered in her ear.

"I'm looking forward to working with you Alice," he said.

"Thank you," she beamed as Dumbledore spoke up.

"Now, if you'll all flip to the scene where Firmin and Andre are introduced as the cast practices, I believe that's a fine place to start," he called.

There was a rustling of pages as every flipped through the scripts to find the scene Dumbledore mentioned. Everyone scanned the page as Dumbledore placed students about, telling them their spots and what they should be doing as the others come on stage.

"Alice," Dumbledore called. "You and Miss Summers will be standing here. You two will be dressed as ballet dancers and you will be observing our young Mr. Witte who is playing Raoul."

Hermione and Tiffany looked to Leo who cocked an eyebrow and smirked devilishly.

"Are you two watching me?" he joked quietly. Both girls giggled, but stopped quickly as Dumbledore nodded his head and called for them to begin.

"Miss Hornby... if you'll just start us off. Now, keep in mind, you must all have a bit of a French accent, so don't be afraid to give this your all... you will certainly look professional, so let's act it," Dumbledore coached.

Olive cleared her throat and tossed her hair back like a typical Slytherin girl who thought that she was the center of the world. She held her script before her like she was the star and opened her mouth wide to sing.

"The trophy from our saviors. From our saviors From the enslaving force of Rome!" she screeched.

"Good, good," Dumbledore half grimaced. "Now, you'll notice that your scripts are in fact charmed to let you know when to start your lines, so just go from there. Once more, Miss Hornby."

"The trophy from our saviors. From our saviors. From the enslaving force of Rome!" she sang out. The students stared around as the lesser actors parts were said by Dumbledore, who made them all feel like laughing except the Slytherins. Then is was back to Olive. "You make my dress train too long," she hissed to Dumbledore who was, at the moment, playing her maid.

"Sad to return to find the land we love threatened once more by Roma's far-reaching grasp," Alex Maygor, a Ravenclaw boy, bellowed in song. After this, Abraxas, Antonin, and Daniel McQuillen, a Hufflepuff boy, came walking forward as their scripts flashed red.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," protested Keith Riley, another Ravenclaw boy.

"Rehearsals are under way for a new production of Chalumeau's Hannibal," Daniel spoke with his best French accent.

"Monsieur Lefevre, I am rehearsing," Keith, who was playing the conductor, Reyer, hissed.

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry... ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please. As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement," continued Daniel who was the opera house owner, Lefevre. "I can now tell you that these were all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire... Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles Andre. I'm sure you've read of their recent fortune in the mass junk business."

"Scrap metal, actually," Antonin corrected dully.

"More feeling, Mr. Dolohov. Where's the actor I saw on stage the day of try-outs?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Well, what kind of line is that, anyways?" Antonin complained.

"Just say it right and get it over with," Tom spoke up from the back of the group. This seemed to shut the group up and Dumbledore nodded for Antonin to continue.

"Scrap metal, actually," he repeated.

"They must be rich," Dumbledore said in a girlish voice as he pretended to be two chorus girls. The group seemed to find this very amusing, especially Tiffany who dropped to the floor in fits of laughter.

Dumbledore blushed a bit as he smiled, his eyes twinkling. Laughter didn't last long in the group though as Abraxas spoke up.

"I do hope that we get some other actors to fill these roles in," he sneered.

"Of course we will, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore informed. "Now, let's continue shall we? Who's next? Why, Mr. Malfoy, it's you."

"And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron," Abraxas pronounced with a perfect fake French accent.

"The Vicomte de Cha-Chag... de Shaggie?" Antonin struggled.

"The Vicomte de Chagny," Dumbledore corrected.

"The Vicomte de Chagny," Antonin repeated aloud before leaning over slightly to Abraxas and speaking more softly while saying, "I still can't believe we managed to get him. It's such a coup for us, my dear."

"It's Raoul. Before my father died, at the house by the sea... I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts. He called me Little Lotte." Hermione spoke her lines perfectly to Tiffany who smiled genuinely and said her own lines.

"Christine, he's so handsome."

"My parents and I are honored to support all the arts... especially the world-renowned Opera Populaire," Leo read loudly in near perfect acting stance.

The group continued like this for some time, clear up until ten o'clock that night when Dumbledore said it was time to retire to bed.

"It would be a good idea to practice during study hall maybe, or when you get some free time of your own," he called as they left the Great Hall.

"We should practice some time," Leo said to Hermione as they entered the entrance hall.

From across the hall, Tom watched him with a growing feeling of jealousy. But he couldn't be jealous of a boy such as Leo. Tom had so much more than him. Tom was the Heir of Slytherin and so much more handsome, not to mention smarter and more sophisticated. But yet, he was jealous. Jealous that Leo, such an ordinary boy, could hold Alice's attention like he did.

"Tom," Abraxas said as he stopped next to Riddle. "Shall we come up in about ten minutes?"

"No," Tom muttered.

"What?" Abraxas asked in shock. "But Tom... we were supposed to have our swearing-in tonight... Everyone was going to show up!"

"You heard me, Malfoy. I need some time alone to think tonight," Riddle ordered as he watched Hermione climb the stairs of the entrance hall.

Malfoy watched as Tom set off after Hermione. He pursed his lips slightly as he felt a loathing for Alice growing in his gut. This girl was screwing up their plans and there was no way that she could be as loyal to Tom as he had been.

Tom followed Hermione up the hall, watching her chat with Tiffany Summers and Sandie Michaels. He smirked as he saw her turn at the girls' lavatory and let the other two go on ahead. 'Perfect' he thought as he waited in the shadows outside the bathroom.

It wasn't long before Hermione came out, her eyes scanning her script and her mind elsewhere as she started off down the corridor. Tom stepped out of the shadows and she ran directly into him. She rubbed the bridge of her nose which had hit his chin and she looked at him with anger.

"You really should watch where you are going," Tom hissed.

"And you shouldn't come popping out of nowhere like that," Hermione retaliated.

"And you should brush up on your acting skills as well," Tom continued as he ignored her comment.

"What'd you mean?" Hermione hissed. She had thought she had done well. She had practiced a long time with Dumbledore for that part and Leo, Tiffany, and Sandie had said she had done well tonight.

"I mean, Olive acted better than you did," Tom taunted. Hermione scowled at this because Olive had been, by far, the worst of the twelve there tonight. Even Dylan Mulciber had done better, but that was probably because his part of Buquet was his exact personality anyways.

"Whatever, Tom," Hermione grumbled. She was in no mood to argue with him.

"I think that we should set up a couple nights in this coming week to practice," Tom demanded more than suggested.

"I'm already practici-"

"Yes, you might already be practicing, but it will do you some good to practice with me," Tom pointed out snidely.

"Whatever, then," Hermione mumbled. She just wanted to get to bed, she would deal with him and his self-centeredness tomorrow. She side-stepped him and went to take a step forward, but he held out his arm across her shoulder and smiled at her.

"Good. I think you should come up to my tower on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday," Tom planned.

"Fine," Hermione growled as she pushed his arm away and started off down the hall once more.

"Good night, Alice," Tom bid.

"Sod off, Tom," Hermione grouched to herself as she rolled her eyes and turned the corner to the stairs.

"Wormtail!" bellowed Voldemort as he sat in a chair in the study of the Riddle Manor. "Blast it all... where is he?"

"Y-yes, my Lord?" Wormtail cowered as he came rushing into the room and dropping to his knees before Voldemort's chair.

"Bring me Severus Snape and my safe box," Voldemort commanded.

Wormtail nodded fervently as he jumped up and ran from the room. Voldemort stared into the fire, his head was pounding. It was like his brain was rearranging itself, and he was having trouble thinking coherently. He needed to get out his other diary and check some things because he was recalling events and people that he never knew existed before.

There was a name that stood out strangely in his head, and that name was Alice Granger.