A/N: Thank you to: All-American Vampire, san01, Magicalflame, inappropriate-name, Gaerwen, shadowglove, Tokyo no Ecchi, sweet-essence03, PapayaCrazy, LaLa-the-Panda, DarkFlame, DGloveangel, CardboardCreative, professionaldooropener, Malara, Sophiax, Shanghai Honey, Dancing Pickle, rox4787, keeper of the heart, Mrs Pierre Bouvier, Universal Hope, little mimi, tofuubeaver, j.curl, CareBearErin, PhanPhic-adict, AngleCat HellFire, pottersgirl91, and anyone else that I might have forgot! Thanks so much... I never would have thought that this would make it over 404 reviews!
Enjoy this, it's the next to last chapter!
Chapter 28 – The Final Performance
With the end of January came the end of waiting for the play. Dippet announced on the night of the twenty-ninth that the play would be on the next night, a Saturday. A buzz of anticipation flew about the students as all prepared for the arrival of parents the next day and for the final performance. The cast members were in a bit of a frenzy though. Many making last minute costume adjustments and reading over their scripts like madmen.
On the morning of the thirtieth, Hermione was carrying her ballet costume for the first scene where she appeared down to Dumbledore's office to be altered when she ran into someone rather unexpected. Leo Witte.
"My bad," Leo said as he bent and picked up one of the white silken ballet slippers.
Hermione said nothing as he laid the slipper gently upon her load in her arms and nodded before stepping aside. Hermione passed slowly and continued on her way to Dumbledore's office, her emotions haywire as she felt rather awful. For when she had looked at Leo then, she saw in him her beloved Ron. She had pretty much forgotten about him while sort of cheating on him with Tom Riddle.
Her heart sank as she laid her things on a desk in Dumbledore's classroom and dropped in a chair with a sigh.
"Ah, Miss Granger, there you are, and right on time too," Dumbeldore chimed from the doorway of his private office.
He walked over and picked up her costume before slowing slightly and giving her a concerned, yet twinkle-eyed look.
"Miss Granger? Whatever is the matter?" Dumbledore questioned. "Not nervous are you? I have a potion for that in the office... Mr. Witte just finished taking some."
"Not nervous, no... Just... feeling rather, well, rotten," Hermione mumbled as she watched herself twiddling her thumbs.
"Very well, then," Dumbledore nodded, sensing that it was something Hermione could handle herself. "We'll be gathering in the Great Hall an hour before dinner so that you all can eat and be sure everything is in order before we begin our presentation."
Hermione nodded and rose from her chair, leaving Dumbledore to fix her costume as she headed out to find someone. She didn't have to look long as she passed by the library, peering in as she did, and spotting exactly who she was looking for. He was sitting at a table in the bright January sun, his eyes studying the script that lay on the table before him.
She approached with caution, the words she wished to say running through her head over and over again. She sighed and stopped on the opposite side of the table, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she bit her bottom lip.
"Come to smack me for earlier?" Leo asked dully without looking up from his script.
"Not quite," Hermione replied as she sighed and looked down at her hands which she was wringing together slightly. "More like apologize?"
"For what? Giving me all that I deserved?" Leo quizzed as he looked up from his script, his eyes alight with sympathy for her. "I'm the one that should be apologizing."
"For what? Trying to protect me from someone you thought was evil?"
"Thoughts aren't always right, are they?" Leo muttered while watching his fingernail pick at the grain of the worn library table.
"Not always. That's why everyone needs a second chance," Hermione said softly. "For Tom it was only my first chance and he's proved sweetly innocent... I know what he's done to you was awful, horribly even, but please – for my sake and his alike – give him another chance... just like I'm trying to do for you now."
Leo looked up at her, his eyes no longer shining with care, but dull. It was apparent that realization for him had set in. He had lost the battle where Tom triumphed and the only thing he could do now was listen to Hermione and be a gallant loser. Leo nodded to her and sighed. If she wished him to shake Tom's hand and give him a congratulatory slap on the back, he would.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered before turning and preparing to leave, but Leo's soft tone prevented her next step.
"Care to practice with me? I mean, seeing as we didn't really have a great practice the other day," he offered.
"Sure," Hermione smiled before turning back and taking a seat across the table from him.
Dumbledore sat in deep thought, his eyes closed, blacking out the distractions of the room. His fingertips end to end and his mind slipping into the one peaceful retreat where he reigned supreme and controlled everything. He was trying to recall the prefect time. He needed to go back at the exact moment when he could retrieve Hermione with no trouble.
A knock at the door jarred him from thought with its panicked pounding.
"Enter," he called calmly.
"Dumbledore!" Ron Weasley gasped. "It's Harry! He's fainted... and he had some sort of premonition just be-"
"Take me to him," Dumbledore stated quickly as he rose from his chair.
Ron led Dumbledore from the study in Grimmauld Place down to the dank kitchen where Harry lay upon the floor, chess pieces scattered about his body.
"What happened exactly, Mr. Weasley? It's very important that I get every detail," Dumbledore demanded.
"Well, we were playing chess and Harry froze in the middle of a move," Ron began. "He started shaking and went deathly pale... he tried to stand, I thought he was sick or something. He fell to the floor, taking the board and stuff with him and toppling his chair as he said something about 'He's coming'. What's that mean?"
Dumbledore looked up from Harry to Ron in slight alarm. It scared Ron deep down to see the man looking so gaunt and worried.
"Find Minerva and tell her to rile the Order and all who plan to help," Dumbledore demanded.
Kingsley Shacklebolt rushed through the Ministry of Magic in search of the Minister. He had been passing by the Floo Network Authority offices on the sixth floor when he heard a snake like voice speaking of Death Eaters. He burst into the office and felt instant shock at seeing Voldemort's head on one of the miniature fireplaces on a wall of them. He looked to the other fireplaces and saw other heads speaking of a Death Eater meeting.
He made mental notes of them all and the places the were. Wiltshire, Little Hangleton, Abergavenny, and at least three other cities. Faces of Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and house-elves appeared in the green flames.
"The last battle," Shacklebolt whispered before racing down the hall toward the Minister's office.
Voldemort sat in a high backed chair, the material of the arms on the chair worn and tattered. 'No longer shall I sit in such filth. I shall soon be the most feared, respected, and rich wizard this world has ever seen. Muggles and magically people alike will bow before me and shudder in my wake' Voldemort thought maliciously as he listened to the pops issuing downstairs in the lobby of the old house.
One after the other, his followers made their presences known with a pop as they all stood in hooded black cloaks, masks like skulls upon their faces. Each was itching with anticipation for the event that was about to occur. Power. It would all be their's soon with the fall of the Ministry and Voldemort's demise of one seventeen year old boy. Glory. Power. Riches. The pure rapture that would come from having it all.
A door upstairs creaked opened and everyone fell silent instantly at the sight of Voldemort who appeared on the landing of the stairs. He looked out upon his Death Eaters. He smirked at the sea of black robes and white masks before him, his tools.
"The time," he shouted, "has at last arrived... you know what you're to do!"
With a roar of excited shouts and a deafening echo of pops, the Death Eaters disappeared, some to Hogwarts, others to the Ministry, some even moving to villages such as Hogsmeade and cities like Devon.
Hermione left the library a half hour before she was due in the Great Hall. She wanted to bathe and relax a little before the play. She entered her dorm and headed straight for the bathroom, sinking into a hot bath and relaxing. She wasn't there long when she closed her eyes and fell asleep. Before she knew it, Sandie and Tiffany were banging at the bathroom door.
"C'mon, Alice!" Tiffany bellowed through the wood that obstructed her from them.
"You're going to miss the play, dear!" Sandie yelled.
"Um... just a minute," Hermione yelled back.
The bath water was icy now and Hermione's skin was pruned on her fingertips and toes. She wrapped herself in a towel and did a quick drying spell on her hair before throwing on her school robes once more. She threw the door open and saw Tiffany standing alone in the dorm.
"Sandie left already to tell them we would be there," she informed. "We better get a move on."
Within minutes, the girls burst into the Great Hall, panting and dabbing sweat from their brows after sprinting the whole way down to their destination. Hermione looked around the hall and saw dozens upon dozens of round tables that looked to fit about twenty-five to thirty people at each table. In the center of all of them sat a larger table in different colors, this table obviously for the staff members as it was risen off the floor by a small square platform.
Tiffany and Hermione sat down at one of the tables in the front and began to eat with the other cast members as everyone sat in silence, many staring at the large red curtain which obscured a little less than half of the Great Hall from view. Behind it was no doubt the stage upon which the play would take place.
Hermione gulped back nerves and sighed as she looked around the cast members. She took a bite of food and then looked back up in alarm. Where was Tom? She scanned the faces again and almost choked. He wasn't there. She jumped up out of her seat and started for the Great Hall doors, but stopped when they opened and Tom himself entered.
He nodded to her and joined the table she was at as she sat back down with relief. She glanced at him and he smiled as he read over his script.
"You look nervous," he pointed out in a whisper from across the table.
"Doesn't everyone?" Hermione chuckled lightly as Dumbledore called their attention to him while food wiped itself from their plates.
"Please go suit up for your first scenes and don't leave the Great Hall... we have twenty minutes before the start. If you shall need assistance, myself, Professor Merrythought, and Professor Slughorn will be walking through the back to help," Dumbledore called.
With a rumbling and scratching of wooden chair legs on the golden tiled floor, the students stood and made their way back behind the curtain to prepare.
Voldemort walked down the first floor of the Ministry, his eyes glancing over the chaos. He felt pride as his eyes skimmed over three dead bodies all distorted into strange positions, no doubt they were torture before being killed for resisting him and his followers. He tread the familiar path to the Minister's office, stepping past the destruction his Death Eaters had left in their wake.
He entered the office, sliding past the door which was hanging from the middle hinge with a rather large hole burned into it, from a curse no doubt. There in the desk sat Rufus Scrimgeour looking rather angry and disheveled as Lucius held him captive. The Minister was visibly sweating though and his eyes were darting about the room, a sign of his underlying nerves.
"Leave us, Lucius," Voldemort commanded as he waved away his right hand man.
Lucius bowed his head with a trademark Malfoy smirk and left, keeping his wand pointed out ahead of him. Voldemort pulled out his wand and Scrimgeour's grip upon his chair tightened.
"Don't worry," Voldemort chuckled in a snake-like voice. "I'm not going to kill you... yet."
He waved his wand and a chair that was toppled in the corner of the room flew to his side and sat upon its four legs neatly in front of the messy desk. Scrimgeour's jaw clenched, the jaw muscles flexing angrily as he watched Voldemort take a seat and flick ornaments off his desk before picking up the golden bar with his name upon it.
"Rufus Scrimgeour... Minister of Magic," Voldemort read with a laugh. "I believe a change is in order here." He waved his wand and there was a sound like nails scratching on a chalkboard that made Rufus flinch as the name bar light up white. "Lord Voldemort... Minister of Magic. Sounds better, doesn't it? Has more of a ring to it, wouldn't you say?"
"I think you ha-"
"I don't care to hear what you think," Voldemort stated carelessly as he waved it wand and silence Rufus. "I really hated to do that seeing as you're already bound to the chair and all."
The cruel laugh that followed this statement made it insincere and obviously false. Scrimgeour scrunched his face up in disdain at the Dark Lord as he looked around the office and made noise of distaste.
"What kind of power do you hold to make you Minister, hmm?" Voldemort inquired. Scrimgeour jerked in his seat as though straining to get free and rip Voldemort limb from limb, but he failed. "You don't know? To be truthful... neither do I. Which is why I'm here to replace you... right after I take care of that infernal boy, Potter."
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, students and parents, I give you our production of The Phantom of the Opera," Dumbledore called before bowing himself off stage and magically opening the curtains.
On the stage were some Hufflepuff students, Leo, and Sandie. Leo and Sandie had been magically aged for this scene which portrayed an auction.
"Sold. Your number, sir. Lot 663, then, ladies and gentlemen. A poster from this house's production of Hannibal by Chalumeau," said one of the Hufflepuff actors.
"Showing here," said a Ravenclaw boy as he held up one of the stage props.
"Do I have 10 francs? Five, then. Five I am bid. Six. Seven. Against you, sir, seven. Eight? Eight once. Selling twice. Sold, to Monsieur Deferre. Thank you very much, sir. Lot 664, a wooden pistol and three human skulls from the 1831 production of Robert le Díable by Meyerbeer. Ten francs for this. Ten, thank you. Ten still. Fifteen, thank you, Fifteen I'm bid. Going at fifteen. Your number, sir?" continued the Hufflepuff who played the auctioneer. "Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen... a papier-mâché musical box in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item discovered in the vaults of the theater, still in working order."
"Showing here," called the Ravenclaw boy again.
"May I commence at fifteen francs? Fifteen, thank you. Yes, twenty from you, sir. Thank you very much," the Hufflepuff directed at the aged Leo.
Sandie shifted on stage to look at Leo as she rose her hand in meaning of bid.
"Madame Giry, twenty-five. Thank you, madame. Twenty-five I'm bid. Do I hear thirty? Thirty. And thirty-five? Selling at thirty francs, then. Thirty once, thirty twice... Sold for thirty francs to the Vicomte de Chagny. Thank you, sir," the Hufflepuff nodded.
There was a moment's pause as everyone watched the Ravenclaw boy carry the box to the aged and wheelchair ridden Leo who admired it as the auctioneer continued.
"Lot 666, then. A chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera. A mystery never fully explained. We're told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination. Gentlemen?"
With that said, four Hufflepuff boys and two Ravenclaws pulled on some cords and a curtain rose displaying a picture of a chandelier as the Hogwarts band struck up the main theme to the play.
Meanwhile, students back behind the curtain were running about frantically. Hermione moved from the spot where she had been watching the first part of the play and took her place with Tiffany at the side of the stage, prepared to run on when her part came.
The curtain was pulled up completely and on stage was Olive Hornby dressed as Carlotta, singing while other students played background parts.
"The trophy from our saviors. From our saviors. From the enslaving force of Rome!" Olive sang dramatically.
"She definitely does good on the bad singing part," Tiffany whispered to Hermione with a wincing face at the awful sound.
The two girls giggled and continued to watch the play unfold until Hermione and Tiffany's part came.
"Next line is ours... ready?" Tiffany whispered.
"Yeah," Hermione mumbled back before speaking out her line. "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."
"Christine, he's so handsome," Tiffany said to Hermione.
"My parents and I are honored to support all the arts... especially the world-renowned Opera Populaire," Leo said.
He had been magically taken back to his younger form and was now portraying a younger, more handsome Raoul with shoulder length red hair and a rich looking attire. The actors continued to play out as Tom watched from a raised platform above. He was patiently awaiting his cue while watching his angel, Alice, act out her part perfectly.
"I'm going now. It is finished," Olive called as she turned her back to the crowd, prepared to stalk off as Antonin Dolohov and Abraxas Malfoy called to her.
"World-renowned artist and... great beauty," Abraxas said with a bit of struggle behind the last two words.
"Bella Diva!" roared Dolohov.
"Goddess... of song," Malfoy half chuckled as Olive's glare went from acted to sincere.
"Monsieur Reyer," Antonin said as he turned to Keith Riley, a Ravenclaw boy. "Isn't there a rather marvelous aria for Elissa in Act three of Hannibal? Perhaps the signora-"
"Yes, yes. But no. Because I have not my costume for Act three. Because somebody not finish it! And I hate my hat!" Oliver burst.
"But I wonder, signora, as a personal favor, would you oblige us with a private rendition? Unless, of course, Monsieur Reyer objects," Malfoy spoke up.
"If my managers command. Monsieur Reyer?" Olive said in a sickeningly sweet way.
"If my diva commands," Keith sighed with exhaustion.
"Yes, I do. Everybody be quiet!" Olive barked as she and Keith stepped forward, Keith holding up a stick much like a wand as Olive prepared to sing.
"Signora," Keith addressed.
"Maestro," Olive said after spraying something into her mouth. With a nod, the band began to play and Olive to sing. "Think of me. Think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while – please promise me you'll try."
Everyone in the audience winced and grimaced at her singing as she went, hoping that an end would soon come to it. Tom smiled as he realized himself the student body savior from this torture. He walked along the catwalk and almost laughed at what he got to do.
"When you find that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free-"
Just as Olive hit a high note, Tom dropped the curtain from earlier on her and she fell to the floor below it screaming as Tom disappeared in a whirl of a black cloak.
"Time is growing short, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said as he tucked the silver instrument safely into his robes as he prepared to go to the Ministry with Harry where he was informed that Voldemort was currently holding up.
"Dumbledore?" Harry called from the doorway.
"Come, Harry," he said gravely. "The final hour approaches."