The Best Revenge
Chapter 26There was Dudley Dursley, and then there was Piers Polkiss. Now added to the rogues' gallery was Zach Smith. Harry hadn't known he could dislike a boy nearly as much as he disliked his cousin. Smith seemed offended by Harry Potter's very presence, and just wouldn't let it alone.
The boy's hostility made Charms, Astronomy, and Defense harder than they already were. In Defense, especially, Smith could be trusted to snigger whenever Harry was called on. It was terribly annoying, and the Hufflepuffs had taken to ignoring most the Gryffindors altogether. They sat in a tight little group, with Neville as their only point of contact. Possibly without Smith, the situation would not have been so bad, because now and then Harry could hear Finnegan telling Smith to "belt up," to Thomas' muttered agreement. Once he even heard Weasley saying, "-but he's not so bad!" as he came into the Charms classroom. All the Gryffindor boys stopped talking and the girls giggled, which made Harry think they were speaking of Harry himself. Neville was silent in class, and Harry once again wished the boy had been a Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff House was great.
"Why does Smith dislike me so much?" Harry asked Neville in a whisper, as they left the Defense classroom.
Neville ducked his head, glancing warily ahead at Zach Smith, and whispered back, "The Smiths are a very proud family. Mr Smith-Zach's father-called on Gran once. He was-Gran said herself-'haughty.' He looked at me like I was a bug. They claim descent from Helga Hufflepuff herself, you know. From what I've heard, Zach thought he was going to be the most important first-year, and he had a rude shock when he saw how people look up to you-and to Draco too, a bit. And then Hermione Granger is such a smart girl. I don't think he thought there was going to be this kind of competition at school. It makes him really-well-I don't know-really put out. He was going on about you in the Gryffindor Common Room all the time, but the older Gryffs are already sick of it. So now it's just in our dorm." Very softly, he added, "I'm pretty sick of it, too."
Before dinner on Saturday, Professor Dumbledore announced the formation of a new club, open to all first-years: The Wizarding World Explorers. They would meet in the unused classroom across the hall from Muggle Studies. The meeting would begin at three oclock this very Sunday afternoon, followed by a special tea.
It had taken quite a bit of leaning on the Headmaster to make the club a reality. Dumbledore had been very concerned that the impressionable first years would be indoctrinated in the worst prejudices of the pureblood extremists. That concern was thoroughly-and very innocently-countered by Charity Burbage, who was astonished and a little hurt that their Headmaster would imagine she would permit anything so terrible to happen. She would be there the entire time, she assured the staff, and would observe the students carefully. There would be no bullying and no hateful sneers directed at students because of their families. Really, that was all so foolish, anyway. She wished she could take the children to New Zealand to show them how little other wizarding cultures cared about who one's grandmother was!
Dumbledore found himself with little he could say. All four Heads of Houses very much supported the new club. The staff as a whole favored the idea. If applied to, the Governors almost certainly would come down on the side of the club. In the end, Dumbledore had smiled and acceded, with the condition that the club's existence was provisional only. They would see, this term, whether it was a good thing-or not.
Snape watched the children for their reactions. To his relief, Slytherin House was well prepared for the announcement. Draco looked very superior. He had presented the club as a good thing to his housemates: a chance to set the muggleborn straight about how things were done by witches and wizards. Then, too, they could all learn much that would be useful if they worked in the Ministry someday as Aurors or Obliviators. And there would be tea. Besides Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were certain to represent the house. There was considerable, whispered debate among the other children, and Snape had noted an increase in owl traffic over the last week, as the new Slytherins wrote home to gauge parental support for such a radical notion as socializing with the lesser orders.
The Ravenclaws, by and large, looked rather uninterested. Snape knew of only two muggleborns there: the insufferable Granger girl and a rather affectless boy named Terence Boot. The two did not sit together or interact, since Boot seemed to get on well enough with the Ravenclaw boys. As to the girl-it seemed to Snape that the other girls treated the news with studied disdain, as if something that would include Granger could not possibly be any concern of theirs.
There was dissension in Gryffindor House. He believed that Harry had recruited the Longbottom boy for his little club, but that young Smith was exerting some pressure on his other roommates to keep their distance. How long that situation would last was debatable. The mention of a "special tea" brought a wistful look to the eyes of Ron Weasley. Thomas and Finnegan were talking to each other quietly, clearly plotting mutiny. If Smith were the leader he evidently fancied himself to be, he would learn that keeping potential followers from something attractive-without making an equally attractive counteroffer-was not the way to build loyalty. The Dark Lord had been a master-at least in the beginning-of giving his followers what they thought they most wanted.
Hufflepuff House, of course, was the heart of the new club, and all the first years were looking excited and pleased. Snape sought out the dark hair surrounded by red and blonde. Green eyes instinctively glanced his way. Harry smiled at him, very pleased with himself. So he should be.
The only reservations Snape himself had about the club was the second-floor right hand corridor location, considering that the Headmaster had threatened death to anyone who wandered up to the floor directly above.
"It's going to be such fun!" Hannah said, going over the list with Susan. "We need more girls, though."
"If they hear enough good things, maybe the Slytherin girls will come another time. Parvati won't come because her sister can't stand Hermione Granger, and Lavender won't come unless Parvati comes."
"That's just silly," Sally sniffed.
"Harry!" Hannah hissed at him. "Tell Draco to make Pansy come! We need more girls!"
"The way I see it," Ernie informed Justin, "it's no great loss if the Ravenclaws think they're too clever to need a club. We'll have made a real contribution to the school, and that's what counts."
Harry was calculating the club enrollment. There were the six Hufflepuffs. There was Hermione. Justin had spoken to Terry Boot in Herbology and gotten a promise to show. Neville and Draco Harry had spoken to himself, and they were solid. Draco would bring Crabbe and Goyle-well- because he would. Besides, the two big lads might have interesting things to share about farming and sheep raising the wizarding way. Harry knew he ought not to discount something so important.
That made twelve, which was plenty to have a good time. Justin thought that Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas might come. They had never given Harry a particularly hard time, and were welcome enough, if they chose to make an appearance.
Susan was whispering, "Millicent Bulstrode won't come. Her mother was a halfblood, you know, and probably she's afraid that people will think she needs things explained to her. And I don't know about Daphne Greengrass. She and Pansy bickered whenever we went to Madam Hornpipe's for our dancing lessons."
"Why does everybody think we're going to be dancing?" Harry growled.
The large and high-ceilinged room set aside for the Wizarding World Explorers was part of the original Hogwarts created by the Founders, and had been many things over the millennium of its existence. In its first incarnation, long before the days of the Hogwarts Express, it had had been a sleeping room for aspiring young witches as they came from all over the British Isles hoping to be found suitable for tuition by one of the Four. In later centuries it had witnessed the teaching of Latin, of Astrology, of Aeromancy, of Divination, of Embroidery (oh, yes, indeed!), and of Music.
For over three hundred years it had been the Transfiguration classroom, but that ended in the seventeenth century when the space was needed for families fleeing the Witch-Hunts. The Transfiguration master had found another, smaller room, and when the refugees went home, or went abroad, or decided to take a cottage in Hogsmeade, the now-empty room became a salle d'armes, and the stone walls echoed to the sound of clashing swords.
Around the turn of the 19th century, the stone floor was replaced by one of elaborate wood parquet, suitable for dancing. The room became a small ballroom, as a compliment by a fawning Headmaster to King George III's sixth son, Octavius, whose early accidental magic caused such a to-do in the wizarding world in 1783. Never since the Statute of Secrecy was established had magic been closer to complete exposure. Extreme measures were taken. The boys' parents, King George III and Queen Charlotte, grieved deeply, convinced by the Obliviators that their son had died. The young prince was something of a celebrity during his Hogwarts years, and special, very select balls were held to introduce him to the children of the wizarding elite. Young Octavius Prince loved the wizarding world so much that he never dreamed of leaving it, and within a generation or two, the family first lost all interest, and then all memory of its royal descent. The dance floor, however, remained.
The room paused for breath in mid-century, as the mores of the Victorian era trickled through the castle stones and the students grew graver. Dust collected on the shining parquet floor. When the occasional ball was held, it was held in the Great Hall. From time to time the high-ceilinged chamber was the scene of duels and trysts, and in 1943 of a private meeting of a charismatic young Slytherin with a number of admirers from his own house-and other houses as well.
On this Sunday afternoon in 1991, it was at its best and brightest, scrubbed clean and polished by the hands of Hogwarts elves. The Hufflepuffs went early, to be certain that everything was in readiness. To their delight, the room was not set up as a classroom. Instead of rows of desks and chairs, there were comfortable sofas and armchairs arranged in a U in front of a handsome fireplace. A great deal of the room was left open, and in the back was a well-appointed long table where the tea would be set out. It was bright with silver candelabra and a gorgeously embroidered table runner. A huge silver epergne in the center held a profusion of late summer flowers.
"This is very nice," Ernie nodded, admiring the three glittering chandeliers and the mirrored walls. "Quite satisfactory." Justin walked over to admire a huge painting of a wizards' ball in progress.
Sally surprised them with an impromptu little dance: a ronde de jambe, a chassé, a pas de chat, two more chassés, and a grand jeté.
"That was lovely!" Hannah gasped. The figures in the painting pointed and applauded: a faint clatter of hands and fans and wands tapping approval
"Nice floor," Sally remarked, as they all stared. She began turning in a series of quick fouettés, her working leg snapping in and out as she whirled. She then dropped a most beautiful curtsey to the dancers in the painting. There was another rustle of approval.
"Is that muggle dancing?" Susan asked excitedly. "Can you do that, Harry?"
Harry shook his head, astonished that anyone would think it possible, astonished that anyone could do it. He had never seen anyone dance, except briefly on the telly, but he knew from the remarks in primary school that proper blokes were supposed to despise it. It was just as well that he said nothing of the sort, because Justin came from a very cultured home, and knew better.
Justin explained. "That's ballet dancing. It takes a lot of special training. My little sister takes lessons, but she's nowhere as good as Sally. My mother loves ballet. We go to see The Nutcracker at Covent Garden every Christmas."
This statement required more explanation, touching on muggle forms of entertainment, and theatres, and music, and how one could possibly tell a story simply through music and dance. Sally's respect for Justin had obviously just grown exponentially.
It was all news to Harry. The one concert he had attended with Snape was his only experience of live music. That summer night's performance had been grand and beautiful, but it had been something very much outside his normal experience.
Sally told the others how the students at the Royal Ballet School took part in The Nutcracker, and that it was the dream of her life to be one of them. This time, her talk about dancing was listened to with a little more interest.
"You should dance for Talent Night," Hannah urged her.
Sally shook her head. "I'd need music, and muggle electronics don't work here at Hogwarts."
Ernie pondered the problem. "There are music boxes, of course. You could learn to charm something to play a tune for you." Seeing that Sally was rather intimidated by the idea, he then said, "Or you could ask one of the students who plays an instrument to play for you. That seventh year prefect, Wintringham, plays the lute very well. I'm sure he'd help you out. Or there's Merton Graves in third year. He plays the cello, and his older sister Ambrosia plays the harp. She's in Ravenclaw, though."
Thus, there was a lively conversation already in progress as the other students arrived. Hermione Granger, unsurprisingly, was first. She came alone, carrying an armload of books. Harry came over to speak to her, with Sally at his heels.
"Hullo, Hermione!" she called out cheerfully. "I'm so glad you're here! We've been talking about music and dance. Do you play?"
"Play?" Hermione had been prepared for all sorts of topics, but not that particular one. "Play music?
Sally gave her an encouraging look.
"Uh-well-I play the piano, actually," Hermione admitted. "But I don't know if-"
Her tentative answer was drowned out by the loud voices of a group of boys. Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and Terry Boot had met on the way and were deep in a debate about the virtues of football versus quidditch. Neville was following behind them, looking nervous. He was holding a glass ball the size of a marble that was glowing red. There were more greetings, and much shaking of hands. Most of the girls broke off to admire the decorations at the serving table.
Harry left Sally to it. She had obviously decided to partner up with Hermione for the duration of the club meeting, and was talking excitedly about music and the Hufflepuff Talent Night coming up next month, and did Ravenclaw do anything like that?
He joined the other boys, and heard the end of a sentence.
"-and Gran knows I forget things. It usually looks like its full of white smoke, but it gets like this if I've forgotten something."
"What did you forget?" Terry asked.
"I don't know!" Neville wailed.
Professor Burbage arrived. She was wearing robes of lavender edged with purple velvet. Harry thought they looked nice with her dark blonde hair. It was done up in even more braids than usual, all intricately woven into a knot at the back of her head. She was wearing earrings of gold set with amethysts. She had nothing with her but a notebook with a pocket for a purple quill. She set that on the seat of a chair a little to the side, and came over to speak to the students.
"Hello, fellow Explorers!" she called out. "I can see you've already found a lot to talk over!" She touched Harry gently on the arm. "I'm just going to sit back here. This is your show, and you don't want a teacher taking over. When all your friends come, I think you should welcome them, and decide together what youd like to learn about. I have a few ideas, and I'll help you out if you like, but it would be best if the students were in charge." She gave him an encouraging smile, and turned to speak to Susan.
"But-" Harry managed, blushing.
Just then, the Slytherin contingent arrived, Draco swaggered in, flanked by his two taller companions. Harry came over to say hello and give him the thanks Draco was clearly expecting.
"It's going to be great," he told Draco. "Professor Burbage is here, but she wants to leave what we do up to us, for the most part. She wanted me to welcome everyone, if you can believe it. Is anyone else coming?"
Draco scowled. "Those wretched girls! I think they all wanted to come, but then they went completely mad. Pansy sniped at Millie about her muggle great-parents, and then Millie ran off crying, and Daphne told Pansy she was a beastly bully and had the manners of a troll. Pansy tried to jinx Daphne, and Daphne tried to jinx her back, and they've both somehow got antennae. I should have known it would all end in tears."
Harry laughed. "Susan and Hannah will be disappointed that more girls didn't come. All the more tea for us, I suppose."
Draco smirked, "True." He cast an appraising eye over the students. "A bit thin on the Ravenclaw side. Look here, Harry," he said, dropping his voice confidentially, "We need to gain control of the group from the beginning. Father says you've got to be prepared, or there's chaos and people get ideas and start squabbling. You make your speech, and then the first order of business is to select officers. I've given some thought to that. We'll present them with a slate ready-made." To Harry's amazement, Draco pulled a sheet of parchment from his pocket. "Now, you ought to be president, as it's your idea. That's quite all right with me. However, you should spread the offices amongst the houses. I rather fancy being the vice-president. It sounds well, and there won't be much to do. We'll need a secretary." He glanced up at the attendees, narrowing his eyes. "It might not be a popular choice, but I think Hermione Granger should be secretary. No-hear me out, first." Expecting an argument, he pressed ahead with his reasons.
"Since this club is supposed to educate the muggleborn, we ought to have a muggleborn officer. Granger is a Ravenclaw and a muggleborn, and so politically it's really a very shrewd choice. I daresay she'll take very complete minutes. The teachers like Granger, I've noticed. They'll think we're being generous. She's not so bad, you know. She was quite touchingly grateful for my assistance at the flying lesson." He looked at Harry, awaiting a response.
Harry opened his mouth, and simply said, "Sounds good to me. But no way am I putting myself forward to be president."
"Of course not," Draco said with long-suffering patience. "I'll do that. Call on me first thing."
"All right, but what about the Gryffindors?"
"Well, we must give them something, I suppose. The club hasn't any funds, luckily. Everyone knows that Gryffindors are pitiful money managers. There's an old office they have in the Wizengamot-Serjeant-at-Arms. Back before there were Aurors all over the place, the Serjeant-at-Arms was responsible for chucking out troublemakers. There are even special hexes used. Now of course, it's just a sinecure for some pathetic old geezer. We could have a Serjeant-at-Arms of our own, though. It sounds just the thing for Gryffindor. What do you say to Longbottom?"
"I think we should ask him first." Harry said firmly. "He might embarrass us by saying no in front of everybody."
"Merlin! You're right!" Draco said, grey eyes wide. "Sound thinking, Harry. Let's go have a word."
Harry whispered, feeling very cunning, "And if Neville says no, I think Seamus would be a good choice. It would make him and Dean more loyal to the club."
Draco nodded sagely, and the two of them made their way over to Neville, who had taken out his Remembrall again, and was puzzling over it.
"Longbottom!" Draco said, hand on Neville's shoulder. "May we have a word with you?"
The offer was made, and Neville stared at them, clearly astounded.
"You mean," he quavered, "I'd be responsible for keeping order?"
"We're not really expecting any trouble," Harry assured him. "But it's an old tradition, and we thought it would be a good office for a Gryffindor."
Instead of refusing, Neville's eyes shone. "It's like being an Auror!" he said reverently. "I'd be the club's Auror!"
"Serjeant-at-Arms," Draco corrected, "but yes, it amounts to the same thing. What do you say?"
"I'd be honoured!" Neville burst out. "I can't wait to tell Gran! If anybody comes trying to make trouble, I'll show them what's what!"
"Er-yes-very nice," Draco muttered, backing away. He pulled Harry along with him. "We'll have to keep an eye on that one, Harry. Drunk with power in a week, like as not."
"I'd better talk to the other Hufflepuffs," Harry said.
He briefed the members of his own house on Draco's proposal of an office per house. They could see the sense in it, even though he thought Susan was a bit disappointed in not being chosen secretary.
"There are lots of other jobs," Harry pointed out. "Someone will have to be refreshments director-"
Susan became markedly more cheerful. Arranging treats sounded much more amusing than taking minutes.
Harry saw Professor Burbage watching him expectantly, and took a deep breath.
What do I say? Hello-Good afternoon-Welcome to the-
Thinking hard, he walked to the mantelpiece and stood in front of it. Draco smiled approvingly. Silhouetted against the fire, Harry looked very authoritative.
"Good afternoon!" Harry called out, getting everyone's attention. "Welcome to the Wizarding World Explorers. I know we'd like to get started. Could you all find a seat?"
The talk died down, and the eleven students sorted themselves out. Harry noticed that they were still somewhat clinging to House loyalties, except for Terry Boot who was sitting with the Gryffindors, and Hermione, who was between Sally and Hannah.
His hands were cold. He discreetly rubbed them on his robes, and tried to think of something clever to say. After a brief pause, he gave it up and spoke frankly.
"Hogwarts is a pretty amazing place, and it's only one part of the wizarding world. I think by now that a lot of us realise that we don't know everything we need to know in order to get by." He saw Hermione's earnest face, and added, "And some of use don't want to just get by. We want to really understand the magical world. Some of us had never heard of it before this summer, and some of us-" he gave Neville a grin, "have lived in it all our lives. I think we can learn a lot together, and have a lot of fun, too. First of all, I'd like to thank Professor Burbage for agreeing to help us." He gave the witch a nod.
She gave the students a wave. "Don't mind me. I'll help if I can, but I don't want to spoil your good time. There will be no quizzes and no essays assigned!"
Draco cleared his throat. Harry looked his way.
"Draco-you wanted to say something?"
Draco rose gracefully. "I think before we plunge in, we need to be organized. This club needs officers, and for president I would like-"
Sally called out, "I think Harry should be president!"
There were mutters of agreement.
Draco gave her a kind smile. "That is exactly what I was going to propose. Then are we all agreed on Harry as our leader? Any disagreement?"
People looked at each other, but settled back. Draco went on, "I think we also need a vice-president, a secretary, and a serjeant-at-arms to keep order. Four offices for the four houses."
Primed well ahead of time, Greg bellowed out, "Draco for vice-president!"
"Many thanks, Greg," Draco was trying to imitate his father at his suavest. Treating his own office as a foregone conclusion, he said, "I would like to propose Hermione Granger of Ravenclaw for secretary. I'm sure we can all rely on her to take thorough minutes. And for Serjeant-at-Arms, I would like to propose Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor."
When Harry looked back on it later, he decided it had all been pretty high-handed, but right now nobody was in the mood to raise a fuss. Nor did most of the students present have any desire to hold office. Most of the young minds were on the tea to come.
So the slate of officers was accepted by acclamation, and the meeting moved on to more enjoyable topics. Hermione was thrilled to be entrusted with secretary, and set herself to taking copious notes as all sorts of topics for study were proposed.
"Wait," Harry said, "I have Professor Burbage's book here." He held it up. "So You Found Out Magic is Real! is the title. It's helped me a lot. There was a chapter about manners that kept me from making an idiot of myself-"
The muggleborn were surprised to learn that there could be significant differences between muggle and magical manners. Hannah, as a halfblood with a muggleborn parent, had some useful background information here.
"Things are a lot more old-fashioned in the wizarding world. My mum thinks it's because people live so long, and so fashions change more slowly. For one thing, call old wizards 'sir' when you speak to them. I know it's not the done thing anymore in the muggle world, but if you don't use 'sir,' you're going to offend lots of people. And you should use 'ma'am' when speaking to very old witches."
Then they acted out introductions, laughing as Seamus introduced Sally-Anne Perks to his Da, as portrayed by Dean Thomas.
"Oi, Da! This is Sally. Sally, me Da."
Justin laughed too, but protested. "We don't all do that!"
So Justin nicely introduced Susan to his mother, Lady Barbara Finch-Fletchley, as portrayed by Hermione Granger.
"You don't need to curtsey, Susan!"
"Why not?" Susan asked. "I saw Sally curtsey to the painting."
This elicited more discussion. Then Draco introduced Neville to his mother, who looked suspiciously like Susan Bones. The muggleborn and most of the halfbloods were entertained by the formal language and the nicely judged bows. Bowing was discussed: when and how deep. Why "Madam" was to be preferred over or "Mrs," and sometimes over "Miss." Then the subject of table manners was raised, and it was decided that they would postpone that study for teatime.
Everyone had favorite subjects. Draco, of course, wanted to talk about the famous families of the wizarding world. Ernie was promised time to present a talk about the wizarding economy and how businesses were run. Susan was tapped to tell the real story behind Getting On at the Ministry, Hannah wanted to teach something about magical cooking and domestic life. Neville was pressed to tell about magical gardening: its pleasures and hazards. It was agreed that they would work out a schedule for the topics. Nearly everyone had a suggestion. They would fill a year of meetings-and more.
Harry said, "Vince and Greg's fathers work on a magical farm. They can tell us about sheep-raising and farm life. I visited the farm that's part of Malfoy Manor, and it was really interesting. They have winged horses."
This stopped the show for some time. Sally, Hermione, Justin, and Terry had not heard before that winged horses existed. Draco swelled with pride, talking about the different breeds and the difficulties of learning to ride them. He promised to bring pictures in future.
Hermione wanted to know more about tutoring and home schooling. Susan was full of stories about the fun they had at Madam Hornpipe's, learning lots of traditional dances.
"Couldn't we do that today?" Sally asked. Susan and Hannah grew quite excited at the idea.
"Oh, let's! We could do the Barley Twist!"
Harry's heart froze with horror. Dancing! "You said we didn't have enough girls!"
"You don't dance the Barley Twist with partners, Harry. It's a ring dance. The girls can form a ring inside with the boys outside. Professor Burbage, do you know the charms for the music?
Charity Burbage did indeed know how to produce the old tune, and brought the students out into the open dance floor, giving them a little background on the dance. There were two dances, actually, a Sowing Dance and a Reaping Dance. She glossed over the grosser aspects of the origins and symbolism of the Sowing Dance, while giving them enough for context.
"When wizards and witches lived among muggles, they helped their communities with rituals like these. Music and dance are a good way to teach charms to a group that has little magic and no wands. Most of the old dances have been forgotten by muggles, but they are still a living part of our tradition, especially among those with ties to the land."
Susan volunteered to lead the chant, a string of syllables that conveyed nothing to Harry, but which was supposed to help barley grow tall and eventually make splendid ale. Seamus Finnegan in particular thought this a very noble idea.
The students linked hands and began moving in a circle. Harry immediately crashed into Draco.
"Move to the left," Draco told him quickly, "Always to the left in this dance, Harry."
In a flash, Harry could picture a page from The Path of Darkness: "-and the priestesses' chief duty was the appeasement of the Great Powers of the Earth. In their ritual dances, they moved, as one must always move in a rite involving chthonic forces, to the left."
At once it all made more sense to him. The steps were not that complicated, though he felt an awful bungler. In the girls' circle, Sally was picking up the dance very quickly, moving neatly and gracefully. The girls were circling much more quickly that the boys, and Susan was calling out the movements.
"Now we stand still. Hermione-back up a step. Now were going to move in and out among the boys. Follow me!"
"Na ei rhystan, rhystan, rhystan,
Forigh' plagath Cthallamanthos,
Dur'nu baglo, Va'su tasno,
Cthallamanthos ya leibam!"
Harry wanted to ask what the words meant, but there was no chance to ask. It was almost hypnotic, watching the girls weaving in and out under the boys upraised arms. For a moment, he thought he could catch the scent of earth and green shoots. There was a part that involved clapping, and another part that called for kicking, which got the boys very tickled and giggly."Oi! Watch it, Finnegan!" Terry Boot complained.
"Shut your gob and think of the ale," Finnegan shot back.
They went through the dances three times before everyone was satisfied that they had been done properly. Faces were flushed and everyone was ready for tea.
And what a tea it was! Susan and Hannah had given a lovingly composed list to the house elves, and everything they had asked for was laid out in grand style. Harry thought that his heroes from The Wind in the Willows would have nodded their own approval. Cucumber sandwiches, with the cucumber cut beautifully thin; potted shrimp sandwiches and egg-and-cress sandwiches and walnut and cream cheese sandwiches; bridge rolls with asparagus tips and tiny shepherd's pies; plain scones, blackberry scones, and ginger scones because Hannah liked ginger; clotted cream and lemon curd and strawberry jam; marmalade cake and Simnel cake and jam tarts. Harry tried a jam tart and liked it, but the taste was new to him.
"They're filled with snareberry jam, Harry," Neville explained.
Hermione listened, trying to continue taking notes while eating.
Neville told them about a plant called Devil's Snare that could trap people. Witch's Snare was a cultivar of that dangerous plant, not as dangerous, and with edible fruit. You used light to avoid the branches catching at you, and also to push them back in winter to get at the fruits: pods of multiple berries that were bright blue when harvested, but cooked down to that purplish colour.
"It's good," Harry agreed, brushing away crumbs.
Dean and Seamus walked by, still stuffing themselves with cake. "This was a great idea, Harry!" Dean said. "Thanks for inviting us! I really learned a lot today."
"Me, too," Seamus agreed, "Ron's going to be sorry he missed it. Those daft girls too." They linked arms and did a few steps from the Barley Twist, getting the words all wrong.
"But what do they mean?" Hermione asked Hannah. "What language is that?"
"No idea."
Hermione went off to ask Professor Burbage about it, and Draco swooped in for mutual congratulations.
"What a success! The girls will want to kill themselves when they hear they missed the dancing! We might get Blaise next time. He was a bit under the weather this week. Theo I don't know about. His father doesn't like the idea of mixing even for educational purposes. He's a bit queer, anyway. We'll have to chip away at the Ravenclaws, I suppose, but serves them right for fancying themselves so clever! I'll write Father tonight and tell him all about it! When the rest are gone let's work out the next programme. I still think we should learn about the important families-teach the new lot a bit of respect."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I think the winged horses got you all the respect that even you could possibly want."
Draco glowed. "Yes. They liked that, didn't they?"
By half past four, the meeting was breaking up, and the students drifted away in small groups. Harry promised to meet his housemates for dinner, even though no one imagined they could possibly be hungry. Draco wanted to settle on the schedule while it was fresh in their minds, and Hermione stayed with them to write down every word for posterity. Neville stayed with them because he was the Serjeant-at-Arms, and it was his duty. He strolled about the room, hands behind his back, a very serious expression on his face.
Professor Burbage took her leave, too. "I'm so pleased you all had such a good time. A wonderful idea, Harry. Same time next Sunday, I presume." She was off in a whirl of lavender silk and the scent of lime flowers.
Hermione said, "Professor Burbage is awfully nice."
"I'll tell her it was really your idea, Hermione," Harry said, feeling a bit guilty.
"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Draco declared. "A good idea is a good idea. Well done, Granger. So-next week- "
They talked another half-hour, and settled on wizarding farming, since Draco pointed out there were lots of dances associated with that, and dancing "always brings the girls." Hermione, surprisingly, agreed, and said it was all very interesting. Draco also felt that the Shepherd's Dance would be appropriate, and he would be happy to talk about the importance of Malfoy Manor in producing wool for robes.
"-and Vince and Greg can add their bit about caring for the beasts."
"Perhaps they could bring a sheep-a little lamb, I mean," Hermione suggested eagerly.
"Granger," Draco said with withering scorn. "This is not lambing time-at least in the magical world. Perhaps the muggles arrange things differently."
"-and that's exactly what we should be learning," Harry broke in, to smooth things over. "People don't know what they don't know. It would be neat if we could have a real sheep."
"Sheep stink," Draco said dismissively. "However, I'm sure one could be sent from home-washed thoroughly."
"That's very helpful of you," Hermione said.
Draco nodded, overflowing with noblesse oblige. Harry was tempted to thump him.
Neville strolled back to them, looking rather cheerful. "I think we should always have a special wizarding treat that muggles don't have," he suggested. "Like those snareberry tarts."
"A very sound idea, Longbottom," Draco approved.
"Yes," Harry agreed, "I think that's just the sort of thing that people enjoy learning about. About this dancing business, though-"
They moved toward the hall, still talking. Harry's mind was half on his Astronomy essay. He stepped past the doorway, following the others.
Splat!
Something heavy and wet hit him in the face, and a horrible stench filled the air.
"GOT YOU! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"It's Peeves!" Draco shouted. He tried to retreat to the clubroom.
Crash!
The doors slammed shut behind them, trapping them under a hail of dungbombs. Hermione shrieked, and then gargled with disgust and fright as the mess spattered into her eyes.
"SNOTTY POTTY! SNOTTY POTTY AND HIS SNOTTY POTTY FRIENDS! GOT YOU!" The poltergeist cackled madly, zooming overhead, pelting them with all matter of nastiness.
"I'll get you, Peeves!" Neville shouted, "You'll never-aaargh!"
"This way!" Harry said, "The stairs!" He wished furiously he knew someway to stop the wretched creature.
Professor Snape would know what to do.
He caught hold of Hermione, who was crying and wiping at her eyes. Half-dragging her, he turned and ran for the nearest staircase. "Come on, Draco!"
Neville was on the other side of Hermione, helping to pull the blinded girl along.
Draco was outraged. "I'll tell the Baron on you, you-you-"
"Hurry, Draco!" Harry shouted. "Up here!"
The poltergeist cackled again, and sounded oddly as if it had an echo. Harry instantly recognised the hated sound of boys' snickers-the kind of laugh he knew from Dudley and Piers and years of Harry-Hunting. Someone had set Peeves on them. Peeves zoomed down again, and yanked on Draco's robes, pulling the boy down hard onto the slippery floor.
"Ow! Harry! Help!"
Furious, Harry whirled on his tormentors and screamed out the first spell that came to him.
"Incendio!"
A roaring jet of flame seared down the hall, catching a surprised and squealing Peeves. There were boys' alarmed shouts, and Harry saw Zach Smith and Ron Weasley dashing away, their faces wild with shock.
Draco looked up, trembling, as the flames died down. Portraits protested in their burning frames. Further down the hall, a suit of armor toppled with a tremendous clatter. Fading squeaks of "Snotty, Rotty, Potty," echoed down the hall.
"Harry!" breathed Neville into the appalled silence. "That was amazing!"
"What this, my sweet?" complained an old man's voice in the distance. "Students dirtying my clean halls?"
"Oh, Harry!" moaned Hermione, at last able to see again, and looking around her in horror, "We're doomed!"
The complaints were coming closer. Harry hissed, "Run!"
He pulled Draco up and waved maniacally at Neville, who caught Hermione by the hand. The four of them ran up the steps and darted down a hall. There was a big door in front of them. Harry sprinted ahead and flung it open, hustling his friends inside. They shut the door and stood there, panting.
"We're safe for now," Harry said. "Let's wait a bit and sneak down to the Great Hall."
"That's all very well," Hermione snapped. "I hope we can find our way!"
"I'm going to get that Smith," Neville vowed. "Imagine! Setting Peeves on a girl! It's very bad form!"
"Absolutely appalling," Draco agreed, flinching as he wiped filth from his robes. "Harry, you nearly toasted me, you know. This robe will never-" He paused, jaw dropping. Harry stared at him, wondering why Draco's eyes were so wide-so very, very wide-
Hermione gasped, "The third floor corridor! We're not supposed to be-here-"
Draco clutched at Neville's arm. All of them were staring straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a gigantic dog with three heads. Three pairs of eyes, three wet noses twitching at the scent of the intruders, three drooling mouths lined with yellowed fangs.
Three throats that growled ominously.
They were too terrified to scream. Quickly, Harry groped for the doorknob, and they all tumbled out of the room. Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran back down the corridor.
"Must-go-down," Harry muttered, not thinking very clearly. They found another staircase and ran down. And down. And down. They did not stop running until they were in familiar territory, not far from the Great Hall.
Hermione clutched her side, gasping.
Draco sputtered indignantly, "What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that in a school?"
They were silent, pondering the matter.
Harry thought quickly. He knew something about avoiding trouble. "We can't be seen like this. Let's get to the toilets and get cleaned up before dinner."
Hermione was in a terrible temper. "You don't use your eyes, any of you! Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
Draco caught his breath, and nodded, "A trapdoor. It's guarding something."
"What's at Hogwarts that needs that to guard it?" Neville wondered.
"I don't know," Harry muttered. "But we should find out. It's not safe."
"Boys!" Hermione glared at them. "You'd be mad to go back there! We could have been killed-or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to wash my h-h-hair!" Her voice broke, and she rushed away.
Draco nodded again, "Sound idea, Granger!" he called after her.
Another furious exclamation, and the door to the girls' toilet slammed shut.
N.A. Wintringham and Graves are listed by JKR as members of the Weird Sisters, and based on the dates of birth she gives them, would still be students at this point. The instuments she assigns them are no doubt meant to be whimsical, but it all sounds like a handful of isolated musicians trying desperately to have some sort of musical culture.
I know that canon Hermione never says anything about playing an instrument, but considering how gifted she is, I tend to believe that her parents would have encouraged something as enriching as music lessons.
The "words" to the Barley Twist dance are in the ancient language of Noknown. I made them up, slightly influenced by H.P Lovecraft.
Please don't send me a review telling me I spelled Serjeant/Sergeant incorrectly. "Serjeant-at-Arms" is the spelling used for the office in the House of Commons.