The Best Revenge

Chapter 32

When he had been the unhappy and neglected boy in the cupboard of the house in Privet Drive, Harry had experienced how miserably slowly time could pass. At Hogwarts, the experience was quite the opposite.

The weeks seemed to pass in a whirl of activity and excitement: study, lessons, club meetings, the visits with friends from other houses, the visits down to Hagrid's hut, his Saturday afternoons with Professor Snape. There was so much to do and to know. His continuing concern about the Stone, and Muffy's reports of Professor Quirrell's movements were a secret, absorbing adventure. It seemed incredible that Halloween was almost upon them.

He was doing very well in his classes-among the best in his year. Professor Snape seemed pleased with him, though of course, he always had advice about how to do even better. Professor McGonagall gave him her small smile of satisfaction in the course of nearly every class. Transfiguration, especially, was hard, but he felt like he had grasped the concept. Professor Snape said the world was divided into those who "got it," and those who never would. Harry's essays were not the best in the class, of course: Hermione's were longer, Draco's more polished, Terry Boot's more philosophical. However, his magical talent made up in practical lessons what he sometimes lacked in pure theory. At least his handwriting was legible, and he knew how to organise his ideas. Without his lessons last summer, and his regular Wednesday study sessions, Harry was certain that his work would have been mediocre at best.

He always thought more clearly after he had a bit of breakfast in him. Hogwarts food was unfailingly, reliably wonderful. He was dawdling over an extra piece of buttered toast one Saturday morning, when Susan's owl swooped in, a large, shapeless paper package in her talons.

"My costume!" Sally cried. "Thanks, Pallas! Thank you, Susan! My dance will be ever so much nicer now!"

"Let's go see it right away!" Hannah said, very excited. In a bustle of crumbs and nearly-spilled pumpkin juice, the three first-year girls vanished from the table. The boys all rolled their eyes in mutual sympathy.

"Witches," sighed Ernie, with an air of great worldly wisdom.

Harry scowled at his harmless toast. Talent Night was this next Friday, and Harry wished he had some wonderful accomplishment to exhibit. Sally would uphold the honour of the firsties. She was going to dance something called "The Dying Swan," with two upperclassmen playing the music on lute and cello. He looked up the table. Ernie's cousin Primula and her sixth year friends were going to model dress robes they had devised themselves. Cedric and his friend Periander Summers were laughing, and quoting bits of dialogue from a famous French wizarding comedy Periander had translated.

Summers told them, "It's called 'Hélas, jai transfiguré mes pieds.'"

Harry obviously looked very blank. Cedric grinned, and said, "It's about a transfiguration disaster. We call it 'Oh, No! Not the Feet!'"

The table laughed, Harry along with them. He still wished he had something he could do. He couldn't sing, couldn't play an instrument, couldn't dance (except in the club with everyone else), didn't know any clever French plays.

Justin was thinking along the same lines. "I wish we could do something."

Eloise Midgen leaned over the girl next to her, and said, "People do all sorts of things. Lysandra Warbeck is going to show off her embroidery, and Hector and Troilus Doge are going to show the photographs they took of muggles last summer."

"That's-odd," Justin remarked.

"We must be able to do something!" Harry growled.

"Well-you're getting to be really good at flying, Harry, " Ernie suggested. "Maybe you could bring a broom and zoom across the stage." He laughed when Harry threw his crusts at him.

"Cedric and that lot are doing a bit of a play," Justin considered. "Are there any stories we could act out? I mean-like wizarding stories."

A thoughtful silence.

"I've got my copy of Beedle the Bard in my trunk," Harry told them. "We could take a look, anyway."

On the way to their dorm, Ernie suddenly said, "I am not going to do Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump!"

Justin made a face. "Too right," he muttered. "Whatever that is."

Ernie's kneazle Widdershins mewled out a greeting, glad to see them back. Harry dug through his trunk and found the book Professor Snape had given him.

"I read it once, but I don't remember all the stories." He paged through. "The Fountain of Fair Fortune, The Wizard and the Hopping Pot, Babbitty-sorry Ernie-The Tale of the Three Brothers-"

"That's it!" Ernie declared. "We can do that one! There are three of us!"

"I can't memorise a lot of lines on short notice," Justin warned him.

"We don't have to! We can ask one of the girls to read the story, and we'll act it out-except we need somebody to be Death and somebody to be the second brother's sweetheart."

But, all in all, it did not seem hopeless. The three of them read though the story (it was very short) and could see how it might be done.

"We need a cloak," Harry pointed out. "And I suppose we could put a sheet over whoever was Death. Maybe somebody could help us with that."

"We can do this," Justin agreed, very pleased. "Might I borrow this book, Harry? I don't know these stories."

"Fine. But be sure to give it back. It was a present from Professor Snape."

They waited for the girls in the Common Room. After some time, Susan and Hannah came down, giggling and chattering.

Susan said, "Sally's doing her exercises. Her costume is gorgeous!"

Hannah sighed.

Taking that as his cue, Harry said, "We were working out a plan to do something ourselves for Talent Night. You could join in, if you like."

Instantly he had their complete attention. The boys burst out with their ideas. Both girls knew the story, and thought it was the hand of Fate that there were three Hufflepuff boys in their year.

Ernie said, "One of you can play Death, and one of you can be the dead sweetheart. We'll have to find someone to read the story."

Hannah considered. "Or one of us could play Death and the dead sweetheart. Death can wear a mask. The sweetheart just stands there. And the one who doesn't act can read the story bits."

The girls withdrew to confer and were back in less than two minutes.

"I'd rather read," Susan said. "Hannah thinks it would be fun to play Death. We'll need a cloak and a mask and something for Death to wear that Hannah can cover her robes with. We'll have to write it out to so you can each say something as one of the brothers."

Ernie contributed, "I can ask my cousin Primula to help us make costumes. Somebody in the House might have a mask, or one of the sixth or seventh years could transfigure something."

It took very little time to throw their little skit together. A hooded black cloak and a loose black robe with huge sleeves were not too hard to find. Try as hard as they might, however, they could not find a mask or anyone who knew how to transfigure one. Hannah thought that a white scarf tied tightly over her face would look spooky enough. Cedric told them there was a spell to make a mist that would fill the little stage at the end of the Common Room.

"And we can pop a grey beard on you easy as easy for the last bit, Harry," Cedric told. "People do it as a prank all the time."

Sally came down, and was disappointed to find herself left out of the playlet.

"But you have your own dance, all by yourself!" Susan said. "That's much grander! You'll be the best thing about Talent Night!"

"I want to help, all the same," Sally pouted.

In the end, they decided that Sally could be the one who killed the eldest brother and took his wand. All she had to do was put her arm through the curtain, pretend to cut Ernie's throat, and then grab the wand. On her first try, she grabbed Ernie by the nose instead, amidst endless giggling. Hannah came out as Death, to gloat over the body, and kept breaking up as she attempted to spread out her arms in a menacing, billowing way.

"You look like Professor Snape!" Justin called out.

"Here, now!" Harry protested, grinning himself.

And it was worse when Hannah was pretending to be the dead sweetheart. When Justin called out, "Oh, ring of power, show me my dead sweetheart!" she strode out, pigtails bobbing, stared at Justin, and they both burst out laughing.

"Oh, stop!" Susan said indignantly. "This is serious! Hannah, you're supposed to be dead and suffering!"

"I can't-stop-" Hannah puffed, pink with mirth. "Justin-stop looking at me-"

Annoyed, Susan said, "And how are you going to get back into your Death costume fast enough?"

"Maybe Primula can do a charm," Ernie suggested.

Susan frowned. "Sally, isn't your dance about dying? Why don't you show us your dance and put Hannah in the mood?"

"I don't want to show you until I have my costume on, and I need my music," Sally said, shaking her head.

Not knowing Amelia Bones, Harry had no idea how much Susan resembled her redoubtable aunt at the moment. She immediately tracked down Merton Graves, and dragged him back to the firsties' rehearsal, telling him they had an emergency and needed Sally's music.

"Herman's in Arithmancy just now," he objected.

"You'll be enough," Susan declared. "We really need to see something serious right away. We can draw the curtain so it's just us. Sally, please, please fetch your dancing robes and your special shoes. Maybe then everybody won't be so silly. I don't want to look stupid in front of the entire House! What if Professor Dumbledore comes? He does, sometimes, you know!"

So Sally ran up to get the precious package, while Susan and Harry and a still-giggling Hannah acted out the third part of the story. The idea of wearing a long white beard made Harry smirk.

"Don't grin like that, Harry!" Susan ordered. "You're giving up the Cloak of Invisibility to your posterity!"

"His posterior?" Justin gibed.

Susan threw the book down. She shouted, "You're impossible! I don't want to do this if you won't do it right!"

They were attracting a lot of attention. Luckily Sally arrived, and the curtain was drawn to let her change into her costume without being seen. After a few minutes, she told them she was ready, and they clambered through the curtain and sat down cross-legged to watch.

Harry stared at Sally. She was beautiful. She had a wreath of silk flowers on her head, and was wearing a white dress like a princess, with the puffiest skirt in the world. It was not full-length, but just past her knees, and the bottom of the skirt was artfully frayed, making it look even more ethereal. She had strange white slippers tied with satin ribbons.

"Whoa, Sally!" Ernie breathed in admiration.

She looked embarrassed. "It's not the right costume for the Dying Swan," she admitted. "It's just my leotard and my tutu from my last recital. We danced the Panorama from Sleeping Beauty. But I know the Dying Swan, and my teacher isn't here to tell me I'm too young to dance it."

"I love it," Hannah said. "I wish I had robes with a skirt like that. Let's see the dance!"

"Merton, you can start now," Sally called through the curtain. She scowled at her fellow first years. "If you laugh, I shall never speak any of you again as long as I live."

The haunting cello melody began, and Sally rose up on her toes and drifted toward them, already quite another being. From the first measures, laughing was the last thing on their minds.

It was not long, and it was not the greatest performance of the dance, but the children did not know that. To Harry, it seemed beyond belief that anyone could do that. Sally must have some sort of special magical ability. The swan struggled against her impending doom, and settled slowly into a pose on the floor, her arms stretched out in front of her and her head slightly to the side. The last trembling notes died away.

"That was-"

"-Amazing!"

"Thank you, Merton!" Sally called, bounding up from the floor.

Harry just stared. Before he could utter his own compliments, Susan broke in excitedly.

"Sally-I know! Why don't you play the dead sweetheart and do your dance then? It would fit right in! The sweetheart doesn't say anything, and that way as soon as the second brother kills himself, Hannah can come right out as Death and gloat over the both of you!"

"That's perfect!" Hannah said. "I could never play the sweetheart as well as you, Sally! I'll be Death, and you be the sweetheart. Ernie, maybe your cousin Primula could cast a color charm and make Sally grey all over like a ghost!"

"I really like those white robes," Ernie said reluctantly.

"Grey would be better for a ghost," Sally agreed, "as long as it's not permanent." She thought a bit, "It's really more like dancing Giselle, but I don't know any of the variations from that. I'll change what I do with my arms a bit to seem more like a spirit and less like a bird!"

After that excitement, the last details were put in order. Merton and Herman were prevailed upon to play additional music for the skit, mostly the old wizarding ballad "The Three Brothers" to help set the mood.

For the death of the first brother, Sally would not want to scramble on the floor in what Ernie and Susan persisted on calling her "dancing robes." Instead, Harry would provide the mysterious arm of the new Master of the Elder Wand.

Professor Sprout was in and out of the Common Room, and felt that Talent Night was shaping up well. Quite a few of her badgers were performing, and perhaps, given the precedent, even more of them would be encouraged to participate in the next such event in the spring. To her delight, she discovered that all the firsties were performing together in a special presentation of the Tale of the Three Brothers.

The dress rehearsal surpassed all her hopes. As she did every year, she sent the non-participants to their dormitories, and summoned each performer or group of performers individually. So much talent! So many gifted children! What good taste Morwenna Robbins and Primula Macmillan had! How well the Llewellyn brothers sang! Who would have thought that the Diggory boy could be so clever and funny?

And all her firsties! They were a prime lot this year. Of course, she said that every year, but this year was special-and not just because of the Potter lad. They were all doing very well-all nice children. They got on well together, and they had started that splendid club! They would really deserve some special recognition at the end of the year. They bustled in, holding piles of costumes, and Primula Macmillan, Merton Graves, and Herman Wintringham were with them. The two boys brought their instruments.

"Music, too!" Sprout exclaimed. "I know I'll enjoy this!"

She did, too. And she was very impressed. Yes, they were young and mostly amateurish, but it was really a clever way to tell the story. And the little Perks girl! Sprout had not taken much notice of her, other than to see that she was pretty. A middling student, but quiet and well behaved. To have such an unusual talent! She had really thought for a moment that the children had persuaded a ghost to participate. She noted Primula's backstage work with the charms. That deserved points, both for the skill shown and the kindness to the young ones. The musicians, too, would be rewarded. Such lovely music. She must tell the Headmaster. He was very fond of music himself. He had almost promised to attend the Hufflepuff Talent Night. This might sway him.

The Headmaster's throne-like seat was placed front and centre before the small gold-draped stage. In a comfortable chair, Pomona Sprout sat beside him. It had been a struggle, but she had kept the firsties' little play a secret. The Headmaster would be so surprised and pleased to see these six children from such different backgrounds, working together to tell that fine old tale.

She had not put them first in the program, but halfway through. She would start with some of the solo performances. They performed just in front of the gold curtain, so the skits could be set up behind them. Everyone loved a laugh, so Cedric and Periander's dialogue would be at the end, and any damage to the stage caused by the rough-housing and zany prank jinxing would not spoil things for anyone else.

It was going quite well, other than a third year suddenly being afflicted with stage fright. She was soothed and persuaded to start her flute solo again, and finished with credit. The Headmaster was clearly pleased, twinkling throughout and applauding with enthusiasm. Their own House ghost, Friar Roger, was beaming and clapping, up in his comfortable aerie near the ceiling.

At last it was time for the firsties. Susan Bones, her red hair twisted into an intricate fishtail plait, her robes immaculate, stepped onto the side of the stage, and announced in a clear voice, "The First Years of Hufflepuff House wish to present our rendition of The Tale of the Three Brothers, by Beedle the Bard."

The lights in the Common Room dimmed. Beside her, Sprout heard the Headmaster shift in his great chair. Glancing to the side, she saw the twinkle replaced with a look of surprise and deep thought. He leaned forward, as if not wishing to miss a word. Lute and cello combined played the well-known ballad softly.

"There were once three brothers," read Susan,"who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight."

The assigned prefect spelled the curtain open, and revealed Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, and Harry Potter, all in their student robes and Hufflepuff ties, strolling out of the wings. A thick mist rose, creating a mysterious scene.

"Look! A river!" cried Ernie in a deep, manly voice. There were faint snickers from the audience.

"Indeed!" loudly agreed Justin. "It appears too deep to cross!"

"Whatever shall we do?" wondered Harry. "Wait-I know!-one, two, three-"

The boys shouted as one, pointing their wands.

"Pontus!"

In a shower of turquoise sparks, a little footbridge appeared centre stage.

Applause, and some wondering chatter at the success of the firsties' advanced spell. The spell was actually cast by Primula behind the draperies, but that was undetectable to the audience and served its purpose, as first Ernie, then Justin, and finally Harry strutted victoriously over it, each giving the audience a wave or a thumbs-up.

Out of the mist on the other side of the stage, a figure emerged: A hooded black figure, hard to see clearly at first. The face was-white?

Dumbledore stiffened, uneasily reminded of the War. No-that was not a mask, but a veil or scarf. Still, it had looked for a moment like-

"I-am-DEATH," pronounced the figure.

Nervous giggles rippled through the audience. Hannah-as-Death spread her cloak out and confided to the audience in a stage whisper, "I shall punish their arrogance, but I shall do it with CUNNING."

She turned to the three brothers, and in a sickeningly sweet voice she said, "I congratulate you, mighty wizards. Lesser beings drown in that stream, but you have proven yourselves too powerful for me. Name whatever prize your hearts desire."

Ernie, in the deep voice of the eldest brother, demanded, "Give me the most powerful wand. I want a wand that always wins for its owner-one that is worthy of a wizard who has conquered Death!"

Death produced a stick, and said, "Take this wand of elder wood. Never shall it fail the hand of its Master."

Justin spoke next. "I want the power to recall others from the Land of the Dead. Give me a mighty charm!"

"Take this stone," said Death. "It has the power you seek."

Hannah's robes billowed as she turned to Harry. "And you, the youngest- what would you have?"

"I-hmmm-" Harry rubbed his chin, pretending to be thinking. The audience rustled and chuckled. "Wait! I know!" said Harry. "I want something that will hide me from YOU!"

"You ask too much!" Death protested.

"You said I could name my prize!" Harry insisted, folding his arms. "I don't want you following me around. Give me what I want, or I'll tell everybody that Death is a BIG FAT LIAR!"

With a huff that sounded just like Hannah Abbot, Death pulled off its black hooded cloak and handed it to Harry, saying, "Very well. This is the Cloak of Invisibility. Don't lose it! It will hide you from any danger."

"Cool!" Harry said, admiring it.

Another wave of giggles.

The curtain was shut, and Susan read on:

"In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination. The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village..."

Ernie swaggered in as Susan read the story of his unfailing success in duels.

"I have a wand that Death gave me," he announced. "It makes me invincible!" He stretched and yawned and lay down, pretending to sleep.

"That very night," read Susan, "another wizard crept upon the oldest brother and as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed..."

An anonymous hand, holding a dagger, emerged from the draperies in back of the stage, and in a not-very-realistic gesture, appeared to cut the throat of the sleeping brother. Nonetheless, the audience was quiet as Ernie slumped in death. The hand groped about for the wand, and then, seizing it, pulled it back out of sight.

Death emerged from the shadows and spread its arms wide over the scene.

"And so Death took the first brother for his own."

The curtain was spelled shut, as Susan continued her reading.

"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone..."

The curtain opened on a dense mist. Justin stood at stage left, the stone in his hand. He called out, "O Stone of Power! Return to me my dead sweetheart!"

Sprout noticed that Albus was fidgeting again. What was wrong? Well, the music would settle him down.

Herman and Merton began playing a slow and melancholy tune. Out of the mist appeared an unearthly figure, arms crossed on her breast like a corpse, who seemed to float across the stage. The audience murmured in admiration as Sally, grey as any ghost, performed her dance very creditably. Sprout beamed, trying to catch the Headmaster's eye, but he was totally engrossed, and seemed rather sad. As the music came to an end, Justin pretended to stab himself (with the same fake dagger used before) and Sally sank to the floor beside him. Hannah came out, and spread her huge black sleeves wide once more.

"-And so Death took the second brother for his own," read Susan.

The curtain shut. The students' murmur grew in volume and there was some tentative applause, here and there, for Sally. It was hushed as Susan began reading again.

"But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him..."

The curtain opened again and revealed Harry Potter, his back to the audience. He turned, and laughter rose, as he was revealed to have a long white beard. With the addition of long white hair and glasses, he looked a little like a small version of Albus Dumbledore himself.

He grinned at the audience and slowly removed his cloak.

"I've lived a long, long time, and now I think I'm ready to move on." He folded the cloak and laid it down on the stage in front of him. "This cloak will be an heirloom in my family, passed down from generation to generation. And now-Oh, Death, I'm WAITING!"

Death emerged from the side of the stage and said, "There you are at last! Well, if you are ready-if you are prepared-"

"I am," answered Harry firmly. "Let's go!"

The familiar melody of "The Three Brothers" was heard again, this time played with triumphant finality. Harry linked arms with Death, and they slowly walked away together, as the mist rose about them.

"And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life. The end."

The curtain closed.

A burst of applause and some cheerful catcalls. The curtain opened and all the firsties came out. Hannah was busily untying her white veil and finally yanked it off, revealing her pink and breathless face. The greying charm was removed from Sally, who looked very different in her natural dark hair and white costume. Susan motioned Primula to come out from behind the draperies, and then to the two musicians to come up and bow with them.

"Well, Albus!" Sprout gushed in pleasure. "Wasn't that delightful? And little Sally-Anne Perks and her muggle dancing! She must have exceptional talent."

Dumbledore smiled and applauded and expressed his complete agreement with Pomona's sentiments, concealing how very disturbing-in so many ways- he had found the whole performance. To his relief, the lights in the Common Room had brightened once more. The history of his own wand-the wand in his robes this very minute! Harry Potter with the Cloak of Invisibility! That very cloak was in his office, kept for the boy, and the thought of it caused Dumbledore quite an uncomfortable pang of conscience. He had meant to give it to Harry for Christmas, but with things as they were, perhaps he should advance his schedule...

The Resurrection Stone was the one Hallow he had not succeeded in tracking down. He had longed to find it and in doing so, to find closure for the terrible events of his early life. The charming little dance had somewhat softened his distress. Music was a great healer, truly.

But to see Harry doing an impression of-well-Dumbledore himself-was alarming on a deep level. Especially a Dumbledore going off on the next great adventure so blithely. Death was nothing to fear, of course, but Dumbledore knew he had a great deal to accomplish before he could allow himself to pass on. And so, for that matter, had Harry...

Note: I enjoyed the concept of Harry catching "the conscience of the King" without even knowing it. Some of the lines were my homage to CAPSLOCK!Harry, who otherwise annoys me so much in canon. Thank you all for your continuing support and reviews. Even when I don't agree, I find new things to think about. And when I do agree-I shamelessly adopt the ideas for my own.

The wizarding ballad "The Three Brothers," is known in our world as "The Three Ravens," and has different words. Same tune, though. It makes sense to me that the story would be known in ballad form before being written down in prose.