CHAPTER 29: BRUTTO SAN VALENTINO
America loved every holiday, and Valentine's Day was no exception. He took advantage of every excuse to throw a parade and have people send him chocolate. He hadn't been planning on doing anything at Hogwarts, though. Professor McGonagall would probably skin him alive if he threw a surprise parade on the grounds. Glinda the Sparkly Wizard, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas.
He was walking into the Great Hall with Canada, Ron and a de-catified Hermione when he was nearly blinded by the amount of lurid pink in the room. The huge flowers decorating the walls were pink. The heart-shaped confetti falling from the ceiling was pink. Pretty much all of the students' faces were pink from embarrassment at being involved in this whole affair. And a smirking Glinda's robes were pink. There was far too much pink, all in all. "What the f-"
"I guess this is what he meant by 'morale booster', eh," groaned Canada, cutting America off. It was probably for the best that he did, all things considered. "I'm going to go grab some food before it's all completely buried in confetti. See you all later." Kumawhatever-his-name-was let out an indignant growl as Canada picked him up, interrupting his efforts at catching what he probably thought was a strange pink snow, and went over to the Hufflepuff table.
A few minutes later America received a gift that very nearly made up for all the pink horror. Harry walked into the Great Hall from Quidditch practise and took a double take. America wished he had a camera, or at least Collin Creevey, at hand in order to immortalize his dumbfounded expression. The Boy Who Lived stumbled over to them, clearly feeling just as confused as they were. "What's going on?" he asked, sitting down and brushing confetti off his bacon.
"That's the question we've all been asking ourselves, dude," said America. "Though you totally put it in a way more polite way than I was going to. I don't know exactly what's happening, but I think I know who we can blame for it." He jabbed a thumb towards Glinda. Just in time, it seemed, because the Sparkly Wizard was currently waving to everyone for silence. Unlike Dumbledore, McGonagall or the Bat-Dude, he was having a bit of trouble getting everyone to pay attention. Speaking of those three, America found himself once again wishing for a camera. Dumbledore merely looked amused, but McGonagall and the Bat-Dude both looked a few inches from killing a man. One flamboyant, pink man.
Once enough people had noticed that they were supposed to be quiet, Glinda shouted, "Happy Valentine's Day! And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all – and it doesn't end here!" Oh, dear God. Glinda clapped his hands and through the doors to the Entrance Hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. If they'd been cast in Snow White, they all would have been good contenders for Grumpy. Or maybe those expressions were just because they'd been forced to wear golden wings and carry harps.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Glinda. Yeah, those aren't the words I'd use to describe Grumpy and the Eleven Other Grumpys. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines!" God help those unlucky enough to get sent one of those. "And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!" Flitwick looked as if he'd rather be anywhere than his current position. Snape now looked millimetres away from cursing Glinda. And America would probably cheer if he did.
"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," said Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her timetable and didn't answer.
America passed Canada and noticed the northern nation was smiling a bit too much after what they'd just been subjected to. "What's up with the grin, bro?"
Canada's smile widened and gained a rather unpleasant edge to it. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking this is a lot like something you might do, eh."
"WHAT?!" America spluttered, trying to come up with a coherent response. "How could- what the- why would you think that?! There's totally no way I'd do this! If I was in charge, there would be flashing neon lights, and at least one parade, and cute girls instead of grumpy dwarfs!" This seemed to only make Canada happier, and for once America did not consider that a good thing. "You suck, dude, did you know that?" Canada shrugged, still grinning from ear to ear, and went off to class.
The day turned out to be even worse than America had feared. It seemed as if every class they went to was interrupted by a Valentine, and most of those Valentines seemed to be for him. He was a bit surprised by that, actually. He wasn't the modest type, he knew he was hot. But he'd always felt that his looks had only really blossomed in his teen years, and he looked twelve at the moment, so he hadn't expected to have girls fawning over him quite yet. There were other, more attractive (for the moment, at least) guys at Hogwarts, so why did everyone seem so fixated on him?
"Alfred, you're saying your thoughts out loud again," whispered Ron.
America jerked back to reality, which was currently History of Magic class and a particularly boring lecture by Professor Binns. "Huh? How much did I say?" he asked, trying not to let his panic show. Some of the things he'd been thinking could be rather compromising.
"Just 'why does everyone seem so fixated on me'," said Harry, giving up any effort at paying attention to the teacher and joining their hushed conversation. "Which I'm rather curious about, too."
Hermione let out a disapproving 'tut' noise at their talking during class, but then she said, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" The three boys stared at her blankly. She sighed, putting down her quill and giving up on writing notes. The lecture was really, really boring, even by Binns' standards. "For one thing, Alfred, and I say this objectively, you're really cute. And you're very… er… outgoing and confident, so pretty much everyone at school has noticed you at some point. And you're American, which gives you a sort of exotic air. Is it really all that surprising you've picked up a few admirers?"
Ron reached into America's bag and pulled out a handful of cards. "You call this a few admirers?" he asked incredulously. "It seems like the entire female population of Hogwarts has been dying for a chance to shower him with affection."
America leaned back in his chair, gesturing to himself. "Well, come on, dude, it's not like you can blame them. I am quite the catch." Harry and Hermione both snorted, Harry from amusement, Hermione from disbelief. She went back to her notes, which was probably a good thing, because Harry and Ron's grades depended on those notes.
At lunch, Canada came over to the Gryffindor table with an armful of Valentines. "These are for you, Alfred," he said, dropping them in America's lap. "The dwarfs keep giving them to me by mistake, eh." He didn't even bother disguising the annoyance in his voice.
America glanced around the table. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville were all staring at him in shock, while Dean and Seamus looked angry. America opened his mouth to tell them that he hadn't been expecting this many, and really it was more annoying than anything else, and he wished those girls would send these cards to someone else, but then he realized just how much he'd want to punch anyone who said something like that, and decided to say nothing.
America's feelings of guilt continued, until finally, late in the afternoon, as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms, a particularly grim-looking dwarf caught up with Harry. "Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!" it shouted, elbowing people out of the way to get to his target.
Harry blushed, his eyes darting towards the line of first-years nearby, his gaze lingering on Ginny Weasley in particular. He tried to escape, but the dwarf was faster, switching tactics to kicking people in the shins. "I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," said the dwarf, twanging his harp and somehow managing to remind America of Sweden. Oh, wow, I haven't gotten a musical one yet. I should probably rescue Harry, but this is just going to be too funny to ruin. Man, of all the days to not bring a camera… I should do what Japan does and just bring one with me everywhere I go.
Harry tried to weasel his way out of it, shooting desperate looks towards America, Ron and Hermione, but the other two seemed to be unwilling to pass up such hilarity as well. He and the dwarf ended up having a tug-of-war with Harry's bag. Unable to take the strain of being pulled at by a twelve-year-old and a dwarf, it broke at the seams, making a rather impressive mess. Harry caused a bit of a traffic jam trying to pick it all up.
Then Malfoy and Percy Weasley showed up and suddenly the prospect of Harry receiving a musical Valentine became a lot less funny. America moved to help Harry pick up his things, but Harry's nerve, which had remained strong when faced with trolls and Dark Lords, gave way to this situation and he tried to make a break for it. The dwarf grabbed his knees and he fell to the floor in a rather unheroic way.
"Right," said the dwarf, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing Valentine:
"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."
America tried not to laugh. He really did. But in the end… let's just say that Yoda had to describe it, it would have fallen under the 'do not' category. Percy Weasley did his best to get everyone to move along. "Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now. And you, Malfoy."
America managed to reign in his laughter and glance over towards Malfoy. He was doing something best described as leering, showing something to Crabbe and Goyle. Any urge to continue laughing vanished when America recognized the diary, or Necronomicon, or whatever that book really was. Harry wasn't pleased, either, saying in a quiet voice that was no less threatening for it, "Give that back."
"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Malfoy, who clearly could not recognize a tome of eldritch lore when he saw one. Everyone in the hall fell silent, probably realizing that Malfoy was about to release one of the Great Old Ones from their prison to bring doom to the world. Ginny in particular looked rather terrified, and probably with good reason.
"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy in a tone reminiscent of Germany.
"When I've had a look," said Malfoy, waving the Book of Evil tauntingly at Harry.
Percy began to say something about being a prefect, but Harry seemed to have snapped. "Expelliarmus!" he cried, and the book went flying out of Malfoy's hands. America reached to catch it, but Ron did the same thing, and they ended up just bumping into each other. Hermione picked it up from the ground where it fell.
"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!" Harry's expression said quite clearly that he couldn't care less.
Malfoy looked furious to have his 'prize' stolen from him. As Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully at her, "I don't think Potter liked your Valentine much!" Ginny ran into class with her face in her hands, and Alfred had to physically restrain Ron from attacking Malfoy. Normally he would have been fine with letting Ron curse the brat, but with the state his wand was in, he probably would have turned himself into a sea lion or something.
A/N: I'M BACK! HUGS FOR EVERYONE! \(^-^)/ I haven't finished DAI yet, but I'm a bit less consumed by it, so I was able to focus again! Yay! Now it's time to answer questions... prepare for a truly gargantuan Author's Notes! To Actual God: Yeah, we might not be as loud and show-offy as Americans, but we're still strong! And the Necronomicon is a fictional book containing information on the Great Old Ones from H. P. Lovecraft's Cthulu Mythos. Some people have actually made real-life versions of it, but unless it drives you insane or kills you when you read it, it's just not quite the same as the real thing. Or not real thing. I don't know, just Google it. To SoulxMakaLover: No, I've never hidden something in a piano. The pianos in my household have never been those glossy black curvy ones you see on TV, and not suitable for storage. I've used piano benches, though, does that count? To TheChibitalian: No, I've never done that, but it sounds fun. It also sounds like it would probably annoy the delivery person, and I always try to avoid causing fuss for people in the food service industry, so I probably wouldn't actually do it. In some ways I'm too Canadian for my own good. To Berlin: HORSIES! Sorry. It's been a while since I went horseback riding. I'd get back into it, but I'm so busy with other things I don't think I'd have time for it. As for the question, I'd definitely go with never writing again. How are you supposed to be able to write well if you can't see what good writing looks like? Wow, look at that, that wasn't so bad. Thank you all for being so nice during my hiatus! NEXT CHAPTER: A horrible truth about Hagrid is learned, and Canada considers new subjects. See you all next time!