Ginny Weasley and the Red Shoes

Chapter 11 - Essential Choreography

"We're dead."

Colin and I are plodding back towards Gryffindor tower at our regular gait, though in my mind it's more of a death march: I can feel the weight of doom pulling at me with every step.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I just couldn't think of what else to say." Colin's voice is half-apologetic, half-defiant. "I didn't mean to put us on the spot like that, but I couldn't not say anything and she got me so wound up -."

"It's all right, Colin," I cut him off shortly. "It's water under the bridge now."

It's not really, but what else am I to say to Colin? I'm a little upset with him for being rash, but far angrier at Parkinson. And, truth be told, a bit vexed at myself for reacting like a nutter yet feeling gratified at having been singled out by Sinistra - all because of that damned fairy tale...

... Honestly. Now I'm just being stupid again. Mostly I can't help fuming at being backed into a corner by that sneaky, underhanded cow -

"So you're fine with using that Muggle story, then?"

Something about Colin's voice makes me glance over, but I quickly turn away, not quite able to meet him in the eye. At this moment I'd much rather he didn't look too closely. I shrug noncommittally, and keep my voice cool.

"Never mind the story. We've got a bigger problem than that. It's not the subject that Sinistra's going to judge, it's the performance."

Somehow saying this out loud crystallizes our anxieties. Colin and I come to an abrupt halt, to look at each other in dismay. We don't need to say anything aloud: we cannot even get past choosing a form, much less plan out an entire routine. The only reason we agreed on our audition waltz was because it was the only one we both felt least likely of bungling.

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Colin mumbles. I can only nod stiffly. We'll do it and die trying. If only Parkinson didn't have to be a member of the audience.

We're starting to head up a staircase when a familiar voice calls out to us from behind.

"Ginny! Colin! Hey, wait up!"

We turn to see a red-faced Neville Longbottom hurrying down the long corridor towards us, and being dragged along next to him by the upper arm - Eloise Midgen. As they draw close, I can see that Eloise looks extremely nervous, but Neville has a determined glint in his eyes. They come to a halt before us.

"Eloise - has something - she wants - to ask you," Neville tells us between gasps. Turning to Eloise, he nudges her slightly and says kindly, "Go on. Tell them - what you told me - during the meeting."

"I-I want to help you guys," stammers Eloise, quite embarrassed. "W-with your dance, I mean."

"Er... you do?" Colin asks cautiously.

We exchange glances and I can tell he's thinking the same thing I am - Eloise isn't much of a dancer herself to be offering help to anyone. I chew my lip, wondering what I should say. Even knowing this I have no desire to hurt her feelings by turning her down flat.

Eloise already seems to know what we're thinking, however. Blushing fiercely, she looks down at the floor.

"Listen, I'm aware that I... I'm a terrible dancer, and I can't stop myself from tripping all over the place, but... please understand, that's not what I wanted to do for you."

"Er... it's not?" blurts out Colin with an audible air of relief. I cringe inwardly, but Eloise doesn't seem to be put off. She sighs deeply and, surprisingly, looks us in the eye. Her face is still flushed, but now with determination.

"The whole reason why I joined the Dance Club to begin with is that I really adore choreography. Every time I read a new story or hear a new song, my imagination can't stay still. I love visualizing all the footwork for a piece; I can spend hours a day just thinking about how I'd plan out everything out. And even if I can't quite manage to stay on my feet, I still... just want to know what it feels like. For a real dancer."

Eloise pauses, probably at the startled expressions on our faces. It strikes me how much it must be costing her to admit this openly to us, and I feel for her. She must be so frustrated with the club by now. I certainly would be.

"All I'm asking is... please let me help with your audition. That dance you've chosen - when you were talking about it, Colin, my brain starting working again, and I think I could give you some help... with the choreography, you know... That is, if you didn't mind...."

Eloise trails off uncertainly, as Colin and I turn to stare at each other.

"Ah, look... I didn't mean anything by it. I just thought that after what happened today I should -."

We leap forward, each grabbing hold of an arm, startling her. Neville grins broadly.

"Are you kidding? OF COURSE we want your help!"

"You're an absolute angel! When can you start?"

Eloise breaks into a shy smile. It lights up her face.

*****

Eloise, Colin, and I are sitting at a table in a corner of the library, keeping our voices down lest we attract Madam Pince's wrath. Neville has tagged along, which is perfectly fine, as he's certainly earned the right. I'll have to thank him properly later.

Right now I can't help but be impressed with Eloise. In short order, she quickly read the original fairy tale and then listened politely as Colin and I filled her in on our "concerns." And if nothing else, she's a good mediator: she managed to cut right through the heart of our disagreements and gotten us to listen to her. No small feat, I must admit.

I'm starting to feel like things aren't so hopeless for us after all.

"Hmm...." Eloise drums the edge of the table while she pauses to consider something, the rest of us waiting patiently for her to speak. Finally, she looks satisfied enough to fill us in:

"Well, we do have a few problems, but I think we can work around them."

"Go on," prompts Colin, his usual chipper voice returning for the first time in days. It makes me wonder what my voice has sounded like for the past week. Petulant like Mum's when she's in a mood, I'll bet.

"First, the Revue rules only give us a limited amount of time to present our act, and even though this story isn't that long, we're still going to have to make some changes."

I think she's being prematurely optimistic about our chances of becoming the Dance Club's entry act, but I keep my peace.

"Another problem is that there are only two of you - but I think we can manage something, at least for Sinistra and the Club."

"What do you have in mind?" I ask.

Eloise looks over at me, suddenly beaming.

"There's the role of Karen, the poor, proud girl - she's central to the story, of course, so that will be your part, Ginny."

I merely nod, unsure if I care too much for the description. Eloise then casts Colin an apologetic look.

"But that also means, Colin, you'll end up having to perform multiple roles."

"Just so long as none of them are queens," Colin quips as he gives me a wink.

"Er...," hems Eloise, unsure if he's joking, while Neville laughs. I roll my eyes, but with amusement rather than annoyance.

"Seriously, though, we need at least three other parts to make this work: Karen's old guardian, the beggar who curses the shoes, and the executioner."

Colin's smile slips and I feel a twinge of misgiving. But Eloise continues blithely on:

"However, as this is being judged by the Club, let's not think about planning out a complete production. I think we should stick to the most fundamental scenes - starting with when the beggar curses Karen to when the executioner cuts off her feet. You two alone will be able to do that. And if the Club likes it, well... we can go from there."

Eloise looks anxiously around the table for approval. Of course, Colin and even Neville are both nodding, agreeing with this perfectly sensible course of action. Of course we should stick to the most dramatic scenes of the story. Keep it simple, keep it crisp - perfectly sensibly practical. Of course.

A rising panic is building inside me. I quickly squelch it down with dreams of tap dancing violently across Pansy Parkinson's face. It's working; I feel calmer... calmer...

Meanwhile, plans are already underway.

"Are you sure there won't be a problem with my playing both the beggar and the executioner?"

"Neither will be on stage at the same time. But you'll have to do a fast costume change."

"How about the part where Colin curses the shoes?" asks Neville. "Do you think he'll be allowed to take his wand onstage, if it's only for show?"

"I don't think there are any rules that expressly forbid it. But I'll check with Sinistra to be sure."

"And what are we going to do about the climax scene, where Ginny loses her feet?"

"I guess we should have an axe hidden somewhere on stage. I'm sure Fawcett won't mi -."

"WE ARE NOT HACKING MY FEET OFF!!!"

My outburst draws the attention of everyone within our immediate vicinity, including (who else?) Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who are doing homework at a nearby table. I vaguely wonder if Hermione is debating exercising her prefect duties - perhaps she won't, if Ron doesn't back her up. Regardless, the damage is done: I can feel my face glowing like a cherry. And everyone is staring at me blankly.

"Well of course not, Ginny... it's just an act. We'd only be simulating the action."

"You can't drop that scene - it's the whole heart of the story, losing her feet."

"We don't have to use a real axe, if that's what's bothering you. I'm sure we could find a prop or something."

I stand there looking back at them, feeling incredibly foolish. Why did I react like that? Now I have to tell them something, quickly....

But, as it turns out, I don't. Madame Pince has finally zeroed in on the source of the noise.

"CAN'T YOU READ THE RULES? HAVE YOU NO MANNERS? THERE IS NO SHOUTING IN THE LIBRARY!!!"

I suppose there are worse humiliations than being chased out of a library by a screaming banshee in full view of friends, family, and would-be lovers. I should know; I'm keeping track.