A Hogwartian Dream

Scene II: The Players

"We got everybody?" asked Crabbe, brow furrowing as he tried to count the nervous younger students standing in a small knot a few yards away.

"Read list," suggested Goyle.

"Read?" Crabbe nervously pulled out the paper. His mother had had him take a Hooked on Phonics course last summer and he was now constantly absorbed in the fascinating world of seeing Spot run, but felt a distinct twinge at the thought of reading in front of people he was beginning to suspect were smarter than he was. He cleared his throat, causing the already jumpy recruits - three unfortunate Hufflepuffs and one Slytherin who hadn't learned to stay clear of the two yet - to take a quick step back. "This is a list," he informed them. "It has words." He looked at it. "I will now read this list. 'Gregory Goyle.'" Goyle continued glaring at the terrified knot until Crabbed elbowed him and hissed, "That's you."

"What's me?"

"Gregory Goyle."

"What?"

A few titters from the younger students cut off abruptly as Goyle began absent-mindedly cracking his knuckles.

"You Gregory Goyle," Crabbe explained with the patience of someone who has had things explained to him patiently his whole life. "You be playing -"

"Quidditch?" asked Goyle hopefully. Crabbe checked the list.

"No," he said, sounding slightly disappointed. "We doing a play."

"What are we playing?"

The smoke coming from Crabbe's ears was nearly visible as he tried to sound out the title. "Pyramid and Frisbee," he said at last. "About dead people."

"Am I dead?" asked Goyle.

"No, you Pyramid."

"Is Pyramid...cool?"

Crabbe shrugged. "He loves Frisbee."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Ultimate Frisbee?"

"Don't think so," said Crabbe consolingly.

"Oh."

Crabbe looked down at his list. "'Malcolm Baddock.'"

"Yes?" asked the nervous Slytherin, nose in the air. Hey, it worked for Malfoy, right?

Goyle peered at him. "You smell somethin'?"

"No, not at all." Malcolm hastily brought his nose back down.

"You play Frisbee," said Crabbe while Goyle continued to look curiously at Malcolm, whose eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates.

"I'm playing a girl?" he asked in horror. Crabbe shrugged. "But what about them?" demanded Malcolm, jabbing a finger at the two Hufflepuff girls still awaiting their fates.

"Is you insinuating I made a mistake?" asked Crabbe, looming dangerously. Everyone stared.

"Where you learn a word like that?" asked Goyle, voice full of awe.

"My mummy - I mean mum," Crabbe hastily corrected himself, glaring around to make sure no one had noticed. "My mum sent me a word a day calendar," he finished proudly.

"Wow," breathed Goyle, humbled.

"But...but I have to play a girl?" said Malcolm again, displaying a distressing lack of Slytherin cleverness. "And...I have to be in love with him?" His voice broke as he looked at Goyle and the full terror of his plight struck him.

Goyle, however, simply looked the other boy up and down. "Okay."

"What?" sputtered Malcolm as Goyle moved to stand closer, but Crabbe was already reading his list again.

"'Laura Madley.'"

"Here?" squeaked the girl, swallowing hard.

"You be Baddock - I mean Frisbee's mother."

"Oh," she looked over at Malcolm, who was trying to edge away from Goyle. "All right."

"'Rose Zeller.'"

The other girl raised a timid hand, nervously chewing the nails of the other.

"You Pyramid's father." When she didn't argue, he continued. "'Vincent Crabbe...oh." He squinted. "I be Frisbee's father. 'Kevin Whitby.'"

"That's me," piped up the last boy.

"You be the lion." He looked blankly at his list, then turned it over. "That all."

"May I have my lines?" asked Kevin.

"What lines?" asked Crabbe, confused again.

"What I say in the play," Kevin explained.

"You say 'roar.'"

Kevin brightened. "I think I can remember that."

"Are we going to - rehearse?" asked Laura.

"Oh, yes!" said Kevin, looking worried again. "I wouldn't want to get to the performance and have the wrong kind of 'roar.'"

"Practice tomorrow night - empty classroom in dungeon," Crabbe informed them.

The Hufflepuffs all looked at each other nervously, Malcolm tried not to look at Goyle. "Perhaps somewhere less damp?" suggested Rose, pausing in her fingernail chewing.

"No," said Crabbe. "In dungeons. It will be surprise when we do the play at the ball. No one can see us practicing."

"Oh." Unable to think of a reasonable argument, Rose went back to her fingernail chewing.

"And costumes?" insisted Laura.

Crabbe looked worried. "Costumes?"

"Yes. We can't just go on to the stage like this!" she gestured at their school robes. "No one will take us seriously."

Malcolm muttered something that sounded vaguely like, "Pyramid and Frisbee...take us seriously..."

"Is something wrong, honey?" asked Goyle, sounding concerned. Malcolm blanched.

"Spells?" asked Crabbe, waving his wand dimly through the air.

"Possibly," consented Laura. "But we'll need several concealment charms and such. Maybe it would be easier just to have the House Elves help?"

"Yes," said Crabbe, looking at the girl suspiciously. In his experience, Hufflepuffs didn't talk much. Was there something wrong with this girl? Was she going to go insane and start hexing them all?

"Should I look into it, then?"

"Sure...do what you want..." He took a step backwards. There was something rather disconcerting about the girl. On the other hand, she was kind of cute. Scary as a rabid Blast-Ended Skrewt, but cute.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded after a moment.

"Costumes," he repeated dutifully.

"Yes," she agreed, squinting at him curiously.

Meanwhile, Malcolm had sidled over to Rose. "Wanna switch parts?"

She looked over to Goyle, who was watching the exchange with a jealous eye. "No thanks," she said as Goyle sidled over. "I'll just be Pyramus - I mean Pyramid's father." As she backed slowly away, Goyle draped a protective arm around Malcolm's shoulders, narrowing his eyes at the retreating Hufflepuff.

"Where you wanna go?" he asked once she had disappeared. "Great Hall? Supper should be out soon. You can sit with me."

Malcolm squeaked.