The Plays The Thing

Third: Special thanks to my mom who edited and proofed this fic as diligently as she edits my college term papers, and to Kyla for her enthusiasm, comments and being a wonderful friend! On with the show!
 

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CHAPTER I
 

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Sleepily, Ron and Harry made their way down the stairs from the male dorm to the common room where Hermione was already waiting. They found her on the couch, impatiently reading a book and tapping her foot. As she heard their footsteps she glanced up smiled quickly before jumping up and grabbing her books and bag.
 
“It’s about time,” she said trying not to nag.
 
“Yeah, Ron overslept,” Harry said ruefully as he slung his own bag over his shoulder.
 
“I did not!” Ron cried incredulously, following his two best friends out of the portrait hole. “It was Harry!”
 
“Oh, sure,” Hermione said disbelievingly as she caught Harry’s wink at her. It was so easy to tease Ron. He scuffed behind them sulkily until Harry turned around at him and grinned.
 
“You’re forgiven.”
 
“Gee, thanks,” Ron muttered, though with a hint of a smile.
 
Suddenly the threesome stopped abruptly in the hallway, as there was a crowd around the bulletin board just outside of the Great Hall. Looking above Harry’s head, as he was slightly taller, Ron could make out Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Mandy Brocklehurst, Justin Finch-Fletchley and other students.
 
“What is it?” Harry murmured, craning his neck. Hermione managed to work her way through the crowd to read for herself.
 
“Oh my!” She gasped in the excited way she did when they were assigned a new project she was interested in. Ron and Harry exchanged looks and then stepped forward as some of the students moved on, making room. “Play auditions!” Hermione continued eagerly. “Much Ado About Nothing, by Shakespeare!”
 
“Can you bring your voice down an octave?” Seamus joked beside her.
 
“Sorry,” she said with a laugh as she turned around to face Harry and Ron. “Merlin, I love that play! It is so witty and lyrical! It’s not very serious or as profound as works like Hamlet, but it is so thoroughly entertaining! Then again, there are some tense dramatic moments as well.”
 
“Shakespeare?” Ron said quizzically causing Hermione to dramatically place both her hands on his shoulders firmly and look at him quite aghast.
 
“Oh, Ron! Tell me you know who William Shakespeare is.”
 
“Okay, ‘I know who William Shakespeare is.’” He smirked at her. Hermione turned her face to Harry, eyes wide in desperation, and he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Ron joined is as well. “Breathe, Hermione. I know who he is, Muggle playwright, correct? During the sixteenth and seventeenth century? Mangled the poor Weïrd Sisters in that Scottish play…”
 
“Macbeth,” Harry supplied.
 
“Yeah, that one. And he’s in the history books as an example of how far the Ministry has come with those memory charms and dealing with Muggles who ventured into the Wizarding World. There wasn’t really a decent Accidental Magic Reversal Department.”
 
“Really?” Harry asked, now interested in more wizarding history that he had never learned due to being raised up by the Dursleys! He looked at Hermione for confirmation.
 
“Yeah, Ron’s actually right,” (Ron scoffed indignantly at her surprise) “Shakespeare wandered into a forest one night on Midsummer’s Eve and encountered a few magical creatures wildly celebrating, not to mention using love potions on poor Muggles. The Ministry goofed and weren’t able to make him forget it, but only made him think it was a dream, as it is told in the play where he recounts it all.”
 
“Wow,” Harry murmured.
 
“Anyway, we all have to audition! Let’s see,” she began reading out the notice. “‘Auditions will be held on Sunday, March 10-’ that’s next Sunday! ‘-at noon. Have one speech/monologue from a Shakespeare play other than Much Ado About Nothing memorized.’ Then it lists the parts:
‘DON PEDRO, prince of Arragon
DON JOHN, his bastard brother
CLAUDIO, a young lord of Florence
BENEDICK, a young lord of Padua
LEONATO, governor of Messina
BALTHASAR, attendant on Don Pedro
CONRADE, BORACHIO, followers of Don John
DOGBERRY, a constable
VERGES, a headborough
HERO, daughter to Leonato
BEATRICE, niece to Leonato
MARGARET, URSULA, gentlewomen attending on Hero
MESSENGER
SEXTON’”
 
“Interesting,” Harry said thoughtfully, though he still wasn’t sure if he would be any good at acting.
 
“Benedick and Beatrice are sort of the leads, though the play is really an ensemble thing. Claudio and Hero are like Romeo and Juliet, Don John is a true villain and Dogberry reminds me of Bottom in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Hermione was talking a mile a minute.
 
“So, you really think we should all audition?” Harry asked skeptically.
 
“Sure, what can it hurt? It’d be a nice change from other assignments; the fine arts are one thing lacking here,” Hermione said thoughtfully.
 
“Well, let’s see…” Ron mused as he ran down the dramatis personæ list again with his index finger. “Benedick or Claudio will probably be perfect for you Harry, such romantic leads-” He broke off abruptly when Harry pushed him forward purposely. He grinned again and continued. “I’ll take the other one. Hmmm… Hermione, guess your choice is limited. Oooh – Maybe I could be the prince…and the bastard brother? Sounds perfect for that git Malfoy!”
 
“On the contrary,” a cold and familiar voice drawled behind them. “I believe princes are generally wealthy nobles which seems to fit me better. And, as for you, Weasley, I think perhaps Balthasar, the servant. Or perhaps you are the bastard brother, you know, with so many children sometimes legitimacy is a difficult thing to prove.”
 
Ron, Harry and Hermione all spun around to see Draco Malfoy standing between his fellow Slytherins Blaise Zambini and Malcolm Baddock.
 
“You better take that back, Malfoy,” Ron sputtered dangerously.
 
“You’re right, Weasley. That red-hair and freckled face is a dead giveaway.”
 
Ron took another step forward but he was stopped when Hermione brushed past him, stepping between the two enemies.
 
“So, Malfoy, you thinking to test your acting chops? I never thought of you as the acting type.”
 
“Aw, did you miss my performance during third year?” He smirked at her, cradling his arm in mock pain.
 
“You know, none of these parts here is described as ‘stuck up prat’, so you might as well not bother,” Harry remarked, fuming at the reference to the anguish Malfoy had put them all through, and especially Hagrid, with the “Buckbeak Incident”.
 
“Every play has a villain, Potter. Do you think I’d leave it to Gryffindors to take all the leads and heroes?” He gave a sardonic grin and laughed at all of their expressions. Without another word, merely a cocking of his head towards the Hall, he led his companions through the entryway for their breakfast.
 
“What do you think are his chances?” Harry remarked after them.
 
“I really don’t know,” Hermione said softly. “I guess there’s a good chance he could get Don John’s part. I just… can’t… imagine him quelling his smarmy smugness and sneers to play any other part in such a play. Maybe he could be Richard III… or Iago…if we were doing Richard III or Othello!”
 
“Humph,” Ron scoffed.
 
“Well, let’s go to breakfast!” Hermione said, trying to regain her former enthusiasm. “At lunch we can go to the library and pick out monologues!”
 
“Swell,” Ron and Harry said together as they trudged after her to breakfast.
 

* * * * *

 
“I can’t find anything!” Ron fumed stubbornly as he flipped through the pages of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
 
“Oh, honestly, Ron, it might help if you stop and actually read something on the pages,” Hermione snapped back under her breath. They were sitting in the library, where it seems more than a few students had come to check out various plays of Shakespeare, combing though volumes and leafing through quotes looking for audition materials.
 
“What kind of speech do you want?” Harry asked his friend. “Comedy? Romantic? Despairing? Dramatic?”
 
“How about something short and with no tongue-tied lines. That Elizabethan language strangles me simply to read, let alone to speak.”
 
“Then perhaps, thou had best not partake in this endeavor,” Hermione joked under her breath. Ron rolled his eyes and tried to ignore her.
 
“Okay, Ron, repeat after me,” Harry instructed, reading from the end of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “‘Whereat, with blade,’”
 
“‘Whereat, with blade,’” Ron repeated.
 
“‘With bloody blameful blade,’”
 
“‘With bloody blameful blade,’”
 
“‘He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody breast.’”
 
“‘He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody breast-’ Hey!” Ron stuck out his tongue at Harry and went back to searching the plays for himself. “I’ll find something on my own!”
 
“Find anything?” Harry asked, turning to Hermione.
 
“I think I might do Juliet’s speech before she drinks the poison. Or maybe Ophelia’s when she is going mad – but that might be less original.”
 
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. ‘I was thinking about doing a speech from Hamlet, but most are such predictable pieces at this point; maybe something from Henry V, or Macbeth. I don’t know.”
 
Hermione shrugged. “Well, they’re still good speeches. You just want something no one else will audition with! That just adds competition!”
 
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me doing something from Macbeth!” The three friends looked up at the sound of the Irish accent belonging to their housemate Seamus. He was grinning at them, a well-worn copy of As You Like It tucked under his arm.
 
“Hey Seamus!” Hermione said brightly. “Which speech are you doing?”
 
“‘All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players…’”
 
“Ah, good one. What part are you hoping for?” Harry inquired.
 
“Oh, I’m not picky. Just someone dashingly handsome, or” he grinned, “being evil for a change might be fun.”
 
“Heh,” Ron spoke up. “That part’s already taken.”
 
“Oh?” Seamus asked.
 
“Malfoy’s apparently going to audition,” Hermione explained.
 
“Great Prospero! My, oh my!” Seamus tsked. “This could be interesting.”
 
“Oh!” Hermione suddenly exclaimed, clamping her own hand over her mouth to keep away the glares of Madam Pince. “I want to do a Lady Macbeth speech!!” The boys watched her with bemused fascination as she began tearing through the pages searching for Macbeth. “But there are so many… which one should I choose?” She looked up at them expectantly.
 
“I don’t know, but I found something else for you, Ron,” Harry said with an evil smile as he began reading from his own copy of Macbeth. “‘If it were done when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done quickly.’ Say that three times quickly.”
 
Ron scowled at him again just as Seamus began to attempt it.
 
“Seamus! Can you say that again, I’m not sure I caught it all!?” Harry joked.
 
“Jasus, Mery and Josiph!” Seamus exclaimed, exaggerating his accent again. “Actually,” he began again, more composed, “Are you willing to give a speech your ‘all’, Ron?”
 
Ron looked up suspiciously. “Yeah… I guess. Maybe I can show up that bastard Malfoy.”
 
“Well then, may I recommend Mercutio’s famous ‘Queen Mab’ speech from Romeo and Juliet?”
 
“Oooh, Ron, if you do that speech well it is marvelous!” Hermione gushed, her face still buried in Lady Macbeth’s lines.
 
Harry flipped through to Romeo and Juliet and began looking over the last act. “Do you think I’d be pushing it to do Romeo’s death speech?”
 
Hermione and Ron shrugged noncommittally.
 
“You know,” Seamus said thoughtfully, “It is interesting that Much Ado About Nothing is mostly a comedy and we are all choosing dramatic speeches!”
 
“Hmmm… you have a point,” Hermione said, chewing her lip nervously. “But, I mean, most of the true monologues or long speeches in the comedies are dealing with the serious matters. The jokes are all exchanges between characters and quips…”
 
“Whatever. You know, Professor Trelawney is directing this so she’ll probably cast us according to wild predictions, tea leaves and our horoscope…” Harry muttered ruefully. “I’m sure she’ll be disappointed she can’t cast me as Romeo or Hamlet or Caesar or Macbeth – someone whose death is written in the stars and in their fate.” Trelawney had a habit of constantly predicting Harry’s early death.
 
Seamus, Ron and Hermione all laughed at this, as it was probably true. Suddenly Harry snapped his fingers as he flipped back to Macbeth and began reciting:
“She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
 
He paused for effect and then flipped forward through his text.
 
“That was good,” Ron said encouragingly.
 
“Yeah, but how about something more obscure? A little Richard II anyone?”
 
“A ‘little Richard’? Wow, Harry, for that pun Shakespeare is spinning in his grave.” Hermione smirked at him, stifling a laugh. Harry smiled broadly back at her and noticed Seamus also grinning, but he didn’t answer the inquiring looks they were all getting from Ron.
 
“Anyway, here’s some John of Gaunt. You know:
‘This royal throne of kings, this scept’red isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England…’”
 
Harry paused to take a breath and flip forward to the next speech he was considering and did not notice his friends staring at him in awe.
 
“Wow, Harry, you have like this natural… aura of power around you – like as a leadership quality. I suddenly have the urge to get up and sing ‘Hail Britannia’ at the top of my lungs!” Seamus commented to a startled-looking Harry.
 
“Oh…um…” He blushed. People had told him this before, isn’t that why he was in Gryffindor? And he had faced down Voldemort twice, saved Ginny Weasley from the basilisk and Tom Riddle/ young Lord Voldemort and dealt with everything else that was thrust upon his shoulders. But now wasn’t the time to think about all of that. “Thanks, I think. But actually, I’m sort of partial to Richard’s own speech where he realizes he isn’t protected simply by the divine right of kings: ‘For God’s sake let us sit upon the ground / And tell sad stories of the death of kings…’”
 
“Mmm…” Hermione nodded. “Okay, then, I think that is enough indecision. So… I’m doing Lady Macbeth on hearing the prophecies of power for her husband, Ron’s doing Mercutio’s ‘Queen Mab’, Harry is the soon-to-be deposed Richard II and Seamus is Jacques on his ‘Seven Stages of Man’ speech. Then it’s settled.”
 
They all nodded and stacked up the various books to take with them for complete memorization.
 
“To tell the truth, I’m not looking forward to doing all this memorization,” Ron whispered conspiratorially to Harry as they exited the library as a group. “All these lines, well, when it comes to all this I’d enjoy being a man of few words!”
 
Harry laughed but couldn’t help wondering if he’d be able to manage all this extra memorization with the rest of his workload.
 
“True. Then again, it beats Potions.”
 
“Anything beats Potions,” Ron said with a grin and they headed off to their next class.
 

* * * * *

 
 
Ron stepped up right behind Hermione, who was reading a Muggle book entitled Shakespeare on Faeries & Magic, and practically shouted in her ear.
 
“‘O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you’!”
 
“Ron!” Hermione shrieked as she jumped visibly in her seat. She whirled around to glare at him, since he was leaning over her shoulder from behind the couch, and rubbed her ear looking injured. “Maybe you should do Puck’s speech from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You seem to enjoy sprightly and mischievous tricks.”
 
“Gee, I’m sorry Hermione, did I startle you?” He replied with a half laugh and mock innocence, not bothering to walk around and sit on the couch but instead climbing over with two quick movements of his long legs. He sunk down beside her and regarded his scribbled version of his speech nervously.
 
“So, you seem to have the first line down,” Hermione said wryly, getting back at him for his oral jab.
 
“Oh, and I suppose that after only two days you have your whole speech down perfectly?”
 
“‘Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis’d. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’th’milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without-’”
 
“-Okay, okay!” Ron conceded, interrupting Hermione’s insanely fast reciting of her lines. He gave a heavy sigh just as Harry walked through the portrait hole.
 
“Hey, guys, what’s up?”
 
“Hermione is a freak and has already memorized her speech, so now she’s doing some extracurricular reading.”
 
“And you?” Harry asked Ron.
 
“I’m stuck on my first line.”
 
“‘O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you’?” Harry asked.
 
“Oh swell, you know the same amount of my speech as I do,” Ron grumbled looking sullen. Harry laughed and walked around the couch so he could face his friends.
 
“Come on, Ron, it can’t be that bad. Just keep repeating, like, the first three lines over and over, then add a line or two and keep repeating those five lines over and over again and keep adding and repeating.”
 
“Humph, that makes it sound easier,” Ron muttered.
 
“I’m sure you’ll get it,” Harry said encouragingly. “And, if you don’t make it all the way through, I’m sure you could get the part of the Messenger or the Sexton…” He finished with a mischievous look in his eye. Ron glared at him for a moment, as well as Hermione who was shaking with silent laughter and looking guilty, before returning his glance to his speech on the parchment in his hands.
 
“Ginny told me she was going to audition too,” Hermione said in a halfhearted attempt to change the subject.
 
“Yeah,” Ron said. “I think she’s doing something from Romeo and Juliet.”
 
“Oooh, you have competition for Beatrice!” Harry told Hermione.
 
“Who said I want to be Beatrice?” Hermione retorted hotly.
 
“Hermione,” Harry drawled, “I have read the play.”
 
She could only laugh at this and nod her head slightly.
 
“It would be nice. Of course, there are only a few female roles anyway.”
 
“Well, you are Beatrice. And… I mean that as a compliment.”
 
“Wait – what are you talking about?” Ron asked, looking up.
 
“Ron, have you even bothered to read Much Ado About Nothing?” Hermione said, rather exasperated.
 
“Uh…” Ron muttered. “Through Act One…”
 
“Ron!” Hermione gasped. “That’s only three scenes.”
 
“Well, I’ll get there eventually,” He replied huffily.
 
“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”
 
“Gee, I’m sorry I’m not as perfect as you are,” Ron said back, his voice rising.
 
“Oh, get off it! The point is, how do you even know what character you want to be or like or anything… you don’t know what they are like!”
 
“Whoa, come on guys!” Harry said, breaking in between them. “The putting on of this play is supposed to be fun. Don’t take everything so seriously. Ron, don’t get stressed over the speech, you’ll be fine. It’s Trelawney, remember? And Hermione, it’s okay, Ron will get to the rest of the play when he does and it doesn’t matter what character he likes because that doesn’t mean he’ll get that part.”
 
Ron and Hermione continued to glare at each other for a moment, fuming, until finally they grudgingly switched their frowns into semi-smiles.
 
“Sorry,” Hermione muttered.
 
“Yeah, sorry,” Ron replied. Harry shook his head at them sadly and smothered his own laugh. It was unbelievable what Ron and Hermione would argue over.
 
“I say we take a break and do some Potions homework.”
 
“Okay,” Hermione said, shutting her Shakespeare book and pulling out her Potions folder.
 
“Did you just suggest we do Potions homework?” Ron choked out. “And this is supposed to be a better alternative to memorizing this speech?” He looked at Harry like he had gone mad. Harry once again had to try not to laugh. He wasn’t to eager too do his homework either, but if there was one way to get Ron to focus back on the speech…
 
“What?” Hermione asked, as if confused that this suggestion would be met with resistance.
 
“Uh, I think I’m going to go upstairs and work on my speech,” Ron said quickly, grabbing his speech and dashing up the stairs as if there was no tomorrow.
 
“Okay,” Harry said, his eyebrows rose in contrived innocence.
 
“Bye!” Ron hollered from the landing and there was the definitive sound of a door shutting.
 
“Okay, then,” Hermione began, pulling out a piece of parchment. “I think we should start with-”
 
“’Oh! You know, I just remembered,” Harry said, jumping up from his seat and snapping his fingers. “I need to go clear some, uh, extra-Quidditch practices with Professor McGonagall.” With that he quickly made his own exit, stopping to take a deep breath once outside of the portrait hole. “That was close!”
 
Back in the common room Hermione looked around her at all the vacant seats. Turning her attention back to her own Potions homework she shook her head in confusion.
 
“What the hell was that all about?”
 

* * * * *

 
Harry, Ron and Hermione all walked cautiously through the entryway into the Great Hall. All the tables had been cleared away and replaced by rows of seats, and up at the front the usual staff table had been replaced by a solid-looking stage. They had seen the Hall changed for special events such as the Yule Ball, but never had they imagined it being transformed into such a perfect theatre.
 
They found three seats together and were soon joined by Seamus, Ginny, Fred and George Weasley, Lee Jordan, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Colin Creevy, Lavender Brown, Katie Bell and many of their other classmates. Harry also noticed Draco Malfoy entering the Hall with Malcolm, Blaise, Graham Pritchard, Crabbe and Goyle.
 
Finally, the lights dimmed slightly and a solo spotlight appeared on the stage.
 
“Gee, that won’t make us anymore nervous,” Ron muttered irritably.
 
“Ssssh,” Harry said. “Trelawney might pick up on your negative vibes and it could affect your casting!”
 
“Hey!” Ron replied, rolling his eyes at the mention of negative vibes.
 
Just then a disembodied voice wafted in through the Hall.
 
“Welcome, my students.” After a few seconds a thin and heavily veiled figure emerged from the shadows onto the stage. It was the familiar figure of Professor Trelawney. “Today you are here to let us all evaluate your talents as actors and the ability to get inside the character of someone completely different from yourself. I will call each of your names up, in the order that you signed up, and your will perform you speech for us. I will rely not only on your performance here, but also on the visions of my Inner Eye. The results will be posted tomorrow morning.”
 
There was a cumulative rustle in the Hall as everyone shifted nervously, took last minute glances at speeches, or whispered doubts to each other.
 
Professor Trelawney made her way down the side steps of the stage and took a seat in the front row.
 
“Seamus Finnigan.”
 
Seamus jumped in his seat, and then stood up carefully, winked at Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny and then made his way eagerly up the stairs onto the stage. He took a moment to adjust under the spotlight and glanced out at the audience before taking a deep breath and beginning.
 
“‘All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His act being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwilling to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth…’”
 
Seamus continued the speech as most of his fellow students either watched in awe at his ease or fidgeted in their seats, nervous about their own upcoming turn. Perhaps it seemed bizarre, considering what they were auditioning for, but this was the first time for most of them that they were exposing themselves so openly in front of their classmates. Once they were given roles, lines, direction, and were placed upon the stage in a scene with others, they would be fine. But in the darkened Hall-auditorium with their Divination teacher rambling on about her Inner Eye, well, they were rattled in their confidence. Except for Seamus. And, by going first, he seemed to successfully break the ice and everyone got a little more comfortable with the situation after he finished to a nice round of applause and shouts of encouragement.
 
Next up was Fred, who did the speech of the drunken porter from Macbeth, followed by George doing a speech by Falstaff from Henry IV, part I. Their ease and comedic send-ups further served to loosen the nerves of the crowd as the auditions continued.
 
Hannah Abbott… Malcolm Baddock… Justin Finch-Fletchley… Lavender Brown… Katie Bell…
 
“Hermione Granger.”
 
Hermione got up with a wink to her friends and strode up to the stage.
 
“Her self-assurance is unbelievable,” Ron muttered to Harry, who nodded silently.
 
“Well, she told me she was in a play once back in her Muggle school. And… she’s Hermione.”
 
Ron looked like he wanted to say something but stopped when Hermione began speaking. Her voice echoed loudly and confidently across the rows of chairs.
 
“‘Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
What thou art promis’d. Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o’th’milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great;
Art not without ambition, but without
The illness should attend it…’”
 
When Hermione was finished she gave a little nod of her head towards the crowd and then half-skipped back down the steps back to her seat. Before she had even sat down the next name was called out by Trelawney.
 
“Harry Potter.”
 
Harry raised his eyes at Ron before getting up and passing Hermione in the aisle. He ascended the stairs to the stage slowly, deliberately. Before Hogwarts he had been invisible. Ever since he had come here he was constantly the center of attention; it wasn’t something he solicited, but wizards watched what Harry Potter did. But this was a different kind of attention. To get on the stage you had to command attention; it was entertainment. So, Harry shrugged his shoulders and launched into what he hoped was a decent rendition of Richard II’s speech.
 
“‘For God’s sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been depos’d, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos’d,
Some poison’d by their wives, some sleeping kill’d,
All murder’d…’”
 
There was the now customary polite applause when Harry finished, though it may have been slightly louder than the rest.
 
“Ron Weasley.”
 
Ron gave one frantic look at Hermione before crossing Harry in the aisles. Ron, who had always been in the crowd of Weasley siblings, and now always in the shadows of his best friend Harry. Ron, who was now alone on a stage, a spotlight beating down on him, about to perform one of the most famous speeches of one of the most dissected, interesting and complicated of all of Shakespeare’s characters.
 
“‘O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In a shape no bigger than an agate stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,’”
 
He held up his own fist in a demonstration and took a step towards the front of the stage. Hermione gave a knowing look at Harry as Ron began to get more comfortable with the speech and fell into a rhythm.
 
“‘Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs;’”
 
At this line Ron wrinkled his nose at the thought of spider legs being so near to one’s person.
 
“‘The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces, of the smallest spider’s web;
Her collars, of the moonshine’s wat’ry beams;
Her whip, of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film;
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid.’”
 
Now Ron was really getting into it, moving around animatedly motioning to an invisible Romeo his fantasy of Queen Mab.
 
“‘Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love…”
 
When Ron had completed his speech there was almost as much applause as Harry had received and he was welcomed back to his seat heartily by his two best friends. Trelawney had barely shown any reactions or expressions to the students, which was interesting in itself, but Seamus whispered that he could have sworn she had closed her eyes with her palm on her temple for a few of the speeches.
 
“Ginny Weasley.”
 
Ginny rose from the end of the aisle shyly and made her way to the stage, instantly diving into a heartfelt rendition of Juliet’s speech awaiting day to end and for her Romeo to come to her on that, their wedding night.
 
“‘Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus’ lodging; such a waggoner
As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy closed curtain, love-performing night,
That runaways’ eyes may wink, and Romeo
Leap into these arms, untalk’d of and unseen.
Lovers can see to their amorous rites
By their own beauties; or if love be blind,
It best agrees with night…’”
 
Hermione, Harry and Seamus all watched in awe at the innocence and earnestness of Ginny’s performance. It was wonderful. On the other hand, her three older brothers seemed to be fidgeting in their seats as they worked out the meaning of this speech.
 
“‘Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match
Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods;
Hood my unmann’d blood, bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle, till strange love, grown bold,
Think true love acted simply modesty…’”
 
By now Ron was visibly squirming in his seat and Fred and George were winking knowingly to each other. Ron smacked them.
 
“…‘and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out into little stars…’”
 
“Did you know she was doing this speech?” Ron hissed at Hermione who motioned for him to be quiet.
 
“…‘O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess’d it; and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy’d…’”
 
All three Weasley jaws dropped, but seconds later the speech was over and Ginny was bowing and returning to her seat.
 
“Ginny? We have to talk,” Ron muttered in her direction until Hermione elbowed him.
 
“Quite being an overprotective brother. Poor girl, she has five. Besides, it was just a speech!”
 
Ginny smiled in appreciation and rolled her eyes in Ron’s direction.
 
“Perhaps my loving brother would have preferred to see me give a suicide speech? Is that more appropriate?” She winked at Harry who was taken a back; this must have been the Ginny Ron always insisted existed (when Harry wasn’t around!)
 
“You’re just mad ‘cause she was so good,” Fred joked.
 
“Our little girl is grown up!” George said with a fake sob.
 
“Honestly, Ron, it’s just acting,” Ginny teased.
 
“Fine,” grumbled Ron. Then, suddenly, he sharply turned back towards her. “ ‘Just acting’?! Wait! Which part was just acting? You shouldn’t know-”
 
But he was hushed by glares and by the announcement of the last name.
 
“Draco Malfoy.”
 
With his characteristic grace and grandeur Malfoy made his way up to the stage.
 
“I wonder what speech he chose,” Hermione mused.
 
“I can’t imaging him picking anything that would require him to get out of character,” Harry commented wryly. “Can you imagine him having to play a virtuous character?”
 
They all laughed under their breath at this and then turned their attention back to the Slytherin, once again, standing in the spotlight as if he owned it.
 
“Well, he certainly has stage presence…” Ginny murmured, causing Ron to turn a suspicious glare on her again.
 
Malfoy began brilliantly.
 
“‘We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd:
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them and when they have lined
their coats
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.’”
There was a huge eruption of applause at the end of his speech and Hermione, Harry and Ron exchanged looks.
 
“Iago. How perfect,” Hermione said with a wan smile.
 
“Did you hear that? Did you hear that?” Ron gushed excitedly. “He soooo just declared himself to be a deceiving prat!”
 
“Hmmm… ‘I am not what I am,’” Harry contemplated aloud.
 
“What’s with all the applause?” Ron said irritably, looking around.
 
“Malfoy was the last one, we can all leave now, Ron, that’s what,” Fred laughed giving out a cheer and jumping up from his seat. The rest of them followed, getting up slowly to stretch their limbs and take another look around the Hall, which was now an auditorium.
 
“Well done, my students. There is much talent here; I can see those of you who have acted before have gained from the experience. Tomorrow, during breakfast, the results will be posted. Those who make the cut are to report here before dinner tomorrow night to pick up parts and a rehearsal schedule. Thank you.”
 
Professor Trelawney gave a little nod and then seemed to float back up the stage herself, to shut off the lights and presumably inform the House Elves they should setup for the next meal.
 

* * * * *

 
“Well, I must say, I’m glad that’s that for now,” Hermione said cheerfully as they reentered the Gryffindor common room. “I mean, I realize the staff approved this diversion because, well, it serves to help distract us from all that happened last year and all that lays ahead. But, it has also distracted us from our studies!”
 
Ron, Harry and Seamus looked at her, mouths agape, in astonishment.
 
“Blimey, is she talking about homework?” Ron asked skeptically.
 
“I think so,” Harry whispered back. Seamus gave Harry and Ron a sympathetic look and bolted for the stairs.
 
“I’m going to go find Dean,” he hollered over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner of the spiraling steps.

“It’s true,” Hermione continued unruffled. “We’ve spent so much time memorizing speeches and such that we’re quite behind on the rest of our studies.”
 
“Er…” Harry said, staring desperately at Ron.
 
“Um, but, um, you never told us what you thought of the auditions,” Ron said quickly, trying to forestall her.
 
“Oh. Well,” she began thoughtfully, taking a seat on the couch. “I think overall they went pretty well, considering ninety percent of students here have never acted or had a drama class.”
 
“Yeah…” Harry replied.
 
“Who do you think has no chance?” Ron said, taking a seat next to Hermione. She frowned at him but seemed to be considering.
 
“Well, a few people did slip up on their speeches. And then there were those that just… can’t…act…”
 
“Like Malfoy?” Ron interjected eagerly.
 
“Actually, he did pretty well. Iago is sort of the classic villain but very intricate and-”
 
“-Yeah, but he wasn’t acting. I mean, he is a double-crosser and jealous and evil.” Harry replied.
 
“I guess,” Hermione sighed, “Though I’m actually thankful he didn’t do something comedic or romantic! Can you imagine that? Ugh! Creepy!”
 
Harry and Ron both nodded their heads vigorously in agreement.
 
“And I’m thankful Crabbe and Goyle only came along to fall asleep – and not to audition! That would have been worse!” Harry laughed.
 
“Eek!” Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thought and laughed along with Ron. She didn’t seem to notice his face flush.
 
“Then again, I still think that with Professor Trelawney casting everything, it’s all going to be pretty screwy.”
 
“Heh,” Ron scoffed. Then an idea seemed to strike him. “Uh, Hermione?”
 
“Yes?” She turned and looked at him directly.
 
“Well, uh, seeing as we’re behind on real school work, do you think you could do me a favor?”
 
The blood seemed to be rushing into Hermione’s face this time.
 
“Uh, sure, well… wait… what is it?” She stuttered.
 
“It’s just… I’m stuck after act one. I mean, when – ER– if I get a part I’ll read it then, but, could you just summarize the play for me?”
 
He was looking in earnest at Hermione but Harry was confused. Since when did Ron care or request to be lectured over something? Unless he wanted to know the characters so he could figure out who everyone should be. Or unless he’d just rather sit there while Hermione spoke to him…
 
Harry suddenly let out a chuckle that he tried to quickly smother as Ron and Hermione whirled their heads around to see what he found so funny.
 
“Uh, nothing,” he tried to muster convincingly but they didn’t buy it. Desperate he reached over on the table and grabbed the nearest copy of Much Ado About Nothing and chucked it in Ron’s lap. “You could just read the summary on the back,” he suggested, eyebrows raised.
 
Ron glared at him irritably but picked up the skinny book, flipped it over, and began reading in a bored manner.
 
“‘Much Ado About Nothing is one of Shakespeare’s most imaginative and exuberant comedies, contrasting two pairs of lovers in a witty and suspenseful battle of the sexes. Attracted to each other, the maddeningly skeptical Beatrice and Benedick are deadlocked in a lively war of words until their friends hatch a plot to unite them. The mutually devoted Hero and Claudio, on the other hand, all too quickly fall victims to a malicious plot to part them. Near fatal complications ensue, but with the help of the hilarious Constable Dogberry and his confederates, the lovers are ultimately united…’” Ron trailed off, glancing suspiciously at Harry and then down at the back cover, but didn’t say anything. Hermione didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. Or if she did, she didn’t show it.
 
“That’s about it, Ron, without reading it yourself and experiencing all the witty jokes and wonderful lines. Don John of course devises the ‘malicious plot’. He’s not simply the Prince’s bastard brother, the war they are returning from in the opening of the play was a civil war – Don John was fighting against Don Pedro. So, they are supposedly ‘reconciled’ but he is jealous of Claudio and his engagement to Hero because “that young startup hath all the glory of [his] overthrow’.”
 
Ron nodded at Hermione’s elaboration while Harry once again had to stifle a laugh. However, he was distracted when he glanced up at the clock and almost jumped out of his seat.
 
“Ron! Quidditch! Practice!”
 
Startled, Ron looked up at the clock and jumped up as well.
 
“Man, I didn’t realize it was so late.”
 
“I’ll grab our stuff,” Harry hollered from halfway up the stairs where he was taking them two at a time.
 
“Okay,” Ron yelled back.
 
A few seconds later Harry returned with two broomsticks and other equipment in his hands, Seamus and Dean joking, laughing and carrying their own equipment behind him.
 
“Here,” Harry said, tossing Ron’s broom to him. Ron caught it and then took the rest of his equipment from Harry. Then he looked back at Hermione who was organizing some books on her lap.
 
“Hey, Hermione, you want to come watch?” He asked. She usually did, so it wasn’t unusual, but Harry detected a slight octave raise in Ron’s question.
 
“Um…” Hermione took a quick survey of the books scattered around her and then nodded. “Yeah, sure. I can study there anyway.” With that she stood up, grabbed two books, some parchment and a quill pen and fell into step with the other four boys. When they stepped outside of the portrait hole they discovered Fred, George, Katie, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson also walking towards the castle exit with their Quidditch equipment.
 
“‘O, captain, my captain!’” Fred declared on seeing Harry and the rest of the team. “We are well met.”
 
“Ah, enough of the dramatics!” Ron said, scowling at his brothers. “I’ve had enough of that to last me until-”
 
“-Until tomorrow morning?” George laughed, winking at the rest.
 
“Hey, guys,” Harry said, ignoring the brotherly jabs, “I told Seamus and Dean to come along.”
 
“Cool,” said Alicia, smiling at the two fifth year boys in question. Katie, Alicia and Angelina made up the trio of Chasers, the Weasley twins were the Beaters, Harry was Seeker and Team Captain and Ron was the new Keeper. Harry had figured when some of the older members of the team graduated, it would be good to have their replacements (such as Seamus and Dean) prepped and ready, so they normally came to practices to strategize or help in scrimmages. The Gryffindor team was eager to get back into the game, since there had been no Quidditch Cup games last year due to the Triwizard Tournament.
 
Together the ten Gryffindors made their way out of the castle and down towards the Quidditch pitch.
 
“My, oh my, is this another Peasants Revolt?”
 
A cold drawl said from somewhere behind them. Harry and the rest turned to discover Malfoy leading the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team out from the changing rooms. They had apparently gone straight from the auditions to the practice field. Malfoy strode forward, blocking Harry’s path, his hair still damp from a shower and his practice robes draped elegantly over his shoulder. He twirled his broom absentmindedly in his left hand and grinned at Harry maliciously. “No, really, who let out the mob?”
 
“Sod off, Malfoy,” Ron said, glaring next to Harry.
 
“Honestly, Weasel, you need to come up with another remark.” His silver eyes flickered over Harry. “Leading the rabble to practice? How quaint.”
 
“I think you’re in our way,” Harry said evenly. “Step aside.”
 
Malfoy gave a little laugh that was echoed by Crabbe, Goyle, Malcolm, Blaise and the rest.
 
“Well, then, far be it from me to disturb your little trek.” He stepped aside with mock grandiose. “Now, you all be careful,” he said with mock care. “It’s dangerous out there.”
 
“Oh, shove it, Malfoy,” George muttered as he passed him. “You’ll be the one needing care after the next game.” Fred gave the blond Slytherin a similarly threatening look before passing as well. Malfoy only sneered back and began heading back towards the castle.
 
The rest of the evening went by smoothly. The Gryffindors had a very successful practice, trying out new maneuvers and breaking into teams for scrimmages. Hermione sat on the benches, intermittingly watching the game and her friends and then turning back to reading or some essay she was writing. When the practice was over, she waited outside while the team took some quick showers and changed clothes, and then they all trooped down to dinner.
 
Afterwards, Hermione forced Harry and Ron to sit down and work on their Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts homework before they finally settled down to sleep. By the time Harry woke up the next morning and started to get around for breakfast and the rest of the day he had almost forgotten about the auditions and the results being posted after breakfast.
 

* * * * *

 
“Do you see her yet?”
 
“No, but then again she has that habit of floating around as if she was a flighty spirit.”
 
“She always says she hates mingling.”
 
“Well, people are walking by the notice boards. See anything?”
 
“No!”
 
“What time is it, anyway?”
 
“Almost time for our first lesson…”
 
The Gryffindor table, like the other three, was full of people discussing the auditions and the results. Even those who had not tried out seemed interested in who had, what the characters were, and whom they thought should play them.
 
“I think we should head out now,” Hermione whispered to her friends, gathering her books from under the table. “We can wait in the hall for the list and then head off to Potions.”
 
Ron and Harry nodded and grabbed their school things and headed back out in the hallway. As it turned out, they were not the only ones to have this idea and there was already a crowd standing around the blank notice board.
 
“Any minute now…” Ron muttered, biting his lip in near anticipation.
 
Suddenly, there was an indigo flash of light and a scroll of parchment appeared on the board, unrolling slowly. The crowd surged forward in a mob until a voice halted them.
 
“Hold up, hold up! There’s a better way!” It was the booming voice of Fred, who was now towering over the rest of the students. George grabbed the scroll from the board and handed it to his brother. “I’ll read them out so nobody gets crushed!”
 
A hush came over the crowd as Fred cleared his throat and took a survey of the crowd.
 
“Everyone here?” he joked.
 
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Draco Malfoy slither into the back corner, away from the shoving masses, and lean nonchalantly against the opposite wall of the hallway.
 
“Alrighty, then,” Fred said. “I’m starting in reverse order of the list.” With that he raised his voice even more and began reading:
“‘Messenger is Blaise Zabini…
Ursula is Katie Bell
Maragaret is Lavender Brown
Beatrice is Hermione
Hero is Ginny’ – go Ginny!” Fred gave a cheer and then continued.
“‘Verges is Colin Creevy
Dogberry is Lee Jordan’ Yeah Lee!! That’s my man.
Friar Francis is Justin Finch-Fletchely
Borachio is Graham Pritchard
Conrade is Malcolm Baddock…’”
 
“Gee, didn’t see that one coming,” Ron muttered and Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione was still beaming after having learned she had won the lead female role.
 
“That must mean Malfoy is Don John, right?” Ron whispered back and Harry shrugged as Fred continued.
 
“‘Balthasar is Neville Longbottom
Antonio is George and I’m Leonato!’” The twins high-fived each other and Ron smiled wryly at his brothers being cast no less than as brothers. However, he did feel a flutter in his stomach, the last four roles were the main male leads, and there were plenty of names that could still be called to fill those spots.
 
“‘Benedick is…er… Draco Malfoy
Claudio is Seamus Finnigan
Don John is Ron Weasley and… drum roll please, the final role…
Don Pedro is Harry Potter!’”
 
With that Fred pinned the scroll back up on the board and stepped away to congratulate his friends.

“Harry! You’re the Prince!” Harry turned around to find Seamus giving him a congratulatory clap on the back.
 
“Thanks, Seamus, and you’re Claudio!! Congrats to yourself.”
 
Seamus smiled brightly and then turned at the sound of Fred’s voice.
 
“Good job, Seamus, but you better treat Ginny right,” he said with a wink and then turned to go to class. Seamus smiled again widely and then noticed Ginny was eyeing him shyly and winked at her. Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione. Ron looked stunned.
 
“I’m… I’m Don John…” He murmured.
 
“It’s okay,” Harry said lightly. “It’ll be cool to play the bad guy, plus, you’ll be my brother!”
 
“Well… yeah… but…”
 
“Plus, Ron, like you said you wanted, Don John is a man of few words,” Hermione said, looking at both of them strangely.
 
“Herm, are you alright?” Harry inquired.
 
“Yeah, you got the lead female. Beatrice is so you!” Ron said. “I read enough of the play to figure that out.”
 
“Yeah… that’s swell…” She replied still looking distant. Finally she shook her head trying to focus her thoughts and glanced behind her to where Malfoy had been leaning. He was still there, obviously surrounded by a crowd of Slytherins. She turned back to Harry and Ron and smile grimly. “Unfortunately, my Benedick will be played by none other than that git Draco Malfoy himself.”
 
TO BE CONTINUED…