Showtime at Hogwarts

The sun was just peering in through the window when Ron woke up to the shaking and hollering of his mother, who seemed to think it urgent that he wakes up three hours before needing to leave. “Wake up Ronald Weasley!” she said, grabbing his shoulder and jolting him around. “Time for a spot of breakfast, then we must get ready to go!”

“Mum, we have loads of time before we need to go to King’s Cross, so bugger off, won’t you!” Ron mumbled half-asleep.

Mrs. Weasley shook one more time before shaking her head in defeat, muttering as she left the room. “I don’t understand you children, needing to sleep through the day like you’ve never had a wink of sleep…”

Ron lay in bed for fifteen minutes hoping to return to his slumber, but found it useless. He folded down his covers and sat up, rubbing his eyes in the sunlight that streamed into his room. “That woman is mad,” he said to himself.

He got out of his bed and walked over to his wardrobe. He opened it up and looked to the side that Hermione had labeled “Muggle Clothing” the summer before last when she had stayed before the Quidditch World Cup, and stared at the selection. He pulled out a sweater, eyed it, muttered, “Rubbish,” and but it back in. He selected another shirt, this one having the old Chudley Cannons logo embellished on it, noticed a few holes along the seam, and again muttered, “Rubbish,” and hung it back up. He continued doing this with another five shirts, and slammed the wardrobe doors shut.

He went over to his bed and slammed himself down on the corner. He sat in silence a few moments, wishing he had better clothes, when he heard a creak just below his left leg. He moved a little to see if it sounded again, and he heard it again, the creaking noise. He flumped hard onto his back, and lay for only a moment before he heard a loud CRACK! He raised his head to the corner of his bed and saw it fall almost half a foot, then BOOM! The frame hit the floor, causing the bed to be at an angle. Ron moped and slowly slid off the mattress and onto the floor.

“Piece – of – shit,” he sighed. “The story of my life.” He laid thinking on the floor for a few moments, then sat up and looked at his bed.

“The world is full of many, many poor people. I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor. But it's no great honor either! So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?" He looked over at his wall where the paint was slowly starting to peel off, then over to his trunk that was messily packed and ready to go to Hogwarts with him, noticing that the lid didn’t sit quite evenly on the rim anymore, then up at the ceiling as the ghoul laughed in the attic. At this he stared out his window and began to sing in a very tired voice.

If I were a rich man,
Yubba dubba, dubba, dubba, dubba, dibba, dibba dum.
All day long I'd biddy, biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Yubba dubba, dubba, dubba, dubba, dibba, dibba dum.
If I were a biddy, biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.

Ron brought his knees into his chest and stood up, steadying himself on the broken bed that lay in half-shambles. Continuing to sing, he walked back over to his wardrobe and took out the old Chudley Cannons shirt and a pair of jeans, laid them on his desk, and began to unbutton his night clothes,

I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.

There was a fluttering of tiny wings outside the window, and Ron walked over to it and opened it up. Pigwidgeon flew around Ron’s head excitedly until Ron swapped him away; the small bird seemed just as happy to fly around the room. Ron simply ignored him and knelt down on by the window and rested his arms on the sill and lay his head down, staring out into the backyard.

I'd fill my house with lots of broomsticks and Quidditch gear
That the Cannons’d gladly use
Coming to play every Saturday afternoon
And each loud "yeah!" and "watch it!" and "ooh that was close! "
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
And they’d all think, "Here lives a wealthy man."

Ron rolled his eyes at the ludicrous thought of actually playing Quidditch with his favorite professional team and sighed…

If I were a rich man,
Yubba dubba, dubba, dubba, dubba, dibba, dibba dum.
All day long I'd biddy, biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Yubba dubba, dubba, dubba, dubba, dibba, dibba dum.
If I were a biddy, biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.

Turning back to his desk, he noticed a picture from third year of him and Hermione in Hogsmeade before Harry had showed up under his invisibility cloak. She smiled back at him as she laughed at something he had just said; what it was, he couldn’t remember. But that picture was his only one of just him and Hermione. He loved that picture.

I see my wife, Hermione, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper golden robe.
Holding spew meetings to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and quoting like a parrot.
Oh, what a happy mood she's in!
Helping out the house elves, day and night.

He set the picture back down on the desk and smiled at it, then turned to the mirror on his door and scrunched his eyes together in determination, lifting his chest and nose to look important.

The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like Merlin the Wise.

Changing his facial expressions to those of a poor beggar, he bent his knees, clasped his hands together and pleaded with his reflection, which was still assuming the prior position.

"If you please, Ron Weasley..."

The reflection looked at him with intrigue, waiting for the question. He got down to his knees, still begging for information, closing his eyes tightly and bowing.

"Pardon me, Ron Weasley..."

He stood up once again, his reflection now nodding and disappearing into the Ron in front of the mirror.

Posing problems that would cross Dumbledore’s eyes!

He turned around passionately and belted to the room, hands wide open a few inches from the side of his stomach, causing Pigwidgeon do stop fluttering in mid-air.

Yudda dee da da, Yudda da da, Yudda da da da…

Ron started walking over to Pigwidgeon, and looked at him matter-of-factly, pointing at him.

And it won't make one bit of difference if I answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!

Ron realized he was talking to a small and hyper owl that he was usually irritated with, and sighed once more. He turned to go back over to the pair of jeans on his desk.

If I were a rich man,
Yubba dubba, dubba, dubba — POP! — dubba, dibba, dibba dum.
All day long I’d –

Ron stopped mid-phrase, wide-eyed.

“Oh, go on, little bro,” said George.

“Yeah, Ron,” Fred laughed. “What would you do?”

Ron began to turn around very slowly to face the twins that had just apparated into the room. He felt like his face was on fire. Words had failed him, while Fred kept laughing.

“Not going to finish your song then, are you?” George said. “It was turning out to be such a lovely performance.”

Ron was still bright red and speechless. Fred was gasping for air on the ground now, attempting to spit out words through his guffaws.

“What my likeness here is trying to say is, maybe you should wait till after the sun is up before putting on your next show,” George said with a yawn and a stretch. “Oh, get up, Fred!” There was a POP as George left the room. It took a few moments for Fred to compose himself, but even as he was apparating back to his own room, he was wiping tears off his face and chuckling.

Ron finally breathed again and looked up at the tiny owl that was flying around his head once again, tweeting as if he was chortling himself. “Oh, sod off you ruddy bird!”

On platform nine and three-quarters, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Ron met up just as they were getting onto the train. They waved their families and friends off and walked up the stairs and into the corridor. They trudged their trunks along until they found an empty compartment, and sat down inside, setting their things up in the rack. Hermione sat down by the window, Harry across from her. Ron sat down next to Harry and Ginny took the only spot left next to Hermione. The train started slowly out of the station.

“You know, Harry, I think we’re going to have quite the Quidditch team this year,” Ron said. Ron had been made captain of the team for this year, but he felt horribly about it, considering his performance during the previous year. He also felt it made more sense to have someone who’s been on the team longer to be captain, so he very much felt Harry deserved the position, and decided to make him his unofficial co-captain, something Harry accepted gladly.

“How do you know that Ron?” Hermione said calmly. “We don’t even know if Harry’s allowed to play. He was given a life-long ban, you know.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “Of course he’s going to play! Aren’t you Harry!”

Harry stole a quick glance to Ginny and gulped. “Er… I haven’t heard…”

“Of course you are though, Dumbledore’s back, he’s bound to have gotten that taken care of. He fixed everything else Umbridge messed with.”

Hermione seemed somewhat satisfied with this answer and went on to another point. “Well even if he plays, you’ve got a lot of shoes to fill,” Hermione said. “That is, of course, assuming that you’re going to be getting rid of Kirke and Sloper.”

Ron looked disgusted as he heard those names. “There’s no doubt we will, isn’t that right Harry?”

“Ron I told you, you’re the captain,” he joked. “But yes, it’d be my advice to throw them off as soon as you can. So what all do we have to fill?”

Ron looked out the window in thought. “Well, there’s Angelina Johnson who graduated, oh, and Alicia Spinnet left too, Fred and George – we would’ve had to fill their positions either way, and… actually, that’s it.”

Harry chimed in. “So that means we need two chasers and two beaters.”

“Wait, what about me?” Ginny said, who had been very quiet for the entirety of the conversation.

“What about you?” Ron said. “You were just filling in for Harry. Harry’s back, you’re out.”

Harry looked in between Ginny and Ron.

“Ron, now don’t say that,” Hermione said. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“That’s not what I’m even talking about. I knew that all along, “ Ginny said. “Remember when I said I’d try being a Chaser this year?”

Ron gave her a dumbfounded look. “Uh.. no, I don’t Ginny.”

“Well that’s great!” Harry smiled. He had recalled what she said after she reminded everyone. “That’s one less position we have to worry about. “

“Harry, I’m the captain, remember?” Ron said irritated.

“As I recall, you made me your co-captain this summer,” Harry said. “Besides, you didn’t have any problems with Ginny being on the team last year, what’s wrong with it now?”

Ron mumbled something they couldn’t hear and there was an awkward silence filling the air. Hermione took a book from her bag, Ginny grabbed the Daily Prophet that was laying on the floor, and Ron leaned his head against the window, falling asleep in a few minutes. Harry seemed to be starring off into space, but he was really thinking what’d it be like having Ginny on the team with him this year.

The new arrivals had already been sorted, and the feast had already been dug into when Dumbledore stood up in front of the students. This was odd, as Dumbledore usually didn’t speak until everyone was finished. Nonetheless, the students notice him at the front of the room and quieted within minutes.

Dumbledore smiled at everyone with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “I would like, this evening, to entertain you while you finish up with your dessert. I have much wanted to do this for quite some time, and have only gotten around to it this year, when a significant even happened to me shortly after term. It was the anniversary of the day I was born…”

The headmaster reminisced off into space. Ron looked at Harry curiously, and Harry shrugged. Suddenly, as if on cue, Professor McGonagall stood up and a shiny, gold saxophone appeared in her hands. She took a deep breath and blew out four notes, and Dumbledore opened his mouth.

Splish splash, I was taking a bath,

Now even more staff members were joining McGonagall on instruments in the corner. Madam Hooch was on a guitar, Professor Sprout was on keyboards, and even Peeves the Poltergeist was up there on the drum set.

Long about a Saturday night.

Ron’s jaw dropped and the bite of bread pudding he’d just bitten into fell out of his mouth as several pieces of silverware were heard clanging onto plates and tables.

A rub dub, just relaxing in the tub,
Thinking everything was all right.

Harry looked incredulously up at the old man with long white hair and beard, and sat completely transfixed.

Well, I stepped out the tub, put my feet on the floor
I wrapped the towel around me
And I opened the door, and then
Splish, splash! I jumped back in the bath
Well how was I to know there was a party going on?

Several young women suddenly came out of the small chamber next to the Great Hall in poodle skirts and pastel sweaters while several men also adorned in leather jackets and blue jeans ran down the aisles of the hall with what looked like bubbles trailing behind all of them. Soon there were bubbles throughout the entire room.

They was a-splishing and a-splashing,
Reelin' with the feelin'
Moving and a-grooving,
Rocking and a-rolling, yeah

The back-up dancers were now up behind Dumbledore doing all sorts of dancing. Several of the girls were shimmying their shoulders, a few others waving their arms up and down, and even more still were twisting their hips. All of them had giant smiles on their faces. Suddenly, they all stopped, crouched down, and looked directly at the lead singer.

Bing bang, I saw the whole gang

The dancers started up again, and even Dumbledore was bopping along to the beat, gesturing out his lyrics whenever possible.

Dancing on my living room rug, yeah
Flip flop, they was doing the bop
All the teens had the dancing bug
There was Nymphadora with-a Minervaroo
Good golly, Miss Molly was-a even there, too
A-well-a, splish splash, I forgot about the bath
I went and put my dancing shoes on, yeah

These next few words were acted out in unison by the dancers and Dumbledore

I was a rolling and a-strolling,
(they bent over and rolled their arms around each other in front of their chest)
Reeling with the feeling,
(they twisted at their hips, right, then left)
Moving and a-groovin',
(they shimmied with their shoulders, forward, then back)
Splishing and a-splashing, yeah
(they waved their arms above their heads, while waving their hips to the right and left)

Everyone went back to dancing sporadically and Dumbledore ponied from person to person, varying his moves every time he moved, singing with a bright smile on his face.

Yes, I was a-splishing and a-splashing,
I was a-rolling and a-strolling
Yeah, I was a-moving and a-grooving,
We was a-reeling with the feeling
We was a-rolling and a-strolling, moving with the grooving
Splish splash, yeah

The band ended with four strong beats. Dumbledore was now center-stage with all the dancers in a formation around him, arms stretched out, grins big enough so the people way in the back could see their white teeth. The last chord was had finally faded away, but all that was heard after that was another piece of silverware clanging onto a plate.

The students were absolutely flabbergasted; every single jaw was dropped, and if not, their mouth was gaping open slightly. Their eyes were staring, mesmerized by what had just happened. There was a cough from someone in the formation and someone from the Ravenclaw table began to clap. After a few moments the rest of the students caught on and applauded politely, yet still staring up at Dumbledore, who was still smiling widely.

The headmaster nodded, signaling to the dancers that they could get up and leave and go change. The band began to rustling around, picking up instrument cases and music stands, and Dumbledore once again stood before the students, with that ever-present twinkle in his eye.

“If you are finished,” he started calmly. “Everyone is dismissed to enjoy the evening in their common rooms. I’m sure I do not need to remind prefects that they are to show the first years the way. Good Evening.” He went at sat back down at the staff table and picked up a fork to begin on his own dessert.

The students got up, still unsure about what they had just seen, and slowly filed out of the Great Hall. There was much less noise than there usually was at this time.

“What – was – that,” Ron said to Hermione as they led the first years out of the hall.

Hermione looked at him, astonishment across her face. “I –I’m really not quite sure,” she said. “It was very i-interesting, wasn’t it?” She looked over at Harry.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” he said sardonically.

“I haven’t seen anything like that since Dad turned on the Muggle television he brought home one night, and it got stuck on the old musicals,” Ginny said. “Remember Ron?”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. It was awful. Mum was going mad.”

By the time everyone had reached their common rooms, the students were talking and laughing as they normally did the night before lessons started. There was a strange sort of emptiness in the Gryffindor Tower with the absences of Fred and George, but everything else seemed pretty much the same. Ginny and Harry found their usual spots on the squishy chairs in front of the fire as Ron and Hermione said, “We’ll be right back,” and gave the first years a tour of the dormitories, Hermione taking the girls, and Ron taking the boys.

“So, Ginny, what have you been up to all summer?” Harry asked, stretching and sinking into the cozy chair.

“Oh, not a lot. Mainly I practiced on my broom. Well, I attempted to at least,” she frowned. After yawn she continued. “With all the boys gone except for Ron, it was a little hard to get anything accomplished.”

“Yeah, I know how that is,” Harry said. “It’s a little hard to practice Quidditch without a team, especially when you’re trying to improve your Chaser skills, I’m sure.”

Ginny nodded while yawning again. “I tried to have Dad bewitch the Quaffle into flying around by itself, which helped a little I suppose, flying after it all the time. But it’s a little different when there’s thirteen other people and Bludgers zooming all around, isn’t it?”

“ Definitely,” Harry chuckled. There were a few moments of silence.

“Thanks for sticking up for me earlier,” Ginny spoke up.

“What?”

“On the train – when Ron protested about my being on the team. You immediately stepped up and told him I’d be on it.”

Harry blushed slightly. “Oh yeah… it was nothing,” he mumbled, looking away from her. “Oh, look, here come Ron and Hermione.”

“Give them the tour, did you then?” Ginny said as they sat down.

“We sure did,” Hermione said excitedly. Ron rolled his eyes. Ginny yawned again.

“Ginny, that’s the third time you’ve yawned while we’ve been sitting here,” Harry pointed out.

“I know! I don’t know why I’m so tired. I didn’t do an awful lot today.”

“Well you did wake up before the crack of dawn,” Ron said. “I bet you were the one who woke Mum up this morning, sending her to my room to disturb me from my sleep.”

“I wasn’t!” Ginny retorted. “Well, I was up before the crack of dawn, I suppose. But Mum woke you up on her own accord.” She yawned again.

“Damn! Fine, I think I’ll just go on up to bed then. Goodnight!” Ginny got up a bit too quickly and stumbled, off-balance, onto the floor, hitting her nose on the arm of the chair. While Ron, Hermione, and Harry laughed at her, she got up and walked up to the spiral staircase leading to her dormitory.

When she got up there, she found she was alone. She looked at her watch. “Nine fifteen?!” she shouted disbelievingly at herself, but yawning yet again. She subsided and changed into her pajamas. She got into her bed and pulled the curtains around so she wouldn’t be bothered as the other girls came in, if she wasn’t already deep in slumber by the time they came to bed that is.

But she had heard each of the four girls enter into the room and fall asleep before she had even achieved a state of half-sleep. The problem was that her brain just would not shut off. There were thoughts flying around in her head for hours. She had had the same situation on the train earlier, but she hadn’t been trying to sleep then. She had been so confused about her love life. Not that was an entirely big deal to her, but it perplexed her even so.

The first crush she’d ever had was Harry. She was young and didn’t know much about him, other than he was Ron’s friend, and what he was famous for. She had seen him in pictures Ron brought home after his first year and thought he was really cute. She was so afraid to talk to him though, so it was really hard to get to know him very well, let alone ask him out. For this reason, he never seemed to acknowledge her any more than Ron’s little sister. She gave up on him after a while though.

She had her first date when she went to the Yule Ball with Neville Longbottom in her third year. But she didn’t really consider it to be a “real date” since she only went with him because he asked, and she wanted to go; she thought he was a nice enough boy, and agreed to go. She really hadn’t had feelings for him.

Her first boyfriend came at the end of that year. He was a boy from Ravenclaw, Michael Corner. They had actually met at the Yule Ball, and they became friends rather quickly. He had asked her out right before the end of the term, and she happily conceded. He played Quidditch and seemed to be very interesting. But he had been soar about Ravenclaw losing to Gryffindor in the following year and she’d dumped him.

Then she hooked up with Dean Thomas, a very nice boy. A Gryffindor. They had been getting along rather well all throughout her fifth year until she confided in him that she had once fancied Harry. He got very jealous, despite the fact that she kept insisting the crush had ended long ago, but he didn’t want to believe her. He was always accusing her of staring at him and talking about him all the time.

“He’s my friend! What am I supposed to do, rub him completely out of my memory?” is what she’d said to him one night when they were fighting over the subject. It ended up in him giving her the choice of himself or Harry. She’d had a rough time making the decision, but ended up choosing Harry. She figured someone as jealous as he was over a silly little girl’s crush was off his rocker anyway.

She had sworn to give up guys for a while after that. It worked well for a while, always reminding herself that she could end up with jerks like Dean, and it wasn’t worth all the trouble. But recently she found that she had a certain longing. Maybe it was because she read a few romance books that Hermione had recommended, maybe it was the fact that she could see Ron and Hermione’s friendship slowly but surely develop into something more, she wasn’t entirely sure. But she was again wanting that feeling she had when she was with a boy that fancied her. She wanted to feel wanted. The only problem was she didn’t know who she wanted.

She sat up frustrated around two in the morning and pulled the curtains back. She figured a little stroll might make her tired enough to get to sleep, and might get her mind off things at the same time. She swung her legs over the bed and tip toed out of the dormitory and down to the common room, hoping it was empty. When she walked through the doorway she found that it was. She walked over to the nook by the window and sat down. She looked out into the night and saw a shooting star go by. She remembered her mum once telling her long ago that you should say good night to the boy you love when you see a shooting star, and if she didn't fancy anyone, she could just say 'my someone' instead of their name ("It's better than nothing!" Ginny had said in response.). She rested her head on her hands.

“Goodnight…my someone.”

A little piano exercise she’d learned during lessons when she was younger began to play in her head. It was called the Cross-hand piece.

Goodnight, my someone,
Goodnight, my love.
Sleep tight, my someone,
Sleep tight, my love.
Our star is shining its brightest light
For goodnight, my love, for goodnight.
Sweet dreams be yours, dear,
If dreams there be
Sweet dreams to carry you close to me.
I wish they may and I wish they might.
Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight!

Turning around, she got up and began strolling around the room, hands clasped gently behind her back.

True love can be whispered from heart to heart
When lovers are parted they say
But I must depend on a wish and a star
As long as my heart doesn't know who you are.

She started back towards the window and sat down once more, gazing out at the stars.

Sweet dreams be yours dear,
If dreams there be
Sweet dreams to carry you close to me.
I wish they may and I wish they might
Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight.
Goodnight.
Goodnight.

She shook her head in silliness and went back over to one of the cozy chairs in front of the fire, curling herself up in it. Within minutes, she nodded off to sleep.