Harry Potter and the Rocky Horror Picture Show

Rejoice R/Hr shippers, because indeed, Ron and Hermionie are a couple in this version of their fifth year. How much of that type of action you will be seeing... well, I don’t know quite yet. Some of the relationships that will develop during this fic must stay a surprise, but rest assured, things will get interesting. :)

I introduce myself in this chapter and have come to the realization that... that... I’m a ‘Mary-Sue’! *loud, fake sobbing... clears throat* But that’s okay! I’m not actually enrolled in Hogwarts... I’m not a normal Mary-Sue.... *keeps repeating that to reassure herself*

But without further ado, here’s Chapter One. ^_^

 

Chapter 1

Enter the Director

Syvia Avarian arrived in Hogsmeade the Saturday before the start of Christmas break with a trunk, a handbag, and an assortment of instrument cases. She breathed deeply, enjoying the crisp, cold December air. The streets of the wizarding village were covered in snow and filled with wizards and witches doing their Christmas shopping. Syvia grinned at the simple beauty of the scene, then turned sharply at a loud thump behind her.

Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the Knight Bus, was happily flinging her luggage out of the bus, onto the icy cobblestones beside her. Syvia’s eyes widened as Stan picked up a viola case and drew his arm back.

“IMPEDIMENTA!” she practically screamed, pointing her wand at him. Stan froze instantly, seconds before he would have released the instrument. Syvia rushed forward and grabbed the leather case from his hands. Then she canceled the spell, grabbed the young man by his collar, and pulled his pimpled face close to hers.

“I will thank you to keep your hands off of these highly prized, very expensive self-playing instruments I borrowed from the South-Citterny Orchestra,” the young woman murmured in a dangerous tone of voice.

“Y-y-yes ma’am,” Stan spluttered, holding his empty hands open in supplication. Syvia studied him with narrowed eyes before nodding once. She turned, carefully set the viola case on the ground, then strode back onto the bus. She cast floating charms on the other instruments and sent them out into the street before Stan could offer his help.

Once all of the items were safely outside, the Knight bus disappeared with a BANG. Syvia looked up and down the street, trading smiles with a few of the passersby. She began walking. The assorted bits of luggage piled up neatly and floated behind her. Syvia tucked her arms under her pale brown cloak, grinning to herself as she saw a few Hogwarts students chatting brightly in front of Zonko’s Joke shop. Further down the street was her destination. Syvia opened the door of the Van Winkle Inn.

Mr. Van Winkle, a portly little man with a jolly expression on his face, looked up and smiled. The front door jingled as it closed behind Syvia’s floating luggage. “Miss Avarian, room one has been prepared, and there is already someone there, waiting for you.”

Syvia’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, is there?” Mr. Van Winkle looked at her, surprised.

“Why yes... you didn’t already know that? After all... you are the one writing this fic.”

Syvia looked at him with a slightly annoyed expression. “Uh, yes, but where would the suspense be if I had come right out and told everyone?”

Mr. Van Winkle looked at her, confused for a moment, then his expression broke into understanding. “Ohhhhh!” he grinned. He gave her a stage wink and nodded in a self-satisfied manner. Syvia smiled kindly at him, taking the key from his hand, and walked up the stairs. She rolled her eyes when the innkeeper could no longer see her face. Syvia’s luggage floated obediently up the stairs behind her and she opened a carved door with the number ‘one’ on it.

Syvia walked in, looking for the visitor, and gaped at the man sitting at a little table by the window.

“Professor Dumbledore?” He only smiled at her. Syvia forgot about renewing the charm on her luggage and it thumped onto the floor. “Sir... sir I’m-” she babbled.

“Really, Syvia,” he said gently, “You’ve never studied at Hogwarts, and have no reason to call me ‘Professor’.” That startled her into a laugh, and she smiled.

“What else could I ever call you, sir? We all take after Harry, and he’s always called you Professor.” She walked over to the other chair and sat gingerly down across from the venerable old wizard.

He smiled. “Even your phrasing is eminently respectful.”

“It took a lot for me to actually use the word ‘old’,” she said, blushing.

He laughed softly at that. “I assure you, my dear, the term is accurate.” She began to stammer a rebuttal to that statement when he held up a hand to quiet her. “I only came to give you these,” he held out a large envelope, “and to make quite sure that you shall keep this...” he paused for a moment, searching for the correct words, “strictly PG?”

Syvia took the envelope from him, looked up at the last few words. She gave a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, Sir. I’m definitely going to tone it down from the movie version that I know.”

He returned the grin. “I have the utmost confidence in you. This will certainly be a... memorable experience.” They both stood. Syvia set the envelope down on the table and walked the Professor to the door. “I also wanted to tell you that, no matter how trying this experience may be in times ahead- writing a fan fic is always worthwhile... to the author, if no one else.” Syvia smiled gratefully as Dumbledore made his way over to the steps. “Oh,” he said suddenly, remembering something. He walked over to a window at the end of the hall and opened it. Syvia clutched at the neck of her cloak as the icy wind swept inside, bringing with it... an owl.

Professor Dumbledore closed the window as soon as it was inside. Syvia flung up an arm so the bird could land. Black eyes blinked slowly at her from a white face, outlined in dark brown. The Barn owl uttered a soft cry.

“Ovelia is one of the school owls, and I have assigned her to you for the duration of your stay.”

“She’s beautiful,” Syvia breathed, enchanted. Dumbledore smiled and moved past her, towards the stairs. “Oh, but... I have a cat...” she called out, tearing her eyes away from the bird’s. Dumbledore looked at her in mild surprise.

“I thought you were allergic....”

Syvia grinned at him mischievously. “Not in this fan fic.” Dumbledore smiled in response and shook his head in amusement.

“I think you may find that they’ll get along quite well,” and with that he walked serenely down the stairs and opened the door. Dumbledore paused for a moment to nod to the innkeeper and scratch the chin of a small black cat that had taken that opportunity to duck inside.

Syvia chuckled as the door closed and walked back towards her room. The sleek little cat scampered in after her and she shut the door.

“Magic works wonders, doesn’t it?” She smiled. “Some may think I’m pushing this,” she told the cat, “having both a cat and an owl.” The tomcat jumped onto her bed, made himself comfortable and promptly began to purr. Syvia laughed at him and winked at Ovelia. “Well, I’ve a feeling I’m going to need you both sooner or later.”

There was a perch beside the closed window and Syvia held her arm out to allow Ovelia to climb onto it. She then sat down at the table and opened the envelope Professor Dumbledore had given her.

Her eyes widened in dismay as she pulled several pieces of paper from the envelope and began to read over them.

“Oh no, oh no,” she groaned. “The school has how many students in it and only six people managed to see through the concealment charm? Isn’t anyone over there comfortable with their sexuality?!”

In the potions dungeon of Hogwarts, Severus Snape’s head snapped up. His eyes searched the dimly lit confines of the dungeon, trying to find out who had just spoken. He was the only one in the room.

Syvia’s eyes grew wider as she realized what she had just said and who had heard her. She clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. “I have got to watch what I say during this fic,” she murmured through her hands. Syvia looked back down at the papers and sighed. “Looks like I’ll have to get some outside help.” She waved her wand in the direction of the luggage pile. Her trunk popped open and a folder of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink floated over to the table.

Curious, Syvia’s cat followed the items and jumped into his mistress’s lap. She uncorked the bottle of ink and dipped a quill into it, petting the cat idly. “Magie would enjoy being a part of this, wouldn’t she?” Syvia asked him. The cat purred at her and butted his cheek against her hand.

“Well,” she sighed, “let’s hope she has a good voice.” Syvia put her quill to the paper and started to write.

Dear Magie,

So, how have you been? I have to tell you, things aren’t going well for me right now. Only six people have signed up to be in the musical! I need your help. I know you said you don’t think too highly of your own talents, but I think you were just being modest. If nothing else, I need you here for moral support! I was hoping to have at least thirty people signed up by now! Please, please, please come?

Your friend in need,

Syvia

Syvia’s cat jumped from her lap to the table as she sighed and folded the paper. She got up and walked over to Ovelia. The cat meowed at her as she tied the parchment gently to the owl’s leg. Syvia looked down at him.

“No, I’m not going to use your actual name in the fan fic,” she said. The cat hissed at her. “Hey, you get angry when I call you ‘Mist’.”

He gave her a look that plainly said ‘That’s right, so don’t try it!’

“Well I’m not about to use your full name,” she returned. The cat’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said to him, “it is a perfectly good name. But it reveals information about me that I don’t want the readers to have.” The cat grumbled softly and stretched out on the table. Syvia sighed at Ovelia, who gave her a sympathetic look, opened the window and shivered as the owl spread grey and caramel colored wings and soared through the cloudy sky. Syvia slammed the window against the chill air and turned to the pile of luggage sitting in the middle of the floor.

“It’s not easy, writing a fan fic,” she mumbled, reaching for a saxophone case.