Harry Potter and the Rocky Horror Picture Show

Who says I can’t do angst!?! *remembers that no one has actually said any such thing* Oh, that’s right. Well I’m glad of that, since there will be some in this chapter, and there’s always the chance that more will follow. *evil smile* You never can tell. After all, I’m the author of this debacle, and as you’ve already seen, I don’t always have control of what these people do in my fic...... but that keeps it interesting!

Another realization; not only am I a Mary-Sue, quite often I am comic relief! (I know what you’re thinking, ‘Yeah? Well, so is everyone else, right?’ Well you know what?! You are correct, sir!) And what fun it is to be comic relief!

Additional Notes: The idea of Salazar Slytherin resembling Draco Malfoy comes from two sources (if there are more, I am not aware of them), Cassandra Claire’s ‘Draco Sinister’, and Yen’s ‘Hearts and Hourglasses’. (*both of whom cringe in horror at being mentioned in association with this fic* Heh heh heh.) Two wonderful authoresses who keep me up past my bedtime. :p *smirks at the people behind her chanting ‘plug, plug, plug, plug’* Anyway-

On to chapter two.

Chapter 2

Introducing the Horror

As per the instructions that had appeared, larger-than-life, on the notice board that morning, Harry, Ron, Hermione, the other assorted Gryffindors, and the dozen or so Hufflepuffs who had signed up for play duties met directly after breakfast in a little-used room of Hogwarts; the auditorium.

The high, arched ceiling was draped in the colors of all four of Hogwarts houses. The seats were upholstered in the same purple velvet material that the curtain was made of. There was an enormous painting on the back wall, grandly depicting two men and two women standing on a stage- the very stage on which some of the students now sat.

The four in the painting wore masks that covered their heads and necks so completely that each person seemed to be a strange combination of human and animal. They were involved in some kind of dance. A man in red, wearing the head of a lion nervously clasped the hand of a woman in yellow, who wore the head of a badger. The badger fixed him with a bright black eye and seemed to be daring him to step on her toes. A woman in blue wore a feathery eagle’s head and was clasped gently in the arms of a man in green, who wore the head of a serpent. The woman’s pale beak opened in a soft cry of laughter any time the snake’s tongue licked the air between them.

Harry leaned on the back of one of the seats and stared broodingly up at the painting. Ginny walked up next to him, her eyes fixed, like his, on the man in green. Harry gave no indication that he knew she was there, only stared at the snake-headed man. His hands gripped the back of his chair. Ginny’s eyes flicked to the hand nearest her, worriedly taking in the white knuckles.

“It looks like the head of a basilisk?” Ginny asked.

“No...” Harry said softly, “something else.”

“What?” she murmured curiously. He wouldn’t answer her. “Do you want to tell me about it?” she prodded with a little smile. Harry looked at her out of the corner of his eye, then turned slowly to face her. The smile drained from Ginny’s lips at the look on his face. There was pain and revulsion in his eyes that ran so deep it scared her. “What is it, Harry?” she whispered. Then the moment was gone. Harry seemed to shake himself, and then he smiled at her.

“It’s nothing important,” he said. “This is some painting, eh?” Harry turned back to it as Ginny cursed inwardly; she had almost gotten him to open up. Then Harry jumped, cursing aloud. She followed his gaze to the painting, and jumped too. The four in the painting were standing before them, smiling, well, smiling as well as the animal faces could.

“Your mask bothers the boy, Salazar,” the man in red intoned, the words rumbling in the back of his throat.

“Indeed,” the man in green replied. “Sssssshall we remove them and find sssssssome other form of entertainment?” he hissed. The oil rendering of Salazar Slytherin, for that was surely who this man was, put his hands to his mask and pulled. The glittering black eyes went dead as the snake mask came off. Harry and Ginny gasped as they saw a face that could have easily gone into the Malfoy family gallery.

“Better?” the painting asked with a smile. Harry smiled weakly as the other founders followed suit.

“Yes, thank you,” Ginny said, tugging at Harry’s arm. They turned away from the painting and started walking towards the front of the room.

“Did you mean that?” Harry whispered to her.

“Not really,” Ginny grinned. “Not when he looks so much like-”

“Draco Malfoy!” someone gasped from the front of the auditorium.

Several heads turned as the Slytherin strutted through the left set of double doors.

“What d’you think you’re doing here?” Ron asked belligerently.

“Acting, Weasley,” he drawled. “I didn’t see a ‘Gryffindors Only’ note on the sign-up sheet. It’s a good thing I’m here. Somebody in the cast should have talent.” Ron managed to take one angry step forward before Harry and Hermione caught his arms.

“Gerroff,” he growled at them, “there aren’t any teachers- he’s the only Slytherin here- lemme-” BANG!

Ron straightened up and the Gryffindors cheering him on went silent as the doors burst open and a tall figure in purple robes strode in. People cleared a path for a young woman carrying a large stack of papers.

“Hello everyone,” she said in a cheery American accent. “I am Syvia Avarian,” she announced, setting the papers down on the front of the stage, “and welcome to the Theater Club.” She threw a small satchel down next to the stack of paper and turned to face the group.

“Everyone have a seat,” she said, smiling, “and I’ll thank you, Mr. Malfoy, to sit at least five seats away from Mr. Weasley. Should you choose to widen that distance, I highly doubt you will find any complaints from the people assembled here.” There were a few appreciative chuckles from the students as Draco assumed a haughty expression and followed Syvia’s advice.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” she looked out over the students as they slid off the stage and filled in the auditorium seats. Syvia grinned mischievously, “I am not a teacher, so I don’t expect you to treat me as if I can put you in detention or take away house points.” The students chuckled again.

“Please, call me Syvia, or even Syv, if you’re so inclined, and I’ll call you by your first names. Like I said, I’m not a teacher,” her voice grew softer, more intense, “I’m something much, much worse.” The smiles faded a bit from the students’ faces.

“I’m an author,” she smiled, but with her eyes narrowed, the smile took on a sinister quality. “I’m the person who decides what happens next. Life and death, love and hate... victory, defeat, anything and everything that can happen... and some things that can’t. I’m the one who makes it all possible...” she grinned, “well, in this fic anyway.”

“But since I like you all so much, I’m not planning to kill anyone,” she finished in a light tone. The chuckling now sounded slightly nervous.

“Getting back to business, ladies and gentlemen,” then she caught sight of two red-haired boys sitting in the third row, “and the Weasley twins.”

“Hey!” Fred and George shouted in mock-indignation, “We resent that remark!” Several people began to snicker. Syvia smiled, shook her head slightly and hefted the half the stack of papers.

“Here is what we will be doing,” she said, passing out the scripts. “Short announcement; I only have six of my ten main cast members, I need people who can dance and sing, and I wouldn’t mind having backups. If you didn’t sign up before because you were too nervous or you didn’t think you had a chance of getting in, I’m telling you, your chances of getting a part are very, very good.” The six main actors looked over their scripts as Syvia started handing out descriptions of the props, scenery designs, and costumes.

Ron studied the cover, a picture of a vividly red mouth, which smiled sometimes, other times licked its lips, or pursed in imitation of a kiss. Written above it, in bleeding red letters was “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” Ron read the title out loud softly. “What is it?” he asked curiously.

Harry, Hermione, and a handful of the muggle-born and muggle-raised students began to laugh hysterically. Syvia, done passing out instructions, made her way back to the stage and leaned back against it. An amused smile tugged at her lips as she watched the students.

“There is no way I’m going to try out now,” one Hufflepuff said, grinning.

“I’ll be happy just building the sets,” his friend responded fervently. Ron turned away from the two Hufflepuffs, back to his still chortling friends.

“Well? What is it?” Harry and Hermione turned to him with wide grins on their faces, looked at each other for a moment, then back to Ron. Hermione opened her mouth in an attempt to explain, and dissolved into giggles once more.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough, Ron.” Syvia smiled at him. Ginny leafed through the script idly, a small grin on her face. Neville, beside her, raised his hand tentatively.

“I’ve just one question,” he murmured. Syvia nodded to him. “Is this a play or a musical?”

“Musical.”

“Er... I- I’m not that good of a singer.”

“Don’t worry about it, Neville. Eddie doesn’t have a very long part anyway. Just one song and you’ll be done.” Syvia gave him a smile, which he tentatively returned. Meanwhile, Draco was flipping through his script with a dismayed expression on his face. Suddenly he looked up at Syvia.

“I want to play someone else,” he said flatly.

Syvia turned to him with a concerned expression. “What’s the matter? Does the costume description make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I don't have any lines!” Draco exclaimed indignantly.

“You sing quite a bit,” she replied.

“But I don’t have any lines. There’s groaning, grunting and other assorted noises, but no lines.” Draco clarified.

“Well, that sounds like a proper outlet for your talents to me, Malfoy,” Ron said mildly, grinning. The blond boy glared at the back of Ron’s head, eyes narrowing in anger. He opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but Syvia cut in.

“Don’t start,” she said, looking at Draco. “Either of you,” she clarified, turning her glare on Ron. “No complaints, Draco,” Syvia continued. “Having no lines is the price you pay for being able to prance around in gold bikini briefs.”

At those words, a hush fell over the auditorium. All the students froze and turned slowly to look at Syvia. Finally a small voice broke the silence.

“What?” Ginny murmured.

Syvia, looking completely unflustered, nodded at Draco. “He’s playing Rocky, who spends most of the production in a pair of bikini briefs and little boots that match.” Everyone slowly turned to Draco. The ladies in the room were making no attempt to hide the fact that they were undressing him with their eyes, a few of the men were being just as obvious. The remaining students shuddered slightly and went back to reading their papers. Draco smirked slightly at his fellow students’ reactions. Syvia gave a smirk of her own. “Any more complaints?” she asked.

“Well...” Draco said, turning back to her, “does my costume have to be gold? I look so much better in silver.”

Syvia sighed. “I had to ask,” she murmured under her breath. Then she raised her voice so the crowd could hear. “Okay, everyone. Now that you all know what’s going on, the six actors will come with me, and the rest of you can divvy up the play duties. I trust you to pick your own taskmasters and I trust them to put you all into appropriate jobs.” The students promptly began talking amongst themselves. Syvia smiled at the actors and waved them towards the door.