Friend

"How are you doing, Lowri?"

"I'm, I'm fine," she stuttered.

"Look, about earlier, I know it wasn't your fault. We all have our clumsy moments!"

"Thanks," Lowri replied quietly.

"Here, take my hand. You really have to be careful on these moving staircases."

"Thank you. Ow, hey, you're hurting me! Stop it, I'm going to..."

"Fall."

****

Snape watched as his class left. He had managed to calm the situation by handing out random detentions and passing off the whole note fiasco as a childish prank. Only, he knew it wasn't. He decided to speak to Dumbledore straight away. Walking out into the corridor, he ran into Pansy Parkinson. "Miss Parkinson, why are you hovering in the hallway? Is there not somewhere you should be?"

"Yes, sir. But I've lost my Charms textbook, and I think I left it in your classroom."

"Hurry up and look girl," he replied impatiently.

Pansy went back into the classroom and came out empty handed. "It wasn't there, sir," she said.

"Then I suggest you ask Madam Pince for a replacement and stop wasting my time. Now get to your next class."

Pansy hurried off down the corridor and Snape headed towards Dumbledore's office. He ran into Professor McGonagall on the way.

"Ah, Severus. Just who I was looking for."

"Please excuse me, Minerva. I have to speak to Dumbledore immediately."

"Haven't you heard? Professor Dumbledore has been called away to France on urgent business. I am not sure when he will be back." Snape inwardly cursed everyone he had ever met. "Anyway, I was hoping to speak to you about the school play."

"School play?" he repeated, positive that he had heard incorrectly.

"Yes. Before Albus left for France, he came up with the idea of a school play for Christmas."

"And what do I have to do with this?"

McGonagall looked at him, a small smile creeping up on her mouth. "All the information you need is listed here," she said as she handed him a parchment and walked off.

Horrified, Snape stood fixed to the spot. "So, Albus," he muttered, "I suppose this is your way of helping me keep an eye on the students. For your sake, it had better work." Snape returned to his classroom and made a list of all the students he felt he needed to watch closely. He also wrote down the names of those who irritated him a great deal. "This play can serve two purposes," he smirked.

***

"This has got to be a joke," said Ron as he studied a piece of parchment that had been put up in the Gryffindor common room.

"Read it again," said Harry quietly.

"The following Gryffindor students have been chosen to take part in a school play. Those mentioned are to remain in the Great Hall after breakfast."

"And my name is definitely on there?"

Ron put an arm on Harry's shoulder. "Harry," he said slowly. "Your name is at the top of the list."

Hermione, who looked like a victim of a few heavy curses, was unable to speak.

"You OK, 'Mione?" asked Ron.

She nodded.

"At least we get to miss some classes, I suppose," said Ron, determined to look on the bright side. "I wonder who's in charge?"

"Well," replied Harry, "I think we can safely say it's not Snape!"

***

Snape surveyed the students who had remained behind in the Great Hall after breakfast. The unhappy truth was suddenly dawning on them, and Snape found some amusement in this.

"As you all know, you have been chosen for the school play. We all have places we would rather be, so follow my exact instructions and we can keep this...situation as bearable as possible." A chorus of groans hit him in one wave.

"The play is about the four founders of Hogwarts, so as you can probably guess, the majority of you will be trees and various other scenery. This is quite fitting as most of your brains resemble wood. Malfoy, Granger, Potter, Parkinson. You have the honour of being the founders and not a tree. The props are over there," he said pointing to a large box. "Take one, and then do something that resembles acting. I have papers to mark."

Draco rushed over to the box, so he could get the best prop. He selected a large fake sword, and then started throwing various objects to his friends. He then picked up the smallest plastic dagger and threw it at Harry. "Here you go Potter. You get a nice girly weapon."

Everyone watched in amazement as the dagger just missed Harry and sliced straight through one of the thick wooden tables.

"I'm guessing that dagger was real," Ron helpfully pointed out.