And Now for Something Completely Different (Again)

Where we left last time:

Death Eaters run towards Harry with wands raised.

Harry: Oh no, not again!

Ron: Righto, darling. Yeah, I'll be home 'bout eight thirty. Nah, nah, I'll go on the bike.

Harry: Who you talking to?

Death Eaters: His mum, probably. That's how decomposing composers start and that's what you'll be doing in a minute.

Harry backs into piano and violin players. Violin and piano players start playing classical music.

Harry: Ron, hurry up with singing part!

Ron: Beethoven's gone, but his music lives on,
Hermione: Well, I hope he's gone.

Ron: And Mozart don't go shopping no more.
Dumbledore: Yes, he does. Well, I hope it was him. I think it was Wolfie.

Hermione: Ron, there's some mail for you. Oh no, it's a Howler!

Ron: You'll never meet Liszt or Brahms again,

Starts being chased by Death Eaters as well.

Ron: Would you mind leaving me alone? I'm trying to teach the tourists.

And Elgar doesn't answer the door.

Death Eaters: Sorry didn't realise. Oh, Harry. (was in italics)

Ron (weren't small caps): Well, I can't have offended anyone yet, surely. Picks up Howler. Oh no, it's from Mum!

Mrs. Molly Weasley shouts; her voice magnified many times (meant to be bold?): Ronald Weasley! You bring back the rest of your family right now or when I get my hands on you, you'll be sorry!

Ron starts looking on the floor for bits of his family and muttering to himself something about "How can she get her hands on me" and "I'm going to regret this."

Death Eaters smile at Harry then lunge across the table, scattering food.

Ron: Schubert and Chopin used to chuckle and laugh,
Whilst composing a long symphony,
House Elves appear to clear the mess and Dobby lunges at one of the Death Eaters, creating even more chaos(maybe find another word for this second mess. Maybe chaos).

Ron: Would you mind keeping the noise down? I'm trying to sing.

Death Eaters: So sorry.

They slowly creep across table towards Harry. A Death Eater accidentally knocks a plate on the floor and winces.

Ron: That's better.

But one hundred and fifty years later,
There's very little of them left to see.

House Elves start dancing on the tables with Death Eaters. Professor Dumbledore gains a piece of Will Turner and manages to clone him. All the female House Elves and tourists sigh.

House Elves: They're decomposing composers.
There's nothing much anyone can do.

Lucius Malfoy: They obviously haven't got a house elf.
House Elves cower. Hermione glares at him and starts collecting for S.P.E.W.

House Elves: You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven cannot hear you.

Music changes suddenly instrumental with House Elves dancing on tables, waving tea towels above heads similar to Scots men and their kilts.

Ron: Handel and Haydn and Rachmaninov
Enjoyed a nice drink with their meal,
Dumbledore: I don't blame them. A nice red - excellent. Can't beat it.

Death Eaters start running round the tables after Harry, and Harry jumps on a table then somehow onto the chandelier.

Ron: But nowadays, no one will serve them,
And their gravy is left to congeal.

Professor McGonagall and Eric Idle enter, with the professor straightening her bun and Eric Idle smoothing down his shirtfront. Ron, who was facing the doors, looks crestfallen.

Hermione: Verdi and Wagner delighted the crowds,
With their highly original sound.

You got to sing all the time in the last one so don't look so crestfallen.
Professor Binns: The pianos they played are still working,
But they're both six feet underground.

This is a history lesson, is it not?

Harry, swinging from the chandelier, falls and starts running, with the Death Eaters moving their heads to follow his progress.

Death Eaters: They're decomposing composers.
There's less of them every year.
There'll be a lot less of you, Harry Potter, when we get hold of you.

You can say what you like to Debussy,
But there's not much of him left to hear.

Harry: Claude Achille Debussy-- Died, 1918.

Hermione: Christophe Willebald Gluck-- Died, 1787.

Ron: Hey, I'm the one who's supposed to be singing, not you two. Carl Maria von Weber-- Not at all well, 1825. Died, 1826.

A flash of theatrical light.

Voldemort: Giacomo Meyerbeer-- Still alive, 1863. Not still alive, 1864.

Ron: Where'd you come from? Modeste Mussorgsky-- 1880, going to parties. No fun anymore, 1881.

A flash of theatrical light.

Sirius: Johan Nepomuk Hummel-- Chatting away nineteen to the dozen with his mates down the pub every evening, 1836. 1837, nothing.

Ron: This is getting stupid now.

AUTHOR: I'd be careful what you say, Ronald Weasley.

Ron: You're the one writing this.

AUTHOR: True. Ok then, you can start singing, but first a change of clothing is in order.

Death Eaters' clothes change from masks and cloaks to the uniforms of Mounties. Ron's school uniform changes into the outfit a lumberjack would wear.

Harry: Oh no, not that song. Anything but that.

Ron: I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay.

I sleep all night and I work all day.