Hogwarts, School of Rock

Aberforth smiled. He steepled his fingers. He opened his mouth. He breathed in.

He paused.

"Well?" asked Bushy. She was trying to hide it, but he could tell she was just as intrigued as the rest of them. But there was one point he had to make sure of first.

"Pardon me, my young witchlets and wizardlings, but I forgot one very important detail of this...class project. You see, it's not strictly something we're supposed to be working on...yet."

"Why not? It's not illegal, is it?" Bushy said, narrowing her eyes.

"Not strictly speaking, no." He leaned forward and lowered his voice, pulling on everything he remembered from his own teenagehood and from a certain day in Hogsmeade. "But it is something They don't think you're ready for yet."

"Who's they?" Red asked.

"Capital letters, Red. Them." Blank stares. He sighed, exasperated. "Oh, you know who." Everyone gasped. "Not that You-Know-Who!" They relaxed. "I'm talking about the highers-up, the big cheeses, the head honchos."

"The Man?" Red ventured.

"Bingo. Knew there had to be some brains underneath those flames." The Weasley seemed torn between being proud and being indignant. Good, keep them guessing.

Bushy rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, but Harry cut in. "Tell us then. We can keep a secret." There were eager nods from around the room.

"Wait, what about him?" Red jerked his head towards the corner where the Malfoy boy sat. "If this is for...you know...then we should make him leave, or else he'll run home and tell everything to Daddy."

Ron seemed to realize his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. So did everyone else, as evidenced by the tense silence. Malfoy sent him a venomous glare. "Sorry to disappoint, but that's rather impossible now, thanks to your four-eyed friend, isn't it? Is your memory that bad or do you just take perverse pleasure in gloating over your betters?"

"Oh, like you're one to talk," jeered Red.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Aberforth sensed that another word would have sent the boys flying at one another. "If this is how you're going to act, then there's no use doing the project at all." The class broke out in loud protests. "Hate to do it, but that's how it works, little Snorkacks. We gotta love one another to make it work. Or at least not kill one another."

The two boys were still glaring at one another from across the room. Harry jabbed Red with his elbow, eliciting something mumbled that may or may not have been an apology. He then glanced over at Malfoy. "He won't tell." Red started to protest and received another jab. "Right, Malfoy?"

"As if there was ever a question," Malfoy said with a sneer. "Just tell us what your stupid project is before Weasley wets his homemade trousers."

That was good enough for Aberforth. "We are going to form...a rock band." He smiled and waited for the cheers to break out.

All he got were incredulous stares. Oh, dear.

"Are you quite serious?" Bushy finally questioned.

"Absolutely, my dear."

"But we can't play instruments."

"Actually, Hermione," spoke Textbook Boy in a small voice, "I've been playing piano since I was little." The class looked surprised, but this was just the cue he needed.

"I knew it!" crowed Aberforth, leaping away from the desk. "Who are you?"

"N-Neville Longbottom, sir."

"Brilliant, Neville, absolutely spiffing to have you here!" He clapped his hands. Neville looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there. "And you, Malfoy, you said you were a drummer, correct?"

The blond raised an eyebrow. "Well, I didn't exactly say--"

"Fabulous, Big D playing the big d!" The class broke into hysterical laughter.

Draco glared at him. "Don't ever call me that again."

Aberforth chuckled and did a little jig. "And you, Red, you're a tall one, I'm sure they pegged you for bass."

"Er, not really, no."

"No? No matter, it's in you, my boy, we'll just have to bring it out. All three of you, to the front." As the three boys reluctantly came forward, he conjured up a keyboard, a drum set, and a bass guitar, directing each player to his instrument. "Perfect! Now all we need is a lead guitarist. I don't suppose any of you...?" he trailed off, surveying the class.

But all he received were shrugs and muffled apologies. "Hm. Well, this is a problem. We can't very well rock and roll without someone to rock. What to do, what to do..." he muttered, pacing back and forth and rubbing his nose thoughtfully.

The class began whispering behind him. Neville Longbottom was calculating the shortest escape route from the room. Possibly the school. Draco Malfoy leaned against the blackboard and examined his nails. Red Weasley held the neck of his guitar awkwardly between his fingers and looked out at the class. "Harry, help!" he whispered.

"That's it!" cried Aberforth, struck with inspiration like a flying pig crashing into the barn. "Harry, you're a Seeker, aren't you?" He rushed over to the bespectacled boy.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, my boy, everything!" He grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him to the front. "Those nimble fingers will be dancing over the chords in no time, no time at all!" He conjured another guitar and pick and shoved it them into Harry's hands. "Well, give it a try." He bounced eagerly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but he got the guitar into an approximation of the correct position and brushed the pick once over the strings.

Brrruuuumm!

It was a beautiful sound. Aberforth wiped at a tear. "You're a natural, Harry Potter. You'll do just fine." He turned to the class with a proud grin. "And there you have it, my friends - our very own class rock band. With a little magic and a little practice, they'll soon be fighting the good fight with the power of song."

"What about the rest of us?" asked the Irish boy. "D'you expect us to just sit here while they have all the fun?" Neville looked like he would be happy to trade with his housemate, but Aberforth paid no attention.

Fiddlesticks. The little buggers were smarter than he'd given them credit for; he didn't need more than four of them for the plan. But earning their silence would require everyone's happiness. He rubbed his nose and observed the gaggle of girls, who were back to whispering and stealing glances at Harry Potter, who was fumbling around with his guitar, trying to find a comfortable position.

And another pig made barnfall.

"By John, Paul, George and Ringo, that's it! Class," he called, regaining their attention, "have no fear, for you will all play important roles in the band. A rock group is more than just musicians, you know. I will, of course, be lead singer, but we'll need some backups as well. Can anyone in here sing?" A few hands shot up. He pointed at the dark-haired twins in the gaggle. "Let's hear it, ladies."

The girls looked at each other and nodded.

"I say a little prayer for you!

Forever, and ever, you stay in my heart

And I will love you-"

"Forever and ever and ever! Yes! Excellent, you're hired!" Harmonizing twins - could life get any better? "Who else? You, what about you?" He pointed at the blonde next to Twin One.

She blushed, smiled sweetly and opened her mouth:

"And Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeaiiiiiiiiiiii will always love yoooouuu-"

Aberforth thought he had died and gone to the pub in the sky. "Oh my sainted pants, Blondie, that's wonderful!" The girl sat back with a smile, basking in the shocked gazes of her classmates. "All right, backup singers, check-"

"What about me?" interrupted Bushy, waving her arm in the air.

"Can you sing?"

"NO!" cried Harry and Red. Bushy looked put out, but she put her hand down. There was probably a story behind that. But no, mustn't get distracted.

"Fine. Where are my Ravenclaws?" Two boys raised their hands, along with Twin Two. He pointed at the boys. "Who are you?"

"I'm Terry Boot, he's Anthony Goldstein."

"Lovely to meet you. Ever done any special effects work?" They shook their heads. "You're clever, you'll figure it out. And my strapping young Gryffindor men in the back, you're security. We'll need you to help set up and make sure we're not being spied on by the Man."

The class was buzzing; the musicians behind him were experimentally tapping out rhythms and plucking strings, and the newly appointed band members were puffing up with importance. Aberforth peered around the room. "Who's left?" The boy and remaining two girls from the gaggle raised their hands, along with Bushy. "Ah, yes, well, hm..."

"I want to be the stylist," the boy declared. There were titters around the room as Aberforth considered this. Well, why not?

"Excellent idea. These drab uniforms certainly won't do for rocking. Who are you?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"You've got the job, JFF. And you've reminded me what I had in store for these three lovely sorceresses." Justin's two housemates in the gaggle and Bushy sat up a little straighter. "A band is nothing without morale, and you three will provide that as the official... groupies." The two Hufflepuffs squealed happily. "Your first assignment is to come up with a name for this rock and roll extravaganza."

Everyone was talking now, and most with smiles. Aberforth could hardly believe how well it was all working out. This was exactly what he had envisioned. With this group, and a few helpful spells, he would soon be on his way to greatness like they'd never expected from him. He could just picture the look on-"

"Professor Dumbledore!" someone called. He ignored it; Albus wasn't due back yet so they must be just talking about impressing him or something. Where had he been in his fantasy? Oh yes. He could just picture the look on-

"Professor Dumbledore!" the voice called again. What on ear-? Oh, wait; he was Professor Dumbledore, wasn't he? He tuned back in to the room.

Bushy. Of course.

"What do you want?" he replied with a sigh. Just as it was getting good, too.

She gave him a patronizing look. "How do we know they'll be any good? We haven't actually heard this so-called band play, you know."

Several of her classmates groaned. Others, Red in particular, looked insulted. Some even nodded agreement. She didn't take her eyes off of Aberforth.

He smirked. "Always a tough one in the crowd. You want to hear them? Fine. Drummer boy, strike up a beat, and the rest of you join in when you feel it. Don't think, just play. Five, six, seven, eight!"

As Draco began, Aberforth sneaked a quick spell at both Harry and Red. No harm in giving them a boost if it would help in the end. The beat was the same one he'd interrupted when this all began, and Neville easily fell in.

Those boys were good. Aberforth's own delighted surprise was mirrored by the rest of the sixth years.

Red experimentally plucked a string, and then, whether because of the spell or his own instincts, kept plucking.

Harry was the last to join in. He looked in amazement at Neville to his left, glanced at Draco behind him, and raised an eyebrow at his equally surprised friend on the right. Finally, he shrugged and lifted the pick.

Rrrriiiing!

"Great balls of fire!" shouted Aberforth as the band ceased playing, conditioned by six years of responding to the Hogwarts bells. "Class, I'm very sorry, but it seems we're out of time. However, we shall continue from this spot next week. Until then, keep your ears open and your lips zipped." He pressed a finger to his own lips and winked.

The students chattered as they gathered up their belongings. Neville was smiling softly to himself, and even the Malfoy kid's smirk was less malicious than usual. Red was staring at his fingers like he'd never seen them before as Aberforth vanished the instruments.

Aberforth wiped his wand on his sleeve as they cleared out. When he looked up, however, Bushy was standing in front of him. "Problem?" he inquired absently.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. You see, I'm Muggle born. I know what a groupie is. And whatever Hannah and Susan might be, I am no floozie. I absolutely refuse." She jutted her chin out, daring him to contradict her.

"Hm? Well, well. Dissent in the ranks, eh? No matter, no matter. There's an even more important position waiting for you. I simply did not want your classmates to feel slighted."

She regarded him skeptically. "And what, exactly, is that?"

"The creative side of the show is covered, I'm sure of that. However, there are practical and logistical issues that will require an efficient and thorough mind. Now, this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm not terribly skilled in that area. Keep it mum, there's a girl." When she didn't protest, he knew he had her hooked. Or, she wasn't surprised. Whatever. "Hermione, I want you to be our business manager. You'll be second in command - first, really, in some respects. You'll run the show."

She clearly hadn't been expecting that, judging by the way her jaw dropped. "I - I don't know what to say - really?"

He smiled and hoped his eyes were at least approximating his brother's twinkle. "I'd have no one else do the job."

She blushed and grinned. "Well- thank you! Of course, I'd be happy to 'run the show' as you put it," she said with a giddy sort of laugh. "I'll get started right away." And she was off with a bounce in her step.

Forget flowers and chocolates. The real way to getting in a woman's good graces was by giving her power.