Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 18
The Bewitching Hour
Tonks pranced over to them with the annoucement that her group from Hufflepuff was coming up soon. She waved to Lupin as the three of them passed close by, but he was once again surrounded by a mob.
Tonks was practically bouncing in her seat when the chorus from Hufflepuff took to the stage. As the lights rose from left to right, each of them turned to face the audience in turn. Harry counted seven boys and each was dressed in various combinations of a kilt (the louder, the better, it seemed) and other articles of clothing that clashed with it as much as possible. The laugher kept growing and growing as each outfit was revealed. There was the one wearing Eskimo mukluks and a parka, followed by the one in a red sequined top, followed by the one in a fringed rodeo shirt “ with still more sequins. In the end, it was the one wearing the coconut bikini top and a huge flower lei that Harry unofficially anointed as the winner.
But it didn’t stop there. Before the laughter had even begun to die down, the music started and the boys linked arms and started to dance and shimmy their way in unison down the broad steps, each movement mimicking a familiar dance routine from musical theatre reviews. Harry was not the only one wiping tears of mirth from his eyes by the time they were done.
Lupin finally had to take a goodly number of deep breaths before he was able to turn to Tonks and remark, “Did anyone remember to call The Times Drama Desk?”
“And just why would that be, Remus?” Tonks prompted gleefully.
“Someone needs to warm them that there isn’t anyone to meet them at Hogsmeade Station!”
Harry immediately visualized the hapless critic arriving at the gates to the heavily warded castle and seeing only a crumbling ruin. He completed the picture by rendering the individual as a supercilious hack, like a Muggle counterpart to Rita Skeeter from The Daily Prophet, and a driving rainstorm.
“Where were you able to get than many kilts?” inquired Fred of Tonks while George was still recovering.
“I contacted all sorts of people about donating old clothes for the Costume Office. The kilts came from Alastor Moody.”
Professor Flitwick, wearing a red peaked hat that instantly reminded Harry of a ceramic garden gnome, ascended the bottom step of the stage and was immediately framed in an iris spotlight. Pointing his wand at his throat to amplify his voice, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen and esteemed judges, I present Neville Longbottom as this year’s front-runner for the presidential nomination!”
The lights rose on a stage bare except for a podium decked out in red, white and blue bunting and an American flag on a stand in the background. Professor Flitwick started clapping and urged everyone to follow suit. At the precise peak of the applause, Neville strode out from the wings with both arms outstretched and surveyed the crowd before taking his place behind the podium. As far as Harry could tell, his costume consisted solely of a dark business suit and an oversized cowboy hat. Neville tapped the improvised microphone with the tip of his finger and the maestros provided the reverberating echo.
“Aw shucks,” Neville intoned in a Texas drawl, “all these people came just to see me?” He cleared his throat nervously, then hunched over the microphone unnecessarily. “My fellow Americans, I want you all to know, to hear it from the horse’s mouth, that my opponent is Satan incarnate. Beelzebub made flesh! Vote for me “ I’m only the anti-Christ!” Unbuttoning his jacket with deliberate slowness, he added with a wicked grin, “I hope you all brought yer checkbooks.” As he turned to wave to all segments of the room, his jacket fell open and it was totally empty! No shirt, no tie, no chest, no nothing! Most disconcerting of all was that as he made his way down the broad steps, shaking hands left and right, even his hands seemed to dissolve. As he reached the floor, he removed his hat with a mighty wave to the crowd and his facial features faded away until they were nothing but a translucent shadow of himself. The crowd responded with a collective gasp.
A few extra moments were allowed for the candidate to work the room and then Neville raced up the stairs to assume his duties backstage.
One of the maestros took over and announced, “As the last presentation of the evening, it is our great pleasure to bring you the official sponsor of tonight’s festivities: our own Rolanda Hooch in the role of a lifetime!” With a long fanfare, the lights rose slowly to unveil the professor in a classic damsel’s dress, bodice half untied. She was draped across the bronzed and muscled arms of a young man with a rakish smile and long wind-blown tresses. As they held their positions, a large roll of parchment unfurled down the stage steps to read: The Pirate’s Pillage by Danielle Cartwright.
As the audience erupted in applause and whistles (mostly aided by Fred and George), Tonks leaned over towards Harry and whispered, “Oooh, it’s just like those Daydream Charms you bought me as a gag!”
“You have it all wrong,” Lupin returned, “it’s a--” At which point, Hermione clapped both hands to her mouth and urgently shook her head 'no'. Catching her eye, Lupin lowered his voice so that the others at the table had to lean in to hear, “It’s a bodice-ripper!”
Hermione shook her head in mock defeat as the rest of the table broke up with laughter all over again. Still laughing, Harry hazarded a look in the direction of the judges’ table that had been set up in the back of the room. They were busy huddling and whispering among themselves, oblivious to the audience. He identified Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, by her green surgical scrubs and face mask dangling from her neck. Madam Pince, the petite librarian, was dressed in an elaborate feathered outfit, strangely reminiscent of a large tawny owl. Harry was surprised that the third judge was none other than Professor Trelawney wearing her usual eclectic layers of scarves and beads but also leaning on a silver shopping trolley filled with assorted items from a junk heap.
“I don’t get Professor Trelawney’s costume,” Harry commented to the table in general.
Hermione replied in a confidential undertone, “We had the hardest time finding something that was agreeable for her as well as Madam Pince. I thought the Lady Liberty costume was ideal for Professor Trelawney, being the welcoming symbol in New York harbor.”
Ginny took over. “But she claimed that we were dead wrong. Said that during her recent visit “ as if she’s left this school in sixteen years “ the official welcoming committee for New York City consisted of bag ladies.”
“Well, at least Tonks didn’t have to help her assemble an outfit!” Ron quipped to much laughter.
“But it gets better,” offered Tonks in the same conspiratorial tone, “Irma Pince decides she’s always wanted to dress as Margaret Thatcher.”
“Did anyone remind her that old Maggie was tall and broad shouldered--” began Fred.
“Rather like a rugby player?” finished George.
Hermione resumed the narrative with, “As an alternative, she suggested Queen Victoria, which would have suited her perfectly “ except that it didn’t exactly satisfy the guideline about using American themes.”
As the gesticulations among the judges started getting more frantic, it was clear that they just could not agree. The headmistress was called over as a referee. Presently, Professor McGonagall turned to the anxious faces of the audience and raised her hands for attention.
“The judges and I have reached a consensus,” her magically enhanced voice announced as behind her the three judges tore their notes into little pieces and threw them into the air. “We will decide on some method of awarding house points tomorrow; all Heads of Houses and other teachers are encouraged to provide suggestions. Maestros, I believe we have arrived at the dance portion of tonight’s festivities!”
With an elaborate flourish of her wand, the tables were magically arranged along the far portion of the Hall to allow for a generous space for dancing near the stage area. The lighting was changed to roaming spots over the dance floor as the maestros struck up a lively tune.
Professor Hooch and her escort took to the center floor in an elaborate dance, full of whirls and complicated steps.
Harry leaned over to Ginny and asked, “Who is that dancing with Professor Hooch? I’ve never seen him before.”
“That’s only because you didn’t come to Quidditch tryouts,” she explained. “He’s the Professor’s new assistant, Simon Stevens. He helps with equipment, oversees practices, and does a bit of back-up refereeing as needed. Might even be on broomstick duty with the first years, but I’m not entirely certain about that.”
“All the girls have the biggest crush on him,” Ron teased. “Don’t they, Ginny?”
“I certainly hope you’re not referring to me,” she retorted in a lofty tone.
“Well, you have to admit that a lot of girls seem to be anxious to start conversations with him whenever he’s around,” Hermione commented.
“I don’t know why they’d bother,” replied Ginny. “He hardly ever says anything to anybody.”
More couples were filling the dance floor, but the professor and Mr. Stevens were still the central attraction.
Professor McGonagall swept over to their table and leaned in to comment, “I remember that dance from my younger days: it’s called the tarantella.” She had placed one of her hands on Harry’s shoulder for balance and now stroked the suit fabric appreciatively. “That’s a very nice jacket, Harry. Is it vintage? You can always tell by the smallest hint of cashmere in the fabric.”
“You’ll have to ask Hermione, Professor,” Harry replied, a bit embarrassed by the undue attention. “She was the one who picked it out.”
“Excellent taste, my dear.” The headmistress nodded to Hermione. Then addressing Tonks, she added, “By the way, Tonks, that was a most inspired bit of choreography you taught those boys; right out of Gilbert and Sullivan.”
McGonagall had whisked off to the next table by the time Tonks whispered to Lupin, “I told you someone would get it.”
As the ‘witching hour of midnight drew nigh, there were quite a few sleepy heads that had to be gently escorted to their dormitories by the President-elect, Lady Godiva, or the Praetorian Guard. Ginny and Tonks were beseeched into joining a group of Hufflepuff boys in a dance that consisted of mainly jumping up and down on the dance floor.
Left momentarily alone at the table, Harry went in search of refreshments. He passed Fred and George who were in a lively discussion with one of the kilted lads. From the portion he was able to overhear, they were ironing out a deal to have their new skeleton fireworks dance the same musical routine as the Hufflepuff group. He noticed Luna at one of the far tables engaged in deep conversation with Robert, who Harry recognized from Tonks’ class. Neville was dancing with Melanie in a corner of the dance floor, totally oblivious to those around him as well as to the tempo of the music.
As he passed the iron banister where they had queued earlier, Harry noticed a bit of movement in the shadows at the top of the stairs. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light, then rested his foot silently on the lower step to gain a better look. He was shocked to see the stark white of Hermione’s pinafore and the swishing tail of Ron’s catsuit, but the rest of their bodies were so entwined it was impossible to see where one ended and the other began.
Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Professor Lupin standing right behind him. Quietly, Lupin murmured, “I believe that has been a long time in coming.” He flicked his wand towards Ron and Herimone and plunged their silhouettes into deeper shadow. “Come, Harry. I don’t really need my pocket watch back right this moment.”
The rest of the night became a blur as Harry danced with Luna, Ginny and even Tonks at one point. He was surprised to see how many of the older girls were bold enough to entreat Mr. Stevens to dance with them. Lupin took turns with the headmistress and Professor Hooch before lingering over a long, slow number with Tonks.
It was long past midnight when Harry made his farewells, but Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: The last group of costumes is presented and the dance portion of the evening begins.