Noel Night, Chapter 13
I can't believe my eyes. What's Potter doing here? Lily doesn't really seem to care, as she's knocked him straight to the floor. I try to make my way through to the crowd now surrounding the two, but someone pulls me back.
"Rosalind?" It's Donald.
"Hello," I say, a bit started. "You know, James Potter's here."
"Well, of course he is here, what would you expect?" Donald growls. "Let's go to the doors so that we can get a good table." Before I can protest, he steers me away from Lily and Potter and toward the doors to the Great Hall.
When the doors open about a minute later, almost no one goes inside the Great Hall. Even though I had only eaten lunch there about six hours ago, it seems as though I'm in a completely different room. The four long house tables have completely dematerialized, like they did for our O.W.L.S., but instead of square writing desks, many round tables have appeared. New decorations have replaced the perfectly elegant ones that graced the hall at lunch. I wonder who put them up? Usually the prefects decorate the Hall in the first place, and that takes hours.
"Here is perfect," Donald says. We stop at the table closest to the teachers' table, which has not been moved.
Donald sits down, and I grab the chair to his right.
"So," he says.
"Yes?" I say after about ten seconds of silence.
"Nothing." Oh dear. I should probably say something.
"Thanks for the chocolate frogs, Donald."
"I'm glad you liked them. I got them at a discount," he replies. More silence.
"They were delicious," I lie.
I can't think of anything else to say, so we just sit them, staring at one another.
After what seems like an eternity, two more guests. It's Lestrange, and his girlfriend, the one I met after the school had been dungbombed, walk in together. They sit down at the table right beside the door, farthest from Donald and me, and begin to kiss. As disgusting as it is, I can't keep my eyes off them. I try to bat down the urge to tell them off. It's just a dance, they can do this. Besides, if I told them off, I'd probably wake up with an affliction nastier than the ones Snape gets after a fight with Black and Potter.
Lestrange and his girl stop kissing, anyway. Lestrange turns his head to look into the Great Hall. His eyes widen as a drove of people run, shrieking, into the hall.
"What's going on?" Donald asks.
"I dunno," I say, "but I don't fancy getting up to take a look."
More shrieks echo into the Hall as it fills with more people. I can hear some crashes and a splash.
"There they are!" exclaims a voice. It's Betty the sixth year, followed by Remus Lupin. He pulls out her chair, then sits down himself. Donald didn't do that.
"Peeves is making quite some ruckus out there," says Lupin with a smile.
"Aren't they doing something about it?" I ask. "You're a prefect."
"The best thing for everyone to do is duck," Lupin says with a sigh. Betty puts her arm around him. "I think Professor McGonagall went for the Bloody Baron, so things should settle down."
"Why did Dumbledore even let that Poltergeist in the school?" Donald fumes.
Lupin shrugs, "He needed somewhere to go, I guess."
"Well that somewhere shouldn't have been Hogwarts," snaps Donald. "He's ransacked the place."
"He can't very well haunt the Ministry, or a place like St. Mungo's," Lupin says thoughtfully. "Imagine how stuffy this place would be without him."
"Not at all stuffy," mutters Donald coldly.
"Remus!" shouts Black who suddenly appears behind me, Winnie in tow. He's about ten feet away. "Long time no see!"
"How long has it been, two minutes?" Lupin asks lightly.
"Far too long, Mr. Mooney, far too long. This must be the famous Betty Winterbourne... Ah, Miss Perry, I should have known." Black gives a deep curtsy in his long robes. I can't help but laugh. Black breaks into a large grin, one that reaches his eyes, then spots Donald. He extends his and hand says, "Finchy old pal, I see you've got your hands full." Donald doesn't extend his. Hand, that is.
No sooner do Winnie and Black take their seats then Lily and Potter come and sit beside them.
"So," Donald says. No one says anything. Black looks pointedly at Potter, asking a question with his eyes. Potter moves his hands in a way reminiscent of the way he did when Veronica was on his lap. Black nods, but looks a bit put out, so I don't think Potter actually told him what he wanted. A crash comes from the Entrance Hall.
"I thought you went home for Christmas," I say to Potter. Black's eyebrows raise and he shrugs his shoulders. I think I asked his question.
"Yes, I did. But when I told my mum about the dance, she said I had to come back," Potter explains slowly.
"How is she doing?" Black asks.
"Not well," Potter looks down at the place setting before him and runs a thin finger along the folded cloth napkin. Black bites his lip.
"Where's Peter?" Lupin asks suddenly.
"I didn't see him in the Great Hall," Black says thoughtfully. "Damn good thing too," he adds as another huge crash come from the Entrance Hall.
"It's Bedlam out there," says Lily. "I wouldn't want to get stuck in the Hall right now. Peeves is levitating this big bunch of water balloons and trying to knock them out with an ever-bashing boomerang. He's the worst shot I've ever seen."
"He can hit anything he wants to, Lily, believe me" Black cuts in.
"I hope Peter got held up in the Common Room," says Remus.
"Hey, imagine trying to get dressed with Snivellus lurking around. Now that would be embarrassing," Black laughs.
"He does it everyday, Sirius," Winnie says.
"Remind me to give the Sorting Hat a hug for not putting me in Slytherin with him the next time I see it," says Black. "Poor Peter, how can he live like that? I guess he's braver than I ever gave him credit for."
"Speaking of Peter, Sirius, does he have a date?" Potter says in a lowered voice. Lily and I exchange dark looks.
"Well, he does but-" Black breaks off, unsure of what to say.
"It's Veronica, Potter," I say, sparing him.
As horrible as he can be with people he doesn't like, I have to give Potter credit for being a gentleman. His face fell, but he didn't curse, or start screaming. I wouldn't have. He just said, "good for him," though not too enthusiastically.
"So," Donald says.
"Yes, Donald?" I ask. He says nothing. I turn to Lily and say, "What do you think of the decorations?"
"They're amazing." She looks toward the fairy lights. "Are those real fairies?"
"Yep," says Black. "I hate to be a spoilsport, but the same ones go up every year- or at least for the past three. I think it's a tradition, though."
"How do you know that?" Winnie asks.
"Oh, some girls asked me to go in my fourth, fifth and sixth year, so I guess this is my fourth Noël Night," says Black.
"I didn't know that," Winnie says, a little surprised. I didn't know that either, but it doesn't surprise me at all. I can see some seventeen year-old asking out fourteen year-old Sirius Black. He was certainly formidable enough then. I wonder what kind of shock she got when he started throwing food or something equally heinous?
"Hello, Jamesie," Veronica. I notice with delight that she is soaking wet. "There's a big-bad ruckus out there."
"Peeves does that sometimes," Potter's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but his voice shows zero trace of bitterness or sarcasm. "Makes things more memorable, doesn't it."
"Oh, tonight is a night I won't be forgetting for a long, long time," she smiles, then turn around sharply, flicking the water from her hair in Potter's plate. He cleans it with her napkin. Pettigrew finally arrives at the table, soaked and breathing in and out rather rapidly. A giant red mark on his face betrays a run-in with an ever-bashing boomerang. He scurries over to the chair beside Remus and pulls it out for her. Even Pettigrew. Sheesh.
But instead of sitting down beside her, he scurries back to Potter, who whispers something in his ear. Pettigrew returns to Veronica, and says "sechify!"
A small flame comes out of his wand tip, burning a hole in the white linen table cloth. Potter makes a waving motion with his hand, and Pettigrew tries again. This time Veronica is completely dry. He sits down, himself, still sopping wet.
"So," says Donald.
"Hi, Donald," Pettigrew says friendly-like. Veronica scowls as if she can't believe he's here. Jerk.
Menus begin to appear at everyone's places. I've seen this before, at my aunt's brother's wedding. You say what you want to eat; the people in the kitchen magically hear what you say, and then your food. It's not my favorite way to dine. Everything has to be pre-cooked, so if your choice is underappreciated, the food is cold. I take a peak at the menu. Why does fine dining always have to be associated with disgusting foods? IF it were me, fancy restaurants would serve Honeydukes' best chocolate as an entrée, not frogs' legs. It appears our table will be ordering last. Good, maybe there's something that I like here.
"How about the venison, Prongs," asks Black as he reaches behind Winnie to nudge Potter. He has a wicked grin on his face. Lupin and Pettigrew snigger.
"No, that's absolutely disgusting," says Potter resolutely. He looks rather green. "Please- no one order the venison."
"But it looks rather good," I protest. So, far, it's the only appetizing thing on the menu.
"Please don't." For the second time tonight, his smooth attitude is gone. He looks like he is going to be sick. "I just don't like the idea of eating deer."
"I didn't think you were a vegetarian, James," Lily says.
"I'm not, it's just deer."
Lily bursts out laughing, joining in Black, Lupin and Pettigrew who haven't been able to talk since Potter's request.
"It's really not that funny." Potter seems rather lost in the gale of laughter.
Lily grins at him, "I never knew you were such an old softie."
"Huh?" "Bambi, you've seen Bambi."
"Erm-yeah," Potter looks a little puzzled but he just smiles and nods.
"What's Bambi?" asks Black, bewildered. I have no idea what Lily is talking about.
"A Muggle film, came out years ago. It's about this deer and it's really very sad when this hunter comes and kills Bambi's-"
"Lily," says Remus, I don't think anyone here knows what a 'film' is."
"Well, it's a movie, sort of like the telly, didn't you take Muggle Studies, Remus? Anyway, lots of people go into this room with lots of chairs- you pay to get in- they all sit down in front of a screen and watch a performance Muggles made. It gets put on the screen, like a moving picture."
"You mean to say they train paintings?" I ask. "I thought Muggle paintings stay still."
"They do," Lily bites her lip, thinking hard. "They have a projector, though I'm not entirely sure how it works. I just give them my money and walk in. Muggle pictures don't move, see. So they take a big bunch of photos put them all in a line, and move them through at about twenty-four pictures per second, I think."
"Wouldn't everything happen really fast?" asks Black. He was able to follow that?
"No, there are just lots of pictures, they time it perfectly. What matters is that it's an excellent way to spend your Saturday afternoons," Lily says with a smile.
"Is it expensive?" I ask.
"No, but I don't know the price anymore, ten pence maybe. It keeps going up, and I haven't been in ages. Oh, it's about a couple of sickles," she adds as she sees out confused faces.
"We should go together sometime," says Potter.
"All right then," says Lily. Did she just agree to go on another date with him?
"I think it's our turn to order," says Winnie. She clears her throat, then says what she wants.
It's Black's turn now. He grins at the menu, then says, "I'd like the fried ducky, fancy frogs' legs, mashed tators, peaky peas and some mint humbugs."
I looked down at my menu, bewildered. There are four choices on it and the duck, frogs' legs, potatoes, and peas are all part of a separate meal. I can't find the humbugs anywhere. He'd definitely not supposed to do that, but somehow Black gets what he wants. When I order, I won't be such a pain.
"Rosalind?" Donald pokes me a little too hard, "it's your turn."
"Right I say, "Venis-no no not that filet mignon!" Venison appears on my plate for a split second, only to be replaced by steak moments later. So much for that. The ordering continues around the table. Everyone but Veronica abstains from the venison. Potter pointedly avoids looking at Veronica. Does it bother him it that much? He probably planned it so he'd have an excuse not to look at her. I wonder if he has a moral stance against certain desserts too.
"So," says Donald.
***
Author's Note: The really long dinner conversation will be continued soon, I promise.
I can't believe my eyes. What's Potter doing here? Lily doesn't really seem to care, as she's knocked him straight to the floor. I try to make my way through to the crowd now surrounding the two, but someone pulls me back.
"Rosalind?" It's Donald.
"Hello," I say, a bit started. "You know, James Potter's here."
"Well, of course he is here, what would you expect?" Donald growls. "Let's go to the doors so that we can get a good table." Before I can protest, he steers me away from Lily and Potter and toward the doors to the Great Hall.
When the doors open about a minute later, almost no one goes inside the Great Hall. Even though I had only eaten lunch there about six hours ago, it seems as though I'm in a completely different room. The four long house tables have completely dematerialized, like they did for our O.W.L.S., but instead of square writing desks, many round tables have appeared. New decorations have replaced the perfectly elegant ones that graced the hall at lunch. I wonder who put them up? Usually the prefects decorate the Hall in the first place, and that takes hours.
"Here is perfect," Donald says. We stop at the table closest to the teachers' table, which has not been moved.
Donald sits down, and I grab the chair to his right.
"So," he says.
"Yes?" I say after about ten seconds of silence.
"Nothing." Oh dear. I should probably say something.
"Thanks for the chocolate frogs, Donald."
"I'm glad you liked them. I got them at a discount," he replies. More silence.
"They were delicious," I lie.
I can't think of anything else to say, so we just sit them, staring at one another.
After what seems like an eternity, two more guests. It's Lestrange, and his girlfriend, the one I met after the school had been dungbombed, walk in together. They sit down at the table right beside the door, farthest from Donald and me, and begin to kiss. As disgusting as it is, I can't keep my eyes off them. I try to bat down the urge to tell them off. It's just a dance, they can do this. Besides, if I told them off, I'd probably wake up with an affliction nastier than the ones Snape gets after a fight with Black and Potter.
Lestrange and his girl stop kissing, anyway. Lestrange turns his head to look into the Great Hall. His eyes widen as a drove of people run, shrieking, into the hall.
"What's going on?" Donald asks.
"I dunno," I say, "but I don't fancy getting up to take a look."
More shrieks echo into the Hall as it fills with more people. I can hear some crashes and a splash.
"There they are!" exclaims a voice. It's Betty the sixth year, followed by Remus Lupin. He pulls out her chair, then sits down himself. Donald didn't do that.
"Peeves is making quite some ruckus out there," says Lupin with a smile.
"Aren't they doing something about it?" I ask. "You're a prefect."
"The best thing for everyone to do is duck," Lupin says with a sigh. Betty puts her arm around him. "I think Professor McGonagall went for the Bloody Baron, so things should settle down."
"Why did Dumbledore even let that Poltergeist in the school?" Donald fumes.
Lupin shrugs, "He needed somewhere to go, I guess."
"Well that somewhere shouldn't have been Hogwarts," snaps Donald. "He's ransacked the place."
"He can't very well haunt the Ministry, or a place like St. Mungo's," Lupin says thoughtfully. "Imagine how stuffy this place would be without him."
"Not at all stuffy," mutters Donald coldly.
"Remus!" shouts Black who suddenly appears behind me, Winnie in tow. He's about ten feet away. "Long time no see!"
"How long has it been, two minutes?" Lupin asks lightly.
"Far too long, Mr. Mooney, far too long. This must be the famous Betty Winterbourne... Ah, Miss Perry, I should have known." Black gives a deep curtsy in his long robes. I can't help but laugh. Black breaks into a large grin, one that reaches his eyes, then spots Donald. He extends his and hand says, "Finchy old pal, I see you've got your hands full." Donald doesn't extend his. Hand, that is.
No sooner do Winnie and Black take their seats then Lily and Potter come and sit beside them.
"So," Donald says. No one says anything. Black looks pointedly at Potter, asking a question with his eyes. Potter moves his hands in a way reminiscent of the way he did when Veronica was on his lap. Black nods, but looks a bit put out, so I don't think Potter actually told him what he wanted. A crash comes from the Entrance Hall.
"I thought you went home for Christmas," I say to Potter. Black's eyebrows raise and he shrugs his shoulders. I think I asked his question.
"Yes, I did. But when I told my mum about the dance, she said I had to come back," Potter explains slowly.
"How is she doing?" Black asks.
"Not well," Potter looks down at the place setting before him and runs a thin finger along the folded cloth napkin. Black bites his lip.
"Where's Peter?" Lupin asks suddenly.
"I didn't see him in the Great Hall," Black says thoughtfully. "Damn good thing too," he adds as another huge crash come from the Entrance Hall.
"It's Bedlam out there," says Lily. "I wouldn't want to get stuck in the Hall right now. Peeves is levitating this big bunch of water balloons and trying to knock them out with an ever-bashing boomerang. He's the worst shot I've ever seen."
"He can hit anything he wants to, Lily, believe me" Black cuts in.
"I hope Peter got held up in the Common Room," says Remus.
"Hey, imagine trying to get dressed with Snivellus lurking around. Now that would be embarrassing," Black laughs.
"He does it everyday, Sirius," Winnie says.
"Remind me to give the Sorting Hat a hug for not putting me in Slytherin with him the next time I see it," says Black. "Poor Peter, how can he live like that? I guess he's braver than I ever gave him credit for."
"Speaking of Peter, Sirius, does he have a date?" Potter says in a lowered voice. Lily and I exchange dark looks.
"Well, he does but-" Black breaks off, unsure of what to say.
"It's Veronica, Potter," I say, sparing him.
As horrible as he can be with people he doesn't like, I have to give Potter credit for being a gentleman. His face fell, but he didn't curse, or start screaming. I wouldn't have. He just said, "good for him," though not too enthusiastically.
"So," Donald says.
"Yes, Donald?" I ask. He says nothing. I turn to Lily and say, "What do you think of the decorations?"
"They're amazing." She looks toward the fairy lights. "Are those real fairies?"
"Yep," says Black. "I hate to be a spoilsport, but the same ones go up every year- or at least for the past three. I think it's a tradition, though."
"How do you know that?" Winnie asks.
"Oh, some girls asked me to go in my fourth, fifth and sixth year, so I guess this is my fourth Noël Night," says Black.
"I didn't know that," Winnie says, a little surprised. I didn't know that either, but it doesn't surprise me at all. I can see some seventeen year-old asking out fourteen year-old Sirius Black. He was certainly formidable enough then. I wonder what kind of shock she got when he started throwing food or something equally heinous?
"Hello, Jamesie," Veronica. I notice with delight that she is soaking wet. "There's a big-bad ruckus out there."
"Peeves does that sometimes," Potter's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but his voice shows zero trace of bitterness or sarcasm. "Makes things more memorable, doesn't it."
"Oh, tonight is a night I won't be forgetting for a long, long time," she smiles, then turn around sharply, flicking the water from her hair in Potter's plate. He cleans it with her napkin. Pettigrew finally arrives at the table, soaked and breathing in and out rather rapidly. A giant red mark on his face betrays a run-in with an ever-bashing boomerang. He scurries over to the chair beside Remus and pulls it out for her. Even Pettigrew. Sheesh.
But instead of sitting down beside her, he scurries back to Potter, who whispers something in his ear. Pettigrew returns to Veronica, and says "sechify!"
A small flame comes out of his wand tip, burning a hole in the white linen table cloth. Potter makes a waving motion with his hand, and Pettigrew tries again. This time Veronica is completely dry. He sits down, himself, still sopping wet.
"So," says Donald.
"Hi, Donald," Pettigrew says friendly-like. Veronica scowls as if she can't believe he's here. Jerk.
Menus begin to appear at everyone's places. I've seen this before, at my aunt's brother's wedding. You say what you want to eat; the people in the kitchen magically hear what you say, and then your food. It's not my favorite way to dine. Everything has to be pre-cooked, so if your choice is underappreciated, the food is cold. I take a peak at the menu. Why does fine dining always have to be associated with disgusting foods? IF it were me, fancy restaurants would serve Honeydukes' best chocolate as an entrée, not frogs' legs. It appears our table will be ordering last. Good, maybe there's something that I like here.
"How about the venison, Prongs," asks Black as he reaches behind Winnie to nudge Potter. He has a wicked grin on his face. Lupin and Pettigrew snigger.
"No, that's absolutely disgusting," says Potter resolutely. He looks rather green. "Please- no one order the venison."
"But it looks rather good," I protest. So, far, it's the only appetizing thing on the menu.
"Please don't." For the second time tonight, his smooth attitude is gone. He looks like he is going to be sick. "I just don't like the idea of eating deer."
"I didn't think you were a vegetarian, James," Lily says.
"I'm not, it's just deer."
Lily bursts out laughing, joining in Black, Lupin and Pettigrew who haven't been able to talk since Potter's request.
"It's really not that funny." Potter seems rather lost in the gale of laughter.
Lily grins at him, "I never knew you were such an old softie."
"Huh?" "Bambi, you've seen Bambi."
"Erm-yeah," Potter looks a little puzzled but he just smiles and nods.
"What's Bambi?" asks Black, bewildered. I have no idea what Lily is talking about.
"A Muggle film, came out years ago. It's about this deer and it's really very sad when this hunter comes and kills Bambi's-"
"Lily," says Remus, I don't think anyone here knows what a 'film' is."
"Well, it's a movie, sort of like the telly, didn't you take Muggle Studies, Remus? Anyway, lots of people go into this room with lots of chairs- you pay to get in- they all sit down in front of a screen and watch a performance Muggles made. It gets put on the screen, like a moving picture."
"You mean to say they train paintings?" I ask. "I thought Muggle paintings stay still."
"They do," Lily bites her lip, thinking hard. "They have a projector, though I'm not entirely sure how it works. I just give them my money and walk in. Muggle pictures don't move, see. So they take a big bunch of photos put them all in a line, and move them through at about twenty-four pictures per second, I think."
"Wouldn't everything happen really fast?" asks Black. He was able to follow that?
"No, there are just lots of pictures, they time it perfectly. What matters is that it's an excellent way to spend your Saturday afternoons," Lily says with a smile.
"Is it expensive?" I ask.
"No, but I don't know the price anymore, ten pence maybe. It keeps going up, and I haven't been in ages. Oh, it's about a couple of sickles," she adds as she sees out confused faces.
"We should go together sometime," says Potter.
"All right then," says Lily. Did she just agree to go on another date with him?
"I think it's our turn to order," says Winnie. She clears her throat, then says what she wants.
It's Black's turn now. He grins at the menu, then says, "I'd like the fried ducky, fancy frogs' legs, mashed tators, peaky peas and some mint humbugs."
I looked down at my menu, bewildered. There are four choices on it and the duck, frogs' legs, potatoes, and peas are all part of a separate meal. I can't find the humbugs anywhere. He'd definitely not supposed to do that, but somehow Black gets what he wants. When I order, I won't be such a pain.
"Rosalind?" Donald pokes me a little too hard, "it's your turn."
"Right I say, "Venis-no no not that filet mignon!" Venison appears on my plate for a split second, only to be replaced by steak moments later. So much for that. The ordering continues around the table. Everyone but Veronica abstains from the venison. Potter pointedly avoids looking at Veronica. Does it bother him it that much? He probably planned it so he'd have an excuse not to look at her. I wonder if he has a moral stance against certain desserts too.
"So," says Donald.
***
Author's Note: The really long dinner conversation will be continued soon, I promise.