Title: Wicked
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I only write fan fics. I don't own Wicked either. Nothing, not the lyrics, not the story, I just love the musical.
Summary: Rewrite. AU.Set Seventh Year. Dumbledore decides to lighten things up around Hogwarts after the war ends and decides to put on a Broadway show called 'Wicked'! To make things interesting, he appoints Severus Snape as the director. But when people don't start getting into it, Hermione casts a spell that pulls everyone into the world of Wicked.
Chapter One: The Bitch of Living
God, I dreamed there was an angel
Who could hear me through the walls
As I cried out-like in Latin
'This is so not life at all'
The Bitch of Living, Spring Awakening
Depression had a way of falling upon the world after one great party. Like it had happened in America and many other countries over the years, it fell upon the wizarding world a few months after the fall of Lord Voldemort.
The Celebration lasted through out the end of Harry's sixth year and filtered out into the summer months until finally when term began again, the wizarding world sunk back into despair. Perhaps not as radically as other countries as unemployment rates were still the same and many wizards had enough money in their Gringotts vaults to last them for a long time. But the feeling was still there.
People went through life without even a thought, just the usual ritual, nothing new. The gloom spread through every where and some even believed that there were people about hoping to gain what was once Voldemort's power. It was true that there were a few Death Eaters about at large but many cowered away from the lime light in the wake of their Dark Lord's gruesome death.
This fear and emptiness seeped through the walls of Hogwarts, affecting the students and staff; making the wondrous school loose some of its luster. It was what many older students labeled the bitch of living though all were careful to keep this charming name away from young ears.
It had however reached the ears of the staff and even the headmaster, Dumbledore himself who merely chuckled and agreed much to the staff's surprise. He allowed it, even had said it a few times when he became thoroughly frustrated at the state of the wizarding world. As he often pointed out at feasts, Hogwarts had to lead the wizarding world into this new era without a dark wizard or immanent death looming over everyone's heads. However his speeches seemed to loose their amazing quality and many found Dumbledore looking much his age instead of the strong, amazing, twinkling headmaster they had all come to love.
The war had taken much out of him, including much of his power, draining him until it got to the horrible point where when transfiguring a comfy chair out of thin air became something of the past and one ought to be ready for a chair that's hard and uncomfortable.
The war took much out of a lot of people. The Weasley's lost a son whom they had hoped would one day rejoin their clan. Ron's eyes still stung at the mention of the stern brother who had once been Head Boy. Hermione lost sight in her right eye and Colin Creevey was absent from the Gryffindor table, an empty spot waiting to be filled by his brother's side. The one who lost the most however had been Harry, who not only lost friends and felt guilt for their deaths still, but also lost the last of his innocence forever. He lost it when he fired off the final volley; when the green light had encompassed the man who had once been a lost boy like himself. Sometimes Harry believed that he lost part of his soul.
One day, Dumbledore decided enough was enough. Letting life go by was not how it was supposed to be. Nothing that the wizarding world was doing was working and so it was time to try something new, something that had, and still does, brought smiles to the faces of millions of people. Entertainment. He clapped his hands once happily and the twinkle in his blue eyes came back at full force when he thought of the idea.
Hermione noticed it right when she came through the two heavy wooden doors. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" she asked, he left eye focusing on the old man while her right stared outwards and blank. She had been tempted to wear and eye patch but Ron talked her out of it, telling her that it didn't matter, that he and Harry still thought she was beautiful no matter what.
Dumbledore clapped his hands, smiled as he stood conjuring the first comfy chair out of thin air in months. "Yes Miss Granger, do take a seat. I believe what I'm about to tell you will turn our luck around!" Hermione's brows creased, wrinkles forming on her forehead in her confusion. "I have come up with the perfect idea to get this school back on its feet again. I believe it is one of my better ideas, even better than my decision to use the Mirror of Erised to hide to Sorcerer's Stone."
"That must be some idea then Professor," Hermione stated grinning as Dumbledore nodded. "But I don't understand, what does this idea have to do with me?" Dumbledore's mustache twitched upwards along with his lips in smile.
"In order for this idea to happen, I need your expertise. I've heard that you had a wonderful vacation in New York this past summer, seeing a few shows and no doubt doing a bit of shopping," he stated, his blue eyes twinkling happily. Hermione frowned, nodding, not understanding. "I wish for the students to put on a play. Wicked to be more precise. The first in all of Hogwarts history, no doubt ready to lift the spirits of not only our students but the many witches and wizards who will see it."
"While that does sound like a wonderful idea, Professor," Hermione started, pausing. "Perhaps a different show would be better, more of a classic such as How to Succeedin Business Without Really Trying or The Music Man?" Dumbledore shook his head as he stood up from his desk and crossed the room pacing.
"I thought of that and went through the plots of many shows but I wanted to pick a show that the students and parents would be able to understand. What's better than a show that deals with magic such as Wicked? Did you not like the show?" Hermione shook her head quickly, giving a small smile as she turned in her seat to look at him.
"Oh no. I quiet loved it, excellent music and the set was fantastic. It's just, well, I think some of the students might take it the wrong way considering that the magic of Wicked is much different than ours. That and it's the prologue to The Wizard of Oz which does set up the play. And, well Professor, it sort of scared me as a child." Hermione stated as she looked down at her lap, her fingers clasped. Dumbledore's mustache twitched and she heard him chuckle softly. She looked up to find him standing next to her.
"And does it still scare you, after everything you've seen?" he asked, placing a wizened hand on her shoulder and she shook her head a small smile forming on her lips. "Well then, now that that's settled, I will need your help in acquiring the scripts, music, and rights to the play. I understand that this will cost a bit of money but I believe that Hogwarts will be able to splurge a bit for it," he stated as he took a seat at his desk, his blue eyes twinkling.
It was as he said this that the two heavy wooden doors opened for a second time. Hermione turned in her seat to see who had entered while Dumbledore merely smiled and walked over to Fawkes, running a hand down its shiny coat of feathers.
Hermione squinted but easily recognized the tall figure in black who stood rigid, his eyes looking forward, his lips just beginning to curl into a sneer. "You asked to see me Dumbledore?" he said softly but was easily heard by the two, his voice cold and calculating. Dumbledore nodded and sat down at his desk smiling. Hermione had the sinking feeling in her stomach that she knew exactly what Dumbledore wanted to see Snape about, and it had nothing to do with Harry.
"Yes, do take a seat Severus, and help yourself to a lemon drop. It's about time you tried one," he stated with a grin. Snape grudgingly took a seat but made no attempt to take the sweet as he crossed his legs and rested an elbow on the arm rest of the chair that had materialized at Hermione's side by the wave of Dumbledore's wand. "Now, I've asked you here to discuss what I have been talking about with Miss Granger. Hogwarts will be putting on a play, or more specifically, the Broadway musical Wicked and you will be the director," Dumbledore declared, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint, one that could have rivaled the Weasley twins, Fred and George.
Snape's eyes widened a fraction but otherwise, his facial expression didn't change. Instead he sat and waited for Dumbledore to finish. He knew from experience to let the old man have his say and then try to rebuttal but why he still tried, even he didn't know. Dumbledore always had a way of getting Snape to do whatever he wanted, no matter how much Snape fought.
"Miss Granger has already agreed to handle getting the rights, scripts, and music for us. I've also already talked to Mrs. Weasley and she had agreed to make the costumes and I'm sure the cast of students you select will do fine in creating a set." Snape's lips curled into a sneer as his eyes narrowed.
"And why, Albus, am I the chosen director? Any of the other teachers would be a much better choice as I know nothing of the theater," Snape said coolly, his eyes leveling with Dumbledore who merely continued to smile.
"This is for your own good Severus. Except for your classes and attending meals, you have held yourself up in your quarters, not even putting a foot into the teacher's lounge, since Voldemort's demise." Snape straightened in his seat, his eyes widening, his frown deepening, and his hands clutching the armrests. "I understand that you went through much as a spy for us and that you sacrificed much, but you must take your place in the wizarding world again. You are not some one despised Severus, no one hates-"
"I would appreciate it if you would desist!" Snape interrupted, his lips thinning. "I am well aware of how my peers and students view me," he paused, casting a glance over at Hermione from the corner of his eye while she sat in her chair, looking very uncomfortable. "If this is what all this is about then I will take my leave now." He stood, inclining his head towards Dumbledore before turning on his heel, his hands balled into fists. It was as he was about to leave that Dumbledore stopped him by softly saying his name. Snape turned around, head held high as if to give off the idea that he would not back down.
"You will do this Severus. You will do this and you will thank me for it. That's the end of that discussion. Now you may return to your quarters. I will announce this to the students tonight at dinner and Miss Granger, I trust you to get the materials we need as soon as possible," he paused, looking at Hermione over his glasses who nodded. "You have a week to get the auditions together, Severus and then a week after it to decide who will play what roles." He looked over at Snape who sneered but nodded. "Well then, you two better get a move on as you both have work to do," he stated grinning as he sat down at his desk while Snape strode out of his office with Hermione fallowing behind slowly.
Harry sat at his favorite chair in front of the common room fireplace, his Firebolt in hand and his broom service kit at his feet. He ran his hand over the grain of the handle, making sure there were no nicks or bumps. Even though it had been two years since Sirius's death, Harry still felt it when he worked on his broom. He often missed the weight of Sirius's head on his thigh when his godfather had been in his animagus form, missed reaching down to tangle his hand in the mass of black fur that covered his godfather's body. Sometimes his hand would wonder to do just that only to find empty air and Harry would feel strangely empty in the pit of his stomach.
He sighed, returning the polishing rag to the kit and setting the broomstick in the corner of the room next to his chair. The closed the kit and sat back in the chair, stretching his legs and his arms as he yawned, closing his eyes only to open them and look at the crackling fire before him. From time to time, he swore that he could see Sirius's smiling face in the hot flames but knew it was nothing but his imagination. He wondered why now he went through mourning and realized it was he was able to focus on the things he couldn't focus on earlier. It was better late than never.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked over at the chair next to him which his best friend occupied. Ron sat with a book in his lap, his brows creased, wrinkles on his forehead, and his lips down turned in a frown. Harry grinned and reached over, tapping his friend on his arm. Ron gave a small jump, looking around, his blue eyes settling on Harry's green ones. "Good book?" Harry asked with a small smirk. Ron grinned, shaking his head as he closed the book.
"Snape has thrown me through a loop again. I don't understand the man at all. You think after the war was over, he'd lighten up a bit but he still gives outrageous amounts of homework. I still haven't finished that essay on the bezor and its properties in potions and cures. Still got another parchment to go," Ron stated, his head lolling back on the chair. "Could I read over your notes, mate? They're bound to be a lot easier to understand than the gibberish in this bloody book." He tossed the book behind him which hit Crookshanks who yelped loudly and scampered up the stairs to the girl's dormitories.
"Sure, help yourself," Harry grinned as Ron reached over the armrest, his long arm extending towards Harry's bag which was propped up beside the chair. His hand grasped it, pulled it over to him before rummaging though the bag, trying to find the notes in the disorganized pile of parchment. Harry watching the muscles of Ron's back flex as he located the rumpled notes and pulled them out with a triumphant grin.
That was another thing he found out now that he was able to think about things besides getting through school and outliving Voldemort. Harry liked girls and boys. Especially Ron. He didn't know when he started looking at his best mate in a different light. There had been times earlier on back when he first started going through puberty that he reacted a bit differently than the other boys at the sight of his friends during the showers after Quidditch games but he had still felt the many butterflies that had occupied his stomach after kissing Cho and Ginny. He just sort of felt the same thing by just watching Ron get ready for bed.
He didn't talk about it to Ron though, or anyone else for that matter. The one talk he had had about sex and growing up with Sirius had been bad enough that Harry knew he never would want to repeat it. It had been hard enough to explain how his body got excited at the sight of someone of the same gender to his godfather; he knew it would only be worse if he tried to explain it to Ron. So he didn't. He kept it to himself and watched only sometimes. He often wondered just how many freckles Ron had that he, Harry, hadn't seen.
Ron pulled out his own essay and started jotting down his thoughts on the second roll of parchment while Harry watched on. It was a comfortable silence and Harry wasn't thinking of his godfather at the moment.
Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room a few minuets later, obviously bothered as she sat down on the arm rest of Ron's chair. "It's official. Dumbledore has lost it," she stated as she felt for Ron's shoulder, not seeing him but seeing Harry to her left. Harry chuckled pulling out his wand to rekindle the fire which was beginning to die.
"What did he want you for?" Ron asked, listening but sill working on his essay. Hermione gave an uncharacteristic grunt and shrugged.
"Help with a project which you'll find out about tomorrow no doubt. It's too weird. I don't think I could even explain it, really." Both Ron and Harry looked up at Hermione in surprise. Hermione was able to explain everything. Harry was positive that she could even explain why he found Ron so pleasing to look at along with girls if he ever had the courage to ask her. However, he didn't think Hermione would appreciate the idea that both she and Harry liked, even possibly loved, the same boy.
She sighed, paused as if debating whether she should continue or not before she stood up and shook her head. "I think I'll go to bed. I'm exhausted." Harry and Ron sat up in their chairs, looking up at Hermione, both ready to stop her. "I'll tell you more about it in the morning," she promised, smiling softly. "I'll see you both in the morning," and giving both Harry and Ron small pecks on the cheek, Hermione retreated to the silence and comfort of her bed. Ron returned to writing his essay and Harry returned to admiring his best mate openly, though for all the galleons in the world, Ron wouldn't have noticed.