A Hogwartian Dream

Scene I: Setting the Scene

Professor Dumbledore put his feet comfortably up on a low table in the staff room, popping a lemon drop into his mouth as he grinned at the witch sitting across from him. It had been a good term so far and, in celebration of half a year with no attempts on the lives of either his staff or students, he had arranged for a school wide party before the students were shipped home for the Christmas holidays. Victoria Vector, never one to let fun slip by, had volunteered to help immediately. She was just checking some final items from her list when he decided to break the companionable silence.

Quoth Dumbledore, "Now, dear Vicki, the dance's coming hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires
Like to an old, constipated dragon
Long delaying my desire to make merry."

"Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like unto thy glasses
Above the castle, shall behold the sight
Of our festivities," replied Vector without missing a beat.

Dumbledore waved an imperious hand. "Go, Flitwick,
Stir up -"

"Oh, honestly!" broke in Professor McGonagall. "With all due respect, Professor, some of us are trying to work." She glared severely at the headmaster and Arithmancy professor.

"Yes, you're quite right, Minerva. How thoughtless of me," Dumbledore admitted, winking at Vector. "Simply caught up in the moment. I do hope you'll forgive us?"

"Of course," said McGonagall, unruffled and certainly above muttering anything along the lines of 'honestly, as bad as the children' under her breath as she bent over her grading once more.

"One must wonder how the students view the upcoming festivities," Dumbledore said, standing to take his leave. "Don't you agree, Victoria?"

"Quite so," the witch said amiably.

In her corner, McGonagall's expression never altered, though Terry Boot did wonder about the rather ugly ink blotch upon receiving his Transfiguration essay back.

"So..." Anthony idly flipped through his notes. Morag looked up expectantly, quill still poised to write. Anthony continued flipping through the papers. Gritting her teeth, Morag resisted the urge to tap her foot. Anthony flipped. The heavy silence of the library began to fray Morag's nerves. Anthony flipped.

"So...?" she finally suggested.

Anthony frowned. "I think I made a mistake in my notes for History of Magic. Unless Uric died before he crashed the first Ministry convention?"

Morag blinked. "That was your 'so...'?" she asked, reaching over and snagging his notes.

"No," he admitted, pulling out more notes. Never a lost moment for the Ravenclaw prefect.

"Are you planning on sharing?" she asked, crossing out the incorrect dates and scratching in the right ones.

"Maybe. Is Venus visible next week?"

"Yes," she answered absently, dipping her quill. "Now, about your 'so.'" Anthony glanced up at her, eyes narrowing as she moved her ink-laden quill over his neat, meticulous notes. "Tell me or I blot."

His eyes widened in fear. "You wouldn't!" Morag just grinned. "Okay, fine." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, still eyeing the quill. "So..."

"Got that part."

"I heard you're going to the dance with Zacharias Smith."

"Oh, that." She passed back the History of Magic notes, unblotched. "Yes, I am."

"What about Ernie Macmillan?"

"What about him?"

"Didn't he ask you as well?"

"Yes." She carefully began stacking her books. Either Anthony was being rhetorical, or he was about to go over-protective best friend on her.

"Ernie's a nice guy." Ah.

"So is Zacharias," she pointed out.

"Well, yes. But, I mean, he's a little...sardonic. And, frankly, a touch odd."

"And Ernie Macmillan suffers from paranoid delusions."

"Well, yes," conceded Anthony. "But he's a nice, honest guy. You could do worse."

Morag sighed. "Look, I know Ernie's your chum and all, but he drives me slightly insane, whereas I find Zacharias amusing and capable of a lengthy conversation lacking all mention of plots or conspiracies. Aside from that, Ernie won't leave me alone and I'm quite ready to practice a few mild curses on him."

"All right. I just hope your logic's sound," surrendered Anthony, standing and swinging his bag onto his shoulder. "Hark, I believe Prince Charming approaches."

Morag twisted around to see Zacharias approaching. Resisting the urge to grin like an idiot, she turned back to Anthony. "I really do appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm okay on this one. Thanks, though."

"With duty and desire," he said wryly, starting toward the exit. Morag decided it was best to ignore the small glare he shot Zacharias. "What's up?" asked Zacharias, dropping his bag by the table and inevitably noting her rather put-upon expression.

"Nothing. Anthony just thinks I should go to the dance with Ernie," sighed Morag.

"Oh. Do you think so?" he asked, apparently unconcerned.

"No, not at all," she said with a wrinkled nose.

"Okay." He appeared to be done speaking when he opened his mouth again. "Things are like that I guess. Either the families don't get along, or the ages are wrong, or friends don't like it." Morag made a small, derisive sound, but he kept his soliloquy going. "Life's just like that. Nothing's perfect, and the things that are good are usually over before you notice them."

"Cheerful outlook." He just shrugged. Something caught Morag's eye, a movement behind the nearest shelf. "Is that..."

"Ernie hiding in the Advanced Charms section? Yes," finished Zacharias.

"Ah." Not again. This was really getting very old. "Yes," she said, raising her voice ever so slightly. "I heard that the Cornish Pixies are meeting on the Quidditch Pitch today to plot the downfall of Bertie Bott. Should be starting any minute now."

There was a muffled exclamation and a thud as Ernie tripped in his excitement to go expose the conspiracy and wreak deserving vengeance on all Cornish Pixies. A moment later the library doors shuddered closed behind his rather ungraceful retreat.

"That seems like a rather temporary solution," observed Zacharias.

"Yes. It usually only distracts him for an hour or so," agreed Morag.

Zacharias frowned slightly. "I think I'd rather like a little more uninterrupted time together than that."

"You mean a date?" suggest Morag with a slightly smile, sticking a sheaf of notes into her Potions text.

"Perhaps," said Zacharias, leaning one elbow thoughtfully on the table.

"What about Ernie?"

"I'd rather he didn't come along," Zacharias said firmly.

"That would be wonderful," Morag agreed. "However, he seems to think it's normal to stalk a girl who turned you down for a dance invitation and he's frighteningly good at finding me."

"It's the hound in his blood," explained Zacharias, allowing his chin to rest in his palm. "Also, that explains the ears."

Morag bit back a giggle. Ernie had run afoul of a poorly cast Engorgement Charm a few weeks previous. Madame Pomfrey said that his ears might be back to normal by the end of the holiday but, as it was, they were a tad...floppy.

"We'll have to meet somewhere else, obviously," she pointed out, shifting a little under his rather direct gaze.

"Do you remember the corridor where I met you and the Bones girl last week?" asked Zacharias thoughtfully. Morag nodded. "How about we meet there tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good to me," she agreed.

"Excellent. I think I can get away without Ernie following me. As a matter of fact," he said, suddenly watching something over Morag's shoulder. "It may be very easy. Here comes Susan."

Morag smiled as the other girl approached. "Good evening, Susan."

"I suppose so," said Susan, collapsing in the chair beside Morag.

"Are you okay?" asked Morag, eyeing her companion with some concern.

"I suppose. Only Ernie...I mean..." She blushed prettily. "I'm fine, thanks."

"We need your help," said Zacharias suddenly.

"What, mine?" asked Susan, surprised. Morag's brow furrowed. What was he up to?

"Yes. We're planning on meeting in the Defense Corridor tomorrow evening and need someone to distract Ernie."

Susan stared. "I..."

"Please, Susan?" cajoled Morag, catching on. "I can't seem to get away from him, and I know you like him..."

"I..." She looked from one to the other. "Oh. All right, I'll try."

"Thanks," said Morag, standing and picking up her books. "and I'll see you tomorrow," she added for Zacharias.

"Wait," he said. "I'll go with you. Good luck, Susan." With that, the two left Susan in the library to contemplate both what she'd just agreed to and why, when she had passed Ernie on her way to the library, he had been muttering about Pixies and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

It shouldn't be too hard to keep him out of their way, she reflected, giving up on solving the Pixie puzzle. All she would have to do was tell Ernie that Zacharias and Morag were on a date. Maybe then he'd finally realize that the latter had no interest in him. She smiled, pulling out a Potion's essay. Maybe then he'd realize that a certain other girl was interested in him. It was worth a try.

And she'd be sure to bring a bag of Every Flavored Beans, just in case.