Chapter 53: Script Tease

Chapter 53: Script Tease

Durham Cathedral, UK. May 2010.

[“Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and all else will live. You have until midnight!” Ralph Fiennes’ sinister speech sped like infectious spores through blaring subwoofers across the packed Hogwarts hall. 

None made an extra movement. Worried, shocked, frightened, teary, and angry expressions held hard in rictus - each earning their momentary closeups. 

The dolly camera raced from the great hall’s entrance to the other extreme end where I stood - expectantly dejected, by the lectern stand. A wave of swerving heads followed in the wake of the passing camera that terminated behind me and followed my line of sight, where I waited to once more be judged on stage for all to see. The weight of their sudden scrutiny joined the burdens already laid there, and I slouched my shoulders.

I struggled to keep my features passive. My audience didn’t. As the last sibilant echo settled over the silenced crowd, Pansy Parkinson brought the pandemonium. “But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!”

Her recrimination roused Hogwarts’ student body - just not in the way I feared. Neither the wand clutched tightly in my fist, nor my lower lip trapped between my teeth, had a chance to quiver. Tears, however, threatened to spill unbidden, regardless. 

I couldn’t see as many faces anymore, but a lot more backs. 

Ruffling robes, whipping wands, and stomping shoes formed a shield in front of me. Red, blue, yellow, and even green accents made their voices heard to the rapidly paling opposition in the crosshairs of their drawn wands. 

A head of scraggly, dirty blonde hair blocked the lower half of my vision. “You will not harm Harry Potter!” Luna had learnt how to conduct a daring rescue from dear departed Dobby. It was her dainty hand, too small to even wrap around the whole circumference of my wrist, that stayed my wand. And her fierce gaze, that bored affectionately into me (and the lens) - even as her wand steadied itself in the opposite direction, that allowed a brittle smile to break across my face despite the dire circumstances. I was thankful for a lot at this moment; not the least of which was that she couldn’t feel my pulse.

“Speak for yourself, Pansy. We’re done doing your ilk’s dirty work.” Blaize Zabini’s dusky tones determined, once-and-for-all, that evil wasn’t owed Slytherin house’s blind allegiance. Though, it had to be said, the snakes, in spite of their bout of bravery, stayed characteristically slippery by planting themselves at the rear of the frontline. 

“Points to all four houses, for their outstanding show of unity! To you too, Ms Parkinson, for providing the opportunity.” McGonagall twitched her wand authoritatively. “Now I shall thank you, and those of similar mind, for leaving the hall first with Mr Filch.”]

“Cut!” Alfonso’s curtain call saw frowns, wands, and tensions fall.

The only thing that hadn’t, was Evanna’s hand from mine; both of which were now merrily swinging. “D’you think that take went well? I’m almost hoping we have to do another, if I’m honest. I’m not entirely sure I gave my best performance.” 

“Really? In my view, you played your cards well - gave me a royal flush, at any rate. But if that’s your round-about way of asking me to purposely flub another take…” It very much did occur to me to do the grown-up thing and outright deny such a disruptive request - and to also maybe comport myself with a little more discretion and dissuade my co-star’s clear advances. But let’s be honest, that’d be far too off-brand for me. “Fumble, mumble, or tumble?” 

“Dealer’s choice.” 

“Lo siento, everyone. I need to readjust the pace of the dolly. Reset, please.” Thank you, Alfonso.

Jackpot. “Hit me.”

“Shall I take that as an invitation for a repeat performance, then?” Maggie Smith was ready to gamble another wand. “I’ve precious little time left alive as it is. Don’t make me take you to an early grave alongside me, young man.”

Bust. “I’ll stay.” I’m okay living dangerously, but not that dangerously. Head of house always wins.

 “Poo.” Evann crapped out.

–

[There was a lull in the battle. But the ringing in my ears and pulsing in my temples felt as if the siege hadn’t stalled for even a moment. 

I was out of breath. I’d raced from Dumbledore’s office - though I wasn’t fully conscious when I did. Worked out better that way. No-one would be able to spot me under the visibly green invisibility cloak if even I wasn’t aware of where I was. Transparent. Intangible. A ghost.

What brought me back from the brink was death. Oliver Wood, played by the wizardly named Sean Biggerstaff, helped Neville Longbottom carry Colin Creevey’s tiny corpse between them. “I can manage him alone from here, Neville.” Oliver hefted the body onto his shoulders alone, and trudged into the great hall, where all others were being laid to rest. 

I tore my eyes away from what I was afraid to see inside; fishing on Neville instead. He stood at the threshold, dust-covered and bleeding. His forehead pressed on the rough stone wall, eyes closed to swallow his anguish with that classic Dan Radcliffe broken intensity.

Voldemort had given his final ultimatum - his ultimate insult. Mourn the dead and bury your morale with them. 

There was a last horcrux left. Two, actually. The last enemy I’d have to destroy myself, but for the second, I’d need a contingency. Dumbledore’s lessons had stuck - now more than ever.

Ron and Hermione were the first to come to mind. Their faces would remain there until my last moments. I saw them by the castle entrance, leaning on each other, and surrounded by the shorter than average actors in grey motion capture suits. 

The house-elves had joined the battle, too. Kreacher among them, using his first-hand knowledge of tending to elf wounds to aid the others during this brief respite. 

None of them should be approached. I knew where I had to go; what I had to do. If any of them knew what I did, they wouldn’t let me.

Moving away from them, I turned my attention back to Neville. Hitting my marker a few inches away from Dan’s, I parted the cloak just enough for my face to peek out. At the angle I stood, and the shot’s framing, only Neville would see me. “Ha-” a finger went over my lips, “-rry-!” Neville’s surprise came out barely over a whisper. “You’re not thinking of handing yourself over, are you?”

“No.” The lie was easy. “But I need your help, Nev. You’ve seen that huge snake of Voldemort’s, haven’t you? Calls it Nagini.”

“Yeah, what about it?” With every syllable uttered, we slanted closer together; the camera’s slow zoom emphasising the conspiratorial nature of the conversation. 

“It needs to die - Ron and Hermione already know, but… just in case…” Kill the spare.

“Kill the snake?” He figured it out for himself.

“Kill the snake.” I confirmed.

Invisibility claimed me again. I allowed myself one last selfish act and intruded into the makeshift morgue and infirmary that the great hall had become.

The injured were right up front, closest to the door, so that a harried Pomphrey and Sprout could look after them as best they were able. Stepping out of their way, I dodged around the groaning, but still alive resistance, and moved deeper in.

Rows of bodies. I burned each of their faces into my memory, but kept going until I couldn’t. Remus and Tonks lay beside each other. Their hands were placed as if they were reaching out for one another - even dead. I bent and twined their hands together. I spoke to them, unworried about being heard; there was enough wailing to drown me out. “This is the best I can do. I’m sorry about Teddy.” Because they way things were looking, I might not be there for them as they’d asked.

My next regret wasn’t too far off. 

The Weasleys were there around Fred’s body. Their hard won reconciliation - lost. Molly sobbed as she cradled Fred’s head, Arthur beside her with stoic tears trailing his cheeks. Percy, after being absent for so long, was now the loudest as he threw himself over his dead brother’s torso and apologised relentlessly. I wanted to stop, to join them, but I forced my feet to keep moving. Silently, I flanked behind Bill and Fleur, doing their best to hold George steady, whose eyes looked as dead as his twin’s.

There was one last Weasley I wanted - needed - to see. Ginny was crouched next to a first-year who’d curled in on herself. “It’ll be alright. It’s okay.” 

The scene was meant to end here, according to the script. Just me, aching and quietly stooped over Ginny as she soothed someone despite her own pain. But… as I embodied my role, it just… wasn’t enough.

I thought for a moment. This wasn’t the first take, and I was keenly cognizant of how the shot was blocked. The camera had us in a wide shot - rack focused on our side profiles in the foreground, while the hall behind blurred. The point of the effect, as I remembered it from Alfonso’s storyboard, was to trick the audience into thinking they were on the verge of tears. 

First-year girl had her line coming up - she’d sold the delivery every other time she’d said it. Now to see whether my impromptu interference would shake her and Karen Gillan out of character. 

Abandoning my marker, I swerved around to face Ginny instead of her back. No stutter in the dialogue, no flinch in their expressions. So far, so good. I knelt beside the girl and craned my neck up to study Ginny the same way she was. The line was here - I wanted it to look like the words she said were the words that I didn’t have the courage to speak for myself. “But I want to go home. I don’t want to fight anymore!” She hitched a little when I got close, but it just made her cry sound more realistic.

Ginny’s voice broke. “I know.”]

“Cut, cut, cut!” 

“You prat! You almost made me bungle my dialogue and ruin the entire take! Who said you could improvise?” I gasped, and the teeny extra next to me giggled. Being (somehow) the responsible one here, I immediately covered her ears to keep Gillan’s ginger spice from stinging her further. 

“I did not, but I am most pleased he did, anyway!” Alfonso came rushing down the set, his curls flapping in the wind from his speed. Mwah, mwah! While my hands were occupied, he seized the opportunity to grab and stretch my cheeks, giving them a couple of smooches. “Ay, Bas. I really missed working with you! We are printing that - I’ve got my take. Go home early for today, everyone.”

Heeding his direction, most started filtering out. Not everyone, though. “Don’t give him too much credit, now. Probably just perched there to sneak a peek, I reckon.” Nuh-uh! Well… not recently at least. Especially given circumstances - that I caught glaring from across the set this way in my peripheral vision.

Karen cocked her hips, folded her arms, and taunted playfully. Tomboys had a weird way of flirting - very much the ‘push you over to get your attention’ method. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts.” I jumped at the French inflection suddenly at my rear - which I assure didn’t feel great on the knees. Lea Seydoux also peered down at me. “Some day he will pass you by like some beggar on ze street.” The gall! I buried my tenga for you - don’t act as though you’re the one that got set aside like yesterday’s dildo!

Nat Tena showed up to complete the trifecta. “Or just forget about you entirely the second you look away. Memory of a goldfish, this one.” She had her hands stretched above her head high enough to reveal her toned navel, right at my eye level. I’m sure her back was hurting from laying about for so long. 

“Oui. But zat is not always so bad. Some boys, you only need for fun.” Meat. That’s all I was to them.

“Him?” Karen thrust an accusatory nail at me. “Please. He’ll flirt and flirt, but never take any action. Most he’ll do is flash you without his shirt on.” When did I ever!? “You get used to it after a while.” Not unless you were rewinding bts footage on repeat, you wouldn’t!

“Just because you’ve seen it all before doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not worth peeping again. More so now, considering most of our stuff’s done until and unless we’ve got reshoots. Only Bas’ scenes are left now for the most part - don’t have much option but to watch him, eh? My band’s on break, so I can only strum my guitar solo so many times. Gotta entertain myself somehow.” 

See? This is what I get for being sex on legs. I understood where they were coming from. My mirror and right hand shared their sentiment, with how terribly I’d been neglecting them lately.

Older girls’ hearts were fragile. I’d better let them down easy - which was quite unlike how I’d conducted myself with two of them previously. I did the only thing a man could do in my position.

Run. 

“Bas!”

“Dick!”

“Dégénéré!”

Emma sported a satisfied smirk while peals of the trio’s laughter chased me out as I tore away. This was so not how I pictured my first gang-bang going.