Hogsmeade Wassail

The Hogwarts male's choir go to Hogsmeade

Hark, good villagers of Hogsmeade. What are the sounds that are brought by the snow filled air to your awaiting ears? Does it bode danger and foes to hide from? Or does it bode traders to take galleons from in exchange for the treasures of your stores? Woe, no! The voices that are growing steadily louder are coming from the Hogwarts castle, and while none would name the students as foes, neither do they own galleons to spend for. A poor sickle will be all in your purse for the trouble they will cause you this day, shopkeeper. Hark, they are drawing closer and now they can be seen on the road. With scarves in red and gold, green and silver, blue and bronze and black and yellow. With noses pale and cheeks red from the cold. With tinkling eyes, with eager steps, and they are singing.

Wassail! wassail! all over the town,
Our bread it is white and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;
With the wassailing bowl , we'll drink to thee.

They have been walking together, singing together, but when they reach the Three Broomsticks two of the boys step forwards. There is Ron, second youngest of the Weasleys, his flaming face matching his red hair. And there is Neville, only child of the Longbottoms who are well known here. They stand on shaky legs. Their voices are a bit uncertain, but as they sing the two boys gain in confidence and strength. The others, those who have fallen back, are with their voices summoning a harmony in support of their two comrades as they sing to the glowing Madam Rosmerta who can be seen by the window.

Then here's to the maid in the lily white smock
Who tripped to the door and slipped back the lock
Who tripped to the door and pulled back the pin
For to let these jolly wassailers in.

The serenading boys are rewarded with a smile by Rosmerta in her lily white smock as she holds the door open for the choir. The singers fill into the warm room. Now there are two other boys who step forward, claiming the attention, and no trace of uncertainty or shyness can be seen on their proud faces. Harry Potter, famous and infamous for numerous things, and Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoys. Their tenor voices are loud and clear. They sing in a rivalling way, each trying to outdo the other one in each passage of the verse. Crabbe and Goyle, both sons of the same, support their leader with their rumbling bass voices, lending his part a depth. Ron and Neville, loyally, do the same for Harry. Over it all, the high reaching voices of Ernie of Hufflepuff and Anthony of Ravenclaw soar, mending the rivalling parts and making them a whole.

Come butler, come fill us a bowl of the best
Then we hope that your soul in heaven may rest
But if you do draw us a bowl of the small
Then down shall go butler, bowl and all.

Filch the caretaker, who as a part time job works for Rosmerta, enters the room carrying a large tray of mugs and jugs for the singers. But no ale can be found, only butterbeer. As one man, the singers draw their wands and incantate the tripping jinx, repeating their last line as loud as they are able.

Then down shall go butler, bowl and all.

Er... Well, you see we had a choir practise and I drank quite a lot of coffee and... well, this story just sort of presented itself. I sing the first bass, the same part as Ron and Neville. The song is of course Glouchester Wassail, an old traditional carol with a lot of more verses than they are singing here.