At the Hogwarts' Banquet
A silly fic written by
THIS is what you get after re-reading the banquet scene in Book Four with the accurate frame of mind… Behave!
WARNING: This fic makes no sense! Unless you've watched "Oliver!", then it could ring a bell.
"Not much longer now!" moaned Ron Weasley, fork and knife in each hand and a very expectant expression on his gleaming face. He focused on his empty golden dish.
"You are truly pathetic," said Hermione Granger, who was seated next to him. Where Ron's focus was on his plate, her face was turned, as ninety percent of the rest of the Great Hall's inhabitants were, toward Dumbledore, who was making the usual Welcome speech.
"I'm not pathetic, I'm just hungry!" snapped Ron. "And the welcome banquet only happens once a year."
"You still have banquets on Halloween, Christmas, and the end of course," whispered Hermione, refusing to look at him.
"Oh, yes," smiled Ron, unable to catch the irritation in her friend's voice.
Harry didn't want to argue. In spite that he was paying attention to Dumbledore, a lifetime with the Dursleys had taught him to enjoy a very abundant meal.
At last, Dumbledore was raising his arms . . .
"My dear students," he said, "don't let me annoy your stomachs with empty words. You've let me use my mouth, now I shall let you do the same. Feast!"
"Yes! Yes!" chirped Ron. The four tables of the Great Hall were suddenly full of the most delicious treats in the world, and Ron had a dish all his own. He dug into the roasted potatoes.
"You are disgusting . . ." said Hermione, seeing how Ron stuffed two whole potatoes into his mouth. He looked like a starving hamster.
"I dou I wah ph'ath'efic . . . " he snarled.
Harry didn't talk. He was busy with a treacle tart.
"The problem with you," said Ron to Hermione as soon as the potatoes were on their way down his throat, "is that you can't enjoy a simple thing as a very good meal."
"Huh," said Hermione. "A good meal is a well-balanced lunch, or dinner, or even breakfast. That," she pointed at the large chunk of meat on the end of Ron's fork, "is more than just a meal already. You are just starving."
Ron chewed hard on his meat, feeling insulted.
"You wouldn't know a good meal even if it danced under your nose," he said. "You'd probably be too busy writing a hundred-foot essay about why the Wizard Community should pay salaries to their house elves."
"Well, I probably would!" said Hermione, blushing. "But it'd be for a very good cause! You, on the other hand, couldn't make anything useful of all that food!"
Ron choked on the large slice of tart he was attempting to chew. He swallowed hard and gave Hermione a very dangerous glare.
"Anything useful?" he whispered, it was a dangerous tone.
"Of course you couldn't," she said.
Ron stared at her for a whole minute, then whipped his head around, catching Harry's eye. He heard it all.
There was a moment of brief telepathy between Ron and Harry. They nodded, their wands ready.
Ron stood up all of a sudden, making several Gryffindors nearby quit eating to stare at him. The whole Great Hall, staff included, stopped the chomping and eating and directed Ron stared of utmost incredulity when he jumped on top of the table.
Ron stared down at Hermione, whose eyes were bulged in surprise. Harry was unnoticed as he practiced a very specific charm on several people around.
Ron grinned at Hermione, opened his arms . . . and began to speak.
Is it worth the waiting for?
If we live 'til eighty-four
All we ever get is gru . . . el!
"What the—?" said Hermione, but in that moment Dean jumped next to Ron and went on.
Ev'ry day we say our prayer --
Will they change the bill of fare?
Still we get the same old gru . . . el!
"Oh, this is—!" Hermione whispered in embarrassment. Neville, a tad clumsy, joined Ron and Dean.
There is not a crust, not a crumb can we
Can we beg . . .
Seamus joined the trio.
. . . can we borrow . . .
Then Luna Lovegood, who was in the surroundings and was hit by Harry's spell.
. . . or cadge. . .
And finally, Harry himself.
But there's nothing to stop us from getting
When we all close our eyes and imag. . .ine
Music came from nowhere. Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw some Hufflepuffs playing instruments. There was a small choir of Ravenclaws, too.
Hot sausage and mustard!
While we're in the mood --
Cold jelly and custard!
A flock of flying dishes began to fly around the singers.
Peach pudding and saveloys!
What next is the question?
Rich gentlemen have it, boys --
We're anxious to try it.
Three banquets a day --
Our favorite diet!
A quick glance at the staff table showed Dumbledore smiling and gently nodding his head to the beat. McGonagall was fighting hard not to do the same. Hagrid was laughing. Snape was livid.
Just picture a great big steak --
Fried, roasted or stewed.
Somehow, Ron and Harry managed a somersault as Dean and Seamus juggled with chicken legs. Neville and Luna began to jump around.
Food, glorious food!
What is the more handsome?
Gulped, swallowed or chewed --
Still worth a king's ransom.
What is it we dream about?
What brings on a sigh?
Piled peaches and cream, about
Six feet high!
By now several groups of students, save Slytherins, were dancing on a good choreography.
Food, glorious food!
Eat right through the menu.
Just loosen your belt
Two inches and then you
Work up a new appetite.
In this interlude --
Once again, food
Don't care what it looks like --
Don't care what the cook's like.
Just thinking of growing fat --
Our senses go reeling
One moment of knowing that
Hermione was the only Gryffindor to remain seated, her arms crossed and her face beet-red. Ron and Harry began to dance and sing around her.
Food, glorious food!
What wouldn't we give for
That extra bit more --
That's all that we live for
Why should we be fated to
Do nothing but brood
Ron jumped again on top of the table. "Beautiful
food . . ." he sung.
"GLO-RI-OOOOOUS FOOOOOOOD!" the students ended, all with hands raised, some of them on their knees.
Ron pointed at Hermione. "HAH! What do
you think of THAT!"
"You're still pathetic," said Hermione, angry, as the treacle tart slid slowly down Ron's covered face. On the other end of the room, the Slytherins snorted and pointed.