A/N: I don't own Harry Potter and wouldn't particularly care to. I would like a rental agreement with option to buy for Hermione Granger. A short term contract with Nyphadora Tonks wouldn't be turned down. A Long-term agreement with Luna Lovegood would probably be a whole lot of fun. Any time Padma Patil wants to open negotiations, call me and oh for a weekend with Fleur. Oddly Lavender and Padma's sister (despite being her twin) Parvarti do nothing for me…
A/N2: My deepest apologies to Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim. – Oh and to William Shakespeare, who they ripped off in the first place.
Harry Potter and Hogwarts The Musical.
Lucius responded to the summons to his masters side instantly. In the Throne room he found the Dark Lord slumped in his regal seat, sobbing.
"My Lord, What is wrong?"
"That, that thing." He pointed to the folded newspaper on the table beside his throne. "You would not believe the cruel things it said about our wonderful show."
"We got a bad review My Lord?"
"We were PANNED Lucius. We closed opening night." The magically reconstituted body of the Dark Lord shook with sobs. "Why go on? He knows. Who ever that bastard reviewer is, he knows. Why do I even keep trying?"
More than a little worried about the state of mind of his Dark Lord, Lucius picked up the news paper to see what had done this to the Greatest Dark Lord in a century.
The Quibbler is pleased to introduce a new feature; theatrical reviews by our newest correspondent Pyjammas the Terror. He attended the opening night of the latest show by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; "Hogwarts The Musical" Here is his review.
Hogwarts the Disaster
A pointless exercise in three acts
A review by Pyjammas the Terror, Quibbler Theater Critic
The mistakes begin with the wallpaper. When the curtain rises on the torturous new show by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's "Lord Voldemort Presents Lucius Malfoy's Hogwarts the Musical Staring Lord Voldemort," the play's eager hero (portrayed by Draco Malfoy) is discovered attempting, with laborious comic inefficiency, to magically attach hypnotically striped green and silver paper to the walls of the Slytherin common room. Not to put a damper on a young man's early adventures in decorating, but instead of gluing on wallpaper, shouldn't he be slapping on paint? Then at least the audience would have the diversion of watching it dry.
Certainly, theatergoers deserve some form of incidental relief from the parching desert of a production that opened last night at the Phineas Nigellus Black Theater. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's 1943 comedy, his first Hogwarts smash, was a valentine to himself and to the joyful tribulations of being young, untried and murderous in the big castle. Yet for a work that celebrates the liberating force of spontaneity, this version doesn't have a single scene that feels organic, let alone impromptu.
The quip-packed dialogue that is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's signature registers here with the animation and full-bodiedness of projected pain curses. As the current Hogsmeade Players revival of "Don't Call me Tommy" indicates, early He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named retains its original freshness about as well as sushi. But as miscast and uneasy as this season's "Don't Call Me Tommy" is, it at least has the momentum that comes from honoring the Ping-Pong rhythms of rebounding crucios. "Hogwarts" progresses with the stiff-legged, robotic gait of an inferni.
Given the vitality of the talents involved here, it may seem puzzling that this "Hogwarts" should be so lacking in the sap of life. Its director, Lucius Malfoy, has established himself in the past decade as an inspired rejuvenator of post-mid-20th-century all male period pieces (including the recent "Sammy Slaps a Squib" and "Alberforth's Goat Party"). The Younger Malfoy is a rising star who was seen to fine advantage last year in the Hogwarts Player's production of Severus Snape's "Blame it on Potter." Theodore Nott has been wonderfully appealing both onstage ("Severus's Boy") and in Improv ("I didn't do it"), while Vinnie Crabbe and Gregory Goyle arrive in a cloud of happy associations with now-classic Shows, like "Wadda You Wanna Do?" (Mr. Crabbe) and "I Dunno, Wadda You Wanna Do?" (Mr. Goyle).
Yet if you look at these folks' credentials and personas more closely, you'll see that most of them are flagrantly mismatched with their roles, including, by the way, Mr. Malfoy. But let's start — though I'm loath to — with the Younger Mr. Malfoy, since his character, Draco Malfoy, is the soul of the play.
The Younger Mr. Malfoy, to put it bluntly, is no jumper. He exudes the bristly, defensive caution of a pretty boy used to fending off the advances of his elders and other creeps. And his range of vocal and facial expressiveness is pretty much confined to, at most, two lines of a musical staff. In the right part, he can work subtle wonders within these limitations. But his Draco seems as madcap as Mafalda Hopkirk in a disiplinary hearing. You can sense that he's trying, really hard, to be funny and freewheeling, but it hurts him. Us, too.
This doesn't give Mr. Nott's priggish Ted, who must be cajoled by Draco into shedding his buttoned-down ways and taking the Dark Mark, much to work with. "Is that supposed to be funny?" he asks Draco, after he delivers a typically Voldemortian put-down. "No, it was supposed to be nasty, Crucio!" he answers. "It just came out funny." But in truth, there is no appreciable difference between this Draco's being funny and being nasty; there's not even much difference between his hysterically sad and hysterically happy.Even playing opposite an emotional vacuum, Mr. Nott manages some appealing bits of comic business, as the fastidious Ted deals with the broken-down obstacle course that is his dormitory. But there's an artificiality in his line readings and gestures, however charming, which suggests that he developed them in front of a mirror. You can't blame him.
Mr. Crabbe has a winning way with dialogue that can make synthetic one-liners sound like filigree epigrams. Trim and dazzlingly blond, he is a glamorous eyeful in Severus Snape's rich period costumes. Then again, his character is supposed to be a shy, delicate frump in need of sexual awakening. Nothing that is said about Mr. Crabbe tracks with what we see of him here.
The role of the Bohemian womanizer next door is one Mr. Goyle could glide through on automatic pilot. He does. Like the rest of the cast, he has been painstakingly outfitted by Mr. Snape in clothing that screams, "It's the 1960's, folks." (In Mr. Goyle's case, this means Birkenstocks and a brocade Nehru jacket.)
This is part and parcel of Mr. Malfoy's shtick; he has always been big on time-capsule details. His "Hogwarts" comes equipped with a vintage (and sometimes anachronistic) soundtrack that ranges from Celestina Warbeck singing "Broomtown" to the Sisters' cover of "Hex! Hex! Hex!" Is this really what Draco, the raging individualist, would come up with? Perhaps Mr. Malfoy is trying to suggest that Draco is, after all, his mother's son, trapped in the conventions he grew up with. But "Lord Voldemort Presents Lucius Malfoy's Hogwarts the Musical Staring Lord Voldemort" does not stand up to such psychological parsing. For it to work at all, it has to float without flinching on the surface of its wide-eyed, good-willed romanticism.
Not even an appearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as and unnamed Dark Lord, with the most unattractive and obviously fake plastic nose tied to his face could save this farce (and no gentle reader, this show was NOT intended to be a slapstick comedy). Reduced to casting Crucios on those on stage with him (which did not appear to be scripted as they made no sense) He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came off as a disposable two dimensional villain who was quickly forgotten as soon as he left the stage.
Only one of the performers here seems to enter fully and happily into that spirit. Her name is Seamstresses Dummy, and she has a small role as a wisecracking but empathetic Blood Traitor Girl Ginevra Weasley. She is onstage, draped with a red wig for a total of perhaps 10 minutes. And those are the only minutes in which this show exhales the breath of life.
Lord Voldemort Presents Lucius Malfoy's Hogwarts the Musical Staring Lord Voldemort
Produced and Written By He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; directed by Lucius Malfoy; set by Blaise Zabini; costumes by Severus Snape; lighting by Gregory Goyls Sr.; sound by Vincent Crabbe Sr.; production stage manager, Narcissa Black-Malfoy; props coordinator, Bellatrix LeStrange; production manager, At the Phineas Nigellus Black Theater.
Running time: 5 hours 25 minutes. It just seemed longer.
WITH: Draco Malfoy (Draco Malfoy), Theodore Nott (Ted Nott), Vinnie Crabbe (Draco's Thug, Vincent Crabbe), Gregory Goyle (Draco's other Thug, Greg Goyle), Seamstress's Dummy (Blood Traitor Ginevra Weasley) and Jerry Mathers (The Beaver).
"You see Lucius? You see? You pour your life into a show, and this… this… this philistine dismisses it. Because of what this fool wrote, tickets were returned, my show closed. We only had one night Lucius. One night. The magic is.. is gone. Why go on?"
Lucius was worried. Other Death Eaters were appearing now. He had never seen the Dark Lord in such a state of depression. The review was scathing, but for Voldemort to react like this?
His spirits rose when he saw the Dark Lord draw his wand. Someone would be punished, and then all would return to normal. He was horrified when he saw the Dark Lord point his wand at himself and utter the last words Lucius ever heard.
Hermione Granger rushed into the Room of requirements, to find that the room was configured as a candle lit bedroom, the scent of jasmine and sex in the air. She found Luna Lovegood naked, straddling Harry Potter in the midst of an orgasm.
"H-h-h-hello Hermione," she gasped. "We'll be done in a few moments. Unless you wanted to join us?"
Hermione realized what she was staring at and blushed, then turned her back to the coupled couple, realizing they were not going to stop. "Join you, no, I… Harry, we're getting reports that Voldemort has died, all the marked Death Eaters have died as well."
"Yeah, I know. The Scar, you know. Oh MERLIN LUNA! DO THAT AGAIN!" Harry seemed to lose the ability to speak. The part of her that wanted to know everything was fighting with the rest of her over whether she should ask what Luna had just done. "Oh Wow. Remember that Luna my love. Anyway Hermione, I knew as soon as he died. About two hours ago. That's what Luna and I are celebrating. Are you sure you don't want to join in?"
"Are you serious?"
"We're safe from the Death Eaters. The Dark Wanker is gone. GOOD LORD LUNA, NOT WHILE I'M TRYING TO TALK!" he panted for a moment. "Anyway, what better time to have a real good time?"
Against her better nature Hermione started to see his point. She had been waiting for Ron to purchase a clue for three years now. She turned around to face them again.
Luna looked up to see Hermione approaching unbuttoning her blouse. "Yay!"