Chapter Forty-One
~~~~~~~~~~
Seamus doubted whether Blaise’s flat had actually ever seen this many people in it at once before. Obviously they always had band practice here, his flat being the bigger of the three, but usually Harry and Theo didn’t turn up for band practice. Although Ron usually did. And Theo barely turned up anyway. When Seamus had told him where they were going he had muttered something about how being taken to your own flat for a date was hardly exciting. Seamus supposed he had a point. But he looked quite happy there sitting with Harry while they waited for Ron, talking about Harry’s latest article. Seamus only knew it was about fish. That was all he wanted to know.
He wandered over to where Blaise was pulling the covers off his precious drums and picked up some sort of long and pointy and sharp stick. He looked around the flat, bored out of his brain. He poked Blaise in the back with the stick, causing him to jump round suddenly, rubbing the small of his back and glowering.
“What the fuck was that for Finnigan?” he snarled, looking even angrier when Seamus continued grinning happily.
“Wha’ss thiss?” Seamus lisped finally, still not able to talk properly due to his braces. “Lookss like a-”
“It’s a drumsitck Finnigan,” Blaise replied curtly, folding the sheet he used to cover his drums up in half. “You hit the drums with it to make them go bang.”
“Hmmm. Lookss like it would work better as a pointy poking sstick.” Seamus leapt across the room and Theo was suddenly accosted with a very pointy stick.
“Back, ye villian,” Seamus yelled, swishing the stick about dangerously. “For I have a sstick and I’m not afraid to usse it.”
“Seamus, put the stick down, Blaise, do not under any circumstances actually do what you were about to do to Seamus, Theo do not move until Seamus has put the stick down, unless you don’t value your sight and Harry mate, what’re you doing here?” a tired voice said from the door.
“Hey Ron,” Seamus replied, finally dropping the stick down and slipping it quickly into his back pocket. He would investigate it further at a later moment in time.
“Yeah Potter,” Blaise said, lowering his hands from Seamus’ neck. “Why are you here?”
“Seamus invited me after I had written up my article to escape the wrath of Pansy,” Harry sighed. He then glanced at Ron as he got out his guitar, and then stared. “Ron, is that a hickey on your neck?”
“Errr…” Ron looked around wildly. “No, it’s a bruise. I’ve been fighting with Malfoy again.” He cast a look at Seamus which plainly said Say anything and die…
“Again Ron really? Must you? It’s really getting old now and-”
“Harry mate,” Ron said, cutting off Harry’s rant. “You’re beginning to sound scarily like Mione and we need to warm up, so shut up and listen for a bit ok?”
Seamus started, kicking in the bass line as Ron slung his guitar over his shoulder. They always started with this song, even if Blaise did hate the drum part because he called the beat ‘too light’. It was mainly instrumentally based and easy for each of them to take a solo, so it was officially their warm up song, Blaise outvoted two to one. Blaise joined in with ‘light’ drum beat finally and then eight bars later Ron kicked in with his harmony. They all waited for about a sixteen bar phrase before Seamus nodded and began to sing in a slightly lisping, lilting voice.
“We all came out to Montreux
On the Lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn't have much time
Frank Zappa and the Mothers
Were at the best place around
But some stupid with a flare gun
Burned the place to the ground”
It was at this point that Blaise decided to take a solo, for he was getting ansty with having so little to do. He nodded to Ron and Seamus who both replied appropriately, Ron stopping playing all together and Seamus just filling in with the occasional chord. After a few months hard practice, and due to their exceptional skill, the band flowed smoothly, appearing to the onlooker as if they could read it other’s minds.
“Smoke on the water, and fire in the sky
Smoke on the water
They burned down the gambling house
It died with an awful sound
A funky Claude was running in and out
Pulling kids outta the ground
When it all was over
We had to find another place
But Swiss time was running out
It seemed that we would lose the race”
Seamus sunk into a solo Ron grinning as the Irishman mouthed the chords like he usually did. Seamus was very focussed on his music, he loved playing bass more than anything in world. Take it away from him and he would be a lost.
“Smoke on the water, and fire in the sky
Smoke on the water”
Just as Seamus played the final chord, there was a knock on the door and Ron rushed to answer it, his guitar banging against his thighs as he ran. He opened the door and found a small man stood outside it, holding up a pizza box with one hand.
“Pizza?” he said, his voice thick with a strange accent.
“Hey guys,” Ron yelled over his shoulder. “Who ordered a pizza?”
“No one ordered a pizza Weasley,” Blaise called back.
“No,” Ron said to the man in front of him. “We didn’t order any pizza.”
“Que?” the small man said, cocking his head and holding the pizza box further out.
“Guys, I don’t think this guy speaks any English minus ‘pizza’. I think he’s speaking Spanish.”
“Here, let me speak to him,” Harry said, pushing past Ron into the doorframe. “Poderia você repetir aquele para satisfazer?” Ron gaped at him. “He’s speaking Portuguese,” Harry explained.
“Eu tenho uma pizza para o número liso vinte três,” the small man replied, looking impatient.
“Repita o número?” Harry said, speaking slowly and clearly.
“Vinte três,” the man said wearily.
“The guy has a pizza for the flat next door,” Harry said. “I’ll go with him to make sure he gets there ok.” Everyone waved him off, minus Ron, who was still gaping. Harry pointed to the number on the door. “Vinte dois.”
The man shrugged and Harry steered him out the door, knocking on the front door of flat twenty three. A girl with long honey blonde, wavy hair and huge brown eyes opened it, staring at them. Harry vaguely recognised her from his year in Hogwarts, he thought she was a Hufflepuff. Sarah… no that wasn’t it. Samantha… maybe.
“Hello Harry, what do you want?”
Susan, that was it. “Hi Susan, I have a guy here with a pizza for you.”
“Oh my god, he must be new at the place, they make the best pizzas around.” She turned to the poor guy and asked him a question. Harry just about managed to translate it as ‘how much do I owe you?’. The guy replied and quickly grabbed the money off Susan, giving them both evil looks before rushing off down the corridor.
“Thanks for that Harry,” Susan said, sighing as she moved the hot pizza from one hand to another. “Would you like to come in and share it with me?”
Harry thought about it. Susan was nothing like Pansy. She was reserved, nice, kind, friendly, she didn’t flirt brazenly with anything that moved, she didn’t take poor innocent boys into sex shops, and, to be honest, Harry was sick of Pansy. Susan sounded lovely.
“Satisfaça sim, isso seria agradável,” Harry said, grinning as Hannah let him through the door.
“Grande!” she grinned back, slamming the door behind them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Translations
Que? - What?
Poderia você repetir aquele para satisfazer? - Could you repeat that please?
Eu tenho uma pizza para o número liso vinte três - I have a pizza for flat number twenty three.
Repita o número? - Repeat the number?
Vinte dois - Twenty two
Satisfaça sim, isso seria agradável - Yes please, that would be nice.
Grande! - Great!
All this is got off an online translator so I have no idea if it's correct or not. I doubt any of my flist speak Portuguese anyway...
~~~~~~~~~~
Seamus doubted whether Blaise’s flat had actually ever seen this many people in it at once before. Obviously they always had band practice here, his flat being the bigger of the three, but usually Harry and Theo didn’t turn up for band practice. Although Ron usually did. And Theo barely turned up anyway. When Seamus had told him where they were going he had muttered something about how being taken to your own flat for a date was hardly exciting. Seamus supposed he had a point. But he looked quite happy there sitting with Harry while they waited for Ron, talking about Harry’s latest article. Seamus only knew it was about fish. That was all he wanted to know.
He wandered over to where Blaise was pulling the covers off his precious drums and picked up some sort of long and pointy and sharp stick. He looked around the flat, bored out of his brain. He poked Blaise in the back with the stick, causing him to jump round suddenly, rubbing the small of his back and glowering.
“What the fuck was that for Finnigan?” he snarled, looking even angrier when Seamus continued grinning happily.
“Wha’ss thiss?” Seamus lisped finally, still not able to talk properly due to his braces. “Lookss like a-”
“It’s a drumsitck Finnigan,” Blaise replied curtly, folding the sheet he used to cover his drums up in half. “You hit the drums with it to make them go bang.”
“Hmmm. Lookss like it would work better as a pointy poking sstick.” Seamus leapt across the room and Theo was suddenly accosted with a very pointy stick.
“Back, ye villian,” Seamus yelled, swishing the stick about dangerously. “For I have a sstick and I’m not afraid to usse it.”
“Seamus, put the stick down, Blaise, do not under any circumstances actually do what you were about to do to Seamus, Theo do not move until Seamus has put the stick down, unless you don’t value your sight and Harry mate, what’re you doing here?” a tired voice said from the door.
“Hey Ron,” Seamus replied, finally dropping the stick down and slipping it quickly into his back pocket. He would investigate it further at a later moment in time.
“Yeah Potter,” Blaise said, lowering his hands from Seamus’ neck. “Why are you here?”
“Seamus invited me after I had written up my article to escape the wrath of Pansy,” Harry sighed. He then glanced at Ron as he got out his guitar, and then stared. “Ron, is that a hickey on your neck?”
“Errr…” Ron looked around wildly. “No, it’s a bruise. I’ve been fighting with Malfoy again.” He cast a look at Seamus which plainly said Say anything and die…
“Again Ron really? Must you? It’s really getting old now and-”
“Harry mate,” Ron said, cutting off Harry’s rant. “You’re beginning to sound scarily like Mione and we need to warm up, so shut up and listen for a bit ok?”
Seamus started, kicking in the bass line as Ron slung his guitar over his shoulder. They always started with this song, even if Blaise did hate the drum part because he called the beat ‘too light’. It was mainly instrumentally based and easy for each of them to take a solo, so it was officially their warm up song, Blaise outvoted two to one. Blaise joined in with ‘light’ drum beat finally and then eight bars later Ron kicked in with his harmony. They all waited for about a sixteen bar phrase before Seamus nodded and began to sing in a slightly lisping, lilting voice.
“We all came out to Montreux
On the Lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn't have much time
Frank Zappa and the Mothers
Were at the best place around
But some stupid with a flare gun
Burned the place to the ground”
It was at this point that Blaise decided to take a solo, for he was getting ansty with having so little to do. He nodded to Ron and Seamus who both replied appropriately, Ron stopping playing all together and Seamus just filling in with the occasional chord. After a few months hard practice, and due to their exceptional skill, the band flowed smoothly, appearing to the onlooker as if they could read it other’s minds.
“Smoke on the water, and fire in the sky
Smoke on the water
They burned down the gambling house
It died with an awful sound
A funky Claude was running in and out
Pulling kids outta the ground
When it all was over
We had to find another place
But Swiss time was running out
It seemed that we would lose the race”
Seamus sunk into a solo Ron grinning as the Irishman mouthed the chords like he usually did. Seamus was very focussed on his music, he loved playing bass more than anything in world. Take it away from him and he would be a lost.
“Smoke on the water, and fire in the sky
Smoke on the water”
Just as Seamus played the final chord, there was a knock on the door and Ron rushed to answer it, his guitar banging against his thighs as he ran. He opened the door and found a small man stood outside it, holding up a pizza box with one hand.
“Pizza?” he said, his voice thick with a strange accent.
“Hey guys,” Ron yelled over his shoulder. “Who ordered a pizza?”
“No one ordered a pizza Weasley,” Blaise called back.
“No,” Ron said to the man in front of him. “We didn’t order any pizza.”
“Que?” the small man said, cocking his head and holding the pizza box further out.
“Guys, I don’t think this guy speaks any English minus ‘pizza’. I think he’s speaking Spanish.”
“Here, let me speak to him,” Harry said, pushing past Ron into the doorframe. “Poderia você repetir aquele para satisfazer?” Ron gaped at him. “He’s speaking Portuguese,” Harry explained.
“Eu tenho uma pizza para o número liso vinte três,” the small man replied, looking impatient.
“Repita o número?” Harry said, speaking slowly and clearly.
“Vinte três,” the man said wearily.
“The guy has a pizza for the flat next door,” Harry said. “I’ll go with him to make sure he gets there ok.” Everyone waved him off, minus Ron, who was still gaping. Harry pointed to the number on the door. “Vinte dois.”
The man shrugged and Harry steered him out the door, knocking on the front door of flat twenty three. A girl with long honey blonde, wavy hair and huge brown eyes opened it, staring at them. Harry vaguely recognised her from his year in Hogwarts, he thought she was a Hufflepuff. Sarah… no that wasn’t it. Samantha… maybe.
“Hello Harry, what do you want?”
Susan, that was it. “Hi Susan, I have a guy here with a pizza for you.”
“Oh my god, he must be new at the place, they make the best pizzas around.” She turned to the poor guy and asked him a question. Harry just about managed to translate it as ‘how much do I owe you?’. The guy replied and quickly grabbed the money off Susan, giving them both evil looks before rushing off down the corridor.
“Thanks for that Harry,” Susan said, sighing as she moved the hot pizza from one hand to another. “Would you like to come in and share it with me?”
Harry thought about it. Susan was nothing like Pansy. She was reserved, nice, kind, friendly, she didn’t flirt brazenly with anything that moved, she didn’t take poor innocent boys into sex shops, and, to be honest, Harry was sick of Pansy. Susan sounded lovely.
“Satisfaça sim, isso seria agradável,” Harry said, grinning as Hannah let him through the door.
“Grande!” she grinned back, slamming the door behind them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Translations
Que? - What?
Poderia você repetir aquele para satisfazer? - Could you repeat that please?
Eu tenho uma pizza para o número liso vinte três - I have a pizza for flat number twenty three.
Repita o número? - Repeat the number?
Vinte dois - Twenty two
Satisfaça sim, isso seria agradável - Yes please, that would be nice.
Grande! - Great!
All this is got off an online translator so I have no idea if it's correct or not. I doubt any of my flist speak Portuguese anyway...
~~~~~~~~~~