The Muse, the Thief, and the Dog
Hermione finally managed to get Luna to follow her. It wasn't an easy task: every few steps she had to turn around, grab her hand, and pull her back onto the path, since the blonde got distracted by anything and everything around her.
"Alright, first we need to hear the statement of a student named Richard Sullivan. His friends said he was in the dining hall," Hermione explained with a determined tone as they entered the place.
The dining hall was enormous, with long tables filled with seats, and a vibrant atmosphere that looked more like an elegant restaurant than a school cafeteria. The kitchen section was open, where renowned chefs worked with precision, while uniformed waiters served dishes with the formality of a grand banquet.
Hermione scanned the room until her eyes landed on the young man who matched the description they had been given.
Richard Sullivan: dark brown wavy hair, bright blue eyes, and impeccable manners. He had a calm, relaxed air, accompanied by a gentle smile that seemed permanently etched on his face. Tall, handsome, and naturally charismatic, it was impossible not to notice how the gazes of several nearby girls were drawn to him like moths to a flame.
Hermione advanced with Luna, both of them dressed in ways that made their presence stand out, though for very different reasons than Richard's allure.
"Hello, excuse me. Are you Richard Sullivan? Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" Hermione asked firmly, approaching without hesitation.
Luna, on the other hand, sat down at the table without asking permission, grabbed a bread roll, and began spreading it with cream as if she were in her own home.
The naturalness of the scene caught Richard off guard, and he smiled with a certain charm as he looked at them.
"Of course. What could two beautiful girls possibly want with me?" he said, flashing a dazzling smile that left Hermione utterly frozen.
"Beautiful?" she echoed in a whisper, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She quickly pulled herself together, clearing her throat clumsily to regain her firm tone, though her face remained as red as fire. "Ahem… it's about your wand. We're investigating to find the culprit. Could you tell me something about what happened?"
"Of course," Richard replied naturally, keeping his gaze fixed on her. "Four days ago, I went to sleep leaving my wand on the nightstand beside my bed. The next morning, it was gone. Very strange… I searched everywhere, but it didn't turn up. Even my roommate said he hadn't seen it. After an entire day without finding it, I reported it to the discipline committee, but so far they don't seem to have done much."
Hermione tried to keep her composure, though it was getting harder and harder to hold that blue gaze.
"Nothing else strange around you? Perhaps someone who might not like you?" she asked, glancing away for a moment.
"No, of course not. I try to be kind to everyone," Richard answered softly. Then, without warning, he reached out and took Hermione's hand—the one holding her notebook. "Especially with girls. After all, it's impossible to be cruel to such beautiful flowers, don't you think?"
Hermione was left speechless, completely bewildered, while Luna observed the scene with curious interest, calmly enjoying her roll with cream.
"E–eh… ah…" Hermione stammered, unable to form words, feeling as if steam might come out of her ears.
Richard only smiled wider. "You don't seem like part of the discipline committee. So why don't you drop this matter? In fact, I was planning on visiting a few clubs today. You haven't joined one yet, have you? You could accompany me. Let's call it… a little date. Isn't that better than worrying about some competition? Besides, I think we'll be classmates: I'm in second year as well."
Hermione thought her face might catch fire at any moment.
"Nargles," Luna said suddenly, breaking the moment.
"Excuse me?" Richard asked, confused.
"When you lie, nargles try to get into your brain," Luna explained with utter seriousness. "You have a lot."
Her words left the boy bewildered, but for Hermione it was like a bell ringing in her head, snapping her out of it.
"How do you know I'm in a competition?" she asked coldly, fixing her eyes on him.
"Eh… well, I guessed," Richard replied, nervous for an instant, though he quickly forced his confident smile back.
Hermione narrowed her eyes and, without thinking, grabbed a teacup from the table, raising it with clear intent to throw it.
"Not the face, please! I have a play to act in soon," he cried, covering himself with his hands.
"The drama club," Hermione muttered with annoyance, as if she had finally understood where this farce came from. Her voice turned icy. "Tell me the truth, or I'll hit you so hard not even a healing potion will help."
"I already told you! It's the truth. I didn't lie. They just… they just asked me to keep you busy for a while," Richard confessed in a cowardly tone.
"Tsk… come on, Luna," Hermione snapped, closing her notebook with a sharp flick and storming off, furious.
Richard watched them go, sighing with a strained smile. "Fuuu… she really is cool. Sorry, Draco, looks like I failed as your future partner."
Hermione marched out of the dining hall with firm steps, her anger fueled by the certainty that Draco was behind it all. Surely he had taken advantage of Daphne's ridiculous rule that allowed them to set obstacles in each other's investigations.
As she walked down the corridor, she passed the club section. An open door caught her attention: the sign above read "Art Club." Hermione stopped, thinking she recognized someone inside.
Peeking in, she let out a sigh. Part of her felt relieved—at least she wasn't the only one who had fallen into something absurd.
Inside, Daphne sat on an improvised throne, a golden crown on her head and an arrogant smile on her lips, surrounded by several students trying to draw her while showering her with compliments. "Magnificent," "she looks like a muse," "such perfection," they murmured, while Astoria sat off to the side happily munching on her favorite sweets.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms.
Daphne lifted her chin proudly. "Can't you see? I'm a muse," she replied, adjusting the crown with elegance.
"Is that so? Well, you should know the clubs don't officially start for another week," Hermione said dryly.
The students drawing Daphne instantly froze, beads of sweat trickling down their faces. Hermione leaned over one of their papers… and what she saw was a disaster: little more than stick figures and a lopsided circle for Daphne's supposedly grand head.
"At least I'm not the only one," she murmured before walking away.
"What?" Daphne exclaimed, rushing to the drawings. When she grabbed one, her eyes widened in horror: it looked more like a misshapen potato than her portrait.
"You scoundrel! This is Harry's doing!" she shouted furiously, tearing the paper to pieces as the students scattered in panic. With firm steps, she headed for her coat and slipped it on.
"Astoria, let's go," she ordered seriously.
Her younger sister, calm as always, nodded while carrying a bowl full of sweets in her arms.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms.
Daphne lifted her head proudly. "Can't you see? I'm a muse," she replied while adjusting her crown with elegance.
"Oh, really? Well, you should know the clubs don't officially start functioning for another week," Hermione retorted dryly.
The students who were drawing immediately stiffened, beads of sweat rolling down their foreheads. Hermione stepped closer to one of the papers… and what she saw was a disaster: nothing but stick figures and a lopsided circle meant to represent Daphne's grand head.
"At least I'm not the only one," she muttered before walking away.
"What?" Daphne exclaimed, rushing to the drawings. When she picked one up, her eyes widened in horror—it looked more like a deformed potato than her portrait.
"You wretch! This is Harry's doing!" she shouted furiously, tearing the paper to shreds as the students fled in panic. With firm steps, she walked to where her coat was hanging and put it on.
"Astoria, let's go," she ordered seriously.
Her younger sister, calm as always, nodded while carrying a bowl full of sweets in her arms.
—---
"Weasley," Draco said firmly, fixing his gaze on the red–haired boy in front of him. Ron swallowed audibly; Malfoy's mere presence in that elegant suit made him look more intimidating than ever.
Beside him stood Neville, dressed the same way, which gave them both the air of mafiosos who had come to settle accounts. Ron's discomfort was obvious.
Although Neville belonged to Gryffindor, many classmates had mocked him for not being a strong student, and Ron himself had laughed at him more than once. Now, however, he eyed him with suspicion, afraid that perhaps Neville really was part of some mafia led by Malfoy. What if they had come to beat him up?
"W–w–what do you want? I didn't do anything wrong. I just laughed," Ron stammered, desperately glancing at his brothers, who weren't too far away.
Fred and George, far from helping him, watched the scene with mischievous interest, laughing at his discomfort. Ginny, on the other hand, frowned, ready to run for a professor if things got ugly.
"We want to know what happened with your wand. We're investigating," Draco said, ignoring Ron's nerves.
"We're working as detectives," Neville added with a slight smile, as if to soften the atmosphere.
Ron let out a relieved sigh, relaxing a little.
"Sorry, but I have no idea. Besides, I've got things to do," he replied, trying to get away from them—especially from Malfoy.
"Relax," Draco replied seriously. He opened his coat and pulled out a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "As a token of gratitude for your help, we'll give you this."
Ron froze, his interest instantly piqued. After taking the package, he began recounting in great detail:
"I just went to sleep leaving my wand on the table. Then I heard some noises… like some kind of strange monster. Also moans. I thought I was dreaming. I only saw a small shadow. I pretended to be asleep while I reached for something to use as a weapon, but when I got up, it was already gone."
The story sounded rather exaggerated, but Draco didn't interrupt him.
"And your roommate? Didn't he see anything?" Draco asked calmly.
"No, he hadn't arrived yet," Ron replied.
"Ah," Neville spoke up, drawing both of their attention. "Then… I think I'm your roommate. Are your posters of the Chudley Cannons?"
"Yeah, they're mine," Ron admitted.
"Then we have no other witness," Draco concluded, snapping his notebook shut. "Tsk… fine. Let's move on to the next one." He left the package of beans with Ron and walked off with Neville. The two of them strode side by side, with the seriousness of mafiosos who had just closed a deal.
Ron looked down at the package in his hands and couldn't help but smile. "I have to admit, even if I don't like the Malfoy family, those suits are awesome," he murmured before heading toward his brothers.
But as he got closer, he realized Fred and George were making a deal with someone very familiar.
Daphne Greengrass, dressed as extravagantly as ever, was exchanging something with the twins. They handed her an object with confident smiles, and she responded by giving them a bag that jingled as it moved. Then she walked away with a dark smile on her face.
"What was that?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Oh, Roniskins, did you finish being interrogated by the mafia?" Fred asked with a mocking grin.
"Or do you want to join them? Because with that face, I don't think you'd pull off the mafioso look," George added with a sneer.
"Come on, don't play dumb. What did you give her? And what did she give you in return?" Ron pressed.
"Brother, we can't share trade secrets," Fred replied with exaggerated exasperation, shaking his head.
"We've got things to do, Ronnie. Don't be a sore thumb," George added in the same tone before walking off with his brother, both of them still laughing.
Ron turned toward Ginny, who simply shrugged in resignation.
…
"Why exactly are you making me wear this? I'd like to remind you we don't even know each other that well," Luciel protested, his face burning with embarrassment. The outfit he was wearing made him feel utterly ridiculous.
"It's not my fault you're such a pushover that you do everything your fiancée asks," Harry replied with complete calm, walking a few steps ahead. He turned just enough to look at him and had to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter.
"I'll make you pay for this humiliation," Luciel growled, looking down at his outfit.
It was a full brown dog costume. On his head was a headband with floppy ears, his nose was painted black, and, to top it all off, a collar with a silver bone-shaped tag hung around his neck—with his name written on it.
"So, what's this competition about?" Luciel asked, wanting to end this farce as quickly as possible.
"Simple. Catch the culprit, have fun… and don't end up destroying the school in the process," Harry explained with all the tranquility in the world.
"The part about destroying the school in the process… that was a joke, right?" Luciel asked seriously.
"Well, let's just try," Harry answered, without clarifying anything.