Unexpected Visitors

XVI

Hermione dashed to the Come and Go Room, bursting through the doors with a resolute slam! that reverberated throughout the small room. 

"It has to be here - it has to be!" she muttered over and over again, almost like a prayer to a nonexistent god. The room was already in disarray, piles upon piles of junk in every corner generating a maze few could navigate. A few times, Crookshanks had been lost within it for a week (she honestly wouldn't be surprised if he was still there). 

Teacups, statues, and even a can of silly string tumbled down the hill, orchestrating a cacophony that rivalled the mermaids' voices from the Triwizard Tournament.  Nevertheless, she persisted. 

Her conversation with Orla Quirke, a Year Four from Ravenclaw, struck her like lightning. They had been discussing the morality behind Extending Ears and more dubious spy equipment. For instance, Manish Sreenivasan's parents, Baira and Suzen, specialized in barely-legal equipment, such as a potion that could monitor a person's vitals and overall health. With an incantation, this could even inform someone when the subject pooped.

Needless to say, Manish had some trust issues.

However, auror's and dark wizards alike would pay the big bills for anything that could give them an advantage. When stuck between ethics and one's life, they tended to choose the latter, regardless of how high a standard they hold themself to. 

Hermione can't say she would choose any differently.

In fact, that was precisely what she was attempting. According to Sonnets of a Sorcerer, a truly wicked Hogwarts headmaster had a similar device connected to a black magic Floo Network system. While it didn't use floo powder, as long as the selected area had phoenix ashes somewhere nearby, you could practically see anywhere undetected. It was convenient, yet inconvenient.

A trophy of some kind curplunked! downwards, landing quite painfully onto  Hermione's head like a poorly-designed cap. "Fuck!"

She glared upwards and let the trophy slide off the crown of her head. A house-elf with bulging eyes peered down at her menacingly, as if she had hit him. It quickly cackled, darting in-between the stacks and screeching a children's song about catching him. Loud crashes followed his footsteps, a sea of items raging as if someone had attempted to drink it. 

"Quickly, quickly, or you will get sickly..." 

The voice echoed hauntingly as if a ghost had opened its mouth and wailed its death cry. Over and over, it continued for a few minutes, seeming to come from one end of the room one second and the opposite side in the next.  She supposed the house-elf could have apparated, but she hadn't heard a sound.

"Quickly, quickly, or you will get sickly..." The voice was much closer now. Hermione wondered if she had to play this eccentric elf's game, or if he would come close on his own once he grew bored. The creature's ears stood straight up with none of the floppiness. She had never seen such strange features on a house-elf before, but there was no way to eliminate the possibility it was simply a strange one. 

Exceptionally strange, Hermione thought, considering most house-elves wouldn't dare beleaguer their master (or Hogwarts student in this case). 

After a few minutes of sitting back on her feet deep in thought, she realized that the chanting had died off at some point. As well as the percussion of items. As a matter of fact, the witch soon realized she hadn't heard a peep from the supposed house-elf. Had it gotten bored as she thought? Or was it simply planning a sneak attack?

Grabbing a nice china plate, she let it slip from her hand, shattering into many pieces on the floor. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she heard the horrendous sound. She had not lost her hearing; it was simply quieter than death. Which was more distressing than the creepy phrase. At least then she had known where the house-elf was. 

In any case, worry would only slow her down. Shifting through the pile, Hermione dragged out a few boxes. She opened the first. A silver pen. The second? Nothing. The third? A knife which she stowed in her parcel with the silly string that had fallen before. 

Think! she berated herself, holding her head in her hands as if she was the Thinker. Her eyes shut to concentrate. If I was a paranoid bastard, where would I hide it? 

  《▪▪▪》 

Will and Nico drifted through the corridors aimlessly, bantering with the usual vigour and spite of old married donkeys. It wasn't much of a shock to those who knew them, but to a relatively dim-witted beyond-looker, they appeared mortal enemies, akin to that of the Weasleys and Malfoys, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, or even the cliched Gryffindor and Slytherin relationship (hint: not a pretty sight, the last attempted friendship ended up with Susan Bones and company in the infirmary).

With their unique. . . niceties out of the way, however, they could focus on the importance of their content. For example, Will, the simpleton he is, could not understand the value of Lost Wands, a room solely used as a lost and found for wands off the Serpentine Corridor. Considering how many times, he'd lost his own stethoscope, even if it was on his person, one would think he'd have more appreciation.

Instead, Will's entire argument was that if it's that important, then don't lose it. 

"William," Nico sighed, forced to break out the full name, "Are you a child? You don't choose to lose something. You simply forget."

"And I'm saying, you should have prepared to have lost it if you didn't have a system to keep it safe!" Will huffed and crossed his arms stubbornly, completely unaware of the fact that he was dead wrong. 

Nico shot back, "So if you aren't constantly on vigilance, you deserve what's coming to you?"

"Yes." 

Will refused to budge. It appeared that this was the hill he had chosen to die on. And Nico decided to simply let him rot. Dusk approached. He had the Gryffindors to ally with, and Will the Slytherins. If they ignored their classmates and isolated themselves, the demigods would fail their mission miserably. "I'll walk you to your common room."

Surprisingly, the son of Apollo had no complaints (for once).

Since they had to make a detour to the Lost Wands on the third floor (who loses the source of their magic on the first day?), it took many missed staircases to arrive on the second floor, let alone the dungeons. They had received verbal directions to the main areas like the library or common rooms and had been there themselves to settle in. 

In spite of this, Nico was only approximately 68% sure of where he was and where he was going. All the paintings and staircases appeared the same, and when part of the castle frequently moves on its own, being disoriented is the least of your problems. On the bright side, he was 100% Will had no idea where they were either since he had intended to get to the dungeons by ascending the stairs. 

Before either of them could react, the platform they were on lurched violently, as if a bull who should have been at anger management yesterday. His feet tripped over themselves like they hadn't been used enough, and he crashed into Will. They stumbled into a corridor, tumbling into a pile on the ground.

As they hit the floor, a loud, satisfying crunch crackled in the air, followed by Will yelping, "It's moist, Nico. Moist."

"Urgh, calm down." After groaning loudly from the pain, he rose. Nico reached out a hand to help his mess of a boyfriend. The aforementioned mess nearly caused another collision, jumping so high Nico imagined him hitting the roof and getting his head stuck. Instead, he steadied the two and twisted around at lightning speed. 

Where Will had been layed up, there was a perfect circle. Directly in the middle of the water crop circle, the remains of a pair of boyish, round glasses that were way too familiar bore into them. 

Published: 12/31/19