The Great Detective Competition
Wanda arrived at Beauxbatons walking with a firm stride toward her office. As a professor, of course she had one, and her mere presence carried weight. The echo of her heels resonated across the marble corridors, drawing curious glances from the teenagers she passed.
It was no surprise: such a beautiful teacher in a school full of young students was bound to stir some excitement. Still, for Wanda, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. What truly mattered was being close to her son and her nephews, watching them study and making sure they were well.
Suddenly, she stopped with a faintly intrigued gesture as she turned her head to the side. Advancing down the hallway were Daphne and Astoria… though their appearance was anything but ordinary.
Daphne wore a striking outfit: a long cape with a shorter one draped over her shoulders, both in light colors with a checkered pattern. On her head sat a double–brimmed cap completing the image, while in her hands she carried a pipe that released bubbles and, in the other, a large magnifying glass she brandished theatrically.
Astoria, walking just behind, wore a bowler hat perched over her neatly tied hair, a masculine vest from which hung the chain of a pocket watch, and, to crown the disguise, a small and obviously fake mustache.
Wanda tilted her head slightly before murmuring softly,
"Sherlock Holmes and Watson?"
Daphne raised her head at the sound, while Astoria, upon noticing Wanda, ran to her with joy and threw herself into her arms.
"Hi, Aunt Wanda!" she exclaimed cheerfully.
Wanda stroked the girl's head tenderly, careful not to disturb her bowler hat.
"And what are you investigating, Miss Holmes?" she asked with a playful glimmer in her eyes, addressing Daphne.
"We've got a competition to uncover a wrongdoer. By the way, Aunt Wanda, if any of the kids ask you, you're not allowed to help them. It's part of the challenge to prove who's the best detective, alright?" Daphne replied quickly, full of excitement.
"I see…" Wanda said with a faint smile. And, without forgetting her maternal instinct, she immediately pulled out the camera she had kept hidden and snapped several pictures of them. Both girls posed happily, first with serious detective faces, then triumphantly, before hurrying off to continue their investigation.
Once they were gone, Wanda resumed her walk, only to notice two other peculiar figures: Hermione and Luna.
"Luna, we need to look for witnesses. Can you please hurry up?" Hermione pressed, clearly exasperated, walking by her side.
"But there are too many nargles that way. They might be following the culprit…" Luna answered dreamily, drifting along in her own world.
Both seemed far too wrapped up in their discussion to notice Wanda's presence. Their costumes were even more eye–catching than Daphne and Astoria's: entirely white outfits with blue gloves and hoods, clearly modeled after forensic uniforms. Hermione even had a large camera hanging from her neck, bouncing as she argued with her partner.
Wanda discreetly took out her camera again to capture the picturesque sight. Hermione kept complaining endlessly about being paired with Luna, but she still refused to leave her side, trailing after her determinedly.
Smiling to herself, Wanda continued on, though she soon stumbled across another curious scene. Draco was walking with an expression of deep annoyance, glaring at the clothes he was forced to wear. He had on a dark trench coat over a matching suit, a red tie, and a wide–brimmed hat. From his pocket peeked out a magnifying glass, making it clear he, too, was part of the same detective game.
Although, honestly, Wanda couldn't help but think he looked far more like a young 1930s mobster than any detective.
"Stupid Daphne… why do we have to dress up for a competition?" he muttered under his breath, just before lifting his gaze and finding Wanda in front of him. "Hello, Aunt Wanda," he greeted quickly, trying to mask his frustration.
"Looks like you're all having fun," Wanda commented with a light smile.
"Please don't tease me, Aunt. I'll just go find a partner now, excuse me." Draco hurried off, almost running away… though not before throwing a wary glance at Wanda's camera. He suspected —with good reason— that she had already taken enough photos to amuse his mother later.
Suppressing a laugh, Wanda lingered a moment longer in the hallway, as if waiting for something. And she wasn't wrong. Harry came around the corner, and what he was wearing was… unusual.
Her son was dressed as a sheriff: a black trench coat, a matching vest over a white shirt, and on his head, a black cowboy hat. A golden badge gleamed on his chest, while his black boots rang with metallic spurs. On his belt hung even a revolver, though clearly a fake one.
Harry froze when he saw her, and the instant he noticed the camera in her hands, he spun on his heels to escape. But when he turned the corner again, Wanda was already there, smiling with the shutter ready.
"Mom… muggle objects aren't supposed to work in places full of magic. Neither does apparition," Harry sighed, exhausted, before he'd even started his "mission."
"That's what I heard," Wanda replied with a mischievous smile, still clicking the camera. "Come on, give Mom a smile."
Harry, resigned, forced a grimace that barely passed for a smile before bolting away at full speed down the corridor.
Wanda, however, beamed with joy as she hugged the camera close to her chest.
"Definitely the right choice to become a professor," she murmured happily.
An instant later, her expression shifted: her eyes glowed crimson as she gazed seriously down the hall where the children had disappeared.
"If I overprotect them, they'll never grow as they should… Fine, I'll let them have this little adventure. But I should inform their mothers."
With that decision made, she tucked the camera away as if it were a treasure and finally continued toward her office.
…
Draco walked through the halls of Beauxbatons with visible discomfort. It wasn't just because of the costume he was wearing, but also the stares he received from every student who passed him by. He lowered his gaze with irritation until, in the distance, he noticed a boy walking with his head down, carrying a couple of suitcases. He recognized him instantly.
"Longbottom?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
Neville slowly lifted his head. His eyes had been glued to the floor ever since he had arrived.
"Oh… hello, Malfoy," he murmured nervously.
"Just arriving at school?" Draco pressed, eyeing the suitcases and recalling that he hadn't seen Neville even once in the previous days.
"Y-yeah… there were some problems at home and I had to take care of my uncle in the hospital," Neville explained in an insecure voice. The school change already had him uneasy; he had barely gotten used to Hogwarts, and now he had to adapt all over again. "He had an accident," he added, as if he felt the need to justify his delay.
"Hmm." Draco observed him for a few seconds before speaking again. "Hey, how about I show you around the school and you help me with something?"
Neville hesitated. "Eh? Ah… sure, yes," he replied nervously. At Hogwarts, he had never quite known how to deal with Draco. He didn't insult him or shove him around, but neither did he include him. It was as if Neville were irrelevant.
"Good. First thing is getting you a costume. I'm not going to be the only one walking around like this," Draco said with a half–smile, gesturing at his outfit.
"A costume?" Neville repeated, only then noticing Draco's clothes. "Y-yes… of course, though I don't think it will look good on me."
"Doesn't matter," Draco replied calmly, urging him to follow.
After a few moments of silence, Neville finally dared to ask:
"I actually thought you hated me, Malfoy."
"Hate you?" Draco frowned, surprised.
"Well… whenever I tried to talk to you at Hogwarts, you barely answered and then walked away quickly," Neville said, looking down again.
Draco glanced sideways at him, thoughtful.
"It's not that I hate you. I guess I'm a bit conflicted about the whole pureblood thing… Don't worry. Harry told me what happened with you and your family. Congratulations."
Neville blinked, bewildered, then smiled softly. "Ah… thanks." Relief colored his voice; at last he understood that Draco didn't despise him.
"By the way, what happened to your uncle?" Draco asked, trying to change the subject.
"Ah, Uncle Algie broke several bones after falling from the roof of the mansion."
"That sounds serious. Couldn't they give him a potion to regrow them?"
"Yes, but Mum didn't want to. She said it was his punishment," Neville explained with total innocence.
Draco paused for a second, processing those words, before giving him a strange look.
"And… how did your uncle fall off the roof?"
"Well, Mum sent him up to fix a tile. Then we heard a shout of apology and saw Uncle Algie falling down. I was the first one to get there. He apologized to me over and over until Mum arrived and took him to St. Mungo's. I felt a little guilty, so I asked to look after him for a few days."
"…I see." Draco narrowed his eyes, regarding Neville with a different expression. "I heard that, when you were little, it was that same uncle who threw you out the window and triggered your magic, right?"
"Yes, that was him," Neville confirmed, not giving it much importance.
"I see…" Draco looked straight ahead again, serious. "I hope he recovers."
"Yes, me too. Although Mum's worried… she says there are still plenty more tiles to fix."
Draco turned to him with an incredulous look. Finally, he sighed.
"Alright, Neville. Let's get along."
"Of course," Neville answered with an innocent, sincere smile. For the first time, he felt happy about possibly having Draco as a friend.
…
"Ugh… should I just pick Terry as my partner?" Harry muttered to himself, walking alone through the corridors and mulling over his dilemma. Hermione had already chosen Luna, Daphne had Astoria, and just moments ago he'd seen Draco with Neville.
"By the way, what would a sheriff's partner be? A dog?" he wondered aloud, bringing a hand to his chin. "Maybe I should get a pair of dog ears and a nose…" He was more worried about the costume than the actual competition.
He stopped in the middle of the hallway, lost in thought.
"Well, Harry. Strange to see you alone… and in costume," a familiar voice commented. Luciel approached with his usual elegant stride, accompanied by Katerina, who maintained her stoic expression.
Harry looked up at him and smiled oddly, tilting his head.
"Oh, Mr. Luciel. Do you like dogs?" he asked, though his smile looked anything but friendly.
Luciel shook his head calmly. "No."
"And Miss Katerina?" Harry pressed, wearing the same unsettling smile.
Katerina regarded him steadily and replied without hesitation:
"Well… yes, a little."
"Perfect. Then allow me to ask you something… in secret," Harry said, leaning in slightly to whisper something to her, careful not to get too close but making sure Luciel couldn't hear.
Katerina studied him attentively, then, for the first time, allowed a faint smile to appear. Both of them turned at the same time to look at Luciel.
The French boy, without understanding, felt a cold sweat run down his back.