Harlequin sat at the table during Defense Against the Dark Arts, half listening as Professor Moody went on about something to do with the importance of being vigilant when faced with potential dangers. She knew she should have been paying attention, as someday there could be some kind of threat lingering, and with the upset at the Quidditch World Cup over the summer, it wasn’t as if said threat wasn’t at least slightly visible. Still, her attention had shifted somewhere else during the lecture, to the secured door that led to Moody’s office and the wonders that lay beyond it, more specially, the silver-toned trunk.
Hel didn’t understand it herself, but her mind kept returning to the locked trunk, something about it pique her curiosity to a level she couldn’t recall before. The trunk, she reasoned, was magnificent, and as such whatever it was that was kept within would have to be magnificent as well. This line of thinking was only added to with how much Professor Moody was determined to keep its contents secret.
“Miss LaCroix!” Moody’s voice, directly before her, brought Hel back to the classroom. “Can you tell the rest of the class what I was just talking about?”
Harlequin looked up at the man, “Do you want me to tell you the truth, or come up with some elaborate story?”
“Since you obviously weren’t paying attention,” Moody began, “mind sharing what you were so distracted with?”
“Again, truth or some fictional version that at least makes it appear that I have a good excuse?” Brown and blue eye both settled on the witch. “Okay, I can do this,” the witch smirked. “I was contemplating, with your vast belief of over-securing a situation, if there was any possible way to sneak into your office. More precisely, getting into the trunk that you keep in there.”
There were a few snickers throughout the classroom, which Hel took as a success, though Moody didn’t seem entirely impressed. “Miss LaCroix.” The wizard’s tone was obviously stressed. “After class.” Turning his back on the witch he took a deep breath and returned to the front of the class.
“Hel,” Jem whispered, “are you not tired of detention yet?”
“I doubt I earned detention,” Hel returned, “but hey, any chance to get a look at that trunk.” |
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