BAD LUCK BLACK! ─── Harry Potter

xiv. Lorelei Yates, P.I.

"Moran's the chaser. He's—are you even listening?"

Lorelei blinks out of focus when Harry waves a hand in front of her face. Across the classroom and to the left, pressed against limestone, sits Hermione and Cadence poised in arguments. Typically, Lorelei's beside them acting as a mediator, but once Professor Flitwick ordered everyone into pairs, Harry insisted she practice with him. Bitterness still taints her tongue, yet she remained civil. He's lucky she's been distracted.

     Yesterday's peculiar conversations weighed heavily on her mind. Daniel Auclair—what a mystery, indeed. Losing her journals, Lockheart's revelations, Remus's lack of candor. She didn't sleep, not a wink. All she could focus on was the determination to finally unravel at least a portion of the knot suffocating her. Cadence and Hermione, notwithstanding their differences, are the rocks she needs to ground herself. They, and only them, are capable of tearing down this glaring secrecy. This, Lorelei knows.

Fiddling with the end of her discarded wand, Lorelei shrugs. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead," she says, yet her eyes are locked onto her friends. "Morgan. Plays quidditch.

"Moran," Harry corrects somewhat snidely.

Ahead, Hermione leans closely into Cadence and whispers in her ear, and it causes them both to laugh. The action makes Lorelei frown. A finger taps her shoulder; she meets Harry's annoyed gaze.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

"I'll be back." Lorelei ignores his questions, like she's been the whole time, and stands up. She feels Harry's baffled gaze on her back as she walks betwixt the rows. Serves him right!

Not a soul spares her a glance, all too absorbed in their backfiring spells or crammed homework for other classes. Professor Flitwick teaches Seamus Finnigan the proper technique for the charm they just learned, while Dean Thomas provides background laughter each time it fails. Draco juts out his legs in an attempt to trip her, yet an oblivious Lorelei manages to dodge the attack. Her muddied shoes knock into the leg of her friends' table.

Dumbly, Hermione and Cadence watch as Lorelei grabs an empty chair, and it makes a rough sounding squeaking as it drags. She doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. Neither is anyone else. Flitwick ducks as a blue beam spurts from Seamus's wand.

"Harry finally bore you to pieces?" Cadence laughs when she takes a seat.

Lorelei shakes her head. She hadn't been listening enough for it to be boring. Really, who'd listen to quidditch?

"'Mione, do the—the muffle thing." Lorelei makes a gesture of a circle.

Hermione doesn't question her. This is routine. She does the motion with her wand, the one Lorelei can somehow never master, and mutters the incantation. Lorelei knows the silent shield is invisible to the eye, but she can't help but check regardless. Harry's glare is promptly ignored. He'll no doubt corner her later in regards to her peculiar behavior, which will only backfire on his end.

"Did it work?"

"Of course."

Cadence's mouth parts open in confusion. "Why d'you—"

"Will you guys help me, uh, investigate something?"

"Investigate what?" Hermione's question is laced with apprehension.

Lorelei moves her hair over her shoulder. Her eyes flit to their housemates sitting not too far away. She takes a deep breath—the charm is casted; they can't hear. "This guy, Daniel Auclair," she tells them. "I-I slept-walked the other day . . ."