A Fluke of Sorts

Hogwarts' Book Thief

"Let's go Diggory."

"A second's patience Whitlock." Dark-haired, seventh year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory answered as steel grey eyes curiously scanned the ground once more.

"You are awfully slow for a male you know that?"

"Thank you for pointing out my gender, I'm pretty sure I was made aware of that ever since my mother had me dressed in shorts and t-shirts instead of frilly dresses," Cedric absently replied without looking up. "Amazing skill nevertheless. Do you think you could tell the time of the day as well?"

"Very comedic of you. I'm bleeding laughing," Haden Whitlock, fellow Hufflepuff and friend of Cedric, said stoically. "What are you looking for?"

"Advanced Transfiguration That Even Idiots Can't Mess Up. I recall having my copy just right there." Cedric pointed at a patch of grass with his index finger.

"Obviously it's not there anymore, unless it transfigured itself into a blade of grass to camouflage itself with the gang."

"Can books do that?"

"You are in Hogwarts Diggory. I thought with six years of education, at least something would have gotten into that pretty head of yours. Of course they can! Not all, but those crazy advanced ones bloody well can and Merlin knows what a headache they cause."

"I knew I could always trust you to question my intelligence."

"Always at your service. Now let's just go and hope the book would show up eventually. My stomach doesn't bear as much patience as I do." With that, Haden turned around and began walking towards the Great Hall without waiting to see if Cedric followed.

Cedric took a final look at the spot they had been studying under a large tree for the whole afternoon. Normally the library served as a choice preference for Cedric's study sessions, but with the sun nowhere in sight and just blue sky in the horizon, he decided it was too good for him to stay holed up in the cold air of the library amidst thousands of books and being greeted by the smell of printing ink and musty pages. With a short sigh, he finally decided to return later to hunt for the book. He grabbed his other books and started off in the direction Haden left.

Just around the tree, a certain brown-haired witch sat contentedly writing in her two feet long parchment. The scratching of the quill on the parchment were the only sounds emitted as the minutes passed. Her intelligent and sharp dark eyes kept their gaze on her flowing script as her free hand reached out for a book beside her. Her hand deftly flipped the book open to the middle before she shifted her gaze for a brief moment to search for her intended page.

"Witches of the 15th century brought transfiguration to a new echelon when they –" the young witch muttered to herself as her eyes quickly confirmed her facts before her hand furiously scribbled away in corroboration. A minute passed before she unconsciously bit the end of her quill as she read when she had just written. "Sounds good enough, though perhaps I should add in the part about Circe somewhere three paragraphs down," she muttered. Hermione Granger, the young witch in mention, looked over at her book again. Her free hand flipped the pages again in search of her desired information. She stopped short however, when her eyes caught sight of a doodle amongst one the pages.

Puzzled, and slightly indignant at the thought of someone had drew in her book without her knowledge, Hermione quickly flipped backwards. A rough yet comical sketch of a badger in Quidditch robes, flying on a broom, greeted her vision. A small smile crossed her lips at the sight of it before it curved downwards in a frown as she wondered how the drawing ended up in her book. Hermione couldn't think of anyone who would have gone near her books – everyone knows Hermione Granger's books are practically sacred, to even do so much of a dog-ear in them would lead to a never-ending tirade on how one should be responsible for such precious printed materials. That, and an intimidating warning of a hex.