The Mystery of the Missing Hats

Hermione woke up to the sound of Ron Weasley shouting from the Common Room.

She burst out of the girls' dormitory and stood at the top of the stairs, feet bare and hair wild. "What in Merlin's name has gotten into you?" she hissed as she tied her bathrobe sash around her waist. "It's six o'clock on a Saturday morning!"

Ron looked up at her, eyes wide. "Nightmare," he blurted.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You slept out here? In the Common Room?"

Ron's face was tinged slightly pink. "Sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking."

Ron nodded.

"Really."

"Yeah." He shoved a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "It's a recent development."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Go back to bed, Ronald," she said, turning on her heel and marching back into her dormitory.

"Sorry for waking you," Ron called after her.

"What's going on down there?" Lavender Brown asked sleepily from her four-poster as Hermione climbed back into bed.

Hermione shook her head. "Ron Weasley's up to something."

"Git." Lavender turned over on her side and murmured something about having OWLS in the morning.

"It's Saturday," Hermione said. "And we're only fourth-years." But Lavender was already snoring lightly, so Hermione chalked it up to some kind of post-dream grogginess and pulled the covers up to her chin before closing her eyes.

"I'm telling you, Neville, they're just gone."

Neville Longbottom cocked his head to one side. He was sitting straight up in bed, blankets heaped around him in a jumbled mess (Neville rarely made his bed). "What d'you mean, gone?"

"What d'you think I mean?" Ron snapped. "Last night they were there, this morning they aren't."

"And you didn't take them?"

Ron shook his head. "Snuck down there at six, like I always do, but they'd already disappeared. It's a mystery."

"What's disappeared?" asked Dean Thomas from his own four-poster.

"Hermione's horrible house-elf hats." Neville wore a small frown. "Ron and I take turns collecting them from the Common Room so she'll think the elves are taking them and freeing themselves. We don't want her to feel bad."

Ron snorted. "You don't want her to feel bad. I just want to get her to stop bloody talking about spew all the time." He glanced to his right, where Harry was still fast asleep. "You don't think Harry went down and got them before we did?"

Neville shook his head. "Harry makes such a racket when he gets up. We would have heard." He threaded the edge of his sheets through his fingers. "Maybe Hermione realized they weren't exactly well-knitted, and she took them back to try again?"

Ron let out a great hah! "Like Hermione would ever admit she did something badly."

"Could have been Fred and George," Dean said as he slid out of bed and grabbed his toothbrush. "Maybe they're pulling a prank."

"They don't prank Hermione," Ron said as Dean padded into the bathroom and turned on the sink. "She's off limits. Might write our mum."

"A Prefect?" Dean called from the bathroom through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Cleaning up?"

"If the Prefects are cleaning up around here, then what do we have house-elves for?"

Dean said something that sounded like, "Good point," before spitting noisily into the sink.

Neville furrowed his brow. "It's a real mystery," he said. "Who should we ask?"

"Start with the other Gryffindors, I s'pose," Ron said. "Only real suspects we've got. I'll talk to Fred and George, you take the fourth-year girls."

"I want in," Dean said, poking his head out from the bathroom. "I'll talk to the Prefects."

"And if that fails, we can go to McGonagall and tell her someone's been stealing all the hats."

"Ron," Neville said, and his forehead was still crinkled. "Why d'you care if they're gone? I thought you hated them."

Ron shrugged, but his face turned the palest shade of red. "Just want to know where they went, is all."

Neville smiled. "Oh. Okay."

Hermione was down at breakfast before everyone else; she'd tried to go back to sleep after Ron's shouting, but it hadn't gone very successfully, so after half an hour of staring at the canopy of her four-poster she'd decided to go down for breakfast and start the day. The owls hadn't yet shown up to deliver the Prophet, so Hermione amused herself by reading the ingredients on the back of the cereal box that had appeared on the table when she'd asked for it.

The Great Hall was quiet on Saturday mornings—peaceful, like the library—which was how Hermione heard them coming from a mile away.

". . . already talked to Fred and George, they had nothing to do with this, Neville," the distinct voice of Ron Weasley was saying as he entered the hall.

"Neither did the girls," Neville said. "After breakfast we should go to McGon—" He stopped short and nudged Ron hard when he caught sight of Hermione.

"Morning, Neville," Hermione called, beckoning them over. "And good morning again, Ron. You lot are up early."

Neville clamped his lips together. Ron looked over at him and rolled his eyes as he took the seat across from Hermione. "Morning."

"What were you two talking about?" She asked it innocently and scooped a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"Erm." Ron reached for a piece of toast. "My sleepwalking."

"Fred and George have something to do with your sleepwalking?"

"How did she hear us all the way out there?" Neville whispered loudly, and Ron rolled his eyes again.

"Harry Potter's friends!" came a loud voice, and the trio looked up from their breakfasts to see a familiar shape running toward them with a stack of something perched on its head. "Dobby was not expecting to see anyone here so early!"

"Dobby!" Hermione said as the house-elf approached. "What are you—are those my house-elf hats?"

"Yes!" Dobby nodded eagerly, and two of the knitted lumps fell off his head. Ron bent down to pick them up. "Dobby has been taking them. Dobby loves them, Miss Granger. He took ten of them from the Gryffindor Common Room this morning!"

"Oh." Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but nothing came out.

"Oh," said Neville and Ron in unison.

"Mystery solved," Neville whispered, and Ron visibly gritted his teeth and hissed, "Shut up."

"Well, Dobby will leave Harry Potter's friends to their meal," Dobby said with a wide smile. "Dobby can come back later to do his chores in the Great Hall."

"Don't leave on our account, Dobby," Hermione said. "Erm—d'you share the hats, by any chance?"

"Dobby. . . . " The elf trailed off as he caught sight of something over Hermione's shoulder; when she turned to look, she caught Neville and Ron nodding exaggeratedly at him, though Ron tried to cover it up as stretching and rubbing his neck. "Yes!" Dobby cried. "Dobby shares."

"Well, good." Hermione reached for her cereal again. "I've always said, S.P.E.W. is going to free all the enslaved elves."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Hermione," he said, pocketing the two hats that had fallen from Dobby's head. "We know it will."

Quidditch League Round 6: Lesser Used Genres

Holyhead Harpies, Seeker

Prompt: Mystery Genre

Word Count: 1,196