Ron Weasley took out a long and huge contraption, which seemed to be made out of several long cylindrical barrels with muzzles at one end, all strapped together by a belt. As soon as Ron initiated the trigger mechanism, the barrels started rotating rapidly, like a cog, and suddenly thunderous booms were heard as flares shot out from the muzzles of the barrels. Within seconds, the majestic unicorn that stood at the end of the field, peacefully munching on the grass, was instantly turned into a bloody carcass of a horse, with numerous gaping holes oozing out blood and various internal organs littered the already blood-smeared earth underneath the unicorn’s now lifeless body.

“Hah, I bet a hundred galleons that you can’t top that one Harry!” shouted Ron with arrogance, so confident that he will win the contest this time and sweep away the coveted prize of Skoozelbum whores.

Harry didn’t even flinch after witnessing such a spectacular performance from Ron’s monstrous machine. Ignoring Ron’s verbal abuse, Harry slowly kneeled down to unzip his huge duffel bag lying next to his feet. He then took out a contraption that seemed like a single long cylindrical barrel, much like Ron’s, except that it was of much superior size, with one end shaped like a metallic elongated mushroom. Harry firmly placed the contraption on his right shoulder, the mushroom end pointing forward, and carefully aimed the the thing towards the second unicorn. With a pull from a trigger, a huge mushroom-shaped head suddenly shot out from the end of cylinder. Its flaming back leaves a smoking trail as it approached in rapid speed towards the hapless pony. Once the object and pony reached contact, all the spectators closed their eyes and ears as a much thunderous sound was made accompanied by a large fiery explosion that blew up the unicorn into small flaming bits. Once the spectating crowds ceased to cover their ears and slowly opened their eyes, they were horrified to find themselves covered with bloody strips of burning flesh and smeared blood. One of the judges threw up after the charred remains of the intestinal part of the horse landed directly on the judges’ table.

“I guess you owe me 100 galleons Ron,” said Harry with a smirk on his face. ”Maybe better luck on next year’s Annual Hogwarts Unicorn Slaughtering Competition!”

* * * * *

After a long night of passionate love-making, Harry lighted a cigarette while Hermione was lying beside him in bed. Harry noticed an unpleasant look on her face, at the same time wondering what he had done wrong this time.

“Hermione,” Harry spoke, “I promise that Ron will not find out about this. Ron and I have been the best of friends, and as far as he knows, my frequent visits to your place are explainable with the excuse of studying Magic Calculus together. I assure you he won’t suspect a thing.”

That look still remained on her face as she turned away from Harry, lying on her side.

“Oh, Harry, it’s not about that,” she said in a slow voice, as if concealing a secret of some sort.

“Then what is the problem then, sugarplums? What, is it the sex? Was I too rough on you? You don’t like me smoking like this? For Pete’s sake, it’s hard for me to figure you out unless you tell me,” Harry replied in a sterner voice.

Hermione turned back facing Harry. Tears ran down from her supple cheeks to her firm, well rounded breasts.

“Harry,” Hermione spoke sheepishly, “this morning at the dorm I took a few pregnancy tests. And the…they…all of the tests…turned out to be...to be…you know…”

“What Hermione, turned out to be what?” Harry asked sternly while staring deeply into her blue eyes, as if he already knew the answer to that question.

“They all tested positive Harry…” replied Hermione. “I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with your child.”

Upon hearing this, Harry instantly got up from bed and started to walk back and forth in the room in an agitated way, his unfinished cigarette still held in hand as a moment of silence engulfed the room. The look of confusion and contempt on his face gave Hermione the feeling that this news won’t bode well with him.

“Hermione, dear,” Harry broke the silence. “You can’t have the baby. You have to go to the doctor first thing in the morning and get rid of it. I don’t need…”

Before Harry could finish his sentence, his left cheek was met with the flat surface of Hermione’s right hand as she angrily slapped his face.

“You heartless bastard,” Hermione cursed, her faced filled with scorn. “You slept in my bed every night Harry, EVERY NIGHT!! And now you think you can just walk away with this? Curse you Harry! Curse the very day you were born!”

Harry’s face turned red. Not because of the slap, but red with anger. In an instant, Harry raised his palm and struck down Hermione, who was already crying her eyes out for Harry’s irresponsibility. Hermione fell down to the corner of the room, the pain on her bruising left cheek surpassed only by the pain in her broken heart.

“Bitch,” Harry scorned. “I don’t need to deal with this shit right now. You had better get rid of the baby by tomorrow or else I’ll kill you, you understand that you worthless whore? I’LL FREAKIN’ KILL YOU!!”

“You won’t get away with this,” Hermione screamed at Harry. “I swear to Christ you won’t get away with this!!”

Harry then hastily puts on his clothes. He grabbed his Nimbus3000 broomstick, and with a wave from his magic wand, flew out of the window into the darkness of the night, leaving Hermione to deal with the conflict on her own…

* * * * *

The air in the room felt heavy. A glass of water stood untouched on the square table in the middle of the small room, with Miss McGonagall sitting on a chair at one side. Next to the glass was a file brought in by two interrogators. Both of them were in the room with her, one pacing back and forth in front of McGonagall as if to psyche her while the other stood with his back laid against the wall with crossed arms.

“Tell me Ms McGonagall,” the pacing interrogator started to talk. “Where were you during the night of 28th?”

“I was at my office doing overtime,” McGonagall replied. ”The stack of my students’ test papers was piling up high and I need to mark them before class session the next day.”

“Really?” said the interrogator with a smirk on his face. “So you’re saying that you have absolutely nothing to do with the murder of Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?

“My goodness, no” McGonagall replied defensively. “I’ve known the man ever since my first days of teaching in Hogwarts, and I have enormous respect for the old man for being the headmaster and at the same time as an old friend who has been there for me to help me out in troubled times. How dare you think of me as such!”

The atmosphere started to heat up. McGonagall turned to look at the wall-sized one sided mirror, knowing full well that the events taking place in the room was being observed by a number of investigators on the other side. The other interrogator in the room with his back against the wall was still playing it quiet.

“So you were never in any way envied Prof. Dumbledore’s position as headmaster of Hogwarts?” the interrogator asked. “Are you saying that you never held any contempt by the fact that you are unable to take over as Headmistress of Hogwarts until he steps down or passes away? You know what we call that sort of thing around here Miss McGonagall? We call that a motive.”

The interrogator then gave McGonagall a cold stare, trying to break her down. McGonagall felt the stare, and soon nervousness struck her and instantly she felt the need to reach for the glass of water. The gulping sounds were audible as she gulps down the entire glass, trying to calm down the rushing blood in her body.

As soon as McGonagall put down the glass, the interrogator slammed down the file in front of her and flipped it open, page by page, to show her photographs from the crime scene. Most of them show Prof. Dumbledore’s lifeless body sprawled on the floor in his home at his living quarters in Hogwarts. A close up photo of his face clearly showed his gaping mouth and wide opened eyes, as if frozen at the last horrible moment of living. There was no blood. No bruises. No signs of struggling. Whoever did this must have done it using magical means.

“You think we muggles don’t know about the magicks of your kind,” the interrogator spoke. ”But I can assure you we know just about everything there is to know about wizardry and witchcraft. You see that guy standing at the corner there?” He points his index finger towards the other interrogator who has been quiet all that time.

“What, you don’t recognize him, Miss McGonagall?” the interrogator added. “He’s an ex-student of Hogwarts, and he’s currently working in the Homicide branch of Hogs Meade Police Department. Whenever we get strange cases where people drop dead for absolutely no fucking reason, we usually call him to sort things out. And right now he’s here to make sure that you won’t use your dark trade to harm me!”

The interrogator motioned his head towards his partner. “Sam, show her the evidence.”
The other interrogator, who sat still during all that time, uncrossed his arms and reached into his coat to pull out an air-tight plastic bag containing the evidence. He then reached out and passed the bag to his partner. He then went back to his original position.

“Look at this Miss McGonagall,” said the investigator sternly, “look at this very carefully. We found this when we raided your office in Hogwarts shortly after we acquired the proper search warrant. This is your magic wand, am I right?”

“Yes, indeed this is my magic wand,” McGonagall replied questionably.

“Well when my friend Sam here went to check the crime scene, he found fresh traces of ectoplasmic activity that is unique only to your wand,” the interrogator explained. “You can bullshit us all you want lady, but here only the evidence counts!”

“Do you know what the penalty for homicide is Miss McGonagall?” the interrogator continued. “It’s either a life sentence with zero hope for probation or the lethal injection. Now, which one you are going to get depends on how much you are going to cooperate with us on this matter, Miss McGonagall.”

McGonagall sat still. Aware that the two now have enough proof to lock her up, she collected her thoughts and assessed the situation.

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

* * * * *

Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley met together n Starbucks. They were sitting around a table, talking about the old times; how much they’ve changed after Hogwarts, their lives, their thoughts for the future and as such. However, their conversation almost ended abruptly after one of them happened to mention the death of their beloved Prof. Dumbledore.

“Ah, good ol’ Dumbledore,” lamented Malfoy. “Such a sad thing that such a respectable man had to pass away so soon. I still remember the times when the silly man used to locked himself up alone in his room to polish his aging wand.”

“Yes, good ol’ Dumbledore,” said Hermione. “He didn’t just polish his wand all the time, you know. He would polish the other teachers’ wands for a few magic rocks.”

“Hah, right you are about that,” said Ron. “I think he’d probably polished every wand from here to Hogwarts!”

All three nodded aye as they took a sip from their caffeinated beverages.

“Let us all sing an ode to the old man….”

His mouth flowed withthe milk of kindness;
His lips gave joy,
his tongue flapped as if by wind,
for every man and boy;
His beard ran sticky with the…

THE END