"Harry, you know how you don't like it when I hit you with shovels?" Hermione's voice cut through the darkness like a razor sharp knife.
"I seem to recall something to that effect." I rubbed my still aching shoulder.
"Then if you want to keep being shovel free you have 10 seconds to explain why you pulled me into a broom cupboard when we are supposed to be on our way to the quidditch pitch," she continued with all the sickly sweet sentiment of a 600 pound silverback Gorilla; a particularly angry and violent 600 pound silverback Gorilla.
"Isn't it obvious?" I asked.
"Explain."
"Well where else would we look for stolen brooms? I sincerely doubt we'd find anything in the pudding closet." An idea struck me. "Although-"
"No. No pudding closet."
"There would be butterscotch," I offered.
"What sort of foul, vile cretin would ever be swayed by the thought of butterscotch pudding?" A soft thump echoed from where she tried to stand in righteous anger only to be repressed by the unforgiving nature of the system. The system being a stone ceiling.
"Someone who likes butterscotch would probably be swayed."
"Exactly! Only the most heinous, foul, venereal disease filled person could ever like butterscotch when there exists the sweet, tantalizing perfection that is chocolate." Her eyes lit up with an inner fire so intense that I could actually see them in the dark confines of the cupboard. "Butterscotch is so terrible it is even Voldemort's favorite."
"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "I didn't even know he could eat."
"Yes, really. Well probably. It would certainly fit his profile at least."
I stared silently at where I thought she was. "So you don't actually know then?"
"Lumos," she called out, ignoring the question. Light flooded into the small room in a wave revealing all the hidden treasures. Treasures such as dirty cobwebs strung low across the ceiling, a stain on the wall that looked like it could be blood, and a giant pile of junk sitting in the corner.
"Wait a second," I murmured. I walked over to the pile and there sticking out of the center, in all its mystery solved glory, was the rich ashwood handle of a racing broom. The exact type of wood the Slytherin team used. I smirked triumphantly at her. "See I told you I'd find them." I pulled it out. "Well?"
"It's a broomstick," she said flatly.
"Obviously," I rolled my eyes. "What else would it be?"
"No, Harry. It's an actual broomstick. For sweeping." I looked down and sure enough the bent straw of an ordinary non-magical broom stuck out at all angles. The same kind of broom Aunt Petunia would use if she hadn't burned every broom in the house when learning we actually rode them. Note to self: tell her we ride vacuums too.
"I've got it," I snapped my fingers. "What if someone transfigured the brooms into non-magical ones in order to fool us?"
"Or maybe it's just a regular broom. The kind you might expect to find in, let's say a broom cupboard," she finished sarcastically.
"Can't be right every time," I said dejectedly before perking up. "That means-"
"Pudding closets aren't real. You just made them up in order to distract me."
"Then it's time for plan B."
"Is plan B where we go to the quidditch pitch and look for clues?" she asked sweetly.
"It's time for plan C!"
/o.O.o\
"Plan C was to actually listen to me?" Hermione asked in shock as we walked.
"Well it used to be plan D, but then Luna pointed out that my ratio of shovels to the head as well as kidnappings both went down strongly when I listen to you earlier than plan D. I was doubtful at first by Wizardsoft Excel just doesn't lie."
"If listening to me works so well. Why don't you just make it plan A?" Hermione wondered.
"Because then my ratio of treacle tarts to vegetables eaten goes down of course. It's all there in the presentation."
The wind began to pick up before she could answer as we stood at the entrance to the Quidditch Pitch. Worn dirt trails looped around a grass field surrounded by towering structures of rickety, so very , very rickety, wood.
"Did you know that the stands were put up in 1600 after the last stand collapsed from the strain of so many students," Hermione said. "It was in Hogwarts: A history."
I edged away from the creaking megaliths, but there is only so far you can edge away from something with the word mega in the description. "Where do we start?"
"That's a good question actually." Hermione frowned. "Where do the teams keep their brooms?"
"We keep ours in our trunks. You would have to be daft to leave a firebolt lying around," I answered.
"Right. These are Slytherins so where would someone daft leave an expensive racing broom?"
"I think I remember Wood saying there was a place behind the locker rooms once," I offered. "I'm not sure because he was talking to someone who didn't play Quidditch about polishing a broom and when I asked he-"
"Right. Let's go check it out," Hermione interrupted.
The walk around brought us to what was in fact a 'public' broom storage closet. The words Slytherin only had been spray painted in green on a sign that now lay on its side in the grass.
"There isn't a door," Hermione said dully. "I looked and she was correct. A large gaping hole in the place where a door should be. The sign drew my attention again. It looked pretty cool with its uneven scrawl of fluorescent paint. It would be pretty eye catching in my office.
"You aren't stealing from a crime scene, Harry."
"I was gonna," I protested.
"Then what were you going to do?" she raised an eyebrow.
"I was just going.. to.. take it… without… permission. Yeah I was gonna steal it," I admitted.
A rough bleating interrupted us.
"Is that a goat?" I asked.
"It's a security goat," Hermione answered in shock.
Standing before us in all his goaty glory was the security for the shed. A light green badge was tied off against his budding horns and every time he bent his head to chew some grass the black metal of a flashlight could be seen. Union regulations and all that.
The goat stared at us as it chewed. It was kind of creepy really. "Maybe we should just go?"
"Are you really afraid of a goat?" Hermione asked.
"No, of course not. But look at that flashlight. He could probably shine it pretty bright."
Hermione shook her head. "Just get in there," I felt her hand against my back and before I could say a word I was falling headfirst into a broomshed.
/o.O.o\
That's all for this installment of Private Eye Potter. The next should be coming in the next day or two. For those who enjoy the story I ask whether you like the current update model of short chapters every couple days or would you prefer the story be updated in one chunks of solved mysteries? Review and let me know.