The Great Hall, Hogwarts.
The students were gathered for breakfast.
"I seriously don't get why anyone would send me a threat," Terry muttered, waving a suspiciously plain envelope while chewing on a sandwich. "They actually think I'm the mastermind behind the Quidditch team's strategy? I literally just sat in on a few discussions."
"A lot of people are getting hate mail," Anthony replied, shaking his head as he sliced his pizza. "Some of the older girls in our club told me to watch my back. Three third-year Ravenclaws got ambushed in the corridor with a Densaugeo hex just for talking about Quidditch!"
Stephen lowered his copy of the Daily Prophet, peering over his glasses. "Prefects Joel and Penelope already filed a joint complaint with the professors, demanding they punish the attackers. But without hard proof, nothing's going to happen."
He looked across the table. "What's your take on this, Richie?"
Richie, who was casually eating some bizarrely shaped fruit, just shrugged. "It's obvious. Someone is actively trying to sabotage us before the match in two days. It'll probably blow over once the game is done."
The three of them nodded silently. That was likely the reality, but it didn't make the situation any less frustrating.
As they were talking, an owl swooped down through the Great Hall's ceiling windows, clutching a gaudy, red-and-blue gift box almost as big as the bird itself.
"Whoa, look at the size of that thing!"
"Did someone order a package?"
"Merlin, that wrapping paper is completely hideous."
Students all over the hall looked up, watching the owl make a beeline straight for the Ravenclaw table.
Clatter.
The box landed squarely in front of Richie. He thoughtfully watched the owl take off, knowing instantly that it wasn't his. Which meant this delivery was from a complete stranger.
"Hey, Richie, what'd you buy?" Terry asked, eyes wide.
"I didn't buy anything," Richie replied, shaking his head.
"Well, let's open it!" Anthony urged.
"Oh man, a mystery box! This is awesome," Terry practically bounced in his seat, acting like the gift was for him.
"Hold on, I don't think we should touch it," Stephen interrupted, pushing his glasses up nervously. "What if it's a prank? Somebody could have hexed it to blow up or humiliate Richie in front of the entire Great Hall."
Stephen's warning instantly grounded Terry and Anthony. Remembering the massive target currently painted on Ravenclaw's back, they quickly backed off.
"Yeah, Stephen's right!"
"Let's just leave it alone, Richie."
Listening to them, Richie quietly inspected the box. Generic packaging, surprisingly heavy, and absolutely no note attached. It practically screamed 'malicious prank.'
"I'll give it to Joel," Richie decided.
If it really was a trap set by the Slytherins, handing it over to the Prefects was the smartest play. They could safely investigate it and potentially use it as hard evidence. And as for the Weasley twins? Richie knew his business partners better than that. They wouldn't use packaging this ugly, and they definitely would have given him a heads-up if they were sending a prototype.
Further down the table, Joel took the box. After hearing Richie's explanation, the Prefect's face darkened. He carefully secured the package and quickly left the Hall.
---
Potions Class
After breakfast, it was time for class. Ravenclaw's first period was Potions, shared with the Hufflepuffs down in the dungeons.
But when Richie walked into the classroom and stepped up to his assigned stone workstation, his brow furrowed.
His cauldron and brewing equipment had been completely smashed.
"Oh, Merlin's beard!" Terry gasped. "Who did this?!"
The commotion immediately drew the attention of the other students, who crowded around the destroyed desk.
"What happened?"
"Do you know how expensive a solid cauldron is?"
"What is Harland supposed to do for class?"
While the rest of the kids chattered anxiously, Richie just shook his head and waved them back to their seats. The broken equipment was a hassle, but it didn't really affect him. Since he had already passed Snape's personal exam, missing one practical brewing session wasn't going to hurt his grade.
Right on cue, the bell rang, and Snape swept into the room, his trademark greasy hair trailing behind him.
"Turn to page 112," Snape snapped, leaning heavily against his podium and sweeping his cold, calculating gaze across the room. "Class has begun."
Behind him, a piece of chalk floated into the air, aggressively scribbling notes across the blackboard to match his lecture. The students immediately scrambled to copy them down.
Once the theoretical portion was over, Snape ordered the class to start brewing based on the day's lesson.
That was when Richie raised his hand.
"Mr. Harland. I sincerely hope you have something of vital importance to share, and aren't simply concocting an excuse to waste our time," Snape said, his voice dropping into a dangerous drawl.
"Apologies, Professor," Richie said calmly. "But my cauldron has been destroyed. I can't brew."
Snape's eyes narrowed. He stepped down from the podium and swiftly closed the distance to Richie's workstation. His sharp eyes scanned the wreckage.
Richie wasn't exaggerating. A massive, fist-sized hole had been blasted through the side of his cauldron, and several essential pieces of brass equipment were entirely missing.
Student equipment was securely stored in the Potions classroom, and the Hogwarts house-elves prepped the stations the night before. The fact that Richie's desk was vandalized proved someone had deliberately tampered with it.
As for who did it... the suspect list was practically a mile long.
Snape stared at Richie for a long moment before giving a dismissive flick of his wrist.
"In that case, you will read your text. We will address this... inconvenience after class."
With that, Snape spun on his heel and marched back to the front. "Begin brewing! What are you all waiting for?!"
The students instantly snapped out of their shock and frantically started working on their potions.
Richie simply sat down and opened his book. It was the advanced textbook Snape had personally given him, and it was packed with complex theories worth studying.
On the outside, Richie looked perfectly calm and unbothered. But internally, the reality of the situation had set in.
He was definitely in the crosshairs.