Hogwarts Mafia Round 9 Mafia Hit

Hogwarts :: Ravenclaw Common Room :: Illiard

Illiard fiddled with his ball point pen for a moment before adding another line to the letter to his grandfather, which was already two pages long and included a full report on the events thus far. When he did school work he wrote with a quill on parchment like a good wizard, but he didn’t see much point in keeping up the habit during his leisure time. One would think that with everything at a wizard’s disposal, they might have advanced passed crude writing implements and seventeenth century fashion, but this was not to be.

He reviewed the letter one last time to make sure he hadn’t left out a single thing. The deaths, the teacher’s strange behavior, his suspicions…they were all clearly documented and at last Illiard felt his work was done.

Then he looked down at the paper again, blinking.

“I’ve got it! I know who’s responsible!”

Hogwarts :: Great Hall :: Flitwick, Illiard, Students, Mafia

“We’ll be hearing from Lucius any minute. He’s probably breaking into the ministry as we speak.”

“Any idea of what he’s going in there for?”

“Shhh! I told you I don’t know! And be quiet, there are too many people around here. Just shut up and wait.”

“Hey, what’s that guy doing?”

The group of students looked up as one to where Illiard was speaking with Professor Flitwick in a very animated manner, gesturing with his hands. Suddenly Illiard wrapped his hands around his throat and rolled his eyes back before flopping to the ground, only to get up again immediately. The group moved closer to hear what scene might be playing out.

“You see? And then the –next- night, another person died…” Here Illiard puffed out his cheeks and spread out his arms, “…when the house elf blew up…”

One of the group leaned in close. “What’s he going on about?”

“…and it reminded me of this book I was reading…”

Another smiled and whispered low. “He thinks he’s got us all figured out.”

“Well does he?”

“…and it was –just like- this show I saw…”

Still whispering, the speaker answered, never taking their eyes off Illiard. “Let’s not find out. Watch this.”

“…and so I figured that the people killing each other must be…”

At that moment a bolt of lightning came down from the enchanted ceiling and struck Illiard dead. The guilty party quickly concealed their wand while the rest looked on in shock at this sudden and open occurrence, until at last Professor Flitwick stood, clapping his hands.

“Bravo, bravo…excellent performance!”

The other students gaped openly at the charms professor as he walked around the table, still speaking to the charred and burning corpse.

“That bit at the end there, with the lightning, -pure- genius. You have a future in this sort of thing, young man, a definite future.”

The other students couldn’t help but think that no person had ever looked –less- like they had a future than Illiard, who was beginning to smell rather awful, as burnt flesh tends to do.