Harry Potter and the Essence of Absurdity

"The city falls asleep, the Mafia awakens," said the host's emotionless voice. "The Mafia members get to know each other. The Mafia falls asleep..." "The Sheriff awakens," continued the monotonous host. "The Doctor awakens..." "The Night Butterfly..." "The Maniac..." "The city awakens! Welcome to Hogsmeade, the village now home to three Mafias, a Maniac, and a Night Butterfly. Will you, dear participants, figure out who among you will survive? Let's begin introducing the players in a clockwise direction." The host fell silent, his face masked by total detachment. The first to speak was the caretaker of the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Mr. Filch, sitting on a soft pouf. "Honorable city!" The caretaker rose from his seat. Unlike the corridors of Hogwarts, he had dressed like a normal person for the first time in history and even showered before the game. "My name is Argus. Today, due to the special rule requiring participants to be able to speak, I came here alone. But don't worry, the school is still under the vigilant watch of cat eyes." Filch smirked at his joke, but the audience responded with silence. "I've lived my entire life in this lovely village; you've all known me for many years. As a child, I attended the wonderful school next door and played sports like all of you..." "Hand-to-hand combat, maybe," Draco Malfoy interjected quietly, causing Ron, who was sitting nearby, to snort, and everyone else over twelve years old to roll their eyes. Filch just glared angrily and continued. "From my appearance, it's clear that I'm just a peaceful caretaker and pose no danger." Filch sat back down on his pouf, and the next participant took the floor. "I, um, show animals to the kids. Recently, unicorns came out of the forest, and we fed them with the first years..." Hagrid began recounting his week. "Rubeus, to the point, we're not at a staff meeting," the Headmaster nudged him. "Oh, right, I'm peaceful, and I don't bother anyone!" assured the gamekeeper. "No surprise, we had to deal the cards three times because someone couldn't tell the difference between M-Mafia and M-Maniac," hissed the Dark Lord, rocking on his chair. "Criticizing others while being blind to your own faults," Grindelwald responded to Tom Riddle with a condescending smile. "Nobody asked for artifacts from the past," retorted Voldemort, but Dumbledore interrupted him: "Don't get cocky, young wizard." "Let's maintain order," the indifferent host cut off the argument. "Next participant." Hagrid had long been sitting on a giant pouf, tapping his palms on his knees and looking at the other participants. Luna Lovegood took the speaker's spot. "My father and I run a shop at the end of Main Street, selling ice cream and magazines," Luna began telling her character's story somewhat distantly. "But I think I already know who is who; your Wrackspurts give you away." "Who gives us away?" Harry wondered, scratching his head. "She's odd; we need to stop Ginny from befriending crazies," Ron decided. "Why does his hair smell like household soap and whiskey?" Grindelwald thought, sniffing the aroma of Severus Snape. "No grand introduction for me, just call me Draco. My father owns half the land in the village. Any trouble with me is trouble with my father, so I hope for your prudence." Draco's posture and lofty tone mirrored his father's ministry speeches. The Dark Lord and Dumbledore exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Filch twitched nervously on the soft fabric, and Draco blushed, returning to his seat. The hero of magical Britain, the Boy-Who-Irritated-Everyone-With-His-Stupidity, and the constant creaking of gears in his head, stepped onto the improvised podium. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he introduced himself. "I just recently got into the school, and I'm too young to do bad things, so I'm peaceful!" "I wasn't much older when I killed the Mudblood Myrtle in the bathroom," Voldemort noted. "And I was expelled from Durmstrang for necromancy at your age," Grindelwald recalled, lost in thought. "And I... well, let's not dwell on the past," Dumbledore started to add something but then stopped. Grindelwald just smirked, continuing to study the silver-bearded wizard. Next was Ronald Weasley, just a red-haired boy who immediately pointed at Malfoy and said he was Mafia. Ten facepalms followed, and then a slightly delayed loud slap as Hagrid's hand hit his own face. "My children," Dumbledore rose importantly and looked at his former and current students. Two words were enough for Grindelwald to choke on his tea and start laughing. Albus ignored his old friend and continued: "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces in one place, and I'm glad we could all take a break from our duties to reminisce. We are all gathered here today." The professor's voice turned angry, and he almost shouted, "To honor the memory of Gellert Grindelwald, because by Merlin's beard, I will send you to Morgana today!" The old man to whom this tirade was directed continued to laugh. Feeling flustered, the Headmaster left his speaker's post, giving way to his deputy. "As my colleague said, we are happy to welcome everyone to our humble wizarding village. An interesting fact..." "Oh, for fuck's sake," Snape muttered quietly, covering his face with his hand. This whole game seemed a silly farce to him from the start, and now he was convinced of it. Following the Transfiguration professor, the Dark Lord took the floor. "Many of you," he glanced around the room and paused at the four students, "who have reached puberty at least, know how difficult it is to pursue a goal for many years and maintain the image of a very suspicious top student, then a dark lord, and then something else entirely." Some nodded in agreement, while Harry, Draco, Ron, and Luna scowled. "I arrived in this wonderful town a couple of years ago, so I know few people, but everyone knows me and my small family business. On Dark Magic Street, at house number three, there has been a tavern called 'The Serpent's Head' for many years. Our special drink, aptly named 'British Villain'," after this phrase Voldemort looked disdainfully at Grindelwald, who rolled his eyes again, "is served in a snake's skull." The Dark Lord theatrically waved his cloak and sat down. "Students call me the bat of the dungeons, but I prefer Professor Snape," said the familiar voice of a renowned British actor whose name starts with Alan and ends with Rickman. "Instead of a welcoming speech, I'll tell a joke. Do you know the difference between Harry Potter and a rock? Rocks don't wear glasses. Not very funny, but true." After his fiery speech to the big game's participants, Severus returned to his seat. His cloak wave, honed over years of teaching, had a far greater effect than Voldemort's feeble attempts. The snake-nosed wizard resolved to uncover the secret. The last participant stepped forward, glinting different-colored eyes from under silver brows. "I haven't met many of you yet. And some I would prefer never to meet," Dumbledore saluted his old friend with a cup of tea. "My name is Gellert, and I'd rather spend my old age in this peaceful village, not bothering anyone and gardening, than rotting in a cell in Nurmengard. So I ask the esteemed residents to grant me that opportunity." Gellert bowed and returned to his seat. The host, devoid of emotion, spoke again. "Residents are now invited to vote for the execution of one of you in the same order." Filch, groaning, pointed at Potter and said: "Only a truly black wizard could cause so much trouble every night, get enough sleep, and never get caught by me. I still remember that incident with the cat, Potter." "The one in the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked. "No, that was McGonagall," smirked the old wizard. The argument didn't resolve as Hagrid intervened. "I'm voting for Ron; he seems suspicious. No wonder they burned redheads, so let's burn this one too." Immediately, half, if not more, of the looks clashed on the gamekeeper. This suggestion of burning redheads from a peace-loving giant surprised everyone. Was he into his role or was it his usual thoughts? "And I vote for Ron; his Wrackspurts have almost eaten his brain, if we don't hurry, we'll all drown," sang Luna Lovegood, winking at Gellert, who raised an eyebrow and began studying the participants with renewed interest. The old caretaker was clear; it's unclear why he is needed at a magic school. But never mind, maybe Albus is just playing around. The gamekeeper is amusing, overseeing the forest and raising potion ingredients. Speaking of potions, this bat with a magnificent cloak seems to be just brewing his concoctions and sometimes consulting on dark magic, nothing more. And who are these kids? Why them? Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was offended by Weasley for accusing him and also pointed at his school enemy. "Sorry, Ron, but you've owed me a thousand Galleons for two months, until you repay it, I'm not helping you in this cruel world," said Harry sadly, also choosing Ron as his target. "And I think it’s Malfoy, I’m telling you, he always has that look when he’s up to something," wheezed Weasley. "Unlike some people, I spent my time at school studying and occasionally having fun with friends, instead of fighting monsters, killing Dark Lords, and neglecting my education," Malfoy retorted, sprawling even more. "I agree with that," confirmed Voldemort, and Snape nodded approvingly at his godson. "Don’t look at me, I read the script on the train," Harry rolled his eyes. "What script?" asked Dumbledore cautiously, glancing at Snape and McGonagall. "I’m curious too, what script?" asked Voldemort. "Never mind, something fell out of Ron’s pocket," Harry waved it off, nervously bouncing on his chair. "I see. I vote for Weasley," said Dumbledore, pursing his lips. "I support that," added McGonagall. "I don't understand any of this, but we’ll talk about it later. Let’s go with the redhead," hissed Tom. "If I can put a cauldron of hot potion on his head," Snape closed his eyes in anticipation and clicked his tongue, "then I vote for Weasley too." "I vote for the other redhead," smirked Grindelwald. "You goat," hissed Dumbledore. "The goat isn’t here today," retorted Gellert, hinting at a mutual old acquaintance. "The voting results are nine votes out of eleven for Ron Weasley. Please reveal your card and leave the game," said the host. "I’m a villager!" shouted Ron in frustration and left the room. "I don’t feel sorry for him at all," said Draco, and a few people nodded in agreement. "The town falls asleep, the mafia wakes up," the host announced. "The mafia chooses who to kill. The mafia has committed a murder, choosing whose doorstep to leave the body on." "The mafia falls asleep, the sheriff wakes up..." "The doctor..." "The night butterfly..." "The maniac..." "The town wakes up. Last night, a brutal murder was committed. Miss Luna Lovegood has finished her journey in the world of the living and has gone to feast in Valhalla. Her mutilated body was found on the doorstep of the retired school caretaker Mr. Filch. Luna Lovegood was a villager." "In addition to Miss Lovegood, Mr. Harry Potter was almost killed last night, but fortunately, the doctor healed his wounds and he is with us today. You may start the discussion clockwise." "This is terrible!" exclaimed Filch. "I found the body this morning when I went to feed Mrs. Norris and some stray red cat." At these words, McGonagall nervously pressed her lips together, and Dumbledore chuckled. "Yesterday, Hagrid and I went to the Hog’s Head and got well drunk, I wouldn’t have had the strength to commit such a serious crime," Filch continued. "Yesterday? That didn’t happen," Hagrid doubted. "I’ve got third-year classes today, I prepared a mix of manticore and..." "Hagrid!" Minerva barked. "Oh, right, sorry. I didn’t go anywhere yesterday." "How could you not! We... Ah, you! He’s mafia, I remember exactly how we went to the pub together, and now he’s trying to pin it all on me?" Filch exclaimed. "Or maybe you just beat a little girl to death while drunk?" suggested Voldemort. "Or the punishment with hanging on chains didn’t go as planned..." Harry added thoughtfully. "It wasn’t me," Filch almost cried. "Well, I also think Mr. Filch could be mafia. Although it’s possible Hagrid is involved in the murder too," Draco pompously commented, causing another wave of first chuckles and then laughter. "Let’s vote for Filch, you should be kinder to students, then no one will suspect you killed one of them," added Harry. "I remember Hagrid said something about redheads, and I immediately felt uncomfortable being in the same room with him," Dumbledore thought aloud. "I’d kill that creature if it wasn’t the caretaker," muttered McGonagall, and her vote counted against Filch. "Filch," grumbled Voldemort. "Unanimously," concluded Grindelwald. "Someone doesn’t know how to count?" Harry smirked. "If you put a ball in Harry, connect it to a hundred hertz, either the ball will explode or Harry will die," replied Gellert. "You inhumans! I! For you!" lamented Filch. "I’m working like a squirrel in a grinder." "Mr. Filch, reveal your card," requested the host. "Villager," Argus said and followed Ron and Luna out. "So, gentlemen, we were wrong," said Dumbledore. "You’re a genius, headmaster," McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Alright, now the floor is yours, Miss Jaw of a Combine, your ideas on who the mafia is?" Albus turned to his assistant sarcastically. "I think it’s not Hagrid." "No, no, it’s not me!" protested the gamekeeper. "Professor, don’t blame it all on me, I haven’t touched or broken anything." "Oh God," Minerva buried her head in her hands. "That’s exactly what I’m saying." "The town falls asleep," interrupted the host. "The mafia wakes up and kills another victim. The mafia takes the body to one of the villagers’ doors and leaves it until morning." "The doctor wakes up... the night butterfly... the maniac... the sheriff," the host listed the roles. "The town wakes up. This morning, the body of his classmate Draco Malfoy was found at the house of Mr. Harry Potter. We all mourn this loss, for healing spells were found on Draco’s wand. Today, we lost our doctor." "Harry, my boy, why did you kill Draco?" asked Dumbledore. "I didn’t kill him, I’ve been framed, they want to take me out like Filch!" protested Potter. "Finally, someone from their lot is gone," said Snape, leaning back in his chair. "I think Potter is the mafia. Last time we killed Filch, but he was a villager, now the mafia is going to plant bodies on those they want to protect from justice," Gellert said thoughtfully. "Do you think so?" Dumbledore was surprised. "Yes, it’s a useful tactic, I recommend it," replied Grindelwald. "I think it’s Harry too," boomed Hagrid. "Why?" asked Voldemort, who had been sitting quietly. "Well, he wanted to come over for tea yesterday, but he didn’t show up," explained the gamekeeper. "It seems we have a substantial evidence base," noted McGonagall. "Do you have anything to say in your defense, Mr. Potter?" "It’s all speculation. Why couldn’t the mafia act in reverse, continuing to plant bodies of villagers to get them killed? Maybe Grindelwald is the mafia, why not?" "Anything is possible, my boy, well, let’s vote," said Dumbledore. "I vote for Harry, sorry, but the tea got cold yesterday, and I had rare herbs in there just for you," said Rubeus sadly. "Probably filled it with wormwood, the damn potion master," Voldemort added quietly. "It’s not my fault, it’s the old fool from Nurmengard, he’s picking on me for no reason," Harry responded, offended. "Sorry, my boy, but you must pay for your sins, or our noble cause will lose its purpose, and we won’t achieve universal good," Dumbledore gently reproached Potter. "Words of someone whose mood is always just a shade lighter than blue," commented Grindelwald on this speech. "It’s high time to get rid of Potter and his antics," McGonagall was pleased, three troublesome students were already gone, and Potter was next. "Ten points to Potter with glasses, to help him find the way out," Snape gloated. "Goodbye, Harry," Gellert sent him a kiss, making Harry and Dumbledore wince. "Mr. Potter, you are eliminated by vote, reveal your card," said the host. "Mafia," Harry threw his card on the table and left the room. "There you go, my nose never fails me!" Gellert exclaimed, and the town fell asleep. "Last night a crime was committed, but not by the mafia. Finally, the maniac reached his victim, and this victim was neither healed by the doctor nor already killed by the mafia. The maniac killed Rubeus Hagrid, and in his coat was found a gun and a stack of dollars. Criminal versus criminal, the town has one less mafia member." "In addition, the mafia raided Professor Snape’s house and ransacked it, but the professor himself was not found. He was lucky that the night butterfly chose him today and hid him from the killers. Reminder: the villagers win only if both the mafia and the maniac are killed." "Five players remain in the game: three professors and two dark lords. Among them are the mafia, the maniac, the sheriff, and the night butterfly." "I suppose I should reveal my role. The mafia came to my house, I doubt they would come to themselves. So I have nothing to hide. I was the sheriff and unfortunately checked the wrong people. Malfoy was innocent but died, McGonagall is also not guilty," Snape said. "By your words, the mafia is one of us three?" Voldem ort asked, nodding at Gellert and Albus. "There’s a sense of déjà vu in the air," Snape grinned at his colleague. "Shh, shh," Dumbledore clicked his tongue, "don’t quarrel at such a difficult moment for all of us, our unity..." "No need to nod your head at every word, headmaster," interrupted Albus Snape. "You’re not a pigeon." "You know, Albus, your sermons weren’t so... intense before," Gellert suddenly noted. "In my time, he preached Defense Against the Dark Arts, and all this came later," Voldemort addressed his colleague in the craft. "More like put it on pause, he’s had it since childhood," smirked Gellert. "I am here, you know," Dumbledore retorted, offended. "I don’t think so," Minerva said slowly. "You were the first to accuse Filch, you strongly supported Potter’s execution, maybe you just wanted to divert attention from yourself?" "Potter accused Gellert of the same thing, come up with something more interesting than the babblings of the boy-who-bored-everyone" snapped the headmaster. "It doesn’t change the fact, the accusation is quite serious and well-founded" supported Transfiguration professor Voldemort. "My friends, perhaps to avoid any misunderstandings, Mr. Snape should check me once more? It seems we’ve already established that I’m not the mafia." "We only know that Snape himself is not the mafia, but what stops him from being the maniac?" asked Voldemort. "This triple agent and double spy is quite capable of pulling off such a scheme." "Then expose him," suggested Albus. "Better to expose you and check the alibi of two potential villagers at once," replied Snape. "Voting," announced the host. "Snape," said Albus. "Dumbledore," voted Minerva, Tom, Severus, and Gellert in turn. "Villager, even more, the night butterfly," said Dumbledore and left the room. "The old codger is gone, so his rambling won’t bother us anymore," sighed McGonagall. All eyes turned to Snape, who had narrowly escaped death tonight thanks to the headmaster’s wings, and everyone laughed. This image was etched in many minds for a long time. "The town falls asleep. The mafia wakes up... The sheriff wakes up... The maniac wakes up." "The town wakes up. Unfortunately, today the body of Mr. Snape was found at the doorstep of Lord Voldemort. Two criminals came to him unnoticed by each other. In the professor’s pockets, a police sheriff's star was found, today there is one less villager." "It’s not my fault," Voldemort immediately dismissed. "One of you two is the mafia," Minerva said thoughtfully. "And one is the maniac," threw in Gellert, "like we’d believe that. "Looks like it." "But I think the mafia is the one who has been encouraging the killings of villagers at votes all this time," said Voldemort suddenly. "Are you accusing someone?" raised his eyebrows Grindelwald. And Tom jealously noted that he himself couldn’t make such a gesture because he had no eyebrows. "Her." "You two in cahoots?" "No, but finding out who’s stronger at night is something only the two of us can do, so I agree with this offspring of a homunculus and Crocodile Gena," Gellert responded to the professor. "Then unanimously for McGonagall," concluded Voldemort. "Please reveal your card," said the host. "Maniac," Minerva said. "Interesting to see who among you turns out to be the mafia." "The one who survives the night. Winners are not judged," replied Grindelwald, drawing his wand.