Homework—Harry looked himself up and down and decided he couldn't pay attention to this guy, or his neurosis might prove contagious like a cold.
He called to Hermione, "Hermione, do you know Vaughn—"
Smack!
Before he could finish, Hermione slapped a stack of flyers into his arms. "Help out. Whatever it is, wait until we're done."
Speechless, Harry looked down. The flyer was crammed with dense lettering.
At the very top was the heading:
[Dueling Club Experience Questionnaire]
What Hermione had stuffed into his hands really was a survey.
Below the heading, the standard 12.9-inch parchment was densely printed with nothing but questions. At a glance, there were at least dozens of them.
The crowded mass of letters made Harry's hands tremble slightly. He raised his head shakily and looked at Hermione hopefully. "You need me to help hand out flyers, right?"
"No." Hermione shook her head mercilessly. "I want you to fill out this questionnaire properly. It's very meaningful to you, to us, to Vaughn, and to all of Hogwarts!"
Meaningful, my ass!
I was attacked yesterday!
You cruel, heartless woman!
Harry desperately wanted to yell all of that at Hermione before storming off, but he didn't dare—
He could only protest weakly, "I haven't finished my homework yet—"
Hermione frowned. "Which subject haven't you finished?"
"..."
Harry's lips moved, but no words came out.
Luna, who had been staring around his head as though looking at something, suddenly spoke in a dreamy, vague tone. "The Wrackspurts told me you're lying. You haven't written a single word."
At that, Hermione's already furrowed brows shot up. The stern expression on her small face came infinitely close to that of the respected Deputy Headmistress, making her terrifying to behold.
Harry's face went pale.
This really was a disastrous day.
Twenty minutes