184: What’s Beneath Nolan’s Eyepatch?

The Slytherins had just finished their Potions lesson and were making their way through the dimly lit dungeon corridors when Nolan suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He watched as a group of older Ravenclaws passed by, each wearing an eyepatch, and frowned in confusion.

Turning to Miles, he asked, "Why is it that recently, there are so many people at Hogwarts wearing eyepatches?"

Miles had no idea how to answer that.

Eyepatches had indeed become a strange new trend. Whether it was a seventh-year prefect or a newly arrived first-year, students all seemed eager to strap one on—like they were trying to be pirates of the Caribbean.

The designs varied wildly. Some, like Nolan's, were plain black, while others had bizarre patterns stitched onto them.

Draco Malfoy, for instance, had gone as far as to embroider the Malfoy family crest onto his.

As the Slytherins approached the entrance of the Great Hall, they were met with an even more absurd sight—one of the Weasley twins standing there, arms full of eyepatches, trying to sell them to passing Gryffindors.

"Oi, mate!" the twin called out.

"George!" someone greeted.

"I'm Fred!" the twin corrected indignantly. "Mate, how about an eyepatch? It's the hottest trend at Hogwarts this year! Put this on, and you'll be as popular with the ladies as Nolan von Draugr! Look—I'm wearing one too!"

Fred Weasley was indeed wearing an eyepatch, though it looked ridiculously out of place on his long, freckled face. Instead of looking mysterious and dashing, he looked… well, just plain ridiculous.

The Gryffindor student laughed. "Hah! That sounds brilliant. How much?"

"Seven Sickles, mate."*

The student eagerly handed over the coins, tied the eyepatch around his head, and gave Fred a hearty clap on the back. "If I actually get a girlfriend because of this, I'll take you to the kitchens for a feast!"*

Fred smirked. "Oh, mate, I'll be sneaking in for snacks either way—believe me, no one at Hogwarts is better at nighttime escapades than me."*

With that, he turned his attention to his next target.

"Oi, hi—!"

"Er… hi, George?"

Fred's face immediately darkened. "I'M FRED!" he bellowed. "Why does everyone think I'm George?! Even my mum gets it wrong—constantly! I swear, she's probably forgotten she ever had a son named Fred!"*

Harry Potter—who had been the unfortunate soul to mistake him for his twin—gave an awkward chuckle. "Er, sorry. What… exactly are you doing with all these eyepatches? I mean, I saw Seamus wearing one since last night, but… what's the point?"

Fred grinned. Time to launch into his sales pitch.

With the enthusiasm of a professional con artist, he spun a wildly convincing tale, leaving Harry completely baffled.

"Alright," Harry finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I suppose I could buy one… but I wear glasses."*

Fred snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's easy, Harry! Just watch—"

Before Harry could react, Fred whipped off his glasses, swiftly tied the eyepatch around the frame, and shoved them back onto his face.

"See? Problem solved!"*

Harry blinked a few times before frowning in suspicion. "I can't tell if I look completely stupid or not… I think I need to check a mirror."*

Meanwhile, the Slytherins sidestepped the ongoing Gryffindor eyepatch craze and finally entered the Great Hall.

Nolan's expression was a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief. "So… Hogwarts students wear eyepatches because they think it makes them popular?"

"Pretty much, mate," Miles said, slinging an arm around Nolan's shoulders. "You know how obsessed everyone is with you. The moment you walked into Hogwarts with an eyepatch, suddenly it became a fashion statement."*

Montague pulled out a chair for the girls before heading over to the other end of the table to distribute cheese tarts. "I overheard some Gryffindors talking yesterday. Apparently, the reason Nolan von Draugr wears an eyepatch has become one of Hogwarts' top ten mysteries. Lee Jordan even put up a reward for anyone who can figure it out."*

"Top ten mysteries?"

The voice belonged to Astoria Greengrass, who had just arrived from the lower years' section and—out of habit—took her seat beside Nolan.

Accepting a cheese tart, she tilted her head in curiosity. "What top ten mysteries? I don't think I've ever heard of that list before."*

Miles grinned and boasted proudly, "Hey! Little witch, this stuff is a bit too advanced for Hogwarts first-years!"*

Nolan, however, remained indifferent. "The 'Top Ten Mysteries' were made up by the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. They're always looking for ways to entertain themselves."*

Eve chimed in, "They put up rewards for anyone who can answer these questions. If you get one right, you win a cash prize. Honestly, the whole system works a lot like a Muggle investment fund. I have to admit, those twins are absolute geniuses when it comes to making money."*

Astoria, intrigued, leaned forward. "So, what exactly are these so-called mysteries?"

Montague smirked before reciting the first one, "The greatest enigma of all time—what color are Severus Snape's underpants?"

Miles continued, "Number two: Why is Professor Flitwick so short?"

"What exactly is hidden under Professor Quirrell's oversized turban?"

"Does Marcus Flint have troll blood in his veins?"

"How did the Weasley twins manage to outsmart both Filch and Snape at the same time?"

"Just how rich is Nolan von Draugr?"

"What makes Eve Stock so special? And how can someone be like her?"

"Exactly how many girls at Hogwarts have a crush on Nolan von Draugr?"

"Why does Nolan von Draugr wear an eyepatch? What happened to his left eye?"

"And finally—why on earth did Dumbledore ever hire Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Nolan was momentarily speechless. His expression darkened as he muttered, "Why do so many of these seem to be about me?"

Miles and the others shrugged in unison. "Because this is Hogwarts."*

Astoria's curiosity only grew. "Do you guys know the answers to any of these?"

"Hah! If we knew the answers, they wouldn't be called 'Top Ten Mysteries,' would they?" Miles replied with a grin. "But we can always speculate. For example—about Snape's underpants, there's a rumor that they're blue and white striped..."

"Most people actually believe they're just plain grey," Montague added, his expression unreadable.

Miles nodded. "And some think Snape doesn't wear any at all…"*

He paused dramatically, then added in an overly casual tone, "I mean, I get it. That kind of freedom must feel great."*

There was a moment of complete silence.

Then, without a word, everyone shifted away from Miles—just a little.

"I actually know the answer to Professor Flitwick's mystery," Nolan said, his voice quieter than before. "It has to do with his heritage. It's not something to joke about. I'd rather the twins remove that question from their list."*

Alicia blinked in confusion. "Then what about Professor Quirrell's turban?"

"Probably just stuffed with garlic," Miles guessed. "You know how paranoid he is about vampires. Maybe he thinks garlic is their ultimate weakness."*

Nolan nodded. "Would explain the smell."*

"What about Marcus Flint?"

"Oh, he might have troll blood," Alicia hesitated before adding, "We covered trolls in second year, remember? He really does look like one…"