Moira, the Queen of the Great Hall, Defender of the Chat, was reading letters. While it was true that the Queen's time was mostly split between holding court and obtaining council, she was often able to speak with her citizens and learn more about their lives. It was on such a day that she obtained a letter from such a citizen. The missive read:

Dear Queen Moira:

I wish to inform you of an incident. Around the early hours of the morn, a man who called himself "Harry Potter" came into the Great Hall, doing the same things many of the trolls your Highness has dealt with previously did (that is to say, speak in a language unknown to the human race and call us names).

Due to the help of our esteemed knights (this includes, but is not limited to, Lady Rita, Lady Cordelia, Lady Ashley, Lady Mirana and Sir Albus) and my detective skills, we found out that this was actually a man who had somehow entered the school and drank Polyjuice Potion to imitate Mr. Potter. Upon further investigation, we are beginning to suspect that this man is somehow related to the trolls that have previously savaged our land.

If you would be willing, Your Majesty could get further information from me and your Knights so that we could craft a truly great tale. If not...well, you might want the details for amusement.

Please let me know if you happen to be interested.

-Clara Adler

This was a most intriguing letter, and so the Queen decided to meet with Clara in order to hear further details. While the Queen made no small effort to learn about her people, it was true that she did not know them all personally, and was glad that she had been given an opportunity to hear both about her people and of how accomplished her Knights were. She wrote back to Clara, and soon it came to pass that Clara was before the court.

Moira spoke. "From your letter -- which I must say was a delightful read -- I am curious to know the story in detail."

Clara bowed. "Certainly, Your Majesty.  I call this tale 'A Case of Identity' and hope it it to your liking." And so she began:

Once upon a time, the citizens of the Great Hall-noble Knights and humble villagers alike-were discussing things, merrily and cheerfully, when all of a sudden, a man barged into the Great Hall.  The man looked strangely familiar, as if they had known him from a book, or perhaps a painting. He wore spectacles, and his hair was dark and messy.

A first year noticed a scar on his forehead, and gasped. "You must be Harry Potter!"  

The man simply stared at her with his green eyes, and shrugged. "I guess I am."

Moira stopped Clara for a moment.  “Harry Potter?  As in the man from the tales?  This is certainly interesting!  Please, continue!”  

"Well, kind Sir," a Knight said, "I have no idea why you of all people have come to this little kingdom of ours, but you are welcome to join us!"

The man shrugged once again. "Dgf djd."

"Sir," a Hufflepuff villager inquired, “What language are you speaking?”

The man smirked. “You don't know? I can't blame you, the Hufflepuffs are pretty brainless…”  He had an odd accent; the word "blame" sounded like blaim -- a slight difference, but an important one all the same.

"Excuse me?" piped a witch named Cordelia. "Did you just insult one of us?"

'Harry' suddenly gagged. "I know you-you banned me from here once!"

Cordelia frowned. "Well, to be fair, you did break several rules, and it was in my position as a Knight to exile you."

"Lady Cordelia," piped up Lady Mirana, a fellow knight, "Did something happen?"

"Ages and ages ago..." muttered Cordelia. "It seems that Harry cannot move on and see when he is in the wrong."

The man laughed. "Which rule did I break?"

Cordelia held up her hand and counted with her fingers. "You littered us with needless spam, you uttered words that were quite rude, you insulted our villagers and you sent me a horrid owl yourself."

'Harry' smirked. "A Slytherin teaching me rules? Wow."

"Yes," Cordelia said sternly, "And this Slytherin will also teach manners. In case you haven't noticed though, Harry, I can move on from past incidents that occurred two months ago..."  The villagers nodded their heads at Cordelia's wise words and turned back to 'Harry', waiting for a response.  He did not say anything; rather, he gave an undignified look and ran out of the Great Hall.

The villagers murmured. "Was that really Harry Potter?" they wondered. "Why on earth did he act in such a way?"

Finally, a powerful yet kind Knight known as Lady Rita held up her hand. The crowd fell into silence.  "Friends, I suspect that this man claiming to be Harry Potter shall be back again. Unfortunately, I will be away later, as will Cordelia. As there will not be many Knights in the Great Hall later, I think it would be of great help if one of you could tell me of a man or woman capable of dealing with him."

"What about Queen Moira?" someone suggested.

"Her Majesty is visiting her family members," informed Lady Ashley, another Knight. 'she's somewhere in a land called Real Life, which is quite far from us. As much as she would like to help, I doubt she could."

"Call the Royal Detective, Dame Clara," suggested another villager. "Perhaps she could help."

"Yes, that is a considerable option..." muttered Rita. "Is everyone in favor?"

The villagers mumbled words of agreement. "Dame Clara might be slightly insane," said one villager, "But she is also suitable for the job."

"Well, then, I shall find Dame Clara, while Miss Rita and Miss Cordelia may leave to work on their duties now," said Lady Mirana.

And so Lady Rita and Lady Cordelia bid them goodbye and went to the southern lands of Slytherin, while Lady Mirana traveled to the eastern mountains of Ravenclaw. She arrived at the tower were Dame Clara was residing. Wanting to be polite, she knocked thrice on the door...

"'tis some visitor,” a voice behind the door muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door—only this, but maybe-perhaps-something more."

The door opened. Standing in the doorway was a relatively young woman who looked surprised. "My dear Mirana! How are things in Great Hall? Come in for a cup of tea, pray tell."

"Dame Clara," interrupted Mirana, "Forgive me, but now is not the time for tea."

"Why? Whatever is the matter?"

"You have a new mystery to solve, Dame Clara, in the Great Hall..."

But Mirana did not finish her sentence, because at the word "mystery", Dame Clara's surprised look was swapped with an eager, slightly manic one, and she rushed back inside. Less than a minute later, she emerged with a cap and coat on, holding a commonplace notebook in one hand and a pipe in the other.  "Well, then," said Dame Clara as they rushed back to the Great Hall as swiftly as they could, "What mystery is there to solve?"

"Not too long ago," said Lady Mirana, "A man claiming to be none other than Harry Potter himself came into the Great Hall."

"Really!" said Clara. She paused for a moment to catch her breath and then inquired Mirana further as they resumed running. "My dear Mirana, have you read the Harry Potter biographies?"

“The ones by Joanne Rowling? Why, yes, of course! Every wizard and witch must read them at least once."

"Do you read the Daily Prophet frequently?"

"I do not read it very much," said Mirana, "but I have read some articles."

"Well, then," said Dame Clara, "You must have a basic idea of what Harry Potter looks like. Did this man have Harry Potter's features?"

"He had the same, dark, messy hair-"

"Easy to dye, no?"

"Green eyes-"

"A lot of people have green eyes, my dear Mirana, I wouldn't be convinced."

"'spectacles-"

"Easily bought."

"And a lightning scar."

"Hmm," said Clara, “that's not very easy to replicate. He might just be...but what about his actions? Did they fit with his reputation?"

"Not at all, Dame Clara. His actions were utterly foul, when they were not confusing."

"Curiouser and curiouser," murmured the detective. "A very curious case indeed. Well, here we are, in the Great Hall -- by gum, isn't that him?"

Indeed, 'Harry' was standing in The Great Hall once again. He wore the same haughty look, and was staring at Lady Ashley, who looked half frustrated, half bemused.

"Hello," Dame Clara piped up. Every villager turned to her. 'this is...Harry Potter, I presume?"

"He claims to be! I should think not."

"I say he's an imposter."

"I say he's a lookalike."

"I say he's a man whose head is full of wine."

"I say he's my mother!"

"I say he's Spartacus!"

"I say he's a tramp!"

"I say he's a madman who looks like Harry Potter."

"I say he's Harry Potter using a time turner."

"I say that he's a spirit, making us pay for our sins!"

"He's not a spirit, he's a very naughty boy!"

"I say he needs to go!"

"Hear, hear!"

"What's your problem, Holmes?" snarled 'Harry'.

“Oh, nothing,” Dame Clara said. She sat down on a nearby chair and brought out her pipe, lighting it. "Other than the fact, of course, that I have received information that you claim to be Harry Potter, despite the fact that he is thirty three years old as of now and is not supposed to be in Hogwarts without permission-and that you have been bothering the fair people of this kingdom. Elementary, my dear Potter."  She smoked her pipe, coughed a bit and looked at 'Harry', frowning. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

'Harry' thought for a bit and then shrugged yet again, "DB Egg."

"What?" Dame Clara said sharply. "What did you say?"

"ddsak dks."

Dame Clara sighed, "Doubtless this is some insult in a language I have never even heard of. So..." She leaned forward. "Are you really Mr. Potter?"

"Well, I guess I am."

"Are you not supposed to be on an Auror mission in Peru?"

"Maybe,"

"What is your purpose here, exactly?"

Before 'Harry' could answer, however, a young Knight walked into the room. He had a pleasant look on his face until he saw what was going on. He widened his eyes.

Dame Clara turned to him. "Hello, Sir Albus," she said. Does this man speaking in strange codes and hurling insults at us happen to be your father?"

Albus stared at 'Harry', then frowned. "Not mine."

"Well, then," Dame Clara said, turning to the man and folding her arms, "Who are you really?"

"Ah, shut up, Holmes."

Dame Clara shook her head. "Unfortunately, sir, I am a detective. And detectives never shut up, not until the mystery is solved. And frankly, I am not planning on shutting up in all. In fact, I have a few questions to ask you."

She gave him a long, hard, look, and at last said: "What is the capital of Mongolia?"

"Uh...Beijing?"

"How can you see what a man is worth, or where his value lies?"

"Er..."

"What is the square root of 1406?"

"Uh..."

"How can you prevent yourself from going insane from a Fwooper's song? How much willpower is required for Lumos? What is the counter curse to the Leg Locker Jinx? What centuries were witch burnings common? What is the importance of the similarity index? Where can you spot Venus during February? What are the three primes? What is black and white and read all over?"

"I have no idea what the answers to those questions are!" he blurted out.

"Well, then, a few final questions..." She said softly. 'tell me, can a potion undergo a phase transition?"

"O-of course it can!"

"Who invented the Shivering Potion?"

"Oh, that was Iris Green," the imposter said, "Wasn't it?"

'true or False: freshly melted snow is used in Knee Buckling Solutions.."

"Wrong, it's used in vomiting solutions."

"What will happen if unfinished Cure For Boils is applied to your skin?"

He winced, "You"ll get even more boils yourself."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

“They’re the same plant!"

"Well, then, what's the world's most powerful love potion?"

"Amortentia, isn't it?"

Clara smiled. "You seem to be quite the expert on Potions."

"Um...excuse me," said Lady Ashley. "But what exactly is the point of this?"

"Wait. Let me finish...this man here," she said coldly, 'seems to be quite well versed in Potions, despite not being well versed in Geography, Maths, Philosophy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Astronomy, Humor and Alchemy.  Therefore...it would seem...quite likely that he would know..." Dame Clara paused for a bit- "What Polyjuice Potion is, no?"

"Of course I know what it is!" cried the man. "It's a potion that changes your appearance into another perso-" He stopped. "Wait a second."

"Well, then, Knights," Dame Clara said, "I think it's safe to deduce that this man has been using Polyjuice Potion. He has been transforming himself into Harry Potter because there is nothing else to do. Isn't that right?"

"Er...I can explain.,,"

"Excellent deduction skills, Clara," Albus said, moving towards the impostor. "What do you say we ban him, Lady Ashley and Lady Mirana?"

"I agree," Mirana said, raising her wand.

"You couldn't have put it better, Albus," said Ashley. "Five hours or twenty four?"

"No!" The imposter cried. "Please, anything but a ban!"

"By the power of the Knights of Queen Moira," Mirana said, rolling her eyes, "I declare you banned."

"No! Dbdfj!" the impostor cried, clutching his chest.

"Learn to be respectful, Harry," said Lady Ashley,. "I declare you banned!"

"DB..." he staggered.

"I declare you banned," Sir Albus said as loud as he could.

"Djdnsjja!" the imposter cried.

"Oh, this is just great," Lady Mirana moaned. "Why can't he be banned?"

"Perhaps," Dame Clara offered, "You could turn that switch on your wand from "Beta" to "Vanilla?"

"Huh, that could work," Lady Mirana said, and did so, before pointing her wand at the imposter again. "I declare you banned!"

"NO!" the man cried, as a portal opened, sucking him into its abyss. "No..."

"Alright, then," said Dame Clara as the portal closed. "About the pay..."

And so the kingdom of the Great Hall was peaceful once more, though the royal treasury ended up a little bankrupt.

At the conclusion of Clara’s tale, the Queen laughed.  “It seems as if the Knights certainly had an adventure in my absence.”  She sat back on her throne, with her fingers steepled.  “Now, a matter of this ‘Royal Detective’ title you appear to have given yourself.”

Clara’s eyes went briefly wide, but schooled her face back to a picture of determination.  “Indeed, Your Highness.”

The Queen considered Clara.  She had indeed told such a wonderful story; perhaps this would be a perfect way to reward her?  “Well, I suppose that is reward enough for your work on this… case.  Good timezone to you, Royal Detective.”  At that she waved her hand at Clara.

Clara smiled brightly.  “Thank you so much, Your Majesty!”  With that comment, she left the Great Hall.

Thus concludes the first of many tales told to the Queen of the Chat in the Great Hall.  The others are, of course, for another time.

~THE END~

Author's note: everything not in italics is attributed to Clara Adler,