HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

What was Hogwarts?

It was the cradle of the entire British wizarding world—the institution that had cultivated countless talented witches and wizards for Britain and all of Europe.

Even in the years when the Dark Lord’s shadow hung over everything, Hogwarts was considered the one place that remained safe.

So, by any reasonable measure, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher dispatched by the Ministry of Magic ought to be a formidable warrior. Even given the current difficulties of the Ministry’s depleted talent pool—if they couldn’t send a lion, they ought at least to have sent a wild cat.

Nobody expected them to send a toad.

And yet, looking at things now, calling her a toad was already a compliment to Umbridge.

For toads, after all, have their own customary tactical repertoire—much praised throughout history: lurk in the shadows at the first sign of danger, croaking away without showing themselves, and should the moment arise, leap onto your foot when you least expect it and refuse to let go, leaving you squirming in disgust—

But Umbridge didn’t appear to possess even those skills.

And so when Umbridge unilaterally announced that she would be abandoning previous teaching methods and ”improving” the current state of Defence Against the Dark Arts instruction, the applause she had anticipated did not come.

Had she made this declaration before Professor Lupin’s arrival, perhaps the students might have held some hope for it. The Defence teachers before him had been, to put it generously, difficult to describe.

But.

Ever since Professor Remus Lupin arrived in 1993, all of that had changed.

Lupin came, and the students knew real DADA! Lupin came, and teaching DADA had a face!

With his hands-on teaching style, Professor Lupin had woven together entertainment and instruction into a seamless whole.

He taught students to draw theory from their own practice, then turn that theory back to guide further practice in a virtuous cycle that fundamentally transformed the old regime of Defence Against the Dark Arts, where theory had suffocated application and the two had never properly met.

Under Professor Lupin’s guidance, Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts had soared to become the most beloved class among students.

Professor Rubeus Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures had only managed to hold that top spot for a single term before conceding defeat.

Professor Lupin, formidable as ever, had used the entirety of third year to cover the two years’ worth of missed curriculum and then pressed on into fourth year, pushing every student’s practical abilities to new heights, new breakthroughs.

So, when, at the end of last term, Dumbledore proposed collaborating with the Ministry of Magic to strengthen Defence instruction, the students had been largely unmoved.

One Lupin is more than enough, thank you.

Though, thinking of Mad-Eye Moody’s impressive record, they had allowed themselves a small measure of anticipation.

What none of them could have imagined was that the one coming to teach their very first class would be this pink toad, Umbridge.

Seeing that no applause was forthcoming, Umbridge’s brow creased slightly. She pressed on regardless: ”This year, what we will be studying is a carefully structured, theory-centred course in Defensive Magic, approved by the Ministry of Magic.”

She rapped the blackboard again. The two lines from before vanished, replaced by the words Course Objectives.

To understand the fundamental principles of Defensive Magic.

To learn to identify situations in which the use of Defensive Magic is legally permitted.

To evaluate Defensive Magic within the context of practical application.

”Now—please copy these down.”

Under Umbridge’s grating, pinched instructions, the classroom filled with the reluctant rustle of quills being reached for and parchment being unrolled.

Of course they were reluctant.

Professor Lupin had worked so hard to elevate the practical component, and now here she was introducing a ”theory-centred” curriculum? Was this not the most blatant reversal of progress in living memory?

Still, reminding themselves that Umbridge was only one of four Defence teachers, Harry, Ron, and most of the students pulled sullen faces and began, sluggishly, to comply.

Hermione reached for her quill as well.

But her face wore a deep, furrowed frown as though the words on the blackboard were causing her some form of physical discomfort.

She instinctively glanced at Sherlock beside her, and paused.

Sherlock remained in exactly the same posture as before: arms folded across his chest, body tilted slightly back against his chair, grey eyes resting with perfect calm on the pink figure at the front of the room. He showed not the faintest intention of picking up a quill.

Hermione, who knew Sherlock well, understood at once: that posture was itself a statement.

A refusal. A refusal to participate in this farcical retreat to first principles.

The thought planted a bold idea, quietly, in the back of her mind.

Umbridge hadn’t noticed.

Two or three minutes later, once she had seen most students copy down the three objectives, she spoke again: ”Does every student have a copy of Wilbert Slinkhard’s Defensive Magical Theory?”

This was the fifth-year Defence textbook, so a murmur of affirmation rippled through the room.

”I think we’ll do that again.”

Umbridge’s brow furrowed. ”When I ask you a question, I expect the answer Yes, Professor Umbridge” —she paused pointedly, ”or No, Professor Umbridge. Let’s try once more: does every student have a copy of Wilbert Slinkhard’s Defensive Magical Theory?”

”Yes, Professor Umbridge,” the class answered in unison.

”Very good.”

Professor Umbridge nodded with satisfaction. ”I’d like you to open your books to page five and read the first chapter—Basics for Beginners. And please—no talking while you read.”

With that, she stepped away from the blackboard, settled into the chair behind the lectern, and fixed the class with her heavy-lidded, toad-like stare.

The students, reluctant as ever, opened Defensive Magical Theory to page five and began to read.

And immediately discovered that the content was extraordinarily dull on par with listening to Professor Binns lecture on the History of Magic.

Within five minutes, the classroom had descended into the exact same stupor that characterised every Binns lesson: everyone listless, everyone drooping toward sleep.

They appeared to be reading, but every pair of eyes was unblinking on the same spot on the same page.

One student was absently spinning a quill across his knuckles.

But there were exceptions.

The first was Sherlock.

He remained exactly as before arms folded, body tilted back against his chair. Only now he had closed his eyes entirely, in a state of serene rest.

Harry and Hermione, sitting beside him, both noticed: he hadn’t even taken out his copy of Defensive Magical Theory.

If Sherlock’s idiosyncratic behaviour was something one could accept, after all, this was Sherlock Holmes; nothing he did was truly surprising then Hermione’s conduct was rather more unexpected.

Her copy of Defensive Magical Theory sat on the desk in front of her, yes. But it was not open.

For Hermione Granger to leave an available book unopened was a genuinely rare occurrence.

What surprised Harry even more was that her large, dark eyes were fixed, unblinking, on Professor Umbridge and one hand was raised high in the air.

Harry knew perfectly well that Hermione was not Sherlock. She had never once refused to read when a teacher asked her to.

And yet here she was, doing exactly that.

Harry looked at her with a questioning glance.

But Hermione first cast a brief look at the drowsing Sherlock, then gave Harry a small, firm shake of her head—not now—and turned her gaze back to Professor Umbridge, hand still raised.

Umbridge had clearly noticed these two students openly defying her instructions.

Yet for reasons of her own, she chose to pretend she hadn’t, keeping her eyes fixed on the farthest possible corner of the room from either of them.

Sherlock was one thing but Hermione refused to yield.

And so, after a few more minutes, Harry was no longer the only one watching them.

To be fair, the chapter itself was so extraordinarily tedious that more and more students preferred to watch Sherlock and Hermione—Hermione especially rather than endure another word of Basics for Beginners.

At last, when the entire class had stopped looking at their textbooks entirely and was instead watching Sherlock and Hermione—mostly Hermione—Professor Umbridge could no longer pretend not to notice.

The carefully constructed smile on her face went slightly rigid, but her voice climbed higher and more pinched than ever: ”My dear, do you have a question about the chapter?”

”No—not about the chapter,” Hermione replied at once.

”But we are reading,” said Professor Umbridge. ”If you have other concerns, we can discuss them after class.”

”I only have a question about your course objectives,” said Hermione.

At that, Professor Umbridge’s eyebrows rose. ”And your name is—?”

”Hermione Granger.”

”Well then, Miss Granger, I believe those objectives are written out quite clearly, provided you read them carefully from beginning to end.”

”I don’t think they are,” Hermione said bluntly. ”There isn’t a single word on that board about using defensive spells.”

A brief silence fell over the room.

Many students turned to look again at the three objectives still chalked on the blackboard.

And as Hermione had said not a single word about using defensive spells.

Sherlock opened his eyes. He watched Hermione with an expression of keen, undisguised interest.

”Using defensive spells?”

Umbridge let out a sound like a laugh, as though she had heard something rather amusing. ”Oh my, oh my—I really cannot imagine a situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use defensive spells. Surely you don’t think you’re going to be attacked during lessons, Miss Granger?”

”Are we not to practise magic at all?” Ron burst out immediately.

”In this class, students who wish to speak must raise their hand first. You are— ?”

”Ronald Weasley,” Ron said, hastily thrusting his hand into the air.

But Professor Umbridge only smiled more beatifically, made no answer to his question, and turned her back on him entirely.

Ron: ≧(´皿`)≦

Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands as well.

Professor Umbridge’s drooping eyes lingered on Harry for a moment, then dismissed him entirely, and turned to Hermione: ”Yes, Miss Granger? Do you have something further to add?”

”Yes,” said Hermione, pressing on. ”Isn’t the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts to practise defensive spells?”

Rather than answering, Umbridge fired back a question of her own: ”Are you a trained educational expert certified by the Ministry of Magic, Miss Granger?”

”No, but—”

”Then I rather think you are not qualified to judge what the overall objectives of any course ought to be. Our most recent curriculum has been designed by wizards considerably older and wiser than yourself. You will be learning defensive spells in a safe, risk-free environment—”

”What good is that?”

The words burst out of Harry before he could stop himself. He hadn’t raised his hand. ”If we’re ever attacked, it won’t be in a safe, risk-free—”

”Hand up, Mr. Potter!”

Harry’s hand shot into the air. And Professor Umbridge, true to form, immediately looked away.

Harry: (///皿)~

This time, however, several other students had their hands up as well.

Sensing that she was losing her grip on the situation, Umbridge selected who appeared to be the most earnest and unassuming student—a dark skinned boy in the front rows: ”And your name?”

”Dean Thomas.”

”Go ahead, Mr. Thomas.”

”Well—it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?”

What Umbridge had not anticipated was that the seemingly mild-mannered Dean Thomas was not mild-mannered in the slightest.

Dean fixed her with a steady gaze and spoke in a rapid clear voice: ”If we’re ever attacked, there won’t be any such thing as no risk.”

”I’ll say it once more,” said Professor Umbridge, smiling at Dean in that maddening way of hers. ”Do you really think you’ll be attacked in my class?”

”No, but—”

”I don’t particularly wish to criticise certain practices at this school, but—”

Umbridge’s voice rose, drowning out Dean’s:

”In this class, you have been exposed to a number of deeply irresponsible wizards. Deeply irresponsible. They have introduced you to spells that are far too complex for your age group and carry enormous potential for harm. As a result, you have been left so frightened that you actually believe you will face Dark Magic attacks on a daily basis.

The Ministry of Magic holds that theoretical knowledge will serve you far more effectively in your examinations. And at the end of the day, the purpose of this school is to help students pass their examinations.”

”Utter drivel. Not a word of it makes any sense.”

The voice rang out slowly clearly into the ears of Umbridge and every student in the room.

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