HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Winter break had ended, and school was back in session.

For fifth-years, the pressure of O.W.L. year was flaring up again.

Thick stacks of parchment homework piled up in the centre of every round table, and the scratch of quills across paper had become the most familiar background noise in the Gryffindor common room.

This did not, of course, include Sherlock.

The only effect the whole affair had on him was that he now spent more time by the common room fireplace.

The light and atmosphere there were best suited for poring over obscure ancient runic texts.

But for the vast majority of the little lions, he was a gift dropped from the heavens.

Because Sherlock couldn’t care less if his own homework got passed around and copied in the common room.

As Hermione put it, Sherlock spoiled these little lions rotten.

Hermione would never lend her homework to anyone to copy, but when others came asking her questions, she was more than happy to explain. Sherlock, on the other hand, held firmly to the belief that people should be responsible for their own actions.

”My dear Hermione, a person must always answer for their own actions.”

That was what Sherlock said whenever Hermione asked him about it.

”Copy my homework? No problem.

But if you can still manage to copy on O.W.L. exam day, now that’s real skill.

As for enjoying the easy copying now and leaving a blank in the exam later—what business is that of mine?”

Hermione had nothing to say to that. She could only shake her head helplessly and turn back to her revision and her hunt for Horcrux clues.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had changed too.

No one knew where Professor Lupin had gone, and the once-gentle atmosphere of his classes had been thoroughly replaced by the harshness of Mad-Eye Moody.

He was forever pacing the classroom with his clanking magical eye, explaining, in that gravelly voice of his, the defences against the Unforgivable Curses. ”The Imperius and Cruciatus Curses can both be resisted, and I’ll certainly teach you how.

But it takes real strength of will, and not everyone can master it.

So the best method is, really, to simply avoid getting hit by them in the first place.

The Killing Curse—the Killing Curse has no counter-curse, and cannot be blocked.

As far as anyone knows, only one person has ever survived it, and he happens to be sitting right in front of me.

You may think me cruel for saying so, but a true Dark wizard won’t show you any mercy.

What you need to learn is how to stay alive.”

In the training against the Imperius Curse, Sherlock displayed a startling strength of will.

He was the only one who withstood Moody’s Imperius Curse the very first time it was cast on him, refusing to obey Moody’s command outright. Harry, too, put up a considerable struggle.

The curse demanded he leap onto the table, while his own mind fought to keep him from doing it.

The result was that he smacked headfirst into the table, sent it toppling over, and left his leg throbbing with pain.

Moody praised both Sherlock and Harry highly.

”Good, very good—did you see that? Potter had resistance in him; he very nearly beat it off!

And Holmes! He’s the only one who managed to throw off the curse completely, the very first time I cast it on him!

Even though I’d deliberately weakened the curse for you all, that’s still remarkable—sixth- and seventh-years haven’t managed that!

I’d half a mind to have him put on a demonstration for the class!

Let’s go again—the rest of you, watch closely this time—keep your eyes on Holmes’s, that’s the key—”

Whenever Moody had more on his plate than he could handle, Karkaroff would step in.

Although he had once been headmaster of Durmstrang, whenever he stood beside Moody, people couldn’t shake the sense that Moody was the elder and he the junior partner.

Karkaroff, for his part, seemed to rather enjoy this arrangement—there was something almost of the laid-off worker finding new employment about it.

Meanwhile, with Professor Lupin gone, Umbridge’s teaching hours had increased considerably.

Unfortunately, the woman’s abilities were limited at best; aside from having everyone read the same dull theoretical passages over and over, she offered nothing else. Even the younger little lions had figured out by now that despite carrying the title of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, this Umbridge was, in truth, all bark and no bite.

Not even up to the standard of Professors Quirrell or Lockhart before her.

Fortunately, though Professor Lupin was gone, there was still Karkaroff to fill in for him.

This, in turn, had given the once rather unremarkable Karkaroff a striking reversal of reputation.

Harry’s progress in Occlumency, meanwhile, had come along by leaps and bounds.

That was thanks to Hermione’s reminder—as the weather warmed day by day, continuing to wear a mask to class would draw far too much attention.

So, she’d urged Harry that he absolutely must master Occlumency before he took the mask off.

At the very least, he needed to reach the point where he could practice on his own, without still depending on Snape’s tutoring.

Otherwise, knowing Harry’s temper, facing Snape’s biting sarcasm alone would almost certainly end with him losing it sooner or later.

”I think I’ve more or less got it.”

That evening, sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, Harry spoke with a rare note of confidence in his voice.

”I can close off my mind in time now, before Snape—before Professor Snape can see through my thoughts.”

”That matters.”

Sherlock said to Harry:

”An information gap may look trivial, but it can prove decisive.

As long as Voldemort never realizes this, you can turn Occlumency around and use it to spy on intelligence from his side instead.”

Harry nodded firmly, resolving to redouble his daily practice and cooperate fully with Professor Snape, so as to finish his Occlumency training as soon as possible.

Once again, a notice went up on the bulletin board of the Gryffindor common room, announcing the date of the next Hogsmeade visit.

February fourteenth.

Valentine’s Day.

”Harry’s asked Ron, and Cho’s asked Lavender.”

Hermione said, her eyes bright, focused on Sherlock.

The moment the words were out, she realized she’d misspoken. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she hurried to correct herself.

”Er—I mean, Harry’s asked Cho, and Ron’s asked Lavender.”

”Calm down, Hermione.”

Sherlock studied his good friend. He’d had the sense, ever since they’d come back from the winter holiday, that something about Hermione’s state had been a bit off.

But working it through by deduction, he found nothing—Hermione seemed entirely normal, with nothing out of the ordinary having happened to her.

”I can tell you’re quite nervous right now.”

Hermione shot Sherlock a somewhat glum look. As if she could help being nervous.

She’d clearly gotten here first, and yet now Gemma and Luna both showed every sign of overtaking her, and quite possibly Fleur would join them too. Gemma had said, ages ago, that there was no such thing as first-come-first-served in love—but Hermione still wasn’t willing to be left behind by the hero of her own heart.

Seeing Ginny’s situation now in particular only made her more anxious still.

”What I mean is—on Valentine’s Day, how about we go to Hogsmeade?”

The moment the words were out, she peeked up at Sherlock cautiously, feeling faintly underhanded even to herself.

Taking advantage of her position close at hand to get her invitation in first.

Fortunately, Sherlock’s answer brought her instant relief. ”Sure. It has been a while since we’ve been there, come to think of it.”

”Then it’s settled!”

As if afraid he might change his mind, Hermione tossed off those words, snatched up her book bag, and hurried away, her retreating figure was carrying more than a hint of flight.

Sherlock watched her go, brow furrowing slightly, and muttered under his breath:

”Women really are the most baffling creatures.”

The late nights of fifth-year study made January fly by.

As if in the blink of an eye, February had quietly arrived, bringing with it a mild spring breeze and a fine, drizzling rain.

Harry’s life had grown busier than most everyone else’s; on top of the mountain of homework, he now had two additional tasks to manage.

The Quidditch team’s daily practice, and his weekly Occlumency tutoring with Snape.

Fortunately, he’d finally found the right approach, and both tasks were coming along fairly smoothly.

During this stretch, Dumbledore had sought out Sherlock and Harry as well.

He examined the progress Harry had made in Occlumency, and a look of gratified relief crossed his face as he told the two of them:

At this rate, by the third term, Harry wouldn’t need to keep studying under Snape any longer.

Regrettably, when it came to clues about the two remaining Horcruxes, there was still nothing to go on.

There was, however, one piece of not-entirely-bad news.

Gilderoy Lockhart was getting along well in Japan—he seemed to have taken to life in that country rather unexpectedly.

Harry couldn’t quite understand why Dumbledore had gone out of his way to bring this up.

But Sherlock understood perfectly well what lay behind those words: that the Foreign wizards’ research into the field of soul was proceeding steadily, in an orderly fashion. Much like Harry’s Occlumency training.

Just when everyone assumed that Harry would remain the centre of attention for a good stretch of time yet to come, an entirely unexpected turn of events instead thrust Sherlock Holmes into the spotlight.

February fourteenth.

Valentine’s Day.

The wizarding world had four major holidays:

Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and Easter.

Of these, Christmas and Easter both came with holidays, corresponding to the winter and spring breaks in Hogwarts’s three-term system.

Valentine’s Day alone was different.

Even without a holiday attached to it, it held an outsized importance for the older students.

For those with certain things weighing on their hearts especially, this holiday carried more weight than the other three combined.

Fifth-year was, as it happened, precisely the critical juncture when people cared most about Valentine’s Day.

But no one could have predicted that Harry and Ron, who had originally promised to spend the day with Cho Chang and Lavender in Hogsmeade, would both stand their dates up. The reason was simple enough—the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was coming up.

The new captain, Angelina, had set her mind on seizing this window of time to run the whole team through a full day of intensive training.

Hermione’s earlier slip of the tongue had, as it turned out, become an unwitting prophecy—Harry really had gone off to spend Valentine’s Day with Ron.

Cho, for her part, took it graciously, saying she understood completely, and even encouraged Harry to train hard and perform well in the match.

Lavender, however, was furious, her whole face flushed red as she sat on the common room sofa, complaining nonstop.

”It’s only one day! What difference would it make to skip one practice? Besides, Hufflepuff’s hardly some powerhouse team...”

”Don’t say that, Lavender.” Parvati came over to reason with her.

Ever since becoming a prefect, her sense of the bigger picture had clearly sharpened.

”Anything can happen on the pitch. We have to seize every opportunity we get—we absolutely cannot afford to underestimate them.”

”But Won-Won already promised me...” Lavender pouted on, her face full of grievance.

”Won—Won-Won?”

Hermione and Parvati’s eyes went wide in unison, staring at Lavender in shock.

”What?”

Lavender, unsettled by the way they were both staring at her, blinked in confusion.

”Did I say something wrong?”

Hermione and Parvati exchanged a glance and shook their heads in unison.

How had they never noticed before that Lavender was such a hopeless romantic at heart?

Won-Won... of all things for her to come up with.

Honestly more nauseating than even Mrs. Weasley’s ”Ronniekins.”

No one was happier than Ginny.

At first, when she’d learned that Harry would be spending the whole day with Cho Chang in Hogsmeade, she’d been thoroughly dejected for a good while.

But now, Harry wasn’t going to Hogsmeade at all—and he’d be spending the whole day training right alongside her instead.

As long as she got to be with Harry, even tedious, monotonous Quidditch drills turned into something fun.

What was more, as Harry’s reserve player, she now had every excuse to hover close by him, under the perfectly reasonable pretext of asking for pointers.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Hermione had already joined the line waiting for Filch’s signature to leave the school grounds.

The moment Mrs. Norris spotted Sherlock, she trotted straight over to his feet with elegant little steps, rubbing her head affectionately against him.

Sherlock bent down and gave the now glossy-coated cat a couple of good scratches, exchanged a greeting with Filch, and then set off out through the castle doors together with Hermione.

A breeze, carrying the damp scent of fresh grass, brushed past their hair.

Passing the Quidditch pitch, the two of them happened to spot Harry, Ron, and Ginny sweeping past above the stands on their broomsticks, the tips carving light, graceful arcs across the sky.

”Good thing you never joined the Quidditch team back then.” Hermione, watching the figures out on the pitch, couldn’t help laughing. ”Otherwise, you probably wouldn’t be able to get away today either.”

”Perhaps.” Sherlock offered a faint smile, his gaze drifting toward the edge of the distant Forbidden Forest. ”But the odds of that particular hypothetical ever coming true are close to nil—unless not a single one of my good friends happened to play Quidditch.”

Back when he’d encouraged Harry to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team, it had been for two reasons: first, he valued the natural flying talent Harry had been born with, and second, Harry himself was genuinely passionate about the sport.

That last point was really what let Harry serve as his eyes and ears within the Quidditch team.

Over these past few years, Harry had done rather well at it.

By now, Sherlock could more or less count himself an unofficial member of the Gryffindor Quidditch squad.

He could watch the practices whenever he liked, walk into the changing room whenever he pleased, and even Angelina’s tactical plans reached his ears practically the instant they were drawn up.

”Look, it’s Holmes and Granger!”

Just as the two of them walked on side by side, a bright, ringing voice suddenly called out from behind them.

Sherlock and Hermione turned to look, and found Cho Chang’s roommates Lucy and Alicia walking together with a group of Ravenclaw girls—though Cho herself was nowhere to be seen among them.

”Hey! Hi there!”

Lucy waved with familiarity, jogging up to the two of them with a teasing trace in her voice.

”That Potter’s really no good, isn’t he? Promised he’d spend the day with Cho in Hogsmeade, and then stood her up just like that!”

”He had to go to Quidditch practice—” Hermione hurried to explain.

”Yeah, yeah, we know, we know.” Alicia waved a hand, sighing helplessly. ”But since Potter’s not going, Cho won’t come either—honestly, there’s just no talking sense into her...”

The four of them stood chatting idly by the roadside for a bit, until Alicia suddenly changed the subject, her eyes were glinting with curiosity as she looked between the two of them with a note of gossip in her voice.

”So, does that mean you two are officially dating now?”

Hermione: o(////▽////)q

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