HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

The weather was fine today, warm and clear with a gentle breeze.

Nobody had classes, and everyone was in high spirits.

The whole school had gotten up early to watch the match, already savouring how good campus life could be.

On a day this fine, cloud after cloud drifted by like cotton candy, with dazzling sunlight breaking through the gaps between them now and then. ”You just want an excuse to eat!”

When Harry led the Gryffindor Quidditch team out of the changing room and onto the pitch, Ron looked up at the sky and offered that comparison.

Ginny shot back, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

”Come on, Ginny,” Harry said when he heard her, ”if Ron can joke like that, it means his head’s in the right place.” And of course it was.

The business with the ”fake Felix Felicis” had done wonders for Ron’s confidence.

”It was a wonderful feeling,” Ron said, wearing a look of nostalgia. ”Like nothing you did could go wrong.”

”What are you even talking about?” Ginny couldn’t help laughing. ”You never actually drank the stuff!”

”Yeah, but I thought I had, didn’t I?” Ron said, dead serious. ”Close enough, really—”

Just then, the Hufflepuff players came out onto the pitch from the changing room on the other side.

The instant both teams appeared, deafening cheers and jeers broke out at once, impossible to tell which came first.

Harry glanced up at the sky again, then hurried to give Kirke and Peakes their last instructions:

”Stay out of the sunlight where you can—don’t let them see you coming until it’s too late—”

The two of them nodded along as their captain laid out the plan.

Veterans, both of them. It showed.

The two captains shook hands at referee Madam Hooch’s signal.

At least the Hufflepuff captain didn’t try to crush Harry’s hand the way the Slytherin one had.

And since Zacharias Smith’s behaviour in the last match had been entirely his own doing, Harry still thought well enough of the rest of Hufflepuff’s badgers—so he had no intention of showing off his fighting instincts here.

At the referee’s whistle, fifteen broomsticks shot up into the sky.

Harry, naturally, did what he always did.

The Firebolt carried him instantly higher than everyone else, and he tore around the pitch, hunting for some trace of the Snitch.

Though Ron had already gotten his confidence back after the ”Felix Felicis incident,” Harry still hoped to catch the Snitch quickly and end the match.

Of course, if Ginny, Katie, and Demelza could keep stretching Gryffindor’s lead, that changed things a little... The thought made Harry chuckle to himself.

Since when had he gotten this ruthless?

”Smith of Hufflepuff has the Quaffle.”

Just as Harry was turning that thought over, a dreamy voice began drifting across the pitch.

Harry: ”!!!”

”...of course, he did the commentary last time too...

”Ginny Weasley’s crashed into him—on purpose, I think—it certainly looked that way.

”That’s because Smith was so rude to Gryffindor last time.

”I imagine he regrets it now—oh, look, he’s dropped the Quaffle!

”Ginny’s got it—I like her, she’s very nice...”

Harry froze on the spot.

No way.

No way.

What sane person would let Luna do commentary?

He whipped his head around to look at the commentator’s box.

His long-distance vision wasn’t as sharp as his tracking sight in motion, but Luna Lovegood’s face and feature was unmistakable even from that height—that dark-gold hair, the signature radish-shaped earrings, the necklace made of Butterbeer caps...

Beside her, Professor McGonagall looked distinctly uncomfortable, as though she already regretted this particular decision.

...but now that big Hufflepuff player had wrestled the Quaffle away from Ginny!

”I don’t remember his name—Bibble, I think—no, Buckle—”

”It’s Cadwallader!”

Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out beside Luna, and the crowd roared with laughter.

The whole Quidditch pitch was suddenly full of good cheer.

”Pfft—”

Over in the Gryffindor stands, Hermione couldn’t hold back a laugh either.

”Honestly, having Luna up there commentating is a lot more fun than her sitting with us wearing that lion hat.

”By the way, Cho, was this your idea?”

To cheer for Gryffindor, Cho Chang had simply come to sit with Hermione instead, taking Luna’s usual spot. It was, in part, a small scheme of Hermione’s own—she really couldn’t stand having Lavender clinging to her arm again.

Lavender’s moods swung too fast, and besides... it genuinely hurt.

”It was,” Cho said, smiling when Hermione asked. ”I just thought she’d be good at it.”

”She really is.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. Because right about then, Luna was starting trouble again.

She seemed to find something as vulgar as the score entirely uninteresting, and kept steering the crowd’s attention elsewhere.

Clouds shaped like odd things, for instance.

Or the students in the stands dancing to celebrate.

Or, take Zacharias Smith, for example.

She pointed out, quite directly, that this particular Chaser hadn’t managed to hold onto the Quaffle for a full minute since the match began, and might well be suffering from a rare condition called ”dropsy.”

At that, Professor McGonagall couldn’t take it anymore and shouted into Luna’s microphone:

”Gryffindor is leading forty to nil!”

”Oh, is it? Already?”

Luna said, still sounding vague, even after Professor McGonagall’s outburst.

The whole crowd burst out laughing again.

None of it affected the outcome of the match, though.

As play continued, Ron was solid, blocking most of what came his way.

Harry, meanwhile, watched his team’s three women Chasers steadily widen the lead.

During this stretch, he actually spotted the Snitch a few times, but forcibly stopped Hufflepuff’s Seeker, Summerby, from catching it—twice. ”Please, Potter, can you not?”

When Harry interfered a third time, and Summerby watched the Snitch slip away right under his nose yet again, he’d had enough. He caught Harry and said:

”Look, we’ve already lost today—can you please stop torturing us?”

As though afraid Harry might not agree, Summerby added: ”That guy Smith—we all hate him too!”

Harry glanced at the score, which had already stretched into three digits on each side, and felt a bit awkward himself.

Maybe, probably, more or less... he had gone a little overboard.

Everything has its limits—once, twice, fine, but not a third and fourth time!

”All right.”

Seeing Harry agree, Summerby broke into a grin.

”Don’t worry, we’ve all agreed—no more passes to him.”

Harry nodded.

The Boy Who Lived was as good as his word, and when the Snitch appeared for the fourth time, Harry finally caught it.

The final score was three hundred and twenty to sixty.

The moment the match ended, every Hufflepuff player let out a long breath.

The ordeal was finally over!

Gryffindor had now won two matches in a row, all but locking up the championship early.

And on top of that, Zacharias Smith had learned his lesson from this match—not only mocked by Luna the entire game for supposedly having ”dropsy,” but by the second half, even his own teammates had stopped passing to him.

The Gryffindor lions could hold their heads high at last.

As tradition demanded, the common room held another celebration that night.

But within a few days, the whole thing had been forgotten.

Because the third teacher placed on probation had just been announced.

The Divination professor, Sybill Trelawney.

Funnily enough, this time most students agreed that even without an explanation, they could have accepted the decision on faith alone.

Of course, Umbridge gave her reasons anyway, just as she always did—and they lined up almost exactly with what everyone had already guessed.

Namely, that Professor Trelawney simply wasn’t competent to teach the subject at all—she couldn’t even predict tomorrow’s weather. There were, of course, a few other reasons as well:

Such as her habit of terrifying students by telling them they were about to meet some terrible doom.

Unlike with Igor Karkaroff and Rubeus Hagrid, a few students actually objected to Trelawney being put on probation.

Gryffindor House had two devoted followers of hers: Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

The moment they heard the news, the two of them fell into each other’s arms and wept.

It was one of the rare stretches of time Lavender wasn’t glued to Ron.

”Honestly, this time even I think Umbridge might have a point...”

Harry muttered.

”To be fair, I thought she had a point last time too.”

Ron mumbled under his breath—meaning, of course, the business with Hagrid.

Harry glared at him at once, and Ron quickly turned away, pretending to be very interested in the scenery.

Hermione, looking worried, said, ”That’s the third teacher now. Who’s next?”

”I doubt there’ll be another one,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. ”As things stand, she’s already gotten what she wanted.”

”Sherlock, what do you mean by that?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

Harry put it more bluntly: ”Why don’t you just say it plainly.”

”I imagine you’ve both noticed that the three professors put on probation were chosen very deliberately—and even the order in which it was announced was decided in advance.

”First was Karkaroff. Being a former Death Eater is an extremely sensitive matter right now, and once it came out, nobody was going to vouch for him.

”Second was Hagrid. Being a half-giant put him at a natural disadvantage to begin with, not to mention every other weak point he has.

”Third was Trelawney. Compared to Karkaroff and Hagrid, her offense is much milder—the sort of thing that could go either way.

”But once they’d already gotten through Karkaroff and Hagrid, going after her too became the natural next step.

”And of course, the most important point is that all three were put on probation—not the far more serious step of dismissal. That leaves them a way out, so neither they themselves, nor Hogwarts as an institution, are pushed to react in the most extreme way possible.” When Sherlock finished, Hermione was the first to catch on, with Harry close behind. Ron, as usual, was slower.

”So all of this was planned,” Hermione said, sounding certain. ”But why?”

”Right, especially since Scrimgeour took office, relations between Hogwarts and the Ministry were supposed to have gotten better!”

Harry asked, equally confused.

As for Ron, he just watched the three of them talk it through, his eyes glazed over.

He used to join in these discussions. But the longer he spent around Sherlock, the less he felt like thinking things through himself.

”You’re both making the same mistake.”

Sherlock shook his head.

”To most people, putting Karkaroff, Hagrid, and Trelawney on probation looks exactly like the Ministry taking its responsibility to Hogwarts seriously.

”Like I just said, if they’d simply dismissed the three of them outright, the school would never have accepted it.

”But probation is different. And every single professor was given a perfectly solid reason.

”Isn’t the clearest evidence already right in front of you?

”Mad-Eye Moody and Umbridge replacing Karkaroff—not as obvious. But after Professor Grubbly-Plank took over from Hagrid, didn’t that subject suddenly become a lot more popular?”

At that, the three of them had nothing to say.

”What about Divination, then?”

Harry asked. ”I honestly can’t think of anyone who could take over the subject from Trelawney—”

”No one will. It’ll just be left alone for now.”

”Left alone?”

Harry’s green eyes went wide with surprise.

”That’s perfectly normal,” Sherlock explained. ”Even Dumbledore himself once wanted to scrap the subject entirely.” The reminder brought it back to Harry.

If Professor Trelawney hadn’t once made that prophecy—the one that had shaped his entire life, and Voldemort’s—Dumbledore really would have cut the class from the curriculum back then.

What followed played out exactly as Sherlock had predicted.

Divination was suspended, for now.

And people were surprised to discover that losing the class didn’t seem to matter much at all.

If anything, it only proved Umbridge’s worth all over again.

Mad-Eye Moody, on the other hand, had been sinking in everyone’s estimation lately.

His old habit of seeing a Death Eater behind every face had flared up again, and this time he’d overreacted badly.

The incident itself was simple enough. Moody had run into a few suspicious characters on a trip to Hogsmeade.

He’d decided they were Death Eaters tailing him, plotting something.

It turned out that wasn’t the case at all.

They weren’t Death Eaters. At most, they belonged to some group with Dark-wizard leanings.

The reason they’d come to Hogsmeade was just to sell some banned goods on the side.

Naturally, they’d have gone out of their way to avoid the famous Mad-Eye Moody if they’d spotted him.

But it was exactly that guilty, evasive behaviour that caught Moody’s attention in the first place.

Selling contraband wasn’t allowed, of course.

So, Moody catching them—wrong reasoning, but a defensible outcome, more or less.

The problem was that Moody had used an Unforgivable Curse on them.

And that was when things started to get rather delicate.

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