134 Chapter 134: Thank You Gift
As Lupin said, after he found Snape and asked him to substitute for his class, he agreed willingly. Of course, this acquiescence was not the type commonly understood by most people. After Lupin and Sherlock jointly found Snape and asked for his help in substitution, Snape sneered at them, specifically at Lupin.
"Considering you need my help, it's only natural I lay aside past disagreements," he commented, a clear edge of sarcasm in his voice. Lupin, however, stayed unruffled.
"I appreciate your magnanimity, Snape. I will provide you the lesson plan for..."
Snape cut him off sternly,
"You need not concern yourself with what I will teach the students. I'm more than capable of formulating a plan myself."
Lupin didn't react to Snape's cold demeanour. He only shook his head and smiled to himself. At the same time, Sherlock was eyeing Snape with a stern glare.
"My only class this week is a practical lesson for the sixth year students," Sherlock interjected. "There is no need for lessons, only to ensure the pupils' safety. If you are willing to substitute, I'd greatly appreciate it. Otherwise, I will approach Professor McGonagall."
Snape clearly didn't appreciate Sherlock's tone, but eventually he merely said,
"I will take care of it."
Sherlock gave Snape a suspicious look. He had initially planned to ask McGonagall's help, but Snape's unexpected agreement had taken him aback. Meanwhile, Lupin seemed unperturbed by Snape's unusual willingness to help.
"Was there always a rivalry between you and Snape?" Sherlock asked, after they had left Snape's office.
Reflecting upon the past, Lupin forced a smile onto his face,
"It's not really a rivalry... Back when we were both students I... didn't treat him too kindly."
Sherlock gave a puzzled look, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lupin chose to remain silent on the matter and Sherlock decided not to prod further. Just as he had returned to his own office, Hilke stepped inside.
"I must return to Germany."
Sherlock slouched in his chair, despondently responding, "So, now that you've gotten what you wanted, you're just gonna desert me? Are planning on just assuming all the credit for this?"
Hilke shrugged off his despondent tone, understanding he wasn't entirely serious.
"My contact has arranged a meeting with an old goblin, the only remaining survivor from the goblin rebellion. He might have some information on the locket that you wear around your neck. I will come back once I find out more."
Lulling his head, Sherlock agreed with her plan.
"I'm relying on your conscience now. I do hope you won't forget our partnership..."
Before he could complete his sentence, Hilke moved closer, enveloping him in a gentle hug.
"Thank you."
For a moment, Sherlock was dumbfounded. By the time he gathered his wits about him, Hilke had long since departed.
He remained seated, the faint scent of Hilke lingering in the air. Gazing blankly at the ceiling, he mumbled to himself,
"A hug as a thank you? That's all? She could've at least hugged me for a few more seconds..."
...
After being `blessed` by Sherlock, Harry felt ecstatic.
He walked down the streets, his eyes scanning the ground, hoping to find something of value. While having dinner at the Great Hall, he viewed everyone with suspicion, expecting Black to sneak into Hogwarts at any moment.
Nevertheless, the day passed uneventfully. Harry didn't find any money, didn't catch Black, and most importantly, no adult signed his permission slip. The day was spent without any significant events, much to his confusion.
Upon his return to the dormitory, Harry pondered, "Did Professor Forester's blessing work with a delay? Maybe it's a good thing, with our Quidditch match against Hufflepuff approaching soon, I could use some luck."
Ron, busy sheltering Scabbers from Hermione's overenthusiastic cat Crookshanks, had neither the time nor the mood to answer Harry. The semester had already seen numerous quarrels between the two due to their pets but neither was willing to compromise. Disgruntled, they disbanded in the common room.
The next day, during their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry realized his luck hadn't improved under Sherlock's blessing, rather it seemed to have worsened. Their class was conducted by Snape in place of Lupin, who was apparently unwell.
Classes with Snape were without a doubt, always unpleasant, and could usually be described as terrible from start to finish. Snape blatantly disregarded Lupin's teaching plan and directly jumped to teaching werewolves, the final part of the third year curriculum. The stormy weather outside didn't help lighten the mood either.
The only interaction between the students and their professors was when Snape reprimanded Ron and Hermione at the start of the lesson, a far cry from Lupin's teaching style. Snape spent the rest of the class, pacing between the desks, forcefully explaining how to identify and kill a werewolf.
Once the class was over, all students rushed out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"Why did Professor Forester's blessing backfire?" Harry questioned, puzzled.
However, Hermione had a different take on the matter.
"Maybe something happened to the professor. Remember, he didn't look well yesterday, and under normal circumstances, Sherlock would substitute for Lupin, not Snape, unless both were unavailable."
Considering Hermione's point, they decided to check on Sherlock in his office.
Upon entering his office, Harry found Sherlock lazily reclined in his chair transfigured into a recliner.
"Professor, are you unwell?" Harry asked, concerned.
Looking outside the window at the storm, Sherlock replied,
"No, I'm merely feeling a bit under the weather. What brings you here?"
Hermione explained their query,
"Because Professor Lupin is also feeling under the weather today. So instead of you, Snape was the one filling in for him, which struck us as odd."
"I am well aware of Lupin's situation," Sherlock said, taking a sip from his tea. "How was Snape's class?"
This question led to an onslaught of complaints about their class with Snape. Sherlock found himself puzzled,
"Werewolves? Why would he cover werewolves?"
Just then, Harry came up and whispered in Sherlock's ear, sounding as if he was trying to stir up trouble,
"Professor, I think Lupin's illness might be linked to Snape. I saw him deliver a potion to Professor Lupin not too long ago. He made Lupin drink it and now Lupin's sick, it's obvious that-"
Sherlock pushed him aside, not amused by Harry's conjectures.
"Stop it with your conspiracy theories, I could take away ten points from Gryffindor for slander. If you don't have anything worthwhile to say, it's better you return to your dormitory instead of loitering here."
Though disappointed, Harry finally bade him goodbye and left his office.
With them gone, Sherlock couldn't help but ponder as he watched the unrelenting storm outside the window.
"Potions, werewolves, disputes, Lupin feeling unwell lately, the moon's shining bright in the nights..."
"No.... Could it be?"
Sherlock mumbled to himself, then shook his head, continuing to feign being a corpse on his recliner.
Beyond, where heavens weep in skies of gray, tears cascade in nature's grand ballet, heralding crescendo, storms in disarray, approaching tempest's embrace, as if to say.
Next morning, Sherlock woke up early. He stretched lazily, headed for breakfast, feeling much better than the past couple of days. As he was about to return to his office, he saw that everyone was heading out of the castle.
Curious, he asked one of the students, "What's going on?"
A tall handsome boy answered,
"Don't you know, Professor? The Quidditch match is today! Gryffindor will face off against Hufflepuff, you won't want to miss it. As the team captain I can promise you we'll show those Gryffindors how its done."
Sherlock recognized him and said,
"Ah, Cedric, I never expected you to become the team captain. Good luck for the match."
With a farewell wave to Cedric, he shrugged his shoulders and said to himself,
"Might as well go and watch, not like I have anything else planned."
