Chapter 20: Night Patrol at Hogwarts

Filch promptly led Sherlock Forester to an office situated on the third floor, where he passed a set of keys into Sherlock's palm.

"This office was once Professor Quirrell's--he was the predecessor in your role as the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I cleared out his things during the summer break. Thankfully, the diligent house-elves of the castle gave it a thorough clean to make it habitable for you," Filch told him.

In response, Sherlock received the keys, expressions of gratitude forming on his face. Filch, in turn, reciprocated the sentiment with a warm, unusual smile spreading across his age-worn features.

"Take your time to make yourself at home, Professor Forester. While you adjust, I'll go about my duties. Later, during my castle rounds, I'll touch base with you on the third floor," Filch assured him before taking his leave.

Sherlock watched as Filch's form gradually disappeared around the corner of the winding staircase. He then turned the key in the door, crossed the threshold, and stepped into his new home inside the historic walls of Hogwarts.

His office was elegantly spacious, featuring a grand bookshelf occupying half the length of one wall, a coat rack strategically placed behind the door, and a desk imposing in size opposite it. Everything had been immaculately maintained, just as Filch had promised, with not a speck of dust to be identified anywhere.

Sherlock's suitcase was conveniently placed on one side of the roomy desk. His first order of business was to unload his precise collection of textbooks and notes, arranging them methodically on the wide shelves. After this, he removed his robes from the suitcase and transferred them to the comfortable bedroom adjourning his office.

As expected, the house-elves had prepared his bed, leaving no creases or crumbles on the sheets. They had even generously provided essential toiletries and daily supplies to ensure a seamless transition for him.

Sherlock mused to himself about how fortunate the students of Hogwarts were. The house-elves did everything from making the dormitories welcoming to possibly even laundering their dirty attire, offering the children a life more comfortable than they probably enjoyed at home.

Once he had sufficiently settled into his office and the attached bedroom, Sherlock seated himself at the imposing desk. Picking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts timetable Professor McGonagall had handed him at the banquet's conclusion, he focused on understanding the responsibilities that awaited him.

Being a professor at Hogwarts was certainly not a position to be taken lightly. The core subjects - Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, Astronomy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts - required a comprehensive syllabus. Catering to the seven grades that occupied the castle, with each demanding a minimum of one lecture per week, meant a rigorous working schedule for the professors.

Simply put, Hogwarts was divided into four houses, and classes were not held with students from all houses together. Typically, two houses would share a class, effectively doubling the lecture count for the same grade – a workload that would intimidate even the most well-prepared educators.

Comparatively, this was akin to having a single teacher in a regular school managing the workload of fourteen elementary classes over a seven-year duration. With each week involving fourteen classes, each running for over an hour in addition to grading homework, the Hogwarts professors worked harder than the most overworked beast of burden.

It was into this marathon of incessant work that Sherlock was voluntarily stepping. Looking over tomorrow's syllabus, he noticed that his day would begin with a class for the first-year students from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, followed by an afternoon session with the second-year Gryffindor students; no doubt including Harry and his companions.

The arrangement suited Sherlock, as he could use these initial experiences to gauge the students' responses before adjusting his approach for the advanced-year students.

Just as Sherlock was finishing his lesson plans for the next day, a knock echoed through the office accompanied by Filch's familiar voice,

"Professor Forester, we are ready to commence now."

Checking the time, Sherlock saw it was just past eight in the evening. Filch's announcement implied a late-night routine; he was sure that the curfew bell did not ring until nine.

Adjusting his professorial robes and ensuring his face wore its usual impassive expression, Sherlock opened the door to greet Filch.

"Is the patrol ahead of curfew?" He asked.

Filch explained, "Patrolling isn't only about enforcing the curfew. We also need to prevent students from practicing magic within the corridors, which violates school regulations. The older students used to be obedient, but recently, especially the Gryffindor students, they've seemed to develop a rebellious streak."

Upon finishing his speech, Filch's face adopted a disgruntled hue, clearly harboring some resentment from past events.

"Dumbledore is far too lenient. We should return to a stricter discipline system. Instances of rebellion should warrant penalties like shackles and flogging! I guarantee that any more mischief would cease," he added, a bitter smile creeping onto his face.

Horrified by the revelation of these repressive sentiments, Sherlock withheld any comment and merely shut the office door, silently accompanying Filch on the mandatory night patrol.

Leading the way, Filch was quick to answer Sherlock's inquiry about where they were headed first, "The vicinity of the Gryffindor Common Room. It is an annual tradition for me to catch students misusing magic here on the opening night of each term, especially since those two mischievous devils enrolled!"

Through gnashed teeth, Filch spat out the final sentence, and Sherlock immediately knew he was referring to the infamous Weasley twins. These were the only Gryffindor students capable of invoking such hostility from Filch.

Notwithstanding Filch's personal feelings, Sherlock was not overly concerned with where they were patrolling. His priority was to better understand the labyrinth layout of his residence. He needed to locate the individual common rooms of the four houses, the various professors' offices, and the most frequently utilized classrooms. This knowledge would prevent him from wandering aimlessly through the labyrinth-like castle, as lost as a first-year student.

As they ascended the staircase leading to the Gryffindor common room on the fifth floor, faint voices became discernible.

"I'm grateful Professor Dumbledore didn't expel us."

"We may be off the hook, but we've also lost our dignity. I'm anxious about the kind of reception awaiting us in the Gryffindor common room."

"Hey! Fret not! Our bandaged state is a testament to our bravery!"

"It certainly counts for something. We were perceived as heroes this morning. But it's no longer the case now. And as for Professor Forester, I even waved at him as we disembarked from the car. I wonder whether we'll have any of his sessions tomorrow. Maybe we should ask Madam Pomfrey to write us an excuse. I can't face him looking like this."

Harry Potter, his head wrapped in bandages, and Ron Weasley, sporting a cast on his arm, came round the corner. When their eyes met those of Professor Forester and Filch, their faces mirrored a mix of amusement and disbelief at the sight of their bruised countenance.