Hermione couldn't make sense of the celebration in the Gryffindor common room.
Hadn't Sherlock just cost Gryffindor sixty points?
And wasn't he supposed to be in detention?
Why was everyone acting like it didn't matter?
She even spotted some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students among the crowd.
So that's where the Weasley twins got the food.
If Hufflepuffs were here, of course there'd be snacks.
"Slytherin is just too despicable!"
"They're always pulling dirty tricks behind the referee's back during matches!"
"Last time, one of their Chasers almost knocked ours off a broom with a deliberate foul!"
"Exactly! I heard that Marcus Flint has Korean blood!"
"Really? That explains everything!"
At this point, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs stood united in their hatred of Slytherin.
A tall, handsome Hufflepuff student raised his Butterbeer high in the air and proclaimed:
"For Holmes! To defeating the vile and dishonorable Slytherin—cheers!"
"What? You're drinking now too?"
Hermione was even more shocked.
"Oh come on, Miss Granger! You grew up in the Muggle world, didn't you?" George Weasley said with a grin.
Fred added, "It's just alcohol—no need to act so scandalized!"
Hermione: (ω)彡☆
There was reason behind the twins' attitude.
Although the legal drinking age in Britain is 18, the law also allows children over five to drink under parental supervision.
So for a Muggle-raised wizard like Sherlock, it was almost certain that he'd already encountered alcohol before.
"B-but still…"
Hermione was about to object when George Weasley shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Everyone, Holmes is our king!"
"All hail the Lion King!"
Fred immediately followed suit.
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then joined in. "Lion King Holmes! Holmes is our king!"
Neville, Seamus, Dean, and the others chimed in one after another.
Even the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students took up the chant, egging each other on.
Those who had once sought Sherlock's advice shouted the loudest.
Hermione was utterly dumbfounded.
She just couldn't understand how things had turned out like this.
And to think she'd actually been worried about him…
She wasn't the only one—Sherlock himself was a bit surprised too.
In fact, just before today's match, he'd still been in the Headmaster's office with Hagrid.
Under the heavy shadow of Sherlock's comment about "boiling the dragon egg into a potion," Hagrid had finally come clean to Dumbledore about how he obtained the egg.
And once he did, it naturally exposed Quirrell's involvement as well.
Just as Sherlock had predicted, dealing with a dragon egg was no big deal to someone like Dumbledore.
But Quirrell intentionally approaching Hagrid and extracting information? That caught Dumbledore's attention.
And that wasn't the only reason Hagrid had come to the Headmaster.
The Forbidden Forest had been unusually restless lately.
So Hagrid came to report that too.
When Dumbledore asked for suggestions, Hagrid didn't hesitate to recommend Sherlock.
"Sir, you may not believe this—oh, Merlin's beard! Every time I think about it, I still can't get over it. Do you know what that little guy did?"
"The moment he saw me, he deduced my past, and he knew I'd fetched the Philosopher's Stone for you from Gringotts…"
"And this time, I didn't say a word about the dragon egg—he figured it out on his own!"
"It's downright magical! I sometimes wonder if he's like you—able to see straight through people!"
Dumbledore: (;Д`A
"Calm down, Rubeus. I've never had such an ability—and neither does Sherlock," Dumbledore said, uneasy at Hagrid's enthusiasm.
Even someone as wise as he wasn't sure whether to tell Hagrid the truth.
Frankly, Sherlock wasn't that remarkable.
Even a certain red-haired boy from the Weasley family could have figured it out, if he just used his brain a little.
So in the end, Dumbledore said nothing.
The truth was just too cruel.
Still, he was quite intrigued by Hagrid's recommendation to let Sherlock investigate the Forbidden Forest, and decided to hear the boy's thoughts.
When Sherlock arrived at the office and saw Hagrid already there, he immediately understood what was going on.
"Mr. Holmes," Dumbledore greeted him with a warm smile. "Rubeus has already told me about the dragon egg. It seems Voldemort is growing impatient."
"Clearly," Sherlock replied, fingers steepled, eyes focused intensely on Dumbledore. "So, Headmaster—when do you plan to act?"
"Not yet," Dumbledore said, locking eyes with him. "I need your help."
"Mine? Or Harry's?"
"To be precise—both of yours."
Dumbledore paused, then added thoughtfully, "Sherlock, you know, every time I look at you, I'm reminded of someone I once knew."
That triggered a connection in Sherlock's mind.
The thick white wool socks in the Mirror of Erised…
Judging by Dumbledore's current expression, Sherlock replied without hesitation:
"I imagine this person was very dear to you. Someone who shared your life for a long time?"
Dumbledore: (_ゝ`)⌒☆:
So he wasn't wrong.
This boy really was too sharp.
"I need you to go to the Forbidden Forest," Dumbledore said, deliberately changing the topic. "With your abilities, you'll surely uncover the truth."
Sherlock didn't press the issue.
Instead, he was more intrigued by Dumbledore's phrasing.
He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with interest.
"The truth?"
"Hagrid will explain the details to you."
Dumbledore shook his head. "But for now, the Quidditch match is about to start. You should be heading off to support Harry, right? I'll make sure you get detention soon—then Hagrid can take you into the forest for patrol."
"That's too forced."
"Sorry?"
"I said your plan is too forced," Sherlock sighed. "I'll get myself detention in my own way."
Looking at Dumbledore, Sherlock added silently in his mind: And I can beat someone up in broad daylight while I'm at it.
Returning from his thoughts, Sherlock glanced around at the lively crowd around him, shaking his head.
Even for someone as adept at deduction as he was, this scene had caught him off guard.
But thinking about it more carefully, it did make sense.
For most of the Gryffindor students, not winning the House Cup wasn't a big deal.
They'd long accepted being dead last.
Points came and went—they were always being deducted anyway.
As long as they didn't hit zero, it didn't really matter.
What did sting, though, was Slytherin winning six years in a row.
That was hard to swallow.
But now?
Sherlock had led a group of first-years in publicly beating up Slytherins.
And they won.
That was too satisfying.
Even Percy, normally uptight and rule-abiding like Hermione, was grinning from ear to ear.
"Holmes did a great job this time, but I think there might've been a better way to—"
"Not now, Prefect Weasley!" the handsome Hufflepuff from earlier slung an arm around Percy, grinning. "This is about honor—something even greater than the House Cup!"
"Cedric, you—"
Percy had just started to frown when the Weasley twins led a group with a stretcher, carrying him off to the side.
George took advantage of the moment to grab Percy's head and shake it back and forth.
"Stop spoiling the mood! It's a party!"
"Exactly! Even Granger's not saying anything!"
Hermione: ((*）ゞ→→
She did feel a bit attacked.
That night, the party in Gryffindor Tower went on long into the evening.
But the ripple effects were far from over.
"Over there! Look!"
"Where?"
"Between Harry Potter and that redhead!"
"The tall one?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his nose?"
By the next day, whispers followed Sherlock everywhere.
Students lined the hallways outside classrooms, craning their necks to get a glimpse of him.
In the corridors, they passed by him—then doubled back to stare.
"This feels… oddly familiar," Ron muttered.
Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Especially when he heard someone say, "Between Harry Potter and the red-haired boy." He nearly burst out laughing.
He remembered his own first weeks at Hogwarts, when he was the center of this kind of attention—and it had been stressful.
But now? Sherlock finally knew what that felt like.
Finally, Harry thought, I can just be the background character!
Ron, on the other hand, pouted. "Why are you always 'Harry Potter,' and I'm just 'the red-haired boy'...?"
Harry: ((*）ゞ→→
What—was that his fault?
While Harry and Ron chatted enthusiastically, Sherlock—at the center of all this attention—remained indifferent.
What they didn't know was that Sherlock had already experienced this kind of overwhelming scrutiny at his Muggle school.
Kids his age had been even rowdier.
Early in the term, his brilliance had emerged, and everyone was fascinated by the boy who could tell what you did just by looking at you.
But fascination didn't mean friendship.
Especially when that boy had a razor-sharp tongue.
Everyone thought he was a freak. That attention was fueled not just by curiosity—but by cruelty.
If Sherlock hadn't been so capable, he likely would've been bullied nonstop.
So in that sense, Harry was far luckier than Sherlock.
Harry had Sherlock. He had Ron. He had Hermione.
Sherlock had no one.
But that was in the past.
Now, Sherlock was no longer alone.
---
Advance Chapters on Patreon!
p(a)treon(.)com/HudaLin
-Remove the parenthesis to access patreon normally
Thanks for the Support!