In Ron's opinion, the only reason his best mate didn't want Quirrell to come back was so he could keep learning from the "old bat" a bit longer—even if it meant losing House points or getting scolded for it.
That, to Ron, wasn't exactly a good sign.
After all, he'd overheard his parents talking once—apparently, masochism could be addictive…
Still, Ron didn't think much more of it. He tossed out a few teasing remarks and dropped the subject.
Hermione, however, was starting to suspect something.
---
One afternoon in the library—
"You know… you two…"
Hermione's eyes skimmed quickly across her textbook, but she couldn't focus at all. Finally, she blurted out the question that had been nagging at her:
"Why have you been reading so many books on Potions lately?"
With exams approaching, everyone was revising seriously.
Potions was notoriously tricky—dense theory combined with precise practical work—so it wasn't strange for students to dedicate more time to it.
But Sherlock and Harry weren't exactly weak in the subject.
Sure, Snape docked them points every lesson, but that was him looking for excuses. If they were Slytherins with the same performance, their marks would have been soaring.
From Hermione's perspective, Sherlock would be better off studying Jupiter's astronomy charts, memorising its moons, and—while he was at it—finally grasping that moons orbit planets, not the other way round.
Harry, on the other hand, should be working on memorising wizarding history—specifically, which eccentric old wizards invented things like self-stirring cauldrons—or at least brushing up on Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Quirrell's competence was… limited, so self-study was essential. And as Voldemort's pawn, teaching students was hardly his top priority.
Which was exactly why they should be doubling their efforts in other subjects. So why were the two of them burying themselves in Potions?
She waited for an answer. None came.
Lifting her head, Hermione's patience snapped.
Both boys were hunched over their books, completely ignoring her.
Given they were in the library, raising her voice risked Madam Pince swooping down with a feather duster to throw them out. So Hermione did the next best thing—she leaned forward and hissed, loudly:
"You two! Are you even listening to me?"
Sherlock didn't so much as twitch.
He was a master of vanishing into his own world, shutting out everything else—Hermione had had to physically wake him when the library closed more than once.
Harry… well, he was faking it. He didn't have the faintest idea how to answer her.
"Hmph!"
Hermione promptly snatched the book Sherlock was reading.
"Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage? That's NEWT-level material!"
Her eyes narrowed. She reached over and yanked the magazine Harry was reading right out of his hands.
"Practical Potions Mastery?"
One glance at the title and she let out an incredulous laugh.
"Don't tell me—do you think, with Snape covering for Quirrell, you can steal his Potions post? Too late—Quirrell's back!"
"Hermione, don't be like that…" Harry sighed, reaching to take it back.
"Not a chance. You're explaining yourselves today!" Hermione held the book out of reach, lowering her voice again. "I knew something was off—ever since the Easter holidays, you two have been acting all secretive. What are you hiding from me?"
Harry retorted, "Oh, and you're not? You went off with Sherlock to solve that case without inviting me!"
"How is that the same?"
Once Hermione got unreasonable, Harry was helpless.
He glanced at his "big brother" for backup.
Hermione did too—she knew Sherlock would have the final say.
And he didn't disappoint, opening his mouth with something that made her jump:
"We're looking for ways to deal with a troll. Potions are just one part of it."
"Sherlock, do you really have to—"
Harry started, but one sharp look from Hermione shut him up.
He turned his head away, pretending to take an interest in the ceiling beams. Then it hit him—what was he doing? He wasn't Ron, and Hermione wasn't checking his homework. Why was he afraid of her?
Hermione was already on her feet. "We're talking somewhere else."
---
Fifteen minutes later, the three of them were in a quiet corner of the Gryffindor common room, discussing Voldemort, Quirrell, and the Philosopher's Stone.
Being a weekend, the common room was even emptier than the library.
"So… you actually fought Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest?" Hermione's eyes went wide, her hand flying to cover her mouth.
Harry corrected quickly, "Sherlock fought him. I just shot off a firework."
Every time someone described it as both of them fighting Quirrell, Harry felt like one of those basketball players who says, 'Me and Chamberlain scored 102 points together.'
"That's not the point!" Hermione waved him down. "The point is—you kept this from me!"
Her wounded look left Harry tongue-tied. It was true—they had hidden the truth from her.
Sherlock, however, wasn't about to take the blame.
"My dear Hermione, if you recall what I told you before, you'll know you shouldn't be accusing us."
"What?" She frowned. "When?"
"I told you Quirrell would soon be back teaching us."
"That's… wait—" Hermione's eyes widened as she remembered. Before Easter, she had asked why he thought Quirrell would return, and Sherlock had replied, 'Because I stabbed him.'
"You weren't joking?!"
"I said before—under most circumstances, I don't lie."
Hermione's cheeks flushed, and her voice dropped to a mutter. "I… I didn't think…"
Harry grinned inwardly. Trust Sherlock to shut Hermione down.
"It's fine. I didn't expect you to believe me anyway."
That did it—Hermione's guilt evaporated.
"Fine. So what now? Are you telling Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore? He already knows. In fact, he wants Harry to face Voldemort again."
"What? Absolutely not!" Hermione gasped. "Harry's only a first-year! Sending him against Voldemort is—it's—"
She stopped short of saying suicidal.
"Don't worry, Hermione—this is Dumbledore's plan," Harry said with a wry smile, tapping the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. "I've survived him once, remember? Maybe I can do it again. And I've got Sherlock—"
"No!" Hermione shook her head fiercely. "That's Voldemort—the most powerful Dark wizard alive! How could he let you two face him directly?"
"Calm yourself, my friend," Sherlock said smoothly. "Losing your temper clouds your reason."
"If I weren't calm, I'd already be running to—wait!"
The realisation hit her. "I'm going to see the Headmaster!"
And she was gone before either of them could reply.
---
"She won't find him," Sherlock said mildly, turning back to his book. "Let's keep reading."
Half an hour later, Hermione returned, sulking. She'd been told Dumbledore wasn't at the school.
She didn't give up, though. For days afterwards, she tried to track him down, but he was always "in a meeting" or "away on research."
Even getting to see Professor McGonagall wasn't easy—if she hadn't been top of the year, she'd have been turned away more often than not.
Finally, when Hermione once again asked McGonagall for an audience with Dumbledore, the Deputy Headmistress asked outright:
"Miss Granger, you must understand that Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard. His duties are many and his time is precious. What could be so urgent that you must speak to him in person?"
Hermione hesitated, unsure if she should reveal the arrangement between Dumbledore, Sherlock, and Harry.
Seeing her uncertainty, McGonagall sighed.
"Miss Granger, I know you spend a lot of time with Holmes and Potter—but you're not the same as them."
Hermione looked up, startled.
"I admit, Holmes and Potter are both remarkable—especially Mr. Holmes, with his astonishing powers of observation…" McGonagall's tone soured slightly.
The incidents at Halloween, Christmas, and Easter had proved his talents—and reminded her of something else.
In that very first Transfiguration class, he had almost certainly seen through her Animagus disguise… and then petted her.
It was outrageous.
Still, the moment had long passed, and without proof, she couldn't punish him—and she wasn't Snape, to hold grudges without cause.
McGonagall's voice softened again.
"You, Miss Granger, are a diligent, rule-abiding, and ambitious student—a true Gryffindor. With finals coming up, focus on your studies. Don't waste your time on matters that don't concern you."
Hermione: (︶︹︺)
Of course studies came first… but that afternoon, she was still going to the library to look up everything she could on trolls.
---
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