Chapter 763 - 763: 0763 The Result

Mad-Eye Moody's affair was, in the end, handled quietly.

Of course, there was no wall in the world without a ear in it somewhere, and no matter how tightly a cover was kept on things, word got out all the same.

"It's a good thing Dumbledore's back," Harry said, with relief, when the subject came up.

Hermione nodded. "Otherwise, Mad-Eye would have been in real trouble."

"Sherlock's still not back?" Ron asked, curious. "He's been gone a good while now, hasn't he?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, and shook their heads in unison.

The three of them were sitting by the fire in the common room.

Apart from Sherlock, who was off waiting to see Dumbledore, nearly everyone still awake at this hour was a sixth-year.

They'd all been a little worked up today.

Because when they'd come back from dinner, they'd found a new notice pinned to the board, announcing the date for the Apparition test. The first test would be held on the twenty-first of April, and any student who was now seventeen could sign up for special training sessions in Hogsmeade. "Now that Dumbledore's back, I suppose that's one less thing for us to worry about."

"What I'm worried about right now is the test!" Ron said, sounding rather irritable.

Ron's panic wasn't unreasonable. Because even now, he still couldn't Apparate.

Hermione, who'd already succeeded twice, could naturally afford a bit more confidence.

As for Harry, he still had four months to go before he turned seventeen.

So, whether he'd got the hang of it or not, he wasn't allowed to sit the test at all.

"But at least you can Apparate!"

Ron said, growing more agitated by the second, "You won't have any trouble by July."

"I've only managed it once," Harry reminded him.

After the last lesson, he'd finally managed to vanish and reappear inside the hoop.

That already put him among the faster progressors in the class.

Incidentally, the fastest of them all was Sherlock.

He'd outdone even Hermione, succeeding as early as the second lesson.

After wasting a great deal of time fretting aloud about Apparition, Ron turned, in some misery, to a particularly difficult essay Snape had set them. Harry, Hermione, and Sherlock—who was off seeing Dumbledore—had all already finished theirs.

Sherlock and Hermione, naturally, had nothing much to say about it.

Though Harry had finished his, he'd already braced himself for a poor mark.

Because his approach to fighting off Dementors didn't match what Snape had taught in class.

But Harry didn't much care.

Through his deep study of the Half-Blood Prince's potions textbook, Harry had come to understand Snape better and better.

Even Snape himself had questioned the methods of Libatius Borage, the author of Advanced Potion-Making, and offered improvements of his own. So, it was only natural that Harry might have his own doubts about Snape's methods too.

As the saying went, what suited you best was what worked best.

In other words—even if he followed Snape's method for fighting Dementors to the letter in his essay, would that actually earn him a high mark?

Clearly not.

So, he might as well just write down what he actually thought!

"I wonder what Sherlock's even saying to Dumbledore…"

With the Potions essay out of the way, and no need to worry about Apparition, Harry's thoughts inevitably drifted back to the three professors who'd been kept behind for questioning.

"If you're this worried, you should have gone with Sherlock to see Dumbledore in the first place," Hermione said, unable to help a laugh at the sight of him. "Don't worry so much. Even if you don't trust Dumbledore, surely you trust Sherlock?"

"Of course, I trust Sherlock and Dumbledore, but isn't the situation a bit different right now?"

"If Fudge were still Minister for Magic, that might be worth saying, but he's already been forced out!"

"Even so—"

"Don't forget, Pius Thicknesse was Dumbledore's own choice for the job."

"But—"

"Sorry to interrupt, but how do you spell 'provocation'?"

Ron really couldn't hold it in any longer, glaring at his parchment and jabbing his quill about furiously.

"It can't possibly be spelled like that—"

"It isn't," Hermione said, glancing over as she spoke. "And 'divination' isn't spelled like that either—what quill are you even using?"

"It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Checking Quills—had to lean on old Harry here just to get one from their shop."

"Blimey, you don't think they knew it was for me, and did something to it on purpose?"

"Ron, I really don't think they'd go that far—" Harry said, a bit helplessly.

"I think it's more likely the quill's charm is just starting to wear off…"

Hermione pointed at the title of his essay. "We're supposed to be writing about fighting off Dementors, not fighting off 'Dungbombs.'"

At that, Harry curiously pulled Ron's essay toward himself, and asked, puzzled, "Who's Ronald Wistley?"

"Eh?!"

Ron stared down at the parchment in alarm, and there, right where Harry was pointing, was his own signature.

And sure enough, just as Harry had said, "Ronald Weasley" had somehow become "Ronald Wistley."

"Bloody hell!"

Ron couldn't help crying out, looking thoroughly horrified.

"Please don't tell me I have to rewrite the whole thing!"

"Lucky for you—" Harry said, drawing out his wand, "Cho's been teaching me a few tricks lately. I can fix it without you having to rewrite a word."

"I love you, Harry."

Ron said, slumping back in his chair and rubbing his eyes wearily.

Hermione let out a light laugh at that. "Better hope Lavender doesn't hear you say that."

"Oh, please, Harry's my best mate," Ron said, unbothered. "Lavender's not going to make a fuss over that."

Hermione sighed and said nothing more.

Given what she knew of Lavender, she rather doubted that.

"There. Done."

Shortly, Harry handed the essay back to Ron.

"Cheers, cheers."

Ron looked it over, delighted, and found every mistake in it had been fixed.

"Older Girls really are more careful than we are," Hermione said, after glancing it over herself, and turned curiously to Ron. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen Lavender all evening—she didn't come back to the common room early either, did she?"

"I think I heard her say they'd chosen a new professor to take over Divination from Professor Trelawney—she went off with Parvati to have a look."

"There's something else going on too? Do you know who it is?"

Harry and Hermione both perked up at once with interest.

"Not really my department, that—Harry, mate, lend me your quill, I need to write my conclusion…"

Just then, a familiar voice rang out from the doorway:

"Ron—Ron!"

Lavender appeared in the doorway of the common room.

What was surprising was who was standing beside her—none other than Sherlock and Parvati.

Both Harry and Hermione looked utterly taken aback.

They could hardly imagine the three of them ending up together.

Just then, Lavender had already flung herself into Ron's arms.

"S—slow down!"

Ron hastily yanked his essay out of the way.

"What's going on here?"

Harry asked, pointing curiously at Lavender, turning to Sherlock.

"Dumbledore's appointed the new Divination teacher. She went along with Miss Patil."

Sherlock said, brief and to the point, and winked at Harry.

"As it happens, that professor is also an old acquaintance of yours."

"An acquaintance of mine? Who?"

Harry began searching his memory for anyone he knew who might plausibly end up teaching Divination.

"Don't tell me it's Vector?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Arithmancy and Divination are two entirely different subjects. Professor Vector could hardly go teaching Divination."

"Then I've got no idea," Harry admitted honestly.

"No—you do."

Sherlock smiled faintly, and said something that, to anyone else listening, would have sounded utterly baffling:

"Mars is very bright tonight."

"What?!"

At those words, Harry's mind flew back six years, to that night in the Forbidden Forest.

"Don't tell me—a centaur?"

"I knew you'd get it," Sherlock said, arching an eyebrow. "You can even name him—"

"Ronan—no, wait, Firenze!"

Recalling how the different centaurs regarded humans, Harry worked it out at once.

"Obviously, my friend."

"Well, that's certainly—"

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say. "By the way, how did the other matter go?"

He fixed his eyes on Sherlock, trying to read something from his old friend's face.

"It's very late," Sherlock said, though his expression never once changed. "That business can wait until tomorrow."

Harry glanced around and found the common room had emptied down to just the two of them.

Parvati hadn't even come in—she'd only said a quick hello and left.

Seamus and Dean had already trudged upstairs to bed as well, still cursing Snape and the essay he'd set them.

Ron and Lavender were thoroughly tangled up together—better not to look—the crackle of the fire seeming to provide the accompaniment.

"All right."

Seeing that Sherlock had no intention of discussing the matter further, Harry gave an understanding nod.

He'd meant to head back to the dormitory and see if he could get one more question out of Sherlock.

But he was more tired than he'd realized, and the moment his head touched the pillow, he was asleep.

Soon enough, Harry's sleep-talking was mingling with Neville's snoring, while Sherlock sat with his hands pressed together, chin resting against them.

No one knew what he was thinking.

Bright-eyed and wide awake, not a trace of sleepiness in him.

"I daresay you're thinking right now that you wish you hadn't given up Divination, aren't you, Hermione?"

By breakfast the next morning, word had already spread that the centaur Firenze was taking over Trelawney's Divination classes.

This morning, Firenze would be giving the first lesson to the students who'd signed up for N.E.W.T.-level Divination.

Parvati asked Hermione the question with a rather smug little smile.

"Hardly."

Hermione felt a certain weariness at her roommate's childishness.

She was currently using her wand to curl her own eyelashes, checking the effect against the back of a serving spoon.

Sure enough—even after becoming a prefect, some habits simply never changed.

She sighed and said, "I've never much cared for horses."

"He's not a horse, he's a centaur!"

Lavender, who'd also signed up for the N.E.W.T. class, looked at Hermione in astonishment.

"And not just that—he's a rather handsome centaur too…"

Parvati sighed dreamily.

She and Lavender had heard about it the day before and rushed off to get a good look for themselves.

And sure enough, they'd seen Firenze with their own eyes.

He had pale gold hair, and eyes as bright and clear as sapphires.

Combined with a powerfully built body the colour of pale tawny gold, he really was strikingly handsome, even judged by human standards of beauty.

"If you say so…" Hermione couldn't be bothered to argue the point with the two of them any further. "Anyway, how is Professor Trelawney holding up?"

"She's terribly upset!" Parvati said firmly. "Lavender and I went to her office the other day, and brought her some daffodils."

"Nice ones too, not the kind that yell at you like Professor Sprout's," Lavender added. "And Won-Won, I gave you yours first, remember!"

Ron tipped his head back, looking rather pleased with himself, glancing over at Sherlock and Harry.

But to his disappointment, neither Sherlock nor Harry was paying him the slightest attention.

Sherlock was making short, elegant work of his breakfast.

Harry, meanwhile, was curiously pressing for more details about Firenze.

Once breakfast was over, Sherlock and Hermione headed off to Arithmancy.

Parvati and Lavender, naturally, went off to Divination in a state of high excitement.

"Aren't you two going up to North Tower?"

Ron asked, looking thoroughly confused; after kissing Lavender goodbye and watching her and Parvati pass by the marble staircase.

Parvati turned back and looked at him with faint scorn. "And how exactly do you imagine Firenze is meant to climb a rope ladder?"

Lavender, laughing, explained instead: "Won-Won, Divination's in classroom eleven now—it was on the notice board yesterday."

Elsewhere, Sherlock and Hermione, on their way to Arithmancy, were deep in conversation.

"Sherlock, I've started feeling it too now—things seem to be taking a turn for the worse."

"Just so. I went to see Dumbledore yesterday," Sherlock said calmly. "The situation isn't good."

"What exactly happened?" Hermione pressed at once.

"The Ministry's been infiltrated. A fair number of people are under the Imperius Curse, passing information to Voldemort and the Death Eaters in secret."

Hermione couldn't help clapping a hand over her mouth. "Good lord—"

"The moment Pius Thicknesse discovered it, he went straight to Dumbledore for help."

Sherlock went on:

"Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, and Lupin, who'd only just recovered, went in together and got the matter sorted out.

"Thicknesse had to admit he'd been careless—the sturdiest fortress is so often the one that falls from within.

"It looks like they've finally found the reason behind Professor Lupin's ambush last time, too.

"And on top of that, Thicknesse also gave an explanation about Umbridge."

"What did he say?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Umbridge was never one of Thicknesse's people."

Sherlock said, frowning slightly:

"She really was one of Fudge's back in the day—during our fifth year, she was just a pawn pushed out to the front lines.

"But once Fudge fell from power, the very factions that had once backed him shifted their support to Umbridge instead.

"These days, Umbridge is the second most powerful figure in the Ministry, right after Thicknesse himself.

"Even Thicknesse can't move against her directly anymore."

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