Chapter 764 - 764: 0764 Conclusion

"How could this have happened?"

During the break between the two Arithmancy periods, Hermione first cast a Muffliato, then turned to discuss the matter with Sherlock. By the time he'd finished telling her what had happened, her eyes had gone wide with astonishment.

Ever since the new Minister for Magic, Thickness, had taken office, things had clearly been moving in a better direction. So why had everything suddenly taken this turn?

"Actually, none of that matters," Sherlock said.

He shook his head. "I have a faint but growing feeling that our real enemy isn't Voldemort or rather, it isn't only Voldemort."

"Sherlock, what are you talking about?"

"I already discussed this with Mycroft over Christmas, though the situation wasn't nearly as serious then as it is now. Umbridge's behaviour this year clearly isn't something she's capable of on her own."

Sherlock's long fingers drummed slowly against the table. Under Hermione's increasingly astonished gaze, he said with a hint of contempt:

"She hasn't the mind for it. Looking at it now, everything she's done has a traceable pattern behind it."

"You're saying someone's been directing her?"

Hermione caught his meaning at once.

"I think 'guiding' is the more accurate word. I originally suspected it was Wright Black—the Mr. Blacklight I once crossed wits with from a distance. But it isn't him. Not this time."

Sherlock explained, and as he spoke, his expression turned suddenly eager.

"How fascinating. I never expected the wizarding world would have someone like this too. Do you know why I didn't tell Harry last night? Because even I didn't know how to begin. You know how it's been, Hermione—ever since I entered the magical world, I've taken a keen interest in wizarding crime."

"I know," Hermione said, nodding.

Of course she knew. She remembered it vividly.

At their first Christmas after meeting, she'd originally planned to give Sherlock a copy of Book about Magical Crimes.

She'd thought it the perfect gift for someone just starting to find his footing in the wizarding world.

Who could have guessed Sherlock got there first, presenting her with a copy of Makeup From Scratch.

Not to be outdone, she'd fired straight back with The Art of Captivating Conversation.

And then, to top it all off, Gemma had gone and given that very same book to Sherlock.

One step behind, and hopelessly behind ever after.

"Originally, the crimes committed by wizards in this world were straightforward enough. Something like Blacklight's methods could already be called sophisticated crime. But in recent years, that's changed. I've come to realize there's a force operating behind these dark wizards—a deeply insidious one, and it's been shielding the ones who do the evil.

Even during the holidays, when I've helped Scotland Yard with certain cases, I've felt its presence again and again. Through deduction, I've traced this force's activity across a number of cases—both solved and unsolved. I'm now certain that even Voldemort's successful return can't be separated from this force. Even someone like Blacklight is nothing more than a gun pushed out to the front lines.

"He's hidden himself deeper than I expected. But watch, Hermione—sooner or later, I'll drag this one out into the light."

As he said this, Sherlock's eyes were shining.

Hermione hadn't seen that look in his eyes for a long time. And it was precisely because of that that she understood how serious this really was.

After Arithmancy ended, the two of them went to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

They'd barely sat down when Snape walked in.

Almost on his heels, Harry, Ron, Parvati, and Lavender came in together, laughing and chatting.

The four of them froze the moment they saw Snape already standing at the front.

"Late again, Potter," Snape said coldly, as though he hadn't noticed anyone else come in. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape's habit of singling Harry out was something not just the Gryffindor lions but the whole class had long since stopped being surprised by.

Honestly, half the class was still standing there, getting out their books and sorting their things—Harry hadn't been late by much at all.

And even setting that aside, three other people had walked in with him. Why hadn't he said anything to them?

Of course, no one was about to point that out.

Otherwise, Snape would happily dock another thirty points.

"Before we begin, let's see your essays on Dementors."

Snape gave his wand a careless flick as he spoke, and twenty-five rolls of parchment rose neatly into the air, landing in a tidy stack on his desk. "I do hope this batch is better than that rubbish you turned in on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now—open your books to page one hundred thirty, and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse—"

While the class read, Snape flipped rapidly through their essays.

"What was that about, earlier?" Hermione whispered to Harry.

"Lavender was telling Ron about something from Divination," Harry said irritably. "Firenze had Parvati pass a message on to me."

"Firenze—passing a message through Parvati?"

Hermione looked at Harry, a little baffled, as if she couldn't work out how those words even belonged in the same sentence.

"About Hagrid, I take it?" Sherlock said, cutting straight to the point.

"Yeah," Harry said with a wry smile. "He said Hagrid's efforts are pointless, that he's better off giving up."

"He means Grawp?" Hermione understood at once.

"Yeah," Harry said, still with that wry smile, "but from what I've seen, Hagrid's efforts haven't been pointless at all…"

He said this, naturally, because a year had passed since Grawp had first been dragged back by Hagrid, and the giant was noticeably more docile now than he'd been then. He could understand simple commands from Hagrid and could even express a few basic emotions.

He no longer went around uprooting trees or attacking Hagrid at the slightest provocation.

And although he still called Sherlock and Hermione "Sherlo" and "Hermy," he could at least recognize the two of them by now. He knew that, apart from Hagrid, these two were friendly forces as well.

Just then, Snape suddenly pointed toward the back of the classroom, his black eyes fixed on Harry.

"Ah—it seems Potter has a different opinion on the matter. Do enlighten us, Potter—why does your method for dealing with Dementors disagree with what your professor teaches? Do you fancy yourself better at this than your teacher?"

The whole class turned to look at Harry, who hurriedly cast his mind back to the way Professor Lupin had taught him the Patronus Charm.

"Er—well—I think in actual combat, this is more effective—"

"Combat?" Snape sneered, cutting him off with a curl of his lip.

"Potter, it seems you believe that having once faced a Dementor makes you a veteran of combat, does it?"

The Slytherins burst out laughing.

A few students from the other Houses started snickering too.

Snape's words had reminded them of the time Harry had fallen off his broom during a Quidditch match after being attacked by Dementors. Given that, Harry talking about "actual combat" did seem rather laughable.

This was because most of them didn't know that Harry had already learned the Patronus Charm from Lupin—an exceptionally difficult piece of magic.

And that he'd relied on that very charm to earn the only Outstanding on his Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.

"I stated clearly that the core of the Patronus is a purely positive emotion—happiness, love. And yet you went and wrote 'the desire to protect,'" Snape said mockingly. "Of course, Potter is our Chosen One, after all. If he wants to play the saviour, I suppose that's understandable enough."

"But Harry can already cast a full Patronus!"

Ron couldn't hold back—he leapt to Harry's Defence.

"He earned an Outstanding on his O.W.L. relying on that very thing—that's extra credit!"

A wave of astonished murmurs broke out across the classroom, but a single look from Snape crushed it instantly.

"That's because he summoned his Patronus in a brightly lit classroom, with no threat present whatsoever...

"And of course, as Potter has so brilliantly pointed out, that isn't 'actual combat' either—and furthermore—"

Snape said coldly:

"Another ten points from Gryffindor. I don't expect anything cleverer out of you, Ronald Weasley—a boy who can't even manage half an inch of Apparition in this very room."

"Don't!"

Parvati grabbed Lavender's arm—because she'd been about to shout something furious.

"There's no point. You'll only lose more points, maybe even get detention. Just let it go."

As the saying goes: strike a man, not his face; scold a man, don't expose his shame.

And yet that was precisely what Snape had done.

Especially given his position as a professor, which left everyone else with no way to fight back.

Ron sulked through the rest of the class, until the bell finally rang.

Lavender finally got her chance, and launched into a furious tirade against Snape for mocking Ron's Apparition in front of everyone.

The emotional support on offer lifted Ron's spirits a little.

Without a word, he grabbed Lavender's hand and ran off.

By the time the two of them made it back to the common room, their lips were both a little swollen.

Ron, meanwhile, had gone right back to his usual radiant, brimming-with-confidence self.

"I've decided!"

He looked at his friends and announced loudly: "I'm going to the special Apparition training at Hogsmeade, and then I'll decide whether to sit the test."

"Don't worry, Won-Won, you'll definitely manage it!"

Lavender said this, then, right in front of everyone, planted a loud kiss squarely on Ron's cheek.

"Er—good luck, you two."

Watching the pair of them, that was really all Harry could manage to say.

"Hey, where's Sherlock?"

Ron glanced around, then asked, curious, "Didn't he come back with you two?"

"He had something to sort out with Snape."

"He what?!"

Ron stared at Harry, thoroughly disbelieving.

Harry's own expression wasn't much easier to hold together.

After all, given what had just happened in class, the idea of Sherlock going off to find Snape did sound bizarre enough on its own.

They'd assumed Sherlock would be back shortly, but he still hadn't turned up by dinnertime. It wasn't until they made their way to the Great Hall that they finally found him, already seated at the Gryffindor table.

"I went to ask Professor Snape for a favour."

As if he'd already known they'd ask, Sherlock spoke before they could get a word in.

"He wasn't willing at first, but it took a bit of time, and in the end, I managed to convince him."

Harry and Hermione both looked at Sherlock with open admiration.

Talking Snape into anything was, after all, no small feat.

"Sherlock, is this about that matter?" Hermione asked quietly.

"That's right." Sherlock nodded.

Watching the exchange between Sherlock and Hermione, Harry immediately grew agitated.

What was going on?

Sherlock and Hermione were keeping something from him?

That was hardly fair!

He voiced his displeasure at once, and rather strongly.

"My dear Hermione, would you mind telling it again," Sherlock said, watching Harry's flustered reaction without any particular hurry, "I'd like to hear it once more from an outsider's perspective—see if there's anything we've overlooked."

Both Hermione and Harry were long used to this habit of his by now.

And so, between the three of them—one talking, two listening they went back through Sherlock's theory once more: that some evil force still lurked hidden within the wizarding world, and that it had already colluded with Voldemort.

By the time Hermione finished, Harry was utterly stunned.

An enemy whose intellect matched Sherlock's, blow for blow.

That was a genuinely terrifying thought.

"Snape refused at first because he was afraid this would expose him," Sherlock explained, once Hermione had finished. "But once I'd laid out the stakes for him, he agreed after all."

"Why not tell Malfoy about this?" Harry asked, a little puzzled.

"My dear Harry, am I to understand that you're worried about Professor Snape?"

"Er—I just think Snape's position is a lot more critical than Lucius Malfoy's."

"That's certainly true. But if I'd sent Lucius to do this—setting aside whether he'd even succeed—he'd certainly be discovered," Sherlock said with conviction. "In fact, if my deduction is correct, he already has been.

"Perhaps this is our first real clash.

"Which is exactly why Snape, a master of Occlumency, was the only sensible choice. At the same time, I pointed out a few weaknesses of his—ones that had nothing to do with magic at all. To do that, I had to bring up a few things from the past, so the conversation wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Fortunately, it ended with the result I'd been hoping for."

"Er—"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.

No wonder Sherlock had taken so long.

Without quite meaning to, they both glanced toward the staff table.

Sure enough, there sat Snape, looking thoroughly sour.

Clearly, for someone as proud as he was, having his private secrets seen through by another wasn't exactly a pleasant experience—

Especially when Sherlock hadn't even needed to use Legilimency to do it.

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