Chapter 773 - 773: 0773 Surprise

The exams of the 1996–1997 school year arrived right on schedule.

As it turned out, the fifth-year O.W.L.s really had been a watershed.

Now that they had entered the N.E.W.T. years, the core exams had become far harder. Even a top student like Hermione Granger wouldn't have dared swear she'd earn an Outstanding in every subject.

As for everyone else, it went without saying—they weren't worrying about whether they'd get an Outstanding; they were worrying about whether they'd pass at all.

Yet amid all this tension, one person remained unhurried and unruffled, as though the exams didn't trouble him in the slightest. That person, naturally, was the Lion King of Gryffindor—Sherlock Holmes.

Most people assumed the Lion King was so composed because he'd spent the past while revising like mad and felt confident.

But only a handful knew that the reason Sherlock had been so busy lately had nothing to do with the exams.

As for the end-of-year exams that had everyone else on edge, he hadn't given them a moment's thought.

After the exams, Hermione, as always, dragged Sherlock off to compare answers.

Their friends were somewhat put out by this habit of hers. The exams were over—what was the point of going over the answers?

Right or wrong, it couldn't change the result, could it?

But Hermione insisted on doing it anyway.

Strangely enough, by rights they wouldn't graduate until next year.

And yet…

Hermione couldn't have said why, but she had a feeling she couldn't put a name to.

A vague feeling nagged at her.

That if she didn't do this now, she might never get another chance.

Perhaps this was what people called women's intuition—or a sixth sense.

Of course, she was the only one doing it.

Everyone else was busy having a wonderful time.

That was the usual pattern. From the end of the last exam until the results came out was the most carefree stretch of the year.

Once the results were posted, things would be different—some would celebrate, others despair. But until then, have fun first and worry later.

This year, though, things seemed different. The exams had barely finished when the Ministry of Magic sent a large contingent of people to Hogwarts.

They had come to conduct an investigation.

The subject of the investigation: the students' blood status.

And just like that, pure-blood, half-blood and Muggle-born were dragged into the open for the first time and laid out on the table.

In an instant, the cheerful mood vanished without a trace.

The whole school was gripped by unease.

If it had been a mere survey of wizards' bloodlines, it wouldn't have had such an effect.

What mattered was the attitude the Ministry people displayed during the investigation.

Hot on its heels, a rumour began to spread rapidly through the school.

The rumour was that from now on, Hogwarts would treat students differently according to their blood status.

The moment the news got around; the whole school was thrown into chaos.

"Professor Umbridge, what exactly is the meaning of this?"

In the office of the Head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall was locked in a standoff with the Ministry officials led by Umbridge.

Her eyes were fixed on Umbridge as she said, biting off each word: "Who gave you permission to conduct this kind of investigation?

"And who gave you permission to spread word that students will be treated differently according to their blood status from now on?

"From the very beginning, Hogwarts has held to one principle: no questions asked about origins, and everyone treated alike!

"Isn't this going a little too far?!"

"Calm yourself, Professor McGonagall."

Umbridge regarded her with a smile that never reached her eyes, and said slowly:

"Aren't you being a little oversensitive?

"The Ministry has actually been planning this for some time. We only put it off until now because the exams were approaching and we didn't wish to affect everyone's results.

"You see? The Ministry cares about the students, after all!

"Besides, it's merely an investigation—we've never said a word about treating students differently according to their blood status. So why get so agitated?"

"Are you a fool, or do you take me for one?"

McGonagall snapped:

"Your people at the Ministry plainly treated students of different blood status differently during the investigation!

"And they're the ones who put those rumors out!"

"I'm terribly sorry, Professor McGonagall, but attitudes toward different bloodlines are the personal conduct of individual wizards. They have nothing to do with the Ministry," said Umbridge, perfectly at ease.

Watching McGonagall's furious face, she felt wave upon wave of delight. "I'm sure you know very well that in the wizarding world there have always been those who favor pure blood.

"It's an ancient tradition, and there is nothing we can do to interfere—just as there are those who believe that half-blood and Muggle-born wizards are every bit as good as pure-blood ones.

"So it's the most natural thing in the world for there to be different voices!

"Of course, I must also thank you for your feedback, Professor McGonagall—as for the words and conduct of certain individual Ministry staff, we shall certainly keep them on a tight leash once we're back…"

"I do not agree!"

McGonagall had noticed it too: the Umbridge in front of her was nothing like last year's, when she'd blundered about without a thought in her head.

Last year she'd been infuriating as well, but never this poised, never this much in command.

At that moment, McGonagall found herself missing Mad-Eye Moody terribly.

With that thought, she said firmly:

"Whatever the case, Headmaster Dumbledore has told me nothing about this. I will not allow you to go on like this!"

"But your word doesn't necessarily count for anything, Professor McGonagall."

In sharp contrast to the humiliated figure she'd cut before the assembled professors last year, Umbridge now spoke with a haughty swagger:

"The Ministry has issued its latest Educational Decree!

"One provision states that if the current Headmaster is unable to carry out his duties as normal, I, as Deputy Headmistress, shall take his place and exercise the Headmaster's powers in full.

"And if you refuse…"

Umbridge let the words hang, heavy with meaning.

They had barely left her mouth when six people walked into the office.

Every one of them held a wand, eyeing McGonagall with predatory menace.

It was as though, in the next instant, they might turn into ravenous wolves and pounce.

"What did you say?"

But McGonagall seemed blind to her own predicament. The moment she heard the first half of Umbridge's sentence, she had frozen on the spot.

"You said… what has happened to Albus?"

Her body was even trembling faintly.

In that moment, her concern for Dumbledore outweighed any thought for her own situation.

This was the unshakable friendship of two people, tempered over nearly half a century.

Seeing McGonagall like this, Umbridge couldn't help laughing:

"The great Headmaster Albus Dumbledore is, of course, perfectly well at the moment. But later… who can say?"

"Something seems to have gone wrong on Dumbledore's end."

The Gryffindor common room.

Hearing Sherlock say this, Harry and Hermione were stunned.

Ron wasn't with them because he was off to one side, comforting Lavender.

As a half-blood, Lavender had been treated unfairly during the Ministry's investigation.

This was also how the rumour had come to spread across the school: the staff conducting the investigation had plainly shown bias.

Their attitudes toward wizards of the three backgrounds—pure-blood, half-blood and Muggle-born—differed markedly.

"A mere half-blood, and she manages to land a pure-blood boyfriend. What dumb luck!"

The investigator had only muttered it under his breath, but Lavender had heard.

Until then, she had never realized this.

Or rather, even if she'd known, she had never paid it any mind. But now things were different.

Under the circumstances, even the habitually careless Ron had, for once, thought of Lavender's feelings and taken her aside to comfort her.

"The other side has picked up the pace. That clearly has something to do with how we've responded."

Sherlock's tone was as calm as ever, but his words left Harry and Hermione increasingly shaken: "Ever since we spotted the first signs last time, Dumbledore has in fact begun separating the Order of the Phoenix from the Ministry.

"No more using the information channels the Ministry provides; no more letting the Ministry see the Order's internal information—all of which only came about once the new Minister took office and the two sides began cooperating.

"Under these conditions, the Ministry—or rather, that person—has decided there's no longer any need to maintain this false show of goodwill, and so they couldn't wait to launch their attack.

"That is exactly the result we're seeing now."

"But—Sherlock, when you say something's happened to Dumbledore, what do you mean?"

"This morning, he left Hogwarts."

Sherlock said calmly:

"I'd told him earlier that he should let me know before he left.

"And he did—though of course, he had a reason he couldn't ignore. He had no choice but to go."

"What reason?"

For some reason, Harry suddenly felt tense.

"Something has come up on the Order's side."

As Harry and Hermione stared in astonishment, Sherlock said, in the offhand tone of someone remarking that it was a nice day:

"Sirius and Bones, and Lupin and Tonks—two teams out on missions—were attacked by Death Eaters at the same time."

"At the same time?"

"Attacked!"

Harry and Hermione sucked in a sharp breath.

"Yes. Since the Order has cut off contact with the Ministry, Dumbledore had to go and confirm the situation himself."

"Then, Sherlock, what can we do now?

"Should we—"

"Nothing."

Sherlock cut Harry off, saying flatly:

"There's nothing we need to do. Right now, it's the enemy's turn to make his moves. Let him fight his battle; we'll fight ours."

"Honestly, I don't quite follow you."

"Whatever the other side intends to do, our core objective hasn't changed—find all of the Horcruxes and destroy them."

"But that snake is always kept at Voldemort's side. We haven't got a chance…"

"No, my dear Harry. The snake has to be left for last."

Sherlock shook his head:

"The moment we make a move on that snake, Voldemort will know for certain that I've discovered the Horcruxes.

"As for the opportunity you mention, that's actually not difficult at all.

"As long as Voldemort hasn't realized his Horcruxes have been destroyed, we'll have plenty of chances to separate them—him and it.

"Conversely, the moment Voldemort stops sending that snake out, it will prove he's discovered something wrong with his Horcruxes.

"So, we have to move faster—"

In that instant, Sherlock's eyes turned suddenly deep and unreadable:

"Because we don't have much time left."

A good while later, Cho Chang, a half-blood herself, had also been treated differently by the Ministry's investigators.

Add her Asian ethnic status, and the discrimination she'd faced was, if anything, even worse than what native-born half-bloods like Lavender and Seamus had endured.

Under the circumstances, Harry, too, finally got his turn at playing the considerate guy, and hurried over to comfort Cho Chang.

"Hermione, I need your help."

"What are you talking about, Sherlock?" Hermione said, a little taken aback "Haven't I been doing that all along?"

"No, this time is different!"

Sherlock's grey eyes fixed on Hermione without blinking:

"Because this time, it may hurt you."

Hermione turned her head and looked steadily at Sherlock, saying one word at a time:

"I came too late to be part of your past. But your future—I'll be there with you, to the very end."

Hearing Hermione's words, Sherlock smiled.

Hermione smiled too.

Soon the two of them parted.

Over the following days, Sherlock produced, as if by a conjuring trick, his own Watson, Hermione's Crookshanks, and Gemma's Irene. They shuttled constantly between two places, carrying a great deal of information between Sherlock and persons unknown.

At school, the atmosphere grew tenser by the day.

But Umbridge, it turned out, did keep her word: beyond investigating the students' backgrounds, the Ministry made no further moves.

This gradually settled everyone's nerves.

At last, the day before the holidays arrived.

"Sherlock, Cho Chang has asked me out."

Harry said, a little sheepishly:

"She's graduating this year. She says that once the holidays start, she's going to Japan for a while with Uncle and Auntie, and she'll come back after some time."

Sherlock smiled. "Good luck, my friend."

Once Harry had gone, Sherlock immediately picked up a sheet of parchment, wrote a line on it with a quill, and sent Watson off with the letter.

After dinner, Sherlock did not go straight back to the common room.

He gazed at the Great Hall where he had spent six whole years, a trace of wistfulness in his eyes, as though he meant to engrave the sight deep into his memory.

After a moment, Sherlock turned and walked toward the tallest tower in the castle.

As he rounded a corner, he suddenly stopped.

"Come out."

Hermione stepped from the shadows. She walked up to Sherlock step by step, her eyes heavy with worry:

"I know you almost certainly won't change your mind, but I still have to ask—do you really have to do this?"

"Yes, Hermione. It's the best way."

With that, Sherlock smiled, gave Hermione a small wave, and turned to leave again.

Watching Sherlock's resolute stride, Hermione knew she had no way of stopping him.

After hesitating again and again, she finally clenched her teeth and called out:

"Sherlock!"

"No need to worry, my fri—mmph…"

The moment Sherlock stopped and turned around; he was startled to find Hermione throwing herself into his arms.

Even more unexpected was that, as she held him tight, Hermione rose onto her toes and kissed him on the lips.

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