As soon as Ron said this, Hermione immediately glared at him fiercely. "Ronald, shut up!"
Ron had originally wanted to argue back, but seeing Hermione's embarrassed and angry expression, he obediently kept quiet and said no more.
After all,... lies don't hurt people—the truth is the sharp blade.
Sherlock leaned back with his hands clasped together, his gray eyes sparkling with curious light. "Replying to fan mail? That is indeed rather interesting... So, dear Harry, please tell me exactly what happened at the pitch today. I'm very interested in this—be sure to be detailed and try not to leave out any details."
"Thank heavens, Sherlock, you're finally willing to ask about this," Ron said, looking at Sherlock and Hermione with a helpless expression. "I asked him ages ago, but old Harry insisted on waiting until both of you were here before he'd talk."
"I just didn't want to tell the same story twice," Harry said, rarely putting on a stern face.
The four returned to the Gryffindor common room, and at Sherlock's request, Harry began to tell the story of today's events from the beginning.
By convention, the right to use the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch was always first-come, first-served. Whoever arrived early got to practice first—much like claiming a field at a Muggle recreation ground.
But Oliver Wood's reason for getting up so early wasn't just this. He had already applied to Madam Hooch the day before. He didn't just want to train—he wanted to book the entire pitch!
This seemingly extravagant approach was to research and implement Gryffindor's latest tactics while avoiding prying eyes from other houses. After all, the Quidditch pitch was very large. Without exclusive booking, all four Hogwarts teams could easily practice simultaneously with room to spare.
What no one expected was that Slytherin house would take an unconventional approach, arriving at the pitch with a note signed by Professor Snape.
Harry pushed a piece of paper toward Sherlock as he spoke.
I, Professor Severus Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice on the Quidditch pitch today to train their new Seeker.
Sherlock glanced at it and nodded slightly. "This is indeed Professor Snape's handwriting."
After saying this, he carefully folded the note and put it in his pocket.
Seeing Sherlock's action, Hermione asked in confusion. "Are you worried that Marcus Flint would forge it? I don't think he has the nerve."
"Hermione, you're absolutely right—Flint indeed lacks the nerve." Sherlock smiled slightly. "I'm keeping it to practice forgery."
"Forgery?" Hermione stared at Sherlock, her eyes full of surprise. "Did you say 'forgery'?"
"My linguistic system and your auditory system are both functioning normally. I did indeed say 'forgery.'"
"Why?"
"Ah, dear friend, you must understand that while Professor Snape's handwriting is easily recognizable, there are subtle differences in characters written under different emotional states. Notice the flourish here—it's more flamboyant than Professor Snape's handwriting on the parchment in the Philosopher's Stone chamber last year. And here, see this turn—restrained yet fluid, proving he was in a reasonably good mood when writing this note. So, to forge his handwriting, I would need more samples from different circumstances..."
"Who asked you about that!" Hermione could no longer contain her strong urge to complain. "I'm asking why you would think of forging a professor's handwriting! What exactly are you planning to do?"
"Ha, dear Hermione, I ask you to exercise your imagination fully—a professor's signature has many uses! For instance, next time Harry goes to practice, he could prepare a note in advance. That way, he wouldn't have to worry about other houses interfering when he books the pitch. Or if we want to access the Restricted Section to research materials, a professor's signature could save us a lot of trouble. Also..."
"Enough!" Hermione interrupted him with an exasperated expression. "Sherlock, you're far too audacious! This goes well beyond simple rule-breaking—you actually dare to do something so... so..."
For a moment, Hermione couldn't find the words to describe Sherlock's behavior.
'So, you kept that parchment for this purpose all along? And there you were, analyzing the subtle differences between handwriting samples from different situations—absolutely incredible!'
Harry and Ron looked at Sherlock with admiration. 'Truly worthy of you! No wonder you ended up in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat doesn't lie!'
"Hermione, you really don't need to be so tense," Harry consoled her kindly. "You only break rules if you get caught. As long as you don't get caught, nothing happened."
"Good heavens! Harry, I can't believe you would think like that! Who taught you this?"
"Sherlock."
Hermione. (︿)
Seeing that Hermione seemed to have retreated into an autistic state, Harry ignored her and continued with the morning's story.
Professor Snape wasn't just the Potions teacher—he was also the Head of Slytherin House. In terms of Hogwarts' administrative structure, after the Headmaster came the four House Heads, followed by other teaching staff. Professor McGonagall only ranked slightly higher than the other three House Heads because she also served as Deputy Headmistress.
Regardless, as the Flying instructor, Madam Hooch couldn't possibly refuse to give Professor Snape face. So, she had to allow the Slytherin Quidditch team to intrude even though Gryffindor had already booked the pitch.
When Harry reached this point, Ron became excited. "Sherlock, Hermione, you might not believe this, but Slytherin's new Seeker is..."
"Draco Malfoy, and his father bought everyone on the Slytherin team a Nimbus 2001."
Hermione had recovered from her autistic state by now. Hearing Ron's words, she said helplessly. "Ron, could you please not interrupt and let Harry finish?"
"No!"
Ron's eyes widened with an indignant expression. "That's a Nimbus 2001! The latest product in the Nimbus series this year, even faster and more stable than last year's Nimbus 2000! Malfoy's old man really spared no expense this time, buying one for everyone on the team! This is really..."
At this point, Ron suddenly realized what Hermione had just said. "Wait, what did you just say? How do you know about this!"
His gaze moved back and forth between Sherlock and Hermione, then he showed a look of sudden understanding. "I know—Sherlock must have told you, right? Let me think, Sherlock must have noticed through observation that the Slytherin team was different from last year. Then with that clever brain of his, he analyzed and deduced this..."
"No, this wasn't Sherlock's deduction," Hermione said with a subtle expression. "The Slytherin female prefect told him."
"You mean Gemma Farley?" Ron's face showed even more surprise. "She came to Sherlock today just to tell him this?"
"What else?" Hermione laughed lightly with an expression that bore some resemblance to Sherlock's. "Too bad... never mind, let's not talk about this now. Please stop interrupting Harry and let him continue!"
"Fine, fine..."
Ron, who had originally planned to share the explosive news, suddenly felt deflated. 'Strange, why do I always feel like an outsider?'
Harry continued with the morning's events.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team led by Oliver Wood and the Slytherin team led by Marcus Flint faced off on the pitch, with already tense relations between both sides. Then, the Slytherin players wielding their latest Nimbus 2001s began mocking the Gryffindor Quidditch players' old flying brooms, saying they were much faster than the previously best Nimbus 2000 series, while the Weasley twins' old Cleansweep series might as well be used to sweep floors.
This made both sides even more hostile.
At this crucial moment, someone nobody expected suddenly appeared, becoming the catalyst for the eruption of conflict between both sides. That person was Colin Creevey, the Muggle-born Gryffindor first-year.
"Why would Creevey appear at the Quidditch pitch?" Hermione suddenly interrupted. "This matter has nothing to do with him!"
"Don't let others interrupt, but keep asking questions yourself..." Ron muttered quietly from the side.
Harry pretended not to hear. "That's because I ran into him early this morning when I went out. When he heard, I was going to Quidditch training, he followed me. When we were flying above the Quidditch pitch, he was taking pictures of me with his camera, but Wood mistook him for a Slytherin spy gathering intelligence."
"Pfft~"
Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione all looked toward Ron simultaneously.
"Sorry, I just happened to think of something amusing."
Harry helplessly withdrew his gaze. He was completely used to being interrupted repeatedly.
"While I was explaining to Wood that Colin Creevey wasn't a spy sent by Slytherin, the Slytherin people arrived at the pitch. Sherlock, just as you said, I flew above the pitch for at most ten minutes, maybe even less than that.
As soon as Wood saw the Slytherin people coming, he immediately ended training. He angrily said he had booked the pitch, but Flint and his crew produced Professor Snape's note, introduced their new Chaser, and mocked our flying brooms.
"Just then, Colin, who had been taking photos, saw that we had stopped and ran directly onto the pitch. I believe he meant well and wanted to defend us, but..."
At this point, Harry's face showed a bitter smile. Thinking of the situation then, he couldn't help but feel both amused and exasperated. "He publicly questioned Malfoy's abilities, saying he only got onto the Quidditch team by spending money..."
"Excellent!"
Hearing this, Ron was absolutely thrilled. "That kid's worthy of coming from our Gryffindor—he really didn't let us down!"
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