"Harry, Ron, I know Hagrid is your friend, but rules are rules."
Since becoming a prefect, Parvati Patil had clearly grown a good deal more mature. Seeing how red-faced Harry and Ron had gone over Hagrid, she kept her patience and pressed on:
"I've read through the reasons Umbridge listed, and it's plain they're not baseless—they're backed up by facts."
At Parvati's words, Hermione couldn't help glancing at Sherlock.
Just as she'd expected.
Exactly as Sherlock had predicted before. If even Parvati someone fairly neutral in all this thought so, there was no need to wonder what everyone else thought.
Lavender threw her arms around Ron.
"Won-Won, honestly, there's no reason for you to be upset! It's not even about you—it's all Hagrid's own doing. Just look at what he's done—it's really gone too far. If he keeps this up, he's bound to get himself in real trouble one of these days—you ought to be careful too."
Ron's eyes went wide at once. "Are you telling me what to do now?"
"No, that's not—" Lavender hurried to explain.
"I told you before—you're not allowed to badmouth my friends in front of me." Ron kept right on going.
"Mm-hmm," Lavender nodded eagerly, "and that's exactly what I love most about you—how loyal you are!"
Ron: (ಠ_ಠ)
At the sight of this, Harry and Parvati who'd still been fuming over Hagrid a moment ago couldn't hold it together any longer. In that instant the two of them did the exact same thing: without a word, they backed off and gave Ron and Lavender the room to themselves.
Still, joking aside, no one thought to make light of the actual matter. Parvati and Lavender's attitude toward Hagrid pretty much summed up how the whole of Hogwarts felt. By the time they'd finished venting, even Harry and Ron felt it wasn't really their place anymore to keep speaking up for Hagrid.
Because they'd learned from Sherlock and Hermione that Hagrid actually meant to retrieve Aragog's corpse—the giant Acromantula—once he died, and give him a proper funeral. He was even hoping Sherlock and the others would come along and attend it with him.
Ron burst out at once, worked up:
"He's mad! He's absolutely mad! That thing's massive—I'm telling you, the second we set foot in its territory, it'll eat us without a second thought! And now Hagrid wants us to stand there weeping over its horrible, hairy corpse! Honestly, it'd be better if Hagrid just wasn't a teacher at all!"
"If even you think that, there's really no need to ask about anyone else."
Sherlock said it lightly, almost lazily. "I don't think you two have noticed after two teachers in a row got put on probation, Umbridge's reputation has actually improved."
Ron blinked, caught off guard. "Huh… has it, really?"
"Have a little more confidence—drop the 'has it.' As far as I know, hardly anyone calls her the Pink Toad anymore. And there's more—" Sherlock's brow furrowed. "The students taking her Defence Against the Dark Arts class are gradually starting to accept her as a teacher, too."
"Wait, why on earth would that be?"
Harry asked, baffled. As far as he was concerned, compared to a real Defence Against the Dark Arts class, the Pink Toad's theory lessons were far duller and more tedious.
"Theory isn't without its uses, my dear Harry."
Sherlock saw straight through Harry's thoughts, as always, and explained patiently. "Think back—what exactly have you learned in Defence Against the Dark Arts this term?"
Harry, Hermione, and Ron all fell to thinking at his words. It was Hermione who caught on first. "Theory!"
"Exactly. An entire term, and all he's done is lecture on theory and next lesson he wants us to hand in an essay on Dementors, too." Sherlock said it with clear implication.
"Professor Lupin's practical, hands-on teaching may have been popular with everyone, but don't forget—he also required you all to study theory. In fact, theory and practice were never meant to exist in isolation from each other—theory arises out of practice, and correct theory, in turn, can act back upon practice and guide it. For students who've only just started this course, beginning with theory isn't really the wrong choice. And there's something else—"
Sherlock's gaze swept across Harry, Hermione, and Ron in turn.
"I don't think you realize this, but starting last term, Umbridge's teaching method has already changed. She's stopped making everyone read straight from the textbook the way she did when we first started fifth year—she's switched to a style that's much easier to take in. That approach is already close to Professor Snape's method of teaching straight off the board."
"What—you're not serious?"
Ron couldn't help but be startled at that.
"My dear Ron, I take it you already understand what that means?"
"I don't understand at all!"
Ron shrugged.
"I already told you, once Karkaroff was put on probation, that things were starting to change. And it's clear now—Hagrid won't be the last one."
"You mean—are you saying there are other teachers who might—"
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.
"Think about how Umbridge has been inspecting the other teachers' lessons all this time—every single time, she's just sat there quietly, listening in. That doesn't match her character at all—at least not the character I know her to have."
Hearing Sherlock say this, Harry's brow furrowed at once; something told him this wasn't as simple as it looked. "Sherlock, are you saying…"
"When something's out of the ordinary, there's bound to be something behind it. I think I need to go have a word with our dear headmaster."
Sherlock's gaze turned sharp. By the time the three of them had gathered their wits, he'd already turned and strolled off without a backward glance.
"Not this again?"
The three of them couldn't help exchanging looks.
"We're used to it by now," Hermione sighed. "Speaking of which—Mad-Eye Moody and Umbridge are both High Inquisitors, so why does Moody never make nearly this much noise about it?"
"Not much noise?" Ron said, exaggerating. "Don't you know he searched old Snape's office!"
"Honestly, I don't think that was necessary at all…" Hermione said, frowning, lowering her voice. "Moody knows perfectly well Snape's in the Order of the Phoenix too…"
"Maybe Moody just doesn't trust Snape."
Harry said thoughtfully, "I remember, back when they interrogated Wormtail, he said something similar to Dumbledore."
"To be honest, even now I'm not entirely sure myself…" Ron added.
"But Dumbledore and Sherlock both say there's nothing wrong with him."
Hermione said carefully. "Even if you don't trust Dumbledore, surely you trust Sherlock?"
"Hang on, isn't that the wrong way round?" Ron couldn't help finding it a bit funny. "You think Sherlock's more reliable than Dumbledore?"
Hermione didn't hesitate. "Yes!"
"Exactly!" Harry nodded firmly.
"My dear friends, I have to thank you for the trust you place in me."
"Sherlock!" Hermione said, startled. "How are you back so quickly?"
"Because Dumbledore isn't here," Sherlock said flatly. "So, I went and found Professor McGonagall instead, and got a piece of news from her that isn't too bad."
"What news?"
Sherlock's three little companions perked up with curiosity at once.
"Dumbledore's gone to the Ministry of Magic."
"Oh."
All three teenagers wore the same look of sudden understanding.
Over the following days, Dumbledore didn't come back. Sherlock went to see Professor McGonagall once more, and had a chat with Mad-Eye Moody while he was at it.
The upshot was that things were difficult. Just as Sherlock had analysed before. Whether it was Karkaroff or Rubeus Hagrid, both of them had genuine shortcomings themselves, and those shortcomings were fairly glaring, too.
Say what you like about Mad-Eye putting Umbridge in her place last year—but that was only possible because the woman had made a fool of herself first. Now that she was going about things with proper grounds and justification, Mad-Eye couldn't very well interfere directly.
Still, he wasn't idle either—he went and marched right over to inspect Umbridge's office, the same way he'd inspected the other professors'. It didn't end up going all that smoothly.
"Moody, you and I are both High Inquisitors—you have no business inspecting my office!"
"You'd better get something straight, woman!"
Moody wasn't buying any of it, his magical eye spinning nonstop. "What I'm inspecting right now isn't the office of a High Inquisitor—it's the office of Hogwarts's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Dolores Umbridge! And if you don't cooperate, I'll walk straight in anyway!"
Faced with Moody at his most overbearing, Umbridge folded in the end, stepping aside with a face full of anger while Moody strode into her office for all the world to see. Unfortunately, in the end, he found absolutely nothing.
"Still—at least that's one round won back."
Off to the side, watching intently, Harry clenched both fists tight.
These past two days, Harry had been rather worked up. The main reason was how the students of Hogwarts—the Gryffindors especially had been reacting to the whole business of Hagrid's probation.
The ones who just didn't care one way or another already counted as friendly and that group included his own roommates, Neville and Dean. They both knew how close Hagrid and Harry were, which was exactly why they'd put on such an unconcerned front.
But most of the young lions were more than happy about it especially the ones who'd taken Care of Magical Creatures. Now, seeing Moody take Umbridge's arrogance down a notch, Harry felt an especially deep satisfaction settle over him especially when Moody, on his way out, gave him a wink with that good eye of his.
Over the following days, with Professor Grubbly-Plank back in action once more, the matter of Hagrid's probation went even further unmentioned. This left Harry feeling even more downhearted because it seemed like even Ron had switched sides.
Ever since hearing about Aragog, he too seemed to have started shifting camps, siding with the idea of letting Hagrid rest for a while first.
In truth, what most Gryffindor students actually cared more about was the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. A lot of them wanted to see the team's Chaser, Zacharias Smith, get what was coming to him, for how appallingly he'd commentated during the opening match against Slytherin.
And yet Harry's interest in Quidditch had never once been this low. His mind was still preoccupied with the whole business of Karkaroff and Hagrid's probation.
"Harry, you can't keep going on like this."
Watching the state Harry was in, Hermione couldn't help but coax him gently. "With Sherlock around, you really don't need to worry about all this so much. And don't forget you've got plenty else to be getting on with—Quidditch practice, homework—isn't that right, Sherlock?"
"My dear Harry, if I need you for something, I'll speak up myself."
"So… Dumbledore's still not back?"
"No. The latest word is that Pius Thicknesse has asked him to help the Ministry deal with some thorny business." Sherlock said, giving Harry's shoulder a pat. "So you'd best just get on with your training! You don't want to go and lose to Zacharias Smith's team, do you?"
Harry: (－_－)
It was true enough, but somehow it still felt oddly off.
"Fine, I'm off to training then—" Harry sighed. "I'd better go and drag Ron along first."
Ever since the holidays ended and the new term began, Ron and Lavender had been practically inseparable. These days, even during Quidditch practice, Lavender would sit up in the stands, watching her beloved Won-Won's every move.
Match day arrived before long. Harry, who had already led Gryffindor to one win as captain, had grown noticeably more mature since last time. Still, the same old story held as long as Sherlock wasn't around, he felt entirely entitled to think of himself as the leading man.
So, seeing Beaters Coote and Peakes both nervously tapping their bats against their shins, he cleared his throat and launched into his pre-match talk for the team:
"No need to be nervous, everyone. Of the four House teams, Hufflepuff's actually the weakest…"
"Really?"
Coote and Peakes looked up, gazing at Harry with a mix of surprise and delight.
"Of course it's true!"
Harry said with conviction. "Ever since Cedric Diggory graduated and left, they've gone downhill—the Seeker who replaced him, Summerby, just isn't up to much…"
At that point Harry felt it wasn't quite right to put someone down so directly, since after all, Summerby had never done anything to wrong them the way Zacharias Smith had. So, he paused, then carried on.
"Anyway—I'll definitely find the Snitch before he does! All you two need to do is get as many Quaffles through their hoops as you can, and hold our own goals—that's it!"
"Coote, Peakes—if you two get the chance, make sure you give him a proper thrashing!"
"No problem!"
"Leave it to us!"
Seeing that his pep talk had worked, and feeling like maybe he'd overdone it a bit, Harry hurried to add:
"Of course, just because our opponents are weaker doesn't mean we should look down on them.'"
You can read more than 40 chapters on:
patreon.com/MikeyMuse