HP: Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts

Ever since November arrived in Scotland, the weather had grown noticeably colder.

At Hogwarts, perched high in the Highlands, it was even more frigid.

The surrounding mountains were blanketed in snow that hadn't melted in over ten days.

The surface of the Black Lake had already frozen solid, and many younger students could be seen playing on the ice.

Although the first Saturday of the month brought clear skies, the temperature remained low.

That morning, the Great Hall buzzed with excitement as everyone eagerly discussed the first Quidditch match of the season.

Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.

From time to time, glances were cast toward Harry Potter.

After all, word had spread that the first-year Harry Potter had been granted special permission to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Seeker.

This news left Gryffindor team captain Oliver Wood fuming.

He had originally planned to keep Harry a secret weapon—saving the big reveal for the match itself, catching their opponents off guard.

He had even gone to great lengths to maintain secrecy.

But somehow, the news had still leaked out.

Just as Sherlock had predicted earlier.

At this point, however, trying to figure out who spilled the beans was pointless.

All Wood could do now was fume in frustration.

Still, nearly everyone was curious to see Harry's official debut.

Some believed he would perform brilliantly. After all, he was the Boy Who Lived—surely he wouldn't be lacking in Quidditch talent. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it onto the team.

He couldn't have gotten in through favoritism, right?

But others thought he'd crash and burn.

Especially after this morning.

Rumors had been circulating among the students: during the match, someone would have to run along the ground with a mattress in hand in case Harry fell.

"It's probably Malfoy's doing," Hermione speculated. "He's been jealous ever since you made the team as a first-year."

"Obvious," Sherlock said calmly. "Pointless, though—just an outlet for frustration. Still, you have to give them credit for creativity."

"Harry, you'd better eat something," Ron said through a mouthful of sausage, barely intelligible.

Harry shook his head. "I don't feel like eating."

"Maybe a bit of toast?" Hermione offered gently.

"I'm not hungry."

He shook his head again.

Harry felt absolutely terrible.

With less than an hour before the match, he'd already made several trips to the bathroom out of sheer nerves.

But none of it helped ease the anxiety churning in his stomach.

"You need to eat," Sherlock said, looking at him. "You'll need the energy—Seekers are the opponents' primary targets."

Harry froze for a moment, then slowly nodded and accepted a slice of toast from Neville, who had just passed it over.

Hermione and Ron: (=.=)

So he says it and you listen?

By eleven o'clock, nearly the entire school had gathered in the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch.

Even with the stands magically elevated high in the air, it was sometimes hard to follow the action, so many students had brought binoculars.

Sherlock arrived at the very top row with Hermione and Ron.

They owed this prime spot to Oliver Wood.

To this day, Wood hadn't given up on trying to recruit Sherlock for the team.

As a special incentive, he had granted Sherlock permission to observe the team's training sessions.

During that time, Sherlock had gotten to know the team well. Securing VIP seats had been a breeze.

Soon enough, Neville (with his round face), Dean (the dark-skinned boy), and Seamus (their demolition-prone friend) joined them.

As Sherlock's roommates, Neville and Dean had brought along an old bed sheet that had once been soiled by Ron's pet rat, Scabbers.

The three of them worked together to turn it into a massive banner, proudly displaying the words:

"POTTER FOR THE WIN!"

Dean, who was good at drawing, even added a huge roaring Gryffindor lion underneath.

They had clearly put a lot of heart into it.

Seeing their handiwork, Hermione thought for a moment, then waved her wand and cast a spell over it.

The paint began to glow with shifting, multicolored lights—making the banner even more eye-catching.

"Where's Holmes?" Seamus asked, admiring Hermione's spellwork while looking around.

Everyone knew Sherlock was Harry's best friend. Of course he should be here.

"He had something to discuss with Harry. Just left," Ron mumbled, not even looking up as he gnawed on a chicken leg.

"Huh? What could be that important?" Dean was surprised. The match was about to start!

At that very moment, Harry had just finished changing into his bright red Quidditch robes in the locker room with the rest of the team.

Sherlock had pulled him aside and now said quietly:

"Harry, what I'm about to say—don't be scared."

Harry: o((⊙﹏⊙))o

You start with that, and expect me not to be scared?

He swallowed hard as Sherlock asked, "How's your broomstick?"

"You mean the Nimbus 2000?"

Although he didn't know why Sherlock was asking, Harry answered honestly.

"It's great. I just have to nudge it a bit, and it turns exactly where I want."

"Good. Then listen: if my deductions are correct, something may go wrong with it during the match."

"What do you mean?"

Harry immediately tensed.

"Don't worry, my friend—it's not a serious problem."

Sherlock gave Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Someone might try to jinx your broom. The plan is to knock you off mid-air."

Harry: Σ(°△°|||)︴

Did you hear yourself?!

Someone's trying to kill me—and you're saying it's not serious?

"I checked just now. Professor Snape is at the match. He'll protect you."

Harry: ||Φ|(|T|Д|T|)|Φ||

That doesn't help. That makes it worse.

"And I'll intervene the moment anything happens," Sherlock added.

That finally gave Harry a sliver of comfort. He lowered his voice and asked, "Is it Quirrell?"

"We're not certain yet. But if he acts, then it's almost certainly him."

"I actually advised Dumbledore to attend the match. If he were here, you'd be completely safe."

"But if he was here, the person behind this wouldn't dare make a move."

Sherlock paused for a moment, then asked solemnly:

"This could be dangerous—do you still want to play?"

Harry looked up sharply.

Sherlock's face looked as composed as ever, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes.

More than that, Harry sensed a subtle care in Sherlock's voice—deliberately understated, but genuine.

Harry realized it then: Sherlock was worried.

Worried about asking Harry to act as bait.

And here he'd been talking about Professor Snape being emotionally awkward—Sherlock was just the same.

Feeling playful, Harry suddenly wanted to tease him: "And if I say no…"

"Then I'll take your place."

Sherlock answered without hesitation.

Harry: o(￣▽￣)o

"Thanks, Sherlock."

Harry's eyes misted over. He looked at Sherlock and said softly, "If you and Dumbledore need me, then let me be the one."

"Oi! Potter, Holmes! You two done yet?"

"The captain's about to give his speech, and if there's one person missing from the audience, he can't get into it—ow! Why'd you hit me?!"

Fred and George Weasley had just started shouting when Wood smacked them to shut them up.

-----

30 Advance Chapters on Patreon!

p(a)treon(.)com/HudaLin

-Remove the parenthesis to access patreon normally

Thanks for the Support!