When Neville, who hadn't yet left the classroom, heard the sharp sound of Snape deducting points from Gryffindor, all his fear vanished.
He'd been the one who'd caused the mishap—so why were Sherlock and Harry the ones losing points?
The Gryffindor first-years were stunned speechless.
This wasn't just bias—it was blatant, absurd, and utterly unjust.
Fortunately, by the end of class, the potion Sherlock had prepared turned out perfectly, and Snape found no further excuse to deduct more points.
Harry and the others breathed a long sigh of relief.
Finally, it was over.
But just then, Sherlock… walked up to Snape.
Harry jumped. "Sherlock, what are you doing?!"
Sherlock gave a small smile. "Going to ask Professor Snape a few questions."
At that moment, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and every Gryffindor student screamed in unison in their minds:
____λ___丬 Don't go! Please!
"Holmes..."
Snape's eyes sharpened dangerously as Sherlock approached.
"What do you want now?" he said coldly.
"I have a few questions I'd like to ask you about Potions, Professor."
Snape froze for a moment. Then he hissed through gritted teeth:
"If you're going to ask me anything about idiotic flower symbolism, you can save your breath and shut that annoying mouth of yours."
His gaze was so sharp it felt like it could cut through flesh.
Had it been Neville standing there, he would've burst into tears.
Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't suppress their discomfort—Snape's presence was suffocating, as if he might draw his wand and fire off a spell at any moment.
Yet Sherlock stood unfazed, looking calmly into Snape's eyes. "Just a few questions about Potions, sir."
Without waiting for approval, he began to ask—clearly and directly.
Snape's surprise grew with every word.
For a first-year to even be able to formulate questions like these was impressive.
Far more impressive than simply answering what Snape had thrown out in class.
Sherlock's questions struck directly at the key challenges and conceptual hurdles of first-year Potions, serving to clarify core principles and bridge knowledge gaps. His grasp was clear, organized, and highly advanced.
Snape, despite all his bitterness, was a true Potions Master—and he recognized in that moment that Sherlock already had a comprehensive understanding of the subject.
His expression softened—just slightly.
This level of talent... perhaps even greater than hers.
And she, too, had been in Gryffindor.
At the thought of her, a flash of red hair and brilliant green eyes appeared in his mind.
After answering Sherlock's questions, Snape's eyes darkened again. He said coldly, "Holmes, if you truly want to make something of yourself in Potions, then you'd do well to stay away from Potter."
With that, he gave one last glance—not at Sherlock, but at the wall behind him—then turned on his heel and strode off, his robes billowing behind him like the wings of a bat.
As Snape disappeared, Sherlock said without looking back, "You can come out now."
Harry: |ω｀)
Hermione: |ω）
Ron: |_)
The three emerged sheepishly from behind the wall.
Harry asked awkwardly, "When did you know we were following you?"
"From the moment you started following me."
"Huh?" Ron looked stunned. "I thought you only noticed once we hid."
"I'm fairly confident in my ability to detect a tail. And, for the record, Professor Snape noticed you long ago."
"I knew it!" Hermione exclaimed. "That last glance before he left—he was definitely looking right at us!"
Sherlock nodded. "Obvious."
Hermione had stood up for Sherlock in class, which greatly increased her favorability in the eyes of both Harry—who previously hadn't thought much of her, and Ron—who had actively disliked her.
Their shared concern for Sherlock had brought them together to follow him.
Luckily, Snape hadn't given Sherlock a hard time.
Still, his final comment left a bitter aftertaste: "If you want to succeed in Potions, stay away from Potter."
What did that even mean?
Harry wasn't part Veela—how could being near him affect Sherlock's studies?
Harry himself felt worse than ever.
It was only the first week of term, and he'd already cost Gryffindor four points in just one Potions class—equal to the combined points lost by Sherlock and Hermione.
And strictly speaking, they'd only been docked points because of him.
That thought made his guilt deepen.
He simply couldn't understand: Why does Snape hate me so much?
Just then, a hand came down on his shoulder.
Harry looked up and met Sherlock's grey eyes.
"It's only House Points," Sherlock said calmly. "It's not something worth worrying over."
And he meant it.
Even if they lost one, two, ten, or two hundred points—it wouldn't so much as crease his brow.
Ron nodded quickly. "Yeah, Fred and George lose points all the time. Don't let it get to you. Besides—we've still got Hagrid to visit!"
That reminder perked Harry up a little.
Sherlock then turned to Hermione. "Want to come?"
Hermione blinked. "Hagrid? Who's that?"
"The big guy who led us from the train to the castle," Sherlock replied. "Well? Want to join us?"
Ron, who'd recently changed his opinion of Hermione, added helpfully, "He's great. Took care of everything when we arrived."
Hermione nodded in realization. "Oh, him."
She looked at the three boys, hesitated, then shook her head. "No thanks. I've got to go to the library."
If it were just Sherlock, she might've considered it.
They were both from Muggle families, had met before term started, and shared similar academic drive. He was clearly a good student—perhaps even a kindred spirit (despite his disastrous Astronomy performance).
But Harry and Ron? They were still just classmates, not quite "friends" yet.
Even if Harry was the Boy Who Lived.
---
At 3 p.m., Sherlock, Harry, and Ron arrived at Hagrid's hut.
On the way, they bumped into caretaker Argus Filch and his scrawny, sour-faced cat Mrs. Norris.
Filch tried hard to find something to accuse them of.
But with Sherlock around, it was a wasted effort.
Still, the look in Filch's eyes as they passed was full of warning.
"Don't let me catch you doing anything wrong."
That's what his glare said.
Sherlock, however, was more focused on Mrs. Norris as she slinked after Filch.
When it came to exploring Hogwarts, Peeves and Filch were unavoidable obstacles.
And from Filch's attitude, it was clear he really cared about that cat.
Looking at her bony frame and dull grey fur, Sherlock had a bold new idea.
-----
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