Hermione frowned, sensing that things weren't quite so simple.
"She's a sixth-year student and a Slytherin prefect—why would she need to seek psychological counseling from you?"
"My dear Hermione, don't think too highly of the position of prefect. In fact, she's nothing more than a fifteen-year-old girl."
"Hmph, well she's still three years older than you!"
Hermione deliberately emphasized the words "three" and "years," then asked curiously, "So what exactly did she come to you for?"
"Those involved are often confused, while bystanders see clearly," Sherlock said thoughtfully. "Miss Gemma is a decent person and a true Slytherin. Unfortunately, she values Slytherin's honor too much, taking on responsibilities that shouldn't be hers to bear."
Hearing Sherlock's assessment of Gemma, Hermione's frown deepened.
"Wait a moment—what did you just call her? Gemma?"
"Yes, Hermione. Once again, you've spotted the blind spot."
"This time it wasn't me who spotted it!" Hermione looked somewhat dejected. "I didn't even notice just now—it was Ron who reminded me."
"Ron? I didn't expect his powers of observation to have improved," Sherlock pondered aloud, then continued under Hermione's surprised gaze. "As for the reason, it was actually her request. She brought it up during the summer holidays."
"A request? The summer holidays?"
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as something called a sense of crisis began to creep into her heart. She took a deep breath and asked in what she hoped sounded like a casual tone.
"So—Sherlock, when did your relationship become so close? You were already in contact during the summer?"
"Indeed, it was during the summer holidays."
Sherlock didn't hide anything and directly recounted his frequent correspondence with Gemma during the summer vacation. He even mentioned their private meeting on the very first night after arriving at school.
Finally, under Hermione's astonished gaze, he added. "Come to think of it, she hasn't contacted me proactively since then, which I find rather unexpected."
Silence.
A long silence.
Sherlock said nothing, and neither did Hermione.
Sherlock continued elegantly eating his breakfast while Hermione watched him with a complex expression that was difficult to describe in words.
Finally, Hermione couldn't help but ask. "So what did Miss Farley want with you today?"
Her voice sounded somewhat downcast. 'So, while I was unaware, so many things had already happened between you two?'
"Quidditch."
Sherlock replied concisely. "Malfoy's father has purchased the latest Nimbus 2001 racing brooms for every member of the Slytherin Quidditch team."
"Nimbus 2001? One for each person? It seems Malfoy's father really spared no expense this time."
Hermione remembered the aggressive sales pitch they'd encountered together in Diagon Alley. She looked at Sherlock in confusion. "But what does this have to do with Farley coming to see you? She couldn't possibly be asking you to persuade our Quidditch team to forfeit, could she?"
"Of course not, my friend. How could you think such a thing?" Sherlock looked at Hermione with a puzzled expression.
"Didn't you say so yourself? That Gemma Farley is a true Slytherin," Hermione said with a somewhat sarcastic tone. "Aren't true Slytherins good at exactly this—conquering the enemy without fighting?"
"I believe I already mentioned that she came to me for psychological counseling," Sherlock said calmly, not noticing anything different about Hermione's tone. "She believes that Malfoy and his father's actions are detrimental to Slytherin's development, because Malfoy already possesses the qualities to become a competent Seeker."
Speaking rapidly, Sherlock summarized their conversation and concluded. "Actually, her concerns are unnecessary. The Slytherin Quidditch team is already the strongest, and with the help of the Nimbus 2001s, they're like tigers with wings. However, the rules of Quidditch determine that the importance of the Seeker far exceeds that of other players.
Unfortunately, Gryffindor happens to have the best Seeker in the entire school—the youngest Seeker in a century isn't called that for nothing. Even seven Nimbus 2001s wouldn't be enough to bridge the skill gap between Malfoy and Harry."
Sherlock paused here.
"So, my final advice was that Miss Gemma should abandon her fantasies and face reality."
"What reality?"
"Forget about the championship. For Slytherin, maintaining second place in Quidditch Cup points would be victory."
"Pfft~"
At this point, Hermione couldn't help but burst out laughing. In that moment, all her previous negative emotions vanished with her laughter.
"Sherlock, you really are—"
She looked at Sherlock, unable to find the right words to describe him.
So, Sherlock had never changed from beginning to end. He was still that great detective who could infuriate people with his words. It was just that when the person being infuriated wasn't herself, it actually felt rather nice.
Hermione pursed her lips. "Well—shall we go to the library?"
Sherlock didn't refuse.
The two went to the library just as they had last year.
When it was almost time for lunch, Hermione suddenly made a request that Sherlock hadn't expected.
"Continue teaching me to fly this year, will you?"
Although Hermione was trying to speak in a matter-of-fact tone, her face was still slightly red. "Flying lessons have been canceled this year, but I don't want to be like I was when we returned from Godric's Hollow last time."
"No problem."
Sherlock said without looking up. "For you, the best way to conquer fear is to face it. Once you get used to staying at high altitude, you'll definitely be able to control your acrophobia."
Hearing Sherlock's words, a clear smile appeared on Hermione's lips.
However, before they went to the Quidditch pitch that afternoon to practice flying, they first encountered a dejected Harry and Ron, who was trying to comfort him.
"What happened?"
Seeing the two in this state, Hermione asked in surprise.
"Harry got points deducted again and has detention," Ron answered helplessly as Harry kept his head down. "You absolutely couldn't guess what happened at the Quidditch pitch—"
At this point, he couldn't help but look toward Sherlock. Based on past experience, Sherlock would often directly provide the correct answer at times like this.
Sherlock didn't disappoint Ron.
When Ron's gaze turned to him, Sherlock also looked away from Harry and said in a cheerful tone. "Harry arrived at the Quidditch pitch early, but today he wasn't able to train normally. Not long ago, he got into a physical fight with someone, which is the reason for the point deduction and detention you just mentioned. However, purely regarding the point deduction and detention, Harry shouldn't be as resistant as he is now. So—let me guess, this detention isn't with Hagrid. Could it be Filch? Are you going to polish trophies for him?"
"No, worse than that—Professor Lockhart," Harry said with a bitter expression. "Professor McGonagall just told me that Professor Lockhart specifically requested my help."
Hearing this, Sherlock immediately became interested.
"Professor Lockhart—what kind of help does he want from you?"
"Wait, hold on a moment!" Ron looked at Sherlock in amazement. "How did you know that Harry didn't train today and that the reason he got points deducted was for fighting?"
"Ron, are you sure you want me to explain these visually obvious facts?"
The corner of Sherlock's mouth lifted slightly, indicating he was in a pleasant mood.
"Yes! Even if it makes you think I'm an idiot!"
Ron said firmly.
"Very well, since you ask so sincerely—"
Sherlock suddenly accelerated his speech. "Based on Harry's past training experience, normal training would leave semi-circular pressure marks from broomstick handles on the inside of his protective cloak, but there's nothing there now. Besides, Harry's team uniform shows no sweat stains that should be there from training, and his protective cloak shows no wrinkles or dust from being buffeted and rubbed by wind—all of which proves Harry didn't train today.
As for the fight, that can also be seen from his uniform and cloak. Here, here, and here—these torn places have irregular tears with deformed fabric. In Quidditch, if damage occurred from flying collisions, the traces wouldn't look like this—they'd be more scattered and directionally related to flight forces. But these tear marks are all concentrated around the collar, cuffs, and chest, clearly from being pulled during close combat with someone.
Don't forget, when we just met, you already said Harry had points deducted and detention. So, it's very clear—Harry got into a physical fight with someone at the Quidditch pitch today."
"Fine—you win, I am an idiot," Ron admitted somewhat helplessly after hearing Sherlock's analysis. "It's always like this. When it comes from your mouth, it seems so obvious, but before you say it, I can't see any of it."
"Ron, don't look at Sherlock like that," Hermione couldn't help but explain. "You might think Sherlock is showing off, but for him, saying these things is indeed as simple as us stating the color of Harry's team uniform."
Ron shook his head with a bitter smile, saying nothing.
Sherlock then turned back to Harry. "Well then, my dear Harry, can you tell me now why Professor Lockhart wants you?"
"Of course—Professor McGonagall said he specifically requested me to help him reply to his fan mail."
"What?"
Upon hearing this, Hermione was immediately stunned, her eyes instantly turning star-shaped. "Oh my—such a wonderful opportunity? I really want to trade places with you!"
"Give it up, Hermione. You're not the wizarding world's savior—Lockhart doesn't fancy you."
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