Chapter 136: Gift of Gratitude
Chapter 136: Gift of Gratitude
As Lupin had said, after finding Snape and asking him to substitute for him, Snape readily agreed.
Of course, this "readily" was not the kind of readiness that most people would understand.
When Lupin and Sherlock approached Snape and made their request for him to substitute, Snape sneered at them, or more accurately, at Lupin.
"Since you've come to me with such a plea, I'll naturally set aside our past differences and agree."
His tone was clearly sarcastic, but Lupin remained calm and composed.
"Thank you for your magnanimity, Snape. I'll bring you my lesson plans and the preparations for the upcoming classes. You can—"
Snape coldly interrupted him.
"Don't bother with that. Since I'm substituting, I know what to teach the students. I don't need you telling me what to do!"
Lupin didn't mind his attitude and simply shook his head with a wry smile, saying nothing more.
Sherlock, however, glared at Snape with deadpan eyes.
"I only have one sixth-year class this week, and it's a practical session. You just need to supervise and make sure nothing goes wrong. No need for detailed lesson plans. If you're willing to substitute, great; if not, I'll go to Professor Mcgonagall."
Snape clearly didn't like Sherlock's tone, but he grumbled a bit, as if he wanted to say something harsh, yet he held back and only said coldly,
"I'll handle it."
Sherlock looked at Snape suspiciously. He found this behavior very unlike Snape. He had already prepared to ask Professor Mcgonagall for help, but Snape had unexpectedly agreed.
Lupin, however, didn't think much of it. After he and Sherlock left Snape's office, Sherlock looked at him curiously.
"Have you and Snape had some past issues?"
Lupin's face took on a reflective expression, and he forced a smile.
"It's my fault."
"Ah, that's a bit ambiguous, what you just said."
Lupin didn't want to elaborate, and Sherlock didn't press further. After leaving Snape's office, he returned to his own office, where Silke knocked and entered.
"I need to go back to Germany."
Sherlock slumped in his chair, looking melancholic.
"Ah, so now that we've achieved our goal, you're going to cut ties and leave me behind? Not planning to help me anymore and just go back to claim your credit?"
Silke didn't mind Sherlock's gloomy tone; she knew he was joking.
"Besides returning Fidelius, the department has arranged a meeting for me with an old goblin who has lived since the Goblin Rebellion. He might know something about the box around your neck. I'll come back once I have more information."
Sherlock nodded, looking worried.
"Then I can only hope you have a bit of conscience and don't just use me and throw me away."
Before he could finish his gloomy remark, Silke suddenly walked up to him, bent down, and gave him a light hug.
"Thank you."
Sherlock was stunned on the spot. He only felt a soft body touch him briefly before it was gone.
After a long moment, he finally reacted, but by then, Silke had already left.
He continued to slump in his chair, the faint, unique scent of a woman lingering at his nose. He stared blankly at the ceiling, muttering softly to himself,
"A thank you is just a quick hug? What kind of person do you think I am? Humph, at the very least, it should have lasted a few more seconds."
Harry was unusually excited after being "blessed" by Sherlock.
He walked around, constantly staring at the ground, thinking he might find something valuable.
During meals in the Great Hall, he was suspicious of everyone, believing that Black could be caught at any moment, sneaking back into Hogwarts.
However, by the end of the day, he had neither found any money nor caught Black. Moreover, no kind adult had offered to sign his permission slip to leave the school.
The day passed quite ordinarily, just like any other.
This left Harry puzzled when he returned to the common room that evening.
"Maybe Professor Forrest's blessing will take effect later? Actually, it might be better if it does. We have a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff the day after tomorrow. I hope the good luck shows up during the game."
Ron couldn't answer Harry's question and wasn't in the mood to. He was tightly holding Scabbers in his pocket, always on guard against Hermione's eager Crookshanks, who was ready to pounce.
They had argued many times this semester over their pets, but neither side was willing to compromise.
Their latest argument ended in an unpleasant manner in the common room.
The next day, during the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry realized that not only had Sherlock's "blessing" not improved his luck, but it seemed to have worsened.
This Defense Against the Dark Arts class was being taught by Snape because Professor Lupin was unwell.
A class with Snape was not a pleasant experience; in fact, it was downright terrible.
At the beginning of the class, Professor Lupin ignored his previous progress and started directly with the last part of the Third Year curriculum—Werewolves.
The weather had been terrible for days, and since last night, there had been a constant storm, with strong winds battering the windows and making a loud banging sound.
Throughout the entire class, no one spoke except for Hermione and Ron, who were reprimanded for bickering at the start.
Only Snape moved around the classroom, explaining methods to identify and kill Werewolves.
His voice was so fierce, as if he had a personal vendetta against Werewolves.
Finally, the class ended, and the students fled from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as if they were escaping.
"Why did Professor Forrest’s Jinxed Mouth fail again?" Harry asked, puzzled.
Hermione considered things from more angles than the others.
"Professor might be unwell. Remember how he looked yesterday; he wasn’t in good shape. Normally, if Professor Lupin had something come up, he would have asked Professor Forrest to cover the class, not Snape, unless both of them are unavailable."
Hermione’s reasoning made sense, and the three of them discussed it briefly at the stairwell before deciding to visit Sherlock’s office.
They knocked on the door of the third-floor Defense Against the Dark Arts office. After a weak “Come in” from inside, they pushed the door open and walked in.
As soon as they entered, they saw Sherlock lying on a chaise lounge.
He seemed to have transfigured his armchair into a chaise lounge and was holding a steaming cup of black tea, sitting by the window with a blanket over his legs. He was sipping his tea slowly while watching the storm outside.
"Professor, are you feeling unwell?" Harry asked hesitantly.
He could see that Sherlock looked like a sick person.
Sherlock half-closed his eyes, shifting his gaze from the rain to Harry and the others.
"No, I’m not sick, just in a bad mood. But why did you come to ask me specifically?"
Hermione explained.
"Because Professor Lupin is also sick, and Professor Snape covered the class for him. We were wondering why it wasn’t you."
"I know Lupin is sick", Sherlock said, taking a gentle sip of his black tea. "So, how was Snape’s class today?"
This question gave Harry and the others a chance to vent their frustrations.
They took turns describing Snape’s behavior during the class.
After listening to their account, Sherlock was also puzzled.
"He spent the entire class talking about Werewolves?"
"Yes! And Professor", Harry whispered, leaning in close to Sherlock as if he were a troublemaker trying to stir up trouble, "I think Professor Lupin’s illness might be related to Snape. I saw him give Professor Lupin a potion and make him drink it."
Sherlock tapped Harry on the head, sending him to the side.
"Stop spreading rumors. I could deduct ten points from Gryffindor for slandering a professor. If you have nothing better to do, go back to the common room and stay there. Don’t bother me."
Seeing that Sherlock didn’t believe him, Harry had no choice but to say goodbye and leave the office.
After they left, Sherlock continued to stare out the window at the rain, muttering to himself.
"Potion, Werewolves, a contradiction. I’ve been feeling unwell lately, and the moon has been full at night."
"Unlikely, isn’t it?"
Sherlock seemed to be asking and answering his own questions. He shook his head and continued to lie on the chaise lounge.
The rain grew heavier, and a white lightning bolt streaked across the sky, followed by rolling thunder.
A storm was coming.
The next morning, Sherlock woke up early.
The rain was still pouring, having lasted all night and showing no signs of stopping.
He stretched, went to the Great Hall for breakfast, and felt his mood was noticeably better than the past few days. Just as he was about to return to his office, he noticed students and professors heading outside the castle.
Sherlock watched them struggle with their umbrellas and stopped a student to ask.
"What’s happening today?"
"It’s the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Professor Forrest", the tall, handsome boy replied with a smile.
"I hope you’ll support us. I’m the Hufflepuff team captain."
Sherlock recognized him.
"So it’s Diggory. I didn’t realize you were the team captain now."
"I need to go prepare. Goodbye, Professor."
Watching Cedric Diggory walk away, Sherlock shrugged.
"I have nothing better to do, might as well go watch."
(End of Chapter)
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