In Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Snape, substituting for Professor Lupin, unexpectedly called on Sherlock to explain the difference between a wolf transford through Animagus and a true werewolf.
Because Sherlock was contemplating why Snape, who usually avoided him, was suddenly acting out of character, he didn't give an imdiate response.
"I didn't expect the Master Detective would stumble on such a simple question?"
However, in just that brief mont, Snape's gaze sharpened.
"It seems I've overestimated you. Is that brain of yours, supposedly full of logic, currently scrabbling through the print on page 394 of your textbook like a sniffer dog?"
Even though they weren't the ones being targeted, Snape's words still caused strong physical discomfort throughout the class.
When he spoke, his voice dragged out at the end with an unpleasantly sticky quality.
Just then, Sherlock finally spoke, his tone steady as clockwork, forming a stark contrast with Snape's earlier speech.
"Werewolves, like centaurs and rpeople, belong to beings of intelligence, classified as ××××× by the British Ministry of Magic.
What Hermione said earlier is precisely the essential difference—an Animagus can actively transform into a wolf, while a werewolf can only passively accept it.
In human form, werewolves are no different from normal humans, and their morals are not affected by their beast nature.
But on the night of the full moon, werewolves are forced to transform into wolves.
At that ti, they completely lose their consciousness as humans, not only forgetting who they are but also not sparing even those closest to them..."
When he reached this point, Sherlock paused.
The curiosity in his gray eyes turned to surprise, then understanding.
He understood now.
In this mont, he realized why Professor Snape had asked him to answer this question.
At the sa ti, Professor Snape did sothing that shocked the entire class once again.
He said crisply. "Correct answer. Ten points to Gryffindor!"
Sherlock smiled.
Although this professor occasionally belittled him, calling his deductive thods tricks to fool children, he actually had quite a bit of confidence in him!
However, he didn't need to make it so obvious.
If it were him, he would simply assign an essay about werewolves.
That way, a student of Hermione's caliber would be enough to notice sothing suspicious.
On the other hand, when Snape announced points to Gryffindor, the entire class erupted in commotion.
Everyone looked at Professor Snape before them with incredulous expressions.
A bizarre thought floated into their minds.
Could this Snape be soone else impersonating him with Polyjuice Potion?
You see, normally in Potions class, Snape would find any excuse to deduct points from Gryffindor.
Harry, Sherlock, and recently Neville were key targets for special attention.
But now...
The old Bat Snake was actually giving points to the little lions?
This was as absurd as the sun rising from the west!
"Quiet."
This was the third ti Snape said this word in class.
He ignored the entire class's surprise and then required everyone to copy notes about werewolves from the book.
As for himself, he paced back and forth between the desks, walking while slowly beginning to educate.
"Werewolf, composed of the Old English word Wer aning 'man' and wolf, is sotis also called Lycanthrope.
The necessary condition for becoming a werewolf is to be bitten by a werewolf in wolf form during the full moon.
When the werewolf's saliva mixes with the victim's blood, infection occurs.
If attacked by a werewolf in human form, the victim may develop so harmless, sowhat wolf-like personality preferences.
For example, they might develop a taste for raw at, but otherwise won't suffer any long-term effects.
However, whether the attacker was in wolf form or not during the attack, wounds bitten or scratched by a werewolf will leave permanent scars..."
As Professor Snape described this, the projector synchronized by switching images of the content he was discussing one by one.
This made pure-blood wizards who had never seen a projector find it very novel.
After Professor Snape finished explaining the knowledge points he considered important, he began checking the howork Professor Lupin had assigned them in the previous lesson.
He expressed great dissatisfaction with everyone's work.
"Explained too simply... also inaccurate. Kappas are more common in Mongolia.
Professor Lupin actually gave these eight points? Ridiculous! For an answer that can't even copy the textbook correctly, I wouldn't give even three points."
In this tornt, the bell finally rang.
Just when everyone thought they could finally escape Snape, he didn't let them leave.
"To punish your ignorance, I require everyone to write an essay.
It must fill two rolls of parchnt, focusing on how to identify and kill werewolves."
Snape's gaze swept around the entire class, lingering on Sherlock for a mont before saying heavily.
"This class needs proper managent—hand it in next lesson."
Hearing Professor Snape's words, the entire class erupted in commotion yet again.
Was he joking?
Write two full rolls of parchnt on a completely unfamiliar topic?
And hand it in next lesson?
You Snake Bat are clearly making things difficult for us little lions!
"But sir, there's a Quidditch match tomorrow..."
Before Harry could finish, Snape suddenly stepped forward half a step, leaning close to Harry's face.
His brow bone suddenly protruded, and sinister black fog rose from his deeply sunken eye sockets.
Seeing a huge hooked nose appear before him, Harry was startled.
"Then I suggest you take extra care of yourself, Mr. Potter," Snape stared at Harry, saying word by word, "because even if you're missing arms or legs, you still have to write your howork."
Faced with such overbearing and rude Snape, everyone was angry but dared not speak.
Only after Snape left and walked out of sight did they begin discussing in a noisy voice.
"I know Snape has always wanted this position, but he's never treated our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers this way."
Even the good-natured Harry felt he couldn't take it this ti. He said to his three friends in confusion, "So why does he have it in for Professor Lupin?"
"Maybe because of that boggart incident? He felt Professor Lupin and Neville made him lose face..." Hermione speculated.
"No, that's not it."
Under the surprised gazes of his three companions, Sherlock shook his head and said slowly.
"Professor Snape's targeting of Professor Lupin has another reason."
Ron quickly asked. "What reason?"
Harry and Hermione also pricked up their ears.
"Sorry, the evidence isn't sufficient yet. We'll need to wait until Professor Lupin returns to confirm."
"What's that supposed to an, all mysterious."
Ron muttered dissatisfiedly, but he knew very well that if Sherlock didn't want to tell, asking a hundred tis wouldn't help.
Hermione said with so worry, "I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon."
"Rather than hoping for that, you might as well hope Black is hiding in Snape's office!"
The shared animosity toward Snape finally got Ron talking to Hermione again. "That way he could finish him off for us!"
Hermione made no comnt on such purely emotional output.
Sherlock said calmly, "I'm afraid Black might not be a match for Professor Snape."
Ron: "..."
'You make such a good point, I'm speechless.'
The next morning, before dawn, Harry was already awake.
At first, he thought he'd been awakened by the fierce howling wind.
But as he felt waves of cold air hitting the back of his neck, he imdiately sat bolt upright.
He saw Peeves, the ghost who loved pranks, floating around him, blowing air at him forcefully.
Harry imdiately said angrily. "What are you doing?"
"Having fun with you, nya nya nya!"
Peeves didn't care about Harry at all, still puffing out his cheeks and blowing hard at Harry.
"Peeves, if you keep this up, I'm going to get the Bloody Baron!"
The Bloody Baron still had so deterrent power over Peeves. His expression changed, and finally he puffed out his cheeks for one massive blow, cackling wildly as he shot out of the room.
Harry fumbled in the darkness for his alarm clock and saw it was only five-thirty.
He imdiately cursed Peeves to death in his heart.
By the faint starlight, he turned to look and found that Sherlock and Neville's beds were indeed empty.
This couldn't help but make him sigh with emotion.
Although it wasn't raining outside, the wind was howling and thunder rumbling—it looked like it would start any mont.
In such terrible weather, Sherlock and Neville could still persist with their morning training. They were truly admirable.
Originally intending to roll over and go back to sleep, but while it had been fine in his dreams, now that he was awake, he couldn't ignore the effects of this weather.
Especially thinking that in a few hours he'd be competing in a storm, his mood beca even worse.
After tossing and turning for half an hour, Harry finally gave up on going back to sleep.
He got up, put on his team robes, picked up his Nimbus 2000, and quietly left the dormitory.
Ron and Dean always slept deeply, so the brief confrontation between Harry and Peeves hadn't woken them.
However, when Harry opened the dormitory door, he found sothing brushing against his leg.
Looking down, Harry's eyes sharpened.
He quickly bent down and scooped up Crookshanks, who was trying to sneak into the dormitory, and took him outside.
"I'm starting to think Ron's opinion of you is right."
Harry looked at Crookshanks suspiciously. "Listen... there are plenty of rats here, stop focusing on Scabbers!"
As he spoke, he pushed Crookshanks toward the spiral staircase with his foot.
Harry entered the common room and walked to the window, unsurprisingly finding that the storm outside the castle had beco even more violent.
He knew very well that the Quidditch match couldn't be canceled because of such terrible weather.
This was the special feature of Quidditch matches, and precisely why Slytherin was unwilling to play them in such weather.
This made Harry sowhat worried.
Normally speaking, Seekers were generally light-frad and agile.
In first year, Wood had said sothing similar when he first saw Harry.
However, Hufflepuff's new captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory, was quite the opposite.
He was tall and built, looking about as solid as Wood.
He was an ordinary-sized strong man.
On this point, both Sherlock and Cho Chang had reminded Harry.
In this kind of stormy weather, Diggory's weight actually beca an advantage because he wasn't as easily blown around by the wind.
Standing by the window for a while, Harry felt a bit cold and moved to the fireplace.
While waiting for dawn, Crookshanks appeared again and again, attempting to sneak up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.
Harry stopped him again and again.
Just as Harry was restraining Crookshanks once more, a familiar voice ca from the doorway.
"ssing with the cat?"
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