HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES Chapter 61: 0061 The Rumor

There was a rumor in the wizarding world.

Ever since Professor Dumbledore had refused the Dark Lord's request to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, the position had been cursed.

Though unconfird, almost all wizards accepted this explanation.

The reason was simple: since that incident, every professor who took the position would leave after a year for various reasons.

Because of this, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had to recruit a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor every year.

Ten years ago, although Voldemort had vanished thanks to the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, the curse he left behind seed to remain unbroken.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship still maintained its annual accident rate.

The reasons for the professors' departures were varied and colorful: elderly parents or young children needing care, wives divorcing and taking half their assets, feeling inadequate for the position, sudden accidents causing poor health...

So, when Professor Quirinus Quirrell volunteered to take on the position, Dumbledore and McGonagall agreed without hesitation.

Quirinus Quirrell, a Ravenclaw graduate, had been famous for his exceptional talent during his student years. Though he had previously been teaching Muggle Studies, his theoretical knowledge was extrely solid.

After being confird as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirrell was not content with re theory—he wanted first-hand practical experience.

Before the new term began, he took ti to accumulate practical experience in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

His approach was supported and understood by the other professors.

For Defense Against the Dark Arts, practical experience was indeed important.

What no one expected was that when Quirrell traveled to the Dark Forest, he ran into trouble.

Though he later successfully escaped and returned to school, he seed like a completely different person from then on.

Everyone believed he had been scared witless by vampires and hags.

Not only did his speech beco stuttering, but he also began to fear everything, including his own students. His cowardice and helplessness were fully exposed.

Yet it was precisely this timid and cowardly man who was now staring intently at Harry with complete focus.

His gaze carried a decisiveness and cruelty completely inconsistent with his usual persona.

The corners of his mouth even curved slightly upward, bearing so resemblance to Sherlock's mocking expression when ntioning Scotland Yard.

"Just Snape..."

If he could just hold on for a few more seconds, he would be able to knock this little boy off his broomstick.

No matter how many counter-curses Snape recited, it would be useless.

This was his confidence as a Ravenclaw, and... his reliance on that person as his backing.

His usual disguise was too perfect, and with everyone's attention focused on the match, no one noticed Quirrell's abnormality.

But precisely for this reason, Quirrell himself failed to notice Hermione nearby.

It wasn't until half a minute later, when a scream rang out, that he began to realize what was happening.

Cursing under his breath, he hurriedly began extinguishing the flas on his body.

At the sa ti, his mind was filled with alarm and suspicion—had he been exposed?

Once Quirrell stopped his concentrated stare, Snape imdiately gained the upper hand.

With his help, Harry quickly regained control of his broom.

Harry kept Sherlock's instructions firmly in mind: once free from danger, he must quickly end the match and absolutely not give Quirrell a second chance.

It could be said that Harry's luck was truly excellent.

Almost the instant he regained control, he spotted his target and dove toward the ground.

Before others could react, he had already landed.

Under the shocked gazes of everyone in the stadium, Harry nimbly leaped down from his broomstick.

He clenched his fist, raised it high above his head, and waved it vigorously.

The entire sequence flowed like water, truly a sight to behold.

As Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, the match ended.

Harry instinctively looked toward the banner section.

Though the distance was too great to see clearly, he believed Sherlock was surely watching him.

Unfortunately, he was mistaken.

Sherlock's gaze was shifting between Snape and Quirrell.

Judging from this confrontation's outco, Snape was no match for Quirrell.

This ant his previous deduction had been confird.

At this mont, Lee Jordan also announced the match result loudly—with Harry catching the Golden Snitch, Gryffindor won 170 to 40.

Though the match had ended, the scene remained chaotic.

The Gryffindor team believed it was Flint's collision that had caused Harry's broom problems.

Slytherin naturally refused to admit it.

Only dark magic could make a broomstick behave like that—Flint didn't have that kind of ability.

Even if Flint had used so underhanded trick, they certainly couldn't admit it.

Watching Gryffindor, whom they had always kept under their heel, suddenly turn the tables with such swagger, they were particularly displeased.

Their words inevitably beca cursing and shoving.

The expressions of both teams gradually beca fierce, their language progressively vile, their actions increasingly violent, until conflict finally erupted.

As the players from both sides began wrestling, the spectators in the stands couldn't sit still either, jumping down to support their respective houses.

"Let's go!"

"Go, go, go, go!"

With Sherlock's call, Ron, Dean, and Seamus all had their faces lit up with excitent as they charged down with him.

Hermione and Neville hesitated for a mont, then followed Sherlock into the field.

Surprisingly, Sherlock didn't participate in the brawl.

At his reminder, Hagrid found Harry imdiately and then led the four of them away.

With the half-giant's massive body, despite the extrely chaotic scene, their path remained unobstructed.

"Sherlock, I thought when you called us down, we were going to beat up those guys! I was already prepared to give Malfoy's nose a good punch."

After reaching Hagrid's hut, Ron took the strong tea Hagrid handed him and grumbled sowhat dissatisfiedly.

"It's Pointless."

Sherlock said calmly, "There were quite a few professors watching the match. The situation would be brought under control quickly."

"Alright, alright..."

Ron was just complaining instinctively. Hearing Sherlock's explanation, he brought up another matter.

"Sherlock, I still think Snape isn't a good person. I saw it clearly—his eyes were fixed on Harry, his mouth kept chanting spells, never stopping."

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

Hagrid was typically thick-headed. Despite being right there in the stands, he was completely unaware of what had happened around him.

Hearing Ron say this, he naturally objected strongly.

"Why would Professor Snape do such a thing? He has absolutely no reason to harm Harry!"

Ron scratched his head: "Maybe because he was Harry's father's romantic rival?"

"rlin's beard!"

Hagrid stared at Harry in amazent, "Harry, which bastard told you this? I'm going to give that gossip-mongering fellow a good beating!"

"No one told about this," Harry said proudly. "It was Sherlock who deduced it."

The facts proved that Sherlock's deduction had once again been validated.

"Oh, you greedy gargoyle!"

Hagrid had long since witnessed Sherlock's abilities, but hearing this news still couldn't help but exclaim in wonder.

He stared at Sherlock for a long while before saying slowly:

"You can see through people's hearts just like Dumbledore, but even so... Professor Snape would never harm Harry."

Sherlock glanced at Ron, "He said that, not ."

Ron: (ー`´ー)

"Also, according to my deduction, Professor Snape was actually trying to protect Harry just now, but unfortunately he was no match for Professor Quirrell."

"Who?"

Hagrid suddenly felt his brain wasn't quite keeping up, "Who did you say?"

"Quirinus Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Sherlock said calmly.

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