As Sherlock went to the infirmary to visit John, he was met by a horde of people. Apparently John had become very popular in Gryffindor by his stupid act of bravery of saving the Slytherin girl. News spread fast in hogwarts. So Sherlock kind of stayed at the back, looking around the magical hospital. It looked like a normal one, but pleasanter. It was big and sunlight streamed through many big windows. There was another older girl there, asleep and Prof Sudol was there too, her head bandaged so much that her bright hair was covered. On the table besides her were kept the sticks Peeves hit her with. Nobody was visiting her. Sherlock went to her, asking how was she.
Sudol looked flustered. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, trying to sit up.
Sherlock frowned. In the class, Prof Sudol had spoken in perfect British accent. But now her accent changed, sounding very Eastern European. Sherlock knew because he had a Eastern European neighbour back home who insisted on giving Sherlock her family special treats.
"You aren't British, Prof Sudol?" He asked.
Sudol flushed dark red. "Uh no," her British accent was back. But she didn't elaborate any further. Feeling awkward, Sherlock looked around, at the sticks. They were deep red, a very different wood than Sherlock had ever seen.
Madam Pomfrey, a short stout nurse thankfully came in with a stern face and shooed them all away. But John insisted that Greg and Sherlock should remain with a pleading face and Madam Pomfrey conceded.
His leg looked better. John said it had broken in three pieces but Madam Pomfrey was magical with the mend-a-bone potion, literally. It would heal in two-three hours. But John would have a slight limp for a day or two.
"Ugh I'm going to have a limp now. How will I attract girls?" John moaned. "Girls don't like limping boys."
"Boys do," Sherlock said.
"What?"
"Yeah. Little boys mostly look up to soldiers of the country. They think they're the coolest. And many soldiers have scars or limps of some kind. It's the sign that they survived a battle. You should be proud, John," Sherlock said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Speaking of soldiers, what are you going to be when you're older? I'm going to be an auror," Greg said, pushing his chest out. "It's like wizard police but more elite," he explained for Sherlock's benefit.
"I don't know what to become. My dad wants me to be a doctor like him, but my mom wants me to do a wizarding career of some sort. Some maternal aunt in her family was in the Ministry. She's very proud of it," John said.
"You can become the magical doctor," Sherlock shrugged.
"Oh yes, you can be a healer at St. Mungo's," Greg said. "You're smart, Sherlock."
"Thanks, I didn't know," Sherlock replied and only John laughed. Greg just looked at him in confusion.
...
Despite being in different houses, It wasn't very difficult for them to keep the friendship. They had all the classes together. Plus getting in Gryffindor common room was relatively easy. The Gryffindors were very welcoming and rambunctious.
Since the DADA incident, Sherlock had become a popular figure, much to the distaste of his scholarly housemates. It wasn't as if Sherlock cared much for their opinion. But the cold Ravenclaw hospitality was a strong contrast to warm Gryffindor welcome. So he spent any hour he could spare from his reading and studies with John and Greg. He often helped them in studies. He was quickly becoming proficient in History and Potions. Other subjects except Astronomy and Defense against dark arts, he managed well.
Astronomy he hated. Sherlock couldn't care less whether the sun revolved around earth or Earth revolved around the Sun. He had promptly horrified Prof. Sinistra with his opinions. It was largely useless information he didn't want to clutter his head with. But he could pass by.
Defense against dark arts, he had read the books and understood mostly. But ever since the blow to her head, Prof. Sudol constantly excused herself from the lectures. She hardly finished any. For some reason, the wound to her head from Peeves's sticks was healing very slowly despite Madam Pomfrey's best efforts. Madam Pomfrey had in desperation daringly approached Peeves to ask what exactly the sticks were made of. But he just blew a raspberry at her and vanished.
It was not until the middle of October that something excited happened. It was the first Quidditch game of the year. When the first announcement was made, John turned to explain Sherlock what Quidditch was. But it had been a month and a half since Hogwarts started. Sherlock had learned pretty much everything, including the evil wizard's name (it was Lord Voldemort, if anybody's interested) and Quidditch rules.
Well actually he had thought the game to be silly. But literally every single person in the castle was a fan. His opinion, as it usually is, was very unpopular. So he kept it to himself. Especially in front of John and Greg.
Two weeks before the game, his mom sent him a long letter, renting an owl from the Diagon alley. She had wanted to know everything there was to know. The rented owl flew away as he delivered the letter but Greg said he could borrow his owl. Not that Sherlock had asked. He had half a mind to pretend that the letter had been lost in transit. But it had arrived on their breakfast table. Sherlock wondered how did the bird know who exactly Sherlock was in midst of hundreds of students. It had just dropped the letter in his cereal bowl and flew away.
John shook his head, "For someone who's acing every assignment, how are you so... So..."
"Sceptical? Cynical? Incredulous?" Sherlock provided as he glared at the annoying letter.
"... Disbelieving would work," John said, amused. "They're magically trained. What's so difficult to understand?"
Sherlock took a deep breath, "I am a rational creature. I don't expect-"
"I give up," John raised his hands in surrender. "You write a letter now. We'll go watch Gryffindor practice later."
There was one part in the letter though, that surprised Sherlock. His mum had written,
'- they got. But once we went to Diagon alley to rent this owl, we met so many wonderful people there. There was this Mrs. Kients, whom we met outside that icecream parlour. A wonderful, stately woman. She has a daughter in Slytherin, as she told us. She said she saw us on the Kings Cross Station when she dropped her daughter off for her first year. She noticed my home knitted muffler. Isn't that sweet? She told us how to rent-'
Sherlock knew only one person was in Slytherin and that was Mary Morstan. Then who was this Mrs. Kients?
Sherlock considered Mary using her mom's maternal name, but that was a little improbable. He looked at the Slytherin table besides him where Mary was sitting, having breakfast. She looked more lonely than Sherlock usually did.
Or maybe Mrs. Kients was lying.
It was such a trivial thing. But it was something he could do about. After a month of improbable 'magic-ing', the little soluble inconsistency was a welcome to Sherlock.
Sherlock wrote,
"Dear mother,
I'm good. I'm sorted in Ravenclaw. You'd be surprised to know I have some friends. My scholastic progress is good.
What was Mrs. Kients's daughter's name? Did she write her daughter a letter too? Also you hadn't worn any knitted muffler. It was the end of summer. Send reply to my questions with the owl. Don't take too long, it's borrowed.
I might need an owl to keep further correspondence.
Sherlock."
Sherlock left John at the table and went with Greg to the owlary to Greg's owl.
As they climbed the owlary tower, he saw Prof Sudol there. Sherlock almost took a second to recognise her. She had worn a vibrant emerald green robe and her hair was lose from her hat. Which made her almost attractive, despiter her heavy, non descriptive features.
"Good morning Professor. Fine morning to send a letter," Sherlock commented.
"Yes," she smiled. "Fine indeed. I hope the weather remains the same till the Quidditch match. I'm having a guest over."
"A guest?" Sherlock.
"A dear friend of mine has never seen a Quidditch match. So I asked our headmaster if she could come. Prof. Dumbledore's very kind. In fact," her eyes shone for second before she held herself back. "But never mind you. I'm off," prof Sudol waved at them and climbed down the tower.
"I didn't even recognise her for a moment there," Greg said.
"How can you miss that flame hair?" Sherlock replied. "What do you think she was going to say?"
"Look at my face Sherlock and see if I care," Greg turned his whole body towards him and asked with the most dead face. Sherlock shook his head, laughing and went inside to tie the letter to Greg's owl.
...
It took ten days. For Sherlock's mum to write back and for The Daily Prophet, the most popular wizard newspaper to get a breaking news.
CHILDREN MISSING FROM HOGWARTS
It has come to our notice that several would be students of Hogwarts, notably from pureblood family are missing. They were due leaving for Hogwarts, the school of witchcraft and wizardry. But they never reached.
Headmaster Prof Dumbledore has given statement that the school had received many letters that year that their children will not be attending the school. He had been concerned and had sent back letters to some of the parents, enquiring further. But the school had received no response.
This whole incidence came to light when Mr and Mrs. Kients of Ottery St Catchpole, came forward, saying that their daughter had been missing since the beginning of the school year. And then many other parents came forward with the same story. But exactly how many children are missing? Have they been abducted from the school or before? Is Hogwarts no longer safe?
Some are saying these are hate crimes against the purebloods as the response for all the atrocities done in you-know-who's dark era.
Further enquiries are being taken place, as the authorities have assured.
Sherlock's mum's letter was on the same note, more or less. She had told him how she had found his questions ridiculous at first. But she had gone again to Diagon Alley in London to buy Sherlock an owl when she had asked the Leaky Cauldron innkeeper about Mrs Kients. She hadn't expected him to know her. But apparently, the family of Kients is a pretty known one. He had given her their address. On a whim, Mrs. Holmes wrote her a letter. She had also started the subscription of Daily Prophet.
The first mention of missing Hyala Kients came a day later in the wizard news and on the same evening did come the letter from Mrs. Kients, thanking her.
Sherlock's mum was entirely clueless about what was going on.
But apparently, her letter about their daughter had broken some kind of magical charm that was put on the family and suddenly they had realised that they hadn't known where their daughter was exactly.
And from that, the entire matter had come into light.
Sherlock didn't know what to make of it. His mother sounded proud for him from the letter. Should he be happy too? He decided to think upon that later. But right now, he had been called to the headmaster's office.