Chương 127: Chapter 127: Book a Room

As the Charms class drew to a close, Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained behind. They positioned themselves next to the window, watching the mesmerizingly clear sunset. However, consumed by their thoughts, they were unable to fully appreciate the beauty of the twilight.

Harry broke the silence that had descended on the trio, "So that means Professor Forester will never know he's actually a jinx, right?"

Hermione shook her head thoughtfully and replied, "Whenever doubts are voiced or he is reminded of his jinx, if he tests it, events happen just as he predicted. He'll never truly understand the nature of his curse."

Ron, typically harboring a more pessimistic attitude, added, "Well hang on, all we really know is that when we bring it up the curse stops working. We don't know what happens if Professor Forester starts to seriously question whether he is cursed or not."

As they fell into silence once again, they continued to look at the brilliant sunset, silently mourning the fact that Professor Forester might never uncover the truth about his power, or perhaps equally mourning the changes it may bring to their future interactions with him.

The silence was shattered when Ron suggested, "Could we somehow exploit the fact that he transforms into a sort of wish-granter when reminded of his curse? Can't we turn him into a genie and just have him grant us whatever we wish for?" This notion intrigued all of them, even Harry.

Today's lesson, buoyed by Seamus' exceptional performance, imbued them with belief that anything could be possible with their professor. However, Hermione provided a realistic perspective. "You're being fanciful. Consider the circumstances that trigger his jinx. His thoughts and words must align to enact the jinx. Likewise, to grant a wish, he would need to truly believe in what he is saying. Would Professor Forester genuinely want to grant your wishes?"

Dismay settled on Ron and Harry. Indeed, it was unlikely that Professor Forester would accept the idea of the Weasley family suddenly becoming wealthy, or that Harry's parents could be resurrected. Not to mention the astronomical odds they would face, dwarfed only by the sheer improbability of Seamus' exemplary magic lesson today. In particular, Harry's wish seemed especially out of reach.

Returning to their dorms with these tangled thoughts stirring within them, the information they'd gleaned from their exploration into the nature of Sherlock's power hadn't radically affected their lives, yet it felt like it had subtly shifted their perspectives.

Meanwhile, Professor Sherlock Forester, after completing his grading duties for the term, arose from his chair and eased the stiffness from his neck. As he looked out the window into the dusky twilight, his thoughts drifted to Harry and his friends, who had approached him earlier in the day with their testing of his jinx. Staring out at the clear dusk sky, he chuckled to himself, "As I thought, the notion of me being a jinx is preposterous."

....

One week before Halloween, the anticipation for the upcoming weekend's first Hogsmeade trip of the term was palpable. Professor McGonagall diligently collected permission forms from the year three students. Only those bearing the approval and signatures of their parents were allowed to venture for a day trip to Hogsmeade.

The forms belonging to Ron and Hermione had been duly signed, unlike Harry's which remained unsigned. Considering his experience over the summer, obtaining Aunt Petunia's signature seemed a nigh-impossible task. Even Professor McGonagall, despite Harry and Ron's fervent appeals, remained steadfast in enforcing the rules. Moreover, the mysterious absence of Sirius Black fostered concerns about Harry's safety.

Ron attempted to put Harry's situation into perspective, "Imagine if you'd asked Professor Forester about your chances of visiting Hogsmeade this weekend without parental permission."

Impersonating the professor, he continued, "Oh, Harry. I fear the prognosis is dire. Professor McGonagall is unlikely to bend the school's rules in anyone's favor."

"But going by the professor's curse, there must be a way for you to accompany us to Hogsmeade. It could be a spell, or maybe Professor McGonagall might unexpectedly bend the rules for you!" Harry, however, remained unconvinced by Ron's plan.

"Stop dreaming. We've already conducted too many experiments on the professor," Harry said, shaking his head slightly. "He'd dismiss me before I even finished my question."

Hermione chimed with a frown, "But we need to figure out a solution either way. You can't be left alone at school, can you?"

Surprisingly, Hermione countered herself immediately afterwards, "Well actually.. perhaps, it might be better if you stay at Hogwarts. You would be a lot safer here."

Ron retorted, indignant at her insensitivity, "During the Hogsmeade trip, the town is crowded with witches and wizards. Unless Black has completely lost it, I don't think he would ever dare to approach Harry." He turned to Hermione, "You never consider others' feelings. Harry wants to go, so as his friends we need to help him."

Harry certainly wanted to join the trip, but he also didn't want to see his friends at odds with each other.

In the end, to the disappointment of all, Harry was left behind in Hogwarts while everyone else enjoyed their trip. As he aimlessly wandered through the school's corridors, he contemplated visiting Sherlock's office, when a robed witch with her face obscured behind a hood breezed past him. Taken aback, Harry caught a glimpse of her retreating figure.

He had seen her before, at the beginning of the term when she mysteriously exited the Great Hall with Sherlock. Just now he realized the room she had exited was within Hogwarts, which indicated that she had been living inside the castle!

Even though the term was almost two months in, Harry had never noticed her in the Great Hall or strolling around the Hogwarts grounds. An inkling of suspicion grew within him that there was more to this mysterious witch than met the eye. Driven by his curiosity, he decided to tail her to discover her intentions.

She descended from the fifth floor to the third, her destination, Harry surmised, was Sherlock's office. Her presence reminded him of Hermione's theory about the mysterious witch when they first noticed her and the possibility that this woman might be the reason that Sherlock needed an assistant this year.

Unbeknownst to Harry, the German witch Hilke knew he had been following her all along, but proceeded to make her way to Sherlock's office regardless.

Sherlock, engrossed in a book about Vanishing Spells, looked up as Hilke entered his office and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "It took you a while to reach out. Did they finally respond to your inquiry?"

True to her terse nature, Hilke replied, "The location of the Goblin's Underground Headquarters."

Sherlock stood up, dropping his book, and reached for his robe that was hanging on a rack by the door. "And you believe it's hidden there?"

"Probably."

Sherlock noticed Harry, who was lurking around the corner of his office and made an educated guess. "He followed you here, didn't he?"

Hilke responded with a slight nod.

Sherlock walked up to Harry and pulled him out of his hiding spot by his collar. "Rather than enjoying your friends' company in Hogsmeade, you thought it would be more fun to listen in on other people's private business?"

Clearly feeling unjustly treated, Harry retorted, "But no one signed my form, Professor McGonagall wouldn't let me go."

Choosing to respond to Harry's defense, Sherlock replied, "So, you decided your second best option was to snoop around my office? Thought my day needed some spice? Once back in Hogwarts, your old habits seem to resurface. Have you forgotten all I taught you in France?"

Sherlock remembered to be gentle and patted Harry lightly on his head, gesturing him to leave. "Why don't you find someone else to play with? Professor Lupin, perhaps? I believe he is contemplating how to bring a Grindylow into his classroom, he could use a hand."

Harry didn't immediately leave. Instead, he shifted his gaze between Hilke and Sherlock. "What are you two planning on doing?"

Sherlock glared back at him, "Sorry? Since when do I report to you? Are you Professor Dumbledore in disguise? Or maybe Minister Fudge?"

Harry left, understanding that he was not to pry into things that were none of his business. Yet, his curiosity was far from satiated. He had no choice but to take Sherlock's advice and seek Professor Lupin.

Once Harry was out of sight, Hilke turned to Sherlock, "He's interesting."

Sherlock simply shrugged, "Of course he's different from other kids, the future of the magical world rests on his shoulders, it would be weird if he was normal."

"Let's go. We need to check out the Goblin Underground Headquarters you mentioned earlier. Hopefully, we'll find-"

Hilke interrupted Sherlock abruptly, "Silence, please."

Sherlock frowned, "Interrupting someone when they're speaking is considered impolite in Britain, don't you know? That was very uncalled for."

Moving past the gates of Hogwarts in silence, they spotted the grim Dementors, still loitering around the school grounds, patiently waiting for Sirius Black, who had yet to be seen since his escape.

In the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, crowds of students were roaming around. Sherlock had already run into three familiar students, showing the scope of the event. They ended up at 'The Hog's Head,' a desolate bar overshadowed by its competition, 'The Three Broomsticks,' located just across the street.

The stray black dog that Sherlock had spotted earlier in Hogsmeade was nowhere to be seen. Evidently, it had moved on to a new location.

Sherlock looked towards Hilke, "Aren't you going to call your colleagues for backup?"

"We're not colleagues and they're busy with their own assignments," she responded.

"Where's the entrance to this underground base then?" Sherlock asked, pointing towards the shabby building in front of them.

"Inside the main hall," Hilke replied, her eyes fixed on the grubby counter behind the dirty window pane of the bar.

Sherlock replied, "This won't be a stroll in the park then," His brow furrowed as he considered their options, "Given the high visibility, we obviously can't carry out our task in broad daylight. We'll have to wait until nighttime, perhaps we should book a room at the bar."