Potterlock

Page 394

Sherlock Holmes was present for his first class in weeks. His long term substitute, professor Rubeus Hagrid, looked up from the lesson plan in surprise, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, sir! I didn't realize you'd be comin' back today!"

"Yes, well, I'm back now," Sherlock stood there impatiently and stared down the man behind his desk. Hagrid gazed back, unable to mind read. Sherlock sighed, raised his eyebrows and gestured to his desk.

"Oh, right," Hagrid said gruffly, "Sorry, sir." He rose, pushing the desk forward as he did so and looked down at the now-dwarfed Londoner. "I'll just be leaving now." He left and Sherlock sighed, the room had been tidied since he's left, which was infuriating. Sherlock was not neat, but he usually knew where his things were. Now, they were tucked in random places in an attempt at making the place appear "organized". Sherlock grumbled to himself about strangers and them messing up his stuff as he began putting things back where they really belonged.

There was a shuffling in the classroom and Sherlock peered out the door, who was there? The classroom was full of first years, standing around talking to each other. None of them expected Sherlock Holmes to be their teacher; he hadn't been there in weeks. They didn't know where Hagrid was, but they didn't mind; a free period wouldn't be a hardship for them.

In his office, Sherlock sighed, he had to do this. At least the person he needed was out there right now. He opened the door and strutted out onto the balcony, down the stairs and to the front of the class. "Good morning," he said. There was no response; the formerly chatty students were silent without even the shuffling of papers to break the silence. "Do take your seats; I don't have all day," Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to the chalkboard. He used his wand to write his name, not wanting to get white chalk dust on his tight purple dress shirt. Then he wrote 'Golems page 394'.

"I will need an essay from each of you on these creatures by the end of the class. Make sure they are one length of parchment long. And do not plagiarize, I will be watching." With that he sat at the desk next to the chalkboard, steepled his fingers under his chin and stared at the startled first years with great intensity. The red head on the left was from in underprivileged family in the country. The one with blue eyes in the corner and slick, blonde hair was a Malfoy descendant; he was a Slytherin. The odd one in the corner with mismatched, but intelligent eyes was clearly Nymphadora Tonks's relative, Ravenclaw. The young female in the center with mousy brown hair, tears dripping onto her parchment, ink staining the side of her left hand and a furiously moving quill was Hermione's daughter. She cried for her 'lost' parents, but didn't let it distract her from her coursework; her mother would be proud. She was left handed and had her father's eyes and an athletic build. She probably played Quidditch while keeping perfect grades. She had the same nose as the red head in front, but was clearly a better student; both of them were Gryffindors. The Malfoy child's eyes scanned the paper next to his and Sherlock quickly pulled out his wand. The next thing the student knew, his parchment was in ashes. The boy stared at it and then looked up at Sherlock, his mouth open in a round 'O'. "Detention, Mr. Malfoy, and twenty-one points from Slytherin." The Hufflepuff that sat next to him had wide eyes, fearing her own punishment, but she wasn't really guilty and Sherlock wasn't in the mood to deal with multiple students at detention. The whole class was staring at him. He checked his watch, "You still have thirty minutes, I don't know why you all are wasting time. I could collect it now if you would like." The students' eyes snapped back to their papers and the room was filled with the sounds of pages turning and quills scratching along parchment.

Sherlock scanned the rest of the children. There was a mix of all four houses in the class. Some of them, such as Hermione's daughter and Tonks's relative were clearly going to excel. The Malfoy child however...

But there was someone he had missed. Sherlock pulled his knees up to his chest and receded into his Mind Palace to look at the class roster. Malfoy, Weasley, Weasley, Radcliffe, Thomas, Longbottom, Rowling... Potter. Where was he? Albus Severus Potter was the one Sherlock needed, and he needed to see him after class but he couldn't be obvious about it. He would have to be patient, and Sherlock Holmes didn't like being patient.

The class ended and the students hurriedly packed their things. They scuttled up to Sherlock, threw their essays on the desk, and ran away as if they were afraid that he would turn them into toadstools if they stayed too long. All of them left, except one.

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Headmistress McGonagall sat across from her former student drinking her tea and watching him closely. Seamus Finnigan was not acting as he used to. He wasn't fidgety or goofy and he hadn't blown anything up,  yet. What puzzled her more than his behavior was his purpose for visiting: he was seeking a teaching position at Hogwarts. The year was already underway and although the the sharp dressed man before her was much calmer and more collected than he used to be and seemed put together enough to actually be a teacher, she wasn't sure she had a position for him. She almost felt bad for Seamus, she had liked him as a student, even with his explosive tendencies.

Headmistress McGonagall rose from her chair with a flourish of emerald green robes, "Well, Mr. Finnigan, I would like  to give you a job, but we don't currently have any openings right now. I'm sorry."

"Are you absolutely certain? Not even a grounds keeping position... Or a Quidditch referee? Potions, perhaps?"

"We have a potions teacher, and a Quidditch referee," she replied tersely.

"Fire them," Seamus said.

"I beg your pardon?" McGonagall turned around to find Seamus standing and leaning across the desk.

"Fire them," he repeated with more emphasis, glaring at the woman across from his. Headmistress McGonagall was startled by his tone; Seamus Finnigan never spoke to her in such a way.

"Mr. Finnigan, you are out of line. Please leave," she said.

"No," he snarled, pulling out his wand. Minerva McGonagall reached for hers, but was too slow. "Imperio," he muttered. McGonagall's eyes went wide and she struggled to fight off the curse, but she wasn't as young as she used to be. She gasped when she couldn't fight it anymore and Seamus smiled cruelly, "Fire them."

Professor McGonagall immediately retrieved some parchment, an ink well, and a quill and began to write letters to both the Potions professor and the Quidditch referee. They were going to be replaced by Seamus Finnigan.

Author's Note

Hello, Witches, Wizards, and Muggles! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter; I love hearing from y'all! I hope to have a new chapter up within the next week or two, so keep an eye out for my owl. She's a mid-sized tawny owl named Athena, in case you were wondering. Watch out, she sometimes bites. ;-)