Methods Beyond Magic

Lunch By the Lake

    Sherlock walked slowly up to his classroom, he had a little bit of a lead on the students, but some of the go getters might already be waiting there. Nevertheless, Sherlock still took his time, taking in the scenery and the beauty of the castle, the switching staircases, the moving portraits, the suits of armor that clanked around and turned their heads to watch you pass, all of those little details were things Sherlock hadn't thought much about since he left. Half of Sherlock was kind of hoping that he might cross paths with a certain caretaker, maybe say hello and good morning and get that out of the way. The other half, however, wanted to stay as far away as he could from John, as if that man would somehow taint Sherlock's good nature. He had this sort of charm to him, the charm you would find in a child, someone who is so clueless and frankly annoying, but you also have a strange urge to spend time with them, to almost cherish them, before they grow old. But John had already grown, and still he got excited about the littlest things and his memories floated in and out of his brain like ocean waves. How could someone that claimed to be a Hufflepuff not know anything about the school? How could someone that went to another wizarding school not know that unicorns and mermaids existed? And why did he refuse to use magic, why did he carry everything around and find muggle remedies to magical problems? John was just a puzzle, and one day, Sherlock was determined to fit all of his pieces together and see the whole picture. His curiousness, however, was not at all shared by Victor, quite the opposite actually. Even though Victor insisted that John was a good guy, every time Sherlock so much as mentioned his name, Victor looked like someone had set off a Dungbomb too close to his face. And every time Sherlock mentioned Victor around John, the caretaker got all stiff and tall, as if he was trying to pull himself to his proper height to show dominance or something. Where those two unconsciously fighting over how Sherlock spent his free time? Did they both want to be Sherlock's only friend, someone he exclusively hung out with? It was all rather silly to think of that, there seemed to be no possible explanation to why those two were so territorial over him, someone could have more than one friend, it wasn't illegal. So Sherlock walked down to his classroom, where there were a couple of students, third years, by the looks of them, mingling around. Sherlock smiled at them, and they smiled back expectantly, as if they had heard a lot of good things about his class. This should be the last day of awkward introductions, once the next cycle of houses funnels through this door, Sherlock should recognize every student in the building, which was an odd thought. As a student, Sherlock could barely name the kids in his year, much less every single face from every house of every age. Then again, Sherlock wasn't embarrassed by his unknowingness, quite the opposite actually. He was sort of proud, in his own way, to have kept his head out of all of that stupid sixth year drama, the 'pain' of leaving all of his 'friends' behind. The only thing he missed about Hogwarts was the school itself, and that was the one thing he had gained. The class went slow, by now Sherlock was kind of sick of going over the same kinds of dragons, the same disasters, the same information as all of those other classes beforehand. But still, the kids seemed to find it fascinating, their eyes wide with excitement and their hands always wagging in the air to input their opinions. Next it was some sad looking seventh years, who all thankfully lightened up by the end of class. Sherlock was sort of upset not to see Victor sitting among them. It had been a little bit encouraging to see a familiar face in his audience, but in a couple of days, every face should be familiar. By the end of the period Sherlock waved them out, sitting rather awkwardly on the edge of his desk and sorting through a couple of notes. He was surprised, however, to hear the door open. Sherlock set down his quill to see Victor standing in the doorway, closing it softly behind him to block out the noise from the stampede of students going down the hall.
"Weren't we supposed to meet in the Entrance Hall?" Sherlock asked, not really disappointed.
"I decided just to come up; I didn't know how long you'd be, sorry." Victor admitted.
"That's quite alright; I was just straightening things up around here." Sherlock shrugged, screwing on the cap of an ink bottle to make it look like he was actually cleaning.
"What class did you just have?" Victor asked, wandering among the desks and brushing his fingertips lightly against the wood.
"Oh, seventh years, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws I think." Sherlock shrugged.
"Good class?" Victor asked.
"More or less. They weren't overly enthusiastic, but they warmed up." Sherlock admitted.
"I had Herbology, as you can see from the dirt on my robes." Victor admitted with a laugh. Sherlock looked at Victor's robes, but they didn't seem to have a speck on them. But still, he nodded as if that were some great tragedy, shoving his book into his drawer and walking around the table.
"I'm ready when you are." Sherlock decided. Victor nodded, walking back down the rows of desks and following Sherlock out the door. The hallway was almost empty, some stragglers were mingling through, still shoving their books in their bags.
"I feel like the school is totally different when a hallway is empty. When classes let out, it's a cattle shoot, everyone rushing around, tripping over each other, only the best survive. When it's empty, however, you can appreciate the architecture, the magic that these old stone walls radiate; I like it a lot better when it's empty." Victor admitted.
"I love the school anyway it presents itself to me. It could be filled with people, trolls, dungbombs, I wouldn't really matter. I just love it." Sherlock sighed.
"Is that why you came back?" Victor asked.
"Yes, well, I never really thought of myself as a teacher, but there seemed to be a hole in my soul, something only walking these halls could fill." Sherlock admitted.
"Poetic." Victor decided with a laugh as they descended the staircase.
"Well, not as poetic as your description of the empty halls was." Sherlock defended.
"Felt the need to one up me?" Victor laughed.
"Precisely. Did it work?" Sherlock asked.
"Depends who's perspective you look at it from I suppose." Victor shrugged.
"I'll take that as a maybe." Sherlock decided with a laugh.
"Fair enough." Victor agreed. Once again they stole some food from the Slytherin table, sandwiches, drinks, and some chips to take outside. Sherlock thought that, even though he's only been here a couple of days, he's eaten most of his food outside, with the walk with John, and dinner with Victor, and his lunch the first day, it was like the sunlight was calling to him. But it was better to get all of this waltzing around the grounds out of the way, before the snow came. It was a sunny day, the darkness of the morning had long since faded away and now the sun was shining. It was a little bit chilly, but that was alright.
"Why don't we go sit under a tree?" Victor offered.
"Sounds like a plan." Sherlock agreed. He followed Victor obediently over to one of the trees peppered along the grounds, picking a rather leafy one to settle under with a good view of the lake and the castle.
"Is this a good spot?" Victor asked, passing a sandwich to Sherlock, who thanked him.
"Perfect." Sherlock assured. Victor nodded in agreement, peeling the napkin from the roll and staring to eat, looking out over the lake.
"It's hard to think that I won't be coming back here next year." Victor admitted.
"You could always do what I did, come back and teach." Sherlock offered.
"There won't be any positions open." Victor shrugged.
"Well, no one seems to be able to hold the defense against the dark arts job very long, so I'm sure by next year you might be able to get a spot." Sherlock assured.
"You're leaving next year?" Victor asked, sounding disappointed.
"I don't want to, but this post doesn't have a very good track record. They seem to go in and out with teachers like a slot machine." Sherlock admitted.
"Well, maybe you'll be the first to stay." Victor decided.
"I hope so." Sherlock sighed. "What are you thinking of doing after school?"
"I have no idea. Probably something in the Ministry, I don't see what else someone can do with their life except go into the Ministry. An auror would be cool, but everyone wants to be an auror, and no one gets such perfect grades." Victor shrugged.
"I have a feeling you get perfect grades." Sherlock guessed.
"Well, I do, but do you see me as an auror?" Victor laughed.
"I see you however you want me to see you. You seem like the type to be able to take something and run with it, make a life out of it." Sherlock guessed. Victor smiled softly into the ground, as if that had somehow flattered him.
"I always wanted to be a chaser on a professional quidditch team, but that seems as impossible as an auror." Victor admitted.
"I haven't seen you play yet, but from what you make yourself out to be, you're pretty good." Sherlock insisted.
"Are you saying I have a big ego?" Victor laughed.
"No, no, of course not, I simply meant that you told me that you're a good quidditch player, and I believe you." Sherlock assured rather desperately, not wanting to insult Victor in anyway. But Victor just laughed, as if Sherlock's worries amused him.
"I know what you meant." He assured.
"I always felt like I was meant for something greater than the wizarding world, not teaching, not a Ministry official, not even an auror, I just, didn't feel in place in this world." Sherlock admitted.
"You wanted a muggle job?" Victor asked with a laugh.
"No, god no, if wizard jobs seemed boring to me, imagine stapling papers all day." Sherlock laughed.
"Fair enough. Are you happy with teaching though?" Victor asked.
"I love it so far, but then again, I haven't had any tests to grade or exams to help prepare for." Sherlock admitted.
"Can't be all that bad. Besides, you've got friends here." Victor shrugged.
"John said it's not right to have a student as a friend." Sherlock admitted. Victor smiled, as if that had somewhat shocked him.
"Is that what we are then? Friends?" he asked expectantly.
"Well, I'm not so sure I'd accept lunch under a tree from an enemy." Sherlock insisted.
"So we're not enemies?" Victor asked.
"We're friends. At least, I think we are." Sherlock admitted. Victor nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath as if trying to absorb every aspect of this moment.
"Yes, I think we are friends." He agreed. "Why does John say it's wrong?"
"He thinks that even though there's not much of an age difference, that there's a difference in roles. He thinks that you're going to take advantage of me." Sherlock admitted, looking rather awkwardly at his sandwich. "You're not, going to, I mean, that's not why you talk to me right?" he asked when Victor was silent.
"Of course not! When we met on the train, I was under the impression that you were a student, it was never my intention to use our friendship to bend my grades or get out of some homework." Victor assured. Sherlock sighed in relief, a weight that he hadn't known he was carrying around dropping from his shoulders.
"That's good, that makes me feel better. John just said that if it had been a girl that I was handing out with, that the situation would be much different." Sherlock admitted.
"This John guy seems to be throwing a lot of rubbish around. There's no difference in gender, you have good judgment, you seem like someone who's not going to fall for some batted eyelashes and giggles." Victor insisted.
"Never. I have my priorities straight." Sherlock insisted.
"Just, don't listen to John alright? I don't see what he might have against me, but I hope that he knows that I would never do anything to hurt you, or to take advantage of you in anyway. Just because you happen to be a professor doesn't mean you're not human." Victor assured.
"John's just looking out for me, in his own way." Sherlock admitted.
"Ya, you mentioned you took a walk with him last night?" Victor asked, trying to keep the conversation light, but Sherlock could hear the tightness in his voice, as if the very idea of Sherlock strolling down the moonlight lake with someone other than himself was nauseating.
"Yes, he said that I was the only one that seemed worth talking to, that I was probably going to be the only one that understood him." Sherlock admitted.
"Why does he think that?" Victor asked.
"Because I'm the only one above seventeen and under fifty." Sherlock pointed out.
"I'm eighteen." Victor insisted.
"I thought the years kind of go with the ages, first years are eleven, second are twelve, and so on?" Sherlock asked.
"I was sent to school late, they weren't sure if I was ready to go yet because I was struggling a little bit in muggle school." Victor admitted.
"Well, muggle school is hard, it's more memory than talent. I can't see how the muggles possibly think their children are going to benefit from finding the angles in triangles and memorizing all of the Prime Ministers." Sherlock sighed.
"Says someone who teaches about dragons." Victor laughed.
"But it's not strictly dragon class, and you should always know what to do when approached by one." Sherlock insisted.
"And will you need to know what type of dragon you're running from? Are you going to need to learn about the dragon catastrophes?" Victor laughed.
"How do you know what I teach the younger kids?" Sherlock asked.
"Word travels fast around here, and lately you've been quite the topic of conversation." Victor admitted.
"What are people saying about me?" Sherlock asked.
"They're saying that you're an excellent teacher, that your classes are fun yet informative, and that you seem to be the best defense against the dark arts professor we've had in a while." Victor admitted. Sherlock smiled, flattered, and looked towards the castle, which was starting to come back to life.
"Is that really what they said, or are you making it up to make me happy?" Sherlock asked.
"A little bit of both I suppose." Victor admitted.
"Well, it worked, I am very flattered, but we must be going, I can't be late to my own class again." Sherlock decided, getting stiffly to his feet and collecting their discarded napkins and cups. Victor followed suit, standing up and following Sherlock up the hill.
"I guess I'll see you around then?" he asked when they reached the entrance hall.
"Considering we're trapped in the same castle, we're bond to run into each other." Sherlock assured.
"Well, hopefully some of those run ins in the future are planned." Victor decided.
"They just might be." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"Alright then, I'll see you later." Victor decided.
"See you." Sherlock nodded, and with that he started the hike up the stairs to his classroom, a strange little skip in his step that hadn't been there in the morning.