Methods Beyond Magic

The Most Beautiful Mortal

"Where do you want to go then?" Victor asked.
"Let's go down by the lake, on the rocks." Sherlock suggested.
"That's nice." Victor agreed.
"My thoughts exactly." Sherlock said with a smile. They walked down the sloping lawn towards the lake, leaving the life of the castle behind them. In the Great Hall it was loud and cramped, but down by the lake it was free, the only recognizable sound was the soft pitter patter of the waves hitting the rocky shore. There were large rocks near the water's edge, boulders big enough for people to sit on. This was where Sherlock would spend some of his time when he was in school; longing on those rocks, far enough away from the kids to actually feel like he was at peace. No one ever came down to the lake unless they needed time to themselves, or alone time with someone else. Sherlock was the only one that came down recreationally.
"I love it down here, it's so peaceful." Victor decided, jumping up onto one of the bigger rocks and scooting over to the edge of it. Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise; he had been under the impression that they would be sitting on different rocks, but then again, this rock seemed big enough to seat both of them comfortably. So Sherlock clambered on as well, not nearly as graceful as Victor had, sitting down heavily and swinging his feet down to the soft, rippling pool of water that was collecting on top of the thick sand.
"Your sandwich." Victor said formally, handing Sherlock a sad looking chicken sandwich with tomatoes falling out of it.
"Why thank you." Sherlock said teasingly, plucking the tomatoes off of the bread and throwing them as far as he could into the lake. Of course, that wasn't far at all, and when the tomatoes disappeared Sherlock was sure it was something rather unimpressive, like a fish or a grindylow.
"So, how are your classes going so far?" Victor asked, watching the ripples in the lake and nibbling unenthusiastically on his sandwich.
"Oh, they're alright, probably a lot duller than yours." Sherlock sighed.
"Well, you're in control of how boring your classes can be, you don't leave that up to Professor Bins." Victor pointed out.
"I suppose that guy will never retire. My great, great grandchildren will be complaining that mean old Professor Bins assigned them a long essay." Sherlock decided.
"That is one minor drawback of having a ghost as a teacher. I wonder if he was that boring when he was alive?" Victor asked.
"I can't say I know. Maybe our great great grandparents knew him when he was alive, honestly, who knows how old that old hag could be?" Sherlock wondered.
"I can see McGonagall going down that path. Dying in the staff room one day and simply walking away from it." Victor shrugged.
"I don't want to think like that." Sherlock admitted.
"Why not? McGonagall's sterner than my grandmother, and my grandmother stuns muggles when they walk too slowly." Victor pointed out.
"You appreciate McGonagall more once you graduate, because she really does care about the students. She's kind of like a mother hen to all of us." Sherlock admitted.
"I think she's a witch." Victor muttered.
"Well, you see, that's a requirement for being a female teacher at Hogwarts." Sherlock pointed out with a laugh. Victor just shook his head with a smile, as if questioning his own stupidity.
"Good thing I've got you around to point out all my flaws." Victor decided.
"What flaws?" Sherlock asked with a laugh, and Victor's smile widened.
"Oh, you'd be surprised." Victor laughed.
"I'm sorry Mr. Quidditch star, top marks, handsome, and polite, what was that?" Sherlock asked.
"I said, you'd be surprised." Victor pointed out. This was the first time that Sherlock had seen him blush. Usually Victor was very good at keeping his emotions in check, but this time, he looked like a flattered teenage girl.
"Honestly, why aren't you Head boy? Where you a prefect?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes, I was." Victor admitted.
"What, someone else got the job?" Sherlock asked in surprise.
"No, actually, I was offered, but I declined. I was too busy with Quidditch to be Head Boy, and now, looking on this year, I'm glad I did." Victor decided.
"How come?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, I didn't have anyone to spend time with last year, and this year I have you." Victor pointed out.
"If you'll believe it, you were my first friend at Hogwarts as well." Sherlock agreed.
"Maybe it's good then, to be the outsiders." Victor decided.
"How come?" Sherlock asked.
"Because even outsiders can be together when they have no one else, when they find each other." Victor shrugged.
"So you're saying that we're friends by default?" Sherlock asked.
"We're friends by fate. Even if we didn't notice each other in our years in school, I think there was a reason that you were in my carriage on the train." Victor decided.
"Funny, John called me and him default friends." Sherlock muttered.
"That's because he doesn't value your friendship as much as I do. I know what it's like to be completely alone, and I suspect you do as well." Victor pointed out.
"Nah, John values our friendship; he just doesn't have anyone else around here. He's friendly with the teachers and all, but you can't have flying lessons with McGonagall, I feel like she'd break a hip." Sherlock guessed.
"He's too scared to befriend the students then?" Victor asked.
"Well, I think he thinks it's a bit weird. I mean I know where he's coming from, but you're two years younger than me, just because we've got a slightly different rank in this school doesn't mean that we're incompatible." Sherlock defended, chucking a rock into the lake and watching it skip along the surface.
"I think he wants you all to himself." Victor decided.
"And I think you want me all to yourself as well." Sherlock pointed out.
"You think I'm possessive?" Victor asked, his smile telling Sherlock that he was guilty as charged.
"Well, I think whatever feud you and John have is just childish. You're both amazing people, and the fact that you two just won't get along is, in my opinion, stubborn." Sherlock pointed out. Victor sighed, looking out to the lake and watching the ripples from Sherlock's rock return to the shore in little waves.
"Yes, well, I guess I found someone that I'm not terribly keen of leaving." Victor decided in a sort of far off voice. Sherlock smiled sympathetically.
"But I'm not leaving, just because I'm friends with John as well doesn't mean that you're old news." Sherlock assured.
"I wonder why he's the caretaker though." Victor sighed.
"Because that was the only job opening." Sherlock pointed out.
"What about your job?" Victor asked.
"Well, I have it, don't I?" Sherlock insisted.
"How late did you get the invitation?" Victor asked.
"Well, I had told them I was looking for a teacher job when I left school but it was a bit late into the summer. I suppose I was the last resort." Sherlock admitted.
"Maybe they declined John." Victor guessed.
"He doesn't seem like the type to be a teacher." Sherlock decided.
"He seems too enthusiastic, if not a bit clueless, to be a caretaker." Victor sighed.
"He's fine at his job; he likes it as far as I know. Says it's nice to be back in the castle, just like me." Sherlock agreed.
"Yes, but he looks lost half of the time, as if he barely knows where he's going." Victor decided.
"It's been two; maybe three years since he's been in the castle, of course he's lost. I got lost one time, trying to get from the Great Hall to the bathroom." Sherlock admitted. Victor nodded, his head obviously working on overtime, trying to figure out the mystery of their caretaker.
"It's just a bit odd I suppose." He decided.
"Oddness is what makes the world interesting." Sherlock assured.
"Yes, but I don't like not knowing." Victor sighed.
"Well, I'm sure you don't know a lot of things." Sherlock decided, leaning back on the rock and staring up at the blue sky.
"Oh ya? Like what?" Victor asked.
"What's the leading cause of death in the wizarding world?" Sherlock asked.
"I'd say, the killing curse. But no, that's too obvious, maybe animal attacks?" Victor guessed.
"Old age, the last I checked. They have cures for basically everything around here, so that makes the most sense. Old wizards and witches just waste away." Sherlock sighed.
"What's the leading cause of death in the muggle world?" Victor asked.
"No idea." Sherlock admitted.
"Ya, me neither." Victor laughed. Sherlock could only half see him, while looking up at the sky only one eye could partially make out Victor's facial expression. He was smiling, of course, pulling his knees to his robed chest and looking like he was loving every moment of this little chat.
"Well, do you know that the girls are placing bets on which one you'll date first?" Victor asked.
"They're what?" Sherlock asked in shock, sitting up on his elbows to see if Victor was lying or not.
"You heard me. They're betting on it, everyone is going for Irene Adler, she's a Slytherin, long dark hair, dreadful girl." Victor sighed.
"And people think I'm going to give this Irene Adler a chance?" Sherlock asked in shock.
"Well, yes, they do. I think the students are betting that you're rather lonely, a poor young teacher who had to leave his girlfriend behind." Victor said in a pouty voice.
"Two objections there. One, I don't have a girlfriend, and two, I'm definitely not going to fill that vacancy with a student." Sherlock pointed out.
"How does someone like you not have a girlfriend?" Victor asked in false shock. Of course he knew this, he just had a speech about how lonely the two of them were, of course he'd have pieced together that Sherlock didn't have a girlfriend.
"I have the best girl defense system." Sherlock pointed out.
"And what's that? I might need to borrow it." Victor asked.
"My face." Sherlock pointed out. Hopefully Victor didn't have to borrow that anytime soon.
"Oh, that's rubbish." Victor insisted.
"I look like a deformed yam, I'm like a sloth!" Sherlock insisted.
"Yes, maybe, but a sloth with perfect glowing skin, with beautiful green eyes, and contrasting dark curls, you're like the wizarding male version of Aphrodite. You're like, Hyacinth." Victor decided.
"Who in the heck is Hyacinth?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.
"He was, well, he's in Muggle Greek Mythology. He was supposed to the most impressive, most beautiful mortal, he attracted the attention of multiple gods, and ended up dying because of the feud." Victor pointed out.
"Who were the gods?" Sherlock asked curiously. Victor smiled rather knowingly, as if this were all really ironic.
"Apollo, God of music, and Zephyros, the God of the West wind." Victor muttered.
"You mean you're comparing me to an ancient muggle gay guy?" Sherlock asked in surprise.
"Well, you don't have all the characteristics." Victor shrugged. Sherlock nodded rather suspiciously.
"Well, I'm definitely not the most impressive and beautiful mortal." He agreed. Victor looked at him with an odd look in his eye, almost hope.
"I'd say you were." he decided, and with that he laid on the rock next to Sherlock, staring up at the blue sky and not saying much more. When their lunch was over, Sherlock and Victor walked back up to the school in a comfortable silence. Victor seemed strangely proud of himself, as if he had accomplished something in his own way. Sherlock was feeling a bit, well, normal actually. Usually he was a little bit apprehensive, walking through the halls with him, if as if the student body would judge the two of them for their friendship. When they got to the staircases, however, Victor had to go down to the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room. So, with a rather hasty goodbye, the two went their separate ways. Sherlock wasn't really keen on spending the rest of his day cooped up in his classroom/office/bedroom, so he walked up to the library. This had been one of the places Sherlock had most enjoyed in his youth, walking up to the library to sit in silence, work on whatever homework he had, and just read for the fun of it. The library hadn't changed in the two years he was gone; in fact, he doubted it changed as much as Professor Bins did. So Sherlock found a rather lonely table in the back of the library, plucking off books about the topics he was planning on teaching, such as anti-jinxes, stunning spells, and werewolves. Everyone always seemed to find a great interest in werewolves, not just because of their beastly transformations, but because of the life they live when they weren't a wolf. That always mystified Sherlock as well, since he hadn't even met a werewolf (well, he assumed he hasn't), and he always wondered what a werewolf does for a living. Do they get days off on full moons, do they have to get locked up so as to not hurt anyone, do they get paid leave for when they were transforming? These were all very good questions that the book didn't really answer. It focused more on the werewolves' transformation, the curse they were under, and how to turn into a werewolf.
"Mind if I sit?" asked a feminine voice above him. Sherlock looked up, expecting to see John, who was just teasing him with a voice full of helium, but instead he saw a girl with long, black hair and an odd sort of smile on her face.
"Oh, sure." He muttered, waving his hand to the empty chair across the table. The girl sat, making a great show of tucking her hair over on one side of her shoulder. Sherlock pretended not to notice, scanning the sentences in his book once more.
"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, right? Professor Holmes?" she asked.
"Surely you'd know that for sure now, you've had my class." He pointed out, rather annoyed that she wanted to talk instead of letting him be at peace. Then again, he could always check these books out.
"Well, yes, but I was just making sure you knew me as well. That's usually how you start a conversation." She pointed out, flipping her hair onto her other shoulder and making Sherlock sigh with annoyance.
"No, sorry, I don't recognize you." He muttered, looking out the window on the grounds to see if anything more exciting was happening out there.
"I'm Irene Adler, I'm in Slytherin." She said with a smile, holding out a pale hand to shake. Sherlock went rigid, of course he's heard that name before, Victor said that she was the Slytherin houses' number one vote for the first student to hook up with him. But of course, Sherlock played it off as if he had no idea what was going on in that common room, and shook her hand rather softly, so as not to really touch her nasty hand.
"I love your class by the way, unforgivable curses, it's really interesting. I see you're reading up for some more, what are we going to do, werewolves or stunning spells?" she asked, observing the books laying on the table in front of Sherlock.
"Well, as much as I doubt the first years could handle the stunning spells, I'm going to switch off, beast, spell, that way it keeps things interesting." Sherlock shrugged.
"That's an excellent idea. But I'm sure you're not going to have any trouble keeping things interesting." Irene assured. Sherlock clutched the book he was holding rather aggressively, wanting to wring this idiot's neck and just be at peace. It wasn't even like she was being discreet about her very poor flirting, batting her eyelashes whenever Sherlock looked up, flipping her hair every five seconds, and making a big show of fingering through one of the abandoned books on the table.
"So, you're quite the talk of the town anymore." Irene decided, putting down the table and leaning ever so slightly forward. Sherlock leaned back in his chair, propping his book up between them.
"Am I?" he sighed.
"Especially in the dorms, the girls simply can't get enough of you. How old are you, twenty five?" she asked.
"Twenty one as of last May." Sherlock muttered.
"I'm eighteen." She pointed out.
"Congratulations." Sherlock sighed, now trying to make a point of expressing his disinterest.
"Well, everyone's always wondering, who's on your arm?" she asked.
"Hopefully no one." Sherlock muttered, casting a rather bored look to his arm to make sure no mini people were wandering around in the folded fabric.
"I mean, you've got to have a girlfriend, right?" Irene asked, in almost a purr.
"No." Sherlock sighed, looking once more out the window, not even bothering with polite eye contact for fear that she'd bat her heavily lined eyes at him.
"Well, you're in the market then? That's a good thing." she pointed out.
"Is it?" Sherlock sighed.
"Oh yes, for you, and for me." she agreed. Sherlock frowned a little bit, obviously she wasn't going to take the whole no student teacher relationship things, she knew full well that he was a teacher. So what to say to shut her down?
"I'm gay." He sighed, standing up and collecting his books. Irene looked shell shocked, leaning back in her chair with her mouth hanging open.
"You're...oh, well.... This is really embarrassing." She decided, her pale cheeks blushing under all of her makeup.
"Yes, it is, good day." he decided with a taunting smile, and with that he marched up to the counter and checked out his books, walking back up to his room, rather pleased with himself.