Chapter 66: Disappointment and Loss

Sherlock had not wasted much thought over the prospect of capturing the culprit behind the recent attacks at Hogwarts. However, the probability of locating the elusive ancient book that was connected to his investigation seemed quite high. His memory was still fresh with the recollection of a certain young student who had piqued his interest. Now, he at least had a worthy suspect.

"Password?" came the muffled query from behind the portrait of the Fat Lady, who guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. She stifled a cavernous yawn and waited to give way to Sherlock, already aware that a professor had been granted permission to execute a search within the room. Asking for the password, thus, was simply a formality.

Curbing the urge to cringe, Sherlock responded with "Dragon dung," shortly after which, the entrance to the common room swung open, and he was allowed to enter.

It was a common spectacle for house prefects across the board to brag about the sanctity of their common rooms. In fact, it was customary to include in their introductions to new students how the rooms were entirely off-limits to those who did not belong to their specific houses.

Sherlock, however, harbored his doubts. Not only did the defenses guarding the entrances to these four common rooms vary, but they also stood little chance against the unwavering determination of a proficient wizard. Sherlock was proof of this principle, for he was a Ravenclaw alumnus who was striding, with Dumbledore's permission of course, throughout the Gryffindor common room.

Sherlock didn't have a strong inclination towards snooping. He held little intrigue concerning the secrets the students might be concealing within the confines of their private rooms. Rolling his eyes, he found the boys' dormitory, leaving the task of inspecting the girls' rooms to Professor McGonagall.

The notably exuberant Gryffindor dorm rooms were surprising not chaotic messes. This wasn't due to the inhabitants being exceptionally meticulous but instead stemmed from the diligence of the hard-working house-elves that tidied the rooms daily. Sherlock didn't struggle much in his inspection of the dormitory. He stepped foot inside; one swift, lightning-quick movement of his wand resulted in every book within the room soaring towards him. A cursory inspection followed, after which he sent them whirling back to their original locations.

However, a seemingly ordinary room filled Sherlock with a strange sense of alertness. A particular set of parchment signatures on a desk captured his attention. This was Harry and Ron's dormitory, but his attention wasn't fixated on the famous duo. Sherlock began his inspection with the standard Accio Spell, checking that every book in the room was in the clear. Following this, he sauntered towards Neville Longbottom's four-poster bed and scrutinized all of Neville's possessions meticulously.

The outcome? Nothing out of the ordinary.

Sherlock's brow furrowed deeper, prompting him to double-check every object that belonged to Neville. To his disappointment, he still failed to unearth anything noteworthy.

Having emerged from the Gryffindor common room empty-handed, Sherlock proceeded to conduct a similar inspection in the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory, the result of which was the same.

At eight in the evening, the four professors responsible for the inspection rendezvoused outside the grand doors of the Great Hall.

"I found nothing suspicious during my rounds," expressed Professor Sprout, who was in charge of the Slytherin and Hufflepuff girls' dormitories.

The disappointed expressions that were now etched on Professor McGonagall and Snape's faces bore witness to their similar fruitless efforts. Sherlock stroked his chin and turned his gaze towards the imposing doors of the Great Hall.

"Perhaps we should further observe the students. The culprit may still have the book in their possession," he proposed.

All eyes then turned towards the grand entrance. Upon making their way into the Great Hall, they were met by Professor Flitwick who, in conjunction with Argus Filch, had been tasked with ensuring all the students were present.

There were now five professors gathered within the iconic hall of Hogwarts; the dean of each house and Sherlock Forester, the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Each one had the mission of closely observing the members of their respective houses.

Naturally, no mention was made of the search for the evil book. Sherlock had previously come in contact with it and could confirm its thickness, texture and overall appearance. If any of the students were carrying it around, especially in their night robes, it would prove quite salient.

Sherlock's line of sight gravitated towards the Gryffindor area, where he spotted Neville, sat alone and lost in thought on the cold stone floor.

"Mr. Longbottom," Sherlock called out, drawing Neville's wayward attention. Hearing his name, Neville jerked up, his startled eyes locked onto Sherlock.

"Pr... Professor Forester," he stammered out, his nervous response only magnifying Sherlock's well-founded suspicions. Something was awry with Neville indeed!

Sherlock's previous encounter at the Headmaster's office had already led him to believe that the signet on his left arm hadn't responded to the Malfoys during their bookstore encounter but instead to the ancient book. Upon his return to Hogwarts, a similar uncanny reaction had occurred in proximity to Neville, a coincidence too potent to dismiss.

"Mr. Longbottom, might you inform me where you were at the time of Mr. Malfoy's unfortunate incident?" Sherlock asked gravely, all the while examining Neville's belongings, his gaze barely meeting Neville's.

A flustered Neville nervously stuttered out, "I, I was with Seamus. We were in the dorm, working on our Potions assignment."

Before he could press any further, Seamus interjected, "It's true Professor, I can vouch for him!"

Sherlock offered an absentminded nod. Neville's location during the attack on Malfoy didn't hold much weight. The Basilisk was capable of striking without its master's presence. Sherlock's purpose was merely to engage Neville in conversation. However, Neville's response offered little reassurance. His simple night robe offered no hiding spots for an object as conspicuous as the ancient book.

Failing to procure any answers, Sherlock deemed it practical to withdraw for the time being. Any unnecessary pushing could potentially alert the wrong individuals. If the ancient book were to instigate chaos within Hogwarts and escape, the consequences could be catastrophic.

The professors' inspection concluded rapidly, without uncovering any clues. A visibly tense Professor McGonagall hurriedly left, "I need to consult with Albus. He will know what measures to take now."

A disheartened Professor Sprout sighed heavily, shaking her head mournfully, "I will ensure the students settle down for the night."

She was accompanied by Professor Flitwick, which left only Snape and Sherlock on the platform, observing the students being herded to their respective dormitories under the watchful gaze of the remaining professors.

"Your conjecture was faulty," Snape pointed out icily.

Matching Snape's frigid demeanor with equivalent frostiness, Sherlock retorted, "If my predictions were guaranteed to be accurate, I'd not be a mere wizard, but rather likened to one of the gods the Muggles speak so fondly about."