Chapter 21: Clumsy Neville

Harry was feeling increasingly ill at ease. If he could've had it his way, he would have removed the bandages from his head, wrapped it around his face, and pretend to be Draco Malfoy. However, reality was never as convenient as one's fantasy. The truth of it was, Professor Forester had already seen him and heard his conversation with Ron.

Ron, his face flushed, stammered out, "Pr...Professor Forester."

Before Sherlock could reply, Argus Filch, with a disgruntled look, turned towards them. "Curfew starts in less than half an hour, what are you two troublemakers doing still roaming around the castle?"

"We've just returned from Madam Pomfrey," Harry hastily explained. "We were instructed by Professor Dumbledore to visit the hospital wing after our fall…" His voice gradually petered out until it was barely a whisper.

Sherlock handed them a perplexed look. In his memory from the original tale, they hadn't been injured to the extent that they needed medical attention. "When I was on the train, I saw you smiling and waving at me from the sky. I had the impression that you knew how to fly the car, seeing your landing was less than smooth I guess I was wrong."

This remark caused Harry and Ron to blush even more. They wished they could hide their faces in their robes. In his usual dispassionate tone, Sherlock casually asked, "Earlier, you seemed to express an interest in evading my class tomorrow. Are your injuries that severe?"

Harry appeared keen to elaborate, but the words got stuck in his throat. After wracking with a fit of coughs, he finally managed to say, "We were only joking professor. Our injuries aren't as serious as they look. Madam Pomfrey didn't even retain us for overnight observation. She tended to our wounds and said that, in a few days, we'll be in tip-top shape again. It definitely won't affect our attendance, we're committed to be present in all classes."

Sherlock gave a slight nod of approval. "That's relieving. I certainly wouldn't want any students to miss my debut class."

"We swear not to ditch your class, Professor!", Ron reassured.

"Well then, go back and take some rest."

On hearing this, Harry and Ron both heaved a sigh of relief, and swiftly retreated to the Gryffindor common room.

"You shouldn't have been so lenient with them, Professor Forester. Those two were clearly planning to skip your classes, they are known troublemakers. You should've given them detention, or at the very least deducted some points." Filch grumbled, evidently unhappy with how graciously Sherlock had let Harry and Ron off the hook.

He made the mistake of assuming Sherlock and Snape were cut from the same cloth - both despising student mischief, particularly from Gryffindors.

"They only considered it, they might still have reconsidered." Sherlock replied in a calm tone. "We shouldn't inflict punishment unless they act upon their intentions." Hearing this, Filch decided not to argue any further and they continued their patrol. Along the way, they crossed paths with several other little wizards from Gryffindor. Sherlock could clearly see Filch itching to scold them, but held his tongue as the curfew was not in effect yet.

As they were reaching the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, a clumsy boy accidentally collided with Sherlock. The moment their bodies made contact, Sherlock felt an instantaneous throb of burning sensation on his left forearm, precisely at the crescent-shaped mark!

This sensation was so fleeting that he even questioned its existence. Frowning slightly, Sherlock glanced down at the boy who had tumbled upon bumping into him and was now lying on the floor.

The boy was round-faced and slightly pudgy, with messy black hair. His face was pale, likely out of fear. Offering a hand, Sherlock decided to help him up, but the boy just gave a wary glance and clambered up awkwardly on his own.

"I'm s-so sorry, Professor Forester. I didn't see you.." he mumbled apologetically.

"That's perfectly fine," replied Sherlock with a wave, before casually asking, "May I know your name?"

Lowering his eyes, the boy answered meekly, "Neville Longbottom, sir."

"Longbottom…" Sherlock echoed the boy's last name.

He recognized the name. This boy had a significant role in the storyline, especially by the end. But why did his birthmark heat up when Neville bumped into him?

His birthmark had a similar reaction during his rendezvous with Lucius and Draco Malfoy at the Flourish and Blotts bookstore. The feeling was consistently hot then, but now with Neville, it was only a fleeting feeling. Was there some connection? Why was the sensation different?

Lacking substantial clues, Sherlock failed to understand what Neville Longbottom and the Malfoys might share in common.

"Um.. can I go now, Professor?" asked Neville in a whispery voice while Sherlock was deep in thought. Only then did Sherlock snap out of his reverie and patted Neville on the shoulder. "Oh, of course, go back and get some rest."

Upon hearing his words, Neville turned on his heels and scurried towards the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. After uttering the password, he vanished inside. Sherlock stared thoughtfully at the hand he had used to pat Neville.

His birthmark didn't react when it made contact with Neville again, leading him to question whether the previous sensation was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

"The Gryffindor students are so reckless, they can't even walk properly. Somebody needs to instill some discipline and respect in these children," Filch grumbled, assuming Sherlock was still upset about Neville accidentally colliding with him.

But Sherlock shook off his doubts about the heated birthmark. It was likely left behind by the wizardly mother of the original owner.

The affection shown to the original host by Professor McGonagall, the Weasleys, Hagrid, and even Dumbledore was probably because they knew Sherlock's mother well. Judging from what he read in the diary, the original owner didn't understand why his apparently crazy mother had such close connections with well-known wizards.

When circumstances allowed, Sherlock would dig deeper into this. He could directly confront Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall about their relationship with his mother and about the origin of his birthmark. Information gathered this way would be undoubtedly more reliable than speculative deductions.