Chapter 133: Sherlock's Sorrow

Dumbledore, wielding his unconventional wand with its series of knobby knots, lightly tapped it against the locket, casting an incantation. A dim light flickered briefly, but the locket remained resolute in its closure. With a small shake of his head, Dumbledore set the locket aside.

"This artifact, it's ancient, and seems to have chosen you as its master. Yet, its magic is in a state of restoration, therefore, you're currently unable to open it. It has an inherent self-regenerative magic, or as you might term it, self-recharge. Once its magic reaches full capacity, you will be able to access its contents," he explained.

Sherlock examined the pendant, concern etched onto his face.

"Is it dangerous to me in its current condition?" he asked.

"It should be completely safe during its restoration process," Dumbledore responded. "However, once it becomes an active magical artifact, the potential dangers it presents are unclear. My advice would be to avoid interacting with it, even if it becomes accessible. Alternatively, you could let Hilke return to the German Ministry of Magic for further analysis, before deciding on an appropriate course of action."

Finding Dumbledore's suggestion quite rational and left with little other choice, Sherlock agreed.

"As long as it doesn't cause trouble presently, it suits me fine," Sherlock answered, fatigue evident in his tone. "I've also fulfilled the assignment you gave me. Hilke has apprehended the offender."

Dumbledore, a glint of admiration in his eyes, said, "I'll vouch for you to the Ministry. The German Ministry will want to manage it discreetly, so they can't provide you with any public acknowledgement. However, they may award you the German Medal of International Cooperation."

"And what use is that?" Sherlock sighed, "I already received a medal from the French Ministry and all it does is catch dust."

Expounding on its benefits, Dumbledore stated, "These medals grant foreign wizards the liberty to use the Floo Network provided by the Ministry of that country without the need for permission, as well as access to certain Portkeys released by the country under certain conditions, along with a series of benefits for those seeking permanent residence there."

Rising from his desk, Sherlock's eyes were mere slits, a silent testament to his exhaustion. "Well, that doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

Dumbledore gazed at him, a hint of worry in his countenance. "Do you feel fit for teaching in your current state?"

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair, a grief-stricken sensation gnawing incessantly from within. "I am due to teach a fifth-grade class later today. I'll try my best, but if I can't continue, I might have to ask Lupin to step in."

Dumbledore gently shook his head. "Lupin hasn't been in the best of health lately either. Go ahead with your afternoon session first, if it becomes unbearable, then take a week's respite, I can ask Snape to step in."

"Very well, Professor, then I'll take my leave now," Sherlock replied, his normally upright posture now drooping, overwhelmed by an air of despondence as he left the headmaster's office.

Back in his personal quarters, Sherlock studied the pendant wrapped around his neck. Holding it out to catch the sunlight that spilled through the window, he uttered to himself, "It seems rather harmless, I guess I'll continue wearing it."

Foregoing his afternoon meal in the Great Hall, Sherlock took a brief nap in his office, restoring energy for the coming class. Upon collecting the necessary educational supplies, he headed off to the classroom for his fifth-grade Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

By the time he entered, most students already sat in their seats chatting with each other, their attention gravitating towards him at his dispirited demeanor.

"Professor, are you feeling alright?" inquired George Weasley, one of the notorious Weasley twins, with a hint of bewilderment.

Reaching the front of the room, Sherlock transfigured an extra seat into a tall reclining chair through a deft wave of his wand. Settling back, he rested his chin on his hands, propped up on the podium. "Don't fuss, I'm not ill. It's just some emotional turbulence, which has nothing to do with our classes. Now, bring out your test papers that I corrected."

The students exchanged glances, concern and budding interest mingling with the mild amusement at seeing their seemingly undefeatable professor in an unfamiliar state of sorrow.

"Your performance on the last set of assignments was quite underwhelming," began Sherlock, "A majority of the questions were simply variations of ones we've already covered in class, so it's disheartening that you struggled with them just because I altered the scenario. Needless to say, grading your papers was a displeasure."

Proceeding in his lecture, he added, "As per the essay on understanding the three Unforgivable Curses, I've emphasized repeatedly that you are free to express personal opinions. However, an ideal answer should also incorporate an insight into the psychological effects these curses inflict on its users."

"Around half of those of you from Slytherin argued that power transcends morality and that the prohibition by the Ministry against using these curses was misguided."

"Whether this reasoning aligns more with a dark wizard's perspective isn't the point I want to explore. What concerns me is that such rebellious thoughts, penned down in your answers, highlight nothing if not your lack of introspection and consideration. I worry that if you continue along this path, our next encounter would be at Azkaban."

A rush of laughter swept through the Gryffindor students. Their longstanding rivalry with Slytherin made them all the more gleeful at this remark. Rolling his eyes, Sherlock addressed them next.

"And what're you laughing at? Are Gryffindors any better?" he began, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Your responses to the same question included assertions such as "real men should face the Unforgivable Curses bravely", "the Cruciatus curse would not work on you, because you would just wait it out", "the Dementor's kiss would have no effect on you", somehow, and if you fell to the Killing Curse, "you would bounce back after a little break, no issue"."

"Are the lot of you taking the scenic route to comprehension? It's a perfect example of the belief that ignorance is bliss. Stop acting like brainless brutes already. At least Slytherin's mindset would land them in Azkaban, where would this sort of imprudence land you? A graveyard?"

The Slytherin students, seizing the opportunity, let out their mirth, reveling in the embarrassment of the Gryffindors.

Sherlock continued his lament, "What a decay in the quality, year by year ! Your class is easily the worst one I've ever taught. This impacts your final semester grades considerably. You seem to remember me telling you that, to wrest a good position in the wizarding world post-graduation, you need to stand out from the rest, but not that I meant stand out with your excellence, not incompetence. If your performance doesn't improve, considering the outstanding achievements of your seniors, you may find yourselves struggling to find a job."

A female Gryffindor student tentatively raised an objection, "But, Professor, you've only taught two fifth-grade years so far, including us?"

Sherlock simply retorted, "Precisely. And you lot are the worst of the two." To the chagrin of the teachers, the students found this comment even more comical. Fred Weasley loudly questioned, "Is this your way of motivating us, Professor? Are you gonna say the same to the next fifth-grade class?"

"Enough jokes," Sherlock admonished lightly. "Bring out your test papers. We're going to discuss the questions now."

With the commencement of the study session, the students quickly regained their focus. By the fifth grade, they had begun to understand that their final three years at Hogwarts would be pivotal to their future careers.

Beginning the discussion, Sherlock revisited the first question on the test paper:

"How to effectively counter or evade when faced with a werewolf."

"I've previously elucidated the simplest way to earn points in this question. While the Ministry always advocates promoting friendly relations with werewolves, their practical stance is much more straightforward."

"Your answers can include personal insights but should also reflect practicality. I've already explained during our discussion on werewolves that the best way to handle an encounter with them is to Disapparate immediately. It's imprudent to try casting spells on them, considering their resistance is almost equivalent to that of giants. Normal spells have virtually no effect on them."

"So, if you're capable of Disapparating, do it without hesitation. If you're unable to..."

Before he could complete his point, a wave of desolation crashed over Sherlock.

"If you can't, then... then perhaps you should just lie down and await death."

The classroom fell eerily silent, as a wave of disbelief washed over the students. Looking up from their test papers they wondered what was wrong with their professor today.

"Professor, are you okay?" several students echoed in confusion.

"Are you serious, Professor? Could I have just written that as an answer?"

Sherlock tried to revive his spirits with a weak slap to his cheek, but to no avail. With a forlorn gaze turned to the ceiling, he conceded, "I apologize, students. For the remainder of the class, I'll have to leave you to self-study. Starting today I'll be taking a week-long leave to regain my spirits. You might find yourselves under the tutelage of Professors Lupin or Snape next lesson."

With the symptoms of the melancholy potion escalating, Sherlock was unable to continue his teaching. He worried about the unhelpfully pessimistic things he might spout, infused with his own creeping desolation.

He instructed the fifth-grade wizards to continue their study independently before trudging to Lupin's office, hoping to find if he could cover a few sessions.

But he wasn't in luck. Lupin was on the verge of leaving, his visage paler than usual, uncharacteristic of his normally vibrant self.

"Apologies, Sherlock. I'm in a bind myself. In fact I was, actually, on my way to ask you to fill in for me."

Both men found themselves in a similar predicament. Sherlock replied grimly, "Rotten luck! I suppose there will be no Defense Against the Dark Arts classes this week."

Lupin suggested, "Why not approach Snape? He may be willing to cover a few sessions. He's always shown keen interest in our subject."

"Snape, eager to assist?" Sherlock said, "Dumbledore suggested the same, but I can't imagine Snape will be happy to double his workload. He's not exactly got a lot of free time, now has he."

"For any other matter, he would likely refuse," replied Lupin, "But when it comes to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, he'll probably jump at the opportunity."