Chapter 142: Hermione in Distress

Following the tranquillity of the Christmas holiday, Hogwarts resumed its serene daily affairs. Despite Sirius Black's looming threat, the fear was less palpable than the previous year where the school was being haunted by a deadly monster. Students knew of Black's criminal history, his status as a convicted dark wizard was no secret; more than half were privy to the fact that Harry Potter was his primary interest.

The explicit danger that Black posed was somewhat comforting compared to the enigmatic menace concealed within the Chamber of Secrets. Harry progressed steadily with his lessons on the Patronus charm under the tutelage of Professor Sherlock Forester, the school's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As Sherlock had previously observed, Harry's talent in defensive magic was undeniable. Especially after weathering the psychological strain of a Dementor attack and succeeding in casting a partially formed Patronus, Harry's subsequent spells achieved a comparable standard.

Regardless, a substantial breakthrough was necessary before he could fully summon a corporal Patronus. This was a process that required patience and not the kind of rushed learning that the encounter with the Dementor had necessitated. Following the incident, the Dementor, deemed redundant, had been subjected to another round of the Obliviate spell and promptly returned to its natural habitat. The tormented being, having regained its freedom, resumed its torpid existence of consuming emotions, with no remnants of Sherlock's manipulative experiments haunting its memories.

Towards February's end, Harry requested a two-week leave from his private lessons with Professor Forester. The decisive Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was fast approaching; its outcome determined the House Cup's ultimate winner. Sherlock, seeing the value in Harry pursuing interests beyond magic-related studies, granted him the leave. With term-end responsibilities mounting, and paper grading, lesson planning and other duties filling his calendar, Sherlock found himself without a spare moment to attend the Quidditch match.

Remus Lupin assisting him with the first to fourth-year classes hadn't lessened his workload to the point where he could relax. Furthermore, Quidditch failed to pique Sherlock's interest, so he didn't bother to watch the game. Nonetheless, he learned about the match's aftermath from general chatter. Harry, assisted by his new, yet already beloved, Firebolt, which Professor McGonagall returned after a thorough investigation, led Gryffindor to a triumphant victory.

However, Slytherin members' attempt to intimidate Harry by masquerading as Dementors led to instant repercussions, thanks to Harry's partial Patronus and Professor McGonagall's disciplinary action. As a result, Gryffindor's celebrations echoed throughout Hogwarts. Despite Sherlock's indifference towards Quidditch, he couldn't resist the youthful exuberance emanating from the students.

Later that day, after dropping off some papers at his office and preparing for dinner at the Great Hall, Sherlock found himself drawn by the sound of soft sobs resonating from a nearby classroom. Listening carefully, he recognized the voice as female. Gingerly, he pushed open the door. Inside, a young girl frantically completed her homework amidst a hill of textbooks, her tears silently trickling down her face. The sound of the opening door startled the girl. Wiping her tears and looking towards the doorway, she was met with Sherlock's gaze.

"Oh, Professor Forester," she sniffed. Concerned, Sherlock joined Hermione, pulling a chair beside her, concealing his surprise behind a comforting facade.

"Miss Granger, crying surreptitiously in a classroom is not what I'd expect from you," he observed. He extended a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to her. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he recounted, "How about some candy? I stole these from Dumbledore's office and almost managed to get away with it, thanks to the help of the portraits on the wall. Unfortunately, Dumbledore caught me just as I was leaving, but he still let me bring these sweets."

Laughter replaced Hermione's sobs at Sherlock's absurd tale. "You must be kidding, Professor." Choosing not to confirm or deny Hermione's doubts about his story, he refocused the discussion towards her own issue.

"So, can you tell me why you're hiding here, all alone, instead of celebrating with everyone else in the common room?" Her expression dropped quicker than a stone in water.

"Nobody wants anything to do with me. They've ended our friendship," she said, the words striking chillingly. She unburdened herself to Sherlock, narrating the incidents that had driven a wedge between her friendship with Harry and Ron.

"Harry received a Firebolt broom as a Christmas present, but it wasn't signed or anything! Of course both Ron and Harry were mesmerized by the broom's performance. They didn't even care who it was from! At a time like this, it could be from Black - it could be cursed! I tried to warn them, but they blamed me for overthinking, so I decided to go and tell Professor McGonagall about it."

"Professor McGonagall agreed that it was far too risky and confiscated Harry's broom to dismantle it for a thorough inspection. It was because of this that they turned against me. Ron said I was a troublemaker, and Harry also got mad at me."

"Just two days ago, after Professor McGonagall confirmed that there was no problem with the broom, she returned it to Harry. He was thrilled to have it back. I was happy for them, but Ron is still angry. Harry wants all to forget about it, but... but..."

At this point, Hermione couldn't hold back her tears again. Sherlock didn't interrupt her, but instead handed her a tissue at the right moment. Hermione took the tissue and wiped her tears while continuing, "But now Ron's rat went missing again! There was a pool of blood on his bed, along with Crookshanks' fur. He said Crookshanks ate Scabbers! ..that's Ron's rat.. Scabbers.."

"It's all my fault!... They've blamed everything on me... I know that something's wrong with Crookshanks ever since he arrived at the school... He never listens to me and is always trying to catch Scabbers... But I didn't mean it..."

Hermione's voice started to choke. "I don't have time to explain to them... I still have so much homework to do... They're ignoring me.. it doesn't matter anyways, because I don't have the time to deal with them..."

Listening to Hermione's perspective, Sherlock identified the issue as an ordinary rift between the three friends. Nevertheless, he did not belittle the significance of these conflicts. As a teacher, his responsibilities extended beyond academics and included addressing the personal concerns shadowing the students' lives. Firmly, he insisted to Hermione, "Avoiding the issue, Miss Granger, will not solve the problem."

His comment was met with denial; Hermione maintained, "I'm not avoiding anything! I just have too much to do... I don't have time for these stupid.. accusations..

To which, Sherlock countered, "Is it right, though, the way they're treating you?" The silence that followed was answer enough.

Taking in her acceptance, Sherlock smiled, "I thought so."

"Upon hearing your account, I am inclined to agree, Hermione," Sherlock replied. He looked consideringly at the young witch. "Indeed, the timing of Harry's gift's arrival, amidst Sirius Black's evasion of the authorities, was suspect. Your decision to notify Professor McGonagall was the only logical response. Even supposing the broom turned out to be harmless, Harry and Ron should have seen the justification in your actions."

"But they're blaming me for Scabbers' disappearance…" Hermione complained.

"Crookshanks is your pet, Hermione," Sherlock reminded her sternly, "As such, you bear responsibility for his actions. If you believe Crookshanks is innocent, you must seek to prove this to Harry and Ron, instead of wallowing in self-pity."

"Don't let one misunderstanding cloud your judgment, Hermione. Harry and Ron owe you an apology for their reaction to the broomstick affair, but should Crookshanks prove to be guilty of Scabbers' disappearance, then you owe Ron a heartfelt apology. I understand that this situation makes you uncomfortable, but if you truly care about your friendship you need to put in some work to nurture it. It's natural to face challenges and conflicts, but it's also essential to work through them together. Remember that communication is the key to resolving differences and keeping your bond intact."

Hermione fell silent, as was often her way when confronted with a new perspective. Sherlock, understanding her need, allowed her a moment to ruminate. He then gestured towards a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans on his desk and winked.

"Life, Hermione," he said, "is much like these Every Flavour Beans. Each of us is subjected to diverse experiences and situations. We might have to endure the pungent taste of pepper at times, but the next moment might offer a delightful hint of strawberry. Bad experiences should not detract from, or overshadow the good moments or any future successes."

Casually, Sherlock conjured a pink Every Flavor Bean which he offered to Hermione, who accepted it silently. Following a brief munch, her face lightened - it was a strawberry bean. Watching her reaction, Sherlock rose from his chair, skirting around any further discussion. "Now, Hermione, seize the opportunity to clear things up with Harry and Ron. Don't burden yourself with unnecessary guilt. There is no end to learning and growing, remember that."

The gloom that had pervaded Hermione seemed to retreat slightly, replaced by a newfound determination. "I will find them as soon as I've finished this paper, I promise."

"That's the spirit, Hermione," Sherlock declared approvingly, "Good luck."

"Thank you, Professor."

Bidding goodbye to Sherlock, Hermione seemed to think something over before stepping out, a tentative spark of optimism subtly offsetting her trepidation. Wasting no further time, she abandoned her descending pile of homework and made her way to the extravagantly decorated Gryffindor common room. The ecstatic, celebratory demeanor of her fellow Gryffindors palpable in the air. Fred and George had managed to procure an illegal stash of candy from Honeydukes, contributing to the festivities' vigor. Keeping to her solitary habit, Hermione steered clear of the crowd, a pile of books clasped to her chest.

Spying Hermione's arrival, Harry called out. "Hey, Hermione, did you watch the match?"

"Of course I did." Hermione replied, her voice hardly audible above the animated chatter. Her tone spoke of hesitance. "You were great, but, I really must finish these books by Monday."

"Wait a second, Hermione," Harry urged, "have some food first." He glanced meaningfully towards Ron, hopeful that the latter was in a mood for reconciliation with Hermione.

"I really can't, Harry," she cried out, a trace of despair in her voice, "I've still got 422 pages to read tonight!" A quick look towards Ron had affirmed what she had feared – a chilly resentment mirrored her worries. "He wouldn't want me to join in anyways."

With impeccable timing, Ron decided to choose this moment to announce, quite loudly in fact, "If only Scabbers was here…" he wistfully mused, "He loved these Fizzing Whizzbees, always took a fancy to 'em..."

Instantly, Hermione's fleeting bravery crumpled. An image of the absent rat flashing in her memory, shadowing the hopeful resolution she'd fostered after talking to Sherlock. Ignoring a seemingly flabbergasted Harry's attempts at mollifying her, she turned on her heel, clutching the massive books tightly, her sobs echoing as she run up the stairway to the girls dormitory.

With Hermione gone, and seemingly assuming guilt regarding Scabbers' disappearance, Harry sighed heavily. The realization of Ron's deep affection towards Scabbers hit him, along with Hermione's stubborn streak to not apologize for something she didn't do. At crossroads himself, he was unable to mediate between his two closest friends tonight. Yet, in the busyness of the celebration, Harry hadn't foreseen the main event waiting to unfurl.

...

Awoken by a shout from Ron in the middle of the night, Harry found himself startlingly alert. "It's Sirius Black!" Ron spoke out, his voice eerily echoing within the walls of the common room. "I saw him, right at end of my bed!"

Rushing down the stairs to the common area, they noticed the entire Gryffindor house had been awakened due to their ruckus. Not long after even McGonagall had shown up, her lips a thin line of impatience. "Congratulations on winning the match, Gryffindor. However this marks the end of your tomfoolery, it's well past curfew. I must insist that you all return to your dormitories immediately."

Despite the convincing account of Ron, the portrait of Sir Cadogan, the temporary guard of the Gryffindor common area, showed no signs of disturbance or foul play. However when they approached the portrait to ask for clarification the confirmation from Sir Cadogan that Black had gained entrance by correctly guessing the password sent a wave of panicked whispers throughout the Gryffindor house. Incriminatingly, it appeared that Neville Longbottom had lost a note recording the password recently.

A thorough search of the castle ensued post this terrifying revelation, while the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Sherlock, was woken up abruptly by Professor Flitwick. Despite the combined efforts, the search bore no fruit, Sirius Black had seemingly vanished into thin air.

Stricter security measures were imposed in the castle following the night's drastic events. The Fat Lady was reinstated as the Gryffindor guardian, with mandatorily-armed gnomes patrolling within her frame. Poor Neville was subjected to severe punishment, including being barred from visiting Hogsmeade for the rest of the semester, and prohibited from writing down the password again. Yet, despite the stricter security drills and the stress due to Black's unexpected appearance, life in Hogwarts moved on.

...

Professor Hagrid, a well-wisher of Hermione, had tried to act as a go-between, persuading Ron to forgive Hermione, only to be snubbed by Ron who refused to accept Hermione unless she got rid of her `insane` cat. Hagrid's efforts proved futile eventually, and following the night's disturbing events, Sherlock had also decided against coaching the trio further, believing that three young wizards were capable of solving their own issues.

A fortnight flew by, and on a full moon in March, Sherlock found himself seated across Remus Lupin, the mild-mannered professor. "So, Remus," Sherlock began, "Have you decided upon the date?"

A cynical smile played across Lupin's face. "Do you seriously believe this is a good idea, Sherlock?"

Sherlock merely shrugged. "Of course, do you think this is some twisted joke?"

While skeptically sighing, Lupin retorted, "Even with the Wolfsbane Potion, there's no guarantee that I'll be safe."

Waving aside Lupin's concerns, Sherlock asked, "In your Werewolf state, how many Stunning Spells can you withstand at most?"

Lupin pondered for a moment before conceding, "Strong as I am in the Werewolf form, based on past records, ten or more Aurors managed to subdue a werewolf with Stunning Spells."

"Only ten or so spells?" Sherlock asked, "Then there's no cause for worry, you wouldn't be able to hurt me even if there were five of you."

Left with no more arguments, Lupin acquiesced. Weeks prior, Sherlock had expressed his eagerness about observing Lupin's transformation under the full moon for academic purposes. To Lupin's surprise, Sherlock had been serious about his intent.

Left with no way out, Lupin tersely said, "If you insist, join me tonight, Sherlock."

As Sherlock waited for the upcoming adventure in Lupin's office, he came across an interesting piece of parchment on the desk. Intrigued, he turned to Lupin and asked, "Did you get this from the Weasley twins?"

Lupin looked taken aback. "No, I got this from Harry. Are you... familiar with this?" Sherlock's face bore an enigmatic smile as he recognized the parchment, "The Marauder's Map. I confiscated this map from Fred and George Weasley last year, but returned it on account of their good behavior. Funny, I didn't expect it to end up in your hands!"