Chapter 61: Mere Snape

There is a rumor in the wizarding world.

Ever since Professor Dumbledore refused to let You-Know-Who take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, the subject has been cursed.

Although unconfirmed, nearly all wizards subscribe to this belief.

The reason is simple: ever since that incident, every single professor who has held the post has left for various reasons after just one year.

Because of this, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been forced to recruit a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor every single year.

Ten years ago, although Voldemort vanished because of the Savior, Harry Potter, the curse he left behind seemingly remained unbroken.

The position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor still maintained its annual turnover rate.

As for the reasons the teachers left, they varied wildly:

Elderly relatives and children at home needing care, a wife divorcing and taking half the assets, feeling professionally inadequate, sudden unexpected illnesses...

So when Professor Quirinus Quirrell volunteered to teach the subject, Dumbledore and McGonagall agreed without a second thought.

A Ravenclaw alumnus, Professor Quirrell had been famous for his exceptional brilliance during his student days. Although he had previously taught Muggle Studies, his theoretical knowledge was extremely solid.

After being confirmed as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirrell was not content with mere theory and hoped to gain firsthand practical experience.

Therefore, before the new semester began, he carved out some time to accumulate practical experience in defending against the dark arts.

His approach had the support and understanding of the other professors.

After all, practice was inherently crucial for a subject like Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Never did anyone expect that while traveling in the Dark Forest, Quirrell would run into trouble.

Although he later managed to break free from the magic and returned to the school, he had been like a completely different person ever since.

Everyone assumed he had been frightened out of his wits by vampires and hags.

Not only did he develop a stutter, but he also began to fear everything, including his students, displaying profound cowardice and helplessness.

Yet, this very same timid and cowardly man was currently staring intently at Harry.

His gaze held a resolute cruelty that utterly contradicted his usual persona.

The corners of his mouth even turned up in a slight sneer, bearing a striking resemblance to Sherlock’s mocking expression when mentioning Scotland Yard.

"Merely Snape..."

If he could just persist for a few more seconds, he would be able to buck the little boy right off his broomstick.

No matter how many counter-curses Snape muttered, it would be useless.

This was his confidence as a Ravenclaw, and... his reliance on that person as his backing.

He usually maintained his disguise so well, and with everyone's attention fixed on the match, no one noticed Quirrell's abnormality.

Yet precisely because of this reason, Quirrell himself failed to notice Hermione nearby.

It wasn't until half a minute later, when a scream rang out, that he began to realize what was happening.

Cursing under his breath, he hurriedly began to stamp out the flames on his cloak.

At the same time, his heart filled with doubt and apprehension—had he somehow been exposed?

The moment Quirrell stopped his intense staring, Snape immediately regained the upper hand.

With his help, Harry was able to quickly steady his posture.

He kept Sherlock’s instructions firmly in mind: the moment he broke free from danger, he must end the match swiftly and never give Quirrell a second chance.

One could say Harry’s luck was truly extraordinary.

Almost the instant he regained his mobility, he spotted his target and dove straight toward the ground.

Before anyone else could react, he had already landed.

Amidst the shocked gazes of the entire crowd, Harry leaped agilely off his broomstick.

He clenched his fists, raised them high above his head, and pumped them vigorously.

The entire process was as smooth as flowing water, a sight to behold.

As Madam Hooch's whistle blew, the match was over.

Harry subconsciously looked toward the direction of the banner.

Though it was too far to see clearly, he trusted that Sherlock was watching him as well.

Unfortunately, he was overthinking it.

Sherlock's gaze was currently drifting between Snape and Quirrell.

Judging solely by the outcome of this contest, Snape was no match for Quirrell.

This also meant that his previous deduction had been confirmed.

At this moment, Lee Jordan was also loudly announcing the match result—with Harry catching the Golden Snitch, Gryffindor won one hundred and seventy to forty.

Yet, even though the match was over, the scene remained utter chaos.

The Gryffindor players believed Flint's foul was what caused the trouble with Harry's broom.

Slytherin, naturally, refused to admit it.

Only Dark Magic could make a broom behave like that, and Flint didn't have that kind of capability.

Even if Flint had somehow pulled off some underhanded trick, they certainly couldn't admit to it.

Seeing Gryffindor—whom they had kept under their thumbs for so long—turn the tables, and watching the swaggering demeanor of the players, the Slytherins felt intensely disgruntled.

Thus, harsh words, curses, and shoving were inevitable.

The expressions of both teams grew increasingly grim, their language grew fouler, their actions grew rougher, and a full-scale conflict finally erupted.

As the players began brawling, the spectators in the stands could no longer sit still, leaping down one after another to support their respective houses.

"Let's go!"

"Move, move, move!"

At Sherlock's call, Ron, Dean, and Seamus all beamed with excitement and rushed down behind him.

Hermione and Neville hesitated for a moment, then followed Sherlock into the pitch as well.

Unexpectedly, Sherlock did not join the free-for-all.

Under his prompt, Hagrid found Harry at the very first moment and immediately led the four of them away.

With a giant's physique right there leading the way, even amidst the chaotic scene, their path remained completely unobstructed.

"Sherlock, I thought you called us down to beat the stuffing out of those guys! I was already ready to punch Malfoy right in the nose."

Upon reaching Hagrid's hut, Ron took the mug of strong tea Hagrid handed him and grumbled with some dissatisfaction.

"Pointless," Sherlock said calmly. "There are plenty of professors watching the match; the situation will be under control shortly."

"Alright, alright..."

Ron was merely complaining out of habit. Hearing Sherlock's explanation, he brought up another matter instead.

"Sherlock, I still think Snape is no good.

I saw it clearly; his eyes were glued to Harry, and his lips wouldn't stop moving, casting spells non-stop."

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

Hagrid was a man of simple sensibilities. Although he had been right there in the stands, he had been completely oblivious to what happened beside him.

Hearing Ron say this now, he naturally voiced a strong objection.

"Why would Professor Snape do such a thing? He has no reason whatsoever to harm Harry!"

Ron scratched his head. "Maybe because he's the romantic rival of Harry's father?"

"Merlin's beard!"

Hagrid stared wide-eyed at Harry in shock. "Harry, which scoundrel told you this? I'm going to go give the gossipmonger a piece of my mind!"

"Nobody told me," Harry said proudly. "Sherlock deduced it."

History proved that Sherlock's deduction had been verified once again.

"Oh, gargoyles and gluttonous monsters!"

Hagrid had long since witnessed Sherlock's capabilities, but hearing this news still wrung an exclamation out of him.

He stared at Sherlock for a long moment before slowly speaking:

"You can see right through people's hearts just like Dumbledore, but even so... Professor Snape would never try to harm Harry."

Sherlock glanced at Ron. "He said it, I certainly didn't."

Ron: (ー`´ー)

"Furthermore, based on my deduction, Professor Snape was actually trying to protect Harry just now, though unfortunately, he was no match for Professor Quirrell."

"Who?"

Hagrid suddenly felt his brain struggling to keep up. "Who did you say?"

"Quirinus Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Sherlock said calmly.