As Lupin said, after finding Snape and requesting him to help substitute teach, he readily agreed.
Of course, this "readily" was not the kind of "readily" that ordinary people would understand.
After Lupin and Sherlock found Snape together and made the request for him to substitute teach, Snape looked at them with a sneer—or more accurately, he looked at Lupin with a sneer.
"Since you have begged me for help like this, I will naturally agree, letting bygones be bygones."
His tone was obviously a bit sarcastic, yet Lupin remained gentle.
"Then I am truly grateful for your magnanimity, Snape. I will bring you my teaching progress and the upcoming lesson plans in a moment. You can..."
Snape interrupted him coldly.
"Don't tell me any of that. It is I who am substituting, so I naturally know what to teach the students. There is no need for you to tell me!"
Lupin didn't mind his attitude. He shook his head with a wry smile and said nothing more.
Sherlock stared at Snape with dead-fish eyes.
"I only have one sixth-year class this week, and it's a practical combat lesson. You just need to watch from the sidelines to ensure the students don't have any accidents; no teaching is required. If you want to substitute, do it. If you don't, I'll just go find Professor McGonagall."
Snape was obviously very dissatisfied with Sherlock's tone, but he merely snorted twice, as if he wanted to say something harsh. In the end, however, he swallowed his words and simply said coldly,
"I will handle it."
Sherlock looked at Snape suspiciously. He always felt this didn't sound like Snape's personality at all. Just a moment ago, he had already prepared to go find Professor McGonagall for help; who knew Snape would actually swallow his pride and agree.
Lupin didn't think too much about it. After he and Sherlock left Snape's office, Sherlock looked at him curiously.
"Did you have some sort of conflict with Snape in the past?"
Lupin's face showed an expression of reminiscence, and he forced a smile as he said,
"It is I who wronged him."
"Ew~ that sounds very ambiguous."
Lupin didn't want to explain further, and Sherlock didn't press him. After leaving Snape's office and returning to his own, Hilke knocked on the door and walked in.
"I need to return to Germany."
Sherlock slumped in his chair and said melancholically,
"Ah, so now that you've achieved your goal, you're ready to burn bridges and discard me? You don't plan on worrying about me and are going straight back to claim the credit?"
Hilke didn't mind Sherlock's dejected tone; she knew he was joking.
"Besides returning Fedetick, the Ministry has helped me arrange a meeting with an old Goblin who has lived since the Goblin Rebellion. He might know something about the box around your neck. I'll come back after I find out more."
Sherlock nodded sorrowfully.
"Then I can only hope you still have a conscience and won't just discard me after using me..."
Just as he finished speaking, Hilke suddenly walked in front of him, bent down, and gently gave him a hug.
"Thank you."
Sherlock was stunned on the spot. He only felt a soft body make contact with him before she pulled away.
After a long while, he came to his senses, but by then Hilke had already left.
He continued to slump in the chair, the faint, unique fragrance of the girl still lingering at the tip of his nose, while he looked at the ceiling with dull eyes and muttered to himself,
"A thank you is just a hug? What kind of person do you take me for? Hmph, at the very least, you should have hugged me for a few more seconds..."
...
Harry was exceptionally excited after being "blessed" by Sherlock.
As he walked through the corridors, he stared at the ground every moment, thinking he might suddenly find something valuable.
While eating in the Great Hall, he looked at everyone suspiciously, thinking he might catch Black, who had infiltrated Hogwarts, at any moment.
But throughout the day, he neither found any money nor caught Black, and no kind adult was willing to help him sign the Hogsmeade permission form.
The day passed very ordinarily, no different from usual.
This made Harry, who returned to the Common Room that night, very puzzled.
"Could Professor Cavendish's blessing be delayed? Actually, a delay might be good. The day after tomorrow is our Quidditch match against Hufflepuff; I'd rather the good luck show up during the match."
Ron couldn't answer Harry's question, and he wasn't in the mood to answer. He was tightly protecting Scabbers in his pocket, guarding against Crookshanks, who was eager to pounce from Hermione's arms.
This semester, the two had quarrelled many times because of their pets, but neither side had tried to compromise.
In the end, they parted on bad terms in the Common Room once again.
It wasn't until the next day's Defence Against the Dark Arts class that Harry discovered that not only had he not received good luck under Sherlock's blessing, but his luck seemed to have become even worse.
This Defence Against the Dark Arts class was taught by Snape because Professor Lupin was unwell.
A class with Snape was certainly not a pleasant experience; it could even be described as dreadful.
At the beginning of the lesson, he ignored Professor Lupin's previous progress and went straight to the last part of the third-year curriculum—Werewolves.
The weather had been terrible these past few days. Since the previous night, it had been windy and rainy. The strong wind battered the windows, making loud banging sounds.
Except for Hermione and Ron, who exchanged a few words of disagreement and were reprimanded at the beginning of the lesson, no one spoke for the rest of the class.
Only Snape walked between the desks, explaining how to identify and kill a Werewolf.
His voice was so fierce that it sounded as though he had a personal grudge against Werewolves.(TN: I wonder why?)
Finally, after enduring the lesson, the students rushed out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom as if escaping.
"Why did Professor Cavendish's jinx fail again?"
Hermione's perspective on things was much broader than theirs.
"The Professor might have something wrong with him. Don't forget that when we saw him yesterday, he didn't seem to be in a very good state. Normally, if Professor Lupin had something going on, Professor Cavendish would have substituted, not Snape, unless they both have something going on at the same time."
Hermione's words made a lot of sense. The three of them discussed it for a moment on the staircase and decided to go to Sherlock's office to check on him.
They knocked on the door of the third-floor Defence Against the Dark Arts office, and after a weak "Come in" came from inside, they pushed the door open and walked in.
As soon as Harry and the others entered, they saw Sherlock lying on a recliner.
He seemed to have used Transfiguration to turn his chair into a recliner. Holding a steaming cup of black tea, he sat by the window under a blanket, leisurely drinking tea while watching the storm outside.
"Professor, are you sick?" Harry asked hesitantly.
Sherlock's current state certainly made him look like a sick person.
Sherlock squinted, shifted his gaze away from the rain outside the window, and looked at the three of them.
"No, I'm not sick, just in a bad mood. But why did you come here just to ask that?"
Hermione explained,
"Because Professor Lupin is also sick today, and Professor Snape substituted for us. We were wondering why it wasn't you."
"I know Lupin is sick." Sherlock took a sip of the black tea in his cup.
"By the way, how was Snape's lesson today?"
When he asked that, Harry and the others finally had somewhere to vent their frustrations.
They took turns telling Sherlock everything Snape had done during class.
After hearing their account, Sherlock couldn't help looking a little puzzled.
"He spent the entire lesson talking about Werewolves?"
"Yes! And Professor," Harry quietly moved closer to Sherlock, like someone trying to stir up trouble, and whispered, "I think Professor Lupin's illness might have something to do with Snape. A while ago, I saw him bring Professor Lupin potion and make him drink it in front of him."(TN: Kids truly have great imaginations.)
Sherlock patted him on the head and pushed him aside.
"Don't go around saying whatever comes into your head. Slandering a Professor is enough for me to deduct ten points from Gryffindor. If you're really that bored, go back to the Common Room and stay there. Don't bother me here."
Harry saw that Sherlock didn't believe him, so he had no choice but to say goodbye and leave the office with Ron and Hermione.
After they had all left, Sherlock continued staring at the heavy rain outside the window, muttering to himself,
"Potion, Werewolf, conflict, feeling unwell these past few days, the moon has been very full..."
"That's unlikely, right?"
Sherlock seemed to be asking and answering himself. After saying that, he shook his head and continued lying on the recliner.
The rain outside grew heavier, and at the same time, a bolt of white lightning flashed across the sky, followed by rolling thunder.
The thunderstorm was coming.
Early the next morning, Sherlock woke up.
It was still raining heavily outside, and it had been raining continuously for an entire day and night with no sign of stopping.
He stretched and went to the Great Hall for breakfast. He felt that his mood today was significantly better than it had been over the previous two days. Then, just as he was about to return to his office, he noticed students and Professors walking outside the Castle.
Sherlock looked at them struggling with their umbrellas as they walked across the grounds and casually stopped a student to ask,
"What day is it today?"
"It's the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Professor Cavendish."
The one who answered was a tall, handsome boy, who smiled as he said,
"I hope you'll support us. I'm the Hufflepuff team captain."
Sherlock looked at him and remembered his name.
"So it's Diggory. I didn't expect you to be the team captain now."
"I need to go prepare. Goodbye, Professor."
Watching the student named Cedric Diggory walk away, Sherlock shrugged.
"Anyway, I'm free. Might as well go and have a look."