"Hermione, before the opening ceremony, Professor McGonagall kept you behind and gave you a device that allows you to appear in three classrooms simultaneously for lessons.
Obviously, in her view, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Potter are not suitable to use this device."
At this point, Sherlock smiled self-deprecatingly.
"However, I don't think this is a good idea. Whenever time is involved, things become extremely complicated."
Seeing that Hermione seemed about to explain, Sherlock stopped her, then put his hands together under his chin and leaned back slightly.
"In fact, this matter can't be kept secret with just a little inquiry.
Yet Professor McGonagall made you swear not to tell anyone about it—to that I can only say she's far too naive."
Watching Sherlock continuously shake his head, Hermione's expression was complex, showing both guilt for having concealed this and some helplessness.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I didn't want to hide it from you. But Professor McGonagall made me swear not to tell anyone about this."
Sherlock smiled. "It's all right. I deduced this myself, so you're not breaking your oath."
Hearing Sherlock say this, Hermione simply took advantage of her liquid courage to speak openly.
"This is a Time-Turner."
Hermione fumbled at the collar of her robes and soon pulled out a fine, long gold chain.
She didn't remove the chain, but leaned toward Sherlock, showing him the tiny glittering hourglass attached to it.
"Professor McGonagall wrote countless letters to the Ministry of Magic to get me one. She had to prove to them that I'm a model student who would never use it for anything other than schoolwork.
Just as you said, this is how I manage to attend all my classes—you just turn the hourglass backward to relive a period of time."
Sherlock reached out to touch the Time-Turner, still warm from Hermione's body, and smiled again.
"Pretty much exactly as I deduced, but you shouldn't have shown it to me."
"But if this continues, I'll go crazy, Sherlock," Hermione looked at Sherlock. "You might not know, but you to me..."
"What?"
"N-nothing."
Hermione blushed and stuffed the Time-Turner back into her collar, then suddenly grabbed her cup and downed the rest of her Butterbeer in one gulp.
"Anyway, thank you for listening to all this. Want another round?"
"Of course."
Sherlock tapped his cup with his finger, and only then did Hermione notice that his Butterbeer was already finished.
"I'll get us two more!"
Hermione's heart raced, her face burning.
She had been so close, just a little bit closer to saying what was in her heart.
"To me, you're the hero who comes to save me whenever I cry out!"
But thinking about it now, even if she had said it, it wouldn't have been such a big deal, would it?
Returning with an anxious heart, Hermione was surprised to see two familiar faces.
Harry and Cho Chang.
"You really are here!"
When Harry saw Hermione, he said excitedly, "Ron said you might be drinking here, and I didn't believe him."
"Hermione, your face is so red—how much have you had!"
Cho Chang looked at Hermione's flushed cheeks in surprise.
"Not much, this is only my fourth cup."
Hermione raised the cup in her hand and tilted her head to look at Cho. "Your face is red too."
"That's from the wind."
Cho removed the scarf from around her neck, matching Harry's and breathed on her palms twice.
When she had given Harry his birthday present, she had knitted one for herself too.
"I ran into Cho on the road... well, okay, actually we arranged before term started to come here for a drink."
Noticing Sherlock's half-smile, Harry told the truth.
"Ron said you and Sherlock might be here too, so he didn't come along.
He said we should just leave directly afterward and not wait for him."
At Hermione's strong recommendation, Harry and Cho each ordered a steaming cup of Butterbeer.
Compared to the brandy Sherlock carried with him, Butterbeer wasn't as harsh, and Harry quickly took a liking to the feeling.
The four of them chatted happily.
"We went to Dervish and Banges, but the owner said there was nothing wrong with this Sneakoscope."
Harry took out the pocket Sneakoscope Ron had given him. At the moment, it was quiet and peaceful.
"But the owner couldn't guarantee it actually works," Harry sighed. "From his tone, it sounded like something used at tourist spots to trick outsiders."
"It's still Ron's heartfelt gift," Cho said with a smile. "A goose feather sent from afar, the gift may be light, but the sentiment is weighty. Having friends like this is something many people envy."
In Hermione's view, Cho was a far better companion than Ron.
Beautiful, kind, intelligent, modest—she was practically without flaws.
If she had to name one, perhaps she was a bit too soft-hearted?
Because from their conversation, Hermione learned that Cho still felt guilty about her former friend Marietta from the eye shadow theft case two years ago.
"Cho, you're far too kind!"
Hermione couldn't help but defend her. "That person doesn't deserve to be your friend at all."
"But Marietta is also pitiful. Her parents haven't been around for years... becoming like that is understandable."
"Pitiful people must have detestable qualities."
Sherlock said mercilessly, "Harry's parents haven't been around for years either. Why didn't he turn out like that?"
Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
Harry, Hermione, and Cho all looked at Sherlock in shock.
Dude, when criticizing others, do you have to deliver a heavy blow to your allies too?
Especially Cho, she raised her hand to cover her mouth in surprise.
Her contact with Harry had begun earliest when Sherlock helped her solve the eye shadow theft case.
When she and Penelope went to thank Sherlock, she had also met Harry Potter, Sherlock's good friend.
Later, when Sherlock and Harry prevented Voldemort from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone at term's end, she visited Harry and learned they shared common interests, which gradually brought them closer.
Cho, even she hadn't realized one thing. When facing Harry, her subconscious always had a trace of compassion.
Although Harry was the savior of the wizarding world, he was also a poor boy who had lost both parents at a young age.
Through deeper interactions with Harry, she understood his heart even better: he would rather not have this glorious identity if it meant his parents could be alive.
In other words, Harry's circumstances had awakened her maternal instinct.
During their usual conversations, she tried carefully to avoid this topic to prevent rubbing salt in Harry's wounds.
But now it seemed that Harry's best friend Sherlock didn't care about this matter at all.
Looking at Harry, after his initial surprise, he quickly agreed with Sherlock's view.
So... is escaping reality really the right thing to do?
This made Cho begin to reflect.
In any case, the four had a pleasant conversation.
By the time they left Hogsmeade and returned, it was already dark.
The cold wind had turned all the young wizards' cheeks rosy, but even this couldn't hide their joy.
Next came the wonderful Halloween feast.
Like the previous two years, the Hall had been decorated early.
Hundreds of jack-o'-lanterns with nodding heads, swarms of live bats fluttering about, and many flaming orange banners brought the festive atmosphere to its peak.
The food was delicious too. Needless to say, Ron devoured everything enthusiastically as he did at every such celebration.
Even Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione had seconds of everything.
At the staff table, Professor Lupin and Professor Flitwick were chatting animatedly.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout raised their glasses to each other.
Dumbledore was speaking quietly with Professor Snape about something.
"Sherlock, I keep feeling like Snape is watching Professor Lupin."
Harry couldn't help but say to Sherlock.
Hearing their conversation, Hermione frowned and looked twice.
"I think... he's probably jealous of Professor Lupin. We all know he's always wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and Professor Lupin is so popular now."
"Harry, Hermione, you've spotted something."
Sherlock looked away. "Professor Snape is indeed watching Professor Lupin constantly, but dear Hermione, I don't think it's jealousy or rather, not just jealousy."
"Then what is it?"
"Concern."
"Are you mad?"
Ron, who had been devouring pumpkin pie, looked up from his plate in surprise. "Snape would be concerned about Lupin?"
"Ron, though this sounds rather absurd, from what I've observed, that's exactly what it is."
"Uh..."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other.
Unlike Ron, they were both willing to trust Sherlock unconditionally.
Even if this matter was as absurd as Sherlock said.
"But why?"
Hermione looked toward the staff table, trying to detect a trace of concern in Snape's expression, but she couldn't.
"Yeah, even if you gave me three days and nights to think about it, I wouldn't understand why Snape would be concerned about Professor Lupin." Harry was equally puzzled.
"At Hogwarts, everyone has secrets."
Sherlock said quietly. "More than one professor has said this to me, so as long as it doesn't affect us, I have no interest in exploring these issues."
Hearing Sherlock say this, the three companions fell silent.
The Halloween feast ended with a performance by Hogwarts' ghosts.
They burst through the walls in formation and glided about.
Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor's resident ghost, even reenacted his beheading experience, a program that was widely appreciated.
Harry and Hermione were especially happy.
Because at the same time last year, they had experienced a very unpleasant Deathday Party.
"I get it! It's because last year all the ghosts were in the dungeons, so they didn't come to perform."
"Ron, please stop talking about that. It reminds me of unpleasant memories."
"That's all in the past! Today we went to Hogsmeade, experienced such an interesting feast—we should be even happier, shouldn't we, mate?"
"That's true... but last year's events were still unpleasant, and the year before too. I just hope nothing happens this year."
Halloween 1991. Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, released a troll.
It happened to trap Hermione in the girls' bathroom, but fortunately Sherlock rescued her in time.
Halloween 1992. Lockhart, controlled by Voldemort from fifty years ago, opened the Chamber and released the basilisk, petrifying Mrs. Norris.
Harry, Hermione, and Neville happened to leave the Deathday Party early and were mistaken for the culprits.
Halloween 1993...
"Harry, what are you thinking about?"
Seeing Harry's worried expression, Ron couldn't help but laugh.
"That's just coincidence! It can't be that something happens every Halloween, right?
If that were really the case, then let me never find a girlfriend before I'm fifteen... mmph..."
Before he could finish, Harry clapped a hand over his mouth.
Harry looked at him in terror. "Please, stop talking!"
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