As the name suggests, the Anti-Alohomora Charm is specifically designed to counter the Unlocking Charm (Alohomora Charm).
The Unlocking Charm is a spell used to unlock doors, windows, and other locked items, also known as "the thief's friend."
In the early 17th century, the famous charms master Blagdon Blay's home was visited by thieves using the Unlocking Charm 19 times in just two weeks.
People's talents cannot be generalized, so in extreme anger, he invented this spell.
Hearing Sherlock's description of the Anti-Unlocking Charm, Gemma couldn't help but feel helpless.
Was he serious?
The point of what she just said clearly wasn't about that, was it?
This gave her the feeling of casting flirtatious glances at a blind person.
He was clearly an adolescent boy—how did he manage to remain so unmoved?
Seeing that he wouldn't cooperate, Gemma could only temporarily give up continuing to tease.
Her fingertips unconsciously twisted around her hanging hair, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. Setting aside her helpless mood, she looked at Sherlock with some anticipation.
"I think... you should know why I'm looking for you?"
"Nothing more than two things. Sirius Black, and the upcoming Quidditch match."
Sherlock's fingers tapped out a regular rhythm on the wooden table, like playing an unknown deductive movement.
"But looking at it now, it's most likely the latter."
"Nothing escapes you."
Gemma laughed lightly, her wand deftly spinning in her palm, drawing a silver streak of light.
In an instant, two steaming butterbeers appeared on the table, fine foam jumping cheerfully.
Sherlock's gaze fell on the amber-glazed liquid. "You brought back butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks?"
"Sort of."
Gemma's fingertip lightly touched the rim of the glass, ripples spreading across the beer's surface. "The house-elves in the Hogwarts kitchens made them to imitate that taste. Though slightly different, they're passable."
She pushed one beer toward Sherlock, her eyes flowing with mischief.
"Actually, when I went to Hogsmeade before Halloween, I wanted to have a drink with you, but unfortunately never found the opportunity."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You didn't go to Hogsmeade that day."
"Sherlock, so you care about me that much? I'm truly rather flattered!"
Gemma feigned surprise, covering her mouth as she laughed.
Sherlock looked at Gemma without speaking.
Gemma: "..."
She had that feeling from earlier again.
Secretly sighing, she continued. "You and Miss Granger have been practically inseparable during this time. Even if I had really gone there, I'm afraid it wouldn't have been the right time."
"Well said."
Gemma: "..."
Seeing that Sherlock only stared at the glass without moving, she half-jokingly said. "What, worried I poisoned it?"
"Gemma, you seem somewhat different from last year."
Sherlock noticed some of Gemma's small movements, his gaze like a precision scalpel roaming over Gemma's face, trying to dissect those subtle changes.
Hearing Sherlock's words, Gemma's eyes became slightly unfocused, looking toward the churning dark clouds outside the window, her tone carrying a touch of release.
"Perhaps because I'm graduating this year, I've figured some things out."
She raised her glass, the liquid reflecting her smiling face.
Seeing this, Sherlock also picked up his glass and clinked it lightly with hers, the crisp sound echoed in the empty classroom, making Gemma's heart stir as well.
"Let's talk business. This Saturday was originally the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but now the situation has changed."
Gemma's fingers unconsciously rubbed the glass wall as her nails left shallow marks on its surface.
"Marcus Flint found me this morning, saying that Seeker Draco Malfoy fell from his broomstick during recent training and broke his leg.
He's already submitted an application to the school. If there are no surprises, this Saturday's match will be held between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."
"Fell from his broomstick?" Sherlock's brow immediately furrowed, like a keen hound catching a suspicious scent. "Is this true?"
"I knew you'd question this, but Malfoy breaking his leg is true."
Gemma met Sherlock's eagle-sharp gray eyes, her tone was serious.
"Since this term began, the Slytherin Quidditch team's training has been very rigorous, no less intense than Gryffindor's.
Just yesterday, they chose to train in harsh weather, precisely to simulate extreme conditions in real matches, but unexpectedly Malfoy had an accident during training."
Her voice carried some regret. "Uh... when he fell from the air, his Nimbus 2001 broomstick was blown away by the wind.
Later it crashed into the Whomping Willow and turned into a pile of fragments."
Sherlock nodded slightly, his fingers beginning to tap the table again, the rhythm gradually accelerating.
After a moment, he slowly said. "Undoubtedly, this is an excellent opportunity for the Slytherin Quidditch team."
"Opportunity?"
"Yes. The reason of an injured Seeker allows them to avoid this harsh weather and postpone the match.
Malfoy's poor performance in training exactly proves that the Slytherin team's performance in this weather is indeed unsatisfactory."
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I originally wanted to stop Flint, but Malfoy really did go to the hospital."
Gemma's eyes were full of apology. "Although Madam Pomfrey has already healed him, she also indicated he still needs two or three days of rest.
I've also seen the wreckage of that Nimbus 2001 destroyed by the Whomping Willow. Even the most skilled wizard couldn't repair it..."
"Why apologize?"
Before Gemma could finish, Sherlock interrupted her with a warm smile curving his lips.
"This matter has nothing to do with you at all!"
"Nothing to do with me?"
"If last year you still had to speak from the position of Slytherin prefect, this year there's no longer that necessity.
You're the Head Girl of the entire school, not the Head Girl of Slytherin House."
Sherlock's voice was steady and powerful, carrying unquestionable certainty.
"The Seeker being injured before the match, the broomstick damaged—under these circumstances, proposing to delay the match is a perfectly legitimate reason.
Of course, these difficulties can be completely overcome—as you said, by the time Malfoy leaves the hospital wing, he can still make it to this match.
His wealthy father buying him a new broomstick isn't difficult either.
But... why?
Neither the Slytherin team nor Malfoy himself has any need to do this.
On the contrary, Flint's approach is far more reasonable."
"Sherlock, you..."
Surprise flashed through Gemma's blue eyes, and her shoulders, previously tense with worry, quietly relaxed.
"One cannot only follow rules when they're advantageous to oneself."
Sherlock winked at her, his smile carrying some teasing. "Dear Head Girl, this applies equally to everyone.
Slytherin thinks they've avoided harsh weather and changed to a time more suitable for their performance.
But don't forget, harsh weather affects both sides in a Quidditch match simultaneously.
On sunny days, their opponents will also perform more excellently than now.
The outcome remains uncertain."
Gemma looked at the young man before her, feeling warmth surging in her heart.
Just days ago, Gemma had thought Sherlock was too rational, unable to provide emotional support to others.
Even just moments ago, she thought Sherlock too calm, unable to understand her subtext. But now, she felt the benefits brought by Sherlock's rationality and calmness.
His analysis was like sunlight dispelling gloom, allowing her to no longer worry about baseless misunderstandings.
Perhaps this was also the reason she decided to make a change...
"But this is still unfair to the Gryffindor team, after all, they've been practicing with Slytherin as their target all this time."
"Fairness is relative; unfairness is absolute," Sherlock said slowly, gazing into Gemma's eyes. "I'm very glad you can step outside your Slytherin identity to look at this issue, my friend."
"Thank you for the praise, Sherlock."
Gemma's expression also became cheerful with her mood.
"Gryffindor Quidditch Captain Wood always says this year is his last chance to get the Quidditch Cup because he'll graduate this school year—in fact, it's the same for me."
Gemma naturally led the topic to herself through Wood. She said wistfully. "After graduating next year, Father plans to have me leave England for other countries. That way, I'm afraid we won't be able to see each other for a very long time."
"Is it to expand the Farley family's influence in other regions?" Sherlock immediately asked.
"I'm afraid that's difficult."
Gemma elegantly swirled the butterbeer in her hand, drinking the remainder in one gulp.
She then waved her wand, and the empty butterbeer disappeared, replaced by a fresh glass.
Raising her glass to clink lightly with Sherlock's again, she said softly.
"The Farley family isn't one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families. Our influence is limited to within Britain.
Being able to pressure the Malfoy family when school started was because Lucius Malfoy's performance last year was too excessive. Many people couldn't stand it, so we could act accordingly."
A flash of lightning suddenly swept by outside the window, edging her profile in silver.
"Father wants me to go to Greece to engage with the magical gemstone trade there, but I want to apply for a trainee position at the dragon reserve in Romania.
After discussing with Father several times, he finally agreed with my view."
She took out a document from her bosom and placed it on the table, its embossed wax seal was gleaming.
"Of course, this is only temporary."
Gemma's body leaned slightly forward. With this movement, the silver chain pendant at her neck swayed gently.
That Head Girl badge, always properly pinned to her collar, now appeared and disappeared at the neckline of her shirt, where two buttons had been undone.
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