Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 192 Traveling with the Female Class Monitor
“If you were looking for me, you would have written to me by owl, or you would have said so in the auditorium, instead of coming here.”

When Gemma asked why, Sherlock answered without hesitation.

"Okay, I knew you figured it out."

Gemma sighed, then gave Sherlock a long, meaningful look: "I'm here because of Draco Malfoy..."

After saying that, she quietly added another sentence in her mind, but it wasn't just for that guy.

“Miss Gemma, I think you should know very well that his relationship with Harry is much worse than that of Marcus Flint.”

"Of course I know."

Gemma smiled slightly, her finger gently sliding along the rim of the glass: "But compared to Flint, at least he didn't really cause Mr. Potter any harm."

Quite the opposite—he's the one who gets hurt every single time!

Last year, before the start of the school year, Crabbe and Goyle were beaten up by Sherlock on the train. Although Malfoy escaped unscathed, he was still quite frightened.

She then devised a plan to trick Harry and Ron into a midnight duel, but Sherlock saw through the scheme and she was ridiculed by the entire school, unable to hold her head high for over a month.

In the later Quidditch match, Malfoy, assuming Sherlock wasn't there, started mocking Gryffindor. But Sherlock suddenly appeared and led the lion cubs to give the snake a good beating.

Malfoy was the first to be hit, and after being knocked down, he rested in the school hospital for two or three days.

Since then, Malfoy has learned his lesson and only dares to provoke others verbally.

So when Gemma said that, Sherlock laughed too:

"Okay, I admit you're right."

Seeing that Sherlock was no longer avoiding topics related to Malfoy, Gemma quickly said:
"Draco Malfoy's father bought a Nimbus 2001 for every member of the Slytherin Quidditch team."

"Miracle 2001?"

Sherlock immediately remembered the shop assistant who had sold him and Hermione flying broomsticks in Diagon Alley.

Gemma thought he didn't know, so she patiently explained:
"Yes, it's from the same series as your friend Mr. Porter's Nimbus 2000."

That's the latest model, released this August, and it's even faster than the previous Nimbus 2000.

Sherlock replied without hesitation, "So old Malfoy wants his son to join the Quidditch team?"

"exactly."

"From what I've observed, Malfoy's performance in flight lessons is not bad—even by his actual standards, he's good enough to join the college team."

Just like last year, the Quidditch Academy team is recruiting again this year.

Since second-year students can be directly selected for the college team as official members, Malfoy could have joined through the normal channels.

"That's the problem."

Gemma frowned. "If Draco can make it into the House team through the official selection process like Potter did, then there won't be any problem."

Even if he is indeed talented, joining the team this way will inevitably lead to gossip and accusations that he paid money to get in.

Sherlock chuckled and retorted, "Isn't that so?"

"what?"

"Draco Malfoy, he did pay money to get into the team."

"But you just said that his flying skills are good enough to get him into the academy team."

“These two things are not contradictory, Miss Gemma.”

Sherlock looked at the prefect in front of him who was so worried about Slytherin.

During the summer vacation, she provided herself with a large number of crime cases from the magical world.

More importantly, unlike other Slytherins, she consistently showed kindness to herself.

Sherlock then decided to give her some advice.

“Miss Gemma, whatever Malfoy’s true ability may be, it became irrelevant the moment his father bought flying brooms for the Slytherin team.”

Upon hearing this, Gemma's eyes narrowed sharply:
"Sherlock, you might as well put it more clearly."

Sherlock chuckled softly and tapped the table lightly with his knuckles:

“Ms. Gemma, since you’ve come to me for advice, let’s use three logical anchors to untangle your thoughts:

Firstly, Malfoy's talent for flying is as real as the roots of a mandrake, a fact we all know.

Secondly, old Malfoy's Galleons were like poisonous tentacles entwined around the broom handle, a smell of money that even Mrs. Lorris could detect.

Thirdly, when money and talent shine simultaneously, the public will always only focus on the more dazzling light.

At this point, Sherlock grabbed the orange juice from the table and pointed to the droplets sliding down the side of the glass, saying:
"See all this condensation? No matter how you wipe it, people will assume it's the Malfoy family's vault that's frosting over."

So my advice is, instead of getting hung up on the moral ice crystals on the broom, focus your energy on the training field.

Most people in this world only care about results, and wizards are no exception.

When Slytherin actually lifts the Quidditch cup, everyone will shut up.

Seeing Gemma's thoughtful expression, Sherlock added:
“Miss Gemma, I think you should still remember how you repotted the mandrake, right?”
So what if the process is ugly? In the end, what is buried in the soil is a plant that can grow.

For the Slytherin house team, these Nimbus 2001s are just their new flowerpots.

"Sherlock, you..."

Gemma was surprised that Sherlock could offer such sincere advice despite their differing stances.

She looked at Sherlock with some emotion, about to say something heartfelt. Unexpectedly, Sherlock continued, "However, in my personal opinion, you should give up as soon as possible."

"what?"

Gemma was stunned.

She stared at Sherlock in astonishment, utterly bewildered as to how he could move so swiftly.

"As long as Harry can perform normally, you are no match for him."

"Pfft~"

Gemma was immediately amused by Sherlock's words.

"You have that much faith in your friends?"

“The youngest Seeker in a century, Miss Gemma, I don’t think a broom can separate him from Malfoy.”

"But those were seven brooms in total!"

"With all due respect, the Seeker is, in some respects, more important than the other six players combined in Quidditch."

"That being said—Sherlock, have you always spoken like this?"

Gemma looked at Sherlock with a hint of helplessness. "Has anyone told you that you're making it easy to offend people like this?"

"so what?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Life is already so hard, it would be too tiring to worry about what others think."

"never mind……"

Gemma sighed deeply and gently gathered her chestnut-colored hair.
"Since things have come to this, let's have a drink first!"

As she spoke, her gaze was fixed on the drinks on the table, her eyes revealing a sense of desperation.

Sherlock nodded, picked up the orange juice on the table, and drank it all in one gulp, the bottom of the glass making a dull thud on the wooden table.

"tasty."

Gemma propped her chin on her hand and looked at Sherlock with interest: "Aren't you worried I might add something to it?"

“I told you last time, you’re not that kind of person.”

Upon hearing this, Gemma's already bright eyes shone even brighter.

The smile on her lips became more pronounced, and she seemed to be infused with new vitality, unconsciously sitting up straighter.

Seeing Gemma's expression, Sherlock laughed too:
"In fact, I think Penelope's description of you is more accurate than that of Chimeramon."

"Penelope? What did she say about me?"

Gemma immediately became interested when Sherlock mentioned his old nemesis.

"She said she hated guys with snake-shaped silver buckles, but you're like a moon-obsessed beast that's infiltrated a snake's den."

Moonfox is a magical creature widely distributed around the world. It has a light gray body, smooth skin, four slender legs, four flat, large feet, and two large, round eyes on its head.

They are shy and only come out of their caves on the night of a full moon.

When bathed in moonlight, they will stand on their two hind legs in secluded and deserted places and perform complex dances, which are very charming.

Upon hearing this metaphor, Gemma was taken aback at first, then burst into laughter, her voice as clear and melodious as a nightingale's:

“That Penelope… how could she come up with something like that! But…”

A cold glint suddenly flashed in her eyes: "To think I'm only a low danger level is to underestimate me!"

Sherlock frowned. He didn't understand how comparing someone to a Moonfox was considered underestimating them. Shouldn't that be a compliment?

"Okay, it's about time."

Gemma stopped smiling and said quietly, "If we don't leave soon, your friend might really start to think of me as a dangerous Chimera. What do you think?"

"That kind of thing is fine no matter what."

"..."

When Sherlock and Gemma Farley returned to the Great Hall, the sun had already risen.

Ron has disappeared, leaving Hermione alone in the Great Hall.

When Hermione saw Sherlock and Gemma, the anxiety in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a look of relief.

Gemma smiled and nodded at Hermione, then turned and left under the latter's wary gaze.

Sherlock's gaze swept across the table. "Ron went to the Quidditch pitch?"

"He went to find Harry with bread and jam."

Once Gemma had completely disappeared from sight, Hermione asked with a stern face, "You've been gone for so long, what did you talk about with her?"

"It's just a trivial matter."

Sherlock sat down and picked up a piece of toast: "Could you please pass me the applesauce? Thank you."

Hermione handed the applesauce to Sherlock as instructed, then stared intently at him, waiting for him to continue.

"She came to me for counseling again, but this time it was psychological."

"Psychological counseling?"

(End of this chapter)