Hermione was thoroughly disappointed with her performance in flying class.
But reality didn't care for her feelings.
The lesson was drawing to a close, and the thought of having to take off again made her legs tremble slightly.
Faced with no other choice, she sighed and decided to deal with it another way.
Just then, she noticed Neville beside her, still clutching his Remembrall with a deeply contemplative expression, mumbling under his breath whether he had forgotten lunch, his homework, folding his sheets, or doing laundry. She couldn't help but say:
"Have you considered that maybe... you forgot to thank Sherlock?"
"Right!"
Neville smacked his forehead hard.
He had nearly forgotten to thank the person who had quite literally saved his life.
"Thanks, Granger! I'll go thank Holmes right now!"
As Hermione watched Neville run off toward Sherlock, who had just landed from the sky, a bold idea began to form in her mind.
Later, after flying class ended, everyone headed to the Great Hall for dinner as usual.
Every mealtime, Ron Weasley transformed into the ultimate food devourer.
At that moment, he was shoveling a steak and kidney pie into his mouth while keeping one eye firmly locked on the rest of the food on the table, as though someone might snatch it away.
Harry wisely chose this time to share his excitement with Sherlock:
"Did you know, Sherlock? I think this is something I was born to do! You probably won't believe it, but it's like I just knew what to do—lean forward, grip the broom, and it just kept accelerating!
I could hear the wind rushing past, feel my robes flying behind me—so easy, so amazing... Honestly, I think I might even be better than Malfoy!"
Watching Harry speak animatedly, eyes sparkling, Sherlock gave a small nod.
He understood everything Harry was describing.
He himself had always been athletically gifted—skilled in boxing and fencing. Naturally, his coordination wasn't lacking.
"Judging by what I observed, Malfoy really isn't as good as you."
"Really?"
Getting that confirmation made Harry beam with pride.
At Hogwarts, there were only two people Harry truly disliked: Snape, and more than him—Malfoy.
Though admittedly, Snape had been slightly demoted thanks to Sherlock.
After all, Sherlock had said Snape was a good person.
Harry had tried to believe that—but Snape made it extremely difficult.
Hence, he still ranked quite high on Harry's "most hated" list.
"What about me?"
Just then, Ron, having finally polished off his dinner, let out a satisfied belch and jumped into the conversation, jabbing his finger at his own nose.
"Sherlock, do you think I have talent?"
Sherlock's gaze fell on Ron's perpetually dusty nose. "No offense, but most people in this world don't work hard enough to even reach the point where talent becomes a factor."
Harry snorted quietly. Ron just looked blank.
Sherlock turned back to Harry. "If you enjoy flying, I'd suggest trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
"Huh?"
Harry froze, as confused as Ron had been moments ago.
"You're not serious, are you? First-years aren't allowed to join house teams!"
Ron perked up at that. "Exactly! That's the rule!"
"There are exceptions to everything," Sherlock said calmly. "As I understand it, Slytherin hasn't just dominated the House Cup six years in a row—they've completely crushed Gryffindor in Quidditch too.
During that time, Professor McGonagall couldn't even face Snape for weeks afterward."
Ron looked bewildered. "How do you know all that?"
Sherlock furrowed his brows. "Simple obs—"
"Observation. Got it. Carry on."
Sherlock gave an approving nod, pleased Ron was learning.
"In this situation, someone like you, who's naturally gifted—might just be granted a special exception to join the team."
As Sherlock spoke, Harry's breathing grew heavier.
Joining the Gryffindor team!
He'd never considered it before.
But now that Sherlock had planted the seed, the idea seemed entirely possible.
Especially because, just as Sherlock said—he truly loved flying.
That exhilarating feeling of soaring through the sky on a broom—it was magical.
No exaggeration, that afternoon's flying experience was the happiest moment he could remember.
Moments later, Harry made up his mind. "Sherlock, would you come with me?"
"Of course."
Sherlock had already anticipated Harry would say that the moment he suggested it. Naturally, he agreed.
Harry exhaled deeply, visibly relieved.
Strangely, even though they had only known each other for a month, and were the same age—whenever Sherlock was around, he felt... safe.
Honestly, Sherlock made him feel more secure than even Hagrid did.
So hearing that promise now completely settled Harry's nerves.
"I'll come too!"
Ron jumped in eagerly. Since they were going anyway, why shouldn't he give it a shot too?
Sherlock glanced at him.
Said nothing.
(￣_,￣)
"Oi! What's with that look?"
"Excuse me."
Just as Ron started to feel slighted, a voice interrupted them.
"Hermione?"
Ron frowned at the sight of her. Any goodwill he had from her standing up for them during Potions was now undone.
"Can't a bloke eat in peace?"
Hermione ignored him and looked directly at Sherlock. "I couldn't help overhearing what you said to Potter—"
"I knew you were eavesdropping."
Ron muttered beside them.
"Shut it," Sherlock said.
Ron: （;д｀）ゞ
"Sherlock, can we talk in private?"
Sherlock didn't answer. He simply stood up.
"Harry! Did you see that? He snapped at me! He totally snapped at me!"
Ron turned back to Harry, face full of wounded indignation.
Harry: (⊙﹏⊙)
"We've known each other since the train! We sleep in the same dorm! And he sides with her?!"
Harry: ((/——)/
"And did you hear that? She called him Sherlock! And he didn't even correct her!"
Harry: ╮（╯＿╰）╭
"I can't believe it. Sherlock Holmes is the kind of guy who chooses girls over friends. I was wrong about him!"
"Er... Ron."
Harry, now thoroughly overwhelmed by Ron's rants, finally spoke. "You do remember that Sherlock said he and Granger knew each other before school started?"
"What are you saying?"
"Technically… she was here first."
Ron: 〒▽〒
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