Holmes sat in the large dining hall and tried not to stare at the floating candles or the roving ghosts that pervaded the dining hall. Instead, he fixated on the one thing that mattered most to his investigation:
Moriarty was here. There was no doubt that Moriarty had poisoned the Inquisitor and kidnapped Emory, but he had done those things so as to cast ultimate suspicion on Harry. These people didn't know Moriarty; hell, they didn't even know the first thing about conducting a thorough investigation. Sherlock placed his hands together, lost in thought. The emphasis on magic these people had would definitely pose an interesting variable; Moriarty had struck so keenly and with such force that there was little Sherlock could see that would reasonably point to an outside job and exonerate Harry.
"Didja miss me?"
Sherlock flinched as the cackling, high-pitched voice sounded in his ear, reminding him of that infernal day when Moriarty-or at the time they had assumed it to be a reasonable facsimile-had taken over all the video screens in London.
"Didja miss me? Didja miss me?"
Peeves the poltergeist was back, toturing Sherlock as if comissioned by the Dark Lord. He dive-bombed Serlock's head, and everywhere he looked, there was that pale, awkward face again. "Didja miss me? Didja miss me?"
"Enough!" Sherlock roared, attracting the attention of nearby teachers.
"Peeves," he said in a softer tone, "why don't you go bother someone else? Like someone in Slytherin for example. There," he designated the pale-blond boy known as Draco Malfoy. "Why don't you sneak over there, find out what they're talking about?"
"Why should I?" the irrepressible poltergeist retorted. "What makes you think I'd want to spy on people for you?"
Holmes dropped his voice even lower. "Because I am Harry Potter's last chance."
"POTTY-WEE POTTER?" Peeves shrieked in his face, then disappeared with a loud pop before anyone could confirm what he'd just said or why.
When Peeves did not return, everyone shrugged and returned to eating, but Sherlock happened to glance over to the wall behind Draco's head, and see the curtains waver ever so slightly, as if a small, round body tried to conceal itself in them.
Later that evening, as Holmes was headed to the small apartment the staff had provided for him, he happened upon an old man with lanky gray hair and a mongrel of a cat. He leered at Sherlock in the dim light of his lantern.
"Curfew," he muttered. "No one should be wandrin' these 'alls."
Sherlock stiffened. "I am Inspector Sherlock Holmes, of—"
"I know who y'say y'are," The man rasped, "but there's many folk who say they are one thing but they ain't." He stepped closer and leered at Holmes, "And old Filch can smell a fraud a mile away."
The name sparked a memory in Sherlock's mind... Harry talking to him on the train... "There's the old caretaker, Filch; he's a Squib, so he can't do magic..."
"You think I'm lying?" Sherlock challenged, a smile playing about his mouth. "Try me! The Veritas spell should do the trick. Go ahead."
Filch scowled, "That's not a real spell!"
"And how would you know?" Sherlock shot back, hardly allowing himself to think before he reacted with all the bluster of a Ministry official. "You're only a Squib... A Squib who has no purpose here but to spy and blackmail."
The glare vanished and surprise took its place at the glaring accusation.
"You've got no right-"
"Oh haven't I?" Sherlock forged ahead, noting the way Filch's eyes shifted to his feet and to the corners, while the cat paced around Sherlock's ankles. "That's a very singular animal," Sherlock prodded the tabby with his toe. "What's her name?"
His outrage temporarily subsided as Finch smiled. "'Er name's Mrs. Norris."
"Hmm, I'm sure a cat like that would know her way around places in this school no one would dream of looking."
Filch nodded, "She's got them pussy feet; nobody hears her comin', and when they sees her, they can only wonder how long she's been listening."
"And I bet she hears a lot of things, doesn't she?" Sherlock now bent down and stroked the matted fur of Mrs. Norris' back. "If only she could speak, what stories she could tell, eh?"
Filch lapsed into suspicious silence, giving a noncommittal grunt to avoid saying too much. But Sherlock had already seen as much as he needed.
"What's that?" he pretended to talk to Mrs. Norris. "Oh, you do speak! forgive me, I... What? Sending you sneaking after children? For no reason? Jolly thankless task, that is!" He paused, noting the hungry, fidgeting demeanor that struck the old caretaker.
Filch's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he fought over whether this man was truly speaking with his cat or not. Sherlock could read his thoughts plainly on his face: Perhaps she can speak, but a Squib like me wouldn't hear her. I wonder if I can learn a spell to do that.
"Tell me, Mrs. Norris," Sherlock went on, "who have you been following lately?"
Filch hesitated before grabbing the cat up in his arms; who knew what an Inspector of Divination might do to him if he displeased him?
Sherlock drilled him with an icy stare. "Mr. Filch, I now have the names of several students whom you have been extorting, sending Mrs. Norris to track their every move and then abusing your connection with her to blackmail them. I propose this behavior cease immediately, or I shall be forced to take action."
Filch shut his mouth tight and shuffled off down the hall.
"INSPECTOR OUT OF BED! INSPECTOR IN THE HALL!"
Sherlock fought to maintain his composure as one very cocksure poltergeist sprang into view shrieking loudly.
"Shut up, Peeves!" Sherlock snapped.
Instantly, Peeves seemed to fold his body like the lid of a box, literally shutting up. He burst back open with a rude noise and obnoxious cackle.
"The Inspector, almost crying,
Sent Peeves to do some spying:
The students have been prying,
Now the rumors are a-flying!"
Sherlock glanced down the hall where Filch had vanished.
"Not here, Peeves; follow me."
Sherlock led him down to the apartment. When he had shut the door, he turned around.
"Now what's all this about prying? What rumors have you heard?"
Peeves was dancing a jig in midair, chanting,
"Lock your windows, bolt your doors,
But he'll get you from under your floors!"
Sherlock glanced quickly, but the floors here were flagstone; nothing was coming through that, was it?
"What are you talking about, you insufferable imp?"
"The Dark, haha!" Peeves cackled. "Peeves caught the buzz from the Snakeheads, all right! The Nameless One has nothing on the First Darkness! They say Precious Potty got hisself booted on purpose, so that the Dark would come, and they'd throw themselves at his feet to get him to return and save them! The Chosen One becomes the Golden Boy Hero!"
Sherlock frowned; something didn't add up. Everything he'd learned about Harry bespoke a young man desperate to be normal and to blend in; the duplicitous ambition Peeves described seemed the complete opposite. Could it be possible he had duped Sherlock and John?
"Tell me more about this Dark," Sherlock told the wild poltergeist.
Peeves did something quite uncharacteristic: he held very still.
"They call it Old Evil," he whispered, "and it hasn't been spoken of since Good first came into the world. They say that when there was nothing else that existed, there was Old Evil. The Dark Lord and all Dark Wizards try to copy it, try to tap into it, but the True Evil is too much for any one wizard to handle. They're all tame compared to him!"
Holmes began pacing. "Well if he's so powerful, how does it figure that Harry thinks he can stop him?"
"He can't!" Peeves squealed. "He'll die trying, and they'll build shrines and statues of him, and he'll be known as the Boy Who Tried!" With a loud whirr, Peeves suddenly vanished from sight and did not reappear.
Sherlock lay upon the bed, but the very wind seemed to whisper to him all night long:
"It's raining, it's storming;
Old Evil is forming!
The cloisters are humming;
Old Evil is coming..."
*A/N: Hope you enjoyed the latest update! Sorry that took so long... And my sincerest apologies if I didn't get Peeves quite correct... that's what was taking so long... I almost wanted to work on this a bit longer before updating, but I wasn't sure how... if anyone has any more suggestions for Peeves, let me know! -KM
