In the school's Potions Lab, Sherlock quietly makes a potion from a recipe he had written himself, going through a number of books and different ingredients as well to perfect the potion. Lady Adler's box rests on the table beside his horrible amount of mess.

Molly, the Potions Mistress, watches as she goes through her shelves, and thinks of what lessons to teach her students, and how to help the struggling ones learn the way of Potion-Making. It isn't an easy subject. She is always on-guard in case of accidents. She is known to be cautious but kind, but damn does she get angry when one tries to sabotage the work of another.

People often underestimate her ability to be stern because they often compare her with Severus Snape, one of the best Potions Master Hogwarts ever had. The difference is that former Headmaster Snape's sternness was and is much more known than his brilliance in Potions—which reminds Molly of another brilliant person known for his sternness.

Looking at what Sherlock is making, she finally asks, "What are you doing?"

"Finding any traps," Sherlock mumbles, still adding ingredients to the cauldron.

"Using a potion?"

"Yes."

"And what kind of potion is that?"

"A potion that would let me see any—hopefully only dark—spells used on an object."

She thinks hard. "Why don't you just use a spell that would help you catch dark curses and traps?" she asks him. "Isn't that your specialty since you're the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor?" she asks.

Molly looks over his shoulder to see a complicated amount of instructions on a piece of parchment—complicated even for her—and she can make out erasures and notes on the side in Sherlock's writing. She can't tell whether he had been working on this potion for a long time already, or he just copied it from a book and modified some parts of it.

"Don't be absurd," Sherlock tells her, not even looking at her, "of course, that would have been the first thing I would have done. I have tried every spell, every counter-curse, and every diagnosis that would detect any dark curses or traps on this little... nuisance. So far, there does not seem to be any. I don't trust it. I have to be thorough. I need to be thorough—knowing my opponent, I have to be."

"Your opponent?"

"A formidable one."

Molly nods to herself, not bothering to ask why Sherlock is being so incredibly vague.

"What will the potion do?"

"It will visually show any spell on it—even the most untraceable ones..."

"But where did you get the idea of such a potion? I've never heard of anything like it."

"I made it myself."

"Did you modify an already existing potion?"

"No."

Molly's brows rise up in admiration, but not really surprised. "When did you—?"

"This morning."

Oh... She thought he had been researching about this for a long time.

"How can you be so sure it would work?" she asks.

"I can't," Sherlock replies, "or at least, not yet. There had been trials and errors, and they have all been swimmingly illuminating."

Molly watches as Sherlock waves his wand a lot of times at the cauldron. At first, they were nonverbal, after that, he starts to speak. There is a series of incantations Sherlock is using—ones she isn't familiar of. It doesn't seem to be in Latin. Sherlock finally stops and she watches as the potion seems to have turned into an almost invisible colour. It isn't just clear like water. One would believe there isn't a potion inside the cauldron, except for the fact that a small amount of smoky substance is flowing through the invisible liquid.

"Ahhh, yes! The precise invisibility I wanted!"

Sherlock grabs a pipette which Molly knows is not part of the equipment in her lab—and she suspects to be of Muggle origin—and takes a small amount of the potion. Smiling, Sherlock looks at the pipette proudly before looking back at her.

"Let's see if it works then."

Sherlock gestures at a book on another table in the Potions lab.

"I placed some incredibly dark and subtle untraceable traps on this book—curses I believe I would be placed in Azkaban for—" Molly looks at him in horror—"oh relax, no one would know... If this works, when I drop a single drop, it would..."

Sherlock drops one drop of the potion on the book. Immediately, the air around the book changes colour, as if smoke is coming out of the said book. There is a number of different colours surrounding the smoke and it changes from smoky to almost opaque. Molly can say to herself that it looks beautiful before she remembers that all these colourful and beautiful lights represent dark spells and curses. Sherlock, on the other hand, grins and jumps excitedly.

"I've found it! I've found it!" [1] he shouts excitedly, jumping around the room with the hand that is still holding the pipette and his fist up in the air. Molly smiles at this display of excitement from Sherlock—he is such a nerd.

Had he discovered a gold mine, greater delight could not have shone upon his features. [1]

"What did it do exactly?" Molly finally asks when Sherlock had calmed down slightly.

"Magic!"

Sherlock sighs in victory and his face instantly changes to something more composed and more unemotional. Quickly, he grabs something—a sort of small box—and looks it at thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Molly asks.

"The smoke you had seen earlier is the spell itself. The potion would guide you to visually see the magic that surrounds an object—much stronger than the usual diagnostic spell since not only will it help you detect which part of the object has the spell, it can show how strong it was used as well. I suppose I should try it on a human as well, but that's not important right now. The colour determines what spell was used—it takes the same colour as the light emitted when the spell was casted. I've spent a lot of research in different libraries to determine the original colours of spells that does not emit light from the wand, and I will use it to help with my diagnosis."

"...Is this what you've been doing all this time?"

"Yes... Now, the moment I've been waiting for."

Taking a deep breath, he takes the pipette once again and drops one drop on the top of the small box. A white smoke quickly appears and clouds the box. A gold smoke appears a few moments later. After a while, an odd silver one appears as well. The smoke seems to look solid, as if they're not smoke as it surrounds the box. Sherlock quickly grabs a book which Molly suspects is the book with the original colour of the spells. Sherlock frowns.

A moment later, Sherlock drops to the ground to be at eye-level with the box. Sherlock stands up slowly and goes through the book before sighing and closing it.

"What do the colours on the smoke mean?" Molly finally asks.

"The white smoke indicates that Diminuendo was used to shrink the box [2]. I'm not surprised by that... For the gold light, I am perfectly certain that the charm used was the same charm used by the Marauders on Potter's map. The one that insults former Headmaster Snape should he try to use it or get his hands on it [3]. I had the liberty of discovering it in my first year. Unfortunately, it got confiscated at the end of my First Year and I had to give it back. [4] The silver smoke, according to Merlin's book here—" he raises the book he is holding a bit—"is the original light colour for the Anti-Unlocking Charms [5]. The opacity of the smoke indicates how strong the spells were casted."

"That's it? Shouldn't that be easier to open?" Molly asks.

"I also noticed a deep grey colour inside the smoke—a light I have never seen before," Sherlock says thoughtfully, looking down at the box which is now rid of all smoke and colours.

"Oh?"

"It's strongly casted but so untraceable the potion only showed a small part of it. It's strong but there is a chance of weakening it. The problem is: I have not seen a spell with that colour before. Even Avada Kedavra does not emit a dark light. It takes a vibrant green light. So what is this? How is that possible? A dark light?" Sherlock thinks to himself.

"Perhaps you're not the only one who still invents something new for the Wizarding World," Molly quietly breaks the silence, not liking the unamused aura Sherlock is giving off.

"Of course," Sherlock whispers to himself. His head snaps towards Molly which causes her to step back in surprise. Sherlock looks at her determinedly. "Molly, we need to go to St. Bart's."

"Don't you mean St. Mungo's?" she asks.

"No. St. Bartholomew's Hospital. I know you work there from time to time in the summer breaks. I need an x-ray," Sherlock says, standing up and grabbing his robe. He transfigures it to a muggle coat once more and places something inside his pocket. "We need to talk to the headmaster."

"Why?"

Sherlock looks at her. "I would have thought you know that only wizards who work there are allowed to floo directly into St. Bart's? or the fact that we can't floo from Hogwarts without permission from the headmaster?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course." She blushes.

Molly looks at Sherlock, still confused about his need for St. Bart's and embarrassed about her idiocy, but goes to her fireplace and grabs some floo powder. Headmaster Lestrade's voice echoes throughout the lab.

"Molly? What is it?" he asks.

"Sherlock and I are going to St. Bart's."

"A muggle hospital? Not St. Mungo's?" he asks.

"I need muggle means to get something I need," Sherlock informs the headmaster from behind Molly. "We need your permission so that this fireplace would be able to go directly towards the Leaky Cauldron."

"Ugh, alright," the headmaster replies.

The fireplace's flames goes out and they throw floo powder again. Green flames ignite within and Sherlock steps inside the flames before saying, "The Leaky Cauldron," slowly and precisely. Molly follows him. She almost falls on the ground but thankfully, Sherlock catches her. She blushes but composes herself quickly completely.

"You look too much of a witch to go through London," he comments at her. "Do you have any muggle clothing?"

"Er, no," she replies, "just a few fancy dresses like from... Christmas."

Sherlock nods. "I'll wait here while you transfigure your own clothes. You've been through London, I assume. So, you'd know what they wear."

A few moments later, Molly, who is now wearing a green-striped shirt and jeans with her hair braided on one side, and Sherlock, who is wearing his usual suit and his coat, are sitting in a cab in silence, going towards St. Bartholomew's Hospital.

When they arrived, they arrive and are given access towards Molly's usual lab. Sherlock notices that there are some Wizarding Equipment as well. He figures that this lab is for both muggle and wizarding means to help muggles with their injuries.

Sherlock quickly goes into his determined scientific mode. Molly wears a lab coat that looks almost identical to a wizarding robe, but instead of being lime green, it's white—perhaps to differentiate the wizards from the muggles. I suppose it would help wizards know who else are wizards.

Molly goes through her equipment and continues her own research in Science to help both the Muggle and Wizarding World.

Sherlock places something Molly didn't see inside the x-ray machine.

"Wouldn't it be confusing to differentiate dark spells and non-dark spells since some of them have the same colour?" Molly asks suddenly.

"No. Dark spells have a much more vibrant or concentrated light while non-dark spells glow brighter and are paler than vibrant," Sherlock replies, looking at the computer.

Sherlock sees the interior parts of the box shown in the x-ray. It shows some smoky cloud on the inside. He raises a brow at that. Magical substance that seems to have metallic components. Odd. He can see small objects inside Lady Adler's box. Of course, it seems to be a whole library on the inside. He raises his brows at the concentrated amount of Diminuendo used to shrink a whole room.

There seems to be some engineering work on the box surrounding the shrunk library itself. Eight small dark areas are placed on the corners of the box and some more dark areas scattered on it. Sherlock looks at the x-ray exasperatedly and admirably.

"Is that a box?" Molly asks.

"It's a Pandora's box," Sherlock replies.

"Is it the same one you experimented your potion on earlier?"

"Yup," Sherlock pops the 'p.'

"And you're x-raying it?"

"Yes, I am."

"It belongs to a magical person... Whose box is it?" she asks with fake enthusiasm.

"A woman's."

Molly immediately thinks of Sherlock's determination of being thorough to find out if there are any dark spells on the box. She thinks about how much effort he had made to invent a potion and to go to different libraries, and now at St. Bart's just because of a box that belongs to a woman.

"Your girlfriend?" she asks.

Sherlock pauses and leans back, confused. "You think she's my girlfriend because I'm x-raying her possessions?"

Molly laughs nervously. "Well, we all do silly things."

"Yes..." Sherlock raises his head, as if some dawning realisation has struck him. He looks at Molly in approval. "They do, don't they? Very silly..."

Molly finds it odd that Sherlock would not include himself as one of them—one of the population—one of everyone. She is confused as well to what is going on and what Sherlock had found in her words that would help him in whatever it is that he is doing. Sherlock stands up and grabs the box from the x-ray machine and holds it up.

"She often mentioned my room number in the Three Broomsticks and Leaky Cauldron," Sherlock says out loud, but more to himself than to Molly, "and she loves to play games..."

"She does?" Molly asks. She, then, whispers to herself quietly, "She knows your room number?"

Sherlock pulls the box and types the rune that means 221B. His eyes light up in apprehension. The box sheds its cover and again, on the side, written in gold, it says:

Wrong passcode, Professor Holmes.
You have 2 attempts remaining.

Placing the box on the table in anger and exasperation, he sits back down. Molly looks down.

'Irene Adler truly is a remarkable opponent, after all. Merlin, that woman,' Sherlock thinks to himself.

—oOo—

A month later, Sherlock leads his Seventh Year students back towards their usual classroom after he and John, who is assisting him for the day, had shown the students one of the Duelling Classrooms the castle had provided for them to use. John walks behind the students so he could watch them carefully—Merlin knows how many times the students had done pranks whilst Sherlock's back is turned.

When they reach the door, Sherlock stops in front of it, sniffing deeply and suspiciously. Some of the students hit his back but he doesn't say anything—too concentrated on the matter at hand.

"Professor?" a Hufflepuff boy, Mark, asks.

"Wasn't that door locked?" a Slytherin boy, Antonius, asks.

"Constant vigilance?" a Ravenclaw girl, Alvie, asks.

Sherlock doesn't answer but the students nearest to him had taken all of their wands out and are incredibly alert, waiting for their professor's instructions.

Sherlock looks back at the door to the classroom—which is surprisingly open despite it being locked by him when they left to go to the Duelling Classroom. John, meanwhile, walks towards Sherlock in front—which was difficult because of the forty or so students between them.

Sherlock finally slowly opens the door to the classroom, feeling a sort of deja vu from when Professor Hudson had been hurt. He pushes the door open just as John is nearly close to him. He raises a hand behind him to stop the students from following him. The students, though usually stubborn and curious, are smart enough to stay by the door—seeing nothing except their professor walking. Sherlock raises his head in surprise at what he sees.

"Sherlock?" John asks, walking towards the professor.

The students follow John, curious to what would surprise their usually cool professor.

"We have a client," Sherlock says casually.

"What, in your classroom?!" John finally follows Sherlock's gaze. "Ohhh..." John smiles, giving Sherlock a brief teasing look.

With her back turned, a witch writes on the classroom board with a chalk—without the use of magic. Sherlock knows that calligraphy all too well. She is fully clothed—thank Merlin—and wearing rich deep green flowy robes. To Sherlock's surprise, she looks incredibly at peace. Her hair flows down her back—something he hasn't seen before.

She finally turns around and smiles. John and Sherlock had to hit some of the boys' heads to stop them from ogling at her. She looks beautiful. Underneath her opened robes, she is wearing simple green pyjamas. She looks... comfortable but still emitting a powerful aura despite her cozy nature. How is that possible?

"Professor Holmes," she starts, looking surprised at the students in front of her.

"Lady Adler," he replies, walking towards her with his hands in his pockets.

They meet halfway in the room. Everyone else stays where they are.

"I apologise for the sudden intrusion. I did warn you but I believe you forgot to bring this?" She raises Sherlock's notebook and hands it over to him. He takes it and she places her free hand on her hip. How can she look sexy just standing there? "How rude of you to forget such a valuable object," she adds.

The students whisper among themselves. A Ravenclaw girl points out to her friends that the woman is holding a similar notebook on her other hand. So, this is the woman their professor has been talking to. This is the woman who emitted that... orgasmic sound.. But what's most important is that this is the woman who is probably Professor Holmes's girlfriend. Well, now, they can't blame the professor. She looks, well... beautiful.

"I did not expect you would come back with this much... company," she adds.

"Shall we continue this in my quarters?" Sherlock tells her.

Lady Adler's brow rises at this. Some of his male students hoot at this while his female students giggle behind him. Sherlock rolls his eyes at his students. Ignoring them as well as Lady Adler's smirk, he looks down on her, closing in on her. The students just think that they might kiss which caused them to stop breathing. Lady Adler raises her chin indifferently. Sherlock tries to keep his dominance over her. She fights back with one look.

"You have some explaining to do," Sherlock replies in his stern and scolding manner that the students immediately realise that the woman is in actual trouble for angering their professor.

Lady Adler smiles, "Then explain, I shall. Your quarters, right?" Sherlock steps back and nods.

Smirking once more, Irene turns and walks towards the door that leads to Sherlock's private quarters which requires a password to open. To everyone's surprise (except Sherlock's), she enters gracefully. When she enters and the door closes behind her, Sherlock sighs and rubs his face with his palm.

"Sherlock, she knows your password," John whispers but some eavesdropping students hear, "and even I don't know it."

"Trust her to know it," Sherlock whispers to himself exasperatedly. He shakes his head and in his normal tone, he tells John, "John, I believe you will have to continue this class on your own. I have... something to do."

The males laugh quietly because their professor is probably going to do someone, if you know what they mean. Ignoring everything around him, like in a daze, Professor Holmes follows Lady Adler to his quarters. John looks at this situation in disapproval. The students—especially the dirty-minded ones—all snigger and congratulate the professor for getting some. Some students look at those students disapprovingly but hiding a grin.

"Alright, class, you heard him. Go to your seats," John tells them, looking at the blackboard which still has the words:

Cruciamorvolum[6]

Occulus Sanguinans[7]

Fracmembrum[8]

Not knowing what these spells are and assuming they are dark, John quickly vanishes the words from the board before any of the students try to write them down.

—oOo—

Meanwhile, Sherlock goes to his quarters and in his bedroom, he sees Irene lying down on his bed lazily, as if she owns it. "The students will talk," she starts, stretching on the bed. Why she would move as if she is all too familiar with him, he wouldn't understand.

"Let them talk. They don't have any business in my private life," he replies, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorway to his bedroom.

"Oh, so I am part of your private life now, am I?" She smirks, propping herself up with an elbow.

Sherlock tries hard not to notice how regal she looks. Her hair is flowing down her body. He can see every curve in her body—the way she is up. One of her hands is resting on the arch of her hip. He can see one leg of hers exposed. Is she posing? She's not.

"How much had our relationship grown, professor?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"You always tell me not to flatter myself. You should listen to your own advices sometimes."

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"I'm visiting."

"At Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm bored," she replies. Sitting up, she raises her own notebook again. "I've been writing but you were not replying."

"I never reply."

"Don't you?" She raises a brow.

"On occasion." He shrugs. "Now, would you mind telling me why you're really here?" he asks her.

Irene sighs. "Tell me first why you would think I'm lying?" she asks, lying down as if about to listen to a bedtime story with her back facing him.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and sighs. "You never go inside of Hogwarts unless you're in your Animagus form. You are wearing your pyjamas and it is obvious that you had been sleeping in my bed for hours already without my knowing. You didn't know I was coming back with my students but you are aware that it should have been my last class for today. You were planning on only meeting with me. You didn't write me since you somehow knew it would be risky. You're in trouble."

"As expected of the great Sherlock Holmes," she replies.

"What did you do?" he asks.

"I am always in trouble." She sighs as if she's about to sleep. "The only difference is—"

"The only difference is how great the trouble is," he continues for her.

"Precisely."

Sherlock sighs. "Let's discuss this with John and Mary. You're our client for the day." For some reason, Lady Adler seems to perk up at the mention of the two healers.

She stands up and looks down on herself. "Mind if I take a shower first?" she asks.

Sherlock sighs, and gestures to his personal bathroom. "Go."

Smirking, she walks to his bathroom but not before taking off all of her clothes slowly as she walks backwards towards it. Sherlock doesn't dare remove his eyes from hers, not wanting to back down and look away, but also not wanting to back down and look down. When she reaches the door, he can see from the corner of his eyes that she is completely naked. She lingers longer from the door before closing it slowly.

Sherlock falls on his armchair when he hears the showers starting. He looks around the room and there is not a missing thing around. He can make out that the woman had, at least, touched his dressing gown, and had only touched his bed. Other than that, there is no indication that Lady Adler had done something else... but you can never be too careful when it comes to her.

He composes himself just as the door to his bathroom opens. Sherlock looks at her in the eye straight-on, uncaring that she is completely soaked from head to toe, naked. No, sir. No, he does not care at all. He looks at her eyes. She isn't smirking. She isn't smiling. Her face is unemotional, unreadable, and untraceable. She is looking at his eyes just as deeply as he is at hers. She looks at him fiercely, as if analysing him.

Irene looks at the man on the armchair intently. Exactly who is this person? What does she make of him? What kind of wizard is he? Another pureblood who acts like a muggle? How confusing. How different. How beautiful. Who is this?

He can handle her smirk... but not like this. He couldn't handle her looking at him so intently, so seriously, so meaningfully. It is too confusing and it is too different. He can't handle it.

After a while, her eyes move from his to his blue dressing robe. She moves from the doorway and grabs his favourite silk dressing robe. He simply watches her every move from the armchair. Sherlock watches as Irene places a hand on the robe, touching the silk before looking at Sherlock, completely forgetting about her own robes.

"Mind if I use it?" she asks, finally smirking.

He sighs. "Not at all," he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand.

'Not at all,' he thinks to himself, 'it's just my favourite dressing robe, is all. It's just one of my own clothes. It's just one of my favourites. Sure, no one else dares touch my stuff but you can use it. It's just you being the first ever person to wear something of mine. No big deal. No. I don't mind.'

He watches her put his dressing robe over her naked body. Nope. It is definitely no big deal.

"Where do we meet the two healers?" she asks as she ties the tie of the dressing robe around her waist tightly.

Sherlock never knew how good that dressing robe looks on someone like her.

"Follow me," he says, passing her by.

Irene tries to ignore an aura of something that washes over her when he passes by.

"That door—" he gestures with his hand—"will lead to the linked quarters—a common room for a small amount of professors, of sorts. We'll wait for them and for the meantime, I'll have one of the elves bring us some tea."

"Alright, then," she replies, swaying her lips as she goes through the door.

Casting Expecto Patronum, Sherlock's wolf patronus takes form and he tell sit, "Go to John and tell him: John, go to Mary and bring her to the linked quarters. The client will be talking."

The wolf nods its head and goes towards where the classroom is. Hopefully, John can dismiss early instead.

"Tadkey," Sherlock summons. A house-elf immediately appears in front of him.

"Yes, Professor Holmes, sir?" Tadkey asks.

"Bring some tea and biscuits for four people in the linked quarters," he tells the elf.

"Yes, sir. On the way, sir." The elf vanishes and Sherlock moves towards the door, sighing as he holds the door handle.

On to battle, he supposes.

—oOo—

"I told you she was in her pyjamas! She went to his private quarters!" Tacitus, the Slytherin, exclaims. "Tell him, David!"

"Yeah, it was her! She was the same woman I saw when we had that match with Slytherin!" David, the Gyrffindor, says. "I knew she looked familiar. She looks so different since her hair was down."

Mark, the Hufflepuff, cuts in, "Everyone in their Seventh Year saw her. I thought they were going to kiss, honestly! I never saw her before but—"

"—but they were definitely close," Alvie, the Ravenclaw, comments, "since she knew his quarter's password. I heard Sir John himself say that even he doesn't know Professor Holmes's password. I watched Professor Holmes the whole time. He wasn't surprised that she knows his password."

"You watched Professor Holmes the whole time?" Mark asks. "Does our little Alvie have a crush?"

Alvie hits Mark in the head. "Shut the hell up!"

"Guys, stop flirting!" Antonius exclaims, making both Mark and Alvie stop. "We have a much more important problem to deal with: We need to collect from so many people."

"I'm already doing my job!" Tacitus grins. All six Seventh Years leave the Great Hall and walk along together.

"You know, Professor Holmes didn't confirm that she's his girlfriend," Alvie points out.

"Confirm conshmirm!" Antonius exclaims. "Who the hell says that nowadays? You don't have to confirm it. It just happens."

"Oh, like you'd know, Mr. I-Never-Had-A-Girlfriend-Before?" Mark asks.

"That's rich, coming from you, Mr. I-Juggle-Two-Girls-At-The-Same-Time. Call yourself a loyal Hufflepuff," David says.

"Guys, stop it!" Alvie exclaims. "Okay, I love getting money, and so we just continue searching for things to prove all of this so we get to keep the money. We won but if they find out ways to disprove us, we need some things to counter their proofs."

"This is why I love having a Ravenclaw friend," Mark says.

"Oh yeah, friend," David tells Antonius. The two ignore them.

"Is that Sir Watson and Madame Morstan?" Alvie asks, seeing the two healers run from the Hospital Wing.

"Wonder where they're going?" David asks. "You know what I'm thinking?" he asks.

"I haven't mastered Legilimency yet," Antonius says.

The others all groan and roll their eyes. Quietly, they follow the two healers and watch them open a door. As they peek in, before the door closes, they can see the woman and Professor Holmes talking to each other closely. They jump apart when the door opened. The door closes behind the two healers.

"I don't think we have to find counter proofs," Mark says. "I think we actually are right."

"Well, we better collect some money, then," Antonius says, smiling.

—oOo—

[1] Exact lines taken from the first moment Sherlock was presented in "A Study in Scarlet" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

[2] Diminuendo is the charm that shrinks an object. When casted, it emits a white light.

[3] This would be the charm on the Marauder's Map that insults Snape when he tried to check the map's secrets. In this fic, this would be how the writing "Wrong Passcode. You have 3 attempts remaining." and it only works for Sherlock.

[4] In Sherlock's second year, Fred and George would have been in Hogwarts by then and they would have stolen the Marauder's Map from Filch's office. This is why Sherlock didn't manage to get the Marauder's Map again.

[5] I just made the gold thing up. I also made up Merlin's part. I don't know who invented the spell so I should just write Merlin's name. He knows everything anyway.

[6] I made it up myself. Cruciamorvolum came from "Crucuabundus Mors Voluntaria" which means "Agonizing Suicide." It compels the target's body to kill oneself painfully. The target is fully aware he or she is being forced to die with his or her own hands.

I wanted to make a combination of all three Unforgivable Curses. The unstoppable compelling comes from the idea of the Imperius Curse. The agonising choice of suicide comes from the idea of the Cruciatus Curse. The suicide comes from the idea of the Killing Curse. I'm a monster, I know. MWAHAHHAHA

[7] I also made it up myself. Occulus Sanguinans come from two words: Occulus and Sanguinans. The targets eyes will bleed profusely which will be painfully done. The target will die from blood loss if it isn't stopped. A counter-curse is not invented yet.

[8] I also made it up myself. Fracmembrum came from "Fractum Membrum" which means "Broken Limb" but it crushes the target's internal organs instead of anything exterior. This was inspired from the Bone-Breaking Curse. I thought, what would be worse than bone breaking? I thought of other internal organs and thought "Why not?"