A Study in Gold and Garnet
Alright, I finally got around to posting chapter 7. We're almost through with Year 1, people! Enjoy!
Chapter 7
Over the course of the next three months, three more similar 'accidents' occurred. Greg gave Sherlock and John the details of each one, but they weren't able to examine the bodies; the staff always got there first. Finally, one day in April, they got the chance.
As Sherlock and John were walking to the Astronomy tower together through a more-rarely travelled corridor, a frantic student came running around a corner towards them, calling for help.
A gleam appeared in Sherlock's eye as he went to meet her. "What is it? Did you find a body?" he asked.
"Yes! How did you kn-"
"Nevermind that. Where is it?"
"Three doors down. The abandoned classroom on the left!"
"Come on, John!" Sherlock cried, running around the corner the frantic girl had just come from. John gave the girl an awkward pat on the shoulder to try to console her, then ran to join Sherlock.
"We don't have much time before that girl finds some staff member and alerts them." Sherlock said once John caught up to him. They entered the room the girl had indicated. John gasped.
There, lying face-down upon the classroom floor, was a girl. She was wearing black school robes, but she had bright pink hair and shoes. Sherlock wasted no time in starting the investigation. His entire demeanor completely changed. Instead of being languid and bored, now he was alert and tense, quickly darting everywhere. He examined the girl's shoes, hands, robes, etc. with the most minute care. When he was finished, he stood back and announced, "This girl is a Hufflepuff, at least Fifth-year, right-handed, who is obviously enthusiastic about Potions."
"What? How did you deduce-"
"Oh, don't make me spell it out for you. Alright, her shoes have lots of light-coloured dirt on them which is unlike any dirt on the Hogwarts grounds. It does, however, match the dirt that makes up the the floor of the Hufflepuff common room. I've had Molly Hooper bring me some samples."
"Who is Moll-"
"Oh, doesn't matter. The front of her robes have lots of little pin-holes in them, at the exact place where one would pin a prefect badge. Therefore, she's at least a Fifth-year. Her right hand has smears of ink where she dragged it across the page while writing, and both her robes and hands have old potion stains on them, much more than an average student's would have, which indicates a strong interest in Potions."
"That was...brilliant!" John blurted out.
"Well, thank you," Sherlock said oddly. Then he shook his head. "Anyway, we need to get a move on to catch whoever's been doing this."
"You mean, these weren't self-executed accidents?"
"Of course not. First of all, why would there be five almost-identical accidents? Second, this girl is at least somewhat knowledgeable about Potions. Why would she drink a potion she wasn't absolutely sure she had perfected? And third, she left a note that wouldn't make sense if she had accidentally drank a bad potion."
"A note? Where?"
"There," Sherlock said, pointing the floor by her hand. John looked closer and found the word "Rianio" scratched into the floor. "'Rian' is the Irish word for 'track,'" Sherlock said. "I assume this is the incantation for some self-made spell that should help us track the culprit." Suddenly, Sherlock stiffened, straining to listen. "The professors are coming. Quick, we need to leave." They ducked out of the classroom and into another corridor moments before the staff came into view.
"Alright," Sherlock whispered, "Shall we try it?" He took out his wand and whispered "Rianio." Suddenly, a gooey trail of bright pink footsteps appeared where Sherlock waved his wand. "That girl was clever!" he exclaimed, "She must have spilled a bottle of her own potion once she learned what was happening, and the culprit walked through the puddle and took the empty bottle, not knowing it was going to leave an invisible trail! These footsteps are definitely an adult's, so it was probably a member of the staff." He looked behind them. "Look, we must have walked through it too! We're leaving tracks. Come on, John, we need to find who's been doing all this!"
The trail led them through many corridors and around a lot of turns, but they finally arrived at a classroom door. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, to be exact. "I knew something was off about Professor Hope!" John cried.
"Care to pay him a little visit?" Sherlock said, grabbing the door handle. He turned it and threw the door open. The D.A.D.A. classroom was empty.
"Where could he have gone?" John asked.
"I'm not sure. He must have discovered he was leaving a trail and cleaned his shoes, though, because the footprints don't leave the room." Sherlock paused to think. "He'll have to show up at dinner, or else suspicions will be aroused. We'll confront him and tell the rest of the staff then." He checked the time. "We've missed Astronomy. We just have to make it through Flying lessons, and then we'll catch Jefferson Hope."
They both walked out onto the Hogwarts grounds just as the lessons were starting. Neither of them could focus as the lesson went on. Then, about halfway through the class, a prefect came bearing a note. He handed it to Madam Hooch, then left. Madam Hooch took a second to read it, then announced, "Sherlock Holmes, you're needed in the Great Hall."
Sherlock glanced at John, gave him a short nod, and then walked off towards the castle. John was incredibly nervous. He knew the note had to have been from Hope. Somehow, Hope had saw them follow his trail! What was going to happen to Sherlock? "Madam Hooch!" John called, "Can I use the loo?"
"Mr. Watson, you know I only give out one bathroom pass at a time. You'll have to wait until Jack Cordle comes back."
"Please? It's an...emergency?"
"Just wait a few minutes. If he's not back, you may go."
John waited, filled with dread. Finally, he saw Jack Cordle come out of the castle. Madam Hooch saw him too, and signalled that John could leave. He sprinted off towards the front doors and ran into the Great Hall. Sherlock and Jefferson Hope were nowhere to be seen. No, no! he thought. What am I going to do now? Suddenly, he remembered something Sherlock had said earlier. "Rianio!" he said, brandishing his wand. A trail of pink, child-sized footprints appeared where he held his wand. He sprinted off, following the trail.
The trail faded as he followed it, until it petered out in front of two staircases. Which one? he thought frantically. He took the left one.