It seemed to be some sort of tradition that Hogwarts had to have at least one professor no one could stand. Before, when Harry Potter was around, it was the infamous Professor Snape. After that, there had been an Arithmancy professor named Wiggins who was so unbearable that most students blocked him out of their memories completely. Now there was Holmes.
He wasn’t so bad - at least according to the girls who sighed and fawned over him. And some of the boys. Certainly enough, Holmes was good looking, but that seemed to be a running trend among the staff lately. Professor Lestrade, in Transfiguration, couldn’t go more than an afternoon without a student coming in for extra practice, usually with form. Professor Watson, who doubled as flying instructor and the dueling team’s coach, had more broomstick and wand jokes aimed at him than anyone cared to hear in a lifetime. But he had an easygoing personality that made him easy to joke around with. Even the teensy-bit unbalanced potions master, Professor Moriarty, had a sort of deranged charm to him, and Nurse Molly was sweet and remembered all her patients’ names.
There was no longer a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, but after the first week with Holmes, most students wished it would come back. He showed up five minutes late for the first lesson and then burst in with a swish of his trailing cloak, mouth going at a thousand miles a minute.
“Wands out, everyone, and you’d better behave responsibly if you’ve been trusted with them for three years. That means no poking, no unauthorized spells, and no being idiots, understand? Most professors like to say there’s no such thing as a stupid question - I disagree; there are a lot of stupid questions, especially if you don’t listen. Take every word I say as gospel and don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw the nearest projectile, and don’t think I’ll pity you if you can’t deflect it in time. There will be no skiving off, because I’ll know if you’re lying, and random pop quizzes through the term. We’ll start with Shield Charms, something even the most inadequate first-years can grasp, shall we?”
Even if he hadn’t talked to them like babies at the end, everyone hated him.
Holmes was never happy with anyone, never smiled, and never gave praise, even if a student did something truly brilliant and inspired with his lessons. The closest he would get at complimenting someone was to lean back in his chair, feet on the desk, and say, “You could have done worse, I suppose. At least you didn’t kill me.” He only ever looked interested when a student lipped off in class or Professor Lestrade showed up for a word.
That was another funny thing about Professor Holmes. He liked mysteries, but not in the way that most people liked mysteries. He solved them, even mundane ones like missing magical creatures that escaped into the forest, or students who cheated on their exams. Professor Lestrade seemed to have a lot of trouble with cheaters, and Holmes always found them, which only made the student body resent him even further.
His pursuits brought him to dueling club practice one day, where for the first time he met Professor Watson. The moment he entered the practice room a hush fell over the students, causing Watson to look up in alarm; they all knew that one of their number was going to get in big trouble.
“So, the best technique would be to - guys?” asked Watson, turning to see Holmes in the door. His eyebrows rose. “Oh, Professor Holmes, what a pleasant surprise. Are you here for a lesson?”
There were scattered giggles around the room as Holmes scowled. By then it was common knowledge that, though he was a genius in almost every other respect, Holmes was a terrible duelist. “Actually, I was going to correct your form,” he retorted.
Hushed “Ooooh”s spread across the room. Watson smirked slightly. “Really? And what’s wrong with it?”
More giggles. “Perhaps it could be more improved if you didn’t have a psychosomatic limp.”
“You heard me loud and clear. Your limp is psychosomatic. It’s all in your head.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing, really. But I bet you ten Galleons I can fix it.”
Watson dodged immediately away and shot back a spell of his own. They weren’t even on the dueling tarmac, and students had to quickly back away against the walls as the fight very quickly got messy. Holmes either didn’t know the rules of dueling or disregarded them completely, amplifying his voice and shrieking or shooting off blinding sparks to disorient Watson before shooting a curse. Though even then Professor Watson managed to keep the fight even.
With an almost lazy flick of his wand the spells momentarily stopped flying, and Watson snapped, “This isn’t exactly a fair fight, Professor.”
The taller man grinned. “Oh, come on, Professor, even your Muggle sister could do better after indulging her alcoholism.”
Watson dropped his wand and charged at him. For a moment Holmes’ eyes widened with pure panic before immobilizing Watson with a leg-locker jinx. He knelt at his colleague’s side, handing back his wand. “I told you it was in your head,” he smirked before getting up again to point at Miranda Hodgins. “You. With me to the Headmaster’s office, now.”
He swept out, with Miranda timidly following and the remaining students in awe. Watson reversed the jinx and gaped after Holmes while absently stretching his leg. Holmes was right; he hadn’t limped at all during the fight.
Most students thought the professors would hate one another on principle after that incident, and were taken by surprise when the pair were practically inseparable from that moment on.
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