Methods Beyond Magic

Let The Record Show

                In the morning, the sight of the curtains on his four poster bed almost make him do a double take, to make sure he wasn't still sleeping in the Ravenclaw dormitories and these past two years had all just been a dream. But no, it was real, he saw his new room, with all of his things scattered about. Sherlock looked outside to see that the sun was barely rising. Wondering what had woken him, he sat up in bed and looked around, seeing a faint shadow underneath his door,blocking out the light from the office. Was there someone out there? Sherlock's blood ran cold, thinking of all the people who could be waiting outside of his bedroom, the Bloody Baron, Peeves, Snape come to poison him, the possibilities were endless. Sherlock was just reaching for his wand on the bedside table when a knock on the window made him shriek, jumping out of his bed and landing on the floor to see Billy on the window ledge, hooting so that it looked like he was almost laughing.
"Oh, shut up." Sherlock snapped, getting to his feet and looking at the door again. There was no shadow now, so he must have just been imagining it. Sherlock pulled on his robe and opened the window, letting the chilly fall air. Billy hopped inside, pecking his hand in greeting and hooting softly. There was no letter in her talons, but Sherlock saw the remains of some poor mouse smeared on the window ledge outside.
"Why don't you go off to the owlery, unless you want to join me for my first lesson?" Sherlock asked. Billy let Sherlock stroke his feathers, but quickly flew back out the window, as if listening in on Sherlock's lesson was the worst possible thing he could imagine. So Sherlock changed into his robes, leaving his old Ravenclaw scarf on the dresser so as not to make the Ravenclaws feel like he would favor them. He would, maybe a little bit, but of course he wouldn't bend their grades or anything like that. Maybe just go a little bit easy on taking house points. Sherlock spent a good ten minutes freshening up, making sure his hair looked alright and he smelled decent enough. This was his first day on the job, and he wanted to make a good impression. So with that, Sherlock pocketed his wand and started off to the Great Hall, maneuvering through his empty office and classroom. What did other teachers do for decoration?Flitwick's classroom had always been bare, but that was to ensure that no one's hoovering charm picked up the wrong object. McGonagall's class was always festive; she had some plants and posters on how to properly configure a badger. Snape's class was scenic for all the wrong reasons, with mysterious pickled objects floating in jars, Sherlock never wanted to know what in Snape's mind passed as decoration. Maybe, during the next Hogsmeade trip, Sherlock would get some things to liven the place up. There were already some students up, mostly first years that had probably been awake all night in anticipation; all looking sleepy yet excited to start their first day of the new year. Sherlock smiled at them, but they probably thought he was a seventh year, and pretended not to notice his friendly gestures. That was fine; of course, Sherlock wasn't used to anyone smiling back at him, if he even extended a smile himself. Sherlock walked up through the tables to the staff table, which was empty except for a few teachers scattered about. Thankfully Snape wasn't present, probably still asleep, if he even did sleep. Sprout was there though, covered in dirt already but looking cheery enough.
"Good morning Mr. Holmes." She said happily as he took his seat.
"Good morning." Sherlock agreed.
"Ready for your first day?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm not sure really. My class is a bit barren." He admitted.
"Well, I know that Minerva has some posters in her closet somewhere, and there's an old record player in the back of the staff room. That's been popular with some of the Defense teachers, just to liven things up a bit." Sprout admitted.
"That would be nice." Sherlock decided, taking a croissant and some bacon. He wasn't overly hungry; in fact his stomach was twisting with nervousness. Of course the kids weren't going to like him, half of them knew him from his later years, he only hoped that they would respect him. Dumbledore informed him that he couldn't use magic as a punishment, which was a shame; because he was sure the first years would cooperate better if he threatened them with the leg locker curse. After a while the Great Hall started to fill in, and just as Sherlock was finishing his final sip of pumpkin juice, Snape made his appearance. Sherlock was very happy to put his finished goblet down and say a hesitant good morning to him as he walked past, but at least they didn't have to interact. So Sherlock walked through the tables once more, some of the kids said hello's and good morning's, but most kept their head down and focused on the breakfast buffet. Sherlock returned to his classroom a little bit later, and decided that he'd go find that record player in the staff room. Why wizards wouldn't just invest in Bluetooth speakers, he had no idea, but a record player worked just fine. So he walked down the hall, where he knew the staff room was since he visited there whenever he tried to pester his teachers into telling him his exam grades early. It was weird, being able to walk into the empty staff room, the torches lit, without having to ask anyone. He belonged in the staff room, because he was staff. That was an odd feeling indeed. As promised, there was a dusty pink record player in the back, with a couple of equally old records sitting in a heap next to it. Unfortunately it was all wizard bands, and Sherlock, even though he was a half-blood he had no idea what the Weird Sister's greatest hits were. Never the less, he grabbed some promising records and took the load in his arms, not going to risk using a hovering spell in case he dropped it and broke it. That wouldn't be a very good start to his first day. Sherlock kicked open the door and was able to stumble his way down the hall, but his arms were really weak, and as he walked on he had to set the record player on the banister of the staircase to give himself a little break.
"You look like you need assistance." said a familiar voice in front of him. Sherlock looked up in annoyance to see the caretaker, John something, descending the stairs.
"I got it." Sherlock said in a bad impression of the caretaker's voice.
"Are you mocking me?" John asked, crossing his arms with an amused smile.
"Of course I'm not." Sherlock assured.
"Stealing a record player then?" John asked.
"Not stealing, Professor Sprout said I can use it." Sherlock shrugged.
"Oh, the uh, the greenhouse lady right?" John asked, snapping his fingers inrealization. Sherlock raised a suspicious eyebrow, but nodded. "Well, do youneed a hand?" John asked, taking a step closer.
"I suppose if you're so willing to help, you can take the record player. I'm not really known for my strength." Sherlock admitted.
"I am, I won a push up competition in my town over the summer, 146 in a minute." John said proudly, grabbing the record player and carrying it easily in his arms.
"That's impressive." Sherlock decided.
"Yes well, I train, got nothing else to do." John sighed.
"Is that why you insist on carrying things instead of levitating them?" Sherlockasked.
"Yes, that's why." John agreed, but he really didn't sound convinced. Sherlock sighed, but didn't have time to play the guessing game, so he followed John up the stairs.
"So, first day on the job then?" John asked.
"Yep, little nervous. How about you?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh, I don't really have to do much, the house elves take care of most of the cleaning, my job is to clean the messes that can't wait, like if some kid puked or if that whiny ghost floods the bathroom." John admitted.
"Moaning Myrtle?" Sherlock asked.
"That's the one." John agreed.
"I threw a book at her once." Sherlock admitted.
"Why'd you do that?" John asked with a laugh.
"Fifty points if it goes through her head." Sherlock shrugged.
"That's mean." John decided.
"That's why it's fun." Sherlock agreed. John just rolled his eyes doubtfully, but continued up the stairs until they got to the proper floor.
"Alright, McGonagall told me that it's three doors down, on the...right." Johnguessed.
"The left." Sherlock pointed out. "But you should know that, all classes have Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Yes well, it's been a little while, and I'm not exactly good with memory."John admitted.
"But you can do 130 pushups in a minute." Sherlock said in an unusually high voice.
"146." John corrected.
"Whatever." Sherlock snapped. He opened the door for John, who squeezed uncomfortably through the doorway.
"Where do you want it?" John asked.
"Just put it on the desk I suppose, I can move it if I want to." Sherlock shrugged.
"Can you?" John asked.
"Do you doubt that I can move some twenty pound machine three feet?" Sherlockasked.
"Yes, I do." John agreed.
"Well then you're just a little showoff then, aren't you?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes, I am." John agreed with a guilty smile.
"Oh just get out, unless you want to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts."Sherlock decided.
"I'm tempted." John shrugged.
"It was an empty gesture." Sherlock insisted, holding out his hand to beckon John to the door.
"Alright, alright, I know when I'm not wanted." John admitted.
"Obviously not well enough." Sherlock muttered.
"Very sassy today Mr. Holmes." John laughed.
"Oh. My God. Just leave." Sherlock groaned.
"You're lucky I haven't had breakfast yet, or I would've stayed just to annoy you." John decided, starting on his way out the door.
"Yes, yes, have a nice day." Sherlock agreed.
"Let me know if you need help setting it up or something, my mom has an old record player and we play the Muppets during Christmas." John offered.
"I don't even want to know what that is, goodbye." Sherlock decided, and with that he waved John out the door. Finally, when John had disapperated, Sherlock closed the door rather forcefully and went over to figure out how to work this record player. Of course, there were no outlets in Hogwarts, so obviously it was powered by some sort of spell.