Chapter 33: Hagrid's Astonishment

"Remarkable, you have managed to identify so many materials!"

Upon hearing Sherlock's description, Hagrid's eyes grew brighter and brighter. "What else can you tell?"

"Judging by the calluses on your hands, you have done a great deal of excavation work."

"I've been a gamekeeper for over forty years; it's part of the job."

"You often cook for yourself, and you take pleasure in it."

"That's true as well."

"You enjoy drinking mead."

"Absolutely correct."

"You were entrusted by someone to retrieve an important item from Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Shortly after you removed that item, someone broke in illegally, attempting to steal it. However, because you were a step ahead, the theft was unsuccessful. Furthermore, although you now believe the place where the item is stored is secure, you remain deeply concerned about the matter."

Hagrid stood up so abruptly that his stool clattered to the floor. He seemed entirely unaware of it, his eyes wide as saucers. He pointed a finger at Sherlock for a long moment before an expression of sudden realization dawned on him, as if he had found the truth.

"Harry told you, didn't he?"

Just as Harry was about to deny it, Sherlock shook his head. "No, in fact, this was simpler than the previous deductions."

As he spoke, he reached out and pulled a small scrap of paper from under the tea cozy. It was a clipping from the *Daily Prophet* with the headline: "Gringotts Break-in Latest Report."

Seeing this, Hagrid fell silent.

Instead, Harry couldn't help but exclaim, "That was my birthday! Hagrid, we might have been there when it happened!"

Hagrid took a deep breath, rubbed his nose, and said, "Mr. Holmes, Harry is right, your deductive skills are incredible—the matter is exactly as you described. However... let's not talk about that now; why don't you try my rock cakes?"

He stiffly forced a change of subject while enthusiastically handing food to the three of them. Just as Sherlock had noted, he was very passionate about cooking, though his culinary skills were nothing short of a disaster. It is no exaggeration to say that the rock cakes nearly chipped Harry and Ron's teeth. Out of politeness, Harry and Ron had to struggle to pretend they enjoyed them.

As for Sherlock, after trying to squeeze one of the rock cakes with force, his eyes lit up. He immediately asked Hagrid if he could take some to go. Hagrid, who had been slightly concerned when Sherlock didn't eat his cake, was overjoyed by the request and agreed without hesitation. By the time the three of them left, their pockets were heavy.

"I don't understand," even Ron, a hearty eater, was left questioning reality by the rock cakes. "Sherlock, why did you take them? You can't even bite into this stuff..." He said this while pulling out a cake and tossing it casually at a nearby tree. There was a sharp crack as a branch snapped, while the rock cake remained completely unscathed.

"That is because your understanding of it is skewed," Sherlock said, tapping his own head. "You need to change your perspective—do not think of it as food, but as equipment. Viewed in that light, this thing becomes incredibly practical."

Harry: Σ(°△°|||)︴
Ron: (lll￢ω￢)

The two did not take him seriously, assuming Sherlock was merely joking. After all, it was just a minor episode. Harry was still most concerned about the incident at Gringotts. He decided to describe in detail to Sherlock how Hagrid had retrieved a small package from Vault 713 before taking him to withdraw money. He had gradually developed the habit of turning to Sherlock whenever he was unsure of something.

After receiving these more detailed insights from Harry, Sherlock nodded. "As I suspected, Hagrid was acting on someone's behalf—Dumbledore believed Gringotts was no longer safe, which is why he wanted to move the item."

"It seems Dumbledore was right! If he had been a moment later, the item might have been stolen by the criminals," Ron couldn't help but say, feeling fortunate to have such a far-sighted and wise headmaster.

"No, that is merely your subjective assumption," Sherlock pointed out the flaw without mercy. "Based on Harry's experience and Hagrid's account, the security level at Gringotts is not inferior to Hogwarts. Even if Hagrid had not removed the item, the intruder would not necessarily have been able to escape with it safely."

As Ron prepared to retort, Sherlock added, "Of course, that is only one possibility. Perhaps the intruder really could have breached Gringotts' defenses. After all, they are still at large."

"Sherlock, don't you want to catch them?" Harry asked urgently.

"Bringing every criminal to justice has always been my interest—but at present, I fear that is difficult to achieve."

"Why? With your abilities, you could surely do it!" Harry asked, confused.

"Oh, my dear friend," Sherlock looked at the savior of the wizarding world, seeing the clear, naive ignorance in his eyes as expected. "I am glad you trust me so much—but neither Gringotts Wizarding Bank nor the Ministry of Magic is likely to hire a first-year student from a magic school to investigate such a theft."

Harry was left speechless. Indeed, Sherlock was only eleven. Apart from those who had truly witnessed his skills, who would do such a thing? Even Hagrid, who trusted him, had tried to test him after hearing his deductions.

Watching Harry’s heavy mood, Sherlock said nothing more. In truth, if he really wanted to investigate the case, there were ways. With Hagrid's personality, it wouldn't be difficult to pry information from him. Furthermore, there was Dumbledore.

But compared to this case, there was something more attractive to Sherlock now: a whole new world. For someone who had always been a firm believer in science, the allure of magic was simply too great. Besides, this was the wizarding world; surely the Ministry of Magic couldn't be as incompetent as Scotland Yard, could it?

Sherlock shook his head, casting the ridiculous thought aside.

Time slipped away quietly. A month had passed since Sherlock arrived at Hogwarts. Aside from classes, he dedicated his time to several professors—or rather, only the courses he deemed useful. He only listened to the parts of History of Magic he found relevant, occasionally posing questions to Professor Binns. As for Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he stopped attending after two weeks; listening to his lectures was no different than reading the textbook—a pure waste of time.