Chapter 52: The Great Detective Sherlock Holmes

Eve of All Hallows' Eve.

Word of the mountain troll's demise spread quickly, leaving the Gryffindor common room packed with young witches and wizards.

The little lions, already in the midst of a celebration feast, were far too excited to even consider going to sleep.

This lively atmosphere ensured that the absence of Sherlock and the others went completely unnoticed.

By the time they returned, they blended right into the crowd without a hitch.

Among the four of them, however, an unavoidable awkwardness hung in the air.

While Professor Snape's presence had previously served as an external conflict that kept them occupied, they were now back in the common room, and discussing that topic further was no longer appropriate.

The awkwardness was primarily between Hermione and Ron.

Sherlock had never understood what the feeling of awkwardness was.

As for Harry, he bore no fault in the entire affair.

Finally, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

She first looked toward Sherlock and offered a soft "Thank you."

Immediately afterward, she nodded with a faint smile at Harry and Ron.

Then, she bolted toward her plate as if fleeing from danger.

"Granger, wait—"

Ron extended his right arm forward, his palm wide open, desperately trying to call Hermione back.

He genuinely wanted to apologize.

Unfortunately, she had already fled beyond reach.

"Never mind, I don't think she minds."

Seeing this unfold, Harry patted Ron's shoulder and spoke these words.

Ron watched as Hermione vanished into a group of female students, sighed deeply, and let his hand drop.

Words taught by others are easily forgotten.

Lessons taught by experience are learned at once.

After this fateful night, Miss Hermione Granger cared far less about breaking school rules.

This change made her much more endearing, and her relationship with her peers was no longer as rigid as it once had been.

She also joined Harry and Ron as a friend privileged enough to address them by their first names, just as Sherlock did.

Three days after All Hallows' Eve, and the day before the first Quidditch match of the season, Harry was suddenly called out of practice by Professor McGonagall.

Initially, Harry assumed McGonagall wanted to give him a pre-match pep talk.

After all, securing a victory against the Slytherin team would elevate their standing in the House Cup championship race to second place.

As he walked along, however, he began to feel that something was amiss.

Professor McGonagall walked entirely in silence, leading him toward a solitary small tower.

They climbed all the way up to the eighth floor, stopping before a stone gargoyle.

At the utterance of the password, the stone gargoyle nimbly leaped aside, and the wall behind it split cleanly in two.

A spiral staircase hidden within, slowly moving upwards, came into view.

Harry neither knew what was happening nor dared to ask, so he simply maintained his silence and continued following Professor McGonagall all the way to the top of the stairs.

A gleaming oak door appeared before them, adorned with a brass knocker shaped like a griffon.

"..."

Throughout the journey, Harry had remained in a daze, completely clueless as to what Professor McGonagall intended to do.

Yet the moment she pulled the knocker, Harry froze instantly.

Before his eyes lay a spacious and magnificent circular room. At one end stood a massive desk supported by unique claw-shaped legs.

On a shelf behind the desk rested a ragged, wrinkled wizard's hat.

Harry recognized it at a glance as the Sorting Hat that had assigned him to Gryffindor during the opening banquet.

Of course, the most striking presence in the room was the bearded old man.

The instant he saw him, everything else in the room was subconsciously pushed to the back of Harry's mind.

Albus Dumbledore!

This was actually the Headmaster's office!

In that fleeting fraction of a second, a flurry of thoughts raced through Harry's mind.

The Quidditch match was immensely important—both to him and to the Gryffindor House.

However... could it possibly be important enough for Dumbledore to offer personal words of encouragement?

Or had he broken a school rule once again?

Harry frantically began searching his memory for his recent behavior, but surely he hadn't committed any infractions!

Aside from disobeying instructions on All Hallows' Eve and venturing down to the dungeons.

But hadn't that matter already been concluded?

Just as Harry remained lost in his trance, a voice rang out.

"Mr. Holmes, may we begin now?"

Hearing Dumbledore speak, Harry suddenly realized something.

He had been far too nervous, completely failing to notice that there were others present besides Dumbledore.

Scanning his surroundings now, he discovered that apart from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and himself, the room also held Sherlock, Hermione, and... Snape!

Connecting the dots with Dumbledore's previous remark, Harry experienced a sudden revelation.

Could it be... that his presence here was orchestrated by Sherlock?

"Dear Harry, exactly as you are thinking."

When Harry instinctively looked toward Sherlock, the latter pierced through his thoughts as effortlessly as ever, "To verify the reliability of my statement, I require your assistance."

Before Harry could formulate a reply, Snape's cold, sarcastic voice cut in first:

"Master Detective Mr. Holmes, we have now brought them all here according to your demands. Let us hope you do not disappoint us."

As expected, he was brought here at Sherlock's behest!

Hermione must have been summoned for the same reason, but to what end?

Before Harry could puzzle it out, Sherlock had already turned to Hermione. "You may begin."

Hermione nodded, then proceeded to recount the events beginning from the final Charms class on All Hallows' Eve.

At that moment, Harry finally learned what had transpired that day from Hermione's perspective.

It matched Sherlock's initial deduction down to the very last detail.

First, unable to bear Ron's taunts, she had hidden away in the girls' lavatory to cry for a prolonged period.

Second, she had been rescued in the nick of time by Sherlock before the troll arrived.

Third, she and Sherlock together had discovered the tracks left by him and Ron.

Finally, the four of them had trailed the troll all the way and stumbled upon the cryptic, terrifying words written in blood.

Although he had personally lived through a portion of these events, hearing them recounted through Hermione's voice lent them a novel quality.

Just as Harry was listening with rapt fascination, Sherlock abruptly spoke:

"Your turn, Harry."

"Huh?"

Harry blinked in surprise before snapping back to reality.

Sherlock was asking him to recount the day's events just as Hermione had done.

Meeting Dumbledore's encouraging gaze, Harry steadied his nerves and slowly related his own experiences from that day.

As he spoke, a vague understanding began to dawn on him as to why Sherlock had summoned both him and Hermione.

The events of All Hallows' Eve involved segments where Sherlock, himself, and Hermione had each acted independently, without their paths overlapping.

As for why Ron had not been called along, it was naturally because he and Ron had been joined at the hip from start to finish.

Yet, why was Quirrell absent?

Harboring this lingering question, he concluded his account, and Sherlock stepped forward to present his own.

The very first words out of his mouth startled everyone in the room:

"First: the mountain troll in the dungeons was let in by Professor Quirrell."

Harry and Hermione dropped their jaws in sheer astonishment.

However, Harry, who placed absolute trust in Sherlock, quickly recovered his composure.

So that was it!

That explained why Quirrell was not present.

McGonagall and Snape merely arched their eyebrows.

As for Dumbledore, he turned his gentle gaze toward Harry and Hermione, though his subsequent words left the two youngsters utterly speechless.

"Harry, Hermione, might I ask you to leave us for a moment?"

Harry and Hermione instinctively looked to Sherlock.

Seeing Sherlock give them a reassuring nod, they turned and walked out the door with palpable reluctance.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, it appears that in the hearts of Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, our esteemed Detective Sherlock commands far more trust than you do."

Hearing Snape's familiar tone of mockery—with deliberate emphasis placed upon both "Headmaster" and "Detective Sherlock"—Dumbledore merely smiled.

"Severus, an old fossil on the verge of the grave can hardly compete with the youth."

Snape: (￣_，￣)

"Sherlock, please continue."