Chapter 57: Professor Snape's Secret

"This problem is actually quite simple.

You were right there at the scene. If you had paid just a little attention, you would have noticed that the letter 'A' was modeled somewhat after the German style, whereas a true German would typically use a Latin typeface.

On the other hand, the ending 'E' was written in cursive, and that particular style of handwriting is precisely a British habit.

Perhaps it was an unnecessary embellishment, perhaps it was an attempt to cover up a flaw, or perhaps it was simply the limit of his ability—in any case, his method of imitation was not particularly clever.

Therefore, I can say with absolute certainty that this letter was definitely not written by a German."

Ron couldn't help praising, "I knew it, as expected of you!"

Harry noticed that Sherlock looked quite pleased after receiving Ron's praise.

In fact, he had noticed this long ago.

Whenever someone praised Sherlock for his detective achievements, this friend of his would become as sensitive as any young girl hearing compliments about her beauty—provided that the praise was entirely sincere.

Sure enough, after finishing his analysis of the bloody writing, Sherlock actually took the initiative to say to Ron, "I can tell you one more thing."

"What is it?"

"You must find it very strange why I persistently insist that Professor Snape is a despicable yet kind-hearted good man?"

At this, not just Ron, but even Harry and Hermione instantly pricked up their ears with interest.

"Right, why is that?"

"Yes, why on earth?"

"Because Professor Snape was a rival in love with Harry's father."

Σ(っ°Д°;)っ

The topic was far too explosive, leaving all three young wizards with their mouths gaping open, unable to close them for a long time.

"Harry, Professor Snape's love for your mother is sincere and pure."

Looking at the utterly shocked Harry, Sherlock said calmly and collectedly, "After your mother passed away, that love was transferred to you."

Σ(°△°|||)︴

Silence.

A lengthy silence.

After a moment, Hermione was the first to snap out of her shock.

She took a deep breath and asked with curiosity, "Was this... also said by Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Even if Dumbledore had said it, it was still far too absurd!

"It is far too obvious," Sherlock shook his head. "It doesn't even require dedicated observation."

Hearing Sherlock say this, Hermione suddenly recalled the events of her very first Potions class.

"You mean... Victorian floriography?"

Although she had been cut off midway back then, Hermione remembered every single detail of the conversation between Snape and Sherlock.

Narcissus was a type of lily, perfectly matching Lily, the name of Harry's mother, and its flower language is "My regrets follow you to the grave."

Wormwood represents "absence" and "bitter sorrow."

The sleeping draught is a dose of "Draught of Living Death," representing "a hellish and miserable life."

Snape's question at the time was—what do you get if you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?

And Sherlock had already provided the answer—adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood produces a sleeping potion, precisely a dose of the "Draught of Living Death."

Therefore, translating Snape's question and answer according to Sherlock's explanation yields: The lily flower falls into bitter sorrow, I am deeply remorseful for your mother's death, and from then on I live a hellish and miserable life.

Once she figured this out, Hermione's eyes widened even further.

"My dear Hermione, I am glad you still remember this matter," Sherlock said with a smile. "That is why I said this matter required no special observation whatsoever."

Because Professor Snape had expressed his most intense feelings toward Lily's son right in his very first class.

Coupled with his usual performance in Potions lessons, it was already enough for Sherlock to make his deduction.

For the entire rest of the day, the three of them remained immersed in the shock brought by this revelation.

The topic was simply too explosive!

When evening came, Sherlock called Harry aside and handed him a box.

"What is this?"

Harry had not yet recovered from his shock, and was rather curious as to why Sherlock had called him aside alone.

Now, seeing Sherlock hand this over to him, he couldn't help letting his imagination run wild.

Could there be Professor Snape's secrets inside this box?

"This is a gift your father left for you."

Very well, with his mind completely full of Snape, he had indeed overthought it.

Yet the moment he heard it was an heirloom from his father, Harry's expression instantly changed.

Holding the box as if it were a priceless treasure, he opened it, and his gaze faltered slightly.

A bizarre object, somewhere between solid and liquid, rested quietly in the center of the box, gleaming with a silvery-gray luster.

Harry cautiously reached out his hand, and was immediately surprised to find that this shimmering silver object was actually a piece of fabric, with a remarkably strange texture, as though it had been woven from water.

"This is an Invisibility Cloak. Dumbledore asked me to tell you to use it with caution," Sherlock said with a smile. "Though he didn't say it aloud, I could tell he was hesitating; I imagine he is worried you might use it to get up to some mischief."

Harry seemed not to have heard a word of what Sherlock said, continuing to gently stroke the Invisibility Cloak left to him by his father.

After quite a while, he finally raised his head and looked at Sherlock: "Why?"

"Why what?"

Sherlock noticed that Harry's eyes were red-rimmed and felt somewhat puzzled. What was wrong with Harry?

"Why give it to me... I mean..."

Suppressing his surging emotions, Harry said in a low voice, "If not for you, Professor Dumbledore certainly wouldn't have handed it over to me."

Hearing Harry say this, Sherlock couldn't help laughing.

"My dear friend, I am so glad you trust me this much.

However, I must say, Dumbledore originally intended to give it to you—as a Christmas present.

It came up when we were discussing the inheritance left to you by your parents, and I suggested he hand this gift over to you now. Fortunately, he adopted my suggestion.

Though I think you would do best to use it only after the Quidditch match is over, as I also plan to..."

"Sherlock!"

Before Sherlock could finish speaking, Harry suddenly reached out both arms and pulled him into a direct embrace.

"Harry?"

Sherlock looked at the suddenly enthusiastic Harry with a puzzled expression, not understanding what he was doing.

Harry let go of him and said sincerely, "Sherlock, you are truly extraordinary!

I... I don't know how to express it, but thank you!

For me, the luckiest thing about coming to school has been meeting you."

Sherlock smiled.

"I am honored to receive such high praise from the Savior."

Hearing Sherlock say this, Harry looked thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm no Savior... You are far more brilliant than I am, I've just been lucky..."

"Luck has always been a part of capability," Sherlock said seriously. "Moving forward, much of what you have to do will require luck."

"I'll listen to you."

Sherlock smiled once again.

Four simple words, yet they represented absolute trust.

"By the way, what was it you said you were going to do after the Quidditch match?"

Harry asked with curiosity.

Sherlock wore his third smile of the evening: "Make you stronger."