HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

In this world, most magical schools are situated in rugged mountainous regions.

Hogwarts is no exception.

However, Its specific geographical location is kept secret.

Even within the British wizarding world, few people know it.

Not to mention that all magical schools are protected by concealment charms—non-magical people see only ruins or warning signs.

Finding the school is virtually impossible.

Just five minutes ago, the Holmes family didn’t even know magic existed.

But it was also just now that Sherlock, this young boy from a Muggle family, spoke extraordinary words in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hogwarts is in Scotland!

This was simply... galloping Gorgons! —McGonagall made a great effort not to lose her composure.

”Know what?”

Compared to McGonagall, Sherlock appeared very calm.

As if he didn’t understand why the other person was so surprised.

”What you just said means... Hogwarts is in Scotland?”

McGonagall couldn’t help but press him.

”It’s just a simple deduction.”

Seeing that McGonagall still looked confused, Sherlock sighed and took out the acceptance letter he had received three days ago.

”This paper is thick and sturdy, of particularly good quality—nearly half a pound for a stack.”

McGonagall looked at Sherlock with puzzlement.

As if asking with her eyes: So, what?

Sherlock handed the letter to McGonagall. ”Professor, please hold it up to the light.”

McGonagall was puzzled but did as Sherlock requested.

Then she saw a capital ”A” and three lowercase letters ”l,” ”b,” ”a” interwoven in the paper’s texture.

McGonagall was stunned.

In all these years, Hogwarts had sent countless acceptance letters, but this was the first time she had noticed this detail, naturally not understanding what it meant.

”Do you know what this means?”

She couldn’t help but ask.

”Of course, ’Alba’—in Gaelic, it means Scotland. This paper was manufactured in Scotland.”

Sherlock said in a matter-of-fact tone.

”But...”

Before McGonagall could object, Sherlock was already explaining at breakneck speed:

”Of course, this alone wouldn’t be enough to make the judgment—but add the Scottish owl that delivered the letter, the Scottish tartan pattern on your blouse, and the Scottish accent you unconsciously use when speaking... If these weren’t enough to make the determination, that would be rather foolish.”

”Merlin’s beard...”

After Sherlock finished speaking in one breath, McGonagall was thoroughly amazed.

What had seemed utterly incredible before now seemed perfectly logical after Sherlock’s explanation.

This young wizard was truly... too surprising.

So, when she returned to school, should she consider suggesting that Headmaster Dumbledore strengthen their security measures?

After all, deducing Hogwarts’ location without magic was far too incredible!

”Sherlock, are you really going to attend school there?”

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of Gryffindor House, had already left.

Regarding Sherlock’s ability to determine Hogwarts’ location based solely on observational clues, Professor McGonagall was deeply impressed.

—Though Sherlock himself found the matter obvious.

Because of this incident, the usually stern Professor McGonagall was generous with her praise and expressed considerable expectations for Sherlock’s upcoming life at Hogwarts.

After this, McGonagall didn’t forget to conscientiously fulfill her duties.

She told Sherlock that items like wands, robes, and spellbooks—things that seemed to exist only in the magical world—could actually be purchased locally in London, as long as one knew the right places.

She could have taken Sherlock directly to Diagon Alley.

But as Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, McGonagall was extremely busy, especially during the pre-term period.

Having discovered that Sherlock’s family didn’t reject magic and that his parents promised to take Sherlock themselves, she decided to free up her time for families who needed her more.

So, she explained everything in detail, including how to travel to Hogwarts by train.

Additionally, McGonagall had Sherlock’s parents sign a confidentiality agreement on behalf of Hogwarts—they couldn’t reveal the existence of magic to anyone except immediate family.

For the Holmes couple, this wasn’t a problem; they weren’t flamboyant by nature.

Sherlock, however, seemed to think of something, as his gaze grew increasingly deep.

After McGonagall left, Mrs. Holmes, already became sentimental, and began to hesitate again.

According to McGonagall, once Sherlock went to Hogwarts, he would have to live at school, only returning home during Christmas and summer holidays each year.

Just this alone was difficult for Mrs. Holmes to accept.

Not to mention that this lifestyle would continue until Sherlock graduated in his seventh year.

The thought that for the next seven years, Sherlock would only spend about two months at home each year naturally made her, as a mother, unable to accept it.

”Dear Violet, since it’s Sherlock’s own decision, we should support him—we always have, haven’t we?”

”I understand, but Tarquin, Sherlock is only eleven...”

”Trust me, and trust Sherlock. He’ll take care of himself.”

Wizards might not have the best reputation, but Sherlock’s safety was more important.

The consequences of magical outbursts... sounded truly terrifying.

Besides, this was Sherlock’s own choice.

He wasn’t an ordinary little boy, after all.

Mr. Holmes explained while guiding his wife toward the bedroom, turning back to give Sherlock a reassuring look.

Sherlock was naturally reassured.

Though his father usually surrendered to his mother in most situations, at crucial moments, he could always successfully persuade her.

Indeed, Mr. Holmes didn’t disappoint his son.

After thorough communication, he ultimately convinced his wife to accept the reality that Sherlock would be spending most of the next seven years away from them.

Next came the preparations for school.

Originally, Sherlock had planned to go alone to purchase all the necessary school supplies.

But this time, Mrs. Holmes absolutely refused to let him go alone.

Plus, shopping required financial support from the family, so father and son had to compromise.

The next day, the family of three drove out and soon reached Charing Cross.

This was a very prosperous area.

Located in the City of Westminster, adjacent to the Chelsea district where the Holmes family lived, it was traditionally London’s central area and Britain’s conventional zero point for road and railway distances.

The Holmes family’s destination was on this very street.

According to McGonagall, they first needed to find the famous Leaky Cauldron—though McGonagall’s ”famous” was limited to the wizarding world.

Before she mentioned it, neither Sherlock nor the Holmes couple had ever heard of such a place.

Originally, Sherlock thought this wouldn’t be difficult, but they encountered setbacks from the start.

”Tarquin, did we get it wrong?”

Mrs. Holmes looked at the bookstore on the left, then at the record shop on the right.

Being in central London, both shops were quite busy.

But no matter how she looked—left, right, up, or down—she couldn’t see any pub.

Mr. Holmes frowned as well.

Watching the passing pedestrians, some entering the bookstore, others the record shop, but none looking like they were going to a pub.

At this moment, the couple looked at their son in unison.

Unlike his parents, Sherlock could see very clearly.

There was indeed a pub here.

Its location was between the large bookstore and the record shop on the other side—just as McGonagall had said.

But if McGonagall hadn’t specifically pointed it out, even with Sherlock’s meticulous observational skills, he wouldn’t have noticed.

As for other people, including Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, it went without saying.

Just looking at the hurried appearance of passersby, it was clear they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron.

”This is the magical world’s influence on the mundane world—reducing one’s presence, making ordinary people unable to, see?”

Sherlock understood in his heart.

Indeed, once one touched the magical world, interesting things followed one after another.

He responded to his parents with action.

Seeing their son walk directly toward the space between the two shops, the couple hurried to follow.

When they got close, they finally noticed the pub.

Shabby, cramped, dirty—this was the Leaky Cauldron’s first impression.

Inside the pub, it remained dimly lit with simple furnishings.

Several tables were placed in the shadowy corners, where groups of people were drinking and talking loudly.

Everything looked no different from an ordinary pub.

But these people were all dressed in bizarre clothing, and their conversation topics were absurd in the extreme.

After listening for just a few sentences, Mr. Holmes couldn’t help but say to his wife:

”Violet, I’d bet you that ordinary people coming here wouldn’t finish their butterbeer before getting up to leave.”

Mrs. Holmes nodded in agreement.

After all, speaking about ”creating a meteor shower” sounded ridiculous no matter how you heard it.

Sherlock’s gaze swept over each of these people, unconsciously analyzing and categorizing every scene.

[Smoking woman in the northwest corner, 5 meters away, under 50, married, poor self-control, separated from husband, came to the pub to find young men]

[Grinning man directly ahead, 7 meters away, early twenties, about to get married, came here to bid farewell to his single life, his friends don’t support his decision]

[Short man at the table diagonally behind, around 35, bad temper, doesn’t have enough money to pay for drinks, currently trying to figure out how to skip the bill]

[Ordinary-looking burly man passing by...]

Every person Sherlock observed seemed to automatically deliver this information to his vision. For Sherlock, such things had become instinctive.

[Man walking toward us, about 40, has been observing everyone entering and leaving the pub—oh, he’s the owner]

”Two Muggles, one young wizard—classic combination. Another summer blown by the wind has arrived.”

The man stopped in front of the three and began introducing himself directly: ”I’m the pub owner, Tom Cruise. You can call me Old Tom. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron!”

’Tom Cruise?’

Looking at his nearly bald head, face wrinkled like a dried walnut, and eyes almost squinted shut, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes’ mouths twitched, not knowing what to say.

They knew this wasn’t polite, but they couldn’t control themselves.

However, Sherlock wasn’t affected. He stepped forward directly to greet him:

”Mr. Cruise, Professor McGonagall sent us.”

After observing and determining Tom’s personality, Sherlock directly mentioned McGonagall’s name.

”Of course, of course! Young wizards from Muggle families—rare but not uncommon. Follow me!”

While following Tom, Sherlock casually inquired about the people he had observed earlier.

As the pub owner, Tom naturally knew their situations.

The results pleased Sherlock—his deductions were all correct.

It seemed that even coming to the magical world, the deductive method he had summarized from scientific systems hadn’t lost its effectiveness.

So...

When science and magic intersect—the story begins.