HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Hearing Hermione mention Poirot, Sherlock’s disdainful expression softened slightly:

”Poirot can indeed be considered a true detective. His deductive abilities are much stronger than Dupin’s. He can solve cases using only his brain, and his reasoning process can be called meticulous.

But he doesn’t like going outdoors. With no strength to truss a chicken, he can only rely on the police to present facts to him on a platter, then use his so-called ’little grey cells’ to analyze these facts.

Once what the police bring isn’t facts, then unable to personally seek clues, he would be misled and make deductions that don’t match reality.”

”But he can always find the murderer!”

Hearing her two admired figures being disparaged by Sherlock, Hermione couldn’t help but argue back.

”Dear Miss Granger, because it’s fiction.”

Faced with Hermione’s questioning, Sherlock smiled.

”As the author, Agatha Christie can naturally ensure that Poirot’s intuition is correct every time. The same applies to Miss Marple in her works, but in real life, this wouldn’t necessarily be the case.

Incidentally, like most popular novelists, this author likes to pile on settings and detailed descriptions while neglecting that the true core of novels should be exciting plots and characters with distinct personalities.

This way, whenever the mystery-solving scenes become too lengthy, they become boring, and readers lose patience while reading, just wanting the murderer to appear quickly.

Only people like me would care about the actual process of deduction—unfortunately, I can’t be considered a normal person.”

Hearing Sherlock look down on her two admired figures, Hermione had initially been somewhat angry.

But after hearing his assessment of himself, she suddenly felt there was no need to be angry anymore.

Calling himself not a normal person... when someone is harsh enough to criticize themselves, what’s there to be angry about?

Though she said she wasn’t angry anymore, she also stopped talking to Sherlock.

Since she wasn’t talking, Sherlock didn’t initiate conversation either.

Just like this, the two maintained silence as they walked back, which unexpectedly had a kind of tacit understanding.

Until they came to the Gryffindor common room and saw a notice posted on the bulletin board.

A month after school started, flying lessons were finally beginning.

Only first-year students had this class, scheduled for Thursday afternoon after Charms, with instructor Rolanda Hooch, covering the use of flying broomsticks.

”We have to take classes with Slytherin students again?”

Seeing the notice, Hermione couldn’t help frowning. ”Why must they always put us together with them?”

”Don’t be prejudiced against this house.”

Compared to the dissatisfied Hermione, Sherlock was much calmer. ”The four houses have no hierarchy, and Severus Snape is also an excellent professor...”

”Are you sure?”

Hermione looked shocked. ”You really think Professor Snape is a good person?”

”Although I think using simply ’good’ and ’bad’ to evaluate a person is somewhat one-sided, if we go by your understanding, Professor Snape is indeed a good person.”

”He’s been targeting you and Potter like that, and you still think he’s a good person?”

Hermione now truly felt that Sherlock hadn’t been wrong—he really wasn’t a normal person.

”From a professor’s standpoint, his methods aren’t problematic. Deducting points is his right. As for targeting...”

Sherlock smiled. ”Miss Granger, you may not believe this, but he might indeed be the person in this school who least wants Harry to come to harm.”

Hermione: (°ー°
)

After a moment of silence, Hermione let out a long sigh. ”Well... if you’re happy... but I think Potter himself definitely wouldn’t think so.”

”Honestly, his opinion isn’t important.”

”Right, right. In this month, Snape has already deducted thirty points from him, which is more than twice the total of all other Gryffindors combined.”

Speaking of this, Hermione couldn’t help laughing.

Poor Harry Potter—his savior status, which earned praise everywhere else, seemed to have lost its effect on Snape.

After discussing for a few more sentences and finding she couldn’t convince Sherlock, Hermione could only helplessly return to the girls’ dormitory.

But before leaving, she once again showed a hesitant expression.

Sherlock: ”Miss Granger, if you have something to say, just say it.”

”...”

Hermione took a deep breath. ”Could you just call me Hermione from now on?”

Sherlock was slightly stunned, then nodded. ”Of course.”

After Hermione left, Sherlock shook his head.

Changing how one addresses someone from surname to first name—isn’t this naturally what happens when relationships grow closer?

Is it necessary to bring it up specifically? And with that conflicted tone?

Indeed, as his father said, even he sometimes couldn’t understand female thought processes.

The flying lesson generated far more excitement among first-year students than imagined.

Most students from wizarding families spent all their free time recounting their past flying experiences.

It seemed their childhoods were mostly spent riding broomsticks and flying around in the wilderness.

This included Ron.

As long as someone was willing to listen, he would tell the thrilling story of how he once rode Charlie’s old broomstick and nearly collided with a hang glider.

This naturally had exaggerated elements, but compared to Malfoy from the neighboring Snakey house, who constantly had close calls with helicopters, it was already much better.

First-year students like Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione, who had grown up in Muggle families, though also interested in flying lessons, weren’t as excited as the others.

Only Neville was an exception.

While others were excited with nervousness, he was purely nervous.

Although he had grown up in a wizarding family, his grandmother had never let him near a broomstick.

Because of this, during this period he had been listening intently to every word Hermione said—she had found some flying guidance from a library book called ”Quidditch Through the Ages.”

Sherlock had also read this book, but he felt these things weren’t very meaningful.

To fly higher, relying solely on books definitely wouldn’t work.

Flying was like driving—the guidance written in books would only be useful after personally trying it.

After all, many people still couldn’t drive even after getting their licenses.

Only by actually driving on the road could one master real driving skills.

Finally, Thursday afternoon arrived amid everyone’s anticipation.

Compared to his excited classmates, though Sherlock also looked forward to flying lessons, he didn’t show it so dramatically.

He even wanted to ask Professor Flitwick a few more questions when Charms class ended.

But ultimately, under Harry and Ron’s repeated urgent prompting, he left.

Even so, when they and the other Gryffindor students hurried down the sloping lawn to the grounds in front of the entrance, the Slytherin students were already there.

As the little lions arrived, the little snakes’ gazes immediately turned cold.

The little lions, known for their courage, naturally glared back without courtesy.

The two sides’ gazes crossed, and a tense atmosphere began to permeate the surroundings.

The most intense confrontation was between Harry and Malfoy’s stares.

Sherlock paid no attention to this.

His attention was focused further away.

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