HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

”It seems Mrs. Dursley indeed knows quite a bit about magic.”

Mrs. Dursley’s reaction was naturally within Sherlock’s expectations.

Under her nervous gaze, he said calmly:

”If that’s the case, then I presume you must have heard of the magic called Legilimency.”

Harry looked at Sherlock in shock.

’Dude, what are you trying to do?’

Sherlock’s demeanor at this moment could be described as polite and impeccable, but his words made the Dursley family feel as if they had fallen into an ice cellar.

”I think just from the name alone, you should understand what this magic is used for—it can forcibly read others’ memories...”

He once again took out his wand and began to stroke it gently.

”Mrs. Dursley, you wouldn’t want me to use magic to force you to comply, would you?”

Harry: ”Σ(°△°|||)︴”

”Sherlock.”

Harry was already stunned.

Although he knew Sherlock was deliberately saying this to extract information.

But this demeanor, these actions, this tone—

It made him want to shout:

’Why are you so skilled at this!’

Faced with the polite Sherlock, the Dursleys finally surrendered.

Both of them keenly realized that they absolutely could not treat this classmate of Harry’s as a child.

Especially Mr. Dursley, who had seen his share of important occasions.

So, he discovered that the bearing and temperament of Sherlock and his mother were no different from those big shots he had met in high society.

Petunia understood her husband very well, and just by looking at his expression, she knew what he was thinking.

”Fine, since you want to know—”

She took a deep breath and slowly began to reveal information about Lily Potter, oh, Lily Evans as she was then.

”Your mother—Lily.”

Her voice was somewhat stiff, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly, as if suppressing some emotion.

”She was different from childhood. There were always some—strange things happening around her, like making withered lilies bloom again.

I remember once, she accidentally fell from a tree, but landed gently on the ground as if something had caught her.

Until that summer when she was eleven, just like you, she received a letter delivered by an owl—”

About half an hour later, Petunia finished her intermittent narration.

Harry kept his head down, immersed in sadness.

Sherlock, however, frowned.

Mrs. Dursley’s account did provide some additional information.

For instance, Lily had known a boy who lived in the impoverished Spider’s End before entering Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That boy was always gloomy, wearing old clothes, with greasy hair.

The two had a good relationship and went to Hogwarts together, becoming classmates.

Only after entering school for a few years, they had a falling out for some unknown reason.

Even so, as Harry’s mother’s older sister, the information she provided was still less than expected.

And most of it was about things before Lily’s marriage.

According to Petunia, ever since Lily married Potter, the two sisters had cut off contact.

Until ten years ago.

Mrs. Dursley only discovered baby Harry wrapped in blankets and a letter when she opened the door to collect milk bottles one morning, screaming in shock.

That letter was written by Dumbledore, and it was through that letter that she learned of Harry’s parents’ deaths.

Despite this, in order to continue living a ”normal” life for her family, she had never told Harry about magic all these years, and had told Harry that his parents died in a car accident.

”Thank you very much for your statement, Mrs. Dursley.”

Sherlock smiled, ”However, I still think you might speak more clearly.”

”What are you saying?”

Mrs. Dursley immediately became alert, ”I’ve told you everything I know.”

”Really?”

Sherlock shook his head, then said something that shocked everyone present:

”Actually—you envy your sister, don’t you?”

”I don’t, I haven’t, you’re talking nonsense!”

When she heard Sherlock say she envied her sister, Mrs. Dursley immediately began explaining in panic.

Mr. Dursley immediately hugged his wife tightly, looking at her with concern, then turned his gaze to Sherlock:

”Boy, watch your tone!”

Unfortunately, Sherlock wasn’t Harry, so naturally he wouldn’t be intimidated by Mr. Dursley.

He looked into Mrs. Dursley’s eyes and said calmly:

”You and Professor Dumbledore didn’t just have that one letter exchange, did you?

Before Harry’s mother entered school, you had already been in communication.

Didn’t you also want to become a witch?”

”You, you—”

Mrs. Dursley suddenly stood up, looking at Sherlock in panic.

She had lost her composure.

Sherlock’s words involuntarily reminded her of her adolescence, that summer touched by the wind.

Although it was a gentle refusal, it was merciless rejection.

A letter sent twenty years ago now pierced her heart like a sharp knife.

”Finally, the time you decided to cut ties with the magical world wasn’t when Harry’s parents got married.

He looked deeply at Mrs. Dursley once, ”According to my deduction, that time should have been shortly after Harry’s mother entered Hogwarts.”

Harry: ”Σ(°△°|||)︴”

Harry showed this expression more times today than even on that day four months ago when he first met Hagrid.

Aunt Petunia had actually been in contact with Headmaster Dumbledore early on?

Aunt Petunia had actually known Professor Snape early on?

Aunt Petunia actually envied his mother?

It sounded incredibly absurd, but when it came from Sherlock’s mouth, it became incredibly convincing.

”You said you wouldn’t use that kind of magic on us!”

Mr. Dursley held his wife tightly and roared at Sherlock, ”How can you break your word!”

Sherlock was somewhat helpless:

”Deducing these things doesn’t require magic at all—just like how I can see that you’re going to invite Mr. and Mrs. Mason for dinner tonight.”

”Impossible, absolutely impossible!”

This time, it was Mr. Dursley’s turn to lose his composure.

”Well, it seems I have to explain.”

Sherlock seemed somewhat disinterested, he said lazily:

”When Mrs. Dursley opened the door for us, she was obviously still in the middle of cooking. The dishes and drinks in the kitchen indicate this is preparation for dinner—if it were for lunch, there obviously wouldn’t be enough time.

There are two extra pairs of guest slippers prepared on the shoe cabinet in the entrance, one men’s size, one women’s size, formal and decent in style, not the kind used in your household.

All these newspapers on the table report on the same company, which happens to belong to Mr. Mason, with many contents marked with pen.

The dining table is laid with clean tablecloth, plates, knives, forks, wine glasses, etc., quantities corresponding to five people, obviously prepared for entertaining.

The golf ball ornament on the living room display shelf and the golf course landscape oil painting on the wall were obviously just hung up.

Based on these, I can make a double deduction: you’re going to host Mr. and Mrs. Mason for dinner tonight.

Mr. Mason likes to play golf, and you hope to steer the conversation toward your work during dinner, thereby completing this business deal.”

Dead silence.

The Dursley family was completely stunned.

Mrs. Holmes looked at her son with pride.

Harry proudly puffed out his chest, sharing in the glory.

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