HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Hogwarts, Ravenclaw Head’s Office

Professor Flitwick, hearing Sherlock accurately state the specific location of his office, couldn’t help but praise:

”Holmes, you truly are exceptional—I’m increasingly convinced you should have come to Ravenclaw.”

Sherlock lowered his head to look at him but said nothing.

”Speaking of which—if it weren’t for the Sorting Hat’s insistence back then, I might still be in Gryffindor now.”

Professor Flitwick seemed to fall into reminiscence of the past. After a period of silence, he said with emotion:

”Of course, there’s nothing wrong with Gryffindor, but for me, Ravenclaw offers much broader horizons!”

Sherlock: —

”What’s that expression?”

Professor Flitwick glared at him.

”Professor McGonagall also nearly came to Ravenclaw—even today, I often discuss this with her.

If we had been more persistent or hesitant back then, perhaps the person talking to you in this office today would be her, not me.

Enough of that, quickly tell me what else you found besides that ornament!”

Sherlock wasn’t surprised that Professor Flitwick could see this point.

Although most wizards weren’t good at deduction, Professor Flitwick was obviously not among them.

”Professor, please look at this first.”

Sherlock took out a fragment of parchment and placed it on the desk—this was also something he had found in that prison cell.

Flitwick took out his wand and pointed it at the parchment fragment.

The edges of the parchment immediately darkened, then gradually separated into two layers.

Flitwick’s expression instantly became serious.

”The parchment edges have two types of ink—the surface layer is ordinary ink, but the inner layer contains poison.”

”Which means even if Musgrave had signed that agreement, he would have died anyway.”

”Yes, this is a slow-acting poison made from a mixture of Flobberworm mucus and Lacewing fly poison. The victim would die within three to five days, and it’s very difficult to detect.”

”Truly ruthless.”

”So, you really don’t plan to continue investigating—just as you told Hagrid and that Greek man?”

Professor Flitwick stared intently at Sherlock. ”I know the Ministry of Magic better than you do.

I’ve already heard from Pomona about Miss Abbott’s case. If she hadn’t intervened, they would have preferred to let sleeping dogs lie.

After all these years, they haven’t improved one bit. Hmph, that fellow Fudge—”

Hearing Professor Flitwick say this, Sherlock felt somewhat helpless.

He had once naively thought that departments like the Ministry of Magic should be stronger than Scotland Yard, no matter what.

Later he discovered that the magical world had its own Scotland Yard too.

”The translator’s two friends are not the problem.”

Sherlock said slowly, ”If they wanted to make a move, they wouldn’t have needed to wait until today.

The black-market side also has no issues. Today’s events were purely coincidental—I’ve already checked. The black market’s opening times were never fixed; it could be any day of the week. We can only say our luck was bad.

If the translator hadn’t been kidnapped, we would have had more time, and that fellow posing as Smith couldn’t have escaped.”

Having said this much, Flitwick understood Sherlock’s meaning.

He sighed and reached out to pat Sherlock’s shoulder.

Seeing that Sherlock had no intention of crouching down, he could only pat Sherlock’s knee.

”Holmes, not everything will develop according to your imagination.

After all, you can’t guarantee that you’ll always be under the influence of Felix Felicis.

That’s just how this world is. Even when we’ve considered every aspect, sometimes we’re just lacking a bit of luck.

I think you’ve also noticed that logically, the criminal could have used an Unforgivable Curse to control that Athenian to obey him and achieve his goal—but he didn’t do that.

I can think of many reasons: perhaps the caster’s magical power was insufficient, perhaps that Athenian’s willpower was strong, or perhaps that ancient family had some special means. Regardless, judging from the current situation, as long as that poor Athenian doesn’t submit, he can preserve his life for another day, and the possibility of rescue increases.”

Professor Flitwick’s words sounded reasonable, but Sherlock was equally clear that this was just correct but useless advice.

Given the alertness and cunning Smith had displayed, the possibility of catching him was slim.

Moreover, the Ministry of Magic was responsible for this task.

Fortunately, it had only taken Sherlock one day to deduce the location of imprisonment, thus rescuing the Greek translator in time.

This could be considered a blessing in disguise.

Sherlock told Professor Flitwick the entire process of the case, satisfying his curiosity.

Now it remained to be seen how much power the two countries’ Ministries of Magic could exert working together.

This process might take ten days to half a month, three to five years, or even longer.

In any case, barring accidents, even though this Greek translator case still had some unsolved mysteries, it could be considered concluded.

The next morning, the final Quidditch match of the season officially began.

Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.

No one was optimistic about Gryffindor.

Setting aside other factors, they were missing one player compared to their opponents—how could they possibly defeat them?

But even so, Gryffindor refused to give up.

Under the encouragement of Captain Oliver Wood, all team members took the field with a tragic atmosphere, prepared to face crushing defeat.

Lose the game, not the dignity!

During breakfast, the entire Gryffindor section was filled with a tragic atmosphere.

Fortunately, not long ago there had been the incident where the Lion King and the Savior had stopped Quirrell and protected the Philosopher’s Stone.

Otherwise, the little lions probably wouldn’t have been in the mood to eat.

”After we finish eating, let’s all go to the pitch to cheer them on.”

Ron stuffed a meat pie into his mouth while saying to Sherlock and Hermione in a muffled voice.

Both nodded.

Just then, owls flew into the Great Hall as usual.

When Sherlock saw Watson flapping his wings toward him, his eyes immediately lit up.

Hermione fed Watson a piece of toast while Sherlock took the note from Watson’s leg and opened it.

Seeing that Sherlock didn’t stop them, Hermione and Ron leaned in from both sides to read.

[Person found, come quickly—F.F.]

The message was indeed simple and clear, but somewhat puzzling.

Ron: ”What person? Found what?”

Hermione: ”Where are you going? And who is F.F.?”

”F.F. is obviously Professor Flitwick,” Sherlock folded the note and put it in his pocket, then stood up. ”Filius Flitwick.”

He only answered this one question.

Because this was enough for Hermione to connect the dots.

Hermione also stood up. ”That case has new developments? Are you going now?”

”That’s right.” Sherlock paused, hesitated for a moment. ”Cheer for Gryffindor on my behalf.”

After saying this, he headed toward Flitwick’s office without hesitation.

West Tower, eighth floor, thirteenth room from the right.

Hermione ran after him for a couple of steps but quickly stopped, realizing it would be useless for her to follow.

Looking back at Ron, she found him still standing there looking completely confused.

She couldn’t help but sigh: ”Come on, let’s go cheer for Gryffindor.”

When Sherlock found Professor Flitwick, the latter was already prepared.

As soon as Professor Flitwick saw Sherlock, he said straightforwardly:

”The Ministry of Magic found that Athenian.”

Sherlock was startled: ”So quickly?”

Professor Flitwick’s face was grave: ”The body.”

Sherlock was stunned.

He had guessed that Professor Flitwick was looking for him because there had been developments in the case, but he hadn’t expected this result. However, he quickly regained his composure and began thinking about the possible implications of this event.

”Where?”

Seeing Sherlock recover from his shock so quickly, Professor Flitwick’s eyes showed a hint of approval:

”I’ll take you there now using Apparition.”

Apparition was a method of magical travel, consisting of two parts: Disapparation and Apparation.

Separately speaking, Disapparation was leaving a place, and Apparation was appearing at a place.

These two processes, plus the spinning in place before Disapparation, constituted the entire Apparition process—disappearing from one place and reappearing in another.

Simply put, Apparition was a form of teleportation.

In the magical world, it was the fastest method of reaching a destination—neither Floo Powder nor Portkeys could match it.

Other means of transportation like flying broomsticks were even less comparable.

Precisely because of this, Apparition required extremely high operational proficiency from the caster, and was limited to witches and wizards over seventeen years old.

At the same time, as the distance of Apparition increased, its difficulty also increased.

Intercontinental Apparition, for instance, could only be used by highly skilled wizards.

Otherwise, it might result in splinching, serious injury, or even catastrophic results like being drawn and quartered.

Because Apparition was not allowed on Hogwarts grounds, Flitwick first took Sherlock to Hogsmeade.

”Holmes, control yourself.”

With Flitwick’s magical expertise, taking someone along for Apparition wasn’t a problem at all.

But before casting the spell, he still solemnly explained the precautions.

”The first time is always very uncomfortable—just bear with it.”

Sherlock nodded.

The next moment, Professor Flitwick had Sherlock grab his arm and cast the spell.

Sherlock’s surroundings instantly became pitch black.

He felt intense pressure from all directions, his chest felt like it was bound by several iron hoops, making it almost impossible to breathe.

His eyeballs felt pressed back into his skull, his eardrums pushed deep into his head, and his limbs felt like they were being stuffed into his torso.

Sherlock knew this was an illusion.

On one hand, he gripped Flitwick’s arm tightly, trying to maintain his balance as much as possible.

On the other hand, he seized this rare opportunity to carefully experience the sensation.

After feeling his entire body being compressed, he then felt himself spinning, as if he had become semi-solid, semi-liquid, like toothpaste being squeezed through a thick rubber tube.

Relatively speaking, this felt worse than using Floo Powder.

However, because he had been mentally prepared, the physical discomfort didn’t make Sherlock too nervous. Fortunately, it didn’t last long—the invisible tube seemed to suddenly split open, and Sherlock felt the pressure around him suddenly disappear.

”We’re here.”

As Flitwick’s voice sounded beside him, Sherlock’s vision became bright again.

The first thing that came into view was a stretch of green.

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