HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Just as Sherlock was readjusting to his body and hadn’t yet recovered his vision, a distinctive fresh scent of grass filled his nostrils.

When his sight fully returned, he found himself looking at a patch of green grass swaying gently in the breeze.

Not far from them stood a wizard, and further away lay a person on the ground, large bloodstains having turned the green grass beneath him a dark red.

Looking around, this appeared to be halfway up a small mountain.

Sherlock withdrew his gaze, understanding that this was the person who had contacted Professor Flitwick.

Indeed, the man’s next actions immediately confirmed this.

Upon hearing the distinctive sharp ”pop” sound of Apparition, the wizard turned around nervously.

When he saw that it was Flitwick who had arrived, he immediately breathed a sigh of relief and hurried over to them.

”You’ve finally come!”

Walking up to Flitwick, he immediately crouched down.

”Dear Professor Flitwick, I never expected you would contact me personally. I’m truly honored—” Professor Flitwick reached out and patted the man’s shoulder, then turned to introduce him to Sherlock: ”This is one of my former students. He works in the Memory Modification Command at the Ministry of Magic.”

”The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, actually,” the man corrected, then extended his hand toward Sherlock. ”Hello, I’m Arnold Peasegood, graduated from Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts. Pleased to meet you.”

”Sherlock Holmes.”

Watching the man crouch down and earnestly extend his hand, Sherlock silently reached out to shake it.

Did every one of Flitwick’s students crouch down when meeting him again after graduation?

Was this some strange Ravenclaw custom?

”Ah, I’ve heard Mr. Eber mention your exploits—spotting discrepancies just by reviewing reports. Truly remarkable!”

Peasegood maintained his crouching position, looking up as he spoke. ”Since you’re both here now, shall we go take a look over there?”

Seeing Flitwick and Sherlock nod, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and stood up.

After all, he wasn’t Asian and couldn’t maintain a crouching position for long periods.

Not far from them, the body of a tall man lay on the ground.

Sherlock followed Peasegood over and crouched down to examine it carefully.

Peasegood began his explanation:

”This morning, the Ministry detected an unusual magical disturbance in this area.

Since this is a Muggle residential area, my colleague immediately rushed over.

We initially thought it might be a wizard performing magic in front of Muggles, but instead we discovered this.

After identification, we confirmed the deceased was a member of the Musgrave family from yesterday’s case.

We’ve already contacted the Greek Ministry of Magic, and they sent over the files yesterday—Professor Flitwick also mentioned this matter to me yesterday.

So, when I learned of this, I volunteered for overtime to handle the scene.

What I’m saying is, whatever you want to do, you’d better be quick about it. I can’t delay this much longer.”

As Peasegood spoke, he curiously watched Sherlock’s movements.

Although he’d already heard about Sherlock from Mr. Eber and Professor Flitwick, seeing it firsthand still surprised him.

It was hard to imagine a twelve-year-old wizard examining a corpse so thoroughly.

Not only did he show no fear, but he was focused and professional in his approach.

Watching him use a magnifying glass for careful observation, it seemed as if this wasn’t his first time doing such work.

What was going on? Were Gryffindor students already this brave these days?

Or was he simply falling behind the times?

Peasegood had finished explaining everything he could, but Sherlock was still busy around the body.

When Sherlock turned the corpse over, apparently intending to examine the grass beneath it, Peasegood finally couldn’t help but remind him:

”Mr. Holmes, you need to hurry up, or my other colleagues will arrive.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Sherlock stood up and began speaking rapidly:

”From the scene, the surrounding grass shows chaotic trampling patterns in various directions, with clear signs of being stepped on by two people.

The deceased’s clothing is disheveled, with a button torn from his collar, obviously indicating he had an altercation and struggle with someone before death.

His hands are clenched into fists, with dirt and grass debris stuffed under his fingernails—evidence of struggling and clawing at the ground.

His facial expression is twisted, eyes wide with terror, as if he saw something horrible or experienced great suffering before death.

There are multiple external injuries on his body, but the fatal wound is at the chest—a deep stab wound.

The clothing around the wound is soaked with blood that has dried to a dark red color.

From the shape of the wound, the weapon should be a sharp blade.

As for the cause of death—” Sherlock paused, ”it was poisoning.”

”Poisoning?” Peasegood looked surprised. ”Wasn’t it the knife wound? You just said the chest wound was fatal.”

”That wound is indeed fatal, but he didn’t die from that fatal wound.”

Seeing Peasegood’s confused expression and Professor Flitwick’s furrowed brow, Sherlock explained further:

”I called it a fatal wound because even without the poisoning, that wound would have been enough to kill him.

However, before he could die from blood loss, the toxins in his body had already caused him to lose vital signs.”

”But we’ve already found the murder weapon!” Peasegood protested, directly producing a dagger: ”Although wizards usually use magic to fight, there are precedents for knife murders.”

Seeing him handle the ”murder weapon” so casually, Sherlock’s mouth twitched.

Never mind—there was no point discussing forensic science with these wizards.

He didn’t take the dagger, merely glanced at it and said, ”You’re right, all these wounds were caused by this dagger.”

”Then how do you—”

”It’s actually quite simple.”

Sherlock crouched down again, explaining while pointing out the relevant evidence to both men:

”As I mentioned, the deceased’s disheveled clothing and the trampled grass nearby indicate he had a violent confrontation before death.

If he truly died from the chest wound, during his struggles, blood should have sprayed due to his heartbeat and violent body movements.

In that case, the blood distribution under the deceased would show an irregular pattern with clear directionality.”

Sherlock gestured with his hand, then pointed to the bloodstains on the ground:

”But look—this pool of blood shows perfect circular diffusion, clearly indicating it seeped out slowly while the deceased was motionless.”

Professor Flitwick and Peasegood fell silent.

They’d never seen this method of case analysis before.

Wizards typically handled cases with a simple, brutal three-step approach: first the Prior Incantato spell, then Legilimency, and if all else failed, Dementors.

Usually, just the mention of Azkaban made criminals confess everything.

But both men were Ravenclaw graduates, so after some thought, they eventually understood Sherlock’s reasoning.

”Even so, how did you determine the poisoning?”

”Even simpler: purple lips, skin showing a strange blue-black color, and the body surface emitting a faint putrid odor.

I can only deduce this was a fast-acting poison, but I can’t determine the specific type.”

”Sounds like Venomous Tentacula, or maybe Acromantula or Runespoor venom,” Peasegood sighed. ”I’ll report this for further verification.”

Sherlock nodded and added: ”The body temperature is lower than the surrounding grass, beyond normal range. I detected spell residue with a magical magnifying glass.”

”Should be a Freezing Charm,” Peasegood mused. ”The killer was probably in a hurry to leave, so the spell traces weren’t completely eliminated.”

Flitwick nodded—this was the most likely explanation.

Sherlock stood up with a somewhat regretful sigh.

”Crime of passion, committed in rage.”

”Not premeditated?” Peasegood asked curiously.

”No clear motive,” Sherlock explained. ”He had successfully taken the victim away and was expecting him to sign that property transfer contract—no reason to act so quickly.

Both the perpetrator and victim knew from the moment they left Diagon Alley yesterday that both the British and Greek Ministries of Magic would track them—especially the Greek Ministry.

The deceased obviously realized this, so when they reached this location, he was unwilling to continue complying passively and began to resist, refusing to go further.

This was intolerable for Smith, which is why they had such a violent confrontation in this area.

Compared to using spells, this kidnapper seemed to prefer more primitive methods of venting his anger—evident from both our Greek friend’s earlier experience and the fresh wounds on the deceased.

Also, from the direction of footprints in the grass, the deceased made an attempt to rush toward the slope.

I believe the deceased said something that made Smith lose his rationality, finally causing Smith to lose patience and commit murder.

Probably something like ’I’d rather starve to death, die out here, jump off this cliff, than continue following you.’

Once he acted, it was too late for regrets.

In this situation, he could only hastily leave after staging the scene.”

After hearing Sherlock’s analysis, Peasegood was stunned speechless.

This ability... was even more miraculous than the Prior Incantato spell!

Following Sherlock’s description, he could almost see everything that had happened here not long ago.

”Excuse me, are all people in the Muggle world like you?”

If so, the Muggle world would have left the wizarding world far behind long ago!

”Arnold, did you leave your brain at the Ministry after joining?

Just think for a moment—how could there be people like Holmes everywhere?”

Humbled by his old teacher, Peasegood came to his senses.

Right, someone like Sherlock should be unique!

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