HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

After hearing Sherlock’s analysis of the cause of death, Peasegood thought for a moment and accepted the explanation.

But then he remembered something else and said with a bitter expression:

”But even knowing the killer staged the scene doesn’t really help us find him...”

Sherlock shook his head: ”No, it should still be somewhat useful.”

Peasegood looked at Sherlock in surprise, and Professor Flitwick showed curious interest.

Sherlock said in a calm tone:

”I’m fairly good at crime scene analysis, and I’ve observed every detail here.

For instance, right now I can provide some clues for you and the Greek Ministry of Magic.”

He paced around the spot for a few moments, then spoke without hesitation:

”The killer is originally about six feet tall, male, not particularly strong physically, ambidextrous, uses an eight-inch wand.

Wealthy family background, well-educated from childhood, suffered unfair treatment during adolescence, harbors serious vengeful tendencies.

Usually strict with himself, arrogant personality, enjoys inflicting cruelty, has no fixed residence, injured right hand.

This is all I can deduce for now, but it should be helpful to you.”

As Sherlock spoke, Peasegood grew increasingly amazed, and by the time he finished, his eyes were wide with disbelief.

”How... how is this possible? How did you deduce all this?”

”Observation, analysis, organization, deconstruction.”

Sherlock explained at twice his normal speaking speed:

”From the killer’s footprints in the grass—large stride length and deep impressions match male walking patterns.

Based on footprint length and pressure distribution, height can be roughly calculated at six feet—I won’t explain the specific method.

Not particularly strong because when staging wounds and arranging the scene, his movements showed precision but lacked power.

For example, the blood smearing traces were relatively gentle, without spattering from excessive force. If it were an ordinary strong man, the movements would be larger and more forceful.

Of course, this could also indicate careful planning and self-control.

But considering he let an already long-tortured victim struggle and fight rather than subduing him immediately, I prefer the former explanation.

As for ambidexterity, it’s evident from the different directional marks left on the body.

Using blood smearing as an example again—there are traces from both left-to-right and right-to-left directions, indicating the killer’s both hands can perform precise movements skillfully.

The wand length is calculated from the detected residual magical wave intensity and range.

Of course, this isn’t entirely accurate—but don’t forget, our translator friend has seen him multiple times.

Combining these deductions with the translator’s descriptions and cross-referencing them, it’s not difficult to reach these conclusions.”

”Mr. Holmes, aren’t you forgetting something?” Seeing Sherlock’s confident demeanor and Professor Flitwick’s appreciative gaze, Peasegood felt compelled to raise an objection.

At least he had reasonable grounds, so it wasn’t deliberately finding fault.

”Polyjuice Potion—it can change a person’s appearance.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Sherlock immediately replied:

”You’re quite right, which is why I said ’originally’ six feet tall.

Polyjuice Potion can only change appearance, not behavioral habits.

I’ve already accounted for differences caused by physical transformation.”

Peasegood was stunned. This was possible too?

Professor Flitwick nodded thoughtfully. ”What about family background and education?”

”Despite time pressure, he still thought to stage the scene, create false clues, and mislead investigators.

His technique in creating fake wounds was relatively precise and careful. The scene showed no chaotic traces from panic or nervousness—everything was arranged methodically, requiring good psychological composure and a calm mind.

Combined with the translator’s multiple encounters with him—generous spending, luxurious clothing, maintaining composure even when making threats—these traits typically belong to people raised in wealthy environments with good education.

Yet such a person committed this series of crimes, and even when staging the death scene, unconsciously performed vengeful acts—these wounds here, here, and here all show this.

Despite being a wizard, he prefers more primitive methods over magic to torture others.

So, I suspect he suffered considerable unfair treatment or torture during adolescence, developing serious vengeful tendencies.

People who regularly do such things know that compared to casting spells from a distance, the feeling of physical violence is obviously more stimulating.”

”...Setting aside why you know about such feelings,” Peasegood’s mouth twitched, his eyelid jumping, ”everything you’ve said is completely without evidence—merely speculation!”

”I never claimed to have evidence,” Sherlock sighed, meeting Peasegood’s surprised gaze. ”These are just the most reasonable assumptions at this stage. I suggest you focus your search in this direction.”

Peasegood: ”...”

Your reasoning is so sound, I’m speechless.

”However, the injured right hand is certain.

Several of the body’s wounds show obvious blunt trauma and muscle adhesion, indicating he trembles when performing precise movements.

Oh, and the interpreter we rescued mentioned he wore dragon-hide gloves on his right hand, which matches my deduction.”

Peasegood still had more to say, but just then Professor Flitwick’s expression became stern.

”I detect magical disturbances—should be Ministry people.

I don’t want to meet them. Holmes, is there anything else?”

”No, I’ve said everything necessary.”

Sherlock shook his head and looked at Peasegood. ”Also, please don’t tell others about my deductions—just say they were your own conclusions.”

”Ah, why?”

”Do as Holmes says!”

After Professor Flitwick said this, he and Sherlock disappeared from the spot.

Just as they vanished, crackling sounds filled the air, and seven or eight people appeared in the grass.

The leader wearing a green bowler hat was none other than the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

Seeing this, Peasegood’s heart sank—the higher-ups were taking this very seriously indeed!

Cornelius Fudge’s gaze swept over the scene, showing obvious disgust.

”What’s the current situation?”

A sturdy man beside him immediately answered: ”We’ve confirmed the deceased is a member of the Athens Musgrave family, killed by that John James with a knife—”

”I don’t think so, Dawlish. I believe he died from poisoning.”

”Peasegood, you’re only here to modify Muggle memories, don’t casually question an Auror’s judgment!”

”It’s not casual questioning—I have solid evidence.”

Peasegood walked a few steps on the grass, then began explaining to the surprised Ministry officials:

”First, if the deceased truly died from a chest wound, during his struggles, blood should have sprayed due to heartbeat and violent body movements...”

While Peasegood analyzed the case for the Ministry officials, Flitwick had already returned to Hogsmeade with Sherlock.

Since they appeared right at the Three Broomsticks’ entrance, they decided not to return to Hogwarts immediately and entered the pub instead.

Professor Flitwick was well acquainted with Madam Rosmerta, and they exchanged warm greetings.

”One sherry juice soda with ice and butterbeer—”

”Certainly, Professor.”

”Hmm!”

Professor Flitwick made an ambiguous exclamation and smacked his lips.

Since it wasn’t a weekend, there were no Hogwarts students in Hogsmeade.

So, the popular Madam Rosmerta wasn’t very busy. She glanced at Sherlock beside Professor Flitwick:

”The same lemonade as last time?”

Just last time, she’d learned from Hagrid that Sherlock was a first-year student.

She hadn’t expected him to return so soon, and again with Professor Flitwick.

Such rule-breaking occurring repeatedly made her curious.

Unfortunately, Professor Flitwick and Sherlock weren’t like Hagrid—they wouldn’t reveal their purpose.

This left her somewhat disappointed.

A few minutes later, Sherlock held a large mug of foaming hot butterbeer while Professor Flitwick carried his complex drink to a small table where they sat side by side.

”Holmes, what do you think?”

”The Athenian’s death was completely accidental,” Sherlock said calmly, taking a small sip. ”From the current situation, even if the British and Greek Ministries work together, catching the killer will be very difficult.

For him, the Athenian was both hope and burden—with the burden gone, escape becomes much easier.”

Professor Flitwick sighed. ”Thank goodness we saved that Greek fellow, or Hagrid would be very upset.”

As an elder, Professor Flitwick had seen much in his time.

Noticing Sherlock’s low spirits, he reached out and patted his shoulder.

”The magical world is different from the Muggle world, after all. Combining Muggle world skills with magical knowledge is already remarkable!

Although you’re a fast learner, coming from a Muggle family means that accepting this world—never mind studying magic—is itself a tremendous undertaking.

But you’re only in first year and already exceptional enough.

Not just me—even Professor Dumbledore might not have performed as brilliantly at your age.”

At this point, Professor Flitwick chuckled.

”That Summoning Charm was absolutely beautiful!

You know, Sherlock, when I originally designed that obstacle, I never imagined you’d solve it that way.”

As the Charms professor, Flitwick became noticeably excited when discussing spells.

”I think you could still improve in this area, like your movements when casting magic—

Ah, if only you’d been sorted into Ravenclaw!”

Sherlock and Professor Flitwick talked long into the evening at the Three Broomsticks, leaving only after Sherlock had consumed three large mugs of butterbeer.

He understood Professor Flitwick’s intentions, of course.

At this point, the case was essentially closed.

But not only had they failed to catch the killer, they didn’t even know his true identity.

Only Hagrid failed to understand why ”John Smith” was obviously a fake name.

But as Professor Flitwick said, he was young now, weak in ability, with limited understanding of the magical world.

Under these circumstances, achieving this much was already quite good.

But Sherlock wasn’t satisfied.

This case’s lesson for him was clear—study, he still needed to study!

Including Astronomy, which he’d previously set aside, needed to be picked up again.

Because it was genuinely useful for solving cases.

No one could stop him from learning.

Not even Voldemort!

You can read more chapters on:

patreon.com/MikeyMuse