HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Though Hermione felt frustrated with the three boys’ behavior during the holidays, at least she’d returned from her travels and could properly discuss magic with Sherlock again.

While she was first in their year, Hermione knew she still had a significant gap to bridge with Sherlock, the true top student. Just consider the Summoning Charm from last year’s protection of the Philosopher’s Stone—she still couldn’t cast it properly.

Moreover, throughout the past year, she’d often needed Sherlock’s guidance in her magical research. Correspondingly, when Sherlock didn’t want to research something himself, he’d ask her, treating her like a human encyclopedia.

However, Sherlock’s questions were often quite obscure, requiring Hermione to read extensively to provide knowledge when he needed it.

”By the way, you’ve surely finished your summer homework already?” Having mentally discarded her negative emotions, Hermione finally got to the point.

But instead of answering, Sherlock asked: ”You said Harry doesn’t reply to your letters—how many have you sent him?”

”Five,” Hermione tilted her head. ”Why?”

She hadn’t yet realized why Sherlock was asking this question.

Getting his answer, Sherlock stood and walked to the window. Under Hermione’s surprised gaze, he opened it and called downstairs, ”Watson!”

Immediately, a beautiful owl flew through the window with flapping wings. Upon seeing Hermione, it hopped over and pecked her hand gently in greeting. Hermione could only smile wryly.

Sherlock took out paper and began writing rapidly, explaining to Hermione: ”Ron wrote to me earlier saying Harry hadn’t replied to his letters either.”

Hermione, who had been petting Watson, suddenly looked thoughtful, ”You mean...”

”Something’s not right. Let’s test it—we should have results soon.”

Sherlock finished writing, took Watson from Hermione, and instructed, ”Quickly now, my old friend.”

Watson gave a clear cry and flew away.

After Watson left, Hermione immediately seized the opportunity to discuss summer homework with Sherlock. Just then, she suddenly felt bad about what she was doing.

Near the end of last term, almost every Gryffindor first-year had approached her, saying they’d write during the holidays and hoping she’d write back. Even some Hufflepuff students had made the same request.

Though Hermione had agreed to all of them, she knew exactly why—they wanted help with homework. Otherwise, why hadn’t any Ravenclaw students come? And if not for the traditional animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin, they’d probably have come too.

Ha, she saw right through them!

But now, wasn’t she doing exactly the same thing?

However, when she heard that Sherlock had already completed all his assignments and began sharing insights, Hermione pushed the thought aside. First come, first served—what did it matter?

Knowing that Sherlock had even finished assignments for subjects he’d previously shown little interest in excited Hermione while confirming her suspicions.

What kind of person was Sherlock? Someone living in the twentieth century who only knew about basic heliocentrism. He only learned what he deemed useful, ignoring the rest.

But now he was learning regardless of immediate utility. The Greek Translator case had clearly affected him more deeply than she’d imagined.

Time flew as they chatted, until Watson returned. Hermione was startled: ”So fast?”

”Indeed, very fast,” Sherlock shook his head. ”Less than twenty minutes.”

”What?”

Hermione was shocked. She’d thought time had passed quickly because she was absorbed in academic discussion with Sherlock, but Watson truly had been fast.

Though Sherlock had urged speed, was Watson really this dedicated? Her own owl had never been so diligent.

Sherlock was already examining Watson carefully. Most obviously, the letter that had been tied to its leg was gone. Harry had received the letter but, like with Hermione and Ron, hadn’t replied... except that wasn’t right.

Harry Potter, the wizarding world’s savior, the Boy Who Lived. He might not reply to Hermione and Ron, but he’d never ignore Sherlock.

Thinking about it, Harry had only written twice since the holidays began, which was uncharacteristic.

So... he’d been careless. Completely absorbed in his own affairs, he’d overlooked this detail.

Sherlock’s eyes instantly sharpened.

”Something’s wrong. Harry never received the letters you sent him.”

”Your reasoning?” Hermione asked.

”Time,” Sherlock said confidently. ”Though Surrey borders Greater London, Watson couldn’t possibly complete a round trip from here to Privet Drive in twenty minutes under normal circumstances.”

”Didn’t you tell it to hurry?”

Sherlock: _

After asking this question, Hermione realized her mistake and stuck out her tongue sheepishly.

Ignoring Hermione’s attempt at cuteness, Sherlock pointed to Watson: ”Look here—Watson has fibers on its claws from old, worn fabric. Also, the feathers on its wings are disheveled—Harry has never had the habit of clutching it tightly.

This indicates someone intercepted Watson and took my letter to Harry. This person wore old clothes and is short with slender limbs—that’s all I can deduce for now.”

This time, Hermione didn’t need Sherlock’s analysis to start nodding in agreement.

”You’re right. If that’s the case, we should immediately seek help from the professors! Professor McGonagall would surely help us, Professor Flitwick too, though it would be best to go directly to Dumbledore...”

As Hermione counted on her fingers, wondering which professor they should approach, Sherlock shook his head, ”It won’t work.”

”Huh?”

”If letters to Harry are being intercepted, then letters to the professors would be too—that’s what I’d do.”

”Who could it be?” Hermione stood up, her eyes also sharpening. ”What’s their purpose? Why target Harry?”

Suddenly, fear flashed in her eyes. She lowered her voice: ”Could it be... his followers?”

Originally, like Sherlock and Harry, Hermione had known nothing about Voldemort and was one of the few who could say his name naturally. But as they say, the more you read, the more you realize your ignorance.

As Hermione learned more about the wizarding world, she now found it less natural to speak Voldemort’s name than she had a year ago.

After all, he was the Dark Lord who had ruled the wizarding world for over a decade, whose name wizards still dared not speak! Not to mention he’d personally killed hundreds of wizards—the mere thought was terrifying!

There was something Hermione hadn’t told anyone else. After helping Sherlock and Harry save the Philosopher’s Stone, she’d been unable to sleep for several nights. The horrifying image of Voldemort attached to the back of Quirrell’s head kept replaying in her mind until Quirrell was destroyed and Dumbledore personally confirmed that Voldemort was in—and would remain in—a weakened state for a long time.

Even knowing Voldemort was weakened, whenever she thought of it, last year’s scene would flash before her eyes.

Hearing Hermione’s words, Sherlock didn’t give a direct answer. He pressed his palms together under his chin, his gray eyes sparkling—Hermione recognized this as his thinking pose, so she sat quietly without interruption.

After about five minutes, Sherlock suddenly stood up. Hermione looked at him, and he looked back at her.

”Hermione, I’m planning to go out now. If you could come with me, I’d be very grateful.”

Hermione’s adventurous spirit immediately made her eyes light up: ”Let’s go, let’s go!”

Sherlock smiled. He’d known Hermione would join him.

Having made his decision, Sherlock immediately told his parents he planned to take Hermione out to visit a friend.

Hearing that Sherlock and Hermione wanted to go out together to see a friend, Mrs. Granger was initially hesitant. She knew the friend Sherlock mentioned—she’d met him at the Holmes house last Christmas and at the train station when school ended in June. He seemed honest and not the type to cause trouble.

The issue was that his home was in Surrey. Though not too far, it wasn’t exactly close either.

However, when she heard Sherlock proactively suggest that Mr. Holmes accompany them throughout, she immediately felt reassured.

Since meeting Mrs. Holmes at the Leaky Cauldron last summer, the two had become fast friends. Even while Sherlock and Hermione were at school, she and Mrs. Holmes had visited each other’s homes multiple times. Mrs. Holmes had even made special trips to her workplace.

The relationship between their families made her regard Sherlock almost like her own son, so having Mr. Holmes as their guardian put her completely at ease—he was certainly a trustworthy gentleman.

”Violet, if Mr. Holmes is accompanying the children, I certainly wouldn’t object...”

”I object!”

Just then, Mr. Granger, who had been playing wizard’s chess with Mr. Holmes, suddenly spoke up, raising his hand amid everyone’s surprised stares.

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