HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Everyone knew that Sherlock wasn’t great at conversation.

Or rather, since he told the truth in most situations, he didn’t pay attention to atmosphere or consider the listener’s feelings.

So, when Ron asked for his opinion of the Burrow, Sherlock first examined the building with a scrutinizing gaze and gave his summary assessment of ”indeed, it’s not much.”

Then, under his three friends’ shocked stares, he said seriously.

”From my observations, this small building lacks overall planning and has cramped spaces, with each room having limited ceiling height.

The top floor rooms are particularly cramped—I can even imagine that when people walk in, their heads might bump the ceiling.

There are five chimneys on the roof, indicating that not every room has a fireplace besides the living room and kitchen.

Also...”

”Ahem...”

No more ”also”!

Harry, seeing Ron’s face growing greener and greener, as if he’d eaten a bogey-flavored Bertie Bott’s bean, quickly coughed twice while tugging at Sherlock’s sleeve.

Sherlock looked at Harry uninterestedly.

”Well, that’s enough. Let’s talk about something else.”

Seeing Harry’s pleading expression, Sherlock chose not to continue.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, both sighing in relief.

Harry especially was groaning inwardly.

There was no help for it—this friend of his was good in every way, except for that mouth...

Never mind Ron with his sensitive heart or proud Hermione.

Even someone as tolerant as himself sometimes couldn’t stand this blunt streak of his.

It always took a long time of reflection afterward to get over it.

Fortunately, only the four of them had heard this.

Otherwise, if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had heard, how embarrassing would that have been!

Even if they hadn’t heard, it would have been bad if the twins or Percy had.

After this small incident, Ron became more careful and didn’t dare let Sherlock casually comment again.

His little heart couldn’t take it.

When the group filed into the backyard, a dilapidated little stone house came into view.

The stone walls were covered with moss, with stubborn weeds sprouting from the cracks.

The open door swayed gently in the wind, making creaking sounds as if welcoming the visitors from afar.

Sherlock needed only a glance to determine it was the Weasley family’s broomstick shed.

Behind the shed was a large garden overgrown with weeds, which the Weasley family called their herb garden.

Everyone visiting the Burrow for the first time, including Sherlock, looked around with eyes full of novelty and excitement.

Their gazes constantly moved among the surrounding scenery, particularly Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger, who occasionally let out soft exclamations of wonder.

Harry felt moved—this was what a garden should look like, though the Dursleys certainly wouldn’t approve.

After all, it was overgrown with weeds that needed cutting.

But tree roots twisted around the wall bases, and various plants he’d never seen before sprawled from every flower bed.

Not to mention the emerald vegetable patches, smooth stone well curbs, tall apple trees, and purple-red climbing vines.

Nor the cicadas singing in the leaves, fat wasps lying on peony flowers, or swift owls suddenly darting from the grass toward the clouds.

Just the area around the green pond alone held infinite interest.

Above the pond stretched a vista of lotus leaves. The leaves rose high above the water like the skirts of graceful dancers. Among the layers of leaves, white flowers were scattered here and there.

Some bloomed gracefully, others shyly budded, like scattered pearls, stars in the blue sky.

Looking closely, one could see many frogs hopping about.

Harry’s eyes widened like copper bells, shooting out lightning-sharp alertness.

He curiously gazed at every corner, as if wanting to imprint everything in his memory.

Hermione frowned slightly, constantly comparing the differences between wizarding and Muggle households as she observed.

Walking to the center of the garden, Mr. Weasley suddenly stopped.

Under everyone’s puzzled gazes, he cleared his throat and began explaining to Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger.

”In the magical world, there’s a wonderful creature called a gnome, also known as a garden gnome.

If you can see them in a garden, it usually means wizards live nearby.”

”What a coincidence! We have gnomes in our garden too,” Mr. Holmes said, his eyes lighting up.

”Ha ha, I’ve seen those things you think are gnomes,” Mr. Weasley was very interested in the Muggle world, and hearing Mr. Holmes’s words, his lips curved up as he naturally took up the conversation.

”Those little dwarfs with tall pointed hats, some carrying fishing rods, like chubby little Santa Clauses.”

As he spoke, he gestured to show what those little figures looked like, his movements exaggerated and vivid, making everyone smile.

”But those are just garden decorations, completely different from the gnomes I’m talking about...”

At this point, Mr. Weasley suddenly showed a mysterious smile, turning to one of the twins with anticipation sparkling in his eyes.

”George, go show our guests what our garden gnomes look like!”

”I’m not George, I’m Fred—honestly, you claim to be our father, but why can’t you tell I’m Fred?”

”Sorry, Fred, dear.”

”Ha, just joking—actually, I am George.”

Mr. Weasley: (≧≦)

”Stop talking nonsense! When I tell you to go, you go—can’t you see the guests are waiting?” Mrs. Weasley, seeing her husband’s discomfort, put her hands on her hips and immediately scolded with a stern face.

Though everyone present was taller than Mrs. Weasley, at this moment she was full of authority.

”Alright, alright... really troublesome parents...” George dared to tease his father, but now only muttered once before jumping into the garden like an agile little monkey, before Mrs. Weasley could raise her hand.

He crouched low, carefully weaving through the flower bushes, his eyes alertly scanning the surroundings.

Under everyone’s watchful eyes, George suddenly bent down and buried his head in the peony bushes.

With violent struggling sounds, the peonies in the garden shook wildly.

After a moment, George straightened up under everyone’s gaze.

Facing the crowd, he stretched out his arms and held up his right hand high, saying with a straight face.

”Look, this is a gnome.”

”Let me go! Let me go!” The creature George held tightly in his hand let out sharp, piercing screams, like a rusty iron door being pushed open, the harsh sound echoing continuously in the air.

For Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione, though they’d never seen a gnome in person, they’d studied them in textbooks.

So, they could remain relatively calm, though their eyes couldn’t hide their curiosity.

Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger were completely different.

Both stared wide-eyed, gazing directly at the gnome, their expressions completely frozen.

They were utterly stunned by this bizarre creature they’d never seen before.

This thing was worlds apart from the jolly, chubby Santa Clauses they’d imagined!

It was small and compact, appearing to be about a foot tall, with the most striking feature being a head strangely large for its body.

The head swayed left and right with its struggling, as if it might separate from the body at any moment.

Then there were those bony, solid feet, looking exactly like a potato with legs—bizarre yet comical.

As Mr. Weasley had said, this was a genuine magical world gnome, completely different from what they’d previously imagined.

Though George held it up, the gnome didn’t give up struggling.

It kicked with its rough little feet, continuously screaming for George to let it go.

After confirming everyone had clearly seen the gnome’s appearance, George grabbed the gnome’s ankle and skillfully held it upside down.

Now the gnome’s body dangled in the air, head down, limbs thrashing wildly, looking even more pathetic.

”We usually do this—just spin them until they’re dizzy,” Mr. Weasley once again served as narrator, his voice gentle and patient, as if describing the most ordinary thing.

Following Mr. Weasley’s words, George understood and immediately began his demonstration.

He held the gnome high with one hand and began swinging his arm in large circles through the air like a lasso.

The gnome’s body spun rapidly under the centrifugal force, creating whooshing wind sounds.

Its screams became even shriller, as if about to be torn apart by this powerful force.

Seeing the two guests’ astonished expressions, Mr. Weasley’s smile grew even brighter.

”Don’t worry, this won’t hurt them—it just makes them unable to find their gnome holes.”

At this moment, George released his grip, and with this single-arm rotation, the gnome flew straight out twenty feet, landing with a splash in the field behind the hedge.

Soon, the gnome he’d thrown stood up and staggered away, disappearing behind the hedge.

This scene left Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger once again gaping in amazement.

For people who’d never encountered magical creatures, the scene was truly impactful.

Not just them—even Harry, despite coming from a Muggle family, looked very surprised.

Only Sherlock and Hermione remained composed.

Through their reading, they already understood this type of creature.

”Pathetic,” Ron curled his lip. ”I bet I could throw one past that stump.”

George ignored his little brother and jumped out of the garden, saying somewhat dissatisfied, ”It’ll just come back anyway.”

”Can’t help it—they like it here because Dad’s too lenient with them,” Fred said, shrugging at George’s words.

Mr. Weasley asked back, ”Don’t you think they’re interesting?”

╮（╯＿╰）╭

The twins simultaneously made helpless shrugging gestures.

Clearly, they didn’t think so.

But Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger nodded.

”Well said.”

”Absolutely fascinating!”

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