HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

”Not just the Ministry of Magic, right?”

Sherlock sneered coldly. ”That ’astute and capable,’ ’conscientious and responsible’ former headmaster Armando Dippet probably thought the same way, didn’t he?

That’s why you broke Hagrid’s wand and expelled him from school.

All I can say about that is, when you go to Uganda, you might as well take it along and let the mountain gorillas give it a few slaps too.”

As soon as Sherlock finished speaking, the sharp voice of Armando Dippet’s portrait rang out.

”Throw him out! Albus, throw him out of here!”

This moment, just like that moment.

Though last time it was ”let” him out, this time it had escalated to ”throw” him out.

Clearly, in this old headmaster’s eyes, Sherlock had been categorized as an unwelcome person.

”Oh, looks like I was right again.”

Sherlock paid no heed whatsoever to this incompetently furious old headmaster.

Watching his old headmaster and student face off like this, even Dumbledore couldn’t help but feel a headache coming on.

He quickly said, ”Sherlock, let’s focus our discussion on the Chamber of Secrets.”

”Fine.”

Indeed, upon hearing about this matter, Sherlock stopped his mockery.

Dumbledore smiled somewhat helplessly, turned around, and opened a black cabinet.

He carefully took out a shallow stone basin, placed it on the desk, then looked at Sherlock with interest.

Sherlock glanced at it and noticed the basin’s rim was carved with strange shapes, they were mainly unfamiliar letters and symbols.

The contents of the basin looked very much like the material of an invisibility cloak, like bright silver, yet it moved in swirling motions like liquid.

As for its form, it was like water rippling in a gentle breeze, yet also like clouds drifting ethereally.

Sherlock understood this was outside his knowledge area, so he looked at Dumbledore silently, waiting for his explanation.

”This is called a Pensieve,” Dumbledore said, tapping the basin’s edge with his wand. ”Sometimes I feel my mind is stuffed with too many thoughts and memories and that’s when I use it, I believe you understand that feeling.”

”You may not believe this, but I’ve never had that feeling.”

Hearing Sherlock’s words, Dumbledore showed a surprised expression. ”Someone as clever as you should have many wonderful thoughts.”

Sherlock said calmly. ”I believe a person’s brain is like an empty little attic, and one should selectively furnish it with some things.

Only a fool would stuff it with all sorts of random junk he encounters. When that happens, the useful knowledge gets squeezed out instead.

Wisdom lies in selective absorption, not blind accumulation, so I’ve never experienced what you described.”

Dumbledore was stunned. He had originally intended to explain the Pensieve’s function to Sherlock.

This was one of his proudest achievements.

Because Pensieves are rare, only the most accomplished wizards use them, and most wizards are afraid to use them.

He never expected Sherlock to give such an explanation.

Having often used the Pensieve, he understood more clearly just how remarkable Sherlock’s memory attic was.

”Before continuing to explain the Pensieve’s function, I must sincerely say this.”

Dumbledore looked at Sherlock, saying word by word, ”You are the most gifted person I have ever met.”

”Thank you for the compliment, Headmaster.”

Though Sherlock was expressing gratitude, his expression remained so naturally calm that it left Dumbledore momentarily at a loss for words.

He shook his head and simply pointed at the stone basin he called a Pensieve, continuing.

”I can extract excess thoughts from my mind and pour them into this basin, to examine them properly when I have time.

You know, in this state it’s easier to see their forms and connections to each other.”

”So, you’re saying this thing is your thoughts?”

Sherlock glanced at the swirling silver substance in the basin.

”Exactly so.”

Dumbledore inserted his wand tip into his silver hair, near his temple.

When he pulled out the wand, something like hair strands seemed to stick to the tip.

But the observant Sherlock immediately noticed it was actually a small strand of the same silvery-white substance as in the basin.

Dumbledore added this bit of new thought to the basin, and his own face appeared floating in it.

The next moment, Dumbledore cupped the Pensieve in his long hands, rotating it like a gold prospector turning a pan.

Then Dumbledore’s own face gradually transformed into Snape’s face.

”Snape” opened his mouth and spoke toward the ceiling, even with a slight echo.

”Interesting.”

That was Sherlock’s assessment of this scene.

It had similarities to his own memory attic after all.

”This still isn’t direct enough. Haven’t you always wanted to know what happened fifty years ago? I’ll take you to see it now.”

Sherlock nodded.

At Dumbledore’s indication, Sherlock leaned down and extended his head toward the Pensieve.

The moment his nose touched Dumbledore’s memory, Dumbledore’s office suddenly tilted.

Sherlock’s body lunged forward as he plunged headfirst into the basin.

However, his head didn’t hit the bottom but fell through cold, dark substance, as if being sucked into a black whirlpool.

The sensation was similar to when Flitwick had taken him Apparating, but not as uncomfortable.

When he came to his senses, his feet were on solid ground.

Sherlock looked around and easily recognized this as the headmaster’s office antechamber.

The next moment, a voice rang out.

”What are you doing?”

Sherlock looked toward where the voice came from and saw someone standing on the marble staircase greeting him.

It was a tall wizard with flowing reddish-brown hair and beard.

Sherlock immediately recognized him as Dumbledore, the middle-aged version of Dumbledore.

Compared to the Dumbledore he knew, this one had sharper, more intimidating eyes.

Sherlock immediately understood: this Dumbledore wasn’t yet headmaster, this was the time point from fifty years ago.

”Tom, why are you wandering the school so late?”

Hearing middle-aged Dumbledore’s words, Sherlock turned around.

A boy of sixteen or seventeen came into view.

This young wizard had shiny black hair and was quite handsome, he was arguably the best-looking wizard Sherlock had seen, even better-looking than Gilderoy Lockhart.

However, his complexion was somewhat pale, and a silver prefect’s badge gleamed on his Slytherin robes.

A student from fifty years ago, named Tom, Slytherin prefect.

Sherlock immediately filed this information in his memory attic.

Since Dumbledore had him observe this memory, this student must be related to the Chamber of Secrets.

”I was just going to see the headmaster, sir.”

The student Dumbledore called Tom seemed somewhat constrained, keeping his head down as if not daring to meet Dumbledore’s gaze.

”Well, off to bed with you.”

Middle-aged Dumbledore gazed at Tom with highly penetrating eyes, saying slowly. ”It’s best not to wander the corridors these days, since there’s already been—”

He didn’t finish his sentence but sighed heavily.

Then he bid Tom goodnight and strode away.

Sherlock noticed that Dumbledore kept watching until Tom’s figure disappeared before turning to enter the headmaster’s office.

The office interior was almost identical to reality, except there was no phoenix named Fawkes. The person sitting behind the desk obviously couldn’t be Dumbledore either.

Armando Dippet.

Sherlock finally saw the full appearance of this former headmaster.

He was a wizard who appeared very weak and thin, with only a few white hairs on his bald head.

Sherlock could tell at a glance that he was in a state of extreme helplessness and melancholy.

When Dumbledore entered the office, he managed a smile. ”Albus, you’ve come.”

”I just encountered Tom,” Dumbledore said concisely.

”I summoned him.”

Dippet sighed, opened his office drawer, took out a letter and handed it to Dumbledore.

”This is what the boy wrote to me. Have a look.”

Dumbledore took the letter, and Sherlock immediately walked forward to read it with him.

The letter’s content was simple: this young man named Tom Riddle wanted to stay at school over the summer holidays.

As everyone knows, Hogwarts operates on a three-term system.

Including Christmas winter break and Easter spring break, young wizards can choose either to go home or stay at school.

Compared to these two holidays, Britain’s summer vacation is quite long, a full three months.

So, Hogwarts generally doesn’t allow students to remain during summer vacation.

”I didn’t agree to his request.”

Dippet said with considerable feeling, ”Originally I did want to make special arrangements for him, but under current circumstances, allowing students to remain in the castle after term ends would be extremely foolish.”

Dumbledore nodded, ”I understand your thinking, Armando.”

Encouraged by his old friend, Dippet continued.

”This recent series of attacks has already driven me to distraction, especially that tragedy, that poor little girl died. Compared to Hogwarts, I actually think letting Riddle stay in the orphanage would be much safer.

I’ve already told him that the Ministry is discussing closing the school.”

”No wonder he looked so dejected.”

”However, Riddle seems to know something.”

”Why do you say that?” Dumbledore’s gaze suddenly became sharp.

”When I mentioned that we had no clue about this, he suddenly asked me whether, if the attacker were caught and all these incidents stopped, the school wouldn’t be closed.

But when I asked if he had any knowledge about these attacks, he denied it.”

”He’s lying!”

Combining his earlier observations of Tom Riddle with Dippet’s description, Sherlock immediately made his judgment.

”Sherlock, I think we should return.”

Just then, a voice spoke softly in Sherlock’s ear.

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