HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Hermione clung tightly to Sherlock, a smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth, though tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks, leaving two wet trails.

Those eyes, which usually sparkled with knowledge, were now obscure with a mist of fear and grievance.

Time rewound to this morning, when sunlight streamed through Hogwarts’ stained-glass windows, casting dappled light across the stone pathways.

Hermione hummed a little tune as she walked toward the Great Hall, dewdrops still clinging to the ends of her hair.

When she saw Gilderoy Lockhart’s signature forget-me-not blue robes, her steps unconsciously quickened.

Sherlock had already told her all the arrangements. Once Harry finished this Quidditch match, they could make their move!

By then, they would not only solve the Chamber mystery that had plagued Hogwarts for an entire year, but also rescue Professor Lockhart from Voldemort’s dark magical object’s control.

So, she just needed to greet him.

Hermione’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, unaware that danger was silently approaching.

The moment Lockhart turned around, before Hermione could even manage a joyful smile, the flash of scarlet light in his eyes sent chills through her entire body.

In her panic, Hermione reached for her wand at her waist, but it was already too late.

As consciousness rapidly faded into darkness, she only had time to see the sinister words written on the wall.

When Hermione opened her eyes again, musty dampness hit her face, and the sound of dripping water echoed in the vast space.

Lockhart leaned against a moss-covered stone pillar, a twisted smile appearing at his lips.

”Hermione Granger, don’t worry. Capturing you is merely to lure out that famous Savior.”

Hermione’s heart nearly jumped from her chest. Hearing this unfamiliar tone, she immediately knew that the Lockhart before her was no longer Lockhart.

Yet the stubbornness in her bones wasn’t crushed by fear.

Noticing the contempt in Lockhart’s eyes, Hermione made a decision that even she later found bold.

Taking advantage of the moment, he turned away, she suddenly cast a spell, the light from her wand tip tracing an arc through the darkness.

However, she still underestimated the controlled Lockhart.

His reaction was frighteningly quick. With just a casual wave of his wand, Hermione flew like a severed kite into the stone wall, and the world plunged into darkness once more.

Before losing consciousness a second time, she couldn’t help but think of that terrible Halloween—the troll’s roar, fear in the darkness, overlapping with her current despair.

”Overconfident fool!”

With this disdainful voice, the helplessness of being alone swept over her like a tide.

It wasn’t until she was awakened again by cold water and saw Sherlock that Hermione could no longer control her emotions, completely breaking down.

Sherlock maintained his usual calm, gently patting Hermione’s trembling back, his gray eyes alertly scanning their surroundings.

”Was it Lockhart who brought you here?”

Hearing Sherlock’s words, Hermione quickly released him and said nervously.

”It was him, no, not him, it was...”

Before Hermione could finish, a voice said softly.

”Truthfully, I didn’t expect the person to arrive here would be you, Sherlock Holmes.”

Hermione quickly turned around to see Gilderoy Lockhart slowly emerge from the shadows, leaning against the nearest stone pillar, watching them.

”Sherlock, he’s not Lockhart, he’s...”

”Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Sherlock studied this ”Lockhart” carefully and directly revealed his identity. ”Am I right, Riddle?”

”Holmes, you’re even more clever than I imagined.”

Tom Riddle, wearing Lockhart’s appearance, stared intently at Sherlock. Those eyes that should have belonged to Lockhart now flickered with scarlet light.

”The idea of roosters and mirrors was yours, wasn’t it? If not for you, I should have been able to create several more attacks—”

He deliberately drew out the final syllable, ”Perhaps I could have personally sent a few more Muggles to hell, just like fifty years ago.”

”Things rarely go entirely according to plan.”

Sherlock’s gaze swept over the other’s confident appearance, feeling somewhat puzzled.

Where exactly did this fellow’s confidence come from?

But since the other wasn’t in a hurry, neither was he.

”So, what exactly is your current state? A soul parasitic in a dark magical object, controlling Lockhart’s body?

I suppose at first, he could still struggle and resist, but now he probably can’t even move his little finger?”

A flash of surprise crossed Riddle’s face, quickly transforming into a twisted grin that looked particularly eerie on Lockhart’s handsome face.

”Lockhart knew too little about you, but you only guessed half right—I do far more than simply control him.”

”Not just Professor Lockhart, you don’t know much about me either.”

Sherlock said calmly, ”You brought Hermione here as bait, didn’t you? You’re waiting for Harry to walk into your trap?”

”Quite right. Then tell me, why must I wait for that Savior?”

He deliberately emphasized the word ”Savior” with the mockery of a serpent’s hiss.

”Simple. You just want to figure out how an infant managed to defeat you all those years ago.”

This statement suddenly plunged the entire chamber into deadly silence, with only water drops from overhead striking stone, creating hollow echoes.

Hermione’s nails dug deep into Sherlock’s arm. Under the invisibility cloak, Harry forced himself to hold his breath, not revealing the slightest flaw.

”Hahahaha!”

Riddle was first stunned, then burst into deafening, maniacal laughter. ”Holmes, in some ways, you’re even more interesting than that ’Savior’!”

He disgustedly tugged at Lockhart’s collar, ”That fool, his head full of nothing but Harry Potter! He just wanted to use that boy’s fame to write ten more books!”

”In that case, why not converse with me in your true form?”

Sherlock pushed Hermione aside and looked at Riddle with interest.

”For a pure-blood supremacist fanatic like you, borrowing a Mudblood’s body—wouldn’t that be more torturous than the Cruciatus Curse?”

”Hahahahaha!”

Sherlock’s words made Riddle burst into laughter again, ”Holmes, interesting, truly interesting! Fine, I’ll grant your wish!”

These words seemed to strike Riddle’s heart. Amid loud laughter, Lockhart’s body collapsed to the ground.

With a ”crack,” his wand rolled into the shadows.

As a young man bent to pick up the wand, his full appearance was revealed to Sherlock, Hermione, and Harry under his invisibility cloak.

It was a dark-haired, tall boy whose body outline was unclear, as if viewed through a layer of foggy glass—very strange indeed.

Even so, Sherlock immediately recognized this youth as the Tom Riddle from Dumbledore’s memories.

Looking at the fallen, unconscious Lockhart, then at the blurry-outlined Riddle, Sherlock suddenly understood.

”You didn’t just control Lockhart—you absorbed his life force?”

”Excellent!”

Riddle applauded Sherlock, ”I do love playing games with intelligent people.

So, great detective, are you ready to answer my questions?

Or would you prefer to taste what it’s like to have your soul stripped away?”

”That’s unnecessary—if you want answers, why not first answer my questions.”

Sherlock suddenly chuckled, his gray eyes sparkling brightly, ”But seeing how your fingertips keep caressing that wand, even if I remained silent, you couldn’t resist showing off, could you?

After all, such a grand plan sealed away for fifty years—not revealing it dramatically to your prey would waste this carefully prepared theater?”

”You’re absolutely right.”

Hearing Sherlock’s words, Riddle suddenly regained his composure. He looked at Sherlock, then at Lockhart lying on the ground, and said slowly.

”Fine, let’s take this one thing at a time. What you see of me now is indeed not my normal form, but a memory.”

”A memory?”

Sherlock’s pupils contracted slightly. This answer was truly beyond his expectations.

Riddle nodded and pointed. ”Yes, a memory preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

Following Riddle’s gesture, Sherlock quickly spotted a notebook beside the statue’s big toe.

”I see.”

Seeing this diary, Sherlock’s mind immediately cleared.

When Dobby first came to warn Harry, the dark magical object that Lucius Malfoy wanted to bring into the school was this very thing.

Now, all the puzzle pieces regarding the Chamber mystery were in hand.

He glanced again at Lockhart on the ground.

It now appeared that this Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was nothing more than a tool.

Whether for Dumbledore who initially invited him to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, or Tom Riddle who controlled him through the diary, or even young wizards like himself who learned skills from him—all the same.

”Gilderoy Lockhart...”

Noticing Sherlock’s gaze, Riddle also glanced at the fallen Lockhart, then showed a trace of disgust.

”I should thank Lucius for his generosity, actually giving me to this fool obsessed with fame and fortune!”

Speaking of this, Riddle suddenly flew into a rage, ”Most ridiculous of all, this self-proclaimed clever celebrity was actually wary of a diary!”

Since Sherlock’s arrival, Hermione’s emotions had gradually returned to normal.

Hearing this, she finally couldn’t help but say. ”I think anyone with a brain wouldn’t trust a notebook capable of independent thought.”

”Hermione Granger?”

Riddle looked at Hermione with contempt, ”A Muggle-born wizard climbing to first place in her year—this is proof of the wizarding world’s decline!”

”You...”

Hermione was furious and about to retort when Sherlock waved his hand, indicating she needn’t say more.

Watching their interaction, Riddle suddenly revealed an elegant smile.

His pale features actually showed a somewhat bewitching handsomeness in the dim light.

”Initially, Lockhart only recorded boring daily events in my diary.

His ridiculous signatures, enthusiastic but annoying fans, failed spell experiments of his own creation...

Holmes, as an intelligent person, you should understand how tedious it was for me to listen to someone with no real ability constantly fantasizing about fame, prattling on about his childish dreams!

Even more disgusting—his dream was actually for Muggles and wizards to coexist peacefully!”

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