HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

”While I was providing the book list to the bookstore manager, you were having a wonderful time playing with those monster books.

When Ron mentioned he also needed a Divination textbook, your gaze remained fixed on a small table nearby.

There was nothing we needed there, so I deduced you must have seen something interesting that sparked your imagination.

At the time, there were several books on divination placed there: Unfogging the Future: A Guide to Protecting Yourself from Shock, Broken Balls: When Misfortune Comes, Death Omens: What to Do When You Know Misfortune is About to Strike — so which one was it?”

After Sherlock finished this rapid-fire deduction, Harry looked at him in amazement.

”You actually memorized all the book titles! My God, that’s absolutely incredible!”

Although he had long known his friend’s capabilities, Sherlock still managed to surprise him from time to time.

Seeing Harry’s genuine shock, Sherlock’s smile grew even brighter.

”Harry, these are merely trivial tricks — as for the book titles, remember what I told you about my memory palace? I simply tossed them inside.”

”I... I didn’t even remember the titles clearly, but now that you mention it, I do recall constantly looking at that book about ’Death Omens.’”

”Death Omens: What to Do When You Know Misfortune is About to Strike? The one with the black dog on the cover?”

”Yes! That’s the one!”

Harry said excitedly. He truly hadn’t expected Sherlock to observe so carefully, sparing him any need for further explanation.

”That black dog was as large as a bear. When I saw it, I always felt it looked familiar, as if I’d seen it somewhere before.”

”A sense of déjà vu?”

Sherlock clasped his hands together under his chin, falling into deep thought.

Harry didn’t disturb him, simply watching quietly.

After a moment, Sherlock suddenly turned and asked.

”Do you remember? Last year, when you first heard the basilisk’s voice in Lockhart’s office, I asked if you’d ever heard a similar sound before.”

Harry thought for a while, then said. ”I remember. Your deduction at the time was that the voice came from some strange creature.”

”Correct. Later, facts proved my deduction right — you had indeed heard a similar sound before, from that Brazilian boa constrictor at the zoo.”

Sherlock paused here. ”This time, my deduction is the same as before.”

”You mean I really have seen that big dog somewhere?”

”Not necessarily that large a dog.”

Sherlock waved his hand. ”It could also be a vague impression, or some dog-like symbol— it doesn’t matter, you’ll remember eventually.

Don’t try to recall it deliberately; that would be counterproductive.

At some point, you’ll remember it without even trying.”

”But death omens—”

Seeing Harry’s nervous expression, Sherlock smiled.

This was what Harry truly cared about.

He suddenly looked up. ”London’s fog isn’t affecting us much today.”

Harry looked at Sherlock in confusion, not understanding why he suddenly mentioned this.

Sherlock took out his hip flask and sipped some brandy, the aroma mingling with moonlight between his teeth.

”Harry, please look up at this starry sky.”

Harry raised his head.

”Do you see the stars at the tail of Ursa Major?”

Just as Sherlock had said, tonight’s sky was relatively brilliant, with a full moon hanging in the sky and countless stars scattered like pearls across a jade plate.

Following Sherlock’s guidance, he easily spotted the Big Dipper at the tail of Ursa Major, and the specific star Sherlock had indicated.

Harry lowered his gaze, looking at Sherlock with confusion, still not understanding his meaning.

”That is your death star shining in the sky.”

Harry: (;￣Д￣)

”This is new knowledge from the planetary motion model I bought today.”

Under Harry’s shocked gaze, Sherlock took another sip of wine:

”The so-called death star is merely a divination game woven from fear by fools, yet wizards read different metaphors from it.

What I’m trying to say is: don’t believe in so-called death omens. I prefer to call them: psychological suggestion.

The black hound you saw, like the lens of the Astronomy Tower telescope, merely reflects overlapping images of memory fragments and psychological suggestion.”

Harry knew Sherlock was trying to reassure him.

But...

How to put it?

This method was quite unique.

September 1st, 1993.

In the morning, the Ministry of Magic once again sent a car to King’s Road.

However, this time Peasegood wasn’t driving; he sat in the passenger seat.

The driver was a stern-faced wizard wearing a bright green velvet suit.

But Sherlock could tell this seemingly proper fellow had just left his bed, strawberry-like marks on his neck weren’t completely hidden by his collar.

”Aren’t Uncle and Aunt coming to the station?”

Having lived at Sherlock’s house for so long, Harry felt somewhat reluctant to leave.

”Having Ministry people is sufficient,” Sherlock said.

Compared to her reluctance when first sending Sherlock to the station in his first year, Mrs. Holmes had grown accustomed to seeing her child only twice a year.

She lovingly stroked Harry’s head: ”Dear, come back during winter and spring break!”

”Easter probably won’t work,” Sherlock shook his head. ”Christmas would be possible though.”

Harry didn’t immediately agree. Mainly because he felt embarrassed.

Besides, spending Christmas at Hogwarts was indeed quite interesting.

On the way to King’s Cross Station, the Ministry car displayed the same magical properties as yesterday.

It effortlessly passed through narrow gaps, completely unaffected by traffic jams.

The result was that they arrived at King’s Cross Station with a full hour before departure.

The driver and Peasegood helped Sherlock and Harry retrieve their luggage from the car, then drove away. Harry was amazed to see the car somehow slip from the back of a line of cars waiting at a red light to the very front.

Truly remarkable.

Taking the familiar route to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Peasegood finally breathed a sigh of relief.

”Mr. Peasegood, I don’t think you need to be so nervous,” Harry said, having spent two days with this former student of Professor Flitwick, whom he found quite pleasant to deal with.

”Potter, you might not know how much pressure we’re under,” Peasegood said with a bitter smile. ”The Ministry has practically stopped all other work just to capture Black. None of us want anything to happen to you.”

”But—”

”Once you get to Hogwarts though, it’ll be fine. It’ll be absolutely safe there — provided you stay in the castle and don’t go anywhere.”

Hearing Peasegood’s words, Harry couldn’t help but sigh.

This was the second time he’d heard the same thing.

Hogsmeade...

He was already beginning to worry that even if he had a Hogsmeade permission form, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall wouldn’t let him go there.

Just then, Hermione’s family arrived. They lived nearby, so they came early.

Yesterday, when calling Mrs. Holmes, Mrs. Granger had already learned that the Holmes couple wouldn’t be coming to the station, so she wasn’t surprised to see only Sherlock and Harry.

”The two little ones have grown taller again,” she said, hugging Sherlock and Harry, then looking at her husband with a mischievous glint in her eyes: ”They’ll definitely grow to six feet, both taller than you.”

Mr. Granger: (￣ー￣)

Why bring this up out of nowhere?

A while later, the Weasley family arrived.

Only then did Peasegood feel comfortable leaving, having truly fulfilled his duties.

Mr. Granger and Mr. Weasley somehow started discussing fishing, both claiming they’d never returned empty-handed.

Mrs. Granger chatted with Mrs. Weasley about cooking, showing great interest in Mrs. Weasley’s stories of managing seven children’s daily needs.

As for the young wizards, they all gathered around, curiously examining the planetary motion model Sherlock and Hermione had bought yesterday.

”This is indeed a good thing,” Percy voluntarily offered guidance as a senior: ”As long as you’re good at self-study, with this you won’t need to attend Astronomy class. But before that, you should tell Professor Sinistra, oh, Penelope!”

Percy, who had been talking to Sherlock and Harry, suddenly blushed, smoothed his hair, and strode toward someone.

He deliberately puffed out his chest to display his gleaming Head Boy badge.

”Such a shame, we wanted to modify it yesterday,” Fred Weasley couldn’t help saying.

”But somehow, he was prepared in advance,” George Weasley added.

”Caught us red-handed.”

”And got us a severe scolding from Mum.”

”Sigh...”

”Ah...”

Sherlock smiled without speaking, hiding his contributions.

Just then, the scarlet steam engine arrived.

Mrs. Weasley began kissing each of her children goodbye, followed by Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione.

”Take care of yourself, you hear, Harry?” She straightened up, then turned to Sherlock. ”Good boy, I heard from Arthur. You and Hermione must watch over Harry, don’t let him wander around, understand?”

Seeing both Sherlock and Hermione nod, she seemed relieved.

”Mum, there’s me too! I can also watch Harry!” Ron immediately said.

”You?” Mrs. Weasley frowned. ”Not encouraging Harry would already be a great help!”

”I’m not— I didn’t—”

”I made sandwiches for everyone, take them!”

”I don’t want corned beef.”

”Don’t worry, it’s not corned beef this time.”

”That’s fine then.”

Before boarding the train, Mr. Weasley found Harry once more.

He wanted Harry to promise that no matter what happened, he would stay obediently in the castle and not go looking for Black.

Like his wife, he also instructed Sherlock and Hermione to keep a close eye on Harry.

Clearly, the couple had made Sherlock and Hermione Harry’s guardians.

As the whistle sounded and guards walked along the train closing doors one by one, and the engine began puffing steam and slowly moving, ”Dad and Mum really are something. I feel like they’re treating Sherlock and Hermione as if they’re your parents.”

”Ron, what are you saying?!” Hermione said indignantly, though for some reason, she felt secretly pleased.

”Let’s find seats first,” Harry said, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Having Sherlock as an older brother was perfectly fine, but as a father seemed rather exaggerated.

And Hermione as a mother was even more ridiculous.

If possible, he’d rather have Mr. and Mrs. Holmes as his parents.

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