HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Hermione had originally been quite happy.

Because Sherlock hadn’t lost his composure like Ron and the other boys upon seeing that Veela-like French girl.

Then in the blink of an eye, she heard Sherlock say that girl knew him.

She stared blankly at Sherlock. ”You said she knows you... d-does that mean you know her too?”

Before she finished speaking, Ron’s voice, raised in shock, drowned her out. ”Sherlock, you’re saying that girl knows you? When? Where? What’s her name?”

”She knows me, but I don’t know her.”

Sherlock calmly shook his head, denying Ron’s rapid-fire guesses.

”Then... how do you know she knows you?”

Harry found this somewhat incredible—it didn’t make logical sense.

If you don’t know someone, how can you tell that they know you?

”Dear Harry, from her behavior just now, it’s quite easy to deduce this point. Her reaction indicates she knows me, or at least knows who I am.”

Ron shook his head. ”I don’t understand.”

Sherlock explained to the three of them. ”The way she just looked at me wasn’t the look you give a stranger, but rather a look of recognition that she tried to conceal.”

”Recognition, tried to conceal?”

Hermione keenly grasped the key words and asked with a frown, ”Why would she want to conceal knowing you? Isn’t that stranger than not knowing you? She’s just a Beauxbatons student!”

”I’m wondering about that too.”

Sherlock’s gaze followed the girl’s retreating figure, his hands clasped together supporting his chin.

”Logically, it doesn’t make sense. I can’t deduce how she knows me or why she wants to conceal knowing me.”

Sherlock admitted this frankly.

Hermione’s frown deepened. ”So just because she looked at you once, you’re saying she knows you? Isn’t that conclusion a bit... hasty?”

Sherlock said quietly, ”It wasn’t just one look.”

Just now, from that one glance the girl gave him as she left, from those deep blue eyes, Sherlock captured an extremely brief, almost faint hint of something unusual.

It wasn’t curiosity about a stranger, but rather a quick, subconscious confirmation.

This was immediately followed by a subtle stiffness, as if her intentions had been seen through, finally concealed by quickly lowered eyelashes.

Such subtle expressions might escape others’ notice, but to Sherlock, they were as obvious as ink on white paper.

Sherlock continued explaining to his three friends, ”It was the pause in her gaze, an extremely quick moment of surprise, then a subconscious concealing movement. Pupils contracting slightly, gaze quickly dropping. The combination of these micro-expressions conveyed very clear information: she recognized me, and she didn’t want me to discover that she recognized me. As for the reason behind this...”

Sherlock spread his hands. ”That’s already beyond the scope of information I can obtain through observation. Perhaps it’s related to the competitive relationship between Beauxbatons and Hogwarts? Or perhaps there’s some other personal reason? Insufficient clues, unable to deduce.”

Ron immediately showed an expression of complete admiration. ”But how does she know you? A girl as beautiful as her—if you’d seen her even once, you’d definitely remember!”

Sherlock was silent for a moment. Harry, Hermione, and Ron all carefully watched his expression and noticed he seemed to be trying to remember.

”Sherlock, could it be something from when you were little?”

Harry couldn’t help speculating.

Since the school had announced the Triwizard Tournament last week, various information about Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had been dug up.

Setting aside the false rumor that Beauxbatons was an all-girls school, there was some confirmed information.

For example, Beauxbatons was located in southern France, Durmstrang was in Northern Europe, though which specific country remained unknown.

Now that Sherlock was saying this Beauxbatons girl knew him, it reminded Harry of when he first met Mycroft Holmes in first year and his introduction of Sherlock.

When Sherlock was four years old, the entire Holmes family had traveled to Montpellier, France, and stayed there for two whole years.

Mrs. Holmes had learned French cooking during that time.

So, Harry immediately connected these two matters.

”Yes, Harry, in my early years I did go to Montpellier, France with my family.”

Montpellier was France’s eighth-largest city and could be considered a cultural city of France.

At the same time, it was also the capital of the Hérault department in the Occitanie region and the prefectural city of the Languedoc-Roussillon region.

The climate there was pleasant, belonging to the typical Mediterranean climate. It was France’s winter retreat, known as the ”City of Sunshine.”

Of course, the Holmes family’s two years in France weren’t spent entirely in Montpellier.

During that time, they had also visited Paris, Marseille, Lyon, and other cities, but...

Sherlock pondered for a moment, then shook his head. ”But those memories are too vague. Even if we really did meet, human appearance changes so intensely that there’s no way to confirm it’s the same person. So, this can’t serve as an explanation for how she knows me—dear Harry, reasoning without evidence is very dangerous.”

Having said this, Sherlock once again emphasized the limitations of deduction. ”The only conclusion we can draw now is that she knows me. Everything else is a mystery.”

”Bloody hell!”

Ron murmured, looking at Sherlock, then at the long-haired girl in the distance, and couldn’t help exclaiming, ”This is so cool!”

Obviously, he was extremely excited about the scenario of ”a mysterious French beauty knowing Sherlock.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, both seeing confusion and doubt in each other’s eyes.

A Beauxbatons witch clearly knew Sherlock but tried to conceal it?

Undoubtedly, there was something fishy about this!

In Hermione’s mind, alarm bells were ringing even more loudly.

Objectively speaking, this Beauxbatons girl’s appearance was truly too striking.

Even Gemma, Cho Chang, and Penelope were slightly inferior.

The enhancement from Veela blood was simply too unreasonable.

Fortunately, Sherlock truly was someone whose words matched his actions—he said he didn’t focus on appearance, and indeed he didn’t.

However, this small incident was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, stirring up ripples of unusual significance on this opening night of the Triwizard Tournament.

At this moment, the second course also arrived.

Just like before, many desserts appeared that the young Hogwarts wizards had never seen before.

Ron examined one carefully, it was a strange, pale blancmange.

After asking Sherlock and learning this was also a French product, he carefully moved it a few inches to his right.

This little scheme was clear not only to Sherlock but also to Harry and Hermione.

It was simply so the dish could be clearly seen from the direction of the Ravenclaw table.

Unfortunately, the Veela-like girl seemed to have already eaten her fill and didn’t come over again to take this dessert.

This left Ron feeling very disappointed.

It also confirmed Sherlock’s deduction for Hermione.

The girl’s earlier action of coming over to get food had simply been an excuse!

She had come specifically for Sherlock.

When the golden plates had been wiped clean once more, Dumbledore stood up again.

An excited and nervous mood permeated the Great Hall.

Sherlock clasped his hands together supporting his chin, leaned back slightly, and observed Dumbledore with great interest.

Harry and Ron beside him were even more excited, not knowing what would be arranged next.

A few seats away from them, the Weasley twins were craning their necks, focusing intently on Dumbledore.

Only Hermione frowned slightly, her gaze moving back and forth between Sherlock and that Veela-like Beauxbatons girl.

”After more than a month since the start of term, this moment has finally arrived,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the upturned faces.

”The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin—but first, I want to explain the arrangements for this school year’s activities. First, please allow me to introduce two guests, as some people still don’t know them. This is Mr. Ludo Bagman, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. And this is Mr. Alastor Moody, former Ministry of Magic Auror.”

”Goodness, when did they arrive?” Ron showed a surprised expression.

”While you were watching that girl,” Sherlock said calmly.

”...”

When Ludo Bagman’s name was introduced, enthusiastic applause erupted in the Great Hall.

This was perhaps because he was somewhat famous as a Beater, or perhaps simply because he looked much more approachable than the other guest—he waved cheerfully in acknowledgment.

But when Alastor Moody was introduced, not a single teacher or student applauded except Dumbledore and Hagrid.

Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped a few times, realized the applause echoed lonely in the silent Great Hall, and wisely lowered their hands.

Mainly because the others all seemed stunned by Moody’s strange appearance and just stared at him fixedly.

Especially Karkaroff.

The moment he saw Moody, his face turned pale, revealing a terrible expression mixing resentment and fear.

Moody seemed unmoved by the cold reception.

He picked up a goblet from the table and took a large drink. His normal eye stared at the goblet, but that blue eye continued rotating ceaselessly in its socket, surveying the Great Hall and the students.

When he raised his arm to drink, his cloak dragging on the ground was pulled up a few inches.

Thus people saw several inches of carved wooden prosthetic leg visible under the table, with a claw-shaped foot below.

”Sherlock, Harry, aren’t you surprised?”

Noticing that both Sherlock and Harry seemed quite composed, Ron couldn’t help asking.

”We already saw him at Peter Pettigrew’s trial,” Harry said quietly, but still somewhat unable to understand. ”But what are they doing here?”

Hermione explained, ”The Triwizard Tournament is organized by the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I guess they want to witness the opening ceremony firsthand. But with what happened to Barty Crouch, he certainly can’t come. However... having Mad-Eye Moody come seems rather odd, doesn’t it?”

”Protection,” Sherlock suddenly spoke.

”What?” Hermione looked at him in confusion.

”The Daily Prophet previously published news about Moody.”

Sherlock said calmly, ”As far as I know, Alastor Moody is very good friends with Dumbledore. If Professor Lupin is unable to fulfill his role as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this school year, then Moody would be the teacher for that course.”

”Good heavens!”

”My God!”

”Bloody hell!”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all showed surprised expressions.

Having Mad-Eye Moody as their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—just thinking about it was unbearable.

”Thank goodness that curse was broken...” Ron murmured. ”Come to think of it, this should be the only time I’d thank Lockhart for anything.”

After all, according to Dumbledore’s analysis, it was precisely because Lockhart had been possessed by Voldemort and gotten to indulge in teaching that the curse of having a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor every year was broken.

Hermione glared at him fiercely, then withdrew her gaze and asked Sherlock again, ”But what does this have to do with the ’protection’ you mentioned?”

”As an excellent Auror, an expert at catching Dark wizards, he must also be skilled at protection. Although the Triwizard Tournament has been restarted, safety is the top priority. Arranging Moody as a member of the judging panel can effectively prevent various accidents to a certain extent. That’s the first reason.”

Sherlock held up two fingers. ”Second, from the content published in the last Daily Prophet, many people in the wizarding world now think Moody’s mental state has been problematic since retirement. As they say, there are no mistaken nicknames, only mistaken names—the fact that he’s called Mad-Eye speaks volumes. So, taking advantage of Crouch’s inability to participate, having Moody replace him is also a form of protection for Moody himself.”

At this moment, Dumbledore spoke again.

”Mr. Bagman and Mr. Moody will join me, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime to form the panel of judges who will evaluate the champions’ efforts.”

Upon hearing the word ”champions,” the students seemed to become even more attentive.

Even the shock from Moody’s unusual appearance was temporarily forgotten.

Dumbledore seemed to notice their sudden silence. He smiled slightly and said, ”Mr. Filch, please bring up the casket.”

Except for Sherlock, no one had noticed that Filch had been lurking in a corner of the Great Hall all along.

Now, hearing Dumbledore’s words, Filch walked toward Dumbledore carrying a large wooden box studded with jewels.

The casket looked very old. The students watched it spellbound, discussing it with great interest.

Little ones like Dennis Creevey simply stood on their chairs to see better.

But he was truly too small—even standing, his head was hardly higher than anyone else’s.

For Sherlock, Harry, and Ron, it was much simpler—they only needed to sit up straight.

When Filch carefully placed the casket on the table in front of Dumbledore, Dumbledore said, ”The specific tasks the champions will compete in this year have been carefully reviewed by Mr. Bagman and Mr. Moody. They have also made many necessary arrangements for each task. There are three tasks in total, spread throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways: testing their magical ability, their ability to face danger, their courage and powers of deduction...”

At this point, more than half the students in the Great Hall looked toward Gryffindor.

By now, whenever ”deduction” was mentioned, Sherlock Holmes was an unavoidable name.

”Of course, you already know that three champions will represent their respective schools in the competition, but...”

Dumbledore paused here.

”...the rules will be changing this year.”

Upon hearing this sentence, the Great Hall became as silent as death, as if everyone had stopped breathing.

You can read more than 40 chapters on:

patreon.com/MikeyMuse