HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

With Takesi Sung’s sharp command, a sudden clarity flashed through Lockhart’s eyes.

Then, as though dragged forcibly back from some inner abyss, he managed at last to push out the words that had been lodged in his throat—halting, broken: ”Kha—Kha—Khacha—”

The room stirred instantly. Everyone straightened.

It seemed Lockhart could finally reproduce the critical incantation behind the Reversion Charm.

Harry took half a step forward, his knuckles white where his hands had clenched.

Lupin held his breath, a light was kindling in his eyes.

Only Sherlock frowned.

He had noticed that each syllable came out with a visible hitch, like rusted gears grinding through a turn. And all the while, Lockhart’s fingers were clawing at the bed sheets.

Then—at the very last moment, Lockhart’s eyes rolled back. His pupils lost all focus in an instant.

His body seized. And he went rigid, toppling straight backward.

If the pillow at the headboard hadn’t caught the back of his skull, he might have cracked it against the bedframe.

”Hmph.”

Takesi Sung’s expression sharpened at once. The gentle warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by something cold.

He crooked his right index finger, gathered a point of fragmented silver light at the tip, and flicked it.

A thread of brilliance, thin as a hair, shot from his fingertip and landed on the bronze lamp’s flame.

The pale blue fire, which had been burning steadily, erupted as though injected with new energy—surging up by half an inch in an instant. Its colour plunged to a deep, oceanic blue; the rhythm of its flickering accelerated; its light grew so intense it cast everyone’s faces in a ghostly azure glow.

With the flame’s transformation, Lockhart’s rigid body shifted faintly, and the vacant daze returned to his eyes.

But he was weaker this time. His lips were pressed shut. They didn’t move again. Even his breathing had grown shallower than before.

Everyone noticed something was wrong.

’Could Lockhart’s subconscious defenses really be this stubborn?’

They wondered, recalling Takesi Sung’s hushed exclamation a moment ago. Even Sherlock, who had caught the earlier signs, looked quietly taken aback.

Lockhart was truly this difficult to crack?

’No wonder Voldemort lost to him in second year.’

”He has developed a profound aversion to recalling this particular memory—an aversion that originates in the soul itself.”

Takesi Sung spoke before anyone could voice the question pressing on them all.

His cadence was clipped; his tone carried a thread of frustration: ”For a reaction this violent to occur even after I’ve stabilized his soul with the Soul-Settling Charm, there are only two possibilities.

Either he simply doesn’t know the incantation you’re asking about—that memory was never there to begin with.

Or his mind can no longer sustain the strain of the working, and he no longer has the capacity to reproduce it.

What’s protecting that buried memory now is his survival instinct. If I force it any further, his mind will break completely. He’ll be left an empty shell.

And even then—you may not get the answer you need.”

”What?!”

”That serious?”

The room went still.

Harry stood frozen.

On the day of his birthday, when he’d learned through Mr. Chang and Mrs. Chang that there was a way to recover Lockhart’s memories, he had been so happy. When the confirmation came today, when he’d walked into St. Mungo’s alongside Takesi Sung, that happiness had reached its peak.

But now—

He watched Lockhart struggling in that helpless, hollow state, and the hope burning in his green eyes guttered and went dim.

They had come so far. They were one step away. Was it really going to fall apart at the very last moment?

Lupin’s expression darkened just as swiftly. The worst kind of disappointment isn’t the kind that starts from nothing—it’s the kind that falls from hope.

Mr. Chang and Mrs. Chang exchanged a look. Mr. Chang unconsciously scratched the back of his head. Mrs. Chang let out a quiet sigh, her eyes were full of regret.

Cho stood a little apart, feeling it keenly herself.

She had heard from Harry about the bond between him and Lupin—how this werewolf professor was not only a teacher at Hogwarts, but one of his father James Potter’s closest friends. Especially after the truth about Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal had come to light, Harry had come to regard both Sirius and Lupin as living threads connecting him to his father.

Mr. Chang was the first to break the silence: ”Takesi—is there truly no other way? Can’t you try again?”

Takesi didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to look at Sherlock, who had been watching in silence throughout. ”Try asking in a different way. The Soul-Settling Charm I’m maintaining is nearly at its limit—it won’t hold much longer.”

With that, everyone understood. He had truly exhausted his options.

Lupin pushed down the hollow feeling in his chest and managed a gentle smile. He turned to Harry, his voice carrying a faint roughness: ”Don’t be discouraged, Harry. Getting this far is already remarkable. I—”

He never finished.

Sherlock, who had been deliberating in silence for exactly three seconds, spoke.

”Lockhart—tell us how to find Khachaturian.”

The room blinked.

Then Harry’s and Lupin’s eyes, which had just gone dark, lit up at the same moment.

Harry’s head snapped up. Hope reignited in his gaze.

Lupin’s shoulders straightened. He fixed his eyes on Lockhart and forgot to breathe.

In that instant, they looked like men who had just spotted the brightest star in a lightless sky.

A few minutes later.

Lockhart lay quietly in the bed, sleeping like a child, his even breaths the only sound in the still room.

Takesi Sung slowly withdrew his hand from the sustained working, and with careful, unhurried motions, closed the box containing the bronze lamp and baby pin.

He turned to face those gathered around the bed.

”He needs complete rest after this. The violent resistance just now sent a considerable shock through his soul—he’ll be fragile for a while. Don’t expose him to anything too stimulating during this period, and don’t let anyone disturb his sleep. His soul could easily become agitated again.”

”Of course.”

Dumbledore gave a gentle nod, his silver beard swaying, his eyes warm with gratitude behind their half-moon lenses. ”Thank you, Mr. Sung. You’ve helped us enormously today.”

Takesi Sung smiled faintly and brushed a trace of dust from his sleeve. ”I can only say I’ve done my best—and managed not to disappoint Wei and Zhuge’s trust. But tell me—do you intend to go looking for this Armenian wizard immediately?”

”Indeed,” said Dumbledore, still smiling. ”Though based on what Lockhart has just told us, the old wizard was also subjected to Memory Charm. So, if Legilimency proves insufficient to recover his memory, I’m afraid I’ll need to ask for Mr. Sung’s assistance once more.”

”It shouldn’t come to that, I think.”

Takesi Sung tilted his head, a faintly puzzled look on his face. ”You see, the reason this Mr. Lockhart’s true memories were so difficult to retrieve is that he actively constructed a layer of false ones—and then believed in them so completely that the two layers reinforced each other to form a double barrier.

But the Armenian wizard’s situation is different. According to what Lockhart just disclosed, he was passively subjected to Memory Charm. Under those circumstances, the desire to recover one’s lost memories ought to be urgent—instinctive, even. From my limited mastery of Legilimency, a willing subject who actively wants their memories restored should make Legilimency considerably easier, not harder.”

Mr. Chang suppressed a smile. He stepped in smoothly: ”Takesi may not be aware, but while Lockhart’s magic in other areas is… unremarkable… his understanding and command of Memory Charm is, to put it plainly, masterful. Many wizards cannot match him.”

”Oh? How so?”

Takesi Sung’s interest sharpened at once.

Mr. Chang hesitated, glancing first at Dumbledore. Dumbledore sighed quietly. It was Lupin who spoke:

”Lockhart’s grasp of Memory Charm far exceeds the ordinary. He can control the range and depth of the forgetting with precision—causing a target to forget only the specific memory he chooses, leaving everything else entirely intact. In the case of the Armenian wizard, for instance, the man forgot only the single event of defeating the creature—nothing else was affected.

More remarkably, Lockhart can ensure the target remains completely unaware that anything is missing. No sense of a gap. No confusion. No wondering what it is they’ve forgotten. The erased memory simply… ceases to have existed.

In that respect, it’s effectively equivalent to implanting a false one—except in reverse. Honestly?”

Lupin paused. ”I couldn’t come close.”

Dumbledore nodded. ”For precisely that reason, Legilimency alone may still leave me unable to extract the true memory from someone Lockhart has Obliviated.”

”Is that so!”

Takesi Sung’s brows rose. He turned to look at the sleeping figure on the bed, and something flickered in his eyes.

He murmured to himself, half under his breath: ”A talent for such precise control of a working… wasted here, if you ask me—”

”Ahem—Takesi, perhaps we ought to return to the matter of the Armenian wizard.”

”Certainly. In that case—why don’t I accompany the headmaster when you go to find him?”

Takesi Sung said it easily. ”If the Headmaster finds he cannot extract the needed memory through Legilimency, I’ll simply step in again. Save you making a second trip.”

”That would be wonderful!”

Dumbledore brightened at once. Sherlock had already pulled the key information from Lockhart—the clues they needed, the general region where the old wizard was rumored to have settled, his personal habits. Finding the man called Khachaturian would be no great difficulty.

But successfully extracting the Reversion Charm’s incantation from his mind? That was a different matter. Dumbledore was not completely confident.

As Lupin had said—Lockhart’s other abilities were unexceptional, but his gift for Memory Charm was something else. Add to that the sheer strength of will that had allowed Lockhart to resist Voldemort’s influence for an entire school year, and the Memory Charm he’d cast might well be more formidable than anyone had anticipated.

Having a practitioner of soul and mind arts alongside him, someone like Takesi Sung would make the endeavor considerably more reliable.

”However—don’t celebrate just yet.”

Everyone looked up.

Takesi Sung’s tone shifted. ”I haven’t mentioned my payment.”

”Takesi—we agreed on terms already, didn’t we?” Mr. Chang stepped forward immediately, a note of alarm entering his voice.

Getting Takesi Sung to help had been no small feat. It had required not only Mrs. Chang’s connection through their shared sect, but also Mr. Chang’s own relatives in the hometown order acting as intermediaries. The matter of compensation had been settled well in advance. Why was he raising it again now?

”Mr. Chang—please, there’s no need for concern.”

Lupin stepped forward. His gaze, when it met Takesi Sung’s, was sincere. ”Mr. Sung has not only stabilized Lockhart’s condition today, but has offered to assist in finding the old wizard as well. For help this significant, you have only to name your terms. Whatever it is, I will do everything in my power.”

Dumbledore smiled and nodded alongside him. ”Remus is quite right. Whatever the outcome of what lies ahead—from this day forward, Mr. Sung is a permanent friend of Hogwarts.”

”Now that’s what I like to hear.”

Takesi Sung let out a genuine laugh.

He dropped the suspense at last. His hand extended—and he pointed at the still-sleeping Lockhart.

”Once the matter of the old wizard is concluded… I want to take Professor Lockhart back with me to my clinic.”

∑（°A°;）

The words landed in the room like a stone dropped into still water.

Silence.

Total, absolute silence.

Mr. Chang and Mrs. Chang stared at each other.

Harry’s jaw dropped.

Cho Chang’s eyes went wide.

Hermione looked instinctively at Sherlock.

Even Dumbledore’s and Lupin’s expressions were overtaken by open astonishment.

No one had imagined it. Of all the possible demands—Takesi Sung’s price was Lockhart himself.

Only Sherlock raised an eyebrow. A quiet ”oh” escaped him—the sound of someone who had seen it coming all along.

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