Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts

"It seems Madam knows quite a bit about magic."

Mrs. Dursley's reaction was naturally within Sherlock's expectations.

Under her nervous gaze, he said calmly:

"In that case, Madam must have heard of the Legilimency spell."

Harry looked at Sherlock in shock.

Hey, buddy, what are you planning?

Sherlock's demeanor at this moment could be described as polite and impeccable, but his words sent a chill down the Dursley family's spines.

"I think just the name should tell you what this spell is for—it can forcibly read other people's memories...."

He once again took out his wand and gently stroked it.

"Madam, you wouldn't want me to use magic to force you to comply, would you?

+"

Harry: (T)"

"Sherlock."

Harry was stunned.

Although he knew Sherlock was deliberately saying this to extract information.

But, this expression, this action, this tone—

He couldn't help but want to shout:

Why are you so skilled!

Faced with the polite Sherlock, the Dursley couple finally gave in.

Both of them keenly realized that they must not treat this classmate of Harry's as a child.

Especially Mr. Dursley, who could be considered a man who had seen the world.

So he discovered that the demeanor and temperament of Sherlock and his mother were no different from those bigwigs he had seen in high society.

Petunia knew her husband very well, and she knew what he was thinking just by looking at his expression.

"Alright, since you want to know—"

She took a deep breath and slowly spoke about Lily Potter, oh, Lily Evans at the time.

"Your mother—Lily."

Her voice was a little stiff, and the corners of her mouth twitched slightly, as if suppressing some emotion.

"She was different from a young age. Strange things always happened around her, such as making withered lilies bloom again.

I remember once, she accidentally fell from a tree, but she landed lightly on the ground, as if something was holding her up.

Until the summer she was 11, she received a letter from an owl, just like you—-"

About half an hour later, Petunia finished her narration intermittently.

Harry lowered his head, immersed in sadness.

Sherlock frowned.

Mrs. Dursley's narration did provide some additional information.

For example, Lily knew a boy living in the impoverished Spinner's End area long before entering Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That boy was always gloomy, wearing old clothes, and his hair was greasy.

The two were very close and went to Hogwarts together, becoming classmates.

It's just that after entering school for a few years, they quarreled for some unknown reason.

But even so, as the biological sister of Harry's mother, the information she provided was still less than imagined.

And most of it was about things before Lily got married.

According to Petunia, the two sisters had lost contact since Lily married Potter.

Until ten years ago.

Mrs. Dursley found the swaddled baby Harry and a letter in a startled scream when she opened the door one morning to put out milk bottles.

That letter was written by Dumbledore, and she learned about the death of Harry's parents through that letter.

Nevertheless, in order for her family to continue living a "normal" life, she had never told Harry about magic all these years, and told Harry that they died in a car accident.

"Thank you very much for your statement, Mrs. Dursley."

Sherlock smiled, "But I still think you might as well make things clearer."

"What are you saying?"

Mrs. Dursley immediately became vigilant, "I've told you everything I know."

"Really?"

Sherlock shook his head, and then said something that shocked everyone present:

"Actually... you envy your sister, don't you?"

"I don't, I didn't, you're talking nonsense!"

Hearing Sherlock say that she envied her sister, Mrs. Dursley immediately began to explain in a panic.

Mr. Dursley immediately hugged his wife tightly, looking at her with concern, and then turned his gaze to Sherlock:

"Boy, watch your tone!"

Unfortunately, Sherlock was not Harry, so he naturally wouldn't be intimidated by Mr. Dursley.

He looked into Mrs. Dursley's eyes and said calmly:

"You and Professor Dumbledore didn't just exchange letters this one time, did you?

You had already communicated before Harry's mother entered school.

Didn't you also want to become a witch?"

"You, you—"

Mrs. Dursley stood up abruptly, looking at Sherlock in a panic.

She lost her composure.

Sherlock's words couldn't help but remind her of her teenage years, that summer blown by the wind.

Although it was a euphemistic reply, it was a ruthless rejection.

A letter sent twenty years ago was now like a sharp knife, ruthlessly piercing her heart.

"Finally, the time you decided to sever ties with the magical world was not when Harry's parents got married.

?

He took a deep look at Mrs. Dursley, "According to my speculation, that time should have been shortly after Harry's mother entered Hogwarts."

Harry: w (°□°w

The number of times Harry showed this expression today even exceeded the day he first met Hagrid four months ago.

Aunt Petunia had contacted Headmaster Dumbledore a long time ago?

Aunt Petunia knew Professor Snape a long time ago?

Aunt Petunia envied his mother?

It sounded absurd, but when it came from Sherlock's mouth, it became incredibly convincing.

"You said you wouldn't use that kind of magic on us!"

Mr. Dursley hugged his wife tightly, roaring at Sherlock, "How can you go back on your word!

1"

Sherlock was a little helpless:

"Deducing these things doesn't require magic at all—just like I can see that you are going to invite Mr. and Mrs. Mason to dinner tonight."

"Impossible, absolutely impossible!"

This time, it was Mr. Dursley's turn to lose his composure.

"Alright, it seems I have to explain."

Sherlock seemed a little bored, he said lazily:

"When Mrs. Dursley opened the door for us, she was obviously still in the cooking state. The dishes and drinks in the kitchen indicate that this is for dinner preparation—if it were lunchtime, there wouldn't be enough time.

There are two extra pairs of guest slippers prepared in the shoe cabinet in the entrance hall, one pair in men's size and one pair in women's size, and the styles are formal and decent, not the kind your family uses.

The newspapers on the table all have reports about the same company, and its owner happens to be Mr. Mason. Many of the contents have been traced with a pen.

The dining table is covered with a clean and tidy tablecloth, and the number of plates, knives, forks, and wine glasses corresponds to five people, which is obviously prepared for reception.

The golf ball ornaments on the living room display shelf and the landscape oil painting of the golf course on the wall were obviously just hung up.

Based on these, I can make a double deduction: you are going to host Mr. and Mrs. Mason tonight.

Mr. Mason likes to play golf, and you hope to bring the topic to your work during dinner, so as to complete this order."

There was silence.

The Dursley family was completely stunned.

Mrs. Holmes looked at her son with pride.

Harry proudly puffed out his chest, feeling honored.