Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 198 Just bear with it and you'll feel better.

"My dear Harry, first of all, thank you for your trust in me."

At this point, Sherlock slowly stood up, his long robe gleaming coldly in the moonlight streaming into the common room through the window:
"Your honesty is beyond question—but please remember that human senses have great limitations."

What a person sees and hears is very likely to be carefully arranged by others, intentionally presented to you and transmitted to your ears.

Harry stared at Sherlock: "I don't quite understand what you mean."

"In fact, looking back on the many cases I have experienced, similar situations are quite common."

The goldfish at Scotland Yard, believing they had grasped the whole picture of the case, were smug and self-satisfied.

Little did they know that they were completely manipulated by the criminals, no different from puppets on strings.

At this point, Sherlock stopped, a complex look appearing in his eyes.

"Brother, we are now in a magical world, and the situation is far more complicated than before."

You spent nearly four hours in Lockhart's office. If he really wanted to do something to you, neither of us would have been able to detect it.

Don't forget, he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Sherlock stared at Harry with a deep, meaningful look in his eyes: "I don't believe a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would be ignorant of the Dark Arts."

After he finished speaking, Harry felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

"Sherlock, I...I..."

Harry suddenly realized that he had no way to refute Sherlock.

This fact was something he found hard to accept at first.

"Of course, you don't need to be too nervous."

From what I've observed since you first arrived here, you seem perfectly normal, just like always.

Even if that professor truly possessed such abilities, he lacked sufficient motivation to do so.

After all, so far, you and he have been cooperating quite well.

Besides, you also have the protection of a great mother's love..."

Sherlock chuckled softly when he saw that Harry seemed to be frightened by him.

"I'm just trying to show you that trying to eliminate all the impossible is not as simple as you think."

Even I need time to get to the bottom of this—that's why I asked if you'd heard anything similar before.

Although the question has returned to the latest point, Harry is now somewhat insecure because of Sherlock, and he speaks with hesitation in his eyes:
"I...I'm not sure, it seems like I am, but it also seems like I'm not..."

"Sorry, Sherlock, I can't remember..."

"Don't look so gloomy, come and have a drink!"

Sherlock suddenly smiled:
"We'll talk about this later—after we finish this drink, we should go to sleep."

Filled with questions, Harry put on his pajamas and lay down on the bed.

The only thing I learned from Lockhart today was how to deal with Colin Crevy.

I hope the method he taught me will work.

Replying to Lockhart was so tiring that his arm is still numb.

So despite having a lot on his mind, Harry eventually fell asleep within minutes.

Hearing the soft breathing beside him, Sherlock smiled slightly.

Harry can hear sounds that others cannot, and he can see creatures that others cannot.

It seems my life in the second year of magic school won't be any less boring than my first year.

Magic is so interesting!

Time flies, and before we knew it, a month had passed since we started school.

When October arrived, a flu outbreak suddenly occurred at Hogwarts, affecting both faculty and students.

Take Sherlock's dormitory, for example; only he and Harry survived.

Ron, Neville, and Dee were all knocked out by colds.

The same applies to other colleges and other grades.

As a result, the busiest person became Bobby Pomfrey, the school doctor and head nurse.

For this purpose, the Pomfrey woman specially concocted an energy booster.

Despite its name, it's actually a magical potion that can be used to treat the common cold.

It works well; once you drink it, you feel warm all over, and your ears will smoke for the next few hours.

Sherlock is playing the violin.

The sound, like sawing wood, was unbearable for everyone in the dormitory.

However, they all knew that this was how Sherlock played the violin.

It is indeed very painful at first, but it will pass if you just bear with it.

Once you get past this stage, the rest of the time is really enjoyable.

Sure enough, after satisfying himself, Sherlock played a beautiful piece of music as compensation.

The three men's brows immediately relaxed.

comfortable!
After the song ended, a radiant Harry looked at a sickly Ron and couldn't help but say:

"Ron, you really should come with us for morning exercise; that way you might not catch a cold."

You always say "next time, next time," but you never actually come with us...

Because of his stuffy nose, Ron's voice was muffled.

"Next time for sure! Trust me, Harry, this time it'll be absolutely genuine!"

Harry: "..."

I believe you as a ghost!

Neville, who was standing nearby, overheard their conversation and secretly glanced at Sherlock.

Sherlock put down his violin and turned to Neville, saying:

“No problem, Neville, you can start doing morning exercises with us tomorrow.”

Neville, who had been lying in bed, was startled at first, but then sat up abruptly, staring at Sherlock in shock, and couldn't help but exclaim:
"The runaway Gorgons!"

Harry and Ron's attention was drawn to Neville's action.

"Navie, what's wrong?"

Neville was stunned for a long while before stammering:

"Sherlock said what I really wanted to say! But I didn't say anything!" Harry and Ron were stunned.

"What on earth is going on, Sherlock?"

After a moment, Ron couldn't help but exclaim, "This is so unexpected!"

Ron would perk up whenever something like this happened.

This time is no exception.

Even a cold couldn't stop him.

Harry didn't say anything, but his eyes were fixed on Sherlock.

Clearly, he also wanted to know how Sherlock had managed to read Neville's mind without him saying a word.

Seeing the puzzled looks on his three roommates' faces, Sherlock laughed heartily.

“Dear Ron, I think you should remember something.”

"whats the matter?"

"Not long ago, Hermione and I discussed a short essay by Edgar Allan Poe in which a character deduced the unspoken thoughts of his companion."

You thought at the time that it was just a clever trick by the author—like Lockhart did in his novels.

I told you then that I had the same reasoning habits, but you didn't believe me.

Ron frantically waved his hands: "I didn't, I didn't, don't talk nonsense!"

“You didn’t say that, dear Ron.”

But I'm sure that's what you're thinking.

So when I saw Neville deep in thought, I was happy to have the opportunity to discuss it.

Sherlock then looked at Harry: "That's precisely where Harry differs from you—he always has unwavering faith in my deductions."

Harry: o(*￣︶￣*)o
Ron and Neville exchanged a glance, momentarily at a loss for words.

Seeing their expressions, Sherlock couldn't help but burst into laughter:

"Guys, if you don't believe me, let's make a bet."

If my conclusions convince you, please drink the energy booster.

I've had enough of you guys blowing your noses and yawning in the dorm all day long. It always reminds me of people experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

The two exchanged a glance, then nodded, acknowledging their agreement.

Just then, Harry, who had just shown a satisfied expression, suddenly spoke up:
“Sherlock, if I remember correctly, the example you and Hermione discussed back then is not the same as the current situation.”

“My dear Harry, you might as well put it more clearly.”

Meeting Sherlock's encouraging gaze, Harry boldly said:
"The reasoner you're talking about draws his conclusions by observing the actions of his companions."

If I remember correctly, his companion tripped over a pile of stones, or looked up at the stars, and so on.

But Neville was lying quietly in bed the whole time. What clue does that give you?

Neville didn't speak, but he nodded repeatedly, clearly agreeing with Harry.

Ron stared intently at Sherlock.

It was as if, without giving him a proper reason, he would transform into a ground bat and devour Sherlock whole.

"what!"

Sherlock chuckled, his gaze shifting from Harry to Neville:

"Neville, Harry, you've been wronged."

"Innocent?" Neville pointed to himself in surprise. "Me?"

"Indeed, facial expressions are the way people express their emotions, and your facial expressions are your faithful servants."

"Sherlock, you mean you deduced Neville's thoughts from his facial expressions?"

“That’s absolutely right, dear Harry. I came to that conclusion precisely through facial expressions, especially the eyes.”

But Neville, perhaps you yourself can't remember how you fell into deep thought?

"Sorry, I... I can't remember."

"Then let me tell you!"

Sherlock's speech suddenly quickened, and his eyes shone brightly, as if he had entered a state of euphoria:
"You were lying on the bed with no expression, but when Harry and Ron started talking about morning exercise, you suddenly turned over and faced us."

It was this action that caught my attention.

After that, your gaze fell on the foot of Harry's bed—there lay the wooden stick that Harry and I used to practice fencing during our morning exercises.

So, I could tell from the changes in your facial expressions that you had started to think, but at that time I wasn't actually thinking very far ahead.

After a while, your gaze shifted to Harry's right hand.

Then, you turned to look at me as I played the violin, and looked like you wanted to say something but couldn't.

So what you mean is obvious: you want to join my and Harry's morning training squad.

"Merlin's beard! Sherlock, you...you've observed me far too closely!"

Neville said with a look of surprise.

Not only him, but Harry and Ron were also stunned.

And this kind of operation?

"In fact, those aren't the only clues I use to deduce your thoughts."

Do you remember that day Harry couldn't go to morning practice with me because he had to attend Quidditch training?

When I returned, I found you and Ron fencing—using these two wooden sticks, of course.

"Of course I remember, but what does that prove?"

Ron asked, puzzled.

"This shows that Neville is very interested in fencing."

Sherlock said with certainty:

“I even corrected how you held your swords at the time. Ron just nodded, but Neville’s expression and actions told me that he had taken my words to heart.”

Even though I didn't see it, I'm certain of one thing.

Ron quickly asked, "What is it?"

"Neville must have been practicing fencing a lot in his dorm lately, right?"

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(End of this chapter)