Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 214 Albus, let him get out of here.

Sherlock did not respond to Dumbledore's teasing, because from the moment he entered the room, his attention was focused on the tall, gilded perch behind the door.

An old, decrepit bird stood there, lazily preening its tail feathers.

Sherlock hadn't seen it on his previous visits to the principal's office.

However, this old bird doesn't look to be in good condition right now; it looks like a turkey that has had half its feathers plucked.

Just as it was preening its tail feathers, a few more feathers fell off its tail.

"Have a seat. Would you like to try the new flavor of Zizi Honey Candy? It was just sent by Honey Duke this morning."

As Dumbledore tapped his wand, an armchair with a deep red velvet cushion slid up behind Sherlock.

At the same time, the candies in the silver tray automatically unwrapped and floated up.

Seeing that Sherlock was still staring at the old bird even after he sat down, Dumbledore laughed:
"It has been in this terrible state for many days now, and I keep telling it to hurry up and move."

"A terrifying sight? Hurry up and act!"

Seeing Dumbledore seemingly casually fold the candy wrapper into a bird spreading its wings, Sherlock searched his memory for a second and immediately gave the answer:

"So this is a phoenix?"

"Sherlock, you're always so perceptive."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"Its name is Fox, and as you might expect, it's a phoenix, and..."

Dumbledore said, turning to look at the gilded perch, "It's about time."

If the Weasley twins were here, they would definitely each add a line:
"At this important moment."

"The moment we've all been waiting for."

Unfortunately, they are not here.

Sherlock, of course, wouldn't play the straight man.

However, as if deliberately to complement Dumbledore's words, as soon as he finished speaking, the veteran Fawkes suddenly got excited.

It wasn't a metaphor; it literally ignited.

In a mere instant, it turned into a fireball.

Then, with a scream, he disappeared from Sherlock and Dumbledore's sight.

All that remained was a pile of ashes on the floor that hadn't completely extinguished.

"..."

Sherlock's gaze was fixed on the ground.

Soon, a tiny, wrinkled baby bird poked its head out of the ashes and shook off the ash.

Judging by its appearance alone, it is just as ugly as that featherless old bird from before.

"Nirvana."

Sherlock uttered the word softly.

"Indeed, it is Nirvana!"

It's a pity you saw it on Nirvana Day; otherwise, it would have been incredibly beautiful most of the time: its entire body was covered in amazing red and gold feathers.

Dumbledore sighed, seemingly feeling a little regretful, but then he smiled and said, "Speaking of which, the phoenix is ​​a truly peculiar and fascinating creature."

He seemed intrigued and carefully explained to Sherlock:

"They can carry extremely heavy things, their tears have a healing effect, and they are also exceptionally loyal pets."

It never harms people, only eats herbs, and like the Ball Bird, can disappear and reappear at will.

“However, their classification level in the Ministry of Magic is ××××,” Sherlock said, as if adding to the setting, “In addition to the abilities you just mentioned, its singing also has magic.”

As far as I know, wizards generally believe it can enhance courage in those with pure hearts and release fear from those with impure hearts.

"A very elegant explanation, Sherlock!"

Dumbledore's smile spread across his beard. "If this were in class, I would definitely give Gryffindor ten points."

"Let's just forget about it. A mere ten points isn't even enough for Professor Snape to deduct a whole class period."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, a hint of helplessness flashed across Dumbledore's face:
"Severus is indeed a bit short-tempered, but his intentions are good..."

Rather than that, I guess you came for the locked-room mystery?

"It's obvious."

Sherlock rested his chin on his hands, his grey eyes meeting Dumbledore's light blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles without flinching.
“Dear Headmaster Dumbledore, aren’t you going to tell me something?”

"More than that, I'm concerned about how much you know now?"

When Dumbledore didn't give a direct answer, Sherlock frowned and, similarly, didn't answer him either, but instead posed a question:
"It seems you're not planning to tell me about this?"

Before Dumbledore could answer, a portrait on the wall shouted, "You shouldn't have known this!"

Sherlock turned his head and confirmed the other person's identity with just one glance.

Next, he raised his eyebrows and spoke rapidly:
"In 'Hogwarts: A History,' former headmaster Armando Dippet is described as a decisive and responsible headmaster who consistently demonstrated steadfastness and impartiality in handling important events at Hogwarts."

However, judging from your current behavior, that may not be the case. Putting aside other things, it at least proves that the secret room is not a legend, and the rumor that the secret room was opened fifty years ago is indeed unfounded.

So here comes the problem.”

Sherlock's grey eyes were fixed on the headmaster whom Gemma had singled out, and his gaze was somewhat aggressive:

Who was the student you caught and expelled fifty years ago?

Why was the secret room reopened fifty years after he had already been captured?

"Is the student you captured... truly the heir to Slytherin?"

Both Dumbledore and the portrait on the wall were stunned by Sherlock's resounding three questions. After a long while, Principal Dipper's picture frame suddenly shrieked:

"Get out! Get out of here!"

Albus, get him out of this office!

Its voice was not only shrill, but also trembled slightly.

The other picture frames also began to shake, clearly because Sherlock's words had a strong effect on them.

"Armando, please calm down, and so should everyone else."

Dumbledore's words still carry weight.

As soon as he spoke, all the creaking picture frames stopped, except for Armando Dippert, who was still panting heavily, his eyes filled with anger as he looked at Sherlock.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to Sherlock and asked softly:
"Sherlock, can you tell me why you think that?"

At that moment, all the faces in the portraits turned toward Sherlock, as if they too wanted to know the answer to this question.

“Headmaster, I must admit that the portraits in the magical world are indeed a very magical thing.”

Shylock's gaze swept over the portraits on the wall, his voice low and somber:
"When I first saw your portrait on the Chocolate Frog wizard card last year, I mistakenly thought they were like GIF images in the Muggle world."

Looking back now, I realize that I did make an empiricist mistake back then.

A portrait containing the deceased's memories of their past life and a moving image from the Muggle world are two completely different concepts, but..."

At this point, Sherlock's deep tone suddenly changed:
“After all, a portrait is not a real person. Its emotions and actions are exaggerated and amplified. In this case, the difficulty of drawing conclusions through observation is greatly reduced.”

However, the process of obtaining information from them is so simple that I don't even know how to explain it anymore.

If I had to pinpoint it, it would be like me pointing out the color of your pajamas.

Dumbledore frowned, about to say something, when he heard Sherlock continue:

“Headmaster, I think you should know that this summer I went with Harry to Potter’s old house in Godric’s Hollow.”

From the portraits of his grandparents, I could easily tell that Harry's father had a close friend.

Furthermore, he played a disgraceful role in the deaths of Harry's parents.

This was confirmed by Ron's father.

In other words, my deduction about the portrait was entirely correct.

silence.

A long silence.

All the portraits of Sherlock looked at him as if he were a ghost.

The next moment, without Dumbledore even saying a word, they all vanished completely, leaving only empty picture frames on the wall, just like the previous times Sherlock had come to the headmaster's office.

As an elder, Dumbledore was also a seasoned veteran who had seen much in his life.

But today he was also shocked by this sight.

After a long while, he said with a wry smile:

"Sherlock, this is the first time I've seen them leave on their own initiative. It's really quite unusual..."

"Yeah, you get used to it after running around for a while."

"..."

Dumbledore was taken aback.

"Aren't you going to eat a piece of candy first?"

"It seems the headmaster hasn't learned his lesson from Dr. Granger. Didn't he make you try out each of the dentist's tools one by one?"

"Oh, Sherlock, I'm never going to the dentist again!"

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Dumbledore looked shaken.

It's hard to imagine a wizard who's lived for over a hundred years and is considered the White Lord making that face because of a Muggle dentist.

You have to understand, he used to be able to chat and laugh with dark wizards of Gellert Grindelwald's caliber.

Sherlock, however, paid no attention to this; he merely frowned.

"So you still don't want to tell me about the locked room, right?"

“Sherlock, aren’t you the one who most agrees with the evidence—a single line of writing and a petrified cat are not enough to prove that the locked room was opened.”

"I don't know."

Sherlock looked at Dumbledore and said bluntly, "Headmaster, do you really enjoy being a centaur?"

"What did you say?"

This time, it was Dumbledore who didn't understand.

"I mean, is it fun to be a riddle teller like the horsemen?"
You know everything about the locked room, but you won't say a word.

And that prophecy about the savior—you still won't tell me everything."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed sharply: "What did you say?"

"Born into a boy who had defied the Dark Lord's family three times, born at the end of the seventh month, he was personally marked by the Dark Lord as a formidable enemy who would appear and defeat Voldemort."

Sherlock repeated Dumbledore's previous prophecy verbatim.

Compared to Sherlock's astonishing memory, what he said next moved Dumbledore even more:

"It's obvious that this is not the whole story of the prophecy, otherwise you wouldn't believe it so much. So... what are you hiding?"

Dumbledore stared blankly at Sherlock, speechless for a moment.

(End of this chapter)