Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 234 Valentine's Day Without a Lover
Harry, Hermione, and Ron all knew Sherlock's elusive abilities, and seeing that Professor McGonagall didn't mention it, they naturally pretended nothing had happened.

However, while they were worrying, something else quickly caught everyone's attention.

Professor Lockhart's dwarves began to constantly break into the students' classrooms, delivering Valentine's Day cards.

These guys completely disregard whether the teacher is lecturing or whether their behavior will disrupt the class, embodying a completely capricious attitude.

This annoyed all the teachers to no end.

By the afternoon, their business had even expanded from the classrooms to the entire Hogwarts Castle.

Unfortunately, Harry became their target.

As the Gryffindor students went upstairs for their magic class, a voice suddenly called out from behind, "Harry Potter!"

Hearing someone call him by his given name, Harry instinctively sensed something was wrong.

The next moment, his premonition came true.

Suddenly, a bald man emerged from the crowd and charged toward Harry with lightning speed.

His purpose was to send Harry a message with a musical score.

“Oh, Sherlock, I bet you have no idea how bad things were back then…”

Harry still feels lingering fear when he recalls what happened:
"I was trying to run away, but that damn dwarf grabbed my knee and threw me to the ground."

Then...then he sat on my lap and sang the whole song!

Hearing this, Sherlock understood why the Weasley twins had been singing earlier.

"Let me hear the lyrics of that song."

"Oh, Sherlock, please, don't do that... Okay, okay, don't look at me like that, I'll tell you."

Meeting Sherlock's persistent gaze, Harry finally gave in, reciting in a tone of utter despair:

His eyes were as green as a freshly pickled toad.

His hair was as black and elegant as a blackboard.

I hope he's mine; he's really handsome.

He was the warrior who conquered the dark lord.

Harry sighed heavily after reciting the poem. "Laugh if you want, I've been laughed at by them more than once already."

Sherlock didn't mock Harry; he simply asked in return:

"Is this the source of your embarrassment?"

"Yes, I would rather hand over all of Gringotts' gold coins and just turn into steam on the spot."

"Imagine."

"Receiving a Valentine's Day card in front of a group of first-year students is absolutely infuriating, especially since Ginny happens to be one of them..."

"It wasn't a coincidence."

"What did you say?"

“I said… it wasn’t a coincidence,” Sherlock said slowly, under Harry’s questioning gaze, “this poem was given to you by Ginny Weasley.”

Harry: (ω)

Even the next day, as Harry walked with Ron and Sherlock toward Hagrid's hut, he still couldn't believe that the Valentine's Day card with the password had been given to him by Ginny.

Ron, however, firmly believed this.

He felt that given his sister's level of idolization of Harry, it wasn't surprising that she would do something like this.

If it weren't for their young age, they might have done even more outrageous things.

"Don't be like that, Lao Ha, it's a good thing that someone likes you."

"I don't think so..."

"For an eleven-year-old girl, this poem is already quite good."

"good?"

Upon hearing Sherlock's assessment, Harry almost doubted that he had misheard.

"Yes, this is a simple four-line poem that uses the most basic ABAB rhyme scheme."

This kind of rhythm is common in romantic poetry. The rhyme of the first and third lines makes the whole poem more melodious. I think this is what Ginny wanted to make the poem more romantic.

Judging from the content of this poem, the use of the phrase "his hair was as black and elegant as a blackboard" can be traced back to the time of the 18th-century Scottish peasant poet Robert Burns.

In his poem, written primarily in Scottish dialect, he wrote, "O, my Luve's like a red, red rose."

However, comparing your eyes to freshly pickled toads is not a good idea.

No, man.

Harry looked at Sherlock with a surprised expression.

I told you I was incredibly embarrassed about this, and you're here analyzing the literary merit of this poem for me?
Also, how do you know the works of 18th-century poets?
He glanced to the side, where Ron was practically rolling on the floor laughing.

Harry: (￣□￣；)

"That's common sense, my friend."

As if he could read Harry's mind, Sherlock snapped his fingers:
"My dear Harry, Hermione once thought I knew nothing about literature and philosophy, which was clearly a misconception."

From the cases I know of, there are countless positive examples of how literature and philosophy can play a role.

For example, by analyzing the fragments of Byron's poetry left at the scene by the murderer—note that it was a deliberately chosen passage from "Prometheus"—one can deduce that the criminal was morbidly obsessed with resisting authority, which directly points to his identity as an engineer who had been expelled from college.

For example, the clockmaker in the third block hid fragments of sonnets among the gears. Unless one is familiar with the sophistry of "double meaning" in Macbeth, who would have thought that those misplaced rhymes corresponded to the combination to the safe?

If Hermione knew all this, she would probably retract that statement.

Actually, I've done some research in this area.

“Uh…” Harry was at a loss for words.

That's one of the downsides about being around Sherlock.

You have to be prepared to tolerate some of his minor flaws at any time.

In situations like this, Harry would often choose to change the subject, for example:
"Sherlock, you still haven't told me why you came to find Hagrid. It can't be that you've run out of Rockbread, can it?"

"My dear Harry, you're even more humorous than I imagined."

In fact, Hagrid gave me quite a few rock-skin cakes this Christmas.

"At least for the foreseeable future, we won't need to ask Hagrid for them."

"Then why should we go find him?"

"Secret room."

"what?"

Harry froze, and Ron stopped smiling, looking at Sherlock with surprise.

"For the sake of the secret room."

Sherlock stopped and looked at the two of them, saying slowly, "Dumbledore told me that fifty years ago, Hagrid was expelled for opening the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry and Ron were both stunned.

However, after a brief silence, Ron immediately said:
"I knew it!"

Hagrid has a particular fondness for enormous monsters; last year he even tried to hatch and raise a dragon in his cabin.

And that three-headed dog, which he called Mao Mao, I still can't forget it.

So, if Hagrid were still a boy and heard that a monster was hiding somewhere in the castle, he would definitely do everything he could to see it.

Ron became more and more excited as he spoke, launching into a long and detailed explanation of his views:
"Hagrid probably thought it was inappropriate to imprison that monster for so long and that it should be given a chance to get out and stretch its legs."

My hellish mother! Now that you mention it, I can already picture thirteen-year-old Hagrid trying to put a belt and collar on that monster.

"Even so, Hagrid would never intentionally kill someone!"

"Calm down, old man."

Ron patted Harry on the shoulder. "That's what I think too. Hagrid certainly wouldn't do anything to harm anyone on purpose. It was just an accident that he released the monster from the Chamber of Secrets, right, Sherlock?"

Seeing Ron looking at him with such confidence, Sherlock looked at him with a meaningful gaze.

"Sherlock?"

Ron felt a chill run down his spine under his gaze. Several thoughts raced through his mind in that instant, and his expression changed drastically: "Could it be..."

"Ron, if I'm not mistaken, you hate, or rather, are afraid of, spiders?"

"How did you know?" Ron blurted out.

"because……"

“I understand, it’s observation,” Ron said quickly upon seeing Sherlock’s furrowed brow. “Please continue…”

Sherlock nodded in satisfaction. "In fact, fifty years ago, Hagrid's pet was an eight-eyed giant spider."

"hiss--!"

Ron gasped.

"If that's the case..."

"Ron, what are you saying?"

Harry, hearing Ron's words, said unhappily, "Even so, Hagrid would never do that on purpose!"

"Uh... I think if that's the case, Hagrid might not have meant it that way, but those spiders won't listen to him..."

Ron said weakly.

This time, Harry did not refute it.

Because he had a feeling that what Ron said might be true.

Just think, he named that terrifying three-headed dog "Momo" and thought it was obedient and well-behaved...

Harry shook his head, quickly banishing the thought from his mind.

"So... that's why you brought us here to ask Hagrid, right?"

Harry looked at Sherlock expectantly, and before Sherlock could answer, he asked again, "But... Sherlock, why didn't you invite Hermione?"

“I sent her to do other things. We don’t need that many people to come to Hagrid.”

“That’s right,” Ron agreed. “Once we get started, he’ll tell us everything he knows.”

As he spoke, he silently prayed that Hagrid's pet spider would die soon.

Harry: "..."

As the three of them approached the door of Hagrid's hut, Harry couldn't help but ask:
"Ron, why are you afraid of spiders? I remember you used spiders so many times in Potions class, didn't you?"

“I don’t care if they die,” Ron said, somewhat annoyed. “I just don’t like the way they crawl around.”

Harry was still a little confused, but Sherlock said at that moment, "These things are mostly related to childhood experiences."

Ron nodded with lingering fear, "That's exactly right, when I was three years old..."

Just then, Hagrid suddenly flung open the door.

Ron was immediately frightened by Hagrid's furious expression.

Could it be that they found out about my secret curse in my heart that Hagrid, that eight-eyed giant spider, should die soon?
When did Hagrid acquire such abilities?

(End of this chapter)