Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 245 Not Speaking Human Language
Ron followed Harry's awkward gaze and saw the silhouette of a girl floating above the toilet tank.

Her pale face was shrouded in wet, long hair, and thick, pearl-colored glasses sat askew on her nose. Behind the lenses, her eyes were like two pools of stagnant water, filled with a sorrow that had lingered for fifty years.

“Harry, is she Myrtle?” Ron asked in a low voice, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

Harry nodded slightly, the "hmm" coming from his throat almost inaudible.

"Oh, it's you."

After Myrtle recognized Harry from the death anniversary party, her gaze immediately swept over the two of them like a searchlight:

"This is the girls' restroom, you are not girls."

Harry cleared his throat, trying to force a friendly smile, but only managed to twitch the muscles at the corners of his mouth:
“Myrtle, I think you’ve heard that our friend has been taken into a secret chamber.”

"Is it that little girl with messy hair, two big front teeth, and who always tilts her chin up when she talks?"

Myrtle's voice suddenly became shrill, and her eyes behind her glasses gleamed with a strange light.

Harry's ears burned slightly, and he pursed his lips awkwardly: "...Yes."

I must admit, Myrtle was right.

"But what does this have to do with me? Are you going to doubt me too?"

Myrtle's voice suddenly rose, and the unique mist of a ghost spread from her body, making the temperature in the bathroom seem to drop ten degrees instantly. The damp chill made Ron shiver.

Seeing that Myrtle was about to cry again, Harry quickly said, "No, we're not!"

“We just wanted to ask you something…” Ron nearly knocked over the broom beside him, then quickly elbowed Harry. “Old Harry, ask her!”

"We want to know where the Chamber of Secrets is?" Harry's voice sounded particularly weak in the empty bathroom.

"Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets? How would I know where it is?"

Myrtle suddenly burst into a hysterical laugh, the mist turning into countless tiny water droplets that splashed onto the sink.
"Why, why do you think I know? Do you think I'm the one who ruined her?"
Yeah, anyway, nobody cares about me, so it doesn't matter if they blame me for this, right?
No one would care about Myrtle's feelings!

"You do not know?"

Harry and Ron looked at Myrtle in surprise.

Why do you think I know?

"..."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, then realized they seemed to have forgotten something.

Hermione only said that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was in this bathroom, but she didn't say anything specific.

It now seems highly likely that Hermione deduced the location of the Chamber of Secrets through her conversation with Myrtle, but did not tell Myrtle about it.

"What do we do?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"We'll just have to wait for Sherlock to come." Harry sighed, watching the flickering shadows of the candles on the ground twist and distort on the wall.

While waiting for Sherlock, Myrtle curiously asked the two men why they had come.

Ron didn't want to talk to her at all.

As for Harry, he was the kind of person who would patiently explain the Quidditch rules to Colin even when he was fed up with him, so he actually got along quite well with Myrtle.

The two exchanged views on the monster attacks on students fifty years ago and fifty years later.

This process also confirmed Sherlock's deduction once again.

"So how exactly did you die?"

When Harry asked the question, Myrtle's expression suddenly changed, as if discussing the issue was a very interesting thing.

This made Harry secretly wonder if all ghosts had this problem.
Nick, who was nearly headless, was like that, and so was Myrtle—they immediately became enthusiastic when talking about their own deaths.

"All I remember seeing was a pair of terrifyingly large yellow eyes, and it felt like my whole body was being grabbed, and then I floated away..."

She looked at Harry with a dazed expression: "But then I came back—you know, I was determined to settle the score with Oliver Humbert, who had mocked me."

When she saw me again, she screamed worse than a wounded cat. She deeply regretted mocking me for wearing glasses, saying that if the Ministry of Magic hadn't forbidden me from threatening her again…

"Where exactly did you see those eyes?"

Upon hearing this, Harry suddenly realized something and abruptly sat up, interrupting her.

"It's pretty much there."

Myrtle pointed vaguely to the pool in front of her and said.

Seeing Harry walk over, Ron realized what was happening and immediately followed.

The pool that Myrtle was referring to looked quite ordinary.

However, Hermione had already mentioned the entrance to the secret chamber to them, and with Myrtle's testimony, the two thoroughly inspected it inside and out, top to bottom, even checking the water pipes underneath.

Finally, Harry saw a small snake engraved on the side of a bronze dragon head.

This little snake was very well hidden; if you didn't observe it carefully enough, you would most likely miss it.

Harry immediately reached out to turn on the tap.

However, this is of no use.

"This tap never produces water."

Seeing this, Myrtle couldn't help but say something, her voice tinged with schadenfreude.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, both seeing the joy in each other's eyes: "This should be it."

"That's right, this is the place."

Harry and Ron were startled by the sound. They turned around at the same time.

Ron drew his wand with a whoosh, but after recognizing who it was, he awkwardly scratched his head and put the wand away again.

"Sherlock!"

"When did you come?"

Sherlock smiled slightly as he looked at the elated Harry and Ron. "While you were inspecting this pool..."

His grey overcoat was still covered in dust from the stairwell, and his sharp eyes, like those of a hawk, fixed on Myrtle.
"You're Mettle Elizabeth Warren?"

"Yes, it is."

Stared at by Sherlock's grey eyes, Myrtle, who had been chatting happily with Harry, couldn't help but shudder. She then took a half step back and shrank behind Harry.

Are you serious about taking half a step back?

Seeing this, Ron couldn't help but mentally complain.

And why did you hide behind Harry?!
Harry was also speechless at Myrtle's behavior.

However, he knew this wasn't the time to discuss such matters. "Sherlock, what should we do now?"

"Open the secret room and go straight in. I think you know what to do."

With Sherlock's encouraging gaze, Harry nodded, then mustered his courage and looked at the pool: "Open it."

Sherlock shook his head: "You can't speak human language, you have to speak crawling language."

Harry: "..."

He took a deep breath and spoke again: "Open!"

The pool remains unchanged.

“No, you’re still speaking human language,” Ron said.

Harry looked annoyed. "Sherlock, it seems like I can only speak in crawling language when I'm facing a real snake."

"It's very simple."

Sherlock drew his wand: "The dragon has emerged from its cave!"

Just like Malfoy did at the Duel Club, Sherlock's wand head exploded, and a long black snake suddenly darted out and fell into the pool.

Seeing the black snake flicking its tongue, as if it were about to attack, Myrtle immediately screamed and clung tightly to Harry's arm.

Myrtle, being a ghost, couldn't actually perform the movement, but it still sent a chill down Harry's spine, because her body passed right through him.

Ron wanted to call out too, but when he heard Myrtle's voice, he desperately held back.

No matter what, I can't be inferior to a woman—even if that woman is a ghost.

With a physical reference point, the rest became much simpler for Harry.

He glanced helplessly at Myrtle, who was clinging to his arm, but ultimately couldn't bring himself to make her let go.

Recalling what he had done at the dueling club last time, Harry first tried to calm the snake:

"Don't move, stop..."

This time, Sherlock, Ron, and Myrtle all heard Harry making a strange hissing sound, like a snake flicking its tongue.

The black snake immediately stopped, which relieved Harry.

He took a deep breath, turned his gaze to the pool, and spoke again: "Open it."

"Finally, they've stopped speaking human language."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, but the next moment the change in the pool made his eyes widen.

Suddenly, the entire washroom was enveloped in a blinding white light. The faucet, which had never used before, began to vibrate violently, emitting a piercing metallic scraping sound. The verdigris on its surface peeled off under the white light, revealing a brand-new metallic luster inside.

It spun rapidly like an out-of-control top, causing the surrounding air to buzz.

Immediately afterwards, the entire pool began to emit a teeth-grinding sound of gears turning.

The moss on the pool walls fell off in a rustling sound, and sewage gushed out through the cracks.

With a deep rumble, the pool slowly sank, as if a piston had been pressed down by an invisible giant hand.

Moist steam rose up, bringing with it an indescribable smell.

Harry, Ron, and Sherlock held their breath, their eyes fixed on the changes unfolding before them.

Myrtle stopped complaining and continued to cling to Harry's arm, hiding behind him with only her curious eyes showing.

When the pool was completely submerged, a thick, black water pipe appeared before everyone's eyes, just big enough for one person to pass through.

A flicker of wariness crossed Sherlock's grey eyes.

With a flick of his wrist, the wand traced an elegant arc in the air, and the menacing black snake vanished in an instant, turning into a black line.

Sherlock slightly bent his knees and leaned forward, his fingers lightly brushing against the tube wall, his brows furrowing unconsciously.

A moment later, he straightened his back, turned around deftly, and said with an unwavering determination in his eyes: "I'll go down first, you all catch up as soon as possible."

After saying this, without waiting for their reply, he reached into the water pipe without hesitation.

As soon as he released his arms that were supporting his body, he slid down the damp pipe wall and disappeared into the dark passage in the blink of an eye, leaving only a slight scraping sound echoing in the washroom.

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(End of this chapter)