Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 247 Things Can Never Be Completely Satisfactory
The Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin.

Hermione, still smiling as she held Sherlock tightly, couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her pale cheeks, leaving two wet streaks.

Those eyes, which usually shone with wisdom, were now veiled with a mist of fear and resentment.

Rewind to this morning, sunlight streamed through Hogwarts' stained glass windows, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the stone pavement.

Hermione hummed a little tune as she walked toward the Great Hall, her hair still damp with the morning dew.

When she saw Gilderoy Lohart's signature blue robe adorned with forget-me-not flowers, her pace quickened involuntarily.

Sherlock has already told her all the arrangements, and they can make their move once Harry finishes this Quidditch match!
By then, they will not only be able to solve the Chamber of Secrets puzzle that has plagued Hogwarts for a whole year, but also rescue Professor Lockhart, who is being controlled by Voldemort's dark magic artifacts.

So, just say hello to him.

Hermione's eyes gleamed with anticipation, unaware that danger was lurking nearby.

The moment Lockhart turned around, before Hermione could even show a joyful smile, the crimson light flashing in his eyes sent chills down her spine.

Hermione frantically reached for her wand at her waist, but it was too late.

Before her consciousness rapidly faded in the darkness, she only had time to see the grotesque writing on the wall.

When Hermione opened her eyes again, a damp, musty smell hit her, and the sound of dripping water echoed in the empty space.

Lockhart leaned against a moss-covered stone pillar, a twisted smile playing on his lips:
"Hermione Granger, don't worry, capturing you is just a way to lure out that famous savior."

Hermione's heart nearly leaped out of her chest. Hearing that unfamiliar tone, she immediately knew that the Lockhart before her was no longer Lockhart.

However, the stubbornness in his bones was not crushed by fear.

Hermione noticed the disdain in Lockhart's eyes and made a decision that even she herself found bold afterward.

Taking advantage of the moment the other person turned around, she suddenly unleashed a spell, the light at the tip of her wand drawing an arc in the darkness.

However, she still underestimated Lockhart, who was under control.

The opponent reacted incredibly quickly, with just a flick of their wand, and Hermione crashed into the stone wall like a kite with a broken string, plunging the world into darkness once more.

Before she fell into a coma for the second time, she couldn't help but recall that terrifying Halloween—the roar of the trolls, the fear in the darkness, all overlapping with the despair she felt now.

"You don't know what you can do!"

With that disdainful voice, a wave of helplessness washed over her as she felt utterly alone.

When Hermione was awakened by Shimizu again and saw Sherlock, she could no longer control her emotions and had a meltdown.

Sherlock remained calm as always, gently patting Hermione's trembling back, his grey eyes scanning their surroundings warily.

"Did Lockhart bring you here?"

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Hermione quickly released him and then said nervously:

"It's him, no, it's not him, it's..."

Before Hermione could finish speaking, a voice softly said:

"To be honest, I really didn't expect that the person who came here would be you, Sherlock Holmes."

Hermione quickly turned around and saw Gilderoy Lockhart slowly emerge from the shadows, leaning against the nearest pillar, watching them.

“Sherlock, he’s not Lockhart, he is…”

Tom Marvolo Riddell.

Sherlock scrutinized this "Lockhart" and immediately identified him: "Am I right, Riddle?"

"Holmes, you are even more intelligent than I thought."

Tom Riddle, now resembling Lockhart, stared intently at Sherlock, his once beautiful eyes now gleaming with a scarlet light.
"The idea of ​​the rooster and the mirror was yours, wasn't it? If it weren't for you, I probably would have been able to stage a few more attacks—"

He deliberately dragged out the last syllable, "Perhaps I can still send a few Muggles to hell myself, just like I did fifty years ago."

"How can things in this world always go as planned?"

Sherlock's gaze swept over the other person's confident demeanor, and he couldn't help but feel a little doubtful.

Where does this guy get his confidence from?
However, since the other party wasn't in a hurry, he wasn't in a hurry either.

"So what exactly is your current state? Is your soul parasitizing a dark magic artifact and then controlling Lockhart's body?"
I bet he could struggle and resist at first, but now he probably can't even move his little finger.

A flicker of surprise crossed Riddle's face, but it quickly transformed into a twisted, sinister grin, an expression that looked particularly eerie on Lockhart's handsome face.
“Lockhart still knows too little about you, but you’re only half right—I do more than just control him.”

“Not only Professor Lockhart, but you don’t know much about me either.”

Sherlock said calmly, "You brought Hermione here as bait, just to lure Harry into your trap?"

"That's right. So tell me, why should I wait for that savior?"

He deliberately emphasized the words "savior," his tone carrying a venomous sarcasm.

"It's very simple. You just want to figure out how a baby defeated you back then."

These words plunged the entire secret room into a sudden, deathly silence, with only the sound of water droplets hitting the stones overhead, creating a hollow echo.

Hermione's nails dug deep into Sherlock's arm, while Harry, under the Invisibility Cloak, forced himself to hold his breath, not giving himself away.

"Hahaha!" Riddle was taken aback for a moment, then burst into deafening laughter: "Holmes, in some ways you're even more interesting than that 'savior'!"

He tugged at Lockhart's collar in disgust. "That idiot, all he thinks about is Harry Potter! He just wants to ride that boy's fame to publish ten more books!"

"If that's the case, why don't you speak to me as you truly are?"

Sherlock pushed Hermione aside and looked at Riddle with great interest:
"For a pureblood fanatic like you, isn't using a Mudblood's body a more painful form of torture than the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Hahahahaha!"

Sherlock's words made Riddle burst into laughter again. "Holmes, interesting, very interesting! Very well, I'll grant your wish!"

These words seemed to strike a chord with Riddle, and Lockhart collapsed to the ground amidst loud laughter.

With a "thud," the wand in his hand rolled into the shadows.

As a boy bent down to pick up the wand, his full appearance was revealed to Sherlock, Hermione, and Harry, who was wearing an invisibility cloak.

It was a tall boy with black hair. His body outline was blurry, as if viewed through a layer of foggy glass, which was very strange.

Even so, Sherlock recognized at a glance that the boy was Tom Riddle from Dumbledore's memories.

Looking at Lockhart, who had collapsed and was unconscious, and then at Riddle, whose outline was blurred, Sherlock suddenly understood something.

"You not only controlled Lockhart, but also seized his life force?"

"Pretty!"

Riddle applauded Sherlock, "I love playing games with smart people."

So, great detective, are you ready to answer my question?
Or perhaps you also want to experience what it's like to have your soul stripped away?

"No need for that—if you want an answer, you might as well answer my question first."

Sherlock suddenly chuckled, his gray eyes sparkling. "But seeing how you keep rubbing your wand with your fingertips, even if I stay silent, you can't help but show off, can you?"
After all, wouldn't it be a waste of this meticulously prepared drama if the grand plan, sealed away for fifty years, wasn't revealed to the prey in detail?

"You're absolutely right."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Riddle suddenly regained his composure. He looked at Sherlock, then at Lockhart lying on the ground, and slowly said:

“Okay, let’s go through it one by one: what you see of me now is not my normal form, but a memory.”

"memory?"

Sherlock's pupils contracted slightly; this answer was truly unexpected.

Riddle nodded and pointed: "Yes, it's a memory preserved in a diary for fifty years."

Following the direction Riddle was pointing, Sherlock quickly spotted a notebook next to the statue's big toe.

"I see."

Upon seeing the diary, Sherlock immediately understood.

Dobby initially came to Harry to tattle on this thing, saying that the dark magic item Lucius Malfoy wanted to bring into the school was this very item.

At this point, all the clues for the locked-room mystery have been pieced together.

He glanced at Lockhart on the ground again.

In retrospect, this Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was nothing more than a tool.

This applies to Dumbledore, who initially invited him to serve as Defense Against the Dark Arts, Tom Riddle, who controlled him through his diary, and even to young wizards like himself who learned skills from him.

“Gidero Lockhart…”

Noticing Sherlock's gaze, Riddle also glanced at Lockhart on the ground, then revealed a look of disgust:
"I should really thank Lucius for his generosity in entrusting me to this fool who's obsessed with fame and fortune!"

At this point, Riddle suddenly flew into a rage, "The most ridiculous thing is that this self-proclaimed intelligent celebrity is actually wary of a diary!"

Since Sherlock's arrival, Hermione's emotions have gradually returned to normal.

Hearing this, he finally couldn't help but say, "I don't think anyone with a brain would believe in a notebook that can think independently."

"Hermione Granger?"

Riddle glanced at Hermione with disdain. "A Muggle-born wizard climbing to the top of the class is proof of the decline of the wizarding world!"

"you……"

Hermione was furious and was about to retort, but Sherlock waved his hand, indicating that she didn't need to say anything more.

Seeing the interaction between the two, Riddle suddenly revealed an elegant smile.

His pale face, bathed in the dim light, possessed a captivating and alluring beauty.

"At first, Lockhart simply recorded those mundane daily routines in my diary:"

His ridiculous signature, his enthusiastic yet annoying fans, his self-created experiments with curses of failure...

Holmes, as a smart man, you should know very well that listening to someone who has no ability but dreams of fame and fortune talk about his childish dreams is just too boring for me!
What's even more disgusting is that his dream is for Muggles and wizards to live in peace!

(End of this chapter)