Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 443 This principal is such a loser!
"So, you don't need Felix Felicis?"

"Of course not, dear Mr. Dumbledore."

Sherlock said confidently:

"We've already prepared for so long, it would be strange if we still couldn't get what we wanted from that professor."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Dumbledore put away the Felix Felicis. "Alright, since you're so confident..."

Sherlock's confidence seemed to influence Dumbledore as well, and his steps became increasingly lighter.

He didn't ask Sherlock how he planned to get the secret from Slughorn, but simply agreed with Sherlock to act according to his cues.

“I take back my previous assessment. This professor’s family is not only well-stocked, he is the richest in the village.”

"When we arrived at Slughorn's house, Sherlock said this."

He said this because the building in front of him was clearly more upscale and sophisticated than the other houses nearby.

It's obvious at a glance that the people living here are not ordinary people.

"Oh, let me see, who's here?"

Just as the two were talking, a smiling old man strode out of the house.

The afternoon sun shone on his gleaming bald head, his bulging eyes, his walrus-like silver beard, and also on the shimmering buttons on the brownish-purple velvet overcoat over his pale purple pajamas.

He stopped in front of Dumbledore, his head only reaching the latter's chin.

Upon first glance, Sherlock deduced that the old professor had just woken from his afternoon nap and had set up a defensive spell similar to an intrusion charm outside the room, which was why he was able to know someone was visiting so quickly.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Horace."

Dumbledore said with a smile, but there was no hint of apology in his tone.

"It's hard to believe that an old man like you would actually come to visit me."

Slughorn didn't seem to care much about Dumbledore's tone.

Or rather, his expression showed some surprise when he saw Dumbledore's visit.

As he spoke, his gaze passed over Dumbledore and moved to Sherlock and Harry, who were with him.

When he saw Sherlock, his gaze merely swept over him.

But when he saw Harry, his gaze immediately froze.

His gaze lingered on Harry's forehead and the lightning bolt-shaped scar there.

Noticing that Slughorn's round eyes were widening, Dumbledore immediately began to introduce him:
"I think you've already figured it out, Horace. He is Harry Potter, a Hogwarts student who is about to enter his fourth year."

The man next to Harry is Sherlock Holmes, Harry's best friend at school, and the one who truly exposed Peter Pettigrew a year ago.

Upon hearing Dumbledore's introduction of Sherlock, Slughorn finally took Sherlock seriously.

Dumbledore then pointed to Slughorn and said to Sherlock and Harry:
"This is an old friend and colleague of mine named Horace Slughorn."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Slughorn welcomed the three into his home.

As Sherlock had said earlier, Slughorn's house, even from the outside, was the richest and most luxurious house in the village.

But once they entered Slughorn's house, they discovered that the interior was even more impressive than the exterior.

The room was spacious and bright, and the thick, dark carpet almost swallowed up the sound of footsteps.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of candy, the rich aroma of wine, and the smell of leather books.

Occupying the center of the room is an enormous, extremely soft scarlet velvet sofa.

Surrounding the sofa are several matching armchairs, each equipped with fluffy cushions and an exquisitely designed footstool.

On the low table in front of the sofa were stacks of beautifully packaged chocolates and a plate of colorful lollipop quill pens.

If Ron were here, he would recognize it immediately as Honey Duke's top-quality product.

Several plump silk cushions are casually scattered on the sofa and armchairs, creating a lazy and comfortable atmosphere.

In one corner of the room, there was even an exquisite trolley filled with a dazzling array of beverage bottles and crystal glasses, which glittered in the firelight of the fireplace.

Tall bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with all sorts of thick-spine hardcover books and photo albums.

Sherlock and Dumbledore were doing alright, but Harry was a bit overwhelmed by what he saw.

If one didn't know who lived here, just by looking at the soft colors, plush fabrics, abundant snacks and books, one would surely guess that it was a refined and somewhat picky lady.

Slughorn, like a king touring his kingdom, skillfully led them to the most comfortable seats, then walked enthusiastically to the beverage cart:

"What would you like?"

I have everything here... Albus, are you still the same as always?

Pure honey water? Don't worry, I have plenty of teeth-strengthening potions here.

How about some refreshing butterbeer for the kids?
Or how about trying my top-quality oak-aged mead? I guarantee you'll love it!

He deftly took out the gleaming cup, his tone filled with pride in his family's treasured possession.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

Sherlock and Harry both ordered butterbeer.

Slughorn poured himself a large glass of amber liquid, then leaned back contentedly in the armchair, letting his body sink deep into the fluffy cushions.

As a result, his legs were too short to reach the ground.

However, he didn't mind, made a comfortable sound, and then began to exchange pleasantries.

Once he started talking, the old man would go on and on, unable to stop.

He started by talking about his time working with Dumbledore at Hogwarts.

From his conversation with Dumbledore, Sherlock and Harry learned that Dumbledore was slightly younger than him, making them roughly contemporaries.

Soon, he turned his attention to his outstanding students, especially those from prestigious families or with exceptional talents who later achieved remarkable success.

With a smug smile on his face, he pointed to the many shiny picture frames on the cabinet, each containing a small, animated figure.

"These are all my former students, and they are all autographed photos."

You will see Barnabas Goughfe, editor of the Daily Prophet, who is always very interested in hearing my views on the current affairs.

That was Ambrose Froome from Honeydukes Candy Shop—he sends me a gift basket every year on my birthday.

Because it was I who introduced him to Cicero Hakis back then, which got him his first job!
Bob Ogden, he's a senior figure in the Ministry of Magic to you.

Unfortunately, he has now retired. Back then, he used to visit me, an old professor, often to ask me for advice on the problems he encountered in his work.

And then there's Gwenogg Jones—you can see it if you crane your neck—the captain of the Holyhead Harpies…

People often wonder why I'm so good friends with the Harpy team members; I can get tickets for free if I want to!

Professor Slughorn's words reached Sherlock's ears without missing a single one.

However, he held the wine glass but did not rush to drink it.

Those sharp gray eyes swept across the entire room without making a sound.

A very expensive soft chair.

The delicate stitching on the footstool.

Bookshelves meticulously arranged by color. Traces of chocolate boxes being carefully opened and stacked.

Slughorn himself, dressed in an exquisite velvet nightgown, spoke with great enthusiasm about the past.

Every luxurious detail was quickly integrated, connected, and deduced in his mind.

Combining what others had said about him before he met Slughorn, a clear portrait of him emerged in his mind:
[They value material enjoyment, have a strong sense of vanity, and are obsessed with past glories and interpersonal relationships.]

He enjoys the feeling of being envied and admired; this enjoyment is both his comfort zone and his most cherished asset.

Highly skilled, values ​​talent, is shrewd and opportunistic, calculating, and adept at self-preservation.

I didn't use Porter's shampoo to treat my baldness because it was too expensive, and I felt guilty.

As Slughorn once again emphasized the current status of his former students and their friendship with him, he couldn't help but glance at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

A complex and indescribable sense of guilt flickered in his eyes, which he quickly looked away from as if he had been burned.

This small detail naturally did not escape Sherlock's notice.

The path to his goal became clearer in his mind.

The opportunity is here.

Sherlock's gaze inadvertently shifted to Dumbledore, and he nodded very slightly, his gray eyes carrying a hint that Dumbledore would surely understand.

Dumbledore, who had already agreed to act according to Sherlock's wishes, understood perfectly and suddenly stood up.

"Are you leaving now?"

Slughorn immediately panicked.

He hasn't finished showing off yet!

"Horace, these past events are truly memorable."

However... as you get older, it's easy for you to... get drunk...

Uh, excuse me, where is your restroom?

"Oh, of course, of course, old buddy."

Upon hearing that Dumbledore wasn't leaving, Slughorn immediately pointed in a direction with enthusiasm, "It's at the end of the corridor, on your right."

Dumbledore nodded slightly and left the living room, which was filled with the sweet smell of candy and the stench of alcohol.

As the principal's tall figure walked towards the other end of the room, the door closed behind him, and the room fell silent.

The atmosphere in the living room also underwent a subtle change.

When only two students and a former professor remained, Slughorn seemed to feel a certain constraint disappear.

He sank deeper into the armchair, his body becoming more relaxed, and unbuttoned a velvet nightgown, his smile becoming more casual and relaxed.

He picked up his wine glass and poured himself another large glass of that amber-colored liquid.

The three of them then started chatting about Slughorn's glorious past.

Whenever Professor Slughorn gets to the crucial point, Sherlock is always able to chime in at just the right moment:
"is it?"

"Oh, that's amazing!"

"Professor, you've actually managed to do this."

"Those students who were able to receive your guidance were so fortunate!"

Harry looked at Sherlock in surprise.

Is this still the same good brother who can drive someone crazy with just a single sentence?

Could he have been created by someone else using a compound decoction?
Soon, under Sherlock's flattery, Slughorn was unknowingly plied with a lot of alcohol.

Not only was her face flushed, but her speech was also somewhat slurred.

"Why hasn't Albus returned yet?"

"Maybe he felt embarrassed?"

"Look at Albus, he's already done after just a few drinks, he's such a loser!"

"That principal is terrible!"

Harry looked at Sherlock and Slughorn in horror. It was terrible to openly slander Dumbledore like that!

“Barry Waters, the savior boy—well—something like that…”

Slughorn slurred, his teary eyes fixed almost undisguisedly on Harry, this time seeing his entire face clearly.

Harry looked at him without saying a word.

“You… uh, you look a lot like your father,” Slughorn suddenly said.

“Yes, sir, that’s what everyone says,” Harry said.

"It's just the eyes that don't look like yours—"

"Like my mother, yes."

Harry had heard this countless times and was getting a little tired of it, but for the sake of his goal, he patiently said it anyway.

"Hmph, yes, of course, as a teacher, one should not show favoritism towards students."

But I just love her more, your mother.

Slughorn was clearly carried away and continued rambling on:

"Lily Evans, she was one of the smartest students I ever taught, a lively, lovely, and charming girl."

I often tell her that she should be in my college.

Unfortunately... I often received very rude replies from her.

"Which house are you in?" Harry asked, knowing the answer already.

“I was the head of Slytherin at the time,” Slughorn said.

"Oh, please don't be hostile towards me because of this!"

Seeing Harry's expression change slightly, Slughorn assumed he had a problem with him and immediately waved a short, thick finger at him, saying:

"I think you must be a Gryffindor like her, right?"
Yes, these things are usually passed down through generations:

The Abbott family, the Longbottom family, the Malfoy family, the Weasley family...

However, there are exceptions. Sirius Black was your father's good friend at school.

The Black family members were all in my house, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor!

He was a very talented boy, and as soon as his younger brother Xuanyuan Shisi arrived, I got my hands on him.

But... it would be great if they were both with me.

Harry: o(一︿一+)o
Sherlock leaned forward slightly at just the right moment, his voice low but clearly interrupting Slughorn's boastful talk:

"Compared to them, Lily is probably more than just an outstanding student in your eyes."

(End of this chapter)