Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 452 Because He Is Kind
12 Grimmauld Place.

“Dear Harry, you might not believe it…”

"No, Sherlock, I'll believe whatever you say."

"Well, based on my observations over the past few days, most of the care and attention Kreacher received in the Black family came from Sirius's younger brother, Regulus."

In addition, it also holds Sirius's cousins ​​Bellatrix and Narcissa in high regard.

But he has no sense of identification with his true master, your godfather Sirius Black.

"Why is this happening?" Harry asked softly.

Sherlock looked at Harry and said with a touch of emotion:

"The reason for this result is partly due to objective factors."

Sirius Black was an outlier in the Black family, especially compared to his other son, Regulus.

His attitude toward Muggles was drastically different from the Black family tradition, which naturally influenced Kreacher.

In addition, he ran away from home at a young age—he didn't even consider himself a member of the Black family, so how could he expect the house-elves who were dedicated to serving the Black family to accept him?

If Sirius Black hadn't been the only male heir left in the Black family by this generation, leading to Sirius being forced to inherit the entire number 12 Grimmauld Place, including Kreacher, the master and servant would never have had any connection.

On the other hand, there are subjective factors.

Sirius Black despises everything about the Black family, yet Kreacher goes to great lengths to protect them.

Whenever he sees Kreacher, he is reminded of the family he hates and the terrible environment he experienced as a child.

Therefore, he called the house-elf a useless piece of trash, which further exacerbated the antagonism between master and servant.

After explaining his reasons, Sherlock returned to the main topic:
"Brother, do you remember what I told Sirius last time?"

While house-elves cannot refuse explicit commands, they can deliberately misinterpret less explicit commands.

For someone as free-spirited as Sirius Black, you can't guarantee that every command he gives will be as precise as mine, which gives Kreacher an opportunity.

That's why I suggested that Sirius Black hand over command of Kreacher to you, making you its de facto master.

"But... but I can't guarantee that every word I say to Kreacher won't be exploited by it!"

Harry finally understood Sherlock's intention, but still scratched his head in confusion:

"To be able to maintain precise and unambiguous expression in every moment of daily life, I'm afraid no one but you can do that, right?"

“Dear Harry, anyone can do this, it just takes a lot of practice.”

Sherlock's tone was flat.

Harry perked up at this: "So, you're going to train me again?"

"Do not."

Sherlock glanced at Harry with surprise, somewhat puzzled as to why he became so excited at the mere mention of training.

"You can do this if you practice intentionally in your daily life."

But the reason I put you in Sirius's place to command it is because you are kind.

"Huh?" Harry looked completely bewildered.

“Brother, believe me, there aren’t many people in all of Britain who are kinder than you.”

"Huh?" Harry remained completely bewildered.

“Dear Harry, perhaps you yourself do not realize that your kindness possesses a unique purity and redemptive power.”

"Sherlock, what are you talking about...?"

"Your kindness, though not perfect from birth, allows you to uphold the essence of love and protection amidst extreme pain and temptation, and can even illuminate the darkest corners."

Sherlock leaned forward, and said with a hint of admiration:

“Your childhood was one of abandonment and abuse, an experience that could easily breed hatred or indifference, but you did not do so.”

After the truth was revealed, you forgave the Dursleys despite past grievances.

You never took your own pain out on the weak; even when Neville was being bullied, you would step in to help him.

Hearing this, Harry's cheeks flushed slightly, and he lowered his head somewhat embarrassedly, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his robe.
"Sherlock, I'm not as good as you say..."

However, Sherlock did not stop and continued:

“Dear Harry, your kindness is not about ignoring the darkness, but about knowing that the darkness exists and still choosing to be the light that illuminates it.”

Only you can break the Black family's indifference.

Only you can transform Kreacher from a pureblood fanatic into a loyal guardian.

Even I can't do that.

Harry was completely stunned.

Without a doubt, Sherlock was his best friend.

However, this was the first time he had heard Sherlock speak so highly of him.

Harry has always considered himself a kind person.

But he never expected that a simple word like "goodness" could be interpreted by Sherlock with so many meanings.

This is simply unbelievable.

“You mean… I should be nicer to Kreacher?” Harry hesitated for a moment, then asked uncertainly.

"No, no, no, you don't need to do that on purpose."

Sherlock chuckled and patted Harry on the shoulder:

"Do you remember Dobby, the Malfoy elf?"
Even if it's the first time you meet it, you can treat it as an equal.

Faced with its self-destructive tendencies, they were even morally blackmailed and felt helpless.

Hearing Sherlock mention this, Harry recalled how helpless he had been when Dobby pestered him, and his already slightly flushed cheeks burned even hotter.

"That's why I said you don't need to treat Kreacher deliberately."

Sherlock's smile softened considerably. "As long as we maintain a normal attitude, time will be enough to change it."

Harry understood.

Sherlock was worried that Kreacher would become a ticking time bomb for Sirius and himself.

Considering what Sherlock said to Sirius about Kreacher last time, this is clearly a precautionary measure.

"I know how to do it."

Harry nodded emphatically, his eyes filled with determination.

After Sherlock left, only Harry, Sirius Black, and Kreacher, who occasionally muttered venomous murmurs in a corner, remained at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry also began trying to communicate with Kreacher.

Of course, the results were not ideal.

Kreacher often acted like a madman in front of him, either pretending not to hear or deliberately misinterpreting his meaning.

Unless Harry gives precise, unambiguous commands, as Sherlock previously suggested.

However, Harry remembered Sherlock's words and didn't always do that—except for one thing.

He instructed Kreacher to prepare three meals a day for himself and Sirius.

This was the order he gave after personally tasting Kreacher's cooking. Sirius initially remained noncommittal.

He leaned against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed, watching Harry solemnly give Kreacher orders, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Kreacher? The food it makes?"
Harry, you probably don't know this, but when I first came back here, it burned roast potatoes to a crisp.

Listen to me, it's long forgotten how to cook properly. Let's just eat out like before..."

To everyone's surprise, that very evening, Kreacher served a golden-brown, crispy roast chicken, Yorkshire pudding drizzled with thick gravy, and mashed potatoes garnished with herbs on a silver tray.

Sirius was completely stunned when he saw this.

He forked a piece of roasted chicken, carefully put it in his mouth, and his eyes widened instantly.

“Kreacher is an excellent cook… although I know that.”

Sirius put down his knife and fork, shook his head, and his face was full of disbelief:

"But I thought that after living alone for so many years, it had long forgotten how to cook."

After saying this, he turned to Kreacher, who was standing in the corner with his head down, and cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly:
“Kreacher, well done.”

It was just a casual remark, but unexpectedly, a glimmer of light flashed in Kreacher's cloudy eyes after hearing it.

He suddenly raised his head, his mouth opening and closing, and began to mechanically repeat:

"Well done...well done...well done..."

He muttered to himself, his withered fingers unconsciously twisting together:
"The young master praised Kreacher; this is the first time the young master has ever praised Kreacher..."

It sounds disgusting, but strangely, I'm also curious to hear it. Why is that?

Kreacher muttered to himself as he staggered out, leaving Harry and Sirius looking at each other in bewilderment.

Harry: "..."

Sirius: "..."

The following time was very happy for Harry.

Now, he has completely come to regard Sirius as his father.

Sirius Black was the kind of person who couldn't sit still—just think about it, someone who could give thirteen-year-old Harry a Firebolt as a gift couldn't be an ordinary person.

As the little lion who was eventually sorted into Gryffindor, Harry has never lacked an adventurous spirit, so the pace of life that followed suited him perfectly.

During this holiday, Harry's understanding of magic increased rapidly.

It was also the first time he had learned that King's Cross Station had a platform of 7 and 1/2 in addition to platform 9 and 3/4.

Hidden between Platform 7 and Platform 8, this platform is decorated with intricate vine patterns on its walls. Wizards can board long-distance trains from there to wizard villages on the European continent, and destination signs that flash with magic hang on the exterior walls of the carriages.

However, Sirius did not take Harry on the train trip.

“Harry, remember you are a wizard, and you need to get used to using Apparition to travel.”

He patted Harry on the shoulder, his tone carrying a hint of smug satisfaction.

Since regaining his innocence, Sirius has gradually returned to his former state, and his strength has returned to the ranks of first-class wizards.

In his own words, "If I were to fight Snape face to face now, it's hard to say who would win!"

He Apparated Harry to many places—the harmonious Magic Brothers Fountain at the Ministry of Magic, the white flowers blooming beside Lily and James's gravestones in Godric's Hollow, the dazzling piles of sugar in Honeydukes's candy shop in Hogsmeade…

Wherever they went, Sirius would patiently tell Harry the stories he had missed.

By the time all these things are done, Harry's birthday will be approaching.

Since the Quidditch World Cup was scheduled for Monday night, Sirius Black immediately decided to throw Harry a big birthday party.

“Harry, as you already know, James and Lily threw you a simple birthday tea party when you turned one.”

Sirius sat on the sofa, toying with a wand in his hand, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
“Since then, you have never…”

He paused here, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, seemingly reluctant to revisit the past, before changing the subject and becoming lighter in tone:

"This time, let's invite all your friends over!"

Harry naturally had no objections to Sirius's arrangements.

He still remembered what Qiu Zhang had said last time:

“I can go with my parents, and I can help with the cleaning!”

Although he didn't understand why Cho Chang said that, Harry still kept her words in mind, so he invited her early on.

Qiu Zhang readily agreed.

Wizards of Muggle origin, like Sherlock and Hermione, can invite others by phone.

Hybrid wizards like Cho Chang and Dean can also use telephones.

There was no telephone at 12 Grimmauld Place, so Harry made a special trip to Sherlock's house to invite him and, while doing so, borrowed the phone to notify all his friends who could be contacted by phone.

However, pure-blood wizards like Ron and Neville can only use owls to send messages.

Ron at least learned to speak Mandarin, while Neville had absolutely no idea how to use Muggle communication tools.

As for the postman, he probably wouldn't be able to find out where these wizarding families, hidden by magic, live.

Hedwig was exhausted from constantly writing letters to her friends and traveling back and forth.

After bringing Harry the last reply, it landed on Harry's shoulder, pecked him twice, and looked at him with displeasure.

It was clearly a protest against the exploitative behavior of his capitalist master.

Harry, both amused and exasperated, stroked its feathers and had Kreacher prepare a special dinner for it.

"Ah, young master Potter is going to exploit Kreacher again, not only by providing him with three meals a day, but also by making him serve this hairy beast!"

"How tragic! It's truly tragic that Kreacher, so loyal to the Black family, has fallen to such a state!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh when he heard this.

He now knew how to deal with Kreacher, and upon hearing this, he immediately said:

“Kreacher, I also have the blood of the Black family flowing in my veins, and my owl is also a member of the Black family. Serving it is serving the noblest and oldest Black family!”

Sure enough, as soon as he said that, Kreacher's steps became lighter.

Sirius, who was standing nearby, couldn't help but shake his head in disapproval upon seeing this.

It has to be Harry.

As proud as he was, he would never utter words like "the noblest and oldest Black family."

He didn't know that, in his time with Sherlock, Harry had already learned how to compliment people.

It's just a matter of using it flexibly now.

Hedwig was very satisfied with Kreacher's work.

Not inferior to Aunt Penny.

The night before Harry's birthday, thinking about the fun he would have with his friends the next day, he went to bed early.

The moonlight streamed through the carved window frames, casting dappled shadows on the floor, and everything seemed so peaceful.

It wasn't until midnight that Harry suddenly sat up.

He was covered in cold sweat, his chest heaving violently, as if he had just struggled out of an icy lake.

The sharp pain emanating from the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead seemed to be issuing a strong warning to him:

Voldemort, the man who instilled fear in the entire wizarding world, is back!
(End of this chapter)