Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 454 Voldemort's Allies Appear

The son of the richest man in the village, young, wealthy, handsome, and charming, is childhood sweethearts with a girl of equal social standing.

But one day, the girl destined for him suddenly falls from the sky, and the son of the richest man and the object of his affections quickly fall in love.

They overcame numerous obstacles and, in order to defy the opposition of their parents who held feudal and conservative ideas, resolutely eloped for love.

If this were placed in a love story, it would definitely be a moving and inspiring ode.

But when Tom Riddle, the only son of the richest family in Little Hangleton, actually abandoned the girl he loved and eloped with a homeless man's daughter because his parents objected, it caused a huge uproar in Little Hangleton.

Frank, the daughter of the Gaunt family, had also met him.

Her straight hair lacked luster, and her face had a sickly pale appearance due to staying at home for a long time.

And her eyes, like those of her crazy brother, were staring in opposite directions.

Frank had met many people, but he had never met anyone more listless than her.

To put it politely, he is not particularly striking in appearance.

To put it bluntly, it was quite ugly.

In any case, the difference between her and Tom Riddle's lover, Miss Cecilia, is unbelievably large.

Their family circumstances were incomparable.

But Riddle was of sound mind and would never choose the tramp's daughter.

No, normally they shouldn't have any interaction.

But that's exactly what happened.

In any case, this incident caused the Riddle family to lose face in Little Hangleton.

For a long time, the Riddles couldn't even hold their heads up high.

As a result, the gardeners, maids, and cooks who worked for the Riddle family were also pointed at and gossiped about.

Fortunately, after some time, their young master Tom Riddle returned.

He came back alone.

Outsiders were unaware of the inside story, but Frank, as Riddle's gardener, knew it all too well.

Tom Riddle returned home terrified, claiming he had encountered something incredible.

The woman in the Gaunt family was actually a "witch" who had cast a curse on herself.

That's why he was so bewitched that he abandoned his beloved and fell in love with that ugly, lowly woman.

The two lived together in London for a while, and the woman even became pregnant.

But at that moment, the woman stopped casting her spell for some reason, told him the truth, and hoped that he could stay and continue living with her.

What a joke!
Upon learning the truth, he ran back without saying a word.

As for the pregnant girl—no, the witch—he didn't care.

He had no feelings for her whatsoever; all he felt was deep disgust and fear.

Although they found Riddle's account outrageous, the Riddles only had one son, Tom, so they naturally chose to forgive him.

Not only that, they also strictly forbade the people of Riddle House from spreading this matter.

The official explanation was that the woman kidnapped Riddle and left.

After all, witches and such sounds too silly, and no one would believe it at all.

In fact, no one in Riddle House, including Riddle's parents, believed it; they simply thought Riddle was possessed.

And so, more than ten years passed peacefully, and the so-called "witch" never came looking for them again.

Then the family of three died tragically on the same day, their bodies perfectly aligned.

Frank snapped out of his reverie, feeling utterly confused.

But... but... Tom Riddle is dead!
Fifty years ago, he saw it clearly: how could a dead person possibly come back?
Could it be...could it be...

Just as he couldn't help but start to let his mind wander, the sound of voices in the room started again.

The one who spoke was the man who resembled Tom Riddle:

“Mr. Smith, you’ve gone through all this trouble to find this place, are you just asking me to use my identity as Tom Riddle to help you?”

"A name is just a label, you don't need to worry about it at all, just like my name."

Tom Riddell chuckled. "Yes, John Smith."

"See? You don't care about my name, do you? Now that you're here, I think it's time to tell me your plans, isn't it?"

"Don't rush, I'm exhausted from the journey. This place is quite comfortable, I plan to rest for a while longer..."

Besides, we need to wait until the Quidditch World Cup is over before we take any action.

"Is it because of that damned Ministry of Magic again—wizards are pouring into this country from all over the world, so they raise the security level."

Frank discovered that he had heard several words he had never heard before: "Quidditch," "Ministry of Magic," and "wizard," which instantly heightened his vigilance.

Having been on the battlefield, he understood very well that there were only two kinds of people in this world who didn't speak human language:
He's either a spy or a criminal.

"Heh, it seems you have a lot of opinions about those meddlesome guys in the Ministry of Magic?"

"Of course, those guys can't catch me, but they're as annoying as flies."

"So that's why you came to me... It's truly ironic that my loyal subordinates swore to be loyal to me forever, yet now I have to rely on an outsider..."

“They’re allies, not outsiders,” the man called John Smith corrected. “You’ve been gone for so long, I think they… those Death Eaters probably think you’re no good anymore.”

"It's not just probably, it's definitely true."

They must believe I'm no good, that I'm finished.

That's why I slipped back into my enemies' midst, claiming I was innocent, unaware, and under a spell.

"It doesn't matter. Compared to those servants, you definitely need an ally more in your current situation."

But didn't you say you have some loyal servants?
Once the plan is implemented and they are rescued, our strength will be more complete.

Frank found himself understanding more and more of the language, and he gripped his cane even tighter.

Just then, he suddenly felt a noise coming from the dark corridor behind him.

He instinctively turned around and saw a giant snake, a full twelve feet long, crawling towards him.

Frank had never seen a snake of such length before, and he was immediately stunned into silence.

Fortunately, it didn't stop in front of Frank, but slid past him as if it didn't see him, and went straight into the crack in the door.

This made him secretly relieved.

The events that happened at this old house tonight were too strange. He secretly felt that he should not stay here any longer and planned to sneak out of the old house and head straight for the village's telephone booth.

Call the police!
It's ridiculous, even though I no longer trust the police, I still can't help but think of them when I'm in danger.

Unfortunately, he didn't get the chance.

“My ally, Nagini, has just brought me some interesting news.”

"Interesting news?"

“That’s right, Nagini told me that there’s an old Muggle standing right outside this room right now, listening to every word we’re saying.”

Frank was stunned.

Before he could react, the door was opened.

He was completely exposed to the other party's view.

The man who opened the door was of medium build and had no distinguishing features.

At that moment, he was scrutinizing Frank from head to toe with a critical gaze.

“Please let him in, Jon. Even if he’s a Muggle, we should still be polite.”

Upon hearing the sound, the man who opened the door gestured for Frank to come inside.

Despite trembling violently, Frank gripped his cane tightly and limped across the threshold, finally getting a clear view of the room.

The most eye-catching thing was undoubtedly that giant snake from before.

But at this moment it was already perched on the tattered carpet in front of the fireplace, as if imitating a pug.

Besides the man who brought him in, there was another man standing in front of the fireplace.

He was thin and plain-looking, wearing leather gloves, and was looking at Frank with great interest.

Judging from the conversation just now, there should be someone sitting behind the old armchair in front of the fireplace.

He must be Tom Riddle.

However, he should be quite tall, but Frank couldn't even see the back of his head.

The fireplace was the only light source in the room, and it was this fire that had just caught Frank's attention.

At that moment, Frank felt only regret, deep regret.

It's fine to look at it during the day, but what are you doing here so late at night?
The fact that he was standing in the same room as Tom Riddle, who should have been dead, was the last bit of stubbornness he showed by not collapsing to the ground.

"So you heard everything?"

The figure standing in front of the fireplace looked at him and asked in a light tone.

"Yes, I heard everything."

Frank took a deep breath. Now that he was in the room, he had to take action—a situation that often occurred on the battlefield.

“It seems Mr. Riddle was right, you are not a wizard, you are a Muggle.”

Frank suddenly remembered Tom Riddle's words—"That woman from the Gaunt is a 'witch,' she's controlling me!"

He looked at the armchair, his expression a mix of bravado and cowardice:

Tom Riddle died fifty years ago!

I don't know where you heard these stories about wizards and witches, but don't try to play tricks on me.

Also, my wife knows I'm here. I told her beforehand that if I don't go back, she'll call the police—”

"I didn't expect you to know that old man Tom, and even know some things that interest me. Very good, excellent..."

Just then, the voice from behind the armchair, which sounded like Tom Riddle, spoke:

"However... don't lie to Lord Voldemort, he knows everything..."

You have no spouse, and you didn't tell anyone you were coming here.

"Voldemort... is that you, sir?"

Frank sneered, his tone full of disdain, "If you call yourself that, why use someone else's name?"

John Smith couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Interesting. The Dark Lord, who is feared throughout the wizarding world, is being mentioned by a Muggle. How interesting."

"Is it interesting?"

Frank said rudely, "I don't think you're very polite, my Lord Voldemort!"
What exactly is your relationship with Tom Riddle?
And why don't you turn your face and look at me like a man?

silence.

A long silence.

There were four people and a snake in the room, and no one spoke.

Finally, the voice spoke again:

“Muggle, the Tom Riddle you’re talking about is my father.”

"What did you say?!"

Frank was immediately taken aback.

In the UK, it's not uncommon for fathers and sons to share the same name.

If he is Tom Riddle's son, doesn't that mean he is the...grandson of that Gaunt family tramp?
The thought had barely formed in his mind when he heard Tom Riddle, who claimed to be Tom Riddle's son, say with delight:

"Interesting. I didn't expect that you, a Muggle, would know more than I thought!"

"Alright, I'll face you for a moment—Mr. Smith, could you please turn this chair around for me?"

This time, without John Smith saying a word, Jon walked forward expressionlessly and turned the armchair.

Soon, the chair was turned to face Frank.

But when Frank saw clearly who was sitting in the chair, his cane fell to the ground with a thud.

He opened his mouth and let out a shrill scream.

"what--!"

"Ah—that's it... All I remember is the old man yelling once and then waking up from his sleep."

When I regained consciousness, the scar felt burning hot, as if someone had pressed a red-hot wire onto my skin.

The pain gradually subsided after a while.

At 12 Grimmauld Place, on his birthday party day, Harry described to his friends his dream and the excruciating pain of his scar.

"Your scar hurts? Harry, that's no small matter. We need to write to Dumbledore right away!"
I'll look up "Common Magical Ailments"; maybe it will discuss magical scars.

"Does your scar hurt?"

But, but, the mysterious person can't possibly get close to you right now, can they?

I mean... you know that, right?

What if he tries to harm you again?

I don't know, Harry, maybe cursed scars always hurt a little... I'll have to ask my dad..."

Hermione and Ron's reactions were exactly as Harry had expected.

The former exclaimed loudly, suggesting that the principal be informed of the matter immediately, and that clues be sought in the book.

But Harry knew in his heart that he was the only one who had survived being hit by Voldemort's Killing Curse.

Therefore, it was impossible for him to see his symptoms listed in "Common Magical Ailments".

Ron, with his red hair, looked bewildered and confused, believing that Voldemort couldn't possibly be close, and planned to ask his father.

But Harry knew in his heart that although Mr. Arthur Weasley was a qualified wizard, he was not an expert on spells.

Besides, given Mrs. Weasley's personality, she would definitely overreact even more than Hermione. He didn't want to be seen as a coward by the Weasley twins and his little sister Ginny, who always idolized him.

But it didn't matter; Harry wasn't expecting them to give any decent advice anyway.

What he really needs is someone like an older brother.

Harry could ask him for advice without feeling like he was being silly.

That person must care about him, be knowledgeable, reliable, and capable of solving their own problems.

Clearly, he is Sherlock Holmes.

As it stands, there is nothing Sherlock cannot solve.

Actually, he only wanted to tell Sherlock about this.

But Hermione and Ron discovered him as he was pulling Sherlock away.

Ron immediately stopped him:
"What are you trying to do? This time, Dumbledore won't stop you from telling us everything, will he? Don't even think about leaving me behind again!"

Hermione didn't say that, but she also looked at them with suspicion, as if she suspected the two of having some kind of shady business.

In this situation, Harry had no choice but to call both of them.

Since the two were just extras, Harry hadn't really expected anything from them, and he looked at Sherlock with hope.

Sure enough, when Sherlock heard Harry's description, he neither made a fuss like Hermione nor seemed confused like Ron. Instead, he smiled knowingly.

(End of this chapter)