Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 585 Originally wanted to slap someone in the face

"Let's get back to the story of Marvolo and his son Mofen."

Dumbledore's voice echoed slowly in the dimly lit Gaunt mansion, carrying a weighty weight accumulated over the years.

His fingertips gently traced the tabletop, as if he were touching a long-forgotten past.

"Mavolo's sentence was six months, earlier than Mofen's three years."

When he returned from Azkaban, he expected to see his daughter waiting for him with a steaming meal on the table.

Just like countless ordinary evenings before he went to prison, Melop would huddle by the stove and timidly serve the stew.

But to his utter surprise, the dust in the room was more than an inch thick, and clear footprints could be left when you stepped on it.

Spiderwebs formed layer upon layer on the roof beams, and even the stove was covered with a thick layer of black ash, as cold as a stone.

His daughter, whom he had always treated like a dud, left only a farewell note, on which she wrote in crooked handwriting what she had done.

Dumbledore paused, seemingly trying to calm himself down:
"From what I can find out, the shock of his daughter leaving home was probably one of the reasons for his untimely death."

Or perhaps he never learned how to cook for himself, not even knowing how to bake the simplest bread.

Azkaban ruined Mahoro's health; he became skin and bones and didn't live to see Morfen return to the hut.

At this point, Dumbledore's voice carried a hint of regret.

"So Mofen lived here alone for more than ten years, until that murder happened fifty years ago?"

"Indeed, when the Ministry of Magic found Morfin, he was curled up in a broken chair in the corner of the room, offering no resistance, and was obediently taken into Azkaban."

The only thing that bothered him was that his father's ring was missing—a ring he had always worn on his hand.

He will kill me.

He repeatedly told his arresting officers, 'I lost his ring, he'll kill me.'

Those seemed to be all he said next—clearly, his mental state was no longer normal.

He spent the rest of his life in Azkaban, mourning the loss of Mahoro's last heirloom.

He was eventually buried next to the prison, alongside other poor souls who died there.

And that's precisely why I brought you here today.

"So your deduction is that Voldemort took Morphin's wand and used it to kill people."

Sherlock frowned. "But some information is still missing."

“Ah, yes, of course, I haven’t told you yet,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

Sherlock: (ー`ー)
Dumbledore smiled when Sherlock looked at him like that.

"I was very fortunate to receive a memory of Mofen."

That memory was very brief, but it provided me with crucial information.

"Voldemort met Morpheus?" Sherlock immediately grasped the key point.

“That’s right, do you see that, Sherlock?”

Dumbledore looked at him with admiration, his tone full of satisfaction:
"That's why I didn't let you walk with me on those two paths of memory again."

"I only need to say one sentence, and you'll already know everything."

“If something like this happens again, I think you should make sure I see those two memories before you come here.”

Sherlock stared at Dumbledore. "I'm starting to like the Pensieve more and more these days."

"Definitely next time."

After making his promise, Dumbledore began to recount the memories he had received from Morpheus:
"Voldemort had contacted Morfin the day before the murder occurred."

His Parsleyan accent and striking resemblance to old Tom Riddle immediately made Morfin realize that he was the son of her sister Melop and old Tom Riddle.

Voldemort asked Morfin about the whereabouts of Marvolo and Old Tom, and learned from Morfin that his mother had married Old Tom.

When he woke up the next morning, he found himself lying on the floor alone, and Marvolo's ring was gone.

That's precisely why I believe he wasn't responsible for that case.

Dumbledore looked at Sherlock, his gaze filled with growing approval:

"It is because of this crucial memory that I suspect Voldemort."

That's exactly what I think makes you so great, Sherlock.

You saw through the truth without even knowing this memory.

"Your attitude is also the reason I made this inference, sir."

Sherlock shook his head. "I think you already had some doubts before you even got this memory, didn't you?"
Otherwise, why would you have gone to Azkaban specifically to find Mofen?

“You overestimate me, Sherlock.”

Dumbledore shook his head. "As I just said, I am very fortunate to have received Morpheus's memories."

Mofen actually retained this real memory, but since he has confessed, who would bother to dig into his mind?
At that time, I was trying to learn about Voldemort's past—so I went to visit him in Azkaban.

Please forgive my lack of modesty—if it weren't for my exceptional skills and the extensive use of advanced techniques like mind control, I would never have been able to elicit this passage.

After seeing this, I tried to persuade Mofen to be released from Azkaban.

But before the Ministry of Magic could make a decision, Morfin died.

At this point, Dumbledore took a deep breath:

"So my deduction is consistent with yours:"
Voldemort knocked out his uncle, took his wand, and crossed the valley to Riddle House.

He killed the Muggle who had abandoned his wizard mother, and also killed his Muggle grandparents.

This move not only erased the Riddle family, whom he considered worthless, but also served as revenge against his biological father, who never wanted him.

The hatred in his heart had already taken root and sprouted from that time.

Then he returned to the Gaunt house and cast that complicated spell.

He implanted false memories into his uncle's mind, placed the wand beside its unconscious owner, took the ancient ring, and swaggered away.

As Dumbledore finished speaking, his expression became complex, his eyes a mixture of anger, regret, and lingering fear:
"The Ministry of Magic never expected Voldemort to do anything to Morfin, precisely because he was still an underage wizard at the time."

But I believe that no matter who Morfin was, he shouldn't have died unjustly in prison, burdened with a murder charge he didn't commit.

“I agree with you, sir,” Sherlock said calmly. “Morphin should be sent to Azkaban, but for the mistakes he made, not for things he didn’t do.”

Dumbledore nodded and continued, "I must say, it is truly terrifying that an underage wizard could do all this."

No one could have imagined that a teenager could be so malicious and so cunning.

Seeing Dumbledore's somewhat lingering fear, Sherlock said quietly:
"But this child is Voldemort—so all of this makes sense, right?"
According to what you said before, he had already shown this ability even before he entered Hogwarts.

“That’s right—this just shows how terrifying he is, so we need to find the Horcrux as soon as possible and not give him any chance to catch his breath.”

Dumbledore's eyes hardened again: "That's why we're here today."

Have we finally seen the main storyline?
“Well then, it’s my turn to make an appearance, isn’t it?” Sherlock stood up, dusting off the corner of his clothes. “When it comes to finding things, I’m much better than you.”

Dumbledore nodded.

"This is his mother's house. It's his only connection to the Gaunt family."

I suspect he might have hidden the Horcrux here.

"It's an inference."

Sherlock took out gloves from his pocket and put them on, then took out a magic magnifying glass:

"I think this inference is very likely, just as you just said."

It was part of his roots, and therefore held special significance for Voldemort.

"Sherlock, don't take action without permission."

Dumbledore immediately gave his instructions, his tone very serious:

"If our deduction is true, then Voldemort should have protected it with many powerful spells."

"Don't worry, I'll just find them, you'll be responsible for picking them up."

Sherlock waved his hand, his tone seemingly relaxed, yet revealing a confident air of self-assurance.

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile.

He believed that if Voldemort had indeed hidden a Horcrux here, he should be able to find it.

But he also subconsciously believed that Sherlock would be more efficient than him.

Given Voldemort's personality, he would definitely rely on magic to hide Horcruxes, always believing that as long as he protected them with powerful spells, no one could find them.

But Sherlock is different. He understands both magic and science, and he can always find a breakthrough in the most inconspicuous details.

Having Sherlock, who possesses powerful abilities in both magic and science, take charge might produce unexpected results.

"I will be by your side to watch over you and protect you," Dumbledore said softly, gripping his wand tightly.

All he had to do was protect Sherlock.

As it turned out, Dumbledore's deduction was correct.

Sherlock, with his magic magnifying glass, searched the three rooms carefully, going back and forth.

Dumbledore noticed that he would sometimes crouch down to examine the ground, and sometimes stand on tiptoe to observe the gaps in the beams, just like when he went to Riddle Hall last time, as if he were investigating a crime scene, not missing any corner.

Just as the two had deduced, Voldemort hadn't expected anyone to visit the ruins.

They never expected that the person looking for something would be Sherlock Holmes.

Half an hour later, Sherlock and Dumbledore looked at the black gemstone ring and smiled at the same time.

"Mavolo Gaunt's ring."

Both of them had seen the ring through Slughorn's memories, so they recognized it at a glance.

Dumbledore stepped forward and said calmly, "Alright, leave the rest to me."

Sherlock, naturally, complied and took a step back.

As he himself said, he was responsible for finding it, and Dumbledore for picking it up.

However, solving the magical traps was much more troublesome than Sherlock's search.

Even Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard of his time, spent a great deal of effort to break those powerful spells.

The details of what happened are unnecessary to recount, but in short, Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief when the last defensive spell was removed.

A smile spread across his face, his eyes filled with relief: "Finally, it's all better."

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief.

The two exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with joy and relaxation.

This time, they did not return empty-handed.

Next, if Dumbledore takes the ring back and destroys it, Voldemort will lose another soul, and his power will be weakened.

But at that moment, Sherlock suddenly sensed something was wrong.

Dumbledore is not in a good state.

Dumbledore took the ring in his hand and examined it carefully.

This is of course no problem.

But as he looked, his pupils dilated slightly, as if he had suddenly lost focus, and his eyes became empty.

Immediately afterwards, he became somewhat dazed.

The hand holding the ring even began to tremble, while the other hand was outstretched, revealing the fingers.

How meticulous was Sherlock's observation?

He immediately realized what Dumbledore was up to.

Old Deng actually wanted to wear this ring directly!

"Sir, stop!"

Sherlock immediately shouted.

However, Dumbledore seemed not to hear him.

He ignored Sherlock's warnings and continued to reach for the ring with his finger, his movements slow but resolute.

Upon seeing Dumbledore's unusual behavior, Sherlock immediately realized that the Horcruxes were more dangerous than he had imagined.

Even Dumbledore fell victim to it.

Fortunately, he was prepared for this.

So he stopped wasting words and took out the throwing weapon he had prepared beforehand from his pocket, throwing it directly at Dumbledore's hand holding the ring.

Under normal circumstances, Dumbledore would never have been hit by Sherlock's attack.

With his strength, he could easily evade even a sneak attack from behind.

But at this moment, Dumbledore's condition was already off.

Furthermore, since Sherlock didn't use magic—he worried that magic wouldn't work on Dumbledore and would only trigger his conditioned reflexes—he simply resorted to physical methods to ambush the over-100-year-old man.

No sooner said than done, Dumbledore was careless and failed to dodge, and was immediately hit by the throwing weapon thrown by Sherlock.

He couldn't hold onto the Marvolo ring in his hand, and it fell to the ground with a soft "clink".

Not satisfied, Sherlock, fearing Dumbledore might not have fully recovered, took out another weapon from his pocket and lashed it hard at Dumbledore's arm.

Actually, he originally wanted to embarrass himself.

In that case, there would be a greater chance that Dumbledore would regain his senses from his trance.

However, the height difference between the two is quite large, so he would have to jump to prove them wrong.

So he settled for second best and became a thug.

(End of this chapter)