Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 596 Dream

Just as Harry had thought, Ron was now feeling regret, deep regret.

He frowned in frustration, his hands clenched tightly together, his knuckles turning white.

It felt like a heavy stone was pressing down on my heart.

I really shouldn't have forced Harry to come to my divination class!
Harry had clearly stated that he didn't like the class, yet he dragged Professor Trelawney into it to avoid him.

The thought of Harry collapsing in pain just now made Ron's heart clench, and he was filled with self-reproach.

Damn me!

Thinking of this, Ron carefully crouched down, his voice trembling:
"Harry, are you...are you alright? Are you okay?"

"Of course he has something to do!"

Before Harry could answer, Professor Trelawney called out first.

As if she had discovered some major secret, her eyes gleamed with an unusual excitement. Gone was her previous languor; she strode up to Harry and began to question him:
"Honey, what exactly happened?"

An omen?
Or is it just an illusion?
What exactly did you see?
Is it... a dark prophecy?

A barrage of questions came out of her mouth, her large, somewhat eerie eyes fixed on Harry, her tone devoid of concern, only inquiry.

"nothing."

Harry lied, and he found his voice was a little dry.

After he slowly sat up, supporting himself on the floor, he could clearly feel his body still trembling uncontrollably.

He subconsciously looked around, his gaze warily sweeping over the shadows in the corner of the classroom.

That nightmare really had a significant impact on him.

Even now, he still feels Voldemort's shrill voice echoing in his ears, so close that it seems as if it will emerge from the shadows at any moment.

"But you were covering your scar just now!"

Professor Trelawney stared intently at Harry's forehead and said with a piercing gaze:
“I saw it clearly: you were clutching your scar, writhing on the ground in pain!”

Come here, Potter!
I have experience with these things; these are truly extraordinary prophetic signs!

Harry looked up at the almost fanatical light in her eyes and a strong sense of foreboding rose in his heart.

He had no desire to remain here as Professor Trelawney's guinea pig; he just wanted to escape immediately.

“I think I need to go to the hospital,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to calm himself down. “My head is throbbing badly right now.”

Which hospital should I go to?
Darling, you're clearly affected by the unusual visual vibrations in my classroom!

Professor Trelawney spoke in a cryptic language that no one else could understand, and reached out to touch Harry's scar:
"If you walk away now, you'll miss something you've never seen before—"

"I just want to see a way to cure headaches."

Harry interrupted her abruptly.

He stood up with Ron's help, his movements still a little unsteady, and cold sweat kept seeping from his forehead.

When Harry stood up, all the students in the class instinctively took a few steps back.

Everyone's face wore an uneasy expression that was a mixture of worry and fear.

As everyone knows, the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead is a mark left by Voldemort when he was a baby.

But just now Harry suddenly clutched his scar and rolled on the ground in pain!
what does this mean?
No one dared to think too deeply about it; they only felt a chill creeping down their spines.

"See you later."

Harry whispered something to Ron, who was still standing there in a daze, then picked up his schoolbag and walked toward the trapdoor without looking back.

Professor Trelawney's face instantly fell with frustration when she saw that Harry completely ignored her interpretation of the prophecy.

But she couldn't stop Harry—Dumbledore had spoken to her specifically about Harry.

So at this moment, she could only sit back down in her armchair, feeling rather dejected.

However, after Harry descended the ladder, he did not head towards the school hospital.

Or rather, he never intended to go there in the first place.

Both Sherlock and Sirius had solemnly told him that if the scar became painful again, he must go to Dumbledore immediately.

These were the two people he trusted most, so Harry didn't hesitate at all and decided to do as they advised.

He walked briskly through the sunlit corridor, the scene from his dream echoing repeatedly in his mind.

Having learned from his previous experience, Harry knew what he should do this time.

All you need to do is figure out the main storyline of the dream.

For those details that are already somewhat vague, you should never try desperately to recall them.

Otherwise, the temporary memory rejection reaction mentioned by Sherlock will occur—those crucial images will slip through your fingers like sand, becoming blurry and indistinct.

However, Harry was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the gargoyle stone monster at the entrance to Dumbledore's office as he walked past it.

It wasn't until he had taken a few steps that he suddenly realized what was happening.

He paused for a moment, then quickly turned around and realized he had already gone too far.

So he quickly returned and stopped in front of the strangely shaped monster.

Then he froze.

"Damn it!"

He slapped his head in frustration.

It was only then that he realized he had no idea what the password to the principal's office was.

Or... should we go to the arithmetic and divination classroom and wait for Sherlock?
It's all my fault. I should have paid more attention when I came here with Sherlock. At least I should have remembered the password.

But since he had already come this far, Harry decided to give it a try and whispered to test the waters:
"Iced lemonade?"

As expected, the dripping spout stone beast remained motionless, like a real stone statue. "Alright..."

Harry sighed deeply and began to recite the menu with a hint of helplessness:

"Pear candy?
Uh... a licorice wand?
Zizi Bee Candy, Blowing Super Bubble Gum?

Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans... Oh, no, Professor Dumbledore doesn't like them. He hates the weird taste in Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans..."

He clearly remembered that the old principal only liked pure sweetness.

After trying several dessert names without success, I couldn't help but raise my voice:

"I really need to see him, it's very important—open sesame!"

This is a story he heard from Qiu Zhang—One Thousand and One Nights from Asia.

Harry even uttered this password, which shows he was truly confused with anger.

However, the monster remained motionless, as if mocking his futile efforts.

At this moment, he was completely absorbed in the moment and had completely forgotten about finding Sherlock.

Enraged, he kicked the monster.

The result was a piercing pain in his toe, making him grimace.

"Damn it... never mind, Chocolate Frog!"

He hopped on one foot and shouted again:
"Sugar quill pen! A swarm of cockroaches!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the stone beast with the dripping spout suddenly came to life, slowly hopping to the side and revealing the passageway leading to the office behind it.

Harry, who was still clutching his feet, froze, his face filled with disbelief.

"A pile of cockroaches?"

He muttered in surprise, "I was just kidding..."

But then I remembered that Sherlock and I had indeed seen this thing in Dumbledore's office, so I was relieved.

"That's true. Apart from Dumbledore, not many people would like this thing."

Seeing that the password was unexpectedly correct, he dared not delay and hurriedly went through the gap in the wall and stepped onto the spiral stone staircase.

The stone door behind him slowly closed, and the stairs began to rise automatically and gently, smoothly leading him to a gleaming oak door with an exquisitely crafted brass door knocker.

He took a deep breath, steadied himself, reached out and grasped the brass door knocker, and gently knocked it down.

"Please come in!"

Dumbledore's gentle voice came from inside the door.

When Harry pushed open the door to the headmaster's office, he saw Dumbledore reaching his hand into a clear glass bottle.

The bottle was filled with cockroaches crawling slowly.

Even though he knew the thing was essentially made of sugar, Harry still felt a wave of physical discomfort watching Dumbledore grab them and put them in his mouth to chew, and he immediately looked away.

You should know that even Ron, who is not picky about food, avoids this thing.

Perhaps Dudley would have something in common with Professor Dumbledore, Harry thought somewhat absurdly.

Would you like some?

Dumbledore suddenly looked up, smiled, and asked Harry, a little sugar crumb still clinging to the corner of his mouth.

"Uh...no, thank you."

Harry quickly and politely shook his head, declining Dumbledore's offer.

"Then... please sit down."

Dumbledore waved his wand, and an armchair that was not far away slid over from the other side of the room and came to a steady stop in front of Harry.

He himself sat down in the chair behind his desk, looking at Harry with gentle eyes:

"Why are you looking for me at this hour? Is something urgent?"

"Yes, Professor."

Harry nodded, sat down somewhat awkwardly, and placed his hands on his knees:

"I was in a divination class, but I—I fell asleep."

At this point, Harry hesitated for a moment and lowered his head slightly.

Sleeping in class is never a good thing.

Just when he thought he was going to be criticized, Dumbledore smiled gently and said:

“I understand, Professor Trelawney’s class… Keep going, Harry.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at Dumbledore's tolerant attitude.

"Yes, I had a dream, I dreamt about Voldemort..."

Then my scar started hurting terribly, more than ever before.

Harry carefully organized his thoughts as he spoke earnestly:

"Sherlock and Sirius both said that if my scars start to hurt again, I must tell you immediately, without any delay."

"I have to thank them for their trust in me."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, his eyes full of approval, before his expression gradually turned serious:
"However, don't tell me the specific details of the dream yet; I need to invite a friend over."

"Stay where you are, don't move."

He said this as he got up and walked out quickly, not forgetting to gently close the door behind him.

A bewildered Harry was left alone in the office.

(End of this chapter)