Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 624 No one will sleep tonight
The moon eventually appeared.

However, this did not change the fact that it was a dark and stormy night for murder.

Moreover, the pale moonlight weakly shone on Little Hangleton Cemetery, casting an even more eerie veil over this desolate place.

The tombstones, looming in the dim light, stand like silent guardians, silently recounting the secrets of the past.

Night and cemeteries are frequent settings in horror movies.

In addition, Voldemort's face after his resurrection was already sinister and terrifying, and incredibly ugly.

In this eerie atmosphere, it seems especially terrifying.

At this moment, the Dark Lord tilted his head slightly, a look of intoxication mixed with a hint of madness appearing on his face, as if he were immersed in the memory he had just described, a memory filled with struggle and desire.

"You all know my goal—to conquer death."

He spoke slowly, his voice low and hoarse, echoing in the silent cemetery:
"As it turns out, at least one or two of my experiments worked."

Because I didn't die, even though the curse was deadly.

At this point, Voldemort's lips curled up slightly, revealing a sinister smile.

That smile carried a hint of smugness, yet it also held a sinister and terrifying quality.

how to say?

It seems to be mocking the capriciousness of fate, or perhaps showing off one's uniqueness.

Sherlock laughed when he saw this.

There was a hint of disdain in that smile.

Even so, I am as powerless as the weakest creature, unable to help myself.

I have no physical body, and every spell that helps me requires the use of a wand.

As he said this, a hint of pain and resentment flashed in Voldemort's eyes.

Seeing him like this, everyone present seemed to be able to feel his deep frustration and helplessness.

"I remember those days and nights when I couldn't close my eyes, I just forced myself to live, second by second."

Finally, I hid in a remote forest—Sherlock Holmes, can you guess where I am?

Surprisingly, Voldemort even interacted with Sherlock.

"Where else could it be but Albania?"

Sherlock suddenly spoke up, sneering, "You've really picked a good place for yourself."

There's a reason he said that.

Because it wasn't just Albania; the entire Balkan Peninsula at that time was like a volcano about to erupt.

The situation is turbulent, with chaos and change intertwined.

Bulgaria, a small country in the Balkans, is teetering on the brink of political transformation.

After Zhivkov's 35-year rule ended, the multi-party elections sparked fierce political disputes.

Protests and strikes erupted one after another, plunging society into severe turmoil.

Yugoslavia, due to deep-seated ethnic conflicts, gradually lost control of the country after Tito's death.

Calls for independence were growing louder in the republics, and the shadow of war loomed over the land.

Albania, once one of the most isolated and poorest countries in Europe under Hoxha's iron-fisted rule, has also undergone tremendous changes under the impact of the reform wave.

By 1990, a large-scale exodus of students had occurred, student rallies demanding reforms had taken place, and the domestic situation was becoming increasingly tense.

During the regime change in this country, social order nearly collapsed, which undoubtedly provided Voldemort with more room to maneuver.

Upon hearing Sherlock mention Albania, Voldemort paused slightly, then a sinister smile appeared on his face, looking particularly eerie in the pale moonlight.

"Yes, Holmes, you're right again—I have my reasons for choosing that place."

Sherlock just stared at Voldemort without saying a word.

"I wasn't in a hurry at the time, because the loyal Death Eaters would definitely find a way to find me."

Voldemort slowly said:
"I always thought that someone would come to me and use magic that I couldn't use myself to help me get a physical body."

But to my utter surprise, I waited in vain.

The Death Eaters behind him shuddered at these words.

Even a fool could hear the dissatisfaction and resentment in Voldemort's tone.

His memories of his past were like a sharp knife, slicing open the darkness of his past.

This memory not only made everyone present feel his past pain and struggle, but also caused this fear to spread rapidly throughout the cemetery.

The atmosphere in the cemetery grew increasingly oppressive, as if even the air had become thick and suffocating.

Voldemort's voice grew increasingly low:

"At that time, I still had a little magic left that allowed me to possess other people."

Even so, I dared not go to crowded places, because I knew the Aurors were still looking for me everywhere.

Alastor Moody, Rufus Scrimgeour, Kingsley Shackler…

As he mentioned these names, he narrowed his eyes slightly, a cold glint flashing in his scarlet eyes.

"Sometimes I possess animals—snakes, of course, are my favorite."

Unfortunately, being one of them is not much better than being a pure ghost, because their bodies are not suited for magic.

Once I possess them, their lifespan is shortened, and they die before long, which forces me to constantly search for new animals.

Unfortunately……

ten years!

A full ten years!

Not a single person came to see me!

The Death Eaters behind Voldemort trembled again upon hearing this.

They kept their heads down, not daring to meet Voldemort's furious eyes.

Voldemort ignored them, took a deep breath to calm himself, and continued:

“Until four years ago, my resurrection seemed to be on the horizon.”

You might not believe it, but a young, foolish, and easily fooled wizard wandered into the forest where I was staying, and I just happened to run into him.

Oh, that seems like the opportunity I've been dreaming of—because he's a teacher at Dumbledore's school.

People like this are the easiest for me to manipulate. He opened his body and soul to me and brought me back to this country.

Haha, it's really ironic...

The person who saved me wasn't one of you Death Eaters who claim to be loyal to me, but rather one of that old man Dumbledore's men.

Later, I possessed him, closely monitored him, and guided him to carry out my orders.

This is something you two special guests should be very familiar with.

Sherlock and Harry exchanged a glance.

They are certainly familiar with it.

Quirinas Quiro.

Before meeting Voldemort, he was a professor of Muggle Studies.

After encountering Voldemort, he became the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He was undoubtedly a very capable person, but unfortunately, as Voldemort just said, he used his intelligence for evil purposes and even tried to kill Harry at one point.

If it weren't for Sherlock, Snape would have almost been blamed for him for an entire school year.

“Yet you still failed,” Sherlock said calmly. “Yes, my plan failed.”

I only obtained the unicorn's blood, but failed to acquire the Philosopher's Stone; my wish for immortality has been shattered once again.

At this point, Voldemort gave the two of them a deep look:
"I'm defeated... defeated by Harry Potter once again."

And of course, you, Sherlock Holmes.

Harry's body trembled slightly, his eyes fixed on Voldemort, his hand inside his robes gripping his wand tightly.

If Voldemort shows any sign of making a move, he will immediately utter the spell he knows best: Remove your weapon.

The professors, hidden in the shadows, were equally tense, ready to make their move at any moment.

Sherlock himself, on the other hand, remained calm and composed throughout.

Voldemort stared at Sherlock with that fierce look for a while, but in the end he did nothing.

The cemetery was deathly silent.

The moonlight shone on the tombstone, casting a pale, lifeless glow.
Even the leaves of the yew trees seemed to stand still.

The Death Eaters remained motionless, their gleaming eyes behind their masks fixed on Voldemort, then on Sherlock and Harry.

"And then, you went back to the Albanian forests?"

Sherlock seemed completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere, and instead asked with great interest:

"I remember you were very angry when you left last time."

Of course I'll be angry.

When Sherlock was in first grade, he didn't know much about Voldemort.

Even so, relying on his extraordinary observation and deductive abilities, he turned his words into sharp daggers, stabbing them relentlessly into Voldemort's heart.

Voldemort seemed to recall this scene as well, and his gaze towards Sherlock became even more complex:

"Then?
The servant died after I left his body, and I became as weak as before, forced to return to that distant hiding place.

That was probably the darkest period of my life, darker than anything I've ever experienced.

Hope was so close, almost within my grasp, yet I watched it slip away.

I wouldn't want another wizard to come knocking on my door.

As for the Death Eaters, hah, I no longer even dream that any of them would care about my situation.

As soon as he said that, several people behind him started to stir restlessly.

Seeing this, Sherlock couldn't help but find it somewhat amusing:

"Do you know why they didn't come?"

Voldemort's eyes lit up with curiosity. "You know?"

"The peak breeds false support."

Sherlock glanced at Voldemort, then at the lewd figures behind him:

"Isn't it obvious—you've never truly convinced them?"

Personal charisma has never been displayed in you.

The so-called Death Eaters only feel fear towards you.

They choose to follow you because of your strength.

So when you have no power, they will naturally leave you.

I think you'll probably never understand that the tyranny of forcing people into submission through force and power will ultimately be overthrown by an even stronger force.

"No, I understand, of course I understand..."

Voldemort shook his head and said:
"I used to think that my power would continue to grow, but I never expected to encounter setbacks."

Sherlock sneered at this, "There are many things you haven't thought of."

"Of course, I don't think it's a bad thing—I am stronger and more perfect now than before."

"If you call your noseless appearance perfect, then I agree with you."

"Another superficial view of judging by appearances, Holmes..."

“You are the only one who has the right to say that, Tom Riddle.”

"Holmes... don't worry, soon... soon I will destroy your confidence..."

Voldemort revealed that twisted smile once again.

"I returned to the depths of that dark, dense forest."

About a year ago, when I had almost given up hope, hope finally appeared.

A friend found me—this Mr. Smith, oh, perhaps I should call him Blacklight now?

As he spoke, his gaze slowly shifted to the black light.

There was an inscrutable look in his eyes, as if he were admiring someone, or perhaps showing off his destiny.

An unnatural look flashed across Hei Guang's face.

"He evaded the Ministry of Magic's trial, believing that those hypocrites were not qualified to judge him—and of course, I thought so too."

He needed an ally, an ally who could lead him to break free from constraints and establish a new order, and that's when he thought of me.

He was very dedicated and hardworking, searching for me in a country where people had long believed I was hiding.

Finally, he arrived in Albania.

He discovered a place deep in the dark forest, a place that many creatures feared.

Many small animals died mysteriously, and he followed these clues to finally find me.

As Voldemort described it, a picture flashed through the minds of everyone present:
Blacklight stood in that mysterious and dangerous forest, surrounded by eerie mist. The trees were tall and twisted, like menacing monsters.

His eyes were filled with vigilance and caution; he took each step carefully, as if afraid of triggering some danger.

His hands gripped the wand tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

Sweat streamed down his forehead, dripping onto the fallen leaves at his feet with a soft rustling sound.

When he discovered the dead small animals, his brow furrowed, and a hint of fear and confusion appeared in his eyes.

He slowly crouched down, carefully examining the carcasses of the small animals, trying to find some clues.

His fingers trembled slightly as he gently touched the small animal's corpse.

at last!

Following these clues, he gradually approached Voldemort's hiding place.

"I must say, this friend is far superior to those Death Eaters who once swore to follow me."

He was brave, resourceful, and ambitious, and he never gave up, even when faced with numerous difficulties.

After finding me, he provided me with considerable help.

I also relied on one or two spells I invented myself—and of course, a little help from my dear Nagini.

As Voldemort spoke, he looked at the large snake that was circling around, and surprisingly, a hint of humanity appeared in his eyes.

Ironically, when his gaze returned to people, that trace of humanity vanished without a trace.

"The potion made from unicorn blood and Nagini's venom finally gave me a form that was almost human and the strength to travel."

With the help of my dear friends, I was finally able to return to this country.

Voldemort turned his head and said softly:
"Voldemort has always been clear about his gratitude and grudges, and I will never be stingy with those who have helped me."

Now, my friend, Mr. Blacklight—why don't you take off your gloves like this little boy just said, and let me do something for you?"

(End of this chapter)