Chapter 52: The Great Detective Holmes

The eve of Halloween.

The news that the troll had been subdued quickly spread, and the Gryffindor common room was packed with excited young witches and wizards.

The lion cubs, already gathered for a feast, became even more energetic and reluctant to head to bed.

In such a lively environment, the absence of Sherlock and the others didn't draw any attention.

When they returned, they blended right in.

Still, among the four of them, the atmosphere was awkward.

With Snape no longer present as the focal point of their frustrations, the lingering tension now turned inward and made things uncomfortable—mostly between Hermione and Ron.

Sherlock, of course, had never known the meaning of awkwardness.

As for Harry, he hadn't done anything wrong in this whole affair.

Eventually, it was Hermione who broke the silence.

She looked at Sherlock and offered a soft "Thank you."

Then she turned to Harry and Ron with a small smile and gave a polite nod.

Without another word, she quickly hurried over to her plate like she was fleeing.

"Granger, wait—"

Ron stretched out his right arm, fingers splayed, wanting to call out to her.

He genuinely wanted to apologize.

But she was already gone.

"It's alright. I don't think she'll hold it against you," said Harry, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder.

Ron looked toward Hermione, who had already merged back into the group of girls, and sighed in defeat.

Some lessons can't be taught by others.

But when taught by experience, they only need to be taught once.

After that night, Hermione Granger became less rigid about following school rules.

She also became more approachable and less stiff around her classmates.

She even grew close enough with Harry and Ron to let them call her by name—just like Sherlock had already did.

Three days after Halloween—one day before the first Quidditch match of the season—Harry was called away during practice by Professor McGonagall.

At first, he assumed it was to give him a pep talk before the game.

After all, if they could beat the Slytherin team, Gryffindor would climb to second place in the House Cup standings.

But as they walked, he started to feel something was off.

Professor McGonagall remained silent the entire way as she led him to a secluded tower.

Then, without a word, she marched up eight flights of stairs and stopped before a stone gargoyle.

When she spoke the password, the stone creature sprang to the side, revealing a split in the wall.

A spiral staircase slowly began to ascend behind it.

Harry had no idea what was going on, but he didn't dare ask.

In silence, he followed McGonagall all the way to the top.

There, a gleaming oak door appeared, adorned with a brass knocker shaped like a griffin.

"…"

Harry was in a daze by now, entirely uncertain what this was all about.

But the moment she opened the door, his eyes widened in shock.

Inside was a spacious and beautiful circular room. At one end stood a large desk, its legs carved like clawed paws.

On the shelf behind it sat a battered, wrinkled wizard's hat—instantly recognizable as the Sorting Hat that had placed him in Gryffindor at the start of term.

But all of that paled compared to the figure sitting in the room.

Albus Dumbledore!

This was... the Headmaster's Office!

A storm of thoughts raced through Harry's mind.

The Quidditch match was important, both for him and for Gryffindor.

But surely not important enough to warrant Dumbledore's personal attention?

Unless... had he broken school rules again?

Harry frantically reviewed his recent behavior. As far as he could recall, he hadn't done anything wrong.

Except maybe for Halloween night, when he disobeyed and went to the underground classroom…

But hadn't that been settled already?

While Harry was still lost in thought—

"Mr. Holmes, you may begin."

Dumbledore's voice brought him back to reality.

Only now did Harry realize he wasn't alone with just the headmaster.

Looking around, he saw that in addition to McGonagall and himself, the room also held Sherlock, Hermione, and... Snape!

And with Dumbledore's words just now, it suddenly clicked.

Was this all arranged by Sherlock?

"My dear Harry, you are correct," Sherlock said calmly, as if reading his mind. "To verify the accuracy of my deductions, I need your cooperation."

Before Harry could respond, Snape's cold voice cut in:

"Mr. Holmes, we've gathered everyone as per your request. I do hope you won't waste our time."

So it really was Sherlock's doing!

And Hermione, too, had been brought in for the same reason. But why?

Before Harry could unravel it all, Sherlock turned to Hermione.

"You may begin."

Hermione nodded and began recounting her perspective of that day, starting from their final Charms class before Halloween.

At last, Harry heard the full story of what had happened from her point of view.

And it was exactly as Sherlock had previously deduced.

First, she had been upset by Ron's teasing and ran to cry in the girls' bathroom.

Then, just before the troll arrived, Sherlock had found her and pulled her to safety.

Next, they had discovered the movements of Ron and Harry.

Finally, the four of them had tracked the troll and stumbled upon the strange blood-written message.

Even though Harry had experienced parts of this himself, hearing it all laid out by Hermione gave him a new perspective.

Just as he was becoming absorbed in the story, Sherlock spoke:

"Your turn, Harry."

"Huh?"

Harry blinked, then realized what Sherlock meant.

He wanted Harry to recount his own version of that day, just as Hermione had.

Meeting Dumbledore's encouraging gaze, Harry composed himself and slowly began to speak.

As he spoke, he gradually understood Sherlock's reasoning.

On Halloween, Sherlock, Hermione, and he each had a part in the events where their actions had not overlapped. They had all acted independently for portions of the incident.

Ron wasn't called because he had been with Harry the entire time.

But… what about Professor Quirrell?

That question lingered in Harry's mind as he finished his account.

Then Sherlock began his own.

And with just one sentence, he stunned everyone in the room:

"First of all, the troll in the underground classroom was let in by Professor Quirrell."

Harry and Hermione gasped.

But Harry, who trusted Sherlock implicitly, quickly collected himself.

So that's why Quirrell wasn't here!

McGonagall and Snape both raised their eyebrows.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, turned to Harry and Hermione, his voice gentle, though what he said made them both freeze.

"Harry, Hermione, could I ask you to step outside for a moment?"

Instinctively, they turned to Sherlock.

Only when he gave them a small nod did they reluctantly leave the room.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, it seems that in the eyes of Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, our dear detective Holmes is even more trustworthy than you," Snape sneered, emphasizing the words "headmaster" and "detective Holmes."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Severus, I'm just an old man with one foot in the grave. I was never going to be more convincing than the young."

Snape: (￣_,￣)

"Mr. Holmes," said Dumbledore warmly, "please, do continue."

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