Chapter 53: Revenge

In the Headmaster's Office, Sherlock calmly continued analyzing the case.

"Second, the line of blood was left behind by Professor Quirrell.

Third, everything Professor Quirrell did was under someone else's orders."

Silence fell—a long, heavy silence.

"Do you have any evidence?"

Dumbledore finally spoke, his eyes filled with curiosity. "You're basing this solely on what happened that night?"

"When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

Sherlock responded swiftly in his usual composed tone.

"No matter how people may underestimate him, Quirrell is still the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

For him to be so terrified of a troll, to the point of collapsing from fear—only after running all the way from the dungeon to the Great Hall, calmly delivering a report, and then fainting—is laughably unconvincing."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Minerva once told me you possessed extraordinary skills in analysis and deduction. It seems she was absolutely right.

That night, you also made some deductions about the person who wrote the message in blood.

Would you be willing to tell me how you came to those conclusions?"

After that incident, McGonagall had sought out Dumbledore to relay Sherlock's deductions:

—The person who left the bloody letters was a man.

He's under six feet tall, middle-aged, and right-handed.

He moves with agility and cunning, but currently finds himself in distress.

This wasn't his idea—it was done under someone else's orders.

Also, the wand he used should be roughly nine inches long...

Even before the term began, Minerva had mentioned that Sherlock managed to deduce Hogwarts' location in the Scottish Highlands despite knowing nothing about magic.

And now, this?

Naturally, Dumbledore was intrigued.

"In truth, those deductions were fairly simple," Sherlock explained.

"A person's height can be estimated by measuring their stride length. The method isn't complicated, but it's not important to detail it all here.

When someone writes in a room that's not particularly large, they will instinctively choose the center.

Judging from the traces left behind, the writing was slightly skewed to the right of center.

This implies the writer was right-handed and suggests his height.

Since he used a wand to write, estimating the wand's length from the stroke spacing and writing angle is also trivial."

"Then how did you determine he was agile and cunning?"

Professor McGonagall couldn't help but ask.

Compared to Dumbledore or Snape, she had seen Sherlock's abilities firsthand.

The fact that he deduced Hogwarts' exact location just from a few clues—even without knowing magic—had deeply impressed her.

That's why she had supported his conclusions that night.

"I encountered Professor Quirrell just after discovering Hermione in the dungeon.

Even then, he had already made it to the upper floors—only slightly behind the troll.

This suggests he moves quite fast.

Quirrell had two goals that night:

First, to create chaos and provide cover to approach the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor.

I don't know exactly what you asked Hagrid to place there, Headmaster, but it's clear that was Quirrell's real target—though he failed."

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances.

"You deduced that as well?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes," Sherlock said, then turned to McGonagall.

"In fact, we all owe Professor Snape some gratitude."

Dumbledore smiled.

McGonagall looked slightly surprised.

Snape, however, remained expressionless.

"While the others were running about looking for the troll, it was Professor Snape who went straight to the fourth floor and intercepted Quirrell—getting bitten in the leg for his trouble.

And later that night, Professor Snape stopped me from continuing my deductions—not to suppress me, but to protect me.

He likely realized that if Quirrell heard my reasoning, he might believe I had fully uncovered the truth."

"Holmes!"

Snape finally exploded. His voice was filled with fury.

"Stick to the point!"

Sherlock had originally intended to elaborate on Snape's injury, but seeing his embarrassment boiling over, he simply shrugged and let it go.

"…So, with his first objective thwarted, Quirrell had no choice but to join the professors in fighting the troll.

Of course, with Professors McGonagall and Snape present, his assistance was hardly needed.

As for the blood writing—he had clearly prepared it beforehand, probably when he released the troll.

Both the timing and the magical traces support this conclusion, so I won't dwell on it further.

Once the troll was dealt with and the professors returned, Quirrell guided everyone to discover the message he had left.

Incidentally, when he 'found' the blood writing, his reaction was far too theatrical. That only strengthened my suspicions."

"Then what does 'RACHE' mean?

Is it a clue about the one giving Quirrell orders?" McGonagall asked.

"A bold guess," Sherlock said with a slight shake of his head.

"My friend Hermione thought perhaps the writer was trying to spell a woman's name—Rachel—but was interrupted and couldn't finish.

However, I don't think there's any point chasing after some mysterious 'Miss Rachel.'

Because in German, 'RACHE' means 'revenge.'

Based on my deductions, the one behind Quirrell is someone with deeply ingrained supremacist beliefs.

That's likely why they used the German word for revenge."

He paused and looked straight at Dumbledore.

"Sir, now will you tell me what you've found?"

At that moment, even Snape—who had been preparing a sarcastic retort—froze.

He and McGonagall both turned to Dumbledore, awaiting his answer.

Dumbledore blinked at first, then gave a small, admiring laugh.

"Minerva's judgment is, as always, exceptional. Mr. Holmes, you've exceeded even her expectations."

"Albus…"

McGonagall said anxiously.

"It's alright," Dumbledore reassured her, raising a hand as he met Sherlock's gaze.

"Yes, I've discovered a few things."

Sherlock immediately clasped his hands under his chin, eyes shining with anticipation.

He had known from the moment he was summoned that tonight would be decisive.

Exposing Quirrell was just the beginning.

The one who truly mattered was the figure lurking in the shadows behind him.

But since his own information was incomplete, he needed someone like Dumbledore to confirm the rest.

However—

Dumbledore suddenly turned to Snape.

"Severus, could I trouble you to step outside for a moment?"

Snape: (ー`ー)

"Hmph.

Then I shall leave you to your little gathering!"

Snape snapped through gritted teeth.

"But Dumbledore—you owe me an explanation!"

With that, he stormed out of the office without another word.

"Ah, to be young again…"

Dumbledore murmured, watching him leave with a wistful smile.

Then he turned to McGonagall.

"Albus… do you mean… me too?"

She pointed to herself in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Dumbledore said gently, still smiling.

"Please trust me."

McGonagall: Σ(｀д′*ノ)ノ

-----

30 Advance Chapters on Patreon!

p(a)treon(.)com/HudaLin

-Remove the parenthesis to access patreon normally

Thanks for the Support!