HP: IAM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Hogsmeade, in a corner of the Three Broomsticks pub.

The Greek translator Hadras Baskerville, the same person who had once sold the giant three-headed dog Fluffy to Hagrid, was carefully recounting his bizarre experience to Sherlock and Hagrid.

"The Mr. John Smith who hired me told me that he had a Greek friend visiting him at home. However, he himself only spoke his native language and couldn't speak any foreign languages, so he needed to hire a translator fluent in Greek.

After consulting professionals, he thought of me first. This made me very happy, as it meant my professional abilities were recognized. He also told me that his home was quite a distance away, so we'd need to use special means to get there. Mr. Smith seemed very anxious when speaking—he had even prepared a Portkey.

Mr. Holmes, you should know that in this day and age, almost all wizarding households are connected to the Floo Network. Though Mr. Smith said he had a friend visiting at home, he wanted to use a Portkey instead of the more convenient Floo Powder. Of course, Portkeys have the advantage of transporting multiple people at once, but there were only two of us, so using Floo Powder wouldn't have taken much longer either. This made me feel somewhat strange.

However, because his clothing was expensive and fashionable, and he was generous with money, giving me five silver Sickles as a tip right upon meeting, I didn't think much of it at the time... Oh, Holy Virgin Mary above, if I could choose again, I swear I would never have gone with him!"

At this point, he grabbed his butterbeer and took a large gulp, his eyes full of terror.

"And then?" Seeing this "Greek fellow" who had sold him Fluffy stop at the crucial moment, Hagrid couldn't help but urge him on.

Sherlock said nothing, but leaned forward slightly, indicating his growing interest in the matter.

"Sorry, I was a bit thirsty just now. Let me continue. Through the Portkey, we arrived at his home. I found that though it was daytime, all the curtains were drawn, as if deliberately preventing me from seeing outside. Just as I was surprised, the voice of Smith, who had hired me, sounded beside me:

'I'm very sorry to block your view, Mr. Baskerville. I indeed don't intend to let you know where you are. If you could find your way back here, that might be inconvenient for me.'

You can imagine how shocked I was by these words. Hagrid, Mr. Holmes, don't let my appearance fool you—I'm actually quite cowardly."

At this point, he explained somewhat embarrassedly, then took another sip of butterbeer before continuing under Hagrid's anxious gaze:

"I knew I was certainly no match for him, especially since he had already drawn his wand and was looking at me with cold eyes. Oh, I swear I've never seen such terrifying eyes in my life.

'This is truly improper behavior, Mr. Smith,' I said, already terrified and stammering, 'You know, what you're doing is very rude...'

'To be precise, this is not only somewhat rude but also illegal, but I don't care.'

Hearing him say this, I trembled even more.

'Don't worry, I'll compensate you... but! I must warn you, Mr. Baskerville, that if you dare to speak of this matter, it will be dangerous for you. I remind you that no one knows where you are now. At the same time, no matter where you go, you cannot escape my grasp.'

His words were calm, but his tone was harsh and thoroughly threatening. I admit I was indeed frightened. I didn't know if he was a Dark wizard, but I firmly believed that if I dared refuse, I would definitely be cursed to death on the spot. At that time, my mind was full of thoughts of finishing this business quickly and leaving this place, getting far away from this terrible fellow. I didn't even dare think about payment.

I asked him what exactly he needed me to do. He told me I only needed to ask that Greek friend visiting him a few questions and get answers.

After saying this, he led me into another room. Compared to the first room, this one was much smaller, with only a small window high up on one wall. But most eye-catching was a chair in the middle of the room, on which sat a tall young man.

I felt he should originally have been a very strong person, but at that time he looked dispirited and exhausted. When that person saw me, his eyes turned red and he roared desperately, but couldn't make any sound. I guessed he must have been hit with a Silencing Charm.

At this point, how could I not understand? He had no friend at all! He had clearly used some illegal means to kidnap a poor person who only spoke Greek!

But things had come to this point, and I could do nothing but let him manipulate me. Then I began communicating with that person in Greek writing according to Smith's requirements.

'Are you prepared to sign the document?'

'No!'

'Is there no room for negotiation?'

'Don't even think about it.'

'Then do you know what consequences you'll face?'

'I don't care about anything.'

The above questions and answers were just fragments of our strange conversation. I had to repeatedly ask him whether he would compromise and sign a document. He gave the same angry responses again and again.

Finally, Smith seemed to lose patience. He roughly terminated the conversation between me and the young man, then stared at me and said:

'Alright, Mr. Baskerville, you see I don't treat you as an outsider, inviting you to participate in private matters. You should know, I originally had a Greek-speaking friend who was helping me negotiate this matter at the beginning. Unfortunately, he returned to Greece due to urgent business, otherwise I wouldn't have troubled you. I really need someone to replace him. I heard your translation skills were excellent, so I called you over... Now it seems we're both very fortunate.'

I couldn't say anything and could only nod to show understanding.

'Here are five Galleons. I hope this is sufficient as payment! But remember, if you tell anyone about this... even if you tell just one living person... then may God have mercy on your soul!'

He pointed his wand at me and said these words viciously. Then he used the Portkey to send me home, leaving amidst a series of bizarre laughter.

If not for the five Galleons and silver Sickles still in my hand, I would even doubt whether everything I experienced was just a nightmare. Even now, I still can't forget his eyes—steely gray-blue, flashing with cold, malicious, cruel light.

Please forgive me for being unable to describe to you how much this man called Smith disgusted and terrified me. But I swear that the scene of him pointing his wand at me will haunt me for the rest of my life."

At this point, Baskerville picked up his butterbeer again, drained the remainder in one gulp, then slammed the mug heavily on the table. He let out a long breath.

Even Hagrid could see that after getting all these words out, the Greek fellow's mental state had obviously improved considerably.

"Hagrid, please get our translator another butterbeer—and as for you, Mr. Baskerville, why don't you continue telling us about your subsequent experiences there."

As soon as Sherlock spoke, Baskerville's heart shook violently. He whipped around to look at Hagrid in amazement.

Hagrid shrugged at him and nodded toward Sherlock. Though he said nothing, his meaning was obvious: See, this is the miraculous thing about our Mr. Holmes.

"Please forgive my rudeness, Mr. Holmes, it's just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't understand."

Baskerville looked at Sherlock as if making a firm decision: "Why would you know that I went back afterward, and more than once..."

"The edges of your robes have yew wood shavings, and your cuffs have some verdigris stains that look like oxidation marks from metal objects. Based on these, it's easy to see you've earned extra money more than once, and the most recent time should have been within three days."

Sherlock leaned back lazily.

"Incidentally, when you mentioned being 'coerced into translating,' your right index finger repeatedly pressed against the edge of this wooden table, leaving impressions of varying depths on the table mat.

According to my research, this action suggests subconscious self-defense. So, I deduce you might have initially accepted the commission willingly, then encountered some situation that made you regret it. This point, combined with your earlier description, has been preliminarily confirmed—that Mr. John Smith indeed paid quite well."

Baskerville once again looked at Hagrid in shock, who winked at him and finished his own beer before walking to the bar. This time he needed two butterbeers.

When Hagrid returned, Baskerville had already begun a new round of case narration to Sherlock. Hagrid quickly set down the beers and entered listening mode:

"...After finding me the first time, that man called John Smith found me two more times. Once was a week ago, and another time... Oh, Mr. Holmes, you're truly remarkable—as you deduced, he came to find me again two afternoons ago.

Each time he used a Portkey to bring me to his home to communicate in Greek with that kidnapped man. Oh, Holy Virgin Mary above, I must say that poor fellow's condition got worse each time.

As you said, although I received high payment, I eventually decided to help him out of compassion. When I discovered that the man called Smith really couldn't speak a single word of Greek, I suddenly had a bold idea."

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