HP: IAM SHERLOCK HOLMES

"How extraordinary!"

Hagrid circled around Sherlock, clicking his tongue in amazement.

Sherlock's performance had completely shattered his understanding.

To disguise oneself as another person without using Polyjuice Potion?

This was far too un-magical!

With nothing more than a fake wig and beard, plus changes to his height and skin color, Hagrid could barely recognize Sherlock without careful observation.

Sherlock's movements and demeanor were completely different from usual, showing no trace of being a first-year student at a magical school.

After marveling for a while, Hagrid brought a flowerpot in front of Sherlock. Just as he was about to let Sherlock proceed, he suddenly seemed to remember something and asked:

"Have you ever used Floo Powder before?"

"No."

"Then I'd better go first!"

Upon hearing Sherlock's answer, Hagrid immediately pulled his hand back.

"Though you're very clever, since you've never used it before, I should demonstrate first."

Hagrid spoke as he pinched a handful of glittering powder from the flowerpot and walked to the fireplace.

He didn't throw the powder directly into the flames but patiently explained to Sherlock:

"Remember, you need to step into the fire like I do.

First, close your eyes because you'll be smoked by the soot.

Then keep your arms close to your sides to prevent falling out of other grates.

Finally, speak the destination clearly."

After saying this, Hagrid threw the powder into the flames.

With a whoosh, the fire instantly turned emerald green and rose as high as Hagrid himself.

He stepped straight into the fire and shouted in his booming voice, "Knockturn Alley," and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Seeing this scene, Sherlock couldn't help but smile slightly: "Interesting."

As his understanding of the magical world deepened, interesting things were indeed becoming more numerous.

Sherlock looked around Hagrid's hut, then grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and scattered it into the fire like Hagrid had done, stepping into it.

He didn't speak immediately.

The suddenly rising flames brought up a wave of hot air.

Opening his mouth at this moment would easily result in inhaling a mouthful of scorching ash.

His own discomfort would be a minor matter, but if he choked and mispronounced a word, he might end up somewhere else entirely.

After all, Hagrid had said one must speak the destination clearly.

"Knockturn Alley."

After speaking calmly, Sherlock instantly felt himself being sucked into a massive whirlpool.

This sensation was very peculiar, somewhat similar to passing through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and the black flames in the series of rooms protecting the Philosopher's Stone.

But upon closer experience, it was different.

His body spun at high speed, the roaring sound was deafening, and his arms kept colliding with hard substances.

He didn't close his eyes, so he could see the spinning green flames and a series of grates flashing by rapidly, even glimpsing rooms through the fireplaces.

After half a minute, the spinning sensation finally stopped.

Sensing he was about to fall face-first to the ground, Sherlock steadied his center of gravity in advance and ultimately stood firmly on the cold stone floor.

Without doubt, the destination was still a stone fireplace.

"Hey, Sherlock!"

Hagrid, who had been waiting, reached out and pulled Sherlock out.

"You don't look at all like a wizard using Floo Powder for the first time!"

Hagrid said in his gruff voice, vigorously brushing the soot from Sherlock's body with such heavy-handed force that he nearly shoved him back into the fireplace.

Sherlock calmly stepped aside: "What should a wizard using Floo Powder for the first time look like?"

Hearing Sherlock's counter-question, Hagrid was stunned, then grinned sheepishly:

"I suppose they'd be dizzy, bruised, and covered in soot, haha!"

Sherlock sighed and looked around.

He found himself in a spacious but dim wizard shop.

It was different from the shops he'd seen in Diagon Alley.

The atmosphere here was distinctly eerie.

A glass case contained a withered human hand, a stack of bloodstained cards, and a motionless glass eyeball.

Several masks with fierce expressions hung on the wall, their features extremely lifelike, all gazing downward.

Various skulls sat on the counter, and with Sherlock's knowledge, he could tell at a glance that these bones came from human bodies.

This couldn't help but generate considerable interest in this place.

It seemed Knockturn Alley was more suitable for him than Diagon Alley.

"This is Borgin and Burkes, an antique shop in Knockturn Alley."

Seeing Sherlock's gaze, Hagrid spontaneously began explaining. "People can buy many things here, like the slug repellent I want.

There are also poisonous candles, large spiders, dead men's nails, shrunken heads, and other Dark Arts objects..."

When he said this, Hagrid's face suddenly showed a horrified expression.

"I shouldn't have told you that!"

He blurted out, "Forget what I said! Sherlock, forget it all!"

"Calm down, Hagrid."

Sherlock patted Hagrid's knee, saying somewhat helplessly, "Even if you hadn't said anything, I could see it myself."

Only then did Hagrid realize—that was indeed the case.

"Ah, Mr. Hagrid, long time no see!"

Just then, a man appeared behind the counter.

Besides being hunchbacked, his most notable feature was his very greasy hair, which immediately reminded Sherlock of Professor Snape.

As for his appearance... better left unsaid.

"Hey, Mr. Borgin!"

Hagrid slapped the man's shoulder, making his already short body shrink even more.

Mr. Borgin's body trembled, and from his appearance, it wasn't hard to see he was somewhat angry but didn't dare speak.

However, once Mr. Borgin opened his mouth, he immediately gave off an oily, smooth-talking impression, just like his hair.

"Welcome, Mr. Hagrid, it's truly pleasant to see you again—what can I do for you?"

"I need some slug repellent."

Hagrid said in his rumbling voice, withdrawing his large hand, which made Mr. Borgin feel relieved.

"No problem! Just common slugs—I must show you the strong potion that just came in today, very reasonably priced..."

Then he began haggling with Hagrid.

Although Hagrid was wealthy, he was surprisingly skilled at bargaining.

Even though Mr. Borgin was an obvious swindler, he still couldn't take much advantage of Hagrid, which left him somewhat dejected.

After Hagrid was satisfied with his pest repellent, Mr. Borgin asked again: "Mr. Hagrid, do you need anything else?"

"I think..."

Hagrid opened his mouth, about to tell the man he was here to investigate a case, when Sherlock's voice rang out in time:

"What is this?"

Hagrid quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

That was close—he'd almost let it slip.

Really, why couldn't he control his mouth!

If the situation weren't inappropriate, he would have wanted to give himself a hard slap.

Fortunately, Mr. Borgin hadn't noticed any of this.

Seeing Sherlock pointing at the withered human hand on the cushion in the glass case, he immediately exclaimed and left Hagrid to come before Sherlock.

"You have excellent taste, sir!

This is a Hand of Glory. Just insert a candle, and only the person holding it can see the light—it's a thief and burglar's best friend."

Sherlock showed a thoughtful expression: "Called the Hand of Glory, yet it's a thief and burglar's best friend?"

"Exactly! Quite interesting, isn't it? You're very lucky to encounter such rare merchandise right upon arrival!"

At this point, Mr. Borgin looked Sherlock over twice.

Seeing his young, unfamiliar face, he tentatively asked: "Actually, I've been wanting to ask—who might this gentleman be?"

"Sigerson, Hagrid's friend."

Sherlock looked at Mr. Borgin with a half-smile, "What, does shopping at Borgin and Burkes require registering one's name?"

"Ah... of course not, it's just that Mr. Sigerson seems unfamiliar, so I asked."

Mr. Borgin quickly said, afraid of losing this business.

"Hagrid, it seems the place you recommended isn't much good!"

Sherlock turned to look at Hagrid, speaking in a disappointed tone, "You told me before that at Borgin and Burkes, there's nothing people can't think of that they won't dare sell here."

"Huh?"

Hagrid looked at Sherlock with complete bewilderment.

'When did I say that? How come I don't remember?'

But Mr. Borgin, hearing this, immediately puffed out his chest proudly: "Mr. Hagrid didn't say anything wrong—there's nothing people can't think of that we won't dare sell here!"

"Hmph, but now it seems to be just empty reputation. For a mere Hand of Glory, you still want to find out the buyer's name. How disappointing!"

"Ah!"

"Hagrid, it looks like you're going to lose to me this time!

Speaking of which, you shouldn't have bet against me!

This time you're going to lose a full five Galleons to me!"

"What?!"

Hagrid continued looking completely bewildered.

'When did I bet with you? How come I don't know about it?'

Mr. Borgin, who had originally felt regret about losing a sale, was immediately attracted by the enormous bet of "five Galleons."

"Oh, esteemed Mr. Sigerson, may I ask what bet you made with Mr. Hagrid?"

"Hmph, Hagrid told me that the shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley are all well-informed and can identify origins just from some light spots—how is that possible!"

Sherlock said, casually throwing the summer Ophiuchus star chart that Hermione had recalibrated and redrawn onto the counter.

Just after throwing it on the counter, Sherlock seemed to regret it and tried to take it back.

"Ah, what am I doing, showing you this!"

However, someone moved faster than him.

Mr. Borgin pressed down on the star chart, "Wait, just a moment!"

His gaze was greedy as he licked his lips, "Mr. Sigerson, you just said... if someone can identify where this comes from, you'll lose five Galleons to Mr. Hagrid?"

"Yes, so what?"

Sherlock said with an unconvinced expression, "But this has nothing to do with you—Hagrid, let's go!"

"I can identify it."

"What did you say?"

Sherlock stopped pulling back the star chart and looked up at Mr. Borgin.

That perfectly timed hint of surprise made Mr. Borgin almost cry out in excitement.

"I can identify it," he said, trying hard to suppress his excitement as he stared at Sherlock, "I know where it comes from."