HP: Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts

Sherlock had always been a bit sharp-tongued.

But ever since arriving at Hogwarts, the people he met had all been rather courteous.

Even Snape—who constantly targeted Gryffindor—still came off to Sherlock as a mean-spirited but ultimately kind man. Because of that, Sherlock's more acerbic side had yet to surface.

Until now.

Until Dumbledore tried to use his friend.

This time, it finally erupted.

To be fair, Sherlock wasn't opposed to using others.

He often used Harry and Hermione.

And if they ever wanted to use him in return, he wouldn't mind either.

But what Dumbledore was doing was clearly different.

Knowing full well that Quirrell might be a servant of Voldemort, and still allowing him into Hogwarts—that was putting Harry and the others right at the edge of life and death.

Sherlock's purpose in speaking so bluntly was clear:

If Dumbledore couldn't give him a good enough reason today, then he would no longer allow the headmaster to act as he pleased.

Faced with Sherlock's anger, Dumbledore was once again momentarily stunned.

He bowed his head, falling into deep thought.

After a long silence, he finally spoke:

"Saying that Voldemort fears me most is… giving me too much credit. He possesses a power I will never have.

As for my reasoning… If there's anyone who can truly kill Voldemort, that person can only be Harry."

The moment the words left Dumbledore's mouth, it was like lightning flashing across the sky—illuminating every cloud of doubt in Sherlock's mind.

In the two months since he'd come to the school, Sherlock had gradually grown disillusioned with the mystique of magic.

And now, in an instant, everything clicked into place.

"Only Harry? What sets him apart from the rest is… that he's the only person to have survived the Killing Curse.

Was it his parents who protected him, or something within the infant himself?

So your confidence lies in that scar?

Or perhaps… in some spell that still protects him even now?"

As these thoughts raced through his mind, Sherlock blurted them out. And with every word, the expression on Dumbledore's face grew more complicated.

That feeling of déjà vu he'd had earlier became even stronger.

Dumbledore's thoughts drifted once more to that summer in Godric's Hollow.

At this moment, he even thought… Sherlock might be sharper than that old friend of his.

"I was right, wasn't I?"

Just from Dumbledore's expression, Sherlock knew his deduction had hit the mark again.

"Yes, my boy," Dumbledore said softly. "You weren't wrong at all."

He looked at Sherlock and continued, "I believe you're familiar with the prophecy concerning the savior of the wizarding world?"

Hearing the word "prophecy," Sherlock answered without hesitation:

"The boy born at the end of July, to parents who had defied the Dark Lord three times, would have the power to vanquish him."

Hermione had found that line in the library.

Though it was secondhand information, the result had more or less validated it.

"The gist is correct," Dumbledore nodded, "but not entirely accurate."

He sighed deeply.

"The full prophecy reads: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....'"

Sherlock immediately honed in on the key point.

"'Mark him as his equal'?"

"Exactly."

Dumbledore smiled. "You noticed it, as I expected."

"Neville Longbottom's birthday is only one day before Harry's," Sherlock said directly. "So in the end, it was Voldemort himself who chose the identity of the savior?"

"Yes. There were two possible candidates who matched the prophecy, but Voldemort chose Harry."

Dumbledore's expression grew complex. "That night, Harry's mother gave her life to protect him. She cast an ancient magic fueled by the most powerful force in this world—love.

The Killing Curse rebounded on Voldemort, and he vanished.

Harry became the only known person to survive the Killing Curse.

And that ancient protection spell… is still shielding him to this day."

"So that's your confidence?"

Even though the full truth had now come to light, Sherlock still wasn't satisfied.

"I think you should know—older magic doesn't always mean stronger magic."

"Don't worry," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "That spell will wear off one day, but that time hasn't come yet—"

"Because it needs blood ties to sustain it, correct?"

Sherlock cut him off before he could finish.

"That's why you insisted on placing Harry with the Dursleys. Because they're his only surviving blood relatives."

Dumbledore stared at Sherlock, speechless.

He had no words left.

Sherlock's performance today had completely exceeded his expectations.

As he looked at the boy before him, a sudden thought crossed the old headmaster's mind:

"Do you see this, Gellert? There's a genius here who might even surpass you."

And then he remembered Harry—who had survived Voldemort's Killing Curse.

He thought of McGonagall's request to allow Harry to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a first-year.

His thoughts spun further.

"And now there are two of them, Gellert…"

Even with all of Sherlock's reasoning, it was impossible for him to guess what Dumbledore was thinking in that moment.

Seeing the headmaster's momentary daze, Sherlock furrowed his brows.

"So aside from all this… the reason you want Harry to face Voldemort—is it because you can't kill him?"

Sherlock's words yanked Dumbledore back from that distant summer.

He looked at the boy deeply, his tone now somber:

"I've come to believe that even if Voldemort is killed, he may find another way to return—perhaps even stronger than before."

"So your whole explanation about not abandoning former students was just one reason?"

Sherlock pressed on. "The real key is that you need Harry to confront Voldemort himself. Only then can you determine whether that protection spell truly works—and how powerful it actually is."

"Sherlock," Dumbledore said gently, "as you yourself pointed out, the others are my students too, aren't they?"

He finally smiled again. "Rest assured—Harry won't be alone. He has more than just me looking out for him."

"You mean Professor Snape?"

"Oh? I'm glad we agree on that."

"No," Sherlock replied flatly. "I believe Professor Snape is actually more practical than you."

"If only Harry could think the same way you do."

"I think we should change the subject."

"…Would you care for a Cockroach Cluster?"

"No, thank you."

"Pity… I'm glad Harry has a friend like you. As for whether or not to tell him about Quirrell—I'll leave that up to you. But I hope you'll keep our agreement to yourself."

"Fine. So what exactly did you put on the fourth floor?"

"The Philosopher's Stone. It's used to create the Elixir of Life. I'm sure you understand now why Quirrell would be interested in it… Still not tempted by the cockroach candy?"

"Next question."

"Alright then. Petunia—Harry's aunt—once hoped to become a witch like her sister. She even wrote to me."

"Let me guess. You rejected her."

"Sherlock, you must understand… such things require talent. Don't like cockroach candy? How about a glass of honey water?"

"Let's just move on again."

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