Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts

"This is truly amazing!" Hagrid circled around Sherlock, clicking his tongue in wonder.

Sherlock's performance had already shattered his understanding.

To be able to disguise oneself as another person without using Polyjuice Potion?

This was simply too un-magical!

Just by adding a wig and beard, and changing his height and skin color, Hagrid almost couldn't recognize Sherlock without careful observation.

Sherlock's movements and demeanor at this moment were completely different from his usual self, showing no hint that he was a first-year student at a magic school.

After marveling for a while, Hagrid brought a flowerpot to Sherlock's face, preparing to have Sherlock try it, when he suddenly seemed to remember something and asked:

"Have you ever used Floo Powder before?"

"No."

"Then I should go first!"

Hearing Sherlock's answer, Hagrid immediately retracted his hand.

"Although you're very clever, since you've never used it before, I still need to give you a demonstration first."

As Hagrid spoke, he pinched a bit of sparkling powder from the flowerpot and walked to the fireplace.

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

"Remember, you need to walk into the fire like this.

First, close your eyes, because you'll get soot in them.

Then, clamp your arms to your sides to prevent falling out of another fireplace.

Finally, clearly pronounce the name of your destination."

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

With a whoosh, the flames instantly turned emerald green, rising as high as Hagrid.

He walked straight into the fire, shouted "Knockturn Alley" in a loud voice, 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, there were indeed more and more interesting things.

Sherlock glanced around Hagrid's hut, grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder, threw it into the fire like Hagrid, and then stepped into it.

He didn't speak immediately.

Because the instantly rising flames brought a gust of hot wind.

Opening his mouth at this time would easily lead to inhaling a mouthful of hot, sooty dust.

His own discomfort was a small matter, but if he mispronounced a word after choking, he might end up in the wrong place.

After all, Hagrid had said that he needed to clearly pronounce the name of the destination.

"Knockturn Alley."

After calmly speaking, Sherlock instantly felt himself being sucked into a huge vortex.

His body rotated at high speed, the whistling sound was deafening, and his arms collided with hard objects continuously.

He didn't close his eyes, so he could see the swirling green flames and a series of fireplaces flashing past quickly, and he could even see the rooms outside through the fireplaces.

After half a minute, this spinning sensation stopped.

When he felt the premonition of falling face-first onto the ground, Sherlock steadied his center of gravity in advance, and finally stood firmly on the cold stone floor.

Without a doubt, the destination was still a stone fireplace.

"Hey, Sherlock!"

Hagrid reached out and pulled Sherlock out.

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

Hagrid said gruffly, vigorously brushing the soot off Sherlock's body, the heavy-handed force almost shoving him back into the fireplace.

Sherlock subtly dodged to the side: "What should a wizard using Floo Powder for the first time look like?"

Hearing Sherlock's question, Hagrid was stunned for a moment, then grinned sheepishly:

"I guess, they should be dizzy from the fall, bruised, and covered in soot, hahaha!"

Sherlock sighed and looked around.

He found that this was a spacious and dimly lit wizarding shop.

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

The atmosphere here was obviously a bit eerie.

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

Several hideous masks hung on the wall, their expressions extremely lifelike, all looking down condescendingly.

The counter was filled with all kinds of skulls, which Sherlock, with his common sense, immediately recognized as being from human bodies.

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

In this way, it seemed that 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 voluntarily explained, "People can buy a lot of things here, such as the slug repellent I want.

And poison candles, giant spiders, dead man's fingers, shrunken heads, these dark magic items…"

When he said this, a look of horror suddenly appeared on Hagrid's face.

"I shouldn't have told you this!"

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

"Calm down, Hagrid."

Sherlock patted Hagrid's knee and said helplessly, "Even if you didn't say it, I could have seen it myself."

Hagrid then realized—it seemed that was really the case.

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

Just then, a man appeared behind the counter.

Besides being hunched over, his most prominent feature was his greasy hair, which immediately reminded Sherlock of Professor Snape.

As for his appearance… the less said the better.

"Hey, Mr. Borgin!"

Hagrid slapped the other man's shoulder, making his already short body even shorter.

Mr. Borgin shuddered, and it was easy to see from his appearance that he was a little angry but dared not speak.

Although that was the case, once Mr. Borgin started talking, he immediately gave people a smooth-talking feeling, just like his hair.

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

"I need some slug repellent."

Hagrid said in a deep voice, while retracting his large hand, which made Mr. Borgin feel a sense of relief.

"No problem! It's just slugs—I must show you the potent potion that just came in today, the price is very fair…"

Then he began to haggle with Hagrid.

Although Hagrid was rich, he was particularly skilled at bargaining.

Even though Mr. Borgin was an obvious profiteer, he still couldn't take too much advantage of Hagrid, which couldn't help but make him a little frustrated.

Once Hagrid happily got the repellent, Mr. Borgin asked again: "Mr. Hagrid, do you need anything else?"

"I think…"

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

"What is this?"

Hagrid quickly reached out and covered his mouth.

How dangerous, he almost blurted it out.

Really, why can't I control this mouth!

If it weren't for the wrong occasion, he would have even wanted to slap himself hard.

Fortunately, Mr. Borgin didn't notice any of this.

He saw Sherlock pointing at the withered human hand on the cushion in the glass case, and immediately exclaimed, dropping Hagrid to come to Sherlock's front.

"You have a good eye, sir!

This is the Hand of Glory, as long as you put a candle in it, only the person holding it can see the light—it's the best friend of thieves and robbers."

Sherlock revealed a thoughtful look: "Named the Hand of Glory, but it's the best friend of thieves and robbers?"

"That's right! Isn't it interesting? You're really lucky, you came across this rare item as soon as you arrived!"

Mr. Borgin said here, and looked at Sherlock again.

Looking at his young and unfamiliar face, he tentatively asked: "Actually, I wanted to ask just now, I wonder who this gentleman is?"

"Sigerson, Hagrid's friend."

Sherlock looked at Mr. Borgin with a smile that was not a smile, "What, does spending money at Borgin and Burkes require registering your name?"

"Ah… of course not, it's just that I think Mr. Sigerson looks a little unfamiliar, so I just asked."

Mr. Borgin said quickly, for fear of losing this business.

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

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

"Ah?"

Hagrid looked at Sherlock with a bewildered expression.

When did I say that, why don't I even know myself?

On the other hand, Mr. Borgin immediately puffed out his chest proudly when he heard this: "Mr. Hagrid is not wrong at all, there's only what people can't think of, and nothing we dare not sell here!"

"Hmph, but now it seems that it's just empty talk, just a mere Hand of Glory, and you even want to find out the buyer's name, it's really disappointing!"

"Ah!"

"Hagrid, it seems that you're going to lose to me this time!

Speaking of which, you shouldn't have gambled with me!

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

"Ah? !"

Hagrid continued to look bewildered.

When did I gamble with you, why don't I even know myself?

Mr. Borgin, who had originally felt regret for losing a business, was immediately attracted by the huge bet of "five Galleons" upon hearing this sentence.

“Oh, Mr. Sigerson, if I may be so bold, what sort of wager did you make with Mr. Hagrid?”

“Hmph, Hagrid told me that the shopkeepers of Knockturn Alley are all knowledgeable and can discern the origin of mere light spots—how could such a thing be possible!”

As Sherlock spoke, he casually tossed the Summer Ophiuchus Constellation Chart, which had been re-corrected and drawn by Hermione, onto the counter.

Just as he tossed it onto the counter, Sherlock seemed to regret it and tried to take it back.

“Ah, I’m really something, why did I show you this!”

However, someone else moved faster than him.

Mr. Borgin pressed down on the constellation chart, “Wait, just a moment!”

His eyes were greedy as he licked his lips. “Mr. Sigerson, you just said… if someone could recognize where it came from, you would lose five Galleons to Mr. Hagrid?”

“Yes, so what?”

Sherlock said with a displeased expression, “But that’s none of your business—Hagrid, let’s go!”

“I can recognize it.”

“What did you say?”

Sherlock stopped trying to retrieve the constellation chart, and looked up at Mr. Borgin.

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

“I can recognize it,” he said, trying his best to suppress the excitement in his heart, staring at Sherlock. “I know where it comes from.”