The dark gold locket swayed gently in the sunlight, reflecting a slightly dazzling light.
Sherlock frowned as he looked at it, as if he had discovered something.
"Do you get the feeling that this thing looks a bit newer than when I first got it?"
Hearing his words, Hilke walked over to Sherlock and took the locket from his hand.
She didn't examine it with her eyes, but instead used a peculiar method to sense it.
Because the locket could not leave Sherlock's neck, the distance between them was very close. Sherlock could even feel Hilke's warm breath, and he unconsciously leaned back against the chair.
"It has become somewhat different from when you first got it."
Hilke concluded.
Sherlock also recalled what Professor Dumbledore had said back then.
"Professor Dumbledore said that, from what we can tell, this thing doesn't seem to be harmful, but the unknown is also troublesome. He could sense that it was slowly repairing itself—or perhaps recharging itself."
"If it is repairing itself, then when it finishes and the day comes that it can be opened, that should also be the day you can take it off."
That was all the information they had been able to gather about the locket.
After Hilke returned and shared everything she had learned with Sherlock, she had to return to the German Ministry of Magic.
She also needed to be present during Fedetick's interrogation. If they could get that evil monster to explain why it wanted the locket, they might uncover some crucial clues.
"I don't think your thanks last time were sincere enough. Want to try again?"
Before she left, Sherlock raised an eyebrow, opened his arms, and spoke jokingly.
Hearing his words, Hilke stood still for a moment before, to Sherlock's astonishment, walking over and gently hugging him.
This time, she didn't simply embrace him and step away. She held him for a long time.
Smelling the girl's fresh fragrance and feeling the warmth of her soft body in his arms, Sherlock found himself completely at a loss. He held his hands awkwardly in the air, unsure where to put them, and even began to stammer.
"I... I was joking."
"I know."
Hilke's voice remained as cold and ethereal as ever. Even though she was speaking right beside Sherlock's ear, she still seemed somehow out of reach. Yet the warmth of her breath reminded him that she was truly there.
"Last time was to thank you for helping me catch Fedetick."
Sherlock felt his ears itch, and he became so nervous he thought he might die.
He was only bold with his words. In reality, across two lifetimes, the only time he had ever held a girl's hand was during a group dance in primary school.
"An... and this time?"
"This time is to thank you for the Patronus Charm—for helping me let go of some things."
She said.
The sun slowly drifted westward across the sky. At that moment, the sunlight streamed through the window to the furthest corner of the room, illuminating Sherlock's slightly trembling back and the faint smile hidden beneath Hilke's hood.
The hug lasted a long time—so long that Sherlock's legs began to go numb from standing.
"Is it okay now?" Hilke seemed to notice him trembling even more.
"It... it... it's okay."
Hilke let go of Sherlock and turned to leave the office.
"When there's news from Fedetick, I'll come back and tell you immediately. Before then, even if you can open that box, I don't recommend opening it."
Sherlock leaned against the table and watched her leave. Only after she had gone did he collapse into the chair, trembling, staring blankly at the ceiling as though his soul had left his body.
After a long while, his vacant eyes gradually regained focus. He swung his hand sharply before gently patting his own mouth twice.
"Serves you right for being mouthy. Serves you right. Serves you right..."
...
Harry had already forgotten how he had returned from Hogsmeade.
He lay numbly on his bed, the conversations he had overheard in the pub constantly echoing in his mind.
"Inseparable—a pair of good partners, Sirius Black and James Potter!"
"You'd think Black and Potter were brothers!"
"Potter trusted Black more than any other friend. It was still like that after they graduated. When James and Lily got married, Black was the best man. Then they made Black Harry's godfather."
"Dumbledore suggested becoming the Potters' Secret Keeper himself, but James insisted on using Black."
"Black betrayed them. He got tired of pretending to be a double agent and openly declared his allegiance to You-Know-Who!"
"Filthy, stinking traitor!"
"He blew their other friend, Peter Pettigrew, to bits, leaving only a finger behind!"
The words of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and Minister for Magic Fudge constantly flashed through Harry's mind, making it impossible for him to find even a moment's peace.
He thought of Black's appearance in the photograph—that handsome, grinning man. His appearance and his heart couldn't have been more different. Was he already serving Lord Voldemort when that photograph was taken? Or was he already thinking about how to kill Harry's parents?
Night gradually fell, and Harry simply lay on his bed, lost in his thoughts. Because it was Christmas, he didn't have to go to Professor Cavendish's office to practise the Patronus Charm, so he remained in the dormitory the entire day.
Ron returned later and quietly called Harry's name, but Harry pretended to be asleep and ignored him.
In truth, he spent the entire night lost in thought. A poison called hatred seemed to flow through his entire body, leaving him unable to sleep.
He imagined Black standing before him, laughing madly and mocking how foolish his parents had been to trust him.
It wasn't until dawn began to brighten the sky that Harry finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
He slept until noon. By then, the Christmas holidays had begun, and the other Gryffindor students had already boarded the train home. Only Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained in the Common Room.
Harry's face was noticeably pale.
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances before trying to comfort him as they had agreed beforehand, but nothing they said had any effect.
Harry seemed to have been completely consumed by his hatred for Black.
Everything he said made it clear that he wanted revenge, which worried Ron and Hermione greatly.
To distract him, they decided to take Harry to visit Hagrid. When they arrived at Hagrid's hut, they found that Hagrid had troubles of his own.
Because the Hippogriff Buckbeak had scratched Malfoy during the first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term, Malfoy's father, Lucius, had filed a complaint with the Ministry of Magic and intended to take the matter to court.
Hagrid was devastated. He knew he had virtually no chance of winning the case, and Buckbeak's fate would almost certainly be execution.
This matter successfully distracted Harry from his thoughts of revenge. The three of them began searching through Hagrid's files, hoping to find something that might help him win the case.
And so it continued until Christmas Eve.
While Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still searching through documents that might help Hagrid, Sherlock walked out through the Hogwarts gates and began carefully selecting one of the Dementors guarding the school.
No one could say for certain how a Dementor thought.
What was certain, however, was that there was a hierarchy among them.
Even so, their leaders merely coordinated simple plans. Their minds were primitive, and they had no concept of collective identity.
They stayed together purely because gathering meant access to better food. Whether one of their own was bullied or killed meant nothing to them, nor did they feel any desire for revenge.
These were the conclusions the original owner had reached after personally spending a month in Azkaban.
Because of that, if one Dementor suddenly disappeared, the others would have no particular reaction. They probably wouldn't even notice.
This gave Sherlock the perfect opportunity to invite one of them to be a guest in his office.
Yes, today he intended to warmly invite a Dementor into Hogwarts Castle for tea. In weather this cold, patrolling outside must have been exhausting.
Under such warm hospitality, the honest Dementor would surely be delighted and willing to serve as his experimental subject and teaching aid for a few days.(TN: Suuuuure buddy.)
Imagining such a pleasant meeting between host and guest, Sherlock fixed his eyes on a lone Dementor drifting through the snow.
Concealed behind a tree, Sherlock quietly drew his wand and softly recited the incantation for the Patronus Charm.
However, he did not summon a Patronus.
Instead, only a few thin silver strands emerged from the tip of his wand, wrapping themselves around the Dementor under his control.
The Dementor floated there blankly. With its simple way of thinking, it couldn't understand what was happening.
Then the silver strands suddenly tightened, and wisps of grey smoke continuously rose from the places where they touched its body.
At the same time, Sherlock sprang out from behind the tree like a hunter spotting a rich prize. He pulled out a sack he had prepared in advance and threw it over the restrained Dementor.
Ordinary physical objects could not affect a being like a Dementor, so the sack served only as a cover. What truly restrained it were still the silver strands created by Sherlock's Patronus Charm.
Afterwards, he grandly escorted the Dementor back into Hogwarts Castle right in front of the other Dementors.
---
Note: As this week's drafts end, I bid you the best of luck surviving the sweltering excuse for bad weather that is summer.