Chapter 202: I Come Second Only to Heaven

Chapter 202: I Come Second Only to Heaven

Sherlock had been in this world for over two years, during which time he had not only studied Spells but also delved deeply into the history of the Wizarding World.

Especially the history of Hogwarts.

According to legend, the four Wizards and Witches who founded Hogwarts each left behind valuable relics associated with themselves.

Before seeing the Sword of Gryffindor with his own eyes, Sherlock had considered it a mere legend, much like the Deathly Hallows in The Tales of Beedle the Bard, not to be taken too seriously.

But if Gryffindor could leave behind a sword, the other three founders might have left behind valuable relics as well.

The golden cup adorned with a carved badger on the shelf in the Lestrange family vault naturally made Sherlock think of Helga Hufflepuff, the founder of Hufflepuff House!

The fact that it triggered the Crescent Mark on his arm left no doubt that it was a Horcrux.

Would someone as proud and ambitious as Voldemort use something mundane and nameless to create a Horcrux?

If Hufflepuff's Golden Cup could be used to make a Horcrux, and Gryffindor's Sword was always protected by Dumbledore, there was a good chance that Voldemort had obtained and hidden the relics of Ravenclaw and Slytherin somewhere unknown.

In this vault, Sherlock not only acquired the golden cup but also expanded his information on other Horcrux leads.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips; his trip to Gringotts had not been in vain.

Although he had no intention of touching the cup himself, even if the Fiendfyre Curse and Duplication Charm were triggered, Sherlock had ways to handle them without sustaining any harm. However, doing so would alert Ragnok, who was standing guard outside the door.

He used Control Magic to lift the golden cup from the shelf and then took out a wooden box he had prepared in advance, placing the cup inside.

After securing the Horcrux, Sherlock turned his attention to the other treasures in the vault.

While he didn't place much value on these riches, he certainly didn't want to leave them here.

Voldemort's return was inevitable, and when Bella and the others escaped from Azkaban, they would undoubtedly take this money if it remained here.

Sherlock wouldn't do anything that could indirectly aid the enemy, but he also lacked the means to take all the treasure at once.

He selected a few items at random, intending to study the Fiendfyre Curse and Duplication Charm on them. Once he found a way to remove these Spells, he would return.

Having completed his mission, Sherlock walked out of the vault with a cold expression.

"Have you obtained what you needed, sir?"

Ragnok asked, glancing into the vault with his peripheral vision, noting that no protective Spells had been triggered.

"Should I report to Gringotts what I took?" Sherlock's attitude remained poor, and a sudden improvement would have been more surprising.

Ragnok closed the vault door and returned the key to Sherlock.

"No, of course not, sir."

They climbed back into the cart and rode back to the Gringotts lobby without further conversation. Ragnok bowed and escorted Sherlock out.

A goblin who was carefully weighing gemstones on a scale glanced at Ragnok as he walked over to rest.

"Is everything okay with the Lestrange Family?"

Ragnok nodded.

"Indeed, it's someone from the Lestrange Family."

"Who would have thought this family still has members who haven't been caught and sent to Azkaban?"

"Keep your voice down. Who knows if they deserve to be there?"

After leaving Gringotts, Sherlock did not linger in Diagon Alley. Instead, he used Apparition to return to Hogwarts.

Removing his disguise, he did not go to his office or seek out Dumbledore. Instead, he took the golden cup to Eddie's grave deep in the Forbidden Forest.

This place was remote, far from the Centaurs' territory, and unlikely to be disturbed by anyone.

Sherlock took the golden cup out of the wooden box and drew his wand, carefully tapping it on the cup.

The Duplication Charm and Fiendfyre Curse attached to it were far from ordinary spells.

These were unique to goblins, and wizards found them particularly difficult to break.

But before Sherlock could even think of a countermeasure, the two goblin spells on the cup began to lose their effect on their own.

Sherlock closely observed the reaction of the spells and realized that they only worked within the confines of Gringotts. Once the object was removed from Gringotts, the Fiendfyre Curse and the Duplication Charm, which had been quite troublesome, lost their power.

This certainly saved Sherlock a lot of effort.

He didn't hesitate, reaching out to the golden cup.

The Crescent Mark on his left arm suddenly burned intensely. Before Sherlock could utter a spell, a cold, dark mist seemed to sense something and abruptly rose from the cup!

Sherlock was not unfamiliar with this dark mist, having experienced it firsthand just a few days ago.

The mist spread above the golden cup and quickly formed a handsome yet grotesque human face!

"Do you know what you're doing!"

Sherlock's hand remained on the cup, and he looked at Riddle's face, which still had a nose, without showing any signs of panic.

"Oh? Do you have any last words to say?" he asked calmly.

A Horcrux itself had no real combat ability. Last year, the diary that had wreaked havoc at Hogwarts, absorbing the energy of Neville and Percy, had only managed to manifest physically and control the Basilisk. So even seeing Voldemort, Sherlock wasn't worried.

The grotesque face looked at Sherlock, and its expression suddenly softened.

A unique, seductive voice emerged from the dark mist.

"All you want is power, Sherlock, and that is something we share. Find me, find the part of me that is slowly regaining strength. I will give you everything you desire. If you join me, you can learn all the knowledge in the wizarding world. What can Dumbledore offer you? Only vague, empty words. If you like Hogwarts, I can even make you the future headmaster, as long as you submit to me and join our ranks."

Sherlock had deliberately studied Occlumency, but this magic required years of practice to master, and he wasn't yet an Occlumency master.

Under normal circumstances, his current skill level would have been sufficient, but Voldemort was Voldemort. Even as a fragment of a soul in a Horcrux, he possessed formidable Legilimency abilities.

Voldemort could clearly see all of Sherlock's surface thoughts, except for the deepest, most protected memories.

" Hmm, that does sound tempting", Sherlock said, his hand still on the cup, and he nodded as if considering it. "But there's one thing I want right now."

The face formed by the dark mist smiled at Sherlock and spoke in a raspy but not low voice.

"Whatever you desire, I can give you! Power! Knowledge! Wealth! Women! Authority! Everything! Submit to me, Sherlock!"

Sherlock's face also held a smile, a bright and radiant one.

"Since you're being so generous, how about you give yourself to me, Riddle."

"Of course!" Voldemort's fragment eagerly agreed, but then he sensed something was wrong. The face formed by the dark mist looked bewildered. "What? Me?"

Sherlock didn't waste any more words, quietly uttering a complex spell.

A gray light suddenly illuminated the point where his hand touched the cup!

The moment the light appeared, the fragment of Voldemort's soul in the cup finally realized what Sherlock was about to do!

"Who taught you this magic!"

He screamed, the fear and unease in his voice evident to anyone.

"How dare you! Do you know what you're doing? Do you know what you're doing?"

Sherlock's face remained cold, and he ignored Voldemort's cries.

The gray light had already completely enveloped the cup, and the black mist extending from it was being forcefully compressed, as if by an invisible hand, squeezing Voldemort's fragment and kneading it into a thin, elongated thread!

"You demon! You will not die a good death! Demon!!!"

Voldemort's final scream gradually grew weaker, until it finally faded into complete silence.

Sherlock felt an intense burning sensation in his arm, but he had no time to worry about it. The feeling of absorbing Voldemort's residual soul from the Diary once again surged in his heart, and this time it was even more intense!

His entire body levitated in the air, and within a ten-meter radius centered on Sherlock, everything seemed to have stopped moving!

Leaves that were falling from the branches froze mid-air, the ants on the ground that were moving their nest stood completely still, and even the wind ceased. Beyond the ten-meter mark, everything remained normal, as if it were a different world.

At this moment, Sherlock felt like he was the master of all creation!

If heaven was the first, he was the second!

What was Voldemort, but a noseless old monster barking madly?

If he so desired, he could erase Voldemort from existence without lifting a finger.

Sherlock, floating in mid-air, slowly opened his eyes.

His originally emerald eyes now glowed with a golden light!

The light was so captivating, but at that moment, no one was there to see it.

In Sherlock's perception, he felt an indescribable wonder.

It was a sensation he couldn't put into words, but he could immediately try to control it.

The world within the ten-meter radius resumed its activity.

The wind resumed its blowing, the leaves continued to fall, and the ants resumed their moving, as if they had never stopped.

He gently extended one of his hands, making no visible movements, not even a wand gesture or a spell. Just a simple thought arose in his mind.

The large, leafy tree in front of him suddenly began to twist and warp!

It was as if it were a lump of clay, malleable and ready to be reshaped according to his will.

Flowers, grass, stones, pigs, cows, horses, and sheep.

In an instant, the tree transformed into these shapes multiple times, following his every thought.

But it didn't stop there.

Sherlock's mind flickered with a thought, and a nearby explosion followed, sending a wave of dirt into the air. A bird flying past the tree was suddenly hit by a stunning spell and fell onto the soft grass. A sneaky rat started to dance uncontrollably, its body jerking wildly!

In the next moment, it was as if a breeze had passed through.

The crater caused by the explosion healed, the bird woke up in confusion and took flight again, and the rat's body returned to normal, scampering away in fear.

Sherlock stared at his hand in amazement, still in a daze. Suddenly, his body plummeted to the ground.

The wondrous sensation faded, and he returned to being the ordinary Sherlock. The incredible things that had just happened seemed as if they had nothing to do with him.

The last time he "ate" Voldemort's residual soul from the Diary, his injuries were too severe for him to fully experience the feeling of his soul being repaired.

But now, he truly and completely experienced it.

The sensation was indescribable, as if he had become the absolute ruler of a limited area.

All the laws of nature had to conform to his will, and any changes in the world required his approval!

Sherlock, now back to normal, sat on the ground, his expression thoughtful as he relived that feeling.

But soon, he snapped out of his reverie and shook his head.

No matter how powerful he had been at that moment, it wasn't his own strength. Indulging in it would do him no good and might even make him forget his true purpose.

Once he had come to this realization, he let out a long breath, feeling better mentally than he ever had before.

He drew his wand and casually waved it at a nearby blade of grass, which instantly shattered into countless pieces.

It was a Silent Crushing Charm, and Sherlock could clearly feel that the strength of the spell he cast directly was significantly greater than before.

He then extended his Control Magic.

Although the range was still limited to ten meters, he could clearly sense a difference.

Previously, his Control Magic was mostly used to manipulate physical objects, and he cast magic through his wand.

But now, he could use Control Magic itself to perform some spells that weren't too advanced, without the need for a wand.

Sherlock looked up at a bowtruckle climbing up a branch and softly uttered the spell.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Without any visible magic beam, the bowtruckle suddenly froze in place.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end