https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-202-I-Come-Second-Only-to-Heaven/13458412/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-204-Amy-and-John-Vera-and-Sherlock/13458414/
Chapter 203: The Founder's Relic
Chapter 203: The Founder's Relic
Sherlock stared at the bowtruckle frozen by the petrification spell, feeling a sense of awe.
He recalled the invincible state he had just experienced, casting the Explosive Charm, Stunning Spell, and Dancing Spell with a mere thought.
Then, with another thought, he erased all the effects of those spells.
He couldn't achieve such results now, but without a wand, he didn't even have a visible magic beam. He simply moved his lips to utter the spells, and they immediately took effect on the intended target.
This made Sherlock feel an incredible sense of wonder about himself.
While he could use Control Magic to perform some simple transfigurations and minor spells, even a moderately skilled wizard could do these things wandlessly and wordlessly.
But this petrification spell was different.
Flipping through the entire thick volume of the History of Magic, there was no record of a wizard achieving such a level of control.
In a sense, this was already the realm of word becoming deed!
Sherlock pondered, then spoke the spell again.
"Spell stop."
The moment the words left his lips, the bowtruckle, which had been frozen in place on the branch, returned to normal. It seemed startled and quickly scurried to the highest branch, glaring down at Sherlock with its small eyes.
Sherlock paid no attention to its emotions and instead turned his gaze to a small, inexplicably dead tree.
"Reducing Charm."
"Bang!"
The spell took effect, and the dry tree trunk shattered on the spot, sending wood chips flying everywhere. Large chunks of wood fell to the ground, broken into pieces.
This Reducing Charm allowed him to see more clearly the strength of using spells with Control Magic.
It was very weak, even weaker than when he used Control Magic to direct his wand.
Moreover, it consumed a lot of energy. Just a petrification spell, a Standard Disenchantment, and a Reducing Charm had left Sherlock feeling fatigued.
Clearly, this method couldn't be used frequently.
But even so, it still filled Sherlock with immense excitement.
He understood the significance of this ability. The hardest part of any endeavor is the initial step from nothing to something.
Whether it was powerful or not was one thing, but the ability itself was another matter entirely.
Besides, there were certainly other Horcruxes waiting for him, and the potential for improving this ability was vast.
Feeling elated, Sherlock sat by Eddie's grave and chatted with him for a while, saying things like, "Don't worry, I'll take care of your daughter", and "I haven't forgotten about avenging you. One day, I'll send her down to you so you can see her suffer."
The sun gradually sank to the horizon.
Seeing that it was getting late, he got up from the ground, snapped his fingers, and muttered, "Cleaning Charm" to clear the dirt from his robe. He picked up the cracked golden cup and walked out of the Forbidden Forest.
Back at Hogwarts Castle, Sherlock went straight to Dumbledore's office and placed the broken golden cup in front of him.
"This is the second one."
Dumbledore's gaze was deep as he examined the golden cup, immediately recognizing its origin.
"Helga Hufflepuff's relic."
"According to legend, the four founders of Hogwarts each left behind their most precious relics: Gryffindor's Sword, Hufflepuff's Golden Cup. What are the other two?" Sherlock asked.
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Only the descendants of those two founders are likely to know. But Ravenclaw's relic might be the crown that bestows wisdom."
"You’re guessing. Since Riddle managed to turn Hufflepuff's Golden Cup into a Horcrux, he might have done the same with the other two unknown relics."
With his wisdom, Dumbledore naturally thought along the same lines as Sherlock.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"Especially since he himself is a descendant of Slytherin."
Dumbledore lightly tapped his left hand with the fingers of his right hand and said softly,
"I plan to visit Tom's hometown in a while."
Sherlock asked in surprise,
"Does he still have living family members?"
Dumbledore seemed to recall something, his eyes reflecting a hint of reminiscence.
"His uncle was still alive, but he was imprisoned in Azkaban for killing three Muggles in the same town. He eventually died of illness in that prison."
"However, I believe we might find something in the place where his family lived. Would you be interested in coming with me, Sherlock?"
He extended the invitation, but Sherlock did not immediately accept.
"Wait until you've set the date. I'm not sure if I'll have other commitments."
They talked about other things for a while, and then Sherlock left the Headmaster's Office.
After he left, Dumbledore folded his hands on the table, his expression unreadable.
"The founders' relics", he murmured to himself, then suddenly spoke to the empty office, "Phineas, could you please fetch Lady Gray for me?"
In the portraits of the former headmasters on the wall, a gaunt old man opened his sleepy eyes, grumbled a few complaints, and then disappeared from his frame.
Summer vacation officially began.
Sherlock did not take the Hogwarts Express back, as it would have been a whole day's journey.
He used Apparition to arrive directly at the front door of his home on Magnolia Crescent. Just as he was about to take out his key to open the door, his gaze was drawn to something.
It was the neighbor's yard. Sherlock spent only about two months at home each year, so he had little interaction with the neighbors.
He vaguely remembered that the woman in the house to his left was fond of red maple trees. She had planted two in her yard and even built a swing between them for her daughter. In autumn, the golden maple leaves falling from the trees created a beautiful scene.
It was summer now, and the two red maple trees were lush and full. But what caught his attention was not the rustling red leaves, but the numerous old pinwheels hanging from the treetops.
Sherlock stared wide-eyed at the familiar pinwheels, which spun "whoosh" in the gentle breeze, his mouth agape as if he had seen something incredible.
"Pretty, aren't they?"
A very familiar voice sounded behind him.
Sherlock didn't turn around, still fixated on the tree full of pinwheels.
"How much did you pay to buy this yard?"
The owner of the voice tilted his head, seemingly calculating the exact amount.
"Without taxes and other fees, the family received about 200,000 pounds."
(End of Chapter)
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