Chapter 247: What Sherlock Feared
Chapter 247: What Sherlock Feared
The dim light was not swallowed by the endless darkness surrounding it.
That light, like a flickering lantern adrift in the vast sea, was noticeable but always at risk of being extinguished by the waves.
But Sherlock was not the least bit complacent. He knew that the battered kerosene lamp was not a fragile lantern that could be capsized by a mere wave, but a deep-sea angler lurking in the water, ready to open its sharp teeth and hunt at any moment.
All the Wands scattered around him had quietly aimed at the spot where the kerosene lamp was lit.
A strange, strained voice, as if both screaming and suppressing, suddenly echoed through the darkness.
"You! You destroyed it!"
The statement was abrupt and disjointed, but Sherlock didn't need more than a few seconds to understand what it meant.
"You mean the Pendant Box?" he said coldly, "Well, it's true. It was destroyed by my hands."
The kerosene lamp swayed gently, as if moved by a breeze.
Two crimson lights gleamed in the darkness, and the escapee who had fled from Azkaban Island long ago stared intently at Sherlock.
"Sherlock! You're not him! You're not him! But you're not afraid!"
In the Goblin Chamber of Secrets last year, when it first spoke these words, Sherlock already knew that this Straw Golem, a creature of fear, had seen through his deepest fears.
It wasn't like Legilimency, which reads minds, but it was even more irrational.
Like a boggart, a low-level dark creature in the Wizarding World, which can endlessly perceive the most feared person or thing in a Wizard's heart, Federick was just as powerful, if not more so.
While a boggart frightens by transforming into the feared object, Federick reveals the deepest, most terrifying secrets through words.
It's impossible to compare their effectiveness, but in terms of combat power, Federick would easily overpower a hundred boggarts!
For the Straw Golem, who held a lantern in one hand and a scythe in the other, the kerosene lamp was just one of its abilities. The true reaper of life was the scythe, which resembled the weapon of Death itself!
The opponent didn't intend to start a fight immediately but rather to engage in some other conversation. Sherlock was more than happy to oblige.
"This proves you haven't mastered your craft. I'm not afraid of your words."
As he spoke, he moved forward slowly, inch by inch, toward the light.
Anyone else would have seen Sherlock's response as a provocation, but the Straw Golem named Federick did not ignore it.
The crimson eyes continued to gaze at Sherlock through the darkness, as if seeing something deeply hidden and noticing something unusual.
"Your fear has changed. You're afraid of something else. You're afraid. You're afraid."
Its voice suddenly paused, then shifted in tone, and the voice of a boy in the midst of puberty echoed through the space.
"It's okay, professor. You've helped me a lot. Even if I die now, it's fine. Thank you, Professor Forrest."
Immediately after, another voice, that of a boy, but soft and trembling with fear, followed.
"I'm so scared, Professor. I really am. Professor Forrest, am I going to die here?"
A girl's voice, quivering and on the verge of tears, sounded next.
"They're all dead! Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati—was it all because of you? Professor, did you kill them?"
An extremely aged voice, full of wisdom, and tinged with a hint of humor, responded.
"Everyone must face this moment, Sherlock. Ah, why that look? Don't worry, I'm not blaming you. Don't put too much pressure on yourself. I'm just embarking on another great journey, isn't that a good thing?"
A stern, yet now tender, elderly woman's voice spoke next.
"I'm happiest to see your growth. There's nothing better than that. Don't be sad, child, don't be sad. May Selena bless you."
Various voices followed, many of them belonging to boys and girls, one after another, some cursing, some berating, some complaining, and some offering comfort.
Each sentence was a farewell message from a life.
Sherlock didn't move. He stopped his forward motion, standing still, his face expressionless as he listened to these words.
He didn't miss a single sentence, and he could identify the owner of each voice.
The final voice, neither accusing nor comforting, neither cursing nor praising, was a clear, feminine voice, weak but genuinely happy.
"Meeting you was wonderful, John."
All the voices abruptly ceased.
The darkness returned to silence, and Sherlock's expression remained unchanged. He stared, unblinking, at the light that seemed far away yet felt within reach if he took just a few steps forward.
The hoarse, suppressed voice broke the silence again.
"You're afraid of these, Sherlock!"
Sherlock raised his hand slightly, and in the darkness, countless wands followed his movement, rising together.
"Perhaps you're right; I am afraid of this happening", his voice was light, like a gentle breeze at night. "But so what? It's because of that fear that I'm here, that I chose to stay at Hogwarts, to be this Defense Professor, a role I'm not particularly passionate about."
"I've never thought that being afraid of something was shameful. If I'm afraid, then I'll make sure it doesn't happen."
Though his tone and expression didn't change, Fidelius's words had an impact on Sherlock's state of mind.
He suddenly found his original plan of gradual probing to be uninteresting, so he decided to go all out.
In the darkness, two hundred wands moved together!
"Expecto Patronus."
Silver light burst forth as the spell was cast, piercing through the surrounding darkness!
It was as if countless silver threads had appeared on a black canvas, standing out vividly in the silence!
Hundreds of crows formed in the silver light, turning the darkest room into a bright, sunlit space!
(End of Chapter)
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