Chapter 304: I'll Reluctantly Agree, Then
Chapter 304: I'll Reluctantly Agree, Then
Sherlock wasn't particularly interested in the disaster Silke had mentioned.
Even if he wasn't very familiar with the original story, he knew that Voldemort would successfully be resurrected at the end of this semester.
So, if he were to be precise, he had known about this disaster prophecy long before Silke did.
"Why do you still gaze at the stars during Christmas?" Sherlock said, looking up at the vast expanse of the night sky. "Isn't it a bit too boring to only think about how their movements might affect the future? Don't you have any more imaginative thoughts?"
Silke's eyes, hidden behind a black ribbon, never left the sky. When she heard Sherlock's question, a gentle smile curved her lips.
"On the day Dad died, I looked up at the stars and imagined whether you had flown up there, perhaps to another planet. Why else wouldn't we be able to find you no matter how hard we tried?"
"Later, when that woman took me to Germany, I would sit alone at the top of the highest tower in the Department of Mysteries during Christmas. I would remove the blindfold and look at the sky, hoping to find some trace of you, but no matter how many Christmas nights passed, I never saw anything."
Sherlock's expression slowly turned solemn as Silke's voice continued to echo in his ears.
"You know I didn't laugh much as a child."
"I used to laugh, but after I turned five, I felt that such an expression was useless. No one could see it, I didn't have a mother, and Dad was almost never home. It would have been silly for me to laugh alone in the house."
"Later, when I met you at the Leaky Cauldron, I really stopped laughing."
"At that time, I felt happy many times. You taught me to fold paper airplanes, bought me a pinwheel, and told me on the bridge that there were many people who loved us. We went to the amusement park with that fake uncle, and took pictures with lollipops. I wanted to laugh so much, but I just couldn't."
"Sometimes people are strange like that. When you think you don't need something, one day someone might appear and make you realize that what you once thought was useless is actually very important. But when you realize its importance, the value of that thing disappears along with that person."
Sherlock opened his mouth as if to say something, but the words that had been on the tip of his tongue suddenly vanished. He even forgot what he had originally intended to say.
At this moment, Silke finally turned her gaze away from the distant stars. She tilted her head and looked at Sherlock, her voice ethereal and soft.
"I had already decided to forget you."
"During our time in the Chamber of Secrets under Hogsmeade, Fidelius showed me something I had always suspected but never dared to admit. At that moment, I wanted to forget you and remember another version of you."
Sherlock felt his breathing become labored, as if something was pressing on his windpipe, preventing him from exhaling properly and stopping oxygen from flowing normally.
"But the truth is, both of those people are you. Whether John or Sherlock, there is no difference. Whether Amy or Vera, they are the same. Different times, different identities, but the same feelings."
The atmosphere fell completely silent. Silke gently hugged her knees, resting her face against them, her smile serene and beautiful.
"You didn't exactly lie when you said you can't dance. That day in the Chamber of Secrets under Hogsmeade, you really did dance poorly."
Sherlock took a deep breath. He seemed to finally reach his limit and suddenly stood up from the bench, extending a hand toward Silke.
"I can't just sit here and listen to that! Come on, let's dance! What do you mean I danced poorly! That was just me being modest in front of Professor Mcgonagall and the others!"
At first, Silke didn't move, but a playful smile appeared on her face, one she had never shown before. She tilted her head and looked at him.
"Are you formally inviting a lady to dance?"
Sherlock's cheeks twitched involuntarily.
"Alright, you win! Beautiful, kind, and generous Miss Silke, I sincerely invite you to dance with me this evening!"
"Very well, I'll accept your invitation, though it’s a bit of a struggle."
Silke lifted her head, a light smile playing on her lips, and then gently placed her hand in Sherlock's outstretched one.
The music from the Great Hall, though faint, sounded especially melodious after traveling the long distance to this garden path.
Sherlock's dance steps were indeed chaotic, or rather, completely unstructured, relying entirely on instinct.
After all, it was quite unreasonable to expect a pure, soul from the East who had never been exposed to dancing to naturally excel at these steps.
"Cough, sorry."
This was the embarrassed voice of Sherlock as he stepped on Silke's foot.
"Sorry, my mistake."
"It was an accident."
"It won't happen again."
"It’s like it has a mind of its own!"
Silke's face showed no sign of displeasure. She placed one hand on Sherlock's shoulder and held his other hand with hers, their fingers interlocked. Her face, so exquisite it seemed almost otherworldly, was just a finger's breadth away from Sherlock's.
"If you want to learn, I can teach you later."
Her voice was right by Sherlock's ear, her warm breath brushing against his cheek, making it harder for him to catch his breath.
Feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment, Sherlock activated his Control Domain, allowing him to keep track of his steps without needing to look.
However, the moment his domain expanded, Sherlock's expression suddenly changed.
Noticing his reaction, Silke, who was so close to him, asked with a hint of confusion.
"What's wrong?"
Sherlock's furrowed brow relaxed, and he feigned nonchalance.
"Nothing, don't worry. I won't make another mistake from now on."
As he spoke, the hand that was holding Silke's slender waist behind her quietly extended its fingers toward the grass behind the bench, then suddenly clenched.
In the flower bed, a common beetle, indistinguishable from any other insect, was inexplicably lifted into the air by an unseen force.
The beetle struggled desperately but couldn't break free.
The petal it had been on had somehow turned into a transparent plastic box, which also rose into the air, trapping the beetle inside. It then silently floated into Sherlock's pocket.
(End of Chapter)
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