Chapter 4: Wand and Magic
Chapter 4: Wand and Magic
[Dear Mr. Forrest:]
[Due to a minor incident, the matter of your visit to Hogwarts to discuss things with Dumbledore has taken a new turn. The details are rather complex and not easily explained in a letter, so I will visit your home at 7:20 PM on July 3rd.]
[Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts — Minerva Mcgonagall]
The letter was brief, but the information it conveyed left Sherlock restless and uneasy.
Minerva Mcgonagall.
He knew exactly who this name belonged to.
In the first Harry Potter book he had read in its entirety, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House was a prominent figure.
She was clearly a highly principled and strict teacher.
And the Dumbledore mentioned in the letter was none other than the headmaster of Hogwarts, the most powerful and benevolent character in the entire story—Albus Dumbledore!
The original owner had previously visited Hogwarts to discuss matters with Dumbledore. Now, because of those matters, Deputy Headmistress Mcgonagall was coming to see him?
Today was July 3rd, which meant that in just five hours, the famous witch would be at his doorstep.
The problem was, since Sherlock had crossed over into this world, he hadn't gained any special abilities, nor had he inherited the original owner's memories.
He knew nothing about the original owner's life and experiences.
In a normal world, a hospital diagnosis of amnesia might have helped him bluff his way through.
But in the magical world, could amnesia really be a valid excuse?
If Professor Mcgonagall arrived and Sherlock claimed he had lost his memory and couldn't remember anything from before, what would the witch most likely do?
Would she use magic to test whether he was truly amnesiac?
Would she take him to a magical hospital for a treatment?
Or would she bring him before the famous white wizard, Dumbledore, to determine his current state?
None of these possibilities were acceptable to Sherlock.
Each one would lead to others discovering that he was not the original Sherlock but a transmigrator from another world, one who possessed extensive knowledge of the future developments and transformations of this world.
What they would do to him afterward was anyone's guess.
The woman in the framed photograph on the wall had stopped her insults and screams. She seemed to have exhausted herself, now snoring softly as she slept with her head tilted to one side.
Sherlock, however, was pacing restlessly in the study, the letter clutched in his hand.
This was clearly the first crisis he had encountered since crossing over into this world, and it was a high-stakes one that could be potentially fatal.
Running was not an option, nor would it be possible to escape.
He had to find a way to deal with Professor Mcgonagall's visit tonight, at the very least to understand the original owner's personality and habits to avoid any major slip-ups in their conversation.
It was now 2 PM, leaving him only five hours before the appointed time.
Sherlock's time was tight, and his best hope lay within this study.
Since he had received a letter from Hogwarts and had access to this study filled with magical books, it proved that the original owner was also a wizard who had graduated from Hogwarts.
The exterior of the house was somewhat unusual, but it was evident that the owner had deliberately concealed his wizard identity during the decoration process.
This study was his secret base, a storage room for all the items from the magic world.
Sherlock walked up to the desk, where the tea in the cup was still emitting a warm vapor.
A floating candlestick remained suspended above the desk, illuminating the area where the owner of the house spent most of his time.
On the desk, besides the teapot and cup, there was a thick notebook, a light brown quill pen dipped in an inkwell, and a small wooden stick.
Sherlock, who had already come to understand what kind of world he was in, was certainly not naive enough to believe that the small wooden stick was just an ordinary piece of wood.
Even those who hadn't read Harry Potter would have heard of the "wand", an essential tool for wizards, in various other contexts.
The small wooden stick lying on the desk was clearly Sherlock's wand.
He gently picked up the smooth, straight wand, which was about 13 inches (33 cm) long. The moment his fingers touched the wand, a strange sensation surged through his heart.
Something within him seemed to be drawn out by the wand, ready to emerge.
Sherlock didn't try to suppress it, and the mysterious force flowed from his body into the wand.
In the next moment, a cluster of silver sparks erupted joyfully from the tip of the wand.
Seeing this, Sherlock knew exactly what had just flowed from his body.
Magic power—the source of a wizard's abilities.
And those silver sparks, though they looked simple, were indeed—magic!
Excitement flickered in Sherlock's eyes. Any normal person would be fascinated by magic.
But he quickly regained his composure.
Now was not the time to marvel at the wonders of magic. Professor Mcgonagall was about to arrive.
If he couldn't handle this, he wouldn't just lose the chance to practice magic; his personal safety would also be at risk.
Sherlock put down the wand, picked up the teacup, and drank the slightly warm tea in one gulp. He then began a thorough search of every detail in the study.
The first thing he examined brought him a tremendous reward.
The thick notebook on the desk turned out to be the original owner's diary!
Who would have thought that the original owner, a man with thick eyebrows and a handsome face, would have the habit of keeping a diary.
But Sherlock didn't have the leisure to speculate on whether the original owner was a closet romantic.
Having the diary meant he had a way to understand the original owner's past, which greatly increased his chances of getting through this night.
He opened the diary. The first entry was dated five years ago.
"April 12, 1987."
"Today, Mary and I broke up. She said I have a troll's brain, filled only with studies and no sense of romance, despite having such a good appearance."
"I know what she meant. She was hinting at it that day, wanting me to kiss her in the Great Hall, but I only agreed to be her boyfriend to study the feeling of love."
"Unfortunately, she didn't give me any particular feeling, so I didn't kiss her, both for her and for myself."
"Even now, I don't feel any special sensation from interacting with the opposite sex, so love might not be something that suits me."
"History has shown that successful magic masters don't need such superfluous things as love, like Professor Dumbledore."
"So, to mark the significant step I've taken toward becoming a magic master, I will start keeping a diary from today."
(End of Chapter)
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