Chapter 418: Retirement
Chapter 418: Retirement
Harry was waiting by the door of the Room of Requirement early in the morning.
Ever since Sherlock entrusted him with the task of finding Ravenclaw's Diadem, he had never forgotten it.
However, this room, which changes according to the user's thoughts, theoretically makes finding an item with an uncertain hiding place akin to searching for a needle in a haystack.
Perhaps one day, he might stumble upon the room with the diadem, or perhaps he could search for a lifetime and never find it.
Harry didn't think too much about it. Sherlock hadn't explained that the diadem was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes; Harry only assumed it was a very important magical artifact.
Another afternoon passed without success. Harry shook his head, sighed, and was about to leave the door of the Room of Requirement when his body suddenly trembled slightly.
Harry felt something strange about his body, and his lightning-shaped scar on his forehead began to throb with a pain he had never experienced before!
But the pain came and went quickly, lasting less than a second. He soon returned to normal, as if what he had just felt was an illusion.
Harry was puzzled. As he was about to return to the Gryffindor common room, a new idea suddenly popped into his head.
Almost as if guided by some unseen force, he returned to the door of the Room of Requirement and paced back and forth in front of the blank wall three times.
The door, which Harry knew so well, appeared on the wall.
Harry felt a bit bewildered. He wasn't sure what kind of room he had wanted, but he eventually placed his hand on the doorknob.
The door opened to reveal a cluttered storeroom. Harry was certain he had never been in this room before.
The room was piled high with various items: failed exam papers, old broomsticks, and broken desks and chairs scattered everywhere.
Harry wandered through these mountains of clutter, unsure of what he was looking for. But before long, he stopped in front of a broken suit of knight's armor.
There was nothing particularly strange about the armor, but on the ground in front of it lay an ancient diadem.
The diadem was shaped like a silver eagle with an emerald gem embedded in the center.
Harry's expression was a mix of surprise and confusion.
This was clearly the item Sherlock had asked him to find, but the way he found it was incredibly peculiar.
It was as if his body had its own navigation system, and without needing to think, Harry knew exactly where the diadem was.
Harry picked up the diadem from the ground and walked out of the Room of Requirement.
He didn't realize that after finding the item, he had no intention of giving it to Sherlock. Instead, he hid it in his robe pocket and returned to the Gryffindor common room.
Even when he saw Hermione and Ron, he acted as if nothing had happened in the Room of Requirement, with no intention of mentioning it.
By evening, news of what had happened outside reached Hogwarts.
The young wizards of Gryffindor were incredulous. The school remained peaceful, yet the greatest Dark Lord of the Wizarding World had been killed by their professor.
Cheers echoed throughout Hogwarts Castle. Harry was ecstatic, seemingly forgetting that he had taken the diadem from the Room of Requirement. He joined Ron and the others, joyfully jumping around in the common room.
The tense atmosphere continued well into the night, and it wasn't until after midnight that Professor Mcgonagall arrived in the common room, sternly ordering the students to go to bed. Only then did they return to their dormitories, though it was uncertain how many would manage to sleep soundly that night.
Harry returned to the dormitory with Ron. None of the five roommates had any intention of sleeping. They all discussed the events of the war they had read about in the Daily Prophet, and it wasn't until around one in the morning that they gradually quieted down. Neville's steady snoring echoed through the room.
Harry was still awake. Compared to the others, he was clearly much more excited about Voldemort's death.
Once he was sure that no one else in the dormitory was awake, he couldn't resist the urge to call out Lily to share his joy.
But today, for some reason, no matter how he called, Lily remained unresponsive, giving no answer at all.
Harry found this strange, but it was so late, and despite his growing unease, he didn't want to disturb Sherlock at this hour. He decided to wait until the next morning to ask Sherlock about the situation and gradually drifted off to sleep.
Unbeknownst to anyone, as Harry lay peacefully in bed, a faint, almost imperceptible black mist began to swirl around him in the darkness.
Dumbledore spent the entire afternoon dealing with the aftermath of the Death Eaters, only managing to return to 12 Grimmauld Place for a brief rest around ten o'clock in the evening.
Sherlock was not at Hogwarts Castle either. After having dinner with Silke, he also rushed over to 12 Grimmauld Place.
After confessing his feelings, it was natural to want to be close and intimate, but Dumbledore had Fawkes deliver a letter to Sherlock, saying he needed to discuss some important matters. Reluctantly, Sherlock finished his dinner before heading to see Dumbledore.
"I'm planning to retire, Sherlock."
Dumbledore's first words upon their meeting left Sherlock stunned.
He scrutinized the old man, who was smiling, and asked with a frown, "You're injured?"
"In a way, you could say that." The old man leaned back in his chair, "The relentless passage of time has left irreparable scars on me. As a man who has lived for over a century, I am indeed beyond any cure."
Hearing such a shameless statement, Sherlock's face darkened.
"Does the Ministry of Magic have a specified retirement age for the Headmaster of Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore chuckled at Sherlock's words, but his smile seemed weary. "I've been working for a very long time, Sherlock. I do love this castle and seeing the children learn what they need to, but I can't stay in this position until I'm completely worn out. I really am very old."
Sherlock fell silent.
He had never really viewed Dumbledore as an old man on the verge of death. Whether from the books he had read in his previous life or from his interactions with him in this life, the greatest white wizard always seemed reliable.
Now, after Dumbledore spoke those words, Sherlock realized that he truly was a very old man.
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(End of Chapter)
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