Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 172 Late at night with the female prefect

"My dear Harry, I think you need to understand one thing:
If you are caught, it will be considered a violation of discipline. If you are not caught, nothing will happen."

Facing Harry, who looked surprised, Sherlock said confidently and calmly:

"However, out of caution, it is safer to use an invisibility cloak."

Hearing Sherlock's words, Harry couldn't help but admire him.

Big brother is big brother, and every word he says makes so much sense.

However, when he saw Sherlock getting ready, Harry's adventurous nature began to stir.

This reminded him of the time when he went to the Forbidden Forest with Sherlock last semester.

For a moment, he wanted to call Sherlock and ask him to take him along as a pendant.

However, Harry knew in his heart that the dangers of the Forbidden Forest were far from comparable to a simple night stroll through the school grounds.

The last time he was put in solitary confinement and sent to the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was there to protect him.

Today's Sherlock is a lone ranger.

My current rank is still a bit low, and forcing myself to follow Sherlock will only slow him down.

Before leaving, Sherlock played a song on the violin.

While dispelling the noise pollution caused by the Sorting Hat, it also sent all the roommates except Harry to sleep.

After doing all this, he left alone under Harry's envious gaze.

As Sherlock slowly crawled out from under the hole in the portrait, the fat lady behind him closed the door silently.

The corridor was filled with the scent of old magic books, and the dim wall lamps flickered, casting mottled light and shadows on the ancient stone walls.

Sherlock walked forward with light steps in such an environment.

He did not put on the Invisibility Cloak immediately.

Before going to the Forbidden Forest, he had one more thing to do.

Sherlock hadn't walked far in the corridor when he suddenly stopped as if he had hit an invisible barrier.

He narrowed his hawk-like, sharp grey eyes slightly, his gaze fixed squarely on the depths of the shadows.

"So you're not going to come out yet?"

It was a huge stone pillar that was so thick that two people could hug it together. The surface was carved with intricate patterns, casting a huge shadow in the dim light.

As Sherlock finished speaking, a figure quietly emerged from the shadow of the huge stone pillar.

The figure was lithe and delicate, it was none other than Gemma Farley, the Slytherin head girl and sixth year student.

Her long chestnut hair fell on her shoulders like a waterfall, and her Slytherin robes swayed gently with her movements, the dark green satin emitting a mysterious luster in the dim light.

"Sherlock, I'm really curious—"

She raised her hand to brush away the spider silk on her shoulder. The black jade earrings dangled lightly at her collarbone. Her delicate face was filled with confusion and curiosity. "How did you find me?"

Sherlock stretched out his right hand, and gently pointed his slender fingers at the armor:
"The leg temperature of the knight's armor next to you is two degrees Celsius higher than the other armor nearby.

This means that someone has been standing here before.

Considering the silent invitation you made to me at the end of the opening ceremony, and the height of the area where the temperature rose, it's not difficult to conclude that it was the mist from your breath that raised the temperature of the metal."

As he spoke, he raised his left hand, pinching a thin piece of shimmering glass between his fingertips. Under the illumination of the wall lamp, the magic runes on the piece were faintly visible:
"This stone pillar happens to be the only thing nearby that meets the requirements and can temporarily provide shelter."

Farley then noticed the thin piece of glass on Sherlock's fingertips and couldn't help but sigh softly, a trace of annoyance appearing on his face.
"I wanted to play a joke on you..."

But when Sherlock's eyes fell on her face again, Farley had already stopped smiling.

She straightened her back slightly, folded her hands in front of her subconsciously, and said:

"Okay, enough small talk. I asked you out specifically because..."

"I reject."

Sherlock spoke suddenly, his voice crisp and clear.

"What did you say?"

Farley's eyes widened, his ocean-blue eyes staring straight at Sherlock, full of disbelief.

I haven't said anything yet, what is he refusing?
"You just want to find out about Flint? I have to warn you, it's a complete waste of our time."

Sherlock said this in a cold tone, and when he mentioned the name Flint, there was a hint of disdain in his eyes.

"No, you misunderstood. I've given up on you investigating the attack."

Farley waved his hand, "It's just that since Flint was attacked last time, his pet, also a toad, has disappeared.

I heard you often help Mr. Neville Longbottom find his naughty toad, so I was wondering if I could trouble you too..."

Farley was rudely interrupted by Sherlock before he could finish his words. He frowned impatiently:
"No need! I made it clear last time. Flint's actions have long since disqualified him from receiving my help.

It doesn't matter whether we're investigating a crime or searching for that unfortunate toad."

"Sherlock, Flint may be rude, but he's not guilty of this..."

Hearing Sherlock's words, Farley tried to defend Flint. She bit her lower lip slightly, with a hint of stubbornness in her eyes.

"The proportion of crime to punishment needs to be calculated precisely, and in my opinion, Flint's foul on Harry on the Quidditch pitch was not even enough compared to what he is experiencing now.

I have more important and meaningful things to deal with, and his affairs are not worth mentioning at all.

So please stop torturing me with your opinions!"

Farley didn't seem to expect Sherlock to be so vindictive. She opened her mouth but hesitated, a trace of embarrassment and helplessness on her face.

"Sherlock, you..." "Marcus Flint should be thankful." Sherlock said suddenly coldly.

"What did you say?" Farley blinked in confusion, his face full of confusion.

"If anything had happened to Harry that day, he wouldn't have had any plans to leave the Quidditch pitch alive."

There was no warmth in Sherlock's voice, and his tone was so cold that it seemed to freeze the air.

Farley was stunned by Sherlock's words.

Soon, she realized that the other party was not joking - at this moment, Farley had no doubt about Sherlock's determination.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling violently, and her ocean-blue eyes met Sherlock's grey ones.

The two of them just stared at each other, and the air seemed to be filled with invisible sparks.

After a moment, she finally looked away and said as if to show weakness:

"I understand what you mean. It seems that Harry is even more important to you than I thought. I won't care about this matter anymore."

As Farley spoke, she lowered her head slightly, and a strand of hair fell down, covering half of her face.

"Right decision—if you're really torn, then I suggest Flint get another pet."

Sherlock smiled mockingly at Farley's surprised look:

"I think it would be a great relief for that toad to leave Flint."

Hearing Sherlock's words, Farley couldn't help but laugh out loud. She raised her hand and smoothed the hair beside her ear:
"Okay, I will consider your suggestion."

"Goodbye then."

Sherlock turned and was about to leave.

"please wait for a moment."

Seeing Sherlock eager to leave, Farley bit his lower lip and quickly called him: "Is the gift I gave you last time still there?"

"Gift?"

Sherlock stopped and turned around, his brows furrowed tightly, confusion written all over his face.

Seeing Sherlock frowning, a hint of disappointment flashed across Farley's eyes.

As time went by, her eyes became dimmer and the smile on her face gradually faded.

"You mean it!"

At this moment, Sherlock reached into the pocket of his robe, fumbled for a while, and took out the gold galleon.

In the dim light, the gold galleons shone brightly.

Farley's eyes suddenly lit up, full of surprise, and even his voice became much lighter:

"Do you have this Galleon with you?"

"good."

Sherlock looked at Gemma Farley, feeling a little confused.

As a class leader, he is dedicated to helping Flint and is doing his job well, but why would he care about such trivial matters?
I have time left for more important things, but you keep talking to me about a tiny Galleon.

Farley has already made a name for herself among the young witches at Hogwarts, but she still hasn't been able to break away from the usual habits of women. She is particularly concerned about such trivial matters, and this way of doing things is really hard for Sherlock to understand.

"In that case, you should go back quickly! Otherwise, if Filch finds you so late, you'll be put in detention!"

Farley said as he waved his hand gently, urging Sherlock to leave.

At this point, she suddenly chuckled as if she remembered something, with a playful smile on her face:

"By the way, should I thank you for your trust?

Because you didn't think I called you out at this time to deduct points from Gryffindor house!"

"You're not that kind of person."

Sherlock shook his head and said firmly.

After saying this, he strode away without looking back, and his figure quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Gemma Farley stood there, stunned for a long moment.

When she raised her head, the bright smile on her face seemed to dispel all the darkness around her.

For Sherlock, meeting Gemma Farley was just a small episode.

If the two of them had not established a certain friendship through correspondence during the summer vacation, he would not even intend to pay attention to this silent invitation.

As he had just said to Gemma, communicating for someone like Flint was a waste of time.

Sherlock found a hidden spot, put on the invisibility cloak, and quickly left Hogwarts Castle.

The secret infiltration process went more smoothly than expected.

I have to say that the invisibility cloak is indeed a very practical tool.

Sherlock was already good at stealth, and now with the invisibility cloak, he was even better.

Another reason is that the administrators and class leaders in charge of patrolling did not expect that some students would stay out all night on the first day of school.

Even Gemma Farley, who had just met Sherlock, thought that Sherlock had returned to his dormitory after separating from her.

So Sherlock arrived at the Forbidden Forest with almost no effort.

(End of this chapter)