"No one understands you better than I do, Harry. From when you first began forming memories, probably only these few times facing Dementors have let you hear your parents' voices, right?
So, you still look forward to hearing their voices, which is why when casting the Patronus Charm, you haven't given your all."
In the Gryffindor common room, upon hearing Sherlock's words, Harry abruptly stood up.
He clenched his fists tightly, staring at Sherlock in shock.
Again—seen through again?
Wait, why did I say "again"?
"Don't look at me like that."
Sherlock clasped his hands under his chin, leaning slightly back, saying bluntly.
"You should know very well that seeing through this is effortless for me.
Perhaps you only harbor such thoughts subconsciously, without even realizing it yourself.
But I must point out that if you continue as you are now, even if you only vaguely hope to hear your parents' voices again, you'll never conjure a proper Patronus."
Hearing Sherlock's words, Harry sat down dejectedly.
He fell silent. He could fool his mate, but he couldn't fool himself.
Moreover, his mate was no ordinary person—impossible to fool!
After Sherlock pointed this out, he couldn't even fool himself anymore.
However, Sherlock's bluntness continued. He looked at Harry and said mercilessly.
"They're dead. Your father, James Potter, and your mother, Lily Potter, died thirteen years ago.
My friend, repeatedly hearing their voices won't bring them back to life.
What you're doing now is equivalent to becoming addicted to the Mirror of Erised in another form."
Harry: (╥﹏╥)
Sherlock spoke very bluntly, yet Harry couldn't muster any anger.
Because he knew very well that Sherlock was right, and his friend was sincerely looking out for him.
He took a deep breath. "I—I understand. I'll be mindful during the next practice."
"That's best. Let's return to the dormitory to rest."
Harry nodded and had just stood up when Sherlock suddenly asked.
"When you faced the Dementor the second time, you didn't faint. What happy thing did you think of?"
Hearing this question, Harry couldn't help but blush.
Noticing Harry's expression, Sherlock said curiously, "Was it the first time riding a broomstick?"
He remembered clearly that Harry had excitedly shared his feelings from that moment—carefree, euphoric, as if everything was within his grasp.
Harry first nodded, then shook his head.
"That was what I recalled during my first practice."
"So, the pleasant feeling of flying wasn't strong enough for you. Should it be when Gryffindor won the House Cup?"
Harry shook his head.
"Not that? How interesting. Could it be the first time you discovered you were a wizard and were leaving the Dursleys to attend Hogwarts?"
Seeing Sherlock's confident demeanor, Harry shook his head again.
"Then it must be when we cleared Sirius's name and won his freedom?"
"Still not? Let me think, it should be when you received the Firebolt, when you even considered emptying your vault to buy it!"
"Not this either? Hmm—I suppose it should be related to Miss Cho—"
"Um, Sherlock."
Seeing that Sherlock had guessed several times without getting it right, Harry finally couldn't help but quietly reveal the answer.
"What I recalled just now was when we first met on the train. You helped me lift my trunk onto the step and smiled at me..."
Sherlock heard this and looked at Harry with surprise.
The latter felt somewhat embarrassed and couldn't help but turn his head away.
This was something Sherlock truly couldn't deduce.
When he first met Harry, he'd approached with the intention of getting close to the Boy Who Lived in order to better understand the wizarding world.
In other words, he'd been somewhat calculating. But he hadn't expected that in Harry's mind, the happiest moment was their first meeting.
At this moment, Harry was surprised to discover that Sherlock's eyes, always so bright and resolute, were actually somewhat moist, and his firm lips trembled slightly.
This was the first time he'd seen Sherlock show such an expression.
Although he'd suspected it before, this moment truly made Harry realize what deep friendship lay hidden beneath Sherlock's seemingly cold exterior.
For Harry, this was a unique opportunity that allowed him to see that Sherlock possessed not only a great mind but also a great heart.
Having chosen his first meeting with Sherlock as the happiest moment in his heart, being able to see Sherlock's genuine emotion was enough for him.
However, Sherlock's emotion came quickly and left quickly too.
"Most people in this world are mediocre, seeing only bustling streets. Walk alongside Sherlock Holmes, and you can see battlefields."
Sherlock quickly resumed his usual resolute demeanor and laughed loudly.
"Your past—I have no wish to pry into it. That's your business.
Your future—I hope to participate in it. That's my honor.
Thank you for your trust, my dear Harry—well, everything that needed to be said has been said. We should go rest now."
Harry felt his friend's sincere friendship and nodded ardently.
Over the next week, Sherlock continued taking Harry and Neville for boxing and fencing practice every morning.
Before the second Thursday arrived, the match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw was about to begin.
Both house teams had been practicing frantically since the term started. Before the match, Cho Chang still found time to specifically seek out Harry.
"Harry, I'll give my all to win this match."
Cho Chang first said this resolutely, then with a slightly reddened face said.
"Davies already came to me—because after the match against Slytherin will be Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, he's worried I won't be able to perform at full strength because of you."
"How could he say that!"
Harry said indignantly. "How could he think you'd do such a thing! You're not that kind of person at all!"
Seeing Harry like this, Cho Chang smiled. She really hadn't misjudged him.
Actually, there was another thing she hadn't told Harry.
Davies not only told her not to show Harry any mercy but also hinted that she could use some special means to make Harry go easy on Ravenclaw—or rather, on her as a fellow Seeker—during the match.
Of course, this hint was very subtle.
Cho Chang pretended not to understand and didn't respond, leaving Davies helpless.
She looked happily at Harry about his trust in her.
"I knew you'd say that—so I also want to tell you, in the next match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, you mustn't show me any mercy!"
Harry nodded. "I won't!"
After the two chatted for a while about Slytherin's lineup, Cho Chang unexpectedly said.
"Harry, actually there's something I've wanted to ask you since the term started, but I've been busy with training and haven't had time."
"What is it?" Harry looked curiously at Cho Chang. He knew this definitely wasn't about Quidditch.
"During winter break, did you invite Sherlock and the others to your and Sirius's new home?"
After asking this question, Cho Chang stared steadily at Harry.
"Yes!"
Harry, not realizing anything was wrong, answered honestly. "I invited Sherlock, Hermione, and Ron's whole family—"
Before he finished, Cho Chang immediately asked, "Then why didn't you invite me?"
"Huh?"
"Is it because I'm not your friend yet?"
Cho Chang said in a somewhat resentful tone.
"Do you know how surprised I was when Ginny talked on the train about Sirius's grandfather and the Order of Merlin, First Class?
I could tell from her conversation with Ron that you spent several days together during winter break..."
"Ah, this—"
Harry also sensed something was off and quickly said.
"Um, Cho, actually I'd already decided—next time, I was going to invite you—"
"Why does it have to be next time?"
Seeing Cho Chang pressing forward, Harry's forehead couldn't help but break out in cold sweat.
What's happening?
In his impression, Cho Chang had always been gentle. How did she suddenly have such an oppressive presence?
Fortunately, he felt he wasn't really in the wrong about this, so he continued honestly.
"Because the new house was really too messy. I wanted to get it completely tidy before inviting you over—"
"Then why did Ginny go this time?"
"I actually only invited Ron. Because Mr. Weasley's whole family came, she came along too."
After Harry said this, he suddenly felt that inexplicable oppressive presence from Cho Chang disappear.
He secretly breathed a sigh of relief and continued, "But after she got there, she really did help a lot.
After Sherlock and Hermione left, their family stayed a few more days.
Mrs. Weasley brought them to help us clean.
Cho, what's wrong?"
Harry suddenly discovered that the oppressive presence that had just disappeared from Cho Chang had returned!
"I could come with my parents too! I could help clean too!"
This time, Cho Chang's tone was no longer resentful but reproachful.
Harry: (·-·*)
'What on earth is happening?
Sherlock, where are you? Come help me quickly!'
"Sherlock, this is the Room of Requirement."
On the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle, in front of the enormous tapestry depicting the clubbing of Barnabas the Barmy by trolls.
Sherlock and Gemma stood side by side, the air seeming to still carry traces of the Christmas holiday's ease and the lightheartedness from Gemma's letters.
"I originally thought you'd come find me earlier!"
Gemma smiled as she looked at the young man who had grown almost as tall as herself.
"There's no rush for just a moment."
Sherlock's gaze swept over the seemingly ordinary white wall opposite the tapestry.
"Having just started term, there are always things to do. The key now is clearly defining our requirements."
Gemma looked at Sherlock with interest. "Very reasonable. So, what kind of place do you need?"
"A space sufficiently concealed and suitable for our discussions. That satisfies the basic requirements. Is that acceptable?"
"Of course," Gemma nodded slightly. "Then just do as I say—walk past this section of wall three times consecutively, concentrating entirely on imagining the scene you need."
They both complied.
They walked side by side to the window at one end of the white wall and turned back, then walked to the person-high vase at the other end and returned again.
Their footsteps on the stone bricks produced faint echoes in the empty corridor.
When they completed the third turn, Gemma gently reminded. "Sherlock."
On the previously white wall opposite the tapestry, a smooth door silently appeared.
Sherlock looked at Gemma, who smiled and gestured "please" to him.
Without hesitation, he gripped the smooth brass handle and pulled open the suddenly appeared door.
As the door opened, warm, dry air carrying the fragrance of burning pine rushed forward, replacing the corridor's cold and dusty smell.
The room before him wasn't the crude space similar to a hidden cave for secret conversations that Sherlock had simply envisioned.
With one glance, Sherlock knew its layout and furnishings had also incorporated Gemma's unspoken wishes.
The room was more spacious than imagined.
The main area was a sunken circular space. At the center was a stone fire pit embedded in the floor, surrounded by smooth pebbles, with leaping orange-red flames driving away the chill.
The sentence from Gemma's letter to Sherlock—"May the hearth fire drive away London's cold"—seemed to have materialized in this moment.
The walls weren't the castle's common rough stone but were covered with red velvet curtains.
Subtle silver vine patterns were embroidered on them—gentle yet absolutely effective at isolating all outside sounds, satisfying Sherlock's core requirement for concealment.
Bookshelves were cleverly embedded beneath the curtains along the curved walls, occupying most of the circle.
These shelves weren't the high, crowded style of the school library but were of moderate height with clear divisions, filled with books.
With a sweep of his eyes, Sherlock saw titles like: Ancient Runes Annotated, Criminal Psychology, Advanced Potion-Making, Rare Magical Creatures Illustrated, and others.
Other shelves displayed delicate crystal bottles, globes, cauldrons. Sherlock even spotted a small, distinctively crafted brass astronomical telescope.
In one corner of the room stood a walnut liquor cabinet quietly, with bottles of deep-colored liquor displayed on top.
Sherlock recognized a bottle of Romanian brandy by its label.
Another object Gemma had mentioned in her letters had been materialized.
On the other side of the room stood a large sandalwood desk.
The desktop was exceptionally tidy, with only a set of inkwells and quills arranged neatly, beside which were several scrolls of parchment awaiting organization, including content related to the Sirius and Peter case.
But most eye-catching were the seats near the fire pit, designed to be especially comfortable.
Two large, soft, high-backed velvet armchairs faced the fire pit directly. Between them was a low table covered with a red carpet and tea service.
On the mantelpiece sat a slender-necked glass vase holding vibrant white hyacinths.
"What do you think of this place?"
Gemma's voice carried a trace of barely perceptible anticipation. She followed Sherlock in and gently closed the door behind them.
The door immediately vanished, merging with the curtain-covered walls, leaving not a trace.
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