"Remarkable! You can actually identify so many materials!"
After hearing Sherlock's description, Hagrid's eyes grew brighter and brighter. "What else do you see?"
"From the calluses on your hands, I can tell you've done a lot of excavation work."
"I've been a gamekeeper for over forty years—that's part of my job."
"You often cook for yourself and enjoy it."
"That's not wrong either."
"You love mead."
"Quite right."
"You were entrusted by someone to retrieve something important from Gringotts Wizarding Bank. After you retrieved that item, someone illegally broke in trying to steal it. However, since you had acted first, the theft was unsuccessful. Also, although you now feel the place where this item is stored is secure, you're still very concerned about this matter."
Hagrid suddenly stood up, his chair clattering to the floor from the violent movement.
But he was completely oblivious to this, staring at Sherlock with eyes wide as saucers, pointing at him. After a long moment, he seemed to have a realization:
"Harry told you, didn't he?"
Harry was about to deny it when Sherlock shook his head. "No, actually this deduction was simpler than the previous ones."
He reached out and pulled a small piece of paper from under the teapot cozy.
It was a clipping from the Daily Prophet.
The headline read: "Latest Report on Gringotts Break-in Incident."
Seeing this, Hagrid immediately fell silent.
Instead, Harry couldn't help but exclaim: "That was on my birthday! Hagrid, we might have been there when it happened!"
Hagrid took a deep breath, rubbed his nose, and said, "Sherlock, Harry is quite right—your deductive abilities are too impressive. This matter is exactly as you described. But... we don't need to discuss it now. How about trying some of my rock cakes first!"
He rather stiffly forced a change of topic while enthusiastically offering food to the three.
As Sherlock had said, he truly loved cooking.
It's just that his cooking skills were disastrous.
Without exaggeration, the rock cakes nearly knocked out Harry and Ron's teeth.
Out of politeness, Harry and Ron could only try to appear as if they enjoyed eating them.
As for Sherlock, after testing the hardness of a rock cake by squeezing it, his eyes lit up.
He immediately asked Hagrid if he could take some with him.
Hagrid, who had been somewhat worried seeing Sherlock not eat the cakes, became extremely happy upon hearing this request and hurriedly agreed.
So, when the three left, their pockets were heavy with cakes.
"I don't understand."
Even Ron, who was quite the eater, was now questioning his life choices because of the rock cakes.
"Sherlock, why did you take them? These things are impossible to chew..."
He pulled out a cake and casually threw it at a nearby tree.
With a crack, a branch broke.
As for the rock cake... it was naturally undamaged.
"That's because your understanding of it is flawed."
Sherlock tapped his own head. "You need to try changing your perspective—don't think of it as food, but as equipment. Then it becomes very useful."
Harry: Σ(°△°|||)︴
Ron: (lll￢ω￢)
Neither took him seriously, thinking Sherlock was just joking.
After all, this was just a small interaction.
What Harry cared about most was still the Gringotts matter.
So, he simply gave Sherlock a detailed description of how Hagrid had retrieved a small package from vault 713 at Gringotts before taking him to get money.
He had gradually developed the habit of asking Sherlock whenever he encountered something puzzling.
After getting more detailed information from Harry, Sherlock nodded.
"As I suspected, Hagrid was acting on someone's behalf—Dumbledore thought Gringotts wasn't safe enough, so he wanted to relocate the item."
"It seems Dumbledore was right! If he'd been any later, that thing might have been stolen by criminals."
Ron couldn't help but say, feeling fortunate to have such a far-sighted and wise headmaster.
"No, that's just your subjective assumption."
Sherlock mercilessly pointed out the flaw in his logic. "Based on Harry's experience and Hagrid's account, Gringotts' security level is no lower than Hogwarts'. Even if that item hadn't been taken by Hagrid, the thief wouldn't necessarily have been able to leave safely with it."
As Ron was about to object, Sherlock continued, "Of course, this is just one possibility. Perhaps that person really could have broken through Gringotts' defenses. After all, he's still at large."
"Sherlock, don't you want to catch him?"
Harry asked urgently.
"Bringing every criminal to justice has always been my interest—but it seems unlikely to be achieved at present."
"Why? With your abilities, you could definitely do it!"
Harry asked, puzzled.
"Oh, my dear friend," Sherlock looked at this savior of the wizarding world, unsurprisingly seeing clear foolishness in his eyes, "I'm glad you trust me so much—but neither Gringotts nor the Ministry of Magic would possibly ask a first-year student at a magic school to investigate such a theft case."
Harry immediately fell silent upon hearing this.
Yes, Sherlock was only eleven years old after all. Except for those who had truly witnessed his abilities, who would do such a thing?
Even Hagrid, who trusted him so much, still wanted to test him after hearing his description of Sherlock, didn't he?
Seeing Harry's heavy mood, Sherlock said nothing more.
In fact, if he really wanted to investigate this case, there were ways.
With Hagrid's personality, getting information from him wouldn't be difficult.
Not to mention there was Dumbledore.
But compared to this case, there was something even more attractive to Sherlock now.
A completely new world.
For him, who had always believed in science, magic's attraction was simply too great.
Besides, this was the magical world—surely the Ministry of Magic couldn't be like Scotland Yard, could it?
Sherlock shook his head, dismissing this ridiculous notion.
Time always slips away quietly without notice.
A month had passed since Sherlock arrived at Hogwarts.
Apart from attending classes, he had devoted almost all his time to several professors.
Of course, only to courses he found useful.
In History of Magic, he only listened to parts he found valuable, occasionally asking Professor Binns questions.
As for Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, after attending for two weeks, he simply began requesting leave to skip them.
After all, listening to his lectures was no different from reading the textbook himself—a pure waste of time.
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