This summer, Hermione had stayed in France for quite some time, which was why she hadn't visited Sherlock's house.
So, it wasn't strange at all that Harry, who was in England, would drop by Sherlock's place.
However,
Making an appointment to go shopping in Diagon Alley together wasn't exactly a simple matter, was there really a need to hesitate for so long?
Just then, she suddenly heard Harry say, "Ah, Sherlock, it's Hermione calling!"
Hermione's heart immediately lifted with joy. "Harry, quickly give the phone to Sherlock!"
Harry. ...
'She had just said that talking to me was the same thing, but now hearing Sherlock's voice...' Harry silently grumbled to himself before handing the phone to Sherlock.
"Hermione, you're back."
"Yes, just got back."
Hearing Sherlock's familiar voice, Hermione sounded very cheerful. "I was just telling Harry, let's go to Diagon Alley together the day after tomorrow. Any problems with that?"
"No problems."
Sherlock glanced at his watch. "Day after tomorrow at ten in the morning, meet at the entrance to Gringotts Bank."
"Perfect!"
Hermione was very satisfied with Sherlock's straightforwardness.
"While you're at it, let Ron know too—anyway, I'll stop talking now. We'll chat more when we meet the day after tomorrow!"
Sherlock heard Mr. Granger's voice faintly through the phone, and then Hermione hastily hung up.
"Hermione mistook me for Uncle Holmes—"
Watching Sherlock hang up the phone, Harry offered a token explanation, then asked in confusion. "Sherlock, can we go out tomorrow? Didn't Minister Fudge tell us to stay here until school starts and not go anywhere?"
Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "Harry, I recall you only promised Ron's father not to go elsewhere after school started. You made no promises to Fudge."
"That's true, but if the Ministry doesn't agree, won't we be unable to go anywhere? He also said the Ministry has people watching here or was he just trying to scare us?"
"No, the Ministry indeed has people watching nearby. So far, there have been three shifts rotating—just on this point alone, they do take your safety very seriously."
Harry looked at Sherlock in surprise. "You—how do you know? Did Mr. Weasley tell you, or did you discover it yourself?"
"I discovered it myself. Don't look so surprised, my dear friend. Those fellows from the Ministry are probably too overconfident—their methods of concealing their tracks are clumsy to the extreme. But this is also a good thing. If I were Sirius, I definitely wouldn't choose to strike here."
"But if that's the case, won't we also be unable to go to Diagon Alley?"
"Just find someone to help."
"Who?"
Sherlock smiled without speaking and directly dialed a number in front of Harry.
Almost instantly, the call was connected, and a voice came from the other end.
"Well, well, how rare. I never thought you'd think to call me voluntarily."
It's him!
Harry couldn't help but feel his heart tense. He was all too familiar with this voice.
During the Christmas holidays of 1991, he had received a call here and heard this voice for the first time.
Now hearing this voice again from the phone, he recognized it immediately.
If the person were speaking directly in front of him, he might not necessarily recognize him.
It was Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother by seven years.
But wasn't Sherlock trying to solve the Ministry's surveillance problem? What use was calling his brother?
Harry wondered to himself—no matter how capable Mycroft was, as a Muggle, surely, he couldn't influence the Ministry of Magic?
With such doubts, in the next few minutes, Harry witnessed what could be called a high-level game.
Sherlock cut straight to the point. "Harry and I need to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow."
The clear sound of a teaspoon clinking against a cup rim came from the other end. "Planning to buy books before school starts? My foolish brother, my time is precious. If you called just to tell me this, you can skip it."
"An owl has been squatting on my windowsill for three hours. Its droppings have already corroded the stained-glass window."
"Dear brother, I thought you preferred observing the chemical composition of bird droppings rather than complaining about their nesting habits."
"They've confined two thirteen-year-old wizards simply because a certain fugitive might—note, might come to this area. The day after tomorrow at ten in the morning, Harry and I need to appear at Gringotts to prepare for the upcoming new term with my friends."
"You mean the little girl who can memorize textbooks and the red-haired boy? Dear brother, I thought you'd outgrown playing spy since January this year."
"Playing dumb doesn't suit you, Mycroft. You should be well aware that such measures are meaningless. You should be even more aware of what it means that I can find this phone number."
A long sipping sound arose. "Yes, yes, calling from your own home to Downing Street—that's a little surprising even for me!"
"Do I need to quote the exact wording the Ministry used to communicate with the Muggle Prime Minister from the Daily Prophet, Mycroft? No one else in all of Britain would use such terminology!"
The other end fell silent for two seconds, then came the sound of fabric rustling. Harry guessed Mycroft was sitting up straight in his armchair.
"I'd forgotten that the Ministry is an even more useless existence than Scotland Yard. Those stupid goldfish inadvertently exposed information without even realizing it. So, do you need me to make the Ministry's security measures malfunction when you set off tomorrow morning?"
Harry noticed Sherlock's mouth finally curved into a distinct arc.
"It would be best if you could confuse their memories, making them think we never left home. If possible, also replace the surveillance camera footage with 'Yes, Minister.'"
A light laugh came from the other side. "Your requirements are quite specific—too bad I can't do it. You should know very well that I'm just a small employee working for a government department. Actually, time-wise, I've only just passed my probationary period."
"No, you can."
"I cannot."
"Mycroft, you wouldn't want Mother to know what you've really been doing lately, would you?"
"Goodbye, Sherlock. I will never accept threats from anyone, even if that person is my brother."
The dial tone sounded, and Sherlock angrily slammed the receiver back onto the cradle.
Harry was about to comfort him when he saw Sherlock's smile becoming more obvious.
"Sherlock, this—"
Harry was somewhat confused. What was this supposed to mean?
"It's actually quite funny," Sherlock said while shaking his head and laughing. "Mycroft is even more outstanding than I imagined. Things are getting more and more interesting."
"Sorry, Sherlock, I don't understand what you're saying."
"In just one year, he's already become an indispensable important figure in Her Majesty's government."
"Ha, but Mycroft said he was just an employee—"
Sherlock's smile became more distinct as he handed Harry a copy of the Daily Prophet.
Under the headline "Ministry Strengthens Security Patrols," there was clearly a moving photo of Fudge shaking hands with the Muggle Prime Minister.
But Harry knew Sherlock definitely didn't want him to look at this.
Looking more carefully, he indeed noticed a figure holding a black umbrella behind the Prime Minister.
If this had been under a Muggle camera, Harry might not have recognized him. But under a wizard's camera, the person was incredibly clear.
"My dear Harry, please trust my judgment completely."
Under Harry's incredulous gaze, Sherlock said slowly. "In a little while, at certain times, he will be Britain."
After saying this, Sherlock had Harry notify Ron to meet at Diagon Alley the day after tomorrow.
Over the next day, Harry imagined many scenarios.
For instance, like their adventures in the Forbidden Forest at school, he would put on his Invisibility Cloak while Sherlock employed those incredibly powerful stealth skills, and they would secretly make their way to Diagon Alley.
Or perhaps Mycroft was sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, and would actually use some miraculous means to make the Ministry's security measures malfunction—like transferring the Ministry's people away or something.
Or maybe the Muggle government would directly intervene and mediate with the Ministry.
This scenario seemed rather high-level—but given Sherlock's high evaluation of Mycroft, Harry felt it wasn't impossible.
Of course, Harry hadn't even considered the option of giving up on going to Diagon Alley.
Since Sherlock said they could go, they definitely could go.
The question was just how they would get there.
Although Harry had tried to estimate Mycroft's abilities as highly as possible, when a Ministry-arranged car appeared before them on the morning before school started, Harry was still stunned.
"Hello, I'm Arnold Peasegood from the Ministry's Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Following orders from above, I will escort Mr. Holmes and Mr. Potter to Diagon Alley today."
After his mechanical self-introduction, Peasegood's entire demeanor relaxed, and he extended his hand to Holmes.
"Long time no see, Mr. Holmes."
"Indeed, it has been a long time, Mr. Peasegood." Sherlock wasn't surprised at all by Peasegood's appearance. "Shall we leave now?"
"Certainly. Will it just be you and Mr. Potter? Your guardians—"
"With you accompanying us, my parents are very relieved."
"Thank you for your trust."
Even after sitting in the back seat with Sherlock, Harry still found it incredible.
They actually arranged for Ministry personnel and a car to take them to Diagon Alley.
Was this even possible?
How amazing!
"In a little while, he will be Britain."
Sherlock's words began echoing in Harry's ears.
At this moment, Mycroft Holmes's status rose infinitely in Harry's mind.
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