Sherlock and Harry left Hogwarts Castle and came to the grounds.
Traces from the heavy snow a week ago still remained.
The last month of 1993 was about to end, so the temperature was still quite low.
But overall, the weather was nice today—quite pleasant and sunny.
Wearing the scarf Cho Chang had knitted for him, Harry's mood was as bright as the dazzling sunshine.
Sherlock led Harry northward.
They passed the greenhouses for Herbology class, the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and finally stopped before a very thick tree.
Though there wasn't a breath of wind, the tree's branches were shaking violently, swaying back and forth, clearly preventing them from going any further.
The Whomping Willow.
Looking at the thick trunk, Harry couldn't help but swallow and quietly retreated half a step behind Sherlock.
His impression of this tree was far too deep.
This very Whomping Willow had, within a single month, consecutively smashed both Malfoy's Nimbus 2001 and his own Nimbus 2000 to pieces.
Its record was effective and verifiable.
Professor Lupin had also mentioned that during his time at school; people would compete in tests of courage by seeing who could touch the trunk.
Until a boy named Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, the school stopped allowing students near it.
So, he really didn't understand why Sherlock had brought him here.
Surely Sirius wasn't hiding inside the thick trunk?
"My dear Harry, it seems you need to seriously strengthen your memory."
Sherlock pulled Harry, who had positioned himself protectively in front, over to him, and explained under his puzzled gaze.
"When you got the Marauder's Map, the Weasley twins told you something. There are seven passages to Hogsmeade, and one entrance is near the Whomping Willow."
With Sherlock's reminder, Harry remembered this as well, and his eyes widened in surprise.
"You mean Sirius is really hiding here?"
"Yes, right here. If your eyesight were good enough—never mind, your eyesight isn't good..."
Harry: "..."
"Anyway, you just need to know the entrance is here."
"...But how do we get there?"
Looking at the Whomping Willow wildly swinging its branches, Harry frowned deeply. "In this situation, we can't get close at all!"
He didn't think his body was sturdier than a flying broomstick.
"How could we not get close?"
Sherlock smiled. "If we can't get close, how did Sirius get in?"
"I don't know," Harry said honestly.
"Look there." Sherlock didn't keep him in suspense, pointing to a protruding knot on the trunk. "As long as someone presses that, it will stop attacking."
Thanks to the bright sunshine, Harry spotted the knot Sherlock was pointing at.
He didn't ask how Sherlock knew about this, just looked at him questioningly, pointed at himself, and asked uncertainly,
"Sherlock, you mean... I should go?"
"Give it a try," Sherlock encouraged. "Sirius and Crookshanks could do it, so can you."
"Alright!"
Harry nodded firmly.
He limbered up, took a deep breath, then charged toward the knot.
Believe in yourself, I can do this!
Surely a person isn't worse than a cat?
Unfortunately, while ideals were beautiful, reality was harsh.
Harry had barely taken a step when a large branch came swinging down viciously.
He had anticipated this, so he nimbly dodged to the side. But another branch immediately followed, and he could only be forced back to his original position.
Harry didn't get discouraged.
He recalled the stealth techniques Sherlock had taught him while using his agile skills honed over the years dodging Dudley's fists and playing Quidditch, trying hard to bob and weave between the maliciously swinging branches.
Unfortunately, even though he was panting from exhaustion, he still couldn't get close to the tree's base.
Even when he spotted an opening and tried to rush through despite getting hit once, a branch twisted together like a fist came whooshing over, and Harry could only retreat again.
He touched his right shoulder where the branch had struck and looked at Sherlock helplessly.
Harry wondered privately if he was just too useless but in this situation, he truly had no other options.
Surely no one would enjoy being whipped by these branches?
Sherlock wasn't surprised. He chuckled. "Harry, watch my movements."
After saying this, he charged straight toward the knot just as Harry had done.
Harry immediately widened his eyes to watch carefully.
Still bobbing and weaving.
But compared to Harry, Sherlock's movements were clearly more agile.
He moved swiftly between the constantly swinging branches like a nimble hunting dog.
The Whomping Willow, which had completely overwhelmed Harry, came close to hitting Sherlock several times but was dodged at the critical moment each time.
All they could do was slightly slow Sherlock's advance.
In a little while, Sherlock reached the trunk.
Dodging the last branch, Sherlock bent slightly and placed his hand on the knot.
The Whomping Willow, which had been swinging madly, stopped as if a pause button had been pressed, even every leaf froze in place.
"Come on over, my friend."
Harry stared at Sherlock in shock.
That was it?
"Sherlock, how—how did you do that?" Harry asked as he walked toward Sherlock. "How are you so agile?"
"This is the result of diligent training, and it's my biggest difference from Poirot. Remember that detective from the novels I mentioned before?"
Seeing Harry nod, Sherlock continued, "Having a strong and agile body means I can personally search for clues when solving cases, rather than lying in an armchair using little grey cells to deconstruct evidence others bring."
Seeing Harry nod thoughtfully, Sherlock gave him an encouraging look: "Old boy, with the talent you've shown, you can do the same if you work hard."
"Uh... I'll do my best."
Honestly, Harry wasn't confident.
"Let's go!"
Sherlock indicated for Harry to enter the large opening by the tree roots.
Both were no strangers to crawling through tunnels.
Don't get the wrong idea.
In first year, they had passed through the trapdoor guarded by the three-headed dog Fluffy and entered the series of rooms containing the Philosopher's Stone.
In second year, they had opened a secret passage from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and entered the Chamber of Secrets.
Now in third year, they were simply repeating previous operations.
Harry entered the hole first, slowly descending along an earthen slope.
Soon, a very low tunnel appeared before him.
Harry waited here for a moment, and Sherlock joined him at his side, naturally taking the lead.
"Follow me!"
"Lumos!"
With experience from last time, Harry immediately cast a lighting charm.
Due to the terrain constraints, they could only walk forward bent over as much as possible.
Both had grown rapidly this year. Even Harry, who had seemed smaller than his peers before, had been shooting up in height this year, gradually catching up to Sherlock.
"Fred and George said they've never taken this path and don't know where it leads."
"The Marauder's Map only marks this passage's entrance. The passage itself disappears from the map's edge halfway through. The fact they know it leads to Hogsmeade shows they've done adequately well."
"But they said if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade, they wouldn't recommend this route."
"I agree with their opinion. Whether in terms of time or effort, the passage leading directly to Honeydukes is more suitable than this one."
"But I'm free now. I don't need to sneak into Hogsmeade anymore."
"That's hard to say, old boy."
Sherlock didn't turn around, but Harry could still guess he must be smiling:
"If you get confined again, I won't be surprised at all."
Harry: "..."
'So in your mind I'm just a troublemaker?'
Next, the two quickened their pace and continued forward.
Compared to last year's trip to the Chamber, this journey was shorter but much harder to traverse.
In the Chamber, they had simply slid down a long pipe.
After reaching the bottom, there was still enough space for them to walk normally.
But this time, they were bent over so much they could barely bend any further.
It was fine for a short time, but as time passed, it became quite uncomfortable.
After walking for a while longer, Harry gradually began to feel short of breath with a stinging pain in his chest.
Just when he was about to reach his limit, the tunnel finally began to ascend, and the path became considerably wider.
"We're almost there."
When a faint light appeared ahead, Sherlock spoke.
Harry, finally able to stand straight, stopped and took several deep breaths.
This stretch of path was really too difficult!
Fortunately, he'd trained for this, or he might not have been able to persevere.
Another reason was that Sherlock, leading the way, walked too fast.
If they could have gone a bit slower, it would have been fine.
By contrast, Sherlock still looked completely unfazed.
This made Harry increasingly recognize the importance of physical fitness.
Just as Sherlock had said, he really needed to intensify his training.
Sherlock had already emerged from the tunnel.
He looked around and found himself in an empty house.
The place itself was messy and dusty, as if abandoned by time.
The wallpaper around them hung on the walls like peeling wounds. Stains on the floorboards looked like undried ink, and even the badly damaged furniture bore traces of violent tearing.
All the windows were boarded up. The nailed boards cut the light into fragments, and dust floating in the air wove a hazy web in the faint light from his wand.
Everything in the house was covered with a thick layer of dust, but the floor was different, there were obvious signs of movement there.
With one glance, Sherlock knew someone had stayed here recently, and he deduced who had been here and what they'd done.
Harry also emerged from the tunnel, instinctively glancing at Sherlock beside him.
"Obviously, this is the Shrieking Shack."
"The Shrieking Shack?"
Harry was somewhat surprised. "The house Hermione mentioned as the most severely haunted in all of Britain?"
"My dear Harry, ghosts don't do these things."
Sherlock pointed at the damaged furniture.
Harry immediately noticed a chair with a large piece of wood torn away and one leg missing.
"About ten years ago, at specific times, this place would receive visits from guests you're familiar with—I think you understand what I'm saying."
"I know—it's Professor Lupin!"
With Sherlock's hint, a light bulb went off in Harry's head and he immediately realized: "It's Professor Lupin transformed into a werewolf, and my dad and the others!"
"Well done!" Sherlock looked at Harry, his gaze containing encouragement. "Excellent!"
"As for the haunting sounds the villagers heard, they must have been caused when Professor Lupin transformed into a werewolf!"
"Good, what else?"
"I think Dumbledore must have deliberately let these kinds of rumors spread."
"Why?"
"To make Professor Lupin safer. As long as people all believe the Shrieking Shack is haunted, they won't dare come here anymore! After Professor Lupin left Hogwarts, this place should have been quiet for many years, but judging from the condition of this empty house, the villagers still don't dare approach."
"Completely correct!"
Sherlock said while smiling:
"Harry, you've really made great progress. I must say, in the years you've been with me, you've grown accustomed to underestimating your abilities. Perhaps you don't shine yourself, but you are a conductor of light. Some people have no talent themselves, but they have the considerable power to inspire genius. My dear partner, I must admit I'm truly grateful to you!"
Harry: "..."
He knew this was Sherlock praising him, and he knew it was sincere, but somehow it still felt strange.
Overall, though, Sherlock's words brought Harry great happiness.
After all, this was the first time he'd grasped Sherlock's methods and received Sherlock's approval in practical application.
Thinking of this, Harry couldn't help but puff out his chest proudly.
Just as Harry was about to say something more, a creaking sound suddenly came from overhead, as if something were moving upstairs.
Both immediately looked up at the ceiling.
After a moment, Sherlock looked away first:
"Let's go, old boy. I think the meeting you've been anticipating is about to happen."
Harry nodded, then followed Sherlock up the rickety staircase with light footsteps.
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