The next morning, Harry jolted awake abruptly. He himself didn't understand why. It felt as if someone had shouted in his ear.
When he checked the time and saw it was only five-thirty, he simply lay back down.
Unfortunately, just like before the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff last term, once he woke in the early morning, he couldn't fall back asleep.
Last time it was worrying about the match due to terrible weather. This time, thoughts of attending Peter's trial at the Ministry filled every cell of his brain.
Finally unable to endure this torment, Harry simply jumped out of bed and put on his glasses.
At the foot of the bed lay freshly washed and ironed jeans and a T-shirt. Harry guessed Mrs. Weasley had probably snuck them in during the night.
He hadn't heard a sound. As Harry dressed, he noticed with surprise that the blank canvas on the wall was actually chuckling.
He now knew this portrait belonged to Phineas Nigellus Black.
This was precisely Sirius's great-great-grandfather he'd mentioned before, also a former Hogwarts headmaster—the most unpopular and most accomplished headmaster.
However, Harry hadn't seen him appear during the nearly two weeks he'd been here.
He guessed this person was probably always on the other side in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
Harry walked downstairs, tiptoeing past the heads of Kreacher's ancestors and Mrs. Black's portrait, reaching the kitchen below.
He originally thought no one would be in the kitchen at this hour. But as he reached the door, he heard low voices conversing behind it.
Pushing open the door, he saw Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, and Sirius all sitting there, as if waiting for him.
Sirius, just as Mrs. Weasley had said last night, was dressed impeccably.
This made him look like a major star.
This made Harry have to admit Mrs. Weasley was right.
He felt that if he were someone completely ignorant of the whole affair, upon seeing Sirius, he would definitely also think this person represented justice!
Good looks meant even his words carried more weight than others'.
Mr. Weasley was also already prepared. Only Mrs. Weasley still wore a purple casual shirt.
As soon as Harry entered, she immediately stood up.
"Eat breakfast."
As she spoke, she drew her wand and hurried toward the stove.
After breakfast, just as they were about to leave, Mrs. Weasley once again grabbed Harry and began attacking his hair with a wet comb.
She pressed down on his head forcefully, looking at Harry's stubborn hair, saying somewhat helplessly.
"Is there any possibility of it lying flat?"
"Molly, give up. James was the same way back then," Sirius said with a smile.
"But Harry isn't James."
Mrs. Weasley said seriously, "I must point this out, Sirius. Sometimes the way you talk about him makes it seem like you think your best friend has come back."
"Um, actually I don't think that's much of a problem."
Harry said weakly.
While Mrs. Weasley was tending to his hair, he felt something cool trickling down the back of his neck, almost thinking someone was casting a Disillusionment Charm on him.
"The problem is you're not your father, Harry."
Mrs. Weasley said gently, "No matter how much you resemble him, you're not him."
That said, Mrs. Weasley ultimately couldn't make Harry's hair lie smooth.
So, Harry could only leave under Mrs. Weasley's despairing gaze with his hedgehog hair, following Sirius and Mr. Weasley to Sherlock's house.
Although Mr. Weasley was a Ministry employee, he still hadn't obtained observer qualifications for this trial.
Fortunately, he was going to work at the Ministry anyway, so he could go with Sherlock and the others.
According to him, at least he could give them a place to stay at the Ministry before the formal trial began.
Arriving at King's Road and seeing Sherlock in brand new clothes, Harry couldn't help but freeze.
Sure enough, his guess was correct—Mrs. Holmes and Mrs. Weasley were the same type of person.
"Harry, you and Mr. Black are both in good condition... These clothes look good, but why do I feel like you've grown taller again?"
Although Mrs. Holmes also took today's trial very seriously, the feeling she gave Harry was more comfortable than Mrs. Weasley's.
How to put it?
Both Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Holmes treated him like their own son, which moved him deeply. But at the same time, he was somewhat impatient with Mrs. Weasley's excessive pampering.
By contrast, Mrs. Holmes didn't treat him like a foolish child who understood nothing. In giving him love, she also granted respect.
Harry guessed this might be related to the Holmes brothers.
After briefly chatting for a few minutes, the three said goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes and came to the main road.
Since it was still early and no one was around nearby.
Sirius looked at Sherlock. "Dumbledore hopes we'll cooperate with the Ministry."
"When did Dumbledore say this to you?" Harry looked curiously at Sirius.
"He had Fawkes deliver a letter last night. You were already asleep by then," Mr. Weasley said.
"Given the current situation, this is indeed a choice with very high cost-effectiveness." Sherlock nodded, agreeing with Dumbledore's statement.
He then looked at Sirius and Mr. Weasley. "So how do we get there? Apparition?"
"That's the current plan. Sirius will take Harry, and I'll take you..."
Mr. Weasley coughed. "On the way here, Sirius already told Harry, so now I need to tell you some precautions separately.
Even when being Side-Along Apparated, the first time is very difficult to adapt to..."
"We can skip this part," Sherlock said straightforwardly. "Professor Flitwick has already taken me using this method more than once."
"Wha—what?!"
Mr. Weasley looked at Sherlock in surprise. "Professor Flitwick Apparated you? When was this?"
"First year. When I was investigating the Greek Interpreter case, he happened to have a student at the Ministry..."
"I know—it was Peasegood! He mentioned this to me."
Mr. Weasley suddenly understood. "In that case, it's convenient."
Sherlock looked at Sirius. "Since we're mentioning this, I'd like to ask something. Is there someone named Wright Black in the Black family?
I didn't see his name on that family tree before."
"Wright Black?"
Sirius was stunned, thinking for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "No, I don't think he belongs to the Black family. Though he might possibly be a collateral family member, which is why I don't know about him. What's this about?"
"Nothing, just asking casually—let's go, Mr. Weasley."
Just as Sherlock had said, because he had already tried Apparition more than once with Professor Flitwick in first year, being Side-Along Apparated by Mr. Weasley now barely affected him.
Harry, however, was in a bad state. When he reappeared following Sirius, his face looked terrible, hands braced on his knees, gasping for breath.
"Let's wait a moment, Arthur."
Sirius looked somewhat worriedly at his side. "Harry needs more time to adapt."
"No problem, we have plenty of time."
While waiting for Harry to recover, Sherlock had already taken in the surrounding scenery.
After Apparating, they stood at one end of a very long, magnificent hall with a polished dark wood floor that gleamed like a mirror.
The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with glittering golden symbols that constantly moved and changed like a giant overhead bulletin board.
All four walls were paneled with glossy dark wood, with many gilded fireplaces embedded in the paneling.
Every few seconds, with a soft popping sound, a wizard would suddenly emerge from one of the fireplaces on the left.
On the right, several people queued before each fireplace waiting to leave.
Clearly, this was also a way to enter and exit the Ministry through Floo Powder connected to the Floo Network.
Speaking of which, Mr. Weasley's acquaintance seemed to have had some financial problems.
So, the fireplaces at Sherlock and Hermione's homes hadn't been connected to the Floo Network yet, otherwise they could have used this method to come today.
That said, more people still arrived here the same way they had today, through Apparition.
So, the hall continuously echoed with crackling sounds and the chaotic footsteps of dozens of witches and wizards.
Almost everyone wore the expression of workers forced to come to work, hurrying toward the row of golden gates at the far end of the hall.
In the center of the hall was a fountain. In the middle of a circular pool stood a group of larger-than-life-size golden statues.
The tallest, in the center, was a noble-looking wizard. He held his wand high, pointing it toward the sky. Standing not far beside him was a beautiful witch.
A centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf stood even farther away, all gazing up at the two wizards with infinite worship.
Glittering jets of water spurted from the tip of the wizard's wand, from the centaur's arrow, from the goblin's hat point, and from the house-elf's two ears.
All around came the sound of tinkling and splashing water.
"This is..."
Mr. Weasley noticed Sherlock surveying his surroundings and cleared his throat, preparing to explain as a veteran Ministry employee.
But Sherlock directly continued his words.
"...This is the Ministry of Magic's lobby and reception area, used to welcome visitors and employees."
"!"
Mr. Weasley looked at Sherlock in surprise, only to see him continue impassively.
"We're currently on the eighth floor underground. Those elevators ahead can take people to other floors, but not including the tenth-floor courtroom where we're going."
"Sherlock, you..."
"Up ahead is the Fountain of Magical Brethren, depicting an imagined harmonious picture of the magical world.
But I consider this highly unrealistic because whether centaurs or goblins, they all consider themselves far superior to witches and wizards.
House-elves do take pride in serving their masters, but whether they're truly happy is questionable.
Just look at the Black family house-elf's attitude toward Sirius."
Arthur Weasley. ━━∑(￣□￣*|||━━
At this moment, Mr. Weasley's shock was beyond measure.
No...
Why are you so well-versed in this!
I mean, are you the one working at the Ministry or am I?
Also, Sirius is right here—is it really okay to talk about the Black family house-elf like that?
Thinking this, Mr. Weasley instinctively looked toward Sirius.
He showed no reaction to Sherlock's assessment.
Looking again, he realized Sirius, like Sherlock, was surveying their surroundings.
However, unlike Sherlock's calm investigative gaze, Sirius's eyes were far more complex.
It was a mixture of disgust and painful memories, along with a trace of disdainful scrutiny toward this place that had once imprisoned his youth and caused him to lose his freedom.
Mr. Weasley didn't know how he could tell all this.
He just could.
As for Harry, the intense discomfort from Apparition seemed to have completely disappeared.
His face was full of wonder, listening intently to Sherlock speak.
Seeing this, Mr. Weasley suppressed his urge to hurry the three along and voiced his question.
"Sherlock, honestly, this is incredible!
Your description just now was even clearer than most employees who've worked here for a while!
Also, you even know about the elevator situation to the tenth-floor courtroom—how did you manage this?"
Mr. Weasley's voice was full of incredulous confusion.
Sherlock's gaze withdrew from those bustling wizard figures and turned to Mr. Weasley; his expression calm as usual.
"Knowledge comes from accumulation, Mr. Weasley.
During Christmas of first year, I handled a case. Miss Abbott told me about the Ministry's structure then.
Later I also read the Ministry's report on the case involving Wright Black and Hannah Abbott's father.
Combining the two, remembering these things became quite easy."
"Easy..."
Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, taking a while to find his voice, only managing a short syllable.
He touched the hair that had grown back after using the Potters' shampoo, nad felt his brain was insufficient.
Although Sherlock's explanation sounded reasonable.
But... if it were him, he absolutely couldn't do it.
"Has Harry recovered?"
Sirius suddenly spoke, his voice somewhat low, interrupting this brief silence.
He didn't want to continue standing in place discussing the Ministry's architectural layout or symbolic significance, especially in this place that stirred unpleasant memories.
"Yes, I'm fine now."
Harry quickly straightened up. Though his face was still somewhat pale, his breathing had stabilized.
"Good." Sirius responded briefly, his gaze turning to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur, shall we go?"
"Yes, yes, we should go. It's getting late."
Mr. Weasley snapped out of it, finally remembering their actual business today.
He took the lead, guiding the three into the crowd.
At this moment, the souls silently gazing from ancient family portraits, Sirius standing in the Ministry lobby looking back at the past, that seemingly ordinary yet distinctive young figure in the crowd.
They converged at this moment, silently traversing the undercurrent of fate.
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