Facing his godfather Sirius, Harry finally poured out all the grievances he'd been harboring. From the baseless slander in Rita Skeeter's article to his classmates' strange looks, to the frustration of being pointed at wherever he walked—every word carried the sourness of long-suppressed emotion.
He'd mentioned these things before, but no one had truly listened. Sherlock, most of the time, wasn't a good listener unless the matter related to a case. This also meant he couldn't employ empathy, because in his view, everything Harry was experiencing didn't really matter at all!
Hearing Harry's words, Ginny's chagrin instantly replaced her earlier awkwardness. She'd actually been secretly upset over Rita's fabrications about Harry's first love, even deliberately avoiding him.
Looking back now, it seemed so childish and meaningless. She clenched her fists. What she should have done like Sirius was doing now was quietly stay by his side as a patient listener.
Damn it, why hadn't she thought of this? She'd acted too late!
"I see..." After Harry's outpouring, Sirius's deep black eyes flashed with understanding as he observed Harry thoughtfully.
"I understand now. She's discovered your value. The name Harry Potter carries millions of times more appeal than anyone else's. Not to mention you're the youngest champion in this Triwizard Tournament.
How could someone like Rita Skeeter possibly pass up such a perfect opportunity? To hook readers' attention, she'll write any outrageous thing. Actually, just as Sherlock and Hermione said, don't take her words to heart."
"But I can't do that!" Harry's head jerked up, his voice full of frustration. "Her nonsense has completely disrupted my life!"
"This situation is indeed troublesome." Sirius straightened in his seat, his expression turning serious, his voice dropping several notes. "Rita Skeeter is a special correspondent for the Daily Prophet. Dear Harry, you must understand—this newspaper dares to criticize even the Ministry of Magic by name.
Getting her to shut up completely is almost impossible. Moreover, readers happen to eat up exactly what she writes. Even though we all know it's false, one must admit her skill at manipulating emotions is genuinely impressive. You know what? Just this one article about you increased the Daily Prophet's sales by a full twenty percent recently—that's quite remarkable data."
"So, there's truly nothing we can do?" Harry's shoulders slumped again, disappointment filling his eyes, his voice dropping.
"Not quite." Sirius suddenly curved his mouth into a sly smile, patting Harry's arm. "If you really find her that bothersome, I actually have a way to keep her quiet for a while."
"What way?" Harry's head snapped up, his previously dim eyes suddenly lighting up as he leaned forward eagerly.
"Don't ask about the specifics. Just know that I have a method." Sirius winked mysteriously.
"You're planning to use some special means, I suppose." At this point, Sherlock, who'd been silently drinking his butterbeer, set down his glass. The sound of glass meeting table rang out lightly as he raised an eyebrow with a bland interjection.
"You, boy..." Sirius shook his head helplessly. "Saying it so plainly takes all the fun out of it!"
"Given your personality, it's indeed the most direct and effective approach."
"Ah..." Harry paused, then realized what Sirius was implying and quickly waved his hands. "Never mind then! It's really not worth going that far."
Having spent so much time with Sirius, he'd heard some stories about the Marauders in their parents' generation. He didn't want Sirius doing something potentially harmful to others because of him, even if Rita Skeeter had provoked him first.
"Don't worry so much, Harry." Sirius leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Since she started this mess, giving her a taste of her own medicine isn't excessive."
Harry bit his lip, frowning with hesitation. After a moment of silence, he firmly shook his head.
Next, the conversation naturally turned to the Triwizard Tournament. Sirius looked at Harry and Sherlock with eyes full of trust and encouragement.
"Since the Goblet of Fire chose you two rather than other adult wizards, it means you're the most suitable candidates. Harry, stop fixating on age—I absolutely believe in your abilities. I've heard about that Diggory fellow too. The three of you working together will surely defeat those people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."
They discussed competition details at length, with Sirius patiently hearing out all of Harry's questions and providing thorough answers to each one.
As time passed, the Three Broomsticks pub grew increasingly crowded, the previously spacious interior becoming cramped. The air mixed the malty aroma of butterbeer, the char of toasted bread, and various wizards' diverse perfume scents, while ears filled with noisy conversation and the crisp clink of glasses colliding.
Most patrons were Hogwarts students taking advantage of their weekend afternoon freedom to gather here laughing and joking. But quite a few wizards in various robes with different expressions also moved through the crowd.
This wasn't surprising—Hogsmeade was Britain's only all-wizard village. For wizards uncomfortable disguising themselves among Muggles, this was the safest, most comfortable haven.
"Too many people!" Sirius frowned, scanning the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd filling the room, his tone carrying irritation. "I think we need to change locations."
"Good idea! But where should we go?" Ron immediately bounced up from his seat, eyes bright with eagerness—he'd been unable to sit still for ages.
"Not we." Sirius's mouth curved upward, his gaze sweeping over the young people, revealing a meaningful smile. "I think we should split up."
"Huh?" Harry froze; surprise was written across his face as he looked at Sirius uncomprehendingly.
Sirius said casually, "Harry, you take Cho and Ginny to look around nearby. Sherlock, you take Hermione and Luna."
Ron watched Sirius arrange everyone else with nobody objecting, and suddenly found himself dumbfounded. He pointed at his own nose, completely bewildered. "What about me?"
"You're coming with me, of course." Sirius clapped Ron's shoulder with enough force to make him stagger. "I'll show you some interesting things. Very exciting."
Everyone was satisfied with Sirius's arrangement. Cho Chang's cheeks flushed slightly as she quietly moved half a step closer to Harry. Ginny also pressed her lips together and nodded, anticipation gleaming in her eyes.
Though Harry would have preferred being alone with Cho, seeing Ginny's bright eyes made him feel it wouldn't be appropriate for her to tag along with Sherlock or Ron. Since Ginny herself didn't object, he and Cho took the initiative to volunteer as guides, offering to show the first-time Hogsmeade visitor around the village.
On the other side, Hermione and Luna were naturally willing to accompany Sherlock, while Sherlock seemed utterly indifferent—whether alone or with a group made no difference to him.
As for Ron, hearing there would be interesting and exciting things immediately banished all his doubts, and he eagerly agreed.
Thus, the group exited the Three Broomsticks and split into three directions.
Seeing neither Sherlock nor Luna speaking, leaving the atmosphere somewhat quiet, Hermione took the initiative. Like Ginny, Luna had just entered third year and this was her first visit to Hogsmeade.
"Luna, Hogsmeade has many interesting shops. Would you like to look around? We can accompany you."
Hearing Hermione's words, Luna seemed to pull herself from her own thoughts. Her bulging eyes blinked as her gaze swept over wizards in various robes on the village road and shops with peculiar signs, her face blooming into a dreamlike smile.
"Oh, yes! The air here is filled with curiosity bubbles—I've wanted to observe them closely for ages. As long as you're happy, I'm fine with anything."
Hermione had grown accustomed to Luna's odd descriptions. She smiled helplessly and turned to Sherlock, wanting to hear his opinion.
"Just wander around." Sherlock made the decision concisely, his pace remaining unhurried.
Though Hogsmeade's main street bustled with activity, unlike the Three Broomsticks' chaos, Hogwarts students weren't as densely concentrated here. Most students visiting had clear destinations—either heading straight for Honeydukes sweet shop or toward Zonko's joke shop. Few strolled leisurely like them.
Luna remained curious throughout, frequently stopping when roadside scenes caught her attention. Spotting a spinning, dancing tin can in a shop window, her eyes lit up with a soft exclamation: "Look! It's waltzing with the moss fairies on the windowsill!"
Passing wind chimes hanging beneath a house's eaves, she tilted her head to listen, whispering, "That tone is too sharp—it'll startle the snow sprites hibernating under the eaves..."
Hermione helplessly rubbed her forehead, pulling out a small notebook from her pocket to check. Sherlock inadvertently glimpsed "S.P.E.W." written on it, with a member list below. However, the content was pitifully short, containing only two names: Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.
"So, you're still planning to advance the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare?" Sherlock asked.
"That's right." Hermione tucked away the notebook, surveying the street's wizards thoughtfully. "Actually, perhaps I should try recruiting some villagers to join S.P.E.W."
"They won't join." Luna suddenly interjected, her voice airy, making Hermione pause.
"Why not?" Hermione looked at her questioningly.
"Because they still depend on house-elves to work for them!" Luna tilted her head, speaking with complete seriousness. "If house-elves were freed, who would clean their houses and cook and wash for them?"
"I'm not saying house-elves shouldn't work." Hermione took a deep breath, urgency entering her tone. "But at minimum, they should receive decent wages and proper working conditions!"
Luna blinked, still looking utterly puzzled at Hermione, as if completely unable to understand why she'd worry about such things.
Hermione sighed helplessly but felt more determined. "The reality I'm facing actually makes me feel S.P.E.W. must continue. Sherlock, I think I need to take more direct action. I'm planning to start with Hogwarts' kitchens—I just don't know how to get inside."
"I don't think that's a good idea." Sherlock shook his head, pausing before adding, "However, I can tell you how to enter the kitchens."
"Really?" Hermione immediately perked up, her eyes brightening with delight.
"In the vast majority of cases, I don't lie."
Hogwarts' kitchens were located in the castle's underground level, adjacent to Hufflepuff's common room, directly below the Great Hall. To enter the kitchens, one simply needed to gently tickle the pear in the fruit bowl portrait at the entrance. When the pear laughed, it would transform into a green door handle.
Hearing this, Luna laughed aloud. "A pear that laughs and turns into a door handle—how fascinating!"
Hermione sighed. "So, it's that simple! I thought it would be mysterious!"
"Dear Hermione, this is just like my deductive process. Before I explain it, you find it incredible. But once I've revealed the steps, you think—ah, it's all so simple!"
"Indeed." Hermione couldn't help laughing. "Even though we've known each other four years, whenever something like this happens, I still can't help feeling surprised."
"Only four years?" Sherlock also smiled. "Who knows—you might maintain this state for your entire life!"
"My entire life..." Hearing Sherlock say this, Hermione didn't know what she was thinking, but her face suddenly flushed.
Sherlock looked at Hermione curiously, unable to understand what she was contemplating.
"Look at that barrel—its shape is so peculiar, like a hippo lying on the ground sunbathing." At that moment, Luna's words interrupted their state.
Following Luna's gaze, they saw a large wooden barrel outside Dervish and Banges across the street. The barrel was stuffed full of colorful broomstick handles—red, blue, green—packed tightly together.
Luna was clearly captivated by this scene. She stopped, standing on tiptoe to peer in that direction, speaking in her characteristic ethereal voice:
"Those broomstick handles are stuck in there, quiet and still, like little fish tangled in water plants. I think they're definitely waiting for a storm that can carry them into flight. Hermione, perhaps house-elves would enjoy keeping company with such barrels, listening to the wind's voice together?"
Though addressing Hermione, her eyes remained glued to the barrel, completely immersed in her reality-triggered fantasies about magical creatures.
Hermione, her train of thought interrupted, sighed softly and looked helplessly at Luna. Just as she was about to speak, Luna bent to retie her loosened shoelaces, then looked up to add:
"Also, regarding the kitchens you mentioned—I've heard there's a bread elf guardian spirit in Hogwarts' kitchens. They always gather around the ovens at midnight singing lullabies."
Hermione found herself speechless, mouth opening but unable to formulate a response. She instinctively turned toward Sherlock, wanting to see his reaction. But when she looked—or rather, hadn't looked before—she froze completely upon seeing what had caught his attention.
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