The dim, yellowish light was not swallowed by the endless darkness surrounding it.
That glimmer of light was like a solitary lantern boat bobbing on a vast ocean—conspicuous, yet perpetually at risk of being engulfed by the sea.
Yet Sherlock was not the least bit careless at this moment. He knew full well that this tattered kerosene lamp was no simple boat that could be capsized by a single wave. It was more like a deep-sea anglerfish, lurking beneath the water, its sharp teeth bared and ready to hunt!
All the wands scattered around him had already silently aimed at the spot where the kerosene lamp had lit up.
A bizarre sound, caught somewhere between a desperate roar and a suppressed scream, abruptly pierced the darkness.
"You\~! Destroyed it!"
The question was abrupt and cryptic, but Sherlock didn't need more than a few seconds to understand what it was referring to.
"You mean the locket?" he said coldly. "What an unfortunate coincidence. It was indeed destroyed by my hand."
The kerosene lamp swayed gently, as if stirred by a breeze.
Two crimson glows ignited in the darkness. The escapee who had left Azkaban long ago stared intently at Sherlock.
"Sherlock\~! You\~ are not him! You are not him! But you\~ are not afraid!"
Back in that underground Goblin chamber last year, when it had first uttered those words, Sherlock had already realised that this straw man, an embodiment of fear, had seen through the thing he feared most at the time.
It wasn't mind-reading like Legilimency, yet it was even more unreasonable than mind-reading.
Just as low-level Dark creatures like Boggarts in the Wizarding World could unerringly discern a Wizard's deepest fears, Frederick, being a higher-level entity, was only stronger in this regard, not weaker.
However, while a Boggart frightened people by directly transforming into the object of their fear, Frederick used language to voice the secrets people most dreaded hearing spoken aloud.
It was difficult to compare which method was more effective, but in terms of combat power alone, Frederick could absolutely crush a hundred Boggarts!
For that straw man, which held a lantern in one hand and a scythe in the other, the kerosene lamp was merely one of its abilities. When it came to truly reaping lives, it relied on the scythe in its hand, which resembled the very tool of Death!
The other party had no intention of starting a fight immediately, choosing instead to talk about other things. Sherlock was naturally happy to oblige.
"This only proves that your cultivation is still lacking. I'm not afraid of you saying these things at all."
As he spoke, he slowly moved forward, inching closer to the glowing light.
To anyone else, Sherlock's response would have seemed like pure provocation. But the straw man named Frederick did not overlook his movements.
Those crimson eyes remained fixed on the patch of darkness where Sherlock stood. It seemed capable of seeing things buried extremely deep within a person, and it had already discerned something unusual.
"Your fear has changed\~ You are afraid of other things\~ You are afraid\~ You are afraid\~"
Its voice suddenly halted. Then its tone shifted abruptly, and the voice of a boy in the midst of puberty echoed through the space.
"It's alright, Professor. You've already helped me so much. Even if I die now, it's okay. Thank you, Professor Cavendish..."
Immediately afterwards, another boy's voice followed, thin and extremely timid.
"I'm so scared, Professor... I'm really scared... Professor Cavendish, will I die here?"
A girl's voice, choked with sobs and trembling, rang out.
"They're all dead! Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati... Was it because of you, Professor? Did you cause their deaths?"
An extremely aged and wise voice spoke, calm yet tinged with humour.
"Everyone must face this step eventually, Sherlock. Ah, why make that face? Don't worry, I'm not blaming you. Don't put so much pressure on yourself. I'm merely embarking on another great journey. Isn't that a good thing?"
A normally stern and harsh, but now wholly gentle, elderly woman's voice followed.
"What makes me happiest is witnessing your growth. Nothing could be better. Don't be sad, child. Don't be sad. May Sally watch over you..."
Various voices sounded one after another. Boys and girls spoke in succession—some cursing, some bitterly denouncing, some complaining, and others offering comfort.
Each sentence was a parting message from a life.
Sherlock didn't move. He stopped advancing and stood quietly in place, listening to these words with an expressionless face.
He didn't miss a single sentence. He could identify the person behind each voice.
And the final voice carried neither complaint nor comfort, neither curse nor praise. That ethereal female voice simply said, in a weak yet genuinely happy tone,
"It was so nice to meet you, John."
All the voices ceased abruptly.
Silence returned to the darkness. Sherlock's expression remained unchanged. He simply stood there, staring unblinkingly at the light that seemed far away, yet felt as though he could touch it by taking just two steps forward.
The roaring, suppressed voice once again shattered the silence.
"You are afraid of these things\~ Sherlock!"
Sherlock gently raised his hand. In the darkness, countless wands rose simultaneously with his movement.
"Perhaps you're right. I am indeed afraid of such things happening," he said softly, like a breeze passing through the night. "But so what? It's precisely because I'm afraid that I'm here. It's precisely because I'm afraid that I chose to stay at Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, a position I'm not even particularly interested in."
"I've never felt that being afraid of something is shameful. Since I fear it, I simply need to prevent it from happening."
Although neither his tone nor his expression had changed, Frederick's words had indeed affected Sherlock's state of mind.
He suddenly felt that his original plan of cautious probing was becoming tedious, so he simply decided to unleash his ultimate move.
Two hundred wands danced together in the darkness!
"Expecto Patronum!"
Silver radiance pierced the surrounding darkness the instant the incantation left his lips!
It was as if countless silvery-white threads had been drawn across a sheet of pitch-black paper, standing out strikingly against the utter darkness!
Hundreds of ravens took shape, woven from strands of silver light, illuminating the darkest room until it was as bright as day!