"We're leaving tonight?"
Harry lowered his voice as he asked.
"Students don't return until tomorrow evening. Filch will be less alert tonight than usual—it's a good opportunity."
Harry readily agreed.
As he draped the Invisibility Cloak over himself and saw his body completely vanish from sight, his excitement grew.
Just before setting out, he hesitated, then pulled the cloak open a bit more.
"Sherlock, why don't you get in too?"
His reasoning was simple.
The Invisibility Cloak left to him by his father was large enough to cover both him and Sherlock. It might be a bit awkward walking together like that, but the safety was worth it.
To be honest, when Sherlock had first handed him the cloak, Harry had a bold thought:
What if I just wore it alone and snuck around the school for a bit?
After all, this was a gift from his father. It felt right that the first time he used it, it should be a solo experience.
But that thought hadn't lasted long.
This cloak was given to me because of Sherlock. How could I act selfishly like that?
Without Sherlock, I might never have received it at all.
Sure, Sherlock said Dumbledore intended to give it as a Christmas gift, but plans can always change, can't they?
Thinking that way made Harry feel terribly guilty for a while.
But he never expected that when he offered to share the cloak, Sherlock would simply say:
"From the moment I gave you the cloak, you should've used it to explore the school on your own."
"If you had, it would've helped greatly with tonight's mission."
Harry's head jerked up.
"It's a shame that tonight is the first time you're using it."
"I…"
"As for now… put it on, stay quiet, and walk in front," Sherlock said calmly, yet with unwavering confidence.
"Even without the cloak, I won't be discovered."
His firm refusal left Harry with no choice but to agree, though inside his heart was a mess.
So Sherlock actually thinks that selfish thought I had was… correct?
That's absurd!
Harry shook the thought away and asked, "So… where are we going?"
"Wherever you like. Don't worry—I'll follow you."
That was Sherlock's true intention.
There was no fixed destination tonight. The purpose of this nighttime excursion was to broaden Harry's horizons.
Just as Sherlock had said earlier: once Harry chose to face Voldemort, Sherlock had decided to help him grow stronger.
Because if Harry only relied on an old spell and a passionate sense of justice, he'd be walking straight into death.
Following Sherlock's instructions, Harry carefully crept out of the dorm, descended the staircase, passed through the common room, and climbed out of the portrait hole.
"Who's there?" called the Fat Lady, her hoarse voice echoing behind them.
Harry's heart pounded wildly.
But he remembered Sherlock's advice: stay silent. So he hurried forward through the corridor without uttering a word.
He didn't even dare glance back to see if Sherlock was still with him.
Meanwhile, Sherlock, following behind, shook his head slightly.
Without the cloak, Harry would've been caught the moment he left the common room.
Even with the cloak, his sneaking posture was full of flaws in Sherlock's eyes.
Fortunately, there was still time to improve.
At the end of the corridor, Harry finally paused to catch his breath.
He stopped to pick a direction—but just as he instinctively turned to consult Sherlock, he realized something that made his blood run cold.
Sherlock was gone!
Harry panicked.
He scanned his surroundings. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.
"Sherlock? Sherlock!" he called out in a whisper, his voice tight with worry.
No reply.
He was alone in the corridor.
Did I walk too fast and leave him behind?
The thought filled Harry with regret.
Sherlock might be smart, but Harry was the one hidden from sight. He should've slowed down.
Without further hesitation, he turned to go back.
He wasn't going to abandon his friend.
But the moment he took a step, a firm hand landed on his shoulder.
A familiar voice whispered in his ear, "Good evening, Harry."
"Sherlock!"
Harry spun around in surprise—Sherlock was right beside him!
"Keep your voice down, my friend, unless you want to bring someone running," Sherlock said.
"I-I thought you got—"
Harry trailed off, too embarrassed to finish. He was the one in the cloak, yet somehow, he'd thought Sherlock had been the one lost.
"Where were you just now?"
Sherlock stepped back into the shadows of a towering stone pillar.
"Tracking and concealment are skills," he said.
"An Invisibility Cloak hides you from sight—but that doesn't mean you've truly disappeared."
He held up a thin, shimmering glass shard between his fingers. "A minute ago, you stopped beside the knight's armor. The temperature of the knee plate rose by two to three degrees Celsius—heat still passes through invisibility."
Harry then noticed a prism embedded in the collar of Sherlock's robe, casting a faint grid of light that shimmered across the corridor.
"You've mastered a Disillusionment Charm? That's advanced magic!"
"You're overestimating me, dear Harry," Sherlock replied. "It's much simpler."
He raised his right hand. "Look."
Fine threads dangled between his fingers, gleaming pearlescent under the moonlight.
"Spider silk from Diagon Alley," Sherlock explained. "Used properly, it bends light—and when the Invisibility Cloak brushes against it, it emits a high C note."
He stepped forward.
"Your breathing rate is up 17%. I doubt anyone else could notice, but I'd recommend staying calm."
"Now, if you haven't decided on a destination, I suggest the library. It's nearby, spacious, and you know the layout."
"If we stay here much longer, we may run out of time."
Harry didn't hesitate to accept the advice.
The library at night was pitch dark.
Whether it was imagination or not, Harry felt it was far creepier than in the daytime.
He lit a lantern, holding it in front of him as he passed shelf after shelf.
It hovered in the air—though he could feel it in his hand, it still looked eerily detached from his body.
When he reached the restricted section in the back, the unease peaked.
He carefully stepped over the rope separating it from the rest of the library, considering pulling a book off the shelf when Sherlock's voice came from nearby:
"If I were you, I wouldn't step on surfaces that leave footprints."
Startled, Harry looked down and quickly chose another path.
Over the course of their nighttime exploration, Sherlock gave Harry a full lesson.
Just like in the corridor earlier, Sherlock used agility and a few simple spells to move through the castle without issue.
Harry, despite the cloak, nearly got caught by Filch multiple times.
Thankfully, just as Sherlock had predicted, Filch was more lax than usual tonight.
And in critical moments, Sherlock provided cover.
Still, Harry was speechless with embarrassment—he got lost multiple times, even though he was the one under the cloak!
Sherlock, meanwhile, always managed to find him.
One word: Genius.
After a while, Sherlock reminded Harry of more stealth tips, then checked the time and suggested they return.
This time, he deliberately took a different route back.
And, predictably, Harry got lost.
He wandered, turning at every corner and entering random doors.
Sherlock sighed inwardly.
Training the Chosen One is going to take a lot of work…
Maybe… I should just handle things myself?
Just then, Harry's voice echoed in the hall, "Sherlock, are you there?"
Sherlock sighed and took three long strides into the room where Harry stood.
"Sherlock—look… what's that?"
Rather than look right away, Sherlock scanned the room.
Old desks and chairs were piled by the walls, casting bulky shadows in the moonlight.
A flipped-over wastebasket confirmed the place was disused.
An abandoned classroom.
Then Sherlock turned his eyes to what had caught Harry's attention.
It was a grand mirror—tall enough to reach the ceiling, framed in gold, with clawed feet at its base.
Sherlock spoke:
"This mirror was placed here recently—within the last three days. And it'll be moved again soon."
"Tell me—how do you know that?" Harry asked eagerly.
He no longer tried to guess Sherlock's deductions.
He'd learned it was better to listen and enjoy the process—especially when Sherlock revealed his reasoning with a proud glint in his eye.
And Sherlock never could resist a bit of praise.
So why not just flatter him?
---
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