"Mr. Holmes, I can't thank you enough!"
As soon as Sherlock pointed out there was more than one way to deal with his current predicament, Hagrid instinctively expressed his gratitude.
But the moment the words left his mouth, he froze.
"Wait a second… I haven't even told you anything yet!"
What was going on here?
He had only sent an owl to Sherlock, saying he had something he wanted to discuss.
Sherlock had just arrived at his hut and had a cup of tea.
So how did he already know Hagrid was in trouble?
Sherlock sighed internally.
If deducing secrets from most people required careful observation and logical inference, then Rubeus Hagrid might as well have written his thoughts directly on his face.
He didn't even need Sherlock.
Even Hermione—no, Harry—actually, even Ron could probably pry it out of him.
Because Hagrid just couldn't keep a secret to save his life.
"You're trying to figure out what to do with that dragon egg, aren't you? I have three possible solutions:
First, tell Professor Dumbledore. With his authority, he'll know how to handle it properly.
Second, contact Ron's brother, Charlie Weasley. He's studying dragons in Romania and could take it off your hands safely.
Third—"
"Hold on, wait a minute!"
Before Sherlock could finish listing the third option, Hagrid interrupted again.
His eyes were wide with alarm as he stared at Sherlock. "Merlin's beard—how do you know about that?!"
"Know about what?"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "That you're trying to deal with a dragon egg?"
"Yes! But how did you know I had one? I never told you a thing!"
Hagrid looked like he'd seen a ghost.
He couldn't wrap his head around how Sherlock already knew everything despite him not saying a word.
"Well…"
Sherlock could tell from Hagrid's expression that he wouldn't calm down until he explained. So he reluctantly spelled out what was, to him, completely obvious:
"If you don't want people to know, you probably shouldn't leave those books lying around in plain sight—
'Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland,' 'From Egg to Inferno,' 'A Guide to Raising Dragons,' 'Breeding Dragons for Pleasure and Profit'.
Anyone would find that suspicious.
Then there's the fact that every curtain in the hut is drawn shut, the fireplace is blazing hotter than it was during the coldest night, and the temperature in here is unbearable.
Most importantly, I can see the egg from right where I'm sitting.
As far as I know, only dragon eggs require this kind of incubation."
By the time Sherlock finished rattling all that off, Hagrid still hadn't managed to hide the books on dragons.
Sherlock: ←_←
The scene was more than a little awkward.
"Alright, fine—you got me. That's amazing, Sherlock!"
Hagrid was so impressed that he even switched to using Sherlock's given name.
Sherlock: (_)
"So… what was your third idea?"
Hagrid eagerly rubbed his hands together. "To be honest, I don't like the first two options much…"
Just from his expression, Sherlock could already guess what he wanted—Hagrid clearly wanted to raise the dragon himself.
Unfortunately, in the wizarding world, that was a crime.
The Warlocks' Convention of 1709 had explicitly forbidden the private ownership of dragons—a fact Binns had randomly brought up once in History of Magic.
"How did you even get the egg in the first place?" Sherlock asked.
"You're interested in dragons too?" Hagrid perked up.
"Strictly speaking, I'm more interested in the person who gave it to you."
Hagrid's expression turned puzzled.
"Why? Is there something wrong with the egg?"
"No, the problem is you," Sherlock replied, eyes gleaming as he rested his chin on steepled fingers. "Now, tell me exactly what happened that night."
Although Hagrid was confused about Sherlock's interest in the dragon egg, he still dutifully recounted the story.
In short, he had gone to the Hog's Head for a drink, as usual, and ended up playing cards with a stranger who approached him.
The man was a terrible player and lost several Galleons to Hagrid.
Eventually, in a desperate gamble, the stranger offered up a dragon egg—but still lost.
Hagrid didn't go into much detail, but it was more than enough for Sherlock.
"So, you never saw his face?"
"Nope. That bloke kept his cloak on the whole time."
Hagrid chuckled. "Sherlock, you're overthinking it. The Hog's Head is full of shady characters like that—it's not unusual."
"You're right. It wouldn't mean much—except that someone obsessed with magical creatures, carrying a dragon egg, just so happened to find you."
"Uh… Sherlock, could you explain it more clearly?" Hagrid rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You know I'm not great with the thinking part."
Sherlock let out a long sigh. "So… besides Fluffy, what other protections did you and the professors place around the Philosopher's Stone?"
"It's not Fluffy—it's my sweet boy!"
Hagrid snapped back instinctively before continuing:
"He might look scary, but he's well-trained. Just play him some music and he falls asleep instantly.
Dumbledore borrowed him from me and also asked a few other professors to place enchantments—Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, Professor Quirrell—and of course, Dumbledore himself.
Wait—there's one more… Oh, right, Professor Snape too."
At this point, Hagrid's face suddenly twisted in horror. He slapped himself hard.
"Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?!"
Sherlock: (_)
Seriously—how are you this unaware?
Honestly, when it came to dealing with Hagrid, Sherlock felt zero sense of accomplishment.
He didn't even need to deduce anything—Hagrid just handed him the answers.
"Hagrid, relax. Dumbledore already told me all of this," Sherlock said calmly. "And from everything you've said, I can conclude that the man who gave you the dragon egg was Quirrell."
"That's impossible! Quirrell was one of the professors protecting the Philosopher's Stone!"
Clearly, Hagrid hadn't remembered what Sherlock had told him during their last conversation at the hut.
Sherlock wasn't surprised—he didn't bother repeating himself. He simply said:
"I've already confirmed this with Dumbledore."
Hagrid's eyes bulged again.
What was going on?
He had this feeling the last time too, and now it was even stronger.
Why did Dumbledore tell Sherlock everything?
I'm the one who was here first!
"Let's get back to the egg."
Just hearing the word "egg" was enough to pull Hagrid's attention away from Fluffy, Quirrell, and the Philosopher's Stone altogether.
But Sherlock's next line nearly made him fall over.
"My third solution is to give the dragon egg to me."
"To you?"
Hagrid stared blankly at Sherlock.
Had he been left behind by the times?
Was the magical world now raising twelve-year-olds capable of handling fire-breathing dragons?
If so, then what was the point of all his years of experience?
"Yes," Sherlock replied with a mischievous glint. "I recently read a forbidden potion recipe that requires a dragon egg as an ingredient."
"Wait—you mean…"
"Exactly what you think. I intend to use the egg in a potion."
He cast a long, meaningful glance at the large, sooty egg nestled in the fireplace.
Seeing that intense gaze, Hagrid couldn't help but shudder.
"N-No way! That's a living creature!"
"Not until it hatches," Sherlock replied, waving his hand. "I'm offering you Galleons in return…"
"Absolutely not!"
Hagrid jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over with a loud crash.
"I'd rather confess to Dumbledore that I accidentally spilled secrets about Fluffy than let you cook that egg into a potion!"
He flailed his thick arms, his face flushed with emotion—and switched back to calling Sherlock "Holmes."
"Is that so? What a pity," Sherlock said with a sigh, shaking his head regretfully.
Seeing that expression made Hagrid even more nervous.
What kind of monster did Gryffindor admit this year?!
---
"Pwahahaha—!"
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron was laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch. "Bloody hell, Sherlock! That was ruthless—tricking Hagrid into giving up the dragon egg like that."
"Unethical, but undeniably effective," Hermione said, offering her verdict.
"It was the right thing to do. Dragons are just too dangerous—even Hagrid would struggle to tame one.
Honestly, he should see Charlie's burn scars sometime—those wild Romanian dragons are no joke."
Harry looked worried. "Sherlock, what if Hagrid changes his mind later?"
"He won't," Sherlock said calmly. "Wizards love compromise.
If you tell Hagrid to just hand over the egg, he'll dig in his heels.
But if I propose boiling it for potion ingredients, then he'll find a middle ground—sending it away."
The trio stared at him in awe.
The more they thought about it, the more it made sense.
"Alright, you've convinced me," Ron said. "Now what about the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff? Hermione and I think Harry shouldn't play—"
"Why not?"
"Because Snape's volunteered to referee, out of nowhere!
That greasy git's clearly out to get Harry—he's never done this before!"
"You're right," Sherlock nodded. "It is because of Harry."
Ron puffed up proudly, turning to Harry with smug satisfaction.
"See? Even Sherlock agrees with me! You should totally fake a leg injury and skip the match."
Harry: _〆(Д｀)
Mate… can you not? Just once?
Sherlock ignored Ron and turned to Harry. "Since he's going out of his way to ref, all you need to think about is how to win."
"Huh?"
Ron was dumbfounded.
What kind of logic is that?!
---
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