Faced with Marietta Edgecombe's bold defiance, Cho Chang felt both relieved and uneasy.
Relieved, because it seemed Sherlock might have been wrong—and that her best friend hadn't actually done anything bad.
Uneasy, because if Sherlock had misjudged the situation, it would be a blow to his credibility.
Alicia, on the other hand, looked on with pure curiosity—just a bystander, simply enjoying the drama.
Only Hermione and Penelope remained firmly convinced that the culprit was Edgecombe.
Hermione's trust in Sherlock needed no explanation, especially after she had just found supporting evidence.
Penelope, for her part, believed her own eyes. After all, Marietta's suspicious behavior earlier was practically a confession in itself.
But now, seeing Edgecombe so composed and self-assured, both girls furrowed their brows.
Where had they gone wrong?
Sherlock looked at Edgecombe like she was a fool. "If you had a bit more patience, you wouldn't be asking such a ridiculous question."
As everyone followed Sherlock's gaze, they noticed Mrs. Norris pawing repeatedly at the bottom of Marietta's cabinet, producing a hollow thudding sound.
"Could it be...?"
Several of the girls gasped as the same thought struck them.
Penelope quickly stepped forward, raised her wand, and cast a spell at the spot Mrs. Norris had been tapping.
"Revelio!"
With a flicker, a hidden drawer popped out from the base of the cabinet.
"A concealed compartment—enchanted with an Extension Charm!"
"Oh my goodness, that's my sandalwood box!"
Hermione and Cho exclaimed in unison.
Penelope frowned and retrieved the box, then opened it and handed it to Cho.
Inside, seven delicate porcelain trays were embedded in a carved sandalwood grid of plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum motifs—colors ranging from deep indigo to soft pink, like the four seasons of the countryside captured in miniature.
Just as Cho had described before.
"There's noticeably more gold used than the other colors. The usage marks are also the freshest."
Sherlock gave his judgment with just a glance.
"Gold eyeshadow with a subtle shimmer—ideal for drawing attention in social settings."
At that moment, Hermione remembered Cho's seemingly trivial description of her seven-color palette.
"Marietta, why?"
Cho turned to her friend, her gaze full of sorrow and disappointment.
"We were best friends… You know, if you liked it, I could've just asked my dad to buy you one."
Marietta looked at her coldly. The earlier feigned sympathy Sherlock had pointed out was gone.
"There's nothing left to say."
"Give me a reason!" Cho pleaded.
"What if I said I was just curious and wanted to try it for a few days—would you believe me?"
"I…"
Cho hesitated.
"If that were true, you could've just told her," Case snapped angrily. "But you didn't just sneak the eyeshadow—you used magic and a charmed hidden drawer!"
"Miss Case," Sherlock cut in calmly, "if you're curious about her motive, I can explain."
"Oh, right!"
Alicia perked up. "You said something about this earlier!"
Sherlock turned to Hermione. "Hermione, could you read what I asked you to find?"
Hermione nodded and pulled out a stack of papers.
"From the March 27 edition of the Daily Prophet:
'Mrs. Edgecombe was once again commended for her contributions to Floo Network reform, with the award presented personally by Minister Cornelius Fudge. This marks her seventh commendation from the Ministry in the past year.'
The Department of Magical Transportation and the Floo Network Authority have both praised Mrs. Edgecombe, citing her exceptional contributions to monitoring and administration…"
Hermione continued reading several similar accolades—glowing praise from The Daily Prophet about Marietta's mother.
As they listened, the girls gradually began to understand what Sherlock was implying.
Then Hermione added, "Although Marietta's grades in Potions were average, they recently took a noticeable dip. Coincidentally, Professor Snape's latest essay assignment was on 'The Fragility of Familial Magical Contracts.'"
"Thank you, Hermione."
Sherlock turned to Marietta.
"Miss Chang once told me your mother works at the Ministry of Magic. But she's extremely busy—perhaps even more so than Miss Chang's father."
"You once casually remarked that 'not all parents remember to send gifts.' Miss Chang remembered the comment but thought nothing more of it."
"But when we combine that with The Daily Prophet reports, it paints a picture of someone consumed by work."
"So I hypothesized: You've developed resentment due to being long neglected by your mother. You grew envious of Miss Chang's close bond with her father and acted out by stealing the precious gift he gave her."
"The decline in your Potions grades only further supports this."
"Marietta… is that true?"
Cho looked at her friend in shock. Her hand trembled as she held the sandalwood box.
Marietta didn't reply. She just stared at Cho.
"Jealousy is more tragic than theft—because it can never be returned," Sherlock said softly.
And that… finally broke her.
"Yes! It was me!"
Marietta screamed. She lunged and snatched the box from Cho's hands, hurling it toward the floor.
Cho had no time to react—but Penelope was faster. She cast a Freezing Charm, stopping it midair.
Marietta's sobs startled the owls resting on the window ledge.
Cho stood frozen, staring at her friend's twisted expression.
At that moment, she recalled Marietta's trembling fingers when she'd touched the eyeshadow… and the way she always muttered, "Cho always gets the best of everything."
Perhaps this friendship had already faded before the theft even happened.
"Come on, Hermione. We're no longer needed here—Penelope will handle it."
Sherlock, unsurprised by the outcome, repeated his earlier words:
"Ravenclaw's wit… still no match for the thorns of envy that grow in silence."
---
"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!"
At dinner, Harry and Ron were wide-eyed as Hermione recounted Sherlock's deduction in the case of the missing eyeshadow.
Harry, drained from Wood's brutal Quidditch training, looked wistfully at Hermione seated beside Sherlock.
If only I hadn't gone to practice… I could've helped solve the case with him.
He didn't say it aloud—but Ron did.
"Sherlock, seriously, you're no fun! Next time, call us!"
"I bet you just want an excuse to go inside the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory," Hermione huffed.
"What are you talking about? Do I look like that kind of person?"
Ron protested—though under his breath, he added, "Still… I've never been in a girls' dorm."
Hermione rolled her eyes, completely done with him.
Harry, however, asked a more serious question. "What'll Ravenclaw do to her? Will she get expelled for stealing?"
Back when he first arrived at Hogwarts, Harry had always feared being expelled.
He'd even imagined Dumbledore assigning him as Hagrid's assistant.
More than once, he'd dreamt of dragging Hagrid's heavy sack around the grounds while watching Sherlock and the others become real wizards.
"Mate…"
Ron looked at him in disbelief. "Why would you think that? Theft usually means detention, losing House points—maybe a letter home at worst."
Harry let out a long sigh of relief.
Seeing his friend's reaction, Ron couldn't help but laugh.
He was about to say more when he noticed Harry's gaze fixated over Sherlock's shoulder, locked onto the entrance of the Great Hall.
Ron turned to look—and immediately spotted two figures approaching through Ravenclaw's blue and silver drapes.
Sherlock, of course, had already noticed.
He tilted slightly to the side and saw Penelope Clearwater approaching, with Cho close behind.
"They're quicker than I expected," he murmured, tapping the oak table twice with his finger. "Looks like Ravenclaw's made their decision."
Moments later, Penelope and Cho arrived at their table.
Harry and Ron didn't know Penelope, but her prefect badge—similar in design to Percy's—told them everything they needed.
Clearly, she was a girl of both beauty and brains.
But their eyes quickly shifted to the younger girl beside her.
Cho's long black hair was loosely pinned up with a sandalwood hairpin, with wisps framing her neck that swayed as she walked.
Harry's fingers unconsciously gripped his knife tighter.
He'd seen her before—her smile before Christmas had left a lasting impression.
But she looked different now.
A few freckles dusted across her nose like stardust on parchment—far from flaws, they made her pale skin seem even more vivid.
Her large eyes, though beautiful, now held a quiet melancholy.
"Merlin's beard," Ron whispered, nudging Harry with his elbow. "Your ears are red."
Preoccupied, Penelope didn't notice. She pulled out a Galleon.
"Mr. Holmes, this is our payment for your services…"
Ron immediately stopped staring at Harry.
His family only had one Galleon in the vault.
Wait—this kind of work pays that well?
But Sherlock didn't take it.
"You're giving too much."
"Mr. Holmes, you've defended Ravenclaw's reputation…"
Penelope sighed and looked to Cho.
Cho pushed a silk-wrapped bundle toward Sherlock.
"Mr. Holmes, this is West Lake Dragon Well tea—my father brought it from Hangzhou."
"And one more thing," Penelope added quietly, glancing at Ron and Harry. "Please don't share the case details."
This time, Sherlock accepted their gifts. Then he gave a dry chuckle.
"So Ravenclaw pride is maintained by hush money now?"
"No, it's not that!" Cho waved her hands frantically. "Marietta has already been punished. I just don't want everyone pointing fingers at her anymore…"
Her voice was as soft as a falling mistletoe leaf.
Harry suddenly felt like his ribs were full of rampaging bowtruckles.
---
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