Rowle's footsteps descending the stairs gradually faded away. Sherlock sat at a table by the bed, looking at a newspaper from three days earlier.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karkaroff and Rowle walk out of the Leaky Cauldron together before apparating away.
Soon, another group of Wizards arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, all wearing the standard robes of the Ministry of Magic.
Clearly, someone had reported the incident to the Ministry of Magic immediately after Karkaroff and the others left. The Wizards who arrived were all Aurors.
They conducted a brief investigation inside the pub, asked about the sequence of events, and then left.
It wasn't that the Aurors were incompetent; there simply wasn't anything substantial to investigate.
Karkaroff and Rowle had come to the Leaky Cauldron, failed to find the person they were looking for, and simply left. Based solely on information about a little girl, they couldn't deduce anything.
After the Aurors had all departed, Tom, still shaken, continued wiping the bar. Most of the guests in the hall had also left.
The Wizards had been frightened by what had just happened. Fortunately, the ones who came were Karkaroff and Rowle, who were not known for their madness among the Death Eaters.
If the ones who had arrived had been the two maniacs, Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, someone would definitely have suffered today.
Upstairs, after Sherlock confirmed that the Death Eaters and Aurors had all left, he lightly tapped the foot of the bed.
"Come out, they've all gone."
A rustling sound arose, as if something were crawling out from under the bed. Then, a small head materialised from the air, its clear, bright eyes meeting Sherlock's gaze.
The little girl was wrapped in an Invisibility Cloak, showing only her head. At first glance, it looked like a severed head floating haphazardly in the air, which was quite startling.
The girl looked only six or seven years old, with blonde hair and a beautiful, delicate face like a porcelain doll. Her most striking feature was her eyes—bright, lively azure pupils.
Sherlock looked at her and took a small sip of the black tea from his cup.
"What is your name?"
"Amy."
The little girl's voice was very soft and slightly childish, but her tone was calm, sounding nothing like a child her age.
"And your full name? What is your surname?" Sherlock asked, looking at her.
Amy shook her head.
"Daddy said I can't say."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"So your father sent you here?"
Amy nodded again.
Sherlock could guess that the Death Eaters wanted to catch her, likely because of her family. Otherwise, there was no point in capturing a child who wasn't even old enough to attend a magic school.
"Does Tom downstairs not know you're staying here?"
Amy tilted her head and said,
"He knew at first, but after Daddy left, he didn't know anymore."
Sherlock pondered briefly and understood what she meant.
"Did your father make him forget about it?"
"'Obliviate,' and that old grandpa forgot both Amy and Daddy."
Amy reached a pale, tender finger out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and spun it in the air, mimicking the motion of the Memory Charm, as though demonstrating the scene to Sherlock.
The girl's father was very cautious. He knew the Death Eaters might come looking for his daughter, so he left her an Invisibility Cloak and erased Tom's memories of them.(TN: Why leave her in the first place?)
Sherlock sensed the trouble that Amy represented.
She herself might be harmless, but her father definitely had connections. The Death Eaters likely wanted to capture her because of him.
But Amy's father chose not to keep her by his side, hiding her instead at the Leaky Cauldron. Clearly, his current situation was unfavourable.
Sherlock frowned and looked back at the little girl, noticing her gaze fixed on the plate of biscuits on his table.
Amy noticed his gaze, blinked, and asked,
"Can Amy have some?"
She wasn't whining or begging; it was more like a normal question from a guest who had spotted food they liked at a friend's house.
Sherlock pulled out a chair for her, indicating that the entire plate was hers.
Amy put down the Invisibility Cloak. Instead of sitting immediately, she scurried to the washroom to wash her hands before running back.
"Thank you."
She bowed to Sherlock in thanks, and only then did she sit properly in the chair to eat the biscuits.
Amy was very well-mannered, completely lacking the naughtiness typical of children her age.
While she was eating the biscuits, Sherlock continued asking questions.
"Then why did you hide in my room?"
Amy swallowed all the food in her mouth before speaking.
"Amy felt it was safer here."
"Your own feeling?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Daddy said Amy's feelings are always accurate. If I'm ever unsure about something, I can just follow my instincts."
When she said this, a hint of childish pride appeared, which finally made Sherlock feel like she was acting her age.
"How did you eat before this?"
"Amy would wear the Invisibility Cloak and get the food herself."
"Stealing from the pub?"
"No, Amy pays. Two Knuts for one loaf of bread, put into the money box on the bar. Daddy said stealing is wrong, so Amy doesn't steal."
She held a biscuit, blinking at Sherlock, as if asking whether he had any more questions. If not, she was going to focus on eating.
Sherlock smiled as he watched her. He found the little girl named Amy very adorable.
"Go ahead and eat. We can talk more after you finish."
Sherlock then brought her a glass of warm milk. Amy ate slowly, chewing carefully. She took nearly half an hour to eat less than half a plate of biscuits.
Once she was full, she turned and looked at Sherlock with her bright eyes.
"Can Amy come here to play sometimes?"
Sherlock didn't answer immediately. Instead, he continued questioning her.
"How long did your father tell you to stay here?"
"Daddy said Amy should wait here for him to come back. If he hasn't returned after one week, Amy should go with a person she feels is right."
"Go with a person she feels is right?"
Sherlock frowned. The girl's father gave off a strange impression—it was as though he was responsible, yet also highly irresponsible.
"How long has your father been gone?"
Sitting on the high chair, Amy swung her feet clad in white ankle socks, revealing a small section of her pale, smooth calves. She held up one small open hand towards Sherlock.
"Five days."
She didn't seem scared or nervous at all. For a six- or seven-year-old girl whose parent had been gone for so many days, she didn't cry or fuss and took excellent care of herself. This was rare, even in the Wizarding World.
"What about Amy's mother?"
"I don't have a mother."
There was no sadness or grief in Amy's words, but rather a hint of pride.
"Daddy said Amy is his unique treasure, and he can't share Amy with anyone else, so Amy doesn't have a mother."
Sherlock understood her family situation: either her parents were divorced, or her mother had passed away long ago, which was why her father would say such things to comfort a child.
It was obvious that this little girl named Amy would bring trouble, but Sherlock wasn't keen on shaking off that trouble.
Perhaps having been a Professor for two years had given him a protective instinct towards children. Perhaps Amy's obedience stirred his compassion. Or perhaps it was simply fate that made Sherlock feel drawn to the little girl.
He wanted to help her.
"If Amy's father hasn't come to pick her up in two days, Amy can come and find me." Sherlock smiled and extended his hand to her. "My name is John Watson. It's nice to meet you."
Amy tilted her head, looking at the hand Sherlock extended.
"If Amy follows John, it will bring John trouble."
Sherlock winked at her.
"John isn't afraid of trouble."
The girl pursed her lips, then extended her small hand and shook Sherlock's.
"I'm also very happy to meet you, John."
After introducing themselves, the two quickly started playing Wizard's Chess to pass the time.
At lunchtime, Sherlock, knowing she had eaten little more than bread for the past five days, specifically requested extra food from Tom and shared it with her.
It wasn't until late afternoon that Amy said goodbye to Sherlock and returned to Room 10 next door.
Before dark, Snape came to find Sherlock.
"I've finished brewing the Potion. We can go and deliver it now."
Sherlock looked at him in surprise.
"That quickly? Didn't you say it would take three days?"
Snape looked disdainful.
"It's just a bottle of Vitality Potion. Only rubbish would take three days."
Although he spoke boastfully, Snape had clearly spent the entire day brewing Potions in his room, which made Sherlock, who had spent the whole day playing Wizard's Chess with the little girl, feel a little ashamed. He cleared his throat twice.
"Cough, cough. Truly worthy of being a Potions Master. Well then, let's go and deliver it and see how much she'll offer for my bottle of healing Potion."
The two left the Leaky Cauldron together and returned to the Extraordinary Potion Products shop. The Witch who had signed the contract with them last time was still there.
The Witch was particularly surprised that they had delivered the Potions early and that the quality was exceptionally high.
She praised Snape's craftsmanship endlessly and, at the same time, quoted a price for Sherlock's bottle of healing Potion.
"Our Potion Masters couldn't identify the ingredients used in your Potion, but its healing effect is better than that of most Potions on the market, reaching the same level as Essence of Dittany."
The Witch didn't belittle the Potion's effectiveness simply to lower the price. She clearly intended to establish a long-term partnership with Sherlock.
"However, because it's a new type of Potion, the price won't be as high as Essence of Dittany. If you only want to sell the finished product, I can offer only half the price of Essence of Dittany. If you want to sell the formula, we can negotiate the price or even sign a profit-sharing agreement."
The conditions she offered were sincere. If Sherlock truly possessed the Potion formula, he might have agreed to sell it to her outright.
However, the formula for the healing Potion was simply the Philosopher's Stone fragment, and he certainly couldn't sell that, so he could only sell the finished product.
"I agree to half the price of Essence of Dittany, as you suggested. I recall that the market price for a small bottle of Essence of Dittany is generally around 30 Galleons."
The Witch seemed a little disappointed by his decision, but business had to continue.
"A bottle of Essence of Dittany in my shop costs 34 Galleons. If you sell the finished Potion, I can offer 17 Galleons."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, his smile carrying the unmistakable scent of profit.
He truly hadn't considered that the healing Potion made from the Philosopher's Stone fragment could sell for so much money. For him, this was a completely cost-free business; selling one bottle meant a net profit of 17 Galleons.
The complete Philosopher's Stone could not only create the Elixir of Life but also possessed the power of Transmutation. The Philosopher's Stone fragment inherited part of this ability, allowing the simple creation of healing Potions to generate vast wealth.
"How long does the brewing process for this Potion take?" the Witch asked next.
Sherlock didn't exaggerate his production capacity. If he produced too much, and people realised the Potion was easy to brew and the ingredients were inexpensive, the price would inevitably be driven down.(TN: Basic Economic decisions. Create more demand.)
"I can provide you with five bottles a month. The brewing process isn't complicated, but some of the ingredients are very rare, similar to Essence of Dittany," he said, clicking his tongue.
Snape, standing beside him, couldn't help twitching the corner of his mouth as he watched Sherlock perform.
Having become familiar with him over the past few days, Snape knew Sherlock was putting on an act.
The Witch seemed genuinely pleased.
"Five bottles is quite a lot! If you can consistently maintain this supply, our shop can make this a featured product, and we can increase the purchase price if the market price rises later."
The proprietress of the shop was generous in business, making cooperation very comfortable.
After finalising the purchase price for the healing Potion, Sherlock privately pulled Snape aside.
"The cost of my Potion is very low, and it doesn't take much time. If you want, you can cancel your brewing orders."
Snape said coldly,
"The money you earn from selling is yours, and the money I earn from brewing is mine. What does your profit have to do with me? I have nothing else to do here anyway; I might as well use her materials to practise my technique."
Sherlock patted him on the shoulder.
"We're in this together now. Why separate what's yours from what's mine? Don't be such a stranger."
"Get lost! Don't try to act familiar with me!"
Snape was just being stubborn. He was currently in a period of uncertainty, unsure what to do besides saving Lily. Brewing Potions helped him calm his mind and pass the time.
After everything was settled, Sherlock sold the seven bottles of healing Potion he had on hand to the Witch, earning a total of 119 Galleons. His wallet instantly felt much heavier.
Now, the problem of survival for him and Snape was completely resolved, and they had no further worries.
As for returning to the correct timeline, they currently had no leads. Sherlock could only focus his attention on another equally important matter, one he now had the opportunity to investigate in this timeline.
That was: what exactly was wrong with the Original Owner's parents?