While they were in the car, Sherlock took the initiative to ask, âHow is his condition?â
The butler sitting in front said with a smile, âHis condition has improved. Although there will always be professional medical staff to take care of him, at least it will not be as life-threatening as before.â
Sherlock nodded slightly. Rich people donât die so easily, especially in a country like the UK.
The butler glanced at Sherlock hesitantly and asked carefully, âMaster, how is your memory?â
âI can already remember several things.â
âAre you going to see the master this time and agree to his request?â
Sherlock didnât answer but said softly, âLetâs talk about it when we meet.â
The butler did not ask more, but he could also see from Sherlockâs attitude that he didnât seem to have any intention of fulfilling the promise to his father, so he could only sigh. The car drove all the way from Devonshire to a private hospital in London, and the butler took Sherlock into a small building in the corner of the hospital.
This three-storey villa, three times bigger than where Sherlock lived, was the private ward where the Duke of Devonshire lived. They walked up to the second floor, where Sherlockâs father lived in the master bedroom, and the third floor, where the paramedics looked after him 24 hours.
The butler took Sherlock to the door of the room, stood outside the door, and let him inside alone. Sherlock didnât hesitate and pushed open the door directly.
The room was big enough to be the living room of Sherlockâs house, but after entering the door, his eyes fell on the withered man lying on the hospital bed.
Victor William Spencer Cavendish, 11th Duke of Devonshire. He didnât look very old but was terribly pale. The skin pressed tightly against the bones as if there were no muscles in between.
Even if he has become like this, you can still see his appearance. If it wasnât for the illness that became the way he is now, he would still be a good-looking man. The original Sherlockâs appearance is a little more like his father.
Victor saw Sherlock come in, and they looked at each other without speaking first.
After about ten seconds, the man lying on the bed opened his mouth first, âA year ago, I heard that you accidentally fell from the second floor and lost your memory?â
Sherlock nodded, âSome things were forgotten at that time, but some things were not forgotten.â
âI asked Brad to send you that letter. It has been a whole year, and you didnât come to me until today?â Victorâs tone was firm.
Brad was the name of the butler. Sherlock didnât hide it and told the truth, âHogwarts approved my application for a position there, and I went there as a teacher for a year.â
After hearing what Sherlock said, Victorâs face suddenly turned sour. He seemed to be squeezing out from his teeth one tone after another, âYou played with those wizards again?â
Sherlock frowned, realizing that Victorâs reaction was more violent than he had imagined, âIâm a wizard myself, and my motherâ¦â
âShut it, donât talk about her in front of me.â Victor was furious and began to cough violently, and soon, the butler named Brad rushed into the room with the doctor.
âGo away! He wonât inherit my stuff for the rest of his life! Go and hang out with those weirdos, and never show up in front of me again!â
Brad grabbed Sherlockâs arm and persuaded him to leave the room.
Outside, Brad sighed, âMaster, you havenât seen each other for several years. You shouldnât provoke him like this as soon as you meet.â
Sherlock looked at Brad and asked with a frown, âDid my father also hate my mother before?â
Brad shook his head: âIt wasnât like this before. At that time, your grandfather hadnât passed away. When he was still young, he ran home excitedly and said that he had found true love. Your grandfather asked him to take that girl home, and he said the person he liked was not willing to be restricted in this kind of lifestyle.â
His eyes were full of memories, and he said with emotion, âI still clearly remember how happy he was at the time. He said that the girl had big ambitions and that they were going to do something big in another place. He disappeared from home for a few years, and when he came back, he was like a different person.â
âHe inherited your grandfatherâs title and will. No one is allowed to mention his past. He has become temperamental, likes to be alone, and tortures himself in pain.â
He sighed, âLater, his condition got worse. Only then did we know that he still has a son like you.â
Sherlockâs brows furrowed deeper, and from Bradâs words, he seemed to have heard some inside information about the past.
âGive him some time to recover, Master.â Brad advised him, âDonât provoke him. His condition has begun to improve. You can talk about it when he is in better condition.â
Sherlock nodded. He came here to find out what the original Sherlokcâs fatherâs attitude towards wizards was. At present, his attitude is clear.
Sherlock declined Bradâs offer to drive him back, walked out of the hospital alone, and walked aimlessly on the streets of London. Although Sherlock is not the real son of the original Sherlockâs parents, he can now understand why the original Sherlock has such a dejected personality.
A mother who constantly abused him and a father who hated the thing he loved. Neither of them even took the responsibility of raising him.
Sherlock shook his head and smiled. He was quite pitiful for the original Sherlock. In such a family environment, he did not turn badly, and it is extremely rare to grow in a good direction.
No wonder the Weasleys, Kingsley, and Professor McGonagall would care so much for him.
Finding an alley, Sherlock used Apparition and returned directly to his study room.
He sat in a chair and stared at the portrait covered in red cloth for a while. When he came back to his senses, he blinked at the portrait, and the red silk cloth flew from the portrait.
Sherlock spoke first before she said anything, âIâm going to go out and relax.â
Sally was suddenly stunned. She seemed to have no idea that Sherlock would suddenly say this.
But Sherlock didnât care about her reaction; he said, âThings are not going well, and it makes me feel bad right now. Going out for a few days might help that feeling.â
âYou still want to hang out there? Disgusting!â As soon as Sally came back to her senses and her scolding started, Sherlock covered the portrait again.
He stretched out and stood up from the chair, hooked his fingers lightly at his drawer. The drawer opened by itself, and two letters flew out and slipped into Sherlockâs pocket.
He walked out of the study room, opened the bedroom door by himself, folded a few changes of clothes and daily necessities by himself, and flew into the suitcase.
As Sherlock walked to the living room, the suitcase floated towards the door, waiting for him to pick it up. Sherlock was not wearing a wizard robe but a regular summer dress in the Muggle world.
When everything was ready, he pushed open the door and walked towards 4 Privet Drive.
In the place where the famous Harry Potter in the wizarding world lives.
Harryâs uncle, Vernon Dursley, answered the phone in a muttered voice.
âYes, itâs Vernon Dursley.â
Harry happened to be in the room at this time and was stunned when he heard Ronâs voice.
âCan you hear me? Iâm looking for Harry Potter!â Ron shouted so hard that Uncle Vernon was startled by it.
âWho are you?â he yelled in the direction of the receiver.
âRon Weasley!â Ron shouted back, as if shouting to Uncle Vernon on the other side of the football field, âIâm a friend from Harryâs school!â
Uncle Vernonâs eyes turned to Harry.
âThereâs no Harry Potter here!â He yelled, âI donât know what school youâre talking about! Never call me again. You hear that, little bastard?â
He threw the receiver back on the telephone. He turned his furious gaze on Harry.
âHow dare you give your phone number to others?!â Uncle Vernon shouted.
Ron clearly causes trouble for Harry, but Harry doesnât care. He was already used to the way the Dursleys treated him.
At Hogwarts, he cracked the Chamber of Secrets incident and defeated the Basilisk, but none of these things were as bad as dealing with the Dursleys.
âGo wash our laundry. We give you food and clothing. I wonât be giving you one if you donât do anything here.â
Harry nodded, âYes, sir. I will do them now.â
Just as he was about to wash the Dursleysâ socks, a doorbell rang suddenly.
Comments(0)
Join the discussion — sign in to leave a comment
Sign In to CommentNo comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts!