The rain continued falling.
The atmosphere wasn't exactly harmonious.
Under the same roof...
Vernon Dursley's fleshy face was slightly twisted with displeasure.
He stared intently at these uninvited guests who had suddenly arrived, his annoyance was practically overflowing.
Unfortunately, with Mr. and Mrs. Mason also present, no matter how angry he felt inside, he couldn't just throw the visitors out.
That would give people the impression that he didn't understand proper etiquette.
So, he could only suppress his dissatisfaction, force his mouth into a smile that looked worse than crying, and stiffly greet everyone alongside his wife.
In contrast, their son Dudley was full of interest in his cousin's classmates' parents, his gaze occasionally wandering toward Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger.
Mr. Dursley wasn't particularly good at hiding his emotions.
This could be seen from his large hands that kept rubbing together in front of him.
Even so, he felt somewhat grateful deep down.
This was because he had just learned about the identities of Sherlock and Hermione's fathers.
Sherlock's father, Mr. Holmes, came from a family of country squire for generations, naturally carrying an air of aristocratic composure in his every gesture.
Hermione's father, Mr. Granger, was a dentist, radiating the competence of a professional.
During their conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Mason, these two gentlemen were well-spoken, with every movement elegant and graceful.
They appeared completely normal, nothing like the "crazy and eccentric" appearance Uncle Vernon had imagined wizard parents would have.
In comparison, his unlucky sister-in-law's husband James, though he had only met him a few times, seemed like a street thug who couldn't make it onto any respectable stage.
Uncle Vernon thought this way and couldn't help but snort quietly in his mind, his previously furrowed brow relaxing slightly.
Just then, Mrs. Mason suddenly raised her hand to lightly cover her cheek, showing a pained expression on her face.
She whispered to Mr. Mason, saying that her teeth had been aching dully since she woke up this morning, and she was wondering whether she should see a doctor.
As she spoke, she kept stealing glances at Mr. Granger.
Since Mr. Granger had already introduced himself, the meaning behind this behavior was quite obvious.
Mr. Granger found this quietly amusing.
He looked toward Harry's Uncle Vernon and saw him looking back with a hint of expectation in his eyes.
With the principle of helping his daughter in mind, he politely leaned forward slightly, wearing the warm smile of a professional, and proactively inquired about Mrs. Mason's symptoms.
Mrs. Mason grabbed onto this like a lifeline and immediately began describing her condition in detail.
After Mr. Granger's questioning, he determined that her symptoms were most likely an acute flare-up of chronic apical periodontitis.
Although the tooth appeared undamaged on the surface, the root was actually problematic.
It was even possible that the dental nerve had already died.
Of course, further diagnosis would require professional equipment.
However, based on Mr. Granger's experience, root canal treatment would most likely be necessary.
Mr. Granger spoke with clear logic, every word revealing his expertise.
This made Mr. and Mrs. Mason immediately nervous, and they began asking about the detailed process of root canal treatment.
The two of them asked question after question, and Mr. Granger patiently answered each one.
For a moment, all attention in the living room was focused on them.
The Dursley family, who were supposed to be the hosts, found themselves sidelined and unable to join the conversation.
However, Harry's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia felt no dissatisfaction whatsoever.
The two looked at each other, both catching a hint of relief in the other's eyes.
They had originally thought Harry's classmates' parents had come to cause trouble and create problems, but now it seemed they were actually here to help solve difficulties.
With this little episode, the originally oppressive atmosphere in the living room gradually became more harmonious.
Gentle conversation replaced the initial tension and silence.
The rain had stopped at some point.
Sunlight quietly broke through the clouds, streaming into the living room ray by ray, bringing some warmth.
As for Sherlock and Hermione, from the moment they entered, they had taken advantage of the adults' conversation to follow Harry upstairs to his bedroom.
As soon as Sherlock entered the room, he habitually glanced around and said,
"This was originally a room used for storing miscellaneous items. It hadn't been lived in for years, and you moved here less than a year ago."
"You're absolutely right, my dear Sherlock."
Only heaven knew how excited Harry was when he saw Sherlock and Hermione's sudden visit.
He had just been thinking about what it would be like if Sherlock could come here at a time like this.
And unexpectedly, Sherlock had actually come!
At this moment, Harry felt that even the air in the room was sweet.
His gaze toward Sherlock and Hermione was so intense that even Hermione felt somewhat overwhelmed.
"I forgot to tell you before—around this time last year, but a bit later than now.
To prevent me from receiving letters from Hogwarts, they specifically had me move from the cupboard to here.
This room was originally used by my cousin Dudley to store toys and miscellaneous items that couldn't fit in his bedroom."
At this point, Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"Ha! Ha! But that didn't work—Hagrid eventually found me and personally delivered the acceptance letter to my hands."
"Oh, Harry..."
Hearing this, Hermione couldn't help but feel sad.
Her parents loved her dearly, so she really couldn't imagine how pitiful it must have been for a child to live in a cupboard for ten years.
"Even so, our headmaster Dumbledore believed that Harry had been living 'quite well' with his aunt's family for those ten years."
"What? Mr. Dumbledore, how could he?"
Hermione was shocked by Sherlock's words, covering her mouth with her hand in disbelief.
Did Dumbledore have some misunderstanding about what 'living quite well' meant?
If this counted as living quite well, just how unfortunate must his childhood have been!
At this moment, Sherlock turned his gaze to the house-elf Dobby.
"Harry, this is what you were talking about?"
Following Sherlock's words, the three of them surrounded house-elf Dobby in the center, six eyes staring down at him intently.
Especially Sherlock and Hermione.
During the brief time it took to walk from the hall to the second floor with Harry, both of them had already learned from Harry that this creature was the culprit who had intercepted their letters.
Now seeing this magical creature with their own eyes, Hermione couldn't help but cast an admiring look at Sherlock.
Old clothes, short stature, thin limbs...
Everything matched.
The only discrepancy was that this elf wasn't wearing old clothes, but rather an old pillowcase.
But that was close enough.
"Noble friends of the great Harry Potter!
Please, you must persuade the great and respectable Harry Potter that he absolutely cannot go to school!"
As Dobby spoke, just as he had done with Harry before, he bowed deeply to Sherlock and Hermione, his long nose nearly touching the ground.
"He's really quite polite!"
Hermione said in surprise.
Harry, _
'Yes, so very—polite indeed!'
Harry suppressed his urge to vent and looked expectantly at Sherlock.
When Sherlock and Hermione personally arrived at Privet Drive, Dobby knew that intercepting their letters was no longer effective.
For some unknown reason, instead of leaving immediately, he chose to stay and meet with Sherlock and Hermione.
He even planned to convince the two of them to help him persuade Harry not to go to school.
This behavior was, how should one put it?
Very puzzling!
But it didn't matter.
From the moment Sherlock appeared before him, Harry only had one feeling.
The game was won!
As long as Sherlock was here, whether Dobby was present or not no longer mattered to the whole situation.
After all, he had already concisely told Sherlock what had happened, and now he just needed to trust him.
Sherlock looked Dobby up and down, then spoke,
"You want us to help you persuade Harry not to go to school? Why?"
"Yes, sir! Because someone wants to harm the great and respectable Harry Potter! Harry Potter cannot take risks—he is far too important!"
"Who is this person you're talking about? Voldemort?"
Hermione couldn't help but ask.
Upon hearing this name, Dobby immediately shuddered, his body trembling violently.
He covered his ears with both hands, moaning in pain,
"Ah, don't say that name, miss! Please don't say that name!"
Hermione was startled by this reaction. Did this elf also have such severe PTSD about Voldemort?
"I'm... I'm sorry..."
"Why, why can even Harry Potter's friends say You-Know-Who's name so casually?
No, no, it's not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, miss."
"Then who is it?"
"No, Dobby cannot say!"
He jumped up as he spoke.
Hermione was startled by Dobby's behavior once again.
Harry, having experience, called out, "Quick, quick, stop him—he's going to hurt himself again!"
Sherlock was prepared and quickly intervened, pulling Dobby back before his head could hit the wall.
"Interesting."
After stopping Dobby, Sherlock thought briefly, then turned and whispered a few words in Hermione's ear.
This somewhat intimate gesture made Hermione's face flush slightly.
But it was quickly replaced by surprise, "Sherlock, are you sure?"
Seeing Sherlock's determined eyes, Hermione nodded and quickly left the room.
"Where has that lady gone?"
Seeing Hermione leave, Dobby asked somewhat warily.
"Don't worry about it. She's gone to handle a small matter. Now I want to ask you another question."
While Dobby was looking around anxiously, Sherlock stared into his eyes, "Tell me, who is your master?"
Upon hearing this, Dobby immediately went crazy again, jumping up to bang his head against the wall.
Unfortunately, he was caught by Sherlock.
Dobby didn't give up and quickly reached for the desk lamp by the bed.
Having been caught off guard once before, Harry was quick-eyed and quick-handed, snatching the lamp away before Dobby could reach it.
Harry let out a long sigh of relief.
This time... he had finally managed to prevent it.
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