After reading the letter Harry had written to him, Sherlock smiled.
Obviously, the fact that Mycroft was often away from home had almost become a consensus.
His good friends had all mentioned this point without exception.
However, he really hadn't expected that Sirius would actually buy Harry a Firebolt, and in such a magical way at that.
After all, it was precisely because the price was too high that the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop had set up a "price upon request" tag.
The purpose was to make those with shallow pockets give up hope, while also avoiding controversy.
Yet Sirius actually did this because he couldn't openly buy gifts due to his status as a wanted fugitive, he simply had the shopkeeper go to his Gringotts vault to retrieve gold galleons?
Harry himself was a wealthy person, and Sherlock nowadays was no less so.
But compared to Sirius's behavior, what could one say?
This was no longer just being wealthy.
It was simply outrageously rich!
With such operations preceding it, even though losing his pet had little to do with Sirius, giving Ron an owl as compensation seemed like nothing.
After all, Sirius might lack anything else right now, but he would never lack money.
Sherlock also understood why Harry would be so eager to return to school.
One could imagine that when a Firebolt appeared on a magical school's Quidditch pitch, it would be like a nuclear missile.
Over the following days, Mycroft Holmes was just as he had said before.
During the day, he only occasionally stayed at home, spending most of his time outside, but he would return home before dinner every day.
This made Mrs. Holmes very happy.
For a mother, there was nothing more joyful than having all her children by her side.
With more time spent together, even these two brothers who appeared to be at odds inevitably chatted a bit more.
Facts proved that Sherlock hadn't overestimated his older brother at all.
He would probably become the British government before Sherlock even graduated.
Soon, time came to 1994.
At the beginning of the new year, the London area welcomed a heavy snowfall.
This snow came earlier than usual.
After New Year's, the number of times Mycroft stayed out all night gradually increased.
In his own words, it was because he had just started work, and many things were more convenient to handle at the office.
However, Sherlock could tell this fellow was going on field assignments.
Of course, Mycroft had no intention of hiding this from Sherlock.
Both brothers tacitly chose not to tell their parents about this.
After another day or two, Harry wrote again.
This time, he and Sirius, father and son, invited the entire Holmes family to visit his new home at 12 Grimmauld Place.
Harry's invitation came at just the right time.
With only a week left until the end of the holiday, it was indeed time to get out and about.
Although Harry and Sirius had invited the entire Holmes family, Mycroft said he didn't have time.
"As long as you go there, it's the same as if I went. Give Harry and his godfather my regards."
"While that may be true, some things are always better done in person."
Although Mrs. Holmes said this, she expressed her understanding, so in the end only Mr. and Mrs. Holmes and Sherlock went to the appointment together.
Since Grimmauld Place wasn't far from the Holmes home, the three simply walked to their destination.
Harry had made it very clear in his letter that his new home was at 12 Grimmauld Place—right between numbers 11 and 13.
This seemed like a redundant statement, but in fact it was not.
Because Grimmauld Place was a street located in central London, where the residents were almost entirely Muggles.
However, due to the magical operations of the Black family, this location was neither marked on maps nor visible to Muggles in reality.
Under the combined effect of magic and inertia, people living nearby had long grown accustomed to the ridiculous mistake of number 11 being right next to number 13.
However, since this was a residential area, even if most people hurried past the door of number 12, it didn't seem particularly strange. When the Holmes family stood in front of 12 Grimmauld Place, the rumble of a stereo could be faintly heard from upstairs at number 11, while a pile of garbage bags was placed in front of the door at number 13.
"This is really—"
The Holmes couple looked at this scene and couldn't help but think of the Leaky Cauldron.
If it hadn't been for Sherlock at the time, they wouldn't have been able to see that small pub between the record shop and the bookstore either.
It wasn't until Sherlock led them right up to it, and they realized there really was a pub there, that they could see it.
The current situation was almost exactly the same as back then.
Only by following Sherlock up to the front and truly believing in their minds that such a house existed there could they see it.
Unlike his parents, Sherlock could directly see this old house.
From the facade alone, one could see the antiquity of the Black family.
The stone steps in front of the door were broken and battered, the black paint on the door had completely peeled off, covered with scratches here and there.
The silver door knocker was in the shape of a coiled serpent, there was no keyhole on the door, nor a mailbox, but there was a doorbell.
From the outside, the building seemed dirty and messy, only the windows had been cleaned not long ago and didn't look so filthy.
It seemed Harry's spring cleaning had some effect.
However, in Mrs. Holmes's eyes, this clearly wasn't enough.
This was her first time visiting a wizard's home, and after seeing this scene, she couldn't help but frown:
"Don't wizards clean their homes?"
"No, dear Violet, wizards may be slovenly, but not to this extent."
Mr. Holmes had once been to Ron's home, the Burrow.
After comparing it with 12 Grimmauld Place before him, he couldn't help but shake his head slightly.
Never mind his wife, even he couldn't approve of this.
Sherlock, however, understood clearly in his heart.
It seemed Sirius wasn't very satisfied with this residence of his.
But he still chose to move back here for Harry's sake.
This was love, something that couldn't be explained clearly.
For now, this was all he could observe; the rest would need to be verified after entering this old house.
Hearing her husband's words, Mrs. Holmes frowned. "Let's not talk about this. We should go inside first."
Mr. Holmes nodded and prepared to ring the doorbell.
Just as his hand was about to touch the doorbell, the black door opened, and Harry's excited face appeared before the three:
"Uncle, Aunt, Sherlock, you're finally here! Come in quickly!"
Having just opened the door, Harry noticed Mr. Holmes was about to ring the doorbell and couldn't help but be startled:
"Uncle, please don't ring that doorbell!"
Though somewhat surprised, Mr. Holmes still followed Harry's advice and put his hand down.
"Harry, why shouldn't we ring the doorbell?"
Seeing Harry breathe a sigh of relief, Mrs. Holmes asked curiously, "And how did you know we were here?"
"Kreacher told me."
"Who's Kreacher?"
"A house-elf who lives here."
Mrs. Holmes became even more interested: "House-elf, you mean those strange creatures that exchanged money for us at Gringotts?"
"No, no, no, the creatures that exchanged money for us at Gringotts are goblins. Kreacher is a house-elf.
Although they both appear to be short in stature with large heads and long ears, they are two completely different creatures.
Additionally, they differ significantly in appearance, habits, social status, and magical abilities."
A familiar voice answered Mrs. Holmes's question, then greeted the three of them, "Uncle, Aunt, Sherlock, hello!"
"Hermione!"
Mrs. Holmes saw the person who had emerged from behind Harry and perfectly answered the question, and cried out in delight, immediately pulling her into an embrace.
"Good child, I'm so happy to see you, dear!"
Mrs. Holmes's enthusiasm not only didn't make Hermione feel uncomfortable, but actually made her very happy, allowing Mrs. Holmes to hold her hand and ask endless questions:
"I talked to Jane on the phone the other day and told her to bring you to our house—oh, did she come?"
"Mom and Dad brought me here together. Right now, she's with Mrs. Weasley."
"Ron's parents came too?"
Mr. Holmes couldn't help but be somewhat surprised.
"Except for Bill who's still in Egypt and Charlie in Romania, Ron's whole family is here. Oh, and Percy didn't come either—he said he needs to prepare for his N.E.W.T. exams at home."
Harry smiled, "Uncle Holmes, my godfather told me to invite everyone over. Don't stand at the door talking anymore, let's go inside."
"N.E.W.T. exams, what are those?"
"N.E.W.T. stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test.
It's a subject-based examination that seventh-year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry need to take, serving as academic credentials when applying for positions after graduation, similar to A-Level exams in our world."
After answering Mr. Holmes's question, Hermione spoke up to remind them.
"Um, sorry, I think I should remind you that when we get to the hall in a moment, try not to speak loudly."
"Why?" Mrs. Holmes looked at Harry curiously, "Is it because wizards have some strange custom?"
"That's not it—"
Hearing Mrs. Holmes ask this, Harry's expression became somewhat awkward, as if he didn't know how to explain properly.
"It's related to that doorbell, isn't it?"
Just then, Sherlock withdrew his gaze from examining the room and spoke.
With Sherlock's words, Mrs. Holmes also remembered she had asked Harry this question before.
But Harry hadn't given an answer.
"I knew you'd figure it out!"
Hermione turned her head and gave Sherlock a bright smile.
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