'I think this is a very feasible idea.
The healing of the soul can completely imitate the method of physical healing, allowing the torn parts to be closely connected, which will speed up recovery.
But there is a very real problem in front of me. The soul is, after all, an ethereal concept. Even the ghosts of the dead cannot appear in the world as physical beings, let alone the souls of the living.'
Reading this, Sherlock felt that the book was more like a wizard's experimental diary.
Regarding how to deal with the soul, the author encountered trouble. Afterwards, most of the book described her experiments targeting various forms of souls.
Finally, she found a suitable "sewing needle."
A spell that could target the caster's own soul. It could penetrate the soul without damaging it, thereby achieving the effect of patching.
Finding a suitable "needle" was somewhat complicated, but not too difficult. After all, there were many ancient magics that targeted the soul; even the highest achievement in dark magic, the three Unforgivable Curses, all had effects that targeted the soul.
There were many things to learn from.
What truly hindered the author's research in this book was the selection of the "thread."
Unlike the "needle," whose role was only to carry the "thread" to perform the penetration, the "thread" was responsible for tightening the torn soul and perfectly merging with it as a whole while the soul healed.
The author first thought of using other souls as the "thread" for sewing.
Since it was also a soul, the adaptability would be the highest. At the same time, it could perfectly merge with the wound in the end.
After all, soul stitching was still different from normal stitching. Once the "thread" was sewn in, there was no way to remove it a second time.
But how could a complete soul be used as a "thread"?
Not to mention moral concerns, the volume of a normal living person's soul simply could not be used as a tiny yet strong "thread" to sew a torn, weakened soul.
Thus, all the research completely fell into a dead end here.
The author had overcome all other difficulties and technical problems. She had even used a Dementor as an experimental subject to try. As long as she could find a suitable "thread," her idea could be perfectly realized.
Even a torn soul could be easily healed using this method.
But the requirements for the "thread" were far too harsh.
First of all, the "thread" had to be a soul. Secondly, this soul could not be complete; it was best to be one of the countless split fragments.
Meeting these conditions was extremely difficult.
After all, a wizard's soul was not a piece of cloth. You could not just tear off a piece whenever you wanted.
The author of this book had never heard of any magic in the magical world that could split the soul without causing death.
At the end of the book, this magical experiment ended inconclusively.
But this brilliant witch, who had been able to conceive such a way to heal a torn soul, felt deep regret over this magic that ultimately failed to be perfected.
So, she recorded everything—from the moment the idea of creating this magic appeared in her mind, through its step-by-step improvement, until the final missing step of the experiment—in this book.
Passing it down, perhaps future generations, with further magical advancements, would find a better solution to replace this "thread."
Until, for some unknown reason, this book was placed in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, and now it had been obtained by Sherlock.
Leaving aside the method of soul stitching recorded in the book, simply considering the identity of its author, the life recorded in these experimental notes, and the mark on his left arm guiding him to find this book, Sherlock had sufficient reason to suspect that the witch who wrote it was the original owner's mad mother.
Because the greatest possibility was that the mark on his left arm came from the original owner's mother, Sherlock also noticed a very obvious detail in the book's narrative.
This witch's teacher was a potions master who knew many brewing methods, or rather, was extremely proficient in potions.
And the teacher closest to the original owner's mother was Horace Slughorn, who once served as the head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts and also as the potions professor at that time.
These two bizarre coincidences, when placed together, no longer seemed like coincidences at all.
The witch who wrote this experimental diary was very likely the original owner's mother—Sally Forrest.
But judging from her self-description in the book, there was no sign of the madness shown by the portrait hanging in the original owner's study.
On the contrary, she appeared to be a witch full of wisdom, fond of exploration, and extremely rational.
The contrast between these two images was far too great, which made Sherlock somewhat uncertain about his guess.
Or had something else happened in between that he did not know about, which caused the original owner's mother to change from a witch with a charming personality into a madwoman?
For example, perhaps, as described at the end of this book, the magic experiment failed, preventing her soul from being repaired, causing it to deteriorate further and further, until she became like that?
Sherlock had far too little evidence now, and no way to restore the past.
What concerned him most was why the crescent mark had led him to this experimental diary.
In truth, in his heart, Sherlock already had an answer that he was unwilling to face.
His own soul might also suffer from the same tearing described in the diary.
But at the beginning of the book, it stated that a torn soul would prevent a wizard from using spells at a normal level.
From the time Sherlock became familiar with magic until now, he had never felt that his spells were weaker than those of others, which did not match the typical symptoms of soul trauma.
He looked at the section in Soul Stitching that described how to test the health of one's soul, hesitated for a moment, and finally performed the test according to the method recorded in the book.
The result was exactly as he feared.
His soul was incomplete and severely fractured.
Sherlock stood up from his chair and paced back and forth in the office, frowning deeply.
He could not imagine how such a thing could have happened, yet the tearing of his soul had produced no noticeable effects. His spells were not weaker than those of other wizards, and he had never felt any physical discomfort.
So why, and when, had his soul been torn?
He could find no answer, and even if he could, it would not help.
Looking at the book Soul Stitching, Sherlock shook his head and murmured softly:
"You couldn't find a suitable thread, so how can I possibly find one?"